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spinster-sisters · 3 years

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Precious. JYN

restaurant worker! au (idk its just gengeral slice of life)

TW: size kink (this is yunho we are talking about) boob stuff (this is me we are talking about, praise, dom! yunho, sub! reader. there is some unwanted inappropriate touching done by an older guy but it doesnt last long.

WC: 5k

The very first thing you noticed about the restaurant you now worked at was how hot the manager interviewing you was. Yeah, you had worked with conventionally attractive people before, but most of them found a way to make themselves unappealing through words or actions. Not Yunho however, a month into working as a waitress you had to simply conclude that there was nothing not to love about him. Of course, he was dashing, that much was obvious, but it was so much more than that, he was unbelievably considerate of others and fiercely protective of his crew, he had a million-dollar smile and could charm his way out of any problem with a customer. Not to mention he was built like a God with both the height and muscles to make your mouth water. Yunho was lucky, and things just seemed to fall into place around him.

Of course, you were aware of this, as he made it impossible to forget.

As time progressed you became more accustomed to your coworkers and better at your job, soon you found a place in the tight-knit group of friends that worked together so work was usually fun.

Except for today. You have been at this job for 6 months now and somehow, with the exception of Yunho, you found yourself on a shift solely staffed by newbies without a clue. And it was a very busy night. You had lost count of the number of times one of your fellow waiters had to call you over to answer a guest question or how many times it was you who had to apologize to them for their server's mistake but it was starting to get to you.

You had a brief moment right in the middle of dinner service where all of your tables were eating happily and you would have a moment to rest. You knew that if you stood there for a moment longer you would be called over by one of the other waiters so you quickly made your way over to the bar where Yunho stood at the POS system. You used his size as an advantage and literally hid behind him. Of course, people could still see you, but at least you weren't standing directly in front of the waiter's station where you would surely be bothered.

You heard the man laugh quietly, and though you couldn't see his face you bet he was hiding a smile.

"Rough night?" He questioned, talking in a way as not to draw attention to you.

"Of course I would get stuck on a shift like this. Not a single person on the crew tonight knows what they're doing! I'm surprised you're even here, I thought the gods of the universe loved you too much" you finished your mini-rant in a mumbling tone, rubbing your eyes before looking out into the dining room just in time to watch the newest crew member, a thin gangly boy named Trevor, spill a glass of water all down the front of an older woman, and you groaned.

Yunho chose to laugh quietly again before speaking up, knowing that now that there was a new disaster your conversation would be cut short once the newbie found you.

"Don't be so hard on them, you were that stupid when you first started," he joked before looking back down at his screen.

"No, I was not!" You cried, "besides why is everyone bothering me? You're the manager shouldn't you be dealing with angry customers? That is above my pay grade." You finish as soon as the young waiter spotted you and began to make his way over.

"Because I told them to," Yunhi replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"And why would you do that?" You asked thoroughly annoyed. Coming out from behind the man as Trevor was about halfway across the dining room.

Yunho laughed his brightest laugh. The one that made your stomach swirl with butterflies. He turned finally and looked directly at you, just before the waiter was in earshot he spoke,

"Because you're cute when you're grumpy,"

And that is another thing about Yunho that was impossibly unfair. The man was a relentless flirt. And that wasn't just to you, anytime he made eye contact with anyone it's like he can't hold back the wink.

Finally, your peak time was over. After the incident with the water, the rest of the rush seemed to pass without a problem. There were only about two more hours till you could crawl back into the warmth of your bed and give your feet a real rest.

You had just finish bussing a table when the door chimed again. You could hear the host talking from where you were standing, and her words made your heart sink.

"Well of course Mr. Miller! You want your regular table I'm guessing,"

And then the reply in a groveling tone,

"She better be here tonight, I am starting to think she avoiding me,"

The "she" in question was you. And yes you were. Mr. Miller was a middle-aged sleazy man who came in close to close every Friday night demanding that you serve him. For the past few weeks you have asked Yunho if you could have Fridays off like he did, but due to some call-outs both of you had to come in.

You highly considered running to the back and feigning illness to go home, but it was too late.

"There she is!" The gargley voice called out. Admitting defeated you finally turned to look at him, and with the biggest fakes smile, you could muster you replied.

"Hey, Mr. Miller,"

From the moment he sat down he was already laying it on thick.

"Well, aren't you looking as nice as ever? Some might think you trying something," he winked at you. You had to hold back your vomit. The man was and had been since the moment he first sat at your table 6 months ago that you were his alone, if you spent too much time at another table instead of entering him he would throw a fit. If you didn't laugh at one of his jokes about your body he would throw some line like "come on, give me a smile." If you didn't fully play into the delusion that you were interested in him he would push even harder. And he didn't even tip.

So you played along "Well you know me, I always gotta look my best for you," you said trying to be friendly to appease him, but already knowing damn well that tonight he was going to be insufferable.

You took his drink order and escaped from him as quickly as you could. The other thing you hated about him was how long he stayed. Well after he finished his meal he would stick around for a while watching you. So you weren't even surprised when you felt his eyes on your body as you walked away.

Yunho was observing this interaction from afar completely confused. Friday was one of Yunho's days off every week so he had never seen this before, and he must have looked confused because the host had walked over to him to explain.

"It's weird, right? A child could see how much she hates him but every Friday he comes absolutely convinced that it's her favorite day of the week."

It was getting late, and there were barely any customers left in the dining room when you finally took his empty dinner plate from his table. Not that he was ready to leave yet.

"You know, I've been thinking" he starts before you can walk away, "how does someone as pretty as you end up working at a place like this?" He asks peering at you from over his glass of water.

"Well a girls gotta pay rent," you reply with the fakest giggle ever.

"If I had you, you wouldn't have to work a day in your life," he said, "what do you say, honey, you could quit this place for good," he asked setting his water down and grinning at you dangerously. This scared you. You couldn't help but let your smile falter for a moment, this you couldn't encourage.

"I don't know," was all you could say trying your hardest to make it all seem like a joke. You instinctively step back from the table. In a brief moment, you noticed his hand moving twords your body but it was too late, he had already put his bent fingers on your leg and gripped it.

"Come on, you know I could treat you right."

You physically recoiled but his grip was strong. You were legitimately terrified. He had suggested on a few occasions before that he would wait for you in his car after you close and watched you, he knew which car was yours and could easily follow you. It was clear he didn't take no for an answer.

You didn't know what to do, you simply stood there petrified with the man's grimy hand moving up your leg. Just when it was going to reach the hem of your uniform skirt you were pulled away behind the familiar height of Jung Yunho.

"Sir if you touch any of my employees again I will have you kicked out." Gone was the playful tone that permeated Yunhos normal speech. Instead, he was icy and cold no room for negotiation in his voice. But that didn't stop Mr. Miller from trying.

"Calm down son, me and my favorite girl were just having a polite conversation." He said looking at where you were peeking out from behind Yunho, clearly expecting you to back him up. Instead, you looked anywhere but at him.

"No sir, you were visibly harassing one of my waitresses. it is inappropriate to talk to anyone that way much less if they are working and unable to walk away. If you leave now there will be no further issue." He said, still trying to speak civilly despite his growing agitation. In your desperation to not look at the man you glanced around the room. All eyes, both employe, and patron were staring directly at you. This made it so much worse and chose to look directly at Yunho's side profile.

"Who are you to tell me what to do! I am a paying customer and a loyal patron. I will talk to whom I please!" The older man's voice began to rise clearly not liking the way this conversation was going.

"That girl behind you has been my waitresses for 6 months and if I want to touch her I will!" You heard a fist slam on the table. You jumped and Yunho pulled you farther behind himself. You couldn't help but fist the back of his shirt in terror when you heard the scrape of a chair on the floor. Mr. Miller was now standing, trying his hardest to get in Yunho's face despite how the younger man towered over him.

"If you don't walk away right now ill beat your ass boy!" Miller screamed, getting as close as possible to Yunho. You practically cowered into Yunho's back, still clinging onto the fabric of his black dress shirt like you would physically unravel if you let go.

Yunho stood stoic while the man yelled. Afterward, he took a pause, before speaking.

"Trevor, call the police and tell them we have a customer harassing our staff and threatening violence." He spoke with a defining certainty, no room for an argument from Trevor or Mr. Miller.

Yunho's gentle hand took hold of your upper arm to lead you away from the man. He turned you away from where he stood dumbfounded, and lead you back into the office, and locked the door.

Yunho lead you to one of the two chairs in the cramped room fumbled around for a bit with the water cooler, bringing you a small paper cup to drink from before finally taking a seat himself. The room was small, from the way you were sitting and Yunho's long limb his knees brushed against your own.

You stared and him and he did the same to you, neither saying a word. The man before you looked remarkably calm for the ordeal he just faced but based on the concern in his eyes you looked shaken. You hadn't realized you were crying till the drops landed on the shaky hand still grasping the paper cup for fear of life.

"Please don't cry" was all he said at first. He was silent for a moment but your tears didn't stop. He shifted a bit and the knee touching your own brushed the outermost part of your thigh. He sighed.

"Why didn't you tell anyone how bad he was? Why didn't you tell me?" He spoke calmly. He didn't sound mad in the slightest but his words brought a dry sob from your lips. He looked almost scared for a second before correcting himself in a pleading tone.

"Please don't think I blame you in the slightest. What happened was not your fault," one large hand came to rest almost timidly on your leg.

"I just wish I could have stopped this before it happened."

It has been a few weeks since the incident. News of what had happened had spread around the staff quickly and although Mr. Miller had fled the restaurant before the police arrived, everyone on the crew knew that he was not allowed on the premises and if his car so much as pulled into the parking lot the police assured us that he would be escorted off the property for trespassing.

Yunho had insisted that you take the next 5 days off afterward and even when you returned everyone was walking on eggshells around you, not wanting to do anything to upset you.

The closest circle of team members made it a point to have outings every so often as many of you were quite close outside of work, and although some of them (with your best interest at heart) didn't think you should come out, it was once again Yunho who advocated that spending time alone in your apartment would do you no good. So here you were at approximately 9 o'clock outside a small bar/club getting excited about your first night of relaxation since that day.

Once you found your way into the building it wasn't hard to spot your group. Many of them were already drunk from pre-gaming and the rest of them were well on the way. It brought a fond smile to your face. When you joined the group there were cries of excitement and soon you all fell into the groove of the evening.

You had noticed Yunho the moment you walked in because he seemed to be the only sober one of the bunch. Of course, he knew how to party better than anyone, but tonight he seemed satisfied to just watch the rowdiness unfold.

You weren't drinking cuz of the practical reason that you drove yourself here today. After making your rounds talking with every one of your friends you found yourself gravitating to Yunho as you always seemed to do. He was sitting in a circular booth so it was easy to slide in next to him.

"Not drinking tonight?" You asked.

"No. Someones gotta keep an eye on these crazy people" he replied as jovial as always, instead taking a sip of what appeared to be coke.

"Well I guess I will have to help you then"

After a few hours of talking happily with Yunho while also keeping a close eye on your friends, you found yourself, once again knee to knee with Yunho. Except this time instead of sitting in front of him, you were almost sitting on top of him. You honestly had no clue how this happened, but he didn't seem to mind. Actually, Yunho himself was now sitting with his long arm wrapped across your shoulders pulling you even closer to his side.

"YUNHO" one of your fellow waiters fell into the space beside you, but with their lack of coordination they ended up bumping into you enough that if Yunho hadn't pulled you fully into his lap you would have toppled onto the floor underneath the table. But once the crowd of crewmembers was alerted of your guys' presence they all simultaneously pushed into the booth so there was no room to sit back in your spot.

You were blushing now, thankful that your friends were too drunk to notice how Yunho's arm was wrapped around your waist keeping you securely in place. As the talking resumed Yunho leaned down to whisper into your ear,

"This is all right? I can get them to move if you want," though it was probably unintentional Yunhos breath was sending shivers down your spine, which only got stronger when you finally came to realize how much larger he was then you, effortlessly keeping your body snugly against his chest tight enough to feel each breath he took, the hand wrapped on your waist was large enough to palm your whole thigh if he wanted to. And that thought was exciting.

"No, I'm fine," though you sounded a bit shaky you snuggled yourself even further back onto his lap to show your appreciation. He chuckled lowly in your ear before returning to the conversation. But your mind could not be further from it. You had never realized before how incredibly safe you felt with Yunho or more specifically in his arms and chose to instead focus on the weight of his hand on you, the subtle shifting of his thighs underneath your own as he spoke, and the deep rumble that moved your body with his own every time he laughed.

When it came time for everyone to go home you didn't want to. You didn't like the idea of removing yourself from Yunho's lap at all. But alas, it had to be done.

As the two sober friends, you two were talked with calling cabs and making sure everyone got home safely. Until finally the two of you stood alone on the pavement. You felt the need to say something.

"I don't think I ever thanked you," you said turning to face the man in the cold air. He turned his body twords you as well.

"You don't need to thank me for sitting on my lap, trust me the pleasure was all mine," he joked, and you couldn't help but chuckle along with him.

"You know that's not what I meant," you said in a small voice.

"You don't need to thank me for that either, trust me," his big smile turning smaller but sweeter. This confused you.

"What do you mean?"

Yunho sighed with a smile.

"I'm surprised you haven't figured it out yet," was all he said. But your confused face brought more words out of him. He took a step closer to you leaning down and speaking in a quiet voice he said,

"You, have always been very precious to me, and that day was no different. I would go to much greater lengths to keep you safe if I had to,"

His words, although spoken in the softest tone struck you straight through the heart. You had always dreamed of being with Yunho but you had never imagined he felt the same way. He took another step, leaving almost no room between you.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked, bringing a hand up to the back of your head. Words weren't forming so you chose to nod instead.

It only took a beat longer for him to lean down and press his plush lips into your own. Yunho wasn't one to beat around the bush and put all of his passion into the kiss, leading your lips with his own guiding your mouth to respond exactly as he wished.

You put your hands on his firm chest as his other arm circled your waist bringing you in even closer. Your mouths were so intertwined neither of you dared to break the kiss for quite a while, simply enjoy the feeling, but soon the need for oxygen won out. You pulled apart gasping, but still holding each other close.

You're not quite sure how exactly you ended up back at your apartment but that was unimportant, what mattered was keeping your mouth on Yunho's. You two had barely gotten through the door before your back was pressed against it in a quick motion.

Along with his considerable height, Yunho also had considerable strength, so when leaning down for you became uncomfortable he chose to instead wrap your legs around his waist and lift you.

In this new position, you were at the perfect height to move his lips to your neck. He found the perfect spot on it before sucking a dark purple mark into the skin, nibbling it a bit before licking it soothingly. The wet feeling of his tongue pulled a new sound from your lips,

"Yunho!" You whined into his ear.

He seemed overjoyed at this reaction and desperate to recreate it he rolled his hips into yours. You could feel his hard length pressing oh so perfectly into your clothed slit you desperate cry could probably be heard three doors down. The man was big.

"You sound so cute" Yunho giggled into your jaw, before pressing a sweet kiss into the skin.

One of his large hands slipped below the hem of your shirt and moved up to the cup of your bra. His long fingers groped your plush breast, holding the whole thing in his hand. The warmth of his fingers and the pleasant squeeze had you whining once again.

"Your so sensitive baby," he remarked, giving your breast another squeeze. In an attempt to keep your noises contained you reached out and pulled his head to meet your lips again. This kiss was much more desperate than the others both of your lips moving so fast it was hard to keep up, your teeth clacking together in the process. Yunho rolled his hips into yours again and you squealed into his lips.

Keeping you as firmly planted on the kiss as possible Yunho's hand fell from your chest back to your hips before pulling you completely off the wall and your arms instinctively clung to his broad shoulders.

Your apartment was only one bedroom so Yunho had bo problem blindly navigating the way to your bedroom. As soon as the door was open you were practically flung backward onto your bed. In an instant Yunho found his way onto your bed, once his back was pressed into the headboard Yunho took hold of your body and manhandled you onto his lap facing him, you were once again faced with just how big Yunho was. Both of his arms wrapped around your body pulling you close and positioning your heat directly over his dick, where an impressive tent in his jeans rubbed directly into you. The loose skirt you were wearing did nothing to cover your panties. You kneed into him finally taking the initiative to grind down repeatedly onto him.

"Awe, baby you look so cute like this, all flustered and needy. Look you're making a mess on me." You hadn't noticed how wet you were until this point but he was right, you were completely soaked through the thin material of your underwear, and with each roll of your hips, you were dampening his jeans.

"Yunho," you begged "please touch me,"

"But you look so good like this. I could watch this all day. Sitting pretty on my lap, just waiting for me to fuck you."

"Please?" You cried still desperately chasing the friction his jeans were giving your clit. He flashed his million-dollar smile before giving in, slipping one veiny hand into your panties cupping your whole heats in his hand for a moment, wetting his fingers before sliding two long digits into you. You showed your appreciation in a moan and clung to his broad shoulders again.

"Please Yunho! I want more. Please fuck me." You begged.

"Not yet, baby, I gotta open you up first. Don't want to hurt you do I." As he spoke he speaks the pace of his fingers scissoring them open inside of you stretching you wider. You bucked into his hand.

"My little baby is fucking herself into my hand. How cute," your exhaled loudly then dropped your head onto his shoulder tugging at his shirt begging him to remove it. Yunho chose to first use his free hand to slide your own top of your body before taking hold of your neck and pulling your upper body away from his. With your help eventually, his shirt was pulled from him leaving your view of his beautiful chest and bulging muscles open to admire.

You almost forgot about the hand moving inside of you while you ran your own up and down the Yunho's chest, trying to feel every bump and ridge there was. Your eyes were glazing over in wonder, but you were soon brought back to reality when another finger pushed inside of you, joining the others in your pulsing pussy. Your head rolled back in a moan.

"Like what you see baby? Because I am really enjoying this view." You were sitting so pretty on his lap your skirt had been pushed up and your soaked lacy panties matched your bra perfectly. In all the movement your chest was starting to spill out of your bra.

"Baby you look so fucked out and small right now and I haven't even done anything yet, are you sure you need me to fuck you?" He asked teasingly.

"Yunho, please," your nails began dragging down his golden skin leaving a trail of red lines, "please, please fuck me." Spewed past your lips. A wicked smile graced his lips.

"You want me to fuck you into the mattress?" He asked.

"Yes! Please!" This was almost embarrassing but if anything your flushed tone only made him happier.

"No, I don't think I will." He said pulling his finger out of you.

You whined.

Yunho undid his belt pushing his pants down just enough to pull his expressive length out of his boxers. You watched with bated breath as he stroked himself a few times before meeting your eyes.

"How about you ride me instead?"

You nodded eagerly almost lunging forward. Yunho helped support your body as you hovered over him, before lining you up and pulling your body down onto him. The stretch was painful at first, you could feel him deeper than anyone else had ever reached but you clenched down on him appreciatively. You took a moment to gather yourself, half expecting him to thrust into you, but he stayed perfectly still. You meet his eyes with your own going wide and he giggled.

"I'm not moving baby if you want to get fucked you have to do it yourself." As he spoke he pulled both hands off you, resting them on his thighs.

You sat breathless for a second longer, unable to form a coherent thought, but the sudden twitch of his dick inside you brought you back to the task at hand. Slowly but surely you began moving, lifting yourself till only his tip was inside you before falling back down. You both groaned satisfied but it only lasted a second before you repeated the action, and then again, and again, slowly building speed each time and realizing quite moans every time he filled you up completely.

You had now set a fast pace, you were unsure how long you could keep it but the growing pleasure filling your abdomen kept you moving. Yunho's eyes were trained on you, switching from your blessed out face, to your bouncing tits, to where his long dick was disappeared into your cunt each time it reappeared coated in your juries.

"Baby, if only you could see yourself right now," he spoke over the sounds of skin slapping and pretty moans, "honestly you look good enough to eat sweetheart"

His words of praise-filled your ears and encouraged you to move faster, desperately clenching on his dick feeling it twitch return along with his deep rumbling groan. Your hands were still firmly planted on his chest and you used this grip for support trying once again to increase your pace. Your thighs were beginning to burn but it felt too good to stop, not when you were this close.

"Yunho, please help me," you whined, your legs faltering in their attempt to keep moving.

"Oh? But you're doing so well baby," he said with an adoring smile watching your face.

"Please Yunho?" you asked running your palms down the ridges of his chest once again. Your building pleasure had started to plateau as you couldn't keep up the pace, your thighs starting to burn even harder. You were so close but you couldn't put yourself over the edge and if growing moans from the man in front of you were anything to go by then he was right there with you.

He seemed to consider this for a moment before chuckling.

"I guess my baby is just not strong enough to make herself cum. I suppose I could help with that."

You only had time to breathe a sigh of relief before you were thrown back onto the covers. Yunho's large frame loomed over you with a sinister smirk. You barely registered the anticipation in your body before he slammed his entire length back into you. Setting a brutal pace. You cried out instantly and your voice rang through the walls of the apartment like a symphony.

Each time Yunho's hips connected with your own he hit that perfect spot inside of you bringing more noises from you. One of his hands came down onto the mattress beside your head and the other took hold of your thigh using it to maneuver you into the exact position he wanted.

Now Yunho was grunting along with you trying hurtling both of your twords your orgasms at an incredible pace. Just as you were about to be thrown over the edge Yunho connected your lips again swallowing your moans. It only took one more perfectly timed thrust before you came toppling over the edge. Although your lips were still connected, it didn't do much to help the lewd sounds spilling out of you. The pleasure came from your core in waves, arching your back and making your legs twitch violently.

Not long after you came down from the high your body began pulling away from Yunho's thrust but he held you in place.

"Just a little longer baby, I promise."

And just when the buzzing pain of overstimulation subsided, Yunho filled pulled out of you and spilled his sticky cum across your body. He stood above you for a moment, you both were panting but you were clearly the more worn out of the two.

Yunho's eyes moved across your whole body once before meeting your own eyes.

"Your precious"

#yunho smut #ateez smut #ateez au #yunho scenarios #ateez scenarios #ateez reactions

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ray-ray-writings · 3 years

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Faking Happy-Platonic!Awesamdude

#105 from this prompt list! Check out my masterlist here!

This is a platonic!awesamdude x gn!reader in the dreamsmp! Reader is also Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy’s sibling, although that isn’t really hit on a lot.

Trigger Warnings: Depressive behavior such as overeating, overeating unhealthy foods.

The bottle Y/N has been filling with their emotions finally tips over and overflows.

Y/N’s POV

I let out a sniff as I wiped at my nose. I don’t know what is wrong with me recently. It just felt like everything had gone to shit. Tommy had been exiled. Techno moved super far away. Wilbur is dead and Ghostbur remembers basically nothing. And worst of allI haven’t been able to see my best friend for a long time. Sam had been my best friend for as long as I can remember.

We met when I was attempting to add some flare to my house with redstone and nothing I was doing was working. I asked around and many pointed me in the direction of Sam. He helped me out a lot, and by that I mean he did it all. Finishing the project did not stop him from coming over almost everyday and from then on one was rarely seen without the other.

But a few days after Tommy’s exile, Dream came to Sam with a stack of diamond blocks. Dream asked Sam to build him a prison. But not just any type of prison. An inescapable prison. One where if someone were to be put in there, they wouldn’t be able to escape. It took days of planning but Sam finally got the blue prints and then he went to work.

Every once in a while I would pop by and visit him. He would show me what he was doing and tell me all about it. But the more I visited, the shorter the tours and explanations got until finally all I got was a simple wave. I haven’t been back to the construction site since that day.

My chest felt so heavy. I missed my best friend with everything I had. But I couldn’t let others see that. Anytime I went out. I plastered a fake smile on my face. I gave everyone cheerful smiles and waves as I passed through. I made time to stop and chat with Tubbo, Quackity, Fundy, and Ranboo. Always being sure to fake laugh at their jokes and waving off their worries and concerns. I would pop into Niki’s bakery, buying all the sweets that I could so I could binge eat them when I’m feeling lonely. Niki would always give me a supportive smile whenever I bought my weight in sweets but would never question me, something I would forever be grateful for. Life had just not been kind to me.

A knock on my front door startled me out of my crying pity party. I quickly rubbed the tears from my eyes and took some deep breaths, trying to calm myself enough so that it looked like I hadn’t been crying my eyes out. The knock sounded once more, this time more demanding. “Coming!” I managed to croak out. I stood from my couch and quickly made my way to the door. With my hand on the handle I took one more deep breath before plastering the biggest smile I could muster on my face. I swung the door open and gasped in surprise.

“Sam! What are you doing here?!” I exclaimed in surprise. Sam querked an eyebrow at the question, “What do you mean? Do I have to have a reason to come and see my best friend?” The tall man questioned. “No, no, no!” I rushed, moving out of the doorway to let him in, “It’s just I thought you were too busy with the prison to come visit me” I admitted, tucking hair behind my ear. Sam’s face slightly fell at my confession. He cleared his throat as he entered my home, “I’m never too busy to see you.” He stated walking further into my home. I let out a tiny scoff as I shut the door. “We both know that’s not true.” I muttered under my breath.

I found Sam in my kitchen, staring at the slight mess of baked goods. “So, how’ve you been?” Sam questioned, brushing a cupcake wrapper out of his way. “Oh, I’ve been good… Yeah good.” I lied through my teeth. “How have you been?” Sam silently stared at me. “Y/N?” He asked, not answering my question. “Yeah?” I responded, not looking at him. “Are you lying to me?” Damn it. Sam had always been able to tell when I wasn’t telling him the truth. I was hoping that maybe that being away from him for so long, his ability would lessen.

“What? No! Why would you think that?!” I claimed incredulously, slightly glancing at him, hoping to throw him off. “You are! You are lying to me! You haven’t been good have you?” He pressed harder. I swallowed harshly, my mouth felt dry. “I’m not lying. I’ve been good! I’m happy! See!” I exclaimed, looking at him and giving him a big fake grin, “Now tell me how you’ve been, how’s the prison going?” I questioned, trying desperately to get the topic off of me. “Prison’s fine. Now tell me how you’ve really been. Why haven’t you been happy?” I couldn’t help but scoff and roll my eyes, “Sam, I told you I’m fine! I’m happy. I’ve been happy. Now will you please just lay off and leave me alone about it?” I snapped harshly, maybe too harshly.

Sam’s eyes widened at my tone. His face screamed hurt which made my stomach twist in guilt. “Sam,” I began gently, trying to move forward but he recoiled. “You know what? I’ve got to go,” He stated plainly. Sam moved out of my kitchen and back toward the front door. “Sam!” I pleaded, trying to get him to stay for a moment. He wasn’t listening. “I’ve got to go back to work at the prison. Dream needs it done soon.” He claimed, throwing open my front door and taking a few steps out. I followed him and was met with cold water hitting my face. It was raining… perfect. “Sam, please listen to me. Let me explain,” I begged the man I called my best friend. Sam pulled out his enchanted trident from his inventory. I knew he was about to fly away. “You know Y/N,” Sam stated, pausing after taking his trident out, “You’re my best friend. I want nothing more in this world for you to be happy. “I hope one day you’re as happy as you’re pretending to be.” “Sam” I choked out, silently praying that he would turn around and hear me out. My prayers weren’t answered. “Goodbye Y/N” And with a flash of lighting, he was gone.

My legs gave out from beneath me. For once, I allowed myself to break down outside the comfort of my home. I sat there outside of my front door, sobbing in the rain. I didn’t care who saw me at this point. I had lost my best friend. “Y/N?” I heard a sweet voice call. I didn’t register them in front of me. They helped me stand up and go back inside of my house. They closed the door and helped me sit down on the floor in front of my door. I don’t know how long I sobbed in their chest. But they held me and stroked my hair.

When the tears vacated my eyes, I was able to see that the sweet voice had belonged to none other than Niki. When our eyes met, she gave me a soft smile. “I knew something was going on with you, but I never wanted to over step. You want to talk about it?” She questioned softly. I mentally debated with myself before deciding that yes, I did want to talk about it. And so I told Niki everything. She patiently listened and nodded along to show she was listening and interested. And when I was done, she sat for a moment to digest everything.

“You need to talk to him,” She declared after a moment, “He’s your best friend and he deserves to know how you feel. Especially if you’re feeling like this.” I let out a sigh and nodded. “You’re right. But after today, I’m not sure he would want to see me.” “Your best friend as much as he is yours. I’m sure he would love to see you.” Silence settled between us for a brief moment. “Okay,” I claimed slowly standing up. “I’m going to go see him… and I’m going to take a pumpkin pie.” Niki let out a giggle as she stood up as well. “Oh I’m sure he’ll love that.” We both laughed at that. Sam had always been a sucker for Niki’s pumpkin pie.

I thanked Niki profusely for helping me and listening to me. She assured me that it was no problem and then she left. I quickly packed for the small journey to the prison, making sure not to forget the pie and then I set out. It didn’t take me too long to get there, the many times I had made this trek before really came in handy. The walk was now basically muscle memory, I could do it with my eyes closed. Which was good considering my eyes were really puffy from crying.

I let out a deep breath as the prison came into view. I noticed that the outside was a lot more finished than when I was here last, but I could tell there was still work to be done. I quickly made my way to the entrance and stopped in the doorway. My eyes scanned around and didn’t see him. My shoulders deflated in defeat, maybe he already left for the day and I missed him.

“Y/N?” A voice called from behind me causing me to jump. I whipped around and came face to face with the man I was looking for. “Hey,” I greeted sheepishly, taking a small step forward. “What are you doing here?” He questioned, a stony expression set on his face. “I… Uhh. I came to apologize and explain.” I confessed. His hard expression fell from his face. “Go on…” I took a deep breath before nodding. And so I let everything spill out of me. I told him all about how I felt like I had lost all of my brothers. I literally lost Wilbur and the other two are so far away, I might as well have lost them too. On top of that, I told him how not seeing him had affected me and my mental health. How I had been faking being happy because I didn’t want to be a burden on anyone. I admitted to him my unhealthy habits of buying as much as I could from Niki’s and then binge eating instead of facing my feelings. And finally I told him that seeing him today and him calling me out just caused everything to break in me.

“I am really really sorry for what I said to you Sam. I didn’t mean it. I don’t want you to lay off. I don’t want you to leave me alone. I always want you to bother me and check up on me and talk to me. You’re my best friend and I love you.” I finished, a single tear falling down my cheek. Sam didn’t hesitate, he rushed forward and wrapped me up in his arms and held me close to his chest. He brought his head down and rested his chin on the top of my head as we hugged. “Thank you for apologizing,” He murmured, “I love you too. I’m so sorry I didn’t realize you were hurting sooner. I promise that I will bother you everyday if need be. I never want you feeling like that again.” “I’ll hold you to that promise. If it means I get to go back to seeing you everyday, count me in.” I stated with a grin, tilting my head to look into his eyes. I felt Sam’s chest rumble as he chuckled at my statement but said nothing else.

After a few more moments of hugging, I suddenly remembered my surprise for him. “Oh!” I gasped, unwrapping myself from my best friend’s hold, “I brought you something!” I carefully pulled the pie out of my backpack and presented it to Sam. “Tada!” I exclaimed, extending the pie to my bestie. Sam let out a gasp as he accepted the gift. “A Pumpkin pie? From Niki’s?? Oh you’re actually the best!” Sam exclaimed, grabbing the spoon I had brought him as well and immediately began digging in. I let out a laugh as he shoved the pumpkin dessert in his mouth. “What?” He questioned, his mouth full. I shook my head as I giggled, “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

There you go! I hope you guys enjoyed it! If you did, please be sure to leave a like!

#mcyt #mcyt imagine #mcyt x reader #mcyt one shot #awesamdude #awesamdude imagine #awesamdude x reader #mcyt drabble #dream #dreamsmp #dream smp #dreamsmp imagine #dream smp imagine #ray ray writings #ray-ray-writings #prompt #requested #faking happy

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uglypastels · 4 years

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To the Beat // drummer!Tom 1/2

(a/n) here it is!!! it took about a decade of my life but i think it was worth it also shoutout to @duskholland for hearing out my ideas when i was brainstorming and together with @captainpeggy40 for getting me through my breakdowns while writing. i got it finished!! <3 I really went all out with this fic, so i hope you guys enjoy it!! part 2 will come... sometime this week ;)

word count: 7939 (unnecessary content GALORE)

warning: drinking, swearing, crowded spaces, part 2 contains smut

you can find the band’s setlist here

not all songs are mentioned in the fic but it’s songs that i would really love to see them play haha. if anyone would be interested, i can make a seperate post on how i imagine them playing it (who sings and stuff idk)

Read part 2 here <---> extra headcanons here

With the right stranger, one night can feel like a lifetime.

“Will you please come?” your friend begged you over the phone. “It’s gonna be really fun!”

“You know, you say that a lot, yet I never have as much fun as you promise.” You sat down on your bed, looking out the window as the rain hit every surface outside. It was not exactly the weather you felt like going out in.

“Then that’s on your extremely high expectations, not on me.” She stated, “But pleeease.” She kept on whining, and you knew she wouldn’t stop until you gave in. It always went like this. Always.

“Ugh, fine.” you fell back on the soft mattress, your head only missing the pillow by an inch. “Where is it actually?” There was the question you both dreaded. You, because you knew you wouldn’t like the answer. Her, because she knew you wouldn’t either.

“It’s at Suki’s,” she mumbled, but you could still hear her just fine.

“That’s where you work right- please don’t tell me you’re working tonight?!” you groaned into the phone.

“I am, but I’ll be done around 9.30 I think, so there’s still plenty of time for us to hang out! Besides, you already said yes, and NO TAKE BACKSIES!” she said this all extremely fast and screamed the last two words into your ear. Then, on top of that, hung up as soon as she finished, not giving you even a second to fight back. Not sure what happened, you stared at the black screen of your phone in confusion.

She said the concert started at nine o’clock. Did she really expect you to go to this thing and spend half an hour by yourself? Or did she want you to sit at the bar while she poured drinks for everyone? Either way, none of those options felt appealing. For a solid minute, you contemplated just not going, just… not showing up. Turning off your phone and watching a movie or something at home.

But at the same time, you hadn’t left the house for a long time. And it was Friday night. Why not go out and see some obscure little band. What was their name again? Your friend had mentioned it, but you already forgot. Maybe it was for the better too. That way, you couldn’t look them up beforehand, and if they were shit, you would just find out there and not have another thing to be dreading as you got ready. Or maybe they would be good. Then it would be a pleasant surprise on the spot.

You checked the time. 7:27pm. That gave you about an hour to get ready and then some time to actually get to the bar. Should be doable.

So, you hopped in the shower to get all fresh again. Even if it would all get ruined later on in the night by standing in a sweaty crowd. It’s the effort to look presentable that counts. Then, you picked out an outfit that would be comfortable in the before mentioned crowd. You could never go wrong with the simple jeans and a t-shirt combo.

Looking in the mirror, the thought of Not Going popped up in your mind again. There was nothing really obliging you to go. And the idea of standing there listening to the loud music, whether it was good or not, sounded slightly exhausting.

No, you reminded yourself, it would do you good to leave the house once in a while. Have “fun”. You checked the time once more, 8:14. You had done everything a bit quicker than you expected. The Uber you had arranged for yourself would be there in a few minutes. So, you were stuck in that kind of waiting limbo, sitting on your couch, not sure what to do. Eventually, you put on your shoes and got your keys and were ready to head out.

The drive was quick and thankfully, mostly quiet. It was only a minute or two before you reached your destination that the driver decided to ask you where you were headed.

“Concert,” you said hesitantly. Why did these people always want to know your business? Thankfully, the man didn’t ask much more. And then it was time for you to get out of the car. The drive actually took much less time than you had expected and there was still some time left before the band would start to perform.

Suki’s was a bar downtown, in the basement of some kind of law firm. Their whole thing was that they let new bands and artists play each week so they could get some of the public’s interest going. Make themselves known to the world. It was literally and figuratively, an underground following that it had. Many, but at the same time, nobody knew about it. It was a secret amongst music lovers. Considering the bar wanted to stay its own secret, you never understood the bright neon lights above the entrance, going down the staircase all the way to the actual hall.

The bar itself wasn’t too big. Enough space for a small stage along one wall, a bar on the opposite side, and the rest was space for the crowd to either enjoy or hate the music being played. When you walked in the room was still relatively empty. You saw two guys setting up equipment on stage, you assumed it was the band. Behind them was a black banner with “Winter Solstice” written in scratchy white letters. Between the words, a star that was drawn on in precisely the same rough manner. You had to admit, it was a cool name.

Considering there weren’t many people there yet, you headed for the bar to get yourself a drink before it would be too crowded to even reach the counter. And there stood your friend, behind the bar talking to some guy. They were both laughing at something as you walked up.

“y/n! You came!” you squealed out, “what can I get ya?”

“A beer?” you said it more like a question.

“Coming right up.” And with that, your friend walked off to the tap to pour you your drink. It was more out of reflex when you sat down on the stool, you leaned your head on your hand, but you understood the question from the stranger when he spoke up.

“Not looking forward to it?”

Still with your chin on your knuckles, you turned to face him.

“Huh? Oh no, I mean… she kind of made me come here, but-” you tried not to sound too pessimistic, but the guy saw right through you.

“So, I guess the answer is yes.” He chuckled. Right then, your friend came holding your drink and put it in front of you.

“I’ll put it on your tap.” She was going to join the conversation but right then a group of tonight’s spectators walked up in need of drinks, so she was soon off again.

“I’m not not looking forward to it?” nothing in your voice made it sound like you were sure of yourself, but it was enough for him. You took a sip of your beer, which you could feel helping the situation. While doing that you looked over the brim of the tall glass to look at your conversation partner. Like you, he was drinking a beer himself and considering it was almost empty, he had done that either very fast, or he had been there for a while already.

Next, you took a look at him. From the profile, he looked pretty good. He was wearing a loose tank, showing off his arms. His dark curly hair was held back with a black cap that he wore backwards. What definitely stood out to you was his jawline. It looked like you could cut yourself on it just with the slightest of touches. For everyone’s sake, you quickly turned your gaze over to the extensive liquor collection in front of you. But you could see in the reflection behind the bottles how he was smiling to himself. He definitely saw you stare. This was awkward, and you only got here two minutes ago.

“So, do you know the band?” you asked in the hopes to weed out this weird situation you had created. For some reason, your question made him smile. In that type of way as if you had just mentioned an inside joke. Except you weren’t in on it, so you couldn’t laugh along.

“Yeah, they’re alright.” He shrugged. Then, as if he suddenly remembered something, he shot up straight in his seat. “I’m Tom, by the way.”

“y/n.” Then you remembered how your friend practically screamed out your name when you walked in, “but you already knew that.” Your phone vibrated with a text, so you took it out and immediately saw the time, it was already past nine. You looked over at the stage where the two guys were trying to untangle some chords. Clearly, it wasn’t starting anytime soon.

“What kind of music do they play?” You asked Tom while still looking at the band trying to get ready.

“A bit of everything, I suppose.”

You bit your cheek not to say anything that might come off rude, but he could still read you.

“I guess that wasn’t the right answer?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I just hoped to get something more specific, but as long as they’re good, I’ll enjoy it.” You took another sip of your beer as an excuse to shut up. He must think you’re such a bitch at this point. You saw him glance over your shoulder at the stage and then smile at you.

“I like you.” there was that chuckle of his again, “I’ll see you later, then.” And he got up. You were gonna ask why later? Why couldn’t you hang out now? You didn’t like to admit it, but you enjoyed his company, even though it was only brief and most of the time you spent it making yourself look like a moron. As superficial it made you sound, you simply enjoyed the presents of a good looking guy like him.

You were going to ask him, but he quickly disappeared into the crowd that started to form along the foot of the stage. More and more people were coming and joining in. The two guys from the band had finally untangled their chords and were placing their guitars over their shoulders, and plugged them into the amplifiers. That’s when you noticed that a spot was empty on the stage. The big drum set had no occupant yet.

So, while everyone waited for the drummer to show up, you took this time to look at the other two band members, trying to decide which one was the cuter one.

That turned out to be slightly more difficult of a task, you quickly realised. Though they were both very different, they were both also extremely good looking. There was the blonde, strumming a few simple chords on his guitar to warm up. Even in the dim light, you could see how perfectly chiselled his face was. He was wearing a slightly oversized button-up shirt with about half of the buttons open. The skinny jeans didn’t seem comfortable to you, but he made them work. The rings on his fingers reflected in the lights as he kept on strumming.

The other had a bit more of a playful vibe around him. His curly mop of hair bounced with every move he made. You could hear his loud and contagious laugh all the way from the other side of the room without the need for a microphone. His outfit was something completely different compared to the blonde. It consisted of a baggy t-shirt (that you could read the band logo on), with ripped dungarees that were only attached on one side. He had rolled them up, showing off his bright converse. His bass guitar was currently hanging behind his back as he adjusted the mic stand one last time. There was something familiar about him, though you were sure had never seen him before.

Then finally, a third person joined them. People cheered since it meant that they could finally start playing. You tried to get a good look at him before he hid behind the drum set. Hair was hiding beneath a cap, tank top… wait… was it-

You got up and walked through the audience. There weren’t that many people, so it was reasonably easy to get to the front. Or, almost at the front row, standing right in front of them felt a bit intimidating. Now you could see all three of them much better, and there was no denying it. Your new acquaintance Tom was the drummer. And when you looked over at the curly bassist again, you realised why he looked so familiar. It was not an identical resemblance, but there was enough that made you think they were related somehow.

You watched Tom spin one of his drumsticks in his hand. He had the biggest smile on his face, then he caught your eye and winked. The cheeky bastard knew exactly what he was doing, you were sure of it. He was waiting for your surprised reaction, and you fell for it completely—hook, line and sinker.

The curly one got up to his microphone. “Hey everybody, we’re Winter Solstice,” his voice was much deeper than you had expected. Especially, considering that he actually looked younger than the other two, you noticed. “We thought you’d appreciate some more known songs tonight, so join in whenever.”

Alright, they were gonna do covers. That was not a wrong move at all. A lot of bands want to show off their own music, but most of the time that leaves the audience just swaying awkwardly because they don’t know the lyrics or what to expect.

“Here’s one you all should know.”

The blonde started playing his guitar, and it only took a second or two before everyone realised what song it was. Mr Brightside. It sounded a bit different, as their attempt to make the song their own, but the riff was unmistakably Mr Brightside. Everyone around you immediately cheered and started to dance along, waiting to sing the lyrics. You were too, of course, but all you could think about was Tom playing in the back. He looked so focused, but still didn’t let it sit in the way of enjoying the song.

In the song, the drums probably only started a beat before the lyrics, so you missed out on the first few words, but quickly you were singing too.

“But she’s touching his chest now, he takes off her dress now. Let me gooo,” the blonde guitarist sang. His voice wasn’t perfect, it was rough, some might have called it cursive, but in that right sort of way. It fit well with the rest of the band and how they played. In just a minute, they had gotten the entire room hyped up. Everyone was into it. Maybe it was because of the song choice, but you doubted it. A song like that can be tricky to sing to a new crowd. If you screwed it up, they’d hate you forever.

That was definitely not the case here, they had the crowd in the palms of their hands. With each beat, you were pulled in…or, was that just you?

The second verse started, and it was the bassist that began to sing: “I'm coming out of my cage, and I've been doing just fine-” There was no clear description of his voice. At least you couldn’t really pinpoint it. There was definitely that playfulness in it that he had been showing through everything he did. He couldn’t stay still, jumping in place, making his curls bump up and down as he went.

“It was only a kiss”

It was Tom that said the little interjection in the song. You had only looked his way at the end, while the other was already singing, but you felt as if he had been looking at you directly. No, he wasn’t. Why would he? You shook the thought off and continued enjoying the performance of the three men. You sang along just like everyone else.

And then the song ended. It was almost unbelievable that it had only been one song that they played, but they moved on to the next quickly.

The guitar faded out but came straight back, accompanied by a heavy bass line. Some people around you recognised the melody, but it took you a moment or two. Then it went quiet. The blonde leaned into his microphone, whispering the words.

“I’m the invisible man,” guitar riff “I’m the invisible man,” guitar, “Incredible how you can- see right through me!” His voice got louder as Tom joined in with the drums. Then those few seconds of bass followed which actually sent shivers up your spine. To put it simply, you were a sucker for good bass and beat. But what was it about them that sounded so good? You couldn’t think of anything particular that would have set them apart from all the other artists you had seen perform in the club through the years…

Still, seeing them have so much fun on stage, it was truly intoxicating, you wanted to join them. You couldn’t remember the last time you had seen someone jump around on that little stage while playing bass. You couldn’t wait to find out what their names were, but for now, “the curly bassist” didn’t take a second to stand still. The only time he stood in one spot was when he had to sing, and even then he moved around a lot.

The others didn’t have that same luxury. Of course, Tom did not have a lot of options, sitting behind his drum set. Yet still, he managed to light up the stage with his bright smile and the passion he put into his drumming. Any time you looked at him, you didn’t want to look away- which was hard, considering that the other two were also a great joy to watch.

The blonde, in his turn, stayed on his side of the stage, being somewhat stuck with his microphone since he had the most vocals. But he still had a great connection with the audience, you felt like.

Before you knew it, the second song had also come to an end. Cheers and applause erupted in front of the band, with you contributing to it as well, of course.

“Thank you, thank you,” the bassist took a little bow. Even though they weren’t playing any song, he still slapped one of the strings mindlessly. “Like I said, we’re Winter Solstice. My name’s Harry.” He introduced himself. Finally, you could call him something else than the curly bassist. Even though it was a very catchy nickname, you thought yourself.

“Here on the guitar,” Harry pointed out, “Is my good friend Harrison.” Harrison waved to the crowd, receiving screams from the audience as if it was filled with banshees.

“In the back,” Tom immediately started a soft drum roll, but Harry didn’t wait that long, “that’s Tom.” Tom reacted with a face that could only be described as “bruh”, making several people around you laugh. You wondered if it was rehearsed or if this was just how they were. Either way, it was cute.

Harry talked some more about how they were excited to play tonight, but you were looking at Tom. You watched him grab a water bottle and drink half of it in almost one chug. When he pulled it away from his mouth, you saw that he caught you staring. Even though you were between dozens of people, even though the light that was shining in his face- he saw you. And he winked again. In the next moment, you had to think if the heat burning through your body was an effect of that little gesture or because of how warm it was in the room. For your own sake, you went with the second option.

“Alright, here’s another song for you all,” it was a voice you hadn’t heard speak before. Harrison. “Here’s: You Oughta Know.” There was a mixed reaction from the audience, including you. Of course, you knew the Alanis Morisette song, but you had never heard it be played by men. It was definitely an interesting choice for them to play, especially after the Killers and Queen.

“I want you to know that I am happy for you,” it was Tom that started singing, as he drummed softly. You tried to control your thoughts as he kept on singing. Then the pre-chorus began, and you were shocked at how well they harmonised.

“Cause the love that you gave that we made wasn't able to make it enough for you to be open wide.” It actually gave you chills. How were you so excited about listening to three strangers sing?

At the chorus itself, everyone in the room went wild, singing along loudly. It was clear that the people were sold on this new version of the song. It was all fine. You were enjoying the show. It was actually fun. And then, Tom sang the next line-

“It was a slap in the face. How quickly I was replaced. And are you thinking of me when you fuck her?” It sure was a slap in the face. You had to remind yourself that it was just the lyrics of the song. And he was just a guy on stage that you had only exchanged a few words with prior. Yet, you couldn’t focus on anything from that moment on. You could barely comprehend their version of “Are You Gonna Be My Girl”, not even really understanding that they were playing a different song. It was just a big blur. But maybe it was for the better, because could you really cope with Tom singing the titular phrase of the song in that husky way that he did... debatable.

When you woke up from your daze, Tom had stood up to show the crowd the beat to clap to. You joined in before anyone noticed how far out of it you indeed were. Harrison finished the song off with a falsetto and then it was already time for the next song.

This time you knew what to do. You wanted to record at least some part of the show. And when harry started a bass solo, you made sure to get at least a bit of it and continued filming from there, ready to post it on your Instagram later on. Harrison joined in with the guitar, and you actually had no idea what song they were playing. More people didn’t seem to recognise the song immediately, which visibly amused the musicians. They couldn’t hide their grins even behind the microphones. Once again, the harmonies… how did they sound so good?

As the song continued, the more sure you were that you had heard it before, but it must have been very different from the original. No, actually… How did you not recognise Dua Lipa? It was not hard to forget about the original when you got to listen to this version. How had each song so far been this good, you still didn’t understand. You didn’t want it to end.

But unfortunately, right after that, they took another break from singing.

“Alright!” Harrison cheered (more squeals from his side of the audience followed. Apparently he had started to gain quite the following). “The next song is another classic, I like to think.” People whooed. “So we’d like some help from you guys if that’s okay.” The crowd seemed to be into it, so Tom followed with the instructions.

“Okay, so we’re gonna start playing in a sec, and Harry will sing a little melody. Just copy that, and we’ll be on our way.” In the meantime, Harry had gone off stage to grab a bottle of water, so everyone had to wait for a second. This gave Tom the opportunity to freestyle on his drum set. It was a simple beat, but it progressed into a more complex set. He, however, did it effortlessly.

Finally, Harry came back running, he threw bottles to the other two, which they both caught without a problem. Tom started to press the bass drum steadily, layering more on top of it. Then Harry joined with the bass, and ultimately, Harrison’s guitar finished it off. Harry leaned into the microphone.

“Ooooo-ooo-oo-oo, ooooo-ooo-oo-oo, oooo-oo-oo,” he almost whistled, but not quite. He continued a few times, together with Tom and Harrison until everyone in the room was singing along. Then made that kind of gesture to show you had to stop. Harrison sang the verse. Anytime it was your turn, you’d just follow Harry.

You had been to many concerts, but not many new bands had much luck in getting a full crowd to participate in the song. But by the way they played, everyone just wished they could be in the band, playing along with them. Even if it was just dangling the triangle. You, however, didn’t want that, necessarily. You assumed that it was the fact that you hadn’t been out of the house in so long, that now that you had the chance, everything felt hundred times more great. So a concert that was already amazing, suddenly felt like a euphoric, once in a lifetime, experience… though that might go a bit too far. And it for sure helped that all three band members were hot. Like, really really hot.

Literally, too, the room was getting really warm at this point, and the guys were visibly hot also. It didn’t stop them from performing at 110% though. A few songs more passed by and Harry was still jumping around the stage. Harrison sang every note perfectly as he slew that guitar of his and Tom…

You could barely look at Tom. Playing the drums as hectically (in the good sense) as he did, you thought he would be exhausted by now. But he still had that big perfect smile on his face. The sweat was dripping down his arms, but it just highlighted his biceps, making it very hard for you to concentrate on the music. And then, no matter what he was doing, he would find you in the crowd and smirk or wink, making you even more flustered than you were before. The first time, you thought he was doing it to someone else. But then it happened again, and again. And the beat of drums led your heart. You could feel it in your throat as it kept pumping with the loud music.

It was during their little break which they used to goof around and play the intro of “Chelsea Dagger”, that you decided to go back to the bar. Your friend had said she wouldn’t leave you alone for the entirety of the concert, but you were already quite some songs in and there was still no sign of her. And you quickly realised why that was. Since the show had started, the entire room had filled up with people. You had never seen it be so crowded, in fact. And then the bar was packed with people asking for their drinks.

Your friend was indeed there, with another bartender, doing her best to pour the drinks quickly. But more and more people got thirsty, so it was easy to assume you would have to spend the rest of the night alone as well.

By that time, the band started on the next song of their setlist, and you really thought they were playing one big joke on you. Or at least this Tom guy was. As he loudly sang Sex on Fire, by Kings of Leon, you decided to sit this one song out from the front row and stay back, near the bar. It actually did you well, because it was much less hot than upfront. You could just stay there for the rest of the show. They had been through around ten songs already, so they must be done soon, either way, you thought.

And you were right. Ending with Come Together, the applause was bigger than through the entire night. The boys finished with extended solo’s of their respective instruments and a bow, and it was really over. Harry came up to the microphone one last time as the other two were already getting off stage.

“Thank you! We are Winter Solstice! Buy our merch at the door! GOODNIGHT!”

The idea of buying a t-shirt was pretty fun. And apparently, you weren’t the only one who thought that. Far from it, actually, The line at the little merch booth quickly exceeded the length of the small concert hall. You wondered if they even had enough things to sell. Would it even be worth it to stand in line? You just waited for the stream of new fans to cool down.

Eventually, it did. Slowly, but surely, the line got shorter. You also noticed that there were a few people that had the exact same idea as you had, so you joined the queue before the rest could. You didn’t even have to wait that long. Before you knew it, you were standing at the little table. There were piles of t-shirts and cd’s, and there were more boxes behind the table too. They really came prepared. Harrison had just been folding up an empty box when you walked up.

“Hi. Can I get a (your size)” you asked, already pulling out your card to pay, “and a CD?”

“Yeah, of course,” Harry grabbed a shirt for you with a smile. Tom had been talking to the girl that had been in line in front of you, but he quickly turned to look at you when he heard your voice.

“y/n!” He finished the conversation with the other girl before moving over to join his bandmate.

“Hey,” you wish it hadn’t been so, but a lot changed since the first time you spoke to him, let it only have been about an hour. There was something about him being in the band you just watched perform and buying his merch, that made you feel like a little school girl standing next to him.

“I thought you had left.” He noticed you leave? Not the point.

“No, I just went to the back. It was getting a bit hot for me upfront.”

“Ah,” he nodded. “Did you enjoy the show then?”

“Yes!” you said, a bit too loud, “You guys were great.” You looked at the CD that Harry had just handed you and smiled. “And I was wondering if you could maybe sign this for me?” Out of nowhere, Harrison appeared behind Tom, grabbing the CD from your hands and putting his signature right at the centre of the packaging. Just as quickly as he appeared, he went back to whatever he was doing before. But not without sending you a wink first. What was it with these guys and winking? Not that you really minded it.

Harry took the slightly more polite approach, waiting for you to hand him the CD and he signed it above Harrison’s signature. Then he handed it over, together with the marker, to Tom.

“So, we got ourselves a number one fan, huh?”

“No, I’ll just wait ‘til you guys get famous so I can sell it on the internet and get rich.” That was probably not the response Tom had expected, which you immensely enjoyed. Next to him, Harry erupted in a fit of laughter.

“Haz, did you hear that? She thinks we’ll be famous.” His laugh was even better close up. While Harry and Harrison kept on laughing, you used the moment to speak to Tom, one on one.

“So why didn’t you tell me you were in the band?” you asked.

“What does it matter,” he chuckled.

“You let me ask all those questions about the band, it’s fucking embarrassing, man.” you couldn’t help but laugh yourself.

“Heh, sorry.” he took off his cap to rearrange his hair since some of it had fallen in his eyes through the night. You didn’t know what else to say, so the conversation died down. Then you remembered that there was still a bit of a line behind you of people that wanted to buy the merch as well.

“Let me just pay for these, and I’ll be off.”

“No, it’s fine, on the house,” Tom said. You looked at him with wide eyes.

“Are you sure? It’s really no problem.”

“Yeah, just promise me one thing.”

“What?” You raised an eyebrow, not sure what to expect. You didn’t want to jump onto that wagon too quickly.

“Will you stay? I’d really like to hang out.”

You weren’t sure what to answer at first. You did want to stay and talk to him, but it was getting late, and you had been standing for a long time, and you were kinda gross from how warm it was during the concert… but Tom was really hot. And he asked so nicely.

“Sure.” you gave in. “I’ll hang out with my friend at the bar and let ya get back to-” you pointed around the table to make your point across. He nodded and waved you goodbye as you walked away, clutching on to your newly bought merchandise.

Just like you thought, your friend was indeed still at the bar, cleaning up leftover glasses from the counter. She saw you walk over and you could tell she saw something different in you.

“Look at you beaming, girl! What happened?” she put away the half-dried glass to listen to you.

“Nothing?” you said casually. She saw right through you though, so you just decided to give up the little act. “Tom asked me to wait behind for him.” You bit your lip, expecting to get a lecture from her. But none of that happened. Instead, she squealed out in, what seemed like, excitement.

“Ooh, Tom is such a great guy!”

“You know him?” you asked, surprised.

“Well, he was the one that got their band the gig here, so we talked here and there, mostly planning,” she explained. “And I mean, look at him.” she sighed and her eyes glazed over a bit when she looked in the direction of the merch table. Not sure what else to do, you followed her action and glanced over. Of course, right at that time, Tom decided to look in your direction as well. He smiled and waved lightly, making your cheeks heat up and quickly look away. Your friend, however, waved back enthusiastically.

“So you think it’s safe for me-” what were you even gonna ask her?

“Go have fun, I say. But if anything does happen, remember the codeword?” Her tone changed to a more serious one, which you appreciated. You had agreed ages ago on a codeword to use. In case a date turned for the worst, or generally if something felt off.

“Broccoli, baby. I know.”

“Broccoli.” She held up her hand for a high five, which you gladly accepted.

You chatted for a little bit longer. Every few minutes tho, you’d be sure to glance over your shoulder to see if the merch line was getting any shorter. It didn’t seem like it. There was simply no end to it. You felt yourself getting frustrated. To the point that your friend actually pointed it out, snorting from holding in her laughter.

“He has got you whipped, hasn’t he?” she bumped your shoulder playfully. All you did was roll your eyes. Which, actually, said everything she needed to know. He did, didn’t he? You always had a soft spot for musicians, dated a few. But comparing them to Tom now… it felt like a joke. There was something about this guy that made you want to know more about him. You wanted to see him play and sing again. You wanted- do a lot of things. But you had to get that out of your head. Let the night speak for itself, see where it leads you. If it would be his bedroom… that would be fine. Just fine.

You knew you were crazy for thinking all of this, but a girl can dream, right?

You looked across the room and were glad to see that there were only a few people left. Harry had already started packing everything up that would most likely not be sold that night. You watched the three of them make some small chat with the people walking by, but all your real focus was on Tom and his deep stare right at you. It made your heart beat faster. With his arms across his chest, the muscles seemed even more prominent.

He was suddenly pulled back into the conversation, and it was as if he changed into a different person. All bubbly, none of that- what even was it that he looked at you? You decided to not think about it too much. One does not do well when dwelling about anything.

Finally, the last person bought their shirt, and they were done. Hoping it didn’t make you look too desperate, you didn’t waste a second to walk over to them. Harrison and Tom were helping Harry pack up the rest of the things that were left on the table.

“Hey,” you said awkwardly. Tom almost dropped the stack of shirts he was holding. Again, the attention fell to his arms. You had to force yourself to look up at his face, which didn’t help much either, but it made it easier to think thoughts that would not mean a one-way ticket to Hell.

“Hi! I’m so glad you stayed,” he said after putting those shirts in the box. “I thought we could go grab something to eat. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” He spoke really fast, just showing how excited he was to talk to you again. To be honest, you weren’t necessarily hungry, but going out to eat with Tom didn’t sound too bad.

“Don’t you have to pack up?” You pointed back to the stage that still counted all of their equipment.

“No, we’re playing here tomorrow, again,” Harrison explained.

“Oh, cool.” Was all you said. It was cool, you just didn’t know how to say anything without sounding dumb.

“Well, shall we? There’s a diner on the way to my flat. It has the best burgers.” Tom exclaimed. You ignored the little mention of his apartment and focused on the burgers. He wasn’t suggesting for you to come over to his place. It was just a fact… right?

“Lead the way,” you told him, but before you left, you turned to the other two members of Winter Solstice. “It was nice meeting you guys.” Everyone waved, and so on, and you were off to eat.

It was almost midnight by the time you got there, but the diner Tom had mentioned did advertise as a 24/7. And it held up. When you walked in, you were practically hit in the face with the delicious smell of pie. You sat down in a booth next to the large window and very soon after a waitress walked up.

“What can I get ya?” she asked, flipping her little notebook open.

“I’ll have a cheeseburger and fries, thanks,” Tom asked. Then it was your turn.

“Just large fries for me, thank you.” The waitress wrote it all down, then continued to ask if you wanted anything to drink.

“Ooh, do you have milkshakes?” The woman smiled and nodded. “So a chocolate milkshake then.” You ordered.

“Make it two,” Tom added. Then the waitress went off, Tom leaned on the table toward you, with his hands in front of him. “So, just fries, huh?”

“I’m not super hungry, and I wasn’t going to steal your fries,” you explained, making Tom laugh and shake his head.

“You’re interesting, you know that?”

“I like to think so, yeah,” you answered straightforwardly. It was a pity you had not gotten your drinks yet, or you would have taken a very nonchalant sip. You leaned your chin on your hand, just like you did at the bar before the show. Except for this time, there was a smile hiking up the corners of your mouth. Tom mirrored your position.

“So how did you guys come up with the name?” you had been wondering that ever since you saw that banner hanging on the stage. It was always interesting to find out the thinking process like.

“You gotta ask Harry, he came up with it one day, and we just went along. He’s the more artistic one of the bunch.” Of course he is. Well, that didn’t answer anything then. But another question popped up in your mind.

“Are you guys related?”

Tom smiled at that question. “Yeah, Harry is my younger brother. Harrison has been my best mate ever since I can remember. We’ve always been close and messing around. Then one day we decided to grab some old instruments from the attic and- sorry, I’m probably boring you, aren’t I?” He took off his cap again and ruffled his hair. You thought he would put it back on, but he left it on the table. There was pretty good lighting at Suki’s, but the colourful spotlights were no match to the bright LEDs of the diner.

“I don’t see how you thought that was boring,” you assured him. You truly enjoyed his little story, talking about his friend and brother. You had doubted the choice of going out to eat so late at night with a stranger, but now the reason was apparent. He didn’t want to be strangers-he wanted to get to know you. And you wanted to get to know him.

The waitress came back with two large milkshakes, topped with whipped cream and syrup. She said that the food would be ready in a few more minutes and left you to continue your conversation. You nudged Tom on to go on where he stopped previously.

“So yeah,” he cleared his throat, “we played and thought, hey that doesn’t sound shit, and we practised for a few months and decided some time ago, why not try and play.”

“Was this your first gig?” you asked in disbelief. He shook his head, though.

“We’ve performed a few times, but this was the first one that felt… real, you know. Maybe it was just me, but I felt this great connection with the crowd, and it felt great.” You nodded along with every word, without realising that you had been getting lost in his eyes. He had been looking into yours as he spoke about that connection, and it made you feel that maybe, just maybe, he meant you specifically.

“y/n?” He eventually asked, waking you up. You almost spilt your milkshake from the abrupt movement you made as you tried to sit up.

“What? Sorry.” You held the glass until it didn’t shake.

“I asked if you enjoyed it? The show?”

“Didn’t you ask that already?” Stupid way to answer! “But yeah, I loved it. You were really great- I mean, all of you.” but especially you, you wanted to add on, but that felt like going too far. As you were trying to come up with a normal-sounding answer there, Tom sipped from his milkshake. Something in his eyes told you that he could tell what you wanted to say, and that thought scared you a little bit. All you wanted to do was to give this hot guy a good impression of yourself, was that really that hard?

But he didn’t say anything about it. Just continued the conversation as you hoped he would.

“Well, I’m glad. Honestly, you had scared me a bit back then, when you left,” he admitted. And there were the heart palpitations again, beating faster and faster. You grabbed the cold milkshake because you could feel yourself getting hotter.

“How so?” you choked out.

“Just because I could tell you weren’t exactly looking forward to the show, and then I saw you leave and didn’t come back. I thought you didn’t like us.” Us. He said “us”. Then we did it feel like he just wanted to say “me”?

“I wanted to check up on my friend, and then I realised that it was much colder in the back, so I stayed there.” you explained again, “But why be worried about me, there were plenty of other people enjoying themselves.”

He was about to answer when the waitress walked up with two large plates. She put them on the table with a smile, which you noticed was more directed towards Tom than you. He responded with a tight smile himself, but only shortly, turning back to you quickly to respond to your question.

“No one there was as cute as you.”

“What?” This time you made sure not to make any sudden movements to save your food and drink on the table. Did he really say that? But he didn’t clarify himself, he just smirked, enjoying your flushed expression a little too much. He put a fry in his mouth and still ate it with that smug smirk. You just went and ate some of your own fries, avoiding eye contact with him. You just needed a second to sort your thoughts.

That second lasted a little longer, but at least you had the food to use as an excuse to avoid “awkward silence”.

“So do you play any instruments?” he asked. You looked up to see that he had almost finished his burger. When you saw the dish being brought up, you thanked yourself and any god watching out there that you didn’t choose to order one. It was absolutely massive, meaning you would make a complete mess out of yourself—a sight for no one to see but your tv screen on a lonely night.

“Uh, I can play a few notes on the piano but all very beginner's level.” You dipped a fry in your milkshake.

“Like what?” He seemed genuinely interested.

“Uhm.. the Flintstones theme song, for one. There was more, but I haven’t played in ages, so I doubt I remember anything.”

“Flintstones, huh, nice.” He took the last bite of his burger. Knowing how weird it is to look at someone when they’re eating, you looked out the window for a second. It was dark outside, and the rain had come back, letting all the street lights reflect in the asphalt.

You both finished the remains of your fries and milkshakes while making some more small talk. You got up simultaneously from the booth. Was it over now? You hoped not. You didn’t want to say goodbye.

You grabbed your things while Tom paid for the food. Then you realised he had left his cap on the table so grabbed it too. But your hands were already full, so you decided to just put it on. Backwards, just like he had been wearing it through the evening.

“It looks good on you,” he commented when you met at the door.

“Thanks,” there was the heat up your cheeks again. “And thank you for everything else, I had a really great night.” you were about to take the hat off to give it back, but he stopped you.

“It doesn’t have to end here, darling.”

To be continued...

> Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed

> please leave a comment or ask with your thoughts. i love reading them and let me know if you want to be tagged in part 2!

>masterlist and link to taglist in bio

tagging:

@definitely-not-black-cat @artemisiaarm @nerdyhockeygirl @miraclesoflove @justasmisunderstoodasloki @thefridgeismybestie @m19friend @creative-happenings @parker-holland-osterfield @fanficparker @fanficscuziranout @peterparkoure @xxtomxo @happywolves81 @captainbuckyy @tra-gicx @qxeen-of-hearts @varshavisuu @kangaroobunny @petersunderoos96 @the-lost-fairy-tale @nerd-domland @sleepybesson @rissa067 @the-queen-procrastinator @scarletteclipze @screeching-student-unknown @tomhollanders2013 @miraclesoflove @playinonaloop @queenoflostspirits @roses-hxlland @hereiamhereigo @sunnydays0803 @averyfosterthoughts @moorehollandplz @beiroviski @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @peterparkerbabyyy @multifandomlover21 @lmaotshollandd @badbitchydecisions @tikapollak @starkeybabie @awesomehritz @madzleigh01 @oh-what a beautiful-parker @taciturnspidey @quaksonhehe @mountainsforwords @harryfobter @peepeeparkerr @viagracex @ethereal-beauty-p @perspectiveparker @slytherin-chaser @worldoftom @moonysoftt @peeterparkr @wazzupmrstark @saintlavrents @peachybloomss @blissfulparker @chloecreatesfictions @fallinfortom @londonspidey @spidey-reids-2003 @hollandcreep

#tom holland #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland au #band!au #drummer!tom holland #smut #tom holland smut #strangers to lovers #au

424 notes · View notes

sourholland · 3 years

Text

ahhh omfg i literally cannot believe that there are a thousand of you!!! in celebration of that, im doing a few day long sleepover + this writing challenge :) i know that i have a lot of followers that have never written before/never posted writing before and i hope this allows a few of you to try something new!thank you guys so much for sticking with me and reading and reblogging what i write, it means MORE than you know. in advance, i already appreciate and am grateful for anyone who chooses to participate in this challenge!

→ there isn’t a specific theme, but you are encouraged to choose a prompt: dialogue prompts/trope prompts/music prompts have been listed below the cut

→ i have decided not to restrict who you write for (as long as they are people under my faq - harry styles, tom holland, timothée chalamet, etc.) so please check that out before you enter the challenge!!!

how to participate:

choose a prompt/person you are writing for (you are only allowed one (photo prompt, if you so choose); once you choose it, i will strike it out so nobody else can. dialogue/trope prompts are up for anyone to grab. you can be as abstract and creative as you’d like, just make sure your writing correlates in some way. if you choose not to use a prompt, make sure to inform me)

send your prompt/person/+any additional information through my ask box. please do not send this anonymously, if you are uncomfortable—please use my private dms

write your story!!! as long as you let me know you’ve entered before the end of sign ups, you can post anytime before the deadline! i am so thrilled to see all of your beautiful creations :)

when you post your story on your blog, use the tag #Poetrcy1KFicChallenge and tag me (@poetrcy) i want to be able to easily find and locate your stories!

rules/requirements:

you must title your story (i don’t care what)/use the hashtag listened above

your entry sign up must be sent to me no later than June 15 (11:59 EST) i’m asking you all to kindly let me get this all organized and situated! please don’t submit prompts/send in anything regarding you doing the challenge past this date—if you haven’t already signed up. if you’re already signed up, come into my inbox and talk about ur thoughts and ideas as much as you want. if you’re just waiting to read others fics, you can do this as well :)

including a summary! i’d to see a brief summary of your fic when you send in your entry/when you post it. it doesn’t have to be very detailed, just a little overview

smut, angst, dark au’s are allowed! please list warnings before your fic though.

there is a minimum of 900 words and no maximum! write as much as you’d like, the more the better :)

lastly, all fics that would like to be included in the challenge/reblogged/tagged on the challenge masterlist must post your story on or before June 25 (11:59 EST) if you have a serious reason for now being able to get your fic in by the deadline, please let me know!

→ im really hoping to get some people involved in this, i wanted it to be as broad and as creativity inviting as possible! i’d even like to have some new writers that are just testing out the waters get involved! nonetheless, if you’re just waiting to read all of the wonderful works—that’s fine too :)

other things you may want to know:

collaborations are invited!

you are able to change your prompt (this next part is regarding photo prompts, dialogue and trope prompts can be changed no matter if someone is using it or not) as long as it’s still available. please message me about this!

im am at your disposal for questions/ideas/help. please don’t feel embarrassed to ask me for anything:)

if you need to drop of the challenge for whatever reason, let me know! just message me, you don’t owe me an explanation of anything. i won’t be upset, this is just for fun haha

the #Poetrcy1KFicChallenge Masterlist will be posted after the deadline! all of the authors will be tagged in this.

anything not permitted on my faq, will not be allowed for this challenge either. please don’t make this weird and try and write about things like r*pe, in*est, etc.

ideas below the cut <3

au/trope prompt ideas:

- friends to lovers

- enemies to lovers

- strangers to lovers

- coworkers to lovers

+ anymore u guys come up with

- bf!au

- celebrity!au

- dad!au (no x child!reader)

- mob!au

- dark!au

- prince!au

- royalty!au

- boxer!au

- ceo!au

- actor!au

- singer!au

- model!au

- historical!au

- period piece

+ anymore u guys come up with

dialogue prompts

“i wish i hated you”

“no, i never noticed”

“marry me” “how drunk are you?”

“go to paris with me”

“you make me sick”

“fuck you” “gladly”

“you’re really pretty”

“so—did you want to go out with me?”

“no offense, but you kind of seem like an ass”

“have we met before?”

“is that a hickey?”

“are you fucking drunk?”

“i wish you wouldn’t look at me like that”

“so is this us breaking up?”

“you remind me of the color yellow”

“open the door”

“there’s only one bed and i’m not sleeping on the fucking floor”

“i’ve never wanted another person as much as i want you”

“i feel so strongly for you that it makes me sick”

“that’s none of your business”

“did you fuck him/her/them”

“i want you”

“i’m tired”

“stay please”

“i’m sorry—i know i fucked up”

“tell me you love me, tell me even if you’re fucking lying”

“you hurt my feelings”

“i want you to know how much i care about you”

“you’re so unfunny”

“stop being such an ass”

photo prompts

kisses from italy

farmers market adventures

the 60s

the 70s

the 80s

the 90s

victorian ball

drives in the rain

matching tattoos

award show/met gala

fashion show

record store

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a-sirens-melody · 3 years

Text

Darkwing Duck’s Greatest Enemy: Type 1 Diabetes (And Definitely Not Self Loathing)

Quick author's note: Launchpad switches between he/they throughout the fic, just so no one gets confused! If you have any questions abt diabetes, feel free to ask me. With that said, enjoy!

***

So far, tonight has gone really well.

It's date night, and this time they're spending it eating takeout from Hamburger Hippo and watching Darkwing Duck at Launchpad's place. Wrappers lay on the floor, ignored in favor of watching Darkwing kick Megavolt’s ass on screen.

Drake is currently leaning into Launchpad's side on the couch, his partner’s arm wrapped around his waist. It all feels so cozy and domestic that he never wants it to end.

And then, because Drake must have seriously pissed off some powerful being in a past life, it happens.

Megavolt’s face becomes blurry, and it's a little harder to focus on the TV. A quick look around the room tells him that, actually, it's hard to focus on anything right now. He knows what this means; he's gotten better at picking up on the signs after twenty-eight years of living with a half-functioning pancreas.

His blood sugar’s starting to drop.

He tries to close his eyes and listen instead, but the shake of his hands quickly corrects him. He is dropping and he needs to find something to eat. Even though he just ate, like, an hour ago.

Dammit.

“Drake?”

He opens his eyes and notices that the episode is paused. He hadn't even realized, he was so caught up in his symptoms. The second thing he notices is Launchpad looking right at him.

He guesses that they felt his shaking because there's concern in their eyes now. A brief wave of guilt sweeps over him and he almost misses their question. “Is your blood sugar low?”

He finds it's a little hard to form words right now (and that scares him, it always does), so he nods his head slightly and hums.

“I'm gonna go get you a juice box.”

The arm wrapped around him vanishes as LP gets up. He helps him lay down on the couch, head pillowed on the armrest. He's still cold without his boyfriend, though, so Drake can't help the small whine that escapes him. God, he sounds pathetic.

Launchpad's eyes soften and they lean down to kiss his forehead. “I'll be right back, okay?”

A little embarrassed, Drake nods and watches the other duck head to his fridge. He closes his eyes again and almost sighs in relief as he's met with darkness. You can't lose your focus if there's nothing to focus on in the first place.

Did that even make sense? Whatever. His brain’s not working properly right now.

The sounds of his partner rummaging through the shelves fill the air. Drake is reminded of earlier when things felt so domestic between them. It's only been a couple of months since they started dating, but Launchpad already feels like the home he never had.

Drake doesn't know how he got so lucky; sometimes it all feels like a dream.

Launchpad leaving is his worst nightmare. He knows he's being a little dramatic, but his anxiety gets the better of him sometimes. He's too much, too expensive, too-

“Found it!” Footsteps pull Drake out of his thoughts and he cracks his eyes open. Launchpad already tore off the wrapping on the plastic straw and stuck it in the box. He holds it out now and places it near Drake's beak. “Drink this, okay?”

He moves the straw into his mouth with a hum and starts sucking the juice down, only stunned for a second at the chill. Fruit punch, his mind distantly informs him. It's his favorite flavor, but he's too focused on getting it into his system to really appreciate it right now.

When the juice box is thoroughly drained, he gives his boyfriend a small smile. He feels like he can talk without sounding like he's drunk now, so he says, “thanks, LP.”

“Anytime,” is the warm reply he receives. If Drake was of sound mind, he would kiss Launchpad breathless and maybe, maybe, utter those three little words that have grown harder to ignore as of late.

I love you.

The words are barely on the tip of his tongue even now. Yikes, his filter's pretty weak already. He tries to stuff the words down by chewing on the straw. Struggling with one of the disadvantages of diabetes is not his ideal confession scenario. Besides, it's way too soon to say that. Right? Right.

“Didn't think you kept juice boxes in your fridge,” he says instead. Not only is he trying to distract himself from his low brain feelings, he's genuinely curious. He doesn't recall seeing any juice boxes in LP’s fridge the last time he was here, and their favorite flavor is apple.

“Nah. Not for myself, at least.” They smile fondly at him. “I remembered that it's your favorite flavor, though, and I wanted to have something for whenever you went low over here.”

Wait.

Launchpad bought those for him? Specifically for him? And remembered his favorite flavor from a conversation they had three months ago when they asked Drake what he usually ate when his blood sugar went low?

That's...

“That's really sweet of you, LP. Thanks.” He says, because he's not really sure what to say. It's such a small act of kindness, something he's not used to, and he doesn't know how to deal with the sudden warmth in his chest.

He's too low for this. Feeling more intense emotions is a very frequent symptom of his when he's low, that's what this is. Yeah. Definitely.

His boyfriend's smile turns shy. “You don't have to thank me. Whatever helps you the most. Speaking of which, do you want me to bring your kit over here? I mean, obviously you feel low, but. Better to have an exact number, right?” Launchpad rambles, hand reaching to brush through the hair at the back of his neck.

That's a good point, actually. He has to be in the 40’s if he's feeling this bad. “Yes, please.”

Launchpad reaches to the side of his couch where Drake's bag is. Inside is his blood sugar kit (complete with a pricker, replaceable barrels, meter, test strips, insulin, and syringes), various small snacks in case he goes low when he's out, and a glucagon. He really hopes that last item is not going to be needed tonight.

He probably shouldn't have dropped the bag there, but he wanted to start their date. Can you really blame him?

The kit is found and placed onto the couch. Drake starts to reach for it, but suddenly there's a hand covering his.

“Can I check you, please?” He looks up and finds Launchpad staring at him. “I don't- if you don't want me to touch your stuff, I get it, but. You feel bad. So will you let me do it?”

You...want to help me? You don't want me to do this on my own?

“Sure. Just ask if you dunno what goes where, okay?” Drake says, thankful that his voice is somewhat steadier than his hands.

His partner nods and gets to work. They asked once how everything in the kit worked so Drake laid it all out and taught him. It felt nice having someone who wanted to listen to him talk about diabetes stuff.

He hears the test strip bottle close with a pop and the pricker calibrate with a ca-click. Just as Launchpad asks, he holds out a finger and lets his mind drift.

It's really not something he's used to, having someone around that he trusts will take care of him. For as long as he can remember, Drake could only rely on himself to get through whatever diabetic crisis he faced.

He was eight when he was diagnosed. At first, his parents did most of the hard work. He picked up on checking his blood sugar pretty quickly, but they would manage all his carb ratios and injections.

Then, they just sort of…stopped. Like they had only done it for him in the first place because he was too young to fully understand. By the time he was thirteen, he did pretty much everything on his own. So much so that more often than not on the tri-monthly visits to his endocrinologist, the car ride would be spent drilling his parents on what the past three months had been like.

Not that they ever told him they didn't care or want to care to his face. No, Drake had just picked up on it. But the night he overheard them talking about medical expenses was a particularly rude awakening.

He couldn't sleep for some reason and decided to watch some Darkwing Duck. He barely made it out of his bedroom when he heard voices.

“Why's everything gotta be so damn expensive!?”

Ah. His dad was looking at bills. So much for a DW marathon in peace and quiet. Drake had one foot back in his bedroom when he heard his mother reply.

“It doesn't really help that our current bank account looks like that, either…”

Forget going back to bed, his curiosity was peaked. He stayed still, straining to hear.

He wished he hadn't at what he heard next.

“Yeah, well, having a defective kid ain't cheap. Why couldn't you have had a normal one?”

To this day, he still remembers how his heart sank to his stomach.

Defective.

Is that why they stopped helping? Why, at age sixteen, it was unspoken knowledge that Drake managed everything on his own? They didn't see a literal child in need, they saw a column of dollar signs. A black hole that sucked up all their cash and never gave it back.

His mom stayed quiet, and that hurt even more. She didn't care, either. Neither one of them did.

They were both selfish assholes that only cared about the alcohol they could've had stocked in their kitchen.

He cried himself to sleep that night, mourning the days when he could still trust his parents to take care of him and wishing he didn't have to live like this. If no one wanted to help him, he’d suck it up on his own. No one wanted to take care of him? Fine. Drake Mallard didn't need anyone else. He was better off on his own.

Those horrible feelings crash over him like a tidal wave now, twenty years later, and he doesn't know why they're here but he's overwhelmed by it all.

Why can't he just have a normal body? Why does his condition have to be so expensive and annoying and miserable sometimes? Why does he have to be so dependent on people when he tells himself that he’s better off working alone, when no one in his life has loved him enough to care anyway?

There's a price tag on his head (not just physical, because diabetes is a greedy little bitch), and it's only a matter of time until Launchpad figures this out. He won't want to stay up late to keep checking, to keep buying syringes or insulin or tests strips. He won't stay forever, and it's all Drake's fault, for getting so attached and having a broken, shitty body.

“Drake? Did I do something wrong?”

He blinks. There are tears in his eyes, a few of which have spilled down his cheeks.

“Uh,” his voice cracks. He wipes away the tears with his other hand. “No. N-no, you didn't do anything wrong. What were you doing?”

Launchpad cocks his head to the side and squints in concern. He knows there's more to Drake's answer, but he doesn't push yet. “I pricked your finger and put the blood in. You didn't even flinch, but I thought that was ‘cause you're used to this. Was there another reason?”

“I'm sorry.” And before Launchpad can start to ask for what? with his mouth already open, Drake rushes to say, “I'm sorry that out of all the people you could date, you got stuck with a chronically ill mess like me. You deserve a normal partner, and god you have no idea how badly I wish I was, but I'm not. I'll always be a burden and I know you won't want to stick around to deal with all the shit that comes with diabetes.

“Not that I don't want you to stay, please don't think that, but…” More tears fall and he brushes them aside, accidentally smearing blood on his feathers. “I’m not used to someone wanting to take care of me, and I don't want it to stop.”

He doesn't take his eyes off of Launchpad as he cries. If this were a cartoon, he would laugh at how quickly their expression changes. Confusion, concern, and realization flash across their face before their eyes soften again in concern.

“Baby,” they say, reaching out to cradle Drake's face. They gently wipe away the blood with their thumb, and Drake feels weak. Loving touches were something he was never given as a child, and it's taken some getting used to. It burns, unfamiliar and wonderful, every time Launchpad touches him. All he can do in this moment is lean into it and shut his eyes.

“Look at me, please?” He groans internally as he opens his eyes. Later, when his blood sugar isn't so low and he can properly think, he’ll recall the look on his boyfriend's face as determined. “I love you, so much. You're not a burden, and you never will be. Being with you is a new experience, sure, but it's a good one. It's not your fault your body's like this, and it doesn't make you any less amazing.

“Heck, if anything, it makes you even more so. You have to do more to stay healthy than most people, and you're really good at it! St. Canard is a better place with Darkwing Duck and Drake Mallard.” Launchpad leans in to kiss his forehead. “They were wrong, you're not unlovable.”

He's so gentle, so sweet, and it's all too much for Drake to wrap his mind around. Never mind the low, he's just heard what he's secretly always wanted to. He is good. He is loved. He...needs to know what his blood sugar actually was before he cries an entire ocean. One more thing, though.

“Uh,” seems like a good place to start as he scrambles to pick up the pieces of himself. He takes a shaky breath. “Thank you. Sorry I dumped all of that onto you, I don't know where it came from tonight, but. Thanks. I really needed that.”

LP still looks a little sad and it makes his heart hurt, but he bites down on his beak to avoid apologizing again. “No problem. Sometimes it just comes out of nowhere.” He strokes his cheek some more, and Drake sighs.

“This is nice and all, but,” his eyes dart to the meter still sitting in front of him. They got distracted for too long and now the little screen is dark. “Did you catch the number that showed up?”

“Buh?” Launchpad's eyes widen as he remembers what they were doing before. “Oh, dang it! Sorry! Do I need to do it again, or-”

Eh, they probably should, but Drake doesn't want to. It hasn't been too long anyways, maybe five minutes? He’ll be fine. “No, you're good, just press the button with the arrows. All the pricks get stored so you can look at them later.”

Any distress on their face is quickly replaced by a beaming smile. “Neat!” They do as Drake asked, and a number pops up: 46.

“Lovely,” Drake groans. “And I just ate. Maybe I just took too much insulin. Or am I getting sick? If I can't keep anything down in the next hour, I swear-”

LP snapping his fingers in his face pulls him away from his rambling. “Hello? Earth to Drake Mallard. I dunno what made you low, but we gotta fix it first. Would more juice work?”

Oh yeah. Hm, more juice or something else? Even though he feels exhausted, going to sleep is a bad idea. He's gotta stay up until he's back in range, so…

“Actually, do you have any Pep?” Launchpad tilts his head and furrows his brow as Drake explains. “Normally I wouldn't ask, but I think something with that much sugar would really help. Plus, the caffeine will keep me awake.”

They look less confused now, but their head remains tilted slightly. “There's not that much caffeine in Pep, though.”

“You forget I don't drink the regular Peps nearly as often as you do, LP.” The last time he actually had one was...ten years ago? They work great for treating a low quickly and that's the only time he ever cares to drink them. It's not worth the extra insulin or highs to try to look normal.

“Oh yeah! So you're not used to the sugar.” He nods. “Okay, be right back.” Launchpad takes about twenty seconds to get a Pep and come back to Drake. The tab's already open. “Uh, do you need to drink the whole thing right now?”

He really shouldn't, the juice is probably still processing. Still, it's very tempting to chug the entire thing just to put more sugar in his body. But he wants his blood sugar to be normal, not sky high. “No, I'll probably drink half of it right now. Thank you.” He takes the Pep and sips, blinking at the sheer amount of sugar flooding his taste buds.

The fact that most people drink enough of this stuff to where they hardly notice it boggles his mind. Not that the diet stuff is really healthier, but it's definitely a different taste.

Guess he's pulling a graveyard shift tonight. But at least he's with Launchpad.

(That's the other thing about drinking regular sodas; he gets really hyper. Last time, he couldn't fall asleep until exactly two am. Being tired but unable to sleep is the absolute worst feeling, and you can't change Drake's mind.)

Now that he can think a little more clearly, he realizes something.

“I can't drive like this,” he says. Driving with a low blood sugar is really dangerous, and not his usual kind. It's the kind of dangerous that could get himself, or someone else, or even both, killed. “And I'm definitely not walking home anytime soon, so. Guess our date’s been extended?”

Launchpad blinks at him, then claps his hands together and grins. “You're staying overnight! I mean, I wish it was under better circumstances, obviously, but. Yay!” He rocks on his heels before catching himself and looking away, a faint blush appearing on his face. “Anyways, is there anything else you need?”

Drake's about to reply not right now, thank you, but then he realizes something that's actually pretty important.

“Wait, since I'm staying here tonight, could I use your bathroom really quick? I, uh, need to take my binder off,” he admits. He’d forgotten it was even there until he remembered wait, you need to take that off before you go to sleep. He put it on about a half hour after he woke up, which was at noon, and it's midnight now so...oops. It's past time to take it off.

His boyfriend nods. “Yeah, no worries! Do what you gotta do. Wait.” His brow furrows. “You need me to help you over there?”

“I,” he falters. “Wouldn't mind it if you did.” The sugar's kicking in now, but he still doesn't trust himself. Given how clumsy he is? Better safe than sorry.

Launchpad holds his arms as he walks to the bathroom. He closes the door, Launchpad sitting in front of it just in case, and turns to the mirror. His shirt hits the floor, soon followed by his binder. A sigh of relief fills the air as he folds it. He hadn't realized how long he'd been wearing it. Tomorrow will have to be a skip day just to stay on the safe side.

(Hormones aren't a concern; he's not on them right now and is perfectly fine with that. The cost of that and insulin would be hard to juggle, anyways.)

He opens the door to find Launchpad staring at him, and he smiles shyly. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Launchpad smiles back, and holds out his hand. Drake takes it and pulls his boyfriend to his feet. They walk back to the couch together. “So, what are we doing? You can't go to sleep until your blood sugar's back up and we were in the middle of an episode of Darkwing Duck.”

“I like the way you think,” Drake teases. “So long as you check every now and then to make sure I haven't fallen asleep yet.” He sits down in his original spot.

“Whatever you need,” they reply, and sit down next to him. They wrap their around his waist and Drake leans into their side as he tries to find the remote. It occurs to him just then that there's still something he hasn't said yet. Something bigger than “thank you.”

He taps LP on the shoulder. They turn to look at him and oh no, he's already flustered. “I just. You said you, uh, loved me earlier and I wanted to say that, that I love you too.” His face is burning, and he got quieter at the end, but at least it’s out in the open now.

Launchpad’s eyes soften and he tilts his head close enough to kiss Drake. It's a quick peck, but sweet nonetheless. When he pulls away, he's smiling. “You're wonderful, you know that?”

Drake only blushes more and buries his face in Launchpad's chest. He can feel Launchpad chuckle and oh. Oh, that's really nice. He likes that a lot. He would stay right here, but the sounds of the Darkwing Duck episode are a siren song that never fails to lure him in.

They stay there, watching episode after episode and Launchpad checking in every so often. By the time Drake's blood sugar has gone back to normal, he stops watching and starts really thinking about the events of the night.

He doesn't have to do this on his own anymore. Someone actually wants to take care of him now.

He is loved. Really, truly loved. And he’ll never let Launchpad go.

#IT WORKS ON MOBILE #thank you god #anyways tada!!#ducktales #darkwing duck #drakepad #drake mallard #launchpad mcquack #my writing #drake has t1d the fic basically #and really bad parents but that's not new

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everwitch-magiks · 4 years

Text

dance with somebody (ch. 1)

It’s the first kegster of his senior year, the first kegster after his first fucking win as captain of the Samwell Men's Hockey Team, and Dex just-

Dex needs a moment.

The porch is empty. Dex settles down, sets aside his half-empty can of beer. Looks down the road of frat houses, all in various stages of Saturday night festivities. The water polo frat, Dex thinks, is gonna have one hell of a post party cleanup.

Inside the Haus, someone’s put on I wanna dance with somebody. Dex almost smiles.

It’s maybe a little weird, how he doesn’t even have to be in there to know exactly what’s going on.

Bully and Hops are dancing, and Louis is definitely not. He’ll be off in a corner, talking to whoever will listen (Whiskey, most likely, since he’s always off to the side if he can help it) about how he can’t understand why he hasn’t been appointed officially in charge of all kegster playlists, yet. Tango, meanwhile, is probably still trying to get Farmer and her friends to explain all the rules of volleyball, in detail, unless Ford has staged her usual intervention. Chowder will be wherever Farmer is, the Scones are still riding that sweet, sweet high of their first NCAA victory… And then there’s Nursey.

Somehow, there’s always Nursey.

He’s there in the early mornings, when Dex thinks he’ll hit the gym before anyone else, his smiles casual and his chirps gentle. He shows up every so often when Dex gets out of class, with Dex’s favourite flat white from Annie’s and a wry smile, and drags Dex along to Founders where they’ll sit together in near silence and mostly not study. Or, actually, Nursey kind of studies for real. Dex… Well.

Lately, Dex can't say he's been all that productive, when Nursey is around.

It really shouldn’t feel as novel as it does. The elements of a crush were always there. If Dex hadn’t meticulously labeled those flaring emotions as something entirely different, those first couple of years, the two of them might've gotten here a whole lot sooner.

Because they’re finally kind of getting somewhere, aren’t they? Unless Dex has been reading Nursey completely wrong, lately. Except he can’t have, not really – the way Nursey’s been staying so close to him, out of choice, those soft smiles and clearly intentional touches. Earlier that same evening, Nursey had let his hand rest on the small of Dex’s back, gently and deliberately and not for the first time. Dex isn’t actually sure what might've happened between them if he’d turned towards Nursey, just then, and met his eyes directly.

Maybe, Dex thinks, he’s finally ready to find that out. To take that leap. See where they land.

The door opens, then closes.

“Hey. Sorry if I’m bothering you.”

Dex turns around, offers a brief smile. He nods towards the empty space next to him.

Whiskey walks over, and sits down.

Dex picks up his can of beer and holds it up towards Whiskey.

“Really good game, tonight.”

Whiskey clinks his bottle against it, almost dutifully.

Dex takes a long drink. Whiskey drinks, too. He’s quiet, which is completely on brand, yet for some reason he seems a little more restless than usually.

“You baked pie,” Whiskey says, after a moment.

Which is not what Dex expected, at all. But at least it’s something.

“Did you get a slice?”

“I did, yeah. It was pretty good.”

“Tried my best.” Dex shrugs. “Obviously, I’ll never live up to Bitty’s legendary baking legacy.”

“You don’t have to,” Whiskey says, and then he pauses, as though he’s choosing his words very carefully. “You don’t have to be the same captain Bitty was.”

“Oh, I could never be.” Dex sips his beer. “We’re similar, though, in a lot of ways. I think that’s part of why I’ve come to look up to him so much.”

“That’s… Yeah.” Whiskey looks away. “I mean, I voted for him, too.”

“You got his dibs,” Dex says, and it’s not quite a question. “That’s pretty cool.”

For some reason, that makes Whiskey grimace.

“Honestly? I’m still not sure why.”

Dex looks at Whiskey, then, really looks at him. Finds that the tension he’s so used to seeing in Whiskey’s shoulders isn’t quite there, anymore. Acknowledges that the usually guarded look in Whiskey’s eyes has given way to something tentatively curious, yet still hesitant. Above all, though, Whiskey looks like he’s so, so tired, like there’s something constantly exhausting him. Like every breath of fresh air just leaves him more drained than the one before.

And if that isn’t a feeling Dex finds all too familiar.

“You know, I actually voted for you,” Dex says. “As captain.”

Whiskey startles – no, flinches. Dex has never seen him look so bewildered.

“You bring a lot to this team,” Dex continues firmly. “You make our best plays, and you always look out for everyone on the ice. You don’t make a big fuss about it, but I always know you’re going to have my back, no matter what. You lead by example.”

“Bitty led by example,” Whiskey says – argues, almost. “By being loud, and proud, and one hundred percent unapologetically himself at all times. And I’m not… That's just not me.”

“You don’t have to be like Bitty, any more than I do,” Dex says, gently. “You know that, right? There’s literally one million other versions of being proud of who you are. It’s okay to find one that you're comfortable with. It’s okay if that takes time.”

Whiskey leans back, abruptly – he looks almost as if he’d very much like to take off, running, rather than acknowledge any part of what Dex has just said. Yet then he stills. Something shifts in his expression.

“You and Nurse,” he says, simply.

Dex draws in a breath. Whiskey is watching him intently.

"I mean, yeah," Dex says. Because somehow, he owes Whiskey this. "Me and Nursey."

Whiskey nods, slowly.

"Huh."

"It's not… We haven't really talked about it, yet."

That makes Whiskey look surprised.

"Some things take time," Dex adds, completely aware of how he’s repeating himself. "And, like, there's no rush. There's not going to be a finish line. No prize for getting there first."

“But you know what you want,” Whiskey says. His voice is a little hoarse, compared to before. “You know who you are.”

“You’ll get there,” Dex says, quietly but firmly. “Whatever that means for you. It’ll be difficult, and it might take time. But you’ll make it through.”

Whiskey merely shrugs.

They’re both quiet for a long moment, after that.

Then Whiskey gets up.

“Think I’m gonna call it a night.”

“Okay.” Dex smiles towards him. “See you at team breakfast, tomorrow?”

“Sure.” Yet Whiskey lingers for a moment, almost if there’s something more he means to say. “Thank you. I mean, for the company.”

“Anytime,” Dex says, and finds that he really means it. “You can always talk to me, Whiskey. About anything.”

Whiskey nods once more, his expression unchanging, before quickly heading inside.

Dex watches him go.

He’d like to keep a much closer eye on Whiskey, from this moment on. He can’t, though. Whiskey would realize immediately. And that’s no good – it’s got to be on Whiskey’s terms, or not at all.

It's something Dex knows from experience.

The door opens again.

It's Nursey.

"Whiskey just came in, looking like, super unchill." Nursey closes the door behind him. "Did something happen?"

"He's a bit stressed, but he's okay."

"Oh. Good, then." Nursey walks over, yet he doesn't sit down. Instead he leans against the banister in a way that’s probably supposed to look casual, and glances towards Dex from the side. “Are you okay, though?”

“Of course I am.”

Nursey frowns. “You seemed a bit out of it, earlier.”

“Earlier tonight?”

“Before the game.”

“Ah,” Dex says. Because of course Nursey would pick up on what Dex had been trying so hard to conceal. On the very reason why he’s come out to the porch, all by himself, while a seriously ‘swasome kegster is still going on inside. “I guess I’m just not really used to it all, yet? The whole captain bit.”

Nursey hums. “You’re not in this alone, you know. You don’t have to go through it alone.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“And, like, if you wanted to have an alternate? You could do that. I’m sure the team would be cool with it.”

“Actually,” Dex says, “I’ve sort of been thinking about that for a while now.”

Nursey grins.

“Oh, man. Chowder’s gonna freak out so hard, when you ask him.”

“What makes you so certain I’m not going to ask you?”

Nursey turns to stare at him, abruptly.

“That’s a joke, right? God, please tell me you’re joking.”

“It’s mostly a joke,” Dex admits with a slight grin, and there’s no way he’s gonna pass on the obvious chirp. “Chill, man.”

“You do not get to use that word in this context.” Nursey still looks decidedly unsettled. “Fuck, me? The A? Do you have any idea how many papers an English major needs to churn out his senior year?”

“Yeah, you poor baby.”

“Ha, ha. God, I need another drink.”

“There’s someone else I have in mind, actually,” Dex says. That look in Whiskey’s eyes, uncertain yet somehow still so determined, is fresh in his memory. “Someone who could grow into the role, maybe? Someone who needs an opportunity to learn more about themselves, and all they can be.”

Nursey frowns. “It’s not Tango, is it? Because if our pre-game ritual turns into twenty fucking questions, I’m one hundred percent blaming you.”

Dex smiles.

“No. It’s not Tango.”

“Well. Good.”

They’re quiet for a moment. Then Nursey looks over at Dex – really looks at him, meeting his eyes directly – before slowly (and intentionally, one might say) stepping away from the banister and sitting down in the same spot Whiskey occupied, earlier. Except Nursey might be sitting a bit closer to Dex. Maybe a lot closer.

It’s a little bit ridiculous, but does it still make Dex’s heart flutter? Fuck yeah.

“So,” Nursey says, his voice strangely calm – chill, even though the way he can’t quite make himself face Dex as he speaks gives him away completely. “Are we ever gonna, y’know. Have this conversation?”

Dex takes a deep breath. Then he reaches out, takes Nursey’s right hand in his. Laces their fingers together, softly yet very deliberately.

“Yeah. I think it’s time we do.”

(ch. 2)

#nurseydex #check please #omgcp #omgcheckplease #checkpleaselastslice #spoilers #for the ending of year four #william poindexter #derek nurse #connor whisk #it's nurseydex but it's also about whiskey #not an au this time #I really needed to write this #fanfiction #evie writes #dance with somebody

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kitchenangst · 4 years

Text

Before Anything Good pt. 2

Mako x reader (she/her pronouns)

Summary: Barely one month of living on the streets, and Mako has grown skeptical of anything good that’s offered freely to him. When the girl from the other side of town calls him stinky and demands he take a shower, he might just be right about his newfound cynicism.

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: brief implied abusive relationship, language, dialogue heavy, Bolin being comedy relief, this is literally just filler goofiness lol

A/N: New game, drink water every time anyone is called stinky hehe I was going to update this on the weekend but got too excited! also can we get an F for my keyboard pls it doesn’t want to cooperate anymore,, anyway pls let me know if there are any errors!

part i | part iii

After exchanging transactions and names, the three sat on a bench outside with a hefty bag of baked goods. Bolin bounced in his seat as he patiently waited for the girl, who introduced herself as Yn, to pass him his bread before eating her own. She reached into the bag with the napkin, making sure to hand over one of the bigger pieces. Grabbing at it with greedy hands and an appetite to match, he immediately scarfed down the brioche, but not before he said his thanks. He sighed in delight as the fluffiness of it melted on his tongue. “So good!!”

Mako found himself smiling at Bolin’s infectious grin. “S’that so? Want a bite of mine?” He angled his spongy bread towards the younger one, who happily chomped on it. He returned his gaze forward as he continued to chew on his bread, the treat staving off some of the hunger.

Yn giggled at the interaction, wanting to join the fun, and tugged on Mako’s sleeve. “Want a bite of mine?” Before Mako had a chance to respond, she had already shoved her bread into his mouth once he had turned towards her. After breaking the piece off, she lectured, “You should eat more! These will go bad if you don’t finish them! It’ll be a waste.” She ignored Mako’s flushed face, assuming he just needed water, and passed him his cup.

Once he cleared his throat, Mako choked out, "Didn’t you ever consider the germs! You could be sick!”

“I’m not sick!” She cried defensively. “If I cared about your germs, I wouldn’t have offered you any of my bread!”

“Did you think that I might care about germs?!”

“I- Well, I-,” she immediately paused, her cheeks flushing as she looked down sheepishly, “-did not think about that. Sorry?” She looked back at him, the fear of losing her newly made friend reflecting in her expression.

“That’s okay! Mako’s just shy with girls,” Bolin helpfully announced. “Like when that one girl who lived across the street tried to offer some fruit and Mako just threw them-”

“You can eat the rest,” Mako blankly offers, the remaining bread shoved in Bolin’s mouth. At Yn’s gaping mouth, Mako grabs the wrist holding her bread before guiding the food into her mouth. “You should, too.” A playful grin itches the corners of his mouth as he tries to keep a straight face. "It's not good to waste your food." He reaches into the bag to grab a different type of bread as if nothing happened and proceeds to chew on it.

“Thaz nawht neigs!”

At her muffled yelling, Mako’s eyes glint playfully. “What’s that? I smell really good?” She shoved him away the moment he tried to lean closer to her.

Once she swallowed, she reprimanded Mako’s behavior, claiming it’s not good to interrupt people talking.

Mako shrugged, leaning against the wall. “Not really. When you have a brother, it’s okay to be mean.”

Her eyes narrowed, taking in his words. “Then, what about a sister? Would you be mean to her too?”

He takes a moment to ponder. It was nice forgetting that he was an orphan and just enjoying food in the company of another. But he thinks back to the days he'd chase Bolin around the house and wonders if he'd also chase Yn around if she'd been there. After all, a friend wouldn't be too different from a sibling, right?

“I think it’d be okay to be mean to them, too.” Yn’s head nodded approvingly at the answer, humming appreciatively that there was no special treatment between siblings. “Not sure, though. I never really thought about it until now.”

“What about you, Yn? Do you have a brother or sister?” Bolin chimed in, now on his second bread.

“None! But I’d like a sister or brother sometime! I think it’s neat to have a friend like that around all the time.”

“Yeah, you can think of it like that. Or it’s someone annoying you all the time.” With another shrug, Mako pops the rest of the bread in his mouth and dusts the crumbs off his hands.

Bolin clears his throat, climbs onto his knees, and holds Mako by the shoulders to steady himself before burping in his face. The immediate cringe his brother wears is enough to satisfy him, a triumphant grin settling on his face. “Or someone you can annoy all the time!”

Yn’s bark of laughter suddenly ends when suddenly the same cringe on Mako embraces her face. “Oh, you two are really stink-” but the other two don’t hear her finish her sentence as someone shouts her name over the stomping of ostrich horses in front of them.

The lady towering over Yn from her seat inside the carriage looks frustrated, worried, and tired all at once. She hugs the girl the instant she exits the carriage, her eyes clenching softly in relief before she reopens them to look her form over. Making sure there aren’t any visible signs of dirt or scratches, she sighs. “Sweetie, why did you leave my side? You’re lucky I found you before anything happened!”

Yn puffs her chest and sits up straighter. The moment the word “mother” had left her mouth, Mako suddenly felt like he shouldn’t have been here, shouldn’t have gone for the bread, should be leaving, should be running. He stiffens when he makes eye contact with her mom, her eyes scanning their tattered clothes and thin coating of dust, settling on the scarf wrapped around Mako's neck with some form of recognition and pity. The pity. This was the exact moment he hated experiencing when parents realized their kids were around them, the orphans. Mako makes an effort to hold back a scoff, suddenly remembering how it wasn’t proper social etiquette to be rude to those related to the one who have shown you kindness.

“Mako, can we?” He turns to see Bolin holding his hands together in plea and lips pouting.

"Uh..." Shit, he was not listening. "I don't know, Bo…"

“Please, I insist. Any friend of Yn is welcome to have dinner with us anytime.” The look in her eyes was hesitant compared to the shakey upward turn of her mouth. “I won’t make two orphans pay, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Although they were the same words spoken to him earlier that day, they didn’t feel as sweet coming from the lady than it did from her daughter. Why did she have to mention they were orphans? Did she know them? their parents? the culprit?

“Mako,” Bolin whispers. Tugging his sleeve close enough so that the other two wouldn’t hear, he continues whispering. “House. Stuff. Steal?” Mako’s face remained neutral, but Bolin’s idea did strike a chord… Maybe they had a collection? They wouldn’t notice a thing or two from it missing… Mako assumed position by crossing his arms and making an indecisive face, hand resting on his chin to pronounce the effect. “It’s free dinner! Just this once, please?” With his acting turned up by a notch, Bolin slings himself onto Mako’s shoulders with the biggest puppy eyes he could muster.

“Well… I could never say no to free food,” Mako returns stiffly. Gee, why couldn’t they just be natural. Even Bolin’s pout turned into a grimace.

“Then let’s go now!” With no time for them to worry about how bad their acting was, the two of them were suddenly seated in the carriage on the opposite side from Yn and her mom. Yn bounced in her seat and swung her legs, her head tilting from side to side as if she was picking and choosing from a jar of questions to ask them, but only held back because of her mother being in the same space.

The brothers shifted their eyes around the cart, not wanting to make eye contact at her mom, but not quite wanting to look at Yn either. Instead, Mako fiddled with the ends of his scarf while Bolin asked for another piece of bread. Smart, at least he wouldn’t be asked to talk if he was eating.

“Mother?” Yn’s tongue poked against the inside of her cheek, hesitant on whether she should ask something or not. At her mother’s inquiry, she continued, “Is this what kidnapping looks like?”

Everyone turned to the sound of Bolin’s choking, who could barely hold the bottle of water being handed to him by Yn’s mother while Mako slapped his back harshly until he calmed down. “K-ki-kid- you’re kidnapping us?” He stared at the water and bread questionably. “Are these poisoned?! Am I going to… going to… melt… from the inside?” The tears in the corner of his widened eyes began to roll down at the thought of a painful death and he turned to Mako, barely comprehensible. “I told you! We shou-shouldn’t have come!”

“You’re the one who wanted to go!”

“You’re the one who let us go!” Great. Now he was sobbing.

Exasperated, Mako groans. “Fine! If it makes you feel better-” he takes a large swig from the same bottle Bolin drank from earlier, “-now we’ll both melt from the inside!” Once Bolin’s sobs calmed down, he quickly added, “Better?” Bolin’s nod of approval stopped at the sound of Yn’s laughter on the other side, her mom simply covering her mouth with a little twinkle in her eyes.

“I wanna melt from the inside, too!” Yn plucked the bottle from Mako’s hands before chugging the rest, saying something about how poisoned water tasted better than regular water.

“You’re free to leave anytime after dinner, by the way. We’ll even arrange a carriage to take you back,” Yn’s mother offered.

Mako nodded slowly, the look in her eyes now seeming more genuine than it had outside the carriage. “Thank you. We’d really like that.”

The rocking of the carriage and the stomping of the ostrich horses filled the silence afterwards. With nothing to do and the presence of her mother making her hold her tongue, Yn studied the two brothers’ features. She wasn’t sure of what the definition of pretty for boys was, but she was sure these two were it.

Bolin was on the cuter side with his stubby nose helping his thick eyebrows emphasize his expressions, chubby cheeks filling like chimp-monkeys, and bright emerald eyes practically glowing as if untouched. Mako, on the other hand, had a more slender nose, the arch of his eyebrows curving naturally just before abruptly being pulled up to a mountain peak and dragging downwards on the thicker end, his cheeks close to hollowing out from lack of food, and golden eyes tinted and narrowed in suspicion every now and then. The apples of both their cheeks an angry pink and peeling from being sunburnt, paling in comparison to the deep red and soft cotton of Mako’s scarf.

That couldn't have felt nice if they just left it alone… She sighed and started folding the empty bag of bread, wondering if her mother had any mud masks she could spare at home.

“And that’s how you turn off the sink!” Yn finished her explanation to the boys with a proud face, the bathroom lights adding just another bright layer to her eyes.

“We know how to use the bathroom...”

“Then get to brushing your teeth! Your breath-”

“Stinks. We know.”

Yn’s grin widens at Mako’s admittance, skipping out of the bathroom to help her mom prep for dinner. The dinner prep was simple since neither brothers had any special dietary needs or restrictions. The sound of the door unlocking was enough to stop her from turning on the stove to cook the chopped ingredients. Running to the door, she greeted her father with a slight bow and offered to take his coat and hat back to his room.

Just as she exited her father’s room, she heard her name from Mako’s distressed call. “Can you get us towels? And some clothes?” His head was sticking out from the door and his damp hair clung to the sides of his face as he looked around frantically.

“Oh! Sorry, how could I forget? Just wait a bit!” She’s about to turn the corner into the kitchen to ask her mother about the washed clothes, stopping when she hears the hushed whispers that could only belong to her parents.

“No, those two kids! They’re San and Naoki’s kids!”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Spirits, woman, do I have to spell everything for you? Did you see the damage of their house? They must have gotten some money from selling stuff. Money that they’re hiding.”

“They’re just kids. When are you going to stop pulling this stunt?”

“I’ll stop when I stop. Now, where have you been seeing them hang around?”

A heavy air of silence hangs around the area, and Yn nearly looks around the wall before her eyes widened at the familiar sound of a harsh clap thundering off the walls of the kitchen. Her hands flew to cover her mouth to repress her gasp. With shaky steps, she was barely able to turn around without tripping on her feet, the sound of her heartbeat pounding in her ears and blocking off the rest of their conversation as she made her way back to the bathroom.

A/n: I did not need 1.7k words before getting to this point in the story but I couldn’t help it LOL this part was split once again :”) also some pieces of dialogue are based on conversations in real life and I thought it fitted the three of them nicely as kids! kinda surprised myself this chapter because i always cringe at what i write but this was kinda cute lol Let me know what you thought of this chapter!!

part i | part iii

Taglist! (if you’d like to be tagged, pls DM me or send in an ask!)

@welovediaaxx

#source: lok art of the animated series #lok #legend of korra #lok x reader #mako x reader #mako #mako imagine #lok imagine #BAG #yall gonna HATE me the next few updates #did i really use this chapter to describe mako's jetbrows......yes...#mako: not me side eyeing my brother

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talpup · 3 years

Text

Summary: Yami Sukehiro just wanted to join the Magic Knights and make his mentor proud. He knew there would be trails. He knew trouble would come his way. Knew he would be faced with discrimination for being a foreigner and a peasant. What he didn’t know. Didn’t expect. Was that literal Chaos would come his way. That he and his mentor’s sister would be at the center of world ending trouble. Or that he would fall in love with his mentor’s sister and face more than discrimination; but the jealously of Nozel Silva who loved the same woman he did.

Please remember this fic is rated mature and has warnings of violence, abuse, sexual tension, eventual sexual behavior, and other possible triggers. For a full list of story tags please check the fics AO3 (link to that at the top of my tumblrs homepage).

Chapter 85

“You done heaving there, Teris? Good. Run.” Greywright barked, not waiting for answer.

Hands on knees Teris glared over at the Magic Knights Commander. Greywright sat on the ground, legs kicked out, ankles crossed. Straight arms propping him up, the Commander's head lolled forward, eyes closed. The only reason he knew she had stopped running was because one of the three magically created army men that stood guard around the fields perimeter had seen.

Even though it was an hour or so before sunrise and the spring air was chill, Teris was overheated. She was soaked through with sweat and exhausted. They all were. Greywright had them work till they were about to fall over, gave them a ten minute break, and made them work some more. They had been at it all night. Running. Holding their arms out at their sides. In Yami’s case holding weights. And all sorts of other physical exercises. There wasn’t a muscle in Teris’ body that didn’t ache. There were muscles Teris hadn’t known she had that ached.

One of Greywright’s army men appeared behind Teris. It grabbed her by the back of her tank top, her button up blouse long since discarded, and moved her along.

“Run.” Greywright commanded, mercilessly.

Nozel passed her as her feet slowly began to move. The cold, distant look he’d been giving her at the start of their torture session was long gone. The Silver Eagles eyes were now glazed over with fatigue, pain, and a dazed focus as he endeavored to put one foot in front of the other and not fall over.

Teris saw Yami up ahead. He wasn’t struggling as bad as Fuegoleon, Nozel, and she. Though Yami had slowed considerably and took multiple stutter steps as he jogged. Just before completing another circuit Teris paused to help Fuegoleon to his feet. Nozel reached them and extended a hand to the Crimson Lion, the two pulling Fuegoleon to his feet.

“That’s enough. Come on over.” Greywright called, seeing the charitable act.

Yami cut across the field and saw some of the gouges that Teris and he had made during their first year as Magic Knights training here with Greywright. He was so tired he couldn’t even smile at the memory.

“Cool down. Drink some water. And get some sleep. I’ll wake you in a couple hours.” Greywright told.

“How is this--”

Greywright’s eyes snapped to Yami, silencing him. “Run another ten.”

Yami ground his teeth and took his pace back up.

A ghost of a smirk pulled at the corners of Fuegoleon’s parted, panting lips. He cast Teris a sharp look as he shouldered passed her.

If the Crimson Lion thought he could get away with it cause Greywright wasn’t looking, he had another thing coming. One of his army men having seen, Greywright said. “You can run another seven, Fuegoleon.”

Yami turned back and complained. “Why do I get ten and he--”

“Make it twelve, Yami.” Greywright said.

Yami’s lip curled in a snarl. He glared at the Magic Knights Commander wanting to argue; but knew it would only lead to further laps.

One of Greywright’s army men saw Nozel’s smug pleasure. “Another six for you, Nozel.”

Teris was afraid to move least the Knights Commander send her back out.

“Have a seat, Teris. Catch your breath. Cool down. Drink up and get some sleep. We’re far from finished.” Greywright said.

85.1.2

Yami awoke to a splash of frigid water in the face. His arms were so sore he fumbled at unsheathing his katana. Seeing one of Greywright’s faceless army men standing in front of him holding a bucket Yami pushed the half pulled blade back into its scabbard. He smelled food and his stomach growled in response.

“Water. Bread.” Greywright clipped, his army men throwing them each a small loaf and water skin. “You want more than that, you have to answer my questions and earn it.”

The Knights Commander saw Teris shivering in the now muddy ground, and regretted the freezing temperature of the water he had doused her with. He had forgotten that her regular temp ran higher than normal and that extreme cold effected her that much worse than anyone else. Yami was the exact opposite. He ran lower and though he preferred it warmer than most, unnaturally higher temps got to him quicker. It was one of the things that made their ability to tolerate each others magical extremes of heat and cold that much more intriguing.

The memory of the disturbance last night washed away any urge Greywright had to apologize. The fact that his favorite had been part of such a ruckus angered and disappointed him. He knew Teris had a temper and quite a ways to grow yet. But if she was to have a chance of one day taking his position, like she wanted and he was silently rooting for, she couldn’t openly fight with her fellows. Events like last night could never happen again.

“Teris. Say something nice about Fuegoleon.” Greywright commanded.

Teris’ eyebrows knitted together. She cast a glare at her cousin then looked back at Greywright.

“I know you want more than bread and water.” Greywright urged.

“That’s not a question. You said— Son of a—damn it!” Yami cussed, in pain.

Greywright smirked at Yami’s twitching jerk, the Vice Captain's hair standing on end of a brief moment. He showed them the charm he held. “Small charge of lightening. Nothing fatal or injury inducing. But it hurts like hell. Especially if your wet.”

“You’re telling me.” Yami grumbled. His tongue smacked against the roof of his mouth. He tasted air. Could one taste air? Did air have taste? Not wanting Teris to suffer that thing, Yami looked at her. “Say something nice about your cousin.”

Teris glanced at Fuegoleon again. After a moments thought, she finally said. “He has pretty colored eyes.”

Greywright tried and failed not to sigh. He was use to managing the Captain's, who often bickered and acted like children in their own right, but this was ridiculous. “Let’s stay away from the physical. Focus on who he is. Traits. Personality. Try again.”

Teris glared at the Magic Knights Commander. “You could have been more specific at the—Ow! That hurts!”

Nozel and Fuegoleon tensed seeing Teris in pain. But it was Yami who moved. Greywright pointed the charm at Yami. Yami’s lip curled in a silent snarl, but lowered his bottom back to the ground.

The Magic Knights Commander looked across the four Vice Captain's. “You are here to learn how to behave, obey, and get along. And not a one of you is leaving until you all have shown me you are capable of these things.”

“I’m going to die here because of an ill tempered foreigner who—“ Fuegoleon’s mutter cut short in a sharp grunt of pain.

“Hurts doesn’t it.” Yami grinned, seeing the Crimson Lion get some. He was left gritting his teeth against the buzzing, burning sting. Yami glared at the Knights Commander.

“Teris. Say something nice about Fuegoleon.” Greywright said again.

“He’s a good older brother to Leo.” Teris quickly snipped.

Greywright sighed. That wasn’t what he was looking for, but it was good enough for now. “Fuegoleon. Say something nice about Teris.”

Fuegoleon looked at Teris out of the corner of his eye. “She’s smart. Most of the time.”

“Let’s not add any caveats at the end.” Greywright said. “Nozel. Say something nice about Yami.”

Nozel’s eyes widened. Why was the Knights Commander asking the impossible of him?

Greywright pointed the charm at him. “You heard me.”

The Silver Eagle blinked rapidly, trying to think. “He might be a brute but his strength can be useful.”

Greywright rubbed his forehead, resisting the urge to zap the royal. It was his own fault. “No stipulations of any form anywhere. Understood. Good. Yami.”

Yami looked at the Commander his expression one of expectancy.

“Your turn.” Greywright growled.

“Teris is a fine, strong, capable fighter and leader.” Yami said.

Greywright pointed the charm at the Black Bull.

Yami growled at the zapping pain.

“You deserved that one.” Greywright said, feeling a short burst of gratification. “About Nozel. Yami. Say something nice about Nozel.”

“He’s the epitome of what it means to be royal.” Yami said.

It wasn’t exactly something Yami considered a good thing and knew the others would know that as well; but there was little Greywright could do unless he was willing to go on record in front of three royals saying that calling someone a perfect example of royalty wasn’t a nice thing to say.

Greywright sighed, feeling tired and defeated despite the small measure of success. “Eat up.”

Greywright knew what the problem was between Yami and Nozel. There was no fixing the issue anytime soon. Hopefully once Teris turned twenty and the decision she had to make came to a head, things would settle down between the two men. Till then, the best they could hope for was Yami and Nozel not turning on each other on a battlefield and the most basic civility.

As for Fuegoleon and Teris. Greywright had no clue what they were fighting over; but he intended to find out and see that it was fixed. He might've blamed Teris for instigating something, given the smell of alcohol on her breath last night. But the fact that Fuegoleon had responded in kind meant there was more to it.

The Magic Knights Commander decided to give them the choice. “We can sit here and Fuegoleon and Teris can tell us why they’re fighting. Or you can run till you drop.”

Nozel looked up. “After eating, running would--”

“I didn’t say it’d be fun or good for you.” Greywright cut over the royal’s words. He looked over the four Vice Captain's. “Choose.”

“Hearing why they’re fighting.” Nozel said, eyes moving between Teris and Fuegoleon.

“It’s cause the Lion Cub’s an--” Yami fell silent seeing Greywright lift the charm.

“Yami’s right. It’s cause Leon’s a--” Teris snapped her mouth shut when Greywright pointed the charm at her.

“Running it is.” Greywright said, with forced cheer.

“Wait.” Fuegoleon said. “They’re not wrong. At least not completely.” He looked at Teris. “I was wrong. Lord Nova wouldn’t be ashamed of you.”

Teris’ expression softened.

“He would be ashamed of what you’re doing.” Fuegoleon went on.

Teris pushed to her feet and kicked a clod of mud at the Crimson Lion.

Greywright resisted the urge to zap all four of them. Damn the royals pride. They had been so close to making a positive step. “Run.”

“I hate you.” Nozel grumbled at Fuegoleon as they got to their feet.

“It was because of what you told me that I went there in the first place. I was doing it for both of your sake's.” Fuegoleon snapped.

Nozel spun around to face the Crimson Lion. “I don’t require your assistance! Teris is my Intended and--”

“I’m not going to marry you! Will you just stop! I have less than a year and a half left before you both finally see I mean what I say and hate me. Can we not--” Teris blinked, feeling woozy.

“Teris?” Nozel took a step toward her and fell over.

“Nozel!” Fuegoleon reached out and fell over as well.

Ahead of them, already at a steady jog, Yami stopped and turned around. As he did he noticed Greywright’s army men had disappeared. His eyes darted to the Commander and saw Greywright had fallen forward from his seated position on the ground. He turned to Teris to find Nozel and Fuegoleon were also on the ground. Thankfully they weren’t dead, his sense of Ki telling him so.

“Get them out of here!” Yami ordered Teris, unsheathing his katana, eyes and other senses scanning the field of their foe.

“I can’t.”

Yami was already sprinting back to her and their fallen comrades. “Don’t argue! Just do it!”

Teris wished the world would stop spinning at a blur. “No, Yami. I can--”

Yami rushed the last few steps, catching Teris as she collapsed. His heart hammered in his chest. He lowered Teris to the ground and cloaked his katana in darkness.

Teris had said she couldn’t light travel. Was that because she was weakening and loosing consciousness? Just because he could still use his magic didn’t mean that this wasn’t Calen’s magic. The Agents of Chaos had toyed with them before.

Yami saw movement in the distance. He counted three figures. They disappeared and reappeared six paces in front of him. It wasn’t spatial magic. It was some other form of travel.

“Unless you want to die. I suggest you leave.” Yami growled, trying to focus his fuzzy head.

A man pointed at Yami and Teris. “That’s them. I sensed their power last night. It had to have flooded at least a quarter of Castle City.”

“Pay him.” Said a woman with green glowing eyes.

Yami watched the second man form a shadowy spear and thrust it through the first man. It wasn’t that Yami had wanted to stand by and do nothing. But he couldn’t hold the dark magic cloak on his katana. He could barely even hold his blade up.

“You still using your toxin magic, Lila?” Asked the man who had killed the other.

Lila continued to stare at Yami. “Can’t you see my eyes glowing, Sorn? Why ask what you already know? He’s just that strong.”

Sorn tilted his head, inspecting Yami. “Interesting. There might just be something to those fanatics beliefs after all.”

“You can’t be serious. Magical science will explain this. Not magical religion.” Lila watched Yami stumble as he tried to fight through the toxins effects and stay standing.

Sorn nodded. “Of course. I only meant-- Never mind he’s fading.”

Yami fell to the ground.

Sorn looked down at the man he had killed. “He didn’t say three others would be here. What do we do with them? Leave them?”

The glow in Lila’s green eyes faded. Her grimoire snapped shut and fell into her hand. “Two royals and the Magic Knights Commander? We take them. Rayla will be pleased.”

85.2

“Light cannot survive without Darkness. For without Darkness how would one know what Light was?”

“I don’t have time for this Creepy.” Yami rumbled. “A man and woman took us out. I need to wake up.”

“You are the Lord of Destruction. The final end.”

“Can we not use that name. It reminds me of a certain dead bastard.” Yami said.

“Your time is coming. The Darkness grows within.”

“Yeah. I kinda figure we got it wrong and they didn’t want us for the Winter Solstice. If only we realized it sooner…” Thinking of Bronn, Yami muttered. “The things that happened didn’t need to happen.”

“You must possess the Ray of Annihilation if you hope to triumph.”

“You mean Teris? Yeah, even when I finally marry her I don’t see much possessing going on. She’s kind of her own person. It’s one of the things I like that about her. Anyway, if I’m this dark destructive force, why would I want to triumph? Wouldn’t that be a bad thing?”

The voice started up with another riddle.

“Stop! I don’t have time for nonsense I won’t remember. I need to--” Yami woke-up to someone tapping his cheek. His eyes opened to find an unknown face too close to his.

“There we are. Last to go down. Last to rise. Hello handsome. I’m Rayla.” She saw Yami pull against his bindings and told. “Don’t bother. Those are unbreakable.”

“I’ve heard that before.” Yami said, continuing to pull against the cord holding his wrists together above his head.

“Fine and feisty.” Rayla ran her fingers along Yami’s arms and chest.

“And taken.” Yami told. “Don’t go for older women anyway.”

“A shame. We older women know things those pure virgins don’t.” Rayla leaned forward and breathed into Yami’s ear. “Is she watching? Your girl. Does she look angry? Jealous? Let’s give her a good show, shall we.” She grabbed Yami from beneath his jaw fingers digging into his cheeks and pressed her lips to his, tongue trying to force its way into his mouth.

Yami bit her tongue. He jerked his face free of Rayla’s grasp, and spat out the blood and taste of her.

Rayla stepped back and pointed something at Yami. “Maybe later.”

Yami’s mouth opened to fling insults and demand what she wanted; but he found he couldn’t speak. He tired again. Tired yelling. But no sound came. He had wondered why he hadn’t heard anything from the others and realized Rayla had likely done the same to them. It was unnerving.

Yami looked at Teris who was bound against the opposite wall from him. Fuegoleon was tied in the same fashion to Teris’ right. Yami turned his head seeing Nozel to his left and Commander Greywright on the Silver Eagles other side. Even though they were all bound and rendered speechless, at least they were all together and alive. For now.

Rayla moved in front of Greywright. “I must say, you’ve turned into an exceptionally fine specimen. Though not as fine as those two.” She looked over at Yami and Teris, eyes closing and breathed. “The mana coming off of them is intoxicating. The young buck especially. Shame on you and your Wizard King for trying to keep them all to yourselves. Shame on my King for letting you.”

“Your King didn’t want his kingdom to face the consequences.” Greywright said, feeling Rayla give him the ability to speak.

Rayla laughed. “What consequences? Do you mean the threat that you’d use those two as the weapon they could be? Everyone, including my King, knew that as a lie.”

“So he let you have your way.” Greywright surmised.

“Hardly. I’ve learned there are times when it’s better to beg forgiveness, preferably with results in hand, than wait for permission.” Rayla said.

“You’ve made a grave mistake. Taking Yami and Teris would’ve been bad enough. But to take two royal princes? The Silva’s and Vermillion’s will want their heirs back untouched and unharmed. We would’ve sent select teams of Magics Knights to retrieve Yami and Teris. But for Nozel and Fuegoleon. There will be war.” Greywright told.

“I will be returning both you and your four Magic Knights. But I can’t guarantee they’ll be returned unharmed. That all depends on them. As for untouched...” Rayla smiled, wickedly. “I’ll have my hands all over all four of them soon enough. As for your threat of war. It won’t come. My King hasn’t sanctioned this. He isn’t aware I have you. Nor will he until I’m done. So you can come off your threats Commander. They’re as futile as the one Jorah gave my King about using those two against us should we make a move for them.”

85.3

The Black Bulls Captain had been fetched by Cob and told that Sir Jorah wished to see him. At first he had thought it was for a stern talking to about his Vice Captain's behavior last night. But at the sight of Julius standing beside Kess outside of the Wizard Kings office, he was no longer so sure.

Tapping down his concern, Jax stopped near the other Captain's. “What’s going on? Cob was smiley and useless as usual. I swear there’s something wrong that man. No one’s that happy all the time.”

“He’s behind you.” Julius said.

Jax turned and saw the Spatial Mage. “Shit. Sorry, Cob. Please don’t transport me into a volcano.”

Though his smile wasn’t as wide, Cob still wore one. He waved goodbye and turned away. “Have a good afternoon.”

Jax watched Cob disappear down the hall. “Yeah. That man’s not normal.”

Julius almost said it was because he was use to Bronn’s surliness but caught himself.

“I don’t know. I think he still might portal you to the bottom of the sea.” Kess smirked.

Jax turned to her. “Look at you. Making snide comments. Only a week in as Captain and you think you can disrespect me?”

“Leave her, Jax.” Julius turned to Kess and told. “It’s his way of saying he’s proud of you.”

Jax gestured to Kess. “Considering you’re here, I’m figuring our rowdy delinquents are to blame. What’d they do this time? Gang up on Greywright and escape whatever hell he was putting them through?”

Kess blinked. Nozel was far from rowdy and no delinquent. The royal certainly wouldn’t ever gang up on the Magic Knights Commander.

Julius shrugged. “Don’t know. But Mereoleona’s in there with Sir Jorah now.”

“Then why aren’t we? Don’t tell me Teris kill Fuegoleon.” Jax said.

Julius raised a humored brow. “Doubtful.”

“Nozel wouldn’t have done anything.” Kess said, in defense of her Vice Captain.

“Right.” Jax drawled. “Cause your little royal prince of a Vice Captain was innocent of any wrong doing in the first place. Well except for the spear of mercury Greywright said he had primed and ready above Yami’s head.”

Kess frowned. “If your--”

“Silence!” Jorah commended from behind his desk.

The three Captain’s turned to see the office door had been opened by Ellara.

“It’s no wonder your Vice Captain’s were caught behaving like heathens with you for examples. If we didn’t have something more troubling to deal with I’d personally give all three of you a lesson on decorum. Now get in here.” Jorah ordered.

The three Captain’s lined up beside Mereoleona who stood before the Wizard Kings desk. Ellara closed the door and moved to stand behind Sir Jorah’s left shoulder. She didn’t miss the way Julius and Jax watched her, though she was too upset to care.

Eyes on his Captain's, Jorah informed. “Mereoleona visited the training grounds Greywright had taken the four Vice Captain’s to. Instead of finding the Commander and Vice Captain's, she discovered an unknown dead man. He’d been speared through the head by some as yet unidentified type of magic. Leona reports there was no signs of struggle. Magic Investigations was immediately sent to the scene but so far have yet to find anything that would tell us what happened.”

Whatever nerves Kess had felt disappeared in her concern for her Vice Captain. “Are you thinking they were taken? All of them? Nozel. Commander Greywright.”

“That’s what it looks like.” Jorah said.

Julius glanced at Ellara, certain this was the Agents of Chaos’ doing. But the Advisor appeared truly unnerved. Apprehensive even.

The Wizard King looked at the four Captain’s before him. “We have not received any messages for ransom or any other kind. Neither have House Silva or Vermillion. With no messages and no clues found, we have no idea who took them or why.”

“To take all five of them without a fight, let alone a struggle. It had to have been done through passive means.” Jax said.

“Someone they knew?” Kess theorized.

“Sleep magic. Toxin magic.” Julius said, thinking aloud. “Spatial magic would have left a sign. Small almost imperceptible. But a sign nonetheless. Same with a dimensional shift. There’s marionette magic. Or even blood magic. But Commander Greywright has dealt with both enough to fight against it, if not break through such control. There surely would’ve been some kind of sign of him doing so.”

“Yami and Teris too.” Jax said, thinking Yami especially given his dealings with not just Iban but the Witch Queen.

“There are too many passive types of magic. And that’s if one was use. We can’t go rounding up everyone with such types of magic. We can’t even question them all.” Jorah said, concern for his Commander making him wish he could.

“Let me go, Sir.” Julius said.

Jorah knew what the Captain was thinking. “Magic Investigations timed the mans death. It’s been too long for you to see anything, Julius.”

“The least I can do is try. We have no leads. We have nothing. Please, sir. Let me try.” Julius pleaded.

Ellara held her breath, hoping the Wizard King would agree.

Jorah nodded and rose to his feet. To Ellara, he ordered. “Fetch Cob.”

Ellara nodded and exited the office.

Neither Julius or Kess made a joke about Jax being transported to the bottom of the sea. Ellara returned with Cob in tow.

“The scene if you will.” Jorah commanded.

Cob opened a portal and they all walked through.

Jax took in the barren field. The nearest hiding place was a tree line over three hundred meters away. Unless the abductors had an invisibility mage, or Magic Investigations had messed up and missed the sign of spatial or dimensional magic, there was no way anyone could’ve sneaked up on them. He wished he knew the range Yami could sense of someones Ki; though Jax knew it had a lot to do with Yami’s focus at the time.

Jax looked back at Julius seeing his friend had wasted no time in starting the spell. Depending how far back he looked, it would leave him exhausted and empty of mana. But if it gave them some clue as to what happened. Some direction to begin their search. It was worth it.

85.4

Useless as it was, Greywright pulled at his bindings. He’d do anything to protect his Magic Knights. “Rayla! Don’t do this.”

“It’s a simple test, Commander. Every hopeful in the Spade Kingdom must complete it if they are to become a Sorcery Lance.” Rayla smirked haughtily at Greywright. “Are you saying that your Vice Captain’s are incapable of surviving the most basic of tests?”

“We won’t play your sick games.” Nozel told.

Rayla’s eyes flicked to the royal. She left Greywright and stepped in front of Nozel. “Once you’re in there you play or you die, Handsome. While it would be a shame to lose you so soon. It really is no matter to me. But, I suggest you and Teris complete the trial sooner rather than later. For his sake.” She looked to Nozel’s right at Yami and moved to the Black Bull, placing a hand on his chest. “Oh my.”

Yami jerked at the touch, not having noticed Rayla coming to stand before him. He thrashed, trying to shake off her hand.

“You’re not doing so good. Are you?” Rayla questioned in mock concern.

Vision blurry, Yami glared at Magical Scientist. Taking in an unsteady breath, he panted. “I’m doing well enough to kill your ass. Your so fond of tests and trials. Release me and--” He blinked, spotty vision tunneling. His lolled.

“Yami!” Teris fought against her bindings with renewed vigor. She growled at Rayla. “What did you do to him?”

“It’s not what I’m doing to him. It’s what he’s doing to himself. You see those bindings are doing so much more than holding you in place. They’re holding your mana in place. Giving it no way to naturally breathe and release. Instead, it’s building up inside you.” Rayla turned to Teris. “You must be feeling it’s effects too. A feverish sense that’s making you tired, weak, and achy. Almost as if you’re sick with a cold.”

Teris paused, realizing Rayla was doing the same thing Cin had done. Did that mean Yami was close to losing himself and having the Darkness inside him take over? After everything Greywright had put them through she was naturally tired, weak, and achy. No doubt they all were. But the feeling had grown considerably worse. And now that she thought about it, this feeling was all too similar to how she felt when Cin had taken her.

Smiling at Teris, Rayla reached back running a hand over Yami’s chest and stomach. “Having a full store of mana is a good thing. Overflowing with mana is amazing. But having no way for mana to breath can be deadly. Think of what would have happened if the mana building in you on the Summer Solstice had no way of getting out. Beautiful sight by the way. Such an impressive display of power. Wish I had been there to see it, you must’ve been glorious. But, you had your time.” She turned, looking at the near unconscious Yami. “His time is still coming. While I don’t full understand it or agree with those nut cases, I intend to find the reasoning behind it. Magical science can and will explain this.”

Teris watched Yami. He was shivering, the beads of sweat on his brow frosting over. “Let the excess mana out of him and I’ll play whatever game you want.”

“Teris!” Nozel yelled.

Teris glanced at him. Nozel didn’t understand. She would’ve done anything for Yami. But in this case it wasn’t just about Yami. In a way she was doing this for Nozel. She was doing it for all of them. If Yami lost control and the Darkness inside him took over, they all might die. She looked at Greywright who gave her a less than pleased nod, seeing no other way.

“No.” Rayla said. “First you pass the test. Then I’ll give his building mana release.”

Teris pressed her lips together. Yami wasn’t looking good and she had no idea what this test of Rayla’s entailed. So much for bargaining.

With one last look at Yami, Teris fixed her gaze on Rayla. “Fine.”

85.4.2

Next thing Teris knew, she and Nozel were standing in an arena, hands unbound.

Wanting to explain, Teris scanned the place and apologized. “I’m sorry. It’s just--”

“Not now.” Nozel snapped. He stepped quickly to her, eyes darting about the arena. “Can you light travel?”

Even if Teris was willing to leave the others, she couldn't light travel. She shook her head, rubbing her raw wrists. That’s when she noticed it. A metal band around her right wrist.

Nozel frowned at the foreign item around Teris’ wrist and inspected himself, finding he wore a similar one. “Probably limiting or blocking our magic.”

Unable to pull the thing off, Teris raised her hand. She launched a blast of light that tore a hole through the arena wall. She tried to see passed the opening; but there was nothing. It was similar to dimensional space, but different too.

The wall rebuilt itself.

“Probably limiting us to a point.” Teris agreed. “It would hardly be an accurate test if our magical abilities were limited too much. And I think she truly wants to see what we’re capable of.” She focused properly on Nozel for the first time. “Are you okay?”

Though Nozel’s wound, where Rayla had cut a chunk out of him had stopped bleeding for the most part. It still seeped.

“Yeah, cause you look so much better.” Nozel said, looking over in her wounds.

Due to the nature of Teris’ magic her wounds had slowly cauterized themselves. At least that’s what Nozel supposed the reasoning was. But the gouge and two deep cuts still looked quite painful.

Nozel looked down at his cut opened, stained shirt. Beneath was the still oozing wound where a piece of him the size of a child's fist was missing from the left side of his abdomen. “As soon as I start moving this thing is going to open up. You think you can burn it closed without burning me to a crisp?”

With the heightened level of mana that was raw and storming from both her emotions and having been bottled up, Teris couldn’t guarantee that she wouldn’t burn more than needed. But she would do her best.

“The only way to know is try.” Teris said.

Nozel gave her an ill-humored look. “That’s hardly reassuring. Do it.”

Teris reached out tentatively. “You—uh. You need to lif—lift your shirt. That is unless you want fabric burned into your flesh.”

Nozel looked at her. His hands moved to the hem of his shirt and slowly lifted it, exposing a part of him he never thought he’d show her until they were married.

Teris’ eyes darted to the side, unable to stare into his crystal blue eyes any longer. She thought about Yami and how they had to hurry. “Ready?”

Teris gave Nozel a second to tuck his tongue and grit his teeth. She glanced at his uncovered stomach, looking away as soon as her hand was positioned over the wound. Her hand began to glow. Teris’ nose wrinkled at the smell of burning flesh that filled her nostrils. Just as she pulled her hand away, Nozel’s eyes went from a squeezed pain filled grimace to wide, worried surprise.

Nozel grabbed Teris. He pulled her into his arms and turned, shielding her with his body in case he hadn’t been quick enough and something got through his mercury shield. Teris didn’t even have a moment to take a breath before she sensed another attack coming. She pushed Nozel down and didn’t bother taking the time to raise her hand to aim, the light appearing out of nowhere to hit it’s target.

85.4.3

Rayla watched a projection of Nozel and Teris on a vaporous cloud in the center of her lab and explained to her captives. “Usually Sorcery Lance hopefuls will face such a test in teams of six or eight with one, maybe two individuals out of every dozen or so teams making it through unscathed enough to consider as having passed. But, seeing as these two are royals and Magic Knight Vice Captain’s I upped the level of difficulty and did away with the safety measures. At least one of them should make it through alive.”

Fuegoleon snarled. “You sick--”

Rayla turned to Fuegoleon silencing his voice. “Don’t worry, my Prince. You’ll have a chance to prove yourself soon enough.”

“Rayla! You have to let Yami’s mana release.” Greywright said, truly worried.

Rayla looked over her shoulder. “I set the rules, Commander.”

“Meaning you can break them.” Greywright said.

He knew he might’ve just set a dangerous precedent. But at the moment it didn’t matter. Yami’s body was burning up as his mana built. Greywright could feel the near overwhelming power. No physical form was meant to house that much raw magical force. No mortal body could contain it and survive. At least not for long.

Rayla tilted her head as if considering the Knights Commander’s words.

“Yami’s your greatest interest. If he dies all your questions go unanswered.” Greywright reminded.

The Magic Knights Commander had a point. With reports of Teris’ magic seeming to have normalized after the Summer Solstice. Rayla’s main interest was in Yami, and the connection Yami and Teris’ magic had. It was the entire reason she had gone against her King’s command and sent Sorn and Lila to the Clover Kingdom.

Looking at Greywright, Rayla walked to Yami’s listless form. “I tell you what. I won’t release the bind that’s bottling his mana. But I will give him a reprieve. It should afford Teris and the Silva Prince an extra twenty minutes to clear the test or die trying. After that, it’s up to them to save Yami’s life. And Yami’s willingness to hold onto that life until they’ve completed the trial I’ve set them. You understand how these things work, Commander. You’ve been in my lab before. Without consequences, even ones that disappoint me, there is no obedience.”

Rayla grabbed a fistful of Yami’s sweat drenched hair, pulling and lifting his head. Yami’s closed eyes barely fluttered.

She looked over her prized lab rat and cooed. “You really are bad off. Aren’t you, handsome?” Never taking her eyes off Yami, she told. “I was wrong, Commander. Your battling Vice Captain's have ten minutes, possibly less.”

Rayla lined up her mouth up with Yami’s. She pulled in close, centimeters apart. Mouth opening, she took in a deep breath. A dense, dark purple, almost black cloud billowed out of Yami’s mouth and entered hers.

Greywright relaxed. Even though Yami didn’t do more than take in a deep shuddering breath, Greywright sensed sizable portion of excess mana leave the younger man.

Rayla stepped back sputtering. Her body felt as if it were bearing an infinite weight. Her lungs burned from a biting cold. She coughed out the mana she’d taken in, gasping.

Fuegoleon’s breath caught at the sight of Rayla’s eyes. They were black. Even the whites of the woman’s eyes were black. Then she blinked and her eyes were back to their normal watery grey.

Shaking off the disturbing sight, Fuegoleon looked at Yami. The Black Bull still didn’t look good. Then again with as much as Rayla had cut into Yami, no one would. While Yami had received most of Rayla’s focus, none of them had been spared. None but Greywright that is.

While Fuegoleon wouldn’t wish such torture on anyone, he had wondered at the Commander’s exclusion. That was until Rayla mentioned Greywright had been in her lab before. If Commander Greywright had been in Rayla’s captive custody once before, that meant he had escaped. Though Rayla had likely learned from the escape and taken measures to stop it happening again, it still gave Fuegoleon hope.

He looked away from the vaporous screen that showed Teris take a hit that sent her flying. Turning back, Fuegoleon saw an attack break through Nozel’s mercury shield as if it wasn’t even there. He grimaced in sympathetic concern when three magical spears pierced Nozel’s side, thigh, and shoulder.

A cold sweat broke out on his brow, his vision blurred for a few heartbeats. Fuegoleon wondered if this was the first sign of the effects Rayla had mentioned. If his own mana was beginning to build passed his body’s tolerance. He looked at the Knights Commander to see him shivering with what he assumed was the same, only further along.

Greywright turned away from the image of a barbed chain wrapping around Teris’ arm and throwing her against the arena wall. His eyes met Fuegoleon’s, noticing the Vermillion's color and sweat. “You have to keep con--”

Rayla silenced Greywright’s voice. “Let the young ones learn to survive on their own, Commander. You did. Think you’re better than this fine royal specimen?” She moved to Fuegoleon. “I always wondered about you Clover Kingdom royals. Naturally endowed with such extraordinary mana and magical ability.” She placed a hand on his chest. “What else are you greatly endowed with?”

Fuegoleon jerked when her hand ran down his chest to his stomach.

Rayla plucked at the waistband of Fuegoleon’s pants. “Care to show me the full weighty might of a royal prince?”

Fuegoleon saw Teris take another hit, and glared at Rayla. “You’re dampening their magic.”

“I have to sweet one.” Rayla said.

“Because you’re afraid they’ll win your little game?” Fuegoleon accused.

Rayla bristled. “I fear no one and nothing. Not even death.”

“Funny you should say that. Shall we put it to the test?” A voice asked, their figure appearing in the middle of the lab.

Rayla spun around to face the intruder. “Who are you? How did you get in here?”

“I am Death.” Alowishus said, as if that should’ve been obvious.

“Lila! Sorn.” Rayla called.

Alowishus gave a small, slow shake of his head. “They can’t hear you. They’re dead. Which conveniently answers your second question. How we got in here.”

Rayla’s eyes narrowed. “We?”

Alowishus looked to the screen which showed three others had joined Nozel and Teris in the trial arena. “No one can leave until the trail is complete or all the combatants are dead. Yes? I wouldn’t have bothered sending in three of my people. One would have sufficed in putting an end to your little game. But, I couldn’t trust that Teris wouldn’t end up fighting her helping hand. Even with her magic dampened to such a level. She is a force that should be respected.”

Despite his getting in, Rayla was dismissive in her magics attempt to control the intruder.

Alowishus stared at her. “You cannot control Death. No one can.”

Snarling, Rayla extended both her hands and tried again.

Alowishus looked back at the image of the fight. “My people are nearly done with your little test. And I’m done with you. Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s impolite to play with anothers toys? At least your King understands.” At Rayla’s expression, Alowishus raised a brow. “What? You thought your King feared that empty threat Jorah gave?” He took a step and was in front of her so fast it was like he disappeared and reappeared. “Yami and Teris are mine.”

Rayla fell back sensing the mans power. It was more than Teris’. More than Yami’s. Possibly more than the both of them combined. How had he managed to hide such a power; shield it from her senses until now? What was even more frightening was that Rayla didn’t know if this was the full extent of his power, or if he was only showing her a hint of it.

Rayla scooted away from him. “You—you can have them. I’m sorry.”

Alowishus stared down at her without expression. “No you’re not. But you will be.”

Rayla gasped and begun to writhe on the floor.

Fuegoleon watched the horrifying scene, unable to look away despite his revulsion. Rayla had experiment on them. Tortured them. She laid hands on and humiliated him. Despite all that, Fuegoleon struggled against his bindings with renewed vigor in an effort to free himself and help her.

Rayla deserved to spend the rest of her days in prison. She might have even deserved to be executed. But that was for a lawful trial to decide. She didn’t deserve to slowly wither and decay to nothing.

Rayla screamed and convulsed until she no longer could. Even after she stopped, her eyes moved in their hollowed sockets. Her body twitched, mouth still open in a silent wail of agony.

Fuegoleon watched Rayla’s eyes lose their sheen of life and stare vacantly at the man who had called himself Death. Just when Fuegoleon thought he couldn’t be repulsed further, Rayla’s form cracked and crumbled to dust.

“From the earth you came. So to the earth you shall return.” Alowishus intoned, staring at the pile of dust that had been a living human mere moments before. He turned and stepped to Yami, the hem of his cloak sweeping through Rayla’s remains. “Look what she’s done to you, my boy. Magical science.” Alowishus scoffed. “Unworthy, disbelieving fools. This wouldn’t have killed you. But it would have set you off before your time.”

He placed a hand flat on Yami’s chest and took in the excess mana. Alowishus shivered, wracked with pain as his body initially rejected Yami’s mana. A purple-black cloud billowed around him. Alowishus gritted his teeth forcing his body to soak the mana back in.

Slowly the dark cloud disappeared, drawn in by Alowishus.

“After being weakened from taking in the Light Bringers essence, I needed that.” Alowishus muttered. He looked over his shoulder at the scattered pile that had once been Rayla. “I suppose your foolishness was good for something after all.” He pulled off the charm on Yami’s bindings that stopped his mana from naturally releasing then made his way to Greywright and did the same. “I trust you’ll recover in time to see the Vermillion prince is released before he burns up and dies. Or not.” Alowishus lifted a shoulder. “It makes no difference to me.”

Greywright tried to break free of his bindings but was too weak. The built up mana released from him far too slowly for him to regain the physical power or clear thinking that would allow him to access his magic.

Three Agents of Chaos appeared with an unconscious Nozel and Teris.

Alowishus looked at Yami and Teris, and told Greywright. “Take better care of them, Commander. I’ll be forced to take them away if you don’t. Trust me. None of us wants them in my extended custody.” He moved to his followers and ordered. “Misandre.”

“Master.” Misandre lifted a hand, Bronn’s hand; and she, Alowishus, Himmel, and Yuric stepped through the portal.

Comments and reblogs are VERY MUCH appreciated and really make my day; so as a 'tip' for reading this free work please leave a comment if you enjoyed reading it.

Next chapter snippet:

“Death should not be here.” The voice said, sounding offended and confused.

Alowishus looked about the black void that was somehow both substance and space. Eyes fixing on Yami, Alowishus said in awe. “This is you. Or a representation of the force within you.”

#yami sukehiro #nozel silva #fuegoleon vermillion #julius novachrono #mereoleona vermillion #Black Clover #light in the darkness spoilers

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doc-pickles · 4 years

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i won’t hesitate (for you) chapter five

Jo is happy, at least she feels like she is. When someone from her past shows up, will her and her daughter's world ever go back to normal? Or will things change for good?

Alex stared down at the test results that had just come up with shock and anger. Neither he or Izzie were carriers for Neurofibromatosis, which only meant one thing.

He wasn’t a father to the kids he’d been raising.

Alex crumpled the papers in his hand as he began stalking through the halls of Shawnee Memorial, on a war path towards Izzie. He knew he should’ve asked for a paternity test, should’ve asked more questions.

For a moment, his mind flicks to Jo and the future they could’ve had if he didn’t act so impulsively. No… he couldn’t do that to himself right now.

Alex finally found Izzie at a nurses station, immediately dragging her into the closest empty room he could find despite her protests.

“Alex what the hell! I’m working,” Izzie yanked her arm away from Alex grip and fixed him with an angry glare. “What do you want?”

Alex was used to this cold shoulder act from Izzie. They had tried to make a go of things, but that only lasted about two months and ended abruptly when Alex began to call for Jo in his sleep.

“Were you ever gonna tell me Izzie? Or were you going to string me along for the rest of my goddamn life and make me believe those kids are mine,” Alex took in Izzie’s shock as he slammed down the papers in his hand. “The DNA testing came back. Neither of us are carriers which is literally impossible since your son obviously has Neurofibromatosis. So anything you wanna share with me?”

Izzie stared at Alex, her eyes wide with unshed tears. There was a lot she probably had to say, but she wasn’t talking and Alex wasn’t in the mood to listen. He began stripping off his white coat, his stethoscope, his pager, and his name badge all at once.

“What’re you doing?”

“I’m leaving, I quit so you can tell the Chief that,” Alex slammed his clipboard down onto the table and turned back to Izzie. “I’m going home to Seattle, where I should’ve stayed this whole damn time.”

“Alex, please no, it was at a bar and I was drunk,” Izzie reached her hand out to grab his arm, but Alex shook her off and stalked away. “It was one mistake, we need you! The kids and I need you! I love you, don’t go, please!”

“Fuck off Izzie, I’m done with this shit,” Alex called down the hallway as he set out to go home and pack and get out of Kansas as fast as he could.

The next week and half consists of the Karev’s settling into a new normal. Alex is welcomed back easily at Grey Sloan and Harper is riding high on the fact that “mommy AND daddy” are home most days. The father-daughter duo get along so well, sometimes it’s hard to tell that they were apart for so long.

Jo, for all that’s gone right for her lately, still can’t help but worry that her world will come crashing down again. More than once, she’s bolted upright in the middle of the night, frightened by nightmares of Alex and Harper leaving her. A quick look to her left and across the room always confirm that both are still there, but the nagging fear always grips her chest and keeps her awake.

The anxiety she feels during the day is harder to quell. The wave of worry that comes over her when Alex and Harper go home while she works, the doubt that makes her run downstairs between patients to make sure Harper is still in daycare, the misgiving feeling that finds her on the pediatric floor more often than she’d like to admit. While she’s grateful for the changes to her life, Jo can’t help the worries that constantly make themselves known.

“Jo? Joooooooo?”

Jo snapped her head up, eyes meeting Link’s with a look of pure exhaustion. She perked up when she saw the paper cup he extended to her, taking it with renewed vigor.

“Oh you’re a god, thank you,” Jo sipped her coffee and sighed contentedly. “Perfect, you always know my order.”

“I’m telling your husband you called me a God,” Link chuckled, swigging his own coffee. “You look like shit by the way.”

Jo rolled her eyes, walking with Link down the wide hallway. Being Jo’s oldest friend offered Link the opportunity to call her out, something that she despised greatly. The duo turned down an empty hallway, relief coursing through Jo as they stepped away from the cesspool of gossip that ran rampant through the halls of Grey Sloan.

“First of all, Alex and I are not married,” Jo clarified. “And secondly, thanks asshole! You don’t tell a woman that!”

“Not married but you have a kid together and you live together and you’re sleeping together,” Link hummed in thought, his eyes shining mischievously as he looked at Jo with a quirked brow. “Okay, whatever you say Doctor Karev .”

“Woah woah woah,” Jo stopped Link from walking any further by stepping in front of him, one hand pressed to his chest. “We do have a kid together, one he just met a week ago, let me remind you. And we live together so he can see Harper more, but we are not sleeping together. Well… we’re in the same bed but there’s nothing happening there, ya know, sexually.”

“So what’s this I hear from Amelia about you and Alex ‘defiling the elevator’ on his first day back,” Jo’s shocked face is enough to send Link into a bout of laughter. He collected himself fairly quickly, one hand coming to rest on Jo’s shoulder. “In all seriousness, you do look like shit. Are you okay?”

Jo groaned, her eyes skillfully avoiding Link’s. She knew eventually someone would ask her about her behavior, she had carefully planned out the conversation she would carry out to avoid talking about her feelings. The one thing she hadn’t counted on was Link. This was the man who had held her while she had cried over Alex’s sudden departure, who had held her hand at her first ultrasound, who was her daughter’s godfather. Jo knew that she couldn’t hide what was happening in her head from Link, but she couldn’t find the words to explain the fear that gripped her heart every moment she wasn’t beside Alex and Harper.

“I… I’m scared,” Jo whispered, eyes trained to her hand that still rested on Link’s chest. “I have something so good in my life and I am terrified every moment I’m awake that it’s going to vanish right before my eyes. I lost Alex already and I can’t lose him again, it will literally kill me. And Harper… I can’t…”

Whatever Jo was going to say next is lost in the sounds of her tears, loud wracking sobs that shook her body. Link brought his arms up and held Jo tightly, her arms falling to her sides as she continued to cry. When her sobs softened, Link spoke quietly to Jo.

“You’re living with your heart outside of your chest, for someone who’s had a life like yours that’s a new feeling,” Link’s voice was smooth and calming as Jo regained control of her breathing. “You’re worried about your family and you don’t want things to change, it’s normal. I’m assuming you haven’t talked to Alex about this.”

Jo shook her head, keeping her face pressed against Link still. She was grateful for her friend, but she wasn’t ready to face her problems yet.

“Well maybe you should, I’m sure he’s feeling just as confused as you,” Link pulled back, looking down at Jo with a smile. “I do know one thing though. For all he’s done in the past, I can’t see Alex leaving you or Harper anytime soon.”

+ “You look like you’ve got lots going on in that big brain of yours,” Meredith teased as she came to stand next to Alex. “What’re you thinking about?”

“Izzie.”

Meredith looked from Alex to the ground beneath her feet. It was dark out, dark enough that she knew he should be at home already. Instead, he was standing out front of Grey Sloan, eyes watching the building with an intensity that Meredith had seen before but could never really understand. She did understand, though, why he chose to stand here and think about his ex.

“We never got back together, not really. I… I was too wrapped up in Jo still. And part of me wonders why that wasn’t enough of a driving force for me to ask questions or to come back here just once. My whole life would be different, Mer,” Alex finally tore his eyes away from the hospital, looking to his best friend. “I could’ve known my daughter, could’ve been there when she came into the world. I could have been there for Jo while she was pregnant and then I would be the one complaining about four months without sleep because Harper had colic. I fucked up.”

Meredith let out a sigh, her hands burrowing into her jacket pockets as she stared ahead. Moments like these made her miss Derek deeply. He was always more of a people person than her, he would know exactly what to say and what would make Alex feel like things were going to be okay. But then, she thought, it wouldn’t matter. Because Alex wouldn’t go to Derek, he would always go to her. And sometimes Meredith’s crappy advice was better than anyone else’s to her best friend.

“After the plane crash, before Lexie… ,” Meredith paused, her eyes meeting Alex’s for a brief second before returning to the hospital. Grey Sloan Memorial. “Before Lexie died, Mark laid next to her and told her he loved her and that they were meant to be. They talked about this great big future they were going to have together and then… Lexie and Mark didn’t get a second chance, they didn’t get a do over to be with the person they loved. I don’t know why I’m telling you this, after all these years I don’t know why. But you and Jo… you get your second chance to be together. And things would be different if you had stayed, you’re right, but you can’t change that. You can only be grateful for the present and the opportunities you two have now.”

“Wow, when’d you go soft,” Alex joked, bringing his arm up to pull Meredith into his embrace. “Thanks for that. I think I needed someone to kick me in the ass and tell me I was being dumb.”

“You know I’m always here for a reality check,” Meredith grinned. She looked up and saw Jo and Harper walking towards them, the younger asleep on her mom's shoulder. “And besides, you wouldn’t have wanted to deal with pregnant Jo, she was mean and grumpy.” Jo, who had approached the duo just in time to hear Meredith’s quip about her, let her jaw fall open as she looked at Meredith in shock.

“Hey! I was not that bad,” Jo looked from Meredith to Alex, a blush forming on her cheeks. “Okay… I might have been that bad. I blame the hormones.” Alex squeezed Meredith’s shoulders once more before reaching and gently grabbing Harper from Jo’s arms. He waved goodbye to his friend and slung his free arm around Jo’s shoulders, the trio walking towards the parking lot. Meredith didn’t think that Izzie would ever leave Alex’s mind, but his replacement was far better than anything she could’ve thought up.

#greys anatomy #alex karev #jo karev #jo wilson #jo x alex #jolex #jolex fic #nina writes #hesitate #jolex fanfic #greys anatomy fanfic

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tarontherocketman · 4 years

Text

Mr Madden | Madderton Teacher AU | Chapter 4

TW: BRIEF MENTIONS OF SUICIDE

Taron stirred in bed, glancing to the clock for the umpteenth time that night; it was only 4:57am. He had just over 2 long hours until his alarm was supposed to sound, it was still dark, and the birds hadn’t even thought about chirping yet. The entire night had been a series of waking up and drifting off, usually multiple times within the hour. His mind was disturbed by the thought of arriving at school to find out that Ella hadn’t made it, he had visions of her parents coming in to blame the school, leading to Taron being ratted out for not doing enough to help her, her poor parents screaming and crying at him, telling him that they killed their daughter. He made himself dizzy filling his head with these thoughts that deep down he knew just weren’t true, and Richard has done everything he could to assure him of that. The light from his phone and a soft vibration pulled Taron out of his dark thoughts as he rolled over to pull it out of its charging port and squint at the bright screen.

Rich: you up, T?x

Taron: yep, been up most the night, why are you up??x

Rich: set an alarm for 5 cos I knew you’d be up and I wanted to check up on you x

Taron: what? really? Rich you didn’t have to do that you have work too..x

Rich: course I did I couldn’t bear the thought of you alone in bed feeling shit so I thought instead of another 2 hours of that you’d want to go for breakfast before work? Obviously the only place open is mcdonalds but you can’t go wrong with a maccies breakfast x

Taron: you’re right you can’t go wrong with a maccies breakfast, thanks rich I need this I was preparing for a long couple of hours, was considering going for a walk but this sounds much nicer x

Rich: no worries bub, I’ll come pick you up in 20 mins then we can go straight to work after breakfast x

Rich got himself up and ready for work, a routine that didn’t take long. As long as his face was washed, teeth were cleaned and his hair was tidy he was quite happy to get dressed and go within 15 minutes. He grabbed his keys and jogged down the stairs of his apartment to the resident car park, making the short drive to Taron’s place and sending him a quick text to let him know he was outside. Taron appeared quickly, looking a little less put together than usual. His hair wasn’t quite as neat as he usually bothered to make it, and his eyes were puffy from the severe lack of sleep.

“Jeez you look shit T,” Rich commented.

“Cheers,” Taron sighed.

“No I mean you still look handsome, obviously,” Rich scoffed playfully, “but you literally look like you haven’t slept for a minute.”

“You’re not too far off the mark there,” Taron replied as he pulled the seatbelt over him. “Seriously though thanks for doing this Rich it means a lot, you really didn’t have to wake up so early for me.”

“Don’t worry about it I knew full well you’d be up most of the night worrying, I know what you’re like by now, I’d rather that you get out of the house and have some breakfast and coffee rather than tossing and turning for another 2 hours and coming to work without eating anything,” Rich said softly as he put the car into 5th gear along a long, empty main road.

“Thank you,” Taron replied, at a loss for what else to say to his incredibly thoughtful friend who knew him even better than Taron thought he did.

The pair rode out the rest of the journey in silence, neither knowing exactly what to say at a time like this. Rich pulled into the car park of the 24 hour McDonalds and made his way inside with Taron following miserably behind. Rich noticed him trailing behind and stopped at the door to wait, putting an arm round him when he caught up as they walked into the building. Once the two had ordered, received their food and sat down at a booth table in the window, Taron held his egg muffin limply, taking tiny bites. Rich, having already finished the tiny thing in what felt like less than 5 bites, sat with his hands wrapped around his coffee for warmth.

“Look T, I know this sounds obvious but please stop blaming yourself for this, no one is mad at you,” Rich soothed, taking one hand away from his coffee to place it on Taron’s arm.

“But what if she dies, Rich? How am I supposed to deal with a student dying at my hands?”

“T, if she did die it wouldn’t be at your hands! Not one bit! You did what you could. And anyway there’s no point worrying about death now, if you worry about something that hasn’t happened you’re potentially putting yourself through it twice, ok?”

“That’s actually not bad advice,” Taron said, perking up ever so slightly.

“Yeah I got it off one of those facebook posts with inspirational quotes,” Rich admitted, laughing quietly at himself.

“Oh christ,” Taron chuckled softly, “well thank you anyway, I don’t know why it’s got me this down, I know it’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid at all you’re a worrier, you worry for the world Taron, and it’s a heart warming trait but you’re gonna worry yourself sick,” Rich spoke in almost a whisper, rubbing Taron’s arm comfortingly.

“I know, I know,” Taron took a long sigh and finally finished his breakfast. Rich’s words did actually make quite a big difference, he didn’t need to be so miserable about something that he shouldn’t even blame himself for in the first place. “Thank you again for this I do feel better.”

“Anytime,” Rich smiled. Taron and Rich sat for the rest of the wait before work, sipping their second coffee and chatting mindlessly to keep Taron’s mind off things. As the time passed quickly, the morning drew closer to them having to go to work. The sun rose at last, and they knew they’d have to go sooner or later.

“You ready?” Rich asked, offering his hand to Taron, who reluctantly took it, deciding that there wasn’t really anyone around at this time of the morning who would see them and so they walked hand in hand to the car.

“I might not even hear anything about it today, no point getting worked up,” Taron assured himself out loud, staring out of the window at the sunrise lined buildings of the city that zooming past the window as they travelled.

“Exactly,” Rich agreed, putting his left hand on Taron’s knee in between changing gear. They arrived at work, deciding that a third coffee probably wasn’t a smart idea, but a visit to the staff room before they started might be worthwhile, in case there did happen to be any news on Ella.

“Morning,” they both said politely to the other staff gathered around the room, all looking a little bit like they didn’t want to be there for another day in the mad house that they called a school. Taron bit his lip, not sure whether to ask the question. The Headteacher, who was leaning against the kitchen counter waiting for the coffee in the coffee pot to brew, seemed to have read his mind.

“Ella’s parents got in contact, she’s fine,” he smiled, almost as relieved as Taron.

“Really?” Taron beamed happily, relief washing over him like a tidal wave, his whole body relaxing as if he’d been tensing for a week straight.

“Yes she’s stable, already recovering, and will be back in school next Monday if she’s ready so she’s got a little while to get better,” he informed, now turning around to pour coffee.

“Thank god,” Taron breathed heavily, taking a seat on one of the old tatty sofas and slumping forward in relief, rubbing his temples. Rich looked at him, longing for a cuddle, but knowing he couldn’t so just settled on patting him on the shoulder casually, avoiding the curious gaze of Mrs Reynolds who was clearly trying desperately to sniff out some gossip again.

“Coffee?” the Head asked in Taron and Rich’s direction, who both declined rather quickly.

“Suit yourself,” he smiled. Mrs Reynolds was now looking quizzically in their direction.

“Already coffee-d out?” she questioned, an eyebrow raised suspiciously.

“Yep, uh, we do both have coffee at home, so,” Rich trailed off uncomfortably.

“No of course, I just don’t tend to get up early to use up the coffee in my house when it’s free here.” Taron was now looking up at her, his eyes narrowed slightly as if to say ‘keep your nose out of our business’ “Anyway,” she quipped, putting her mug in the sink and turning on her heel “I must be off to class.” At that she scurried out of the staff room making brief eye contact with the rest of the staff before she left, leaving them to sit in tense silence as they all attempted to sip their coffee nonchalantly, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Taron and Rich took this as their cue to leave and head to Rich’s class, walking quickly down the hallway.

“Oh my god do you think they’re all onto us?” Taron whispered, leaning into Rich as they walked.

“I don’t know, but like you said the other day, there’s no proof, they have nothing on us!” Rich loud whispered back.

“You’re right, we just have to be extra careful,” Taron nodded as they arrived at Rich’s classroom and scuttled inside.

“Yeah we will,” Rich assured.

“Extra careful,” Taron smirked, leaning flirtatiously against the door to the supply closet.

“Taron..” Rich warned, knowing exactly what he was suggesting.

“Do people usually come snooping in your supply closet at 7:30am on a Tuesday?” Taron joked.

“Well no, but they do walk past the classroom and snoop through the big obvious window in the door, what if we get seen going in or out?”

“We won’t! We’ll make sure,” Taron reassured the Scotsman, who stood shifting on the spot nervously, his hands fiddling with each other.

“Your mood has certainly improved in the past 10 minutes,” Rich observed.

“Of course,” Taron started, “I spent all night worried sick and now I know she’s ok I feel like a massive weight’s been lifted and I have some emotional catching up to do.”

“Right, that’s your logic?” Rich laughed, “in fact, you’ve changed your whole tune about doing things like this since I met you.”

“I know, like I said, everything changed when I met you! Now are you joining me or do I have to please myself?” Taron wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Argh, T!”

“I’m joking, I’m joking!” Taron assured quickly, laughing at Rich being a typical serious History teacher. “You coming in?” Rich shuffled on the spot some more, glancing back and forth at the door suspiciously.

“Hmm, ok, but we really shouldn’t be doing this though,” Rich muttered, following Taron into the cupboard.

“No we should not,” Taron agreed with cheeky smile, pulling Rich in and locking their lips firmly, hands running up and down each other’s backs lovingly.

“No really we can’t make a habit of this,” Rich said, pulling away for a moment in between breaths. Taron shushed him, pulling him straight back in, gently grabbing his thick, lovely hair from behind. The lovebirds carried on having their moment until they accepted that they’ll have to stop eventually and get ready for class. Taron cracked the door open slightly to look at the door to the classroom, making sure the coast was clear before grabbing Rich’s hand and pulling him out of the now fully open door.

“Hey look we literally came out of the closet,” Rich snorted, Taron nudged him playfully, laughing along. “Seriously though we can’t get too comfortable doing that.”

“I know, it’ll be fine!” Taron assured, following Rich to his desk to take a seat next to him. The two of them sat in silence while Rich turned his computer on and watched it boot up, the logo appearing across the screen in big letters. Rich looked down at his lap, and then back up at Taron, the secret kiss they just had now playing on his mind.

“T, what are we?” Rich asked, now ignoring his computer entirely to look into Taron’s pretty eyes. Taron sat thoughtfully.

“I don’t know, Rich,” he admitted, avoiding Rich’s gaze.

“Are we a thing or is this all just for fun?” said Rich, biting his lip in thought.

“Why don’t we talk about this later, you need to get ready for class,” Taron smiled, glancing at his watch.

“Yeah, you’re right, come round mine tonight?” Rich offered.

“Pizza and beer?” Taron said hopefully.

“Course,” Rich agreed, turning to his computer that had now turned on, asking for his password.

“I better get ready for class too, I’ll talk to you later,” Taron said, getting up from his chair and planting a small kiss on the top of Rich’s head. There was a somewhat solemn feeling between the two all of a sudden, they hadn’t delved into the relationship conversation yet. In fact, neither of them knew if they were ready for a relationship, it had all been fun and games up until now, but they had to decide if settling down was something that they both wanted to do now.

The day passed, slowly. Taron and Rich’s thoughts consumed by the reality of the conversation that they would be having that evening. At least there were some distractions through the day, working in a city secondary school always came with its daily challenges. Taron broke up two fights in one lunch break, had to mediate an argument between four girls in his afternoon class that had suddenly turned 2 vs 2 during a script reading exercise when he stupidly split the class into groups of 4 and not only let them choose their groups, but let them choose between them who gets to be which character, as if that could have ever ended well.

Rich had a student storm out of his class angrily after having to tell him more than five times to get off his phone, the students argument being ‘it’s my personal property fuck off’, and he had a 10 minute job of calming down an over-hyper class of year 7s that had just had a P.E class and were now on the last lesson of the day, which was just a recipe for disaster. Rich knew that being a secondary school teacher would come with challenges, based off his own experience as a student many years ago, but he swore teenagers had become 100x times crazier since then, but maybe that was just him remembering it from the point of view of a student, never really knowing at the time what teachers actually had to go through every day.

Once the day finally drew to an end, Rich and Taron met up to go straight to Rich’s seeing as they had both come in his car that morning.

“You sure you don’t need to pop home first? I don’t mind,” Rich offered.

“No it’s all good, these clothes are comfortable enough and we’ve got the same phone if I need a charger,” Taron replied.

“True.”

After a short journey home, Rich and Taron climbed the stairs to Rich’s apartment, he unlocked the door and let Taron in first, following straight after him. Taron stopped to look around the place, observing the colour schemes and decor themes going on.

“Nice place,” he commented, nodding in approval at the well decorated room.

“Thanks!” Rich said happily as he threw his bag on the dining table and slung his jacket over one of the chairs, Taron did the same and joined Rich on the couch, both sinking down into it after a long day. Taron even more exhausted from his extreme lack of sleep the previous night, knowing full well everyone he had talked to today had just politely ignored the bags under his eyes.

“So do you want a beer now, or?” Rich offered.

“I can wait, we should talk,” Taron said slowly, Rich nodded nervously, breathing heavy enough for Taron to hear it clearly now.

“So.”

“So..”

“Ok, look, T, I’m just gonna say it- I really love you, and I think I’ve fallen fast, and if you don’t feel the same and are just in it for the fun I understand but,” Rich babbled, Taron trying so hard not to giggle at not only his rambling but the fact that he swore the Scottish accent was getting thicker as the sentence progressed.

“Oh shut up,” Taron chuckled, shushing him fully with a kiss. “Mr Madden, will you be my boyfriend?”

“Um, obviously!” Rich breathed, laughing from relief and leaning back in for another sofa make out session, one that meant even more to the two of them than the last time it happened, now that this had developed into a real relationship. One that neither of them were expecting considering they both had intentions to lay low in their jobs, but they couldn’t help it. They wanted each other so badly and would freely admit at this stage that that had been the case for quite some time now.

“So you wanna order food?” Rich asked as the pair pulled away from each other.

“Hm, not yet,” Taron replied.

“You not hungry?” Rich asked in genuine surprise, feeling his own stomach rumble from a long day at work with not enough food, knowing Taron had eaten even less.

“I’m hungry, but not for pizza..where’s your bedroom?” Taron smirked. Rich scoffed in surprise at the extremely forward question.

“I- wow, that is very bold of you, Mr Egerton!” Rich said, taken back but not actual displeased by the question.

“Well, you’re my boyfriend now,” Taron smiled flirtatiously.

“Good point, right this way,” Rich grabbed Taron’s hand and let him into the door that was only a few metres away from the sofa, pulling him into the room and gently shoving him onto his king size bed, pulling his shirt off in excitement and kicking the door shut behind him, knowing that he hadn’t felt this content in such a long time.

___________________________________________________________

So. You may have just figured out, but I don’t write smut! Sorry! Love reading it but terrible at writing it, so you’ll just have to leave it up to your imagination if you so wish! Anyway sorry this isn’t quite as long as the previous chapter, I just went off on that last one, this is more the length that I’m keeping them. Although I’m slightly worried this chapter is a bit boring, but I hope you all like it regardless tho!

Tag list: @taron-eggmcmuffin @coffeetalkbaby @nataschalenasblog @stateofloveandvedder @winterismyfavoriteseason1945

#taron x richard #madderton #richard x taron #madderton fanfiction #fanfiction #taron egerton fanfiction #richard madden fanfiction #madderton au #madderton au fanfiction #teacher au #madderton teacher au #mr madden #taron egerton #richard madden #taron x richard fanfiction #richard x taron fanfiction #madderton angst #madderton drama

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whyisnicole · 4 years

Text

Show Me Your Darkness - Chapter 3

Hi guys! I just wanna say thank you so, so much to everyone who checked out chapter 1! I really, truly hope that you like it, and lemme know what you think!

PLEASE NOTE TRIGGER WARNINGS: Do not read if you are sensitive to suicidal tendencies or suicide in general. This fic contains themes of torture, depression, and language. It picks up but please be cautious of these things <3

"I'm just sayin', YN, you know I've got the room. I think you and Alex would make quite the nice pair of… roomies, hmm?"

You give a humor-filled scoff and your friend, Alex, flips a not-so-sarcastic sarcastic "fuck you" to the red and black clad buddy that you've somehow unwillingly, yet gratefully, acquired.

Your days following HYDRA had been anything but easy - but you weren't the kind of person to simply lay down and die. Literally.

Not only had you managed to free yourself from the imprisonment of a never ending life-sentence as some foreign army's personal test subject, you'd discovered exactly what it was that made you so damn special. You had the power of manipulation - the power of control. Whether it be emotions, matter, life itself, or the body-sized black wings that you could expose or tuck away at any given time, you finally were able to be the one in control.

There was only one side effect:

You couldn't stay dead.

Whenever you would die, you would come back within a matter of minutes, and you've had more than a fair share of time to test that fact. You'd been low after escaping the taught hold of your previous prison; after all, who wouldn't have been? You never truly remembered a time where you had anything, but now you were all on your own. Simply some freak with giant wings who was brand new to her powers - which meant you couldn't control the fact that you could control everything…

And you couldn't handle it.

You did everything you could.

Pills.

Asphyxiation.

Slicing and Dicing yourself until you couldn't move.

Throwing yourself off from any height you could find.

You basically gave Wade Wilson himself a run for his money, and unsurprisingly found that nothing ever worked.

You'd always wake up again, gasping for breath and remembering simply closing your eyes, praying they wouldn't ever open again. But they always did.

It was during one of your famous drowning attempts that you'd met a girl named Alex.

You were standing on the edge of some bridge, no cars passing, no life in sight; just the sound of rushing water beneath your swaying form. All alone, enjoying the quiet serenity and brief peace that was brought to you… Until you heard her. Some chick, bounding towards you and stopping a good thirty or so feet away, screaming out to you, desperately trying to get your attention. You remember her dark features illuminated under the soft light of the street lamp. You remember her standing at a far enough distance yet she was still all too close. You remember the panic in her troubled eyes and the way the wind tussled and whipped around her shoulder length curly black hair as she held her worn jacket close to her body in an attempt to shield herself from the nipping breeze.

And you distinctly remembered telling her to stay away.

You had told her to stay back,

"You need to leave."

"I can't do that…"

"Forget you ever saw this and Just go!"

That you hadn't wanted to hurt her like you hurt everybody else,

"You don't know what I've done!"

"It doesn't matter!

"Yes it does! And if you don't back the fuck up, turn around, and get the hell out of here, then you're just gonna be another victim of me!"

But did she listen?

Fuck no.

So you didn't listen to her telling you to back away and rethink whatever problem it was that you were facing.

You slightly believed her when she said that you could get through this, but only because you knew, deep down, that you'd live. But you were just done with the conversation.

So you did what you'd grown to do best and simply just left…

You jumped.

Feet leaving the pavement as the harsh cold graced your face, and the sensation of tranquility, of freedom coursed through your body.

You felt the smack of the water and a moment of old, but then nothing.

Until you felt everything again.

You jolted awake, spewing water from your lips as you felt the rhythmic pounding on your chest come to a sudden halt.

Alex.

That stupid, idiotic badass had climbed down and catapulted herself into freezing water to save your ass that didn't even need saving.

From that day on you knew you weren't getting rid of her anytime soon, and you'd grown to be beyond grateful for that.

Since the nearly five years that you'd been introduced into each-others lives, you'd learned a lot about one another. You'd learned what made each-other tick, what made each-other happy, mad, sad, and all of the in-between's, and you'd learned each-others secrets. You'd learned everything about what went into making you guys the people that you are now. She knew what you were, and you knew that she was an underestimated genius that could give the best of the best a run for their money - even if she did do some stupid shit now and then.

And you'd also learned that people suck.

You have a small group of close-knit friends that you considered to be more like a family than anything else.

You have a place to lay your head and the best roommate and friend that you could ever ask for.

And you'd also discovered that you do indeed have a purpose. You still struggled with the belief that you're just some freak - some strange phenomenon that doesn't deserve to see the light of day after doing what you've done and being capable of doing the things that you can do, but that's where your new found family came in. Always there to pick you up and dust you off during the worst of times, as you had learned to do for them as well.

You were set.

"Well that's very sweet of you, Wade," Said Alex, bringing you back to the present conversation; "But I think we're quite set here. Nobody to bother us, nobody to try and get me to hack into all the extra channels on their TV, nobody to relentlessly be shot down time after time by YN…"

Wade gasped in mock offense at the painfully hilarious rejection from Alex.

You'd be lying if you said moving in with Wade didn't appeal to you, but you hated to take. And, while you knew you could trust him with your life, and that he would never ask anything for crashing at his place, the "Friendly Neighborhood Deadpool" was fun to watch when he was determined and constantly rejected.

And, besides that, you were content. All you wanted was a place to crash with your most trusted friend, and to be able to fulfill your purpose. To be able to do good with the hand that you've been dealt.

And you had that.

Was it some random, abandoned government-owned home?

Yes.

But was it just you and Alex?

Yes.

And though you wouldn't mind having a third roomie, you knew that Alex and Wade would probably kill each-other if they didn't have at least a nightly break. And you were comfortable. You'd never ask for anything other than livable, and you'd never ask anyone to inconvenience themselves for your pleasure.

It just wasn't you.

"How dare you?" Wade gasped, hands against his cheeks as he feigned disgrace.

You and Alex can't to anything aside from burst out in laughter as Wade simply stood up and shook his head.

"Alright, alright you two. You've won this round. But don't pretend like I'm stupid, I know why you two want your own place… And just remember, I'm more than okay with bringing the party back to my place. Last thing I'd mind is joining in with Steph and Lena."

Wade returns the friendly fire and is simply met with a chorus of "Piss off, Wade" and "Fuck you, Pool" as he makes his was out of the run down home.

"I'm just sayin'," he says behind his masked smirk.

"But seriously, you need anything, you call. Got it, missies?" He questions.

As annoying as he was persistent, Wade truly does care and was always going to be there for both you and Alex. You knew that you'd not only gained a sister, but an overly-nosey and annoying protective older brother. The night you'd met Wade was just as intense as the night you'd met Alex.

It was roughly two years ago after a late-night mission had gone south for you that the red spandex wearing vigilante had caught the tail end of your fight with a neighborhood trouble maker that did a little more than steal a candy bar here and there.

You'd heard and seen evidence of this particular asshole dealing around in the matter of underground drug cartel operations, and you'd finally gotten a hold of his whereabouts.

You knew it was stupid and risky, but he'd slipped from your grasp before and you couldn't let that happen again.

You'd been working with a "team" - that team consisting of yourself, a blind badass who went by the alias of "Daredevil" as opposed to his day name of Matthew, and some tough guy named Frank with a vengeance and skillset that you never wanted to find yourself on the wrong end of. His given name of "The Punisher" was there for a reason after all…

At the time, you were just working with them to simply get the case over with, but little did you know that those two gents would quickly become a special part of your tight-knit, dysfunctional family.

But they were lagging, and you were ready; just not as ready as you thought.

It had been a couple of years ago, and you still hadn't mastered your technique yet, and not much has really changed, you've just gained a lot of practice and experience since then.

You'd managed to off the crook, but you'd taken a hell of a beating at the same time. And, while you couldn't technically die, it still hurt like a bitch.

That's where the red-suited anti-hero named Wade Wilson, or "Deadpool", came into the picture.

Apparently the asshole you'd dispatched was on more than just one or two hitlists.

Wade had been hot on his tail, but managed to stumble across a beaten and bruised chick with wings, and the lifeless form of the prick he was targeting.

It was when Wade was scolding you about your techniques and making his classic witty remarks while carrying you home as you bled out in his arms that you knew you'd gained another accomplice...

And you were all the more grateful for him in the long run.

"We know, Wade. Thank you." You smile, giving him a small nod.

"Yeah, now get lost and go make a difference. Don't die too much." Alex sasses.

"Wouldn't make a difference!" Wade returns as he tries (and fails) to make a graceful and "cool" exit. He's never gonna learn that he's really better off walking away instead of trying some new trick that he swears he can master after watching one of those fail compilation videos.

He never masters it.

Ever.

"God, will he ever learn." Alex scoffs, tossing her head back and exasperatedly throwing her left arm over her face - her right one laying next to her, hand gently clasped around the neck of a bottle.

"Must you ask," you smile, "At this point I think your answer is pretty well clear."

The two of you share a laugh and Alex takes a short swig.

"Well," she says as she tosses the bottle outside of the half-way boarded up window in the run down living room;

"It's getting pretty late. I think I'm gonna head to bed. You gonna go do your thing?"

You take a moment to ponder before giving an affirming nod.

"Yeah, I'll go patrol for a bit. Check some things out, make sure nothing too crazy is going down tonight." You sigh, groaning as you pull yourself up off of your dingy pallet on the hard cement floor.

"It's Hell's Kitchen, Y/N. Crazy is a side effect here." Alex's scoffs as she cleans up her sleeping area a bit - dusting off the blankets and fluffing her pillow as much as possible before taking a seat on top of the freshly-made little nest atop a mattress stationed against the corner of the living room.

"I can't correct you there."

A sigh escapes your lips as you pull off your plain white, short sleeved V-neck, and slip on a long sleeved black one instead; followed by a zipped up olive cargo jacket and black knee high lace-up boots.

"That's cuz' I'm always correct." Alex retorts, a smirk painting her features bright.

"Yeah, yeah. Be home later. Stay safe and don't wait up." You smile, bidding Alex goodnight as you slip your phone into one of the zippers of your jacket and slide out the front door.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Alex smiles as she switches off the lantern sitting in-between your pallets, her glowing dark brown skin no longer illuminated by the soft yellow light. Tying her hair into the most perfected messy bun New York has ever seen, she wiggles herself in between the scratchy yet comforting blankets. Bidding you a silent goodnight, she whispers a quick prayer for protection and a safe night for the both of you before shutting her eyes and drifting to sleep after about half an hour of tossing and turning.

-------------------

Tags:

@eridanuswave

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coneygoil · 5 years

Text

The Home We Built Together, part 26

Two young Vikings. An arranged marriage. Hiccup always wanted to win the girl of his dreams, but not like this. Now he and Astrid must learn to live together and maybe one day, learn to love…

“What is this called again?” Astrid sniffed the bag Ruffnut had shoved into her grasp.

“Moon tea.” Ruffnut gave a little nod toward the bag. “It’s supposed to prevent babies from popping out of you before you want the little grubs to.”

Astrid wrinkled her nose at the pile of tea leaves in the bag. She knew this smell. “I think this is the tea my mother used to brew when I was younger. I never liked the smell.”

“It tastes better than it smells.” Ruff swirled her fingers around. “Just put honey in it and you won’t even notice.”

“How’d you get this anyways?” Astrid could take a good guess but asked anyway.

“My mom has a HUGE stash of it.” And there it was. Astrid was slowly learning way more about Ms. Thorston than she wished to. “I’ve drank it several times. Not that any beefcake has tried to conquer this, but when the times comes, I’ll be prepared.” With the click of her tongue, Ruffnut proudly shot a finger gun.

“Hey!” someone shouted from behind. Astrid groaned to herself, knowing exactly who it was. “You two ladies discussing these?” She grudgingly glanced over her shoulder to find Snotlout flexing his biceps and groaned out loud this time.

A filthy grin spread across Ruff’s face. “Speaking of beefcakes—”

Astrid took that as her cue to head home. Hiccup had left for work after lunch to finish up at the forge for the day. Their routine had shifted ever since Toothless had literally shot down into their lives. Her and Hiccup would feed and work with the arena dragons before their morning duties. Then it was dragon training with Gobber. The dragons did well most of the time with pretending to be fearsome beasts. They hit their cues when needing to. The only problem was after they were “subdued” they’d want a reward, and Hiccup would sneak a little treat to them. He was tired of smelling like fish.

After lunch, if their duties were finished, they’d venture out to the cove to be with Toothless. Soaring endlessly over the sea, they’d explored miles upon miles far from Berk. Sometimes they’d cook fish over a fire for supper, or they’d trek back home to cook up a heartier meal. They’re evening routine hadn’t changed. Warm mugs in front of the firepit. They’re chairs were pushed closer now. Astrid would rest a hand on Hiccup’s knee, or Hiccup would lean on the heel of his hand behind her to close the gap between them.

No dragon raids. No drama. Just life. An enjoyable life.

Astrid wished it could remain this way always, but she knew it wouldn’t. Stoick and the band of Vikings he’d taken on the search for the Nest had yet to return. One day soon her and Hiccup would have to reveal their plan. One day soon they’d either fly or fall.

Astrid hung the kettle over the firepit. A strange eagerness had set in, fluttering about in her chest. She didn’t know when her and Hiccup would consummate their marriage, but this was one step closer. She tried not to linger on it too much. Hiccup had wanted it to occur without plan, and if she was honest with herself, she really did too. But Astrid couldn’t help the little sparks of excitement when her mind wandered to the press of his lips to hers or his fingertips gliding across her skin. Astrid blushes a pretty shade at the thought. How fast she had changed her mind about absolutely no one kissing her!

A bubbling noise boiled from the kettle. Astrid grabbed the hook and lifted the iron kettle from the firepit. Setting it down on small stand nearby, she deposited some tea leaves into a mug then using a mitt, poured the steaming hot water over the leaves. All that was left was to wait for it to steep and add honey.

Her head snapped up at a placid knock on the door. Her eyebrows knitted together. They never received visitors. She answered the door, surprised and yet not surprised at the same time, to find her mother waiting there.

“Mother, what’re you doing here?”

“Is it a crime to visit my only daughter?” Ingrid Hofferson looked expectantly at Astrid. Stepping aside, she let her in. “Astrid, I never see you anymore.”

A ting of guilt pressed in her chest. “I’m sorry, Mother. I have a lot of responsibilities these days.”

Ingrid waved her excuse away. “Of course. Of course. You’re a married woman. Come. Let us sit and catch up.” Both women settled down at the kitchen table. “I’ve hardly seen you since the last dragon raid. How is Hiccup treating you?”

“Good.” Such a vague answer. Astrid searched for a better reply that wouldn’t give too much away. “We’ve gotten close.”

“I’m glad.” Ingrid offered her a tight smile, not quite reaching her eyes. “I worried over this arrangement. Your father and the Chief didn’t give much room for discussion. Hiccup seems like a nice boy, no matter how destructive he can be at times.” She paused, eyeing Astrid carefully. “Is he gentle with you?”

Astrid’s mouth gaped open, bewildered by the question. But the meaning finally caught up with her. Why was her mother concerned in this area of her life? Were husbands meant to mount their wives like beast in the wild? Astrid couldn’t fathom Hiccup taking her in such a way. If he ever tried, he’d probably end up with a bloody nose and dislocated shoulder.

Astrid exhaled a quiet breath, finding the subject far more awkward to discuss with her mother than with Ruffnut. And the fact that they hadn’t consummated their marriage made it even more difficult to speak such matters. “Mother, there’s nothing to be concerned about.” Hiccup was gentle in all aspects of their relationship. He was attentive to her wants and never forced her into anything. Sometimes he was overly cautious when expressing what he desired. Besides the misunderstand they had for those few days, he’d gotten better at communicating his wants for her. “He’s good to me. He really is.”

Ingrid leaned forward, asking in a hushed tone as if trying to keep anyone from overhearing. “How are you feeling? Any queasiness?”

“No. I’m feeling fine.”

“What about tenderness in your bosom?”

Astrid glanced down at her chest as if to consult it. “No tenderness.”

“How’s your flow? Have you kept track of it?”

At the mention of her monthly cycle, Astrid knew exactly what her mother was digging for. Her mouth gaped open for a brief second. “Mother! Is this a friendly visit or an interrogation?”

Ingrid reached across the table to pat her daughter’s hand. “I can’t help to be a wee eager when it comes to the thought of a babe. You’ll be carrying the future chief of Berk! What an honor that is, dear. And, I want you to receive the very best care as soon as the symptoms appear.”

“I can assure you I am not with child.” The gods would have to place a babe in her belly themselves for her to say she was. At least for the time being.

Her mother’s mouth turns down in disappointment. Ingrid had birthed one child but had experienced pregnancy four times. After three miscarriages prior to Astrid’s birth, she’d given up on baring more children and taken to drinking the moon tea to prevent anymore heartache.

Ingrid sniffed then drew in a deeper inhale. She flicked her gaze to the mug on the table. The wisps of steam curled into the air from its liquidy contents. Ingrid reached for the mug. “I haven’t smelled this in quite a while.” She brought the aroma to her nose, throwing a puzzled look at Astrid. “Is this moon tea?”

Astrid shifted uncomfortably, the helfy gaze of her mother pinning her. “Yes.”

Ingrid sat back with a huff. “And here I was hoping for a grandbabe when this whole time you were stifling that chance.” If only her mother knew moon tea wasn’t the only thing keeping her from being pregnant.

“Please understand, Mother,” Astrid appealed, “I’m not ready for a baby. Me and Hiccup— we have something good going on, and I don’t want that to change anytime soon. Let us get to know each other first before we bring another person into this marriage.”

Ingrid held her daughter with the motherly regard of disappointment. Then it melted and she grasped Astrid’s hand. “I understand. When you’re young and falling in love and wanting to be with each other – just the two of you.”

Every muscle in Astrid’s body seized up. The blue of her eyes popped at the assumption. Love wasn’t a word she’d considered when this marriage was arranged. Hel, falling in love with someone wasn’t even in her orbit of thought…ever. Now that the revelation had been voiced, it wouldn’t easily slip from her mind.

What was love? She’d seen love displayed in many different ways. From physical affection to sacrificing one’s life for another. It was all love. It was everything that she felt, everything that she would do for Hiccup. Maybe, just maybe, she did love him. She shook her head of the heaviness, stashing it away to sort later. Right now was not the time.

The front door opened, and it was as if her ponderings manifested him into existence. Hiccup halted right there in the doorway, staring wide-eyed at the two women like a child caught swiping honeycakes. “Hey Mrs. Hofferson. You’re here.” He scratched at the back of his neck and thumbed toward the door. “Should I leave?”

“Oh, no Hiccup, you don’t have to leave your own house,” Ingrid informed with a little chuckle as she stood. “I was just leaving. You two have a life to carry on with.” She gathered Astrid into a motherly embrace that spoke more than words could. Heading toward the door, she grabbed Hiccup’s hand and gave it a squeeze. Curtesy goodbye greetings were dispensed as Ingrid let herself out.

Hiccup watched until the door shut. “I think your mom was trying to break some bones,” he remarked, shaking his hand free of the aches. “Her grip is almost as strong as my dad’s.”

“Don’t let her soft tone fool you.” Hidden behind Ingrid Hofferson’s maternal gentleness was a fierce mother bear that kept her apprehensions to herself until if or when they needed addressing.

“Were you two having tea together?”

“No,” Astrid sighed, occupying the chair once more. “She dropped in to check up on me.”

Hiccup nodded, acknowledging her. He grabbed up the mug of cooling tea to take a sip.

“She was also fishing around to see if I was bearing you a child.”

Hiccup seized up and choked on the tea currently flowing down his windpipe. Astrid snorted a laugh, smacking his back to help it go down. He coughed a few times, sputtering out, “What is with our parents and grandchildren?”

Astrid shrugged. “Everyone is awaiting the future chief of Berk to be birthed.”

He swirled the contents of the mug absently as he gazed into its shallow depths. “What did you tell her?”

“She sort of figured it out herself when she smelled my tea.” The corner of Astrid’s mouth quirked up knowing Hiccup didn’t know what this particular tea was for.

“What does the tea have to do with anything?”

“It’s called moon tea and it’s for preventing pregnancy.”

Hiccup froze, the freckles on his face darkening at his sudden paleness. “If it prevents you from being pregnant then what would it do to me?”

Astrid rolled her eyes. “Probably nothing, you dork. You’re not a woman.”

Hiccup carefully set down the mug as if the contents would pop out and bite him. All Astrid could do was shake her head. Men became weird when it came to sensitive matters of women. She doused the firepit with the remaining water in the kettle, the wood crackling and steam rising as the water made contact.

“C’mon.” Nabbing Hiccup’s hand, she tugged him toward the door. The room seemed to be closing in on her after that whole conversation. “I need to get out of here for a while. I’m sure Toothless is itching to stretch his wings.”

Hiccup followed along, eagerly. “Good idea.”

Tags: @martabm90 @chiefhiccstrid @drchee5e @celtictreemuffin @hey-its-laura-again @celtictreemuffin

#httyd fanfiction #hiccstrid #arranged marriage au #the home we built together

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sockablock · 5 years

Text

Footsteps crunched in the snow outside the Winnebago, and from within his space-heater paradise, Indrid Cold gave a sigh.

He’d already pulled some cushions off the sofa, cleared the floor of all his drawings, left two steaming mugs to cool on the coffee table. But even the promise of hot, sweet nog wouldn’t make this conversation any easier, so when the door to his trailer flung open, the cold blasting in, Indrid braced himself and two voices shouted:

“Did you know about this?!”

He coughed a few times. He gave Duck Newton a weak smile.

“Why don’t you come in?”

Duck seemed to settle slightly, but he didn’t look all that pleased. He took his helmet off and tucked his skateboard away, into the corner by stray umbrella.

He followed the Mothman’s lead and sat down on one of the cushions. He was handed a mug of nog, which he did not drink.

“So,” said Indrid, taking a sip from his own cup, “you’ve got questions.”

“I’ve got question,” Duck corrected. “You knew this was gonna happen, didn’t you?”

Indrid considered this for a moment. Then he shrugged, and gave a loose nod.

“In a manner of speaking, yes. I was almost certain you’d storm in here, and I knew you’d be a bit…upset, when you did.”

“A bit?” Duck snorted. “Indrid, it’s a bit more than a bit. It’s…Jesus, everything’s changed! How’ll I, how’ll I fight, how’ll I protect people and stay alive? I mean…God, Indrid, God, why didn’t you tell me this would happen?”

The Mothman sighed. He took another sip of nog.

“I didn’t think it was my place,” he said. “It seemed…personal. And it’s not like an abomination attack, where you could prevent it ahead of time. That is, unless you know something I don’t about stopping asteroids.”

His joke, meant to lighten the mood, did not. Duck’s expression soured.

“You still could’ve said something,” he muttered. “Some kinda warnin’. A note, or a call, or somethin’ that’d let me know what to expect! That would help me, I dunno, process this shit, or somethin’. So I could’ve worked out what the hell it is I’m supposed to do now.”

Behind scarlet glasses, Indrid blinked a few times.

“I…I guess I’m sorry, then?”

“Yeah. Sure. Right, yeah, that’s helpful.”

Indrid raised an eyebrow. “What would you rather I do?” he asked. “Not be sorry? I can try that, if you’d like, though I’m not sure it will help.”

And then, Duck’s posture eased. He exhaled slowly, and shook his head. “Nah. Just…nah.” He set his mug down. “God, I’m the one who should be sorry, bargin’ into your house like this. It’s sort of uncalled for, in retrospect. I think I just…I’ve just had kind of a crazy couple of days, what with breakin’ my sword and learnin’ about Leo and losin’ my magic, and all that.”

“And you saved the Mothman from some Goatmen,” Indrid added quietly. “Er…thank you for that, by the way.”

Duck snorted. “Yeah, right, well. You’re welcome. Just don’t get in danger again, ‘cause I don’t think I can be savin’ you like that, anymore. Now that I ain’t special.”

“Well,” Indrid began, “I wouldn’t say you aren’t special—”

“Alright, relative to what I was before.”

“Even so—”

Duck raised a finger. “Uh-uh,” he warned. “Don’t go on tryin’. And don’t try to convince me I’m unique and stuff, either. Not only was I not the only Chosen One, now I ain’t even that! I’m just a normal guy. A regular…Joe Pasta. Mundane as all hell.”

Indrid considered this for a moment. “Still,” he pointed out, “you know more than most. You’ve seen more than most. And at this moment, you’re quite literally having a drink with the Mothman.”

Duck shrugged. “And fat lotta good that’ll do me,” he said. Then he added, “Er…no offense.”

“None taken.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I guess it’s just…Christ, I mean, what am I supposed to do, now? I ain’t any use to the Pine Guard, certainly, and I ain’t any use to anyone needing a hero.”

Indrid took a pensive sip of nog. “You might be,” he volunteered. “You don’t know that.”

Duck raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Oh, sure, and how am I supposed to find out whether or not I am? Go runnin’ off into the woods and see if I can fight off a monster with my broken sword? One hit and I’m dead, Indrid. Ain’t much room for error and exploration, there.”

There was a brief pause, filled with the whirring of space heaters. Then Indrid sighed.

“Why did you come here, Duck?”

Another pause.

Duck gazed morosely into his cup. He breathed out again, slowly. “I dunno,” he mumbled. “If I’m bein’ honest, I think I wanted someone to blame for all this. I am sorry I sorta broke into your house, but I’m serious about one thing. A little warnin’ next time—not that I think there will be a next time—a little warnin’ would’ve been nice.”

Indrid tilted his head to the side. “Even if you wouldn’t have liked what I’d have told you? Even if it meant you would have to live your grief twice?”

Duck shrugged. “I’m just a backwoods forest ranger. But I think living it twice and bein’ prepared the second time would’ve suited me better.”

There was a faint nod. “Sorry, in that case. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

Duck sighed. He sank into himself with the weight of burdens he’d never intended to own.

“Lots of people seem to think that, these days. Lots of people try to do things right, and somehow I get caught right up in the middle. Er…not that I’m blamin’ you, Indrid. I think I might just need to rant.”

There was another nod. This one was inviting.

“I think you’ve earned that, Duck.”

He reached for his eggnog. He swirled the mug in his hands.

“Ever since I was a kid,” he said quietly, “I’ve had parents tryin’ to tell me what was right and what was wrong. And when my idea of what was right for me didn’t match up with theirs, things…sort of went south for our relationship. And then as I got older, just about when I started bein’ comfortable as me, Minerva showed up and suddenly I had a destiny and a purpose, even though all I wanted to do was get a chance to catch up on all the dumb things I never got to do as a kid. And then years later, years later, I finally decide to actually, y’know, embrace this monster-huntin’ stuff, and the next thing you know, the stuff that initially made me special, and the stuff that let me do the job, just up an’ left. Well, not exactly left, more like had to hide ‘cause of an asteroid—”

“I think I get the picture.”

“—right. And, I dunno, I just…I just wish sometimes that the universe would’ve left me alone in the first place. Or…I guess I wish it would’ve kept helping me, now that I’m finally doin’ what it wants. Hell, that’d be nice, wouldn’t it? If the magic just came back, so I could throw this stupid skateboardin’ helmet away and go back to bein an X-Man.”

Indrid drained the last of his mug. He set it down by his elbow, and leaned against the table.

“I don’t know you that well, Duck,” he murmured, “but I was under the impression that you were doing this reluctantly. Aren’t you free, now? You have the perfect excuse to return to a normal life. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Duck sighed. He looked into his eggnog for answers, and found none.

“I think that’s the worst part,” he said softly. “I don’t think I can. I don’t think I want to.”

Indrid nodded. “Then what is it that you want?”

Duck was silent. A slow winter breeze touched the windows of the trailer.

“I want…I want to know that Minnie’ll be alright. I want to know that my friends’ll be okay. I want…I want the forest to be protected, and I want the Lodge to be safe, and I want you to be happy and I want Beacon to be fixed and I want my sister to come home, and, and…”

He chuckled, and wiped at the corners of his eyes.

“…I want someone to tell me that everything will turn out fine. I want someone to tell me it’s okay that I’m lost. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, anymore, and I just wish I was still the kind of guy who could walk away from it all, who could ignore destiny and fate and stuff, because at least that guy…at least that guy knew how to wake up in the mornin’ without feelin’ like the whole world would burn down if he didn’t have the answers.”

There was a beat of silence.

And then a surprisingly firm arm wrapped around Duck’s waist. And then another, and then a weight on his chest, as Indrid Cold leaned in for a hug. His glasses shifted slightly when he pressed his chin to Duck’s shoulders, and there was a small bump from the crystal around his neck.

“Everything will turn out fine,” Indrid murmured. “It’s okay to be lost. It’s okay you don’t know what you’re doing. But, um…for the record, I’m happy you aren’t the person you used to be. Because if you were, there would be a lot more tragedy in Kepler, today. And I personally think I might’ve been eaten by a goat.”

There was a waiting quiet, afterwards. And then Duck felt a faint smile creeping across his face.

“You don’t mean that, do you?”

Indrid shrugged. “I meant most of it.”

They pulled away slowly, carefully, and though Duck felt a bit reluctant to break apart, he no longer felt quite as empty as before.

“Thanks,” he said softly. “I…I’m still confused, but it’s better, now.”

“Anytime,” Indrid nodded. “I’ve been told I give good hugs.”

This comment was weird enough that it shook Duck out of his daze entirely.

“What?” he asked. “Wait, what? How come?”

“I think it’s the fur,” Indrid grinned. “You know, when I’m full-on Mothman. And the wings make my embraces even more powerful.”

Duck snorted. “Fuck, I never thought about hug-power before. And you know, actually, Indrid, you’d probably make a great member of the Pine Guard, if that’s the case! Hell, I’m sure you’d be much better at it than me, what with the flyin’ and the fortune tellin’, since my skills now only include skateboardin’ and two years of high school trombone.”

There was a faint laugh, and then Indrid shook his head. “I’m not much use in the field,” he admitted. “Most people are put off by my human appearance, not to mention my…Sylvan one. And I’m not really cut out for fighting.”

“Well, that’s a shame. I happen to know of a group that’ll probably be lookin’ for a tank, sometime soon. Promise me you’ll think about it, though?”

Indrid seemed to understand enough to give a soft chuckle. “Sure,” he said. “If I change my mind, you’ll be the first person I tell.”

Duck drained the last of his eggnog, then set his mug back down on the table. “I should get goin’ soon,” he sighed, glancing over towards his skateboard. “I’ve gotta get back before my break ends, and I can’t exactly run at the speed of light, anymore.”

Indrid raised an eyebrow. “Could you do that before?”

“Nope.”

He laughed again. “Alright, well, at least you’ve got the practice.” Then he paused, and seemed to wrestle with something for a moment.

“Ah…Duck?”

There was the click of a helmet being locked into place. “Yeah?”

He thumbed the corner of his sleeve. “I was…goofing a bit about the hugs, but…well, if you ever do want to talk, my trailer’s always here. I’ve always got plenty of nog.”

Duck reached for his skateboard. He stared at the ground, for a few moments.

“…thanks, Indrid. That, um…that means a lot to hear.”

Indrid nodded. “And…when your sister does come back,” he added hesitantly, “I would, er…she sounds like a great person. And like someone really important to you. So…if, if it’s alright, I think I’d quite like to meet her.”

Duck turned in the doorway, skateboard in hand, the afternoon sun draping warm across his shoulders.

There was a gentle smile to his lips.

“Her name’s Jane,” he said softly. “I bet she’d love to meet someone important to me, too.”

#guys i think my keyboard slipped #the adventure zone #taz #taz amnesty #fanfic #duck newton #indrid cold #long post #i am SORRY if the cut doesn't work holy FUCK #indruck #jay writes #taz spoilers #not critical role #welcome to my first foray into taz fic ahsdjkahsjk #fanfiction #fic #text

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boreum-dal · 5 years

Text

la confiture, pt. i

fandom: miraculous ladybug (adrinette, nino/alya)

summary: marinette dupain-cheng is one step closer to her dream of becoming a top chef when she’s hired to cook at the famed restaurant, la confiture. but to get to the top, she’s got to surpass adrien agreste, her rival and the son of la confiture’s owner.

too bad he’s so sweet that he’s nearly impossible to dislike.

and too bad she loves when he invites her over after work to test out new dishes at his apartment.

and too bad his relationship with his father makes her want to hold him and never let him go.

and–just like that, her dreams don’t seem so simple anymore.

cross-posted: ao3

Marinette had nearly forgotten about the fruit tarts. When she’d first seen them on the new menu for the week, she’d wondered, somewhat wildly, if Adrien secretly read her blog; after all, he’d introduced that dish into the dessert menu only two days after she’d posted about her fruit tarts. But even given Ladybug Patisserie’s immense popularity, she couldn’t imagine that Adrien Agreste, sous chef at one of the top restaurants in the country, found the time or the energy to read the weekly exploits of someone who couldn’t bake to save her life. It had to be a coincidence.

Adrien grinned, surveying the room. His eyes paused when they met Marinette’s. His head tilted to the side, and his lips quirked up ever so slightly at the corners, as if he were sharing a private joke with her that no one else in the room would understand. For a brief few seconds, Marinette felt the air leave her lungs, and then she blinked and forced herself to turn her attention back to her linguine.

It had to be a coincidence, she thought again to herself. Still, she was suddenly grateful she’d kept herself anonymous on the blog all these months.

la confiture

part i.

“Everything sucks.”

“It does not. You’re so dramatic sometimes.”

Marinette Dupain-Cheng lifted her head from her arms and aimed a glower at her best friend. “Do you have room to talk?”

Alya Césaire shrugged, shuffling mangled, dull looking eclairs that around on Marinette’s counter in a way that would have been quite aesthetically pleasing if the eclairs themselves weren’t so ugly. “I can admit it, at the very least.”

“Fine! I’m dramatic! But why can’t I be dramatic and good at baking?”

“Practice makes perfect,” Alya sang, lifting her camera up to her eye and squinting through the lens at the perfectly arranged, deformed eclairs.

“You’ve told me that a million times before,” Marinette moaned, dragging her feet to the love seat in her living room and flopping down into it. “How about a different proverb?”

“Fine, then. Some people just can’t have everything. How about that?” The camera clicked several times.

“Well, that’s just rude and discouraging.” Marinette blew a strand of hair out of her face.

Alya finally looked up from her camera and laughed. “Why are you so down on yourself, Mari? This kind of stuff is gold! You get tens of thousands of hits on your blog every time you post something new. Being bad at baking is your lifeblood. You should own it.”

“I don’t want to be bad at baking, though! I could be the best cook in Paris, but I can’t expect to ever make sous chef at La Confiture when I can’t even bake a cookie without burning it.”

Alya raised an eyebrow. “You really think you can beat Gabriel Agreste’s own son out of the position?”

Marinette pursed her lips grumpily. “I could if I had the baking part down. In a couple of years. Maybe.”

Alya shook her head and resumed taking photos. “I don’t get it. I’d much rather run a successful blog with thousands of followers than be a star chef at some boring restaurant.”

“It’s not just a restaurant, Alya!”

“I know, I know. It’s La Confiture.” Alya made a gagging motion.

“Whatever. You were salivating over that silk pie slice I brought you the other night,” Marinette said, walking back over to the counter and picking up an eclair. She took a bite and had to tug a little at the pastry with her teeth to get it to break. The pastry was rubbery and tough in her mouth, but the cream filling was pleasant, at least. She made a mental note to emphasize that on her upcoming blog post.

Alya grinned. “Didn’t you tell me Adrien Agreste made that pie for the staff?”

Marinette threw the half-eaten eclair at Alya’s face.

---

“You look like you need a drink.”

Adrien Agreste gave a weak laugh. “I was hoping you’d notice without my having to ask. Just a beer, please.”

Nino Lahiffe cracked the lid off of a green bottle and slid it over the bar to Adrien, who took it gratefully and sipped. Nino returned to wiping down the counters, which he’d gotten back to a relatively clean state after dinner service had finally ended. “What’s got you down?”

“Just tired,” Adrien mumbled, sliding the beer bottle between his hands on the lacquered surface of the bar. “You know, the usual.”

Nino frowned at Adrien’s slumped-over form. Adrien straightened up a little—although he knew Nino wasn’t the type to judge, the way his friend peered at him through the round glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose made him feel particularly scrutinized.

“Did you fight with your dad again?”

Adrien laughed. “That obvious?” He lowered his voice. “Don’t tell anyone, please.”

“Dude. You know I would never,” Nino said reassuringly. He glanced around before opening his own beer bottle. “Cheers.”

“Seriously, though, how did you know?”

Nino shrugged. “Just a guess. I saw him stalk out of here a few minutes ago with murder in his eyes.”

“Do you think any of the other employees saw?”

“Nah. And if they did, it’s not like their first thought would be that he must have had a fight with you. He’s just like that, so it’s not unexpected.”

Adrien laughed again, this time genuinely. The laugh felt good in his stomach, like a medicine. “Thanks, Nino.”

“Anytime. So what was it about this time?”

Adrien leaned against the back of the barstool with a sigh. “He’s upset about that Vogue interview.”

Nino frowned. “How could he be upset about it? Our reservations got booked into next Christmas after it went to publication.”

Adrien saw the printed interview, the crisp black-and-white portrait of him in his chef’s uniform, arms crossed and an uncertain smile on his face, in his mind’s eye, and wanted to retch. “I didn’t expect them to, but they published that line about me wanting to go back to school one day.”

Nino stared at him for a moment before bursting out incredulously, “That’s it? Where you literally just say, ‘I don’t know, it might be nice to go study astrology or something in another life’ or something like that?”

“Astronomy,” Adrien corrected. “And yeah. He said it doesn’t look good when I don’t say my whole heart is in cooking.”

“You were talking about another life. That was the question! ‘What would you do in another life?’” Nino shook his head and took a swig of his beer. “That man is ridiculous. I could never tell him, because he pays me, but he is ridiculous.”

Adrien smiled weakly. “I know. I get that he wants to pass down the business and that I have certain duties and expectations to fulfill because of that, but… I can’t pretend to understand the extremes to which he’ll go.”

Even though Nino did not respond, Adrien felt his friend’s eyes on him, and he suddenly struck with guilt. “But look, Nino, I mean—I… He’s not wrong. I should’ve been more careful, right? It doesn’t look great if I say that I’d rather do something else. It would’ve looked better if I’d said no matter what reality I’m in, this is what I’d like to be doing, don’t you think?”

Nino looked at him with an expression that Adrien couldn’t and didn’t want to place—a cross between exasperation and pity. “Whatever you say, man.”

---

Adrien dropped his keys on the kitchen counter and immediately undid the top three buttons of his uniform. As he switched on the light, a black cat brushed up against his ankles, nudging its head insistently at his shin until he reached down to pick the cat up.

“Hi, Plagg,” he said, using one finger to scratch affectionately under the cat’s chin. Plagg’s purrs rumbled through Adrien’s chest as he held the cat against himself. “Did you have a long day, too?”

He let Plagg down and turned immediately to the laptop on his island counter, flipping it open and seating himself on one of the stools. When the screen loaded, he pulled up his browser and clicked on the first link he’d saved to his favorites bar. A header that read “Ladybug Patisserie” loaded, and immediately beneath that, the latest post, simply entitled “fruit tarts.”

Adrien felt a stupid grin spread across his face. He’d been hoping for and looking forward to this all evening. Ladybug’s writing describing her baking adventures always read in a sweet and hilarious kind of way that made Adrien feel like he was listening to a favorite song while driving or lying back on a soft mattress after a tough day. Tonight’s entry was no different.

After last week’s disaster with the eclairs, I decided that maybe I was just a little too ambitious about my (hopefully?) burgeoning baking skills. I purposely chose something much easier, by all accounts that the Internet and various cookbooks could provide me: the fruit tart. As one site so aptly states, “Fruit tarts are impressive-looking desserts that are not difficult to make at all.” Perfect! Exactly what I’m looking for! How did they know?

Whoever wrote that post was wrong, because that person has yet to meet me. The fruit tart has four components: the shortcrust, the vanilla cream, the glaze, and the fruit toppings. Please read below to see how I miraculously manage to screw up each and every element of this impressive-looking dessert that everyone in the world but myself is capable of making!

Adrien caught himself chortling loudly as he scrolled through the introductory paragraphs and onto the photos, which showed, in hysterically excellent lighting, Ladybug’s progress as she slowly assembled the elements of the dessert and the spectacular finish: soggy-looking fruit turning to mush over a lumpy vanilla filling that seemed mildly off in color somehow, all in a shortbread crust that had crumbled significantly when she’d removed it from the mold. She hadn’t even gotten to put the glaze on the fruit, as she’d burned it in the pot (also showcased in another well-lit and well-framed photograph).

Adrien laughed delightedly at the conclusion, in which Ladybug lamented her lack of intuition for baking but vowed to be back next Wednesday with something new, as usual. He scrolled back up through the post, trying to identify exactly where she’d gone wrong. Now that he was looking more for technical issues than humor, he could see some glaring problems already. He chewed on his lower lip, wondering if he should mention it to her in the comments. He’d never tried to interact with this faceless heroine who was easily his favorite person on the internet, even if he’d never seen her or met her or knew anything about her, other than that she was a horrible baker with a great sense of humor. But she’d made his day quite a bit brighter, and he thought the least he could do was offer her some simple tips to make this recipe easier next time around. His fingers hovered hesitantly over his keyboard for half a second, and then he began typing in the comments box below the post.

Hi, there, Ladybug. I’m a huge fan of your blog. Baking can feel like a thankless practice, and I admire your ability to keep a sense of humor about it instead of bashing your head into a wall! If you don’t mind, here are a couple of tips from someone who bakes regularly. First, I’m sure you know this already, but it seems like you’re not whisking quickly or often enough when you stir in the egg mixture. Even with a strainer, it’s hard to get a smooth filling without lumps in there if you let the entire bottom of the mixture solidify into cooked egg, which is what I suspect happened. As for the shortcrust, try using a food processor instead of your hands to make the mixture. It might feel less “authentic,” but it’ll get you better results, and no one (except for us) has to know. :)

Adrien paused, wondering if he should leave a name. He thought better of it on the off chance that someone else at La Confiture frequented the blog as well and would call him a know-it-all. His eyes landed on Plagg, who was now fiddling with a toy shaped like a fish that Adrien had bought him two weeks ago.

Thanks as always for your hilarious and uplifting posts. Looking forward to next week’s.

Adrien typed “Chat Noir” into the name box and hit “submit.”

---

Marinette pulled open the double doors of La Confiture with urgency and ran her way through the restaurant toward the kitchen, unraveling her scarf and shrugging off her jacket as she did so. She could already hear the noise of knives hitting cutting boards, pots and pans clanging over the dull roar of numerous conversations overlapping each other as various chefs de partie shouted orders to the commis chefs and porters.

She tried to tamp down her panic. Gabriel Agreste was absolutely unforgiving of tardiness, even when it was for a true emergency; Marinette couldn’t imagine the dressing down she’d receive for being two minutes late just because her doctor’s appointment had run behind. She kicked herself for not just leaving the appointment when she’d first realized she wouldn’t make work in time.

She ran through the kitchen doors and skidded to a stop, scanning it quickly and then breathing a sigh of relief when she did not see Gabriel’s face. Still, Adrien would be responsible for overseeing all the staff when Gabriel was absent, but—

“Ah, Chef Dupain-Cheng. You’ve decided to come in today, after all,” a voice said from beside her, and Marinette jumped so high that she could have touched the ceiling if she’d reached her hand up.

Adrien Agreste chuckled, arms crossed as he came up to her.

“Chef!” Marinette flushed. Even if he wasn’t his father, Marinette didn’t like getting caught being late, particularly by her rival. It made her look lazy and undedicated—the last thing she needed when she wanted to move up the ranks. And she wanted Adrien to consider her as serious competition. “I apologize for arriving late,” she said quickly. “I was at the doctor’s and my appointment ran over the scheduled time—I should have just canceled it—”

“Nonsense,” Adrien said, waving a hand in the air. “No one’s hurting for you arriving a few minutes late. It’ll be our little secret. Just try not to let it happen again when my father is around. He can be pretty scary, as you know. It’s not fun to get yelled at in front of the entire kitchen staff, trust me.”

Marinette stared at him, slack-jawed.

“Everything okay, by the way?”

“H-huh?” Marinette was still too startled by Adrien’s casual response in the face of her tardiness to really process his next question.

“You were at the doctor’s, you said. I hope everything’s okay.”

“Um—oh, yes,” Marinette blurted out. “Just an annual checkup.”

“Oh, good. Well, I’m glad you’re looking after yourself, Chef Dupain-Cheng. Not enough of us do in this profession, which is pretty counterproductive, if you ask me.” Adrien smiled at her.

“I—” Marinette couldn’t muster up a proper response. What was the proper response? She’d never been spoken to with such… humanity by a superior in the kitchen, at least during working hours, before. The proper response, she supposed, was to shut up and get to work. “Thank you, Chef.”

She scurried toward the locker room to hang up her coat and scarf, willing herself to forget about the exchange with Adrien in its entirety. Gabriel had told her upon hiring her that there wasn’t any room for distraction in his kitchen; although he never mentioned anything about those distractions coming from his own son, Marinette suspected that still wouldn’t really constitute a valid defense.

---

Prep time passed in a quick, stressful blur, and Marinette still felt like she was hardly ready when it came time for the staff to eat before dinner service. She’d been quite prepared to skip the staff meal altogether so she could prepare more, but Mylene, the entremetier, had been insistent that she join the rest of the group.

“You’ve got to eat something,” Mylene had urged her, tugging at Marinette’s sleeve. “A chef who passes out in the middle of dinner service won’t be any good. Come on.”

Marinette took the seat next to Mylene in the posterior dining room where the staff ate their meals before service. The air in the room was jovial, with everyone discussing their plans for the upcoming holiday break as they passed large family-style bowls of pasta and salad from person to person.

Mylene reached toward the bowl of seafood linguine in front of them and began to pull some onto Marinette’s plate. “Hurry and eat, you must be starving! You didn’t have breakfast this morning, right?”

Marinette obediently stuffed a forkful of pasta into her mouth. She was grateful for Mylene’s maternal nature; growing up, Alya had always been the one to look out for Marinette when she needed it, and she realized how fortunate she was to find another figure like her at work.

“All right, everyone, could I please have your attention?” Adrien called, standing up from his seat at the opposite end of the table. “I’d like to run back over tonight’s menu for a moment.”

Marinette glanced up from her bowl. Adrien’s profile glowed with a faint gold lining produced by the already-setting Parisian sun streaming through the windows behind him. He began reciting the day’s dishes with a sense of poise and polished confidence beyond his years, and all eyes and ears in the room were on him now with an almost-reverent level of attentiveness.

Not for the first time, Marinette noted silently that somehow, even though he was not nearly as terrifying as his father, Adrien managed to command the respect of the staff in a way that Gabriel Agreste himself could not. Although she tended to keep her distance from Adrien, if Marinette had to guess, she supposed this had something to do with his kindness—how his energy filled the room with warmth, while conversely, the air seemed chillier when Gabriel spoke.

“Next are scallops from the Calvados coast, pan-seared, served with farofa and sweet red pepper chutney. The final dish before we move on to the cheese course will be honey-roasted duck with candied sweet potatoes, black garlic, and lemon…”

Marinette found herself daydreaming, for what had to be the thousandth time, about what it would be like for her to be the one standing up there, reciting a menu that she had gotten to create herself. She suspected it would take her eons to get to Adrien’s level of adeptness in designing the menu and the grace with which he led the crew, which was a little disheartening, given that they were around the same age. Then again, as Alya liked to remind her, Adrien had been trained for this his whole life by one of the top chefs in the world, while Marinette had only begun cooking in university and had risen quite quickly up the ranks since then.

“So you’ve already proven a lot can happen in a few short years!” Alya had told her just a few days ago.

“...and dessert will consist of sugared beignets in a bitter chocolate dipping sauce, and miniature winter fruit tarts topped with pear and persimmon and a grapefruit glaze.”

“Have a great dinner service, everyone. Just think—one more night, and then you get a nice three-day break for the Christmas holiday!”

The room cheered, and Adrien grinned, surveying the room. His eyes paused when they met Marinette’s. His head tilted to the side, and his lips quirked up ever so slightly at the corners, as if he were sharing a private joke with her that no one else in the room would understand. For a brief few seconds, Marinette felt the air leave her lungs, and then she blinked and forced herself to turn her attention back to her linguine.

It had to be a coincidence, she thought again to herself. Still, she was suddenly grateful she’d kept herself anonymous on the blog all these months.

---

“The last customer of the night just left,” Adrien announced to the kitchen. “I couldn’t be happier with how smoothly things went tonight. Thanks to everyone here, we just had our most successful Christmas Eve dinner service in years.”

The kitchen staff cheered and applauded. Kim, the rotisseur, let out a loud whoop from the back. Adrien grinned. “Let’s finish cleaning up and get out of here so we can enjoy our breaks, shall we?”

Spirits high, the staff worked at double its normal speed to finish breaking down and cleaning the kitchen, and before Adrien knew it, workers were walking out the door in twos and threes, calling out cheerful wishes for happy holidays to each other.

Adrien waved goodbye to Nino, and then he glanced over the empty, immaculate kitchen with satisfaction, marveling at how efficient everyone had been today. It was just his luck that things would go this well when his father was traveling to a conference and not even here to see it, but he wouldn’t complain. Four days without Gabriel breathing down his neck, even if it meant spending the holidays without his only family, was a welcome respite from the tremendous pressure weighing him down lately.

He couldn’t wait to just sleep for the next couple of mornings, to stop at a coffee shop and really sit down to enjoy a café au lait, to visit the market with the intent to truly create and not to just to sell, maybe even to try to whip up something new in the comfort of his own kitchen without the specter of his father criticizing him, to—

To do all of this alone.

Adrien untied his apron and sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he shuffled into the locker room and sat on the bench lining the wall. Grateful as he was for the break from his father, he deflated a bit realizing how lonely the next few days would be. Besides Chloé, who was in New York City for the holiday with her parents, the rest of the La Confiture staff were really the only other people with whom he interacted on a regular basis. Of course, he’d be the last person they wanted to see on their precious few days away from the restaurant. Even Nino probably needed a break from him, close as they were.

The slamming of a locker door startled him out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see Marinette Dupain-Cheng at the far end of the room, shrugging on a dark red pea coat and wrapping a black scarf around her neck.

“Chef Dupain-Cheng,” Adrien said, surprised. He stood up. “I didn’t realize you were still here.”

“Oh!” Marinette jumped and turned around, holding a hand to her chest. Her hat was askew over her hair. She walked over to him. “I didn’t even see you when I walked in here!”

Adrien laughed. “Sorry if I startled you.”

Marinette shook her head. “That’s okay, I should have been paying more attention.” She slipped her hat off of her head and held it in both hands before turning her eyes up at him. She paused, as if pondering her next sentence carefully, but when she spoke again, her question was quite simple. “What about you?”

“Me? What about me?”

Marinette looked around the dim locker room as if the meaning of her question were obvious. “Were you… Were you planning on sticking around longer?”

“Oh—no, I was going to lock up and head out in just a few minutes. Just…” He looked back at the bench. “I just needed a minute to take a breather after today.”

Marinette smiled. “That’s understandable.” She paused again, and then she let out a soft laugh. “There are rumors you sleep in here sometimes. I wondered for a second if I was catching you at bedtime.”

Adrien stared at her, momentarily stunned—it was the first time in the two months Marinette had worked at La Confiture that he’d heard anything unrelated to work, let alone a joke, come out of her mouth when she spoke to him. He burst into delighted laughter. “Is there really? I guess on occasion, it’s not too far from the truth. But I was planning on actually going home tonight, rest assured.”

Marinette’s smile seemed to touch her eyes more now, somehow, and Adrien felt his heart leap to life at the hint of a new friendship. Marinette had seemed so quiet and focused since she’d arrived at La Confiture; he’d accepted within a week of her starting in his kitchen, after a few unsuccessful attempts at casual conversation, that she had bigger things to think about than being friends with him. This was a lovely turn of events.

“Ah—by the way, Chef,” Adrien said, “your work was excellent today. I can’t tell you how many compliments your chutney received, even when the customers didn’t request to see you to tell you personally. You really are a wonderful addition to our kitchen.”

Marinette flushed. “Oh, I—well, thank you,” she murmured, tugging her hat—a black beanie with cat ears and green eyes knitted onto it—back on her head. Adrien bit back a smile when he saw how much the hat reminded him of Plagg. “And thank you for not blowing up when I was late today.”

Adrien shook his head. “No need to thank me. My father and I…” he paused. “We have very different ways of running the kitchen.”

“I think your way works a little better for me,” Marinette muttered, and then her eyes went wide when she realized what she’d said. “I mean—no offense to Chef Agreste, of course—”

Adrien laughed again. “Your secret is safe with me.”

Marinette let out a sigh. “Thanks.” She looked up at him. “Are you—are you walking out now? Would you like me to wait for you to lock up?”

Adrien’s eyebrows rose. “Really? Yes, I’d love that,” he said, and then he blushed when he realized how desperate that sounded. “I—one second, let me just grab my stuff from my locker.”

He rushed off to grab his bag, elation and embarrassment warring with each other in his heart. When he returned and saw Marinette standing in the same spot where he’d left her, looking completely oblivious to his verbal blunder (and ridiculously adorable in that hat), elation won.

---

That concludes part one of this story! My plan is for it to be relatively short and sweet—no more than five parts, with each part being around ten pages or so. I hope you guys enjoyed! I love cooking, I love cooking shows, and I worked in a restaurant (although not nearly as nice as the one I’m portraying here) for quite some time, so I have really enjoyed working on this fic. That being said, I took a few liberties that probably need a little bit of explaining.

First, I’m not really sure that one needs to be an excellent baker to become a sous chef at a top restaurant. Here, Gabriel Agreste likes his sous chefs extremely well-rounded, and Marinette can hardly make a loaf of bread without ruining it. The mistakes she made are extremely amateur, so please suspend your disbelief—I unfortunately am not experienced enough in baking to know what kinds of mistakes are more common for people who know their way around the kitchen!

Second, just by way of explanation: Gabriel is the chef de cuisine, or the head chef, of the restaurant. Adrien is the sous chef. Since Adrien is so experienced and good at what he does, Gabriel is in and out and takes on more of a managerial position, but he still commands the kitchen multiple days a week. Marinette has been hired as a saucier, or someone who prepares all the sauces and gravies and sautés the food.

I tried to do a good bit of research about the environment in a top-tier restaurant like this, but of course, I’m likely to get things wrong with the zero experience I have actually having worked in one. If you catch anything that seems blatantly off (minus Marinette’s baking issues), please let me know!

---

next: ii

#miraculous ladybug #fanfic #ml fanfic #Adrinette #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien agreste #la confiture

17 notes · View notes

translightyagami · 6 years

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Lawlight (duh) for the ship thing Also, if you're into any of these - Drarry, Malec, Ichiruki, Sakunaru

uhhhh i only know drarry tbh but not well enough for a ship meme dlfajsda sorry. anyway here’s lawlight.

who is more likely to hurt the other?

they both hurt each other on some level just bc they hv v combative personalities and also they r WATER SIGNS which means they r constantly in a fight over who is more valid. jokes on them tho: they r both unvalid as hell. light will center an entire week around getting back at L for something he did bc he’s basically amy dunne playing the long con all the time. L will hurt light in ways that last. he’ll just come out of nowhere with something like, “maybe it would be better if we hadn’t met” and light will just go quiet. that’s like, a sore spot L will push on if they argue bc he knows light is incredibly insecure abt his standing in L’s life. idk man. they love each other but there’s a lot of stuff they’re working thru and they’re leaving some scars along the way.

who is emotionally stronger?

hm. i think L is. he’s toughened up from all his experiences as the world’s greatest detective and had to deal w a lot more emotional crises than light. when it comes to big setbacks, he’s more likely to take them in stride whereas light is like that post that’s like “i’ll deal with it but you gotta let me be dramatic first.�� before anything, he’s gotta scream in his scream jar then he can put those anxieties into the fridge and go back to figuring out his life.

who is physically stronger?

they hv abt the same physical strength. that’s less of a contest between them, altho light does sort of like it when L can lift him up. he’s done the same for L a couple times but its more fun to b carried than to b the carrier. anyway. if ur asking who wins more fights? then i would say that light wins a lot of their brawls bc he’s not afraid to play dirty. he has a sibling, he’s fought these battles many times before. its no rules just right in this house.

who is more likely to break a bone?

light has a lot of sports related injuries but not a lot of broken bones. meanwhile, mr. stays inside all day on my laptop has had three broken bones all from falling down the stairs or slipping on shit. just, like, hold on bc i’m picturing light and L sitting in the urgent care waiting room, both with broken arms bc of a roller skating accident. i don’t know how ppl break bones.

who knows best what to say to upset the other?

see this question and the first question r so close and so the answer is like both of them know each other well enough to hv their fingers poised over a particular emotionally destructive button at all times. i only say L is better at upsetting light bc he’s more willing to go the extra inch of underhandedness. of course, light nvr shows that he’s upset on the outside. no, he remains cool and calm, laughs it off probably, and then goes into the bathroom to hv a full scale meltdown in the dry bathtub. to b fair, that doesn’t happen often. its only during big, BIG arguments.

who is most likely to apologize first after an argument?

oh i don’t think either of them hv apologized once in their whole lives so it was a big step for them to apologize to each other. light caves first, trudging into L’s office with the most pathetic look on his face and being like “i’m sorry i called you a trash bag with arms.” and then L sort of sits there and has an inner conflict for a second before saying, “i’m sorry i told you looked like a kohl’s mannequin but not hot.”

who treats who’s wounds more often?

if their fights ever get too intense and someone gets hurt, its usually L knocking his head against something sharp and light has to like sit him on the toliet so he can fix him up. when he’s administering first aid, light starts to fuss over L and makes a lot of concerned noises.

“that hurts.” L squirms as light gives him stitches. “don’t pull too hard.”

“relax.” light says. “i’m actually quite good at this.”

(will i ever stop quoting that one line? no, i won’t.)

who is in constant need of comfort?

i don’t know abt comfort but light needs a lot of reassurance, both verbal and physical, that L does care abt him. he needs to b assured of his place in the world and in their relationship which L isn’t super great abt doing. but light is usually vocal abt when he needs comfort around L, whomst he rarely hides much of himself from, so its nvr a problem of L just not knowing. he just has no clue how to react.

there’s been a scarce few times when L has needed comfort after a taxing case but light is right there to just sort of, uhhh, hold him. let him make some horrible noises and talk. they try to b there for each other. its something they’re working on.

who gets more jealous?

oh for sure light. he gets flushed w jealousy anytime L shows a little more attention to someone else who could possibly usurp light’s romantic position in L’s life. its not fair. those ppl nvr worked as hard as he did to get L’s attention, to get his love. L thinks its kind of funny and will do shit to make light go green eyed. but that shit stops after they work with a french officer who gets a little too flirty w light and L just like, shuts that down. not so fun to b on the receiving end of that kind of jealousy.

who’s most likely to walk out on the other?

light. he’ll fucking do it at the drop of a hat too, just fucking walk out and not come back for three days. of course, they both think they can handle being separated so neither of them calls the other. but on the third day light’s trying to eat mcdonalds in his car and put a sausage mcmuffin in the hole L’s absence made so he goes to call him but his phone rings and it’s L on the other line like “please come back i forgot how quiet things r when ur not around also if ur at mcdonalds can u get me an apple pie okay thanks i love you.”

who will propose?

dklfsadlsfkj neither of them. they don’t want to get married tbh. i just literally can’t see them ever wanting to get married. if ur gonna put a gun to my head abt it tho, i would probably say light does but its only bc his mom started a campaign to get him to make an honest man out of L.

who has the most difficult parents?

um. i mean i guess light’s parents r more difficult. its not that they’re difficult tbh its more like they’re still adjusting to the life their son decided to lead bc its waaayyy different than what they thought was gonna happen. like first he’s gay (which isn’t a huge surprise to them like they’ve seen queer eye for the straight guy. they know things.) and then he’s dating some 24 yr old reclusive detective that happens to hv been soichiro’s boss for like a couple months and now light just sort of solves crimes w his boyfriend. so they’re being supportive but they’re also a little bit confused so sometimes it ends up in awkward situations where everyone’s at the dinner table and sachiko is like “so. what do your parents do, L?” and L is like “i don’t know who my parents were. i think they’re dead.” and she’s like, “oh. hm. well. that must b rlly rough for you.” meanwhile light is p much eating his napkin so he doesn’t start screaming at how little control he has over this shitty conversation.

who initiates hand-holding when they’re out in public?

they r rarely in public but uh. light does. he’s getting used to being out and part of him just rlly enjoys the physical evidence of their relationship that hand holding provides. that closet was so suffocating. it’s time to let those hands breath a little.

who comes up for the other all the time?

i still don’t entirely understand what this means entirely but i’ll take my best stab at it. i think L comes up for light a lot, esp if he’s talking to like the wammies or literally anyone who isn’t light himself or his family. like, p much everyone is like “but.....he’s kira???” and L is like “look. listen. i don’t know why but he’s. he’s rlly important to me. so its maybe better if we don’t shit talk the guy who sucks my dick? at least not rn.” he doesn’t do it v often bc usually the insults thrown toward light r well deserved but sometimes he does. light doesn’t come up for L like ever. he nvr talks to anyone abt L. whomst would he tell? yamamoto? secretly he goes on a couple message boards tho and send mean anon messages to ppl talking shit abt L but that’s as close as he gets.

who hogs the blankets?

L will b wrapped in a big old blanket bundle like that picture of homer simpson where he’s like “ah. i’m just a big cozy cinnamon bun.” light’s like curled up on his side of the bed w just the sheet but then L reaches over and drags him into the blanket bundle so they r both toasty cinnamon buns together.

who gets more sad?

L is more prone to bouts of depression and can get lethargic if something hits him the wrong way. the first few times it happened, light tried to shake it out of him but he’s learned since then that he’s just gotta ride this shit out. so for a few days or weeks, he’s just got a sad boyfriend so they watch a lot of netflix and don’t get a ton of work done.

light v rarely gets sad. he’s got a v positive outlook on life and doesn’t let a lot of stuff ruin his mood. but when he is sad, its like a big event and he’s crying in the dry tub in just his briefs and a sweatshirt while listening to sufjan on repeat. look. he’s just gotta get it out of his system and then he’ll b fine!

who is better at cheering the other up?

light is better at finding stuff to cheer L up. if L is in a funk, he’ll go search for a good case or an interesting lead so he can present it to him like a cat dropping a mouse in front of him. L is.....not so good at cheering light up. all he knows is how to piss him off. but after a while he starts to puzzle out that light flourishes under praise so he’ll try to keep telling him what a good job he’s doing.

who’s the one that playfully slaps the other all the time after they make silly jokes?

i said this in my mikami/light post but uh, light laughing is so uproarious that he just. whacks the person making him laugh on the back super hard. L doesn’t do anything the first time but the second time he grabs light by the wrist and is like “don’t. control ur self, u loud scream laughing monster.” light keeps his hands to himself when he laughs after that. he’s actually quite embarrassed of his natural laugh bc it is so obnoxious so he often tones it down but sometimes!!! shit’s just too funny!!!

who is more streetwise?

neither of these two know a god damn thing abt the streets. ok, L knows a little bit but he forgot it after building a giant fucking building for one investigation team of like six ppl.

who is more wise?

L knows more abt the world and has more experience than light does. he’s not quite wise?? but he’s definitely more knowledgeable and it smacks him in the face a lot how super young light is. how much he just doesn’t know. but L’s only in his mid twenties. what the fuck does he rlly know?

who’s the shyest?

mmm. they aren’t shy ppl by nature so i’d say neither of them. esp when they’re together. combining their levels of pure confidence is like putting a fire in a room with more fire; it just increases the amount of fire. as their relationship progresses, they get more assertive w each other and idk man. they just don’t do that shy shit.

who boasts about the other more?

mmmm. i don’t think they brag abt each other a lot but i think light kind of wants to brag abt being w L. i mean, he didn’t think it would happen but then L did come and want to start something with him and its like?? wrow. but he doesn’t rlly hv anyone to brag to so he just sort of lets it sit like a smoldering piece of coal in his stomach, keeping him warm. L exculsively brags abt light during video conferences w the wammies like “MY PARTNER, WHO IS A GENIUS AND V ATTRACTIVE, AND I, WHO IS DATING THIS ATTRACTIVE GENIUS, HV FOUND A CLUE” and like everyone rolls their eyes like “dude u told us the same shit last week like please please please stop telling us abt ur hot boyfriend.”

who sits on who’s lap?

light!!! sits!!! on L’s lap!!!! all the time!!! he curls up in there like a cat and plays w L’s hair.

“am i making it hard to do ur work?” he asks, fingers scratching on L’s scalp.

“yes. but that’s okay. light shouldn’t move.”

so he doesn’t and just falls asleep there, hand on the back of L’s neck and drooling on his shoulder. its cute in like an ugly way.

#death note #dslafjskdjfhaskjfh this is so LONG #why do i take so much time w these like c'mon dude #u got other shit to do #:/#devilcornflakes

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