#i liked the rock walls. it reminded me of my grandma's house. she had a dugout. i miss it (< lost it in a wildfire a year after she died)
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New Traditions
Pairing: Rhett Abbott x afab!reader
Summary: As the first holiday season in your new home approaches, Rhett and you start new traditions and make promises (wc: 3k)
Warnings/Fic notes: mentions of unhappy childhoods (reader and Rhett probably needed more hugs as kids). Allusions to a rich!reader. Me using decorating as smokescreen for a character study lol. Daddy issues galore. The Christmas music is very self indulgent on my part too. Allusions/mentions to 18+ content
A/N: *Mariah Carey whistle note* ITS TIMEEEEEE. Lmao hiii, I hope you all are doing well. It has been a minute since I have written for a fandom outside of hotd so please bear with me on that front. I eventually want to take request soon (for Rhett, some tgm characters, and Calvin Evans) so my inbox is always open if y’all are interested - just shoot me something. If you read anything you like please reblog, like, and or comment. Also let me know when y’all put your decorations up (if you celebrate anything). I’m a staunch first weekend of December girlie myself ❤️
Masterlist
As pathetic as it sounds out loud, Rhett had grown accustomed to having the rug pulled out from under him. He had a looming and painful history with differentiating the cards life dealt him and what he deserves; over time, they began to blur together. At a certain point, he just resigned himself to life just being sort of... eh. Reminding himself that though things could be better, they could also be much, much worse.
It would all combinate in this hazy, syrupy snapshot of moments that ran together. At least, that is what he thought till he met you.
He thinks you would not understand it if he told you - that you are one of those people that is easy to love, while people like him took work to want. Hard work. Something that would be likened to the type of manual labor a Wyoming, farm grown boy like him is used to doing day in and day out. If he dared to express it, you would give him a good-natured laugh and shake your head like you always did when he said something self-deprecating.
"What kind of women do you take me for, Abbott," followed by a playful eye roll. "The type that settles?"
Rhett supposes that was the conundrum with you. Because the statement is not wrong; nothing about you gave off the impression you would settle for anything. That could come from a life of having almost everything at your fingertips. But the questions still tickle his tongue and doubts still makes his brain hazy.
It has only compounded since the two of you moved in together.
It was you who posed the suggestion, a shy smile on your lips. Despite the skepticism and disappointment from your parents, it did not feel right for you to sell your grandmother's ranch, the one your father grew up on, after she passed. You insisted on keeping it yourself, clearly having a soft spot for the house you would visit whenever you had the chance to.
Our home, you called it.
Your baking kits in the kitchen, his horses in the stable, and various clothes in the closets. He should feel reassured by this all… and yet… he waits for the other shoe to drop. For the rug to once again be pulled out from under him. Everything is so warm and new, and he worries about the day it slips through his fingers like sand.
Words in general, and expressing this specifically, does not come easy for him. Though loving you comes as easy as breathing for him. Rhett puts all that stuffing emotions and feelings away to good use as he tries to focus on the present. The only thing that manages to keep his mind clear is keeping his hands busy. So, he tries to make up for it in any way he can. The pale wall color your grandma insisted on keeping but reminded you of a sterile hospital? Painted to something more vibrant. The light fixtures in the kitchen that you said were ‘far too phallic to enjoy a meal under’? Well, those new ones are the best money could buy.
He just finished the building that rocking chair you got for the porch when you stick your head out of the house to call him in for dinner, eyes alight with something he could not put his finger on.
Dinner was silent, too silent for you, who always could spark up a conversation with anyone. A tiny sense of dread sets in, and he can’t help but think it maybe something he did… or did not do.
“The chicken is good,” he tries to start any kind of conversation or joy behind the eyes, but all he gets is an empty smile.
The unnerving quietness carries on for a few of minutes, but you suddenly drop your fork on the plate with a clank.
“Did y'all go all out for Christmas?”
Along with the noise the fork made, the question startled Rhett. He blinks blankly utterly confused by how it went from silence to that.
“What?”
“Oh, sorry,” your lips downturn into an embarrassed frown. “I should not have assumed y’all even celebrate it. I guess I just assumed with your mom and all.”
“No, we do celebrate,” he shakes head.
“So, did you go all out? When did you guys put the decorations out?”
Rhett shifts in his seat uncomfortably. Much like everything else that comes to his family, it is never linear or easy. He doesn’t know how to explain how one year they just stopped decorating; gifts and midnight mass were seen as hassles not the usual. Everything that the holidays stood for: family, love, gratefulness, togetherness was the antithesis of them. The joy and warmth of the holidays was sucked from the house and never came back till Amy was old enough to know what Christmas was - till Rebecca and his ma teamed up one day to make a fuss about the house being cold and sterile. What they meant is that Royal was cold… and sterile.
Rhett can still remember the look of disbelief in Rebecca’s eyes when Perry didn’t back her up on the matter. It was a look Rhett had seen from when he was a teen till the last day, he saw Becca. He still gets a rotten taste in his mouth thinking about he never got to tell her how much she meant to him. But that would also mean admitting that often his biggest advocate was a woman basically forced into the family versus the people he shared actual blood with.
Slight embarrassment burns his mouth like a hot iron down his thoat.
With a tight throat, Rhett shrugs. “It changed every year,” he lies. Then shakes his head. “It wasn’t a big deal really.”
Almost as abruptly as you stopped eating, you get up from the kitchen table. He just about calls out to see if you are ok, but you come back in the dining area carrying a picture.
“When I was cleaning out the garage, I found this.”
Rhett leans over, and he can’t help the slow grin that settles on his face. At first, he didn’t recognize the faces in the picture but then he saw a familiar crooked, mischievous smile, but this time on a younger girl. A little you. Decked out in a red, poofy dress and tiny white fur shawl. Shiny black saddle shoes that gleam even in the old photo.
“My baby as a baby,” he whispers.
Rhett continues to scan the photo. Behind you was two older people, and he can only assume they are your parents. They are exactly how he thought they would be and nothing like he thought at the same time. Your mom casually glamourous in green, your dad in a suit far too done up just for family dinner with a heavy hand on your shoulder. You wear her eyes but his nose. Right behind the three of you, a heavily decorated banister and in the foreground a Christmas tree so large that Rhett thinks it has to be a safety hazard.
You do not seem as happy or in awe of the relic as him, in fact you look sick at the sight.
“That was taken before they sat me down to tell me they were getting a divorce.”
Rhett’s heart sinks a little at the as the way your mouth juts out in bitterness.
“Looking back on it, I should have known. Dad was never home, mom was detached, probably depressed. Ya know, I remember them specifically saying that nothing would change, and naive little me not only believe that but wanted it. Not realizing something was just… off. But I guess most nine-year-old’s can’t tell the difference.”
He supposed it was easier for him to paint a rosier picture of your parents, for his sake and yours. Maybe winters in Texas were better than ones he experienced, maybe life was better. He has seen pictures of house, the compound, you grew up on. But now hearing what you are saying made pity take over the normal envy.
Rhett reaches out to grab your hand, and squeezes. “M’ sorry.”
You wave your free hand nonchalantly thought the casualness does not meet your eyes fully.
“No use crying over spilt milk,” you sigh. “I just saw the picture and tried to rack my brain for the last time we were all together for the holidays. After that one, it was one year with mama, the next with dad. And I don't think we ever decorated the house together. That was my caregiver, Jodie's job. Made me curious other people’s traditions I guess."
Rhett fiddles with the rings on your fingers while chewing on the fleshy part on the inside of his cheek.
“Maybe we can make our own,” he mutters softly. “Startin’ this year.”
You look up through your lashes, eyes fluttering away from the picture that sat on the table.
“Really?”
He nods. If that is what you want, he’d do it for you. Like he would do anything for you. Your gaze goes out the window across from the table. The leaves on the trees already began to change and fall to the ground. Going from green to various shades of red, purple, and brown. The season already has changed; heat melting away as the temperature dropped and cool breeze set in.
Your spirit noticeably lightens. “Do you think we can get a real tree? Mamma always said it was too much of hassle to get a real one.”
Rhett holds up his hand and extends his pinky. “As long as there is mistletoe in the house.”
Under new light fixtures, and with the sun grazing the ground as it sets, the two of you made your first promise.
Investments are important.
Your father told you so all your life. To the giant painting he bought for the Tennessee house (the one you later realized was a Degas), the stocks he bought for you for your fifteenth birthday, or his insistence you go to his alma mater. All investments that he expected payoff for. Your father will always be the smartest businessman you know, and he still managed to be so clueless with everything else.
People are not investments. Not really, at least. Not in the way your father looked at it. You can put money and effort into something, but it is never a guarantee it will work out that way. And you can’t just leave when things do not go your way. Your poor father never seemed to understand that, and you think it broke your grandma’s heart in the process.
And maybe you are no better than him. As a child, you admittedly reaped the benefits your parents offered you, almost to a fault. They would often laugh at your ability to move on to the next thing without so much as a blink of an eye. Onto the next toy, the next piece of clothing, the next makeup item. How can you criticize behavior you gave into yourself?
“You’re a reformed brat,” Jennie, your old debutant buddy turned psychologist said over the phone. “Give yourself some grace. At least you want better yourself now.”
So, you gave yourself just that. You didn’t sell your grandma’s place for the equity or whatever bullshit your dad mentioned. You didn’t Amelia County leave though your mom offered to set you up with her in New York. And God… you’re letting your fall - fall so deeply in love with Rhett, despite the voice in your head that tells you not to.
You replay your, in your opinion, embarrassing meeting. Bursting into tears in the middle of a grocery store was not the romantic story you want to tell others. But he came up to you to say that though he only spoke to her a handful of times when she would stay in her vacation home in Wabang, he knew your grandmother was a good woman and would be missed.
A blubbery mess of grief right next to the meat aisle spiraled into decorating your grandmother's house together - your house.
With Frank Sinatra’s version of ‘Let it Snow’ playing in the background, a rush of giddiness takes over. Jodie always said you had an eye for pretty things.
"A little excited, no," Rhett eyes copious amounts of bags you brought into the house. “It’s not even December yet.”
You survey the bags and boxes laid out. So, you went slightly overboard. Like driving out of town to the nearest big city to do some more shopping. Some habits die hard.
"This is just the starter stuff," you pull reams of garland out of the bag. “Just wait till they start selling the trees. Oh! And I got ingredients to teach you how to make sugar cookies from scratch.”
Rhett is silent for a moment, and you wonder if it is too much too fast. Your mother always said that enthusiasm, especially around men, should be tempered and demure. No one likes a girl that acts like a dog with a bone, sweetheart.
“Do.. do you think we can invite Amy over for the cookies thing,” his cobalt eyes soften at the mention of his niece. “I think she would like that.”
“Of course.”
You knew how important it was to Rhett for things to stay good with Amy. Her reception of the move was the only one he seemed to care about. You could not help but think the rest of Rhett’s family was skeptical about his decision. Cecilia was always kind towards you, and she was mostly receptive to the idea, but you assume it must hurt to see her baby venture out. Something about her reminded you of your own mother. Two women clearly used to the short end of the stick, and had to find ways to deal with it. While your mother found salvation in travel and extravagant parties, Cecilia found hers in faith.
Perry was well… Perry, about the whole thing. Just based on how he handled the news, and small tidbits you picked up from Rhett, it seemed like Perry was upset about Rhett making a choice just for himself. A luxury that the eldest son had a premium on for some time.
But you think it was the patriarch of the family who took it the hardest. It may be the reality of having two less hands around 24/7 like Rhett says, but you tend to think it is something deeper with Royal. Anger, sadness, pride - all of them??? You don’t know.
But what you do know is that family tension is something both you and Rhett know far too well.
After unpacking the bags and boxes you got, the smoky coos of Frank Sinatra transition into the pop Christmas playlist you put together. You don’t remember when the bottle of red wine came out, whether it was between Britney singing about what she wants for Christmas that year or Mariah singing about a holy night. It might have been after you insisted the two of you try your hand at diy decorations. But Rhett rolled his eyes when you talked about getting glasses, taking swings straight from the bottle instead.
“I don’t know how you drink this shit,” he wrinkled his nose, but he takes another hit.
“Just like you enjoy your watery beer,” you retake the bottle from him to have some more yourself.
“Last time I checked,” he expertly ties red and green ribbon into pretty bows and knots. “You were there with me, drinkin’ said watery beer.”
You bite your lip as you watch his brows furrow, and he pokes his tongue out sweetly as he ties meticulously.
“You’re quite good at that.”
“‘M good with ropes too.”
It could be the red wine, which always made your insides warm and fuzzy. Or if could just be the Rhett of it all. Him indulging this perhaps silly childhood wound of yours in full earnest.
“Hmmm,” you shuffle closer to him. The two of you might a makeshift area on the living room floor of pillows and blankets. An almost sickly-sweet peppermint candle ablaze on the table, and the fireplace crackling nearby.
“Royal used to make me secure the lines and pull logs. Kinda got good at it.”
By this time, you’re stuck at his side, suddenly a little fixated on hair on his neck that trickles up to his jaw and cheeks. You like him like this; hair falling from behind where it is tucked behind his ears. Scruffy and soft.
“Maybe you can show me how good you are.”
Rhett’s attention still doesn’t stray from the ribbons he cuts and ties, a task he is clearly taking seriously, but he nods in agreement. You roll your eyes slightly at how oblivious he can be.
“On me, Rhett,” you spell it out for him. “You can use the ropes on me.”
He stops and turns with a look of wanton, wetting his lips for a moment.
“Yeah,” he asks, the inflection at the end of the question breathy and soft.
You nuzzle your nose into area right under his ear with a hum, kissing the skin there and taking in the smell of his cologne. A woodsy scent with sprites of magnolia and cedar. It was one that consumed the bedroom and your mind. You spent much of your formative years pretending to hate the idea of being desired or wanted - chasteness an idea drilled into your head since you were a little girl and told by the ladies of your church that the only thing worse than being ungodly is being ‘fast’. Then you spent college overcorrecting to the point of farce. Letting the guys you knew had little regard for how you felt at the end of it make decisions for you. Emotionally, mentally, and sexually.
Your first time with Rhett was a hodgepodge of giggle and sighs only to be heard by vast emptiness of the home you do sit in now. His boots and jeans askew on the floor. You eccentric grandma’s knick knacks watching you two. Most notably, the cat clock that reflected in the moonlight, the one Rhett insisted you keep when he moved in. After him eating you out until you cried, and a night that ended in you making a trip to the local pharmacy for a Plan B, you honestly expected a series of awkward moments that would single-handedly ruin the small town bliss you experienced for the first time. And yet, in the morning, his lips turned up in a shy smile and he asked if you had bacon in the fridge.
You didn’t realize how badly you were under water and needed to breathe until you came to Wabang. Your lips work their way up his jaw til you reach the corner of his mouth.
“Let’s make it another tradition.”
#rhett abbott x female reader#rhett abbott x reader#rhett abbott#outer range imagine#outer range#rhett abbott x you#rhett abbott smut#outer range fic#black!reader#lewis pullman
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Honey Tea | 01 Yandere!Jungkook
pairing: yandere!jungkook x reader (f)
genre: yandere, angst, mentions of mental health, future smut, manipulation,
Parts: 01 | 02.
summary: You're delighted to find the perfect caregiver for your ill grandmother but are soon to find out his intentions are far from pure.
Your eyes were glued on the clock that hung on the brown tinted wall, nervously biting your lip. You really hadn’t liked the idea of having to even hire a caregiver for your grandmother to begin with but you weren’t left with much of a choice. Finding a job was hard to begin with, not only due to the fact that living in such a small town made the options limited but your lack of job experience didn’t make it any easier. Your anxiety disorder had only gotten worse over the years, interfering with your daily activities and made things such as simple trips to the grocery store a living nightmare.
However, you couldn’t let your anxiety control your life any longer. You knew it was finally time to take some actual responsibility and do what was best for your grandmother. She had taken care of you and raised you all your life up until now, she was tired and her heart condition wasn’t going to get any better. It was up to you to take care of her now, she was all you had left.
While your grandmother was decently well off and had insisted you didn’t need to get a job, you had refused. Medical expenses were not getting any cheaper and while the job you managed to land at the old bookstore down the street wasn’t much, it would surely help some bit. Besides, you were hoping it would help better your anxiety, being stuck inside the house all day surely wasn’t helping your intrusive thoughts.
Now the only issue was having to leave your grandmother home alone for so long, she had insisted she would be fine but you knew better. At her age, the amount of things that could go wrong would just race through your head nonstop.
The sudden knock on the door made you jump, you lifted yourself off the soft leather coach and rushed down the small hallway of your home. You took a deep breath, not even bothering to check the peep hole in your rushed state and swung the door open, the chilly air instantly hit your face.
The guy in front of you looked exactly like his profile on the caregiver website, his tall frame towered over you and his large dark eyes quickly took you in. His dark hair falling below his ears and he gave you a friendly smile. He wasn’t much older than you according to his age on the website but his face held a childlike look to it, his handsome features were even more intimidating in person.
“Hello, you’re Y/n right?” He questioned, his voice smooth. The way his eyes scanned over your face almost made you want to hide.
“U-uh, yeah. You’re Jungkook right?” You asked, cringing at how awkward you sounded already. He nodded and you stepped aside, signaling him to come in.
“Sorry, my grandma is still sleeping, she should be waking up any minute.” You explained as you walked down hallway and he followed closely behind you. You guided him to the kitchen, offering him to take a seat at the table which he gladly accepted. You suddenly felt anxious all over again with his gaze on you.
“That’s okay, I’ll giver her the medications when she wakes up.” He smiled at you and his eyes darted around the kitchen, seeming to take everything in.
“Right, I left them on the counter for you and I texted you the details in case you forget. She takes her blood pressure and heart medication first thing every morning , her stomach is a bit sensitive so I’d prefer she ate something before she takes the-“ You rambled, pacing around the kitchen.
“Y/n” Jungkook cuts you off, his tone gentle. “Don’t worry, I know what to do. I’ll make sure to make her some breakfast.”
You nodded your head in embarrassment but his words brought you comfort. You knew you were worrying over nothing , he had some of the best reviews on the website and obviously seemed to know how to care of elderly people way more than you ever would.
“Sorry, I’ve just never left her alone with anyone.” You admitted, sitting down on the empty the seat right across from him.
“I see, is she your only family?” He asked, raising a curious eyebrow.
“Yeah, my parents died in a car accident when I was little so my grandma practically raised me.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” He gave you a pitying look and reached over to take your hand in his. You were a bit taken aback by the sudden action but he didn’t look phased in the slightest.
“You seem like a caring girl, many young people like you wouldn’t think twice in sending off their grandparents to a retirement home.” He said, his eyes boring into yours. He seemed genuinely in awe.
“I could never, she’s all I have.” You didn’t even want to imagine a world without your grandmother , despite knowing the reality of her old age and health conditions. Not to mention, the idea of sending her off to one of those facilities just seemed cruel to you, you didn’t have the heart to even consider it.
Jungkook watched you, you were indeed more beautiful in person. The blurry profile picture in the website didn’t even come close to doing you justice. He could tell how much you cared about your grandmother, it was obvious even through the messages you had sent him when you first selected him for the job. He could tell you were an anxious person just by looking at you. The way you had seemed like a deer caught in headlights when you first opened the door, your smaller frame cowering behind it. It was obvious even in the way you sat now, your leg bouncing beneath the table and your eyes refusing to make direct eye contact with him ever since he had arrived.
He found it all endearing.
“I-I better get going! It’s my first day and I don’t want to be late.” You said, suddenly remembering what time it was, the last thing you needed was to make a horrible first impression the first day at your job.
“First day? No wonder you seemed so nervous.” Jungkook teased, his hand slipping from yours as you got up.
“Yeah, well more like first ever real job so it’s even worse.” You let out a small shaky laugh, walking over to grab your bag from the counter.
“It’s your first job? How exciting.” He beamed, eyes seeming to follow your every action.
“Well, it’s a bookstore so probably not that exciting.” You mumbled as you tugged at the ends of your dress anxiously. Jungkook lips quirked up at your scattered movements, not ignoring the way the dress hugged your curves.
“Please make sure to text me if you need anything. The fridge is full and my grandma usually likes oatmeal in the morning, feel free to help yourself when you get hungry too!” You said, pointing towards different areas in the kitchen.
“ The bathroom is down the hall too and oh! I completely forgot to give you a tour of the house!” You groaned , realizing your dumb mistake. You had not even properly told the guy how to direct himself throughout the house.
Jungkook chuckled , standing back up and he making his way past you.
“Relax, I’ll be fine. The house isn’t that big, I can find my way around it.” He assured you, observing your grandmothers medication bottles that sat on the counter.
You nodded and starting making your way out the kitchen.
“Y/n.” Jungkook called and you halted, turning back to face him. He gave you a warm smile, eyes trailing over your exposed shoulders that the thin straps of your sundress failed to hide. “ It’s quite chilly outside, you should wear a jacket .”
“Oh, right. Thank you!” His comment only confirmed how fitting he seemed for the job of a caregiver, you found it cute. You quickly grabbed the cardigan laying on the couch on your way out and rushed outside.
—-
To your surprise, the first day at your new job had gone quite smoothly. It wasn’t nearly as nerve-wracking as you had thought but it mainly had to do with you not having to interact with anyone much. You had spent your day stacking and reorganizing books, you were glad your boss hadn’t put you as the cashier. The old man insisted for you to stay in the back, probably noticing how anxious you had seemed in the job interview and not wanting to risk you embarrassing yourself with customers. You were grateful for that in a way, if your job continued like this then you were sure you could do it.
“Grandma?” You called out as you stepped inside the house, your shoes padding against the wooden floors. You let your bag drop on the ground as you walked down the hallway. You heard faint laughter near you, seeming to come from the living room. You turned and saw your grandma seated on her rocking chair, happily chatting with Jungkook who was seated on the coach beside her.
“Y/n! You’re home, my dear. “ Your grandmother gushed when she saw you, a smile forming on her wrinkled face. You walked over to her, giving her a tight hug.
“You didn’t tell me such a handsome young man was going to be the one to wake me up this morning.” Your grandmother stated and your face heated up at her words.
“Grandma!”
Jungkook chuckled, his smile reminded you of a bunny in a way.
“I’m assuming things went well?” You asked, face still hot.
“Perfect, your grandmother is a joy to be around.” Jungkook confirmed, glancing at your grandmother. “ I think she’s the easiest person I’ve had to look after.”
You sighed in relief, overjoyed that there hadn’t been any issues and everything seemed perfectly fine.
“Jungkook made some delicious oatmeal, I didn’t know these caregivers were such good cooks. “ Your grandmother added and you giggled.
“I gave her all her medications and she should be good to go to bed soon.” Jungkook said, standing up .
“How was your first day at work, my dear?” Your grandmother asked and you felt Jungkook’s heavy gaze on you.
“Good , I think. I mean it was better than I expected.“
“You know you don’t have to force yourself too much.” Your grandmother insisted, worry lacing her tone but you shook your head.
“I promise I’m not.”
“Your grandmother said you are a bit of anxious person?” Jungkook mentioned, tilting his head in a questioning manner.
You glanced at your grandma, wondering how much exactly she had told Jungkook.
“I told him how much you struggle with your anxiety and socializing with people. “ She sighed, resting her hands on her lap. “ You know how much I worried about you getting a job. I want you to put your health first.”
“Grandma, I’m fine. This job is helping me.” You insisted, not being able to help the annoyance in your tone. You felt a bit awkward now that Jungkook knew about your mental health conditions. It seemed too invasive.
“Your grandma is just trying to look after you, there’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Jungkook’s tone was sincere as he stared down at you, noticing the change in mood you took.
He wondered how you would react to him knowing much more than just the surfaced level information your grandmother had provided for him. It wasn’t hard to get her to talk about you, it was all she ever did seem to talk about and Jungkook couldn’t be happier at that. It made it easier to get to know you despite him not being able to be near you all day. Your grandmother served as an immediate resource. Although, not much of what she had said was surprising, he had figured the type of person you were at first glance, her words only serving as confirmation.
—
As weeks passed , Jungkook became more and more involved in your home life and his presence became so familiar to you, almost as if he had always been part of you and your grandmother’s life. He was here everyday first thing in the morning until late in the afternoon, sometimes even staying for dinner. Even on the weekdays, he managed to stop by for a bit and check up on your grandmother. You couldn’t believe it at first, that you managed to find such a perfect caregiver.
“Y/n!” Jungkook called out from the kitchen as you adjusted the scarf around your neck.
“One sec!” You said, rushing out and making your way towards the kitchen, you were met by a plate of stacked pancakes, scrambled eggs and chopped up fruit on the table.
“Don’t forget to eat before you leave.“ Jungkook stated, fussing over you to take a seat. It had become a habit of his to serve you breakfast each day before you left to work, insisting that it was bad for your health to leave on an empty stomach.
“You really don’t have to do this, Jungkook. You already do so much for my grandma.” You smiled, hesitantly taking a seat and taking a bite out of the delicious pancakes. Your grandmother really wasn’t lying when she said he was an amazing cook.
“Of course I do, besides I have extra time before your grandmother wakes up. “ He pushed a glass of orange juice towards you that you happily accepted.
“You seem a bit sickly lately, are you getting enough sleep? “ Jungkook questioned as he took a seat beside you. You had been more tired than usual lately but you figured it was because of your job. Although it wasn’t that physically demanding, you were sure it was your body getting accustomed to not sitting at home all day for once.
“Probably just tired from work.” You replied as you took another sip of your orange juice. Jungkook eyed you, taking in how shaky your hands seemed as you tilted the glass over your lips.
He didn’t like you working. He didn’t like seeing you do any type of labor, no matter how small. You should be treated like a princess, with so much care and not having to lift a finger for anything. He didn’t like the fact that you were away for such long hours, not knowing what type of trouble you were in or what you were up to. Fortunately, that would come to an end soon.
“I’d prefer if you actually finished your food this time. “ He said, his tone a bit more firm this time. You almost giggled at his serious expression.
“You take this caregiving job really seriously.” You commented as took another bite of the food. “ I’m sure my grandmother feels spoiled.”
“Hm, I’m sure she does. I try my best to.” Jungkook hoped you were the one that felt spoiled. He took great pleasure in seeing you happy, making sure he had all your needs met. He had took time finding out what your favorite foods, shows, and hobbies were. Anything related to you, he had become obsessed with knowing.
“I need to pick up my grandma’s prescriptions today so I may be home a bit later.” You added in between chews.
“No need, I picked them up already before coming here.” Jungkook smirked, and you sighed.
“You really were born for this job.” You mumble.
—
Jungkook sat on his bed, his eyes glued to his phone screen. The tiny camera he had hidden inside your room was at a perfectly angle from your bed. Placed inside one of the eye sockets of your many stuffed animals, he had found your collection of them cute. He watched as you emerged from your bathroom, eyes following the tightly wrapped towel around your body. Your skin still damp from the shower as you reached over your dresser for the lotion bottle. He swallowed heavily as he watched your towel drop on the floor, exposing your bare body. His eyes hungrily took in every curve, from your breasts down to your core.
You were ethereal, no matter how much he had tried to handle his needs by fucking other women , he was never satisfied. They weren’t you, and they would never would be. He almost felt as if he was betraying every time he had went to bed with another women. He was disgusted with himself for even giving in, promising himself he would never seek the pleasure of another women. You were his only muse, the only person he wanted. You were going to be together forever.
He watched as you spread lotion over your legs, massaging them. The tightening in his pants only worsened and despite how much he tried to control himself, he let his hand tug his pants down and closed his eyes.
—
“I don’t know what’s wrong with her, she’s been sleeping a lot lately. “ You chewed on your bottom lip worriedly.
Your grandmother had been more lethargic than usual, you knew her old age made her sleep a lot most days but still, her sudden change in behavior was odd to you. Your grandmother was usually a chatty old lady and now she barely had the energy to hold a full conversation with you.
Jungkook listened intently, having his back turned to you as he prepared you some tea. He lifted the kettle and poured the hot water over the tea bag, adding a bit of extra honey knowing you had a sweet tooth. He didn’t want you this anxious all night.
Especially not tonight.
“ You have to understand your grandmother is at a very delicate age now,” He began to explain. “ She’s tired and doesn’t have much energy for anything.”
You knew what he was implying but you didn’t want to accept it. You shook your head at just the mere thought.
“What if it’s because of me?” You wondered as he took a seat across from you and handed you over the mug. You thanked him and took a sip, the hot liquid soothing your throat.
“Bab-“ Jungkook stopped himself, not letting the nickname fall from his lips.
“You can’t blame yourself for these things. None of this is your fault.” He stated with a more serious tone, staring so intensely at you that you almost believed him.
“B-but what if it is? I mean, I don’t even spend that much time with her anymore. “ You reasoned. “Maybe she’s depressed.”
“You overthink too much,” He replied, watching as you took another sip of the tea. “ She seems happy all the time, you can’t expect her to be the same as a few years ago, it’s just the age.”
You sighed, nodding slowly at his words. You knew deep down he was right, your grandmother was just reaching a certain age that didn’t let her have much energy for much. However, that made you even more guilty having to go to work and just leaving her. Of course, you knew Jungkook took amazing care of her and she loved him, always gushing about how attentive he was. But that didn’t stop the guilt washing over you.
“I’m gonna go give her a good night kiss. “ You whispered, setting the mug down. Jungkook watched you until you disappeared from his view, rushing down the hallway.
You came into your grandmother’s room, turning on the lamp on her nightstand. She looked so peacefully asleep, you almost regretted coming inside in fear of waking her up. You made your way over to her bed, crouching down a bit to her level as you pulled back her covers a bit.
“Love you, grandma. Good night.” You whispered, pressing your lips to her cheek. Her skin was so ice cold that it made you flinch back.
You frowned, eyes scanning over body.
“Grandma?” You asked, shaking her shoulder a bit. No movement.
“Grandma?” You repeated, this time more panicked. You felt your heart drop as you continued to shake her more and no response came. She didn’t seem to be breathing.
“Jungkook!” You yelled as you stood up, fully taking the covers off her.
“Jungkook! Somethings wrong!” You yelled again, frantically running out of your grandmother’s room in search for the caregiver. You hurried down the long hallway, feeling your heart rapidly beat in your chest.
“Jungkook!” You found him sitting in the same spot you left him, he slowly turned his head towards you when he saw you enter the kitchen. “ Please call an ambulance! My grandma is not moving!”
“Y/n, calm down.” He said, slowly standing up from his seat. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion at his calm and nonchalant behavior.
“What!? How am I supposed to calm down? She’s not breathing!” You screamed at him, running past him in search of your bag.
“Where’s my phone!?” You dumped all the stuff out of your bag on the table, frantically searching for your phone.
Jungkook watched you silently , slowly circling the table. He took a quick glance at the clock that hung on the wall.
“Why are you just standing there!” You whipped your head back at him, angry tears already forming in your eyes.
“Do something! Go find hel-“ The wave of dizziness that took over your body made you shut your mouth. You stumbled back a bit, feeling a pair of arms hold you up.
The floor seemed to be spinning beneath you. You scrunched up your face in confusion. What the hell was happening?
“Shh, it’s okay baby.” You heard Jungkook whisper , his hot breath on your ear. Your heart continued to beat rapidly in your chest as your vision became more disoriented.
“W-whats going on?” You mumbled, feeling a heaviness take over you. Your legs felt weak, almost giving out beneath you as the arms around your body tightened.
“Everything is okay, baby. “ Jungkook hushed, arms holding you down.
“Just sleep.”
The tea. Your body chilled in realization.
“M-my grandma.” You attempted to free yourself from his grip, pathetically throwing punches against his chest. He almost found your attempts humorous.
He looked down at you in pity.
“Your grandmother was just an another obstacle between us, she’s in a much better place now.” His words made you freeze, your mind not knowing how to process what he had just said. You shook your head rapidly.
“No, no.” You let out choked sob, this wasn’t happening . None of this was happening.
“What did you do to her?!” Angry tears stained your cheeks, this had to be a nightmare. This couldn’t be real. Jungkook could never do that, this had to be some sick joke.
“What did you! Let me go!” You demanded but the weakness in your body only seemed to get stronger, your own body was betraying you right now as Jungkook continued to carry you down the hallway.
“Baby, you need to calm down.” Jungkook repeated as you continued to fight against his grip, he knew you wouldn’t last much longer. “ You’re going to hurt yourself. “
“P-please, let me go.” You cried, your vision blurry now. Everything seemed to spin, slowly fading away into darkness, your body falling limply against his.
“That’s it, fall asleep.” Jungkook pressed his lips against the side of your forehead. His princess was finally his.
“Everything is going to be okay, baby.” He smiled down at you, brushing your hair out of your wet face. “We’re finally going to be together.”
#yandere jungkook#yandere!jungkook#yandere!bts#yandere x reader#jungkook x reader#jungkook angst#jungkook smut#jungkook au#jungkook#bts au#bts x reader#bts fanfic#bts#yandere#jungkook fanfic#jeon jungkook
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Cool Blue ; Chapter Five
⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚
sneak us through the rivers
⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚
☽ warnings: sexual tension, heat cycle talk, touching
☽ fic masterlist
⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚
Luca slept through Lorenzo's gentle wake-up of kneeling beside the cave bed and prodding one caring hand against his shoulder. Ever since he was a child the action became normalized, with Luca curling around his father's touch along with a quiet yawn and a sleepy lopsided grin at his level eyes. But now, with the blues of his bedroom brightening as the sun hung above their home, he wouldn't budge. Lorenzo cleared his throat and removed his hand from Luca's shoulder for a moment, seeing how his son looked like a stone at the bottom of a river.
"Hey, Luca," Lorenzo rubbed his back. "You slept through the morning chores. I think the goatfish are missing you."
He stirred in the stifling water making his scales feel congested and stiffened when his eyes opened to his father wading next to him. Now that he was awake, the uncomfortable heat radiating off his skin made Lorenzo pull away with a frown.
"Luca, are you okay?"
"Giuseppe?" Luca slurred, disoriented. He rolled onto his other side to face Lorenzo, who was now floating back to the far wall of his room, gingerly tracing the ripples of warm water that chased his movements.
"Daniela!" Lorenzo cast a fearful look to his son then darted from the room. Though Luca's room was separated there was still the mouth of the cave entrance that had no means of a door and allowed Luca's grandmother (or, alternately, anyone) to peek her head inside at Lorenzo's little shout. Daniela soon followed.
"Y-You said he still had a few months!" Lorenzo returned clutching the hand of Daniela, while grandma Paguro trailed behind wordlessly, smirking to herself.
"All I said was that seventeen was the normal time for this, Lorenzo," Daniela said in a frustrated whisper, her dark tail making rivulets in the water.
Luca blinked at the three of them, now in his private space, then growled. He couldn't really stop himself from doing so, he had been sleeping peacefully enough until they all decided to ruin the dream he was having.
Oh, cod. The dreams he'd been having...
Daniela bent down to look Luca in the eyes, taking hold of his shoulder. Luca winced and placed his hand on top of his mother's. She clicked her tongue in response.
"Yep. Scales are hot...He's sensitive to touch...Been sleeping away most of the day already," She murmured more to herself than to her concerned husband.
"Will be be alright?" Lorenzo piped up, leaning toward Luca.
"Oh please, Lorenzo. You went through your heat too, remember?" Daniela sighed and looked back to him with a scowl. Lorenzo flushed and averted his gaze away.
Luca found his voice. "My...what?"
"Your heat cycle," His grandmother added in, being the third and final family member to join Luca at his bedside. She snorted. "It means you're going to be ready to find a mate soon."
"Mother! I said we should ease him into it! Does that sound like easing to you?"
Mate? A mate? Or...mating? He squirmed at the thought.
Three very different pairs of eyes, all holding separate emotions, glimmered back at him. Luca felt their gazes burning into his scales and crawled away from the ledge of the bed to the point where his dorsal fin brushed the rock wall. The stone cave was smooth and cool to the touch. So silky against his tender scales and spines it made that odd pain burst through his abdomen again until it blossomed into an even more peculiar sort of pleasure. It soothed his feverish scales and reminded him of the practiced hands that had been all over him in his dreams, and as his parents argued only inches from his trembling body he bit down on his tongue to keep quiet.
"Are you in pain, Bubble? Where does it hurt?"
"Oh, poor thing, look at him shaking. Great job, Daniela," Luca's grandmother chided with a light chuckle.
Not for what you may think, Luca thought with an internal groan of discomfort.
"What did I do wrong?" Daniela turned to growl at her mother.
"He's your son."
Daniela's tail flicked angrily. "Well what did you do when it was my time, mother?"
The older woman examined her scales, and, without missing a beat, "Sent you out to the breeding grounds. Don't point the claw at me, missy. You and Lorenzo had a fairly nice time."
"Breeding grounds?" Luca shrieked. His back was fully pressed to the cave wall now, to his parents it only confirmed their assumptions on his fear but really Luca was doing it because it felt better than the boiling water around him.
Even the word sounded primitive. Luca had seen--not by choice--a few of the goatfish going through a particular season of...breeding, and if what he'd been forced to watch while sheperding was anything remotely close to how it was for sea folk, he didn't want in on it. Well, he knew how it was for sea folk, of course. Daniela had been hell-bent on initiating that conversation much earlier than Luca would have preferred.
"Can we talk about this later?" Luca begged, sliding back down onto his kelp bed with his claws raked through the fins on his head. "Please? I just want to go back to sleep."
"Go back to sleep?" Lorenzo chuckled. "Son, you've been sleeping this whole time--"
"Oh, nonsense," Daniela put her hand on Lorenzo's snout, quieting him. "He'll need all the rest he can get if he really is in heat. Besides, it'll keep him away from the neighbor's. I think they have a young girl around Luca's age, and that's the last thing we need."
"Uh, I'm right here?" Luca said angrily. His whole body felt like it was spinning on a wheel of emotions with no axis, just one blending into the other.
Lorenzo gave Luca a sympathetic smile before he was pulled away by grandma Paguro into the cave channel outside his room.
"Don't worry Lu," Daniela took hold of both Luca's hands, squeezing them. "This'll all be over in a few weeks."
"But," Luca looked to her algae dress swaying with the water, feeling his face warm up. "You're saying that...all of these things I'm feeling are just because of the heat?"
"Yes, baby." She tapped the back of his hand reassuringly. "I know it's confusing, but I promise after you get just a little bit more rest, we can explain it later. Okay, Bubble?"
Luca had a million things to say, and he wanted to say them now. He wanted to tell his mother that he thought he was going crazy because he'd had the best and most vivid dreams of his entire life. Well, maybe not say exactly that, but it was definitely up there. Or the fact that every time he moved, a starburst of pain cramped in his stomach, low and threatening, but all that came with it were thoughts dirtier than the time uncle Ugo decided to make whale for dinner. He wasn't supposed to think things that vile!
And, most of all, the beautiful land monster boy he'd met at the cove. With his tanned skin that reminded Luca of the tender underside of the brown conch shells he used to collect. And the sun kisses on his skin! Each one like a splash of color gifted from the fish in the sky! His eyes, bright expectant shards of sea glass Luca wished he could touch. Alberto, marvelous and witty, painting the rocks that lined the pool at the cove. Luca, marveled and wincing with feeling. Just thinking about him made his stomach ache. It made him ache all over. But it wasn't a sorrowful, sore pain.
It was an ache of need. Of want. Once his train of though passed through thinking innocently of Alberto's kind eyes and lopsided grin, it focused more heavily on the way Alberto bit his lip and the lean muscles that made up his body until he had to catch his breath because his mother couldn't catch him like this.
So all Luca did was nod at his Daniela's words, all worked up again, and wave weakly as she swam out of his room.
He fell back onto the bed, chest heaving.
This was impossible. And she had said it was going to last weeks?
"Oh, sharks. I'm so dead," Luca groaned, digging the flat part of his hand to his belly. He traced one of his gills with his eyes closed, savoring the feeling and the memories of the night before. Luckily for him, the entrance to his bedroom was facing out into the hallway, where there was only silence.
A considerable amount of silence.
Then an idea broke through his hazy thoughts of Alberto. Luca flipped himself over and swam to the mouth of the cave, glancing at either side of the hallway. No one was in the rooms beside him, and from the eerie quiet they all must have left the house so he could sleep.
Guilty bile rose in his throat, but Luca didn't care. There was no feasible way he was falling asleep. He checked the hallway one more time before taking an old blanket made of sea moss and throwing it on top of his bed, along with stuffing a few lumpy pieces of coral he'd stashed away underneath that until it formed a lumpy version of himself under the covers.
He didn't believe that what was burning in his chest for Alberto was just because of some stupid sea monster thing.
/ / /
"Alberto! How are you already here?" Luca popped his head out from under the still water to stare at his friend. "I didn't think you'd be wandering around."
When Luca had snuck back to the wide rock opening to the cove underwater, he could already smell Alberto from above. His salty scent, mixed with other delicious things too overpowering for his sensitive nose, but he could find it anywhere. There was a sweetness lingering in Alberto's scent, it was honey and flower petals.
Alberto smiled apologetically with his hands on the straps of his bag. "I wasn't wandering around. I came to see you." He undid the latch on his bag, the very one where all of the fun paint colors came out of if Luca was correct, and produced a towel. Luca's brows were pulled low as he watched from the edge as Alberto crouched down to him and dunked it into the water.
"What're you doing?" Luca pointed at the towel, once light and radiating weird land monster smells but was now dull and soaking in sea water.
Alberto's face went pink, a color Luca loved looking at, and shrugged. "I, uh, thought that this might help with the sun." He knelt down on his bare knees and draped the dripping towel across Luca's shoulders. "You can come out of the water now. Now it shouldn't hurt as much."
Alberto helped Luca up until they were both sitting, cross-legged, staring at each other. The towel was heavy with the weight of the water around him, but was nice against his scales. He pinched the corners of the towel and nestled deeper inside of it.
"Thank you," Luca whispered with dark cheeks. When he looked at Alberto now the words mate and heat and breeding grounds appeared in his head unannounced and his skin crawled with the indecision of everything spinning around him.
"You good, Luca?" Alberto leaned closer toward him, growing concerned. Luca wanted to smack him, with his face inches from his nose the stench, albeit a lovely one, rippling off his tan skin was too much. They were things Luca did not know the names for in the human world, but all the same he smelled intoxicating.
Luca took in a deep breath, his gills still clogged with sea water, and nodded uneasily. "Is it okay if I try something?" He rushed to ask in his preheat, head-pounding state.
"Uh, okay?" Alberto sat back normally. "Are you gonna take me to Atlantis or something? Hate to break it to you, Luca. I might be an expert at swimming but I don't think I can breathe underwater like you."
The arrogance rolled off Alberto in waves, and Luca fought to keep his head steady.
"No! That's not what I meant! It's not even called Atlantis, you know. And if I wanted to take you, the water pressure is too deep for your ears. You'd probably die or something."
"Then what did you mean?"
Luca scooted closer, claws still gripping the towel like a cape. "Sorry, it's just that...you're the only land monster I've seen. Ever. So, like, there's a lot of weird things about you that I need to know about."
Alberto snorted. He placed his arms behind his back and looked to Luca with a glint of a challenge in his eyes. "Like what?"
"Like your stubby claws, for one." Without hesitation Luca grabbed for one of Alberto's hands, crawling to sit beside him and examined his fingers and nails chewed down to tiny stubs. "They're so weird. You can't do anything with these."
Alberto only watched with a smug look to conceal his awe.
"I'm gonna skip the whole no-tail thing," Luca continued, scanning Alberto's body. He drank in his skin and the shiny stuff that looked like water beading along his temple and around his tank top. It seemed cool, and he wanted to touch it but he kept his hand back.
"Alright, have you had your fun already? I know I'm not as amazing as you are," Alberto asked while Luca crawled closer to pat his fluffed up curls. "Not everyone can be a sea monster."
"Okay, now this is weird," Luca commented on Alberto's messy hair. His hands moved slowly to his forehead, checking to see Alberto's flat expression when his claws grazed the sides of his face.
"...What?" Alberto asked, leaning closer. "So, you're touching my face?"
Luca blushed and let his hands rest on each side of his jaw, holding him in place. "You don't, uh, feel anything?" If he could only slip his fingers beneath Alberto's ears...that was the most delicate part. That was where he'd scent him.
His breath hitched, and all he'd done was touch his cheeks. Scent him? He couldn't, he wasn't a sea monster. But...something in him wanted to. It really, really did.
"Am I supposed to feel something else? All I feel are your slimy paws on my face."
Luca hissed playfully. "Slimy? It's a natural coating. I'd dry up out here if I didn't have it...And they aren't paws, Alberto. They're hands just like yours."
"My fingers aren't webbed." Alberto held up one hand to make his point.
"Whatever."
"Why are you asking anyway?"
"Because," Luca let his gaze drift over Alberto's face, shiny with sweat and dotted in freckles. "Because it's supposed to, uh--"
"Does it...feel differently for you?" Alberto stared with new knowledge at Luca's face. "Is that why?"
Luca couldn't breathe. He only nodded. Alberto registered the breath Luca was holding, his yellow eyes wide and pupils blown.
"Ah, okay," Alberto whispered. He sat up straighter and lifted one hand off the grass, placing it directly on Luca's cheeks, his thumbs just grazing the base of his audial fins. His thumb and index fingers gently took hold of them, feeling their slippery texture almost in the way Alberto might relish in the softness of velvet. His touch was soft, tentative and curious but most of all wholly him.
All of the sea water that was dripping down Luca's face had dried up, and in its place was the shock that Alberto was touching him, not just touching his hand or his shoulder, but his hands were--
He couldn't even finish his line of thought. When he was touching him, the pain that had pooled in his stomach lightened. But it didn't stop the tingling that spread all through his legs and up his spine.
Alberto hummed his interest, gauging Luca's pinched face for any sort of reaction, before letting his wonder get the best of him as he slipped his fingers behind his fins, just above his gills.
"Hmm," Eyes shining, dark pools leaving Luca helpless as to what Alberto was doing. "These gills are interesting. They don't feel like the normal ones you see on a fish or a shark. You know, my Papa taught me all about marine biology, but maybe it's a bit different in your case. Though this seems to be the same..."
To refer his point Alberto ran his index finger in a slow, agonizing circle there on his skin.
A pathetic little purr rose in Luca's throat, and he hurried to correct his mistake by slapping his hand over his mouth.
He spoke around his own hand covering his lips. "Mngh! I'm sorry! I just! You're--"
Alberto shushed him and peeled Luca's hand away. "S'okay. Sensitive, huh? I guess I didn't think of that."
Luca bit his lip and nodded, clamping his tongue between his teeth. "Very."
His gaze lightened a bit, flicking over to Luca's cheeks tinged a deep, flushed blue. He let his eyes roam down to his throat, where he could see his frantic pulse beating away, trying to keep himself under control. And, finally, to the dappled line of brighter, more opalescent scales that trailed down Luca's waist until they disappeared into the hem of his mossy shorts.
Luca knew those what those markings on his skin were, such a light blue it teetered on the edge of pink.
They were signs of a sea monster in heat.
Luca swallowed hard, his throat much too dry, while Alberto's green eyes soaked him up. Alberto's next words were chosen carefully, softly spoken, barely a puff of electric air around his warm scales. When did they get so close?
"Is it...a bad sensitive?" Alberto pressed, genuinely interested, and lifted the pressure of his hands off of Luca's gills. "Or a good one?"
Luca snapped his jaws tight, he could feel the blood drumming in his throat at that. Somehow he found himself drifting to Alberto for the curve of his chest, both arms on him created a little curve for Luca to hide in. His heady scent drove him further, enough to rest his temple on Alberto's collarbones, lungs burning to keep his breathing normal. Alberto stiffened around Luca's touch, but only for a moment. He sighed and his fingers resumed their teasing touches along his neck.
"A g-good one," Luca breathed out. That painful burn pooled in his stomach, making those pink scales itch and Luca couldn't help but put his hand there on his belly to suppress the cramping. But that wasn't all that was bothering him. He realized, as the pads of Alberto's fingers pressed on his gills, on his scent glands, a warm pleasure bubbled up like molten honey hidden in his shorts, and he knew he had to scoot away before it was too late.
What would he think of him then?
That he was just some gross, horny little fish seeking comfort from everything that didn't make sense and find the answers in the arms of a boy?
But Alberto wasn't just some boy, Luca chided himself. As much as he wanted to side with the rational portion of his brain the other, more primal parts of him knew that there was someone here, there was a boy here, in his space.
A strong, tall boy who had his arms wrapped around him and could probably smell the heat on him.
But that boy also was so tantalizingly close, the dull ache in Luca's stomach erupted when he buried his face into the crook of Alberto's neck. Alberto's scent changed in an instant. A deeper, muskier smell that had a spike of fear that dissipated in an instant. He growled, and nudged his nose up to the base of Alberto's jaw, tasting his richness in the air.
Luca's tail whipped out from behind him and latched onto Alberto's bare ankle, tugging lightly and flaring up his fins to display. He would make such a good mate, Luca thought deliriously, letting his mouth part. He would leave such lovely marks on his skin to show for it.
"Luca, are you alright?" Alberto tensed, and his grip on Luca loosened.
Luca wriggled uncomfortably with the heat that trembled and throbbed between his legs, opening his mouth poised on Alberto's neck, only thinking of the blood rushing through him and the need to be full. His teeth kissed the sweat on Alberto's neck, and Luca let out a whimper in surprise.
"So pretty...you smell so good, Alberto." Luca mused. The heat wasn't allowing him to think clearly anymore, his head was muddled with Alberto's scent and the overarching desire to claim him. He rose off his knees, while Alberto held his breath in confusion, and Luca pressed his full weight onto Alberto in one sloppy motion. His hips stuttered as they met Alberto's waist, relieved to have some friction, and Luca already knew the other boy could feel what had been dripping there. "P-Please, I need you."
Alberto gasped and shoved him off, harshly. Luca fell back into the hot grass, the towel around his shoulders stank of mildew and heat. He blinked back at Alberto, who was scrambling up on his feet, chest rising in uneven bursts of air. As he stood he blocked the sun and his entire front half was bathed in shadow. But the absence of the sun did not hide the blush that blistered along Alberto's nose, not a delicate rose in bloom but like an aggressive blaze that colored its path. So much that it reached the tips of his ears.
Neither spoke for minutes. Both breathing heavy, one in shock and the other in embarrassment, sweat dripping from their skin. Alberto felt the spot Luca had left on his neck, then shuddered when he saw the unhinged glint in Luca's yellow eyes.
"I'm sorry...I can't control it," Luca whispered. His breath caught on the wind, raw with shame and a tumult of conflicting emotions, and he wouldn't be surprised if Alberto didn't hear him.
Alberto took another step back when Luca crawled out of the towel and went to the edge of the pool. "What do you mean you can't control it? What the hell were you even going on about?"
Luca, eyes streaming, slipped into the water without a sound. The cool waves lapped at his hot scales and they soothed him, but only on the outside. There was something twisting around inside of him that wouldn't go away, even if he wanted it to.
He couldn't control the way he felt.
He glanced over his shoulder before murmuring. "I'm in heat."
#luca#luca fanfiction#luca paguro#luca x alberto#luca and alberto#luberto#luberto fanfic#luberto fanfiction#alberto scorfano#luca disney#pixar luca#luca movie
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regret
↬ wc: 3.9k
↬ pairing: bokuto kotarou x fem!reader
↬ genre: angst, fluff, soulmate au
↬ summary: you’ve always viewed the concept of soulmates negatively, or even indifferently, but bokuto kotarou quickly changes your mind.
-- send an ask to @/seraee to be on my gen taglist or fill out my form in navi!!
As life progresses, regret, you learn, is the absolute bane of your existence.
You are born in 20th century Japan, near the end of the Shōwa period, and you grow up during the Heisei period. The soulmate legend has become increasingly well-known by then; but you are raised in such times where people, although they know of the soulmate legend, refuse to believe it, or to accept it.
Your grandmother is the one to recount the soulmate tale to you, not your mother. Your mother, a few years after she’s had you, leaves you in the hands of your grandmother, too scared to be trapped in motherhood, too scared to end up like her own mother; trapped in a loveless marriage, forced to be a mother at the age of 20. Your father stays with you and your grandmother, but when you turn eight, he passes away; taken away by weary thoughts and the liquor he so loves.
You are thus left alone with your grandmother, who, though she does her best to support you, is not enough. You have to take on three other jobs at the age of fifteen just to make sure you can pay for your high school education. The idea of taking on even more jobs just to be able to afford university tires you immensely, and you decide you cannot go to university. You just can’t.
Why do you have to work so hard to go to university anyway, when you can just pick up a few years later, when you have enough money? At that point, you are convinced that because of your bad luck, you won’t be meeting your soulmate anytime soon. You’re not even sure if you want to meet him; all your friends are planning to leave to Tokyo to engage in wild partying and one night stands; none of them want to be tied down by something as fickle as love. No one wants to be like their Shōwa mothers.
You decide you do not want to be like your mother; someone who abandoned you. But you don’t want to end up like your grandmother either. Caught between a rock and a hard place, you ultimately decide if you meet your soulmate, you will try, but until then, you want to live your life the way you want to. You want to go with your friends to Tokyo and party and be free, and just not worry about financial, emotional or other materialistic problems.
So with a kiss to your grandmother’s cheek and a last look at the house you grew up in but never loved, you leave for Tokyo the minute you turn eighteen.
Tokyo is bright lights and loud noises; a rush of color and sound and everything in between. Your friends seem to enjoy it; glad they are free from the restrictions of the old village you lived in. You try to enjoy it as well, and for the first few weeks, you really do. You relish in the feeling of letting loose in clubs, dancing to your heart’s content, throwing back shots, meeting new people. It is a rush of excitement and exhilaration, and you are completely drunk on the feeling.
Three years pass just like this, full of wild nights and random strangers and drunk parties. And then one day, a realization hits you. You wake up like normal, in some unfamiliar person’s bed, your garments thrown to the side haphazardly. Feeling the urge to vomit, you slide out of bed carefully, but one look back at the man, and you know he’s out cold. You hurry to the bathroom and vomit out last night’s contents, sighing as you wash your face with cool water after you’re done.
Slipping out of the bathroom quietly, you take in your surroundings and realize you are in a penthouse. You get dressed as quickly and quietly as you can and swipe as much cash as you can carry from the rich man’s wallet, which lay near your clothes. You’re just about to head out when light peeking in from behind curtains covering the floor-length window catches your eye.
Padding over to the window, wanting to see what the view is like from the highest floor of a building, you pull open the curtains and quickly step in front of the window, closing the curtains behind you. A soft gasp leaves your mouth as you take in the sight in front of you.
The sky is a beautiful pale blue covered by white wisps of clouds, intertwining around emerging rays of sunlight peeking through. It looks so beautiful; just like the sunrises your grandma used to show you. She used to bring you up to the hilltop and used to braid your hair at the top and sing you a lullaby as you watched the sunrise with her.
This is the first time you’ve thought about your grandma in years, and tears gather at the corner of your eyes at your thoughtlessness. Is your grandma doing well? Is she taking care of herself? Is she even alive?
You twist out from behind the curtains hurriedly, gathering your belongings and practically running to the elevator, barely holding in sobs as you do so. You must have looked very strange to the people in the elevator with you, but you cannot bring yourself to care.
The second you hear the ding that signals the elevator doors are opening, you rush out, scurrying to the nearest sheltered curb you can find. And you sit down, bury your head in your hands, and you sob.
A few weeks later finds you on the train back to your home town. You’re nervous; it’s been a long time since you’ve seen your grandmother. The remorse and the regret had piled up for years, and you’d just pushed them away, but now; now, you decide it’s been too long. Too long since you visited the woman who practically raised you, too long since you talked to the one who’d loved you and cared for you when your own parents hadn’t.
And thus, you’re resolute in your decision, even though every cell in your body is screaming at you to run away. The slowing down of the train, and the hoot of the train horn alerts you to the fact that you’ve arrived at your destination. Somewhat hesitantly, you step off the train and breathe in the familiar air. Though it didn’t truly feel like home, it felt good to be back.
You grab a cab, anticipation thrumming through your veins. Reaching home, you swing open the rusty white screen door and step inside gently.
“Obaa-san?” You call out softly, taking off your shoes and putting them beside the door. She calls out your name, surprised. Her voice is a feeble croak, and sounds incredibly weary, as if she might collapse any minute. Heart clenching in worry and fear, you follow the direction of her voice to her bedroom door.
Swinging it open gently, you freeze as you see the weakened figure of your ailing grandmother. Her skin is incredibly pale, and she is barely breathing, so faintly you didn’t even realize she was until you looked closely. She beckons you closer, and you step forward weakly, tears blurring the edges of your vision. “Obaa-san.” You breathe out softly, regret clogging up your throat.
“Child,” she takes a shuddering, wheezing breath, and then closes her eyes completely, too weakened to even attempt anything other than talking.
“I’m glad you’re home.” You’re crying now, but she can barely move her arms to comfort you, and that makes you cry harder.
“There, there. My time has come, (Name). My last and only wish for you,” she wheezes, and the lines on her face slowly go slack. “Is I wish you would go to college, and end up being someone successful. I hope for you to live a happy, successful life.” Her voice fades in the end, and she goes completely still. You cry out for her, but she doesn’t respond, and you spend the rest of the day mourning by her side, lamenting the fact that you were too late.
To honour your grandmother’s last wish, you enrol in Tokyo University as soon as you can. The first two years of college pass by surprisingly easy, the cash you’d accumulated from your nights out, along with the money your grandma had left you, pays well for your tuition. You still haven’t aged a bit; no grey hairs visible. That changes in your third year of college though; in the first semester of your third year of college, you meet your supposed other half.
“(Name), you are to be partnered with Bokuto Koutarou for this assignment.” Your English professor intones monotonously, before clearing his throat and reading out the next pair, leaving no room for further instructions or debate.
Having never heard that name before, you glance around the lecture hall curiously, hoping your partner will come to you instead of you having to go to him. A flash of black and white catches your eye, and you see a black-and-white haired boy walking toward you, a cheerful smile on his face. His eyes are rather unique, you note, brilliant gold with a black slit for the pupil. He kind of reminds you of an owl, at first glance, and the cautious walls you always have up are lowered slightly.
“Hey, hey, hey!” He greets cheerfully, one hand reaching out for yours in a high five, to which you comply, slightly unnerved when he slaps your palm and then pumps it up and down excitedly. “I’m Bokuto Koutarou, but you can call me Bo!” He grins cheerfully, and since you usually tend to keep to yourself, the excited greeting from someone you don’t even know makes your heart warm a little.
You greet him back quietly, smiling a little as you tell him your name. He grabs a nearby chair and sits down next to you, practically bouncing in his seat. “SO,” he begins loudly, and you lean away a little, not wanting your eardrums to be blown out. “What theme are ya thinking about?” He asks, leaning toward you a little.
“I was thinking…since it’s Romeo and Juliet, we could do the easiest and most central theme, love?” You say a little uncertainly. Though you have little to no experience on the subject, aside from your grandmother, it is one of the most obvious themes of the play, and you’re sure you can make something up. The assignment basically entails analysing a theme and relating to it, then displaying it to the audience; nowhere does it say it has to be truthful.
“Sure!” He agrees cheerfully, head bobbing up and down eagerly. “Great.” you smile back. The bell is going to go in a few minutes, and you realize you still haven’t packed up your things. “Do you mind going and signing us up?”
“I gotcha!” He stands up abruptly, almost knocking into someone behind him, who just stares at him a little disgruntled, and walks away.
Before he can start walking off though, you need to set a time and place for your meeting to discuss more on the assignment. “Um, Bo-san?”
He turns around, eyes sparkling, “Just Bo is fine!” He says with a thumbs up.
“Right…Bo-kun?” you say slowly. “Man, you’re just like Akaashi!” He pouts a little. You perk up, Akaashi and you are somewhat good acquaintances; did he by any chance, know Bokuto too?
“You know Akaashi-kun?” You ask curiously. “Yeah!” He says, pointing to himself proudly, “Me and Akaashi are roommates!”
“Ah…Then, to discuss the project, we could meet up at your place?” You trust Akaashi to an extent and Bokuto seems nice enough, so you figure there’s no harm. Besides, it’s much better than your cramped little apartment. Bokuto agrees, as you expected, and then the bell rings, and you say your goodbyes.
You stare at the door in front of you, re-checking the number plate and the address Bokuto had scribbled down and shoved into your hand hastily, when you’d reminded him that you didn’t know where you lived.
You knock twice, and the door swings open to reveal an excited Bokuto. “Hey, hey! So, how long do you think this will take? Do you think it’s gonna take long? Please tell me it doesn’t take long!” You’re bombarded with questions as Bokuto hovers in front of you. Someone nudges him out of the way, and then you are met with Akaashi’s face, “Bokuto-san, please give our guest some space.” He says with a sigh.
“Oh!” Bokuto makes a face in understanding, “You’re right, Akaashi!” Akaashi shakes his head, and then looks toward you, bowing his head a little in greeting. You greet him back before stepping into their apartment, arranging your shoes by the door neatly. Akaashi murmurs something to Bokuto quietly, and you look away respectfully. You only look back when there’s a shuffling sound to see Akaashi leaving.
He notices you looking, and says politely, “Well, I’ll be off then.” There must have been a confused expression on your face, because he shifts a little uncomfortably before explaining he’s off to see his girlfriend. Oh. You didn’t even know he had a girlfriend. He nods to you one last time, and then leaves after directing a stern look toward Bokuto.
“C’mon then! Let’s do this quickly!” Bokuto pumps his fist in the air excitedly. “May I ask why you’re in such a hurry, Bo-kun?”
“Ah, I wanna go play volleyball! Volleyballll!” He exclaims as he bounces down onto the sofa. “Oh, you enjoy volleyball?” You follow him, taking out your binder and notes from your bag. “Yeah!” He leans toward you eagerly, so close you can smell the peppermint on his breath. You shift away subtly, but you don’t think he would have noticed either way.
Bokuto bounces on the sofa impatiently as you begin the discussion. “Um, so… love…where do you think it can be observed in the play, and what form does it come in?” Bokuto stares at you blankly as he pauses, “Huh?” Facepalming, you sigh. It’s going to be a long afternoon.
Your meetings with Bokuto don’t go too bad surprisingly; once you bait him with the promise of playing volleyball with him (a trick you learned from Akaashi), he pays a little more attention, and takes down notes dutifully as you discuss (although analysing his writing is a task in and of itself, you’re glad he’s being productive). Hesitant acquaintanceship slowly leads to friendship as the months progress.
Akaashi can only watch silently as he sees you open yourself up a little and as he watched Bokuto wait in anticipation for your visit each day. He thinks the both of you are a little too oblivious; but then again, he doesn’t know you too well. Being kindred souls, both you and Akaashi liked to sit quietly in each other’s presence, but with Bokuto’s loud and excitable nature, he sees you open up a little. Akaashi can only hope that whatever is forming between you and Bokuto leads to something good.
You’re standing in front of your mirror one day, combing through your hair when a strand comes away in your hands. You’re about to throw it away mindlessly when you notice it’s not (h/c); no, it’s grey.The tell-tale sign one has met their soulmate is when they start aging, and that’s signified when their hair turns grey.
You sink down onto your bed slowly, processing the fact that one of the people you met this past few months was your soulmate. Well, you’ve only really interacted with two people, Kasamatsu…no, you’re sure it’s not him; you’re sure you would have felt something. Then…it’s probably Bokuto, you realize.
You’d decided you would try for your soulmate; try for love when you met him. But now that you know it’s Bokuto...you can’t do that to him. You can’t do that to Bokuto, who’s always so excited about everything; who’s always ready to help you; who always makes you feel like you’re better than who you really are. Bokuto deserves better. Better than you, who’s been with so many other while he’s been faithfully waiting. He deserves so much better, you think.
You have never regretted your life decisions more than you did at that moment. Regrets, you realize, are the absolute bane of your existence.
The same day, you have a meeting with Bokuto to wrap up some final ends of your project. The door to their apartment is open, and you let yourself in, the weight of your realization a few moments prior is heavy as you greet Akaashi.
He smiles at you softly in greeting; you and Akaashi had gotten closer as a result of Bokuto’s extrovertedness.
Bokuto bounds toward you excitedly, pointing toward his hair, which, now that you notice, looks more cleanly done than it was before, “(NAME), HEY, HEY, HEY!” He greets you as you laugh, “Hi Bo, what’s up?”
“Akaashi redyed my hair today, and guess what!”
“What?” you humour him, humming as you go through the motion of taking off your cardigan. “There was a grey hair in between my black ones!”
You freeze, unable to respond. How coincidental that on the same day you discover Bokuto is your soulmate; he finds out he has one too. You don’t notice Akaashi watching you observantly from his post right before the hallway you and Bokuto are in.
You’ve never been great at lying; you know this. You also know that if you run like you so want to, you will give yourself away. So you decide to try to keep a straight face, now painfully aware of Akaashi’s gaze boring a hole into the side of your head.
Bokuto is grinning proudly, both hands on his hips, eyebrows cocked, golden eyes sparkling. “Akaashi and I were making a list,” he chatters, not noticing as your straight face falls. “And (Name),” he turns a bit bashful now, pink visible on his cheeks as his eyes find yours, “We think you’re my soulmate!!” He’s grinning widely at you, albeit a bit more reserved than usual.
He’s clearly nervous. You play with your sleeves anxiously, deciding to let him down gently. You want Bokuto to lead a better life, and you’re sure he can find it with someone, anyone that isn’t you. You open your mouth to tell him no, but something won’t let you. Maybe it’s the way Akaashi’s eyes are drilling into yours from behind Bokuto, telling you not to do what he thinks you’re going to do; telling you not to let him go. Maybe it’s the way Bokuto’s face falls as you keep silent; the way his whole body seems to droop, the way the light that had been shimmering in his eyes dims.
And maybe it’s the crestfallen expression on his face; that’s how you know you can’t do this to Bokuto. You could never break his heart like that. You just hope that when he knows of your past; you just hope he won’t be hurt. You’ve lived with the weight of your life decisions for a while now; he is yet to find out. You regret not being there for your grandma; but you want to be there for him if he’ll let you.
“(Name)?” Bokuto’s quieter than usual voice snaps you out of your anxiety-ridden thoughts. “I-” You hesitate, but one look at his eyes, and you know you have to tell him, “I am your soulmate, Bokuto.”
He perks up almost immediately, throwing his fisted hands into the air triumphantly, “I knew it!”
“I-” You shuffle around anxiously, “But I need to, um, tell you something.”
Bokuto falters as he takes you in, finally realizing you have something important to say. “Sure.” he nods, glancing toward Akaashi, who slips into his bedroom, shutting the door quietly, but not before one warning look back at you. You and Akaashi are friends; but you know Bokuto will always come before you.
You turn your attention back to Bokuto, who’s looking at you confusedly. “So what’d ya want to tell me?” He asks, golden eyes softening as he looks at you, sleek silver eyebrows knitting together uncharacteristically gently.
Your heart feels like it’s in your throat, but you swallow it down, remembering the way Bokuto had looked a few minutes ago. He needs to know, and then he can decide whether or not he wants you.
You proceed to tell him the whole story, and his reactions are displayed on his face, clear for all to see. When you get to the part about your life in Tokyo, his lips quirk downward a little, and you wince.
“Bo, you – you deserve so much better.” You finish softly, eyes looking down. It’s quiet for a little while, Bokuto’s silence is unnerving and you wish the earth could swallow you.
“I don’t think so.” Bokuto’s voice makes you look up slowly, (e/c) pools hesitantly meeting his own golden ones, which are burning fiercely as they look at you. His arms are crossed and his face is pulled into an intense thinking expression.
When he notices you look up, he leans toward you with resolve. “You may have done all that, but that was before we met, before I was even born. What matters is that you picked yourself up, and you worked hard to come here and stay here.” You nod hesitantly, a little surprised; Bokuto’s acting very maturely, but then again, you suppose he always has been, a little bit. He just never showed it much.
“Besides,” Bokuto continues, a smile settling on his features, “You had that one moment, right? The moment where people realize they love someone. I had it.” He says unabashedly, “That’s how I know I don’t care about your past.” He says proudly, leaning back and crossing his arms.
“So you don’t mind that I-”
“A little.” He admits, but he flashes a determined smile at you as he says his next words, “But if you’ve felt that moment, then I know you’re not going anywhere.” He says, and you search his golden orbs for any signs that he’s lying; but there’s none.
He loves you, you realize. He doesn’t care. The moment he’s talking about; you’ve felt it. You feel it every time you’re with him. You love him. The last realization has you throwing yourself across the sofa and into his arms. Bokuto catches you easily, strong arms winding around your frame as he laughs. You can feel his laughter as the rumbles in his chest, and you are hit with an overwhelming wave of affection.
“I’ve felt that moment too.” You mumble into his chest. He laughs again, and you imagine those golden eyes crinkling at the corners, and the whites of his teeth showing beneath a wide smile. “I love you.” You say quietly, but he hears, and his arms tighten around you.
Regret, you think, is the bane of your existence, but it’s also what pushed you to tell Bokuto the truth, so maybe it’s a little helpful after all.
(You and Bokuto get an 89 on your Romeo and Juliet project. The final version turned out much better than what you’d had before – Bokuto had a lot to do with that. When you find out your grade, he peppers your face with small, happy kisses, his hair tickling you as you chuckle gently, and weave your hands into his hair, smiling at him.)
#bokuto kotarou x reader#bokuto x reader#mknet#haikyuucreations#haikyuu x reader#fukurodani#bokuto fluff#soulmate au#haikyuu soulmate au#bokuto x you#bokuto koutarou#bokuto kotarou#raeyn writes#haikyuu x you#hq x reader#hq x you#haikyuu oneshot#haikyuu writings#bokuto#angst
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memory-bound: a revival one-shot
Set between Rm9sbG93ZXJz & My Struggle IV, Scully moves back into the Unremarkable House after her smart home burns down and returns to an age-old ritual: coloring her hair.
T, 1.8k, fluff/domestic fluff, read on ao3 here.
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Lamp light casts shadows on the wall as Scully unpacks in a place she never thought she’d find herself again: the master bedroom she and Mulder shared for almost a decade. She lays her remaining clothes on the tribal-patterned bedspread and smirks at how little the room has changed. She expected to be put up in the guest room and was perfectly fine with that. They had rarely gotten any use out of it--she figured an inhabitant would do it some good. Imagine her shock, then, when Mulder told her he hadn’t slept in “their” room since she left. That the room was all hers.
It shouldn’t have surprised her that after a decade of a bed, he returned to what he knew upon losing what he had known. He swapped the couch he slept on for seven years for a Barcalounger. An old man needs his amenities, he joked while showing her its heat and massage functions. And she felt a gnawing in the pit of her stomach, the mark of a fool.
She salvaged what she could from the fire, but most of her Bethesda things were ruined. That soulless smart house was never worth its automated thermostat system, let alone any of its other data mines disguised as gizmos. Mulder hated it--hated it, like, wouldn’t step foot in it, and if she’s being honest, that was the only selling point for her: the shelter it offered from his incessant search for truth & his unsatisfiable conscience. This was back when she felt like that was something she needed to get away from, of course. She had wanted to settle somewhere and mean it. Now, she realizes they were settled all along.
She rests a pile of folded clothes in the crook of her arm and pulls open her old dresser. She envisioned cobwebs--maybe even a whole family of spiders--in there, but instead, a ratty New York Knicks t-shirt greets her. And a Spaceship Earth one under that, and a Wile E. Coyote one under that. Her holy trinity of Mulder t-shirts. She refused to take them when she left, though he insisted. And in protest, he hadn’t worn them. She knows this instinctively, though the lack of laundry scent confirms it. They’ve been waiting in this drawer all along, captives to Mulder’s fantasy that one day she would open it again.
Scully squeezes her eyes shut, slips the pile in next to the shirts, slams the drawer, and grabs her toiletries bag off the bed, striding into the bathroom. She can’t dwell...she can’t. She’s learned by now that regret is a state of mind that freezes her up, and there’s no being frozen, not any more.
Unzipping the bag, she lines her various products along the counter. Age-defying this, anti-aging that...sunscreen is really the only thing that’s done her any good. That, and hair dye. She keeps the others around for show.
Speaking of...she pokes at her roots, scouring the mirror for signs that yes, she could theoretically be a grandma--and she can’t say for certain that she isn’t--but to her knowledge, she’s not, and as long as no one calls her Grandma, she won’t accept the title.
She won’t accept the gray hairs, either. One day, sure, but not yet. Mulder’s not even gone gray yet, and he has years on her. She’s told him that he would look great, and that the silver fox nickname would be nothing short of perfection, but he swears that he just hasn’t lost his “natural luster” yet, that he’ll embrace the gray when (if!) it comes.
Scully’s not been so lucky, though it doesn’t show. She’s been coloring her hair every three weeks since she was twenty-eight to keep the ravishing red. She’ll never forget when Mulder realized it wasn’t her natural color...the way his eyes widened as he moved between her legs…
It’s not as if he didn’t know; her mousy auburn had been on full display when they first met, and yet he’d gotten so used to seeing her as she is that it slipped his mind that she hadn’t always been that way. And once they moved in together--in this very bathroom, actually--he loved to help her with the coloring process, was as fascinated by it as the prospect of alien-human hybrids.
She chooses the tube of Rock it Like a Redhead dye from her product line-up, looks at her reflection. It’s been five--no, six--nearing seven--years since she performed this ritual in this room. She glances down, and sure enough, the tile still bears a rust-colored stain from one of her sessions gone wrong. It makes her smile...she has a history here. They have a history here.
She sighs. For old time’s sake, she might as well...she’s found herself thinking that a lot lately.
Her old robe--her usual attire for the occasion--fell victim to the fire, but she’s got a good substitute in mind. She pads back into the bedroom and plucks the Wile E. Coyote shirt from the drawer. It’s black, hopefully that will hide any stains. Her slacks are too damn expensive to risk an accident, so she briefly considers stripping to her panties before settling on a pair of gym shorts.
Her get-up in place, she grabs a few clips from her bag and pins her hair up in four sections. This is one of the reasons she got her chop; her long hair was sexy, but it was a bitch trying to cover all those layers. Plus, Mulder is fond of “the Scully shag” as he calls it, though she corrects him every time (it’s not a shag Mulder, it’s a bob!). It reminds him of their firsts, she imagines. It’s almost as if the longer her hair got, the further apart they drifted. And once they were okay again, it was imperative that she bear her neck to him...show him the place where his lips should land.
She decides to stand in the shower (water off, of course) so any mess can be rinsed away. She wonders, suddenly, if the square mirror they used to keep is still suctioned to the glass interior. It’ll be hard to do this alone if it’s not.
She peeks in, and it’s not there, and that must be the only thing in this house Mulder has moved. Figures. She slips off her shoes and grabs the applicator and dye tube. She’ll do the best she can, then use the bathroom mirror to make any touch-ups.
Scully steps into the shower. Its characteristic lemon scent is gone, and that makes her sad. It used to be a welcome change from the antiseptic hospital smell she dealt with all day. Wielding her tools, she starts at her roots, spreading the dye along her scalp with expert precision. Surely this counts as a workout--it takes a lot of energy to hold your arms over your head for this long. Will her Fitbit calculate how many calories she’s burning, she wonders?
She’s just started a new strand when a gentle rap echoes through the wall.
“Scully?” Mulder’s voice rings from outside the bedroom. She pulled the door slightly shut when she entered.
“Come in!” she calls. “In the bathroom.”
She hears footsteps in the adjacent room, then a hesitant breath as Mulder pauses at the doorway. “Are you decent?”
Scully looks down at herself. What a picture. “I’m in a Wile E. Coyote t-shirt and gym shorts. Does that answer your question?”
Mulder shuffles in, smirking at the sight of her through the open shower door. “What are you doing?”
She points to the crown of her head--which is already well within his field of vision--so she’s not sure why he needed to ask the question.
“Well, I see that,” Mulder concedes, “but I mean, why are you hunched over in here like you’re hoping to grow a third arm?”
Scully shrugs. “A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”
“That’s just as lame as ‘boys will be boys,’ and you know it,” he counters, remembering a spirited lecture she once gave him on the misogynist undertones of the phrase. Scully smirks. They had that conversation years ago...post-William, pre-Bahamas. She’s surprised that it stuck with him.
She tilts her chin in a way that makes Mulder certain she’d have her hands on her hips if they weren’t occupied. “What do you suggest?” she challenges.
“Let me help you,” he proposes before she can launch a protest. His sneaker’s rubber sole meets the shower tile as he slips in beside her. The wall is cold against her elbow as she scoots back to make room for him.
“I’m fine. I’ve been doing this on my own for years, and I was long before you.”
“But now you have me,” he professes. “Here. Right now,” he clarifies, not meaning to label their as-yet undefined relationship status.
Their eyes meet, and Scully’s hit with the last time the two of them were in here--her legs around his waist, his hands sliding through her hair, droplets that couldn’t be placed as shower water, sweat, or tears. Her spine straightens against the very wall where she was pinned. Times change, yet they don’t. History repeats itself in a slightly different key.
“When I was younger, I did this because I liked the color,” she tells him, finishing a section and lowering her hands. “Now, I do it out of necessity. It’s sad, Mulder.” She juts her lower lip out in a faux pout. “We’re getting old.”
He would hug her, but he’d mess up her hair and it would be a whole thing. “Hey, I’ll be pushing your wheelchair with my wheelchair, remember?” he says, taking her slip into sentimentality as permission.
Scully nods, the delicate memories of years past bringing a slight frown to her face.
“Can you do me a favor?” she asks, raising to her tiptoes, then lowering again. Her eyes twinkle.
“Of course.”
She offers him the tube of dye, looks up at him with a smile.
“Can you get right here?” She points to a spot right above her temple, one she could definitely reach herself if she wanted to.
Mulder admires her. His woman, back in his old t-shirt and all. He plants his lips on her temple, breathing her in. No matter what she says about aging or being old, he’ll never believe her. She is as she was back then: the only semblance of peace he’s ever known.
He pulls away to meet her gaze, his voice warm and smooth. “Is that about where you want it?”
Scully grins. “Yes, that’s perfect.”
#this might be the only revival fic i ever write & i really enjoyed it#a chance to reflect and take a trip down memory lane <3#the x-files#txf#txf fic#mine#todayinfic
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New Horizons
Main Pairings: Estela x (f)MC, Graleister
Summary: Endless Ending. Liv and Reggie are starting school in San Trobida. Notes at the end!
Word Count: 9695
Chronology: After 'Growing Pains', before 'How the time escapes me...'
Tagging: @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr, @greengroove @mauvecatfic
Thanks for reading!
San Trobida, July 2035
“Hey, Auntie Grace!”
Reggie looked up from his book at the sound of his cousin’s voice, and hastily placed aside his shiny new copy of ‘A Guide to San Trobidan History’ so he could rush out into the hallway.
Grace was already wrapping Liv in a hug. “Hello, sweetheart.” She kissed the side of her niece’s head, before her eyes wandered down to a bloodied knee. “Did you have a mishap on your bike on the way here?”
“Yeah… I clipped the kerb and crashed,” Liv said, offering her aunt a better view of her wound. As she heard Reggie’s footsteps, she looked up to meet his eye and smiled.
“Youch!” Reggie offered sympathetically as he came close enough to peer over Liv’s grazed knee.
Liv shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”
Grace, though, was more concerned. “Are you sure you didn’t hit your head when you fell?”
“No, just scraped my knee. It does actually sting a bit.”
“Hmm. Well, I think we’d better put some anti-septic that knee just to be safe.”
The new house was a mess. Boxes and misplaced furniture filled every room, and the twins-- six years old-- had been making forts with the packing boxes that had been emptied so far. The family had been in the house for just over a day, and some good progress had already been made. There had been a lot that had been left behind. Neither Aleister nor Grace put too much value on material possessions, so most of what had come with them and the children to their new home in San Trobida had been essential furniture, and the mountains of photo albums and memorabilia from a life with the kids.
Grace sat Liv down on a wooden ottoman, and, after a little bit of rummaging, found the first aid kit.
“Okay, this might hurt just a little,” she said gently, and she carefully dabbed Liv’s graze.
Liv yelped, “Fuck!”, causing Reggie to gasp, looking to his mother for a reaction, and Erin and Immy to burst out giggling from inside their box-fort.
Grace raised an eyebrow, but her warm smile didn’t shift. “It stings that much?”
“Yeah…,” Liv said, flushing a little. “Sorry about the language.”
“I’m sure I didn’t hear a thing.”
There was the usual bustling around as Aleister got the girls into their shoes; Immy and Erin had decided that swapping one shoe with one another was the peak of humour, but eventually, their father managed to get them each into a left and a right-- even if they didn’t match. Six-and-a-half-year-old sisters, Reggie had come to realise, made just about everything more of a headache than necessary.
Eventually, though, they were on their way. His mom and dad, walking beside the twins as they pootled along on their bicycles, had the address, but Reggie rode ahead with Liv, taking her lead as she zig-zagged through the streets of Valle Brava. Having only set foot on San Trobidan soil as a new resident some twenty-four hours ago, everything aspect of his environment set his senses alight. This wasn’t like being back in America. Perhaps it was the tropical climate, but he was reminded much more of La Huerta-- of home. Liv certainly seemed right at home here. She and her mothers had settled a few weeks before, and Liv had been coming here pretty much all her life. There were just a few blocks between their respective houses, and the wide cycle paths along the bitumen roads made for an easy journey. This, Reggie had been told, was a newly developed area; much had been re-built since the war he knew his Tia Estela had been involved in. The cycle paths ended as they came nearer to Liv’s place, a little way out of the main township. The foliage on either side of the road became thicker, and there was less street noise, more birdsong.
“Beat you!” Liv announced as she planted her feet into the ground, forcing her bicycle to a stop.
Reggie grumbled, pulling up beside his cousin in front of a humble bungalow-style house with outer walls a vibrant azure blue against yellow accents. The sound of a dog barking-- unmistakably Liv’s Robin, was further confirmation they’d arrived. “You didn’t beat me, Livia. I was following you. I didn’t even know where we were going.”
“Jeez, dude. No one likes a sore loser….”
“I am not a--!”
The door swung open.
“Reggie!” Taylor wasted no time in sweeping her nephew into a hug. “It’s so good to see you! I can’t believe you still have the energy for cycling over here-- didn’t you move house, like, yesterday?”
Reggie laughed. “Hi, Auntie Taylor!” There was something about seeing a familiar face in this new environment that made the pieces seem to click into place. Family made it home. “I’m a little bit tired but mostly just excited. I did sleep in today, so I guess I won’t crash until later.” His sisters on the other hand… there was no way they’d last the evening without overtiredness rearing its ugly head.
“I’m guessing your mom and dad are on their way with the girls?”
“Yeah,” said Liv, “but they’re pretty slow. I don’t have to wait to give Reggie the grand tour, do I?”
“Knock yourself out, kid. Hang on, Liv? Walk your bike through the house, please.”
“I was gonna!”
Reggie could only smirk. Like hell you were….
“Aaaand,” Liv finished off with a flourish, “this is my room!” She opened the door to a good-sized bedroom. It seemed to Reggie that what floor-space wasn’t taken up by the bed was piled up with boxes.
“I mean, I can’t say the mess wasn’t a clue.”
Liv gave her cousin a look as she flopped into her bed. “Hey-- moving house is hard. You’ll see soon enough. You get started all excited, but once you start living your life, you kinda get… stuck. Mama Taylor says we’re going to just blitz it all next weekend, and throw ourselves a pizza party as a reward.”
Reggie got up onto the bed and crossed his legs. “Do you like it here?”
“I love it here! I always liked coming here when I was little, so I guess it doesn’t feel like something completely different. I reckon my tio abuelo is over the moon that we’re here for good; it’s like I’ve got a grandparent now.” Liv’s cheeks flushed pink, and she glanced away.
Understanding, Reggie nodded. Together, they’d grown up in a family that didn’t take the traditional shape. There were some things that simply couldn’t be explained to other friends; like why Reggie’s grandma could help him with his homework, but could never come in for grandparents’ day, and why Liv had a whole side of the family with no grandparents at all-- not even dead ones.
“And,” Liv continued, “people don’t really look at my Mama Estela funny. I noticed that years ago. I guess ‘cause of the war, people don’t look twice at someone who’s maybe a little bit banged-up. I got so sick of it back in America. Every time we met someone new, they’d put on that ‘God, what happened?’ face. Maybe Mom doesn’t want to explain the whole ‘revolutionary in a civil war’ thing to every random person who can’t mind their own business. Some people have scars-- big freaking deal. It’s better here.”
“Yeah, that would be a nice change. The amount of times I’ve seen you and Auntie Taylor look at a nosy idiot like you want to deck ‘em--”
Liv burst out laughing. “True, that.”
The sound of excited barking rang out from the backyard. It seemed pretty likely to Reggie that his parents and sisters had just arrived. When he and Liv arrived in the backyard, Erin had already joined Estela at the barbecue, desperate to be involved, while Immy was passionately talking to Nicolas about goodness-knows-what. Reggie made a mental note to rescue him in a few minutes; that kid could be intense, and the poor old guy had come out here for a relaxing lunch with his niece.
Nicely, but firmly, Reggie nudged the wriggling, writhing form of Robin the dog to the side so he could join his mother and Auntie Taylor at the large alfresco table under the porch. And Robin returned to his favoured position at the feet of the barbecue-- Erin was just a kid, surely, she’d drop something….
“Do you need a hand with the salads?” Reggie asked as he greeted his mother with a hug. He’d been seeking a lot of those. With so much changing, familial comfort meant a lot, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it.
Perhaps more than anything, though, he was grateful to have Liv by his side. It was the way it had always been; from their toddler days on La Huerta, through elementary school, to their adventures in home-schooling. Some things might change-- some things might change immeasurably-- but he always had his cousin.
___________________________
La Huerta, 2028
Liv yelled out as she splashed down into the shallow surf. “Reggie!”
“I got her, Xiraana!” Reggie cried, and soon he was joined by a young Vaanti girl, who helped restrain their victim.
“No, no!” Liv squealed as she struggled. Vaanti kids, she’d long ago realised, were strong. “You’ll never take me alive!”
“Five-- four--- three….” Xiraana counted down, not letting Liv out of her grasp.
“Two-- one!” Reggie finished triumphantly, and he let his cousin fall unceremoniously back into the water. “The klaawyi ate all the meat off your bones. You’re one of us now!”
Liv pouted, but admitted defeat. It wasn’t the worst thing that could happen; she was pretty good on Team Klaawyi anyway. Or, she would have been… had she not seen the figure of her favourite uncle descending onto the beach from the great tree of Elyys’tel.
“Tio Diegoooooo! Hiiiii!” Liv ran across the sand, almost tripping in her desperation to reach him.
“Hey, Livia!” Reggie cried out, indignant at being suddenly abandoned. “You’re meant to help us catch them!”
But Diego had crouched down to wrap Liv in a hug, and Reggie might as well be talking to a pile of rocks for all that was being absorbed.
“Tio, they got me! Reggie and Xiraana got me, and now I’m a klaawyi!”
“You?” Diego laughed. “You’re no klaawyi-- I’ve never seen a klaawyi that was ticklish!”
“Wha--?” Oh no. Once again, Liv was shrieking with mirth, this time dodging the tickling hands of her tio.
Still standing in the shallows, Reggie stomped his foot, which achieved little but splashing himself in the face. The game went on without them; games of Klaawyi Chase didn’t stop for anyone. The usual fun on the beaches outside Elyys’tel would go on like this every day… whether Reggie and Liv were there to join in or not. And Reggie didn’t want to miss out now.
“Come on, Livia!”
She just shook her head, not letting her adoring gaze up at Diego slip for so much as a heartbeat. “Nah,” she said. “I’m done.”
Torn, knowing that whichever direction he ran in, he’d lose out on precious time with friends, Reggie admitted defeat and rushed back to Liv’s side on the shore. He looked back over his shoulder and waved goodbye-- for what he’d been told would likely be a long, long time. Engrossed in their game, his friends gave just the most fleeting of farewells before continuing to race through the small waves that lapped the beach.
Liv, in contrast, had eyes only for her tio. She clasped his hand tightly; if she held on tight enough, perhaps he’d have no choice but to come with her to wherever her mothers were taking her in the big aeroplane.
Where exactly she was going, Liv didn’t quite understand. It was away from La Huerta, but they weren’t going back to live with Tio Nicolas, they were going… someplace else. Someplace with no Tio Diego and Varyyn, where all the other kids would be boring shades of pink and brown rather than blue and green, and where no one knew about the yeti-bear, or the magic crystal alien that made her mom, or about The Story of the Year the World Stopped.
“I want you to come, Tio Diego…,” Liv softly beseeched.
Diego’s eyes grew misty, her earnest words having tipped him over the edge after what had been a long period of emotional build-up. Goodbyes were never easy, and Liv’s family was his family. He squeezed her little hand gently.
“I’ll visit you, Livi-- I promise. Cross my heart. And your mommies will bring you over to visit us here too; you are going to learn so many new games at school that you can teach Xiraana and the other kids.”
“But I’ll miss you…”
Having rejoined Liv, Reggie peered up at Diego’s teary face with concern. “Diego, you’re making your glasses all foggy.”
“Ha. I know, I know!” Diego wiped his eyes. “You might have a point there, Reggie; I want to spend this last night with you guys actually being able to see you!”
Liv giggled and wrapped her arms around her uncle’s legs, only to be peeled off and hoisted into the air. “We can still have fun until bedtime, can’t we? Will you tell us a story?”
On the ground, Reggie danced around, his arms waving. Diego-time was the best story-time.
In the arms of her tio, her playmate since she was a baby bouncing on his knee, Liv was a mess of emotions; of fear and excitement, of merriment that competed with the looming sorrow. It was more than her little self had a clue what to do with. She was only five.
Sensing his cousin’s turmoil, Reggie reached up a hand and took hold of Liv’s, hanging down by Diego’s side. “Don’t worry, Livia! If you worry, you won’t enjoy story-time.”
Liv stuck out her bottom lip. That little nerd-face could be pretty smart sometimes. Tomorrow night, there would be no goodnight story from Tio Diego, but tomorrow night was not now-- now, everything was as it should be. Her wavering grin returned, and to her delight, it brought matching smiles to the faces of her companions.
“Do you think Varyyn, and my mommies, and Auntie Grace and Uncle Alli, and Auntie Grace’s tummy babies want to listen to the story too?”
“Yeah,” Diego said, letting Liv back down to the ground, where she immediately found another hug in Reggie’s arms, “I think everyone would really like that.”
_____________________________
San Trobida, August 2035
“I don’t get it,” Liv said thoughtfully, as the car rolled right on past the turn for her Auntie Grace and Uncle Al’s place. “It’s right on the way; wouldn’t it have been easier for us to pick up Reggie?”
“Hon,” Taylor replied, “I think Reggie wanted his mom and dad to take him to orientation. They’ll probably be better at helping with his jitters than we would be.”
“I guess.” Liv looked out the window, watching the surrounding vegetation thicken once more as the car followed the road up out of the valley. “Orientation Day shouldn’t be too bad, right? Just, like, meeting our teachers, learning where stuff is, that kinda thing?” And you’ll have to try and make friends. That would be a laugh.
By the time they pulled up at the Las Selvas Secondary School, however, Liv fully understood her cousin’s nerves, and realised that was probably why she’d been so disappointed that he didn’t share a car with her. Through every big change in their young lives, his presence had been a reassuring constant.
“Uggghh,” she groaned. “Can I change my mind? Home-schooling was all right; more of that, please.”
Estela leaned from the front seat and gave Liv’s knee a squeeze. “You know, I don’t think he’d ever say it, but I’m pretty sure Reggie would be really scared if he had to walk into this without you. Besides, you were so excited about starting here; you owe it to yourself to at least giving it a shot.”
Again, Liv groaned, this time even louder. “It’s so annoying when you’re right.”
“Story of my life,” Taylor laughed, while Estela smirked.
When they pulled up at the school, Reggie was already waiting, standing beside the car-park while his parents fussed over him.
“You have your phone?” Grace quizzed, checking for the fourth time since they’d set off.
“I told you, yes!” Reggie replied, and he pulled his phone out of his pocket to wave around for good measure. “I’ll send you a message when I’m ready to be picked up, I promise.”
“In that case, you just have a wonderful time, darling.” She wrapped him in a hug-- already Reggie was easily as tall as her. “Go well, and have fun.”
Liv rushed over, all smiles. Her own nerves were a whole lot less bothersome when she had the distraction of friendly faces.
There were a few more rounds of hugs exchanged-- and then, suddenly, Liv and Reggie were on their own.
“You wanna head over? Looks like people are already crowding around-- it’s probably gonna start soon.”
Reggie’s expression brightened, as if he’d been just waiting for a little push for his confidence to surge back forth. “Well, it will hardly be an auspicious start here if we miss the principal’s address. Get a move on, Livia!”
The morning passed relatively quickly. Liv placed herself next to Reggie at all times-- they’d been put in the same Grade Seven home room as requested, making him one of the eldest in the class, and her one of the youngest. The whole set-up wasn’t entirely different to the school they were accustomed to, other than the bilingual approach. They were given a small pile of boring paperwork, and outlines of what to expect in their new classes; as English was their first language, they’d be taking ‘Spanish as a Second Language’, and Liv was also excited about ‘Nature Studies’, a subject she’d never been offered in America.
As far as Liv was concerned, the most traumatic part of the session was being expected to stand up in front of a room of strangers and give a short spiel about themselves. The perfect opportunity to officially balls-up any chance they might have of making new friends, or at least that was how she saw it. She mumbled down into her chest; something about enjoying hiking and gymnastics, something about liking Batman, and animals, and then she hurriedly sat right back down with flaming cheeks. Reggie, she observed, handled the brief foray into public speaking with rather more poise. Even though he was shy-- perhaps even more than she was-- he seemed able to go into ‘school presentation’ mode, and breeze through. When he sat back down, though, his hands were shaking-- but that was for the eyes of his trusted friend only.
When the lunch break came along, Liv was ravenous; a new and challenging social situation could do that to a person. While Reggie sloped off to the bathrooms, she tested out the school canteen, emerging a little while later with a hot empanada. It wasn’t quite as good as her Mama Estela’s, but it was definitely a step up from what was on offer at her old school. Maybe she could get used to this place….
Liv watched this new world go by all around her as she ate, cross-legged beneath the tree she’d told her cousin to meet her by. Kids moved in their little circles, talking loudly, laughing. Most of them coming into Grade Seven had come from the local primary school, and many knew each-other. Liv and Reggie would be starting out on the outside… and that was daunting. She could not be more grateful that she wasn’t taking this on alone.
Or… at least, she shouldn’t be. The lunchtime queue moved on, the gaggles of kids spread out, and still Reggie hadn’t returned.
Damn, constipated on your first day. Sucks to be you, Reggie.
Tentatively, Liv approached the boys’ bathroom and, having ascertained that no one was watching, slipped in. Her footsteps were unheard, drowned out by the loud, frantic breathing of young Reggie, slumped over the sink. Alarmed, Liv rushed over. Tears were spilling down his cheeks.
“Reggie… it’s okay,” she said gently. A little unsure, she reached out a hand to rub his back, and to her surprise, he didn’t flinch away. Slowly, he seemed to regain control of himself.
“Liv…,” Reggie panted. “You know you’re not meant to be in here; this is the guys’ room.”
“Hey! Like it’s my fault you didn’t take your anxiety attack into the unisex bathroom. That’s on you.” Hmph. Ungrateful, much?
Reggie scowled, and dragged his cousin out of the toilet block by her arm. He slumped down by the wall, and scooched over to encourage her to join him.
“You’re a pain in the arse.” He was still shaking.
“It’s been said, yeah.” Liv huddled a little closer. “You don’t need to worry, okay? You’re not going to have any trouble making friends. Did you see they’ve got a chess club, and a photography club as well? At least that’ll get you talking to people.”
“That’s,” Reggie said quietly, “not exactly what I’m worried about.” When Liv looked at him expectantly, he continued. “When I was in a room with all those kids, my head just went back to being at our old school… and what happened. I know this place is meant to be progressive and all that, but that doesn’t mean that everyone’s okay. What if I think I’ve made friends with someone, and they find out about Erin, and they make it a big thing, and then some arsehole finds out….”
“Man, you’re really spiraling,” Liv observed, not especially helpfully. She wasn’t exactly surprised by what was troubling her cousin; getting into a fight in defense of his young transgender sister had completely unseated Reggie from the comfortable life he’d had at the last school. It had changed everything.
“You would too, if she was your sister!”
“Probably. But I think you should at least give people a go. It sounds like they’re really strict on any kind of bullying against minorities. Swinging back hard in the opposite direction after that fascist dictatorship.”
“Those are some awfully big words for you to be throwing around there, Livia; watch you don’t hurt yourself….”
“Hey! I know my stuff!” Liv demanded. “Do you think my tio abuelo would have it any other way? But anyway, I’m right. All the people who didn’t fit in before have come to this part of the country. Probably a lot of the kids have parents who saw really horrible things in the war; they wouldn’t want to send them somewhere that was bad like before. My Mama ‘Stel gave the principal the grilling of her life, and I bet she hasn’t been the only one. People are gonna want to make sure their kids are being looked after.”
A smile quirked on Reggie’s face as he imagined his aunt on a school tour. “I bet Tia Estela left Principal Sanchez quivering under the desk.”
“Yeah… after what happened in the last school, there’s no way they’d let us go anywhere unless they were sure it was a place that treated people right.”
Reggie knew that much. But his parents, and even his fierce aunt, could not shield himself, his sisters and his cousin, from everything. He contemplated silently, grateful for the patient companionship.
“I guess,” he said at last, “if no one gave anyone else a chance to be anything but the worst, then we’d be pretty lonely.”
“Yup. We should at least give it a shot. And if it all goes in the crapper, I’ll sic my moms on the fools that mess with us. And the freaking yeti.”
Reggie couldn’t help but roll his eyes. That had always been Liv’s answer to everything. “Livia, I hate to break it to you, but if you go around threatening people with yetis, everyone’s gonna think you’ve got a screw loose. Except me; I know you’ve got a screw loose.”
“So damn rude,” Liv growled. “Anyway, you really should eat something. It probably won’t help you feeling crap and light-headed if you’ve got an empty stomach. They’ve got arepas!”
“...I could eat an arepa,” Reggie admitted. There was only so much a young boy of thirteen could control; he couldn’t wave a magic wand and guarantee that his little sister would never be hurt by cruel, ignorant words, but he could look after himself, so that he was the best him he could be-- and the best brother.
_____________________________
USA, 2028
“You did a great job, sweetheart,” Taylor said kindly as Reggie delicately placed his knife and fork atop his small plastic plate, signaling that he’d finished. Immediately afterwards, the little boy’s small hand had dropped to his side to get a reassuring touch of his teddy’s scruffy fur. “It was nice of Big Bear to join us for dinner. Does he like lasagna as much as you do?”
Reggie yawned widely as he nodded to his aunt. He hadn’t known it was possible for a kid to be so full of yawns, but living with newborn twins had shown him just how big a tired feeling could be. “Big Bear likes to watch from the floor.”
“That’s nice of him to let you have the whole plate for yourself. We’re gonna have plenty to bring over to your mommy and daddy for them to eat tomorrow.”
Lasagna had been Reggie’s choice. This whole sleepover was to be all about him; giving him a welcome break from the stresses of being a new big brother to two babies at once. He’d been on many, many sleepovers at Tia Estela and Auntie Taylor’s place before, but this time felt different. Reggie knew that at home, his parents were busy with their other children… and in his sensitive state, it took no time at all for him to miss them.
Twins, Reggie had come to realise, were very hard work. They cried a lot… and his mommy cried a lot, and his daddy cried a lot, and he cried a lot. All crying and no sleeping was not a whole lot of fun. Reggie wanted so badly to get away from the babies, but at the same time he longed to be with his parents. However much fun it was to take a break at his aunts’ place, the worry in him just wouldn’t go away.
Side-by-side, he and Liv changed into their pyjamas. Five-year-old Liv, true to form, nattered away to him the whole time. Babies, of course, were the subject of choice.
“My moms say we’re probably not gonna get another baby. Maybe ‘cos you have two I can borrow one if I get lonely. Do you have one that you like best?”
Reggie shrugged.
“Maybe next time your mom and dad will have three. You could have all these babies like a baby army, and if someone’s ever mean to you, you will have like a hundred poopy diapers you can throw at them. No one likes poop.”
“I don’t want lots more babies,” Reggie said softly. I want no more.
“If you don’t like babies, you can come and live with us forever!” Liv suggested brightly, oblivious the the wobble of her cousin’s bottom lip.
When Estela popped her head around the corner to check on the kids, Reggie was in tears and Liv looked totally bewildered.
“Mommy, Reggie’s crying…,” she pointed out, rather unnecessarily, for her mother had already scooped the little boy into a cuddle.
“It’s okay, mijo,” Estela soothed as she gently rocked her nephew in her arms. “It’s okay to cry. This has been really hard. You know what? You have been such a good boy for Mommy and Daddy.”
Liv, not quite sure what to do, but nothing if not well-meaning, draped herself over Reggie and patted him on the back. “There, there. It’s okay.”
Estela took Reggie into the lounge room for some cheer-up time, and Liv took Big Bear. Taylor quickly joined them, and pulled Reggie into her lap for a cuddle.
“Are you feeling a bit sad, sweetpea?”
Reggie nodded. “Uh-huh. I liked it better how things were before. Everything’s different.”
Taylor gently rubbed the little boy’s arms. “Change can be really tough. It’s like you’ve got to figure out how life works all over again!”
“Yeah, it’s not nice.”
“So, it’s okay to have a good cry. We will give you as many hugs and cuddles as you need.”
“Reggie,” Liv piped up, “do you wanna play a game? That could make you feel happy?”
Reggie sniffed and nodded again. Pleased-- she had this cheering-up business down-- Liv plonked herself in Estela’s lap and leaned forward to her cousin.
“Do you wanna play… ‘Klaawyi Chase’?”
Estela intervened quickly. “Maybe something with a little less running around. It’s nearly bedtime, Livi.”
“Okay. Ummmm…. ‘Duck, Duck, Goose’?”
“Livita.”
Well, you’re no fun. Liv gave a soft huff and pondered. By her best guess, ‘Hide and Seek’ would be a ‘no’ too… especially as last time she’d hid, no one managed to find her for a full hour.
“How about,” Taylor suggested, “we have a game of ‘Fortunately-Unfortunately’?”
“I wanna play that one!” Reggie said enthusiastically. “Can I start? Fortunately, we all had ice cream for dessert.”
Liv bounced in her mother’s lap. “Unfortunately, the ice cream was smelly-feet flavour!”
“Livi!” Taylor exclaimed, rolling her eyes. Why was everything smelly-feet with that kid? “Okay, then-- fortunately, Robin Dog likes smelly-feet, so he ate all the ice cream for us.”
“Oh!” Liv cried. “I’ve got a really good one!” Hehe, Robin with smelly-feet farts….
“Unfortunately,” said Estela. “It was Mama Estela’s turn, and Miss Livita just had to wait.”
Liv turned and poked her tongue out at her mom, making Reggie giggle. He snuggled in against his Auntie Taylor’s chest, his mind far away from worries about his new role as big brother to a pair of very needy twins.
“Fortunately,” he said, smiling, “Furball was visiting, and he made us some new ice cream with no yucky flavours in it.”
“Unfortunately….”
_________________________
San Trobida, September 2035
It was the last weekend before school started, and a lazy warm day at the Montoya house. Estela was up a tree, hammering boards into what would soon be a playhouse for the kids. She’d already finished up a two-storey-high climbing wall on the other side of the yard, which, at Liv’s request, would eventually be connected to the new tree-house by a zipline. Then, there’d be a slide, and monkey bars, and a tyre swing, and a fire pole. Basically, Estela had made it her mission to put together the best backyard playground on the Costa Libertad. Taylor, meanwhile, had been busying herself with a vegetable garden, with the help of a fascinated Erin and her parents, who turned out to be quite clever when it came to soil chemistry.
Liv had been up and down her new climbing wall like a yo-yo, leaving her dog, Robin, running rings around the base and all but tripping Reggie up as he tentatively took his first steps towards ascending.
“Are you coming?”
“I’m trying! Your dog’s getting in the way.”
Eventually, Reggie managed to clamber his way up, with a little help from Liv who hauled him over the top.
“See; piece of cake.”
Reggie couldn’t quite agree, and now that he was up twenty feet, he was already dreading his descent back to solid ground. Keen to distract himself from the dizzying height, he passed Liv the rope that he’d carried slung across his shoulders.
“What do you want me to do with it?” she demanded. “You’re meant to drop one end back down….”
“I’m not going near the edge!”
“Fine. Immy! You down there still?”
On the ground, and trying to wrestle a squeaky toy giraffe from Robin’s mouth, Immy craned her neck up.
“Yeah-- but you’re lucky I am, Reggie was so slow.”
“Careful. I was careful. You should bloody well try it sometime.”
Immy rolled her eyes dramatically, but nonetheless took the rope end that Liv had lowered to her, and ran it over to Estela so the distance could be measured.
“There we go,” Liv said, after having marked the rope at the edge of the platform. “Done. Reggie, if you’re just going to look down, you might as well be on the ground. Come on-- check out the view!”
Begrudgingly, Reggie sat up properly and looked around.
“Woah.” Maybe he could see the appeal of being up so high, even if he was immensely grateful for the safety rails around the platform. “You really can see everything up here.”
“Isn’t it cool?” Liv beamed as she pointed her cousin towards the paddock behind the yard. “You wanted to see our horse? Right in there at the side of the sheltery-shed thing….”
“Oh, wow! Okay, fine, I believe you now. I guess she was just hiding earlier.”
“That’s Miel. She’s like, older than dirt; Mama Estela used to ride her when she was a teenager.”
“And she’s still alive?”
“Just about. I think she’s uh… nearly thirty? Pretty ancient. Mom found out she was all on her own after her friend died, and she bought her so she could retire here with us. She’s kind of a bitey asshole. Uh, the horse-- not Mom.” Liv quickly amended, glancing to the in-progress tree-house. “So, we’re keeping her, and if she wants to make friends with the new horses we’re getting, she can, otherwise at least she can, like, neigh rude horse words at them from over the fence.”
Reggie snorted. Weirdo.
“I’m super excited. I know Mama ‘Stel was kind of nervous about us moving over here because of how things were when she was a kid-- but it actually… feels nice. I love our new house. I love cranky Miel. I love that we’re gonna get chickens, and maybe a new friend for Robin. Even the school seems pretty good.”
Swallowing his fear, Reggie joined Liv at the railing, dangling his legs over the side of the platform.
“Yeah, I think I like it here, too. Mom and Dad seem really happy; Dad says he can make more of a good difference in the world here than in America. So, I guess that’s got to be good. Did I tell you we’re going to put a pool in?”
“You might have mentioned it. When you’ve been whining about the heat, for the hundredth time.”
“It’s so humid!”
Liv giggled. It was like being back in the tropics of La Huerta, and to her, that felt right. Granted, it might have been nicer if they could just pop on over into a neighbouring alpine region that was inexplicably right next to the hot, sticky jungle, but she really loved it.
“Well,” Reggie said, “it’s going to be great. And it should be done by the time Quinn and Michelle come to visit.”
“Do we even know whose house they’re staying at yet?”
“It should be my place.” Reggie puffed out his chest, as if to emphasise the rightness of his point. “You’re definitely getting Jake and Sean and Mikey. You can’t take all the visitors. And besides… we’ll have a pool.”
That was hard to argue with. “It’s up to the adults anyway,” Liv conceded. In the end, it didn’t matter; she was going to make the most of having her La Huerta family around even if it meant camping out in Reggie’s back yard. “But, I will be a much better San Trobida tour guide than you. I’m still showing you around.”
Reggie hmphed, and Liv laughed.
“Come on, Reggie,” she said, dropping gracefully down the side of the wall and taking up hand-holds. “I’m getting hungry.”
It was at that point that Reggie made the sobering discovery that going down, was rather more intimidating than going up a sheer vertical surface.
“Um, Liv…,” he said quietly. “I, uh, don’t think I can do that.”
“Oh!” Liv responded. “Sorry, I forgot you’re new to this. Maybe you should’ve started smaller. But don’t worry, I’ll get you down….”
“Okay…,” he murmured, clearly not remotely convinced.
“Mom!” Liv hollered, all but making her poor cousin topple over the edge in surprise. “Reggie’s stuck!”
Reggie felt heat rise in his cheeks as his sisters, hanging out on the grass below the wall at the worst possible time, burst out laughing. Like they could even get up this high to begin with.
Up in the tree-house, Estela looked up and wiped off the paint from her hands. Rescuing kids from scrapes had pretty much become her specialty at this point; twelve years with Liv had seen to that. “I’m coming,” she called back.
“I’m not exactly stuck,” Reggie muttered defensively, as his Tia Estela easily scaled the climbing wall to join him and Liv, who’d already rejoined him to offer moral support. “If I really wanted to, I could climb down; I just feel I should practice climbing up a few more times before I try that.”
“You’ll get there,” Estela said kindly. As far as she was concerned, the fact that her nephew had a realistic view of his own capabilities was only a good thing. “I’ll have that zipline going in no time anyway, so you’ll have no hurry to work it out.”
With his aunt’s back offered to him, Reggie took the cue and wrapped his long arms around her neck, and his legs around her middle. Getting rescued by one of the team of protective grown-ups? Basically, the story of both his and Liv’s lives.
“Hang on, Regito,” Estela laughed.
____________________________
La Huerta, 2034
The frigid wind howled against the cabin door, and it took all of Liv and Reggie’s combined might to wrestle it closed. Both kids were panting heavily-- and shaking like leaves-- as they nervously stepped away.
“Thank god this little hut was here, really,” Liv heaved. “I dunno about you, but I’d rather be stranded in a snowstorm with walls around me.”
Reggie said nothing, and just shivered, wrapping his arms around his own torso. He’d wrapped up-- as if his parents would let him go wandering into the colder pockets of the island without a heap of layers-- but the snow had wet his gloves through, and a chill was now spreading through his body.
“Hey,” Liv said, “we should… we should get a fire going. You look like you’re halfway turned into a popsicle right now.”
As his cousin busied herself at the fireplace-- thank goodness there was some firewood left-- Reggie fiddled with his emergency phone. His heart sank. No signal. His mom and dad were going to be so worried when he and Liv never came home….
“Uh, Liv… I think the storm’s screwed up the reception here. It won’t let me phone Mom and Dad.”
Liv looked up, and for the first time, she looked truly fearful, her usual intrepid spirit extinguished in a flash. “They’re really gonna panic,” she said softly. She shuddered. If their parents came out looking for them, it meant walking out into a blizzard, and all the danger that came with it. If she could just tell her mothers that she was safe, that she and Reggie had shelter… they could wait out the storm. Anything could happen, anything….
“Are you okay, Livia?” Reggie asked, and he handed her a heavy blanket as he sat down cross-legged in front of her feebly burning fire. “You look kind of spaced-out.”
“Hng?”
“They’ll find us; it’ll be okay.”
“I don’t want them to come and find us,” Liv snapped. “I want them to stay where it’s safe. They could get hurt or, or worse because we were stupid enough not to turn around when the weather changed.” She placed a stick too roughly, and her firewood tower collapsed, extinguishing the flame. “For fuck’s sake!”
Reggie, wisely, stayed quiet, letting his cousin fix up the mess and get a new fire started without interference. He watched her with concern as her eyes welled. “Livia…?”
She huddled close to him, but for a long while, didn’t speak.
“Reggie,” she murmured at last, “something really horrible happened a couple of weeks ago. I didn’t want to talk about it with you, ‘cause… ‘cause I didn’t even want to think about it…. It just made me feel too bad. But, uh.... I was… I was playing in the sea with Mama Estela. Just like we always do. We were just goofing off. Then, um, I got all tangled up in those freaking weeds. They grabbed me and held me under.”
“That must have been so scary….”
“Of course, Mom got me out of there. B-but there was a sea-snake in there. It bit her. It happened so fast… I hardly even saw what happened, but she suddenly just... could hardly even get out of the water. I somehow managed to haul her up out the water, but she was all limp and… and I gave her the anti-venom, and she just started having some kind of fit.. Like her body was jerking around, and her mouth was all frothy.” She gasped through a sob. “Then she… she stopped breathing, completely.” Liv shuddered as the memory filled her mind, vivid as if it were yesterday. She could feel Reggie’s wide, horrified eyes upon her. “I screamed. I screamed for help. Mama Taylor was up the beach, she couldn’t hear me. S-so I did CPR. My hands were shaking so-- so bad. And all I could think was ‘I’m gonna screw this up. I’m gonna screw this up and my mom’s gonna die’.” Her voice cracked and she sputtered through hot tears that she wiped away with her arm. Before she knew it, Reggie had his arms around her and was holding her tight. “I don’t know how long it was,” she said. “It felt like forever, but it was probably only a few minutes. Then she started breathing and I just… I cried, and cried, and cried.”
Reggie gently rubbed Liv’s back, and it soothed her.
“I, uh, I guess I always thought Mama Estela was invincible. To me, she always was. There was nothing I couldn't do either, because she would always be there to protect me. It was so close, Reggie… it looked like she was gone.”
“I… didn’t know it was as bad as that. My dad told me she’d been bitten but…,” Reggie mumbled. “You must have been so scared. Have you… have you talked to your moms about it much?”
Liv sniffed, and wiped her face again. “Yeah. You know what my Mama Taylor is like; we’ve talked it through lots, I’ve told them how I’m feeling. But I haven’t… like… had a big cry since it happened.” Until now. Now, she just couldn’t seem to stop the tears from coming. Reggie didn’t seem to mind; he just sat with her, and rubbed her back, and told her it was okay.
After what seemed like an age, her tears slowed.
“It is going to be okay, you know?” Reggie said gently. “Obviously, they’re going to come out looking for us, but they’re smart. They’ll be prepared; just like your Mama Estela was with the anti-venom.”
“Yeah…,” Liv said, her voice small. You could be as prepared as you wanted, but sometimes the world managed to stay one step ahead. The storm outside was wild and furious, battering on the roof and walls… and it was frightening. Liv could only snuggle under her cousin’s arm, and trust that whatever search and rescue party was out there would come through.
The two kids huddled together beneath their blanket, speaking little, but making their mutual support known without words. Just the squeeze of a hand through the most blood-curdling howls of the wind, and the simple offer of presence.
Somehow, the creak of the door shoved open cut through the dull roar.
“Oh, thank goodness!”
“Dad!” Reggie leapt forward and flung his arms around his father, his face lighting up further when Grace followed in behind. “Mom!”
Grace put her shaking hands to her son’s face, gently sweeping hair from his eyes. “Darling, are you all right?” Then she pulled Liv into a fierce hug, and in a moment Aleister had his arms around all three of them. “We were so worried!”
Liv whimpered against Grace’s shoulder. “Are my moms out in the storm?” She knew the answer already.
“Yes, honey. They’re out searching for you. Don’t you stress, okay? We’ve got a flare to set off so they’ll know we found you here-- and Varyyn and Diego too.”
“Woah,” Liv murmured, “you got a whole search party out.”
There was a buzzing, and the flickering of blue light, then Iris materialised.
Reggie beamed. “Hey, Grandma! So, a ‘whole search party’ is pretty much correct.”
“I will say, being able to scan for nearby lifeforms is quite handy in situations like these.”
So, find my moms and Tio Diego. Liv hugged tighter to her Auntie Grace, with no words pleading for help.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Grace said gently, stroking Liv’s face, while Aleister saw to setting off the flare. “It’s going to be just fine. We’re not far from Elyys’tel; we all fanned out from there, so no one is going to be too deep into the mountains.”
That… actually made sense. It was enough, just enough to keep Liv a step above panic-mode. She headed back to the fireplace, but as her backside hit the floor, a guttural roar rocked the cabin, and she leapt back to her feet.
“What the--?”
“You two stay back!” Aleister ordered, his voice shaking. Why, oh why, did the children want to go gallivanting out in the frozen wilderness when there was a perfectly serviceable tropical paradise right outside their front door? He was going to be old before his time at this rate….
Grace, though, was already hauling open the door, to reveal the hulking figure of the Mountain Guardian.
A growl rumbling in her throat, Arktos loomed in the doorway, looking down at Grace with a questioning gaze.
“Hello…?” she said cautiously. The gigantic bear-like creature was generally reasonably friendly…. “Did we… did we disturb you with the flare?”
Arktos grumbled, her furry ears flicking with curiosity.
“Our friends are out there in the storm,” Grace continued, certain that the yeti would understand; her past experiences had only supported the fact that this creature was incredibly intelligent-- and benevolent. “The flare was to bring them to this cabin.”
With a soft huff, Arktos shuffled backwards, and all of a sudden, it seemed as though she was surrounded by a force-field… a bubble that the wind and blinding snow couldn’t penetrate.
Understanding, Grace turned to Iris. “I think we’re going hiking again-- with a little extra help this time. Al, you’ll stay and watch the kids?”
“I--I--” Aleister stuttered. “Well, of course. Stay close to the… the bear thing.” Scrambling a little, he pulled off his outer layer and offered it to her. “I won’t have you catching hypothermia.”
And Grace stepped into the snow, Iris hovering behind her, and found shelter in the yeti’s protective shield. She looked up at the beast, now rearing up onto colossal hind legs to scout for signs of nearby human activity. “Thank you, Arktos. I guess… I guess, you choose the direction, and we’ll start the search.”
The unusual trio headed out into the storm, and within moments, they were invisible for the wind thick with snow. Aleister, a look of dumbfoundment upon his face, closed the door, and again, the cabin was quiet.
“Damn. Auntie Grace is a fricking badass,” Liv breathed, face alight in awe.
Aleister, recovering from his wife’s shock exit quickly-- he’d seen her steely courage in action enough times to just about take it in his stride, nodded. “Indeed.” He brushed the last flakes of snow from his coat, and looked around the room. “Well, I don’t suppose the wait will pass any faster with us standing around here. Reggie, did we leave any board-games here last time?”
“Uh, looks like we’ve got ‘Scrabble’?”
Well, Liv thought, I don’t have a hope in hell against these people. Should’ve left ‘Twister’ here….
Reggie sat himself down in front of the crackling fire and started unpacking the box. “Hey, Livia-- team up with me?”
He was clearly still a little worried about her. If there was an opportunity to thrash her at something, Mr Pedantic-Always-Right would take it without fail. Or so Liv had believed.
She plonked down cross-legged beside him. “Yeah? Yeah, all right.”
The two kids exchanged a high five, and Liv couldn’t help but grin. You are going down, Uncle Al.
___________________________
San Trobida, September 2035
As the car pulled up the neatly paved pathway to Aleister and Grace’s house, Liv excitedly rolled down the window.
“Reginaaaaald!!!” she hollered.
“How,” Aleister wondered aloud, “can such a small person-- and the offspring of Estela and Diego of all people-- sound so eerily like a bloody foghorn?”
A beaming Reggie followed his father out the front door. He exchanged hugs with both his parents-- and his two little sisters-- and then rushed to join his cousin on the back seat.
“Are you ready to go, mijo?” Estela checked in, suppressing a laugh as Taylor all but did a contortion act to give her nephew a hug from the front seat.
He had Liv, didn’t he? So, basically, he was ready for anything.
The short drive to the school saw the return of those pesky jitters, and Reggie knew from the way his cousin jiggled her leg the whole way there that he was definitely not alone in that. The school ground, filled only with kids their own age when they’d been there for orientation, was swarming with adolescents of all sizes-- and just about all of them were bigger than Reggie and Liv.
With an awkward hug and a kiss to her mothers in the front of the car, Liv bit the bullet and, bulging backpack in hand, stepped out into a brave new world. There was only one thing for it; Reggie would just have to take the plunge. He swung his backpack over his shoulder, and followed after his cousin.
“Welp,” said Liv, “here goes nothing!”
Reggie gave a nervous laugh and playfully bashed Liv with his backpack, putting a reassuringly silly grin on her face.
We’ve got this.
_______________________
NOTES
Little Xiraana is @mauvecatfic's baby. Check out her stories; you won't regret it!
If you read 'A Ride to Remember', you might remember Miel. She's the very same horse.
Aaaaand, the incident Liv is recounting during the snowstorm is the one you can read from Estela's perspective in 'Teething Problems: Part Two'.
#endless summer#playchoices#liv montoya#reggie hall#graleister#estela x mc#estela montoya#grace hall#aleister rourke#diego soto
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The More You Know
This is the aforementioned short story. It’s unfinished, a blatant Welcome To Nightvale rip-off, and I got extreme whiplash reading it again because one of the characters is named Alex.
Anyway. Can you tell we found out about my grandma’s dementia diagnosis when I wrote this? lmao
also, to reiterate: I wrote this around 2016, I think? It’s been years pls don’t judge me ok :’)
POV first person, wordcount 3.1k
The small town lay in silence, and honestly, that wasn't very unusual. I couldn't really remember a time when it didn't. The shops were closed, the windows all nailed shut with old planks of wood, and in the little corner-store the sign that said 'no help wanted, keep walking' was still firmly in place.
I smiled. It was all exactly like I remembered; exactly like I left it. Like the sign told me, I kept walking, but I didn't hear any steps following. Which was not good, considering I had brought my friend Alex along. He really should keep walking.
I turned, adjusting the backpack slung over my shoulder. »Alex? You need to move,« I said. He stood there, trying to peer into the shop in between the gaps left by the planks. Which was also not very good.
»Why is everything barred? You get a lot of storms here or something?« he asked as he straightened.
»Yes. Or something.«
He frowned, but thankfully caught up to me with a little jog. We continued down the road, in the direction of the woods that never drew any closer, and passed the veranda of Old Lady Miller. Old Lady Miller had a lot of free-running chickens, and it was better not to look at them directly if you wanted to keep your secrets.
She was sitting in her rocking-chair, watching us pass. My grandma once told me Old Lady Miller had already been Old Lady Miller when she was a child, but her chickens hadn't been as many back then.
Alex did another nervous little jog to walk beside me. »Are you sure we should be out here? I mean, no one else is. Maybe there was a storm-warning.«
»Don't worry. It's actually a lot livelier than it normally is.« A chicken crossed the road right in front of us. »Don't look at the chicken,« I told Alex, staring straight ahead.
He looked at me, frowning in confusion. »Why not?«
I looked back at him. »Why did the chicken cross the road?«
»What?«
»To steal your secrets and your memory of every chicken-sandwich you ever ate. Don't look at the chicken.«
He didn't look at the chicken and we got to the crossroad without incident. My family lived straight ahead, at the end of the road, in a nice little house with a nice little garden, bordering the woods that seemed so far away.
»So... what's going on here? Where are all the people? Why are there chicken roaming the streets?« Alex asked, trying to not sound too nervous.
»It's typical, really. Most of the townsfolk doesn't come out if it isn't absolutely necessary. I told you, there's no reason to worry. Everything is fine.« It was understandable Alex was nervous. In my time away from home, I had noticed a slight difference in the happenings of things–not that I thought it made much sense.
»...alright,« he sighed. Still sounded a bit suspicious, though. »So... your brother. You have a brother, right? Does he still live with your parents?«
»It's nice of you to change the subject. But no, he doesn't. Arden likes to live his own life.« And suddenly, we stood in the driveway of the house. Alex looked around, obviously confused, then turned around and looked back. The dirt-road lay winding behind us, despite us having just passed the crossroad a minute ago.
»Don't think about it,« I advised. He looked so suspicious it was almost endearing.
We went up the driveway and up the steps of the veranda. There were four deer-skulls lying in the corner, which was one more than before I'd left, but otherwise, nothing seemed to have changed.
»That's... very charming decoration you've got there,« Alex said, audibly hesitating.
»It's my grandma's. She likes to collect things. You'll see,« I answered. It was the only warning I was allowed to give him. He didn't respond.
I pushed the door open–it was never really locked–and stepped inside. The smell of old wood and burning herbs hung heavily in the air, but it always did, and I would be disappointed if it didn't.
»I'm home!« I called out. My mother came promptly out of the kitchen, carrying a tray of fresh Christmas-tree shaped cookies. It was July.
»Hello, dear! I'm so glad you're back! Your father was getting worried. You know how he gets when you stay out after nightfall.«
I could almost smell Alex' confusion. Apparently, my mother could, too.
»And who is this young man? Where did you find him?« she asked, excited at the prospect of some fresh blood in the house.
»That's my friend Alex. We met a few months ago.«
»Welcome to our humble home, Alex,« she chirped and went off into the kitchen again, presumably to put the tray down. We stood in silence for a few moments, simply listening to the clattering in the kitchen, but then Alex spoke up.
»What did she mean, 'when you stay out after nightfall'? You have been gone for literal months.« He wasn't suspicious anymore; just a little bit scared. Creeped out. That was alright with me. I turned around to face him, and smiled.
»I would tell you time works differently here, because that sounds mysterious, but honestly–my Mom's just always very confused. Sometimes she still sets the table for five people, even though Arden has been gone for quite a time now. She just baked Christmas-cookies.« It was the truth. My mother really didn't have all her wits together anymore, but that's what happened to outsiders staying here too long.
Alex frowned, but then seemed to remember the existence of illnesses like dementia and kept his mouth shut. She didn't really have dementia, but I decided to let him believe whatever made him more comfortable.
I started down the hall, with Alex following close behind, the floorboards creaking loudly with every step we took. It wasn't easy to sneak in here past curfew; but then, it also wasn't easy to survive past curfew.
In the middle of the hall were three possible directions to choose; as a child I always thought of it as a little crossroad in our house. There were the stairs to our right, laden with potted house-plants and herbs, and also loose dirt lying on the stairs nobody ever bothered to clean up.
To the left was the door to the living-room. It was a big, illuminated room with many windows; that was why we only ever stayed in there during the day. Well, except for my grandma, of course. She stayed there however long she pleased. I thought whatever roamed the woods at night was too afraid to fuck with her.
Up front was the kitchen, where my mother was still clattering around, probably cleaning up after herself. From the kitchen, one could go to our veranda; our second, more relevant veranda behind the house. The veranda overlooking the garden, bordering the woods.
When we were kids, my brother and I were only allowed to play in the garden in the summer, because the days were long then, but that was also the time when the stench of rotting flesh was the strongest.
Well, you couldn't have everything. I stole a quick glance behind me and saw that Alex was looking around curiously. His eyes caught on the wall to our left. It was clustered with stuff–mostly crucifixes my grandma had gathered over the years, even though no one really believed in the conventional gods around here.
Besides those, there were also many family-pictures; my brother and I when we were kids, our family outside in the garden, my parent's wedding-picture, my grandma when she was still young–that one photo of us all gathered in the living-room, playing monopoly. No one knew who took that picture. It was just on the camera-roll one day.
Alex made a confused little humming sound that drew my attention. He was looking at a framed newspaper-article and squinting at the headline.
»Man drowned after breaking into closed swimming-pool?« he read. »It isn't even from around here–it says Hamburg there.«
»Yeah... we only got our hands on that because it's the only document left of my grandfather. My Pa's a little sentimental, you see.«
At that, his eyes widened in terror. »You mean-« He whipped around to the article, then looked back at me in silent horror. »That's your grandpa?! And you framed the article and hung it with your family-pictures?!«
»Well, yes. It's not a big deal. Gran likes to be reminded of him sometimes.«
He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes tightly. »That's so fucked up, man.«
I raised an eyebrow at him, a little grin fighting its way onto my lips. »You think that's fucked up? Dude, you've come the wrong place.«
Nightfall approached quickly. Well, actually, it didn't; but it sure felt like it, with Alex pacing and mumbling to himself in the living-room while Mom and I watched from the sofa, fairly uninterested. I told her about the things I'd seen and done in the past months and she listened gladly. It was nice to talk to someone from home; everyone else was exhausting to have a conversation with.
I looked out the window in caution, noticing that the sun was setting behind the woods. We needed to leave the room soon. I told Alex as much and was met with a new-found suspicion of anything concerning me and my family. It was ridiculous.
»C'mon, Alex, only yesterday you trusted me enough to come home with me. What happened?«
He stopped his pacing and stared at me for a while, his eyes looking like he was having violent flashbacks of something unpleasant. »This place happened!«
I sighed, uncrossed my legs and got up. »Chill out, dude. Nothing is going to happen to you. At least as long as we leave in a few days time, but we planned to do that anyway, so I don't see what the big deal is.«
He sputtered, seeming to choke on his own words. »Well, first of all, I would have appreciated if you had told me that you basically lived in Night Vale! Secondly–what do you mean 'as long as we leave in a few days time'? I'm feeling slightly threatened here!«
I heaved another sigh. »No one is threatening you. Well, no one is threatening you in particular. It's just that this place does weird things to outsiders if they only stay here long enough–I mean, you've met Mom, so you should know what I'm talking about.«
He looked at the open door my mother had left through a few moments ago, then back to me and repeated that a couple of times frantically. Stepping closer to me, he lowered his voice to a whisper. »You mean- when 'outsiders',« he gestured quotation marks into the air. »Stay here long enough, they become... like her? This place gives you dementia?«
Why did he always have the need to find words for everything? »You could certainly say so, even though that's not really it. But for the sake of simpleness–yes. It basically gives you dementia. The people who were born here are pretty much immune to it, though.«
Alex breathed in and out a few times, presumably to gather his wits. »What do you mean, 'pretty'?«
For fucks sake, could he just stop picking all the relevant words out of my sentences?
»Some people are a little easier to influence than other people. No big deal there, though. It only happens like once every generation. I think.«
He stared at me thoughtfully, as if considering my words; and probably figuring out which snippet he would pick out next to make me explain some more.
I glanced out the window again, noticing it was about time we got out of the living-room.
»C'mon, we need to get out,« I said, obviously interrupting his inner monologue. He narrowed his eyes at me, but stepped out into the hall nonetheless. I followed and closed the door firmly behind me.
»Why exactly do we need to leave the room now?« he asked nonchalantly. Ah, Alex. You think you are starting to figure things out, don't you? Keep trying, buddy.
»It's the things living in the woods. You don't want to mess with them–even though things have been considerably calmer since Arden left, we still don't want to take a chance with those fuckers.«
And there he went again, looking extremely uncomfortable. »And what are 'those fuckers'?« He really liked his quotation marks, didn't he.
»Who knows,« I answered with a shrug of my shoulders. The only thing we knew about them was that they came out at night and ate pretty much everything consisting of flesh. Except grandma and Arden, of course.
He frowned in obvious frustration. »Why do none of you people know what's going on around here? You fucking live here!«
His little outburst didn't really impress me, so I simply shrugged again. »Ah, you know. No one really cares.«
»What do you mean-« he began, but I stopped him right there.
»If you fucking say 'what do you mean' one more time, I'm gonna haul your ass out into the garden and leave you there with the Woodkeepers. Fucking watch me, mate.«
He looked slightly taken aback at that, but recovered quickly enough, his gaze sweeping me from head to toe.
»Is this why you are never impressed by any horror-movie we watch? Because you live in a horror-movie?«
Now, that was hilarious. I couldn't help myself, I started laughing. Alex was first surprised, then pleased with himself.
»Probably,« I answered, grinning.
Mom made dinner and Alex and I set the table. We didn't have anything to do anyways. Grandma was still out on the veranda, pinning shed snake-skins she had found somewhere to the side of the house.
Alex watched her with interest from the window and grandma ignored him. Mom was humming in the background, checking on her meatloaf in the oven. It was the kind of strange domesticity I had missed during my time away.
»You said since your brother had left, the... Woodkeepers, I think you called them, hadn't been as persistent. Why is that?« he asked quietly as I stepped up to him and leaned on the windowsill.
The old oil-lamp illuminating the veranda flickered, and grandma stopped what she was doing for a second to throw a stern look into the darkness beyond, making a shooing hand-motion. The flickering stopped and she continued undisturbed.
I let my head fall against the glass of the window. »Because Arden is... well, he's special. Not special like Gran, but still. Special.«
»If I were to ask how exactly he is special, you would say you don't know, right?«
»Yep.«
He heaved a tired sigh. »How can you live with this not-knowing? It would drive me crazy.«
I smiled and vaguely gestured in my mothers direction. He followed my hand, and his eyes widened comically in understanding.
»No,« he said with an unbelieving shake of his head.
»Yes,« I retorted. »And that's the only thing I know.«
Half an hour later, grandma had come back in and was staring at Alex. She had been at it for a few minutes now, and it had crossed the 'uncomfortable', the 'creepy' and now the 'really unsettling' mark.
Alex looked over at me, seeking help, but I couldn't do anything. Grandma would take her time, no matter what.
Finally, she swept her intense gaze over to me and leaned back in her chair.
»I hope you didn't bring him here to tell us you are marrying him,« she said, with an obvious edge to her voice. Alex managed to look both offended and relieved at once.
I snorted. »Of course not. We are friends, Gran. You know my standards.«
At that, he only looked offended.
»No offence, Alex,« I said.
»Full offence!« Grandma butted in. She stabbed a crooked finger in Alex' direction. »That one wouldn't even last two months here!«
»That may be,« I answered as I seated myself next to Alex and patted his shoulder encouragingly. »But we aren't here to stay and we're also not here to get married. Don't you worry, Gran.«
»Still,« she continued. »Imagine what your father would say if you were to marry that one. I would never hear the end of it!«
I chuckled lowly and Alex threw me a dark glare.
»I know. Where is the old man, anyway?«
»He went to visit your brother, dear,« My mother said from the kitchen-counter. »He should be back soon.«
Grandma shook her head. »That brother of yours, Arden, he is only making trouble these days. He keeps disturbing the Woodkeepers; they even went and took a chicken from Old Lady Miller! Can you believe it!«
I frowned and looked over at Mom for confirmation, but she kept her back to us. Alex looked as confused as I felt.
»How is he disturbing them? I thought he was off doing his own thing.«
»That is what keeps disturbing them! Arden doing whatever Arden is doing!«
I didn't answer. It seemed very improbable that Arden of all people could be railing up the Woodkeepers, but when grandma said he did, it must be true. And Pa probably wanted to stop him from whatever it was he was doing out there.
Before I could continue my hypothesizing, three gunshots in quick succession sounded outside, breaking the peace and making Alex jump in his seat.
»That's gotta be Pa,« I mumbled to myself and got up. The door swung open as I jogged down the corridor, revealing my father in all his glory. The shotgun with the three barrels was slung over his shoulder and he looked grumpy as usual.
He kicked the door shut behind him and threw the shotgun from him, toppling a big potted plant.
»It's always the same with those three,« he muttered under his breath and unclasped the breastplate he wore for obvious reasons, then ruffled my hair as he walked by.
»It's good you're here, Ryn. I need you to talk to your brother.
#you can tell a lot about my mental state back then by reading this#ray was really going through it#short story#unfinished#i really stopped writing this mid dialogue#very iconic of me#rayrambles
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The Lovers Club (It AU ReaderxAll the Guys)
The Lovers Club (It AU ReaderxBill,Richie,Ben,Eddie,Stanley,Mike)
Warning: Non-con, a little bit of dominate & submissive stuff, erotica themes. They are not kids in this fic.
Summary: Reader has moved to Derry, Maine to care for her elderly grandmother. As an outsider all her life, y/n assumed Derry would be another place she wouldn’t fit in. However, she meet’s a group of young men (early/mid twenty’s) that secretly call themselves “The Lovers Club”. It’s not the type of club where they read books or make crafts, the “Lovers Club” is filled with pleasure & experiences that y/n never thought she’d have; the problem is, some of the men start getting possessive, they want her to be theirs, only theirs.
The library was nearly empty. And that was how y/n liked it. She has only been in Derry for a week but has already found her favorite spot to be. Other than the suspicious looks from the librarian, y/n felt like the library was one of the two places she belonged; the other being the corner house, painted pink and purple flowers, it was an oddity in Derry, the color pallet here was grays, browns and greens. Y/n was odd herself, mostly because she was new and in a small town like this, you know everybody but nobody knew her.
Y/n reminded herself that she only had a few hours before her she has to make dinner for her family, which was just her and her grandmother. Immediately, y/n went to the mystery section where the world of the unknown waited for her to get her hands on it. However, she wasn’t the only one with that idea. A young man was pulling out various books from the dusty shelves.
“Hello.” He looked at y/n and showed a shy smile. He was handsome with blondish, brunet hair and dark eyes.
A rush of heat filled y/n’s cheeks, and she looked at the ground, “Hey...”, the girl said as she began to observe the books.
While she wasn’t paying attention, the young man (Ben) scanned y/n from head to toe while her back was turned to him. Instantly, he thought she was cute; the shy way she pushed past him, the rose-red color her face turned. It reminded him of himself during his childhood, the way he’d stare longingly at a certain red-haired vixen that has since been long-gone.
Before Ben thought more, he blurted, “So what’s your name?” to the girl. She turned to him, her eyes wide. She fumbled with the few books she had in her hand, shaken by the sudden intrusion.
“Y/n..... L/n.” She said, smiling.
Ben took a few seconds. Her last name did sound familiar but he couldn’t add anything up until.....
“The pink house with the crazy purple flowers! That old woman who lives there....is she...” Ben trailed off, expecting y/n to fill in the obvious blanks.
“My grandmother? Yes, yes she is.” Y/N answered, slightly hoping that would be the end of the conversation but it wasn’t because Ben didn’t want it to be.
“Well I’m Ben Hanscom.” Ben wanted to shake her hand or something but they both had a stack of books in their arms.
They spoke for an hour, getting to know a little bit about each-other. Ben was more of an open-book with y/n, where-as she.....held back. Ben thought, when he’d asked about her family and all she talked about was her grandmother and avoided mentioning anyone else. Otherwise, they had much in common. She reminded him of some of the guys and he reminded her of the elderly woman that was waiting for her at home. His attention was fully on her and although, in the past, that usually made her uncomfortable, it was rather nice with Ben Hanscom.
“I have to get back home now but it was nice meeting you.” Y/n said, grateful but in a hurry.
Before she could go, Ben grabbed her hand. “Please meet me here tomorrow! Same time.” He asked, his big, pleading eyes, glossed with comfort & kindness.
“I..I-I don’t know. Maybe.” She curtly said, rushing away and tightly holding herself around her torso. Her heart thumped excitingly.
Ben watched her leave, eyes narrowed at the new girl who’s captured his attention in a very short time. He would have to be careful though, because if his friends found out he had a girl all to himself.....they’d take her too.
Y/n made a simple dinner for her and her grandmother. The elderly woman pressed intrusive questions at the table, asking why her grand-daughter had been smiling like a fool when she got home, why the young girl was too shaky to eat; why she had a dreamy, far off look in her eye during the majority of the meal. Y/n shook off the questions but couldn’t hide her buzz, physically. All she said was that maybe she’d made a friend, something y/n thought difficult to do as an adult. Sleep that night came later than sooner; it wasn’t just her nervous eating her up about the next day, it was the old couch that y/n had to sleep on that she was still getting use to. There wasn’t a second bedroom.
The next day after hours of restless tossing and turning, y/n got up and got ready to do some errands. Her first stop, was to pick up some prescription drugs for grandma and some other items too. Finding the corner drug store was easy, but when y/n arrived, two men were leaning by the front door; chatting amongst themselves as if they weren’t blocking the way.
“Excuse me....I-I need to get in, please.” Y/n asked, forcing herself to took the two men in the eyes.
The shorter of the two men backed away kindly but the other with dark, bushy hair and thick glasses stood there, observing the girl as if she’d interrupted something important.
“Richie, come on! Let’s go get something to eat.” The shorter guy said, tugging the jacket covered arm of his pal.
Richie just stared at y/n but not with contempt, annoyance yes but something else, curiosity. “She stutter’s just like Bill. Funny.” Richie stepped away from the door, put an arm around his friends’ shoulder as they walked away, uninterested after-all.
Okay, that was weird, y/n thought, stepping into the drug store.
After that, y/n headed back her to grandmother’s to deliver the medicine then it’d be time to meet up with Ben. The thought of him sent a bolt of shivers down her back, the way he looked at her as if he’d discovered buried treasure. Y/n had boyfriends and a girlfriend or two but she still wasn’t a pro at dating. Her shyness always got the better of her and who ever she was with, got bored. Y/n wanted to do more things in her love life but it was as if there was an invisible wall that kept her from really touching her lover.
In the pink house decorated with purple flowers, in a rocking chair sat Y/n’s grandmother who had a book in her hands, the tv on as background noise.
“Here’s your stuff, remember to take it before dinner. I’m going to the library for a few hours and then I’ll be back, is that alright?” Y/n asked, crouching down to meet her family member’s eyes.
The elderly woman shook her head, “You’re an adult, you don’t have to ask me permission to go out, y/n. I’ll be fine but I would like to ask who you’ll be meeting?”
The smirk on her grandmother’s face said everything about how quickly she catches on. But y/n did not want to tell the truth, because y/n was here to take care of her family, not date, not make friends; the young woman didn’t even know how long she’d be in Derry, anyway.
“Nobody, I promise. I just like the library a lot. Back home, ours closed down long ago so it’s nice to come to a place where you have one at all.” Y/n said. It wasn’t a total lie, the library she went to as a kid did close down about ten years ago which left a younger and smaller y/n disappointed.
Y/n walked, trying to keep a medium pace. She didn’t want to seem to excited or desperate to meet a man she just met yesterday. For all she knows, he could have lied as a cruel joke.
The library was an older building, not fancy, it was plain, with barely any decoration or posh detailing. It’s drab appearance fit in with the rest of the town, slightly run-down but rich in community and history. Y/n stood at the bottom of the steps, unable to move forward as if the invisible wall had planted itself between the building and her. Y/n forced a foot forward as the only way to get where she wanted to be, a surge of confidence ripping through her as she entered the library doors; but all confidence drained from her when she spotted Ben at one of the tables, a stack of books next to him. None of them were being read. Ben had been waiting, as he checked his wrist watch and glanced around.
Y/n wanted to walk out and forget this meet-up. Thinking it makes her crazy to think this handsome guy was waiting for her. He didn’t even know her. But it was too late because a second later, Ben saw Y/n standing by the door. A big smile crossing his face, as he waved in a short notion.
Y/n met the young man at the table where he gestured for her to sit down.
“Thanks for coming. I’ll be honest and say I don’t actually have a plan but I guess we can take it slow.” Ben admitted, his eyes darting to Y/n’s chest and them immediately back up to her face.
Y/n pretended not to notice, she was nervous too, she thought and didn’t want to judge but couldn’t help but think the deepness in his dark eyes held something more....sinister, something he was trying to tame and keep quiet like an animal inside his own mind.
“You’re just fine, what books did you-” She was unable to finish her question when a handful of men appeared out of no where, around the table.
“Ben! Remember our plan! What are you doing here?” The curly haired boy with thick glasses asked. Y/n couldn’t help but think about how she’s seen him before.
Unfamiliar faces surrounded the table as well, each of them darting their attention from Ben to Y/n.
Ben adjusted in his chair, his eyebrows narrowed and he sighed. “I’m sorry I forgot about our plans.” He said, his voiced edged with anger.
“I remember you from yesterday. You’re that girl. Eddie, its that girl from yesterday.’ Richie mocked, elbowing the shorter man near him who rolled his eyes.
“Yeah well come on. Bill and Mike are waiting at the house.” Riche said, grabbing Ben’s shoulder to make him stand.
Ben grabbed the table, he looked at Y/n with an apologetic expression. He didn’t want to leave and Y/n didn’t understand why he didn’t just say no.
“I don’t think he want’s to leave, guys.” Y/n said, her voice barely above a whisper but they heard her.
The air was thick is the seconds of silence that followed; whatever wasn’t being said made it seem like there was an invisible wall between all of them. But richie was the first to speak up.
“May I remind you Ben, what happens when you break our rules. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to see your girlfriend here face the consequences of you actions for you. I think Bill would LOVE to have a girl in the group for the first time in years, don’t you think?” Richie said, putting a tight arm around Ben’s shoulders.
Ben thrashed out of his chair, pushing Richie away. He looked at Y/n with glassy eyes, his the corners of his lips turned down . Richie was smiling as Ben walked away with the group of boys except Richie himself and his best friend, Eddie. Richie turned his attention to Y/n, his eyes laced with malice.
“Don’t hang around here too much sweetheart.” Richie suggested, walking closer to y/n whose leg backs’ were stopped by a chair; she couldn’t go any further without tripping.
“Unless you’d like to find out what we’d do to you, then by all means follow along.” Richie turned away and grabbed Eddie’s hand as they walked out of the library, leaving Y/n alone and confused.
Later that night while her grandmother was her cat on the couch, Y/n forced herself to ask her grandmother about the strange young men she’d encountered earlier.
“Do you know who Ben Hanscom is grandma?” Y/n asked, taking a seat on the couch.
Her grandmother kept brushing the cat, “Oh that young man is actually pretty nice. I use to talk to his mother a lot; he was a chubby little thing but he’s grown quite handsome.”
Y/n smiled, knowing that if her grandmother liked him then maybe things weren’t as weird as they seemed. “That’s great but what about his friends? Are there gangs here?” Y/n asked.
Her grandmother stopped brushing the cat and looked at Y/n as if she just said something terrible while setting the brush on her side table. “Why are you asking about those boys? Did they harass you or something? Listen to me, Ben ain’t bad but those fellow men he hangs out with are trouble. They aren’t criminals, but they’re....dangerous I think. You don’t need to be around them, promise me you’ll stay away?”
“I can stay away.” Y/n said, not completely sure she meant that.
It took Y/n a few hours to decide if going into the deep end of this was worth it or not. I made her stomach bubble, flashes of heat touched her forehead and the invisible wall stayed still. All the signs were pointing to this being a bad idea, that Ben was one man in a town full of people just like him. However, maybe there wasn’t anyone like Ben. Others would look at Y/n and whisper to the next person or they’d just ignore her completely but Ben didn’t hesitate to let her in. Maybe it’d be wise to talk to Ben, away from those other men.
Tomorrow. She’ll find him tomorrow and they’ll talk.
The next day was bleak. Dark grey skies and heavy rain made Y/n grab her rain-coat, a yellow slicker that she got from the thrift store when she moved here. Nobody was on the streets, which was unusual for Derry, Saturday afternoon. Y/n made her way to the library but Ben wasn’t there and didn’t know where he would be; she really didn’t know anything about him so why was she wasting her own time trying to find this guy. But as she made her way out of the library, she ran into a familiar face; the smaller man that was always with Richie. Today he was by himself.
The two stared at each-other. Unlike Richie this guy didn’t look at her like he wanted fight her, he looked inconvenienced and.....sorry?
“I don’t know where Ben is. He’s probably at home but I’m not sure. You should probably listen to Richie and stay away from us.” He said, brushing past Y/n like she was nothing.
The woman got irate. She snapped as she gripped the arm of the stupid man and pulled him back in front of her. The rage diffused when she looked at his face and the general disdain in his narrowed eyes. His brows furrowed and he stepped back from Y/n but yet he couldn’t help but feel excited. Her touch did something to him and maybe that’s why Ben almost ditched the group yesterday for her. The group hadn’t had a newcomer in years and any candidates were liabilities. This woman however, Y/n, Ben had called her during the ‘meeting’ yesterday, could be the missing piece they needed.
It’s selfish, Eddie thought but he knew what he needed to do to test out his theory. “I’m Eddie, Ben’s friend. I don’t know where he is but we all usually meetup at our other friends house for some fun on Saturday night’s. Would you like to join us? There’ll be drinks and good-looking men.” Eddie finished with the childish smile that most people fall for.
Y/n hesitated. She’d have to call grandma and explain that she’d be late for dinner. Maybe, making some friends wouldn’t be terrible while she was here.
“Yeah, I’ll go.” Y/n stated. Eddie reached out his hand and Y/n took it. Eddie walked this girl to Bill Denbrough’s home. Bill was their leader. And Eddie was praying that Bill liked the new member he’d present to him. A young, naive woman who’d need to be taught some lessons; she’d need to be broken in. As to which person in the group would do that? They’ll know tonight.
They walked in without knocking, and Eddie told Y/n to sit on the couch. She noticed that it sounded more like a demand and not a question which made Y/n hesitate to sit but Eddie’s hard glare sent shivers down her spine and she sat.
“Bill, It’s Eddie! I’ve got something to show you!” Eddie yelled up the stairs.
Seconds later, footsteps came pounding down. A tall, handsome man came into the living room, clenching a ball of paper in one hand. “I’m busy doing work for the news paper.”
Eddie cleared his throat, “This is Y/n. I thought you’d want to meet her. maybe...” Eddie shrunk under Bill’s gaze. He couldn’t meet his leader’s eyes.
Bill looked at Y/n. The woman was cute but that wouldn’t be enough for her to fit in. She looked at her feet while swinging her legs like a child. Bill rolled his eyes ready to dismiss her but a second glance caught an interesting detail. The yellow coat she wore reminded him of a terrible time. A memory that makes his heart ache and burn; that makes his brain pound his skull from the inside.
“Where’d you get that - that coat you’re wearing?” Bill stuttered, something he hasn’t done in years.
“A thrift store, why?” Y/n asked, slightly scared by Bill’s anger. She wondered if he’s always like this but by Eddie’s raised eyebrows and the distance he put between him and Bill, makes her think not.
Bill rushed over to Y/n and gripped the color of the coat forcing Y/n forward. “Take it off, right fucking now!” Bill yelled.
Eddie stood in place, “Bill calm down. I thought she’d be interesting for you to meet because she’s the reason Ben almost didn’t show up yesterday.” Eddie confessed, his eyes darting between Bill and Y/n.
Bill looked her up and down, and smirked. He was still angry but something else now fueled him, determination. If she was the reason the usually loyal Ben lied to the group then he’d make and example of her then. Oh yeah she could be the new member of the group and in a few hours, Ben will see why he shouldn’t lie to his friends.
Y/n jerked back onto the couch then began to sit up, “I need to go. I’m sorry if I disturbed you...” She said stepping towards the front door.
“Sit back down. You’re not going anywhere.” Bill grabbed Y/n’s coat again and flung her onto the coach.
“Sit there and be good for a few hours alright? If you don’t we’ll have to punish you, harder.” Bill said with each arm placed on either side of the woman’s head.
Hours later, a few other men arrived; all of which y/n has seen before. There was Mike, Stanley Eddie, Bill and Richie. Richie glared at her awhile, making snide comments here or there at her while she desperately searched for Ben who had yet to show up.
Richie looked out the window “Guys he’s here!” He yelled.
Bill nodded at Richie who grabbed Y/n by the arm, “You’re coming with me sweetheart.” Richie said, leading Y/n upstairs.
Y/n tried to struggle out of Richie’s grasp but he held on to her tighter. “If you don’t stop, I swear it’ll just be worse for you.” He tugged her all the way to a master bedroom and threw her on the floor.
They had been followed by a group of footsteps and guys yelling at each other. Ben entered the room first and when he saw Y/n on the floor, he had Richie pinned against a wall.
“What the fuck are you thinking, bringing her into this! She did nothing wrong!” Ben was furious, his grip on Richie tightened as he pressed his friend further into the wall.
Bill cleared his throat, “You lied to us Ben and you know what happens when you lie to your friends. Show him Richie.”
Richie released himself from Ben’s grip and got on his knee’s next to Y/n. She knew she was in trouble. All the men were staring at her, some of the amused or hungry. Ben was held back by Mike and Stanley. Richie grabbed onto the girls’ clothes and started taking them off. Y/n slapped his hands away and backed into the wall but she was caught by Richie who pulled her legs back closer to him.
“Stop messing around or I’ll just fuck you harder.” Richie said, not taking his eyes off her body.
Tears brimmed Y/n’s eyes. She thrashed around, refusing to let this happen to her but it did no good. Richie and Bill seemed turned on by her resistance. And Richie finished peeling off the last bit of clothes she had on, revealing her soft flesh colored mounds that she covered with her arms.
“Grab her wrists, I want to see her body.” Bill demanded and Richie complied with a smile.
Richie hands firmly held Y/n’s wrists as he undid his pants. The rest of the group was in awe. They hadn’t had a girl in so long that Y/n was a miraculous sight. Her feminine curves, her lush hair and pouty lips made their knee’s weak but they all stood still, ready to watch the show.
Richie was mesmerized by Y/n too which made him angrier. Richie looked at Eddie whose eyes were only on Y/n. Richie dug his nails into the girls skin as he prepared to enter her; he placed a hand by her face and caressed her, long enough that he could enter her with a hard thrust. He closed his eyes as he felt the luxury she was. Y/n just cried out by the rough penetration. She was no virgin but she’d never been taken like this.
Richie opened his eyes to the pretty girl beneath him, in pain. He pouted, some part of him was guilty but he enjoyed this lifestyle and he enjoyed being dominate. He started to move in her, the wave of comfort he felt with this girl did not co-exist peacefully with the side of him that wanted to ravish her into tomorrow. He sped up his thrusting, hitting her harder while his hands travelled up and down her body. Some of her cries turned into low moans and Richie wanted to her more of her, so he went faster.
Richie’s mouth found one of her nipples and he began to suck the delicate area while she shuddered beneath him. Richie began to groan loudly while Y/n’s moans became more clear. She grabbed onto his back and held him while his hands gripped her hips in way that’ll leave a bruise. He continued to pound into Y/n until he felt the surge to end, if he went any longer, he wouldn’t have a choice; but he didn’t care and kept riding with her until he was done.
Both of them laid silently as Richie let every last drop of his cum dispose into Y/n. The guilt, still present didn’t top the satisfaction he felt from taking her however as he got up, the realization hit Y/n like a truck. What had just happened to her was unimaginable but here she was, naked with a man she barely knows on-top of her.
The tears fell without permission and Y/n tried to hide them with her hands. Everybody saw it but they put their pleasure before her being and turned the other way. Richie looked down at her and couldn’t exactly determine what he was feeling as she cried and he didn’t like it.
“Pathetic.” Richie called Y/n. He grabbed his clothes and rushed out of the room not ever looking back.
Bill strode to her, satisfied that the introduction of the newest member of the club turned out well. He’d have fun with this girl, they all would. Fuck her over and over again and she’d have to get use to it.
Bill leaned down to Y/n. Her eyes were pleading but he wasn’t going to help her. “Welcome to The Lover’s Club.” Bill said, smirking.
Y/n didn’t know what to think or what to say. She laid there hoping this was all a nightmare but it was real. And it would become her life.
#it chapter two#it#richie x reader#richie toizer x reader#bill x reader#ben hanscom#ben x reader#mike x reader#stranger things#smut#alternate universe#pennywise#it chapter 1 x reader#beverly marsh
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LEMONADE LIPS AND MARSHMALLOWS
You and your family have managed a somewhat peaceful farm life during the war until you discover two soldiers, George Luz and Frank Perconte, raiding your barn. Disappointed, but nonetheless grateful for the army’s presence, you invite them to have dinner for a proper meal. We all need some Luz Fluff™, or just some softness in general. This is my first attempt at writing Luz, so go easy (pun? yes) on me 😅
TRANSLATIONS: Oma = grandma, Hurensohn = son of a bitch, rag = 40′s slang for “make fun of”
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March 11, 1945
Sturzelberg, Germany
Farm life, the absence of human pollution; sound, smell, and people themselves, until the American army came to settle in the town nearby. You didn’t mind. In fact, you were grateful. Germany’s dictator was losing his hold on the reins he sought to keep steady.
A dirt road, reminiscent of chocolate powder, cut past a field. Out of this empty land your family’s farm rose up with its buildings like a huddle of old, painted vessels floating in still water.
The sun embraced its newfound world with warmth that felt different than when the war was at its worst. Perhaps the earth felt it could finally breathe, knowing its body would no longer suffer great wounds from weaponry. It wouldn’t have to weep as it welcomed more of the dead.
Walking the fields with your father, you bent down to pluck a ripe tomato from its brittle stalk, and then bit into it. Acidic, like an apple. Sweet, like a strawberry. Juicy, like a plum.
“(Y/N),” came your father’s gravelly voice. Knelt down beside a tomato stalk, he looked at you from over his shoulder. His gray eyes, rivaling the polished metal of a suit of armor, reflected the sun’s glare. The map of wrinkles on his face spoke of an incredible journey. His eye lines held echoes of laughter and warm smiles, while his forehead told of worries past and worries present. Sixty years of his story ingrained in him, telling of the man he became; kind, compassionate, and a little tired. Amused, he smiled. “What shall I tell your mother?”
“What both of us already tell her, papa.” You moved to his side, gripped his shoulder, and bent at your knees to whisper, “Rabbits.” You lifted your brow.
He chuckled, crow’s feet lines creasing the edges of his eyes. Your favorite laugh. The kind, when you were a little girl, you loved to feel rock his chest when you hugged him or fell asleep to in his arms.
You straightened up, smiling impishly as you took another bite of your tomato.
“Perhaps before you tempt me to have a few, could you check the hens for eggs and milk Gerdy? Your mother is wanting to make *Oma’s Apple Cake.”
“Yes, papa.”
You left the field, finishing your tomato as you headed for the barn. Pulling the wooden door open, light spilled in and washed over, to your shock, two American soldiers standing on a crate and raiding the eggs. One held a hen, while the other had been using his helmet to pile eggs into. Their attention was snagged by you.
“Guten tag, Fraulein.” The soldier holding the hen smiled. He gazed at you through deep-set, hickory brown eyes. A few strands of hair, similar in color to his eyes, hung loose over his forehead. His features, rugged, yet soft, seemed boyish. To you, it felt like he was one of those little boys who tried to grow up too fast.
You folded your arms against your chest, brow furrowed. “You have no right to be stealing.” You did not expect such behavior as this. It disappointed you.
“Hey, Miss, we’re fighting Hitler,” the other soldier said. “I think we have a right.”
You chewed on the inside of your cheek. He was half right, but you were in no mood to argue, but to come to an agreement. “You won’t have a proper meal with just eggs. Come on inside and we’ll fix you something.”
The soldiers exchanged looks.
Leading them to your house, the soldier who had first greeted you matched your pace, eager in talking to you, while his friend muttered, “Luz, leave her alone.”
“Hey, what’s your name?” Luz asked.
“(Y/N).”
“I’m George. You sure do speak English well.”
“My mother wanted me to learn for when the British would come, but...”
George grinned, tuning his voice to a deeper tone in a British accent. “Ole Churchill needed an edge of Americanism in his tea.”
You giggled. “We are grateful that you are here.”
He had not made a woman laugh, or heard one such as yours, more attractive to him than woodland birdsong, in years. He wanted to hear it again, to see the way your eyes squinted, and to hear your jumbled words. The laughter and smiles of his friends would never get old, for he strove to give them those little pleasures. Now, he wanted to make you laugh so he could feel that warmth he lit for others.
Inside your family’s quaint home, you introduced the soldiers to your mother, who was washing dishes. “Momma, this is George Luz and Frank Perconte. I caught them stealing our eggs.” You looked as smug as a dog stealing a Christmas goose. “I thought we could make them a proper meal as compromise.”
“Oh, you boys shouldn’t have to steal to get a good meal. Come, sit down.”
Thanking her, George and Frank propped their guns against the wall next to the coat rack. You wondered how many lives those weapons reaped, and it made you think of your brother and cousins who had been drafted. No news had come of their deaths yet, and you often begged to God to spare them through muffled sobs in the night.
Frank offered the helmet-full of eggs to you, the edge of his mouth curling. His eyes reminded you of the chocolate your mother would melt for her cakes. Fine, smooth, and inviting. “Sorry for raidin’ your barn,” he said.
You smiled, taking the olive green helmet. “I’m glad to have caught you.”
As you moved to the counter, the wooden chairs behind you growled against the hard flooring as the men sat themselves. You looked over your shoulder to them. “Would you like some lemonade?”
“Boy, would I.” George beamed.
“Yeah, I’ll take some, too.” Childlike enthusiasm brimmed in Frank’s eyes.
You retrieved the pitcher of lemonade from the fridge and then reached for two glasses from the overhead cupboard.
“They are both such handsome men. They remind me of your brother and cousins,” your mother whispered.
“I just hope they can come home.” You poured the lemonade into the glasses, its tartness rubbing uncomfortably at your nasal cavity.
“They will. I have hope.”
“Is hope enough anymore?” You questioned, heartache softening your gaze.
Your mother tilted her head, eyebrows squished together. Truth was, she had been trying to keep positiveness afloat, but you kept punching holes in the raft. She sighed, averting her eyes and continued to prepare the meal.
A traditional roast of heavily marinated meat, bread rolls, and potato dumplings were prepared. Your father had come in for a break, taken aback by the presence of American soldiers, but had immediately shook hands with them. He was just as grateful to have them here as you were.
“Hey.” Frank bumped his elbow against George, irked. “You gonna take all the rolls? That’s your third one.”
“What are you gonna do, Per-Short-Te, punch me over this nice family dinner?”
You quietly laughed to yourself. You and your parents hadn’t had a dinner such as this after your brother and cousins left. Light-hearted, and distracting their minds from wandering into those claustrophobic tunnels of anxiety.
George noticed your quiet laughter. He caught your eyes and his face softened. Unbeknownst to you, you had the right colors to paint him where the war had watered him down to dismal grayness. He didn’t want this dinner to end. He wanted time alone with you.
You sucked in your lower lip. You had been studying him throughout the meal when he wasn’t looking. You noticed how his bottom lip was fuller, and wondered if you could taste the lemonade if you’d kissed him. Fearful that he could decipher your thoughts in your expression, you forced your eyes down to your lap.
“How long will you be staying in Sturzelberg?” Your father asked.
You felt George’s boot touch your foot, and cold, static-y surprise overwhelmed your body. You glanced up to him as he took a swig of his lemonade. He winked, and heat rushed to your cheeks while you gained a heart beat between your thighs.
“Could be a night or two. We don’t usually know for how long wherever we go,” Frank replied.
“Hey, uh, where’s your bathroom?” George asked.
“Oh.” Your mother’s eyebrows perked up. “(Y/N), could you show this young man where the bathroom is please?”
You felt air catch in your throat. “Yes, Momma,” you said quietly, rising from your seat.
Yours and George’s movements irritated the senior chairs, triggering arthritic creaks from their legs. You led George out of the kitchen and into the hall. The cornflower blue, floral walls were adorned with framed pictures and embroideries. The wall sconces, wearing earrings of long, fake crystals, often struggled to keep their territory lit as streetlights did at night.
A bubble of awkward silence swelled between you and George, until he stopped to look at a portrait of a young man in uniform. “This your boyfriend?” He asked.
“No, that’s my brother.”
“Do you and your family, uh...like Hitler?”
“No, no.” You shook your head. “We loathe him, and even more-so after the men in our family were drafted.”
“I have a theory that he wears a hair-piece. He walks outside one morning, and one gust of wind turns him into a chrome-dome with a penciled mustache. Mr. Honcho holds his bald head and whines.” George placed his finger below his nose to imitate a mustache, deepening and strangling his voice to mimic Hitler. “Hurensohn!” He spoke more, but of jumbled nonsense to rag Hitler about his energetic speeches. “He’s stompin’ away, and his SS boys are chasin’ after the hair piece down the street like it’s a loose dog.”
There it was. Your smile, your laughter. His new favorite sight and sound. His chest and stomach became lightweight, as if he had taken flight. Holy shit, I’m done for, he thought.
After you had shown George to the bathroom, you retreated to your room, wanting to do your daily ritual of looking at your favorite photo album. You sat on the edge of your bed, the album open and resting on your lap. The pictures it embraced featured your favorite memories all the way up until your brother and cousins put on their uniforms. You wanted to save the last few pages for when they would return.
You knew their smiles would either go into hiding or be wrung out of them like water from a cloth. Their laughter would be hard to beckon out, and their minds would be battered vases. You and your parents were determined to help mend those cracks with the priceless gold that came from love, such as the Japanese art form, Kintsugi.
Life would be different, but at least they’d be alive.
“This your room?”
You looked over your shoulder at George, his eyes bouncing about the area in childlike curiosity.
You smiled, closing the photo album. “Yes.”
He approached your bedside. “Mind if I?” He gestured to your bed.
You shook your head and set the album on your nightstand. The bed dipped with his weight, and for a moment you felt you would lose your balance and tip backward onto him. He laid down on his back, crossing his legs. “Jesus Christ, it’s like lying on a marshmallow.” He shifted uncomfortably.
You faced him, a smile playing at your lips. “What have you been sleeping on all war?”
“Uh, well, let’s see. Cold, hard grounds with a side of foxholes.” He turned his head to you. “But speaking of marshmallows, you got any?”
You went out to the kitchen to retrieve a bag of sizable marshmallows, earning questionable glances from your parents and Frank. When you returned to your room, you sat with George and indulged in the puffy treats. Your hands became sticky and little bits of white flesh lingered on your skin like how Styrofoam would.
Your mind kept trying to yank you back to thoughts of your family in the army, and it occurred to you that since there was a soldier right next to you, you could ask him about things you often wondered about. “What has the war been like...?” You asked.
“Well,” George’s voice was muffled by his chewing. “It’s different for every guy. Different for every army. There’s good times, and there’s bad. Some guys try to make light of things to ease the bad, right? Well, take that for the time my boys and I were in England for continued training. Our commanding officer and drill instructor was Captain Sobel. He didn’t know what the hell he was doin’, and we were hidin’ behind this big bush and couldn’t break silence. That is, until one of the boys told me to mimic Major Horton to fuck around with Sobel.”
George pulled out two marshmallows, shaping one to appear skinnier. He held it up in one hand, “Here’s Sobel, and here’s me.” In his other hand he held the normal sized marshmallow. He began to imitate Horton and Sobel, squishing the marshmallows to make it appear as if they were talking. He told the story, earning from you grins and giggles. “I got him to cut the barbed wire fence, and he ended up releasin’ a whole herd of cows. He got his ass chewed out by the Major later.”
He wasn’t sure if you were aware of the captivating picture you made when you smiled. He hoped you did. You were more enthralling than a pulsing light show of fireflies in the night, but it gave him the same feeling of being spellbound.
“There’s moments like that, and then the real thing comes out of nowhere.” George grabbed a handful of marshmallows and scattered them to represent the trees in Bastogne. As he told you about the sudden onslaught of German artillery, he ripped the marshmallows apart just as the trees had been. Boom. Rip. Boom. Rip.
He seemed hypnotized, like a vampire obsessively counting rice. He was lost in the memory that haunted his dreams, stained his eyes with the blurred vision of black and white explosions, and echoed in his ears with the screams of Muck and Penkala. Numb, his voice went dull as he relived it before his eyes.
You didn’t laugh or smile, but this is what you asked for. What it was like. You wondered if you shouldn’t have asked. You had disturbed those memories, and now George was lost in their raging sea.
“Two of my buddies were hit directly in their foxhole...and the other lost his leg.” He was there again, innards trembling and his mind blank as he stared at Toye lying in the snow, his leg looking like messily butchered, raw chicken.
“I’m so sorry...I can’t imagine what that must have been like.”
“Yeah...war is hell.” George didn’t meet your eyes. The liveliness had abandoned him.
Guilt-ridden, you cautiously reached for his hand, which clutched at the torn remains of marshmallows. You unlocked his grip, the pieces falling onto your bed, and tangled your fingers with his. The stickiness from the marshmallows welded your hands together.
He released a breath he had been holding and closed his eyes, the tension draining from his body. He squeezed your hand.
“Hey, Luz, c’mon. We gotta head back.” Frank’s voice sounded from the hallway.
George opened his eyes to you, his thumb stroking your hand.
You followed him out of your bedroom, having given him the bag of marshmallows. You didn’t want him to leave, but you certainly wanted to see him again. Whenever that may be. Thus an idea came to you. You snatched a small photograph of yourself from your mother’s China cabinet and wrote a note, your address, and phone number on the back in spidery handwriting.
“George, wait.” You approached him as he and Frank grabbed their rifles. You handed him your photograph, heart drumming. “A reminder that if you need a safe place to come to, it’s here.”
George smiled at your picture, thinking, better than any pin-up girl. He carefully put it in his jacket’s inner pocket. “I’ll be seein’ ya, gorgeous, whenever this war ends.” He winked, popping a marshmallow into his mouth, and slung his rifle over his shoulder.
You had watched him and Frank leave the property, grinning when George looked back over his shoulder and smiled, his cheeks stuffed with marshmallows like a squirrel.
How you wanted to kiss those stubbled cheeks.
As the sun closed its blaring eye, you sat in bed, writing in your journal. Every sentence you tried to write started with George and ended with your heart wanting to burst open, less like gates during a flood and more like a peach growing on a vine. So ripe. So ripe, so ready for the fall.
A rhythmic tap at your window froze you. Could it be the wind using a tree branch to make its nightly tunes again? No, because you saw a human shadow, a cookie cutter shape in the pool of moonlight. You closed your journal and peeled the sheets and blanket away.
When you approached the window, your heart fluttered in surprise. George. You unlocked the window and slid it up. “George, what are you doing here?”
He awkwardly climbed through, almost stumbling to the floor. After you closed the window, you met his eyes, and you found where the sun had gone; in his smile, the warmth echoing in his voice. “I want to feel safe tonight.”
Heat rushed to your chest, and your body quivered as if on low blood sugar as George stripped down to a cotton white shirt and boxer shorts. He joined you beneath the covers, his dog tags clanking. He snaked a hand around your waist and pulled you snug against him, like two perfect puzzle pieces fitting. He caged you within his arms, and you felt a heartbeat much stronger between your thighs this time. He smelled like an ashtray, but you didn’t care as you nuzzled your face into his chest.
“You know, at first I considered you out of my league,” he said. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen into my arms.”
You laughed into his chest.
#george luz#george luz x reader#band of brothers#easy company#hbo war#band of brothers fanfiction#frank perconte#george luz imagine#band of brothers imagine#bob imagine#rick gomez#hbo war imagine#hbo war fanfiction
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Bradycardia / Grant!Davis series
Here we have yet another part of the series of my beloved new character Hannah Davis and my bOI Chuck Grant. This one is kinda lame but I still like it.
Warnings: idk medical condition?
Bastogne. Frozen hell on earth, located in Belgium.
The cold seemed to never end, like Belgium only had one season. And the paratroopers were unprotected, underfed and almost under constant attack.
Chuck held it in most of the time, except when Penkala, Muck and Malarkey were near. Those three always brought smiles and fun anecdotes for them to fill the down time.
But the NCO spent the majority of his time alone in a foxhole, until he was told by Lipton to move, so Shifty and Malarkey would be in his.
“Go with Hannah, she has been alone most days,” Lip said, “she needs some company, we all deserve some”.
He sighed, already feeling the dread of awkward conversations between him and Shifty’s friend. Hannah had always seemed like a nice woman, very tough for fighting for her place in the Forces, but they never exchanged that many words.
But orders are orders and there is no place for questions.
As he got closer to her foxhole, he noticed the brunette brushing her hair with her fingers, her helmet hanging in her knee, reminding him of the times he had seen his mother brush her hair with her fingers after swimming in the local pool, where she took him and his brother for many summers.
//
“Finally, some stinking ass shit called food for our bellies!” exclaimed Luz, filled with cynicism, as the men formed a queue with their tin cups in hand.
“You would eat anything you can find that is slightly edible, Luz,” Skip joked, earning a push from the aforementioned paratrooper, the men laughing around them.
Chuck stood between Christenson and Perconte, in complete silence, thinking about the meals he used to enjoy back in his house in Los Angeles. The onion salted beef with peas and potatoes his mother made, pulled chicken with the secret sauce his brother did, and those amazing burgers served at Old Rick’s in downtown.
His stomach grumbled as the rest of his body shook from the cold. His face felt still as a rock, even though his head was covered with a scarf like a hiyab, he could feel the sharp teeth of Winter biting down his skin. Chuck wondered how the hell did they land in such place, without winter gear, without proper food, without a good amount of ammunition.
He felt frustrated for the men he commanded, being Staff Sergeant, and he couldn’t protect them properly. Though he knew how the chain of command left even Winters unprotected, he wanted to scalate and yell at everyone who was supposed to send the men into war properly armed and prepared.
“Medic! Roe!” a loud voice yelling came into notice, shaking him from his thoughts. McClung was running towards them, and silence fell upon the group of soldiers waiting for their dinner.
“What’s going on? Are they attacking? I don’t hear anything!” Malarkey exclaimed, just a few feet from the group.
“No, it’s Davis, I saw her in her foxhole. I—I thought she was asleep, so I shook her to wake her up and she just felt limp to the side… I think she’s—,” he stopped talking abruptly, his eyes wide open and shook.
Without another word, Doc Roe, Winters, Shifty and Chuck ran towards her foxhole.
Chuck shook with fear as he saw two other paratroopers around her body, sprawled across the snow.
“I—I thought she was asleep, sir, I swear, I—Jesus,” Chuck said to Winters, as he fell to his knees to hold her head while Roe worked on her.
Doc Roe opened her shirt up, revealing her chest and placed his ear in the middle of her breasts, asking everyone for silence, while Winters held her hand from the other side.
“There’s a very faint sound, she’s probably in Bradycardia, I’m gonna try rubbing her chest. Chuck, talk to her, try to wake her up,” Eugene commanded, forming a fist with his right hand, and pressing up and down her chest.
“Hannah? Hannah, wake up, come on. It’s Chuck, I’m here, we have food, come on, please, wake up,” Chuck started, his voice dripping with worry.
“Hannah, please, you need to wake up. It’s Shifty. Winters, Eugene and Chuck are here! Come on, we still have to fight, let’s go, Davis, come on!” Shifty added, applying pressure to her legs.
“It’s not working, and she could lose it… there’s only one thing I can do right now,” Doc Roe said, and without waiting another second he made a tight fist with his right hand, charged it up and slammed it against the left side of her chest.
Hannah suddenly woke up, taking a big breath in like she just came from underwater. She was panting, her hands were shaking as she took notice of the men around her.
Chuck felt like his heart just came down from his throat, as one of her hands found his around her face.
“Hannah? Listen to me, you were in syncope. Your pulse went so low from the cold, you passed out. I are you drinking enough water? Eating?” Eugene asked her, holding her hand as he took her pulse.
She nodded silently, looking only at him.
“Well, we barely have food, Doc, I’m sure she’s eating as much as any of us, which isn’t much,” Shifty added.
“I’m sorry that I have to ask this but, are you menstruating by any chance?” Eugene asked.
Another nod.
“That could also explain what happened to you…”
“Doc, take her to the Aid Station, get a hot meal, get her hydrated and get back here tomorrow. That’s an order, Davis, don’t come back until you’re fully recharged,” Winters ordered, somehow managing to balance firm and genuine concern in his voice.
When the jeep came, Shifty lifted her up and placed her on the front, while Doc Roe took a seat next to the wheel, still holding onto one of her hands.
“Wait! Sir, can I go in Eugene’s place? Shifty can cover my place, or Penkala, he’s nearby with Luz and Muck,” Chuck asked Dick, taking off his helmet.
“Grant, we—,”
“Sir, I should’ve checked on her better, she could be dead right now because I didn’t look out for her as I should’ve… and we all do that with each other. I want to be there now, please… sir,” Chuck insisted. Winters stared at him for a moment, noticing the worry in his eyes and his tone of voice.
“Tell the nurses there exactly what the Doc said, and never leave her side. Find food for both and don’t come back, like I said, until she has at least some colour in her skin,” Dick said, signaling Eugene to get off the jeep.
“Thank you, Sir, thank you,” the NCO replied, taking Eugene’s place.
“Ask for Renee, tell her I sent you, she’ll help you,” Eugene said before the jeep drove away.
//
“Here, hot meals like Winters said,” Chuck said. He came back with Renee, placing a small battered plate in front of Hannah, who looked exhausted, but with some color back in her skin.
“Thank you,” she said, sitting up against the wall. Both were sitting in the back of the church, where the soldiers with minor injuries stayed. “So, bradycardia, bleeding and dehydration… and I almost died?”
“Bradycardia isn’t that bad, just… it’s like your body went into hibernation, and the bleeding from your period didn’t help. Which brings me to this,” Renee replied, and pulled a few pads made from fabric that look like the bandages Roe used to cover wounds, “They’re sanitary serviettes. I managed to find a few and cleansed them in hot water, for you,” she explained, placing them in the pocket of her jacket.
“Thank you, Renee, really,” Hannah said, finding some comfort in another woman who understood her problem. Renee squeezed her arm with a warm smile and left to keep helping the other soldiers.
“You look better…” Chuck started, sitting next to her, “Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t notice at first, I… I really thought you were deep asleep and since you haven’t been sleeping well in the last few days, I just thought I’d get food for both and come back to the hole, and well—,”
“Chuck, it’s okay, really. You’re not a medic, you’re not supposed to know this shit can happen…” Hannah said, taking a bite of her food. She noticed the concern in his eyes before, but wasn’t strong enough to speak. “You think I can snatch a purple heart for this?” she joked, making Chuck snort.
“I’m sure Gordon can spare another one, or we’ll just steal it from his stuff,” he replied, smiling at her.
Chuck took notice of her smile, suddenly. How some of her teeth were slightly crooked, how her nose crinkles and the corner of her lips twitches while she laughs.
But he promptly caught himself, clearing his throat and pulled his attention back to the conversation and his food.
“God, I miss my grandma’s cooking so much right now,” Hannah said, looking down at the plate.
“I miss my mother’s. But at least we didn’t have to eat those disgusting beans we get served on the field,” Chuck replied, passing her a bit of bread.
“Would it be bad to reveal that I had a syncope on purpose so we would have a better meal?” Hannah joked, earning a small push from Chuck.
“Don’t even joke about it, I was scared shitless… don’t tell anyone I just said that,” Chuck said, looking at her a tad sternly. Hannah smiled to ease up his worry.
“Sergeant, you did help me wake up, and came here with me. If something ever happens to you, I’ll be there too. Just… try not to get bradycardia or shot, okay, you’re probably a lot heavier than me and I don’t wanna have to carry you,” she responded, chuckling.
“Are you calling me fat?”
“Well, you’re no Skinny Sisk”.
“Anyways, if anything happens to me, I’ll be sure to be near someone that can carry me; like Lt. Speirs or Doc Roe,” Chuck said, and kept eating with Hannah, cracking jokes every now and again.
#chuck grant#chuck grant imagine#chuck grant x oc#chuck grant one shot#band of brothers#band of brothers imagine#band of brothers fanfic#band of brothers one shot#my work#nolan hemmings#damian lewis#peter youngblood hills#rocky marshall#shane taylor#fanfic#fanfiction#hbo war#hbo#hbo war fanfiction
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𝟯𝟮. “𝗜𝘁 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸𝘀 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗼𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂” | 𝗷𝗷𝗸
pairing: jeon jungkook x reader; genre: fluff, sort of idol!verse; words: 2.8k
warnings: none ; rating: G
Part of the ‘100 Ways to say I Love you’ drabbles
author’s note: had to throw the long hair and tattoos in there, i couldn’t stop myself
You lay in bed staring blankly up at the ceiling, head void of thoughts. You could smell the barbecued meat despite your closed bedroom door, the deliciousness wafting in and making your stomach grumble. You know you need to get dressed and head downstairs soon, but the exhaustion from the past week is settling in and you cannot bear to move.
You hear your mother calling for you and you shout back in response that yes! you’re coming, for the guests will start arriving soon. Being back home after almost five years of being away at university halfway across the world had your parents throwing a very informal barbecue for the neighbours living on your street. It had been about a week since your return and your parents had been so excited that they had been treating you like a prized possession. You wondered how long this treatment would last, before your mom would start shouting at you to carry out your shares of household chores.
Sitting up in your bed, you looked around your bedroom. You had grown up here, spent your childhood and teen years here, but had moved away at the ripe age of eighteen, and never looked back. Your room, therefore, had remained immortalized, peeling posters of whatever rock bands you’d been obsessed with stuck on the wall. A small desk stood under the window, stacked with your old textbooks, the wall next to it covered with taped photographs of you, your family, and your childhood friends.
Smiling slightly to yourself you got out of the bed and made your way to the photo wall, looking at each picture carefully. Most of the photos were of you and your best friend Jooyoung, who had moved away for university herself. While the two of you had headed your separate ways after high school, you’d kept in touch, often video calling each other and giving out life updates. Jooyoung, in your opinion, was your soulmate, someone who’d been there for you since day one, who knew you inside and out. You missed her terribly and were almost sad that she wouldn’t be here today. Unlike you, however, Jooyoung visited home often, attending university a mere three-hour drive away.
Your eyes travelled to the other photos, some of you with your parents, of your old cat whom you terribly missed, until your eyes landed on one particular picture, which had been crinkled with time. It was a photo of you and Jooyoung at a lemonade stand out on your driveway, accompanied by a skinny boy with a mop of dark hair falling over his forehead. You frowned slightly staring at the boy’s face, memories flooding in. That’s right, Jooyoung and you were part of an inseparable trio during your school years, the third leg of which was made up by one Jeon Jungkook. Nerdy and geeky and video-game obsessed, Jungkook had lived across the street from you and you and he had spent many years being attached at the hip. This was, however, one of the only photos you had left of him.
At the ripe young age of fifteen, Jungkook had moved to Seoul on his own, having been scouted by some entertainment company. You remembered laughing at him with Jooyoung when he’d told you what had happened and had warned him that he was about to get scammed. But it hadn’t been a scam, and Jungkook had moved to Seoul and you’d never heard from him again. His emails had dwindled after a while, and once you’d moved away and gotten busy with your own life, you’d forgotten all about him. Your mother would occasionally give you updates over phone calls that he’d been training to be put into a group, that he’d debuted, that his group had gathered decent popularity in the country. Your mother had spoken with quiet pride, talking about Jungkook as though he was her own son. It made sense, you supposed, he’d been quite close with your parents, just like you’d been close with his.
You’d left Korea around the time he’d debuted and had never bothered to check his group out, partly due to not wanting unwanted memories to return. Jungkook had all but cut you and Jooyoung from his life and you needed no reminders of that fact. Their international popularity wasn’t very high, but if your mother was right, everybody in Korea with a working internet connection knew who they were. You supposed it was a flex, being a childhood friend to someone sort-of famous, but you doubted famous idol Jeon Jungkook even remembered you. You wondered if you’d even recognize him now, some seven years later. He was probably rich, and you were a struggling unemployed graduate moving back home to start your job search. Two completely different worlds. However, in your small, sleepy town full of fishermen and farmers, even famous Jeon Jungkook would have a hard time being recognized. This place was literally filled to the brim with the elderly.
Your mom calls for you again and you yell back that you’re coming. Walking over to your dresser you changed out of your sweatpants into jeans and a striped sweater. Shoving your feet into your bedroom slippers you took a deep breath before heading downstairs, pulling your bedroom door shut behind you.
You padded downstairs and joined your mother in the kitchen where she was busy setting plates.
“Need help?” you asked. Your mom smiled at you and handed you a bag of cutlery.
“Please put these out,” she said. “Forks in one cup knives in one cup.” You nodded and sat down on a stool near the kitchen island and began sorting the cutlery.
People were beginning to arrive, and you could hear them greeting your father who was busy cooking up a feast in the front yard barbecue.
“Where’s Seungwoon?” you asked, wondering where your little brother had gone off to. Your mother looked at the clock near the stove.
“I sent him to get some extra drinks. You kids will need drinks,” she let out a soft laugh. “I keep forgetting you kids are all basically adults now. I stocked juice yesterday, but I realized you’d probably need alcohol too, so I sent him to buy some.”
“You sent an eighteen-year-old kid on a booze run?” you snorted, and your mother laughed along.
“He was eager, so I put him up to it.” She said and you laughed. It felt nice, being back home, hearing your mother’s laugh in person.
“How many people did you invite anyway?” you asked, leaning to look outside. It was a bright sunny day, the sweltering August heat shining through the kitchen window.
“Not too many,” she said, putting some bread in the oven to warm. “The Sungs’ next door, Sooyeon and her husband are coming, although Jooyoung isn’t home, I’m afraid,” she looked over at you apologetically and you sighed. “She’s interning and working through the summer and couldn’t get the weekend off. They work her to the bone, but she really sticks to it. Let’s see… a couple more families that you probably don’t know, they’re new on the street, moved in three or so years ago. They don’t have any kids.”
“So there is nobody my age!” you said in surprise. “Seungwoon didn’t need to go get alcohol just for me and him mom, I can drink the juice.” Your mom laughed at your outburst and looked at you, hands on her hips.
“They Jeons’ are coming, and they have two fully grown kids who will need to be fed and watered,” You stopped sorting forks and looked up in mild shock. Your mom smiled knowingly. “Junghyun’s back for the weekend and I believe so is Jungkook,” she sighed as she said that. “Boy he must be a true Seoul child now – I wonder if our cheap countryside liquor and food is up to his current tastes, I haven’t seen him for years, unless its on TV of course.”
“So, you just want everything perfect because we’re having a minor celebrity over?” you asked glumly.
“Can you blame me?” she exclaimed. “You’ll see what I mean when they come, he’s different. People from Seoul are just different. I bet he drinks some fancy overseas brand of beer.”
“He’s not from Seoul,” you snapped. “He’s from here and if he looks down his fat nose at our country bumpkin ways, I’ll sit on him like I used to.”
“I’d like to see you try,” your mother grinned. “He’s had his growth spurts while yours seem to have forgotten you.”
“I’m short because grandma is short!” You exclaimed, but only half annoyed. Your mother laughed again and changed topics. The rest of the time was spent in you setting out plates in a pile and mixing the dressing into the salad and bringing out the napkins for people to grab. Your brother returned shortly after, and you helped him unload the soju and beer into the fridge. Then you resumed your seat at the kitchen island, scrolling through your phone while your mother had you taste everything to make sure it was edible.
“Stop fussing mom,” you said, at last. “Everything tastes good, and dad’s barbecue ribs are always a hit.”
“I’m sorry, I’m just excited you’re back,” she sighed. “It’s nice to have some help in the kitchen like this, just us girls.” The two of you shared a smile. Just then, the doorbell rang. Your brother opened the door. You turned to see who it was, and a smile split on your face.
Jungkook’s mother came in first, holding a bottle of wine that she put down next to you. She gave you a big smile and you let out a little squeal and jumped up to give her a hug.
“Oh my! You have grown so much!” she said laughing, pulling you in for another hug. The two of you were so busy catching up that you almost didn’t notice a tall figure entering after his mother. When you looked up, you finally saw him, and you had to exercise great control to stop your jaw from hitting the floor.
Because right there, talking quietly in the entrance to your house to your little brother, was Jeon Jungkook. You wouldn’t have recognized him off the street. He was tall, broad, wearing a well fitted black sweatshirt and black jeans that were ripped at the knees. A pair of expensive sunglasses were tucked into the front of his sweater. His hair was long, falling into his eyes, and curling around his ears, which had been pierced in multiple places. The silver of his hooped earrings shown every time he moved his head. You blinked – was that a tattoo peaking up from his sweater and curling around his neck?
Forcing yourself to turn your attention back to Mrs. Jeon, you laughed awkwardly at whatever she had been saying, only hearing half of it. Suddenly feeling small and awkward, you turned back to your phone and buried yourself in it. Jeon Jungkook had gone out and come back looking like a walking magazine cover and you still looked like you did at fifteen, only now with two degrees to your name. You tried to tune everything out as you scrolled twitter, hoping that you’d suddenly become invisible to everyone around you.
“Guk!” his mother called affectionately, and you bit your tongue trying not to curse out loud. “Look who’s here!” You heard him walk over, could smell the faint cologne as he approached his mother.
A soft voice said your name in mild surprise, and your chest constricted because you hardly recognized his voice either, which had deepened in the last seven years. You locked your phone hesitantly and turned in his direction, trying to meet his eyes.
Round brown eyes blinked back at you, containing the surprise that his voice also held. You gave him a small smile in greeting.
“Hey Jungkook, how’ve you been?” you asked, hating how meek your voice sounded.
“Kids, go upstairs,” your mom said from her spot at the stove, not bothering to even look up. You suspected she felt as small in Jungkook’s presence as you did. You sighed and got off your seat slowly and beckoned for Jungkook to follow you. He did.
Once in your room, you sat down on your bed and Jungkook awkwardly took a seat at your desk chair.
“So,” you started, letting the word drag out. “A singer, huh?”
The tips of his ears went red, to your surprise. You’d expected confidence, even cockiness. He rubbed the back of his neck almost shyly.
“You know?” he asked. You shrugged.
“My mom’s a fan,” you said truthfully, snorting. “I’ll be honest though; I’ve never checked out your music.”
“Ouch,” he said, and to your surprise, a look of genuine hurt crossed his face. But you blinked and it was gone. “How are you?”
“M’fine,” you said slowly. “It’s weird being back, but I’m getting used to it. I’m done university and now I gotta job hunt y’know.”
“Right,” he said, sounding impressed, and you didn’t know why. “What was your degree in?”
“Dual major in biochemistry and pharmaceuticals,” you said. His mouth opened and he looked genuinely stupefied.
“Woah that’s like, cool,” He said, and you let out a small laugh because he sounded genuine. “So, you’re like an academic.”
“Kinda?” you said. “It doesn’t feel any different though. I’m unemployed for now.”
“I always pictured you doing well at school and stuff,” he said, still sounding awed. “It’s a good look.”
“A good look?”
“Dunno, science? It’s a good look, it suits you. It looks good on you.” You blinked. Nobody had put it that way before.
“What? That’s such a weird thing to say,” you said huffing out a laugh. The tips of Jungkook’s ears went even redder.
“I’m just saying I always pictured you being successful,” he said softly. You frowned.
“Are you serious right now?” you asked. He looked at you, head tilting in a heartbreakingly familiar way. “Who’s the more successful person in this room right now? Aren’t you like, a millionaire?”
“I only finished high school!” he told you and you gaped at him. “I never got to go to university, so I think it’s cool that you got out of here and did all that all on your own.” His sentence ended in a mumble. The two of you sat there in silence after that.
“Was it hard?” you asked after a while. He looked up at you in question. “Was it hard giving it all up?”
“Yeah… I guess,” he said. “But what part of life isn’t hard?”
“Was it worth it?”
“Yeah,” he said and this time there was no hesitation, which had you smiling. “I did miss all my friends though.”
“Like me,” you joked
“Like you.” He said simply, and the smile slipped from your face.
“You stopped keeping in touch,” you whispered.
“Keeping in touch made me sad,” he said quietly. “I was homesick a lot back then, and all I wanted to do was run away and be able to go to school with everyone again. Your emails and updates made me sad and homesick.”
“I’m sorry that’s not what I—” you started but he cut you off with a knowing smile.
“I know, but to a fifteen-year-old it felt like the end of the world.” You stared at him.
“Yes, but now you’re like… you,” you said at last, finally letting yourself sound impressed. “Don’t you have a gaggle of fangirls throwing themselves at you? I swear that’s what happens to good looking famous boys.”
“You think I’m good looking?” he asked, his bashful expression disappearing replaced by a small smirk. You swallowed but decided to play nonchalant.
“Have you looked at you?” you gestured at him and his smirk widened.
“You’re still so cute,” he said simply. Your cheeks suddenly felt a tad too warm. You were about to ask him what he meant by ‘still’ when you heard your mom calling you both down for drinks. You stood up.
“C’mon,” you said and walked to the door. When you looked back you saw Jungkook still stood near your desk, staring at the photos taped to the wall, a small smile playing on his face, his hand on a certain crinkled picture. “Guk.” The nickname slipped out accidentally.
He looked over at you, and you tried not to blush under his gaze. You still couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that this man was the same boy who beat your brother at every video game and who you used to sit on when he annoyed you and who you and Jooyoung had bribed into putting on a full face of his mother’s makeup at thirteen. But as he approached you, you couldn’t help but feeling that maybe he hadn’t changed all that much after all.
“Let’s go I’m hungry,” he said. “Hey, do you guys have any juice?”
You couldn’t help it. You laughed.
#jungkook x reader#jeon jungkook x reader#bts x reader#jungkook fluff#jeon jungkook fluff#jungkook fanfic#jeon jungkook fanfic#jungkook scenario#bts fanfic#bts#jeon jungkook#jungkook#jjk#writing#jjk drabbles
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Secret injuries would be interesting for some good Flora angst
((Thank you for the suggestion and I’m sorry this is late! I already used the ‘Secret Injuries’ prompt for Rook and Bishop whump... so I decided to add this to my new series about Flora— Put Yourself Back In The Narrative. It still contains Flora whump and angst... Flora secretly misses the professor and Luke, but Kat helps her realise that she’s not alone in that regard! This also contains some criticism of Layton’s decisions during the Relics investigation from Flora’s perspective. I hope that’s ok!
Spoilers for the anime and most of the series below! It starts with Flora writing a couple of letters...))
-
Em,
It's a relief to hear that the agency aren't involved... I still can't believe the professor never mentioned them! After everything you and Uncle have told me, I hope we never cross paths with those vultures. Don't worry— I memorised Grosky's phone number and I made sure Fen and Kitty did too.
Though, at the same time, it's disappointing that we've you've exhausted another lead.
Where will you be investigating next? Is there anyone else who might hold a grudge against the professor? All of the people I can think of are in prison... well, except for one, but he wrote to me insisting he isn't the perpetrator. I'd be more inclined to believe him if he spoke to me in person!
Maybe you could come home and help us track him down? Kitty said she misses her favourite aunt!
And we could make up some better codenames while you're here.
You stay safe too!
Flora
-
To Our Wise Guardian,
Thank you for searching for our reclusive father and looking after our restless uncle.
I trust Miss Altava with my life. If she believes the agency aren’t to blame, then I believe her. I don't care what she did in the past anymore then I care about Uncle's past. She wants to find the professor just as much as he does.
Please remind Uncle of that, and don't let him burn down any trees. Climate change is a real thing.
If you aren't having any joy with the Azran sites, maybe you should take a break. (It sounds like Uncle needs it!) There’s a park just across the road from us where you could land the Bos airship.
Fen would love to talk to Uncle about this device he's been working on. And Kitty has been begging for some new books...
Until next time,
The Layton Clan
-
Dear Brenda & Clark,
We're doing alright here, though we'd be lost without Rosa!
Alfendi has been given some extra time to complete his end-of-year project. At Kat's last parents’ evening, her teachers said she can be quiet in class but other than that, they're pleased with her progress.
Yes, Grandma Lucille is home now— we went to visit her and Grandpa Roland the other day. I just received Kuri is still with her family in Japan.
I feel awful for Marina's family... Please tell them that they're welcome here in England as well. I'm sure that wherever they are, Luke will protect Marina with his life.
...Arianna mentioned Tony's wedding. We'll all have to go dress shopping together. Kat's already decided she wants a yellow dress. (You might have some competition, Brenda!) Can Clark help Al choose a suit? He's a nightmare to shop for!
We can't wait to see you both. If you need help with the move, just give us a call.
Love,
Flora, Al & Kat xoxo
-
Dear Arianna,
Don't worry about the late reply! You should see my desk— there are SO many letters I haven't even opened yet! I wish I really wish Luke was here. He’s so much more organised than I am...
I miss him too—
-
The ink was smudged from Flora’s tears. She tried to hide it by scribbling out the last line, but there was no saving the letter now. Sniffing, she crumpled the paper into a tight ball and threw it at her bedroom wall. She didn’t bother aiming for the overflowing plastic bin.
What a waste. If Alfendi or Kat had done that, she would have tutted at them. They couldn’t afford to be wasteful, even with the emergency savings their father had left them…
Flora squeezed her black fountain pen (a twenty-first birthday gift from the professor), wishing she could snap it in half.
He had planned for this. He knew he’d be gone for so long and there was a chance he would never return.
Flora hadn’t come to say goodbye to he and Luke the day they set off, but Rosa had.
“What’s the point in searching for the girl’s father, after all these years? Why take the risk? Don’t you love Kat, Professor!?”
Yes, of course he did, but he wanted to solve the mystery behind her family. Solving a puzzle about a bunch of rocks was more important than raising his daughter, apparently. He had adopted Kat and now he was leaving her behind.
Flora huffed out a tearful laugh. She, more than anyone, should have seen it coming. But she had believed (assumed) it would be different with Kat.
The professor had taken Kat in when she was a tiny baby. A baby couldn’t be left home alone or sent to school. Parenting was a full-time job (as Flora was well aware these days).
Luke had laughed when the professor first announced that he would be Kat’s father.
Everyone, Flora included, had expected the majority of responsibility would fall on Rosa. Or, in Rosa’s absence, another eager friend or family member. (Grandma and Grandpa Layton, Uncle Desmond, the Monte d’Or gang…) The babysitting offers came flooding in much faster than when Alfendi was little. A newborn baby was far more appealing than a grief-stricken child.
Flora would have helped look after her siblings even more, had she not been so busy preparing for university.
But, in the professor’s defence, he had refused to take on any new cases and he had reduced his work hours. When he couldn’t escape his office at Gressenheller, he would bring Kat with him.
He had chosen the name ‘Katrielle’. It was an unusual name, but it went well with ‘Alfendi’.
You would think eight-year-old Alfendi would be jealous of all the attention his new sister was receiving. It was quite the opposite. By spending more time with Kat, the professor spent more time with Alfendi; trips to the park, the library, the museum…
Flora would join them whenever she got the chance. Kat was the glue that brought them all together.
The professor had ‘officially’ adopted Katrielle Layton when she turned three. It seemed he had given up on finding her biological father…
And then Luke (Darn him!) had to stick his nose back in to the Relic Stones business.
He had married Marina in secret just so they could move to England without the professor’s knowledge. Consequently, Flora had been kept in the dark too.
That hurt. After all these years, Luke still didn’t trust her.
She could have assisted him with the investigation. She wouldn’t have told the professor…
Luke had shut her out, along with Marina. (Poor Marina…)
Thankfully, Marina had sought out the professor as soon as Luke went missing.
The idiot had gotten himself caught by Don Paolo. (Yes, a similar fate had befallen Flora once… when she was fifteen. Luke was twenty-five, trained in karate and he should have known better!)
After Luke’s rescue, he was dragged back to the Layton household for a family reunion. Flora had given Luke an earful— “YOU DIDN’T INVITE US TO YOUR WEDDING AND THEN YOU ABANDONED YOUR NEW WIFE?!!”—before she hugged him. She had thought that would be the end of the whole Relics fiasco.
She’d thought wrong.
The professor had gotten involved after that. Family outings were pushed aside in favour of the Relics Stones.
At Alfendi’s eighteenth birthday meal, the professor and Luke were trading research notes under the table.
Flora found a house with her girlfriend, Kuri. The professor never once visited them, despite Flora’s many invitations.
The day Luke left for his journey with the professor, Marina had called Flora, crying because she and Luke had fallen out. Flora had gone to comfort her. (That was the last time Flora had any contact with Marina.)
Flora didn’t blame Luke as much as the professor. Luke was a young man fresh out of university— reckless, full of heart and loyal to a fault. He had watched Kat’s birth mother die and now he wanted to scour the world for answers. But, as Arianna had said, the world was so vast…
When Kat was born, Luke had been a student— too young to look after a baby by himself. So, the professor had accepted the role of being Kat’s parent.
The professor couldn’t just adopt a child (three children) and run off ten years later.
Kat wasn’t a puzzle that needed to be solved. She was a little girl.
A girl who never stopped eating sweets, but enjoyed going to the dentist if they would give her a sticker.
A girl who still hoped Santa and the Easter Bunny were real, even if the Tooth Fairy was fiction.
A girl who practiced her dad’s ‘detective’ poses in the mirror.
A girl who didn’t like tea, but still insisted on drinking it.
A girl who could hold a heated debate with her older brother (eight years her senior).
A girl whose family couldn’t afford a dog, so she stopped to pet every stray she met on the street.
A girl who thought people would only befriend her because of her last name. A girl who feared those friends would leave her when they learned of her father’s absence.
A girl who dreamed about her dad every night and woke up in tears.
A girl who was always trying to make her big sister smile…
“Hey, Floor…?” Kat knocked on Flora’s bedroom door, but she didn’t wait for Flora to answer. She burst in to see Flora wiping her eyes. Kat wondered, “What’s for dinner?”
“I, erm… I thought we could have lamb stew,” Flora suggested, standing up from her desk chair.
“Lamb stew? That’s Uncle Luke’s favourite!”
It was actually roast lamb… Flora could feel her eyes burning again. She turned away from Kat and tidied her desk. “I’ll be down in a minute,” she said distractedly.
“I can help you clean up!”
“Don’t worry, Kat—“
“Have you been writing more letters…?”
Flora glanced at Kat. Kat was picking up the ball of paper that had missed the bin— Arianna’s letter. Flora gasped, “Don’t...!”
Kat, ever curious, smoothed out the letter and read it to herself. She frowned when she reached the end.
Flora sighed. “No one was meant to read that…”
Kat carefully placed the letter on Flora’s desk. “I miss him,” Kat mumbled. “And Dad…”
“I know…” Flora touched Kat’s head. “I do, too.” Her words were mainly intended to reassure Kat, but Flora meant it.
She missed them— both of them— so much. No matter how much they had pushed her away, she missed them and she wanted them back.
“That’s okay,” Kat whispered, reaching up to grab Flora’s hand. She tugged Flora out of her bedroom and downstairs to where Alfendi was impatiently setting the table for dinner.
Later, Flora would rewrite her letter to Arianna, signing off with:
…I miss him too. It’s okay if you ever want talk about it. I’ll be here.
Sincerely,
Flora
#professor layton#flora reinhold#Katrielle Layton#hershel layton#luke triton#marina triton#Flora is here to FIGHT FOR MARINA#Rosa grimes#layton mystery journey#LMJ#my writing#angst#my fics#Arianna Barde#answers
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Nightfall: Twilight Reimagined -1-
I hit 500 followers last night so here’s the first chapter of Nightfall as I promised! This is the first thing I’ve written in a LONG time, and it’s mostly for self indulgent purposes and to get my creative juices flowing again. It will very much feel like canon for a couple of chapters but stick with me, changes will be made! It’s also going to feel slow at times, as it is just as much about the everyday life of Bella as it is about the supernatural stuff.
****
The air was dry and heavy in Phoenix, Arizona. It wasn’t much of a surprise that it was 75 degrees and sunny, with no clouds to be seen. Thanks to this, I got to wear my favorite shirt as a goodbye to the lovely warm weather of my home in Phoenix; a heather grey tank top that flowed nicely when the breeze stirred. In contrast to this, my carry on item was a heavy hoodie I had bought specifically for the trip.
I had decided to spend my senior year with my father, Charlie. He lives in the Pacific Northwest, in a tiny town tucked into a forest where it was always raining. It was this town that my mother had fled with me when I was only a few months old. Forks, Washington. I had spent every winter there until I was fourteen, but we found that my mood was significantly dampened by the bad weather. So Charlie made a compromise with me. For the last four winters, Charlie had vacationed in California with me, where he could enjoy the ocean, and I could enjoy the sun.
When I arrive in Forks, it will be the first time I’ve lived with Charlie long term. At first, I was reluctant to move. After all, I knew nothing about Forks; Phoenix was my home, it was where I’d spent the longest. I knew it and I loved it. I loved the sun that beat down on the sidewalks, and the massive city that sprawled before my eyes.
“Bella,” My mom reminded me once again, “You don’t have to do this.”
Renee looks like a softer version of myself with short brown hair and freckles, with the beginnings of soft creases in her skin. I felt a now familiar surge of panic as I looked at her with wide eyes. How could I leave her? Renee had never been on her own before. She was so scatterbrained that I had been managing our finances since I was thirteen.
Realistically, I knew that Phil -- my mom’s new husband -- would be taking care of her from now on. He was much more level headed, at least enough to make sure the bills got paid and food made its way to the table. Still, I couldn’t help but worry.
“Mom, you can’t talk me out of this.” I tried to be gentle, but firm. I had always been a terrible liar, so I stopped saying ‘ I want to go’ two weeks ago.
“Give Charlie my love, then.” Renee said, chewing on her lower lip as she worried. She said this every time I saw Charlie. I knew that she still cared for him. They had just gotten together too young and it hadn’t worked out. She was too wild and he was too home-bound.
“You know I will.”
“I’ll see you soon,” She promised, “If you ever want to come home, you know I’ll be there.”
But not without sacrifice, I thought.
Phil was in Florida right now, and from all indications he was going to be signed to the team there.
He was a minor league ball player, and Renee went to all of his home games but I knew that she wanted to be able to travel with him. There was no way that was going to happen if she had to stay in Phoenix while I closed out my senior year. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. The school year ended in June, it would only be two months until I graduated. And it would be nice to spend some time with Charlie.
“Don’t worry, mom.” I said, and hugged her tight. She kissed my cheek before stepping away to give me a watery smile. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Bella.”
And then I got onto the plane.
The flight from Phoenix to Seattle only took five hours, but then it was another plane ride to a small town called Port Angeles. From there, Charlie was going to pick me up and we would drive the last hour to get to Forks. I liked flying, but I was worried that the ride with Charlie would be awkward.
Charlie was elated that I was moving in with him, in his quiet way. He had already enrolled me into the local high school. I felt a twinge of guilt for not visiting him more in my youth. Now, I wanted to make it up to him and ensure that we would spend some time together. The truth was, though, I wasn’t sure how many football games I could force myself to watch.
Besides my guilt, things were still bound to be awkward. In the past, I had made my distaste for Forks clear, like my mother before me. Charlie was bound to know I didn’t really want to be there, even if I wanted to be around him.
To no surprise at all, it was raining when we landed in Seattle, and raining even harder when the second flight arrived in Port Angeles. It was a good thing I had said my goodbyes to the sun already, rain was inevitable from this point on.
Charlie was waiting for me with a police cruiser. He’s the Chief of Police in Forks, and the cruiser was his only mode of transportation. I made a mental note to save up for my own vehicle as soon as possible. I didn’t want to be seen in a town this small in a cop car.
When I stumbled out of the terminal, Charlie enveloped me in a tight hug.
“Hey, Bells!” He grinned awkwardly as he steadied me by the shoulders. “It’s good to see ya. How’s your mom?”
“She’s fine, she sends her love.” I smiled awkwardly and took a half step back. “It’s good to see you too, Char-dad.” I stumbled over the words, unsure what I was supposed to call him.
All of the clothes that I owned that were weather appropriate fit into two small suitcases. These easily fit into the cruiser.
“So,” Charlie said conversationally as we strapped in. “I don’t know if you’d remember my friend Billy Black, we used to go fishing with him in the summertime.”
“I don’t remember him.” I admitted sheepishly.
“Well, maybe you remember his girls? Rebecca and Rachel? Or his son Jacob?”
Looking down, I shrugged, trying not to feel too guilty over not remembering Charlie’s friend. I vaguely remembered the twins, their names at least. Jacob was a little more familiar, I could remember a chubby cheeked boy with shining brown eyes and a bright smile.
“Well, he’s in a wheelchair now, and he offered to sell me his truck, cheap.”
Was Charlie one of those car club guys? I wracked my brain for memories of wandering around a field filled with classic cars, but none came. Well, maybe Charlie was anticipating my idea of buying a vehicle.
“I thought it would be a good welcome home present for you, Bella,” He continued, keeping his eyes on the road.
“Oh.” I blinked in surprise, smiling widely at Charlie. “Thank you!”
“Don’t say that ‘till you see it.” He said with a chuckle.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I pressed.
“Well, Jake just rebuilt the engine. It’s really not that old.”
I wasn’t going to give up that easily. “When did he buy it?”
“Er…” Charlie rubbed the back of his neck before quickly returning his hand to the wheel. “He bought it in ‘84, I think.”
“New?” I urged.
“No.” Charlie sighed, caught out. “It was new in the 60’s, I think. Maybe the late 50’s even.” He glanced at me. “It’s a cool old classic, though.”
“Ch- Dad. I don’t know… I wouldn’t be able to work on it myself if something happened; and I don’t think I could afford a mechanic.”
“The thing runs like a charm!” Charlie promised.
We made some more small talk, but eventually lapsed into silence. It wasn’t as awkward as I had expected. Charlie and I were both comfortable with silence. I stared out the window as we drove, observing my new home.
Washington was pretty, I could admit that. But it was pretty in a way that was different than my home in Arizona. There was a mist that clung to the air and bathed everything in a soft glow. From the tops of the trees to the grass on the ground, everything was shades of green. There were moss coated tree branches, ferns and shrubbery encroaching on the shoulder of the road.
The drive didn’t feel very long, we were soon at Charlie’s. He lives in the same two bedroom home that he bought with my mother when they were first married. There wasn’t much to their marriage besides a beginning, though. Parked in front of the house was the truck that Charlie had bought for me. It was a soft, faded red. There were big rounded fenders sticking out, with a couple of dings in them and the cab was large and rounded.
Surprisingly, I loved it. It looked like it had lived a life, like there was a story to it. The body itself was more visually appealing than the boxy four door cars that had become all too popular lately. The steel body looked like it could get into an accident and come out practically unscathed. It was a good fit for me.
“Dad, I love it! Thank you!” I exclaimed. Tomorrow, I wouldn’t have to sludge through the rain on foot to get to school; Or worse, ride in the cruiser. I could show up in my own ride, a surprisingly cool one.
“Well, I’m glad you like it,” Charlie said gruffly, embarrassed.
It only took one of us - and one trip - to get my things inside and upstairs. I got the bedroom that faced the front yard. It was familiar, since it had been mine since birth, even though I had never spent much time here. The floor was wooden, and the walls were a pale and faded blue. The ceiling was slanted, the curtains trimmed with lace. This was my childhood room, preserved. The only changes that had ever been made was exchanging the crib for a bed, and adding a desk when I started school. The desk now held a clunky, Windows 95 laptop. This was because my mother wanted to stay in touch through email. The rocking chair that my Grandma Swan had passed down to Charlie was still in the corner.
It was nice to see my childhood room this way, but in the back of my mind, I began to imagine little changes I could make.
There was only one bathroom, which meant sharing with Charlie. I wasn’t too enthused about that, and hoped he was a clean freak like I was.
After making sure I was settled, Charlie left me to get unpacked and sort my things. This was something my mother would never have been able to do. It was nice to have a moment alone, to not have to pretend to be happy to be here. I relished sighing dramatically over the rain pouring outside.
As I unpacked, I let my mind wander. I wasn’t looking forward to starting school tomorrow. Forks high school has a total of 321 students; 322 now. There were more than 700 people in my grade alone in Phoenix. There was no crowd for me to blend into here. Everyone had grown up knowing each other, and their families all probably knew one another generations back.
I set a snow globe on my desk. It was a souvenir from a trip Renee and I took to Hollywood, and when turned over, it rained gold glitter over the Hollywood sign.
I was going to be the new girl; the city kid encroaching on their small town life. Maybe, if I looked like people imagined a girl from Phoenix looked like, I could make the new kid angle work for me. It felt like I should be tanned and sporty, outgoing- things that went along with living in a sunny world.
Instead, I’m pale despite growing up in the constant sunshine. I’ve always been small and slender, I’m not in athletic shape, and I wasn't particularly curvaceous either. I felt completely average. On top of that, I was clumsier than should be possible. The two nice things I got from my mom were my hair, which always had big, soft brown waves, and my eyes which were a pretty brown to match.
When I was done putting my clothes away in the cedar dresser that my grandfather had built, I took my bag of bathroom supplies and put everything in its place. While I was there, I cleaned myself up from traveling all day. I looked at myself as I brushed my hair. Maybe it was just the lighting, but it looked like Forks had already taken a toll on me. My skin was paler somehow, unhealthy. I had no color here.
Making my way back to my room, I could think of nothing but the coming day. There was this urgent fear that I would never fit in here, that no one would want to be friends with the chief’s daughter anyway. I don’t relate well to people; even my mom, who’s my best friend, never truly got me. Sometimes I wondered if I was seeing the same world that everyone else saw. Maybe there was something wrong with me, or my brain. The cause didn’t really matter, I supposed. All that matters is the effect. Tomorrow’s just the beginning.
I didn’t sleep well, which didn’t come as any surprise. The rain pounded on the roof and the wind screeched in the trees. I shoved pillows over my head, but the sound still intruded. The weather finally settled around midnight, and blissfully I drifted to sleep.
In the morning, a thick fog prevented me from seeing further than the driveway when I peered out my window. There was no blue sky, and no sunshine, this made me feel like the world was closing in around me. I couldn’t breathe. I turned away from the window, and centered myself.
Focus on my routine.
Breakfast was quiet. Charlie wasn’t a morning person. He sipped his coffee and pursued the paper while I scarfed down a bowl of cereal. He wished me good luck at school before kissing me on the forehead and leaving for work. Good luck had never helped me before, but it was nice that he offered the sentiment anyway.
I took Charlie’s place at the old oak table. There were three mismatched chairs that surrounded it. I examined the kitchen, with it’s paneled walls and yellow cabinets, the white tiled floor. Nothing had changed. My mother had painted the cupboards seventeen years ago to try to bring some brightness to the room. It felt like Charlie was living in a museum.
In the adjoining room, there was the fireplace. A row of pictures lined it: A picture of my parents on their wedding day in Vegas, followed by the three of us in the hospital the day I was born, and then my most recent school photo. I cringed and thought about asking Charlie to put my picture away.
The last thing I wanted was to be early for school, but I couldn’t stand looking at the relics of my childhood anymore. After pulling on my heavy jacket, I stepped outside with more than a hint of trepidation.
While the weather had quieted last night, it had never quite stopped raining and was still drizzling while I locked the house up. My brand new rain boots splashed in puddles as I sloshed my way to my new truck. I longed for the crunch of gravel under my feet.
Thankfully, the truck was dry inside. Someone had obviously made an effort to clean it up, but the seats still faintly smelled of tobacco and gasoline. There was a vanilla air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror. The engine turned over quickly, but loudly, and idled at what seemed to be maximum volume. I’d been expecting it, but it still made me jump. The radio worked, which was a positive I hadn’t considered. After fiddling with the stations, classic rock hummed quietly in the background.
Finding the school was easy, though I had never been there. It was, like most things in Forks, right off the highway. It wasn’t obvious that it was a school building, it looked more like a jail or civil building. The buildings were a monotonous brick, and the walls were large and foreboding despite the small student body.
I parked in front of the building with the large black number 1 and OFFICE sign outside. No one else had parked there yet, so I hoped it wasn’t staff parking but decided to risk it. I stepped reluctantly out of the warmth of my truck and hurried through the drizzle until I was under an alcove by the door. I took a deep breath to steel myself, and pushed my way inside. The building was lit with bright fluorescents and was warmer than I expected.
The office was small; a little waiting area with padded chairs and a faded carpet, awards sat on shelves and posters were tacked to the walls, and a comically large clock ticked away. The room was cut in half by a counter, on top of which there were several baskets overflowing with colorful papers. A large, redheaded woman wearing glasses was sitting behind the counter. She was wearing a purple t-shirt, which made me feel overdressed in my soft sweater and heavy jacket.
The woman looked up. “Can I help you?”
“Yeah, uh, I’m Bella Swan.” Her eyes brightened with a spark of recognition. I was sure she had heard, and partaken in, plenty of gossip about the chief’s estranged daughter.
“Isabella, of course!” I didn’t bother to correct her as she dug through piles of documents. “I have your schedule here, dear, and a map if you need it.”
She highlighted the best route between classes on the map for me, and gave me a slip for each teacher to sign for me to bring back to the office at the end of the day. Then she smiled warmly at me and wished me good luck.
I politely smiled back, trying to fake enthusiasm.
Students had started to arrive while I had been inside. I moved my truck, following the flow of traffic towards student parking. I noticed with relief that most of the cars were older, like mine. People still looked in my direction, but I assumed that had more to do with the rumble of my engine than curiosity about me. At least, I hoped so.
The nicest car here was a shiny Ford, and it stood out. Still, I cut the engine as soon as I was parked so that I didn’t draw more attention than I already had.
Hoping to remain in the warmth for a moment longer, I lingered in the cab of my truck, staring at the map. I was hoping to memorize it so that I wouldn’t have to pull it out later. Eventually, I stuffed the map into my bag and slung it over my shoulder. I can do this, I thought, no one is going to bite me.
I exhaled and stepped out of the truck, pulling my hood up. I made my way towards the building with the large black 3 painted on the side. My breathing was coming faster now, and I tried to even it out before it became full blown hyperventilation.
You can do this, I reminded myself.
The first thing I noticed was how small the classroom was. There were maybe twenty desks in total. I hung my coat on the row of hooks next to the door, following the example of the student who had walked in before me. She was a stunning blonde, who looked more like she had stepped out of an old Hollywood film than Forks high school. She had pale skin, and eyes that were a dark amber, with even darker circles underneath. At least I wouldn’t stick out as the palest person here, I thought.
I brought the slip up to the teacher to sign. He was tall and lanky, with curly brown hair and oval shaped glasses that perched on the edge of his nose, looking dangerously close to falling. He identified himself as Mr. G and encouraged me to take a seat without introducing myself.
Despite taking the only open seat at an empty desk in the back of the room, my classmates still somehow managed to stare at me. I even caught the pretty blonde girl looking my way with an indecipherable expression. I tried to ignore the stares by looking over the syllabus Mr. G had given me: Shakespeare, Bronte, Fahrenheit 451, and The Hot Zone. All things I had read before, but things I would enjoy rereading. I wondered if my mom would send my old essays, or if she would consider that cheating. While Mr. G droned on, I imagined that argument with her.
When the bell rang, students streamed out of the classroom. Except a gangly boy with olive toned skin, black hair and a green sweater. He made his way back to me.
“You’re Isabella Swan, right?”
“Bella, actually.” I corrected as I slung my bag over my shoulder. The remaining students turned to look at me.
“Where’s your next class?” The boy who hadn’t introduced himself asked.
I glanced at my schedule slip. “Um, Government with Jefferson, in the annex building.”
“I’m heading that way, I can show you the way,” He seemed eager to please. “I’m Eric.”
“Thanks.” I smiled tentatively.
We paused to get our jackets from the hooks and pulled them on. The drizzle from this morning had turned into large, heavy droplets of rain now. As I pulled my hood up, I could have sworn that people stopped or slowed down to listen to us.
“So, you moved from Phoenix, right? I bet it’s different there.” Eric prompted me as we walked.
“Very.”
“And I bet you don’t get a lot of rain there.”
“Maybe four times a year.”
“Wow! I wonder what that’s like.”
“Sunny,” I told him. Eric’s expression implied that he thought I was being rude, and maybe I was, but my deadpan personality made small talk hard.
“Well, you don’t look very tan.” He pointed out.
“My mother’s part albino.”
He studied me carefully, like I wasn’t what he was expecting,and now he had to reevaluate what he thought of me. It seemed like I wasn’t going to find many people with a sense of humor here, I thought with a sigh.
We walked around the campus past the gym, to a building marked with a big black 6. Eric walked me to the door, even though it was clearly marked.
“Good luck!” He said as I walked into the classroom. “Maybe we’ll have another class together.”
“Maybe.” I smiled vaguely at him.
The rest of the morning was pretty much the same. My Trig teacher, who was a surly mountain man type, was the only one who made me stand at the front of the room and introduce myself. I stammered and blushed through the basics, and just when I thought it couldn’t get any more embarrassing- I tripped over my own feet on the way to my desk.,
After a couple of classes, I began to recognize faces. There was always someone who gathered the courage to speak to me after class; they would introduce themselves and ask me the same questions about Forks and my thoughts on it. I ended up telling a lot of little white lies about my opinions on the small town.
One girl sat next to me in both Trig and Spanish, so we walked to lunch together. Her skin was a rich sepia tone and she was a few inches shorter than me, but she had this dark hair that curled in every direction and evened out our height difference. I couldn’t remember her name, so I just nodded a lot while she talked me through the different teachers and their respective classes.
I followed her to a table, where she introduced me to her friends. I sat at the end of the table, forgetting most of their names as soon as they were said. Eric, the boy from English, waved at me from his position in the lunch line.
It was there, sitting in the cafeteria and trying to avoid conversation with strangers, that I first saw them.
They were sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away from the crowd as possible. There were five of them, including the stunning blonde from my English class. None of them were speaking, and they weren’t eating despite having plates of food on the table. None of them were staring at me, like the other students had, so it felt safe for me to observe them without fear of having to make eye contact.
There were three boys. One was big, like he spent most of his time at the gym. He had skin in the same sepia as the girl I had followed through the line, but a couple of shades darker. His hair was black and had tight curls that were cut pretty short. He almost looked too old to be in high school. The next was taller and lean, but still muscular. He had honey blonde hair that fell to his collar, fair skin and freckles. He was tapping his fingers on the table. The last was lanky, slouched down, with hair more red than blonde, just as pale and freckled as the previous boy. He looked to be the youngest of them..
Next I noticed the girls. The first was the blonde from my English class. She was the kind of girl that radiated beauty and confidence. Statuesque, with blonde hair that curled and hung to her shoulders. I wondered if she was the honey haired boy’s sister. Sitting next to her was a pixie like girl, petite with pointed features. Her eyes were large and angular, her hair was an inky black, cut short and sticking out in every direction. She seemed to be the youngest of the whole group and a playful smile flickered when she noticed me staring.
Somehow, despite the five of them all looking distinct in their own way; they all shared similar features. They all practically glowed in the fluorescent lighting, almost like their skin was reflective. They all had very dark eyes, ranging from dark amber to almost black, and they all shared bruise like shadows under their eyes.
None of this was the reason I couldn’t look away from these mysterious strangers.
I stared because despite their differences, they were all the same kind of devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful. They were the kind of beautiful that you never expected to see in real life. Especially in the middle of nowhere, like Forks. These were faces you would see in magazines or painted by a master as the face of an angel. It was hard to decide who was the most attractive, the boy with the red hair or the blonde girl I shared a class with.
None of them appeared to be looking at anything in particular. They looked away from the other students, away from the staff, and even each other. Some of them stared out the window, or their food, or their own hands. While I watched them, the smallest girl rose with her tray and walked away. I was shocked at her grace. She hadn’t walked, but rather danced away. I watched as she dumped her tray and skipped out the door, faster than I thought possible. I looked back to the others, who hadn’t even seemed to notice her departure.
“Who are they?” I asked the girl from my Spanish class, who’s name I still couldn’t remember.
She looked up, but from the flicker in her eyes I could tell that she already knew who I meant. One of them moved again, and it drew my gaze back to them. The younger boy with the red hair had looked at my neighbor for a moment, and then his eyes met mine.
He looked away quicker than I could, but I dropped my eyes to my tray anyway. My cheeks were burning and I just knew they were bright red.
My neighbor giggled and looked down the same way I had.
“Those are the Cullens.” She said in a hushed voice. “Edward and Emmett Cullen, and Rosalie and Jasper Hale. The one who just left was Alice Cullen. They’re Dr. and Mrs. Cullen’s kids, well, sort of..”
I looked at the beautiful boy again. He was now looking at his tray, face a mask of determination. He picked idly at his food, and his mouth was moving very quickly. The others still weren’t looking at him, but I could tell they were listening to whatever he was saying.
Strange names, I thought, old fashioned. Maybe that was just the style around small towns. Most small towns had a couple of quirks, after all. I finally remembered that the girl sitting next to me was named Jessica, which was perfectly common. I had known more than one Jessica back home.
“They’re… pretty.” I wished that I could put it into better words, but had no idea where to start.
“Yeah!” Jessica agreed. “They’re all together, though. Emmett and Rosalie, and Jasper and Alice, I mean. And they live together!” Her voice made it more than apparent that this was a cause of gossip around town. I had to admit that it probably would have caused gossip back in Phoenix, too.
“What did you mean, ‘sort of’?” I asked curiously.
“Well, Edward is Mr. Cullen’s nephew and he’s been staying with them for a while, I guess. Rosalie and Jasper are Mrs. Cullen’s younger cousins, and they’re staying with them until they finish school. I think Alice Cullen is their foster daughter and Emmett lives with them because he's with Rosalie.” Jessica rattled off.
“So none of them are actually related?” I asked, trying to sort out that complicated family tree in my head.
“They all act like one big family, though. The Cullens basically adopted them all. It’s nice, just… weird.”
“That’s really nice.” I picked at my lunch, not feeling very hungry.
During this conversation, I had barely looked away from the Cullens. My gaze found it’s way back to them no matter how hard I tried to pull it away. The whole group continued to ignore me rudely staring at them, and none of them touched their food.
“They haven’t always lived here, right?” I definitely would have remembered them from my winters here if that had been the case.
“ No. ” Jessica said this in a tone that made it clear I had asked a dumb question, and it stung a little. I guessed it was obvious that the Cullens were outsiders here, but so was I. “They moved here a couple years ago from Alaska.”
So they’d been in my position pretty recently. The new kids. I felt bad for them, they clearly didn’t have many friends outside their family. On the other hand, I felt relieved because I wasn’t the only outsider in the tiny school.
As I stared, the redhead looked up and met my eyes again. He looked curious, like he expected something from me. I quickly looked down again, embarrassed at being caught staring.
“Which one has red hair?” I asked, peeking up from under my lashes. He was still looking at me. He looked frustrated now, and I looked back down.
“That’s Edward.” She said with a small sigh. “He’s the prettiest, isn’t he? But don’t waste your time, he doesn’t date.” She looked away bitterly. I wondered when he had turned her down.
I bit my lip and glanced at him again. He wasn’t looking at me anymore, but it seemed like the beginnings of a smile were tugging at his lips.
A few minutes later, the whole Cullen family left. They all shared a strange grace, even the big muscle-y one, but it was clear Alice was the dancer in the family. The one named Edward didn’t look at me again, and then they were gone.
I sat with Jessica and her friends longer than I would have if I had sat alone. One of Jessica’s friends, who gently reminded me that her name was Angela, had Biology with me next. We walked to class together. She was shy like me, so we walked in silence. It was nice.
�� When we entered the classroom, Angela sat in her assigned seat at one of the black topped tables that I had come to expect in science classrooms. Someone was already sitting next to her. All of the tables had two people sitting at them, except for one. Edward Cullen was sitting next to the only open seat.
I introduced myself to the teacher, Ms. Ramone, and she signed my slip and sent me off to my desk. Just as I began to walk, Edward stiffened in his seat and stared at me again. His expression wasn’t curious anymore. Now he was staring at me with some kind of angry horror. I felt my cheeks heat up and tripped over a backpack someone had left in the aisle. I had to catch myself on the corner of my desk. The girl who owned the backpack snickered at me. I barely registered it.
Edward’s eyes were black as pitch, and his hands were curled into tight fists.
I kept my eyes down as I slid into the only available seat in the room, right next to him. Why was he staring at me like this? What had changed between lunch and now? I couldn’t understand why Edward looked so angry with me.
What had I done to deserve the fury burning in his dark eyes?
I didn’t look at him directly when I sat, but from the corner of my eye, I could see his posture change. He was sitting, ridgid, in his seat and leaned as far away from me as the small space would allow. He was averting his eyes and his nose was wrinkled like he smelled something bad. With a toss of my head, my hair fell in a curtain over my left shoulder, blocking Edward from my view. Yep, I still smelled like my strawberry shampoo. What the hell was with him?
I tried to refocus on the teacher.
Unfortunately, we were learning about cellular anatomy, which I had learned about the year before in Phoenix. I took notes anyway, focusing intently on making my handwriting look nice so I wouldn’t be tempted to sneak a glance at Edward.
It was no surprise that I couldn’t stop myself from peeking over at him occasionally from behind the curtain of my hair. During the whole class, he didn’t relax at all. His hands were still clenched into fists, the pale skin stretching tight over his knuckles. The sleeves of his blue sweater were pushed up to his elbows, and his forearm was surprisingly muscular. He wasn’t nearly as small as he had looked next to his burly ‘brother’. The blue of his sweater made him look even paler than before.
The class dragged on longer than the others. Maybe because I was practically counting the seconds, or maybe because the day always seemed longer after lunch. No, of course it was because I was waiting for him to relax next to me. He never loosened his fist, and besides the irritating bouncing of his knee; he didn’t seem to move or breathe at all. Did he normally act like this? No wonder Jessica had felt so strongly before.
After all, it couldn’t be me. He didn’t even know me.
I peeked up at him once more, and instantly regretted it. He was glaring at me again. His black eyes burned into mine. I flinched away, curling into myself. Then the bell rang and I almost jumped out of my skin.
Edward was out of his seat before I could compose myself, and out the door before anyone else. He was much taller than I thought.
I was frozen in my seat, blinking after him. What was he so angry about? What had I done to evoke such a strong reaction when he knew nothing about me? I gathered my things slowly, trying not to let the anxiety overtake me. That would lead to crying, and I wouldn’t let that happen in school.
“Aren’t you Isabella Swan?” A voice asked. I almost snapped at it until I saw the person it came from.
A round faced boy with pale blue eyes and blonde hair that was carefully spiked up was smiling at me in a warm, friendly way. He clearly didn’t think I smelled bad.
“Bella,” I corrected. Again.
“Hi, Bella. I’m Mike.”
“Hi, Mike.” I tried not to sigh. I couldn’t wait for my novelty to wear off.
“Do you need any help finding your next class?”
“I’m heading to the gym, and I’ve passed it twice today already. But thanks.”
“Hey, that’s my next class too!” He was enthusiastic, I’ll give him that.
We walked together, and he barely stopped talking to breathe. He had lived in California until he was thirteen, so he knew how I felt about the sun. It turned out he was also in my English class, and I just hadn’t noticed. Mike was the nicest person I’d met today, he reminded me of a golden retriever.
Just as we entered the gym, Mike asked me, “So… Did you stab Edward Cullen with a pencil or something? I’ve never seen him act like that.”
I cringed. At least I wasn’t the only one who had noticed his behavior. On the other hand, this meant that it wasn’t his usual behavior, and the only new factor was me.
“The boy I sit next to in Bio?” I asked, playing dumb.
“Yeah,” Mike nodded. “He looked like he was in pain or something.”
“I dunno.” I shrugged and tried to pretend like it didn’t bother me. “He didn’t say two words to me the whole class.”
“Well.. He’s weird.” Mike said, as if this was some kind of condolence for Edward’s behavior. “I would’ve talked to you if we sat next to each other.”
“I know, Mike.” I smiled at him and escaped to the locker room before I had to deal with any more small talk.
The gym teacher found me a uniform but didn’t make me wear it for my first day. At home, only two years of PE are required. In Forks, all four years are required. As if this place wasn’t already my personal hell.
I watched four volleyball games played at the same time, trying to stay out of the way. I knew how many injuries I was bound to inflict if they made me participate.
The final bell rang at last. A saving grace from the first day of Forks high. I walked to the office to return my paperwork. The rain had blessedly stopped, but the wind had picked up and blew my hair around my face in large gusts.
When I walked into the office, I almost turned on my heel and walked back out.
Edward was standing at the counter with his back to me. I recognized him from the windblown bronze hair. I pressed myself against the wall by the door, waiting for the receptionist to be free. Please don’t notice me, I begged silently.
He was arguing with the woman behind the counter, and it didn’t take me long to figure out what was happening. He wanted to switch Biology classes!
I couldn’t believe this. Something must have happened in the classroom before I arrived. This couldn’t be about me. It was impossible that someone who didn’t know me could harbor such resentment towards me.
The door opened again, and a gust of wind rushed in. Papers flew off the desk, my hair swirled around my face once more. The girl who had come in simply dropped a note into one of the baskets and walked back out. This caused another gust of wind. In these few seconds, Edward had stiffened in a now familiar way, and then turned to glare at me. His face was handsome, but it didn’t dull the hostility radiating off of him. I felt a thrill of fear, goosebumps rising on my skin. He turned back to the receptionist.
“Nevermind.” He said in a velvet smooth voice. “I understand there’s nothing you can do. Thank you anyway.” And then he turned and left without another look towards me.
I took a moment to collect myself before shyly handing over the paperwork to the woman.
“How was your first day, sweetie?” The woman asked with a kind smile.
“It was good.” I lied meekly. She didn’t look convinced, but didn’t press me on the matter.
When I got to my truck, it was the only vehicle left in the parking lot besides the staff. It was like a small piece of home in this damp, green alien planet I had found myself on. I sat inside for a while, with the heater cranked, while I tried not to cry. Eventually, I headed back to Charlie’s.
#the twilight saga#twilight fanfiction#twilight#twilight renaissance#twilight revival#twilight revamped#twilightenment#twilight fic#twilight reimagined#Nightfall: twilight reimagined#bella swan#edward cullen#jacob black#charlie swan#renee dwyer#phil dwyer#Esme Cullen#carlisle cullen#rosalie cullen#emmett cullen#alice cullen#jasper hale#rosalie hale#jasper cullen#jessica stanley#angela weber#mike newton#eric yorkie#long post#my work
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Chapter 8
When Mary awoke to her surprise she had a letter under the cushion addressed to her sister. On the way to school she gave it to Lily.
- What is this?
- It's a letter for you, from Mr. Manx.
- When did he give it to you? - Lily said, worrying.
- When I visited Christmasland last night… you know, you guessed that he is the owner. But Mr. Manx is good as Santa Claus, he doesn't look like Dracula at all. Surely Grandma Cassie didn't like him ...
Lily had a dizzy feeling, what kind of person, or monster, was Mr. Manx? He opened the letter written on a Christmas card and read:
“Dear Miss Aberforth,
I recently discovered that both you and your little sister have certain "powers," so we better have a friendly conversation to make certain things clear. I can guarantee you that I will not harm you unless you force me to. Bring your Tarot Cards, the ones that give you visions, miss, and don't try to fool me because you will be on my list of naughty list and believe me this is would not advisable for you . Come to Christmasland tonight, Mary will take you ... unless you prefer that I come for you with the Wraith
Lily closed the letter, took Mary's hand and said:
- Tonight we're going to Christmasland. The two together. Are you going to take me?
- Sure - said Mary happy and carefree - you'll see how you're going to like it.
At night the two sisters went to sleep as usual, but Lily took their Tarot cards and put them in her pajama pocket. After a few minutes she was in a kind of cobbled town, there were only dimly lit streetlights and it was freezing cold that made her teeth chatter. She scrubbed her arms and tried to keep warm as she searched for her sister.
- Mary, where are you?
From the corner, Millie Manx signaled to Mary not to say anything and whispered that her older sister was going to be surprised when her dad had finished talking to her. Mary nodded, but she knew her sister was worried. While in the main square, Manx was leaning on her car and said looking at his watch:
- Wow, how quickly they have arrived
Manx threw a piece of clothing into the Wraith and said:
- Bring me the oldest.
N0s4a2 started the engine and started up. Being part of Manx, it knew well where Lily was hiding and tracked her down like a huge bulldog. Lily moved through the streets observing the shops. It was like being at a Christmas fair, she could see a Ferris wheel and a huge roller coaster next to her and a carousel with white reindeer. It was beautiful and sinister at the same time.
Suddenly a powerful honk made her take a jump and turn. The Rolls Royce was right behind her, the engine idling and purring. A thought came to Lily, but she knew it wasn't her who was thinking “Get in the car and it will take you where you want to go. You're wandering around like a fool and you're going to freeze." Lily looked the car suspiciously, and ran down a narrow street. The Wraith backed up and turned, from his hiding place Lily could see that damn thing was moving without anyone driving it. She changed direction and went onto another street but found the dark car blocking her exit and dazzling her with headlights.
- What the hell do you want, you piece of junk? You are playing with me?
N0s4a2 opened the passenger side door and stood still. Lily turned around again and changed direction, she did not want to get in that sinister car again, this time she went out to a wider street in which there was a huge wall. The car's powerful horn sounded again just behind her. A strange new thought invaded Lily's mind:
- Get up now, silly. You have no escape, you better not delay the inevitable.
Lily sighed, expelling steam from the cold, and decided to face her fate. She was trapped in Manx's private world and if he didn't want to, neither she or her sister would come out. She approached the car and said:
- It's okay. You win - although I wasn't sure if she meant the car or Manx. The Rolls opened the passenger door and closed it when Lily got in. She saw a man's housecoat on the seat and took it, wondering because it was inside the car. Lily brought the collar of the housecoat close to her nose and smelled it, there was a slight smell of cologne or men's aftershave, tears came to Lily's eyes when she remembered that her father's clothes smelled similar, and in a Instinctive gesture she put the housecoat over her pajamas and covered herself well. The truth is that the housecoat was comfortable and warm, although it had to be pulled up a bit to avoid dragging it. The drive was short, N0s4a2 stopped at a main square, where there was a gigantic Christmas tree, and right in front of a tall figure waiting. Lily got out of the car and heard Charlie's voice saying:
-You had been lost, dear?
Lily nodded. Manx noticed that he had tear traces in his eyes
- Young lady, do not tell me that you have cried ... here it is not allowed to be sad, it is against the law- he said with a sinister smile.
- No, it's just that I got a little sadded when I put on you housecoat , the smell of it reminded me of my late father. Lily went to take off his housecoat and give it to him but he said:
- Do you want to catch pneumonia, dear? Leave it on while you're around. It's always cold in Christmasland. Come, we will go talk to a calmer and warmer place. - he said, gently grabbing her arm as he headed to one of the houses.
- Where is my sister?
- Do not fear, she is safe playing with my daughters. I think they are preparing your Christmas present- he said with a half smile that revealed his pointed teeth.
Lily watched him, Manx looking younger than the last time they had met. He had smoother skin and thicker black hair with almost no gray hair. He preferred not to know if that was the effect of Christmasland that gave him that appearance or had achieved it in a much more sinister way. Charlie unlocked the house’s door with a beautifully adorned silver key, turned on the light, and said:
- Welcome to the office of the CEO, I mean myself. Come in, sit down and let's talk like two adults, huh? Do you want some chocolat? With cinnamon or do you prefer it with mint?
Lily looked at him with surprise, she did not expect such a cordial reception, but she obeyed and sat in a chair next to an imposing table. Manx struck a match, tossed it into the fireplace to light it, then removed his coat and cap which he hung neatly on a coat rack. He wearing a spotless white shirt and gray vest, Charlie sat in a high chair in front of Lily and said grabbing her chin:
- Well, if you know what is convenient for you, you will answer my questions with total sincerity.
Lily nodded
- Splendid. When did you discover its power? See the future in the cards?
- Well I'm not sure ... I would say that when they gave me the ones I have now, about five years ago ... but ...
- But? - Charlie asked staring at her
- I think I remember that when I was little I already guessed things. I daydreamed when I used my rocking horse, riding my steed to a forest where there was a fountain in which I saw things that were later fulfilled. For example, I saw that I would have a little sister or that they were going to take us to Disneyland.
- Interesting ... What happened to that rocking horse? Does your sister use it now?
- No. My mother sold it, in one of those garage sales ... I was very angry, especially when a few months later I found it totally destroyed next to a garbage container. It hurt me a lot, almost in the soul, and I cried like a fool ...
Manx smiled and Lily saw that there was something different in her eyes, more warmth, it was something a kind to empathy or as if he had gone through the same thing.
- Young lady, it is very normal that it hurt so much - he said softly - They smashed your knife, that is, the means to access your inscape, and through that your inscape you saw the future although you were not aware of it. Now you still have that ability, although it is different.
- My knife? I do not understand...
- Well, young lady, it is a difficult gift to explain, but I will try. You see, each person has a little corner inside where they can take refuge in their mind ... it is what is called inscapes. The difference is that there are people, like us, called creative souls, who are able to physically access that mental world of theirs through some object, we call them knives because they cut the veil between the real world and that of thought, and make it come true. However, this type of gift has a physical or mental cost and that is why most of these creative souls are consumed and do not reach their full potential ... but I have discovered what my inscape takes away from me and how to recover it ...
Lily didn't want to ask how and said:
- So Christmasland is your inscape, and your knife I suppose is your car.
- You're a very smart girl. And in your case they are your Tarot cards, as previously it was your toy horse. But I have not yet discovered your sister's knife ... nor her inscape, I only know that she can access the inscapes of others and even bring people to other inscapes... a very curious and interesting gift ...
Lily decided to divert Manx's attention from her sister, took out the Tarot Cards and said:
- You wanted to see how they worked, right? Well let's get to it. I will explain it briefly, each person makes the read of Tarot cards in their own way and you has to know that the illustrations of the Major Arcana, which are the most important cards and the ones I will use, can symbolize many things and not strictly what the illustration shows.
He nodded and stared at her as Lily shuffled the cards and cut the deck into three pieces:
- Well, now put your left hand on the pile you prefer, don't cross your arms or legs and say you want to know. Be guided by your instincts.
Charlie looked at the piles and chose the one in the center, saying he wanted to see his future. Lily took it and was unveiling the cards.
"Let's see," said Lily trying to look like a professional and revealing the first card, here we have The Emperor, this is you. Means that you are the master of your own kingdom, also symbolizes the father. You see yourself reflected, right?
- Do not hesitate, continue dear ...
Lily revealed the second card, the Star and she had a vision of a girl riding a motorcycle in front of a covered wooden bridge, on which there were bats, she raised the visor of her helmet and Lily could see that the left eye of the girl was crying blood. Lily was startled and Manx knew he was using his power and suspiciously said:
- What have you seen?
- A girl.
- Ok. And what is supposed to happen to that girl? What's so special about it?
Lily revealed another card, that of the High Priestess, and said:
- Well, it is very possible that it is a girl with gift like yours, this is the card of the High Priestess this card also represented the wise women or the witches.
Lily had another vision at that moment in which the girl, whom she had seen, was crossing the covered bridge with her motorcycle and arriving in another town, and that at that moment Manx, quite aged, observed that the Rolls was emitting interference on the radio and added :
- You will know when it is time to meet her. You will notice it. She will surely be as powerful as you.
Charlie frowned, he didn't like the way that card reading was taking, but he asked:
- All right. And what's she like? Where do you live? And when will be that?
- I have not seen her face, only her eyes ... he was wearing a motorcycle helmet ... I have not seen where she is from ... and I respect the time ... Lily took out another card and showed it to her interlocutor- The Hermit usually indicates, in matters of time, which will not be immediately, it may take months or years.
Charlie leaned back in his chair and said:
- Is there anything else I should know?
Lily concentrated and revealed the last card: The Lovers, and saw Charlie talking to someone, whom Lily did not see but deduced that it would be that girl and it seemed that he wanted to seduce her by the attitude and the look he had:
- I think you is going to fall in love with her and you will have to make a very important decision for it. It is what this card means.
Manx got up in a fury and said:
- Rubbish ... Besides, from what I've heard, sometimes the prophecies in the cards are not accurate, right?
"The cards are not wrong ... but whoever interprets them can be wrong," said Lily, cowering in her chair, giving Manx the reason not to anger him more, although she knew well that when she used those cards her predictions never failed.
While Lily was doing her card reading, Millie and Lorrie had taken Mary to the costume shop and said:
- If you want to go back to Christmasland, Dad said that you have to choose a special costume from here. - Millie said. - then you will have to put your name in his log book.
- And then you will be one of our family ... - Lorrie said hugging Mary
Mary looked at them with a face of not understanding anything,
- Come on, choose your costume and put your name in the book ... said Millie- later we will give you your gift
Mary looked at the costumes, then looked at the sisters and said:
- I don't like any of these ... I like the one I'm wearing ...
Millie and Lorrie looked at each other and said:
- Well, surely Dad has some more costume stored in a warehouse that you will like. Then we ask him- Lorrie said.
Mary smiled. Millie took her hand and led her to a book.
- Now put your name.- she said giving the pen to Mary
Mary looked at the book, all the children had put their last name in the book as Manx, if some had told her different last names before. Mary began to put her name:
- Mary ... and she was blank- what should she put? Aberforth or Manx?
- Come on… Millie urged her.- Lorrie has your gift ready…
- But it is that my last name is not Manx but Aberforth. What a strange game ... I don't want to continue with this game.
Millie looked at her with boredom, she couldn't reason with that girl. Why did her father insist that Mary go through the same process as the other children who came to Christmasland? If she didn't come in the car. ..
- Well, we will give you the gift anyway ... - Lorrie said - then Dad will take care of everything.- she said looking at her sister with complicity
Millie nodded and they handed the gift to Mary.
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Fire Broken - Chapter 3
Chapter One / Chapter Two
Warning… Spoilers ahead for Thunderbirds Season 3 Episode 24!
@gumnut-logic thank you as always for your endless support and help with this one… wouldn’t be half the fic it is without your help and feedback!
Thank you everyone who commented on Chapter 1… didn’t really ever have an option but to continue really did I?
Under the cut for SPOILERS!
Scott sat at the desk. Dad’s desk. The desk that he would be happy to not spend so much time at once this week was over.
They had looked at all the options. Brains had given them every possible eventuality and their feasibility. Plans had been discussed, alternatives plotted. Yet, it had just come down to the one option they had started with.
It was the option that turned all of their stomachs.
“It’s not fair!” Alan snapped from where he had been hugging a cushion to his chest, “How are we meant to pick between two parts of our family?”
John caught Scott’s eye as he looked up, his expression apologetic, “Virgil is stable and is in the best possible care. He’ll still be here when we get home. We don’t know what state Dad might be in out there.”
He hated how pragmatic his brother sounded but knew he was right.
That didn’t mean it didn’t still hurt.
Virgil was his rock. His steadying voice of reason when things started to get too much. Virgil was methodical, reasonable and calm, even in the face of everything going wrong.
In short, he was everything Scott needed before they launched.
Scott wasn’t sure if he wanted to face the possibility of being too late without Virgil at his side. He wasn’t sure he wanted to launch at all.
Equally, he knew he would never forgive himself if they didn’t at least try to find Dad at the first opportunity.
He knew what Virgil would say if they didn’t go.
It really seemed as though they didn’t have an option.
“Virgil will be pissed if you don’t go because of him.” Kayo announced herself as she entered from the stairwell. Standing on the edge of the den, she folded her arms and looked down to Gordon.
Scott followed her look, starting slightly when he realised there were tears on Gordon’s cheeks. His younger brother was hugging his legs to his chest, chin resting on top of his knees.
“Stop it, Gordon.” Kayo stated, “Do you hear me? Virgil would not have you blaming yourself.”
Scott feared for his brothers life when he glared up at Kayo, his face crumpled in anger as he snapped back, “Shut up! This is all my fault! Alright? I got him hurt!”
“Gordon,” Alan frowned, “It wasn’t your fault, I was there. You couldn’t have stopped the tree from falling, or warned him any faster.”
“You don’t understand!” Gordon yelled.
Scott shook his head as the blonde stood sharply and stormed out of the room. He could understand the hurt. Part of him blamed himself too. If he had gone about the rescue differently, perhaps Virgil wouldn’t have gotten hurt. Perhaps his focus should have been on controlling the fire rather than rescuing the scouts. Perhaps he should have sent Virgil and Thunderbird Two after the scouts and dealt with the fire himself.
What was done was done though, as much as he wished it, they couldn’t change the outcome. All they could do was face up to whatever came next.
They could only help and support each other as they always did.
Sighing, he stood from the desk chair and looked to the others, “Go through any last preflights for the Zero-XL with Brains. Two hours and we fly to Auckland.”
“Scott,” John called softly as he turned towards the stairs to follow Gordon. He paused and turned back, raising an eyebrow in silent question.
“Be gentle with him.”
He smiled slightly, nodding before turning back to leave.
Gordon was usually Virgil’s area of expertise. Scott’s own emotions too frequently clashed with those of his younger sibling normally leading to more problems than solutions.
Virgil wasn’t available though. Alan was ruled out by default of being the youngest, and John didn’t deal well with grand displays of emotion like Gordon’s.
He hesitated outside his bedroom door, not sure if he should knock or just enter.
A thud of something hard against the wall near the door cautioned him against simply entering. Instead he knocked lightly, nudging the door open as he did.
“Is it safe to enter?”
Gordon scoffed, the thud coming again, a baseball hitting the wall next to the doorframe,
“Depends I guess.”
Scott raised an eyebrow, shutting the door behind him, “On?”
He caught the ball as Gordon threw it again and folded his arms, waiting on an answer.
“If you’re going to lecture me or not.” Gordon muttered, bringing his knees up to his chest.
Shaking his head Scott stepped further into the room and took a seat on the floor next to his younger brother. Leaning back against the edge of the bed he handed over the baseball, watching for a moment as his brother twisted it in his hands, tracing the pattern of the seam under his finger.
“Sucks doesn’t it?” He murmured, more than willing to have a guess at what was going on in his head, “Feeling like we could have done something different.”
Gordon shrugged, not looking up from the baseball in his hands, “We go through what we could have done differently after every rescue.”
“Changes things when it’s one of our own.” Scott pointed out, knowing just as much from his own experience, “Especially given the circumstances.”
He was quiet for a moment, the ball dropping into his lap as his shoulders fell, his entire frame slumping with it as he shook his head.
“I should have done something,” Gordon sniffed, “Now I’ve screwed everything up.”
“What should you have done?” Scott asked, tilting his head to watch him.
He’d had the same sort of conversation often enough with Virgil, he knew the routine by that point. What questions to ask, what answers to give. Perhaps it wasn’t an exact science but at least it gave him a starting point.
“Figure I could have fired the grapple to get him outta the way,” He shrugged, clearly not decided if it was a good idea or not.
It was a possibility, but Scott knew the power the grapples fired with, “Would have probably broken some ribs though.”
He watched Gordon as the rebuttal sunk in, waiting for just the moment when Gordon’s expression fell before he added further comment.
“Besides, that’s what you could have done, not what you should have done. There’s a difference, y’know.”
The eyebrow that Gordon raised was sceptical, but at least the fresh tears in his eyes seemed to not be escaping.
“You sound like Virgil.”
Scott couldn’t help but snort as he shook his head, “If you tell him about this conversation, I will personally make sure that you are the one to scrub all the ships with a toothbrush.”
That got a smile and small giggle that reminded Scott of times at the farm house long since gone by.
“You couldn’t have foreseen what happened,” Scott shrugged, leaning over to nudge him, “None of us are blaming you for this Gordo. From what I’ve seen and heard, you reacted as fast and as practically as any of us would have asked you to,” Reaching out he squeezed the younger's arm, “We’re proud of you for that.”
Gordon’s sigh was heavy. Scott knew he wasn’t completely convinced. It would take more than one pep talk from one big brother to persuade him that the situation was entirely not his fault. Perhaps he had made just a dent in the mindset he had gotten himself in, but at least it was a start.
“Come on,” He patted his shoulder, shifting to stand, “We’re flying out soon to go and see him.”
Just like that the tears were back, glistening in wide fearful eyes, “Does he know?”
Taking a sharp breath, Scott nodded, “Grandma told him a couple of hours ago. He knows. And you know what he said?”
Gordon paused as he stood, scepticism already on his face, “What?”
Scott smiled as he slung his arm across Gordon’s shoulders, “Not your fault.”
#thunderbirds are go#Scott Tracy#John Tracy#Gordon Tracy#Alan Tracy#Thunderbirds 2015#thunderbirds fanfiction#scribbles writes#Firebreak AU
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Dave
Lmao this shit is so weird don’t read it. I am choosing not to feel bad about it bc I wrote it a literal decade ago.
The sneezatoriums were erected, all across the world, shortly after 2025, when the mutation first appeared. At first, of course, it was only a few men that suffered from nasus magnificus, but the damage caused by those few thousands was more than sufficient to warrant the construction. The enlarged noses and lung capacity that marked nasus or simply The Sneeze Syndrome for short had at first been seen only among a few men, marked S-class for their ability to sneeze with such tremendous force that they blew away fences, small pets, plants, and even, in one well-documented case, a large door. But the disorder proved congenital. Between the S-classers reproducing and spreading the disorder to their sons along Y-chromosomes, and the high incidence of the mutation occurring elsewhere, by the year 2075, fully half of the male population suffered from the condition. Worse, the sneezes only grew in size. One particularly nasally-endowed young man had actually blown down several large trees in a forest after a particularly bad run in with a very fluffy white cat and a grandma far too eager to have her cat petted, and far too set-in-her-ways to accept the modern dangers of such behavior. Thankfully, his own father had been one of the first to teach his sons the techniques of sneeze-control that had become practically universal by 2112, and he managed to control the sneeze long enough to run to a nearby forest; otherwise, the damage could have been much more serious.
Nowadays, of course, nasus was simply a fact of growing up for young men. It was just a part of puberty, of “becoming a man”. One’s sneezes went from a young boy’s simple “achooo!” no more powerful than any standard sneeze from a woman, to a man’s mighty roar of a sneeze, and the attendant responsibility to control that sneeze and only direct it towards the proper circumstances, i.e., sneezatoriums. In fact, men with bigger and stronger sneezes were considered more masculine, not only because massive sneezes were a sex-linked trait, but because stronger sneezes were seen as contributions to society; the sneezatoriums, over the years, had also become generators for wind power. A town with a lot of big sneezers in it could provide a good deal of the city’s energy needs with sneeze-power alone, saving the town and the government lots of money. Thus big sneezes had become a point of pride among most cultures by 2112. Young men were taught techniques for controlling their nasal tickles and itches until the opportune moment, and shamed when they were unable to control their massive sneezes. However, great praise and even increased attentions from the opposite sex (as well as the same sex) resulted when a man had extremely powerful sneezes that he also controlled extremely well.
This brings us to the story of young David Herbert Crane. Dave was one of the most popular boys in school, not least because he was known as one of the biggest sneezers in his city. The local webnews broadcasting service had even done a story on his sneezes, which were of record-breaking power for a man of his age, and he looked forward to seeing how powerful his sneezes would grow, as usually a man’s sneeze power increased until around age 30. At just eighteen, he could outsneeze many grown men.
Of course, he hadn’t discovered this without accident. Bigger sneezes were harder to control, and when he was younger, Dave had accidentally blown around everything in a guest room in his uncle’s house with an uncontrolled sneeze, before he had even really begun sneeze training. Dave had felt so ashamed after that incident that he had practiced nose-control even harder than all the other boys his age. He was disciplined, focused, always fearful that he’d let another monster loose and ruin another room, or, as his sneezes got even bigger, and bigger, blow away fences, small trees, maybe even walls and cars. Motivated by his uncle’s destroyed guest room, Dave learned to control his nose with flawless skill, almost obsession. Even then, throughout his late teens, there were times when Dave nearly lost it while running to the nearest sneezatorium, squeezing his nose shut, praying that he could control his nose, barely holding off the colossal explosion until he could get into an empty cubicle in the sneezatorium and fire off sneeze after sneeze after sneeze, each one with enough power to blow down trees, uproot gardens and destroy classrooms. He was truly a super-sneezer. Even when he thought he had his sneezes under control, they had undergone sudden “growth spurts” in power, making them even more difficult to manage, even more impossible to stop.
Now, however, Dave’s control was flawless. He could hold off a sneeze for two days if he had to, although such behavior was highly discouraged, not just because of the danger of holding back already tremendous sneezes, but because of the money it lost the city. He would even get a little cocky with it, teasing the other boys about their ‘weak’ sneezes, or letting himself start the breath-hitching buildup to a big sneeze to intimidate or impress his peers, before suddenly and skillfully calming his nose down and continuing with whatever he was doing. It was even a party trick!
In fact, he was performing just such a party trick before class on this particular Tuesday afternoon. He was sitting in a desk towards the back of the room, as a very pretty girl, named Marianne, leaned over to him, and asked, very softly, “can you really do those great big sneezes? Or did they just put that on the web to fool me?”
“Can I?” he said rhetorically. “Baby, I can blow the house down.” And then at once, he launched into a build up. His eyes went unfocused. He felt the big sneeze welling up from his toes. His head started to tilt back, as his eyes fell half-closed. He sucked in a small breath, nothing big, and let it out. Then he sucked in a slightly bigger breath, and the paper on his desk wafted slightly. He started sucking in an even bigger breath, vocalizing slightly this time, “Heehhhhh… ahhhhh... ahhhHHHH… AHHHHHHH.” As his breaths got louder and louder, he started sucking in air to his lungs in much more massive quantities. His exhales began to disturb not only his own papers, but the ones on nearby desks. Marianne smiled as she felt her hair rise and fall with Dave’s biggest breath of all, which was starting to get loud, loud enough to be heard in the next classroom even. “AHHHHHHH…” his final exhale not only blew around any papers that his classmates didn’t bother to hold down with their hands, but also moved the desk ahead of him slightly, almost tipping it over… and then all at once, he completely stopped. His head tipped forward, and he hunched over. He gently massaged his nose, and took in shallow breaths through his mouth. He began to massage his nostrils, one after the other, more roughly, and then began to exhale softly through his mouth. After about thirty seconds of this, his head popped back up, and except for his slightly bleary eyes, no one could have guessed that just a few seconds ago, he was building up towards a sneeze that could power a computerminal for a month!
“Wow…” Marianne said flirtily.
Suddenly, the teacher from the next classroom over, a stern elderly man named Mr. Wallace, peeked his head into the door. “Is everything alright here?” He inquired, “I believe that I might have heard some sneezy breaths. I just want to remind all you young men that if you even feel slightest inkling that you might need to give the ol’ schnoz some room, you head right over to the sternatorium, no delay. Why, I remember in my day…”
“Thank you very much, Ezra,” said Mrs. Stevens, as she strode into the room, “but I believe I know exactly what was going on here, and all of our young men are well under control. Their noses, anyway.” She said, staring straight at Dave. She muttered under her breath, “Their hormones, I can’t vouch for.”
As Ezra Wallace existed, Mrs. Stevens, who scrupulously avoided students calling her by her first name, Hilda, because she hated its antiquated, 21st century quality, rounded on her class. “Mr. Crane, I presume? You wouldn’t happen to be putting on exhibitions that jeopardize my classroom, would you?”
Dave casually shook his head no.
“Good, because if you were, I might have to refer your file to the district principals’ terminal, and they might even prevent you from playing in this Friday’s holoball game, and you wouldn’t want that, now would you? I thought not.”
As Mrs. Stevens harassed David, the student who had nearly been toppled by Dave’s little “exhibitions” fumed. His name was Eliot Stearns, and he was not a big sneezer. In fact, his sneezes were barely big enough to topple a few of the desks in the classroom, much less blow out a wall, like Dave’s sneezes probably would have done, if he’d let them out. He was still tall, attractive, smart. But he couldn’t sneeze to save his life, and all the girls knew it. Especially after Dave had exposed him earlier that year. He’d been on his way to the sternatorium before class after foolishly walking through the area of his neighborhood marked for bi-weekly lawn cuttings (everyone in a specific radius had to cut their lawn at a specific time and post very clearly on the neighborhood information terminal, or the NIT, when and where, so that those with poor nose control would be able to avoid the powerful sneeze-inducing effect of freshly-cut grass). Dave had strode up, fresh from rocking the sternatorium with a fit of ten earth-shattering sneezes that probably kicked up more wind than Eliot did in a month, and noticed Eliot, twitching his nose around and trying his best to hold back some very itchy sneezes. For whatever reason, Dave had been in a pissy mood that morning, and decided to have a little “fun” with Eliot.
“Hey, shrimp, where you headed?” Dave had asked, in a bullying manner.
Eliot hardly trusted himself to speak he felt so sneezy, so he just kept walking along. However, Dave kept moving into his path, slowing him down. Despite the fact that Eliot was obviously massaging his nose in such a way as to control his sneezy tickles, he tried to talk.
“I-I-I’m ohhhh… on my way to the sneehhh…. Sneezahhhhh… AHHHHH! Sneezatorium!” Eliot quickly and firmly clamped his right hand around his nose, doing his best to control the quickly forming sneezes. Opening his mouth had been a huge mistake; it had set off tickling vibrations all through his sinuses, and he felt the telltale signs of a long and messy sneezing fit.
“Oh, whatcha doing that for? You’ve got a tiny little sneeze, just let out here. It’s not like it’ll do any damage!”
“Juh… just let me through, jerk!” Eliot said through his stuffed up nose. He knew he could only control his sneezes for a few more seconds. Suddenly, he made a break for the sneezatorium, but for some inexplicable reason, Dave just grabbed him and held him up. A few of Dave’s friends (probably people who had gone to hear Dave rock the sneezatorium) had gathered around in a small crowd, and Dave spoke to them. “Hey everybody, you wanna see this kid sneeze? It won’t compare to mine, but look at him! He can’t even control those little sneezes. What would he do with great big monsters like mine, eh?”
“Lemme… lemme… go…” Eliot tried to say, but suddenly he felt the sneezes grow too much for him. He was paralyzed by the gale-force gust he felt in his nose, so that even when Dave let him go, he was helpless to move. He started drawing in huge gusts that rustled the skirts of all the nearby girls and shook the leaves on the trees. His nostrils swelled until they were huge, round openings for his sneeze. He took in a few more huge breaths before
“ACCCCHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” He sneezed a wet, explosive sneeze. He managed to turn his head away from the crowd, but everyone saw the sneeze nonetheless. It was big enough to kick up a nice sized breeze and uproot some grasses. It was still a very powerful sneeze, and Eliot felt several more on the way. But Dave was right; it was a far below-average sneeze, and certainly didn’t compare to Dave’s gargantuan blows.
“ACCHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Eliot sneezed again, “ACHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! ACHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! REEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!” Those sneezes were slightly bigger, and as one girl accidentally walked in the way of the blow, she was hit by the huge gusting wind from Eliot’s disdended nostrils and nearly fell over. But the same sneeze from Dave probably would have blown her five feet away, if not farther. As it was, her clothes got rumpled and damp, but not wrecked, as even a normal-sized sneeze would have done. “Ugh!” she said as she walked by, “can’t you even control those tiny things?”
The whole group had laughed at Eliot then, both for his lack of control and for his weak sneezes. He had run to the sneezatorium then to blow out the last of his tickle, but the damage had been done. He’d been marked as a tiny sneezer with no control, and he’d been ridiculed ever since.
And that was why he was constantly annoyed by Dave and his massive, manly a-choos. There was no way he could compete with sneezes like that. But he was going to get revenge. He’d show the world that even Dave Crane didn’t have the perfect control he boasted about. He was going to make Dave huff and puff and blow something down, so he’d be completely humiliated, and then people wouldn’t praise and adore him for those huge sneezes of his. They’d see that Dave was a freak of nature, just like they should!
***
Later that day, David was headed home, when he felt an itch well up in his nose. He knew he could easily control the itch, but he was moderately surprised at the fact that an itch was welling up so quickly. After all, he’d already visited the sternatorium twice that day. Dave knew he had mild allergies, but lately, he’d been getting tickles in his nose with a lot more frequency. He didn’t know if it was a new plant that had been introduced into the area or if he was just developing a new allergy, but he was secretly a little worried. He knew his sneezes tended to undergo sudden leaps in power, and he was afraid he was at the beginning of just such a leap. During his “leap” periods, his nose got much more itchy and harder to control. In fact, that sneeze he’d played with in class had left such a tickle in his nose that he ended up having to go to the sternatorium after class to let loose with a few of his super-powered sneezes. He made a mental note to stop his little ‘exhibitions’ or at least have a moratorium on them until he could figure out just how strong his sneezes were going to get this time. Dave had a fairly stable conception of how powerful his sneezes had been before the leap. Besides the measurements they took for the record, Dave had snuck out to the woods several times to let out a completely unrestrained sneeze, full-power. When he was sixteen, he could blow off branches, maybe knock down a smallish tree if he directed several consecutive sneezes as it. But after his last little nasal growth spurt, he could easily knock down a medium sized tree with one good sneeze, and he knew that by the end of this one, he’d probably have to stop letting the sneezes out, even in the woods; he didn’t want people noticing him leveling giant redwood trees with just one of his superhuman a-choos.
So, just as a precaution, Dave decided to make a nasal pre-emptive strike, and head to the sneezatorium to release just a few sneezes, to take the pressure off.
The nearest sneezatorium was a large, cylinder-shaped building with an open run by the government. Upon entrance, men stepped on to one of several small platforms that lined a smaller cylinder at the center of the building. Once someone stepped on a platform, a holopanel would appear in front of them asking for their age, sneezer classification, and sneeze urgency level. There was also an optional input for sneezer ID. Most fathers purchased sneezer ID numbers for their sons on their fifteenth or sixteenth birthday; it was somewhat of a rite of passage. Sneezer ID numbers were used to keep track of the amount of power they generated for their city, and could be eligible for certificates of recognition and even some prizes if they contributed enough. Sneezer classifications were issued by the federal government and measured how strong an individual’s typical sneeze was, in order to make sure they entered a room with sufficient reinforcement to handle their sneezes without breaking. Sneeze urgency level was a feature added in 2095 to all sneezatoriums after a young man demolished a large part of a sneezatorium with a poorly controlled sneeze. If a man was struggling especially hard to keep a sneeze in, he could choose level 10 urgency, in which case he would be transported to a sneezer room immediately. If a man had a lower urgency level, he would wait until all men with higher urgency levels had been sorted into rooms before being carried by the moving platform into one of the many rooms lining the walls of the sneezatorium’s outer cylinder. These rooms were known as the “sneezer rooms” and it was here, and only here, that men were expected to release their sneezes. The rooms were powerfully reinforced with a super-tough plastic that could withstand even the mightiest sneeze. Once a man entered a sneezer room, he was expected, if at all possible, to hold back his sneeze until a large tube, connected to the underground power generator, could attach to the room (high urgency sneezers, of course, were not expected to wait for the generator tube, but were therefore unable to contribute to the wind power generator, or have any power counted towards their sneezer ID total). Men would sneeze into this tube (which was made of the same reinforced super-plastic as the rest of the room), and the wind power generated would be redirected into a wind turbine below ground, and converted to useable energy.
So, as Dave entered the sneezatorium, he followed the normal proceedures, entering his sneezer ID number (his father had purchased his at thirteen, unusually enough, because at thirteen Dave was already producing enough wind with each sneeze to contribute significantly to his totals), confidently putting his sneeze urgency level at 1, and waited for a room to become available for him. While he was waiting, several boys from his high school passed his platform, and waved enthusiastically, or gave him a thumbs up. Everyone was excited to see such a legendary sneezer at the sneezatorium. Dave smiled broadly; he thrived on the attention. Finally, the platform kicked into gear and carried him into a sneezer room. Before the tube had even attached, Dave was launching into an enormous, gasping buildup:
“ehhhh… hehhhhhhh… HEHHHHHHHHH… EHHHHHHHHHHHHHH… HEHHHHHHHHHHH… HIH! HIH! HIH! HAAAAAAAAAAAAA-CHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
He released his first colossal sneeze, straight into the tube. Anyone would be able to see that this was a far more powerful sneeze than the tiny ones a guy like Eliot would release. This was a sneeze stronger than many grown men. It was a true twister of a sneeze, and the recoil almost knocked Dave off his feet from the sheer force of it. But Dave knew he wasn’t anywhere near done. In fact, the next one felt ever stronger:
“hehhh…” he hitched, his nostrils flaring widely, “hehhhh… ehhhhh… gonnahhhhh… ahhhhh… b-b-b-beeeee aaaa… bihh… bihhhhhh.. biiiiiiggg… biiiiiiggg… ahhhhhhhh… ahhhhhhhhhh…. oneahhhhhhhh… ahhhhhhhhhh… HAHHHHHHHHHHH… HAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH…” his head was bobbing up and down with each tickly inhale now. He mentioned how big the upcoming sneeze was, to no one in particular, because the sneeze that was brewing in his nose felt truly gigantic in strength. Had there been any furniture in the sneezer room, Dave’s enormous sneezey breaths would have sent it flying around the room, or, worse yet, hurtling towards his face. This was definitely a super-strength sneeze! “HAAHHHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHHH! HAHAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
KAAAAAA-TTTTTCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWEEEEYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!”
That sneeze was easily twice as big as the previous one. Silently, Dave thought to himself that if he had let that one loose in the classroom, it wouldn’t have just blown out a wall, it would have taken out half the classrooms in the hall! And he felt himself gearing up for a last sneeze that would put the other two to shame.
“iiiggghhhhiieeee… AGGGGHHHHHHH… AGHHHHHHHHH… AAGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH… AHHHHH! AHHHH! AHHHHHHHHH!
HHHHHHRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYYY-SSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!”
He sneezed, with the most titantic force he could muster, hoping to blow the itch so far out of his nose that he wouldn’t have to sneeze again for a week (and possibly to break another record), pressing the air out of his super-sized lungs, channeling the force through his body, blowing and blowing until all of the power in his lungs was spent.
That was a sneeze! Dave thought to himself, as his incredible burst of wind (and, he had to admit, quite a lot of spray), rushed down through the tube into the wind turbines beneath. Checking his nose for further tickles as he had learned as a boy, he felt confident that he didn’t have any more sneezes lurking in there. He was almost glad of this, because those three had taken the wind out of him, quite literally. Not for the first time, Dave thought about how big his sneezes had been lately. That triple, while not his best effort ever, was easily as powerful as the record breaker from the webnews shoot (but then, that hadn’t been his best ever either, though it was close). The last one probably moreso. And his nose hadn’t even felt especially tickly! Dave felt pretty sure then, that his nose was undergoing another spurt in power. And as excited as he felt, he also felt a tiny bit worried; how strong exactly were his sneezes going to get? He still had years of sneeze growth to go!
—-
Dave Crane was on top of the world. When he hit puberty, he thought he was a freak of nature for his colossal sneezes, which were even harder to control than the average boy’s sneeze. He’d had more close calls almost blowing away pets, plants, doors, fences, even other people, than he cared to count, not to mention that one mortifying time when he practically destroyed his uncle’s guest room. But those times were behind him now. Not only did he have those same massive sneezes well under control, but he was using them to ride the popularity wave to the top.
Normally, people just gossiped about the power of the boys’ sneezes, some boys bragging that they were stronger, others keeping quiet about it but occasionally waiting a little too long to go to the sternatorium on purpose, so they could flail about and act like they were worried about causing so much damage with their massive, man-sized sneezes. Dave didn’t have to do any such thing, mostly because if you listened hard enough, you could hear his sneezes through the sternatorium walls.
Dave was truly a super-sneezer, even among boys of his age. Sure, everybody had a big sneeze, infinitely larger than the powerless puffs of air people did at the beginning of the twenty-first century. But Dave had a BIG sneeze.
After visiting the sternatorium for a sneezy work-out (Dave worked on his abs, but they’d probably flat enough with just his incredible sneezes), Dave got on his hoverbike and headed home, careful to avoid the areas marked for grass-cutting. He remembered once, when he was a bit younger, he’d had one of his close calls when he forgot to avoid the grass-cutting areas. Freshly-cut grass was one of his worse triggers, as they were called. All young men went through yearly allergen testing, and older men did the test every five years. The test was held in a very sturdy special sternatorium; folks sometimes had to use transports that took almost fifteen minutes to get to a Testing Sternatorium. The Testers, as they were called, were staffed with plenty of doctors and plenty of protection, as testing often provoked almighty sneezes even from the weakest of noses, much less Dave’s monster honker (complete with his super-powered lungs, of course). The Testing Sternatoriums were often hours away, and every man had a scheduled visit that he could not miss, except in the event of illness that might contaminate the test results, so that the process could run smoothly. Dave remembered his testing session from just a few months before. It was actually a report from the testing session that led to his record-breaking TV appearance.
As he walked up to the building, Dave marveled at how strong its steel walls appeared, and he knew that that was only the outer layer of the building, which was further protected by special carbon polymers, advanced plastics, and sheet rock. The Testing Sternatorium nearest him was—luckily enough—a new model, designed to prevent some of the accidents that had occurred at other Testings, as the Doctor who greeted Dave explained.
“Yeah, there was one guy up in North Albans who had a great big sneeze, off the charts really. I mean, I’m not exactly a lightweight in the sneezing department myself,” the doctor hastened to add, “but this guy was one for the record books. Anyway, they lower in the grass, and he’s OK, does a few big sneezes but that’s all by-the-book. Then they try the cat dander and he’s fine, and the ragweed, and the pepper, of course. You know, he sneezes each time, and their big, I mean, they’re always big, but not, you know, volcanic, not like ‘oh, look out he’s gonna blow,’ you know, normal big sneezes. But then, they try the dog dander. And they’re doing an experiment right—now, why they thought they needed to experiment on this guy, I’ll never know, but hey—and so they show the guy a picture of the dog. Well, the guy must’ve had some sort of psychosomatic something going on, ‘cause even before they released the dander, his irritation levels spiked something fierce. And when they lower the dander, man… it sets him off. Bad.”
Even hearing about a sneeze for such an extended period of time was starting to make Dave’s own titan of a nose long for a good, hard, relieving sneeze, and Dave was glad that the Testing Sneezatoriums were famously efficient—he knew he could hold out for a while, but he was glad he’d be able to fire off in just a few minutes.”
“So the guy starts sucking in air, right? Crazy amounts, like, off the charts. Now, mind you, this is a twenty-nine year old guy, fully grown, in good shape… he’s firing off the biggest sneezes of his life anyway. But this time. Man. He just sucked it in and blasted em out. ‘KA-CHOOEY!” and all that, you know, real loud, insane decibel levels—you know OSHA’ll get you for stuff like that. Anyway, crazy noise levels, crazy wind velocity. And he just keeps going! And they’re getting faster. We’re at like, six or seven sneezes, right? And the building was only using standard Polymer One, plus inward-facing sneezers, right, not fully reinforced rooms. Well, the guy’s an allergic mess, he can’t see straight, much less aim his sneezes at the perfect center of a target, so he’s shootin’ ‘em like fire crackers all over the place. I mean, this is a full blown fit, we’re climbin’ towards nine, ten sneezes, and they’re fast, close together but they’re humongous, like, recording-breaking massive, right? I gotta tell you, I’ve looked at the numbers and I did a double take, I didn’t even really believe it…”
Now Dave’s nose was raring to go. He was really glad that the appointment was soon. Hell, he was even a little scared he wouldn’t be able to make it ‘til then without beginning control procedures. But he knew that he was already on file as a potential Class 2 sneezer, the designation for those who had the potential for truly superhuman explosions, given the right triggers; and so to start control procedures might bring… unnecessary attention. So Dave suffered in silence, not even daring to twitch his nose, while the Doctor—who obviously loved the sound of his own voice—droned on.
“And all of a sudden, they get even bigger! And closer together and he’s just screaming ‘em out and I can hardly blame him, that kind of pressure, it’s unbelievable. And they’re coming closer and closer together, he’s just arching back and letting fly, over and over and over, well, the polymer starts cracking. And mind you, he’s blasting all over the place, towards the ceilings, towards the floor, everywhere. And not everywhere is properly reinforced. And so as he gets toward fifteen, sixteen sneezes, they’re like, ‘SHUT IT OFF! SHUT OFF THE DANDER! SIR, PLEASE CONTROL YOUR SNEEZES,’ the whole routine. But I don’t know if the intercom isn’t working or the guy is just outta control, but he keeps blasting, full-force, just arch back, explode out and the walls can’t take it and soon the guy’s blasted a hole through the building. I wouldn’t think it was possible. Caused I don’t know how much damage, they’re still sorting it out in court whose fault it is, especially after the sneezer statue of ’09… the guy’s saying they dandered him too hard, the technicians are saying they told him to get control, but I gotta say, if MY sneeze were that big, I’d still be in training today, they wouldn’t even give me my sneezer-card, and I can promise you, I wouldn’t have this job!” Technicians, of course, had to have flawless control, as they spent large amounts of time around highly allergenic substances in large quantities, which could easily cause a disaster of tectonic proportions.
Dave, for his part, was longing just to give his nose one twitch, to reach his hand up for one quick squeeze to control the pressure… but he persevered, and kept his cool.
“Wow… sir…” Dave said, taking as much time between words as he dared, feeling the itch rise just a bit with each word, “that sounds like one big sneeze! Wh-what was the guy's name?”
“Eh... Geoffrey Wal-something, I don't remember. Anyway,” the doctor said, suddenly serious, “if I’m reading your numbers right…” He paused as he poured over the chart he had brought up on his holo-sheet by pressing a button on his belt as they turned the corner towards the Testing Room, “you’re headed in that direction. You practice your sneeze control good, young man. I wouldn’t want you getting in trouble for ‘Failure to Control Nasal Output,’ I don't want to see you on the evening news, standing over some building you blew down, like a fairy-tale wolf, alright? I'll huff and I'll puff... none of that young man.”
“Y-yeah, whatever” Dave snapped, praying that the doctor didn’t notice the quick catch in his breath. He was getting pissed. This was taking way too long, and he had to sneeze. Plus, the guy was doing these ridiculous infant-school jokes. Dave was a Last-Year in Final Form of his schooling. Big Bad Wolf jokes were so First-Year.
Finally, they arrived in the testing room. The Doctor showed David into the room, a clean, white room with a large vent above head from which allergens slowly drizzled, and of course, thick cotton-12 handkerchiefs, for the fashionable set. Dave knew he’d just have to let his sneezes fly; while he might carry handkerchiefs on dates and such, they were really just for show. He knew one of his small sneezes would rip a handkerchief to shreds in seconds.
Dave walked over to the full-body suit he was to wear during the testing. The suit used tiny sensors all over the body to measure any and all statistics pertinent to the testing. Dave hurried to slide the suit on. He didn’t want to look weak by sneezing before he was supposed to, but if he was going to avoid a big boom, they were going to have to start the testing soon.
“Alright.” He heard a voice from above, coming down from the loudspeaker next to the vent. “David Crane. Age 18 Sneezer Test. You will soon feel an itching sensation in your nose. The name of the trigger will not be revealed to you until after the test is over. Please do not attempt any sneeze control measures. Let the sneezes come naturally and unforced. Do not worry about volume or power, simply let the sneeze come freely and as powerfully as you need. Do you understand?”
“Yeah, I do, can we get started so I can get back home?” said Dave, irritably. He was ready to get the test started, and sick of hearing the spiel he’d heard every year since he was a kid.
“Alright. The Allergen Test will now begin.”
—
Dave wasn’t sure exactly what they’d released first—they did the allergens in a random order each time—but it immediately increased the already-strong tickle in his nose threefold, and his breath began to hitch as they continued to release the sneezy substance: “hih! HEEEHH! HEEEEEHH!” The tickle was there, but the sneeze, which had seemed so close just a moment ago, was just out of reach. But the itch was maddening! Dave knew that one of his colossal sneezes would immediately make him feel ten times better, and since this was a safe place to do so, he planned on blasting it out full force. But he couldn’t… quite… get there…
“iihhhh… ihhh… igggghhhiiieee…” He stood for a moment, his face contorting as his nose twitched about, trying, desparately, to coax out the sneeze he so desperately longed for. He took in a big sniff, which almost seemed enough to fuel the sneeze: “Hah! HAHH! HHAAAAAHHH! HAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!” But just as his gasping intakes of air reached critical mass, the urge to sneeze died back down again.
“Damn!” He cursed out loud, before saying under his breath, “just… wanna… sneeze…” He knew the technicians were waiting to release the next trigger, waiting to see what would happen with this one, whether it would be strong enough to provoke a sneeze or not. But Dave just wanted them to hurry up so he could sneeze!
“Can you just do the next one naa…n-n-naaaa… now…. Ahhhh… ahhhhhhhh…” the sneeze came back, and Dave was hoping that he’d finally be able to sneeze it out: “ahhhhhh… AAAaaaaaggghhhhhh… AGGGHHhhhhhhhh… AGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH…”
But it disappeared again! “DAMN!” Dave cursed again, louder. “Why won’t ih… it… j-just cahhh.. ahhhh… come?” The pitch of his voice rose on every word as the ebb and flow of his sneezy tickle refused to leave him alone. His chest heaved in and out, the tight biometrics outfit revealing his strong pecs and hard abs working feverishly to accept the huge weight of air that was slowly but surely accumulating in his super-powered lungs. His eyes, watery, began to slowly close as he felt the itching, tickling sensation that washed over him from his feet to his head, centered in his incredible nose, grow once again… Oh, God, when he finally sneezed he knew it was going to be a monster…
“ehhhh… EHHHHHHH… HEHHHHHHHH… AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH…” The tickle in his nose was gradually taking over. Dave steadied himself: he’d had this happen before. Usually when one of his sneezes got stuck, the problem wasn’t that the tickle was too small. The problem was that the sneeze was too big.
“AAHHHHHH… AAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH… AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH… AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH…” Finally, he knew, he’d be able to sneeze. Keeping himself braced for fear this one would knock him over, he nevertheless felt his back begin to arch uncontrollably as he sucked in three last enormous breaths in preparation… “AHHHH! AHHHH! AAAHHHHH!”
“RRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAA-SSSSSSSSSSSCCCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Dave erupted, his body flying uncontrollably forward, his long, shaggy hair (quite the fashion in 2112), flinging forward as his whole torso bent into the power of his sneeze, the hot, sneezy air erupting from his nostrils at God-knows-how-fast speeds. It was a truly explosive sneeze, even for Dave. He felt his lungs straining to blast out all the sneezy air, and with it, the dreadful tickle that had plagued his nose. He blasted it out for what seemed like an eternity before the sneeze was finished. But as soon as he finished the first one, as he tried to take in a breath of air, his breath hitched again
“ahhh… oh, no… ehhhhhh… EHHHHHHH… EEEEHHHHHHHHH…” This one felt even bigger! And it was building quickly… “EEEHHHHHHHHHHHHH…EHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH… EHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The pitch and volume of his colossal inhales increased proportionally to their power, as he sucked in air again for another earth-shattering, tree-felling, fence-smashing tornado of a sneeze, “EEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-HHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
This one turned out not to have quite as much wind power as the previous, but the volume was unbelieveable. He didn’t know that the sneeze exploding out of his nose could make such a ruckus, but he had no choice but to scream it out in pure release, so terribly did he need the burning, twisting sensation out of his nose. He worried that he might break the scientists’ instruments, especially if they were calibrated for an average teenager. When it came to sneezes, Dave Crane was no average teenager.
"Allergen check one completed. Prepare for allergen two."
—
As Dave headed towards home, after school, and after his terrific fit of sneezing in the sneezatorium, leaning his mind on the remembrance of sneezes past, Eliot was also heading home. He too had stopped by the sneezatorium on his way home; Eliot always took precaution, as his control of his sneezes was genuinely quite weak. It was hereditary; just as Dave’s dad was a champion sneezer in his youth, so Eliot’s father had the same wimpy sneeze Eliot had. So his father had barely learned nose control, always aware that his sneeze was simply not dangerous, except perhaps to unsecured paper items. And how could he pass on to his son what he barely knew himself?
Eliot made sure to check his HoloPad—a product of the Steven Jobs Memorial Technology Company, the nationalized techno-corp of Eliot’s nation—to see where the grass was being cut that day, so as to avoid it. Freshly cut grass set him off like none other. Most men had particular triggers like that, triggers that set them off more than the other allergens. For some men, it was particular flowers. For others, it was a particular breed of dog or cat. Whatever it was, when that scent hit his nose, even the most experienced and controlled sneezer would immediately head to the sneezeatorium, because a true monster was on its way.
Except Eliot, of course. He’d run to the sneezatorium, certainly, because he didn’t want to embarrass himself. But even his biggest sneeze produced a blast like a strong gust of wind, not enough to knock down a small child, nothing like the tornadic blasts emitted by folks like Dave. How Eliot wished that he could produce monstrous sneezes like Dave’s! But he was a wimp in the sneeze department, as he was in most areas.
But he was a nice guy, which is more than he could say for Dave most of the time. And it would be hard not to let sneezes like Dave’s go to your head, to be in high school and blatantly out-sneezing college guys, even your dad’s colleagues! Sneezes like that could get you any girl you wanted, even cheerleaders (cheerleading technology had evolved surprisingly little since the ancient days of pom-poms and football fields, perhaps because centuries of technological advancement could provide little to improve the mini-skirt.)
It was these thoughts, and others like them, that succeeded in distracting Eliot from his HoloPad. And that lead, inevitably, to Eliot walking right past a veritable field of freshly cut grass.
His nose noticed it before he did. “H-hih! Hiiiihhh! Hiiihhhh! HIH! HIIIH!” His breath was already hitching; that’s what the grass did to him. It took his already sensitive nasal passages from sensitive to on fire in seconds. His breath hitching, Eliot tried to start sneeze controlling, trying to breathe gently through his mouth, controlling the tickle with his hands, but he knew that he’d have to run to the nearest Sternatorium, because he couldn’t hold back for long…
“hhh-huhhhh… huuuhhhhhh… iiiiigggghhhhiiee… iiiiggghhhhhh….”
---
Dave was still reminiscing about his colossal sneezes during his last test. He recalled how they’d sent allergen after allergen after him, and each time he’d let out a true monster of a sneeze. Heck, he was probably outsneezing grown men with a few of them. The worst of all had been when they lowered in the dog dander.
“Alright, sir, just a few more. We want to assure you that despite the strength of your sneezes, you should continue to produce them freely. This structure can withstand the force.”
Dave had almost smirked at that one. He hadn’t heard that one before. It was still an automated message, but it must be a pretty rare one. He hadn’t heard it mentioned before at any rate. For his part, Dave was enjoying the chance to let his sneezes out full tilt. Not that he held back at the ordinary sternatoriums, but there was just something… liberating about sneezing and sneezing and sneezing, as soon as you felt a tickle, not holding back even for a second, even coaxing a few of them out, and then really blowing for the rafters when you let out your sneezes, letting your lungs fill up with air like a bellows, and then sneezing it all out with all the wind and wetness the tickle in your nose demanded. If normal people sneezed from their chests, Dave sneezed from his toenails, each sneeze a full-body experience, feeling the sheer force of them rippling through his body. He gave a good hard sniff of enjoyment, feeling the incipient stirrings of yet another powerful sneeze.
“Prepare for the next allergen.”
He could tell when it was released. What was just a tickle suddenly tipped over the scale and became a sneeze. He could feel this one building, “hehhh… h-hehhh… heyyyyy-uhhh… heh… heehhhh-uhhhhhh… hhhheeeeeeeeeeeshhhhhh… hehhhhhhhhhhh… HHHHEEEEEEEHHH… HEHHHHHHH… HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYYYYY-SCCCCCHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” He erupted monstrously. He blasted that hot, sneezy air out of his lungs at truly hurricane=like speeds. This was a long sneeze, perhaps due to the extra-large tickle he had felt, and the whole time he just blasted it out, almost shocked by the end to find that there was still air in his lungs to power the massive sneeze. And oddly enough, he felt another on its way.
This one scarecely required any buildup, just one great, “HHHAAAAAHHHH!” And he was off, with a tremendous, “YYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH-AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH-SSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” That one was even bigger than the last, and he still felt the huge tickle in his nose. He sucked in two great gusts of breath before blasting out two more sneezes, “AAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! IIIIIISSSSSSSSSSS-CHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Each sneeze bent him double. And oddly enough, he felt another one, even bigger than the previous four. This one would require some coaxing out.
As his nose twitched and seized and tingled, and his chest expanded out to accommodate all the air his lungs were sucking in, Dave couldn’t help but imagine
letting out a sneeze like his in public! Imagine the men, trying to scream at him, “Dave! Don’t do it! Don’t let it out, man!” Imagine the women, fleeing the space in front of him, and yet… staying in close enough range to see it, to hear the noise, to find out what a truly cataclysmic sneeze sounded like, how a man’s man sneezed, with such force and power that they’d put the whispering gossip of girls to shame. And as if such thoughts could power his sneezes, Dave’s nose positively exploded with his next sneeze,
“HHHHHHAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRR-CCCCCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
He folded back for one final sneeze, his chest heaving, his eyes watering, his nose tickling unmercifully, his whole body bending back to prepare for one last,
“AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR-SSSSSSSSSCCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”
And then he was done at last. He heard a technician’s voice come from the speakers in the walls.
“Sir, we usually just send messages for things like this, but I had to say somethin’. Man! Those were some sneezes! Sure are glad we reinforced the plastics on this place, boy howdy! That was a real firecracker there! We’ve got a few more to spray, but I think we’ve seen all we need! And, uh, make sure you come talk to me after we’re done here. I’ve got a cousin that does the holonews and I think he might just wanna see you, young man!”
Dave knew it was probably wrong, but as he wiped his nose and gave an almighty sniff, he couldn’t help smirking a bit with pride at how powerfully he sneezed.
--
Dave Crane finally rounded the corner onto his block, mentally telling his hoverbike to stop as he glided into his driveway.
“Up.” He said out loud, and the hoverbike responded, elevating to the third floor of his home, where the hoverbike interfaced with the door to his room, which would only open, of course, for a hoverbike with the correct element signature—the last thing Dave needed was to wake up one morning and groggily walk out of his third-floor door with no hoverbike. Sure, the bike would probably be fast enough to catch him, but there was always the chance that it wouldn’t.
“And what a tragedy that would be, for the ground to injure the beautiful face of the most handsome, superior holoball playing, biggest sneezer in the Northeastern Federation.” Dave crowed to himself, mostly joking, as he slid into his room, and stepped off the bike.
“And don’t forget! The most conceited, superior show-off, biggest head on Planet Prime.”
Oh, god. Nancy was home.
“Naaaaance… I didn’t know you were coming home… it’s… great to see you?” Dave said, with an uncertain lilt to his voice. He jumped over to the far corner of his bed, the corner that faced the wardrobe Nance stood in front of (no doubt she’d be staring at herself in the mirror ‘til she’d heard the holobike).
“Yeah, yeah, and it’s great to see you too, little brother.” Nancy replied, “especially with such a warm welcome.”
“Aw, you know I’m kidding, Nance. It is good to see you,” Dave confessed, smiling brightly at her. Nancy was an astonishingly annoying older sister, bossy, conceited, always “cutting you down to size,” as she put it—and she was also probably one of his three best friends on Planet Prime, or any of the colony planets, for that matter.
“But ah… what are you doing in my room…?” Dave continued, glancing around to where he saw her suitcase parked in the corner… and was the biolum radiating a slightly blue-ish light, wasn’t it always yellow (which complimented Dave’s skin tone the best… not that he’d set it that way on purpose, but…) and did he see…
“Why the hell is your bra in my dresser?”
Nancy looked up at Dave with her most innocent eyes, her brightest smile, “Oh, Dave, didn’t Dad tell you? I’m moving back in for a while!”
Dave was running down the stairs faster than a datapad could uplink. “DAD?! WHAT THE…?!”
---
“haaahhhhhhhhh…. Haaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh…” Eliot wasn't sure if he was panting from the sneeze brewing fitfully in his nose, or from the exertion of running. And once again, there was a crowded sternutorium, with a bunch of guys, old geezers, teens, even kids barely old enough to need the sternutorium, all calmly waiting their turn. And once again, Eliot was frantic.
“I… aahhhhhhhhhh… excuse…. I-I-I-I… iiaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…. AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH…”
“Hey, guys, we got a loose cannon here! Outta control. Somebody let him up to the front, will yah?”
“Oh by the blue biome, that’s what’s-his-face, Al Stearns’ kid… you might as well just tell him to let it out where he’s standing, won’t be much different.”
Eliot was rubbing his nose frantically, barely keeping control, pressing against the underside of his nose with one hand, tapping at the bridge of his nose… doing anything that seemed like it helped at all… “N-n-n-no! Lehhhhhhh… leeeehhhhhhhhhhh… lemme though!” he managed.
“Calm down, calm down, kid,” a friendly voice said. Not the one who knew his dad. Who knew his family’s lame nosed curse. “Here, take my room, the platform’s ready.”
Blinking through allergic tears, Eliot tried to smile at the man, but all he could manage was a weak grimace before virtually leaping onto the platform, willing it to get to the sneezer room as soon as possible, just so he wouldn’t have to face the shame of blowing out a sneeze in front of everybody.
“, you know that kid’s lame sneezes are going on YOUR sneezer ID, right?”
“Oh, shut up, Tom, he clearly needed to sneeze bad, what did you want him to do embarrass himself…”
But it was already too late. Apparently the kind man’s sneezer room had been one towards the very top of the sternutorium, and as the platform ascended, Eliot’s control gave out: “haaaaaahhhhh…. Hahahhahahahhhhhhh… HAAAAAY-SHHHOOOOOOOAAYY!” he roared, more shout than force, however, as the puff of air blew fitfully from his nose, enough to make him stumble, but not enough to do anything to the plastic-reinforced sneezer rooms, not enough to even richochet down to the floor of the sternutorium, enough to be heard, enough so that everyone could look up and see he’d lost control… but not enough to do anything. He dragged himself into the sneezer room, blinking through tears he wasn’t sure were all allergies anymore.
“WWWWASSSSSSSHOOOOOOO!” He blew. “HAAAAWWWWWWWWSSSHHOOOOOOOOOSSSHHHH! HIIIISSSHHH! HAAAASSSSSHHHHHAA! IIIISSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOIE!”
The sneezes came, hard and fast, one after the other, each blowing around in the empty room til the tube attached, spending their small force. Sure, it was enough to blow at Eliot’s clothes and whip up his hair. Sure, it would have thrown around plenty of papers, but… it was practically a kid sneeze. And if his dad’s sneeze was any indication, he didn’t have a much stronger sneeze to look forward to as an adult. He sighed, resigning himself to a small-sneeze fate, as the fit continued.
“ISSSSSSSHHHHOOOO! AAASSSSSSSSSHHHHHHOOOO! Hih… hih… hehhhhh… HAAAASSSSHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOO!”
#snz story#snz fic#OLD ASS fic#gigantic sneezes#this shit is so weird and embarrassing#but whatever I'm posting it so I have it somewhere#...and I might write more of it one day you can't stop me bye
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