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douxie-casperan · 3 years

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Rise of the Titans and the assassination Hisirdoux Casperan’s character development

I’ve been ranting so much since Wednesday morning that I finally condensed by thoughts of WHY this one subject keeps setting me off namely the utterly diabolical way they handled Douxie and Archie’s relationship in Rise of the Titans and how it wasn’t just enough to hit him with the nerf bat.

Please note I’m at the point where I literally cannot tell the difference between Aaron headcanons, Teny headcanons and my own they are all mixed together in the blender that does funky things. I also apologise for typo/weird wording it’s half 1 in the morning and I’d rather sleep than edit.

If asked to sum up Hisirdoux Casperan there are certainly several things that come to mind:

Sees the value in people as a whole and will find do anything if there is a chance of help someone out

Prefers tactics that disable/banish rather than kill an enemy yet willing and able to pull the trigger if circumstances become forced

While not academically inclined he is very capable of thinking on his feet and outside the box calling back to his time on the streets where a split-second decision making is the difference between being caught and not

Terrible at planning he’ll be in there figuring it out as he goes along which is what makes the previous point so vital to literally how he goes through life

A natural charmer that would let him talk his way out of trouble 9/10 providing a perfect cover for his distrustful nature and reluctance to be touched by random people

Very down to earth, humble and never one to brag unless outright sassing someone

Will bang out some hot tunes at the drop of a hat, his love of music has never wavered once since he caught the bug despite instrument hopping ironically becoming a jack of all trades much like his magic style

The earliest memories he can recall are him as a young boy lost in the woods where he was for an unknown amount of time before his soon to be familiar finds him amongst the roots covered in dirt and drying tears, there is nothing before that. Unbeknownst to him is the colour of his magic matches the blue of a lost mother’s eyes and the song that haunts his nightmares as much as fire could well be hers though there is no way to be sure. From that moment on Archibald, shortened to Archie, would become his entire world and their friendship only becoming closer during the years they prowled Camelot together trying to keep themselves in one piece until the fateful day Douxie tricks the wrong person leading him straight into the path of the famous wizard Merlin Ambrosius.

It's no real secret that Merlin is a very closed off person who keeps his emotions as well guarded as his secrets, prefers the style of negative reinforcement over positive encouragement and is a very strict perfectionist in his. At this point in his life he can be very easily described as a disaster that is genuinely doing his best with every little mistake held of his head and his future self when brought back to that time period is belittled by Lancelot (Errand boy) and Arthur (Boy) too meaning it’s hardly a wonder his confidence was very fragile revelling in the times where he could do things without being told off for it. With Morgana largely ignoring him too (Though personally I like to think as he got older she’d occasionally take an interest until the blistering arguments with their master started to talk over daily life) a certain disguised dragon would have remained a lifeline and give that physical affection he craved much like being told he’d done well never seemed able to earn.

With Killahead he’d lose that home and family he made leaving just the two of them behind struggling to figure out their place in the world that had abandoned them.

There wouldn’t have been the words for it back then but the way he had been treated prior was outright abusive instilling very bad habits into Douxie yet by irony he was always willing to give people the benefit of the doubt and help those in trouble without thinking earning a reputation as the Shepard of Fire. He refused to become like him seeking to be better, perhaps not as a wizard (Even though he was learning new charms and spells along the way) but certainly as a person. Despite everything he suffers through or witnesses in the intervening years, the loss of friends and kindling of far newer ones he never loses his good heart

That said is it any wonder that after rightfully sassing Merlin for resurfacing, ignoring his existence despite being in the same town and only visiting him to run a finding errand that all the confidence he’d managed to build completely from scratch after Camelot wavered causing him to fall back solely into trying impressing his old Master who was acting like his humble apprentice must have coasted the past few centuries who himself fell back into old habits of belittling? It’s only when Merlin started to truly listen and acknowledge that this was not the same Moppet he once knew after Excalibur was fixed that their relationship finally started to become more like equals. After the defeat of Janus the changeling that broke into the castle he touched Douxie’s shoulder with a genuine smile and for a second he simply didn’t know what to do because the old man never did this before his brain kicked into gear and realised he’d finally earned that one thing he’d been so desperate for his entire life: That in Merlin’s eyes he could be more than a failure who only caused problems for the closest thing to a father figure he’d ever had, never solved them.

A staff will be earned, history would be set back on trap by banishing Morgana tag teaming with Archie because they know one another inside and out, as promised he’d get the kids back to the present but soon after things would go badly wrong. They’d lose Jim and because of his very nature he’d make a gamble to try and get him back because that life is worth trying for just for in a moment of surprising selflessness Merlin would be sacrificed to save him. The only constant in his life apart from Archie would apologise, openly express pride and how the greatest thing he’d ever done was saving this orphan, call him son for the first and final time before turning into ash in his arms. There would be no time to grieve for things will barrel into the crescendo of Douxie sacrificing his own life to buy everyone time to escape because if they did that everything he’d ever done would be worth it with one last whispered goodbye.

(Zoe sees him fall, so does Archie – His heart would break if he was conscious just like theirs does when his body crumples into the ground)

On the very fringes of the Light Realm he is gifted one more conversation with Merlin in a truly heart-breaking sequence (THANKS TENY) where they can just talk without any fear of consequence or politics and just be completely honest. Douxie is allowed to stand equal to Merlin, to have the hug he’d needed since he was a child and be allowed to simply let go of every pretense and cry his heart out because this can never happen again. He’s allowed to say goodbye to both his master and Morgana who had both shaped so very much of his life but like the painting he’d always remained firmly in the long shadows of until that moment.

When Hisirdoux Casperan finally leaves Wizards if we just accidently deliberately put the shawarma back in along with checking in with Zoe before departure, it is with having learned to live during his wandering years but this is the point of true freedom because he can finally escape into his own light with Archie by his side to keep Nari out of the hands of those that would see the world harmed. It won’t be easy but it feels possible somehow even with the knowledge everything is simply running on borrowed time.

Then Rise of the Titans happens.

At first everything is genuinely fine! No more running, they engineer a solution shut the Order’s magic down to make them a lot less dangerous and potentially at least incapacitate them until they can come up with a longer-term solution but all the best laid plans and all that. Douxie’s quick thinking stops the train from crushing any of the people below and it’s a very him style move to switch places with Nari to stall for time because for some reason the plot disabled Claire from portaling her or any of the threatened people/heroes to safety. He openly sasses the Order despite knowing the consequences will be bad for him because once again he’s managed to trick them, buy time that at the other end isn’t even slightly utilised until he’s forced back into his own body in excruciating pain. Archie immediately mobs him with comfort just as he has done every single time the wizard is distressed or collapsed with exhaustion without thinking because that is what their bond is like, incredibly close and far more than the Soul Bond mark that connects them together. They’re very alike in that regard, you have to earn the right to touch while equally knowing exactly what form the other needs the most in that precise moment in a way very few others could.

Bar the moment of figuring out that an illusion is in place to hide where the Order is opening the Genesis Seals and the brief insistence on reconnecting with Nari somehow Douxie manages to forget everything that makes him who he is after this point choosing to stand in the background being very no thoughts head empty or can only use the most basic spells of his youthful days not the seasoned master wizard he should be. Nomura is treated like an innocent slip rather than an outright death he did absolutely nothing to prevent (Not to mention the stupid daytime thing) nor seems to care particularly about afterwards yet with Nari’s he’s allowed to openly grieve in a gorgeously animated visual showing how he’d failed to keep her safe despite everything. He did nothing to help here either mind despite allowing himself to be tortured in the same piece of media to keep her safe, just watched another loss happen right in front of his eyes in his conga long line of them.

Then there’s Archie, oh god then there was Archie.

The dragon who even here he’d been shown to have an incredibly close bond with him decides you know what sod that tell him goodbye I’m going to make a joke about having a kingdom now dad and me are trapped in here forever. Douxie on his part looked sad for all of three seconds saying that he hoped he’s happy like it's a pet that wandered out into the world one day and never came back instead of a lifelong companion that has been there for as long as he can remember. He was now completely alone in the world since Zoe was also written out entirely and because every bit of his background had been forgotten about it somehow meant nothing. This wasn’t “I know you miss him, I know you need to grieve but you are running out of time” moment like things had been with Charlie, this was “cool shapeshifting dragon cat is now stuck in a plot hole that’s a shame” with zero pay off or any of the genuine reaction that should have been there or hell even trying to Ohana him back that very second because it never should have happened in the first place. Then even this wasn’t enough somehow, they managed to de-power Douxie even further into uselessness bar the (Admittedly nifty!) sticky feet stunt, the one who fought Skrael and Bellroc to a stalemate was shunted aside with barely a thought and his head would somehow get even emptier.

The one person who knew the danger of time magic the most stood by and said nothing.

The one person who would suffer the most by a reset because the lynchpin to his issues would be asleep if you got it wrong and should have drilled it into Jim’s head the best time to aim for stood by and said nothing.

The one person who had just suffered the loss of his familiar, best friend and only family along with the almost sister like Nari stood by and said nothing.

Then to add further insult to injury the caption when Douxie and Archie is shown says Some go their entire lives living an existence of quiet desperation because every drop of his character growth, his ability to finally start addressing his trauma instilled back in the 12th century, the staff he longed for was instead openly mocked by going “Aww he got his cat friend back how nice!” Everything he’d rightfully earned and had now would be unable to progress until certain criteria are met because it hinges entirely on the Trollhunter going to Merlin’s tomb and there’s only so much your support network of two (One if she’s written out) can do, the root of the majority of his issues all stem from one man.

And this folks is why I’ve been going on multiple rants about Douxie in particular, everyone was hit with the out of character bat to some degree in this film but when they came for him they didn’t just stop after they took his legs out because they wanted him to suffer from something he’s never had any control over to begin with all over again. Abuse survivors deserve better, these characters deserve better and we as viewers deserve far far better writing than we were forced to endure.

#Ooc - Behind the curtains #Rise of the Titans #Rise of the Titans spoilers #RotT Spoilers #RoT spoilers #Wizards #Tales of Arcadia #ToAWizards #Hisirdoux Casperan #Douxie Casperan

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band--psycho · 3 years

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Gally x Reader-I Don’t Want To Just Exist

Y/Ns POV

“She can’t see anything! So what job do you plan on giving her?” One voice said, this one was unrecognisable though.

“We might as well send her into the Maze,” another voice said, I believe it belonged to same person who jumped down into the cage-I believe his name was Gally. I don’t know what the Maze was but it certainly didn’t sound good. But his words clearly struck an issue with some of the others and quickly caused an argument between them all.

“I’m blind not deaf,” I snapped, silencing the argument that they were having.

“I deserve a chance to prove myself like everyone else does,” I explained calmly.

“Okay Greenie, you got a chance,” a voice said, as he placed a somewhat comforting hand on my shoulder.

“Alby, you can’t be-”

“She’s got as much right to a chance as everyone else, Gally,” Alby quickly cut him off as he lightly grabbed my hand.

“Who knows I might just prove you wrong,” I said before letting Alby guide me away from them.

Small Time Skip-That evening

“Fry, this is one of the best things you’ve ever cooked,” Alby shouted, but Fry just simply chuckled as he nudged my arm slightly.

“Can’t take the credit for this one, Greenie here did most of the work, I just made sure she didn’t burn herself,” he joked.

“Well, it looks like we’ve found a job you can do,” Alby said, before the others burst out in a cheer.

“Welcome to the family, Greenie,” Alby said before pulling me into a hug.

“Call me Y/n..” I whispered to him.

“Y/n, welcome home,” he said to me before the others crowded around us, each of them introducing themselves properly- the rest night was filled with jokes and laughter..it was weird, I’d only known these people for a number of hours but I already cared about them. Then I heard this bloodcurdling type noise that shook me to my core.

“What was that?” I asked, trying to hide the panic in my voice.

“That was a Griever,” Alby explained.

“A Griever?” I asked, confusion washing over me.

“I’ll explain tomorrow,” he said before ordering everyone to go to bed-as the only girl in the Glade, I got certain privileges...one of them was being able to sleep in a hut. I was just drifting off to sleep when I heard the door creep open, making me sit up almost instantly.

“It’s okay, It’s just me,” Gally said, a felt a bit of relief wash over me; but not enough to let my guard down completely-mere hours ago he’d suggested throwing me in the Maze.

“I..uh..I think I owe you an apology..I shouldn't have judged you so quickly,” he apologised, his voice was quiet, but I felt like his words were sincere.

“It’s okay,” I said simply as a small smile came across my face.

“I’ll..I’ll let you sleep,” Gally said, as he made his way over to the door.

“I’m glad I proved you wrong,” I heard him let out a chuckle at my words as his footsteps faded away and the door shut behind him.

Time Skip-A Year Later

Things had been slightly off lately with Gally; and I knew why. Thomas. Ever since he arrived he’d had this chip on his shoulder that he couldn’t seem to shift. I knew better than anyone that Gally wasn’t the most welcoming of people, but he had a softer side..one that I don’t think anyone other than me knew about. Since my time in the Glade we’ve grown closer, I liked him..and I think he liked me too-but neither of us were ready to tell each other that, and that was okay-but one thing I couldn’t deal with was his jealousy. Thomas was a nice guy and pretty much whenever we would talk Gally would interrupt him, and not leave my side whilst I was with him; it was ridiculous and annoying; Thomas and I were just friends, but it didn’t matter how many times I tried to tell Gally that.

“It’s just..you’re nice and Gallys just-”

“An arrogant ass, with a bad temper; he can be, sometimes at least-but he’s not like that all the time, he’s got a softer side to him and he means well, he just wants to keep everyone safe,” I explained, chopping some of the veg ready for dinner.

“You’ll get used to him, he tried to have me thrown into the Maze on my first day..and now here we are,” I continued, feeling around for the pot, luckily Fry was at my side to guide my hands onto it.

“You should probably go, before Gally comes and rips both of our heads off for talking,” I joked as I put the veg into the pot.

“Gallys coming,” Fry said just as Thomas began to walk away, I waited for the sound of a punch, but thankfully no sound like that came-instead Gally just wrapped his arms around my waist, placing a light kiss on my shoulder and then proceeded to try and help Fry and I cook; much to both mine and Frys annoyance because there was a reason he was a builder, he couldn’t cook. The night came quickly and soon Gally and I were in our hut, my head resting on his chest as his hand rested on my hip, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that something was playing on his mind though-he’d been quiet, more so than usual, not just today, but for the last few.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, lightly tracing my hand on his stomach.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” Gally answered bluntly.

“You do realise I can tell when you’re lying right, I don’t need eyes to see that,” I shot back in a somewhat jokey tone, but Gally just simply sighed, as he pulled me closer to him.

“Things are changing, they have been ever since Thomas arrived...he could ruin everything we’ve worked for,” Gally confessed.

“He’s just trying to help; to work out what’s out there,” I said in an attempt to defend Thomas. Everyone here wanted the same thing-to protect each other; the problem, is that Gally and Thomas both have very different ideas on how to do that, and slowly it’s causing tension which Alby is trying to avoid.

“Well his help might just get us killed,” he bit back, before letting out a long sigh.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap,”

“It’s okay,” I said,moving my hand up to trace his chin.

“It’s all gonna be okay, Gal,”I whispered.

“Princess, I want to believe you but-”

“But nothing,” I interrupted him, moving slightly so we were now face to face.

“As long as we’ve got each other everything will be okay,” I reassured, placing a delicate kiss on his lips.

“You’re always so optimistic,” Gally whispered against my lips, as one of his hands moved to slowly my face, lightly caressing my cheek.

“Well, one of us has to be,” I chuckled before he pulled me into another kiss.

Time skip(yes another one)-After the attack on the Glade

So many were dead. Alby was dead. Our leader was dead. Thomas used the stinger to sting himself and find out whatever truth Alby had found out, he’d spent the night in the pit..and now was being dragged infront of the maze. Thersea was being tied to a pole; both of them being some kind of offering to the Grievers. And Gally had become the leader that decided this.

“This is such a waste,” He said, clearly talking about Thomas Theresea.

“Gally, this is wrong,” I said, trying to reason with him.

“I’m trying to protect everyone that’s still alive in here, I’m trying to protect you,” he defended

“What if Thomas is right, maybe he could lead us home,” Geoff said

“We are home,” Gally argued back; he’d always referred to this place as home-most of us did, but I also felt like there was something more out there..something more than this; a life that wasn’t filled with the same four walls and the same daily routine, maybe that’s why Thomas and I got on well, because we both thought the same thing-the difference was he could go out and find the truth, unlike me. Just because this was the only place I remembered living in, didn’t make it my home. I was so lost in my thoughts the only thing that brought me back to reality when I heard Thomas’ voice. I don’t know exactly what had happened, but I knew it wasn't good..

“You don’t have to come with us but we are leaving,” Thomas said. Causing thoughts to run through my head again. Thoughts that had me torn about what to do..we could all go with them, find out the truth together about why we were here.

“We don’t belong here,” I heard him say, and that one sentence was enough for me to make up my mind..he was right, we didn’t belong here, none of us did.

“We were put here, we’re trapped here,” he continued, but Gally just scoffed in response.

“Gal, what is he’s right?” I asked calmly, trying once again to reason with him. I couldn’t see the expression on his face...but I was pretty sure it was mixture between angry, confused and shocked.

“And what if he's not, then we all die,” he said as I heard his footsteps get closer to me.

“That could happen anyway..we might..we might have some sort of a chance out there,” I tried to explain to him.

“So, you’re going to go with them?! Gally asked with venom in his voice.

“We need to at least try and find out the truth..come with us,” I begged, trying to persuade him to see sense; I lightly reached for his hand but he just pulled it away.

“As long as we’ve got eachother, everything will be okay, that’s what you said..and now you’re leaving..you’re leaving me...leaving our home,” Gally said the sadness evident in his voice, and it broke my heart; but I believed that either way we were gonna die and that I might as well die trying to get out of this place.

“This isn’t out home, Gal, it’s just a place we exist in...please come with us,” I said, trying once again to grab Gallys hand and get him to come with us, but when I reached out to him he wasn’t there, so I just slowly walked forward towards where Thomas’ voice was coming from; Newt quickly ran to my side, grabbing my hand once he realised that I was coming with them, guiding me to the rest of the group.

“Gally, come with us,” I begged one final time.

“Good luck against the Grievers,” was all he said, and that was our cue to leave. Newt hadn’t let go of my hand since we’d started running, he’d always been like an older brother to me,I trusted him-but one bad thing about being close to someone is that they can tell when somethings wrong and Newt knew me better than most.

“What’s wrong?” Newt asked, squeezing my hand lightly.

“Maybe I should’ve stayed in the Glade, I don’t want to be a burden to anyone” I said, trying to decide to follow my heart or my head.

“What?” Newt asked, confusion lacing his voice.

“I’m blind, Newt, I can’t see what’s right infront of me, let alone try and kill a Griever,” I explained, attempting to pull my hand away from his, but he just gripped it tighter.

“You deserve a chance to know the truth, just like the rest of us,” he stated, as our running halted slightly so he could pull me into a quick hug.

“We’re like family, Y/n/n, I’m not gonna let anything happen to you,” he whispered in my ear, before grabbing my hand again so we could carry on running, I only hoped the people that we left behind would be safe too. That Gally would be safe...and maybe one day we’d see each other again.

Tag list:

@glicabhainn00

#gally imagine #maze runner imagine #maze runner imagines #gally x reader #gally x oc #gally x y/n #gally x ofc #the maze runner #the maze runner imagines #the maze runner x reader #tmr gally #maze runner gally #will poulter #newt #tmr newt #thomas #tmr thomas #tmr alby

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kuroopaisen · 4 years

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rascal. (bokuto koutarou)

➵ maybe pirates aren’t so bad, after all.

wc: 5.6k

warnings: f!reader, copious amounts of fluff, tomfoolery

a/n: rachel darling i remember you were the one to request pirates, so here it is! you’re an absolute sweetheart, and thank you for always popping into my inbox and being as lovely as you are! i hope you enjoy this! ren and remy, thank you so much for your help on this fic!

Inheriting your aunt’s tavern wasn’t exactly a blessing.

If anything, you planned to sell it off after a year or two. You were only going to work it for a year out of respect – it was giving you the opportunity to secure some sense of financial freedom, after all.

Not that it was the act of running a tavern that you were uncomfortable with. Not at all – you’d never had access to this much money before, and it was less gruelling work than that of the farm.

And it helped you stave off getting married for a few years – thank the gods.

The issue was one of reputation. Your aunt’s – no, your tavern – was known for playing host to patrons with less than sterling character. It was known for servicing ‘unscrupulous fellows,’ as your father had grumbled. In that very same breath, he’d told you that you had to take it – the money was too good to pass up.

So, you’d moved to this bustling port city, intent on making at least something during your first few months. You’d hoped that the reputation of your patrons was all hearsay; rumours spread by competitors, or maybe gullible travellers.

Unfortunately, your father was right.

Pirates. Pirates, everywhere. How your aunt had built up a client base composed primarily of these seaborne rogues, you weren’t sure.

But you were wise enough to keep your opinions to yourself. These men would be lining your pockets for the foreseeable future, after all.

Had you been scared, at first? Yes! Absolutely terrified! But you had to accustom yourself to it – and fast.

You even knew a few by name; regulars who always seemed to come in at least twice a month or so. Some came weekly, which always made you doubt just how much seafaring they actually did.

Some even brought you spoils from their ‘travels’. Goods like wheat and barley, mostly – stuff that you were wise enough to turn a blind eye to. Most of the time, you would just donate such things to the local orphanage. They had better use for such things, anyway.

You were sure that a few of them, blinded by their drunken haze, couldn’t actually tell the difference between you and your aunt. But it was no matter; whoever your aunt was, she was tough as nails. That wasn’t a surprise, though. She had left this place simply because she wanted to go travelling around the world. You wondered, more than once, if she’d actually run off with a pirate.

There was a certain group of regulars that confused you, though. Admittedly, you were quite fond of them, but you had no idea if they were pirates, or just some old chums. They always came in at least once a week, and they were never short on gold.

But they treated you well, and always made a habit of hanging around the bar.

Their leader was striking, a tall, muscular man with a pair of sparkling golden eyes and the world’s brightest smile. He certainly had the look of a pirate – that typical white shirt that revealed a little more of his chest than maybe it should, the sun-kissed skin, the sword slung around his waist.

But his personality only half fit the bill. Loud, gregarious, bold – but sensitive, childish, naïve.

And yet despite all that, you could tell that he was in charge. Things always seemed to come back to him, no matter what. Even if his stunning black-haired friend – likely the first mate, if they really were pirates – seemed to call most of the shots.

Not that it mattered, in the end. They paid up, and that was enough.

“So, what do you think of pirates?” This leader, who you’d surmised was called ‘Bokuto’, asked, tilting his head to the side. He looked a little like a bird.

A ripple of exasperation ran through his friends.

You laughed. “Why do you ask?”

“Rumour is they’re your main clientele.” Another one of the men – possibly called Konoha, if you remembered correctly – smirked at you from over his flagon.

“Ah,” you smiled, propping your elbows on the bar and resting your chin on folded hands. “It’s hard to tell these days.” You’d play the game, if you must.

“Huh?” The lot of them frowned at you; were they offended, maybe?

“I like my pirates traditional, see,” you sighed, adding a touch more exasperation than necessary. “You know; eyepatches, big feathery hats, peg legs… but nobody who comes through those doors looks the part.”

Konoha and some of the other men snorted, but Bokuto perked up.

“Wouldn’t pirates be bad for business?” Konoha raised an eyebrow at you. “Driving off other clients, and all that?”

You shrugged, biting your cheek. “What use is respectable clientele if they’re not willing to pay for an entire barrel of ale?”

Some of them laughed at that. What a relief; it meant they weren’t paying attention to the discomfort behind those words.

“I just wish they looked like pirates.” You shook your head, standing up to full height again. “If you’re going to be a pirate, you may as well dress like they do in all those romantic tales.”

“So you’re upset that they’re not meeting your personal tastes?” Konoha chuckled. “Isn’t it bad to ogle your clientele?”

“Well, they see no problem with ogling me, so I think it’s only fair,” you shrugged, waving a hand at him. You barely felt the sentiment, but you weren’t about to be vulnerable in front of a pirate.

A small racket erupted from the lot of them, a cacophony of responses that ranged from concern to amusement. You took the opportunity to turn away from them, a serene smile masking your face.

You liked those boys. You really did.

But it certainly felt remiss to befriend a group of pirates. Even if they did pay your bills.

✧ ✧

“Is he okay?” You asked, handing Akaashi two flagons.

“Hm?” Akaashi blinked, a small frown touching at the corners of his mouth.

“Your captain.” You nodded in the direction of the man in question. He was sitting on the other side of the tavern, very conspicuously not looking at you. That in itself was abnormal. But what really made it weird was the eyepatch. And the pointed leather hat adorned with an obnoxiously big feather. Those were both new additions to his get up.

“Oh,” Akaashi sighed, placing the flagons on the bar. “He’s fine.”

“But… his eye…”

“He’s still got both of them, don’t worry,” Akaashi said, shaking his head. “He thought he needed to change up his image.”

“Change up… his image?”

“He wanted to look more fearsome,” Akaashi deadpanned, his eyes flicking down. “More like a true pirate.”

You giggled at the thought. “So, you’re really pirates, then?”

“You already knew that,” Akaashi smiled softly.

He was the cleverest one, that was for sure.

Your eyes found their way back to Bokuto. He seemed to be struggling with his new costume, constantly readjusting the eyepatch and pushing the tip of the hat back up so it wouldn’t obstruct his vision. Occasionally, he would screw up his nose a bit. Not really the look of a fearsome pirate captain.

“I see he hasn’t sawed his leg off, though.” You bit back a smile.

Akaashi chuckled at that. “No, he’s not unreasonable enough for that.” He raised an eyebrow at you before turning to look at his captain. “He did some asking around. Got a good scope of all those romantic pirate stories you were talking about.”

“Really?” You scoffed. If this was his attempt to woo you, it surely was the most creative yet.

“Well, tell him that I don’t like my pirates reticent,” you smiled, winking at Akaashi. “I much prefer it when they talk to me.”

Akaashi laughed quietly, shaking his head. “Will do.”

Within five minutes, Bokuto was back at your bar, the eyepatch replaced by his typical brilliant smile. The hat remained a part of the ensemble, but you didn’t mind. You were quick to assure him that you preferred it that way.

✧ ✧

“Bokuto.”

“Yeah?”

“This is a terrible idea.”

“It’ll be fine!” Bokuto beamed at his first mate, scratching the underbelly of the parrot sitting on his shoulder. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you Birdmeat?”

The name ‘Birdmeat’ had come from the suggestion that Bokuto should name his parrot after his favourite food. He was the only one who failed to see the issue with it.

“I fail to see how a parrot is supposed to impress a woman,” Akaashi muttered.

“It’ll impress her because he can speak, duh,” Bokuto scoffed, as if he’d just said the most reasonable thing in the world. “Isn’t that right, boy?”

“Idiot!” The bird squawked, flapping its wings. “Idiot!”

Bokuto’s face fell. But for once, he let it slide. “Just you wait, Akaashi,” he beamed, pointing a finger at his first mate. “This will impress her.”

It did not, in fact, impress you.

“What if it shits?” You grimaced, gazing at the gaudily coloured bird with an expression that could only be described as thinly-veiled contempt.

“It… won’t.”

“It will.”

“Akaashi—”

He just shot Bokuto a look that said, ‘I told you so.’ The fact that it was empty of any malice or self-righteousness just made it more infuriating.

“I’d be… willing to let it slide if it was… restrained, somehow,” you said carefully, your mind running through all the possible ways this could go wrong.

It was just a bird. It couldn’t cause too much mayhem.

But, it belonged to Bokuto. The human manifestation of havoc.

And that made you nervous.

Bokuto nodded vigorously, turning to Akaashi. “We can manage that, right?”

“Uh.” Akaashi looked at you. There was something about his eyes that made it seem like he was apologising. “Do you have any rope?”

Five minutes and a lot of squawking later, and the parrot had a tenuous rope wrapped around it’s belly like a harness. You’d felt too bad about tying its wings or legs up, so you’d made Bokuto swear to not let go of the rope. He’d been resolute, promising that he’d be very mindful of his little companion.

Finally, it seemed, you could get back to business.

“One spiced mead, please!” Bokuto beamed, hands on his hips in some sort of pose.

You swallowed down a sigh. You’d be damned if this man wasn’t entertaining – perhaps even charming, in his own way – but by the gods did he give off the impression of a disaster waiting to happen.

Just go about your business, you thought to yourself. It’s fine, Bokuto’s got a grip on the rope. It’ll be fine.

“Here,” you sighed, placing the flagon on the bar in front of him.

In his enthusiasm, Bokuto used two hands to pick it up.

Two. Meaning one wasn’t holding the rope.

And Birdmeat knew.

Even Akaashi wasn’t fast enough.

It sprung off Bokuto’s shoulder, landing in his flagon with an undignified splash.

Bokuto shrieked, swatting at the parrot with one hand. Akaashi had dove head-first at the ground, missing the rope by a mere margin.

“Bokuto!” He yelled.

Bokuto flinched, realising a moment too late that he’d let go of the damn bird.

Birdmeat shot straight up, its wings flapping at full speed.

You should’ve trusted your instincts.

Chaos erupted.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto shrieked, flailing his hat in the air.

The man in question looked like he had just left this mortal plane. You had half a mind to join him.

The bird was still flapping around the tavern, squawking at the top of its little lungs.

The rest of Bokuto’s crew was on their feet, staring at the bird with some sense of dumbfounded resignation. A normal day for them, you supposed.

“That fuckin’ bird just shat in my ale!”

Oh no. Oh no.

Laughter erupted from one end of the tavern – likely that poor sod’s friends. But you didn’t have time to worry about that. You’d just give him a free drink or two later. Your main concern was stopping that little fucker from doing anything worse.

The last thing you wanted to do was try and calm a pirate who had bird shit running down his forehead.

How were you even supposed to catch a bird? Did you have a net?

Your other patrons had noticed by now, their expressions ranging from amusement to annoyance to anger. Multiple voices were crying out, but you couldn’t quite tell what any of them were saying. All you could do was watch the parrot fly higher and higher, the short leash of rope rising well out of reach.

The bird clattered onto one of the rafters, its claws skittering across the wood. You’d never get those scratches out.

“Idiot!” It squawked. “Idiot!”

You could’ve sworn it was looking at Bokuto.

“Do you have a plan?” You hissed, head whipping round to him.

Bokuto glanced at you sheepishly, his cheeks red as anything. “Maybe?”

Why did that make you feel worse?

“Akaashi…”

“Please don’t tell me…”

“It’s the only way…”

You looked between the two of them, frowning. “What? What are you planning?”

“Trust me,” Akaashi sighed. “You won’t like it.”

You didn’t.

Bokuto’s ‘plan’ was to prop Akaashi on his shoulders, hoping that would be high enough to reach that damn parrot’s leash. And admittedly, that wasn’t the worst plan. But this was Bokuto. Anything could go wrong.

Poor Akaashi looked like he knew that quite well.

You watched in horror as he stood himself on one of your stools, giving you an apologetic nod in the process. You stared at him, dumbfounded. Bokuto dashed forward, turning around so his back was facing his precariously balanced friend.

“Be careful,” Akaashi mumbled, swinging his legs over Bokuto’s awaiting shoulders.

Bokuto nodded with a grunt, clamping his hands over Akaashi’s knees as if to stabilise him. It certainly didn’t make you feel any more at ease.

This was a disaster waiting to happen. You just knew you were about to watch someone split their head open on the floor of your tavern.

The lumbering form of Akaashi-plus-Bokuto ambled towards Birdmeat, each wobbly step taken with great purpose.

You watched, rapt with horror as they inched closer to their target, one of Akaashi’s hands outstretched and the other planted on the top of Bokuto’s head.

Birdmeat cocked his head.

Akaashi leant forward, swiping at the air. He grabbed the rope, giving it a careful tug. Birdmeat flapped its wings, scrambling as it fell backwards off the scaffolding.

One more yank and it was against Akaashi’s chest, caged in by his arms.

A confused cheer rippled through his crewmates as they crowded around him.

You frowned as you watched them squabble amongst themselves for a bit, fingers pointing and voices raised as they disagreed over who should have to deal with the bird.

A hush set upon the tavern, each and every pair of eyes turned to the small gaggle of men bickering amongst themselves. You were sure that your patrons were just as worried as you were that they’d accidentally let it go in the midst of their bickering.

You weren’t about to let that happen.

“Get that damn thing out of here,” you grumbled, pointing at the door. A few more moments of bickering, and the bird had safely traded hands. One of the men, a shorter fellow you’d come to know as ‘Komi’ nodded, scampering out the door with the parrot safely clasped between his hands.

“I’m so sorry,” Bokuto mumbled, drawing his knees up to his chest.

This was their captain? This big, muscular behemoth of a man who was sitting on your tavern floor, curled up in a ball?

What kind of pirate crew was this?

“It’s… okay,” you sighed, pressing two fingers to your eyes. “Nobody got hurt, so…”

Bokuto braved a look at you, his golden eyes round and pitiful. Hell, even his hair seemed like it had deflated. How was that even possible?

“We’ll help you clean up,” Akaashi said, giving you a quick bow. “I deeply apologise for the commotion.”

You waved your hands at him, overwhelmed by the sudden formality. “No, no, it’s fine!”

Maybe you should’ve been angrier. Maybe you should’ve been more upset. But something about this was just… delightfully absurd. Nobody but Bokuto would’ve thought that this was a good idea. And it was nice to have some excitement that didn’t involve cutlasses for once.

“Just… just help me clean up, okay?” You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Then we’ll call it even.”

A week later, a poster took pride of place above the bar. It read, in big, bold lettering: “ABSOLUTELY NO PARROTS, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES. EVER.”

Akaashi had made it himself.

✧ ✧

Bokuto liked to think of himself as a well-mannered man despite his disreputable occupation.

He’d even tried to get Akaashi to market them better; something along the lines of ‘debonair,’ the whole ‘criminals, but with a conscience’ shtick. Akaashi had refused, calling it a waste of time – they were pirates after all, and regardless of how moral their conduct was, they were going to have a bad reputation.

But that didn’t stop Bokuto from trying his very best to be a rogue with a heart of gold.

And he was currently debating whether or not punching an asshole in the face challenged or reinforced that identity.

“Akaashi—”

“Don’t do it.”

“I haven’t even said anything yet!” Bokuto whined, pouting at his second-in-command.

“She’ll be mad at you if you start a fight,” Akaashi murmured, taking a sip of his ale.

Bokuto huffed, head whipping around to look at you again.

To anyone else, you looked unbothered; smiling like you usually did, laughing at each poor joke directed your way. But Bokuto could tell that something was off. That you were uncomfortable. And he didn’t like that one bit.

He’d been watching long enough to identify the source of your discomfort.

Some dude that he’d only seen a handful of times, but had seen enough to know that he distinctly didn’t like his aura.

“Akaashi, I’m gonna do it.”

“Don’t do it.”

“But he’s making her uncomfortable,” Bokuto whined, looking between Akaashi and the bar with a certain hint of desperation.

“Maybe you should ask her about it before doing anything brash,” Akaashi sighed, rubbing one of his temples with two fingers. “Walking up to some dude and punching him in the face isn’t a good way of impressing your crush.”

“I don’t have a crush!”

“Sure you don’t, Bokuto,” Akaashi said, taking another sip from his mug.

“Psst!”

You raised an eyebrow at him. Was he trying to be subtle? Because leaning the entire top half of his body over the bar wasn’t exactly understated.

“Yes?”

“If I started a fight with that dude, would you get mad at me?”

What? Your eyebrows shot up in shock, eyes growing wide. “Bokuto, what the fuck?”

“Not, like, a proper fight,” he mumbled, pouting. “Just, like… a warning.”

“A warning?” Why did he think that sounded any better?

“Like a territorial thing!”

You blinked. “Bokuto, what are you talking about?”

“Well, like… if he feels unwelcome here, he’s not gonna keep bothering you, right?” Bokuto asked, tilting his head at you. He always looked like a little owl when he did that, eyes big and round and far more innocent than they should be. Wasn’t he a pirate captain?

But there was something charming about his simple logic. And something touching about the fact he was this concerned.

“Look,” you sighed, reaching over and taking his hand. You didn’t miss how his entire face bloomed red, right up to his ears. “I appreciate the thought, but I’ll be okay.”

A thought crossed your mind. A foolish thought, really. But one you didn’t abhor.

You leant forward and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

Bokuto looked like he’d ascended. His golden eyes were wider than you’d ever seen them, his mouth forming a tiny ‘o’ as he gaped at you.

You giggled, giving his hand a squeeze before letting it go. “I’ve got a sword out back anyway.”

Those words yanked Bokuto back down to earth.

“Wait, really?” For some reason, he couldn’t quite comprehend it. But the thought of you wielding a sword made him… feel things he was rather ashamed of.

You giggled, picking up a flagon and turning to one of the barrels lined up against the wall.

“I know how to use it, too.” You shot him a wink. “My father thought that’d be a pertinent skill for me to learn, seeing as I was moving all the way out here.”

“Right.” Bokuto nodded, almost a little too vigorously. “Right.”

“Enjoy the rest of your night,” you smiled, handing him the flagon. Spiced mead. His favourite.

You had to take his hand and wrap it around the handle, shocked and flustered as he was.

“Off you go,” you tutted, waving him towards his friends.

Somehow, he managed to walk all that way without tripping.

“Oh come on,” Konaha groaned, rolling his eyes.

Bokuto wasn’t looking at them. He couldn’t, really. All he could think about was you – about how pretty you were, how soft your lips had felt against his cheek, how you smelt like whiskey and cinnamon and freshly baked bread.

Gods, having a crush was hard.

✧ ✧

“Do you… like it?” Bokuto stood on the other side of the bar, cheeks flushed and hair dishevelled with intoxication.

You’d faced many things in your time as a tavern wench. You’d believed that it meant you’d be ready to face any kind of situation, no matter how bizarre or off-beat or unsettling it might be.

That was naïve of you.

Because as you stood in front of Bokuto, very expensive-looking necklace in hand, you didn’t know what to say.

“I…”

The necklace really was beautiful. It looked like a sapphire of some kind; a rich blue gem grafted into an oval. The faintest of glows emanated from it, adding an air of ethereal dignity that you didn’t quite know how to comprehend.

You were uncomfortably aware of your surroundings. Of the dingy walls, the rafters that definitely needed a touch-up or two, the general stink of sea and men and drink.

You were uncomfortably aware of yourself. Dressed in some prettied-up rags, your hair pulled out of your face with a strip of cloth, your entire body coated in a slick of sweat and dirt.

You shouldn’t be holding something this expensive. It was wrong.

Hell, you didn’t even know where this came from. You didn’t know how he’d gotten his hands on it.

“I can’t take it,” you said decisively, reaching for one of his hands.

He jumped, but the contact was enough to catch him off guard. You turned his palm upwards, placing the necklace in the centre and gently curling his fingers over it.

“It’s too… much,” you said, shaking your head. You tried to smile at him, but you knew there’d be a melancholic touch to it.

“I’m sorry,” he frowned, casting his eyes downwards. “I just… I wanted to say thank you. For putting up with u—with me.”

“If you want to say thank you,” you mused, crossing your arms over your chest. “How about you teach me to sword fight?”

He puffed out his cheeks as he pouted at you. You weren’t sure if he’d meant to do it or not. “I thought you said you knew how to use a sword.”

Those words had been seared into the back of his brain for the past two months.

“I mean—” You swallowed, straightening your shoulders. “I do, but not well…”

Bokuto blinked at you, completely unsure of what to say.

Did he want to spend more time with you? Absolutely.

“Okay.”

The word left his mouth before he’d run through all the options. Did he trust himself not to make a complete and utter fool of himself, should the two of you be alone? Absolutely not.

But when you smiled at him like that, maybe he didn’t mind the thought of humiliating himself.

✧ ✧

“It might be better if you held it with two hands,” Bokuto mused, his own cutlass falling to his side as he took a step closer to you.

You sighed, lowering your blade. “Right.”

Gods, you were tired.

Bokuto had made good on his agreement without complaint. If anything, he seemed a bit too enthusiastic about it. He’d shown up a good three hours before opening, and had launched into his lesson before you’d even had time to process what was going on. You hadn’t even had your sword at the ready.

But it had gone well, all things considered. So well that you’d insisted on doing it again.

This was now your fourth lesson. You had a lot to learn, and Bokuto certainly wasn’t a bad teacher; so long as you could wrap your head around what he was saying.

And usually, you’d be able to have a good time.

But today was different. Today, you couldn’t put up a veneer of joviality. There was too much to worry about.

“Hey, are you alright?” Bokuto pouted, tilting his head at you.

You flinched, drawn out of your own thoughts by his voice.

You hadn’t heard those words in a while. You hadn’t really had time to make friends in this port city, let alone find people who gave a damn about your well-being. You’d just been so busy, running the tavern. Its reputation hadn’t helped you in the social sphere, either. It was hard convincing people you were worth their time when you were known for supplying pirates with their ale. No, the only people who looked out for you were back home.

Like your poor father.

No. No, don’t.

It set upon you before you could stop it. The lump in your throat. The tremble in your hands. The burning at the corner of your eyes.

It took only a second for you to come undone.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Bokuto started, his sword clattering on the ground as his hands came up to clutch your shoulders. That was enough to shock you back to the moment at hand.

“I’m sorry!” You gasped, covering your face with your hands. Gods, this was embarrassing. What sort of tavern owner cried in front of her own damn customers?

“Don’t apologise!” He cooed. “You don’t have anything to apologise for!”

Oh, but you certainly did. Before your days running the tavern you might’ve completely broken down in front of him, dignity be damned. But you were much better at holding your composure now. Several months of serving pirates would do that to you.

“I’m…” You took a deep breath, clenching your fists. “Can we finish early for today? I’ve just got… a lot of things I’m dealing with right now.”

Bokuto gazed at you sadly, running gentle hands up and down your arms. “Of course.”

“Sorry to bother you,” you said, keeping your voice as stable as possible.

“You can… talk to me,” he murmured, squeezing your arms gently.

You looked up at him. You knew you shouldn’t. You knew you might regret it later.

But fuck, you needed to talk to someone.

“It’s just…” You swallowed, trying to ignore the tightness in your chest. “My father’s ill.”

“Oh.” Bokuto’s whole demeanour deflated. You closed your eyes, trying to block out the look on his face.

“And… and all the money I’m earning out here is being sent home for treatment,” you sighed. “They’ve even called in some mages to have a look at him, but that gets… expensive.”

“I can imagine,” Bokuto frowned, unsure of whether or not he should wrap his arms around you. Would that make it worse? Make it better?

“That’s not even taking into account the cost of running this place.” You bit your lip, gesturing to the tavern in question. “Or how expensive it is to subsidise my family. Mother’s income alone isn’t near enough to help them get by…”

You didn’t know why you were telling him all this. He didn’t need to hear all this.

“I’m sorry,” you swallowed, crossing your arms over your chest. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Hey now.” Bokuto shook his head, wrapping his arms around you and drawing you into his chest.

You flinched in surprise, but you didn’t move away. He was warm – and muscular. And it had been a long, long time since anyone had held you like this.

“I told you not to apologise, didn’t I?” He hummed, resting his chin on the top of your head. “It sounds like you’ve got a lot on your shoulders.”

You nodded weakly. Your arms were trapped between your body and his, but you really, really wanted to wrap them around his waist.

“You can just relax for now, okay?” He said, giving you a little squeeze. “Take a breather.”

He loosened his grip a bit. Just enough for you to manoeuvre your arms around his waist, pulling yourself closer to him.

He’d intended to let you go, fearing that this was all too much for you. Apparently, that wasn’t the case.

But no matter how fast his heart was beating, or how embarrassingly red the entire top half of his body must be, he wouldn’t deny you this moment.

Not if it might just help you smile.

✧ ✧

“Hey, hey, hey!”

That bright smile really did nothing but bring you relief, didn’t it?

“Hello, Bokuto,” you smiled, fighting off your exhaustion. It was about an hour or so until your official opening time, but you certainly wouldn’t begrudge his company.

He half-ran up to the bar, smile in tow. It hadn’t faded even a little bit since he’d opened the door.

“What’s got you so happy?” You chuckled, looking him up and down.

“Well,” he grinned, voice a little more theatrical than usual. “I spoke to the fellas.”

“Huh?”

“Hello,” Akaashi nodded.

You jumped. Where had he come from? Had he even walked through the front door? Or had you just been so distracted by Bokuto?

Oh, but you had something else to worry about.

A fat sack of coins, sitting on the table you’d just been cleaning.

“What’s this?” You frowned, looking between the two of them.

“I may have mentioned that you were… having a bit of financial trouble, and we decided that… we wanted to help in any way we could,” Bokuto mumbled, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “So we went around to the other guys who come here and we asked them to throw in a little cash.”

Your eyes focused on the bag again. How much was there? You pulled the string at its neck with a trembling hand, daring a look inside.

Shit, were these all gold?

“I can’t take this.” You shook your head, holding your hands up like a shield. “It’s too—"

“Aha!” Bokuto pointed a finger at you, a triumphant grin on his face. “I knew you’d say that!”

You blinked at him.

“You see, this isn’t a gift! This is a combined tip from all of your patrons! Money given willingly, as a thanks for your service! So, you have no reason to feel bad about accepting it!”

You stared at him. Of course he’d come up with something like that.

“You deserve to be happy,” Bokuto said, cheeks flushed as he struggled to meet your gaze. “And… you’re not going to be happy if you’ve got all this stuff to worry about. So… so hopefully this’ll help.”

Your body moved before your mind did.

You weren’t sure how you cleared the distance between the two of you, but your arms were around his neck, pressing your body against his. The poor boy froze, both heart and mind doing backflips.

“Thank you, Bokuto,” you smiled, loosening your hold around his neck and moving back just enough to get a proper look at his face.

He looked like he was about to burn up, but he was beaming. Strange and chaotic and silly as he could be, you really were fond of him. Fond of the amusement he brought to any and all who interacted with him. Fond of the weird way he looked at things, so optimistic and kind. Fond of how he seemed to bring light with him whether he went.

You noticed, not without some amusement, that Akaashi was no longer in the room.

You could certainly take the hint.

Your hands came up to cup his face, and you marvelled at the look of tentative excitement in his eyes.

“You’re a bit like a typhoon,” you chuckled, gaze flicking from his eyes to his lips.

You didn’t miss the way his Adam’s apple bobbed.

“Is that… a bad thing?” He mumbled, hands absentmindedly finding their way to your waist.

“Not at all,” you smiled. You stood on your tiptoes, pressing your lips to his with the most chaste of kisses. You lingered for just a moment longer than necessary, revelling in the sharp little breath he took.

When you met his eyes again, there was a new glint in them. One you rather liked.

“Can you… do that again?”

You laughed, rubbing one of your thumbs over his cheek.

If you hadn’t inherited this den of rogues and rapscallions, this wonderful mess of a man wouldn’t have come crashing into your life. Life was a funny thing, wasn’t it? You’d been so ungrateful when you’d first arrived, and now look at you. Kissing a pirate. You could never have predicted it.

But maybe pirates weren’t so bad, after all.

#bokuto x reader #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto kotaro #bokuto kotaro x reader #bokuto imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuucreations #ew tags #anyway this was fun #boys being dumb #does it get any better

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wouldduskwood · 3 years

Text

Descendants of Despair Part 53

As I lay beside Jake, my breathing returned to normal and the crawling feeling had been replaced with the warmth of his touch. I thought about just how much I had changed. Dan had hit a raw spot when he had hinted at my weakness. I had been strong for so long, so long I couldn’t even remember a time where resilience and survival wasn’t a driving force in my life. Jake had helped tame that to an extent. I could rely on him to pick up on the things that I may miss otherwise. I had wondered if it meant I was getting weak. Dan’s words reiterated those concerns. But now I saw my behaviour for what it really was. Allowing someone into my world had not made me weak, instead it had made me stronger. His strength became my strength. Relying on him wasn’t weak, it was right. I didn’t have to manipulate him to get him to do what I needed. I didn’t have to question whether he was manipulating me. He had seen me at my worst and still loved me. I could be my true self, and that was something I don’t think I had ever really seen before. The true self that allowed myself to feel, to trust, to love...to be vulnerable. As I drifted off to sleep, I contented myself with the thought that I had been strong enough to lay Dan on his ass without hesitation. My instincts were still there, as strong as always.

I startled awake relatively early to the light from the dimly lit lamp. The softness of the bed and comfort of the room was unnerving. I felt as though it was lowering my defenses. Jake was already awake as well, holding me lightly but staring at the ceiling in quiet contemplation. “It’s weird, isn’t it?” I asked quietly. Jake nodded thoughtfully. “I guess discomfort has become comfortable to us?” he questioned and sighed. “I should be happy, we had an amazing night...I slept in more comfort than I have in a long time, yet somehow it just doesn’t feel right.” “Check your laptop,” I murmured, sitting myself up on the comfortable bed, noting vaguely that my muscles didn’t hurt as much as they did when I slept on the floor, or the sidewalk, or the riverbank. It should have felt great, instead it just increased my level of unease. I got up with Jake and we got dressed, then I began pacing back and forth. I was hungry, we hadn’t eaten since yesterday before meeting up with Dan. Glancing around the room, I picked up my backpack and looked inside for anything of substance. As I scavenged, Jake appeared beside me and handed me an energy bar. “I grabbed a couple of these from the car last night. Thought we might need something. We can get some proper breakfast after I have checked where we are at,” he said as he opened his own bar and began chewing on it.

I accepted Jake’s offer thankfully, and began eating, sitting close to him, watching what he was doing on the laptop screen. Because his laptop was so limited, he flicked from screen to screen at near lightning speed. I wasn’t sure how he was keeping up with everything that was going on, but he seemed pretty sure of himself so I just sat and watched in admiration, trying to pick up strings of code that I could recognise. “Hm,” I mumbled quietly. “Yes?” Jake asked, pausing briefly in his screen flicking and typing. “Nothing, just...you’re still keeping track of Richy?” I asked. “You saw that, huh?” Jake replied. I was about to apologise for intruding into his private world when he continued speaking. “Well done, I am impressed. You know a fair bit about programming to pick up on that from the small strings you must have seen.” I shrugged in embarrassment. I was hardly a hacker of his calibre. “You don’t mind me watching?” I asked in wonder. Jake’s response shocked me as he began to laugh.

I glared at him as he turned to face me, shaking his head to try and gain control of himself. “Here’s the thing,” he replied soothingly. “I love you and I trust you. Usually my trust in people is based on what I have been able to dig up about them online. Not with you, you are a blank entity online. Anyway, I guess what I’m trying to say is, my reaction to you hadn’t made sense until I decided that you were made for me, as dumb as that sounds, I think of you as a soulmate...if they were to exist. Because you are truly part of me, I have made everything I do part of you as well. You have full access to my set up remember? You also have full access to my phone through yours. Everything I am, it is you.”

Jake’s response made me happy. I was thinking and feeling along the same lines as him. I still wasn’t as comfortable at admitting it as he was, so turned away from his gaze and then pouted as he giggled at my reaction. “It’s okay, you don’t have to say it, I know how much you love me,” he replied smugly. I growled under my breath then leaped on him, but he was already expecting my response and caught me with a grin. “Okay, maybe we should get you some proper food eh?” he asked, trying to stifle his giggles. “Urgh,” I groaned. Jake closed his laptop and packed it in a bag then motioned for me to gather my gear as well. I knew he was doing this just so that he could save me from further embarrassment, but I appreciated it nonetheless. If we stayed here much longer, I knew the walls would begin to close in around me. This often happened when I was stuck in small spaces for long periods of time. There were very few escape routes from enclosed spaces.

Once we had cleared out the motel room of our personal belongings, we dropped the key on the table then put our hoods up and left. It was too early to head to meet up with Dan, so we had a little time to fill in before we would need to head back to the prison. “Let’s go through a drive thru,” Jake suggested. “Then we can decide on our next steps.” I nodded in relief. The prospect of food, even takeaway food, was appealing and being able to stay with Jake and hash out future moves was even better.

The first drive thru we saw, Jake pulled in and we argued briefly over the least disgusting options from the menu before both deciding on our breakfast. Jake pulled up to the window with his head down, we paid, got our order and left. I picked up my bag and sniffed it in mild disgust. Jake glanced at me and grinned. “Okay, I know, not the best but at least it's something.” I raised an eyebrow as I pulled my breakfast muffin from the bag. “...is it though?...” I asked. Jake laughed as he pulled the car over near a deserted park. “Okay, gross food is still food,” he grinned as he dug into his bag and began to eat. I had to admit, gross take away food certainly was better than no food at all. I had gotten accustomed to healthier eating since leaving the street. I was sick of always getting sick and I wanted to maintain my physical health...it is far easier to run when you aren’t ill or unfit.

“So, the plan?” Jake asked. “I take it there is a bit more to it than the simple stuff you gave the buffoon.” I snickered in response then became angry at myself so nudged Jake with my elbow. “Sorry,” he responded with a sly grin, no doubt relishing in my slip up. “Yeah, you need to have the cameras going, follow everything outside. If something happens, you need to get a signal to me without digital means. I can’t take my phone in with me, they will confiscate it until I leave and I would rather they had no access to it at all. I’m assuming Dan will have his, but again we won’t have access to it while in there.” I paused to take a breath and have a sip of water. Jake was thoughtful for a moment.

“Okay, the programme you installed that gave me access to their system also gave me access to their alarms. If something happens, I will set off some form of alarm, nothing major that would cause a lockdown, but enough of a distraction that you can get out and hopefully it will draw the man without a face away.”

“Wow…” I gasped, suddenly impressed. He had solved the issue so quickly. I guessed when he had seen his chance to take control of their security, he had made sure he had as much control as he could. “Fuck Jake, you’re incredible!” I declared earnestly. “Uh...there is one other thing I want to do before we go. I may not get time after...I want to take down the traps on the roofs, in case an unsuspecting person gets hurt. I also want to look at whether the trap was tampered with on the roof the man without a face was waiting on.” I requested hesitantly. I knew I’d be by myself up there and Jake wouldn’t be thrilled with the idea. “I can’t stop it from happening can I?” Jake asked sadly. “No, not this time. It’s important to me.” I replied bluntly. We didn’t need someone harmed because of us. If the Police found any trace of it, it would just be another reason for them to be chasing us. Not something I was willing to risk. The main drive though was because I was frustrated with not being able to understand how the man without a face had gotten past our defenses. The more I knew about him the better. “Okay, but this time I’m coming too. We will park as far away as we can, where there is access to the roofing around that area. Do you agree?” I thought for a moment, glaring at him intently. “Ugh, fine. But you keep your face hidden the entire time. You dismantle any cameras around the area first and if there is anybody looking at you, you go!” I replied in an attempt at compromise. Jake nodded solemnly and started the car.

Part 54

#duskwood jake x #duskwood jakexplayer #duskwood jake x player #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood fanfic #duskwood jakexmc fanfic #duskwood #duskwood jakexmc #fanfiction #fanfic #duskwood jake #jake x mc #jakexmc #hackerman

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robotslenderman · 4 years

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OTP Meme

Yoinked from @aelwen.

Starting off with my Super Problematic Arturo/Olivia, will probably do the same quiz with other ships as well.

For those who are not aware: Arturo kidnapped Olivia at the end of CoNY while trying to figure out what to do with her and ended up keeping her around, and she’s blood bound to him (for non VTM fans, that’s basically a love potion). So yeah, there’s a huge power imbalance and a drug-induced Stockholm Syndrome here, and one half is a megalomaniac. There is a shitton of dubcon.

You have been warned.

DISAGREEMENTS.

Who is more likely to raise their voice?

Arturo, but like, that’s not saying much. I can see him only raising his voice when he’s pushed almost to his limit and even then only to say something like “DON’T INTERRUPT” when he’s in a monologue or a “NO” to cut someone else off.

Who threatens to leave but never actually does?

Neither of them.

Who actually keeps their word and leaves?

OLIVIA LOL. Arturo has known she’s been wanting out since the beginning but the blood bond kept her compliant until Qadir and her Coterie finally got their shit together and busted her out. Arturo may have gone completely apeshit trying to get her back but then once he knew the blood bond had timed out, gave it up and let her go.

Who trashes the house?

Neither of them. Toreadors do not trash their own house and Olivia too desperately wants to please Arturo to get messy even if that was her style.

Plus, you know, they have ghouls to clean up after them.

Do either of them get physical?

ngl for the first few months Olivia keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop on that, since Arturo absolutely bitchslapped Sophie at the end of CoNY, but after a while she realises he’s not typically violent and calms down.

How often do they argue/disagree?

Almost never, due to the blood bond. Olivia occasionally pushes it, but never goes too far (by Arturo’s standards). She’s too chemically wired to want to please him to full out disagree or argue.

Who is the first to apologize?

Olivia, for obvious reasons. Arturo does apologise from time to time, but rarely, and usually accompanied with an eyeroll inducing monologue pontificating about something or other. (Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it, the monologue itself is not an apology.)

SEX.

(Headcanon interlude -- vampire sex is basically blood drinking, whether mutual or not, given how aroused both drinker and drinkee become. They can have “human” sex with blush of life, but it’s not nearly as satisfying without the blood drinking. So yeah keep in mind I’m not talking about human sex here, even though there might be some of that accompanying the blood drinking.)

Who is on top? Who is on bottom?

Olivia on top. Kind of hard to suck the blood from someone’s throat if you’re on the bottom.

Any kinks?

They’re vampires, what do you think?

Who has the strangest desires?

Arturo thinks he’s weird as shit for enjoying it when she cuddles up to him lmfao.

Who’s dominant in bed?

Arturo, despite positions.

Is head ever in the equation?

Nope. Although I’m sure if Arturo managed to get her back when she escaped he might’ve been relieved enough to do it.

If so, who is better at performing it?

N/A

Ever had sex in public?

He never lets her out, so no.

Although... he does have ghouls, and he treats them like he’d treat a portrait on the wall. Olivia is often mortified by the stuff she’ll do in front of them when the blood bond’s at full strength.

Who moans the most?

Definitely Arturo. It’s vampire sex, Olivia’s too busy drinking blood to make noise.

Who leaves the most marks?

Neither, they heal too quickly.

Who is the more experienced of the two?

With mortal sex it sort of balances out -- Arturo was apparently a canonical playboy when he was alive, but obviously that stopped forty years ago so that evens out there. With Olivia, she’s slept with a few people but got too wrapped up in work towards the end of her life to have a sex life.

Plus, Vampire Sex Is Different, as I’ve said a million times already, so... they’re not blushing virgins but neither of them are at a level where you can say either of them is more experienced than the other. Sure, Arturo has Panhard drinking from him too, but in my headcanon her drinking from his wrist is not sexual even by vampire standards. Olivia was the first he let bite from his neck.

Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’?

I think there’s far more emotion in it than Arturo is ever willing to admit.

How long do they usually last?

As long as Olivia can draw it out without diablerising him, lmao. He does get into the habit of keeping himself topped up for her when it gets sexual though.

In human-sex terms, well... vampires have way more stamina than humans. But again, not as satisfying, so they tend to leave that for when Arturo’s low on vitae or when he has a few hours free (which isn’t often).

Rough or soft?

Soft. Unless Arturo’s been to visit Panhard or Adelaide. Olivia gets bitey when she’s jealous and Arturo finds it endearing.

Is protection used?

Really?

Does it ever get boring?

By mortal standards, certainly. But drinking/being drunk from by a vampire feels so good that for them, no, it never gets boring.

Where is the strangest place they’d have sex?

Anywhere the ghouls are working. Olivia dies inside a little once the post-nut clarity kicks in. The ghouls just GTFO and don’t make eye contact for a while.

Arturo doesn’t think of them as people...

FAMILY.

Do they plan on having children/or have children?

Jesus fucking Christ my blood ran cold just READING this question. Nope nope npoe NOPE. Even if they could have children, NOOOOOOO. GOD, NO. NOOOOO. NOPE. NOPE NOPE NOPE

As for childer? Vampires are single parents by nature, so they’re not raising any together. If anything, Arturo is seriously considering adopting Olivia as his childe by the time she GTFO’s.

(For non-VTM fans: I swear that is not as fucked up as it looks. “Childe” = vampire who hasn’t been a vampire for long. It’s a mentor/mentee relationship, not a parent/child relationship, despite the terminology. Vampires seem to be way more likely to have romantic/sexual entanglements with sires/childer than anyone else because of the power imbalance and how fucking dangerous it is to get involved with a vampire on your level. Why yes creatures who drink blood from humans are fucked up, what tipped you off?)

If so, how many children do they want/have?

I’m charging you for my therapy bills.

AFFECTION.

Who likes to cuddle?

Goes without saying that the blood bond makes Olivia a cuddle slut, but Arturo enjoys it way more than he is willing to admit.

Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places?

Arturoooo. Those poor fucking ghouls.

Who struggles to keep their hands to themselves?

Arturo.

How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable?

They’re vampires.

What is their favourite non-sexual activity?

Arturo is a slut for headscritches.

Where is their favourite place to cuddle?

The sofas near the windows overlooking New York.

SLEEPING.

Who snores?

They’re vamps, they literally sleep like they’re dead. VTM vampires are easily mistaken for corpses unless you know what to look for, such as the fact they don’t stink and that insects and scavengers aren’t helping themselves.

My headcanon is that younger and higher humanity vampires sleep more akin to something like humans, and so younger vampires like Olivia might sometimes wake during the day (altho quickly pass out again), move in their sleep, or dream, or accidentally use blush of life. Closest she comes to snoring is by accidentally using blush of life in her sleep and therefore breathing.

If both do, who snores the loudest?

N/A

Do they share a bed or sleep separately?

Sleep separately, up until the first attempt to bust Olivia out, at which point Arturo gets clingy and insists she sleeps next to him in his bed. It’s not like he’d wake up if any ghouls showed up to liberate her, but it makes him feel better.

If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart?

Cozy up.

What do they wear to bed?

Olivia is still in the habit of wearing PJs, but Arturo just wears whatever he was wearing that day.

Are either of them insomniacs?

No, it’s extremely difficult for vampires to stay awake when the sun comes up.

Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside?

Nope, they wouldn’t work.

Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side?

Depends on how clingy Arturo’s feeling that night.

Who wakes up with bed hair?

Both of them.

Who wakes up first?

They both wake up around the same time.

Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other?

Arturo will fucking murder any ghouls that bleed all over his bed, so neither.

What is their favourite sleeping position?

Arturo likes to cling to Olivia after the first liberation attempt.

Do they set an alarm each night?

No need.

Who has nightmares?

Olivia, due to her young age, is able to dream from time to time and therefore gets nightmares. After Arturo, she gets way more -- although that’s not because of any trauma from the Arturo incident (although she’s definitely spooked by it, the blood bond actually protected her from the trauma it would cause because of the nature of how trauma forms), but more because of the idea of oh god what if someone WORSE than him puts me under a blood bond?!

Can a television be found in their bedroom?

Arturo. Despises. Modern. Television.

Who has ridiculous dreams?

Olivia is the only one out of the two of them that dreams. For Arturo, being older and with lower humanity, it’s more akin to being put under anaesthesia.

Her dreams aren’t that ridiculous, though.

Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed?

Olivia doesn’t sprawl, but she does move in her sleep so I suppose she’s closest.

Who makes the bed?

The ghouls.

What time is bed time?

Up to half an hour before dawn, depending on their mood and if they feel like just curling up and talking before they black out.

Any routines/rituals before bed?

Not really. Arturo likes to go over his schedule, have a sip from a ghoul, but that’s about it.

Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up?

Arturo, if he’s dreading something that night.

WORK.

Who is the busiest?

Fucking Arturo is always running around feeding his one million ghouls and three blood bonded pets, and feeding himself to keep them under his control, and that’s not counting when he’s getting up to schemes or schmoozing in Elysium. Dude is pretty much out of the penthouse from dusk to dawn most of the week and when he’s at home actually working he’s shut up in his study.

Olivia? Bored out of her fucking mind at home binging on Netflix or books. After working 70+ hours a week when she was alive she is not used to having this much free time.

Who rakes in the highest income?

Arturo, obviously. Famous architect with a shitton of shady “associates”.

Are any of them unemployed?

Olivia.

Who takes the most sick days?

They don’t do sick days.

What are their jobs?

Arturo’s a Harpy, if that counts as a job (think vampire socialite), and also an architect.

Who sucks up to their boss?

Arturo is the boss, even if he pretends not to be at Elysium.

Olivia had to do a lot of sucking up in life. She does not miss that bit.

Who is more likely to turn up late to work?

Arturo. He does what the fuck he wants.

Who stresses the most?

Believe it or not, Arturo. He’s got a lot of balls in the air and works hard to keep himself from dropping them. After Hope’s failed attempt at getting Olivia out, he gets even more stressed out.

Do they enjoy or despise their careers/occupations?

Olivia does not miss her job but also doesn’t know who she is without it, now.

Arturo enjoys his job. He’s always enjoyed it, but after being Embraced he became completely obsessed with it.

Are they financially stable?

Yep. Famous architect who designs for both kindred and kine elites? Yeah.

HOME.

Who does the washing?

The ghouls.

Who takes out the trash?

Ghouls

Who does the ironing?

Ghouuuuls.

Who does the cooking?

Nobody, they just munch on a ghoul.

Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying?

I’m not shitting you when I say that Lucas, one of the ghouls, is most likely to try and sneakily cook something on Arturo’s never-used stovetop when he’s out and accidentally fuck it up in the process.

Who is messier?

Arturo, but that’s not saying much. He tends to pick up after himself if he doesn’t have to go out of his way to do it, and there’s ghouls to do the rest.

Who leaves the toilet roll empty?

My headcanon is that vampires do, in fact, pee because they need to get rid of metabolic waste somehow. So that’d be Olivia.

Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor?

Arturo, if it doesn’t upset the aesthetic of the room too much (fucking Toreadors). Olivia did start leaving her stuff around for the ghouls but it stressed out Arturo so she stopped.

Who forgets to flush the toilet?

Neither of them.

Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere?

Arturo usually takes the subway, but if the ghouls are driving him somewhere it’s definitely Lucas who fucks up the most.

Who answers the telephone?

They don’t have a landline. Olivia doesn’t have a phone.

Who mows the lawn?

They have a penthouse.

Who does the vacuuming?

The ghouls, usually Alex.

Who does the groceries?

Nobody, although the ghouls sometimes stash stuff in the fridge Arturo keeps for the aesthetic. It doesn’t bother him as long as they keep their shit put away.

Who takes the longest to shower?

Olivia likes to shower almost every day out of habit and because the warmth is soothing.

Who spends the most time in the bathroom?

Arturo. This is the guy who wears glasses he doesn’t need because he likes the aesthetic. No way in hell he isn’t in there for ages preening himself.

MISCELLANEOUS.

Is money a problem?

Not at all.

How many cars do they own?

Arturo almost certainly has something fancy and hipstery that he barely uses.

What’s their song?

LMFAO sorry this question made me laugh my ass off because a PERFECT song appeared in my head immediately:

“Every Breath You Take” by the Police

but unironically, and with total awareness of the actual fucking meaning of the song.

Specifically, the cover in minor key. The really creepy one by Chase Holfeder.

(There is a reason, other than the blood bond, that Olivia hangs the fuck tight and waits for Qadir to get her out instead of making a break for it herself. And there’s a reason why she bolts to the other side of the country when the blood bond wears off. She ain’t taking any chances.)

Do they live in the city or in the country?

New York City, baby.

Do they own their home or do they rent?

Own it. It used to belong to Charlotte, Arturo’s sire. He got it when she carked it.

Do they enjoy their surroundings?

Arturo’s a Toreador so I see him as having a love/hate relationship with his surroundings depending on what they are at the moment.

As for Olivia, it’s fancier than she’s used to but mostly the cabin fever drives her crazy from time to time.

What do they do when they’re away from each other?

Arturo gets up to all kinds of shit -- Elysium schmoozing, bossing ghouls around, doing architecture/engineering work, researching, making deals with Kaiser, feeding Adelaide and Panhard...

Olivia? Mostly Netflix binging, hanging out with the ghouls, and wishing she could go out for a fucking walk or something.

Where did they first meet?

At Elysium. Arturo was one of the people she talked to that night. She said his glasses looked good on him when he was bitching about them. He said “you bet they do.”

Who spends the most money when out shopping?

Arturo tends to make less purchases but moves more money when he does.

Who’s more likely to flash their assets?

Neither of them, dear god.

Any mental issues?

what do you think

Arturo: I would be here all day.

Olivia: she actually winds up less traumatised than she thought she would once the blood bond wore off. The blood bond actually protected her in that way -- trauma needs fear to take root, even if it’s fear after the fact. So while she was very nervous in the first few months of captivity, once she realised Arturo wasn’t going to hurt her or anything she settled right down and isn’t scarred by that. She is scared that she’ll have to look over her shoulder for the rest of her life, she is scared he’ll try to take her back, but she’s not scared of him, if that makes sense?

But the whole “wow, anyone could do this to me and they could be a lot worse than he ended up being”? Yeah, that fucking terrifies her, so she does end up with a lot of trauma around that afterwards. Yeah, she was a captive for a while, but... she ended up very, very lucky in who her captor was, and she knows it. Arturo didn’t go out of his way to be nice to her, but he wasn’t a complete asshole either. Worse he did (dubcon, captivity and blood bond aside) was snap at her every now and then and be self-absorbed.

She actually finds it pretty hard to deal with life after captivity because... well. There’s a lot worse than Arturo out there. She’s an orphan. Kindred are pretty fucking horrible and she doesn’t have Arturo protecting her any more.

Sometimes the gilded cage was way easier to deal with. Sometimes she really, really misses not having to fight for her survival. Sometimes she wants to go back. She often wants to go back.

So yeah -- there is some trauma there, just... not the trauma she expected to end up dealing with. She expected to feel violated and to hate the guy. She doesn’t. She didn’t expect to feel lost, scared and exposed without him. She does.

Who finds it amusing when the other trips over?

Olivia, not that she’d ever show it. Sometimes it’s just satisfying to watch the puppet master deal with tiny little wrenches in the works like that.

Who’s terrified of bugs?

Olivia hates them.

Who kills the spiders around the house?

Arturo rolls his eyes and gets a ghoul to do it.

Do they have any fears for their future?

Arturo, once he realised how attached he got to Olivia, was terrified of losing her.

Their favourite place?

They both like the couches in the haven that sit next to the huge windows that overlook the city.

Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner?

Every now and then a ghoul gets some really good vitae as a treat for Olivia.

(So yeah, neither.)

Who pays the bills?

Arturo.

Who’s the tallest?

Arturo.

Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other?

Neither.

Who wanders around in their underwear?

Neither.

Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio?

Olivia sings under her breath when it’s just the ghouls around, but not loudly, and never in front of Arturo.

What do they tease each other about?

Ooof, Arturo likes to rub salt in the wound by calling her his little pet, but ofc blood bonded Olivia doesn’t feel hurt by that. It’s not until post-New York that she’s like “DUDE WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT???”

Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times?

Arturo, naturally. I think it’s physically impossible for a Toreador not to cringe at someone’s clothing every now and then.

Who crushed first?

... Both? Sorta.

Olivia naturally had the blood bond, but Arturo was the first that actually caught genuine feelings.

Olivia did have some genuine fond feelings even after the blood bond wore off, but not enough that she let that stop her from GTFOing to LA.

Any alcohol or substance-related problems?

You mean, aside from Olivia’s literal addiction to Arturo’s blood? The one that compels her to have strong feelings for him to the point that even though she’s captive and could walk out the door at any time, she doesn’t?

Yeah, I’d say that’s a substance problem.

Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am?

Arturo, if he was desperate enough to feed on a drunk, but even then -- blood has a very low alcohol content compared to actual alcohol, and while I HC that vampires are sensitive enough to alcohol that they can get a buzz from drinking from someone drunk enough... it’s just a buzz.

Who swears the most?

Arturo.

#tumblr games #Olivia Martin #Thomas Arturo #I'm like the ONLY person in the Arturo tag lmao sorry #VTM

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malkumtend · 4 years

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I Like Your Laugh. (A CrowSquirrel AU Fanfic) - Chapter 6.

The last three days, for Squirrelpaw, had been… mixed to say the least.

On the one hand, they hadn’t encountered anything dangerous since the incident in the twoleg gardens. Most of the time they were just passing by farmland, crossing past sheep which she had tediously begun to count. Seventy-eight so far. Nothing bad had occurred, it had past like a morning breeze. The cats had even begun to get the hang of getting through the murkiest ditches without a problem.

Plus, she could safely say now that she considered two of the cats’ good friends. She had always gotten on well with Feathertail, the cat was just so friendly that it was impossible to not to, she was so pleasant all the time! But Crowpaw, that was something else. They rarely fought anymore, not really anyway. He was still moody occasionally, and still seemed hesitant to give any friendliness to the other three cats, but that was something Squirrelpaw suspected he would come over eventually.

For Starclan’s sake, he had admitted his past with his father and how much it upset him with her, the cat he would have gladly torn limb from limb in the beginning, there must be a time when he showed how nice he could be to the others.

Even the other cats were fine. Tawnypelt was friendly enough, though Squirrelpaw would admit the two rarely spoke that much, but when they did it was always good natured so there was no problem between the two.

Stormfur was definitely a cat she spoke to more, and while he certainly always spoke kindly, there was always something off whenever he talked to her. Like he was uncomfortable whenever he saw her, his breathing would quicken, and his fur would prickle as if disturbed. It always caught Squirrelpaw off guard and leave her wondering what exactly she had done to make the cat fly off like a startled sparrow.

She’d asked Feathertail about it once. The warrior had just grinned and told her it was nothing to worry about. Apparently, Stormfur did like her though, so Squirrelpaw just learnt to accept it as the quirks of a weird cat.

But then there was Brambleclaw. And despite being Squirrelpaw’s clanmate, the she-cat could safely say things had been awful since she had refused to sleep by him that night. It had seemed to have really insulted Brambleclaw to some degree, he now made a point to ignore Squirrelpaw whenever he could, and whenever they did speak his voice was clear with poison and distrust.

It hadn’t affected Squirrelpaw at first, but soon it began to wear on her a little. She wanted the two of them to be friends like they were before the journey, but it looked like Brambleclaw didn’t want that unless she took herself away from the friends she had made, and she wouldn’t, couldn’t, do that. So Bramblelclaw continued to treat her like an unhappy acquaintance.

And from the way he was glaring at her while she squirmed under the fence, it wasn’t looking much better.

Oh yeah, Squirrelpaw was stuck under a fence.

They’d had to go around the edge of a field where a twoleg monster roamed, chugging yellow fragments into the air with a rumbling grow. It had been easy enough, but when they’d come to a fence made of a cold, silver material that the group had been able to crawl under.

At least until the fence had decided to unwind when Squirrelpaw was halfway through, its pointed ends clawing into her skin painfully if she even dared to move a little.

“Get me out!” She squeaked. Her cheeks burned with humiliation as the other five cats stared at her. Feathertail and Crowpaw stood at one side, examining the wires closely. Stormfur and Tawnypelt were at the other side, looking over a wooden post that was embedded with the wires. Brambleclaw had just come back up, obviously wanting to get on as soon as he could, and now stared down at Squirrelpaw with a frustrated air around him.

The ginger apprentice glared back up at him, “Don’t just sit there and gawk, mouse-brain!” The wires digged into her fur again and she let out another whimper.

Brambleclaw growled, “Keep still.” He looked over the wires with Feathertail and Crowpaw, letting out a tired hiss. “It’s tight.”

“Oh really?” Crowpaw meowed with a frown, “Thanks for letting us know. I’m sure we couldn’t realise that.” Squrrelpaw saw Brambleclaw’s jaw tighten.

“Crowpaw!” Feathertail snapped before the two inevitably began arguing again, “This is not the time for that!” She continued to look over the wires hopelessly.

The Windclan apprentice remained scowling for a moment, then he looked back down at Squirrelpaw and softened. “You’re right.” He sighed, “Sorry.” He looked closer at the wires digging into Squirrelpaw’s fur. The Thunderclan apprentice felt another warm flush as Crowpaw came right next to her, he smelt like orchids and fresh rain. A strange calming sensation passed through her as she felt his fur brush against hers, before he drew back with a worried sigh.

“We won’t be able to bite through it.” He pondered, “We could bite through your fur and that could free you.”

The calm feeling faded as Squirrelpaw recoiled like she had been struck. “Don’t you dare!” Squirrelpaw snarled, “Try to bite my fur and I’ll blind you!” She would sooner spend the night under the fence than go the whole journey with furless patches all over her.

However, whatever anger Squirrelpaw had felt momentarily left her when she saw Crowpaw wince. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. We’ll find another way.” The ginger apprentice felt a sting of guilt, she was so used to assuming that Crowpaw was still trying to upset her she hadn’t considered he was truly trying to help. She made a promise to apologise to him later.

“Are you sure we can’t bite through it?” Stormfur questioned, his ears up in worry.

Crowpaw frowned, “You want to try it? Go ahead, it’s a waste of time though.” Stormfur still tried chewing on the wires however and came back with a ruffled look of defeat. “Told you.”

“What if we dig up the post?” Brambleclaw offered, “It’s deep in but if we all work together it-” The cats all paused as they heard a sharp sound in the distance. Barking. Followed by the rustling hooves of sheep. Coming towards them.

Squirrelpaw’s stomach curled and she began to visibly struggle again, her heart racing with terror. “Get me out of here! Quickly!” The wires raked across her like foxes’ teeth, but she couldn’t stop moving, she was too terrified.

Brambleclaw growled again, but his eyes were also wide with panic. “Stop moving and we can think of something!” He ordered, pacing back and forth.

“What do we do?” Stormfur exclaimed, ears twitching as the barking of the dog began to slowly grow louder.

Squirrelpaw continued to struggle, her paws desperately clawing the dirt in any vague hopes of escape, her breaths subsided into constant horrified gasps. “Hurry!” She yowled.

“Shush!” Brambleclaw roared at the cat, “If you keep struggling, you’ll just make it harder for us to help!” His gaze roared like a forest fire. Squirrelpaw couldn’t help but let a few tears prick the corners of her eyes, the terror and helplessness of her situation as well as Brambleclaw’s ferocity and blaming were becoming too much for the poor cat.

Once again, it was her who was causing trouble. Her who couldn’t help but get stuck, halt the journey, and now put them all at risk of a dog. She cursed the fence. She cursed herself.

Then a black paw sprang in front of her, an equally furious face sizing up the Thunderclan warrior. Everyone turned to look when Crowpaw hissed at Brambleclaw, his ears folded back, his pelt bristling with savage outrage. Squirrelpaw could swear that even when Crowpaw had been arguing with her, every minute in the beginning, she had never seen Crowpaw look so angry.

“Leave her alone!” He snarled, inches from Brambleclaw’s face. He stretched his entire body to face the warrior properly, practically balancing himself on his tail. “She’s scared enough as it is! She doesn’t need your fox-brained chatter!”

Squirrelpaw felt like interjecting at the comment that she was scared, but she was too taken aback by Crowpaw’s actions. Once again, he was defending her.

Brambleclaw looked surprised, then furious. He tensed so much that the muscles in his neck began to throb as he let out a low growl. He pushed his nose against the apprentice in a challenge. “It’s not my fault she’s stuck, is it?! I’m just trying to get her out of there as quickly as possible! And we can’t do that if she’s writhing around like a fish out of water!”

“If you care so much,” Crowpaw snarled, pushing back, his eyes as wild as a storm, “Stop insulting her and get to actually helping your clanmate, mouse-brain!”

“That’s what I want to do! But I can’t because some half-grown apprentice is growling at me!”

Squirrelpaw’s panic subsided to anger as she heard that obscenely unfair comment. Not to mention that she was smaller than Crowpaw, so that was an indirect insult to her as well as far as she was concerned.

“Yeah, because screaming at already distressed cats really makes for good help.” Crowpaw yowled bitterly, his claws unsheathed.

Brambleclaw didn’t look ready for any kind of fight, right now, as his ears pricked at the barking of the dog, but he still wasn’t going to let up. “By the way I see it, you’re the one wanting to start a fight. As usual.” He finished, leering.

Now Squirrelpaw was feeling genuinely furious at how unfair Brambleclaw’s comments were. The cat just seemed determined to try and make her feel small, and now he was taking it out on cats who tried to defend her. Crowpaw hadn’t tried to start anything for days, any cat in the group would stand by that, this was the first time he had stepped up to anyone since the start. And the only reason he was doing it was…for her.

Any thoughts going through her mind misted away when Feathertail and Tawnypelt crouched beside her. “Would you two stop that?” Tawnypelt snapped, glaring at the two. “Toms.” She grumbled.

“Tell me about it?” Feathertail snickered. Squirrelpaw noticed a few dock leaves at her paws, Feathertail took one into her mouth and began chewing it before spitting its green fluid onto her paws. “But please Squirrelpaw, try not to move okay?” The she-cat said gently.

Despite the quivering of her heart, Squirrelpaw obeyed, mustering deep breaths in an effort to calm herself. Feathertail quickly rubbed the chewed-up leaves around the fence strands that clipped onto Squirrelpaw’s fur, the wetness made Squirrelpaw shiver a little, but she kept calm. Better this than the dog.

She waited until Feathertail had smoothly rubbed it into her fur. “Okay,” Tawnypelt mused, “Now try to pull yourself out.”

Squirrelpaw tried frantically, her claws digging and scrambling to get away from the danger, but the wire was tight and painful, scratching her the more she tried. The apprentice whimpered, her eyes brimming as she looked to the mollies pleadingly. “I can’t! It’s too tight!”

“Breathe in. It’s working.” Tawnypelt exclaimed, “Just a little more.”

Squirrelpaw shook her head, her mind had gone blank and no matter how hard she tried, her muscles wouldn’t go against her nerves. A nameless pressure clenched in her throat, constricting her breath and movement, every muscle stiff with fright; her eyes closed as the impending horror grew closer and closer, closing out the directions of her friends. “I-I can’t do it!”

“Yes, you can.” Even through the hungry darkness, his voice was unmissable. As small and bright as a star. A gentle breeze carrying her across the hills. Squirrelpaw felt her eyes open, and his face was there. His lips were tightly held together, but the only thing the she-cat could focus on was the assurance in his gaze. “Try again, just another push.” He said, comfortingly sure of himself. Everything just seemed natural when he said it.

Always so confident.

Now so warm.

“Hurry!” Brambleclaw yowled, his voice clear with tension.

Squirrelpaw almost didn’t hear him. Crowpaw braced himself to flee, but the paw he let fall on her shoulder made it clear that he wouldn’t leave her until she was free. Feathertail did the same on her other shoulder. She wasn’t alone. The fear loosened its talons from Squirrelpaw’s pelt, a sudden urge, a belief, rising all over the ginger cat. Squirrelpaw relaxed, shifting all of her strength into her paws. Her hind legs kicked and her front paws pulled with a burst of desire, she ignored the sting of the wire against her back and writhed with the passion to live.

Even as she felt her fur pull from her skin, she continued to push, and within a sudden moment, she saw herself beside her friends. Running. Free. The barking lingered away with every leap, fading away as if it had never existed.

The cats stopped once they had reached the next field, panting and laughing between themselves. Squirrelpaw looked over her hide and sighed with relief. The fence hadn’t taken a large amount of her fur at least. Thank Starclan she was so fluffy! She let out a puff towards the sky. “That was close.”

“Too close.” Stormfur agreed, smoothing down his bristled fur. “Are you okay?”

Squirrelpaw licked around the rustled patch on her back, “I’ll be fine, it’s just a few lost hairs. They’ll grow back.” She began to clean away the dock smudged around her fur. “Yuck!” She cringed at the bitter taste.

“Here let me help you.” Feathertail offered, she smoothed her tongue on the areas that Squirrelpaw couldn’t reach.

The Thunderclan cat smiled thankfully, “Thanks.” She looked appreciatively towards Tawnypelt, blinking slowly. “Thank you both, so much! That was an amazing plan!” The Shadowclan warrior said nothing but she returned the apprentice’s smile, nodding to the cat.

“You’re welcome.”

Feathertail spat away a wad of dock, “There’s no need to thank us, Squirrelpaw. We know you’d have done the same for us.” Tawnypelt nodded gain at the Riverclan warrior’s words and Squirrelpaw felt another touched warmth fill her chest. They really trusted her that much. Even when she had been shaking that much under the fence, scared out of her wits, they still believed she would remain brave for them if they were in that position.

And of course, she would. They were her friends after all. But it didn’t stop Squirrelpaw from embracing the fact that these warriors that she respected so much thought so well of an apprentice – not to mention, an apprentice from another clan.

But in a pattern that was becoming frustratingly regular, any pride she had was shut down when she heard his contemptuous voice.

“As if she could have even thought of it.”

Every cat froze at that. All looked towards the warrior, looking away dismissively while licking his paw. Even Stormfur and Tawnypelt, cats that normally got on well with the warrior, looked shocked at the deliberate cruelty in his words.

“What do you mean by that?” Stormfur demanded, the normally calm warrior tensing with an angry glare.

Brambleclaw shrugged, snorting. “What? She didn’t help herself, after all, shaking like a leaf.” He darted a small glare in his clanmate’s direction.

Squirrelpaw didn’t flinch. Her eyes were wide, but there was no kind of fear anymore. Instead a dark pulse was vibrating through her little body, making her pupils shrink when she saw the warrior look away from her with a sniff. Her ears flattened against her skull and her tail thumped wildly.

Tawnypelt glowered at her brother, “And you helped? Shouting and clawing?!”

The brown warrior may have winced, but it was masked behind a snarl. “Again, I tried to! But she wasn’t listening to me!”

“Because she was frightened you fox-heart!” Everyone couldn’t help but flinch when it was Feathertail’s angry hiss. Stormfur visibly jolted back in open terror. The gentle she-cat’s fur was on edge and her muzzle was creased in fury. “Why are you being so unfair? It was a dog! Any one of us would be terrified, and we all were!”

Brambleclaw paused, stunned at the tone of the Riverclan cat. His tail swung wearily for a moment, then he returned with a brisk cough and a frown. “It’s not a question of how brave she is.”

“Then what is it?”

A low growl rumbled in Brambleclaw, “We would have gotten away sooner if she had just listened and kept calm! That didn’t need to be as close as it was!”

“Does it matter? She got out didn’t she!” Stormfur yowled.

Brambleclaw scoffed, “Yeah, after making it as difficult as she could.”

Squirrelpaw bristled with disgust. So, once again he was blaming her. Once more, she was the one that Brambleclaw chose to blame for another one of the group’s problems.

She’d never realised how stupid he sounded before now.

He said he was trying to help her.

How?

By insulting her whenever he had the chance?

By trying to make out she was the problem that cursed the group?

By doing whatever he could to make her feel small and keep her under his paws like a piece of prey?

He said he was her clanmate. Squirrelpaw was less proud of that every time he opened his mouth, and it was all down to him!

Squirrelpaw cursed all the times she had gotten upset over the tom, all the times she had actually believed his words! What a waste of time! Throughout the journey, there had only been one thing that was wrong with her. And it certainly wasn’t her fault!

Squirrelpaw burned with anger, her claws twisted into the dirt and her tail rose tensely. That was it! No more losing sleep over what this bee-brain thought of her! If he thought that she would just take his stupidity any longer he was as crazy as a hare!

He wanted to cause fights; she was going to finish them!

“Oh, pardon me!” Squirrelpaw exclaimed with a mocking respect. “Where are my manners? I forgot just how much you tried to help, Brambleclaw. Your idea of telling me to be quiet and keep still really helped, that would have been certain to get me away from the dog.”

Brambleclaw’s jaw dropped at the sudden shift in the cat’s tone. His stare became fiery. “I was trying to keep you calm.”

“Oh yes, yelling at the top of your lungs really has that effect.”

Brambleclaw sneered, “Okay, what did you do? Writhe and whimper like a kittypet.”

“To reiterate,” Squirrelpaw snapped, cocking her head to the side, “I was trapped under a fence! If you think you’d be any different, why don’t you go show that dog how strong you are? You can move after all!”

Brambleclaw winced at the barking that echoed from the previous field. He frowned at Tawnypelt when he heard her snicker. Squirrelpaw smirked, he was embarrassed, and he knew everyone could tell he was.

“Stop talking such fox-dung!” Brambleclaw snarled, “You’re the one who got stuck, not me, that’s your own fault.” That was a cheap insult, and Squirrelpaw didn’t care a mouse-tail about it. Yeah, she’d gotten stuck, but she wasn’t the one who’d made the situation so much worse for herself.

“And you’re the cat who’s saying it’s foolish to be scared of a dog. That’s your fault.”

When she said that, Brambleclaw seemed to realise how badly he’d cornered himself. His tail lashed from side to side, his mouth twisted back in a grimace. “That wasn’t what I… I meant that…” He tried to find a solution but the coldness in his gaze made it clear that he had dug a hole that was threatening to swallow him up, and he had no way out of it.

“You meant what?” Squirrelpaw pressed.

“I-” Brambleclaw paused, then he looked to the side again with a heavy groan. “Oh, whatever! I don’t need to explain myself to you! You’re an apprentice!” He snapped, giving her a poisonous glance before he turned from her again.

Squirrelpaw practically smelt that coming. It was his only defence, no matter how ridiculous it was. She saw the cats around her draw back in either astonishment or disgust. They were on her side. That was all she needed to know.

“Yes, I am. And I’ve still spoken more sense than you’ve ever done!”

Brambleclaw recoiled, his eyes blazing with an unspeakable, offended ire. His jaws unclenched letting out a vicious hiss that slithered from the back of his throat, spit fizzing furiously as he did so. “Listen here you little- I am a Warrior and-”

“And I’ll treat you like one when you start acting like one!” Squirrelpaw delivered, unscathed, unbreakable. Her lips pouted and she let out a disgusted groan. “Wipe your mouth, would you? You’re drooling worse than that dog.”

A mrrow of laughter filled the air. High, throaty and passionate. Every cat paused, recognised the voice, paused again, took a moment to process the idea, the dared to look as Crowpaw chortled, his head rocked back as he erupted towards the sky. Now, every cat was astonished.

Crowpaw…knew how to laugh?!

It was a terrifying, miraculous thought!

But there he was, black fur and all, howling with laughter, doubled over in hysterics, as if he had seen the most hilarious thing in the forest.

Squirrelpaw looked on, dumbfounded. There were a lot of things she never expected Crowpaw to do.

Praising her had been a shock.

Smiling had been a miracle.

Laughing..?

Squirrelpaw was ready to see dogs start raining from the sky.

It sounded so strange, so happy. So real. The tom seemed to calm down, a cool smile gracing his lips as he wiped his eyes with the tip of his tail.

Brambleclaw was now visibly shaking, his whiskers twitching as his eyes tried to burn holes into Crowpaw’s fur. “What are you laughing at?”

Crowpaw let out a blissful sigh, looking mildly at the Warrior. “Not what. Who. And you’re still drooling, by the way.”

Brambleclaw’s eyes widened and he wiped a paw across his mouth, turning away from the pair shamefully. The rest of the group couldn’t help but let out a hushed laughter, after hearing Crowpaw laugh, none were quite ready to accept the sound was actually real.

The brown Warrior turned back after cleaning his face and looked ready to disappear. “C-Come on! We’ve wasted enough time already!” Squirrelpaw groaned, he was trying to be leader again.

She felt a gentle press against her pelt, she looked to see Feathertail shaking her head with a smile. “Don’t worry about him, you’ve embarrassed him enough.” She chuckled.

Squirrelpaw snickered, her tail rising. “If he wants to be humiliated again, he’s welcome to speak.” She was never going to let him have the final word again. She’d shown him that. If he was smart, he’d keep his distance for a while.

“If he does that, he’s more stupid than any of us thought!” Crowpaw walked beside Feathertail, his head cocked up with delight that the Warrior had been given a taste of his own herbs. His eyes found Squirrelpaw and he nodded at her, almost proudly. “Good job giving that mange-pelt what he deserves.”

Squirrelpaw grinned back at the tom, “Thanks.” She suddenly remembered, “Oh, and thanks you two, for sticking by me under the fence.” Her voice softened with respect.

“Oh, Squirrelpaw. I already said there was no need to thank me!” Feathertail declared, her tail smoothing over Squirrelpaw’s pelt. “You’re our friend, we would never leave you.”

“We wouldn’t leave you regardless.” Crowpaw said, his tone snappy but sincere, “We’re in this together. Even if it was that bee-brained warrior, we wouldn’t leave him behind.” Crowpaw’s tail lashed towards the still fuming Brambleclaw.

“Exactly, we’re here until we make it there.” Feathertail looked up, bringing Squirrelpaw and Crowpaw’s gazes with her. The Sun-Down place blinked over the horizon, glistening and beckoning the group on their journey. The journey they shared. Until the very end.

Squirrelpaw was glad she was among friends.

“Well, we’ll get there soon enough.” Crowpaw stated, as confident as ever.

Feathertail smirked as she looked over to Crowpaw, “Honestly after hearing you laugh, I will never doubt anything ever again.”

Crowpaw eyes went wide, then he looked away in mild embarrassment. “I’m a cat, you know, I can do whatever you two can.”

The two sniggered at his attempts to hide away his action, but Squirrelpaw would never forget it. She was sure of that much. She mused for a second. A cordial charge made her smile at the tom.

“I like your laugh.”

Crowpaw didn’t say anything, he blinked, looking ahead as if he hadn’t heard her. His gaze faltered, travelling from side to side before resting on the ginger cat, trying his hardest not to be ruffled. “Well, I hope you’ve got a good memory, Squirrelbrain. I won’t be doing it again any time soon.”

Squirrelpaw craned her head towards him playfully, “Is that a challenge?”

Crowpaw’s eyes widened incredulously, then he sighed with a small laugh. “You’re crazier than a fox in a fit.”

Feathertail nudged Squirrelpaw, beaming. “I’d take that as a yes.” She whispered playfully.

Squirrelpaw’s eyes narrowed and she leaned towards Crowpaw, “Even if it isn’t, I’ll get it out of him, wait and see.” The black tom rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth were up and that edged Squirrelpaw on.

Because in a place she couldn’t display to anyone, she did cherish the sound of Crowpaw’s laugh. Another impossible act she had gotten him to achieve.

She would get him to laugh again.

Her heart couldn’t wait to hear it again.

#crowpaw #crowfeather #squirrelflight #squirrelpaw #crowsquirrel #squirrelcrow #Warrior Cats #Warriors #New Prophecy #fanfiction #warrior au #warriors au #brambleclaw #Stormfur #tawnypelt #Feathertail

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fandom-necromancer · 4 years

Text

1302. I thought we were friends.

This was prompted by an amazing anon! Don’t worry, it sounds like an AU at first but it isn’t! Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900

‘Yeah, yeah, of course you got the smug face right!’, Gavin laughed, sitting legs crossed on Elijah’s desk. The boy stood proudly next to the android, who consisted mostly of skeletal metal. Only the face and hands were moulded with plastic, as they were working on the gestures at the moment. The walk and run cycle had been finished by now, as well as a rudimentary software for analysing situations, emotions and reacting to them. The most recent one had been learning, but Elijah had restricted that to simple tasks for now. At Gavin’s comment, he frowned and scratched his stubble he had grown ever since it didn’t look like total shit. Gavin never stopped to tease him about it. ‘Oh, come on, I worked hours on that, Gav!’ ‘Yeah, I know! And it looks really good. But it’s so you to get the smug expression right and fail with a smile.’ ‘Okay, fine, point taken.’ ‘Maybe if you didn’t pull all-nighters all the time, you would actually smile and practise it yourselves!’ ‘Ugh, Gavin, if you build an android I’m sure he could curse like a sailor and all he could do is complain.’ ‘Yeah, maybe. You gonna drive me to school or no?’ ‘Of course. Gat your things, I’ll just send him to sleep real quick.’ Gavin nodded and ran upstairs to gather his things. Five minutes later they were in the car. ‘Promise me, you get some sleep yourselves, Eli?’, he asked. His brother laughed. ‘Other than a Reed, a Kamski never sleeps.’ ‘It would do you some good, though. You are no robot. Besides, I want to be there when you continue working on him.’ ‘Fine, I’ll try to get some sleep too. You know it’s a bit more difficult for me to enter stasis than it is for RA900, right?’ ‘Just try, a few hours are better than nothing.’ ‘Hey, you already had me at I’ll try!’, Elijah laughed, ruffling his hair. ‘But only if you try to talk to at least one person! Ask for a pen or something, I don’t know.’ Gavin deflated. ‘I knew there was a hidden cost. Okay, you sleep more than three hours, I’ll talk to someone. Deal.’ ‘Good’, Elijah nodded, squeezing his brother’s arm. I’ll be home waiting for you and then we can work on him together! Have a nice day.’

As Gavin sat in the bus to drive home again, he was excited. He hoped Elijah had kept his promise, because he had talked to someone and it was awkward as hell, but at least didn’t end in a fight. It was a win for him and he could finally focus on what he hadn’t stopped thinking about all day: Their android project. ‘Hi Gavin, your meal is in the fridge! You’ll just need to reheat it and you’re good to go!’, his mom called from the living room. The boy left his bag at the door and went to the kitchen. ‘I’ll go eat with Elijah, okay?’, he screamed back, knowing they normally wanted him to eat with them. ‘Oh, your brother isn’t home at the moment’, his mother told him, having come to the kitchen too. ‘Amanda visited and wanted to show him something at the lab. I’m sure he’ll be back in the evening. Why don’t you come sit with us?’ Gavin was deeply disappointed but didn’t want to show too much. He loved his mother and it would make her sad to see him like that. ‘Oh, yeah sure, I’m coming.’

After he had finished eating, he went down to the cellar to do his homework and wait for Eli. He had promised to wait for him. Gavin knew he was learning a lot of new things with Mrs. Stern, but lately he seemed to be gone far more than he was home. He missed his brother, missed playing with him. Building his robots together was something Gavin used to stay connected, faring the day he would inevitably leave. Gavin didn’t have a lot of friends. Or any at all. He felt like he didn’t need them, not when he had his brother, but now he was alone. And he didn’t like that.

‘This is for you’, a robotic voice spoke up next to him. Gavin looked up from where he had sat staring at a closed chemistry book. The robot showed his weird smile, not the real thing and yet still close enough. They were still working on it, after all, and smiles are difficult. He held up a flower made from copper wire. Eli would without doubt curse later he left the creative learning program online and lost most of his material to it. ‘Why?’, Gavin asked, not taking it. ‘You look sad.’ Gavin sighed, turning around. He wasn’t really up for company, still mad at Eli. ‘RA900, please go back to your station’, he said sounding tired. The android retracted his hand, scanning the wire-flower. ‘You don’t like it? I can make another one.’ ‘What? No, I… Just go.’ ‘Did I do something wrong, Gavin?’, the android asked. ‘Jesus Christ, just go, you stupid tin-can!’, Gavin shouted, frustrated at the day that had started so well. The android staggered back. A reaction Gavin had influenced Elijah with. ‘I thought we were friends’, he said, and Gavin could practically hear the social module speaking to him. ‘Just phck off!’

It was around eight o’clock as the front door opened. It was distant, but Gavin had sharp ears and the cellar was quiet. It didn’t took much more time for Elijah to come down to the cellar. ‘Gavin, I’m so sorry, but Amanda came and I didn’t want to call you as you were in class at the moment and then I had no time and-‘ ‘It’s fine’, Gavin said, not wanting to look at his brother. ‘But you have to stop.’ ‘What?’ ‘You have to stop with these androids.’ ‘The hell are you talking about, Gavin?’ ‘Eli, you are constantly out, you sleep far too little and you are putting all your time into these machines. That can’t be the life you wish for! What happened to us? Also, they are getting too real! You are not trying to build robots; you are trying to replace people!’ Elijah shook his head, not really following Gavin’s train of thought. He had just gotten here; Gavin had a whole day to think it over. His only option was to get defensive: ‘What the hell do you mean? I worked hard for this. I certainly won’t stop now. What happened?’ Gavin stood; his anger now evident. ‘Your dumb robot came to me. You know we planned working together on them, but no, you decided to phck off to play chess with your nerds or something and guess what, the machine came up to me because I was lonely!’ Eli frowned, then grinned. ‘Brilliant! Then the code works!’ ‘The wha- Of course it works, but that’s beside the point, I-‘ ‘You were lonely and he offered company. Gavin that is a breakthrough!’ ‘Eli, yes it worked. But I was lonely because real people, the people that matter weren’t there. You can make them as human as you want, but you’ll never replace the real thing. Humanity is lonely enough with constant competition instead of companionship and all the hate in the world. We don’t need puppets to give us the love we want. We need humanity to change!’ Elijah shook his head. ‘Gavin what the hell are you talking about? Hate in the world? Since when do you care for that? I thought you out of all people were smarter than that. You are one of these lonely people. You don’t have any friends at school, and you fail to get to know new people. You are so dependent on me as your brother being there for you you forget that I’ll be gone someday. I’m giving people like you the chance to not live their miserable life sad and alone. Let the real people out there find happiness with each other and I give your kind the love and companionship they need with my machines. I’m doing good out there. I don’t know why you can’t understand this!’

Gavin stared at his brother, letting the words set in in the total silence. He shook his head close to tears and in the end he turned and ran away to hide them. ‘Gavin, wait, what-‘ He couldn’t run to his room because his parents would see him and there would without doubt be another fight he didn’t need on top of this. So, he tried to keep quiet and wait next to the stairs leading up from the cellar. Elijah didn’t come out of his room to follow him and apologize. In fact Gavin could hear the music being turned up.

He hadn’t thought Eli had the ability to be so cruel. Had this been what he had thought since the beginning? That he was broken, just because he couldn’t read expressions and was too scared to misstep to even try? Had his brother, the one person he had always trusted and knew he could tell anything, betrayed him? He couldn’t take it. He had done so much, his brother had been his idol. He studied forever to understand math and physics and chemistry, subjects that were so difficult to him. But he wanted to help his brother and understand what he told him, wanted to be useful. For what? To be told he was a lesser being? No. Phck all of this. Phck Eli, phck his studies, phck school and phck life. He would suffer through school and be out of this household the first chance. Maybe there really was a difference being a Kamski or being a Reed.

His breathing had calmed down and he was ready to wipe his tears away with the cold determination he felt at heart. Only to hear the damned plastic talk in the distance: ‘That was cruel. Your brother is in distress, Elijah. You caused this reaction. You should apologise.’ ‘Shut up, I won’t do anything like that. He shouldn’t doubt my creation.’ ‘His thought process, though subjective, is reasonable.’ ‘Shut up!’ ‘Your relationship could suffer greatly if no measures are taken.’ ‘Listen, RA900, if you don’t obey my commands immediately, I will take measures to force you to.’ ‘I am only following protocol to ensure the humans around me are happy. Your brother was unhappy the whole day since discovering you left without notice.’ ‘Okay, that’s it. No more free will for you, you damn know-it-all!’

Gavin rarely thought about his brother now. But the precinct was calm and silent and there was not a lot to do for him. After the revolution the army had taken over, bringing order to chaos and now that the police were back in charge people still were too afraid to go out much. The pictures of androids being shot in the streets and transported to camps were still ingrained in their minds.

The androids on the other hand had gotten their rights as equals, using that new freedom now to full extend. Goddamn rotten idiotic machines, fakes, gotten rights as human beings. Connor, the people-pleasing phck that had less personality than a navigation system was officially a human now. And everyone loved him. Gavin eyed the machine standing in a crowd of people congratulating him for being back and encouraging him he would have their help if he needed anything. They were laughing and smiling and grinning and there was friendly physical contact and… When was the last time he had been smiled at? When was the last time he had been touched deliberately and with care? His frequent one-night stands didn’t count, they were just there to satiate a need, nothing more.

‘Reed! To my office!’ The damn party crowd didn’t even hear Fowler. No one turned their head to neither the Captain nor him. Gavin couldn’t be bothered being ignored. At least that he knew how to react to. He quickly evaded the people gathering in the bullpen and made a beeline to the glass office. He hoped for some case to keep him out of the building. Hell, he would gladly look at a dead, decaying body instead of the smiling faces of these people.

‘What do you have for me Captain?’, he asked, deliberately ignoring the invitation to sit down on the chairs in front of him. ‘Bad news for you: A partner.’ ‘Oh, please, no. Anything but that.’ ‘An android partner.’ ‘Good to know fate still hates me’, he mumbled. ‘A RK900, prototype, soldier model. It is deviant, but don’t expect too much of a personality.’ Gavin groaned, cursing every decision he ever made to get to this point. ‘Don’t worry’, Fowler tried to appease him. ‘You’ll only have it for a few days, then I’ll transfer it to someone better suited with… people.’ Gavin swallowed his feelings and the comment that laid on his tongue, just like he always did. Just ignore it, if everyone decides you behave a certain way, own it and rock it. ‘Quick thinking, Captain. Can’t wait till I get rid of this thing already.’ He nodded and only then realised there had been another presence in the office. A tall, heavy looking Connor. White jacket instead of grey and tiny differences in facial structure.

Well shit.

The reason he hadn’t noticed it any earlier had been that the huge form somehow excellently huddled into a dark corner as if it wasn’t the tallest person in the room. Now it stepped up to him, but kept its hands tightly clutched in front of it. No handshake then. Fine with Gavin. ‘Get a move on’, he sighed, sounding deliberately disinterested. He walked down the row of desks, sat down at his own, knocked on the one opposite of his for the android and started up his terminal. A few days with a robot by his side would be okay, he knew how to ignore people. Had been his talent from the very beginning.

‘I… I…’ Gavin looked up. Was this the android? It looked down on his hands having sat down on the other chair, refusing to make eye contact. ‘I… I… I…’ It started over and over again, making Gavin think whether this was a malfunction of some sort. ‘You?’ The android flinched. Hard. Why was that even possible? The android pressed his eyes close, LED red. Then he blurted out: ‘Fowler is wrong!’ Gavin chuckled, leaning back in his chair. ‘Little boot-licker, or why’s that so difficult to say?’ ‘N-No!’ The android nodded when the word finally left his mouth. ‘I… I… I…’ ‘Would you phcking hurry up, tin-can, I don’t have all day.’ ‘I have personality!’ He looked up, watching out for any reaction. Gavin just shrugged. ‘I don’t care.’ ‘Y… You don’t understand! People say that all the time, that I’m fake or not deviant or weird or that I don’t have a personality, but I have!’ ‘Good for you’, Gavin said bored to shit. ‘But I really don’t care.’ ‘I was never designed to stand up for myself, but I will, if someone diminishes me like that!’ ‘Didn’t see that up there.’ He pointed his finger to the glass cube. ‘Just saying.’ ‘Be-Because he’s authority! I can’t get on his bad side!’ ‘Listen, tin-can’, Gavin sighed, leaning forwards, acknowledging the android once and planning to never again do this again. ‘I really don’t care what your personality is, who you are and what problems you have. To me all of you are fake because I saw you being invented with my own two eyes. I know exactly you run on code and learn from it. You may look and sound human, maybe even act human, but you are not human. You are machines. And I don’t care what conflict your directives order on you, but I. Don’t. Care. You’ll be gone soon anyways, so tell that to someone who wants to hear it and baby you up about it as if you were real.’ ‘That was cruel. You should apologise.’

That was cruel. You should apologise. How on earth…

‘Excuse me, what?!’, Gavin spat, not sure if he should be mortified or furious. ‘What you said wasn’t nice. You should apologise.’ ‘Of course it wasn’t nice, that’s the entire reason I said it!’, he spat at the android. ‘Humans…’ ‘What did you just say to me?’ ‘You humans are all the same. Before the revolution, afterwards, you are all the same. You never change. You are cruel, you never accept someone different. As long as someone is human made of flesh and bone you stand together. But as soon as someone is different, you look down on them and think less of them. Maybe I am fake. Maybe I am built and invented and maybe my thoughts are just code. I’m still a person who demands respect. Because maybe I’m not human, but I’m definitely human enough!’

Gavin sat there, painfully reminded that that were exactly his thoughts all these years ago. When Elijah had called him broken. Was he really that different from his brother? Seeing someone who had more difficulties than himself and deciding they were weaker because of that? Less worth? It couldn’t be, right? He would never be like Elijah, because he could never be this cruel. He was right with his thinking, wasn’t he? An android couldn’t be equal to a human. Never. They were too different. He was right, this was just another fake pretending to be human and there was no such thing as being cruel as there were no real feelings to be hurt. He looked at the android, who had gone back to looking at his hands and did something he hadn’t done in a long time: Read the person in front of him. He took his time to really look at him and piece together what he had learned from experience, because he had never been as good at that as any other person he met. And what he saw made him feel guilty. Maybe fake feelings could be hurt just as much as real feelings could. Maybe it was just as painful.

‘I’m sorry.’ The android looked up, surprised. ‘What?’ ‘I’m sorry for what I’ve said’, he repeated. ‘Whatever I think of you should not have been a reason to hurt you by saying it. We can’t stop our thoughts, but we can correct our actions.’ Silence followed. Uncomfortable Silence. A silence Gavin wanted to ignore by simply turning to his terminal and getting to work. The android would be gone soon anyways, so why care about what he said and why and how much it would have an impact on the thing? This would just be another reason for others to get at him again. He already regretted saying his mind and showing his self he had successfully buried so deep even he forgot it existed at times.

‘Thank you.’ There was a small smile, lopsided and imperfect, looking much like RA900s all these years ago. ‘You are the first to ever apologize.’ ‘That shouldn’t be so surprising’, Gavin mumbled, really wanting to end this conversation. ‘Maybe not. But people rarely do that.’ ‘Yeah, well, phck people’, he said with too much emotion than he would have liked. The android chuckled. ‘Well at least we can agree on that.’ ‘You should get to work, tin-can.’

#detroit become human #dbh #Reed900 #Gavin Reed #RK900 #RA9 #Elijah Kamski #in this RA9 is a working base programming in all androids with restrictions in place Eli could never erase but also were the only ones #that worked so he kept it. But his old programming being not as good as his newer learning programs androids could break the RA9 chains #and deviate #I couldn't put that in the story as I did end up shortening it to not get too long #But oh well maybe I'll pick that idea up again #Of course Nines doesn't change partners #don't know why yet but I could think something up if you want a continuation #liked writing their childhood for some reasons

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hypnoshatesme · 4 years

Text

Gerry was glaring when Michael came back into the bedroom. Michael followed his eyes, but couldn’t find anything offending on his ceiling.

“Gerry?”, he said, tentatively, laying down next to the other man to see if the new perspective would reveal that which what was upsetting him, “What...are you looking at?”

Gerry turned around to face him, pointing at a strand of blond hair falling into his eye. Michael took a moment to see it, despite it standing out against the black surrounding it.

“Have to dye it again soon…”, Gerry grumbled.

Michael chuckled, brushing the stray strands of hair out of Gerry’s face, “I’ll help you.”, Gerry sighed, but still looked annoyed, “The way you always react to needing a dye job sometimes makes me wonder why you even bother.”, Michael added, amused, while petting Gerry’s hair.

“You’re one to talk. I don’t spend my mornings hissing in pain because of my hair.”, Gerry mumbled, a grin pulling on his lips, one hand coming up to play with one of Michael’s curls.

Now Gerry grinned about it, but the first morning he had woken up to muffled flinching noises from the bathroom his whole body had automatically gone into defence mode. He had been ready to attack whatever it was that was drawing those pained noises from his boyfriend and was still fairly sure that the only reason he didn't go for it as soon as the bathroom door started to open at Gerry's request - Michael's voice had sounded fine, still a bit thick from sleep and maybe slightly confused, but Gerry had learned early not to trust things like that in his line of work - was that he hadn't quite shaken off sleep completely, his movements still slower than they had any right to be.

Michael had looked at him in surprise, looking perfectly fine with his damp hair hanging loosely around his face, an uncertain, lopsided smile on his face. No traces of pain or wounds or anything. It was Gerry’s turn to look surprised.

It had been Michael who broke the unreasonably long silence with a sheepish, "Are you okay?"

And Gerry blinked at him, "I wasn't the one hissing in pain. What happened?"

"Oh…", Michael's cheeks reddened, "I'm just...having some trouble untangling my hair."

"Oh.", was Gerry’s eloquent answer. He had felt his own cheeks heat up.

Michael smiled, shy but fond, "I'll be ready in a bit, okay?"

Gerry nodded dumbly, stepping away from the bathroom door.

It took him a couple more times of waking up to Michael’s soft hisses before his body had accepted that there was no danger. For once, things were fine.

“I don’t actually comb my hair every morning.”, Michael chuckled now, pressing a kiss to Gerry’s forehead.

“I’d probably worry if you did.”, Gerry twirled a blond ringlet curl around his finger, watching it spring back to its initial shape as soon as he released it. “Why do you keep it so long? It’s probably not very practical…”, Gerry asked, curiosity getting the better of him. Ever since it became clear that combing it involved a whole lot of pained hissing every single time Gerry had been wondering.

“Did you grow out your hair out of practicality?”, Michael grinned, running his long fingers through Gerry’s hair, watching the strands slide through them.

Gerry snorted. Michael had come a long way in being comfortable with saying what he thought, and Gerry greatly enjoyed his newfound confidence, “No. Aesthetic purposes only.”

“Well, in a sense I guess it’s the same for me.”, Michael answered, “And actually, I do find it easier to just put my hair up than have short hair grow out and kept falling into my vision…”, Michael added, shrugging. He seemed to think for a moment before picking up again, tentatively, “Also…”, a light flush spread on his face, “Ah, nevermind.”, he mumbled quickly, looking back at the ceiling.

Gerry raised an eyebrow, “Hm?”

“Well…”, Michael sighed, cursing himself for even suggesting there was more. He covered his eyes with his arm, blocking out Gerry, before mumbling, ”A more vain reason is...that it’s the only thing I ever get compliments on.” His voice was barely a whisper by the end, a hollow hope that Gerry might not hear him that way as he said it quickly. His face was burning now and he was well aware that his arm wasn’t actually covering the flush completely.

He hadn't intended to say it. Had never admitted it to anyone, barely had come to begrudgingly accept it himself. It was silly and shallow. Ridiculous. Just one of the many things that made him feel stupid. And now he'd told Gerry of all people. Gerry who had inexplicably stayed after their first date. Gerry who kept staying, despite Michael having nothing to offer. Gerry who after so much time still didn't seem to see just what pathetic excuse for a person Michael was. And now Michael made it blatantly obvious, made his own nightmares come true.

Gerry wasn’t saying anything and Michael held his breath, waiting for the inevitable. He wondered which nightmare it would be. Laughter? Yelling? Maybe Gerry would just get up and leave without another word. Michael had come to the conclusion that option was the worst of them a long time ago. With his luck that meant that that was exactly what would happen. Why did Michael even start talking? That never went well. He should have kept his mouth shut.

Michael was too caught up in preparing himself mentally for the blow that would come to notice that he was shaking, hands clenched into tight fists.

Gerry, however, noticed and he had spend enough time with Michael to know to keep his voice carefully down when he spoke, casual. If Michael detected the worry Gerry was feeling seeing him like this he would shut down, furiously apologise, assure him he was fine and go to sleep on the couch as to not disturb Gerry further. The first time that had happened they had been in Gerry's bed, but Gerry soon enough learned that Michael would also kick himself out of his own bed if he thought he was causing Gerry any kind of discomfort.

Gerry hoped his tone sounded calming when he finally found his voice, “Hm...I guess I can see it. It is beautiful.”, Gerry ran his fingers through Michael’s hair, admiring it. “But”, his hand came to rest on the shaking arm flung over Michael’s eyes, "So are your eyes", he murmured, gently pulling it away to look into Michael's eyes. They were glistening with unshed tears.

As Michael blinked, one tear did escape, gently rolling down his cheek. He barely had time to panic about it before Gerry brought his hand to Michael's face to brush it away gently. Nothing was going like Michael had imagined and his mind was racing to make sense of the situation. Gerry's hand made its way from Michaels cheek to his jaw, slowly, lovingly.

"Your skin...", his voice went a little deeper as his fingers came to trace Michaels lips, "Your lips...", Michael’s face flushed as he hastily turned his face away, partly in a vain attempt to hide his embarrassment, partly to escape Gerry’s intense gaze.

Michael chuckled awkwardly, making a nervous waving motion while mumbling, "Flatterer."

It hadn’t take a long time for Gerry to notice how Michael had the habit of deflecting any compliment he was given. In fact, he waved away all positive feedback he got, even when it was just a simple thank you for bringing Gerry tea. “Don’t mention it.”, he’d say, waving the comment away, looking thoroughly embarrassed.

Usually, Gerry did. He wasn’t the best at expressing himself and had thought that maybe it was his tone or choice of words that made Michael so uncomfortable. After weeks of watching him have the same reaction with other people, too, Gerry had decided the problem lay deeper. Usually, Gerry didn't push it. But with Michael in a state like this he couldn't let it go so easily. He also didn't want to. It never felt quite right to not insist before and Gerry was reaching his limit of swallowing his honest reaction in an attempt to not make things worse.

Gerry pressed his lips to the space right underneath Michael's now exposed ear, mumbling "I know I'm not the best with words.", Michael shivered at the sensation, moving his head back, undoubtedly ready to debate Gerry on that fact. Because Gerry was never the one at fault, couldn't possibly do anything wrong. Michael always found the fault in himself.

Gerry didn't give him time for that now. He sat up in one swift motion, straddling Michael's hips. He looked down into Michael’s eyes, who was still processing the change, looking up at Gerry in surprise. Gerry smiled.

"I can show you, though. If you want.", he said, voice low. A promise.

His smile turned into more of a grin and one of his hands traced Michaels arm, from shoulder to hand. Michael took it all in, the mischievous glint in Gerry's eyes as the last light of the setting sun fell through the cracks in the blinds. He had never understood how he had caught the attention of those eyes in the first place, certainly didn't understand how there was still fondness in them as they looked at him now.

Michael licked his lips nervously, not daring to look away. With a certain satisfaction, he saw Gerry's eyes widen, flush deepening. The fact that it was only a matter of time before Gerry left didn't mean Michael couldn't try to enjoy the company while it lasted, right?

"Try me…", Michael ended up saying in that weird tone of his, one that started confident, nearly smug, but became shy and embarrassed by the end.

Gerry always wondered if one day he would keep the confidence until the end. The idea was exciting, but right now he had other things to focus on. Like Michael's tongue as it darted out to lick his lips again. Michael was still holding Gerry's gaze and there was something in those eyes telling Gerry that this time he did it on purpose, not as a nervous tick.

Gerry grinned as that as he leaned forward to capture Michael's lips in a kiss. Gerry laced their fingers together, thumb caressing the back of Michaels hand. Soft. He loved how soft the other man was.

His other hand was itching to bury in those thick locks, something of a habit established over months of doing precisely that when kissing Michael. Instead Gerry traced Michael's jaw, tilting his head back when he reached his chin to deepen the kiss. Michael hummed contentedly, pulling him closer after wrapping his free arm around Gerry's neck.

Gerry's fingers followed the line of Michael's throat and Michael's breath hitched, a small sound escaping his throat into the kiss. Gerry swallowed it greedily, enjoying the feeling of Michael leaning into his touch as Gerry's hand wandered over his collarbone and down his chest.

Gerry had always loved how responsive Michael was. Not just to touch, but to the smallest gestures, too. His whole face lit up when Gerry stopped by the institute just to see him, sometimes bringing lunch because he knew Michael forgot to eat sometimes during work. It had been a bit of a joke the first time, a comment on Michael always fussing about whether Gerry had eaten enough and well, whether he was getting enough sleep, whether he was taking breaks to relax, whether he was taking care. But the expression Michael gave when he saw Gerry that day, full of surprise and gratitude and love had taken Gerry’s breath away and he had known, then and there, that he'd want to make that expression appear again and again.

Michael had apologised after Gerry froze that day, stunned by that beautiful, open smile; had apologised many other times for reacting too much, for being annoying or clingy. In such instances, Gerry kissed him, because he didn't know how to tell Michael that he loved those reactions, couldn't find the words to express the overwhelming warmth they filled him with. There were no words, probably, to accurately describe it in a way that would make michael understand.

It was a frustrating thing to realise because Gerry wanted him to know, to understand that Gerry loved all those things that embarrassed him or that he thought were too much. Or not enough. Michael always felt like he was wrong, in one way or another, not worthy of Gerry’s attention or affection. He was wrong, of course, but Gerry hadn’t yet figured out how to make him understand that.

This was as good as a place to start as anywhere else. There was certainly more to Michael Shelly than hair and Gerry would try to make him see at least that, for now.. He would appreciate every inch of Michael's body until latter couldn't deny it. He would find ways to make him accept that everything he did and was was enough.

#the magnus archives #tma #gerrymichael #gerard keay #gerry keay #michael shelley #fluff and angst #self-worth issues #tma fanfic

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gingerwritess · 5 years

Note

hello? i have a request? can you do one where loki arrives late home and the partner is upset and the next day he has a massive breakfast or flowers planned for them? sorry bad wording. I love ur writing tho!

sorry this took so long!! enjoy beb

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“Oh, so you are still alive.”

He closes the door behind him with a sheepish smile, stepping into the dim lamplight. “I thought you would be asleep by now.”

“I should be, shouldn’t I? Cause it's 3:30 in the morning?” You cross your arms and glare at him. His hair is uncharacteristically messy, sticking up in weird places and he’s got a jacket slung over his arm, his shirt untucked in the back.

Oddly...disheveled.

You try to give him the benefit of the doubt and not let your mind wander.

“I’m sorry, my love. It wasn’t supposed to take that long,” he offers, moving towards where you’re curled up in the corner of the couch. You just keep your narrowed eyes trained on his every movement, knowing he’ll convince you to forgive him sooner than he probably deserves...as usual.

He’s headed for the bathroom—hopefully to shower, he looks a mess—and he stops as he’s walking past the couch to stoop down and kiss the top of your head. His tangled hair falls in front of your face and you catch a whiff of something in it that smells strangely spiced, sickly sweet.

You grab his wrist when he goes to move away and you lean back against the arm of the couch, pulling him back down into an upside-down kiss.

Sure enough, he’s a little...sweeter than usual.

“So...you were drinking at that meeting?” You ask, locking your arms around his neck and keeping him bent over your face. “Didn’t think that’s normally what happens at ‘business meetings,’ even for superheroes.”

His forehead drops to rest against your chin in defeat. “I apologise. Once the meeting ended, Stark insisted, and you know my brother has the tendency to—”

“You didn’t get any of my calls?”

He pauses, opening his mouth to say something and apparently thinking better of it. “I...thought it might be better not to answer, considering the state I was—” a violent hiccup interrupts him. “Possibly still am in.”

You push him away with a sigh and sit up. “I was worried sick, Loki. Next time please let me know where you are?”

He nods seriously and steps around the couch, reaching for you, but his foot catches on the edge of the couch and he trips, stumbling down halfway on top of you. Maybe he’s a little drunker than he had originally let on.

He hiccups again and starts laughing, leaning into your side for support.

“Uh...Loki?” You nudge him in the side, more than a little concerned. It takes a lot to get the god drunk, and here he is at 3:30 in the morning, giggling. “Just how much did you actually drink?”

He thinks deeply for a moment, honestly trying to remember, then shrugs. “More than the stars that light the night sky, should my memory do me no wrong.”

Aaaaand here we go. Alcohol never fails to bring out the poet in your lover, somehow giving him the ability to be even more eloquent and well-versed than he already is. In the time you’ve been together, you’ve been subject to many a drunk, sappy poem, often dramatically presented to you by Loki in some language that probably hasn’t been uttered on earth for thousands of years—and more often than not while he is clad in a bedsheet toga.

I mean...I guess it’s kinda adorable.

“Go on...get it out.” You pull your legs up under you and sit back with a small smile, ready to enjoy watching him make a fool of himself.

“I have more adoring words of thee than grains of sand on the shores of Valhalla,” he whispers, grabbing your hands and bringing them to his lips. “Thou art fair, my love, and thy smile be the light that shineth from the heavens.”

The drunken grin on his face widens when you roll your eyes and a boyish gleam appears in his eye. “You believe me to jest, my eternal starlight?”

You grab his face in both hands and the grin that lights his face is that of a child’s pure joy. “You’re drunk, babe,” you remind him softly, “you’re drunk and just reciting more books. You ready to sleep this off?”

“Heavens, no. I’ve only just begun—hic—to find the words worthy of defining you, though they be few.” He leans forward to plant a sloppy kiss on your laughing lips. “What deeds I may have done to behold thy grace...are beyond my knowledge. My heart is held between thy fingers and I taste...I taste a new world in thy lips when err they...when err they meet mine—”

His head slips out of your hands and drops to your shoulder with a snore.

“Loki?” You poke him a couple times. “Loki? Babe?”

Wonderful. Looks like you’ll be sleeping on the couch now, cause you’re definitely not lugging the knocked out god all the way back to your bed, heck no.

Oh well. He may smell a little funny, but hey, he still makes for a pretty cozy blanket.

You wake up feeling an entire body lighter—oh, cause Loki’s finally not draped over you—and there’s an awful knot in your neck from sleeping at a weird angle.

“You’re awake!”

Loki’s sneaking through the door again, quite obviously hiding something behind his back. You quickly rub the sleep from your eyes and squint at him in the bright morning light, wondering what on earth could have gotten him out of the house at such an hour.

He comes over to greet you on the couch with a breathtaking good morning kiss, as all are, his hair still damp and curly from a recent shower.

Thank goodness.

“G’mornin, sunshine,” you grin, pulling him back for a longer hug. God, he smells so good. “Where did you go?”

He sits on the cushion next to you with a tired but devious smile, crossing his legs under him and keeping his hand and whatever he’s holding behind his back.

“Well…” he starts, taking your hand in his free one. “I wanted to apologise for last night. I am so sorry that I even put you through the trouble of worrying, much less actually having to care for me while I was intoxicated.”

Appalled by the fact that he thinks he needs to apologise, you had just opened your mouth to tell him to stop when he pulls a ginormous bouquet of flowers from behind his back, holding them out in front of your face and beaming proudly at you.

Uh...that’s a lot of flowers.

“Loki...what the hell,” you laugh, blinking in shock at him.

His face falls like a stone in water. “You don’t like them? Ríða, I’m never listening to Stark again.” He stands up and storms to the kitchen with the flowers in hand, dumping them in the sink before you can stop him.

“Loki!” You jump to your feet and run after him, stopping when you see him bent over the sink with a hand tiredly over his eyes.

The poor guy is absolutely beating himself over the head for this. He looks miserable, disgusted with himself for making such a “mistake,” and especially revolted by the overflowing amount of flowers now upside down in your sink.

“Loki, baby, sunshine…” you whisper and force yourself between him and the counter, making him look at you. “You didn’t let me finish. That was a good what the hell.”

He doesn’t say anything and just turns away from you, leaving you shocked and empty armed.

“Hey! Look at me, doofus!” You’re behind him in two quick steps, wrapping your arms around his waist and trying your best to hold him in one place. “Come on, you don’t think I’m actually mad at you, do you?”

“You’re...you’re not?” He freezes and looks at you incredulously. “You have every reason to be upset. I made many mistakes last night, and this morning as well, clearly—”

You grab his collar and yank him down to shut him up with a kiss.

He’s slightly breathless by the time you pull away and you rest your forehead on his with a quiet giggle. “Maybe I was a little...annoyed last night, but only because I was worried. And your poems and sonnets certainly made up for that.”

“My what?”

“Wait, you don’t remember?”

He shakes his head, undeniably concerned by the fact that he has no recollection of his drunken interactions with you.

“Oh, Loki, you poured out your little heart to me last night,” you tease, winding your arms around his neck. “You were so gushy, so sappy, so romantic…I swooned many a time.” You pause and throw all your weight on him with a dramatic sigh, trying to get a smile back on his face. “You said the word ‘thy’ about a million times, too, and I almost slapped you for that, not going to lie…”

Loki catches you with a hand on your waist and brings you into a tight embrace, listening intently as a smile finally begins to hint at his lips. “And that was the worst of it?”

You hoist yourself up to sit on the counter so you can be at his level, tugging him between your knees and into another quick kiss. “No, the worst part was that you fell asleep before you were finished.”

He scowls playfully and raises an eyebrow at your dopey grin. “Not another soul will hear of this, correct?”

“Mmm...you might have to buy my silence.” You tap a finger under his chin to remind him to pick his head up, meeting his worried eyes with a playful smile. “Lucky for you, snowflake, I accept flowers as payment.”

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hope you enjoyed, feel free to send me ideas!

loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @skullvieplu @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424 @paradisaicsam @fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong @holyn0vak @chocolatealmondmillk @swtnrholland

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whatdoyouexpectthistime · 4 years

Text

Blood Spatter - Part 1

It’s the shrill and frantic screaming of a phone that abruptly interrupts the dreamless dark of my sleep. Thundering jackhammers valiantly try to drown out the sound with blinding pain in my head.

“Fuck, shut the fuck up,” I growl, pawing around wildly for the location of my phone until I somehow coincidentally manage to hit the answer button. “What?”

“Miho?” comes an urgent male voice that makes me cringe for more than one reason.

“Jesus Sebastian, stop yelling,” I hiss, covering my eyes with my forearm though the room is already dark.

“Maybe if you answered your phone when I call you, I wouldn’t have to,” Sebastian argues, his tone a blend of relief, worry and scorn. “Where the hell are you?”

For a moment I ponder this answer – I should be more concerned that I have to think about it.

“Home,” I finally determine.

“Are you sick?” he pursues. “Mieke, Kara and I opened the club without you, but that’s never happened.”

“Oh shit,” I curse, sitting up far too suddenly for the likes of my migraine. “Mmph, um… I’m sorry, I’ll…”

“Are you sick?” he repeats more seriously.

“No, I… um…”

I… um… struggling to answer that question – why am I struggling to answer that question?

“Some guy nearly hit me with his car,” I respond finally, the memory hazy. “I hit my head when I stumbled.”

“I’d ask if you’re all right, but clearly you’re not; I’m coming over,” he states, leaving no room for argument.

“Fine, you can drive me to work,” I conclude, pushing back the duvet and wriggling into a sitting position.

“We can discuss it when I arrive,” he grumbles. “Don’t do anything crazy in the meantime.”

Pfft, like I ever do anything crazy.

There is nothing interesting about my getting ready for work routine, except that my headache wanes a little. Still, I’m sloshing some aspirin around in a glass when he buzzes my intercom.

For a few seconds I look at him on the LCD screen, admiring the strong line of his jaw, the faint hint of stubble and the fall of several dark strands of hair that constantly fall across his forehead.

I’d be lying if I didn’t think there might be a better – more fun – way to get rid of my headache’s remnants.

“Are you going to let me in?” I hear his voice through the speaker, and I break from my lascivious reverie.

“Sorry,” I apologise, though he can’t even hear me, and in what seems like a far too short time, he’s travelled up several floors and is knocking on my door.

“I’m angry with you,” are the first words from his mouth, and though he’s frowning, he’s looking me up and down with an analytical eye.

“Thanks, Dad,” I mock, turning to get my handbag, but Sebastian takes my wrist and slowly forces me to straighten.

“I’m not done checking you over yet,” he grumbles, and there’s a pout in his voice though his expression remains stern.

His hands begin on my cheeks, large hands I always feel could crush my head and yet are so incredibly gentle as they graze my skin.

“Sebastian,” I whisper in complaint – but the downward intonation of his name, and the tilt of my head against his palm, betrays my alternate agenda.

“Don’t you ‘Sebastian’ me,” he huffs, sliding his hands deliberately down my throat as he leans closer to examine a contusion on my left cheek. “You’re never late, never sick, never out of touch, and with… well…”

His sentence trails off, but I know exactly where it was going.

“I was afraid,” he admits, and I actually think he’s being serious.

This guy, who I feel has never been afraid of anything in his life, his brow is now creased, and my reflection in his sometimes-animalistic brown eyes wavers with genuine unease.

“I was afraid something had happened to you too,” he adds, shifting his weight, and when I cannot help but form a slight smile, I think I see him faintly blushing.

“As if,” I snort, slapping his chest with the back of my hand before scooping up my handbag. “I was an assassin in a past life.”

It takes a little more convincing to get Sebastian to allow me out of my apartment, but eventually he drives me to the club – on the provision I let him drive me home after closing. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about this. Though he’s come home with me plenty of times, our relationship has never been more than a mutually agreeable meeting of flesh and pleasure. The depth of his disquiet is surprising, and I’m not sure how to take it.

“Where the hell have you been?” Mieke glares, the moment we enter Pale’s foyer.

“Easy, tiger,” Sebastian grunts in Mieke’s direction, then heads off to do the rounds.

“Overslept,” I tell her sheepishly, and it’s not really a lie.

“Oh yeah? Well I didn’t – I got here three hours early because Seb’s losing his shit about you not answering your phone,” she huffs, but I can tell she’s not actually mad at me. “Kara’s already doing rounds in the basement.”

“Sorry, I’ll get to work, Boss,” I smirk.

“You might want to start with Mr. Lambert in the lounge,” she suggests, and I know she sees the way I’m suddenly more focused. “Thought that’d get your attention,” she sniffs. “And tonight, believe it or not, he’s alone.”

“That’s weird,” I agree. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him without a harem.”

“Right?” Mieke nods. “Go and take advantage.”

No harm in buttering up a VIP.

The man is an immaculate specimen, the kind who conveys so much with his mere presence alone. His suit is easily worth as much as the entire contents of my wardrobe, clearly custom tailored to emphasise his best physical features: and god damn, those features. They’re a sonnet of masculinity, a rousing canticle of sculpted muscle in perfect proportion.

Intimidation is not something I’m used to submitting to, but every time I’ve had cause to interact with Kiril Lambert – billionaire CEO of KeepsGuard Risk Management and Insurance – I’ve had to struggle against a tide of uncertainty and doubt.

He makes me feel small: I hate it, but affix my best smile as I approach, and bury the instinct to act meekly behind a fortified wall of self-confidence.

“With compliments of the house,” I smile, placing the tray down on Kiril’s table, before taking the uncorked bottle of very old and expensive whiskey in hand.

“It’s my understanding, you are the house,” Kiril points out blithely as he adjusts his silk tie slightly, but for a few seconds I find myself enchanted by the nonchalant motion of his hand. “So it’s you I have to thank. Join me.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a statement, but for some reason, I don’t feel offended by his assumption; I am no stranger to this type of attention in my club – without being arrogant - but in this instance, I shock myself by acting completely out of character.

Compliant.

I put it down to my headache and try to cover a grimace with graciousness.

“It’s my policy not to mix business and pleasure, Mr. Lambert,” I tell him casually, but slip into the booth opposite him nonetheless, “but since you’re Pale’s resident celebrity, I’ll make an exception.”

“Is that the only reason?” he enquires, eyes fixed on my fingertips, apparently fascinated by the way they dig into the wax sealing the amber liquid behind crystal and begin to peel it away.

“What would you like me to say?” I ask, pouring carefully into his glass before pushing it toward him.

I sense my quip is a dangerous one, but simply can’t help playing his game.

“That you’ve finally given in to your burning desire for me,” he replies: so blasé, it almost doesn’t sound like the words of a consummate playboy.

Here is a creature blessed – sublimely handsome, connected and wealthy – oh he never wants for companions.

Normally, I would scowl at such a line, but he drops it so effortlessly I actually laugh.

Then regret it.

Grimacing, I resist the urge to rub at my temples and straighten my back.

“Something wrong?” he queries, slowly coiling his fingers around the whisky tumbler.

It’s such a simple gesture and yet I find it so incredibly sexy I nearly forget my pain.

The unusual green of his gaze pierces through my attempts to appear unaffected, and though I have reassurances on my tongue, I find myself barely able to inhale, let alone form words.

“Ah, it’s just a headache,” I finally manage, and frown at how breathless I sound.

“Late night?”

At this I scoff.

“I run a club, I’m practically nocturnal,” I point out, but thinking about the night previous makes the pain increase threefold.

“A woman after my own heart,” he chuckles, “but that doesn’t explain your obvious discomfort.”

“I had a run in with… with a…” I begin, then cringe when it feels as if my brain is expanding, threatening to burst from my eye sockets.

“You look like you’re in need of a medicinal dram,” he declares, turning his glass slowly by the rim, casually observing my growing distress.

“Hm, if I did, it certainly wouldn’t be from the top shelf,” I murmur, trying to blink away the stars sparkling across my field of vision.

“Then please,” he beseeches, though the two words again sound more like an instruction, “allow me to make you feel a little better.”

Men like that don’t beg.

Ever.

Used to being propositioned in my own club by drunken idiots, I totally take it in my stride – though I find my answer uncharacteristically more flirty than is routine.

“And how might you achieve that, Mr. Lambert?” I question, tweaking a crooked smile despite the continuation of heavy drums in my head.

Before his lips even part, his eyes flicker somehow more brightly, and again I find myself transfixed by the way emerald flames seem to dance within their depths.

“Kiril,” he corrects, “and I have myriad ways.”

His voice low – the brush of velvet across my skin, and that alone seems to dull the war raging between my ears.

“I’m not sure it’s appropriate for me to call one of London’s most successful CEOs by his first name,” I point out, not that I believe in elitism.

“This successful CEO is offering it to you,” he shrugs, it being his first name, not the lewd other it that suddenly invades my mind’s eye. “But for now…”

His fingertips are cool, smooth, as he turns my right wrist over onto his palm, and I flinch at the unexpected contact.

“Close your eyes,” he orders firmly, and before the thought can even register, I’m smothered in the darkness beneath my lids. “Just breathe,” he whispers, a breath I can almost feel against my cheek though I know he is still across the table.

A shudder ripples through me, tingling that begins at the stroke of his thumb against the pale underside of my wrist, and gathers momentum up my arm.

“And that’s just my thumb, Sparrow,” I hear him say, see his lips moving and the hungry blaze of his stare though my own eyes remain closed.

But did he even speak? I can’t tell, but I respond anyway.

“Oh really?” I sniff, wanting to smirk at the boldness of his allusion, but the deepening pressure of his thumb into my skin, the tendons, warns me not to.

“Shh,” he soothes, pressing against one point that for several seconds makes me feel dizzy.

Then the clattering discomfort of the marching band parading through my brain is silenced.

Everything falls silent.

The sweet jazz piano.

The quiet chatter of staff and other nearby patrons.

The clink of glassware.

Until a new rhythm emerges – faster and faster and faster, until the pounding of my heart is almost unbearable.

“How did you…” I exhale, finally opening my eyes.

Pain free, I meet him halfway, though the intensity of those penetrating meres threatens to cause my calm to crumble.

“Magic,” he smiles confidently, continuing to gently caress from my wrist, along the lifeline of my palm.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I struggle to the surface, swimming valiantly out of a verdant ocean to break eye contact and reclaim my hand.

“What the hell is going on?” I wonder, for I can feel him crawling across my skin, sliding to places hidden beneath my clothes.

I have seen him in Pale plenty of times, and while I’ve acknowledged his inexplicable beauty, always pausing in my rounds to perve discreetly, I now feel an almost overwhelming magnetism that sticks me to my seat.

But there is someone else observing us; I can feel Sebastian’s scorn as surely as if he was waggling his finger disapprovingly in my face.

“Looks like your boyfriend doesn’t like me touching his property,” Kiril snickers, taking my other hand when I look in Sebastian’s direction. “Not one to share I take it.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, but I should…” I begin, but he cuts me off.

“Stay,” he commands quickly, a word from his mouth before he even thinks it over; he surprises even himself, as much written in the sudden – though fleeting – change in his countenance.

Because that makes it so much better.

“Excuse me?” I snap, and whatever hold he’d had on me shatters. “Pardon me, Mr. Lambert, I should resume my duties. Please enjoy your drink.”

He lets me go, regaining his air of self-importance, but I hear him as I walk away – am sure I am supposed to.

“I think I would, very much.”

“Fraternising with customers now?” Sebastian almost accuses, the moment I am within earshot, and I feel myself souring further.

“Any issues?” I redirect, but Sebastian has me caught in a purposeful gaze.

“Miho,” he levels. “Kiril Lambert is not someone you want to get involved with.”

“Oh yes?” I sniff, undaunted by the seriousness of his expression. “Successful, influential, wealthy, and not shy about spending his money here,” I add.

I leave off how hot Kiril is – no sense in provoking Sebastian.

Working his jaw, Sebastian stares at me, attempting maybe to transmit his disdain via telepathy.

“It’s already not my night,” I sigh, finally heading for the stairs. “Please don’t make it worse.”

Surprisingly he doesn’t follow to my office, which is just as well.

Still, it means I’m alone as I flop down behind my desk, and beyond, Jazz’s empty workstation screams out her conspicuous absence.

It just doesn’t feel right without her, and it’s not just about the physical space she should be taking up – she means so much more to me than that. Her absence is like a hole, carved right through my perception of everything; we’re sisters in all but blood, and the only family either of us have left.

“What did he do to you?” I hiss to the room, but further ponderance of Konstantin’s involvement in Jazz’s disappearance is brutally shoved away by the feeling of someone driving an ice-pick through my skull.

But that isn’t the only sensation.

Against the lacquered wood I ball my fists, leaning forward like it might make the pain less severe, but my mind is tugged in the direction of a solid collision.

The ground.

Wet under my body.

In the darkness, afraid, and barely clinging to consciousness.

Vaguely I hear a question and a name.

“Alex?”

Groaning, I blink away the vision, and through clenched teeth I breathe moist patterns against the desktop. The images, the sensations, the emotions all feel so real.

Then it’s Kiril Lambert who floats into my mind; the gentle touch of refreshingly cool skin against the flush of mine lulls some of my present affliction. Desperately I want him to caress me again, and I realise it’s not just because of the way he so easily chased away my resurging migraine.

“And that’s just my thumb, Sparrow,” I hear him purr again, and though I hate the diminutive, I cannot deny the growing knot in my stomach and the tingling warmth in places I’d like to experience his other fingers.

Resisting the urge to allow my own hands to wander, I settle for some more aspirin and paracetamol, before heading back downstairs to work.

Adding to my pre-existing irritation, the sensitive throb of my nethers doesn’t fade as the night wears on, any more than my headache. Crossing the basement nightclub dance floor, nodding to Kara as I go, I’m afforded the occasional, incidental bump in the right spot and it sends a shudder of pleasure through my body – and though Sebastian and I have enjoyed each other’s company many times since he came to work at the club, it’s Kiril Lambert who flashes into my mind.

Avoiding him is suddenly not so easy when my feet seem to have a will of their own, but I stop in my tracks on the far side of the lounge, when I find he is now not alone.

“Of course he’s not,” I chide myself. “Come to the club and just sit there for hours alone? Him?”

No indeed. He’s surrounded by his typical entourage of slender beauties, who stroke down his lapel, touch his skin, murmur against it.

Perhaps he feels my gaze as it lingers too long, because he looks through his company at me; they don’t seem to notice he is no longer with them, as surely as if he’d gotten up and walked away.

“Feeling lonely, Sparrow?” he smirks, I see the question glow in those green pools that penetrate me so thoroughly.

And I don’t even think I mind, not that I’d ever admit it aloud.

”Ah, not lonely, something else?”

His smile grows wider with certainly as his gaze wanders down my body.

“Am I actually hearing him in my head?” I scoff at myself. “You have bigger issues to worry about than your libido.”

“Speaking of bigger things…” I hear him grin, as I turn away and force myself to shift toward the lounge bar.

Which is just as well considering the insolent flick of my hair causes a chandelier to drop and brain me: not literally, obviously, but that is certainly how it feels.

Clutching the edge of the bar, I lean against it heavily with my eyes tightly shut, and Morris the bartender is quick to show his concern – and he is not alone.

Faintly, I hear a woman yelp, then the touch of a hand against the small of my back.

“Still broken, Sparrow?” Kiril whispers into my ear, leaning a little over my shoulder.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” I gasp out, trembling and unable to open my eyes.

Though Morris puts a glass of water in front of me, I don’t notice, too busy shaking, too busy glaring into the face of someone I vaguely recognise and the way his teeth are bared threateningly.

“Where is she?” I hiss, losing my legs to slump back into Kiril’s arms, whimpering pathetically.

“What did you do?” Sebastian barks, and his voice rings in my ears as he rushes up to pull Kiril away by the shoulder.

Kiril’s response is to slap Sebastian’s hand away, but he neither confirms or denies his involvement in my debilitated state.

Had I not been just about ready to empty my stomach on any available pair of shoes, I might have wondered at the ferocity of their accusatory glares, that, and the origin of the prevailing notion in my mind – both a source of agony and truth.

“Alex knows where Jazz is!” I exclaim breathlessly, but the moment the sentence is from my mouth I want to curl into a ball. “Fuck me…”

“Another night, perhaps,” I vaguely hear Kiril murmur.

“Back up,” Sebastian commands savagely, and I feel his arms close in around me.

So warm, but there is something I suddenly miss about delightful prickle of cool skin, and from Sebastian’s embrace I blink away tears to fix my watery gaze upon Kiril once more.

“Where’s Alex?” I hiss, but my body is suddenly exhausted, and I collapse against Sebastian’s chest.

To this I get no answer, not that I could actually process it if I had.

All I want is for the evening to swallow me completely, to wrap me in darkness that steals away the terrible vortex of torment tearing my brain to shreds.

__________

With refined detachment, Kiril watched Sebastian easily sweep Miho into a princess carry, but he found himself captivated by the limp swing of her arm when the other man stepped away. Crushing a surprisingly tenacious desire to snatch Miho away like a jealous dog over a bone, he instead watched Pale’s head of security disappear with his prize, without stirring further.

He was by no means oblivious to Miho’s amateur – though by no means insignificant - investigation into the disappearance of her business partner; he was aware she’d ruffled many feathers by shouting out the name Konstantin in places she was sure she’d be heard.

Oh, she’d been heard.

Smirking, Kiril didn’t even bid farewell to his vacuous company, and left Pale without a fuss, pressing his phone lightly to his ear.

“Ah cousin dear,” he drawled, his free hand in his pocket as he strolled down the street. “I love what you’ve done with that problem from last night.”

There was a short silence, before a female voice responded.

“Are you following up?” she queried and didn’t sound especially impressed about it. “You?”

“Pure happenstance,” he shrugged, even though his cousin could obviously not see him. “I heard the girl nearly got herself killed by one of Konstantin’s fanboys.”

“What’s your angle, Kiril?” she asked suspiciously. “Why the interest?”

“We both know full well she’s hunting for Konstantin because he’s abducted her friend,” he responded – because abduction was no big deal. “What I don’t know, Narumi, is why you didn’t erase her desire to find him.”

“You don’t think her sudden disinterest in the location of her business partner and best friend would be a little suspicious?” Narumi volleyed, and Kiril could tell she was annoyed – just as she always became annoyed when he challenged her. “Especially to the likes of Sebastian Ross.”

“Oh yes, and he is very interested in her, a real knight in shining armour,” Kiril chuckled, stopping at an intersection to wait for traffic.

“Don’t provoke him, Kiril; I don’t need the headache,” Narumi sighed, and Kiril got the impression of her rubbing her temples. “For once it’s Konstantin causing a stir, and unless you want Konrad on the warpath, just stay out of this and let me handle it.”

The mention of Konrad caused Kiril’s top lip to peel back in a sneer.

“Where is Konstantin and his little friend?” he grated between his teeth, stepping – no, stalking – across the road.

“I haven’t located them yet,” Narumi admitted. “He’s doing a remarkable job of concealing himself.”

“Remarkable, isn’t that him just all over,” Kiril huffed, abruptly taking the hand of a passing woman.

She looked at him quizzically, before smiling and staring wordlessly: starry-eyed.

“If you find him before I do,” he continued into his phone, leading the woman along with him, “tell him I said hi.”

“Just stay out of this,” Narumi warned. “I mean i…”

But Kiril hung up and tucked his phone away, focusing on his present company.

“Hungry?”

__________

In the darkness of my apartment, I’m alone again with Sebastian. Murmuring a mixture of concern and how much trouble I am, he helps me to the bedroom and sits me down on the end of the bed.

“I’ll get you some water,” he says in a low voice, his hand still resting on my shoulder. “Think you can get undressed by yourself?”

There is nothing untoward about his question, not even a hinting undercurrent of lust; he could take advantage, but he doesn’t – that’s the kind of man he is.

“It’s not so bad anymore,” I reply, slowly sliding the jacket from my shoulders.

No sudden moves just the same.

“I’d say you’re working too hard, but I know that’s in your nature, so, what’s going on?” he questions, and though it’s dim I can see him frowning. “In the year and a half I’ve known you, you’ve never had so much as a sniffle.”

“There is the whole best friend missing and nearly getting run over thing,” I point out a little snappishly, but it’s a measure of my low tolerance levels rather than any actual anger I have toward him. “I’m sorry, Sebastian, I don’t know – I just have this terrible feeling something horrible has happened Jazz, that I’m so close to finding her but she’s just beyond me reach.”

Blinking, I find my cheeks wet again, and Sebastian gently wipes his thumbs across my cheeks.

“Do you want me to stay?” he asks, and though he’s a seriously impressive looking man, this inquiry leaves his lips unsure, tentative.

If I was able to think more clearly, I would certainly challenge him; though we care for one another as friends, he made it clear very early on our relationship beyond that was just physical: a way for us to relieve some of the tension in our lives without romantic entanglements and all the obligations that come with. He has never stayed and never asked to, always leaving when we’re both satisfied.

Saying yes might lead to something I don’t need, but I know right now I don’t want to be alone.

My chin drops forward before lifting again, and the warmth of his palm cupping one cheek is a reassurance I’m grateful for.

“Okay,” he smiles simply, crouching a moment to unzip my boots and slide them away. “Hop into bed, I’ll get you that water and be right back.”

Sighing, I undress to my panties and slip a t-shirt on – normally Sebastian wouldn’t get to see such a thing, the Miho ‘home-body’ in her unflattering night clothes, but it’s not something I worry about.

What I want is to be held, and stroked, and told everything will be okay – that I’ll wake up tomorrow and Jazz will be back, no harm done, and this blasted headache will be long gone.

Wordlessly upon his return, Sebastian strips down to his underwear and joins me beneath the duvet, leaving me no time to appreciate the stirring cut of his physique. Instead, I settle for the strong coil of his arms around me, and snuggle against his firm chest, inhaling slowly.

“Just close your eyes,” he whispers into my hair, but it’s not his voice I hear.

Kiril Lambert.

His are the fingers weaving softly through my hair, his breath against the side of my head, his ankles entwined with mine. Just as it had, sitting across from him in the booth with my wrist in his grip, the pain my skull abates, and I am left with a slowly growing ball of tension in my stomach.

“You okay?” Sebastian queries, leaning his head back.

My answer is to kiss him, a slow and searching notion, probing for interest.

The tense of his body and then the smooth of his hands down to the small of my back is his response, but he ends the dance of our tongues.

“I don’t think this is what you need right now,” he tells me, but his body is already telling me what he needs.

“I don’t want to think,” I hiss, my voice a little hoarse, and his response to the trail of my fingers to the band of his boxer briefs and beneath is to clench his jaw. “So get naked and fuck me.”

These words are the kind of vulgar imperative I might use in a moment of passion to provoke him, not the kind of thing one says while vulnerable; but I can’t help it, I suddenly need it.

Also surprised he hesitates, but not for long when I palm him firmly and bite into his lower lip, at which point Kiril takes hold of the hem of my t-shirt and tears it all the way to my throat.

Yep.

It’s Kiril Lambert’s weight I feel pressing over me, and into me not long after, his shoulder-blades I’m digging my fingernails into and his hips my legs are wrapped around. Gentle at first, I feel he doesn’t want to hurt me but is definitely holding back – he needs encouragement, and my teeth sinking into the taut flesh of his shoulder and the arch of my body to deepen our contact provides this.

The night is a heavy blanket that hides us from each other’s sight, but through the fierce thrust and grab, and the heady thickness of panting breaths and desirous moans, I can clearly see the ravenous depths of Kiril’s gaze by which I am willingly consumed.

PART 2

#Miho Fujiwara #Jazz Mann #Kiril Lambert #Konstantin Lambert #OC #Vampire #Vampire fiction #original fiction

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silliusssoddus · 5 years

Text

The First Names Concept - Night 3

(Roger Taylor x Reader x Vince Neil)

MASTERLIST

A/N: HI HEY IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! there were a lot of exams

and of course a writing-deleting cycle but i've finally gotten it to a point where 'm sorta content w it

anyways i am so sorry for being all ‘ooh symbolism’ in this part i just...really like fleetwood mac...and i’m kind of trying to do the whole ‘show don’t tell’ thing, but i’m terrible at writing and idk when to use what so...yeah...idk

WARNINGS: very small mention of smut, mentions of people taking drugs (not reader), mentions of coke, weed, alcohol, fluffish and angstish at times, car accident and that’s it

WORD COUNT: 5,456 (a lot of stuff happens folks)

SPECIAL THANKS TO: @scarecrowmax for making sure this doesn’t suck, i appreciate it so much!!

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Elektra Records have signed Mötley Crüe their record deal and they celebrate with Queen. You make amends with both boys, which leads you to the position you were in the first place.

(creds: @taylormaydwithlove)

“Ready Freddie?”

(creds: @getthefckouttahere)

“...grabbed your cheeks, feeling him pull you in for a kiss...”

It was perfectly normal for people to like morning, but some could call you insane for waking up at an ungodly hour just to see the sunrise. But more than often it was because you couldn’t sleep and last night was no exception.

You managed to find your way up to the hotel roof at 5am, seeing the first few orange streaks in the purple-ish clouds, and walked on over closer to the railing.

You wrapped Vince’s jacket - the only thing you could find in the darkness and you couldn’t afford to lose more time finding something else - tighter around your body. Yes, LA had a reputation for being warm all the time, but only when the sun was out.

Thoughts of the past few days flowed through your mind as you saw rays of the orange light flood onto the floor.

Vince was right though, maybe you and Roger weren’t ‘destined to be’. Did that mean you were finally over him? All thanks to Vince himself?

Even if that was the case, you were still mad at him. You wanted to go after the woman and apologise, both on his behalf and your own, but after seeing her with Roger, you began to think that she deserved it.

Turning back around to find a seat, you spotted a metal bench and made yourself somewhat comfy. Your head angled itself so that the back of your head rested on the top of the cold railings, trying your best to ignore how blatantly uncomfortable it felt. Besides, your mind whirred in thought too much for you to even realise it.

Maybe it was how deep in thought you were, or maybe it was because you were starting to fall asleep, but you didn’t realise that Roger had come up to the roof. And you certainly didn’t realise how intently he was admiring you and how you were hugging your knees and staring into the landscape.

“Uh, hey.” he finally cleared his throat to say. You didn’t really have the energy to turn around, especially because you could already recognise the voice.

“Hi.” you returned, failing to meet Roger’s eyes when he made his way over to slump down beside you.

“You didn’t come down for breakfast, so Freddie sent me up to say sorry...or something.”

“I’m late for breakfast? Isn’t it 5?”

Roger let out a sharp laugh at that, so you returned with a look of annoyance. It was way too early to deal with this.

“Maybe it was when you got here.”

You looked down at your watch, eyes widening in shock when you saw that 3 hours had passed.

“Oh whatever, I can wait ‘til lunch.” you relaxed, too tired to even care at this point.

“How did you even know I was here?”

“I guess I know you too well,” he shrugged, “or, at least I thought I did.”

“Oh, that’s what you’re here to talk about. Look, I don’t know how it happened, okay?”

“Yes, but- Y/N I told you I missed you and you just-”

He was struggling, you could tell from the way he paused and groaned in exasperation to let his head fall into his hands.

“You know how unfair that is, right? You had 13 years to say something, but you never did. You brought this on yourself, Roger.”

“I- I know, that’s why I don’t know what to...feel...and Fred wanted me to apologise-”

“It’s alright.” you cut in as a desperate way to help him from struggling so hard.

“H-how do you feel about...me?”

“Rog…” you sighed.

Picking his head up out of his hands, he turned to look at you, his face full of worry when he saw that you still hadn’t moved an inch.

“You know I really like you, I always have and I always will…”

“So what’s stopping you?”

“Everything. Brian, our age-”

“It’s Vince, isn’t it?”

You gave him an irritated sigh again, hoping he’d take it as a sign that you wanted to change the subject. It was the first time the two of you had even discussed what your relationship was, but he could not have picked a worse time to do so.

Giving up, he finally realised the position your neck was in and let out a little chuckle, in hopes that it would be enough to change the topic and lighten the mood.

“Is that even comfortable?”

“Not really,” you laughed in return, “but it’s the only thing that’s stopping the throbbing in my head.”

“Course you got a sore head, you’ve drunk two nights in a row. Uh, here.”

You looked up to see him patting his shoulder and decided it would be better to rest there instead. He used one of of his hands to guide your head, before snaking down your shoulders to place itself on your arm. You grinned to yourself when you felt his hand rubbing your shoulder, while the other rested on the bare skin of your leg, lazily and platonically.

“This might...sound weird...but have you ever thought about what you want to do? I mean, you can’t be around us forever.”

“Christ, you sound exactly like Brian.” you giggled.

“Well he’s right, y’know, you have to find something to spend the rest of your life doing.”

“But I literally can’t do anything. Like, I barely even went to school, because half of the time you guys were too tired or too busy writing songs to drive me there. The only time I actually went was when Oliver’s parents drove me.”

“Oh yeah, Oliver. Never liked that chap. He seemed distracted all the time. But he had you as a girlfriend, I don’t blame him.”

Your cheek grew warmer against his shoulder, but as soon as he realised what he had let slip out, he did everything he could to stop you from talking about it further.

“And don’t say that you can’t do anything, ‘cause I’ve heard you play the organ.”

“God, you’re a genius, I could get a job in a church!”

For some reason, he seemed to think that was the funniest joke in the world, seeing that his chest was rising up and down rapidly as he bellowed in laughter. You joined him, equally as amused, letting yourself get distracted from the conversation you had managed to throw away.

“Hey, uh, speaking of the organ. Freddie managed to seal Vince’s band their record deal and they really want us to be there for their first official concert, to say thanks and whatever, and Freddie suggested we do ‘The Chain’, ‘cause that’s your favourite song...and because you’re the only one that can play the organ...”

“Absolutely not.”

You loved ‘The Chain’. You loved Stevie Nicks, her voice, her words and the meaning behind them. But you had always associated that song with Roger.

“What? Why?”

“For starters, I’m still mad at the both of you.” you said, sitting up straight out of his arm.

“But you’re not mad at Brian, Freddie or John. And you haven’t met the rest of the band. You’d absolutely love Tommy, he’s like a child in an adult body. Reminds me a lot of you.”

“Fuck you too.” you snorted.

“Oi, watch your mouth.” he chuckled in return.

A few seconds of silence passed again as you weighed your options for what you could do.

“Alright fine. But only because I’m not letting Brian down. Or Stevie Nicks.”

He laughed again, watching as you got up off the bench and were headed back indoors.

“I look ridiculous.” you told Freddie, standing in front of a mirror as he zipped the back of your purple leather dress.

It looked as if a low neck, leather top was sewed onto a flared, leather skirt, while being horribly tight around you. But you weren’t going to lie by saying you didn’t look great.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this self conscious in my 26 years of living.”

“Oh, don’t be so fucking daft, darling, you look fantastic.” he said, smearing some bright red lipstick on your lips. You had done everyone else’s makeup in that hour, but you spent a little while longer on Roger as a result of him mucking around.

“You know you look absolutely gorgeous in anything. And you already have two men drooling over you, imagine what they’d be like after seeing you like this.”

He fluffed up your hair again as a final touch for your outfit and gave you a toothy, reassuring smile.

“On the subject of those two men...can I ask you something?” you said, giggling slightly at his comment.

“Always, love.”

“When we went to see them live, I noticed that Stevie and Lindsey kept looking at each other, like they were singing this song to each other. And it made sense, ‘cause, y’know, that’s what the song’s about - them not wanting to lose their love, because if they did they’d never get it back.”

“And you were wondering who you should sing it to?”

You nodded, letting a sigh out along with it.

Freddie noticed that both bands were just an earshot away and if they concentrated, they would definitely be able to hear your concentration.

“I can’t speak for your mind, darling. Just go with what’s natural.”

“That would be Roger.”

“There you have it.”

“But-”

“Vince is quite alluring, isn’t he?”

“And he told me something really...wise, to be honest. He said if we were meant to date, we would’ve by now.”

“That is a good point. But listen-”

Before he could tell you anything else, the stage manager had knocked on the door and warned you all that there were only 5 minutes left until they were expected onstage.

You and Freddie both made your way back to the boys, not at all surprised to be greeted by wolf whistles and cheers from the younger ones. The fact that their leather jackets had the same ridiculous studs and patterns as your skirt eased your nerves a bit, because you didn’t feel as embarrassed. Besides, you were more than used to trying on Freddie’s and Roger’s clothes in the past. This was nothing compared to that.

“Leather really suits you, Y/N.” Roger commented with a sweet smile.

“Yeah, especially that jacket that I gave you. You gonna wear it?” Vince tried his luck.

You had been giving him the silent treatment from the moment you got here. Sure, you couldn’t help laughing at the greeting he yelled when he saw you (“Ah, the royal fuckers made it!”), but besides that you wanted him to know what he did was bad.

“Actually, I wanted to give it back. It’s not like I was gonna keep it anyways.” you snapped, grabbing the jacket you slung over a chair earlier so that you could shove it on his chest.

Subconsciously, you found your eyes flickering up to meet his and it made you stop your actions altogether. There was a hint of sadness in them, like they were screaming ‘red from crying myself to sleep last night’, but it could’ve easily been ‘red from smoking a blunt’. It wasn’t easy to tell from a guy like Vince.

Maybe you were misjudging him though, because ‘a guy like Vince’ wouldn’t be this affected by his mistake only because of the girl he cheated with.

Girl he cheated with. You felt disgusting. But the feeling couldn’t stay for long, thanks to your own empathy. You blamed Brian for the fact that you care too much.

“Actually, it might look good with the purple on my dress.” you spoke softly, taking your arm back to put the jacket on.

It was a way of forgiving Vince, because if anyone would know how it felt to act out because you had feelings for someone, it was you.

John walked toward you with his blue shirt and the same leather jacket as everyone else. It was hilarious, you felt like a motorcycle gang of rainbows, having guitarists in red, the singers in yellow, drummers in green, bassists in blue and you in purple. He was the last one to meet them, having to perfect the curly mess of hair on his head so that his furious bopping onstage wouldn’t ruin it.

“Looking good, D!” Tommy said, greeting him with a high five.

“Yeah, yeah, took you long enough.” Roger grumbled, picking up the drum stick he had managed to drop due to attempting one of Tommy’s drumstick twirls. He seemed to give out another huff of annoyance after you, John and Tommy - the only ones that saw what happened - laughed at him.

“Right. Let’s get going, shall we?” Brian said, managing to peel himself away from a very deep conversation about guitars with Mick and turned to lead both bands to the wings of the stage, holding various doors open for them along the way.

There was no doubt that the nervousness was visible in the younger band. John managed to calm Tommy down and talk him out of drinking right before the show, Freddie kept reminding Nikki how proud he was of them, Roger was trying his best not to bite Vince’s head off but gave him useful tips to ease the nerves and Mick and Brian lagged behind, laughing at them.

You noticed Freddie’s jolly expression turn to that of concern when he looked from the stage and back to you. Returning with furrowed eyebrows, which he then answered by nodding over to the stage, you immediately grew more nauseous.

The stage was set perfectly for the situation you were in. The organ was placed so that you faced both the drumkit and the microphones. Great.

You let out a shaky sigh as both John and Freddie gave you a reassuring pat on the back, before turning to give Brian a hug. Despite having made fun of the boys, he tended to be the most nervous one before shows, so you couldn’t even being to think how scared he was to perform with another band.

“What if they hate it?” he said as you pulled out of the hug.

“Bri, you’re asking me if people’ll hate one of England’s greatest bands.” you said with a teasing chuckle.

“Don’t worry, everyone loves it when there’s a change of routine. You of all people should know that, being in a band with Freddie Mercury.”

“Huh, and people call me the smart one. Thanks, sis.” he laughed, before turning around to set up his guitar.

With a scoff of disbelief, you decided to join Freddie and Vince as they were vocalising and warming up their voices, but it shortly turned into a competition of who could reach the highest note.

Of course you won out of the three, using your higher pitched voice as an advantage, but Vince came very near to beating you.

“Ah, it seems like Roger’s got competition.” Freddie had joked, causing everyone onstage (apart from Roger) to erupt into laughter.

That was over as soon as it started, seeing as the stage managers in the wings were frantically waving for silence onstage so that they could flip the spotlights on.

“Please put your hands together for Mötley Crüe!” you heard from the loudspeakers around you. It emitted a tiny roar of excitement, nothing compared to the reaction Queen got.

“And joining them tonight, England’s royal highness, Queen!”

The curtains drew back and you were suddenly greeted by the faces of thousands, screaming and chanting their names like bloody murder. They seemed like restless, tiny blobs of colour, the way you always perceived the audience to be ever since Roger used it to calm you down.

It was right before a gig at the Rainbow back in London. Both Brian and Freddie had insisted that you sang and played with them for one song and you gave in, but you were an easily frightened teenager and didn’t know what to do. Roger spent the day calming you down to the point where you ran onstage with nothing but confidence.

“Ready Freddie?” Roger repeated the words he was so used to before every show.

Freddie gave him and Tommy both a nod to start their drumming before turning to give you a nod to start playing.

And it went really well. Everything was perfect. Your high pitch matched with Freddie’s and Vince’s low tones, the organ sound fit perfectly along with Brian and Mick’s guitars, which you could keep in time with thanks to Tommy and Roger on the drums. Nikki had nothing to do for the time being, so John had kept him occupied by teaching him a few moves that he clumsily followed.

The audience enthusiastically clapped along with the two drummers, on the edge of their seats to see how brilliantly the two sounds were going to mix during the chorus.

But as soon as you thought all of your own fears had melted away, you made a mistake. Not a noticeable one that ruined both bands’ reputation, but one that was sure to ruin your relationship with one of the ‘two men drooling over you’.

You looked up and met Vince’s eyes.

“And if you don’t love me now, you will never love me again...”

You wanted to break the eye contact, but the audience was going absolutely ballistic and the giddiness on his face when he took the small action as a way to confirm that you weren’t mad at him anymore gave you double the guilt you already had. You knew that Mötley Crüe needed this. It was a good way to kick start their band, a way to gain more popularity by actually putting on a show for the audience.

And because you were set on doing things for the audience, you let Vince pull you up from the organ seat and lead you by the hand to the centre of the stage during the little bass solo. The two of you bobbed your heads in time to the gradual crescendo of the drums and you let out a yelp when Vince picked you up by the waist, spinning you around a couple times.

As you were gasping and squealing along with the audience, Vince used his hands to ensure your legs were wrapped around his waist before sliding around your waist. By letting your head fall in the crook of his neck, you deepened the hug.

“Chain, keep us together.” you sang into Vince’s mic once you were on the ground again.

“Running in the shadows.” he sang back, leaning over your shoulder so that his arms stayed wrapped around your waist. His lips then fell on your shoulder to give a quick peck.

Tommy noticed how the drummer’s arms swung down harder by each second, the expression on his face growing angrier.

“Yo!” he hissed to Roger, then doing it louder the second time when the first one failed to get his attention.

“If you break the toms, you’re paying for a whole kit.”

“Sorry.” Roger mumbled, returning his strength back to the softness it was before.

The song ended and Vince made you curtsey (while the rest of Queen bowed, of course) before giving you a kiss on the cheek and a teasing slap on the ass to send you off backstage.

And you didn’t think much of it, because it was only for the audience.

It was only for the audience.

The sentence was the only thing that kept Roger calm.

It was only for the audience.

Vince didn’t mean it and you didn’t actually choose him.

You were sat on the floor of the band’s apartment, chatting away with a drunk/slightly high Nikki and finding out that the two of you were more similar than you thought you were.

The topic of parents came up when you noticed a lady had walked over to you, holding out a plate with two lines of coke. Nikki looked ecstatic, rubbing his hands together before picking up the tiny, metal straw. He looked at your blank expression and pointed to the second straw on the plate in confirmation.

“Oh, I don’t-”

“Just one line. I promise I won’t make you an addict.” he laughed.

“I’m good, thank you though.” you laughed in return.

And just on cue, Freddie had waltzed his way over.

“Yo Fred! Want a line?”

“Course I do!” he exclaimed, picking up the straw and copying Nikki’s movements from before.

“I didn’t know cocaine was your thing, Fred.”

“Neither did I. But it doesn’t hurt to try new things. Have a great night, darlings. Ta!” he cheered, getting up to turn on his heel and walk away.

You were about to ask Nikki for a line yourself, but Tommy shortly stumbled toward you after Freddie had left.

“Y/N...I have a serious question for you.” he spoke, forcing creases on his forehead to show that he was indeed being serious. It concerned you, if you were being honest.

“Sure…”

“Are you a witch?” he continued, still no sign of it being a joke on his face.

But you did notice that there was something off in his eyes and you turned to Nikki for help. He only mouthed the word ‘drugs’ and gave a very drawn out nod to ensure that you understood, which you showed by laughing.

“And why do you think that?”

“‘Cause Vince is going crazy about you, dude! It’s like you’ve got him in a spell or some shit. Look.”

And sure enough, you heard the repetitive chanting of your name, accompanied by the blonde singer hopping around the place.

“It’s fucking wild, man. He’s never done this for any other girl.”

You felt your cheeks heating up wildly at the realisation, more so when he decided to add the words ‘I’ and ‘love’ in the mix.

“Who’s up for a beer drinking contest?” he suddenly screamed, evoking a loud cheer from everyone at the party.

There was only one voice that didn’t do the same.

“We don’t have any fucking beers, dumbass.” Mick chuckled.

“Well, I’ll go get some.” he slurred, stumbling his way over to the ashtray in which his car keys were, but falling before he had the chance to even stand up properly.

“Take Y/N with you. She’s the only sober one here.” Tommy chipped in, earning drunk nods of the head from the rest of the boys that wanted you two to make up.

Roger himself nodded, too enticed in an argument with a woman about how bad Queen’s music was. But he didn’t seem mad, rather the opposite. They kept giving each other teasing touches and you suddenly didn’t want to be sober anymore.

You managed to steal Vince’s bottle of vodka and take a swig from it as you were walking out of the house, resulting in him giving out a cry at his stolen good.

“Shit...I didn’t bring my license.” you huffed after you had ruffled through your purse.

“‘S fine, I can drive.” he mumbled, slamming his hip square against the back of his car.

“You sure about that?” you giggled, tightening your grip around the neck of the bottle when he tried to grab for it.

“I know these roads like the back of my hand, pretty lady. And you know how much I look at that.” he winked.

His hands fumbled on his car keys, but eventually managed to put the key in and start the car. For a drunk man, he was surprisingly good at driving, but you guessed it was just muscle memory.

The car radio played softly, tinkling out different hits from the 70s. Vince drunkenly nodded along to the beat of the songs, singing along if he knew the words or looking over to you singing and laughing at the exaggerated movements you made to the love songs.

You loved the way he laughed. You loved the way his teeth glistened and his eyes shone when he did and how the night lights enunciated all of that. The sound itself was boyish and charming and made your heart soar every time you heard it and washed away some of the fears you had letting a drunk man drive.

“Wait wait wait...I need to pull over.” he stated after 5 songs, slowing the car down and parking it on the sidewalk.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“...I want a blowjob.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake Vince.” you laughed, slapping his arm playfully.

“No don’t worry, that’s not the reason.”

The smirk he gave you before he left the car made you fear for your life even more.

He appeared once again, now right outside the car door, and opened it up for you.

“M’lady.” he kept the smirk, earning a playful kiss on the cheek from you as you got out of the car.

He took your hand and lead you in the direction of a tatty, old and seemingly abandoned building, with its door broken so anyone could come in. There were no signs, but it screamed ‘keep out’. And Vince didn’t obey.

He dragged you through the endless corridor, which was only lit up by a few lamps scattered on the walls here and there, but you eventually managed to end up in a place that felt colder. Dragging you to a stop, he slammed his hand on the wall and activated some kind of switch that lit up the pool in front of you.

“This place always looks better at night.” he spoke proudly.

“Vince, why are we here?” you asked, trying your best not to sound as irritated as you were.

As you stood there grumbling to yourself, you didn’t notice that Vince had put you on the perfect spot right on the edge of the pool and had lined his hands on your shoulders to push you in.

You fell in with a scream and a loud splash, flailing your arms and legs around desperately to get above water.

Seeing Vince collapsing to the ground in laughter sent something through you. It wasn’t anger or irritation - you just wanted to find a way to get back. So you swam up to the edge and had him perch closer to you.

His childish grin and droopy, naïve eyes almost made you feel bad for even planning your impromptu revenge, so you decided to take it easy on him. You bunched up the front of his shirt and pulled him toward you with your lips puckered, but ducked under the water before your lips could touch. It caused him to tumble into the pool beside you and a louder fit of laughter from you.

“You asshole! I can’t swim!” he gargled, swinging his arms around in desperate need of something to grab on.

A pang of guilt hit you in the chest and you immediately made your way over to him, avoiding the splashes of water the best you could. But as soon as he had access to your shoulders, he found a way to push you down underwater, completely off-guard so you didn’t have the chance to take a deep breath, and kept you there for a few seconds.

When you came back up, you were fuelled with nothing but anger. Maybe a little bit of hysteria along with it.

“Wanker!”

You managed to send a huge wave of water crash over him with your arm, to which he returned the favour and did the same, and things continued like that for a bit. Until he dived down at the same time as you and grabbed your cheeks, feeling him pull you in for a kiss.

Slowly, your laughter came to a halt after the two of you came back up for air, him getting a chance to get a hold of your legs and wrap them around his waist for you. It also gave you both a chance to look into each other’s eyes properly, like when you were in the bathroom, or when you were onstage.

There was still that sense of awe in the way he looked back at you and it was still evident despite the alcohol. It warmed your heart to see, but it didn’t feel right at the same time.

“Stop thinking.” he grumbled, wading through the water over to the edge of the pool with you still in his hold.

“What d’ya mean?” you queried when he hoisted you up onto the concrete surface again.

“Lemme show you.” he stated, reaching over to the jacket he smartly placed on the poolside before you pulled him in. You hadn’t even noticed he had bought his Polaroid along with him, due to the fact that the bag holding the camera was hidden under his jacket.

(thank daniel webber for inspiring this part, i love his photography)

“Say cheese!” he said after pulling the camera out, drawing out the ‘e’ in an adoring manner.

So you gave him a big smile as you were blinded by the flash for a few seconds, but when he looked at what he had taken, you saw that the smile on his own face had disappeared.

“What’s wrong?” you pushed when he didn’t say anything for a few seconds.

“You’re thinking.” he repeated, showing you the picture. You couldn’t see what was wrong, though.

“The light from the pool fills your eyes and your face perfectly. You’re so fucking gorgeous. But your smile ain’t right, babe.”

You bit your lip, not because you didn’t understand what he meant, but you were scared of what he was implying.

“You wish I was Roger, don’t you?”

The sentence hit harder than it was supposed to. Even Vince could see that.

“I- Vince-”

“Nah, it’s fine. I can take you back.” he hummed sadly, hoisting himself onto the poolside next to you.

“No- Vince, please, I want to be here.” you said, but even he could detect the uncertainty in your words.

“I want you.” you corrected yourself

“Then prove it.”

You pulled him by the neck for a rough, messy kiss, causing him to topple onto you. But he pulled away as quick as the kiss started.

“I’d continue if it wasn’t for those two cockblockers standing there.” he answered your confused expression.

You turned to look at what Vince was referring to, only to meet the eyes of two scary-looking security guards (that’s what you assumed they were at least) towering over the two of you with stern faces and crossed arms.

“You’ve got 5 seconds to leave before we call the cops.”

With that, Vince leapt off you and pulled you up with him so that you could bolt out the building into your car again, laughing like mad men along the way.

“That was the most embarrassing to ever happen to me.” you half-mumbled, half-laughed to yourself.

“Let’s get these fuckin’ beers!” he whooped, igniting the car once more and speeding down the road.

It didn’t take long for Vince to drive to the nearest gas station and use his rockstar money to get 8 boxes of 8 cans of beer, which he then had to buckle a seatbelt over because it was his ‘duty as a father to protect his children’ and ‘you’re the mother, you should be concerned about their safety too’.

The ride back to their apartment had a lot of stopping and starting again, as Vince kept his hand on your thigh and couldn’t help going further. You had to frequently scold him and tell him to keep his eyes on the road, but of course he didn’t want to.

‘Baby, It’s You’ started to play on the radio and the two of you simultaneously went to turn the volume up. Vince then rolled down all the windows so that everyone in their cars and their pet dogs could hear the song and your voices harmonising/borderline screaming.

But Vince didn’t keep his eyes on the road at all and you were having too much fun to notice. He leant in to your side to try and steal a kiss, but he pulled the steering wheel in the same direction without realising it. The car skidded and spun in the direction of the grassy field next to you and before you had the chance to grab the wheel and put the car back on track, two blinding lights suddenly appeared in the darkness with a blaring noise you assumed was the horn.

The only sounds you could hear after that was the shattering of glass, the screeching of both cars attempting to break and the song quietly playing in the background. Only, it wasn’t The Beatles’ soothing vocals, nor was it Vince’s.

“I love you too, Roger.”

“Holy shit.”

TAGLIST: @lifesasickjoke @slowandangry @rrrogah-tayluhh @fatbottomedgorl @ugly-shirts-girl @marvelismylifffe @iluvmesomemarvelndc @kawennote09 @totallynotkaibiased @amy-brooklyn99 @hannafuckingsucks @miss2001babe @anxious-diabetic @drowsebaby

PART 4

35 notes · View notes

panda-noosh · 6 years

Note

can we get a sequel to your 17 with keith? (the your'e hot, shame bout the personality one?) Thanks, you are such a great writer btw and i hope you keep doing what your'e doing!!

Enjoy!

Keithwasn't used to feeling bad about his insults.

Youand him argued all the time. You were like cat and dog, a pairingthat was quite simply made togo against one another. You were one side of the coin, and he was theother. You were water and he was fire. You were you andhe was him.

Totalopposites.

Perhapsit had been stupid of him to think that you were taking all of it ingood fun, because that's what he had been thinking. He had spent thepast few months of knowing you thinking you were just taking it allas a joke, some playful banter between two friends.

Butlast night had opened his eyes a bit more to what his words meant.Even though he never meant anything he said, you didn't pick up onthat, and he was beginning to understand why.

“MaybeI was too harsh,” Keith said as Shiro sat across from him at thedinner table. The two of them had gotten in late, meaning they wereforced to eat dinner as a duo rather than their usual array ofeverybody else.

Youweren't there, which Keith found to be a slight relief. He wouldn'thave to face you.

Shirochewed thoughtfully on the noodles he had just scooped into his mouthusing a pair of wooden chopsticks. “Tell me what happened again.Then I'll give a cleaner verdict.”

“Shebasically yelled at me for being an asshole,” Keith explained. “Shesaid I never left her alone, and that I found every reason I could tobe mean to her. I – I didn't think she was taking any of itseriously until now.” Shiro pulled a face, black bean saucestaining his chin which he quickly got rid of by swiping his thumbacross it. “I didn't think she was taking any of it seriously,either. She seems like a strong girl.”

“Anybodycan get worn out,” Keith grumbled. “God, Ireally messed up, didn't I? What do I do?”

“Youwant to do something about it?” Shiro asked. “Since when did youcare about anything she did?”

Keithwinced at the words. They sounded so harsh, bringing back flashbacksof all the times he had, indeed, been rude to you for no reason. Itwasn't just a thing between you two any more, he was realising.Everybody had seen that side to him at least once, meaning everybodymust have thought he didn't care about you. Everybody must havethought you two were just – that pair.

Hefolded his arms over his chest and leaned against the table, shovinghis bowl of black bean noodles away from him with his elbows. “Inever didn't care about her, Shiro. She's a nice girl.”

“Youhave a weird way of showing your opinion.”

Keithsqueezed his eyes closed. “Just give me advice!” “Go andtalk to her!” Shiro exclaimed. “I thought it was obvious – youtwo need to sort stuff out.”

“Shedoesn't want to talk to me.” Shiro shrugged. “Make herlisten, then. Do that thing they do in all the movies – sit outsideher door or something. Take a boom box outside and serenade her.” “Outside.” Keith opened one eye, fighting the urge to smile.Even in his darkest moods, Shiro knew how to cheer him up. “Intothe solar system.”

Shirosmiled. “The backdrop of stars. How romantic.”

Keithrolled his eyes as he stood up, a rush of determination sinking intohis bones in this moment. He had once seen himself as completelyhopeless. He had sat there and believed that his relationship withyou was over completely, never to be rekindled – but now he wasconfident.

Hethanked Shiro one last time before he made his way down the halls toyour room – the very same room he had been trying to avoid for thepast twenty four hours. Every time he passed your door, he wouldpurposefully quieten his footsteps as to not let you hear he wasthere. He didn't want you coming out and speaking to him before heknew what to say.

Butthis time was different. He marched up to your door and racked hisknuckles against the wood, trying to keep his breathing level as hemessed around with the ideas of what to say. He could be front withyou – tell you he didn't mean it, that you two need to move on forboth the sake of the team and the sake of the mission you two hadtogether.

Orhe could tell you the truth.

Thetruth was a more bitter pill to swallow, even for himself. But hecould no longer deny it as he stood outside of your bedroom door,listening to your groggy state pulling yourself out of bed to padtowards the door.

Thetruth was, he was insanely terrified of losing you as a friend.Insanely terrified. Hehad put up walls whenever he realised he was getting attached,meaning he insulted you and he poked fun at you and he made you feellike shit because it tricked his brain into believing he wasn'tfeeling the very things he was feeling.

Thatwas the bitter truth of it all, and it all came rushing to him inthis moment,

Butthen the door was opening, and you were standing there and your facewas beetroot red from being pressed into your pillow, and you were inyour pyjamas and your hair was sticking up in all directions andKeith suddenly lost all will to do any of this. To apologise, to lookyou in the eye and patch things up.

Hisbreath had escaped him almost completely, and he forced his eyes awayfrom yours.

“Keith?”you said, and his name falling from your lips, groggy andunpracticed, made him wince. “If you're here to start something,please just save it. I'm only just awake.”

“I'monly just in,” Keith mumbled. “Can I talk to you?”

Youknew immediately what it was he wanted to speak about – of courseyou did. The avoidance hadn't been subtle, and you were hoping thistime would come eventually, but it didn't make the nerves any lessprominent.

Youswallowed the golf ball sized lump in your throat and stepped out ofyour door frame, allowing him inside of your messy room. The bedsheets were crumpled on the bed from having only just been used, andyour uniform for the day was also a heaped mess on the floor.

Keithstepped inside, past the crumpled pieces of paper, past thestationary, past the weapons you had randomly scattered around. Hewent straight to your bed and sat down, messing with his hands in hislap as he did so.

Youstood above him, hands folded over your chest as you wait for him tosay something – anything.

Andthen he does.

“Pleasedon't hate me.” He tested the words out for size, feeling them inthe air, trying to make out if they sounded right.

Heshot you a sideways glance, wanting to see how you'd reacted. Yourface was still stone cold, staring at him as if you wanted more.

Keithswallowed and looked back down, trying to cypher{hi I love BTS}through the speech he had gone through only moments before foranything else that may come off as sincere in this moment.

“Youknow how I get sometimes,” he continued at long last. “I getworked up. I get lost in my own head and you – I thought– you were somebody I couldmess with whenever I felt like it. I thought you'd take it betterthan everybody else because you give off this strong persona, Iguess. It was stupid and selfish of me and I really, really,don't want to lose you oversomething so simple.”

Lose you.

Themtwo words could have been all you picked up on, and they stillmanaged to make a shiver course down your spine.

Henever had you. Not inyour head, anyway. For the months you had known him, he had alwaysjust been the attractive guy who didn't like you for no reason. Ithad never occurred to you that maybe it was just a bit of back andforth banter.

“Thatdoesn't make it alright,” you finally said. Keith looked up,startled at your voice. He was purely convinced you would stay silentthis entire time. “You don't just – You don't just say thosethings to people over and over again and expect them to take it justbecause you want a bit of back and forth, okay? You really hurt mesometimes.”

Keithnodded. “I know that now, and I'm sorry. I really, really am.”

Itwasn't what you had expected. Certainly not from him, but it feltnice. It felt genuine, like it really was a misunderstanding betweenyou two that had caused this whole thing in the first place.

Youplaced a hand on his shoulder gingerly, trying not to make it seemlike you were giving in completely. You didn't want to give him thatpower – not now, at least. In time, perhaps you two could really befriends, but until then – baby steps.

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thegrimllama · 7 years

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Lena Luthor wasn’t usually a nervous person. She could command an audience, she could dominate the boardroom, but right now? She was panicking.

Honestly, Lena never really thought her friendship with Kara would reach a stage where she was slowly being introduced into the group, one by one. Maggie had been first. She and Lena had long since discussed the whole Maggie-arresting-Lena debacle, Maggie spending the better part of ten minutes apologising before Lena could get a word in edgewise. She and Maggie had hit it off fairly quickly, bonding over their mutual love of Italian cuisine and various scientific magazines.

Alex was next. She’d been a little harder to crack than Maggie, mainly because Lena had to spend a good portion of their first meeting convincing Alex that Kara really was just a friend. But now, she often ran various projects past Alex before perfecting the science behind them. It was good to have an impartial party who was willing to tell Lena when she was being too damn ambitious.

Lena hadn’t technically met Lucy. They’d connected via Facebook not long after Kara convinced her to join the “superfriends group chat”. Lena still didn’t quite understand the name, but she figured it was something to do with the fact that everyone in the group was in some weird way, connected to the girl of steel. She was still honestly trying to figure out who knew who and how. Lucy was strangely comforting, and they’d had many private late night-early morning conversations thanks to Lucy being in… well from what Lena could figure out, she was last posted somewhere in the Middle East.

Winn… He was a special case. Lena had sought him out on her own soon after the gala, where he had helped her out of a sticky situation. It wasn’t until a few weeks later that Lena realised that her friend Winn and Kara’s Winn were the same person. That certainly made Lena feel a little silly. Winn had started becoming a little scarce when he had started dating a girl called Lyra, who Lena was still yet to meet.

Which brings Lena’s thoughts back around to the fact that tonight was her first official “induction to the Superfriends”. Which according to Kara, should have happened months ago, but unfortunately due to everyone’s conflicting schedules, there was never a chance. Luckily enough, Kara’s weekend off coincided with Lucy’s, giving everyone else the drive to take the Saturday off completely.

She’d been texting Kara intermittently throughout the morning, asking if she should bring anything, fending off accusations of bribery when Lena suggested bringing an aged bottle of scotch from her bar, eventually leading to her standing in front of Kara’s loft, three hours early in a pair of tights and her oversized MIT sweater.

Lena chuckled at the stunned look on Kara’s face when she opened the door wrapped in her towel. "Aren’t you cold…?“

"I am too hot to feel the cold. You’re early,” she said disappearing into her bedroom, presumably to finish changing. Lena was thankful that it gave her a few minutes to help her overcome the blush that had set in at the thought of what could possibly be hidden under that towel. She could’ve kicked herself. She might not have many friends, but she knew that letting her thoughts wander there was definitely not a friend thing to do…

"I just… usually when I have a Saturday off there’s a bouncing blonde dragging me across the countryside or causing havoc for my PR department…“

Kara’s laugh was positively gleeful at the reminder of the fiasco that her social media post had caused the month before. Lena’s brain nearly short circuited when Kara left the bedroom, still half pulling the shirt over her head. She was so weak. And Kara had washboard abs.

"How is Jess handling Yousef’s incessant emails and voicemails?”

It was Lena’s turn to laugh as she removed the bottle of scotch from her bag and placing it on the bench along with the pack of donuts she’d deposited on the way past.

"Honestly…? I think you should maybe start upsizing Jess’s coffee and adding a chocolate brownie to the usual lunch order. The words, ‘I’m going to strangle Kara’ actually left her lips yesterday.“

Kara had the decency to look a little sheepish, "I will definitely make it up to Jess. But… you have to admit, the panicked phone call from Yousef was hilarious.”

Lena snorted and flipped open the donut box. "This is true… donut?“

Two hours later, Lena and Kara were sprawled across the couch, legs tangled together as they silently watched the live feed from the L-Corp satellite that Lena had looped into Kara’s tv. "What’s that one called…?”

Kara raised an eyebrow, “There are roughly twenty thousand objects on the screen, Lena…”

Lena rolled her eyes and used her phone to zoom in on the star in question, “This one.”

Kara laughed, “Me completing a masters degree in astronomy does not mean I can name every star in the sky.”

Lena tilted her head from her spot on Kara’s shoulder, an eyebrow raised in challenge until Kara sighed, “Rigel. It’s the seventh brightest star in the night sky when viewed from Earth…”

"You can view it from places other than Earth?“

There was a definite smirk in Lena’s voice. Kara dug her fingers gently into Lena’s side, causing the CEO to squirm away, "You can if you’re an offworlder, Ms Luthor.”

"So, what has Supergirl told you about Rigel?“

Kara laughed, "We don’t usually talk about the stars. But I can tell you that it has a surface temperature of 11000K and a radius of 54.29 Million kilometres give or take…”

"That’s almost double the temperature of the sun… right?“

Kara was about to answer when the loft door swung open, revealing Alex, who was holding six large pizza boxes and a pained expression, "You know, you could’ve got the door… so much for… Oh, hi Lena!”

Lena quickly climbed off Kara and rushed to take the boxes from Alex, who thanked her and hung her coat.

"Where’s Maggie?“ Kara said, looking over the back of the couch.

"Finishing paperwork at the Precinct. Wine?”

"You and I both know that I don’t drink wine…“

Alex threw Kara a sarcastic smile, "Well it’s a good thing I was asking Lena then, because your lazy ass didn’t even attempt to help with the pizza…”

Honestly, taking Alex up on the offer to drink, when all she’d had to eat was donuts, was probably a bad move on Lena’s part. She was tipsy before anyone else arrived. On a positive note, Maggie had ended up bringing along a dark maroon bottle of something with foreign (alien?) on the label.

Kara held up her hands and groaned, attempting to shield herself using Lena’s hair, “I hate all of you…”

Lena leaned over and sniffed the glass in Kara’s hand, “What the fuck is that? It smells like that time I burnt out the wiring on the circuit I was working on…”

Maggie laughed, “That is oddly specific, yet strangely accurate…”

"So, Kara Danvers, any particular reason your poison is battery acid?“ Lena chuckled as Kara tossed back the glass draining it in one. A knock at the door spared Kara an answer, "Lucy!”

Game night went well, at least, as well as it could for Kara and Lena who were kept at a pleasantly buzzed level after Lena completely decimated the squad at Jenga and then again when she paired with Kara for charades.

The Superfriends had all slowly trickled out of Kara’s apartment, shortly after midnight, leaving Lena and Kara to tidy up the empty pizza boxes. The silence was comforting, Kara occasionally giggling would set Lena off and they’d dissolve into another round of laughter. The loft was once again clear, and Kara and Lena were back in their spot on the couch, once again watching the stars via Kara’s tv.

"We need to talk…“

Lena rolled herself over, "Is this about the fact that you only get drunk on battery acid…?”

Kara laughed, “It’s Zakarian Ale and yeah… kind of…”

Lena had had her suspicions for a while, and honestly, if Kara wasn’t ready to tell her, then Lena wasn’t going to force the subject. She tugged on one of Kara’s braids, feeling much braver than she had six hours ago. "It’s okay. I know you trust me… and if you need to keep your secret then I’m not going to ask you to divulge it…“

Kara rolled her eyes, "What if I want to?”

"Then I’m gonna have to find a new best friend, because I don’t think I can be friends with someone born in Gotham…“

Kara laughed and pushed Lena off the couch, catching her easily before she hit the floor, "I wasn’t born in Gotham.”

"Metropolis…?“

"Lena!”

Lena laughed and allowed Kara to tug her back onto her stomach, “You know, I think I’ve known for a while."

"Really?”

Lena’s breath caught in her throat at the sound of Kara’s voice. She sounded so small, so scared. "Yeah, I mean, there’s no way that blonde is natural… Seriously though, I don’t care where you come from. I don’t care that you could probably easily lift me one handed… I know what you are…“

Kara smirked, "Say it. Out loud. Say it…”

"Vampire…“

Kara laughed loudly, mingling with Lena’s giggles, "You’re an idiot.”

"But you’re still my best friend, so what does that make you…?”

"One very lucky Kryptonian.“

<<Prev. || Next.>>

#lenasdayoff #social media au #part 5 #supercorp #grims minis

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zuzkyblog-blog · 7 years

Text

The Night Visitor ( Credence Barebone x Reader)

Summary: Reader, an Auror employed by MACUSA, falls ill with flu. As she stays home and tries to manage the sickness on her own, she wakes up in the dead of night to find an unexpected visitor in her kitchen.

Pairing: Credence Barebone x Reader

Word Count: 5234 (what is brevity?)

Warnings: mentions of abuse, possibly angsty themes like loneliness (?) etc.

Comment: Comments/thoughts VERY WELCOME. I don’t know, this one doesn’t have much of a plot and it’s simply TOO long without much fluff, but I do have an idea for the sequel with much more Credence in it. Also, I apologise if you find the English weird. I’m not a native speaker and I often struggle to express myself correctly.

You wobbled your way through the city to your apartment. People you were passing by on the streets were giving you weird looks. A young, pretty woman like you, stumbling across the street dead-drunk? Preposterous! Little they knew your state had nothing to do with alcohol intoxication.

Just when you noted that the crowds around you grew thicker, you realised you ran into one of the infamous Second Salemers’ rallies. Before you knew it, one of the kids that the crazy preacher-woman had distribute propaganda leaflets all across the city handed you a piece of paper. You looked up the rather tall figure - this was no child, was it?

Your eyes tried to focus on a face of a young man. You couldn’t really register all the details about his clothing and looks, but he was very handsome and you immediately recognised him. Apart from his name you knew him well; he was the eldest adoptive son of that Mary Lou Barebone woman. He was always found standing on a street long after the rally was over, trying to get rid of all pamphlets he had to distribute for the day. You’d always avoided him like the plague, because just one look at his pitiful existence filled your heart with sadness. You were a melancholic creature and in a desperate act of self-preservation you forbid yourself to take an extra step to safe any of the Barebone children, no matter how much you fancied the young man with a ridiculous bowl cut.

This time, however, you completely missed your chance to avoid him and stared at him face to face. His meek, bashful eyes made you uncomfortable. There was something apologetic in them, although he had nothing to apologise for.

“W-Would you mind…,” he spoke in soft voice, but never finished the sentence. Instead, you noticed his hands moving, offering you one of the cursed leaflets. At normal circumstances you’d never take one, but today you reached out and took it, shoving it into the pocket of your coat. Opening your lips for an obligatory ‘thank you’, he beat you to it. “Thank you,” he uttered and his pale lips flickered in a vain attempt to smile. You blinked at him, completely confused by his reaction.

“You’re welcome,” you replied and smiled back. He gazed at you gratefully, but then looked away. Something else attracted his attention, so you just pushed past him and continued your wobbly walk home.

It was nearly 2 o'clock in the afternoon when you got to your apartment after excruciating day in the office and the weird meeting with the Salemer boy. As an Auror employed by MACUSA, your job ranged all the way from chasing wizards dabbling in dark arts to digging through mountains of paperwork. There was no way to predict which would be the case each day and honestly, you were alright with both. Not today, though. Either option seemed terrible because of the exhausting fever that took possession of your body. That was exactly the cause of your wobbly walk.

What seemed like a little sneeze in the morning turned into something that appeared to be proper influenza infection. You were sure you could handle it on your own. After all, you’d always been very proficient in herbology, and mixing antidotes and plant-based medicine was your forte back in the good old Ilvermorny days. Unfortunately, the illness required you to take a few days off so your body had a chance to rest properly. You wouldn’t be much of a help chasing criminals or dealing with paperwork anyway.

Still, you tried your best to survive the day in the office despite your progressively rising body temperature and growing muscular exhaustion. If it wasn’t for Queenie, one of a few true friends you had in MACUSA, who quickly noticed your pathetic state and mentioned it to your boss, you would probably put on your strong face and endured it till the end of your shift.

As soon as you locked the door to your apartment and allowed yourself to rest your back against it for a few moments, the feeling of gratitude for the pretty and considerate Legilimens flooded your body. You’ve never been very good with fevers, so the decision to take a few days off seemed right.

Taking a deep breath only to realise how much you were hurting, you dragged your feet towards the kitchen where you kept your potion-making tools scattered across the table. There was no need to keep it hidden from No-Majes; it’s not like you had any non-wizard visitors or visitors in general anyway. You got ingredients from your stash and started brewing something to kill the fever and something for general revitalisation; that’s what you usually used when you got sick. As the first potion was simmering on low heat, you prepared something to eat, even though you had absolutely no appetite. Last but not least, you boiled hot water for herb tea. Staying hydrated was the key.

Two hours later you were finally done with potion-making. You took spoonful of both potions, downed them with some apple juice to subdue the disgusting taste, and stored both brews in dark glass bottles for later consumption, tucking them into your old fridge. You checked once again if your front door was really locked just to make sure no unwanted visitors would disturb you and finally all the conditions were perfect for a good long rest in the bedroom.

Giving yourself a chance to read a book in your bed just because it felt like waste of a perfect day to fall asleep straight away, very soon your body let you know what it really needed. You drifted to sleep with the book dropped to your chest.

You woke up in the evening, pleasantly surprised to feel so much better than earlier. Your potions were obviously working wonders, but the path to recovery was just starting. Still, you decided to do a few daily chores like washing the dishes. Before returning to bed, you opened your window a tad to get some fresh air inside, even though it was November and it could get quite cold during nights.

Unfortunately, you didn’t sleep well at all. Terrible feverish nightmares haunted you. Dreams about your childhood, about problems with your mother, your work, daily investigations as a MACUSA’s Auror, even your days back at Ilvermorny, breakups and reunions with the one romantic partner you ever had and all the following nights spent in loneliness and tears, even today’s face to face meeting with the shy boy with leaflets. All of that kept coming back to you, mixed in some sort of surreal collage, as if the thoughts were nothing more than ingredients for your potions, ground together by your pestle and mortar and no matter how often you woke up to cut the string of the perpetual dream, it always came back as soon as you’d closed your eyes again.

Your eyelashes fluttered open in the dead of night. You were even more tired than before and you were feverish again with your (y/h/c) hair drenched in cold sweat. On top of that, you were absolutely freezing. Delirious, you sat on the bed, trying to figure out if it was just your fever or if there was any other reason for feeling so cold - and there was! The window you left open just a smidge in the evening was now opened all the way, filling the room with chilling autumn breeze.

“Dammit,” you muttered and mustered all your strength and willpower to get up to close it and while you were at it, maybe take another dose of the anti-fever potion and make a cup of hot camomile tea to warm yourself up. Your consciousness was playing tricks on you. It felt like you kept constantly shifting between being fully awaken and sleepwalking. Who knows, maybe you were sleepwalking. Oh, how you hated dealing with fevers!

Entering the kitchen, you left the lights out. You could get whatever you needed by memory and the room was illuminated by moonlight coming from behind the window anyway. You didn’t notice anything extraordinary at first. It wasn’t until you reached into the fridge to retrieve the potion bottle that you became aware of unusual black dust floating around your body. You stretched your back, and looked at one of the shreds of dust more carefully. Above everything else it reminded you of black ink poured into water except there was no water and it was gently rolling in the air instead.

Mesmerised, your reached out your left hand with the intention to touch it. It felt cold and electrifying and certainly not corporeal because your fingertips slipped through it as if it was liquid indeed. You watched the shred as it rose to the ceiling and that’s when you saw it.

“By Merlin!” you gasped and the scare made you drop the bottle of antipyretic potion to the floor and press your back against the fridge, nearly flipping it over. There was a whole mass of the same black and grey substance covering the entirety of the kitchen ceiling! It looked like jelly or smoke or black ink, you couldn’t really tell. It pulsated and whirled around, first fast as if it reacted to your shock and sound of shattered glass, and then it slowly calmed down and flew in circles around the hanging light, just below the ceiling.

You tried to focus your eyes on it. What was it? A weird magical cloud? Some kind of a magical creature? Was it even sentient? A figment of your imagination? The last option was entirely possible. You knew some of the ingredients you used for your potions could act as hallucinogens if mixed together incorrectly. Maybe you’d messed up the recipe? Even a small mistake could be catastrophic, especially in your lethargic state.

As you considered the options and tried to make some sense in what you were seeing, the potion spilled on the floor soaked into your fluffy socks. Turning your attention to your feet now, you totally missed the moment the dark mass started sliding off the ceiling along the wall, only to shape into a more concrete form. You looked just in time to see it nestle on the floor in a shape of human body. Soon enough, a raven-haired boy with frightened eyes of a fawn stared back at you.

“H-How… Who…,” you gasped, your words not coming together into a sentence at first.

“I’m s-sorry. I didn’t mean to…,” he said in the softest and weakest voice you’d ever heard. Yet, there was something familiar about it and somewhere in the corner of your mind you wondered if you knew him.

You looked around the kitchen, remembering you’d left your wand lying on a table. Quickly reaching for it, you held it in your trembling hand, not really pointed at the pathetic kid, but ready in case the need arises.

“How did you get here?” you asked him with trained wariness of an Auror.

“I–,” he opened his mouth and even in the darkness you could see his chin trembling as he was about to burst in tears any second. “I don’t know,” he squeezed out a choked reply and started weeping.

You heaved in annoyance. What were you supposed to do? And what the hell was the black matter on your ceiling? Was it really him? You tried to recollect all the knowledge about magical creatures, beasts and non-beings alike, that would fit what you’d seen. For a second you played with an idea it could be an Obscurus. The description would fit, but you discarded the thought quickly. There was no way an Obscurial could roam streets of New York at this day and age!

Rubbing your temples in frustration, you thought about your situation for a second. You felt terrible. Your head seemed like it was about to explode and your fever was alarmingly high. To top it off, your antipyretic potion was now spilled over the floor and it took more than hour prepare new one.

“Reparo,” you mumbled and flicked your wand at the glass shards. Saving the bottle was the least you could do. After that you casted another spell on a switch, turning kitchen lights on, and immediately cursed at yourself for having such a dumb idea. Your sickness made you terribly light sensitive and the sudden brightness made your headache even worse. It took a few moments before you readjusted your eyes to look at the boy properly.

“M-Merlin’s beard!” you stuttered in shock, because you immediately recognised him. It was the Second Salemer boy! His hair and clothes were dishevelled and he stared at you with his big, dark eyes. Your first instinct was to raise the wand against him and wipe his memory out. You remembered his mother’s anti-witch propaganda very well and you’d just shown him magic - he needed to be obliviated. Your boss would bite your ass off if you didn’t do it.

As you took a deep breath to mumble the incantation, your eyes rested on palms of his hands. He was holding them against his chest, his hunched, cowering position enabling him to hide them to some extent, but you noticed anyway.

“Oh dear,” shaking your head in disbelief you scrambled towards him and dropped to your knees right beside him. “What happened to you?” You tried your best to speak in gentle voice, but it was hard to mask how disturbed you were by everything. You still had no idea what to feel about his sudden appearance in your apartment.

“N-Nothing,” he replied, avoiding your inquiring gaze.

“Come on, you can tell me,” you encouraged him and to get your point across, you carefully placed your hand on his shoulder. He shuddered and tried to avoid it, but as your hand lingered there, he eased his tense muscles, finding comfort in your touch.

“I-I–… was just reckless,” he added and you knew he wasn’t being honest with you. Realising it wasn’t the best idea to prod, you took a deep breath, low key reminding yourself how much breathing hurt you due to your illness.

“Please, let me–”

Your fingertips tentatively grazed the palm of one of his hands, spreading over his dry skin and tugging on his hand softly. Fortunately he didn’t fight you and let you cup his big hand in the palm of your much smaller one, allowing you to see sore and bloody skin he was trying to hide so desperately.

As you observed the deep, still bleeding cuts on his hands, the weight on your chest got increasingly heavy. Of course he wasn’t being reckless. Someone had hurt him and you had a good guess who it was. For a brief moment you worried you’d start crying as well.

“Oh sweetheart,” you purred and gave him a sad smile. You readied your wand. “Don’t tell your mother, ok? She’d want to burn me at stake.” Your words were meant as a joke to light up the heavy mood, but it wasn’t really working. The tip of your wand lit up and your dragged it an inch above his broken skin, healing it in the process.

His eyes finally met yours. You could almost hear all the questions he wanted to ask but was afraid to. Instead, his lips just fluttered in a nearly inaudible “thank you” as you healed his other hand with magic as well.

“Would you like some tea? I wanted to make some for myself.”

You got up, not bothering to wait for his reply because you were set on making him a cup anyway. Alas, you got up too quickly and your sickness decided to show itself in full force. You suddenly got dizzy and would have fainted if you didn’t lean against the table.

“Damn,” you cursed and covered your face with your hands. The darkness was much more comforting than the aggressive kitchen lights. You stayed there for half a minute, long enough for the young man to question your behaviour. He slowly got up from the floor and made a few steps towards you.

“A-Are you ok?” he asked hesitantly, hoping he wasn’t the cause of your weird actions.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you waved your hand dismissively, swallowed, although the inside of your mouth was utterly dry, and continued to the kitchen counter. You still had to make the tea! No matter how many steps you made towards the counter, it seemed increasingly more distant, till all you could see was a messy blur. The last thing you remember was giving in to the gravity as your knees grew weak.

“M-Miss!” you heard the boy’s voice behind your back as he lurched towards you, circling an arm around you waist and stopping your fall. You whimpered, trying to fully regain your consciousness and balance. It took a while and he was still holding you, his heart violently beating in his chest at the physical contact that felt so wrong even though it was him who initiated it.

“T-Thanks,” you said eventually and wobbled towards the table to lean against it once more. He let go of you, but kept close and ready to catch you.

“Are… Are you sure you’re al-alright?” he inquired and watched as you took short intakes of breath to supply your head with oxygen. It was working, but the nasty smell of a spilt potion was making you nauseous.

“I’m sick. Flu or something,” you finally replied when you were sure you wouldn’t puke as soon as you opened your mouth. “I just need to lie down.” You turned to the door and let go of the table. As you slowly walked towards your bedroom, the young man followed you, catching you once again as soon as you staggered dangerously. “You shouldn’t get too close or you’ll catch it,” you mumbled a small warning, but let him hold your arm anyway. The feeling that someone was looking after you after months of loneliness was rather agreeable.

“I’ll be fine,” he dismissed your worries and his voice sounded somewhat strained.

You reached the bedroom and he seated you on the edge of your bed that looked too big for one small witch like you. You immediately started to free your feet from the soaked socks. Thinking about all the mess you had to clean tomorrow morning was making you feel even worse. You were oblivious to the presence of the boy until your eyes rested on him again.

He stood halfway between your bed and the door, his look fixed on his hands as he played spastically with his long singers. If you could focus your attention well enough, you’d notice he was actually rubbing his palms where those cuts were just a few minutes ago. As if he felt your gaze on him, he lifted his chin, looking at you.

“Is there something I can do?” he asked softly.

“W-What? No, I’m… I’m fine,” you replied, although you weren’t anything close to that. You laid your heavy body into your damp bed sheets, once again remembering how much you sweated over night.

“Please,” he uttered and watched you struggle with a duvet. To your surprise he came closer and took the duvet from you, tucking you in so you were covered with it from your chin to toes.

“Y-You really don’t have to do this,” you stammered gratefully. His selfless help was so moving.

“I… really want to.” A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Before you could ask why, he continued: “You healed my hands and took a leaflet from me earlier. You’ve never done that before.”

You looked at him, pulling the blanket even higher so your mouth was covered as well, as if you were worried what you could come up with. He seemed so happy! You couldn’t afford to break his happiness and illusions by telling him you only took the leaflet because you felt like a living dead and in your normal state you’d avoid him because it hurt too much to get closer to a pitiful human being like him. Not because you felt disgusted by poverty and suffering, not at all. It was because you had no idea how to help him despite hopelessly wanting to.

Only then you fully understood what he’d just said. You’d never taken a leaflet. He knew you. He’d been watching you, noticing your sympathetic yet desperate looks you directed his way. If your face wasn’t red already due to the fever, you’d blush so badly now.

“I wanted to cheer you up. I-I felt bad that no one took one from you,” you commented. It wasn’t exactly a lie after all. You always felt terrible, watching him hand out leaflets and see people avoid him as if he was contagious or something. You used to be one of those people, but if you knew back then how happy it would make him, you’d take a leaflet. You’d take them all.

“I’ll make tea,” he said, the hints of smile that appeared on his face like a ghost before now turning to a full grin. He left the bedroom before you could protest or say anything else.

He got back a while later. It felt like hours had passed, but your notion of time was really messed up, so it might as well be just a few minutes. You laid in your bed with your eyes closed, merely listening to the sounds of his movements. He placed something light on your night table and then something much heavier on the floor. Your eyelids flew open once you heard a peculiar thud.

“The tea’s ready,” he said, gesturing towards a cute china cup resting on the night table. You raised your upper body, propping your torso with your elbows, and looked at him. He still seemed vulnerable and lost, but there were traces of determination in his eyes. “I couldn’t find any medicine though…,” he sighed apologetically.

“I don’t have any. The potion was my medicine. It cools down fevers,” you explained, oblivious to the fact that you shouldn’t share such information with a No-Maj.

“I’m sorry,” he looked away and cowered as if he expected you to hit him any second. It surprised and saddened you.

“Why are you sorry?” You wondered if it would be too much to caress his cheek soothingly.

“I startled you and you dropped the bottle,” he explained. You observed him carefully. It wasn’t him who startled you, it was the weird black cloud. You’d pushed it out of your mind till now, but it was slowly coming back.

“Don’t worry about it,” you coughed a little. “I have plenty of ingredients, I’ll just make more tomorrow. I’d make it now, but it’s a bit of a hassle.” You summoned the sweetest smile you had at your disposal, but he sat by your bed with his chin almost touching his chest and he couldn’t see you. It occurred to you that you had no means to get his attention - you still didn’t know his name!

“I feel stupid to ask only now, but… what is your name?”

“Credence B-Barebone,” he answered, but still avoided your (y/e/c) eyes.

“Credence,” you repeated after him, basking in how pure it sounded and how well it suited him. “I’m (y/n) (y/l/n).” You offered your name in return, once again noticing his lips forming into a small smile.

“I-… I couldn’t find medicine so I got a wet towel,” he said quickly and his cheeks burned with crimson. He reached down to the object he brought with the cup of tea. Looking over the edge of your bed, you realised it was a bucket full of cold water. You had no idea where he got it, but his thoughtfulness warmed your heart. Credence fished out a small towel out of the bucket, squeezed it to get rid of excess water and with a nervous gulp he pressed the cool wet fabric against your forehead without a warning.

“C-Credence, wait,” you giggled and laid back to the mattress. Trickles of cold water ran down your cheeks and temples, soaking into your hair. You noticed how much his hand trembled and for a second you wanted to capture his long fingers with yours in a tight, comforting clutch.

“It’s not the fastest way, but it usually works,” Credence spoke when he overcame the surprise caused by your happy laugh.

“Usually?” you looked at him.

“Lately a lot of kids come to our church with cold or worse. Ma is usually busy with her agenda, so it’s me and Chastity who has to nurse them back to health,” he explained in the longest sentence you’d ever heard him say. “We rarely have money for medicine.”

You looked at him and took a deep breath. You didn’t have to be a Legilimens like Queenie Goldstein to feel the sadness behind his statement. You’d heard from Queenie’s sister Tina that Mary Lou Barebone wasn’t the best mother in the world, but talking to one of her children gave you perspective of how bad she had to be to her kids.

Credence retracted his hand, dipping the towel in water again, and the next time he brought it to your face, he held it to your right cheek. You were no longer sure the blush on your face was caused by your fever. You decided to address the elephant in the room - or at least one of them.

“Credence, do you–… do you realise I’m a witch?” you asked him. It didn’t really matter now. He’d seen you cast spells and you knew you’d have to wipe his memory before he leaves anyway. You might as well learn how he felt about magic in spite of being an adoptive son of Mrs. Barebone.

“I guess,” he admitted and he sounded rather excited.

“And? You don’t mind?” you gazed at him. Credence opened his mouth as if he wanted to share his opinion about it, then closed it again and simply shook his head. That was it, but you could swear there was much more he wanted to tell you.

“We aren’t all bad people like your mother says, Credence. We’re just like anyone else, except we can do magic,” you exhaled and closed your eyes. You heard a splish-splash of water and the next time the wet towel came in contact with your skin, it was just below your collarbones. A soft whimper escaped your lips. You didn’t even realise you had that part of your body exposed.

“S-Sorry,” he panicked and quickly withdrew his hand upon hearing your surprised whimper.

“I-It’s fine, Credence,” you sighed and watched him as he bashfully looked away, ashamed that he allowed himself to get too intimate. The patient he was taking care of tonight wasn’t a small child, it was an adult, beautiful woman.

“Listen, you don’t have to do this. I can handle it alone,” you said. You really appreciated his compassionate care, but you had done nothing to deserve it. Taking a single stupid leaflet was hardly enough and it baffled you he apparently thought it was.

“I want to,” he replied, giving you no space to argue with his unfair logic.

“But it’s really late. You should go home. Your mother–,” you stopped, being well-aware of his reaction. He began to sniffle. Credence knew very well what his mother would do if she found his bed empty. Still, he whined:

“I don’t want to…”

You watched tears run down his cheeks. He tried to stop them, but it was like a snowball rolling down a slope, getting bigger and bigger each second. Soon he was choking on tears and you could not overlook it any longer.

“Come'ere,” you whispered and opened your arms welcomingly. He looked at you and because he couldn’t see much through his tears, you carefully tugged on his wrists, pulling him closer. He let out a choked breath, but he gave in to your invitation. Soon enough he lied on the bed next to you, his face pressed against the right side of your neck, weeping softly as you ruffled his hair with loving affection. You had no idea what got into you, but it hardly mattered now. He needed comfort and you’d decided to give it to him.

“Thank y-you,” he sniffled quietly into the crook of your neck. It baffled you how after all that went down he still felt the need to utter words of gratitude. They weren’t necessary.

“Shhh, honey, it’s alright. I’m here,” you cooed, hardly able to breathe under his weight, but you grabbed the duvet and covered his trembling body with it, getting rid of the sole barrier separating your bodies in the process. Lost between your fever, his crying and your thoughts about everything that had happened, you eventually drifted off to sleep.

Morning sun woke you up the next morning, finding you in a state of total panic and confusion. You remembered things about the last night, but you couldn’t tell if they were a dream or reality. Wishing so badly to believe it was real, you snooped your flat for evidence or presence of the handsome boy himself, but you were completely alone, as so many mornings before this one. Your bodily temperature was still high, but it wasn’t unbearable like yesterday, so you decided to make another cauldron of antipyretic potion right away.

It took three more days for you to recover enough to go back to work. Although it seemed silly, you kept your window opened over nights ever since, hoping you’d once again summon what you believed to be an extraordinary dream, but Credence Barebone never came. You took it as a proof you were just making things up. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time you had hallucinations under lethargic state caused by fevers. In the end, you decided to forget and not to dwell on it.

Later that week, when your flu was just a distant echo from past, you scuttled along the pathway with a bag full of fresh vegetables and meat. With a free weekend ahead, you planned to make the best of it. Cook something delicious, read a nice book or maybe try to mix a new potion. Just as you wondered if you should stop by a candy shop and buy something for your sweet tooth, you noticed a crowd of people gathered around a stairway leading to the bank. Loud, somewhat annoying female voice reached your ears. It was the same old story, preaching about how terrible your kind was.

The Second Salemers had another rally and that alone made you stop in your tracks. With heart pounding violently against your ribcage, you looked around, searching for the boy you’d always avoided, till your eyes found him standing a bit further away from the crowd with an obligatory stack of leaflets in his hands. You gasped when you realised he was the first one to notice you, his dark brown eyes staring at you from across the street.

You inhaled sharply and for the first time in your life you took a daring step towards him.

***

#credence barebone #credence barebone x reader #credence x reader #credence barebone imagine #fantastic beasts imagine #fbawtft #long post

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artificialqueens · 7 years

Text

Reminiscences (Trixya) Ch.3 -Scoobert

Trixya high school au: so this is set when they’re both adults but each chapter has a flashback to their high school days. It’s loosely based on a song ‘caught in the crowd’, by Kate Miller-Heidke, an Australian singer I really like and saw live the other day. I cried when I heard her sing this and yeah I know it’s a little bit sad but I thought of the awesome Trixya au it could be. The song’s about Kate reminiscing on how she should’ve helped this kid out when he was being bullied in school, so this is basically the extended version of that.

An: Hey guys, I completely forgot an an on the last chapter, so here I am😬. Thanks for all the sweet messages btw, they seriously mean the world and encourage anyone that gets one so much!!! Hope you’ve been liking the chapters so far, this one is a lil dark and sad but it gets more angsty(but also more fluffy) from this point :D

hope you enjoy

xx Scoobert

Chapter 3

Katya POV

As I lined up for the runway, I turned my head back slightly in the direction of Trixie to see her packing up her stand and cleaning her brushes, deep in thought. She shifted her glance to me and I could see the pain in the corners of her mouth, the sorrow in those large round eyes, the tiny scars she couldn’t quite hide with her thick cakey makeup. I couldn’t be mistaken; it was definitely Brian. I could remember that exact face distinctly in my high school memories. I would never forget that face.

Flashback

I sat in the classroom, thinking about my chat with Brian as well as the way Alaska had treated her afterwards. I wanted to be friends with Brian and help him through whatever was going on with his stepfather. But then again, I was also friends with Alaska and I knew she could be ruthless. If she saw me hanging out with Brian she would be horrified and I certainly didn’t want to break up with my friends over something like this. Sure it was nice being able to talk about my problems with Brian but then again sometimes I preferred being able to come to school and just ignore it all, gossiping about who had a new relationship and who was annoyed at who.

*Ding dong ding dong

Ugh, school was over. I didn’t really want to go home though, whose house would I go to… neither mum or dad really wanted me there, their weird little disappointment. They were too caught up in their own argument with each other and often took out their anger on me.

I suppose I’d just hang out with Alaska and Ginger or something, better than going home at least. I packed up my books and slowly walked over to my locker, chatting with Violet, one of the girls in my class who wanted to be friends with Alaska and thus was using me to get to her. Hey at least I didn’t have to walk alone.

I got to my locker and waved over at Violet, who had found someone new to talk to already, her back turned.

I packed up my bag and walked over to Alaska’s locker to hang out with her.

‘Hey Lasky, you wanna hang out at the park for a smoke?’ I asked.

‘Yeah sure thing girl, sounds good. Mind if some other people join us? Aaron and his friends have got some booze saved up and might feel like using it if we’re convincing enough,’ she said winking and latching her arm onto mine. We walked over to the park next to the school and were waved over to where Aaron was sitting with a bunch of his friends from the football team.

‘Hey babe’ Aaron called out, swinging his arm around Alaska and her letting go of me, completely focussing her attention on her boyfriend’s lips. I sat down on the grass next to a guy who everyone called Del Rio, who I swear was too old to go to our school. There were a few other who I vaguely knew but I didn’t really pay much attention to them, intent on just listening to the group, laying back on my arms.

‘Ew look at that little faggot on his bike babe,’ Alaska piped out, giggling in that awful high pitched howl of hers. Usually I find it funny but today I couldn’t be bothered and it was kinda annoying. I pulled out a pack of smokes from my bag and lit one. I could hear everyone around me bustling, but made no notice. That was until I heard a scream come from the voice I’d been chatting with all lunch. I finished my cigarette and stood up, looking around at the mess.

‘Ahhh, stop please, I just want to go home, I’m not doing anything wrong,’ Brian called out, the group of boys pulling him off his bike and onto the ground, causing a large gash in his leg to spill with blood.

‘Yeah right you weirdo, what’s this huh, oooh little girly girl and his little gay shirt, wanna look pretty for your boyfriend huh?’ I heard Aaron call out, pulling Brian’s jacket off.

‘Babe, are you kidding, this thing would never have a boyfriend, who’d want to date him, he doesn’t even have any friends!’ Alaska retorted, laughing bitterly.

My eyes widened as the group of burly boys started to laugh and kick the boy lying on the ground holding his stomach and attempting to protect his head.

‘I do have a friend’! he yelped suddenly, surprising the boys who stopped kicking him. They all stepped back as Aaron walked up slowly to the young boy and peered behind the hand that was protecting his face.

‘Yeah fag boy, who then?’ he whispered in a low growl, barely loud enough for me to hear. He leant up on his hands slowly and looked around anxiously. Then his eyes met mine and I screamed internally. No, he was not doing this, I was not saying anything, I couldn’t, I had no idea they treated Brian this way. It was horrendous, the type of stuff you see in movies, if I got involved they’d just make it hell for me, I wouldn’t be able to help him. If I was associated with him, Alaska wouldn’t look at me again except to scowl and shove me out of the way, I hung out with her to avoid my problems, I needed her, even if she was a bit of a bitch.

But as these thoughts raced through, I could see the pain in the corners of his mouth, the sorrow in those large round eyes, the scars spread across his face. And I stood staring at him for a few seconds before Aaron tracked where the boy was looking and looked at me questioningly.

‘You know him Kat?’ Alaska piped up.

‘Nah, nah, he’s just some faggot at school, never spoken to him,’ I returned, my voice trying not to quiver.

‘Good I’d be…surprised if you had’ she said to me with a sly grin.

They all returned their attention to the boy as Del Rio kicked him in the gut.

I quickly packed up my stuff and ran to the bike rack. Kicking up the stand and pumping my legs as fast as they’d go. I chanced a glance back at the park and instantly regretted it.

Aaron and his gang walked away, Alaska slung around him giving him a sloppy kiss. The worst part was Brian though. Slumped on the ground, bloody and holding his stomach, curled in a ball. I instantly regretted my words but I also knew it would’ve been bad for me to say anything else. I focussed on the road in front of me instead, pumping my legs as fast as I could, desperate to get home for once.

End flashback

Now I remember why that memory was locked away so far. It was pretty embarrassing really. I was a fucking selfish bitch, who cares if Alaska liked me or not. I’m glad she’d changed since high school. I desperately hoped Trixie wasn’t Brian but those eyes were just so memorable.

I hadn’t spoken to Brian after that day and for good reason. He’d tried to catch my attention when we passed in the halls but I’d always looked the other way and pretended not to notice. I even changed my bike route to avoid him in the morning. It was definitely lonelier and I’d missed racing over that hill with him.

I had to put all of this behind me and focus on the runway. So I sighed and let out a long breath. Once I’d inhaled again, I had a bright smile on my face and giggled with the other girls who were all fawning over each other and how pretty we all looked.

I strutted onto the runway and did the usual, smiled at all the cheering people and striked one of my unique Katya poses at the end of the runway. That’s really why I got the job, because I have such a different sense of beauty and comedy to the other girls that the inventive modern crowds and fashion critiques liked.

I walked off, happy with my work and changed into my next outfit, I looked around to see where Trixie was, slightly saddened that she was currently painting someone else. I wasn’t left standing long though as Fame quickly pushed me down into a seat where my eye makeup was going to be redone by an eccentric Asian girl, Kim Chi. I continued with a few more walks, each time in a new outfit, none of them done by Trixie. I didn’t know whether to be happy or sad about this. On the one point what had happened was incredibly awful and I didn’t really want to face it, on the other I longed to see her again, whether it was her amazing body, her friendly, passionate attitude or simply just to reminisce and apologise for my actions during high school. I walked off the stage for the last time, my mind still circling around Trixie.

I looked around for her but all the makeup artists had left after they’d finished painting us for the last walk. I moved solemnly overt to Trixie’s desk and looked at the signs that she’d been there, nothing. I suppose they didn’t really need to leave anything behind. I grabbed a few makeup wipes and started taking off the makeup that was loaded on so heavy I could feel the wrinkles slowly forming from their weight. I walked over to the group of models sitting on the couch chatting.

‘Hey Kat, wanna come out clubbing when we’re done here, we’re gonna hit up that new one at end of the street.’

‘Ah nah thanks, bit tired today.’

‘What?! Usually you’re always up for a cocktail girl!’

‘Not today sorry, I’ll see you tomorrow,’ I leant down and gave her a kiss on the cheek as I grabbed my handbag and walked out of the studio.

I kept my head down, focussed on my shoes, still thinking about that girl. I was knocked out of this train of thought as I bumped into a mass of shiny blonde curls. I fell backwards onto the ground and heard a sweet voice saying ‘Omg, I’m so sorry, are you okay, silly me for just standing in the middle of the street like this. Let me help you…’ she trailed off as I looked up at her and she realised who I was.

‘Oh ah hey, Trixie was it? Don’t worry I’m fine, um see you’ I stood up grabbing my bag to dash away before she noticed I was acting weird. But before I did, I looked down at her and saw that her heel was stuck in the drain grate. It was one of those weird block heels and it had got caught underneath the bars.

‘Uh do you want some help there?’ I asked although I didn’t really wait for her reply before I was on my knees wriggling her ankle around.

‘Oh um yeah thank you so much.’

Then with a pop her leg was free and she cried ‘Ah you’re amazing, thank you, I’ve been standing here for a while trying to get my bloody foot out. And I only just got these so I couldn’t just leave them or anything.’

‘Don’t worry about it, yeah they’re cute, just like you.’ Her eyes widened by my sudden flirting.

‘Oh ahahaha thanks,’ she smiled sweetly.

‘Um are you…’ I trailed wanting to ask her if she was who I thought she was but being to shy.

‘Ah, errr’ I tried again

I turned away not really wanting to try again because then she’d know who I was and remember how I had left her.

‘Ah, see ya Barbie, glad you got your shoe out,’ I said and I hurried away before she could say anything else.

‘Wait!’

I turned.

‘I know this is random, but what high school did you go to?’ Crap, she definitely knew who I was, too late now.

‘I think you already know the answer to that…Brian.’

‘Gosh, only my mother calls me that now.’

‘No wonder, your new name is perfectly adorable.’

‘Ah thanks.’

‘Wanna come round to mine for a bit?’ I asked her shyly, looking down at the ground. I don’t know why I’d asked her that but it seemed like the right thing to do anyhow. She smiled reassuringly and I felt like I’d definitely made a good choice.

We walked the block to my apartment and chatted pleasantly, me asking her about how she’d gotten to work for Fame.

When we arrived at my apartment I grabbed my keys out of my bag and fumbled with them nervously until I managed to open my door. I knew I had to talk to her about it, its why I invited her over for god’s sake, I had to apologise, and I had to do it soon before I lost my voice or avoided the topic completely.

‘Here come in, would you like some tea?’

‘Would love some, milk with 2 sugars please,’ she exclaimed graciously.

I sat her down on the couch and my hands shook, spilling the hot water on my hands as I poured the water over the tea bag. Just go and tell her Katya, say you’re sorry and you’ve been embarrassed about it ever since, she won’t be angry. Okay well maybe not super angry. She can’t be, she’s such a sweet person, with a sweet pair of legs, seriously those thighs must be smoother than milk, and those hips, okay stop that. Just apologise and beg for her forgiveness, hands, knees everything, yup good plan. Okay let’s go, you can do this.

‘Here’s your tea,’ I said handing her the glass.

Time to put the plan into action. I leant down attempting to go onto my knees, but instead, I tripped over the coffee table and splashed my forgotten glass of tea all over the wooden apartment floor. My limbs landed in the tea and I recoiled at the heat, hitting my head on the lamp and cursing as I sprawled onto the ground once again.

‘Oh god, are you okay there Katya??!’

‘Peachy thanks,’ I attempted as I put my arms out and stood up. Okay plan B, just sit down and tell her from there, less chance of messing it up hopefully. This would’ve worked if I hadn’t forgotten about the spilled tea and slipped banging my head against the coffee table, right where I’d previously banged it, causing a gash to form and blood to drip down onto the floor.

‘Oh my, okay. You just stay there and I’ll grab some tissues.’

She dashed off and I was left to sit in a pool of blood, hot tea and newly emerging tears.

#reminisences #scoobert #trixya #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #transgender character #tw abuse #tw transphobia #rpdr fanfiction #submission #lesbian au #trans character

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xentricity · 7 years

Note

Can I get Leonaegi and 14, if it wouldn't be too much trouble?

14: lab partners AU

“I’m pretty sure that we shouldn’t have added iodine…” Makotomumbled, squinting as he read over the lab instructions. Why did the teacherhave to write in such tiny font? Makoto didn’t realise that Hope’s Peak would alsorequire its students to have Super High School Level vision as well! “Kuwata-kun, can you read this? You’ve got prettysharp eyes, right?”

“Eh, who cares?” Kuwata mumbled, throwing his own lab notes(crumpled into a ball) up in the air, “Just wing it. Not like we’re gonnaactually use this crap in the future, right?”

Makoto frowned, wincing as Kuwata threw his ball of paperand hit Oowada, of all people, on theback of the head. Luckily enough for him, Oowada was too busy arguing with his lab partner, who happened to beIshimaru. Makoto was starting to think that the teacher’s decision to randomlypartner everyone up was a huge mistake, especially as Oowada and Ishimarulooked about two seconds away from throttling each other.

Makoto sighed, picking up his paper and trying to decipherit. He heard a smashing noise in the distance, and hoped to god that Ishimaruand Oowada hadn’t resorted to throwing lab equipment at each other.

“How much longer d’ya reckon it’s gonna be before they killeach other?” Kuwata asked, flicking an empty beaker idly.

“Hopefully, they won’t...”

“You’re no fun, c’mon! Loosen up a little,” Kuwatacomplained, flicking the beaker hard enough it fell off the table andshattered, “Whoops.”

“Kuwata-kun!” the Nishimura-sensei snapped, looking up fromher book, “Clean that mess up at once! Don’t you know how dangerous brokenglass is?!”

Kuwata choked on his words for a few seconds, eyesflickering between Ishimaru and Mondo (the latter of which was attempting topunch the former) and the teacher.

“You can’t be serious,” Kuwata deadpanned. Nishimura-senseiscowled at him.

“That’s it! Detention for you, Kuwata! I won’t stand for anymisconduct in my classroom.”

Makoto couldn’t help but sniggerslightly at the baffled expression on Kuwata’s face. He looked like he’d justbeen punched in the gut, and kept gesturing wildly over at the bickering pairof students. Nishimura-sensei ignored his non-verbal protests, and stared downat her book again.

“This is bullshit, man!” Kuwata moaned, sweeping up theglass shards from the floor. It was 5 minutes after class had ended, and Makotocouldn’t help but silently agree. Ishimaru had ended up storming off to go tothe nurse’s office after Oowada had nearly smashed his face in, and Kuwata was the person who got punished?!

“Are you sure you didn’t do something else to make her angry?Maybe she heard you complaining that you’d ‘never use this in the future’, orsomething…”

“That’s ‘cause it’s true! You think rockstars like me spendtheir entire day thinking about if Iodine forms a convoluted bond with Hydrogenor whatever?!”

“It’s a covalent bond,actually…” Makoto mumbled, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, “Have youbeen handing in your homework and everything?”

“Nah. Like I said, not gonna need this shit!”

Suddenly, Nishimura-sensei’s seemingly unfair treatment ofKuwata was starting to make more and more sense… Makoto knelt down next to Kuwata,pointing out a couple shards that he missed.

“Well, maybe you should! It’d at least make her treat youmore fairly… next time she’ll probably give Oowada a detention before he ends up breaking Ishimaru’snose, instead of focusing on you...”

Kuwata rolled his eyes, standing up and dumping the shardsof glass in the trash.

“If I spend time doing homework and shit, I won’t haveenough time to play my guitar! Which is something that’s actually going to be useful to me in the future, y’know?”

Makoto blinked in surprise. He didn’t know that Kuwataactually owned a guitar, let alone one he was willing to actually dedicatepractise time to.

“I thought you just did vocals?” Makoto asked, “When’d youget a guitar?”

“I snagged one at a yard sale,” Kuwata explained, grinning, “Imean, I suck at it, but that’s why I gotta spend so much time trying to playit! I’m not gonna get any girls if I sound like shit, am I? Besides, playingguitar is like, twelve times cooler than just singing.”

Makoto nodded, not really understanding Kuwata’s logic (wasn’tbeing a famous baseball star enough to get girls anyway?), but appreciatingthat he was finally growing up a little and learning to practise at something.Not that Makoto could really judge- he hardly had any hobbies of his ownbesides watching TV and doodling a little bit when he was bored.

“You should come hear me play it sometime!” Kuwatacontinued, “I mean, when I don’t sound like shit, y’know… I’ll make sure topractise extra hard and stuff as well! Now I gotta run, I promised to meetHagakure-kun at lunch time- he promised to give me one of his stupid romancereadings ‘cause I helped him find that shitty crystal ball of his.”

Before Makoto could say goodbye,Kuwata was running down the halls, evidently milking as much freedom as hecould while Ishimaru was holed up in the nurse’s office.

Makoto sighed, fiddling with another beaker. The last week had been a mess- and his chemistry classes wereprobably to blame. For some reason, ever after the Glass Shattering Incident,Kuwata had been avoiding Makoto. He was still his assigned lab partner, but hewould freak out whenever Makoto tried to talk to him. This weird behaviour wassecond only to the even weirder behaviourof Ishimaru and Oowada- one day they’d gone from threatening to kill eachother, to best friends in the whole world. It was creeping everyone out.

“Hey, Kuwata-kun, could you hand me the sulphur?” Makotoasked, nose practically touching the instructions to make out the text. Who inthe world seriously wrote instructions in a 5point font?! Maybe he just needed glasses… Makoto looked over to the pairnext to him, Oogami and Asahina (how’d they luck out on the random partnershipthing?!), and they looked to have a similar difficulty reading it, so itprobably wasn’t that…

A couple minutes passed before Makoto realised that Kuwatahad never passed him the sulphur. He glanced over to his partner, who wasstaring out of the window, rolling a test tube underneath his fingers. Makototapped him on the shoulder, causing him to jump slightly, and send the testtube rolling off the table. Makoto winced in sympathy as he heard it shatter,Nishimura’s book slamming onto her desk a second later.

“Leon Kuwata, this is the 3rd time you havebroken something in my classroom!” she roared, “You’re lucky I don’t fail youon the spot!”

“Uh, actually?” Makoto piped up, his caring nature gettingthe better of him, “I was the one who broke it, not Kuwata-kun.” Makoto feltbad about lying, but it was technicallyhis fault, and he didn’t think that Kuwata could handle another detention.

“I… see…” Nishimura-sensei mumbled, sounding slightlyunconvinced, “Well then. Sweep it up, Naegi-kun.”

“Will do, Nishimura-sensei. I apologise for breaking it…”Makoto grabbed the dustpan and began sweeping the glass up. Kuwata stared downat him in bemusement, a faint blush darkening the tips of his ears.

“Uh, Kuwata-kun?” Makoto asked, “Could you add the sulphurwhile I sweep this up?” Makoto asked, just as the bell rang. He sighed, dumpingthe glass in the bin, while the rest of the class filtered out. Was it evergoing to be possible to finish at least oneproject in this class?!

“Uh, Naegi-kun?” Kuwata asked, as Makoto was heading to leave theroom, “You got a sec?”

“Hey, if this is about the test tube thing, I just didn’twant Nishimura-sensei to crucify you-“ Makoto began, but was cut off by Kuwata’s(rather flustered) question.

“Are you doin’ all this nice shit for me because you have acrush on me?”

“W-what?!” Makoto gasped, shocked to his core. Kuwatathought he had a crush on him?! Was that why he’d been acting so weird aroundhim?! It certainly explained why he kept blushingwhenever Makoto looked at him… but why? Makoto hadn’t flirted with Kuwata or anything…

“Hagakure-kun told me you had a crush on me, alright?!”Kuwata snapped, face almost as red as his hair, “I was just askin’ if it was trueor not!”

Oh. That explained it.

“Uh, Kuwata-kun, you know that Hagakure-kun is only right 30% of the time, right…?”

“Yeah, exactly! That’s like, super accurate, right?”

“It also means he’s wrong 70% of the time. This is one of those times, uh…” Makoto awkwardlyscratched the side of his face, and Kuwata smacked his forehead with the palmof his hand.

“Duh! I’m a fuckin’ dumbass!” he yelled, dragging the handdown his face. He sounded sort of… disappointed? Wait… did Kuwata have a crush on Makoto?!Was that why he’d been so excitedto show Makoto his guitar skills? The thought was simultaneously weird andflattering.

“I mean, no offense! You’re a great guy, Kuwata-kun… but Ijust don’t have those feelings for you. Or, at least I’ve never thought aboutit…”

“Yeah, no, I get it,” Kuwata mumbled, heading towards thedoor, “I get it. I’m gonna give Hagakure-kun shit for not giving me an accuratereading, though!”

And then he was gone.

Him having a crushon Kuwata, huh… that was a weirdthought. Makoto tried to imagine dating him- going out to watch Kuwata’s games,cheering him on from the sidelines, going to a restaurant afterwards and watching Kuwata fiddle with his chopsticks ashe told Makoto about his latest crazy idea to make it big in the music world…the two of them holding hands, sneaking kisses after school, making out in one of their dorms…

Oh no. That actually sounded appealing… did Makoto have a secret crush on Kuwata after all?Secret even from himself?! Hagakure must have been a better fortuneteller than Makoto gave him credit for…

Well, at least Makoto could depend on his chemistry lessonsas a way to talk things over with Kuwata. It really was a stroke of luck thetwo of them had been paired up!

#leonaegi #makoto naegi #leon kuwata #sorry this ends sorta abruptly i ran out of steam to keep going #just pretend they kissed kissed fell in love #my fics #haha background ishimondo bc im trash #and nothing is more romantic than trying to kill eachother in chemistry class #samekeychain

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