#someone buy me a ring light I’m tired of taking the same pictures all the time 😩
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You don’t even know my name, do you?
#someone buy me a ring light I’m tired of taking the same pictures all the time 😩#me#girl#babygirl#cute#latina#sexy#daddysgirl#selfie#fat#lingerie
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Years Passed [Chapter One]
Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 1.6k
Part Summary: After a decade of living in England, Y/N finally moves back to America to be closer to her family.
prologue / next chapter
Years Passed Masterlist
Main Masterlist
Taglist
***
CHAPTER ONE: FAMILIAR FACES
Y/N was always one to follow her dreams. Originally her dream was to become an astronaut but she soon found that she wasn’t smart enough for that. That’s when she found herself falling down the route of art. Y/N had always been a gifted artist since she was a child. While everyone in her class was drawing stick figures and calling it a day, Y/N would take time to get the proportions of the body right. People would always say she was trying too hard or just trying to get attention. Y/N didn’t care - she was doing what she loved.
It wasn’t until high school where she began to take art more seriously, people would come to her to do art commissions. At first Y/N refused, she didn’t want to charge people for her art but once she realised how much she could make from it, doing art commissions became her job. Throughout high school it was her main source of income. However, it wasn’t until the end of high school where Y/N decided that art was the thing she definitely wanted to go down.
Opening up her own gallery became her dream. A couple of years after breaking up with Spencer Reid, Y/N moved to England. She didn’t exactly know why, all she knew was that she wanted a fresh start. Y/N moved into a small flat in Cornwall. It was perfect for what Y/N needed. She spent just over ten years of her life living in Cornwall and Y/N couldn’t be happier, however there were many instances where she missed her family. Y/N could never afford to constantly go between England and America and neither could her family. A lot of her time was spent on phone calls and video calls with her family.
It was only recently that Y/N moved back to America. Six months to be exact. After nearly eleven years of being away from her family constantly, Y/N decided to move back to America. She didn’t make the decision lightly, it took her many months to come to the conclusion. Y/N had many friends in England. She had her small art gallery. Most importantly, her daughter had her friends in England and her school - everything she had ever known.
Y/N’s daughter, Harper, was seven and she was the light of Y/N’s life. Everything she did was for Harper. Y/N didn’t want to pry Harper away from her home, but she wanted her to get to know her family. When Y/N told Harper the news, Harper was excited, she had always been a curious girl and moving to a new country was exciting for her.
“Mummy!” Harper yelled, running out of her room to Y/N who was sitting on the couch. Her daughter’s accent was a little messed up. Some words would come out in an American accent and some in a British accent - more specifically the Cornish dialect.
Y/N smiled upon seeing her daughter. As she ran, the wild curls on top of her head bounced up and down. Harper approached Y/N and climbed onto the couch next to her. Y/N wrapped her arm around her daughter and pulled her in close to her side.
“What’s got you so energetic?” Y/N questioned.
“Can we go to the park?” Harper asked, “You said that we could go today.”
Y/N checked the time on the clock on the wall, “You really want to go at ten in the morning? You don’t want to wait until midday then we can go out for lunch?”
“Can we go now? I’m bored.” Harper draped herself over Y/N’s lap dramatically.
Y/N shook her head, a smile on her face. Harper was definitely one for dramatics, something she inherited from her father.
“Okay, how about this?” Y/N started, “We wait until eleven and we can invite Melanie and Toby and we can go and get lunch with them?”
Harper nodded her head vigorously causing Y/N to chuckle slightly. The only reason as to why Y/N wanted to wait longer to go out was because she was waiting for Harper’s birthday present to turn up. It wasn’t her birthday for another three weeks but Y/N always wanted to leave time in case the package never turned up in case she needed to buy something else.
“Why don’t you go and play in your room and I’ll come and get you when it’s time to go?”
Harper nodded before running off to her bedroom down the hall. Checking the clock again, Y/N realised the package wouldn’t be here for another half hour. Deciding she had time to kill, Y/N made her way to her bedroom to get changed. If she was going to be out for most of the day, she decided that being in sweatpants and an old shirt wasn’t going to look so good.
Picking out a simple sundress, Y/N got changed in a flash before she found herself seated on the couch again. Over the last few days, Y/N had found herself being more tired than usual. Everything she did drained the life out of her, obviously she wanted to run around and play with Harper but she would tire out quickly. Harper would try not to get sad about it as she understood why Y/N got like this once a year. Y/N wasn’t going to explain it until Harper got a little older but she understood perfectly.
Grabbing her phone off of the coffee table, Y/N pressed on Melanie’s contact. Melanie had been Y/N’s friend for a while. They met a year before Y/N had moved to England, due to their long distance friendship, Y/N had expected that they would fall out of contact but they never did. Melanie was godmother to Harper and Y/N was godmother to Melanie’s son Toby.
The phone rang a few times before Melanie picked up.
“Hello?” Melanie’s voice came through the phone.
“Hey Mel!” Y/N greeted.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Well Harper and I are going to the park in an hour and I was wondering if you and Toby would like to join us?”
“We’d love to,” Melanie answered, “Toby’s been pulling my leg asking when he would see Harper next.”
Y/N chuckled, “We’ll meet you at the park if that’s alright.”
“That’s more than fine, we’ll see you then.” Melanie responded before hanging up the phone.
Y/N tossed her phone back on the couch and slumped back down. She could easily turn on the television and watch something but she didn’t feel up to it. Getting back up from the couch, Y/N headed over to Harper’s room and pushed it open. Her daughter was hunched over her small desk, scribbling away on a piece of paper. Y/N smiled at the sight. Her daughter had taken after her in artistic skill, always having the dream that one day she would be as good as her mother.
“Hey Harp.” Y/N said, entering her room.
“Mummy, look I’ve done a drawing!” Harper said excitedly holding up the picture, “It’s the same one you painted.”
Y/N took the drawing out of Harper’s hands and held it up. Y/N had painted a landscape of a forest a few weeks ago and Harper had copied it almost exactly. Every time Y/N would do a commission or a painting for fun, there would always be smaller versions of the same painting but made with colour pencil. Sometimes Harper would sit next to Y/N while she was painting and they would do it together.
Y/N always enjoyed doing art with Harper by her side. She would constantly ask questions about it and Y/N was always more than happy to answer. From sitting next to her and watching her paint, Harper had been teaching herself how to paint. Y/N would always offer to help her but Harper always refused the help, letting Y/N only watch from a distance. Their whole house was filled with paintings from both Y/N and Harper.
“It’s incredible, Harp.” Y/N said crouching down, “Even better than mine.”
“No it isn't, your one is better.” Harper said, “Yours are always better. I want to be like you when I grow up.”
Y/N pressed a kiss to the side of Harper’s head, “I don’t want you to be like me, I want you to be like you. You are going to grow up and be an extraordinary person, like you already are.”
Harper hugged Y/N tightly, “I love you mummy.”
“I love you too, sweet girl.” Y/N pressed a kiss to the side of her head once more before she heard the doorbell ring.
“Is that Melanie and Toby?” Harper questioned.
“No, it’s someone else, Mel and Toby are meeting us at the park,” Y/N explained, “Now why don’t you clean up in here before we head out.”
Harper nodded before she began clearing everything away. Y/N headed out of her room and opened the front door. Y/N expected it to be Harper’s present however she was greeted by two people - more specifically FBI agents. Y/N looked between the two, very obviously confused.
When Y/N looked up at the male agent, her eyes widened the slightest amount. His hair was curlier and he had a slight stubble. He looked as if he filled out his clothes more as well. Even if it had been more than a decade, she could recognise him anywhere.
Spencer Reid.
PERMANENT SPENCER REID TAGLIST
@spenxerslut @averyhotchner @drayshadow @moviequeen51 @spencer-reid-am-i-right @ssavanessa22 @amurderofcrowsinatrenchcoat @mbjackie @jklemps @reformedmoneyshovel @nomajdetective @jesuisbenny @jooniehomie @spencerreid-187 @onyourfingertips @uhuhuh @rubyhi208-42 @archer561 @c0rpsecore @sweetandsunny @zoeygraygubler @algonsa @jswessie187 @shemarmooresfedora @kaz-2y567 @alfonsais @aikrus @nani-2305 @death-becomes-her @sarejane @isabelle-558 @measure-in-pain @the-nerd-gang @manuosorioh @luredwithpretzels @ceeellewrites @totallyclearwitch @jekkles @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @sarahpaulsonlov3r @periwinklemax @kuolonsyoja @heartmira @hoodpankow @parahmur
SERIES TAGLIST
@its-9pm @nani-2305 @reidsfish @mochionly @spencerswildestdreams1 @magnetas @matthewscumslut @madsgraygubler @bakugouswh0r3 @rexit-mo @shinshankai
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid series
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requested by @let-this-be-a-lesson from this, and this list.
chosen prompt(s) :
#1 - “Is that my sweater?”
#11 - “If you were my boyfriend/girlfriend/partner, I’d probably never stop staring at you.”
pairing : bang chan x fem ! reader
genre : fluff
warnings : long time best friends, very obvious crushing, kind of more than friends (unidentified relationship) to lovers, implied slow burn
word count : 2.4k words
You promised to meet Chan almost an hour ago.
The adrenaline coursed through your body as you ran out of the bathroom after a shower, which was relatively dangerous but you didn’t care, sprinting back to your room to get into some decent clothing.
As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you almost punched it from the frustration. But you didn’t, of course, as if you didn’t have enough bad luck already.
Are you that stupid to have fallen asleep on the couch? You thought to yourself. You were much too thankful that you already washed your hair in the morning, so it looked good enough now.
As you dropped your towel, you swore that you’ve never grabbed such a mismatched set of underwear and bra before, but it didn’t matter. You’d opt yourself to become quicksilver if it was for Chan.
Your hands let themselves skim through until your phone lit up on top of your cupboard and showed three notifications from the man himself. You froze in your spot reading the following messages.
chan: okay :( if u insist [5:02 PM]
chan: but since u seem tired [5:03 PM]
chan: i’ll pick u up since i’m only 10 mins away [5:03 PM]
Your mind went back to when you had woken up to three missed calls from Chan, various texts asking if you were alright since you never missed a ‘hangout’. At least, that’s what you two always called your frequent meets.
Your first instinct was to call him back, your voice rather nasally from the blocked nose you always got after sleeping. His kind voice kept replaying in your head;
“Chan, I’m so so sorry-”
“Oh, did you just wake up?”
“I.. yes. Yes I did. I’m so sorry, I fell asleep because I ran a million errands up until 3pm.”
“Hey, no. It’s okay. It’s not your fault. Do you want to move our hangout to some other day? I think I’m quite free this week.”
“No, no. I need to see you, honestly. My stress has piled up and it’ll be great to see you. You always cheer me up.”
“I try my best, Y/N. I’ll wait for you as long as you’d like. Go get ready!”
“Will do, Mr. Bang. Thank you so so much!”
The last thing you heard after the call ended was his farewell that was mixed in with his infectious laugh, and that was when you ran towards the shower to get the thin layer of sweat that always came after a nap in the living room.
Your fingers quickly typed away a ‘did god send u down to me as my angel or smthn THANK U BANG CHAN’ before going back to rushing to pick out a nicer outfit.
Because of him willing to pick you up, you had an extra ten minutes to get ready but your mind was still blank from the adrenaline rush. You had picked yourself out a cream-coloured pleated skirt, but you had no idea what to pair it with until you saw a familiar black sweater pushed to the back of the drawer.
You weren’t too sure why it was familiar to you, but it was nice enough for you to use with the skirt. For a reason you couldn’t pinpoint, it hugged your body well enough, but the area where you could see the stitch of the shoulders were clearly too broad for you, falling around the middle of your upper arms.
Strange, you thought, I don’t remember buying this but it’s so comfortable.
And just like he said, Chan was there in ten minutes, voice heard through your apartment intercom, asking you to come downstairs. Although you tried to ignore it, you were excited just from hearing his voice through that old system speaker.
Taking the elevator down to the lobby, you smiled seeing the boy standing around, clearly waiting for you to come down, as he kept shifting his feet.
It was music to his ears as well when he heard you call out his name. Although he would never admit it, or so he thinks, he swore that he heard a hymn whenever ‘Chan’ spilled from your lips. But he shook that away when he reached in for a side hug.
“Hey you.” he said, “You look awfully fresh for someone who just woke up.”
“I work my magic.” you boasted, not wanting to admit the fuss you made for him. Since Chan was a bit taller than you, not by too much (which you teased him about, but he only let it be because it was you), you held onto him as well by slinging your arm around his waist.
And as you both walked to the parking lot at the front, stuck together like two pieces of paper with a hefty amount of glue in the middle, that was when Chan stopped right in front of his car.
You looked at him with concern, thinking that he’d probably left something inside, “Did you forget something?”
He paused, looking at you with the face he’d make whenever Felix did something strange. That wasn’t new, but you felt flustered when he let you go and stood in front of you, arms crossed, eyes checking out your whole body.
You looked at him strange, not understanding what he was doing. Your hand only clutched your bag strap harder, not understanding the situation. But before you could say anything, he cut you off.
“Is that my sweater?”
And the realization hit you.
A few months ago, Chan had gone to your place to spend some time with you after not getting to meet you for three weeks. But of course, the two of you did not look at the weather forecast when a rainstorm dawned over the whole of Seoul.
You insisted that Chan should not be driving in this weather in fear of a accident, but he did have to get his car to the indoor parking lot incase it began to hail. However, once he had gotten back, the umbrella you had given him was soaked and so was he, the two of you getting into a hysterical laughing fit at the state he was in.
In all seriousness, you did quickly get him out of the clothes he was wearing and washed them, shyly looking away when he directly began to take his shirt off in the living room until you yelled “Chan! I have a bathroom!”
However, as the night passed, after he slept in the same bed as you, finding his arm around your waist in the morning to which he quickly pulled away in surprise— he left with only his jeans and socks that had been dry cleaned.
“Oh shit, this is your sweater!” you swore, the event having replayed itself in your forgetful mind, “I’ll clean it after this and give it back to you.”
“Oh, no. You look better in it than I do.” he complimented.
In between your reminiscing, he had clicked the car key, making the vehicle make the familiar unlocking sound and flashing lights. Running over to your side, he opened the door for you.
“M’lady.” he offered,
“M’Chan.” you joked, only to laugh for a bit then go in with a murmured, “Sorry that was cheesy.”
“It was!” he admitted, yelling so you could hear him through the car glass since you closed the door already. He did his little jog over to the drivers seat and went it rather smoothly, not that you were impressed by that.
“So, arcade?” he asked, smiling when you nodded and tapped excitedly on his dashboard.
Once again, in ten minutes, the two of you had reached the destination, quickly running out as if the both of you were six, and not in your early 20s.
As you ran into building, fluorescent hitting your eyes with a familiar nostalgia coming alongside them, much too familiar from the high school days of you and Chan going to another arcade that was already closed down now.
“So, what do you want to do first?” you asked, as if you didn’t guess the answer already.
Chan looked forward, scanning the place more and finally seeing a row of big, bulky, metal boxes that couldn’t be missed. He pointed at them, rather cutely to add, smiling down at you.
You gave him an excited grin back, happy that you guessed right in your head. You walked ahead, pleased to hear him tread behind you at a faster pace to catch up with you.
Drawing back the curtain, the two of you went inside and swiped the arcade card that you had because of several trips that were forced by your auntie with your little cousins. Luckily, there was still money inside.
The recognizable ‘twinkling’ sound of the photo booth rang in both your ears, opting you to choose the frame decor, etc.
And as the screen showed both your faces, a robotic voice was heard through the same speakers at the sides of the booth, stating ‘please move more towards the centre, thank you’
But if anyone were to look inside, you and Chan were already considerably close, especially since the bench space wasn’t wide at all. But you side-eyed the boy, scooting closer to him as he did the same to you.
You felt his arm squish against yours, feeling flustered at the sudden contact.
“Can..uh..” he trailed, “Can I put my arm around you? I.. I think it’ll make the pictures look less awkward, don’t you think?”
“Y-yeah!” you responded a bit too enthusiastically. Clearing your throat, you gave him the gentle smile that he could never hate, “Yeah. Go ahead, Chan.”
He did as he asked. Unlike the playful hug that you two had shared in your apartment lobby, this one felt more intimate, especially when you saw the screen reflecting the two of you.
You could feel his rings dig against his cotton sweater on your body, assuming now that it was yours, comfortable enough for you to feel secure— at home. Nevertheless, you always felt that Chan was your home.
Your eyes fixated on the screen as you moved forward to press the red button that would soon make you both take simultaneous pictures together.
We look good together, you thought to yourself, Wait what? Shut up.
But why did this feel different? You two had taken hundreds of photos together, varied with ridiculous, attractive, and unnecessary ones. But you swallowed that wondering lump in your throat, quickly dismissing it as you posed with Chan for each one, your vision rather blurry for a reason you couldn’t pinpoint.
And as the twelve clicks ended, Chan stood up first. You were quite upset about the absence of his embrace, but didn’t mind it when he smiled at you like he always did,
“Let’s see the pictures.” he held his hand out for you to take, which you graciously did, feeling the pit of your stomach drop as you, as per usual, questioned what your relationship with him was at this point.
The two pairs of feet, albeit the both of you were wearing matching shoes on accident, met their way towards the printing area. Looking at the screen which read 99% complete, Chan heard the sound of the photo paper hit the stopper that avoided the prints from falling on the ground.
He bent down and took it, showing it to you. Naturally, your arms went around his left bicep, hugging it to look closer. Chan sucked in his breath, knowing that if he was in a cartoon right now, his brown head of hair would be sticking up in all places as a silhouette of his heart pumped dramatically out of his chest.
It was ironic, as most of your friends would say; it was ironic how you two hugged often but got shy whenever your hands would simpy graze, it was ironic how you two were so affectionate yet were so resistant, and it was very ironic that your ‘hangouts’ weren’t dates at this point.
He watched as you pointed at his face from top to bottom, questioning,
“You’re not even facing the camera in most of these! Stop looking at me and look at the lens next time. Do you want to retake these?”
Your question wasn’t too hard, but you didn’t understand why Chan looked at you with such solemn eyes, his eyebrows knitted together as if he was frustrated. But the look was soon replaced with one that held adoration, but that only increased your confusion.
“I mean.. we don’t have to retake these, Chan. What do you want to do?”
“If you were my girlfriend, I’d probably never stop staring at you.”
He didn’t know why he said that. Not a bone in his body was willing to let that out but his mind decided to play a little game of “thinking out loud”. The impulsivity of the statement made the two of your freeze in front of the photo booth.
But there was something that the both of you knew, something that neither of you wanted to admit. You had been friends for too long, had been too close for too long, but what was different now?
Why, after more than ten years of being best friends, was now the best time for you two to be together?
But something resided within you, and in Chan as well. This was to atone for all the pain you two had experienced without one another. You and Chan always wondered why you’ve always loved, but never been in love truly. All this time, the person that was it from the start was right in front of your faces, but pent up denial never allowed it to happen.
Until now.
Somewhere, somehow, this was the universe’s way of telling you that today was that day. You woke up late, wore his sweater, and Chan had slipped up with his thoughts aloud. It made sense.
So, you took a small step forward.
It felt as if the gravity between your feet and floor was much heavier than before, especially watching Chan’s jaw clench out of nervousness, but you knew it was just you mustering up a ton of courage to finally ask,
“Who’s stopping you from asking?”
#stray kids#skz fanfic#stray kids fanfic#stray kids bang chan#skz bang chan#bang chan#bang chan fluff#christopher bang#bang chan x reader#bang chan x fem reader#bang chan x reader fluff#chan x reader fluff#chan x reader#chris bang fluff
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10. After ((PROFESSOR TECHNO))
Description: Waking up at his house, his bed. You take a shower and in the meanwhile he cooks for you. But leaving to go back to the dorms, where Minx is waiting ever so patiently for you.
Warning(s): Nothing much, just talks about sex.
Words: 3786
Last part :: Next pert
This morning an alarm would typically start ringing to wake you up along with Minx throwing something or yelling at you to turn it off as it was the weekend. But that never came to be.
The peaceful silence lingered, relaxing as nothing was distancing you or waking you up. Rolling around in the blankets that covered you, starting to open your eyes as it did seem to be the time you would normally wake up at. A bright light was flashing your face. You quickly close them again. Shield yourself from it and slightly dig your face down into your pillow.
But it wasn't your pillow, the case was a different color from yours. It seemed softer then normal and smelled nicer, why does it smell like Techno...
This isn't your bed.
You shoot open your eyes. Feeling the blanket that surrounded you was nothing like your bedding. Soon realizing you were also naked, not even underwater covering you.
It all came rushing back to you like a flood. You had totally forgotten about last night, holy fuck. You actually slept with your Professor, it was incredible, but still shocking to say the least. "Good morning darling." His voice was deeper then his monotone regular voice, still half asleep. How you could just listen to him in this state for hours on end without getting tired of it.
You take a deep breath, calming yourself down and preparing to see him after what all happened last night. Slowly turning to him. "Morning Techno." Just seeing his face put a smile on yours, his hair was fluffy and messy, he looked groggy. He had a small smile on once he heard your reply as well. "How'd you sleep?" He asks genuinely. "Pretty well actually, you?" You leaned in closer to him, your faces were only a few inches away. "Same here darling." He placed a kiss on your nose
The both of you laid in the silence, it wasn't awkward or nervous, but it was calming. Taking each other's company. Just being with him brought you so much joy.
Sooner than later you knew you had to get up. You didn't want Minx to worry about you, but knowing by now that she already was worried that you didn't come back to the dorms last night. But on the other hand she most likely knew you got railed. Deciding that it was probably best to get up and get your clothes. Shifting over, you slowly pull away from him. His hands on your waist start to grip. Pulling you back down on his bed.
"Where do you think you're going?" He looked like he barely moved a muscle, still half asleep. Butterflies start to flutter in your stomach by his voice alone. "It's a Saturday angel, we could stay in bed all day if we wanted." He lightly kisses your shoulder, sighing in content. But it was true, you and him could spend the entirety just lazy in his sheets, that would be the dream. "I would love that- trust me I would. But I really should be getting home." You turn over, facing him. It was the sad truth.
He smiles, knowing that you couldn't but wanted too. He kisses you one last time before letting go of you.
You pull away, your feet touch his hard wooden floor. While standing up you see a small pile of clothes, it was your dress and underwear. "I got our clothes last night when you passed out." He told you, lightly chuckled. He did wear you down last night.
But as you reached down to pick them up, it soon hit you that you must have looked like a wreck. Knowing that you had dry cum on your thighs and just felt like washing off the sex you too did. "Actually, can I take a shower?" You ask while grabbing your panties and bra was the first thing. Then there was your half ripped dress. You totally forgot that he did that, you obviously aren't going to walk in your dorm and see Minx with a ripped dress, she already knows that you got laid, but this would make her tease you endlessly.
"Yes, the shower is on the left." He sees as you hold the dress in your hands in dismay. "In my closet, you can take a shirt or sweater to cover the rip in the dress. Again I'm sorry and I promise I'll buy you a new one." He awkwardly tells you it was his fault. But you were glad that he did offer to buy you a new one, which you definitely take up on that. And now you can bring home one of his sweaters, maybe wear it to class as a little fun way to remember this moment.
With your clothes in hand you start walking over to his bathroom, which he pointed too as well. "Thank you so much Techno." He smiles with a nod, getting out of bed finally when you close the door.
Stepping into his bathroom. It was quite beautiful.
The walls cover all the walls with dark green, emerald green ceramic field tiles. White subway tiles only broke it up with a large mirror that hung from them. The sink was a plain white, the sink handles were gold. And the shower was open with a side of glass.
Placing your clothes down on the floor, already naked you head to the shower.
-----
With your freshly clean body and now with clothes that covered you, you head towards his closet.
Opening the doors to it the first thing you see is his multiple suit, all of it organized with matching pants. He had quite a lot of them as well, probably 10 different styles with different patterns. On the other side was a few blank tee-shirts, and at the end were sweaters and sweatshirts. Running your fingers along them, they all seemed soft. They had unique patterns that reminded you of a father or grandpa style of sweaters you might find at a thrift store.
Picking a brown with burnt orange that had random shapes in squares. Once pulling it over you and the ripped part of your dress it felt warm. It had his signature scent that hooked onto it. Definitely keeping this.
Walking out of his room, along a small hallway that was littered with pictures of him and supposedly his father. Some of them were from when he was a little kid and others as recent. Each of them had an adorable smile accompanying it. With each step you gaze at them all, learning small details about him as you go along.
Hearing his voice that lead you through his home. "I forget to ask you how you like your eggs in the morning!" He laughs at his joke, walking to the kitchen where he was playing music from him phone while pancakes lay beside the counter as he has eggs on the frying pan. "I hope you like them scrambled." He turns to you as he hears you enter the kitchen. A smile with a slight awkwardness to it, worried that you might not like them. "That's fine Techno." He sighs with relief.
Placing a pancake and eggs on the side of two plates, he hands you one. With a simple thank you, you head to the small dinner area. He had a basic wooden rectangle table with the legs point at an angle.
Music continued to play as Techno brought his phone along with him, a soft melody playing over. Maybe it was classic or French classical music, but it was soothing. Once you are about to sit down Techno comes from your back, placing a hand on your waist. Twirling you around so you face him, your plate still in hand.
"Care to dance darling?" He asks, putting down his phone on the table, as well he took your breakfast and put it down too. You giggle at his question, "Now?" You play with the thought in your head, it wasn't necessarily weird to ask for a dance but right now? It kind of threw you off. "If you care too." He was such a gentleman, why couldn't you've met him when he wasn't you Professor.
But nonetheless you take his hand. A smile grew on his face.
You place your hands upon the back of his neck as he holds you with his hands on your waist. Both of you slowly dance with the music. You stare up with doll eyes at him, which he adored.
"If I would have known you can cook, I would never leave." You tease with him, but it had some truth to it. The breakfast he made smelt truly amazing. He chuckles softly. "You're welcome to come over whenever you please darling and stay however long." He says with a loving tone that was sweet and caring. Leaning closer to him as the soft song playing in the background, fading away as he sways with you.
"But just not tomorrow." With a small chuckle you question him, "Why is that? Having someone over?" You speak honestly, it didn't necessarily upset you that he could be seeing someone else. You too haven't made it official, but it still hurts if so. "Only my father angel, if you want you could meet him." He was asking you to meet his dad, already? You only have had one official date with him. And you were also relieved that he wasn't going out with someone else, you smiled at that. "You, of course don't need to meet him just yet." He quickly tells you as he suspected you worried over meeting him so soon.
You pat his shoulder, "Can I meet him any other day, I have plans tomorrow with Minx." He nods, it was probably best you didn't meet him just quite yet. "Who is Minx?" He asked. Totally forgotten to tell him that she was your roomie. "She my roommate and friend." He 'oh' in realization. "I think she would like you." You pull him closer, embracing each other.
----
Stepping out of his car, you put your arms on the lowered windshield and look at him.
"So I was hoping to know when you want to go on our next date?" He runs his fingers through his hair, pushing back loose strains. "I was thinking soon." He winks at you, blush rising to your cheeks. He always and forever is able to make you blush.
You lean in more, "Then it'll be soon. I would love another tour of the house." This time it was you winking at him and he was blushing. He grips on the steering wheel before telling you, "I'll text you later." You back away, "Have a great rest of your day Mr. Blade." You giggle while stepping on the pavement, already turning to go to your dorm. "You too darling." You continue to walk with a grin on your face.
You stand in front of the door with your key in hand. You weren't ready for Minx to pounce on you with a shit-ton of questions, but you had to go in some day. And today was that damn day.
You slot in your key to unlock it, but it was already unlocked. Turning it open, your eyes looked over quickly to see if anyone was in. Thankfully it was Minx, sitting on her bed with a cup. She didn't even bother to glance up to see whom walked in, "Did you bring the food already?" She questions out to you, you stand confused for a few seconds. Unaware what she was talking about in the first place.
Finally she looks up from her phone, her eyes widening when she spots that it's you and not who she originally thought it was.
She rush's to find a place to set down her drink. Quickly she stands and goes for a hug. "You said you came yesterday night! You know how scared I was?" She wacked your side arm, you fake an "ow" but she knew you weren't hurt. She looks you over, a cold stare the entire time. A cheeky smirk on her lips, "Who sweater is that?" She cheeky asks, knowing damn well it was your dates. "I think you know who it is." She lets go of you, looking at you. "I actually don't know, you know why?" She asks, somewhat annoyed, you Linda liked to mess around with her. "I don't." She softly grunts, "Because you haven't told me anything about him!" Once again she hits your arm, this time it was starting to hurt.
"Okay, let me change first." You tell her, starting to remove your shoes along with your sweater. Taking it off the reaction on Minx face told you everything, fuck you forgotten about your dress situation. "You slut! Look at you, growing up so fast." She runs her finger under her eye, fake crying. "I mean you got hickeys all over you." She looks closer. You fake a laugh with a scrunched up annoyed face.
Rolling your eyes at her, "Turn around so I can take this off!" You start lifting off of your body. "I mean just finished the job and rip if off." She teases. Going to your closet you pull out pajamas pants and you just throw on the same sweater you wore before.
"Tell me everything, like every single detail!" She quickly grabbed your hands, excitement running through her and it was painfully obvious. She pulls you back to her bed, both of you sitting facing each other while criss-cross. "Before I tell you, who were you expecting before I came in?" You didn't want to tell Minx about your sex with a guy if anyone could walk in and interrupt, plus you didn't want everyone to know either.
She chuckles, "I forgot to tell you, Schlatt is getting us food." She tells you, before throwing her hand slightly up in the air. "Don't worry I told him to get you food as well!" You nod, but Minx pulls you back into the conversation you were having before with a little nug.
You sigh before asking, "What do you want to know?" Placing your hands on your knees. "What's his name, first of all? How tall is he? Is he Blonde or Brunette? How old is he? Literally everything you know about him, I want to know. Just in case." You rolled your eyes at her, that was a lot of things she wanted to know that you didn't know if you could even tell her or not.
Breathing out as you think of what to tell her, she shifts her head to look at you closer. Pleading for you to say something already. "Com'on Y/l/n!" She was so impatient when it came to these topics.
"His name starts with a T, that's all what I'm going to say.." Minx throws her head back with another frustrated groan. "Why can't you tell me his name?" She lifts herself back up to look at you. "It's confidential." You giggle, which she didn't take very lightly. "Uh huh sure." She sounded so pissed off at you, it didn't really upset you. Rather it was fun to play around her, knowing what she wanted.
She looks at you with half lidded eyes, "He is around 6'3. And he is a brunette." She slowly but surely started to smile, finally getting what she wanted. "Do you really want to know how old he was?" You question, you didn't care about the age difference but that doesn't mean the Minx wouldn't. What if she makes it into a big deal and you already know she wouldn't let it go till you or she died. "Yes I really do!" She wiggles her eyebrows.
"He's 32." She slightly backed herself, just thinking of what that meant, more accurate how much of an age gap that really was. "32 huh. Okay, okay." You could tell that she was doing the math in her head.
And once it clicked and cane together she had a stupidly huge grin plastered on her lips. "That's a 11 year age difference. You know that?" You simply nod your head to her question. She started to laugh, quitely covering her mouth with one of her hands. With a lil gasp she started to ask you, "Did he ask you?" She couldn't ask fully before laughing again.
"Did he ask you..." She bends forward getting closer to your face, "..Who's your daddy?" She mocked with a wink, Minx couldn't help herself but laugh in your face. At how unamused you were with a stone dead look on your face. She reaches out to your shoulder, lightly apologizing for laughing so much. "You're despicable." Scoffing at her, pushing away her hand. Facing away and ready to get off her bed to go towards your pathetic bed that you wished it was his. "Wait, don't go!" She begs, still sticking out her laughter.
"Who do you think I am?" You grind down on your teeth, still shocked that she would even ask that. "I'm not sure anymore, if you told me you liked older dudes whom you can call "Daddy" in bed than I would have gotten you laid so much earlier than this." Wide eyes you stare blankly at her, unsure what to say after that. What could you say to that?
"Who likes to be called Daddy in bed?" Schlatt's voice echo through the small dorm, this the reason you didn't want to talk about this in the first place.
You turn back where you heard Schlatt. "No one!" You quickly spill out, looking at him. He wore pajama bottoms, which were a blue plaid and a white sweatshirt with some nonsense written on it. His hair was messy and his mutton chops flared out. "Why are you still in pj's?" You hop off of Minx's bed, through what she was going to mock you about next. "Because it's 10 and a Saturday." He stuck his hand through the bag, pulling out a fry and eating it was a swift bite. "Why are you still wearing pj's?" He asks you back, "I just got here." You give him a quick hug.
He hands you a bag, supposedly your food. "But let's not change the subject here ladies. Who likes to be call "Daddy"?'' He starts heading to Minx's bed where you sat. Minx starts chuckling again, she was trying not to so desperately, but it wasn't helping her. "Y/n went on a date yesterday with this guy named T." He also hands her a bag of food, ready to jump on her bed. "And he's 11 years older than her and I'm just poking fun at it." You go to your bed and sit across from them. Minx is still giggling while pulling out her meal, Schlatt titles his head. "Look y/n some guys liked to be called Daddy in bed and I won't kink shame you-" He tells you, but midway starts to laugh as well. He couldn't even take himself seriously.
"Oh my- I am done talking about my sex life with you two!" You were so fed up with talking about it, if all they were going to do was tease you. Minx calms herself, "Oh stop it, we're done okay!" She breathes out, Schlatt still is chuckling at the situation.
Letting themselves calm down, you take your food out and start eating. But that was stopped once Minx told you, "I actually have a photo of you too last night." You froze, what did she just say. Pulling out her phone, she shows Schlatt first as he was right neck to her. Which he stares down slightly puzzled at first, looking up at you and back down to make sure it was you.
A million and one question fly through your head, does he know Professor Blade? Shit.
He gives the phone back to Minx, who is standing up from her bed to show you the same photo. "He looks good, but I feel like I've seen him before." He questions, taking another bite of a fry. You couldn't say anything to that.
She shows you the picture on her phone, it was you and Techno standing outside last night. He was wearing that damn tux that made you simply melt.
"Why'd you take that?" You spoke softly, the playful smile of her face slowly starting to slip. She questioned as to why you were so petrified at one photo. "I just wanted to know what he looked like and he dresses quite nicely for a girl." She chuckles, trying to lighten the atmosphere that was becoming a little too overwhelming.
You stiff out a laugh, you had to play off before they started to get worried, which they were already questioning as to why. But you think of something to distract them from that. "Sorry I haven't gotten that much sleep." Trying to make something up to get them to stop thinking how weird you just got. But it wasn't wrong, you didn't get much sleep last night.
"Not with Daddy keeping you up." Minx takes a bite of her food, still playing with that damn "Daddy" thing. You didn't even know if he even liked calling him that and you weren't even sure how to talk to him about that. "How many times did you get it on?" Schlatt asks nonchalantly, like it wasn't a strange thing to ask his close friends. "I never told you I called him "Daddy". I didn't even call him that, can we drop that please." To tell off Minx and somewhat Schlatt to drop it. "Fine." She mutters. "And to answer your question Schlatt, 3 times." You look up already knowing that Minx was going to have a field day with this, but you weren't ready for what Schlatt says.
"Foxy." He simply says, you chuckle at his response. But to Minx, she throws her bad to the side. "Did you really! Now you have to tell me everything!" She quickly says, ready to hear the whole thing. "Not when I'm eating!" Schlatt shouts, putting his hands over his ears. Shielding himself from all this. Today was going to be long, especially when you're stuck with these two.
Taglist:
@roygbivvie @alexandrium @aplainart @sadassflatass @sugarcoated44 @taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @sammyxn @bbnoloves @l-O-ser @elly-isabelle @fudrudy
#mcyt#mcyt fic#mcyt fanfiction#technoblade#technoblade x reader#professor technoblade x reader#professor technoblade#techno#techno x reader#x reader#professor
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Request for anon: Can I have Present mic, Aizawa, and all might where they learn their young student is fatherless? Like... their father walked out/went to prison when they were young. I'm sorry if this is time consuming, but I can't stop sobbing over my father.
I'm the situation baby but remember it wasn't your fault
I changed it up a little bit with Mics- I hope you don't mind
Present Mic:
• from the getgo something was wrong
• The moment you walked into class he could tell
• You looked like shit
• Dark bags under your eyes, hair messily brushed, just to get it out if your face, and your eyes were a light red.
• You didn't look particularly happy to be there either
• something turns in his stomach, a gut feeling that something really had went down
• And he hated seeing his students upset
• but he was relatively close to you to begin with, his felt different
• He felt like he had to do something
• Everyone settled into their seats as the bull rung but his eyes remained on you
• You honestly didn't pay attention during the lesson
• He could tell as much
• class finishes and the bell rings but you sit still, and it's not until most of the students have trickled out of the room do you start packing up
• He walks over and kneels in front of the desk "You okay there? You don't look so good," he looks concerned and his heart drops when he sees your lip start to quiver
• It takes you 0.27 seconds to break and you're frantically wiping your eyes as sobs wrack your body
• He's got his arms wrapped around you in seconds and you're leaning into his shoulder.
• He isn't sure exactly how long you're crying for but eventually you calm down enough to get out a coherent sentence
• "My-My dad was arrested Friday night. He won't tell me why- he won't let anyone else tell me why and I don't know what else to do," you cry, "I miss him so much and its only been a few days- I don't- I don't have anyone else, Mr. Hazashi,"
• And you're crying again.
• He has you take the rest of the day off, in fact he takes the day with you
• He calls in a sub (you don't know what strings he had to pull for that but you don't ask, at this point you don't care) and you two dip
• He takes you to get food, real food, that'll make you feel better
• He knows that'll help a little
• and after that he takes you to get something sweet- that tends to help mood and blood pressure and anxiety
• So he does his best with you
• He nutures you the best way he knows how
• if you need anything and I mean ANYTHING this man has you covered
• He does his best to step up in any way he can
• first off he extends his assignment deadlines and cancels two tests. Who needs them anyway.
• And you eat lunch in his classroom because he can well tell you don't want to talk to anyone else right now
• He closes it off (seemingly) so in reality its just you and him
• He'll probably tell Aizawa too but on the downlow (just so he knows)
• When holidays roll around, the dorms close.
• In this case- he let's you stay with him. He has an extra bedroom. He doesn't want you to stay in an empty house.
• You also get his phone number (which you gladly use) for anything really
• Bored? He'll deliver some shitty puns.
• Confused about homework? Text him.
• having a mental breakdown? He's got you covered.
• You got memes? Please for the love of God send them to him.
• The dynamic eventually shifts to a VERY father daughter relationship.
• He knows he'll never replace your dad. He understands that wholeheartedly, but he wants you to have someone
• He actually gets a letter from your dad, thanking him for taking care of you
• but he really doesn't mind
Aizawa:
• He had a feeling that there was something going on at home. Or rather, a lack of something.
• He's dealt with it in the oast- with himself and with past students and current ones
• Shinsou
• I mean, aside from that fact whenever parents were mentioned, you'd either stiffen up or wrinkle your nose
• You didn't really like the subject of parents
• There was an essay prompt about parents (nothing too personal) nd you ended up writing it on the extinction of dinosaurs and why God fucked up instead
"It'd be absolutely stellar to see huge lizards roaming the earth and occasionally stepping on people, you know? Jurassic park was onto something."
• Man's couldn't even fail you on it because it was written v well
• Anyway, he doesn't pry too much. He just silently figures it out by process if elimination and pattern.
• He doesn't really care too much
• In the sense if it doesn't define you and he doesn't help you because he pities you
• he helps you because he seems potential
• He takes you under his wing with shinsou
• Yall spend a whole summer training
• And that's when it all came out
• It was an accident really.
• Shinsou was tired, exhausted really
• and when people get tired- that tired- sometimes they spout random shot they wouldn't usually say
• and thats what he did
• he went on about his home life
• and if he could, you could too right?? You could trust them.
• "My dad walked out when I was a kid. Little, like 3. I have a few pictures of him holding me, but I guess it wasn't enough. I don't have any desire to meet him. Not anymore. But it left me feeling like I did something wrong? I guess? Which I suppose is why I train. Because then I feel strong. Which is a good difference from how it usually feels."
• He knew it.
• He called it.
• He was right again.
• He reassures you that you are good enough, strong enough, and his decision to leave had nothing to do with you
• and when he saw you give him a soft smile, he warmed.
• I mean really, it only goes up from there
• he'll deny it, or grumble under his breath, but he seems you two as his own
• Like these aren't my kids but they are my kids
• When dorms close on holiday yall get to stay because that's where he lives too
• Like if you chose too
• he's not gonna force you to stay but if you don't want to go home, you don't have too
• He has that power
• He will buy you food
• all you gotta do is ask
• and he'll roll his eyes and grumble something he doesn't really mean, just secretly happy that you feel comfortable enough around him to ask for something
• lmao family group chat
S: 'Hey Mr. Aizawa I found this cat. Hold on lemme send a pic'
A: 'Dont need a pic. Bring him home'
Y: 'What if he's ugly??'
A: 'gremlin. Bring him home.'
Or
Y: 'Hey I saw this tweet that said 'kids be like watch this and do a half roundhouse spin kick clap and waste my fucking time' and it make me think of you.'
S: @ mr. Aizawa when he has to watch deku do sumn
Y: Lmaoooo like when he threw the baseball
S: LMAOO
A: Me watching you too try to figure out how to beat me in training
Y: Yikes bro
S: That was a rough one
• Does he regret giving you and shinsou his number??
• Maybe
• Not really
• Lmao super secret lunch movie days
• Every week on wendesday yall watch a movie. Usually it takes 2 or 3 days to watch the movie since lunch is only 70 minutes
• @ you accidently calling him dad one day and shinsou snickering but it stuck
• dadzawa lmaoo
Allmight:
• Man's has 2 underlings.
• You and Deku.
• Picked you up when he started teaching at UA
• Ion know let's say one day you popped off bc he said some dumb shit and you were like no sir that's clearly wrong
• schooled him in his own damn subject
• the other kids were like 😳
• what the fuck
• Anyway
• He see's you have potential
• And though he's not the best teacher, you seem to respond better to the way HE was taught
• So tbh its easier to teach you
• 'okay, now I want you to beat the shot out if that wall,'
'Okay lmao bet'
• Midoriya is like, hey mayhaps we should analyze the situation
• N ur like noe
• You just don't give a fuck
• about anything really
• other than moving up the ranks
• But even then- its not a super super big deal, you're just gonna do your best but you aren't gonna stress
• However he noticed a pattern w you (even before Midoryia brought it up to him)
• You don't let anyone in
• Midoryia knows a bit more than the other students but that's really only because he's always with you
• a good majority of the week he's w you
• but its not really a deep connection
• you don't rely on either of them
• You do your best to do things on your own.
• He knows midoryias life story
• he knows why he acts the way he does
• but he doesn't know why you do
• he has a gut feeling it could be the same as midoryia
• I mean he already had one kid who's dad dipped
• he'll surely be able to figure out you too??
• So he makes himself a promise that he'll figure it out and he'll become someone you trust
• And he does just that
• When you tell him about your nightmare of a family history he's like mm, makes sense
• but he's happy that you trust him!!!
• He's a BIG suckered for movie nights
• he's got popcorn, snacks, candy, chocolate, soda- he's prepared
• list of movies lined out all ready
• I lowkey feel like he'd be into lord of the rings or fast n furious
• fast n furious at LEAST
• He's really into American action movies
• and he has no problem sharing those movies with you
• he doesn't have a whole ton of money, like he's not rich, but if you or midoryia need something he's definitely there to get it for you
• even if ur like fam no you don't need too
• he'll buy yell food a lot
• a l o t
• and cards
• when you and midoryia get him a father's day card he thinks he's gonna cry
• You guys also have a group chat
• 'da faemilee'
• Y: "Hey dad do you have milk?"
A: "???? Do I have milk????"
Y: "ya I'm looking in your fridge n ion see any???"
A: "How'd you even get in????"
Y: "Izuku."
I: "lmaoo"
Or
Y: Izuku you dumb bitch I left for ONE day
Y: And you got into a fight with Bakugou
I: He wanted to throw hands. I just did what you would do.
A: He's got you there
Or
A: What do you guys want for dinner
I: Sushi
Y: Chicfila
Y: Izu square up
I: K
Or
Y: Izu is fighting kacchow again
A: Beat his ass young midoriya
Y: Lmaoooooo
#hizashi x daughter reader#hizashi x reader#aizawa x hizashi#hizashi yamada#yamada hizashi#present mic#present mic x reader#aizawa x child reader#aizawa x daughter reader#aizawa x reader#aizawa shouta#shouta aizawa#eraserhead#all might#all might x reader#mha toshinori
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Can you do Rantaro fluff alphabet?
rantaro amami || fluff alphabet
Me? Getting a post out? Woah- /lh. Anyway, of course I can! Here ya go! Sorry if it's out of character, I've never written for him before! I'm glad I was able to, though!
- Mod Anna
a. attractive. what does he find attractive about you? he loves your hands, they fit perfectly in his. he'll kiss you knuckles happily before dragging you on, another adventure to pursue. he's excited to be anywhere with you, and knowing that you're holding his hand, by his side? that's amazing.
b. baby. would he like a family? he would! i can see him wanting to show a kid the world, point out cool things in pictures, telling wild stories about what happened while he was there. he wouldn't mind taking them on trips as well!
c. cuddle. how does he cuddle? he's usually the big spoon, and he loves you facing him. he's pretty protective, a hand usually pressed against your lower back and a soft kiss on your forehead. he's very gentle and loving with this sort of thing.
d. dates. what are dates with him like? usually you're doing something different that you haven't done before, dates are never the same. he likes to be spontaneous, but also have a little bit of an idea of what's going to happen. he likes to keep you completely in the dark, though, having you play guessing games, although he wouldn't tell you even if they're correct.
e. everything. what are you to him? (ex. you are my _____) you're his favorite adventure. out of everything he's done, everywhere he's been, the greatest adventure of all was finding out about you and learning every little thing that he's come to love.
f. feelings. when did he know he was in love? you two were on an adventure, and you were a bit scared of something, whether it be the bugs or the night. he held you close and said that you didn't have to do this for him, but you shook your head. you were dedicated, and wanted to be with him no matter what, even during a small adventure. that was enough.
g. gentle. is he gentle with you? he's pretty gentle, holding your hand with a tight enough grip not to hurt you, kisses just firm enough, and hugs just warm enough. he's very careful. he loves you more than anything, and he thinks about your well-being all the time.
h. hands. how does he like to hold hands? he likes your fingers interlocked. it doesn't have to be tight, it can even super loose. just as long as your hands are touching, he knows you're safe, and that's all he wants to know. he loves pressing kisses to your knuckles.
i. impression. what was his first impression of you? he saw that you had an interesting personality, that would match well with his own. he saw a possible future, and wanted to pursue it. he didn't waste too much time asking you out, but he did get to know you a little first.
j. jealousy. how often does he get jealous? he is a very chill person in general, so it's very unlikely that he'd get jealous. there is the occasional moment, but it's far from often. he refuses to show it, not wanting it to interrupt your relationships with other people. he wants you happy. you'll notice the little things soon, however.
k. kiss. how does he kiss? who initiated the first kiss? he's an amazing kisser. the kisses are firm, yet soft and sweet. they show his passion for you. it's always accompanied by a hand on your lower back, and the other gently cupping your cheek. to break it, he often smiles into it and stares into your eyes.
l. love. who says "i love you" first? he does. it's done when you two are on the way home from some date, his hand on your knee as he drives. at a stop light, he looks over at you and just smiles. “damn, i love you. a lot,” he says, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles.
m. memory. what's his favorite memory with you? every one. he takes pictures of every date, every little thing you two do together. he loves every moment he spends with you, and he cherishes it more than anything. all the memories with you fill him with more joy that you'd expect.
n. nickel. how much does he spend on you? well, you two share most of your money so it can go towards trips and stuff, but he makes sure to spend more than you do. you don't deserve to pay that much, he was the one who took you on all of this. he also buys you surprise souvenirs.
o. orange. what color reminds him of you? purple. it represents mystery in his eyes, and he likes to explore mystery with you. hand in hand, exploring the world together.
p. pet names. what pet names does he use? more often than not, he uses babe. it's classic, and it gets the point across. but he loves throwing in the occasional love, dear, or prince/princess. he loves seeing your reaction, it's his favorite.
q. quaint. what's a non-modern thing he does? he scrapbooks. y'know how all of his moments with you are special, and he takes pictures? all of those pictures are in a scrapbook. all of those little details are put in there, journal entries of the fun things, little pieces of leaves found where you were ... it's beautiful.
r. rainy days. what does he do with you on a rainy day? you two aren't able to get out, so the day is mostly spent laying on the couch and watching tv. you two need to rest sometimes, all of the adventuring gets tiring after a while. he has an arm tightly wrapped around you, pressing a kiss against your temple.
s. sad. how does he cheer you up? he insists on laying down with you and letting you vent about what's going on. he's stroke your cheek with one hand and hold your other one tight, listening to your every word. he wants to see you happy. you're amazing to him.
t. talking. what does he like to talk about? he likes learning about what makes you you. like your childhood, your parents, siblings if you have any. it makes him smile, knowing that you had an interesting past, no matter what it will be. and yes, he will be asking your parents for baby pictures.
u. unencumbered. what makes him relax? he likes taking soothing nature walks. he wants a house near the woods so that he can go out and relax if needed. he likes taking you with him, enjoying a comfortable silence together. it makes him feel a lot better.
v. vaunt. does he show you off? you two are a pretty loving couple in general, so yes? he doesn't really do it intentionally, but if he catches someone staring, he'll smirk happily and pull you a little closer. a quick kiss to the forehead, and he'll walk away with you in his arms. he's so happy with you.
w. wedding. when, how, and where does he propose? he would want something simple, but at a really nice place. on the top of a mountain, the view absolutely beautiful. he pulls out a ring with is extremely simple, maybe one small diamond, but it holds so much meaning. “s/o ... you know i love you. most of what i would say would be me repeating myself over and over again, but ... being your husband would be the best adventure of my life. will you marry me?”
x. xylophone. what song reminds him of you? what's your theme song? honeypie by jawny reminds him of you! your them song is desert island disk by radiohead!
y. yes. does he think about proposing to and marrying you? he would love that! going on adventures with his wife/husband/life partner? being able to call you that to people when asked? god, it'd make him feel like the best man in the world. he loves you more than anything.
z. zebra. if he could have a pet, what would he get? from such an adventurous man, you'd expect something exotic, right? hell no, he would be insistent on getting a big dog. he loves big dogs. and they're his best friend. no questions asked.
#request complete! | ☁️#fluff alphabet! | 💙#fanfiction! | 💙#rantaro amami#rantaro amami x reader#rantaro#rantaro x reader#amami#amami x reader#danganronpa#danganronpa x reader#danganronpa fanfiction#danganronpa v3#v3#drv3#killing harmony#danganronpa killing harmony#fluff
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Getaway
The trip to Scotland.
cw nausea and vomiting but no details I promise, fainting I think? I don't really remember, dizziness, food mentions, let me know if I need to add something more I haven't looked at this chapter in a while and I a posting in a rush.
Martin’s hand is damp in his. The same tacky, salty grit of the Lonely fog. A little bit of fog trapped between their tangled fingers, or maybe just the anxious sweat of two people who don’t really know each other as well as they should.
If Jon is being honest, it’s not a comfortable sort of hand holding, but he doesn’t care. He will keep clinging to Martin’s hand as if that single point of contact can keep Martin weathered to the physical plane.
It makes packing more difficult, but Jon doesn’t care. Not as if he hasn’t been living out of a backpack for months, or anything. (Longer still if you count living off a shelf before most of his belongings were ruined in the flesh attack). Still, he stuffs in the few items not in his back, and takes a healthy stack of statements and shoves those in, too. Probably depressing that he can fit those in a single bag with all his earthly belongings.
Jon doesn’t feel well.
He hasn’t felt well in a while. But the exhaustion is getting to him. Apparently shredding a person with his mind is a bit rough on the body. Even if the supernatural hunger is more than sated.
Heh. The unnatural feeling of being content and full and powerful at the same time as hallow and shakes and weak. It would be enough to make him dizzy, if he wasn’t already dizzy. If he hasn’t been dizzy constantly since statements were limited to empty paper, as if he hasn’t been dizzy since his early 20s and his POTS diagnosis. (And before, but that’s where he was still convinced it was nothing).
Jon is loathed to let go of Martin’s hand when he starts Daisy’s ancient car. It’s more than a little beat up. Jon tries very hard not to remember Mike Crew’s blood in the back seat. It’s clean now. Mike’s blood and Jon’s vomit long since scrubbed away. Nothing quite like being carsick at gunpoint.
Jon shivers.
He can’t let himself think about Daisy now. Such a confusing jumble of anger and fear and sadness and regret and friendship and comradely and resentment. It’s… it’s too much for him to take in.
He hasn’t ever been able to reconcile his feelings about Daisy, and now it’s worse. Worsened with his exhaustion. They were friends, they were enemies, and he couldn’t give up on her because that would mean that he was also lost. She hurt him and she loved him in a way. He couldn’t forgive her and she was his closest friend for a while. She was terrible, is terrible, but she was all he had and he loved her for being there. It’s too much to think about. And Basira. Christ, he feels terrible losing Daisy like that, and yes he loved her in a way, but he wasn’t in love with her like Basira is, and he knows the helplessness and emptiness of losing someone he’s in love with.
He shakes his head roughly. The bite of headache and way the world sickly twists in and out of focus for a moment distracts him enough to start the car. He looks over at Martin, pale but solid. He reaches for Martin’s hand as he drives them to Martin’s flat.
Jon has to do most of the packing for Martin. Martin more attached to him than free thinking individual. Drifting after him, pulled taught by their tethered hands. A balloon pulled along by the wrist of a small child on a rollercoaster. Although Jon can’t fault him for that, he thinks that might be an apt description for how he’s feeling. …Pulled along by unknowable forces beyond his control. And he’s flapping helplessly in the breeze of a battle far bigger than him.
No. Focus.
Martin.
Shove clothes and toiletries and tea and books and a few items that Jon judges to look treasured. A worn stuffed tiger, a few faded pictures, a deck of tarot cards, he even takes the ratty binder that are shoved under the other ones (the nicer ones that Jon has already packed with the essentials), a tattered notebook under a layer of dust, a well loved poetry book, a small box of earrings, and what looks to be Martin’s knitting.
It’s still a pitifully small amount of luggage for an indefinitely long trip. The large first aid kit that he found makes him feel a little better. (Emotionally, but also physically after he downs some paracetamol. He eyes the dramamine, but he’s going to be driving and he can’t risk getting drowsy. It’s not like they have time to stop).
Nausea twists down deep before Jon even starts the car. Catching at his stomach as he settles Martin’s bags in the back seat. Still trying to search out the stains that are long gone.
And oh fuck he killed someone.
And yeah the bastard deserved it, but Christ he feels sick. Sitting behind the wheel, staring blankly ahead.
Martin’s hand in his.
Martin squeezes his hand.
Jon squeezes back.
It’s fine. He’s fine. Just… Just drive.
It’s the next step, and he has always been good at pushing from one step to the next. Don’t worry about what happens next, just drive.
Martin is here and… not fine, but alive and whole, and slowly thawing next to him.
“Hey…” Jon forces his tight throat and tighter chest to allow the word past.
They haven’t spoken since Basira told them where to go and gave them a ring of keys.
This almost shakes Martin out of his stupor. Almost. “Hey,” he echos.
Jon wants to pack so much into a question. How do you ask everything? Are you okay? Do you love me? Do you know I love you? Do you need anything? Are you sure you want to come all this way with me? Are you okay with moving in with me? Are you hungry? If the fog comes for you, will you tell me? But those are too many words. Martin starts looking glazed over when there is too much going on. Too much movement, too many people, too much sound, too many questions. And Jon wonders if the Lonely only served to magnify this, and if so, did he notice? Did Martin hide it well? Did Jon make it worse? What if he makes it worse now, but what if he makes it worse by not saying anything.
“You ready?” This will have to be enough.
Martin nods, apparently not noticing the pause.
Jon tries not to jump out of his skin when Martin starts rubbing circles on Jon’s hand. It’s surprising, but it feels nice.
More than nice.
Jon starts the car.
It’s chilly. Late September. And it’s getting dark. Both in that the sun is going down, and in that storm clouds are gathering.
Jon knows they can’t stop for the night.
He just has to get them to Scotland. Hopefully then it will all be okay.
They stop at a service station just out of the city. Jon gets a black coffee. He buys Martin a tea and a sandwich.
He knows the coffee won’t do his stomach any favors, and will more likely than not set his heart to hammering, but it will be worth it not to fall asleep at the wheel.
He can’t let Martin drive until Martin looks like less like a space cadet.
But Jon hopes the tea brings color back to Martin’s face, even if he can’t quite tell in the sickly light of the service station, or the dim light of the evening as Jon tops up the petrol.
Highway before and behind, and Jon is throwing up. Pulled to the wrong side of the road in the dark and the rain. Trembling as Martin rubs his back and gently pulls back his hair.
They aren’t even halfway there. His heart is beating too quickly. Anxiety? Caffeine? POTS? Nausea? Who’s to say. But Jon is miserable, but there isn’t much choice, because being a passenger will make it worse, even if that would mean he could take some medicine. But Martin is in not fit state to drive. And Martin must know that, because for all his soothing, he doesn’t offer to drive. Or he almost offers, but Jon can see the thought die on his lips. Besides, Jon is fairly certain Martin can’t drive a manual transmission car. Not that Jon is particularly good at it, and stalled the engine twice leaving London.
The occasional car and lorry thunders past. On the side of the road, Jon can feel their movement in his core. He worries how he will get them safely back on the road, as he spits in the dirt.
“Sorry. Let’s go,” he mumbles his embarrassment to Martin.
He tries to ignore the pitying look that Martin has fixed on him.
“Sure we can’t stop?”
Jon shakes his head, and the dizziness threatens to take him down. He sags against Martin for a moment. “Can’t risk it. Perils of being on the run, I’m afraid.”
Martin frowns at him.
“I’m fine. Just… tired and… well, carsick. We’ll be there by morning.”
“Yeah and the fact that you basically collapsed against me is something I’m just supposed to ignore?”
Jon waves him off.
The brief conversation seems to have stolen all of Martin’s words. He quietly gets back in the car, and Jon shudders and sways without Martin’s warm bulk holding him up.
He starts the car, and takes Martin’s hand.
Just a few more hours. Then they can rest.
#the magnus archives#fic#tma#jonathan sims#cane user jon#trans martin blackwood#martin blackwood#the dinghy#jmart#jonmartin#jon has pots#cw anxiety#cw nausea#cw vomiting
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Happy New Year (Colby Brock Imagine)
Summary: *REQUEST* Can you do one where they are strangers and meet each other during a new years eve party and then end up kissing each other when the ball drops and make it super romantic (not in covid times) pretty please
Written: 2021
Word Count: 2,040
Warnings: Swearing, mention of being roofied, breakup
Masterlist
I sit in the uber, waiting for everyone to get out. Maybe they’ll be too excited about the party to realize that I went home. Maybe I should escape out the other door and disappear into the night. I didn’t even want to come out tonight in the first place. After the year I’ve had, going to an influencer party is the last place I want to attend. Unluckily for me, my best friends were tired of me staying in my apartment all day, every day, and refused to let me ring in the new year alone. Sadly, this meant that I had to go with them to a party because my apartment gave off “depression vibes” and that “wasn’t the move” for 2021. That’s the only thing that I agreed with them on, the vibe thing, not going to a party.
After nearly a year of quarantine and processing a breakup, my place is a bit of a disaster. If it wasn’t for Janie ambushing me every day last week to help/force me to clean up, my apartment would still look like that cave where the grinch lives— minus Max. There were various alcohol bottles collecting dust on the counter. Not in a “she’s spiraling very rapidly” sort of way, but in a way that you could tell that I had a rough few weeks and the occasional wine night with the gals. There were boxes, mostly from March and April, that I still had yet to throw out after impose buying a bunch of stuff. My closet had turned into my bed because that was the only safe space that wasn’t cluttered with food packaging or tainted by memories that no longer bring me joy. I hadn’t properly seen my floor in months until we pulled back the layer of filth. I forgot that I had carpet. Still, after all that, I managed to make videos every week without fail.
“Y/N, c’mon, you’re not escaping this time. Let’s go so you can forget that asshole and that backstabbing bitch.” Persephone begs as she pulls me out of the car. Once out of the car, she adjusts her long, dark brown curls and smooths out her dress before reconnecting to her boyfriend’s hip. They both match with their gold and black outfits. All of my friends and their significant others match. Ophelia and her girlfriend are wearing silver and blue while Janie and her boyfriend are wearing maroon and gold. They all look like gods and goddesses and here I am wearing green and sliver on my own. Could I be anymore single?
“I’m not going to do it, I was just thinking about it. Don’t worry. I have to get footage for the vlog anyway. Gotta prove that I did something other than stay home this year. My fans are getting concerned.” I pull out my camera and get a few clips of everyone.
“Might as well get some pictures then so people will believe you.”1 Ophelia winks before grabbing me and leading us to what I’m assuming is the designated photo spot. There’s even a line. This is going to be one of those nights.
****
“Aw, fuck…” I mutter to myself as my drink gets knocked out of my hand. This house isn’t big enough for the number of people that were invited.
“I am so sorry! Here, let me help you.” The guy who bumped into me extends his hand for me to grab. I’m sober enough to know not to take completely random strangers' hands at parties, especially in LA, but I’m also drunk enough to not care. He looks nice enough and I can spot Ophelia and her girlfriend Zoe keeping an eye on me from the corner of the room. I guess everyone is taking turns to make sure I don’t bail.
Against better judgment, I take this beautiful stranger’s hand and let him guide me out of the house to the backyard. It’s less crowded out here, maybe because there are more activities to do inside. Out here, I can actually breathe even though people are smoking and vaping out here. The music is quieter. The music is still loud, but like it would burst your eardrum like the music inside. I get a better look at the guy who brought me out here. He’s not bad looking, and I really hope that’s not the alcohol talking. He has the most relaxing blue eyes I’ve ever seen on a guy. His hair is dark brown with a bit of, I think, purple in the front. He looks as threatening as a pug, but looks can be deceiving.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t get any on you did I?” He asks as he scans my body, not in a creepy way. Which is a nice change of pace.
“My feet but they’re just shoes so I don’t care. I call these my going out shoes, they’re made for moments like this so you’re all good. I’m Y/N by the way.” I stick my hand out for him to shake. He looks at it puzzled for a second before it registers and he grabs my hand and gives it a firm shake.
“Right— I spilled your drink on you and basically kidnapped you from the party and you don’t even know my name. It’s Colby, Colby Brock.” Colby shakes my hand a little too long before quickly pulling it away.
“I’m Y/N, you can get the last name later,” I bite my bottom lip, close my eyes, and mentally slap my head. “That was lame, wasn’t it?”
“It’s fine. It’s a thousand times better than anything I would have come up with. Just blame it on the alcohol.”
We both laugh before Colby singles that he’ll be right back. I watch as Colby disappears a small group of people. I take off my shoes and walk to the pool, dipping my feet in as I sit. The cool night air is soothing me. It’s a nice change from the stale scent of my apartment and the sweaty bodies inside the party. I look up to the night sky. The light pollution makes it impossible to see what stars and constellations are above us. Whatever I’m staring at right now feels peaceful, like they are aligned or not in retrograde. I have no idea what any of that means, but I do know that I’ve been around Ophelia too much.
Colby taps my shoulder when he gets back. He kicks off his shoes and socks before joining me in the pool, not even rolling up his pant legs. He’s going to regret that in a few hours. He hands me an unopened can of Truly. I take it from him and open it myself. At least I know he’s not a creep. He opens a can of White Claw and sips it before breaking the silence.
“I have to be honest, Y/N.” Colby looks forward, taking another sip.
“Oh no, what is it?” I ask nervously.
“The real reason I dropped your drink is because I saw some asshole slip something in your drink.” Colby finally looks at me and I can tell he’s serious.
“Wait…what? Someone tried to… Any you thought the best was to inform me was to spill my drink all over me?” I’m more taken aback by the idea of me almost getting roofied than anything. That would have been the perfect way to end this shit storm of a year.
“In hindsight, I planned to spill your drink. I didn’t mean to get any on you. I’m not a hundred percent sober right now so that was the downside of my plan. Don’t worry about the guy, my friend Corey went after him.”
“Wow— Uh, thank you. I mean it. I don’t think I could have dealt with… that on top of everything else I had to handle this year.” I take a sip of my drink and swing my legs in the water.
“Do you want to talk about it? I’m not big on talking about serious stuff with strangers, so I’ll understand if you don’t want to. However, we’re both getting hammered, if we aren’t already, so the likely hood of us even remembering this conversation tomorrow let alone who we are slim. So if you need to vent, vent.”
I weigh the pros and cons of actually venting everything to this beautiful stranger. Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but I decided to say fuck it. The year is almost over anyway, might as well get rid of this baggage and start the year fresh.
“Long story short: after months of quarantining together Axl, my boyfriend of 10 years, cheated on me. The entire time we were in quarantine. With my younger sister, who I let quarantine with us so she wouldn’t be alone and not have to fly back home to be with our parents. And to top it all off, I found out about it on my birthday when I walked in on them fucking each other on my bed.” I take a larger sip of my drink before leaning back and staring back at the virtually starless sky.
“Holy fucking shit,” Colby leans back to join me in looking at the sky.
“Yup! We met in preschool and started dating when we were 13. She’s four years younger than us to that’s annoying.”
“Not to be that guy, but I don’t know what you expected when you started dating a guy named Axl.”
“… You’re right, that is a pretty douchey name. I literally ignored the biggest red flag in my entire life.”
Colby and I laugh again until it fades. I don’t think I’ve laughed this much, like actually laughed, in months. It feels good. Inside the house, the crowd starts counting down from 15. Colby must have heard it too because I watch him turn his head from the corner of my eye. I turn my head to face him. He really does have beautiful eyes. Like the ocean.
“This may be a dumb idea and I know we don’t know each other, but do you want to be my new years kiss?”
“I may regret this in the future, but what the hell.” We both sit up and adjust our clothes.
It might be risky to just kiss a random stranger at midnight, but who cares. We’re most likely not going to be in each other’s lives after tonight anyway. But by God, I could do much worse than kissing Colby. Unless I’m very drunk and the drunk goggles are seriously fucking with me. It’s not like I’m going home with him, my friends won’t let that happen. Maybe after this party, we’ll go our separate ways and never see each other again. Maybe we’ll run into each other in a random store in LA or at some creator convention.
The drunken yells of party-goers inch closer and closer to midnight.
“Three,” Colby whispers, moving his hair out of his face.
“Two,” I take one more small sip before finally setting my drink down. Colby does the same. My heart is beating a loud, steady rhythm in my chest like it’s about to burst.
“One,” We whisper at the same time before slowly leaning in.
As our lips touch, it felt like time had stopped. The beating intense beating in my heart only intensifies the longer our lips stay pressed together. One of Colby’s hands finds my face why the other reaches for my thigh, but I can only focus on how soft his lips are. My stomach starts forming knots as he tries to deepen the kiss. I don’t know if it’s everything I drank tonight coursing through my veins or the fact that I haven’t been kissed in months, but I slightly part my lips. The mixture of Colby’s scent and his body heat wash over me like they’re intoxicating my senses. The kiss ends just as suddenly as it started. We both pull away and just stare at each other in awe.
“L/N,” I breathe, fixing my hair.
“What?” Colby takes another sip of his drink.
“My last name is L/N.”
#colby brock#colby brock imagine#colby brock imagines#imagine#imagines#sam and colby imagines#sam and colby imagine#colby#fluff#fluff imagine#fluff imagines#colby brock x reader#sam and colby
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ricky bowen x reader series! part two
— starstruck au!
series masterlist, part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven, part eight, part nine, part ten
IN WHICH you’re dragged along to camilla’s plans to try to meet ricky bowen— but the wrong one out of the two of you ends up in an encounter with him instead.
WARNINGS a lot more swearing this chapter rather than last, you have to get stitches
NOTES this chapter is actually pretty long. i’m not super happy with how it ends but it’s going to pick up in the next chapter exactly where it left off in this one, i just didn’t want to keep adding onto this one lmaoo. also there are some parts that are lowkey written poorly but i’m tired and it’s not too bad HAHAH enjoy!
edit 1-16-21 i changed the song he was singing if u saw it before no u didn’t!!!
(y/n) - your name
text dividers from @writeyourmindaway !!
lowercase intended.
“bye ash! have a good time!” you called as ashlyn was leaving. she waved goodbye and drove away in her parents car. it had taken a couple of hours for her to be happy with her outfit and hair/makeup, but she ended up looking really nice (not that she didn’t before, she just seemed to glow when she felt prettier). as you turned back into the house, camilla grabbed your arm and pulled you into your bedroom.
“what the hell cam?” you asked as she closed the bedroom door.
“mom and dad just agreed to me taking you around the city tonight and we’re going to nini’s party,” she said, turning towards the still packed suitcases and digging through them. you watched, eyebrows raised.
“really? what’s in it for me? i’m not just going to follow you to la to stalk this poor guy.”
camilla rolled her eyes and holds a dress up against herself in the mirror. “you can meet nini, maybe. you like her music, don’t you?”
“that dress is mine. and yeah i like her music but i’m not crashing her birthday party just to meet her.”
“whatever. you can wait in the car. i’ll just.... buy you something later.” she put the dress she had down and grabbed another one.
“how about you stop talking about ricky? i’ll go if you stop.”
camilla gave you an incredulous look. “stop talking about him? have you met me? or seen him?”
“fine. at least for the rest of the trip. take it or leave it.” she sighed and paused for a second, before nodding and grabbing the first dress she had.
“alright. but i’m wearing your dress.”
after the short drive to los angeles, camilla drove around, trying to find parking. but, naturally, it was los angeles, and there was no available parking. after more than ten minutes of searching, camilla sighed in frustration and pulled over, directly next to a ‘no parking’ sign. you pursed your lips and pointed up at it.
“cam, this is very clearly a no parking zone. you’re going to get a ticket,” she ignored you and dug in the backseat for her bag.
“i’ll be back in less than half an hour. stay put. if someone tries to talk to you... ignore them. or punch them, or something. i don’t care. just be safe.”
“you too,” you said, although it came out as more of a question. she moved the mirror to face her, made a few adjustments to her hair, then left the car quickly. you sighed and sank into your seat. it was going to be a while.
after almost half an hour with no sign of your sister, you texted her a simple ‘you okay?’ but recieved no response. you fidgeted in your seat, switching between random apps on your phone, trying to pass the time. eventually, close to 50 minutes pass and you sighed, realizing that you should probably go look for her.
you wrung your hands out and grabbed your bag, opening your door quickly and rushing across the street. the street was crowded and the main entrance to the club was packed full of fans wanting to get into the building. you stood on your toes, trying to find camilla, but you didn’t see her anywhere. ready to give up, you spot an alleyway by the building. you considered it for a moment before mentally saying fuck it and walking towards the alleyway. you’re busy looking for an entrance when a door opens suddenly and you ram into it, head first, knocking you onto your butt.
“ow, fuck,” you said, rubbing your head and wincing as you saw you were bleeding.
“oh, god!” the person who opened the door exclaimed as they knelt onto the ground to be at your level. “i’m so sorry— i didn’t know you were there.”
“it’s... it’s fine,” you said. “how could you have known?”
“can i help? i might have some bandaids in my car...”
you shook your head and look up at the person. “no, it’s... wait, are you ricky—”
he put one hand over your mouth and the other on the side of your face. “i’ll give you tickets to my next concert or something if you don’t scream my name.”
you shoved his hand off of you. “didn’t have to make it sound so kinky. i don’t want tickets to your show.”
“i...i didnt—” ricky stuttered but trailed off as a car pulls up in the alley. someone comes out of the drivers seat quickly.
“ricky, what the hell is going on?” the person asked as they advance towards you quickly. the person in the passenger seat gets out shortly after the first person and walked towards you as well.
“i... i hit her with my door on the way out. should probably take her to the hospital?” he asked nervously. the person knelt next to you and you recognize him as the guy ashlyn’s talking to from a few pictures she’s shown you.
“wait, you’re—”
“(y/n)?!” the person from the passenger seat exclaimed as they approached you. your eyes widened as ashlyn kneels in front of you, putting her hand on your cheek.
“ashlyn? what the hell?”
“i was about to ask you the same thing, what are you doing here?” she asked, worry written on her face. she moved your hand to look at the mark on your forehead.
“cam forced me here, she came to meet...” you looked over at ricky. “came to meet him.”
ashlyn rolled her eyes, not looking away from your face. “of course she did.”
“wait, how do you guys know each other?” ricky asked. “and who’s cam?”
“(y/n)’s my cousin, camilla is her sister. huge fan of yours,” ashlyn explained. “i should get her to a hospital.”
“let me take her,” ricky piped up. “i was the one who hit her.”
“ricky, you’re not even supposed to be out of the house right now. imagine what the press would say if you show up with.... a girl you don’t know at a hospital. you’d never get the role,” big red said firmly. ashlyn gave him a similar look to what big red was giving.
“i know but... i should take her. it’s only fair, i hit her,” ricky said, and him and red stared at each other for a minute. “besides, she just said her sister’s here. someone needs to find her, it’d be easier to explain coming from her cousin than me.”
“she would probably have a heart attack if it came from you,” ashlyn agreed. red sighed.
“fine. but just be careful, and stay out of the light. lurk in the shadows, or whatever. i’ll see you at your house in two hours.”
“okay.” ricky said. ashlyn stood up and helped you up.
“ricky, if you do anything to her, i will kill you. be careful. (y/n),” she turned to you. “i’ll try to distract cam and i’ll meet you at grandmas. text me what the doctor says.”
you hugged her quickly. “okay, i will.”
ashlyn gave one more stern look to ricky who raised his hands in defense before walking away with big red. ricky grabbed your bag off the ground and offered an arm for you to lean on to help bring you to the car. you shook your head, telling him you were fine and climbed into the passengers seat of his fancy car. he looked around before getting into the car quickly and putting on sunglasses.
“are you like on the run from the cops or something?” you asked after a minute of silence. he lookedcat you quickly, eyebrows knit.
“what do you mean?”
“well, you were coming out of a club through an alleyway, your friend was pulling the car into the alley and you’re acting super paranoid. should i be worried?”
he laughed. “no. running from the press, more like. i’m not supposed to be out this weekend. i’m.... up for a lead in a new tv show and any press this weekend, good or bad, could ruin it.”
“then why are you out? you could have easily avoided this whole situation by staying home,” you said pointedly. he sighed.
“i promised nini i’d sing at her party. i didn’t want to let her down. and i didn’t think someone would be walking down the alleyway at close to midnight anyways.”
you scoffed. “yeah well, i was there because of you anyways. your fault all around.”
he looked over at you with the same confused expression as before. “you were there because of me?”
“not like that. don’t get your hopes up,” you said. “my sister is obsessed with you, remember? she told me to wait in the car while she went to find you. it had been a while and the main entrance was packed. i needed to find a way in.”
“so... more your sisters fault, huh.”
“yeah. i guess so,” ricky grinned at you. you gave him a small, unamused smile back and turned to look out the window.
once you made it to the hospital, a doctor came to greet you almost immediately, as there were few people there. the doctor closed the curtain around you as he did the examination and ricky sat on the other side of it. you ended up getting a few stitches but he confirmed that you didn’t have any serious damage. the only thing he suggested was to keep an ice pack on it.
“so she’s okay?” ricky asked, peeking in through the curtain. the doctor laughed.
“yeah, she’s fine. let me go grab the ice pack, i’ll be back,” he left you and ricky in awkward silence for a moment. but, it was broken by his phone ringing loudly. his eyes widened and he answered the phone quickly.
“mom? what’s up?”
you couldn’t hear what she was saying on the other end, but he seemed to tense up after every second she talked. you watched, raising your eyebrows.
“okay, alright. stall him. i’ll be there in...” he looked at the clock on the wall. “twenty minutes. okay. thank you!”
ricky ended the call and turned towards you, a sheepish grin on his face. “yeah... so we may have to take a quick pit stop before i take you home.”
you glared at him. “you’ve got to be kidding.”
he wasn’t kidding.
as soon as you pulled up to his house, you text ashlyn.
you; help ricky is kidnapping me he just brought me to his house
ashlyn; if i didn’t know ricky i would be really worried rn
you; HOW WELL DO YOU KNOW HIM???
ashlyn; pretty well we’ve hung out a few times
you; oml
you; well he’s a kidnapper. and he made me get stitches
ashlyn; no way you needed stitches? what are you gonna tell your parents?
you; no clue!!!!! do i just casually tell them ricky bowen ran a door into my face???
ashlyn; fuck they probably wouldn’t take that well. i’ll figure it out and save ur ass. hang on.
you; you’re my favorite person in the entire world
ashlyn; i know
“you coming?” ricky asked from outside the car. you looked up from your phone, not even realizing that he had been waiting.
“oh, sorry.”
“no problem,” he mumbled. you get out of the car and he lead you into his house (past his six cars). it was huge. tall ceilings, brand new looking leather furniture, huge doors leading to the backyard, a spiral staircase. if you were being honest, it was pretty close to your dream house (or, one of your dream houses). you stared at it in disbelief.
“you, a seventeen year old, live here?”
ricky doesn’t look at you. he was staring into the yard, searching frantically. “yeah. been in the industry five years now, makes you a lot of money. i guess.”
“you guess?” he didn’t answer, instead suddenly pulled you out of the view of the backyard. he looked around, sees that it’s clear, and pulled you towards the stairs.
“keep your head down for a second,”
you put your head down and walk quickly next to him. “ricky, what the hell?”
“just... hang on.”
“why the hell are you pulling me?”
“shut up for a second.”
you stared at him, taken aback. “fine.”
once you got upstairs, he pulled you into a random room.
“here’s my guest room. make yourself comfortable i’ll... be right back,”
you folded your arms over your chest. “why the hell did you bring me here just to hide me?”
ricky looked at you with wide eyes. “no, no! i’m not trying to hide you, necessarily. i just... don’t think either of us want anyone to see you.”
“harsh, but fine. go, mingle or whatever. just be quick. i don’t want my parents to be more pissed than they probably already are,” he thanked you and ran out of the room quickly. you sighed and sat in a chair in the corner of the room, pulling out your phone.
ashlyn; talked to ur parents. told them that you’re with a friend of mine because you fell and he wanted to take care of you. they’re not... happy, necessarily. less pissed than before tho
ashlyn; u still alive over there?
you; yeah. ricky hid me in his guest bedroom so he could go mingle at some party i’m assuming his parents are throwing
ashlyn; OHH yeah his parents threw a party tonight, i don’t see why he needs to be there?
you; he told me on the way here that a producer of the show he’s trying to get a role in is here and he wasn’t supposed to leave home this weekend
you; idk or at least that’s what i think he said i didn’t rly pay attention
ashlyn; aren’t you just a kind ball of sunshine
as you were typing your response, you heard a guitar strumming from outside. looking up and realizing that the balcony door was open, you decided to go see what was going on. you looked down and saw ricky sitting on a stool, strumming his guitar. he started to sing— a song you didn’t recognize. you knew most of his music (in result from camilla blasting it around the house every chance possible) but this one sounded new.
you say you gotta think it over
i can't stop thinkin' of you
is he the guy you want to hold ya
i'll be here when you need me to
you listened, suddenly intrigued. this song was nice— gentle, almost. you actually kinda liked it. and he seemed at peace as he was singing in front of these people, he seemed genuinely happy.
make you feel beautiful in the morning
light you up when the rain won't stop pouring
'cause there's a million little things I haven't told ya
it kills me every time he's with you, so
ricky made eye contact with you and his expression almost softened when he saw you watching. he smiled gently at you.
he continued the song. he seemed to be in a trance, so focused on the song and perfecting it. as you listened to the lyrics of what was obviously a love song, you sighed. it was beautiful, but you didn’t think it was appropriate for you to just be standing here watching him, as if this was a big romantic gesture in a movie. before he finished singing, you turned away and left the guest room.
you made your way down to the garage, trying to avoid anyone who happened to be inside— for both yours and ricky’s sake. you slipped into the garage quickly and before you even took ten steps inside, ricky was behind you.
“what are you doing?” he asked, a happy expression still on his face from singing. your eyes widened at his expression but you shook the feeling off quickly.
“i want to go home,”
“alright. were you planning on walking?”
you rolled your eyes. “haha. no dumbass, i was going to wait for you in here. not walking to glendale.”
he grabbed a pair of car keys from the hooks. “hey, glendale’s not that far, you’d make it there alright.”
“yeah, a teenage girl walking the streets of california at random hours of the night by herself. definitely make it there alright.”
he hummed. “you did it earlier,” he winked at you and moved to open the passenger door of his blue car for you. you got into the car and he closed the door, going to the drivers side.
“what’s your grandmas address?”
you told him the address and he pulled out of the garage, checking to make sure no one was watching, pulled out of his driveway, and drove down the street.
“so, what are you in california for?” he asked after a couple minutes of silence.
“holidays. we haven’t spent christmas with my family in a while, and california with my grandma seemed like a somewhat neutral place for us and my aunt and uncle to come to.”
“and where are you from?”
“western new york.”
ricky whistles. “completely across the country. yikes. different time zone too, right?”
“yeah. and the jet lag is an ass, i’m exhausted.”
“oh i get that. when i go on tour... i do nothing but sleep, eat, and perform.”
“that is quite the life to live.”
“tell me about it,” although he obviously meant that as a joke, there was a lining of bitterness in his tone that you picked up on. you looked over at him, but he stared straight forward at the road.
“so,” he started again, obviously eager to change the subject. “ashlyn’s your cousin?”
“mhm, has been my whole life,” you joked and he rolled his eyes playfully at you. “i had no idea you guys knew each other.”
“you didn’t know she was talking to big red?”
“i knew she was talking to a boy, she didn’t mention who he was, other than showing me a couple pictures. didn’t even tell me it was nini’s birthday party she was going to tonight.”
“oh. yeah, ashlyn’s the best. big red’s really happy with her.”
“and she seems happy with him. turn left here,” you pointed and he moved over into the turning lane. he turned onto your grandmas street and her house was the second on the right.
“thank you. for the ride,” you said awkwardly as you opened the door to his car.
“yeah, sure. thank you... for not getting too pissed at me for making you have to get stitches.”
you give him a small laugh and sit for a moment, feeling like you should say something else, but finally deciding to just leave. you said a small bye and he gave you a small wave and you rushed into the back door of your grandma’s house.
#ricky#bowen#ricky bowen#ricky bowen headcanons#ricky bowen one shots#ricky bowen x reader#ricky bowen starstruck au#starstruck au#nini salazar roberts#ashlyn caswell#hsmtmts#hsm the series#high school musical the musical the series#joshua bassett#olivia rodrigo#gina porter#ej caswell#big red
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Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #12
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Suit Story
If you went through Ginza’s Main Street from 7-chome to 1-chome, the change in the city’s atmosphere would shock you. Bulgari, Cartier, Louis Vuitton, Chanel. Felt like you could play shiritori with these high-class brand names. It was a fun neighborhood to stroll around during Christmas season, as all the stores would come up with elaborate plans for the decorative lights, but it was currently autumn. The store most closely related to me in these vicinities was the long-established stationery store where I went to buy stationery. It was, however...
“Please raise your arms a little more.”
“All right.”
“Pull your chin back a bit. Yeah, that’s great.”
“Haah. Is this really right?”
“Of course. Might be hard, but please do relax.”
For whatever reason, I was across the street from the stationery store, practically in front of it, on the second floor of a branded men’s fashion store originally from England. On the walls of this mysterious-gentleman-themed space, which housed a bar counter and even a huge aquarium, there were clusters of business suits, pants and waistcoats with basting threads attached to them in conspicuous spots.
It was a place for taking measurements for custom-made stuff.
I couldn’t get over the feeling that this was some kind of mistake. Wasn’t this the stationery store? The place where you could buy vanilla-colored envelopes for 30 yen each? Or illustrated writing paper with seasonal vibes, or pens.
“Seigi, you are too nervous.”
“Nakata-san is such an imp, but so are you.”
Leaning against the bar counter, Richard shrugged his shoulders, indicating possibility.
Today was Thursday. Having been called by Richard, who said he wanted to ask me to do some odd job, I went over to the front of Etranger, and then we came to this store in the green jaguar. Just when I thought he was gonna make me hang with him for shopping, the man on the driver seat hastily took out his phone, showing me a video letter from my dad, Nakata-san.
“Seigi, congrats on your graduation. I wanted to go suit shopping with you, but I’m in Jakarta, so I’ll be borrowing Richard-san’s assistance for that. Seems like people are getting them custom-made lately. Make sure to buy a good one. Well, see ya.”
Richard had watched over me in the passenger seat as my eyes got wet, but the tears drew back in when we stepped into the store.
While talking lightheartedly about the difference between English and Italian suits, the young clerk, who wasn’t all too apart from me in age, smoothly took my body measurements with a measuring tape and showed me countless textures.
“You can also choose the lining. What should we do about the pockets?”
When I started getting dizzy, said man, who was like a page of suits, began giving me suggestions from behind. I had nowhere to run. I was really going to have my suit made here. As I picked a charcoal-gray suit with blue lining, Richard quickly told me that tanzanite cuffs would look very nice in it. Of course, I was thinking the exact same thing.
By the moment that the Onii-san finished the measuring and disappeared into the back of the store to take notes, I heaved a deep sigh. “This kinda stuff’s been happening a lot lately. All I ever do is receive.”
When I said that, Richard laughed, giggles ringing up his throat.
Richard had two types of smiles, and whenever he raised his voice while laughing, if I refused to back down, he’d often give me a word of advice of some sort. When it was a silent smile, I’d feel like he was telling me in some way to “reflect about myself”, which would make me a bit anxious, but I liked both.
Walking up next to me as I stood in front of the mirror, Richard grinned. “It is no longer guaranteed that your body will grow out of your clothes. Isn’t it fun to sometimes purchase slightly larger clothes and try to wait for your body’s growth?”
“Feeling like this talk doesn’t have the ‘sleep well and drink milk’ kinda nuance to it.”
The reply was a smile. How strange. Richard’s face was right at my left side, but the smile in the mirror was looking directly at me. Clad in a double-button slender silhouette suit, his figure was perfect no matter from what angle I looked at it, like an extraordinarily fine jewel, so my own figure as I tensed up beside him appeared even weirder.
“Hey, Richard, I kinda have the feeling that suits are like the base metals of jewelry.”
“Are you referring to the foundation parts of rings, earrings and such?”
I nodded. The base metal was the metal part that formed the foundation for attaching gemstones to jewelry. In stores, people would often memorize the materials and call them by their names, such as gold base metal or platinum base metal.
It was a part that never played the leading role in Etranger, which handled accessories with gemstones on them. But it’d be hard to wear jewelry on the body without it, and it was also a part that allowed people to express their particularities regarding the materials, durability and design. Whether they would be prominent or not depended on the basis. Erm, this was probably what a jeweler from Kyoto that I was acquainted with would say. The contrary was also possible.
“Gotta psyche myself up. If I don’t become someone that won’t lose to this suit, I’d feel bad.”
“This is my personal opinion, but there is nothing more tiring to look at than a jewelry in which the gem and base metal are at rivalry with one another. What you should emphasize is the harmony. Just because you use the finest high-grade eggs and milk as ingredients, it does not mean you will create the best pudding – is that not the same thing?”
“Ah...”
When I replied that, indeed, high-end ingredients were often strongly in demand, the beautiful man nodded with an “exactly as you say”. By the looks of it, those were the sweets that he was into lately. I hadn’t been able to take time some for it at all due to being busy, but I decided to make pudding again one of these days and offer to him. Despite having a wallet that enabled him to eat as many high-grade desserts as he wanted, Richard would always be delighted anew no matter how many of them I made, which made me believe that, as one would expect, he had a talent for pleasing people. I was grateful for his existence.
“Both suits and jewelry are goods that exist for the sake of their owners. The initiative is clear from the start. You must handling it skillful and comfortably, not fight against it. That is why it is custom-made.”
“So you’re also ‘skillfully handling’ the clothes you’re wearing right now?”
“Evidently. Enough that I do not know anymore at what point it ends and I begin.” With that said, Richard sleekly patted his suit. I wanted to try saying that too someday.
We exchanged glances not through the mirror but directly.
When the clerk Onii-san came back, the measuring recommenced. I got kind of embarrassed as he praised me, saying I was well-relaxed.
“Seigi-kun, good work! Wow, that suit looks really great on you.”
“Thanks, Tanimoto-san. Uh, this print on your furisode, could it be—”
“I was told it’s a modern type of print, but yep, it’s kinda like...”
“It looks like a bismuth crystal!”
With a face that said, “I know, right”, a dandy crease formed under her eyes, which were just a bit more on-the-mark than usual. Her bob-cut hair was the same as always, her cream-colored hakama paired with a yellow-green and dark blue furisode, which bore a mysterious geometric pattern print. On top of being cute, it was unique. She said it was rented, but I got emotional upon finding out there was a furisode that was so much like her.
As for me, I was wearing a double-button English suit that fit my body extremely well. It was a little embarrassing, but the creatures called college boys were more or less the same kind of individuals as myself, so they weren’t too mindful of their male friends’ clothes. Only one of them, who had found employment in the apparel industry, said that “the suit Nakata’s wearing is so nice”.
It was the graduation ceremony of Kasaba University. We gathered in the excessively large auditorium for all but an instant, and once we had our diplomas in hand, it was the beginning of a rapid shooting party, where we took pictures with our preferred friends in spaces near the auditorium. Tanimoto-san came running over to the spot near the central library, where we had decided to meet up.
“Seigi-kun, really, congrats. Things might get hard from now on, but if it’s you, everything will definitely be okay.”
“Thank you. I’ll do my best. I don’t think I’m that big of a deal, though...”
“That’s not true. I know very well how awesome you are.”
I played around a little and bowed my head, also congratulating Tanimoto-san for her graduation, she laughed with a “huhuhu”, looking happy.
She had passed in teaching and she would officially be a middle school science teacher starting this April. She fulfilled the dream that she had told me about when we were in our second year of undergrad. So cool. She had laughed when I said I wanted to take her classes if it were ever possible, but now I knew her video communication address, so it might be that I could actually get to attend her lectures at least once. Even if I were no longer living in Japan.
“Tanimoto-san, the school you’re assigned to is...”
“In Okayama Prefecture. It’s famous for the Katsuta Group of vicarya fossils. Compared to you, it’s next-door.”
In a few days, my address would change from Japan to Sri Lanka. I was going to be a jeweler apprentice. I had been told that I would often have to move around in rough dress, so sure enough, I was going to dedicate myself to wearing formal stuff for the time being. It was a bit of a waste, but Nakata-san and Richard had probably given me a chance to wear this kind of thing because they knew about that.
I could hear a voice in the distance calling, “Shouko~”. It was apparently a friend of Tanimoto-san’s. She waved at them in response.
“Seigi-kun, y’know... I think I was very lucky to meet you in this university. Literally thank you. Thanks to you, university was always fun.”
“Those are all my lines. But Tanimoto-san, I only ever gave you trouble.”
“If you’re gonna say that, same goes for me. I feel like you’ve granted me many opportunities. Seriously, thank you.”
When she smiled, saying she was going to do her best, she looked really cute. Neither of us had any familiarity with Okayama, but surely, she would actively pave the way with her own strength no matter where she was. And on her days off, she would go out to the Katsuta Group to dig up fossils.
“From now on too, if there’s anything I can help you with, I want you to tell me. I’ll do anything. If you run into any weirdo, I’ll get on a plane and come give them a beating.”
“Me too; if anyone ever messes up with you, Seigi-kun, I’ll take my crack hammer and go finish them off. Look forward to it. Ah, Aki told me that a sniper rifle suits me better, apparently?”
“I-I wonder.”
After that, we talked for a while, seated on an inconspicuous bench, and when it was finally time, she told me to at least take care of my body, offering me her hand. I nodded and squeezed it back. Her hand was small but very strong.
“Take care of your body, at the very least. May the blessings of the stones fall upon you.”
“Thank you. You too.”
We bowed deeply, taking pictures with each other while we were at it, and once we were done with the commemorative photoshoot, in which the two of us kept a moderate distance from one another, we parted ways. Students here and there were hugging intensely and wailing, but neither she nor I were that type, and I didn’t think this would be farewell for a lifetime. We would definitely get to see each other from now on too.
However, this was our last time seeing each other while we were students. After the handshake, my angel waved her hand with a “see you”, even more brightly than an actual angel.
Later on, having finished looking around for the friends that I could call friends and going on a tour to tell them “thank you for everything until now”, lastly, I sent a brief text. Not to Richard. To Nakata-san and Hiromi.
“I was able to graduate from university without problems. Thank you very much, truly. I will be in your care from now on too.”
Rather than a greeting, it turned into a notice to announce my renewed determination. The stylish suit indeed gave off an extraordinary feeling of fittingness, but I couldn’t think I was fully used to it. Obviously. It finished being made just a while ago. It would start from here. If it would take on my shape the more I wore it, then I would make sure to wear it steadily to my own liking.
What mattered was the harmony, he had said.
While smoothly stroking the suit, which I still couldn’t deem as anything other than formal wear, as if I were stroking my favorite gemstone, I seared the contrast of cherry blossom petals against the blue sky into my eyes.
#housekishou richard shi no nazo kantei#housekishou richard#jeweler richard#the case files of jeweler richard#nakata seigi#richard ranashinghe de vulpian#richard ranashinha de vulpian#tanimoto shouko#richard#tsujimura nanako#yukihiro utako#novel#jr short story collection#my translation
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Day 17: Royality
@tsshipmonth2020 (does this still count so late?)
What’s that? Ly creating content? Unbelievable. (I have writer’s block, leave me alooone /j)
Thanks to @marshymoop for suggestions and encouragment when making this bad boy! Love ya <3
Day 17 - Everyone has heterochromia, one eye is your natural color the other is your soulmate’s natural color. Once you meet all eyes return to natural color.
Content warnings: food/drink mention, alcohol, mentions of hangover, vampires, referring to drinking blood as “eating”, non-explicit blood drinking, being chased.
Word count: 6.9k
THE CITY OF DEWMORE WELCOMES YOU
Patton tapped his fingers on the steering wheel excitedly, nearly vibrating as he passed the weathered sign. Beyond it, beckoning him forward, stood a forest more densely packed and darker than he’d ever had the pleasure of exploring, the achingly tall pine trees swaying minutely in the breeze, their tips barely visible through the blanket of fog. Just imagining what could be held within those depths made his leg bounce; forgotten, moss-drenched stone paths, broken stumps of fallen trees that hadn’t made a sound upon impact, patches of mushrooms scattered in the shadows, and whispering creeks. It was the perfect way to spend his spring break, and one his photography teacher had wholeheartedly encouraged him to take. If he hadn’t had so many midterms to mark, Patton was almost sure the man would have tried to join him.
Almost an anxious tic at this point, he ran his free hand over the photography bag in his passenger seat, as if to make sure it hadn’t disappeared in the three minutes since he’d last checked. The thing was his prized possession, given to him by the very same photography professor at his university. It had been the elder’s own, before he got his newest camera, and gifted the whole set to his favorite (but don’t tell the others) students. It was full of perfectly kept lenses and two miniature tripods, extra batteries and memory cards, speedlights, and most importantly, the camera tucked safely into the biggest pouch. It was more expensive than Patton would ever have dreamt to buy, so it was truly a gift he’d never forget. Now it was up to him to finally take some shots worthy of the thing.
The forests continued to grow denser and thicker until, in almost a shocking snap, they disappeared to reveal a quaint city that he hadn’t quite expected. The first few buildings he passed looked like they may have stood there for hundreds of years, weather worn and faded. Their signs were either scratched to nothingness or blaringly new, shining metal names standing out against an ancient backdrop. He was looking for a motel, figuring there had to be one, even in a town of less than two thousand people. His backup plan was to just sleep in his car. He’d brought his sleeping back and extra blankets, so it wasn’t a huge concern, but he’d still prefer a bed. But whenever he’d tried finding anything online, he’d come up blank.
A fog still covered the town, and though it created an air of calm and mystery that Patton was itching to capture, he also knew the area was surrounded by towering mountains that he also desired so badly. To his right, the buildings stopped abruptly, revealing a grey beach, all rocks and no sand, criss crossed with logs, opening to a dark lake. The other side wasn’t visible through the mist.
The further he drove, he realized the buildings weren’t improving in their modernity, just giving way to more and more old infrastructure. One stood out, a grocery store, it’s lights piercing through the evening dim. Patton didn’t get a look inside before he passed, once again surrounded antique houses and shops, a post office to his left, and a tavern just across from that. A sign above the door read “Vacancy” in peeling white letters, and that was all the enticing Patton needed to pull his car into the gravel parking lot in front of the building. There was only one other vehicle there, a matte red pickup truck that he parked next to, and what appeared to only be three more parking spots. From the high placed windows, a soft orange light bled, and a round of raucous laughter filtered through the cracked open door. Patton smiled. The photographer inside him was going to have a field day here.
He stepped up the concrete steps and ruffled his hair with one hand so it covered his eye, heaving a sigh in hopes to calm his nervous butterflies, and pulled the door open.
All at once, the chatter inside died, and Patton internally shrank as every face in the tavern turned to look at the newcomer. There was a moment of tense silence as he tried his best for a smile and met the gaze of the men scrutinizing him, drinks forgotten on high wooden tables, jubilance halted. Patton waited with baited breath, for someone to do something, why were they all just staring, when a voice spoke from behind the bar.
“Don’t worry about them, sweetheart. We don’t get a lot of new people around here.”
And the lull was broken as suddenly as it started, the men now ignoring him in favor of joking over mugs of fizzing ale. Patton swallowed thickly and turned to the voice, shoving his quivering hands into his pockets and shaking his head again to assure the curls were safely covering his eye. As usual.
The man standing before him, leaning on the bar with an easy smile, was almost enough to take Patton’s breath away. If he were a religious man, he’d go so far as to call him heavenly. Eyes as dark as the depths of the surrounding forests, auburn hair pushed back from his face in what he could only think to describe as an intentional bedhead. His skin was too flawless, teeth just a couple shades too white, everything perfect in a way that was almost…
Patton couldn’t put his finger on it.
“What can I get you, newbie?”
“Uhm-” Patton took a cleansing breath and sat at one of the barstools, all of them empty seeing as the crowd seemed more drawn to the tables in the center of the room, “I don’t come to bars that often. I don’t know.”
The bartender hummed, pushing up his already rolled up white sleeves and giving Patton a once over, almost investigating him. “You drink?”
“I… I guess.”
“Been on the road for a while, tired?”
“Do I look that exhausted?” Patton breathed a laugh, suddenly aching to pop his spine. He’d been driving since before dawn for the past three days, barely hunkering down for a decent sleep before he was off again. He’d been really excited to get here, plus he didn’t want to waste more of his meager break driving.
“I got just what you need, darling.” With a wink, the bartender straightened up and pulled down a series of bottles, cracking his knuckles with flourish before measuring them into a silver canister. “So what brings you to Dewmore?”
“I’m a photographer,” Patton said, “Or, a photography student. Down in Florida.”
The man whistled as he shoveled ice cubes into the mix, “Long drive for some pictures.”
“I’m… dedicated,” Patton laughed, scratching at his neck nervously. “My prof recommended it, said it might be a nice place to spend my break.”
“I assume you’re looking for a place to stay then, as well?” He plopped a cap on the canister and began to shake it above his shoulder, grinning widely, “These guys are always just like, ‘Gimme a beer’ this, ‘Gimme a beer’ that. It’s great to actually make fun drinks again.” With hands flying too fast for Patton to process, he grabbed a glass, popped the lid of the shaker, and poured the deep orange drink, tossing on a green sprig and sliding the drink over. “Enjoy.”
Patton took a cautious sip of the drink and had to fight not to sigh, the refreshing taste a welcome relief after three days of gas station Gatorade and hotel sink water. He could barely taste any alcohol, more focused on the ice cold sweet tartness at the back of his tongue. The bartender looked pleased, huffing a satisfied laugh and beginning to put away his bottles. He was taking another sip, satisfied with the backdrop of joyous chatter and clinking glasses, when he remembered why he’d come in.
“Yes, I am. Uhm, looking for a place to stay, that is.”
The bartender looked at him over his shoulder, “We haven’t had visitors in… a while, at least. You’ve pretty much got your pick of the rooms.”
“Do you have anything facing the water?” He took another sip, the photo possibilities already flowing through his mind. One through the window, just far back enough to catch the flow of the curtains and the chipped wood of the window ledge, a monochromatic lakeshore in the bottom third, a barely visible mountain looming ahead…
“Sure thing, sweetheart. Let me just finish this up, and I’ll get you on the ledger.”
“Patton.” He downed the rest of the drink and rested his elbow on the counter, chin in his palm, an easy smile playing on his lips.
“Hm?”
“My name’s Patton.”
“I’m Roman.” Tossing the towel over his shoulder, Roman gave him another wink before disappearing into the back room, coming back moments later with a thick black book. He was already thumbing through the pages, finally landing on the one he wanted, and spun a pen between his fingers.
“What’s your last name, sweetheart?”
Patton spelled it out for him, and was surprised when the man clapped the book shut after the final letter. “That’s all you need?”
“Yup.”
“No… ID, or anything?” It was at that moment when it occurred to Patton that, although he was legal, his baby face often prompted bouncers and servers back home to ask for identification. Roman hadn’t even blinked before serving him.
“Got anything to hide?”
“Uhm… no, I-”
“Good enough for me. It’s not like we’re a high traffic tourist spot. I don’t think we’ve had anyone take a room in, like, two years, and who knows how many before that. Frankly, I wouldn’t care if you were on the run for murder. Don’t kill me, and we’re solid.”
Patton blanched, unable to tell if the man was being sarcastic. Finally his expression cracked into a smirk and he brandished a key towards Patton, dangling it by the ring. “I’m messing with you. I mean, don’t kill me, that’s legit. Here you go, cutie. Let me know if you need anything.”
With that, he sashayed away with a tray of beers (when on Earth had he filled those?), and the men whooped loudly, startling Patton.
“Easy, boys,” Roman purred, beginning to round the tables, and Patton hopped off the bar stool to get his things from his car. He couldn’t wait to pass out in bed with the knowledge that he could sleep in however late he wanted.
-0-0-0-
But apparently sleep didn’t have the same ideas as him, because even after he was in comfortable clothes and tucked into the covers, he continued to toss and turn. Maybe it was the concept of being alone in a strange town, or the full moon shining through the thin curtains, or just plain excitement, but he suddenly felt wider awake then he had since he started this trip.
There was a soft rattling somewhere across the room and, with begrudging acceptance that he wasn’t going to sleep any time soon, fumbled his glasses on to search for the offending sound. With a grumble, he threw off the blankets and padded across the room to the window and tossed back the curtains, giving the moon a scalding glare for shining so darn brightly. It was the window, fitted loosely in its frame, being shook by the gentle wind that was causing the noise. Patton gave it an experimental tug, followed by a more forceful yank, and found it didn’t budge down at all. Instead, it continued to rattle mockingly, in what sounded almost like whispered giggles as he crossed his arms across his chest.
Fine. He turned his attention to the scenic view before him, letting out a minute shudder as a small gust of wind blew through his thin pajama shirt. Moonlit waves crashed against the rocky shore, tossing up silver spray against the dark backdrop of the forest. Patton took a breath, feeling an overwhelming sense of peace just staring at the silent town, the stone spires rising above the forest-
Wait, what?
Patton blinked sharply a couple times, leaning forward until his nose bumped the window and squinting through the glass. Those… things... definitely looked like manmade objects- the shape made it impossible for them to be natural- but you’d think he’d remember something that looked like a castle directly outside his window. In fact, he’d spent a significant amount of time upon first entering the room just admiring the view, and a castle one hundred percent would have been on his radar. Oh, if the thing was abandoned, imagine the photo opportunities, and even if it wasn’t he could totally just get some of the outside-
Yeah, there was no way he was sleeping now.
Before he’d even processed what he was doing, he’d slipped out of his pajamas and hurriedly pulled on the outfit he’d laid out on the desk chair, because there was no way he was digging through his suitcase to scrounge out more clothes. He threw a beige sweater over his white shirt, however, remembering the chill the night had brought and, after he’d adequate tucked them into his slacks, he threw his camera bag over his shoulder and trotted down the stairs.
Unsurprisingly, the first floor tavern was empty of all customers, overhead lights traded for softer electric lamps on the walls and the illuminated sign above the bar, where Roman was wiping down the counter, seemingly unbothered by the late hour.
“Can’t sleep, sweetheart?” The bartender called out without turning around, tossing his rag across the counter and into a full soapy bucket behind the bar.
“Uh, yeah, something like that,” Patton responded, shaking his bangs so they covered his eye. “I think I’m just too excited to start getting shots.”
“Mmm, you and me both.” He waggled his eyebrows and pulled a bottle of what looked like whiskey off the shelf. “What’s your poison?”
Patton snorted but shook his head, patting his camera bag, “I want to go out, and it’s probably not smart to drink before going out in a strange town at night.”
Roman shrugged before pouring himself a shot and downing it in one smooth motion.
“You’re allowed to drink on the job?”
The bartender hummed, replacing the bottle and locking the cabinet presumably for the night, “Once my tavern is empty, I consider myself off the clock. And I’m my own boss, so I hereby give myself the night off. I have a coffee machine in the back room, one of those Keurigs, if you want something fancy. Hasn’t been used in ages, but I’m sure if you wanted something, I-”
“No, it’s okay. Really.” Patton ducked his head and messed with his shirt, making sure the white collar stood above the neck of his sweater. He made his way over to the bar and took the same stool as before, leaning on the counter as Roman dumped out the dirty cleaning water into the sink. The clock above the bar, barely illuminated enough to see, revealed it was just after midnight. “Are there any old structures, like churches or anything, in the forest?”
Roman tilted his head, giving Patton a look over his shoulder he couldn’t quite understand.
“There’s nothing there besides wolves and ticks, sweetheart,” he said slowly with an almost condescending smile, “Why? Hoping the little town in the middle of nowhere has a mystery?” He rinsed out the bucket and placed it in the cabinet under the sink.
Patton shrugged, scratching at his temple, “I saw something outside of my window.”
“Like a tree?” The rag was rinsed as well and draped over the faucet.
“No, definitely not.” He tried not to feel too offended that Roman was clearly teasing him, but he was certain what he’d seen hadn’t been a tree. They were too tall, too angular, and too symmetrically placed for that.
“Pattycake, I grew up hunting with my dad and partying in those woods, and I would know if something were there.”
“Are you sure?” Patton implored, “There’s definitely something man made, could it be, like, an old castle, or something?”
There was a moment of silence between the two as Roman continued to look at Patton like he was crazy, the barest hints of an impish grin tugging at his lips, before he sucked in a sharp breath; as if he realized something.
On a dime, Roman’s expression contorted into one of anger, eyes alight with fury as he leaned into Patton’s space. As he spoke, his voice almost reverberated, like a choir speaking in unison.
“There is nothing in those woods, Patton. Understand? Don’t go wandering into places you don’t belong, or you won’t like what you find.”
Patton reared back from the forceful words, hand coming up subconsciously to readjust the hair on his face. Roman leaned just a tad closer, growling out a warning, “Got it, sweetheart?” The electric lamps on the walls, once creating such a homey, soft environment, suddenly flickered and Patton flinched, whipping around to face the large room as it seemed to strobe under the malfunctioning lights. Goosebumps spread across his arms as the flashing grew faster and his hand clamped over the back of his neck when a shiver raced up his spine.
“What’s going on? Why are-”
And then the lights went out completely, an eerie quiet settling over the tavern. Roman was silent. Was he even still in the room? Could he have left so quickly? The only sound in the empty room were Patton’s shaky breaths, in through the nose and out through the mouth, as he fought down a scream. He wasn’t a fan of the dark.
A single street light barely shone through the window, too dim to even light up the tables near the glass, and Patton turned to focus on it. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In… out… in… out-
A silhouette appeared in the window.
The lights were back to their original gleam before he could even open his mouth to scream, filling the room with a dull hum as if nothing had even happened. Blinking rapidly, Patton took a calming breath (it’s just old lights, it’s just old lights, relax) and swiveled back in his chair to find that Roman was smiling at him innocently, cleaning out a glass with a rag.
“Everything alright, sweetheart?”
“Didn’t you see that?” Patton asked incredulously.
“See what?” The bartender placed the glass into the last space in a row of them, giving Patton that same condescending grin as before.
Patton sighed and lifted his glasses to rub his eyes tiredly, shaking his head. “I think travelling for so long has me seeing things.” Careful as ever, in the same fashion he’d so masterfully perfected in elementary school, he shook his head to cover his eye- his stupid, left, ‘soulmate’ eye- before removing his hands and letting his glasses fall back into place.
Other kids won’t like it, sweetie. I don’t think the teachers will either.
I know you can’t help it, my love. If I could take this burden from you, I would. But this is yours to handle until… well, you know.
I don’t know why, Patton. You’ll find them someday. And then you’ll understand.
“Why do you do your hair like that?”
“Hmm?” Patton blinked.
Roman smirked, leaning casually on the counter in front of Patton, “Covering half of your face like that. You shouldn’t, you know. You’re a stunner.” With that, he reached forward, intent on moving that hair out of his face.
No.
“NO!” Patton yelled, stumbling off the barstool just as Roman’s hand made contact with his face. He ducked his head, roughly scraping his hair back in place with shaking hands, but the damage was done. A single cute guy compliments him and he forgets the habit he’s built up for years? How could he be so stupid-
“Everything alright? I’m sorry for scaring you, sweetheart.”
Was it possible he hadn’t seen it? Maybe Patton had moved fast enough, maybe the bartender had been too surprised to get a good look, maybe everything was fine. Roman didn’t seem horrified, or at all perturbed. Instead, he just looked… worried.
Either way, after that reaction, Patton was aching to be left alone to stew in his embarrassment. His rented room held nothing for him that he wanted, and sleep felt farther than ever, so his only choice was outside. The promises of a maybe-crumbling ancient building, illuminated by a full moon, were far more tempting than anything inside had to offer.
“Actually,” Patton said nervously, “A coffee would be great.”
Roman squinted at him, biting on the inside of his cheek before huffing a breathy laugh through his nose. “Alright, darling. Give me just a second to dust off the Keurig.”
The moment he disappeared behind the door to the backroom, Patton tightened his hold on the camera bag and sprinted from the tavern, into the grips of the cool night.
-0-0-0-
What would he say when he got back to the tavern? Would Roman make him leave the inn? Had he crossed a line he hadn’t known existed; would he have to cut his trip early because he couldn’t help his curiosity? Was bothering the only innkeeper in town really the smartest decision to make?
All wonderful questions that Patton wished he’d considered before running.
But if he did have to leave, and if this was his last night in this delightful and equally terrifying little town, he was going to make the most of it. At least, that’s what he’d thought he would do as he’d left the few city lights behind and treading deeper into the forest. He had a flashlight with him, thank goodness, so he wasn’t completely screwed, and he’d already gotten a few great shots. He stayed in the areas that the full moon could still shine through the trees, and some of the clouds had rolled away, so he was having the time of his life working with silhouettes against the star filled sky (thanks to the little to no light pollution Dewmore offered).
The more prominent thought in his mind, however, were the spires steadily growing closer above the treeline. He couldn’t understand what Roman had been talking about. How could anyone living in this town not see whatever he was walking towards?
(Admittedly, curiosity was also a huge reason he was chasing something he’d been warned to avoid. He’d never been that great at impulse control.)
It had to be nearly two in the morning when he came to an incline; a steep path constructed entirely of rocks fist-sized and larger. At the top, Patton could just barely see what looked to be the back of the castle, and he bounced slightly on his toes in excitement. He couldn’t tell from this distance the state it was in, or if it was possible anyone still lived there, but dang it if he wasn’t going to give it a go before he left. He’d walked all this way, after all.
The first few steps up the hill were the loudest thing he’d heard since he’d started his midnight adventure, and he cringed as they dropped away under his feet, knocking against each other as they fell to the ground.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Patton spun around, his flashlight slipping out of his hands. It rolled down between the rocks, casting split second light beams in every direction as it bounced towards the source of the voice, and stopped dead in the middle between the two of them. It settled on an indent created by Patton’s steps, aimed at the newcomer. Patton breathed a sigh of relief.
“Roman, goodness gracious! You scared the bejesus out of me,” Patton laid a hand on his chest and let out a huge gust of air. Roman didn’t move, and for the first time he noticed the absolute glare the bartender was giving him. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uhm… sorry about the… leaving. Thing. Are you mad?”
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Well, apparently they weren’t going to talk about it. “Oh- I’m sorry, is this private property? I didn’t see any signs, I’m- Wait, but look, Roman! See, that’s what I was talking-”
“You. Shouldn’t. Be. Here.”
Patton blinked at the harshness in his words, taken aback. How was this the same easy going bartender that he’d met earlier tonight? Whatever was beyond this hill, though, Roman obviously wasn’t going to allow Patton to see. Maybe it was dangerous, or something? Either way, he couldn’t deny his disappointment. “Yeah. I’m sorry, I’ll leave-”
“How did you get here?”
“I… um, walked?”
“No!” Roman hissed, finally stepping forward and plucking up the flashlight from the ground, “You shouldn’t be able to see the castle, or go near it, how the hell did you get here?!”
Before he could answer, the other man froze, whipping around as if he’d heard a noise from his left. And then Patton blinked, and Roman was in front of him, pulling him back down to solid ground. He dragged him by the arm to a fallen tree that was propped up against its own splintered stump, leaving it angled just a few feet off the ground.
“How did you- You were just over there, how-”
“Get down!”
“What?”
“Get. Down!” Roman shoved his shoulders and Patton had no choice but to collapse, blending into a pile of ferns beneath the bend of the tree. “Take off the backpack, put it in front of you. It blends in better than you do.” He yanked off the dark green camera bag as he spoke, situating it in front of Patton. “Don’t move, don’t make a sound, don’t fucking breathe, Patton, I swear.” The flashlight flicked off and thumped to the ground as Roman walked away, leaving him standing in the pale moonlight. Patton debated reaching for the flashlight, but that would mean exposing himself from the foliage he was tucked in and under, and Roman had seemed really scared.
There was a rustle in the underbrush in front of Roman, and the photographer shoved his fist into his mouth before he could gasp.
“Roman, it’s so nice to see you back home. It’s been far too long.”
“It’s been hardly a month, mother.”
The woman that emerged from the tree’s shadows wore a black cloak, nearly blending into the forest around her as the fabric swirled hypnotically by her ankles with each step. Silver embroidery made up the tight bodice and strung together the corset front, meeting at the bottom in an intricate knot and trailing almost down to the earth in two strands. How her intricate updo had stayed intact through a walk in the forest, Patton couldn’t understand.
However, if this was Roman’s mother, he did understand where he got his looks. The only word that came to his mind was ethereal; all smooth pale skin, those same impossibly dark eyes, red lips curved in a constant, easy smile. She was beautiful, but she was terrifying, and Patton backed up more into his fern hiding spot.
She lifted her flared sleeves towards Roman as she stepped into the moonlit opening and he pulled her hands towards himself, kissing both of her cheeks before releasing her.
“A month is too long, darling,” She purred, letting the back of her hand trail down his cheek. “I don’t understand why you find it necessary to stay amongst those humans when you could be with your family.”
“Because I want more than just… lounging, and talking with my brothers. Do you have to bring this up every time I visit?” Despite his slightly aggravated tone, he leaned into her touch.
“When you’re older, you’ll look back at these choices with embarrassment and resentment.”
“Maybe.”
“I just don’t want you to blame me when you do.”
“I could never, I promise.”
She sighed heavily, “They miss you, Roman. We all do.”
“Which is why I’m here, mom. You act as if I’ve been gone a millenia.”
“Worrying is what a mother does best,” She smiled fondly, tapping his cheek with her finger, “You’re home, darling. Drop the glamor? It must be tiring keeping it up constantly.”
There was a moment of hesitation, where Patton couldn’t help but tense up along with the man in front of him. Then the air shifted, like it had been holding a breath it could finally let out, and though there was nothing different that Patton could see from Roman’s back, a certain jolt of fear hit him out of nowhere.
“There’s my boy.” The woman drew him in for a proper hug, one hand reaching around his back to rest on his head. She pressed a kiss to his hair when he wrapped his arms around her in turn. Suddenly her nose wrinkled and she pulled away, holding his shoulders at arm’s length. “Dearest, you smell like humans again.”
Roman chuckled, but there was a new quiver in his voice. “The only flaw in being surrounded by them so often. Let me change, and I’ll come meet you for dinner.”
She didn’t move, eyes narrowing as she watched his face. “No… it’s not you.”
“What? What else could it possibly-”
“There’s a human here.” Her voice was utterly calm, but she pushed Roman behind her resolutely. “There must be.”
“What?!”
A low growl filled the air, and it took Patton a few moments to realize the sound was originating from her. She stepped past Roman, her dress flowing soundlessly along with her as she glared into the woods around them.
Her eyes flashed red.
Once again, Patton shoved his fist into his mouth to hide a scream. That same alien jolt of fear returned as she moved closer to him, seemingly zeroing in on his location.
“Mother, come now. You’re being silly. Humans can't even come near here, remember? You made sure of that yourself!”
Patton tore his eyes away from the advancing woman and his breath caught in his throat. Roman had followed his mother, trying to placate her gently with a hand on her arm, and in doing so, had turned towards Patton’s hiding spot.
When Patton opened his eyes shortly after being born, he was taken away from his mother, despite his parent’s strong objections and his wails. He was returned hours later, much to their relief. On his birth certificate, his right eye was labeled blue. His left eye, the side usually taken by the natural color of his soulmate’s, was labeled ‘Defective’.
When he was set to start school at six years old, his mother sat him down on his bed and taught him how to properly cover his left eye with his hair. They’d grown it out enough to do so. Patton had asked why it was necessary, and subsequently learned the truth that not all people were as accepting and loving as his parents.
When he was ten, he returned home from school crying. He dropped into his mother’s arms and she held him until his sobs turned to sniffles, until he could explain between sharp breaths that a bully at school had revealed Patton’s eye while trying to force him into a fight, and… well, his classmates hadn’t taken it well. Those who weren’t downright afraid of him, refused to eat or sit with him anymore. But it wasn’t fair. He couldn’t help it!
His eye was labeled ‘Defective’, because never before had the doctor’s seen a child born with a red eye. Not the pale color that came with pinkeye, or an allergic reaction, but the iris itself was such a bold, blood red color that it had left the team scrambling for any record of such an incident. They were left with more questions than answers. But the world had yet to understand how soulmates worked in the first place, so they chalked it up to another universal mystery.
Every day for as long as he could remember, Patton had stared into a mirror first thing in the morning, greeted with calm, airy blue on one side, and fiery, almost electric red on the other.
So it was jarring to see such a sight, yet reversed, on another person. But as Roman tugged again on his mother’s arm, there was no denying it; the man’s own color was a gleaming ruby, and the other was Patton’s very own blue.
“Mother, look,” Roman blurted out, scooping up the discarded flashlight from the forest floor, “This is a human tool. I’m sure this is what you’re smelling.”
She ripped the device from his hand, shaking it in his face, “That is still far too close to home, Roman! Humans have been here, and I guarantee they are still nearby.”
“And you don’t know how many there are, Mom!” Roman insisted, taking her hands. “It doesn’t matter how they got here, or why they did,” A slow grin spread across his face, highlighting a pair of glinting fangs, “Why don’t you gather the family, and we can find them together? I can’t even remember the last time I really ate.”
The woman was satiated by this answer, though she still cast the forest cautious looks. “Stay put, Roman. We’ll be back shortly.” Her nose wrinkled again. “Along with a change of clothes for you.”
And then she was gone, the only remaining trace being the tiny cloud of dust she’d left behind. Roman was calm for a moment, making sure she was really gone, before his demeanor dropped. The cocky smirk was gone, and he no longer held the confidence he’d had, either as a bartender or in the presence of his mother.
“We don’t have a lot of time, c’mon! Let’s go!” He crouched before the log, extending his hand to Patton.
“What the hell are you?!” Patton shrieked. Interesting, that those were the first words from his jumble of thoughts that came out.
“Oh, come on, do you really need to ask? I’m pretty sure you already know!”
And yeah, Patton was pretty sure he knew. He wasn’t an idiot. He’d had a teen Twilight phase, so of course the obvious answer was there. It just… it wasn’t possible. His brain was scrambling for any kind of other solution, anything that made sense, but it all kept circling to the same answer.
The cute bartender at the inn was a vampire.
…
Okay then.
Next problem.
“I… yeah. I think I got it.”
“Good! Now let’s go!” Roman grabbed Patton’s hand and yanked, effectively pulling him from his hiding place and nearly tearing the arm from it’s socket. Patton stumbled from the sudden movement and tripped on his camera bag, yelping as he crashed into Roman’s chest.
The vampire’s hands instantly wrapped around his waist, steadying him as he found his footing.
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m all good, I just-”
Roman was much taller than he’d thought; that was the initial thought that came to mind as he looked up at the man holding him. The second was, well, the fact that his jaw had dropped open upon seeing Patton’s eyes, and for the first time since they’d met, the guy was completely speechless.
Patton felt his left eye began to tingle as they shifted into its own natural color. He ignored it.
“You really didn’t see it? At the bar?” Patton whispered.
“No, you moved too fast,” Roman murmured, bringing a hand up to Patton’s cheek. “You… you’re my-”
He must have sensed something, or heard something that was too quiet for Patton’s ears, because his head whipped towards the castle.
“We need to go. Now.” Roman intertwined their fingers and pulled him into a run towards the town.
“Wait, no! My bag!” He tugged hard to try and get his hand free, but he was truly no match for Roman.
“Not important right now, sweetheart!”
Without the aid of his flashlight, and enveloped by the darkness of the forest, Patton was totally blind, relying only on Roman’s grip to keep him from falling. Branches hit his face and roots reached up to trip him, but every time he stumbled, the hand tightened and pulled him back upright.
A howl cut through the air.
“What now, werewolves?!” Patton shrieked.
“Don’t be ridiculous, werewolves aren’t real!” Roman scoffed, “They’re normal wolves! What, you think just because we’re vampires, we’re unable to have pets?”
“Is this really a conversation we should be having at this exact moment?!” Patton shot back.
“You’re right, you’re right, okay.”
The howls were growing closer, and it was clear by Roman’s increased pace that this wasn’t about to be a friendly reunion.
“Can we outrun them?!”
“I take it you’ve never met a wolf!”
Patton looked up at him desperately, already struggling to keep up the conversation and keep up with Roman.
“I thought vampires had… like, super speed!”
“I wouldn’t be able to go for long, especially carrying you. Jump!”
Patton leapt blindly, feeling the side of a fallen log scrape the toes of his shoes. The landing was rough, sparks of pain shooting up his legs, but he was quickly pulled back upright.
“I don’t have the energy! I haven’t eaten in months!”
There were more yowls, definitely closer this time, followed by the sound of multiple animals fighting, barely louder than a voice shouting (presumably) at the racket. Whether it was the wolves having a spat, or a prey animal that had gotten in the way of the hunt, Patton didn’t know. It drew out a small whimper from him either way.
He didn’t want to be next.
“Do you trust me?” Roman suddenly gasped, holding his hand firmer.
“What?!”
“Do. You. Trust. Me?!”
Patton didn’t exactly think he had a choice right now. His feet were aching, his lungs were burning, and he wasn’t sure he could run another minute without his legs giving out. “I- Yeah! Sure!”
“Good enough,” Roman grunted bitterly, screeching to a halt, and using his grip on the other’s arm to stop him too. Before Patton could even bring himself to complain, or scream at him, or just incoherently yell, the vampire was drawing him to his chest, puppeting his arms so they were around his shoulders.
“Hold on.”
Obediently, Patton tightened the grip. “Why-”
And then there was a sharp pain in his neck, and his eyes widened. The sting almost immediately morphed into a pleasant warmth, the distant howling being replaced by a faint humming, the buzzing of his own mind calming, becoming numb until the only thought in his head was Roman, Roman, Roman-
He could feel Roman’s hand on his head, not restricting it, but cupping the back of it so he could lean against him as he stared up at the night sky, the full moon, and the slow blurring of the tops of the pine trees. His other arm was wrapped around his waist tightly, holding him up, and Patton was beyond grateful for the support as his legs began to turn to jelly. The last thing Patton felt was the vampire scooping up his legs and his head being cradled against the soft material of Roman’s shirt.
Then everything went dark.
-0-0-0-
Patton woke up slowly, squinting against the harsh sunlight streaming through his window. He dropped an arm across his eyes lazily, letting out a low groan at his pounding headache. There were voices downstairs in the tavern, and what sounded like dishes clanging, and he wondered if somehow this place was also a restaurant. How on earth could anybody run an establishment like that? It’s like the place never slept-
A wave of nausea pooled in his gut due to the speed of which he sat up but that wasn’t important, not right now. He flung his blankets back and… oh. He was dressed in his pajamas. Last he could remember, in the woods, running with Roman, he’d been in day clothes, in the sweater and shirt that was now draped on a chair across the room. His camera bag was... on the desk. His shoes were by the door, dirt free.
He raised his finger tips to his neck, expecting to feel a raised scab, or scar, any sign that he’d been bitten. There was nothing.
He swung his legs over the sides of the beds and immediately shut his eyes, fighting off an explosion of dizziness induced sparks that shot across his vision. It sure felt as if he’d lost some blood. As much as he didn’t want to believe he had a hangover from one drink, that could also be an explanation. He’d always been a bit of a lightweight.
A dream. Was it all just… a dream?
A feeling of disappointment washed over him and he sighed, running his hands up through his hair. Something soft snagged on his fingers and he carefully detangled it from the curls, pulling it out curiously. He blinked at the fern leaf between his finger tips. That definitely hadn’t happened between his car, the tavern, or the room... So-
He sucked in a breath sharply as his eyes locked with the mirror’s reflection in front of him, every thought coming to a halt.
Because staring back, for the first time ever, were two perfectly blue eyes.
I have a bunch of world building ideas that weren’t included in this fic, shoot me an ask if you have any lore questions!
General taglist:
@max-is-tired
@private-snippers
@joylessnightsky
#lywrites#tsshipmonth2020#royality#roman sanders#patton sanders#vampire au#sanders sides#sanders sides fanfiction#sanders sides au#sanderssides#sanderssidesfanfiction
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unrequited (draco malfoy/ cedric diggory series)
PROMPT: You and Cedric grew up together. After the tragedy of the Triwizard Tournament, you’re left feeling empty without your best friend. Draco Malfoy steps into the picture. Will the feelings be reciprocated? Or will it be unrequited?
WARNINGS: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, angst, fluff, sadness???
PAIRING: draco malfoy x reader and cedric diggory x reader; hufflepuff reader
WC: 2.2K+
UNREQUITED MASTERLIST
UNREQUITED PLAYLISTS (SEND ME SONGS!)
-
PART 12
Draco didn’t realize you never returned those words until he saw you flinch when he said it.
The two of you were outside in the meadows, watching the leaves grow on the branches of the trees. It’s been a good week for Draco. He only woke up in the middle of the night three times this week and he fell asleep only an hour after waking. He didn’t tell you that, though. He’s been trying to stay away from you during those hours of the night, afraid that you were going to grow tired of him, or worse already growing tired of him. He would often just lay in bed, eyes closed, counting backwards from 100 while holding his finger that housed the ring you gave him. It worked, although sometimes he had to repeat his counts.
But he began to miss you beside him. He was always cold at night and you were always so warm when you cuddled into his side. Whenever you were next to him, he found no use for the blanket on the corner of the bed. You were enough. You were more than enough.
Because he’s been trying to be more independent, he hasn’t seen you as much as he’d like, so the nights that were reserved for you, him, and the meadow, were his favorite nights. You were laying on his chest, a smile playing on your lips as he talked about the few fun memories he remembered from his childhood. He talked about Dobby and how he missed the elf the past holiday season. He playfully cursed Harry for freeing the elf but you knew he was just kidding by the way he was smiling fondly as he spoke.
“I saw him at Diagon Alley when I picked up your presents.” He mentioned, remembering the cheery elf who skipped towards him when he recognized Draco. “He seemed happier.”
“I’m sure he is.”
Draco mumbled in agreement, kissing your forehead. He saw you close your eyes, love pouring from his stare as he watched you slowly drift to sleep. Your breathing slowed a bit, heart rate steadying. He placed his lips by the shell of your ear, “I love you.”
I love you, three words that made you feel sick to your stomach. You pretended to be asleep so you didn’t have to say anything back.
He gulped when he saw you flinch. It was for a brief second, he almost didn’t catch it, but he did. Your face twisted into a grimace when he said those three words. You stiffened in his arms, breath pausing. Draco could feel his heart chipping in his chest. He may have not known what love is, what love is supposed to look like, but he knew someone wouldn’t respond that way to another person’s declaration of love if they felt the same way. He tried to steady himself, keeping in mind that you were still laying on his chest and if he were to move, you’d stir awake and you’d be faced with an awkward and uncomfortable conversation. He wasn’t ready to have that conversation yet.
Did you not love him? He began to think back, remembering the first time he told you he loved you. It was the night he told you about his dark mark. He remembered saying it so softly, almost inaudible, and you didn’t respond. You just kissed his skin until he stopped crying. Maybe you just didn’t hear him the first time.
Then he thought about when he passed by you to get to his seat in Potions. He slowed his stride when he reached your seat, tapping three times on the wooden desk to get your attention. You looked up at him, blush evident on your cheeks when you saw the ring sitting proudly on his finger. He mouthed, “I love you,” before turning away. He didn’t hear you say it back but the yellow light from his ring seemed to be enough then.
He thought about the time you two sat with Myrtle, telling her about your relationship. You both needed to tell someone, the stress of keeping everything a secret becoming too much for the two of you. You decided that Myrtle was your best bet. Myrtle teased that the two of you were in love and Draco confirmed the sentiment with a confident, “I do love her.” You, on the other hand, just kissed his lips. Maybe you knew that he would lose his train of thought once you kissed him.
Draco realized then that after all those times that he told you he loved you, you never once said it back. Not wanting to expose you to another one of his breakdowns, he shook you awake, getting up before you could fully comprehend what was going on. “It’s getting late.”
“Huh?” You rubbed your eyes, looking at the sky. It couldn’t have been later than midnight. You and Draco often stayed out there until dawn. You turned to him to ask what was happening but he already disappeared from his spot. He was halfway to the passageway already. Shocked, you jogged to catch up to him. You reached for his elbow, flinching when he pulled away. “What’s wrong?”
“Just need some rest.”
You frowned, unable to hide the hurt on your face, “Oh, okay.”
The rest of the way back to the garden was silent. He held out his wand for light to guide you both through the passageway, a few, hesitant, looks over his shoulder to make sure you were alright behind him. You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to radiate more body heat. Draco usually gave you his sweater to wear on the way back.
Once you reached the door, he pushed it open, lowering his wand. He got out first and offered his hand for you to take. You placed your hand in his palm, allowing him to guide you out. You stood in front of him, silent, as he looked between your face and his shoes. He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Draco, stop.” You gripped his upper arm, pulling him back. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Dra-”
“Ms. Y/LN,” A voice boomed from across the garden. As they emerged from the dark, it became evident who it was. Snape. Fuck, you thought. “Mr. Malfoy. May I ask what’s going on here? Where are the two of you coming from?”
You froze, realizing that the secret passageway was now exposed. You looked at Draco, mind racing. “I- We- uh..”
“It’s my fault, professor.” Draco spoke up, walking closer to Snape. “I dragged her out here. I invited her.”
Snape looked at him unconvinced, but nodded anyway, “Very well. Twenty points from Slytherin and fifteen points from Hufflepuff. Mr. Malfoy return to your dormitory now. Ms. Y/L/N, a word.”
“Okay, professor.” You replied, lowering your head in shame.
Draco looked at you one last time, offering a sad smile, before starting to walk towards the boys’ dormitories. Snape stopped him before he passed him. He leaned close to Draco, seriousness in his voice, “Mr. Malfoy I sure hope you’re not forgetting your mission. I would hate to think that you’ve allowed a girl to distract you.”
Draco clenched his jaw, harshly pulling away from Snape. He hastily wiped a tear from his face as he marched to the dormitories, leaving you and Snape in the garden. Snape motioned for you to follow him, and you did, albeit reluctantly. You stopped in front of the room where he kept all the ingredients for various potions. You’ve seen it, once or twice, when you helped the twins with a few pranks.
Snape called for you to enter the room, shutting the door behind you. It was bigger than you imagined. In the middle sat a chair, surrounded by jars of random things. He ordered you to sit, nearly shoving you into the seat with how impatient he was.
“Professor, wha-”
Before you could even ask a question, Snape raised his wand and uttered a spell. His words were too fast for you to realize what was going on. It wasn’t until you felt a sting in your head that you realized what he was doing. He was in your head.
You tried to fight him at first but he was far too powerful for you to counter. He easily slipped past any walls you tried to build up and he scoured your head, looking and searching for something, but you weren’t quite sure what. Like a movie, flashes of your life began to pass behind your eyelids. Your parents, the muggle world, your father leaving, your mother leaving, Mr. Diggory telling you that they’re both gone the minute he found out, all of it came flooding in. You struggled against the chair, not realizing he bound you to it. You thrashed around, discomfort filling your head.
And then he stopped searching. He let one memory play and you whimpered as you watched it unfold. It was Cedric. Young Cedric. It was the night after you found out your parents died. He snuck out of his room and sat across from you in the living room, handing you tissues as you sobbed into the pillow. His father was asleep in the room upstairs but Cedric couldn’t sleep because he heard your cries echoing throughout the house.
His hands were so small against your back. He was rubbing your back up and down, trying to soothe you as you cried. You leaned against him and he awkwardly put his arm around you, not knowing what to do as he’s never been this close to a girl before. But then he felt you collapse under him, in utter despair as you questioned where you’d be living and if you would still have connections with the Wizard World now that your only relatives were Muggles, and he knew exactly what he needed to do.
He nudged you and placed his hand out with his pinky outstretched. You linked your pinky with his, wiping your nose with your unoccupied hand. He smiled, “I promise to be your best friend forever.”
“I promise too.”
The pain came back. You yelled as Snape began to dig deeper. It was like your memories were sorted into files and he was just taking his pick, wanting to see what is in your head. He stopped at a memory from when you were 13 years old. It was the summertime and Mr. Diggory was out buying some food for dinner. You and Cedric were alone in the house talking about the past year at Hogwarts. You knew exactly what this day was.
This was the day you had your first kiss.
You couldn’t remember exactly how it even happened, or how the conversation started, but you somehow mentioned that you’ve never kissed anyone. Cedric snorted in laughter, clutching his stomach as you glared at him. He continued to make fun of you for a few more minutes before abruptly stopping. A sheepish smile crept on his face as he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, “I can kiss you if you want.”
Your eyes widened a bit, unsure of what to say next. You gulped and nodded, hesitantly, leaning in. He did the same, letting a breathy chuckle slip past his lips. The kiss lasted only for a minuscule of a second because Mr. Diggory burst through the front door, making the two of you jump far away from each other. The rest of the day, you sported a permanent blush on your cheeks.
The last one was the most painful one. It seemed like Snape was torturing you, twisting your mind into shapes as he plucked out this one memory: Your conversation with Fred. You listened as the words rang in your ears, “I can see myself falling in love with him but I don’t want to.”
Once those words left your lips, you were pulled back to reality with a sharp gasp. Snape had a devilish smile on his face, watching you plead him silently. He still had his wand out when he spoke again, “Your biggest desire is still Cedric Diggory.”
“Why are you doing this?” You questioned, tears pricking your eyes. “What is the reason?”
He ignored your questions, letting a laugh escape his lips. “Draco Malfoy is hopelessly in love with you and you’re in love with Cedric Diggory.”
“Stop.” You whispered, pulling against the restraints.
“Unrequited love is a difficult love, Y/N Y/L/N.” He said. For a moment his exterior changed. A brief look of hurt was seen on his features as he said those words. “It’s the worst. I think I owe it to Mr. Malfoy to tell him that you don’t feel the same.”
“You don’t know how I feel.” You spat. “Don’t you dare talk to Draco.”
“Oh, but I must.” He brought his wand up again. “He does have to complete something after all and it seems you’ve been distracting him.”
Scowling, you asked, “What are you talking about?”
“Miss Y/L/N, love is a dangerous thing.” Snape stated. Then with a flick of his wand, he chanted, “Obliviate.”
-
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For the meet ugly prompts, 15 and/or 21 for ot4?
Here you go! I went with 15: I step out of the bathroom and right into the middle of a bar fight and you punch me accidentally so I punch back on instinct. There's no sex scene, but quite a bit of talk about sex.
Duck’s taken a few hits in his life. He’s not expecting one when he steps from the bathroom of Tarkensian’s General Store and Lunch Counter, but that’s what he gets, sharp and hard in the eye.
“Fuck” He yelps, swinging his fist out to keep whoever the fuck is pissed at him from doing it again. He misses, catching sight of a tall government suit as his momentum spins him into the wall.
At the gunshots, he drops to the floor.
“Goddamn it.” His attacker sprints towards the front of the store. Another shot, squealing tires, banging doors. By the time he’s made a cautious journey to the cash register to make sure Leo is okay, the man who punched him is arguing with another suit in front of a Dusenberg with bullet holes in the right front tire.
“I told you to never discharge your weapon unless absolutely necessary.” All six feet of mr quick fists is staring down at his partner.
“They were getting away!”
“Necessary means life or death, Agent Roberts; if we tracked them once, we can track them again, and stopping them today is not worth the life of the civilians in that store. Or anywhere else.”
“Who gives a damn if some hill-billys take a hit, this is government business-”
“That’s enough.” The taller man’s voice sharpens, “Protecting the people down here is why we’re doing this in the first place. If you can’t get that through your skull, you’re asking for a one way ticket back to the tiny police force they pulled you from.”
The shorter man rips his badge from his pocket, bouncing it off the other’s chest, “Save yourself the fucking trouble, I fucking quit.” With that he stomps down the dusty road towards the only hotel in town.
Duck and Leo, who’ve been watching the exchange like it’s a picture show, pivot to setting knocked cans and scattered boxes right as the remaining agent steps through the door. He stands, waiting for them to look his way and clearing his throat to speed them along.
“I, um, I apologize, Mr. Tarkesian. I only meant to question those two men in a friendly way, but the moment they saw my badge one threw a haymaker. Which leads me to assume they are bootleggers, a conclusion I was deferring until I could speak to them. That’s neither here nor there. Are you alright? Are your customers?”
“All in one piece, sir. Your partner ended a sack of flour, but nothin’ else.” Leo tilts his head at the pile of white dust, “though you gave Duck here a hell of a shiner.”
“Oh my lord.” The man puts a hand over his mouth when he sees Duck’s face, “I’m sorry. You stepped out of the washroom right when I tried to stop the younger brother.”
“S’okay. Not, uh, not the worst thing to ever happen to me at dinner time.” Duck would rather not get involved in whatever the hell is going on here.
“No, it’s not.” The man runs a hand over his slick-backed black hair, “will you let me buy you dinner as an apology? Or at least some ice for your eye?” The chagrin is unusual from a government man in this part of the country, and Duck can think of worse evenings than letting a handsome face pay for his meal.
“You buy me dinner” he tilts his head at the lunch counter, “I won’t be sore about bein’ sore.”
The man smiles, “That seems fair. Mr. Tarkesian, if you’re able to write up a bill for the damaged goods I’ll...well, I’ll do my best to get you paid back for it. Have someone drop it off at Amnesty Lodge for Agent Stern.”
“Will do.” Leo nods, then adds, “Duck, ask Pigeon for some ice on the house for that eye.”
Once their orders are in and Duck’s eye is chilling, the agent sets a thoughtful hand on his hat where it’s resting on the counter.
“I really am sorry.”
“Not the first time someone’s slugged me. Definitely the hardest, though. So, uh, guess that’s somethin.”
“If it’s any consolation, my hand sympathizes with your eye.” He holds up his right hand, bruises blooming on the knuckles. Duck holds out the ice but the agent shakes his head, “it’s my own fault for not opting for a more efficient way of apprehending those men.”
“Take it you’re here tryin to bust some moonshiners?”
“Yes. As you might imagine, it hasn’t led to the best reception.” He tilts his head towards the quartet of men scowling at them from down the counter.
“Doubt your partner helped with that any.”
“You don’t know the half of it. One of those men who wants the respect for his badge but doesn’t give a damn about earning it.” He sighs as Pigeon sets their sandwiches in front of them, “Nevermind. I shouldn’t complain about a fellow agent. Um. What do you do here in Kepler?”
“Arborist for every town in the county. The bigwigs at city hall realized any money they saved lettin me go when things got bad wouldn’t make up for what would happen if trees took out houses or the brush got too high and made it easy for the whole damn town square to burn to the ground.”
“Sounds like they’re lucky to have you.”
“Yep.”
They eat in silence, evening sun searing their backs through the windows.
“I’m, um, well I was going to say I’m usually better at conversation than this. But it’s been so long since I did any talking that wasn’t part of an investigation or government business I’ve forgotten how to be charming. Or even interesting.”
“Buyin a fella dinner is pretty charming.”
“No, it’s just the decent thing to do.”
“Take the compliment city boy.”
The agent raises an eyebrow and Duck prepares to be hit again for disrespect. Then Stern laughs, soft and tired, before sending a Clark Gable caliber smile his way, “It’s nice to be talked to like a person instead of a suit.”
Duck shifts on the stool to more easily enjoy the way blue eyes glint when he says, “Even easier if you told me your name.”
------------------------------------------------------
“Well, Joe, this is me.” Duck gestures to the house that’s been in the Newton family since it was built. He’s the last one left in town, so the faded paint and sturdy foundation are all his.
The agent regards the house with the same cool curiosity he’s applied to everything else they’ve encountered tonight. It’s only when his gaze lands on Duck that it takes on a new dimension, friendly and almost innocent in it’s hope.
“You, uh, feel like joinin’ me for some coffee? Wouldn’t wanna interfere with government business by keepin you.” He teases.
Joe is already joining him on the porch, “Roberts probably reported on our earlier altercation. I’ll have better luck keeping Agent Hayes from shouting my ear off if I give him until tomorrow to cool off.”
Duck gets the lights on as Joe hangs his hat and jacket by the door. He opens the cabinet, searching for clean glasses and mugs, spotting the bottle of bourbon that was there long before prohibition started right when the taller man steps behind him.
“Uh, any chance I can convince you that’s a bottle of vinegar or somethin’?”
“No. It doesn’t matter, though.” Since Duck’s hands are full, Joe closes the cabinet, “I don’t give a damn if people drink. I don’t care if someone wants to brew up moonshine in their yard or run a bar. What I care about is how this whole mess has made it easier for mobs to flourish, for normal people to get caught in the crossfire of a corrupt police force and ruthless criminals.” The sofa creaks as he sits down, “I’m not in Kepler because I think it’s some cesspool; I’m here because I know a major bootlegging ring has a leg here, and that the people who benefit from it won’t be the people who get arrested in my investigation casts to small a net.”
Duck keeps his mouth shut; he could tell Joe just how much Kepler’s changed since a certain family got their hands on it. But he’s not sure what else he’d reveal without even meaning to.
Even exhausted, Joe manages to look handsome when he adds, “All that’s to say, I wouldn’t mind a drop of that bottle in my coffee.”
The longer he sits on the couch with his coffee cup, the more relaxed Joe turns. He also doesn’t move when Duck scoots closer, and soon their legs and hands keep bumping each other.
“Do you know Amnesty Lodge?”
“Yep. Few of my friends work there, it’s full of good folks.”
“I agree. I, um, the only other person in town who’ll talk to me like I’m a human works there. Barclay’s one of the few people who doesn’t seem scared of me. Or, he did at the beginning. Now, well, some days I’m almost convinced he’s happy to see me.” A secretive blush dusts his cheeks, “I’m sorry, I get rambly after ten p.m. It’s just nice to have someone to talk to about him.”
Duck happens to be privy to what a man in love with Barclay Cobb looks like. So he keeps some gentleness in his tone when he teases, “City boy likes his men a little country?”
“Barclay is from San Francisco.” Joe looks up from his nails, bringing them almost nose to nose.
“That don’t answer the question.”
“Maybe this will.” Joe drops backwards onto the cushions, taking Duck with him courtesy of a kiss and not letting him up until dawn.
-------------------------------------------------
Practically everyone in Kepler has a job on the side, some legal and others not. Duck considers himself lucky that his is all pleasure with a chaser of business.
He let’s himself into what could generously be called a shack, the ragged exterior giving way to walls of beautiful drawings and a floor that’s more paper than wood. Seated in the far corner at a three-legged desk is a tall, skinny man with pale hair and red spectacles. Kepler’s Van Gogh of Vice, Indrid Cold.
At Duck’s footsteps he turns, angular cheeks and sharp nose a bit sunburnt but smile putting that star (and any other) to shame.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite model.” He stands, undershirt and denim pants hanging off him as he gathers Duck into a kiss. Then he pulls back, concerned, “goodness, what happened to your eye?”
“Hey, sugar.” Duck kisses his chin, “Got caught up in some trouble at Leo’s. Nothin to worry about. What am I today?”
“A brush salesman. Go put on that jacket, the rest of your clothing will do just fine.”
It’s the same routine every time; Indrid sketches Duck in some poor replica of a costume (a policeman, a boxer, a salesman), then instructs him to strip down to some level of undress. If it’s a weekend, Indrid will ask if he can sketch Duck for more complex drawings, some nude and some not, rather than the Tijuana Bibles that help line his threadbare pockets.
He always pays Duck for his time, even though Duck points out that, as his boyfriend, he can see him naked and hard any time for free.
They talk about birds and work, about going to the city sometime soon for a real night out, until Indrid instructs him to remove his shirt.
“My, my, what did you get up to last night?” Indrid traces a finger around the hickey on Duck’s lower belly.
Duck tells him, letting Indrid scoldingly nibble his collarbone as punishment for not inviting him to join.
“I’ve given Agent Stern a wide berth, so it is reassuring to know he’s a decent sort. Though someone really ought to inform him that Barclay shares his feelings.”
“Yeah. Barclay.” Duck chuckles, “they’re two grown men, if they can’t figure out they wanna fuck, I ain’t gonna hold their hands and drag ‘em into bed. Uh, wait, fuck-”
“I got both your intended meaning and the double one. Now kindly remove your trousers and lay on the bed.”
“Any specific pose?”
“Whichever one allows me to be in you the quickest.”
“You’re the boss, sugar.”
-----------------------------------------------------
“He did what?” Barclay thunks the last crate into the back of Indrid’s car.
“Dearest, I know you’re attached to Joseph, but Duck did nothing wrong by sleeping with him-”
“That’s not what I meant.” The cook sets the bags atop the clinking crates, “Duck can’t lie. Him fucking around with Joseph could end really badly.”
“Duck doesn’t know about this” Indrid closes the car, fidgets with the key.
“Yeah, which means he doesn’t know what things to hide. Joseph is smart, Duck could say something totally innocent and give him a clue.”
Indrid rubs his forehead, “We can discuss it further when I get back from this run.”
Barclay mumbles, “okay.” Then Indrid is being lovingly crushed in a hug as his boyfriend speaks into his shoulder, “Sorry I snapped. I get so fucking nervous when you do this.”
“That makes two of us. But I didn’t come by my nickname for nothing. I slip by as quietly as a moth in the dark.”
“But what if the cops lay a trap? Or some other family wants in on Leeshon’s territory and decides to hijack you? Or-”
“Leave the what-ifs to me, dearest. I’ll be back in two days. I promise.”
When Indrid is no more than a shadow on the backroad, Barclay trudges back to the Lodge. He hates this, hates the men who put him in this position, hates the feds who sniff around like dogs waiting to bite, hates how one of the two men who can stop his heart with his smile is also one who could throw him in jail.
The instant he sees Joseph in his usual corner seat, that all evaporates. He knows the agent originally used the Lodge restaurant as a place to eavesdrop. When he’s here these days, it’s solely for Barclay’s cooking and attention. Barclay will give him as much of both as he desires, feed him full of it in hopes of delaying the inevitable. So when the chairs are up and it’s only Joseph leaning on the counter asking if Barclay will join him for a slice of pie, the cook sits on the stool beside him, leaning in as close as he dares, and tries not to think of the future.
---------------------------------------------------
“Mr. Cold?”
“I’m on the back porch.” Indrid calls, cleaning up his paints as Joseph rounds the house, his pristine shirt, shoes, and hair making Indrid feel a rare bust of self-consciousness at his dishevelment. He stands, brushing off his pants, “how can I assist you?”
“By letting me take a look inside your home. I’ve heard rumors that you deal in items that are only bought in back rooms and I need to see if they’re true. I don’t have a warrant, and I’ll get one if I have to, but then I’ll have to bring other kinds of law enforcement with me who might, um, might....look, you’re important to Duck; I don’t want this to escalate any more than it has to.”
Indrid grins, waving him inside, “Say no more. I do believe there’s been a misunderstanding. Your mind, on account of your profession, went straight to bootlegging. I deal in something a bit different” He flips open a briefcase and gets the pleasure of watching Joseph Sten blush.
“It’s not the kind of art I’d sell if I had my choice, but I have a talent for rendering all manner of lewd acts on paper. Owners of bowling alleys and hunting clubs pay decently enough for them.”
“I, um, I see.” Joseph picks up one booklet, flipping through it, “I must admit these are more realistic than the ones I've encountered in the past.”
“I use models whenever possible in both these and my other work” he gestures to the non-explicit paintings on the wall, “in fact, you know two of my preferred muses.”
“Duck” Joseph’s thumb runs tenderly over the illustration.
“Indeed. And this one…” he holds up a second book, “is based on Barclay.”
“Good lord.”
“That’s the general consensus on that part of his body.” Indrid places both booklets safely in their spots, “does that satisfy your curiosity?”
“Yes.” Joseph runs a hand over his hair, “very much. Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Cold.”
“Of course. And by all means, call me Indrid. Should you ever be interested in modeling...” he let's Stern feel the full force of his appreciative gaze, "do let me know."
The agent leaves in more of a hurry than he arrived. Indrid closes the door, slumps against and says to the dust specks, “that was too close.”
He reiterates this point to Barclay in the evening, who agrees with him that, as much as Joseph means to him and Duck, when Indrid returns from this run they’ll talk with Mama about how to get the agent out of the Lodge and, ideally, the town. They finish their conversation right as three members of the Leeshon family arrive, electing to travel north along with their goods for some “official business.” Apparently, word of the The Moth as a skilled driver is spreading, the implications of which are keeping Indrid up at night.
He stoops and smiles for the men with menacing shapes under their coats, blows a final kiss to Barclay, and speeds off into the night.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
“Is everything alright?” Joseph hovers over Duck’s shoulder, his eyes locked onto Barclay.
“‘Drid does these trips to sell his stuff, and he ain’t back yet. Ain’t called either of us, which is mighty strange. Usually he lets us know when he’s headin home.”
“And I tried the motel where he usually stays on his last night back down. They haven’t seen him.” Barclay wipes the same spot of table for the fiftieth time, “Duck’s truck is busted and Mama’s got the one we use for Lodge business, so we can’t go look for him ourselves.”
“We could take my car.” Joseph offers without hesitation, “if you know his usual route, we can at least rule out a wreck.”
Barclay shudders; he doesn’t want to think about Indrid, caged and lifeless in twisted metal. He wants to think about it so little that he does the most foolish thing possible; he decides to give a federal agent a guided tour of their bootlegging route.
Soon, they’re creeping along the winding backroad, Barclay navigating from the front seat while Duck bounces his leg in the back. The longer they drive, the more somber the expression from the man beside him.
“Indrid’s the Moth, isn’t he?” Joseph murmurs.
“Hate to say it Joe, but you’re so outta bounds you ain’t even in...the...game” he catches Barclay’s eyes in the mirror, “oh you gotta be fuckin kiddin me.”
“Wish I was” Barclay locks his hands in his lap, “Started about six months ago. Leeshon and his mob decided Kepler was a good spot to stage some of their smuggling. They went to the lodge first; Mama told ‘em hell no, told ‘em to get gone, and they threatened to shoot her then and there to burn the whole place and everyone in it. I stepped in, offered to do it. I was so fucking bad at the driving I almost got caught. Indrid offered to help to keep me safe and keep them from going after the Lodge.” He glances at Joseph, “we’re just trying to protect our family.”
“I don’t doubt it. But you haven’t exactly put me in an easy position. I had a hunch after I was in Indrid’s house; the faint smell of alcohol on certain bags, the regular trips along the exact same route. I just...I was hoping I was wrong.”
“You know damn well ‘Drid ain’t a threat to anyone.”
“He’s aiding the mob”
“To protect us--ohfuck” Barclay’s door is open before Joseph even stops the car. At the crossroads before them are two cars, each riddled with bullet holes. The one on the right, back half full of shattered bottles, is Indrid’s.
“No!” Barclay dodges the other bodies, Duck right behind him, and wrenches the driver-side door open. There’s bullets in the seat, but no body.
“Rival family, I can tell by the rings. They must have ambushed them.” Joseph stares down at one of the bodies by the second car.
“We gotta find him, he might still be, there-” Duck grabs Barclay’s arm, pointing towards the brush, “someone dragged themself that way.”
Duck leads the scramble through the foliage, following signs Barclay can’t see until they reach scuffed shoes on long legs.
“‘Drid, fuck, fuck, c’mon sugar talk to me.” Duck is on his knees, guiding the unconscious man into his arms.
“He’s breathing.” Barclay runs his hands over Indrid’s body, looking for broken bones. Finds one on his left leg, making his boyfriend groan in pain.
“You’re gonna be okay, we’ll get you home.” There’s a clanking noise from the direction they came, “I like Joe an awful lot, but if we gotta steal his car I will.”
Indrid manages to smile with dry lips, “I tried so hard to get back. Hard to crawl on a broken leg after playing dead for as long as it took everyone who’d been shot to finish dying. I just...can we...I want to go home.”
“You clear a path, I’ll carry him.” Barclay scoops Indrid up, follows Duck back towards the car as he snaps and pushes at brush.
“Thank the lord.” Joseph opens the back door of the car, “here, he can lay down. We’ll take him to the doctor right away.”
Duck stays in the back, Indrid’s head in his lap, petting his hair and whispering to him as Joseph turns the car towards town.
“You realize I have to report the shoot out.”
Barclay never takes his eyes off Indrid, “Do what you have to. Just don’t expect a warm welcome back.”
----------------------------------------------------
“....no, Agent Hayes, there were no survivors of the shoot-out.”
“Any records on the cars?”
“Only one. The other didn’t have plates.” Joseph keeps his breathing even as his boss mulls over his report.
“Alright. I won’t send a second man down, but if this escalates I expect you to alert me at once.”
“Understood, sir.” He hangs up, relieved, and steps into the hall of the Lodge. There’s not much spring in his step, since he doesn’t dare show his face in the restaurant.
Then there’s a lot of spring as he’s yanked through a door. Before he can raise a fist, calloused hands cup his cheeks and a beard prickles his skin as Barclay pins him to the wall in a kiss.
“Did, did you hear the callmmpph” He holds tight to Barclays shoulders as the cook manhandles him towards bed.
“Yep, had Aubrey eavesdrop on you.” Duck grins from his spot on Indrid’s comfy sickbed, “you gonna tell us why you covered our asses?”
“Barclay may have to release him for that.” Indrid pats the space next to Duck and the cook let’s Joseph drop into it.
“Arresting Indrid would have put the whole Lodge in danger and done nothing to stop the mobs vying for power on this bootlegging route. It’s the better call to let people think you’re dead for a time and see if I can catch Leeshon as he’s sniffing around for a new driver. And, um, I, I couldn’t hurt you. Any of you. You’ve made me happier than I’ve been in years and I, I just want to help you protect the town.”
“Aww, knew you were soft deep-down, city boy.” Duck kisses his cheek.
“I never did get to thank you for your role in saving my life. Come here.” Indrid crooks his finger and Joseph leans in, expecting a kiss on the cheek. He gets one full on the lips, Indrid humming when he brushes their tongues together. He purrs when they part, “after all, if you’re staying in town, I intend to join my boyfriends in their admiration of you.”
“The feeling is mutual.”
“Wonderful. Iin that case, perhaps you’ll model for me.”
“Only if you buy me dinner.”
“Hey, I had to get punched to get dinner.” Duck teases.
“Let me go get it started.” Barclay winks, “don’t get into too much trouble until I get back.”
#OT4: Government Men and Their Cryptid boyfriends#reader request#meet ugly#indruck#sternclay#inclay#agent stern/duck newton#prohibition au
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If That’s What it is
A difficult reunion. cw for strained friendships.
Tim doesn’t remember how to be friends.
The was never the one… He could fake it… once. Or maybe he really was like that. Was he ever as friendly as people seemed to think? Was he just filling a roll? Covering for his hurt? Where does the facade end?
It doesn’t help matters that this is Jon. Jon. How can he rebuild bridges long set on fire then torn down then had both sides bricked over and a cemetery developed between the halves.
Sat on opposite ends of the couch in the quiet of a London flat.
The distance of a few handspans may as well be a journey of a thousand steps.
It may as well be made of pages of misdeeds, or the longest novels written stacked end to end and must be read to cross.
Why is he even here?
It was fine when he… what did he even think?
That Jon had gone full monster? That he intentionally ended the world? That he died trying to prevent whatever the fuck that was? That he simply died years before, maybe when Tim supposedly had. He doesn’t know what he thought but he had deniability, for whatever that was worth.
Jon keeps opening his mouth, as if to speak, but shuts it tightly every time.
This isn’t the first attempt. Nor is it the second.
Just… the most awkward, as hard as it was to beat the previous encounters.
Encounter one:
Scene: the grocery store.
Enter Tim, minding his own damn business with his headphones in. Loud enough that he can actually hear it, even if it means just about everyone else in the store can hear it too. Probably should be paying more attention to his surroundings as he runs into someone when he’s trying to buy peanut butter. The someone probably says ‘oof,’ but Tim can’t hear it.
“Sorry, mate.” He offers a bit of an apologetic smile. (Smiling has gotten easier, but… But not as easy as it was.)
He doesn’t plan to meet the eyes of whoever he ran into, but even he can hear the squeak when the someone, Martin, catches sight of him properly.
“TIM?”
Oh shit. It’s Martin. Martin Blackwood. Martin K. Blackwood. Archival assistant. (Does he count as a one night stand if the “one night” was over two weeks on in the nightmarish magical mystery ride of the Distortion’s hallways?) Friend? Abomination apologist. Friend. …Yes, a friend who thinks Tim is very very dead.
Martin’s shopping is on the ground, and without thinking, Tim has helped Martin to the ground and is pushing his head between his knees to stave off what is shaping up to be a panic attack.
Tim hasn’t even paused his music.
It’s still blaring something irritatingly of the wrong mood into his ears.
Once Martin has his breath back, he starts signing furiously.
And Tim has to stand back stunned at the barrage affection and anger and resentment and relief, and off balance that Martin still remembers the sign he learned for Tim.
He leaves without his peanut butter, and with a coil of guilt deep in his gut, with nothing to curb the ringing in his ears because he can’t tolerate music right now, and an address and a number ‘only if he is ready to step on his anger and listen to Jon, for once.’ He hadn’t even gotten a word in. He hadn’t even told him that Sasha was alive.
Just been yelled at in a grocery store.
Encounter two:
Scene: A Living Room, night.
“Jon isn’t here.” Martin tells him this before even letting him in. “He knows you are, but he isn’t here. He’s having dinner with some other teachers in his department. It’s just us.” Martin’s signing this.
Tim is wearing his hearing aids, but Martin is signing anyhow. Maybe it’s easier for him to get it out through that halfway-to-icy expression on his face. Maybe it’s out of coldness, but Tim can’t help but feel a warmth deep in his chest that Martin remembered the BSL he labored over when he was assigned to the archives.
Tim swallows hard around the hope and bitterness and anger and regret and longing. He nods. “Thanks for having me.” He signs quietly.
Martin ushers him in, and hands him a cup of tea. It’s still hot. It’s just how Tim takes it. And he’s sat on a squashy couch, staring at a squashy cat who is glaring at him.
Well. That seems fitting.
Cat glaring. Martin… almost glaring. No, not glaring. He’s got his own tea. And he is sipping it, giving a very chilly look to the poor wall.
Tim takes in the photos on the wall, while avoiding Martin’s eyes. All Polaroids. There’s Jon and Martin in Martin’s ratty looking jumpers (ones that were significantly more new when they first met) standing in the countryside squashed together and laughing their assess off. Jon in oversized wellies, covered in mud, facing off against a cow. Jon standing in the shallows of a pond, looking peacefully into the distance. Martin asleep, in a rustic bedroom, golden morning light spilling across his lax and happy face. There is a frame containing the Litany Against Fear from Dune. A frame with a page from Slaughterhouse Five. …A frame with a picture of a young and unsecured Jon looking grumpy, a young and happy and probably drunk Tim with an arm slung around him, and an arm around Sasha who is giving a blushing Martin bunny ears. That one has a place of honor. It’s a little worn looking, but in a way that makes it clear it survived a lot… the end of the world, in fact.
Seeing it hits Tim square in the chest. It hurts.
Martin finishes his tea and turns towards Tim.
“So.”
Tim puts his nearly cool tea down on the coffee table. The squashy cat keeps glaring at him from an equally squashy arm chair. He faces Martin, but can’t quite meet his eye. Martin is waiting for him to talk.
“Didn’t die. Thought I would. Thought I had. Didn’t. Walked away. Got a job. I… I uh. Found Sasha. Stranger had fucked her up pretty badly, so don’t be mad at her for not calling, she had a lot of trouble remembering and being remembered. Survived the apocalypse. Got on with life, or tried to. Got some therapy.”
He braces himself for the impact. He’s mentioned Sasha over text, but still. Not to mention, it’s all a lot.
Martin’s jaw tightens.
“Thought you could just, let me think you died? Tim, the only person who came back from the Unknowing was Basira. The only one. Call me selfish, but you died, Jon essentially died, we thought Daisy had died. Then my mother died too. I know you had your head up your ass, but do you know what that did to me? Yeah, sure, great, you got out. Whoop-de-fucking-do. You could have called. Or texted. Or sent a letter. Anything! And you know what? Partly it was a relief, because at least I thought you were happy. Or at peace. Or at the very least you wouldn’t be there to harass Jon anymore. But you all died. It was just me. Everyone I cared about was dead. Six month Jon was dead. And no, don’t you dare get on Jon’s case about that. He mourned you. He still is mourning you. He’s been walking on air since you and Sasha… Tim, I swear, if you hurt him… If you hurt him again, you will regret it. You will only see him if you are ready to listen. You don’t have to forgive, but you are not allowed to be cruel.”
Tim doesn’t have a single doubt. “I… I’ve missed him. I’m sorry.”
“No yelling, no grabbing, no sudden movements, nothing passive aggressive. And I will be in the next room and so help me, if you scare him…”
Martin lets the threat hang.
It hurts. It isn’t anything he’s ever gotten from Martin. Didn’t think Martin had enough of a spine for it. …But. But he guesses when everyone dies(? he has a lot of questions, but it doesn’t look like Martin is in the right headspace to answer them, and Tim might not be either. His breathing is uneven and his face is hot and he isn’t sure if he wants to break something or cry or scream or maybe just repaint his and Sasha’s home all in one go.)… Well… he doesn’t have to guess. He knows exactly what that can do to a person. And it isn’t pretty. He feels the guilt coiling again. He wants to tear it out and stomp on it. But… but he guesses, the guilt can guide him. He needs to do right by the people that used to be his friends. The people he’s missed every day since he got his head on straight with extensive therapy and a variety of coping mechanisms.
The scene: The same squashy couch, in the same quiet flat.
The squashy cat is in Jon’s lap. The cat is glaring, and Jon is staring at him with those giant, hopeful, tired, guilty eyes. Haunted and rimmed in shadow, as ever.
He knows Martin is in the next room, ready to step in if he needs to.
All Tim needs to do… is reach out.
#the magnus archives#tma#jonathan sims#tim stoker#timothy stoker#martin blackwood#hoh tim#cw strained friendships#reunions#fic#my words#my fic
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You’re One to Talk
Companion piece to I Would Never; Vica’s POV for one of her busier days somewhere between Ossus and all the stuff in Echoes of Vengeance. Roughly the same length, too.
----
To the unfamiliar, the Alliance Commander looked the very picture of poise. With her hair done up in that vaguely-aristocratic style she loved so much and posture that made even her simple outfit look elegant, Vica radiated serenity well before you got to her small, warm smile. A smile currently aimed at a wildly gesticulating starship mechanic, while Vica listened to his grievances with an air of sympathetic calm.
But Theron knew her too well to buy it. There was a faint edge of strain to her smile; not caused by the mechanic, but he was surely the latest in a long line of people who wanted “just a moment of your time, Commander”. And no matter how busy she already was, refusing to listen when someone had a need would be un-Jedi-like, so she would never.
Thus, Theron swept across the hanger bay in just a few long strides to give her an out. “Commander, the general and admiral are ready in the conference room.”
Vica turned and flashed him a tighter version of that smile, halfway between gratitude and let me handle this, darling. “Thank you, I’ll be right there,” she said, before shifting back to assure the mechanic his concerns would be addressed as soon as possible. With him placated, she gave Theron a much more genuine smile. “Thank you,” she breathed, leaning against his chest.
Theron rubbed her back as he hugged her, frowning at the tension in her shoulders. “That bad?”
“Not bad,” Vica said with a sigh, straightening and pinching the bridge of her nose before heading toward the conference wing. “Just... a lot. And all at once. There’s the Republic delegation, and the security overhaul, and pirate attacks on our supply ships that mean rearranging the Mandalorian escorts, and Hylo wanted to talk about a few of her people she thinks are skimming, and a couple more she feels could be given more responsibility-”
“I’m getting tired just listening to that list,” Theron cut her off glibly. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders as he kept pace. “Do they really all have to go through you?”
She shot him a look. “I’m the Commander. I chose to keep us independent. That makes the security and well-being of the Alliance my responsibility.”
“Leadership of the Alliance is your responsibility,” he corrected. They stepped onto the elevator and he pulled her in to kiss her temple. “Leaders delegate. You don’t have to do everything yourself.” Despite how long the Council and universe in general told you otherwise.
Vica bit her lip, but he still heard the You’re one to talk in her eyes. “I did. Lana’s overseeing the security upgrades, and Briyoni took Jonas to deal with the perimeter sensors that went down.”
“Oh, good, thank her for keeping him busy for me,” Theron deadpanned.
She rolled her eyes but smiled as she whacked his arm with the back of one hand. “I thought you two were friends.”
“We are. Which means I know what he’s like when he’s bored.” He rubbed her back again. “And how quickly he’ll likely get to that point while he’s here. If your sister can keep him occupied for a couple hours, means longer before he starts bugging me.”
This time she actually laughed, and he was gratified to feel some of the tension ease in her shoulders. “Careful, or she’ll say you owe her one.”
“Right, because dragging her husband off somewhere unsupervised for a couple hours when they haven’t seen each other in months was entirely altruistic.”
“Theron!” Vica protested, but her shoulders were shaking with laughter as she buried her face against his chest.
The elevator reached their desired floor and he tugged her arm to guide her off. “You tellin’ me we wouldn’t do the same thing in their shoes?” he murmured into her hair, and her grip on his jacket tightened briefly.
Vica took a deep breath and was Barsen’thor-levels of composed when she straightened. A hint of mirth still danced in her eyes as she serenely commented, “We have a meeting.”
That’s a no, Theron smirked but behaved himself, gesturing to the conference room door. “So we do. After you, Commander.”
“Thank you, Agent Shan,” she said with a smile, and had fully shifted to the role of Commander by the time she stepped into the room.
---
Vica had been mildly concerned her to-do list would distract from the meeting, but she had that chain of thought spinning away in the back of her mind by the time she and Theron took their seats and exchanged pleasantries with Aygo and Daeruun. Her main focus was firmly and unwaveringly on their conversation as they discussed the state of the galaxy and best way to use the Republic and Alliance’s resources. She trusted Aygo with the the Alliance military action--and had almost just let him handle this meeting, with how busy she was--but she did need to be at least in the loop if not giving final word on big decisions. Like which sectors to keep a close eye on and which were secure enough to spare manpower to shore up weaker areas. What to do about various Imperial actions or pirate attacks. It was a very tricky balance puzzle, and the very faintest edges of a headache were creeping in by the time they reached a solution.
“Thank you for your time, Commander,” General Daeruun said warmly as he stood. “That took longer than I expected it would, and I know you’re busy.”
“It was an important list of issues, General,” Vica demurred with a smile. “I always have time for our allies in the Republic. No matter how busy I may be.”
The general chuckled. “A most gracious host. When you find the opportunity to relax, Commander...” He pulled a small packet from one of the pouches on his belt. “A token of friendship; a new blend I encountered on Atraken. I find it quite adept at calming the mind.”
Vica perked up at the offer of new tea and stepped forward to accept it with a grin. “Thank you very much, General. I look forward to when I have the chance to try it.”
“Yeah, so do I,” Theron muttered behind her, barely audible.
She ignored him. He was one to talk about working too hard, anyway. “Make yourself at home as long as you’re here, General. I need to see to some other matters if we’re finished?”
“We are indeed,” General Daeruun nodded. “Best of luck with your other endeavors, Commander.”
“Thank you. And, again, for the tea. Aygo, you can head down to staging when you’re ready.”
The admiral nodded, looking up from the datapad he’d been studying. “Of course, Commander.”
Theron trailed her out of the conference room, and Vica pivoted, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze once they were out in the hall. “So, what’s next on your to do list?”
He gave her an arched brow look. “Try and convince my wife to take a five minute break before she dives back into her ocean of work?”
“I will,” Vica promised, resting a hand on his arm. “But I still need to talk to Hylo, and the meeting went long, so it’s almost time for my holocall with--”
“Vica, it’s five minutes,” Theron said with a wry smile. “Just go sit on a conference table and meditate or something so you don’t burn out.”
She giggled at the mental image; Barsen’thor and Commander and Outlander, perched cross-legged on a conference table to meditate like a mischievous youngling. “I will. Take a break, I mean. But the ambassador’s expecting my call, so I really need to at least do that first.”
He pursed his lips. “I’ll talk to Hylo.”
“You aren’t too busy?”
“Nah, my to-do list is much shorter than yours,” he deadpanned. “Let me help.”
“It is the sort of thing you’re good at...” Vica pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to quash the guilty tickle at ‘pawning off her responsibilities’. “Alright. If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
“All yours, then.” She flashed a tired smile. “See? Delegating.”
“Good for you,” Theron drawled, leaning down to steal a kiss before they parted ways.
Vica snaked a hand around the back of his neck to hold him close an extra few heartbeats. “Thank you,” she murmured as they parted.
“Anytime, sweetheart,” Theron replied quietly, pressing a light kiss to her forehead as well before he headed for the elevator.
Vica smiled, sighed, and made her way to one of the more private holoterminals.
---
There were, fortunately, no surprises lurking in her conversation with the Qalitan ambassador. Just typical diplomatic chitchat about their contributions an compensations and how things stood on Qalita Prime.
Vica breathed a long sigh of relief after ending the call, smoothing a hand down her shirt as she mentally crossed that off her list. One thing down, eight more to go...
She almost ran into the aide hurrying down the hall when she stepped out of the room. The baby-faced zabrak didn’t seem fazed by the near-collision, already rambling before Vica could get an apology out,” Oh, Commander, I’ve been looking for you.” He held out a datapad. “Trestal sent some revisions to our treaty.”
Vica frowned. “We’re formalizing that in two days.” They had a month and they chose now?!
“I know, Commander.” His tattoos wrinkled as his brow furrowed. “They promised it was only a few things, minor adjustments to phrasing and the like.”
Which immediately set alarm bells ringing; you didn’t wait til the last minute to make minor adjustments. Vica groaned. This day was one long game of bop-a-gizka; get one thing taken care of and another popped up somewhere else. “I’ll take a look at it. Thank you for telling me.”
“You’re welcome, ma’am, and... sorry.” The aide frowned apologetically.
“Not your fault,” She said with a sigh, and took the datapad to her quarters to review. The timing was atrocious, and made her very glad she’d let Theron take talking to Hylo. So much for that five minute break.
---
When he’d nagged her about taking a break, dozing off over a datapad hadn’t really been what he had in mind. Theron debated letting her be anyway, but she’d have an awful crick in her neck from that position.
He sat next to her on the couch and gently poked her shoulder. “Vica.”
She jerked upright, fumbling the datapad a moment before catching it just as it started to slide off her lap. “What do you need?”
“Just checking in.” Theron rubbed her arm. “Dry reading?”
“Give me a history text over political document any day,” Vica said with a wan smile. She stretched and rubbed the back of her neck. “How’d it go with Hylo?”
“Fine,” Theron shrugged. “She has good instincts, and good evidence for both the accusations and the people she wants to promote.”
“Good, glad that was easy.”
“How ‘bout you, what’s so enthralling you added it into your schedule?” He nudged the datapad.
“Trestal treaty. They made some minor changes and phrasing tweaks-”
“Now?” Theron frowned skeptically at the datapad. “Two days before we sign the blasted thing?”
“That’s what I said!” Vica tossed the datapad on a chair and half-turned to face him. “But I’ve been going over it for” --a glance at the wall chrono-- “stars, two hours, and didn’t find anything major. All the changes I’ve noted--and there aren’t a lot--have been little things, nothing that drastically alters the terms. I think politics have jaded me.”
“You wouldn’t be the first,” Theron said dryly.
She nodded, but absently, like her thoughts were elsewhere, and rubbed her eyes. “Did Briyoni and Jonas make it back alright?”
“I don’t think they’re back yet...” he said slowly, and her posture snapped stiff.
“It’s been hours,” Vica pointed out as she shot to her feet, “more than enough time to repair a couple sensors.”
Knowing Balkar as well as he did, and that Bry was a good match for him, Theron wasn’t terribly worried just yet. “I’m sure they’re fine, Vee. Maybe one of the repairs took extra work, or they’re just taking their sweet time.” Like I’d be trying to do if we’d gone.
“Maybe.” Vica didn’t sound convinced. “Can’t hurt to check...”
He snorted a chuckle. “Technically, no, but if you interrupt their first time alone in months just ‘cause you’re worried...” He smirked and leaned back on the couch. “On second thought, maybe your sister will send death glares at you instead of me for a while. A break would be nice.”
She rolled her eyes and keyed up comms as she paced toward the window. “Briyoni, how’s it going?” A frown wrinkled her brow. “Briyoni?”
Okay, if she wasn’t answering comms, that might be a problem. Or just a bid for privacy.
---
Vica instinctively defaulted to one of the meditations techniques she knew to calm the worry spiraling through her gut.
The comms were dead. Switched off or jammed she couldn’t tell, but there was no answer to her attempts at raising her sister and she couldn’t quite bring herself to agree with Theron’s theory behind the delay.
She tried again. “Briyoni, can you hear me?”
Nothing.
She turned to look at Theron, mildly panicked despite the attempt to meditate it away. “There’s nothing.”
“Nothing as in she’s ignoring you, or as in just static?”
“Nothing as in dead air.” Vica hugged her arms close around herself. “What if something happened to them?”
“Well.” Theron stood and moved to join her. “They’re both very resourceful, and pretty damn hard to kill.” Bry might have more attempts to her name, but Balkar had squeaked out of a few tight spots of his own, and they made a damn good team. He rubbed Vica’s arms and pulled her into a hug. “They’re probably okay, but do you want to send someone after them?”
“Who?” she asked with a wry snort. “Everyone’s busy, including us, that’s why Briyoni volunteered to handle this in the first place.” She picked up her datapad and called up the speeder logs. The locator was offline.
That set her gut twisting. Calm, Vica, he’s right. Resourceful and hard to kill. She’d heard about Eclipse Squad. About Denon.
Good or bad, this also meant they had no way of knowing where Briyoni and Jonas were even if she wanted to check on them. “No point sending someone; their speeder’s not showing.”
“Huh. Weird. Let me see?” Theron took the datapad and scanned the logs. “Nothing about a crash, maybe they’re just out of range.”
“Maybe.” Her skepticism carried in her voice more than she’d meant. They would have had to go seriously off-course for that, so it was a long shot, but she appreciated him trying to make her feel better.
He flashed a sympathetic half-smile. “Here’s a plan: we spend a little while working on things we can do from here with datapads and comms, and you can keep checking to see if Bry’s signal comes back. If it doesn’t, then we worry about how to handle tracking them down.”
It was a good plan. Much more manageable than her fretting about two people in all the untamed expanse of Odessen. She shot him a grateful smile. “Since when are you the reasonable one?”
Theron snorted and kissed her forehead, not seeming the least offended. “Since you started panicking about your sister being AWOL.”
She snorted in turn and plunked down on the couch. “An hour,” she decided. “If I try for an hour with no response, we’ll have to do something.”
“Sounds fair,” Theron agreed, sitting next to her. “Emotional support,” he said with a one-shoulder shrug when she gave him a you’re staying? look.
Her chest warmed at the words and Vica leaned over to kiss his cheek before settling in to try and do some work.
---
It took half of that hour she was willing to wait for one of Vica’s increasingly worried-despite her best efforts--checks to bear fruit.
“...Yeah, Vic?” came crackling back, Briyoni’s voice slightly raised(wind from a moving speeder, maybe?).
Vica wilted against Theron’s shoulder. “Oh, thank the Force.” There was a pulse of unguarded relief from him as well. Apparently he’d been more worried than he let on. “I’ve been trying to check in for... half an hour. What happened?”
“We, uh, ran into some technical difficulties exploring an alternate route.” At least she had the decency to sound a little sheepish. “There’s a section of canyon down here, fuzzed out comms and the map.”
A cold spike prickled up her spine, her jaw tightening at a memory.
“You have forgotten what it is to face death alone. I will remind you.”
She was dimly aware of Theron’s hand on her shoulder, but it was Briyoni’s voice that snapped her out of it. “Vica?”
Vica purged the emotion and accompanying tremor from her voice. “I think I know where you’re talking about.”
“Your friends cannot hear you....”
“Are you out of there?” Even with Valkorion... gone, who knew how much his presence might have warped things in that place.
“Yeah....”
“Good. Don’t go back.” It was the closest thing to an order she’d given her sister since Briyoni joined the Alliance.
“Yes, ma’am, Commander, ma’am,” came the glib reply, and Vica couldn’t hold back a snort of laughter.
“Finish your job, Briyoni,” she reminded, a smile tugging her lips.
“That’s the plan. Get back on track, fix the sensor, be on our way home. See you in an hour or so, Vic.”
“See you then.” Vica closed the channel and exhaled a long slow breath of relief, her head falling back on Theron’ shoulder.
“I take it they’re fine?” he asked.
She sat up and nodded. “They were exploring and wound up in a canyon that interfered with comms and the map.”
From the way his eyes narrowed, his thoughts went the same place hers had. “Where Valkorion...?”
“That’s my guess.” Vica rubbed the back of her neck and shuddered, as if she could shake off the memory. “They’re finishing now.”
“So, how long, exactly, do I have before Balkar’s around to bug me?”
Vica snorted and bumped her knee against his. He grumbled, but the slight upward curve of his lips said he didn’t really mind the prospect. “An hour or so. Maybe longer if he doesn’t jump right into pestering you.”
“Good to know.” Theron set his datapad on the low table and turned to give her a serious look. “Now, all kidding aside. Since you know your sister’s fine, and you got more work done--”
She knew where this was going.
“--will you please take that five minute break now?”
Called it. She was feeling drained, if she was honest. He had a good point. “I’ll do ten minutes. On one condition.”
“I take it with you.”
“Mm, smart man,” she grinned. “You’ve been working almost as hard as I have today, Theron. If I need it, so do you.”
He looked ready to argue, then reconsidered and caved with a sheepish nod. “’S a fair point.”
“It’s just ten minutes,” Vica pointed out, dropping her datapad next to his and settling in tucked close against him. “We can spare ten minutes.”
“Sure.” Theron wrapped an arm around her and his cheek pressed her hair. “Just a little break. We need it.”
She hummed in agreement. They did need this.
---
They were both asleep when Bry stuck her head in to look for Vica; Theron slouched in the corner of couch back and arm with Vica sprawled on top of him, their legs half-falling off the couch. She grinned, biting back a laugh, and debated taking a holo of the two of them. (Vica was snoring a little; it was kind of adorable.) But it was too risky she’d wake them, so she reluctantly discarded the idea and instead tiptoed across the room, avoiding the tangle of legs. Quietly as possible--impressive to anyone who knew her--Bry picked up Vica’s datapad and typed a quick Back safe. Enjoy your nap. B before tiptoeing back out to let them sleep.
Stars knew they needed it.
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Riding On
Ch4: Full Steeb Ahead
Summary: Frank is determined to get Fliss to hear him out. But will she believe him?
Warnings: Bad Language words.
Pairing: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher
Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.
Riding On Masterlist // Main Masterlist
Chapter 3
People talk about the guy that’s waiting on a girl. There are no holes in his shoes but a big hole in his world.
Frank woke early the next morning, well, maybe woke was an exaggeration seeing as he probably managed about an hour of straight sleep, if that. The rest was spent in small dozing periods of twenty, maybe thirty minutes at a time. His neck was stiff from laying on the couch, as was his back and, deciding he would give up trying to get comfortable, he sat up, stretching his muscles out before he ran a hand down his tired face.
It was still dark outside and he reached for his phone. It had just gone six, which meant he had an hour or so before the house started to wake. Standing up, he grabbed the shirt he had discarded the night before and shoving it on he located his sneakers. Once they were on his feet he grabbed his keys and as quietly as he could let himself out of the house, locking the door behind him as he headed down the little pathway which led to the main one through their little estate.
He walked down past the harbour and the little garages which were starting to open, nodding to a few of the guys he used to see knocking around when he had worked there, continuing past the little row of bait and tackle shops, past the small café, before he reached the path that led along the rocky sea defence. He followed the sandy pathway down to the boardwalk along the beach and continued for as long as he could, his feet treading over the well-worn wooden slats, some of which were loose in places, before it ended and he hit the soft sand. He headed onto the beach, it was almost deserted apart from a few early morning dog walkers, which suited him fine.
The ocean always calmed him. He had no idea why, but it had done ever since he was a kid. He’d adored those family holidays taken before it all went to rat shit, memories of him, his father and his sister playing on the sand whilst his mother read a book shaded by a parasol, every so often looking up to observe what was going on before returning back to whatever latest theory she was reading up on. And then at night, they would eat with a family, late walks on the beach were always a treat, watching the dark water as it lapped against the shore, his dad making up random tales about Peg Legged Pirates searching for treasure which was always buried not far from where they were stood.
He’d done the same with Mary, telling her the same tales he could remember and making up new ones when he couldn’t. She didn’t buy them anymore, she was far too old for her age, but he couldn’t wait to tell them to Bean when he or she arrived, see their little face light up as they glanced over the ocean searching for ghostly ships or dug in the sand for imaginary treasure.
He reached the water’s edge and looked out at the horizon for a few minutes taking in the detail of the sky which was lit up in hues of purple and orange as the sun hovered a few meters or so above the place where the sea hit the sky and he took a deep breath, trying to calm his mind. He was in a mess, a mess that was entirely his own doing, and he felt utterly powerless to fix it. If he couldn’t get Fliss to listen to him…well, he didn’t even want to think about that. But the more he tried not to, the more he did. He couldn’t lose her, not over some stupid misunderstanding like this. Pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to ease the tension headache that was already forming behind his eyes, not helped by the lack of sleep, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to re-centre himself. He finally had everything he hadn't even realised he needed and losing it was not an option. He had to fix this. With one last deep breath he turned to take the 15 minutes or so walk back home.
The house was still quiet when he got back in but he could hear the sounds of the shower meaning Fliss was up. He headed into the bedroom, Thor raising his head from where he was led on the bed, and he bent over to give the dog a scratch behind the ear. He pulled out a clean pair of jeans, a T-shirt and a pair of boxers, tossing them down on the pale blue bed covers, his head turning to face Fliss as she walked into the room, towel wrapped around her, hair piled in a messy bun on her head. His heart gave an instant pang as he took in how tired she looked, the guilt flooding over him as he knew it was his fault.
“Where did you go?” She asked him, her voice soft. “I heard the door.”
“For a walk, just to the beach. Needed some air.”
She looked at him for a moment before she nodded and moved to the dresser to pull out her clothes for the day.
“Can we talk?” He asked her tentatively and she stopped, straightening up before she looked at him.
“I told you last night, I’ve nothing to say.”
“No, but I have.” He pressed, “Lissy please…just hear me out, let me explain.”
She licked her lips and took a deep breath before she sighed “Fine, when Mary’s gone to school. But I have clients at nine and I need to pick Rupert up so I’m leaving here at eight-fifteen no later.”
“Ok.” He nodded, giving her a small smile before he headed into the bathroom for a shower.
Breakfast was a little subdued, but he had to give Fliss her credit. She was polite and civil to him, even if she wasn’t affectionate. But it didn’t fool Mary. She asked him as he walked her down to the bus stop what was going on, and not being one to lie to her, he told her truthfully that he’d been an idiot over the weekend and needed to apologise to Fliss. At that she shot him a filthy look.
“You better fix things or I will kill you and hate you forever.” She hissed before she turned and stormed towards the waiting bus.
You and me both, Short Stack.
When he got back Fliss was waiting for him like she said she would be, sat at the table. She looked at him as he sat on the seat at the end, so he was to her right and facing her. She glanced at her watch “You got 15 minutes.”
“Lissy, those photos…” Frank dove straight in, he had no time to waste and even if he did, he didn’t want to. This was eating him up inside “I know they look bad…”
“No shit, Sherlock…”
“But I swear to you, nothing happened.”
“Nothing happened.” She repeated, looking at him and he shook his head.
“Nothing.”
“Then how the fuck did she end up on your knee, Frank?”
He took a deep breath “In all honestly I only know from what Simon and Greg told me.” He swallowed. “I was drunk, I’d already pushed her away earlier in the night and she came over with her friends, one of them was getting into one of the guys Jake works with and she just sat on my knee. Apparently it took me a while to realise but in the end I told her to get lost. I was quite rude to her, so they say.”
“You look fairly comfortable with her on your lap in the photo.” Fliss responded, looking down at her hand as she twirled her engagement ring round her finger, her voice quiet. The hurt in her tone made Frank feel even more like shit, as she wasn’t screaming or shouting which to be honest he was fairly sure he would have dealt with a whole lot better. “And in the other photo where you look like you’re about to kiss her.”
“Baby, I swear to you seconds after that I told her no. I’d just bumped into her and she was falling so I grabbed her to make sure she didn’t as that was the second time I’d nearly kno-“
“The second time?” Fliss looked at him and Frank closed his eyes, letting out a groan. “So you accidently nearly kissed her before.”
“No, that’s not-“
“Keep digging Frank, because that hole you’re in is getting deeper and deeper by the second.” she shook her head, looking away.
“I nearly knocked her over before.” he said, “Round the pool. I’d just finished talking to you, turned round and bumped straight into her.”
“Right, and she just happened to be there in the club then after you ‘bumped’…” she framed the words with her fingers “…into her?”
“Again, full honestly, no, I don’t think she did.” He shook his head. “She was flirty with me. Made some comment or other when I said I’d watch where I was going about how she hoped not, and then we saw them on the Friday night too in one of the bars…”
Fliss looked at him and shook her head. “The irresistible Adler charm eh?” Her voice carried a note of sarcasm, and Frank shook his head.
“Honey, I’m just being honest here, telling you the truth. She was with a group on a 21st and I think they just saw a gang of guys and…” He shrugged “I dunno…they screwed Aaron, Chad and Jeff out of plenty of drinks so...”
Fliss licked her lips and looked down, her hands fiddling with the now empty glass in her hands.
“Sweetheart, I get why you’re mad, I really do, and yeah, maybe I should have told her to fuck off sooner…”
“Maybe?”
“Alright, not maybe, I should have but…I swear to God I didn’t kiss her, I didn’t sleep with her. Nothing happened.” He reached for her hand, his fingers gently squeezing hers “I love you, more than I can even begin to explain, and our Bean. I’d never do that to you, I don’t need anyone else and I certainly don’t want anyone else.”
She looked at him, then down at his hand which was over hers before she took a deep breath. Her head was a mash. Half of her wanted to believe him, his face and his words were so sincere and he’d never lied to her before, ever. But the other half…those damned photos. And either way, whether he had kissed her or not, he had been far too close, and she’d sat on his fucking knee long enough for someone to get a picture.
“You do believe me, right?” Frank asked, his eyes locking onto hers.
“Honestly?” she asked.
“Always.” He nodded.
“I don’t know what to believe…” she pulled her hand away and stood up, “I have to go. I’ll see you tonight.”
*****
“Hey Titch.” Steve greeted Fliss as she walked into the annex and instantly frowned when he saw her face “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” She shrugged, not wanting to talk about what was happening anymore. She was tired. “Where’s Roo?”
“He’s out back.” Steve frowned “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit nothing.” He shot back, looking at her. She looked away as the tears filled her eyes and she turned to her brother shaking her head.
“Just Frank…and…”
“What’s he done?” Steve asked
“I don’t know.” Fliss said, her tears trickling down her face. “That’s just it…”
Steve put the coffee mug he was holding down on the side and swept his sister into his arms. “Hey, come on…”
She pressed her face into his grey t-shirt as his arms wrapped around her and she simply cried the tears she’d been holding back all morning. Eventually Steve pulled back and looked down at her, letting out a soft sigh. “What’s going on Lissy?”
She moved to take out her phone and wordlessly scrolled to the offending photos which she had saved and handed the phone to him. “There’s another one…” she said, as she saw her brother’s face darken. Steve swiped across and let out a huff through his nose.
“Okay.” he nodded “They don’t look great. What’s he got to say for himself?”
Fliss swallowed “That he was drunk, and moments after the first one he pushed the girl away and on the second one…well, he says he told her to get lost too but…”
“But you don’t believe him?”
“I want to believe him.” Fliss sniffed, “I mean he’s never lied to be before, but then then there’s the message he sent me about being in someone else’s room and…”
“Hang on…someone else’s room?”
Fliss nodded and explained the whole mix up, about how he had been with Simon but even that she was having her doubts about now and Steve listened, his hand running over his beard as he took in her words.
“Have you talked to any of the other guys that were there?” he asked and she shook her head.
“Bonnie tried calling me before but, well to be honest they’re all gonna cover for him, even if he did do it aren’t they? I mean fuck…, seeing those damned photos…it was humiliating and…”
Steve sighed, handing her the phone back. “Look, Lissy, I’ve been in this position before. Some woman all over me and Sian getting the hump. Photos are a snap shot in time, they never tell the whole story…you know that as well as anyone.”
“Yeah, but the same girl is there, on his fucking lap Steve…”
“I know, and yes, regardless of what he did he shouldn’t have let that happen but…fucking hell, he was in Vegas, pissed out of his brains.” Steve sighed “I’m not excusing it, before you start, and I’m not dismissing your worry but…I dunno Liss, just don’t jump to any conclusions ok? Give it some thought.”
“I can’t think about anything else.” she murmured. “God you’re just like dad.”
Steve chuckled “Could be worse people to be like. Look, go to work, get your thoughts straight and if you’re adamant at the end of the day you still don’t believe him then just come here for the night and we’ll take it from there ok?”
Fliss nodded and wiped at her face “Thanks Steve.”
“What are big brother’s for huh?”
She smiled and then eyed him a little “You’re not gonna do anything stupid are you?”
“Define stupid?”
“Like go round there and punch him?”
Steve shook his head “I promise, no punching.”
Satisfied he was telling her the truth she whistled for both dogs who came trotting over, bid her brother goodbye and headed out to her jeep.
******
With nothing else much to do on his day off, Frank was busy scrolling the internet looking at realtor pages. Whilst things were still up in the air, it was helping him focus on being positive, because being anything else was not an option. So far nothing in particular had grabbed his eye but still, it was keeping him occupied as he tried to push the fear he was harbouring to the back of his mind.
He was pulled from his browsing by a knock to the door. Setting the laptop to one side he stood up and headed down the hallway and no sooner had he opened the door someone had gripped the collar of his shirt and shoved him harshly into the wall. It took him a split second to focus and when he realised who it was he gripped the front of them man’s shirt and pushed back. There was a little scuffle in the hallway until Frank managed to free himself from the man’s grip before he stood there, glaring at him, chest heaving.
“Fuck off Steve…” he glared at him.
“I warned you.” Steve looked at him “I told you what would happen if you hurt her Frank…”
“Yes, I remember what you said.” Frank looked at him, shaking his head.
“And yet you still did it…”
“Oh get fucked, this has nothing to do with you…”
“Piss off Frank, it has everything to do with me.” Steve snarled “She turned up this morning for the dog in a right state. And she showed me the photos.”
Frank sighed and hung his head. He should have expected this.
“I told her not to jump to conclusions, trying to keep her calm but I gotta admit Frank…they look pretty damning.”
“I’m aware of that, thanks.” Frank bit back “And you know what, I don’t need this. Things are enough of a mess as it is without adding a brawl with you into the equation.” he turned back to head into the living room “Close the door on your way out.”
“Look me in the eye, tell me you didn’t…” Steve said to his back and Frank stopped, shaking his head as he turned to face him.
“Of course I didn’t. I’d never do that to her.”
Frank met Steve’s glare with one of his own and he could practically see the man’s mind whirring. Eventually he took a deep breath and jerked his head in a stiff nod.
“I had to know Frank.” he said, his tone less confrontational, and Frank knew Steve well enough to understand that was as much of an apology as he was going to get. Frank didn’t say anything, simply turned away once more and headed into the lounge.
“So what happened?” Steve asked following him.
“I was shit faced, that’s what happened.” Frank sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. He turned to look at Steve once more “The girl was part of a group that we’d bumped into a few times. She was a little flirty and yeah, I talked to her, but… she was a fucking kid they were there on a 21st party.”
Steve arched an eyebrow slightly as Frank pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head.
“She tried kissing me in the bar, I pushed her away. I don’t even know how she ended upon my lap but I told her to get lost and…” he shrugged and looked at Steve “There’s nothing more to it…”
“And the morning after when you woke up elsewhere?”
Frank let out a groan “I was in Simon’s room. I passed out…we both did. Liss called me that morning, she even heard Simon on the phone.” Steve watched him carefully as Frank simply shook his head “I’ve explained all this to her…”
“I know.” Steve said “I just wanted to hear it for myself.” He took a deep breath “Any coffee going?”
Frank looked at him and Steve gave him a small smile, causing Frank’s spirit to lift somewhat. Her brother believed him, which was the best thing he could have hoped for in the circumstances.
“Sure.” Frank nodded and headed to the kitchen, Steve following. He made them both a drink, not another word spoken until he handed him a mug and Steve took a sip, leaning against the kitchen counter.
“Look, Frank, I don’t think she believes you cheated, not really. From what she said to me I think she’s more upset really about how she found out.”
“She wouldn’t have if it wasn’t for those damned photos because there is nothing to find out.” Frank shook his head.
“When she told you about John…did she ever mention his little photo stunts?” Steve looked at Frank and Frank paused, frowning a little as he racked his brains, and then a conversation one stormy night as they lay in bed suddenly flashed into his mind.
“He used to go out and deliberately let women paw at him, and instead of hiding any photo evidence he used to simply flaunt it, splash it all over Facebook. That’s why I de-activated all my social media until recently…”
“Fuck.” Frank groaned, shaking his head.
“Manipulation.” Steve’s jaw set. “He would never do anything with the girls but he made Lissy think he had and would then accuse her of being jealous, and paranoid. It was his twisted of getting her to come off social media, another way to isolate her, keep her in line.”
“She doesn’t think that’s what I was doing?” Frank looked at Steve, a horrified expression on his face.
“God, no.” Steve shook his head, “She knows you’re not that man…but Frank, as happy and as safe as she is, those scars are gonna be there for a long time.”
“I know.”
“And I know that the fact that ass hole could still be casting a shadow over everything you have, especially now he’s well out of the picture, is basically really shit, but…”
“I should have remembered.” Frank shook his head. “But, well, to be honest I’ve never had to explain myself like that to any girl, let alone the one I want to spend my life with and I was so caught up in getting her to believe me, I didn’t even consider any of that. Looks like I just fucked things up even more.”
“She’ll come round.” Steve looked at him. “Just give her time.”
“I hope you’re right.” Frank shrugged “Because if she doesn’t I’ll never forgive myself.”
****
Fliss groaned as she looked at the caller ID on her phone. It was Bonnie again.
“Fucks sake…” She grumbled, before answering, deciding to get it over and done with.
“Finally!” Bonnie said, “I’ve been so worried about you…”
“Look, Bonnie I’m really busy…”
“Just 5 minutes…hear me out, please.”
“If you’re gonna start pleading Frank’s case…”
“There’s no case to plead. Simon told me everything last night, apparently about 30 seconds after she’d perched on his knee Frank suddenly realised what was going on and told her to fuck off.”
“Well he would say that, he’s his friend…”
“Oh come on Fliss…” Bonnie made an exasperated noise “First off I can tell when Simon is lying, and he wasn’t, and second off, do you really think Frank would cheat on you?”
“I’m sick of everyone telling me what I should and shouldn’t think.” Fliss practically snarled “I don’t have time for this.”
She cut the call and shoved her phone back into her pocket, her hand gently sliding over her bump.
“You know, people are only trying to help Titch.”
Fliss spun round to see her brother in the doorway to the office and she let out a groan “I thought you were over to do work…”
“My meetings start tomorrow.”
“Right, well, go and find something else to do. I’m busy.”
“Don’t get shitty with me…” Steve frowned.
“Steve just fuck off!” Fliss exploded “I can’t deal with…” she stopped and shook her head “Why can’t everyone just leave me alone.”
“Because they’re trying to help.” He repeated his earlier sentiment and Fliss blinked back her tears.
“Well they’re not.” she sniffed
“Titch…look at me.” Steve said gently and she raised her head to meet her brother’s eyes, her own watering with tears. “Do you hand on heart believe he would cheat on you…seriously?”
“I didn’t.”
“So why do you now?”
“I don’t know if I do, it’s just those photos and…”
“Fuck the photos.” Steve said, his voice a little sterner. Fliss swallowed as she looked at her brother, as he continued. “Do you truly think Frank is the type of man who would, after everything you two went through, jump into bed with some tramp in Vegas whilst this pregnant fiancée is at home, looking after his niece?”
Fliss looked down at the floor, her tears falling down her cheeks.
“Because I don’t, Liss.” Steve continued “Especially not now he looked me in the eye and said he hasn’t.”
At that her head jerked up and she frowned. “You went round?”
“Yeah.”
“Steve you promised not to!”
“No, I promised not to punch him. And I didn’t.” he shrugged, not a shred of apology in his tone. “I talked to him, asked him straight to explain to my face.”
“And you believe him?”
“Yeah I do believe him, completely. I think he was drunk, and at worst potentially indulged the girl a little over the days they were there, which, ok, he shouldn’t have done but at worst he’s guilty of nothing but allowing some 21 year old kid to flirt with him a little. And if that’s a crime then, fuck, you better shoot me along with half the population now.”
Liss looked away, her brother’s words ringing in her head. Truth was they hit home. She had always been a flirty person by nature, it was just the way she was…well, had been until John beat it out of her. But Frank, well, Frank had never bothered about her talking to other men before because he knew she was his…
“Is this really about him, or is this all to do with that fucker again?” Steve asked.
Fliss gave a snort and looked up at Steve. “Can you read minds?”
“No, you just get this look on your face whenever you think about him.”
She stayed silent.
“Frank isn’t John” Steve spoke gently.
“I know that Steve…”
“So stop comparing the two.”
“I’m not.”
“Ok, really? So tell me honestly when you saw those photos your mind didn’t go to his party trick of being photographed with every girl he could manage to on a night out to rub your nose in it, whether he cheated or not?”
“I know that’s not what Frank was doing.” she shook her head. And she did, truly. Frank would never manipulate her like that but she would be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about it, and how shit it made her feel “I just…”
“You’re waiting for something to come along and fuck everything up for you.” Steve said, looking at her. “Which I get, I really do Titch because of everything you’ve been through but you need to stop looking over your shoulder and worrying about what you think is gonna happen, and simply look at what is, because if you don’t then eventually you’re just going to fuck it all up for yourself.”
Fliss turned away from her brother, his words cutting her to the core. He was right. She was, whether consciously or not, constantly wondering when her happiness was going to shatter around her because all she had ever known in a relationship was pain and anger. Some days she would wake before Frank and lie there, watching his face as he slept, committing every single detail right down to those freckles that spattered his nose and cheek, unable to believe how lucky she was. Engaged to a man who asked her to marry him because he loved her and didn’t merely want to possess her. She had a home, not a house, a surrogate daughter in Mary, days filled with laugher and happiness, and a baby on the way. It was a dream for most people, including her and she was perpetually scared one day someone or something would take it all from her. Just as they always had before.
“You know, Frank told me that he’s never had to explain himself to a girl before…” Steve gave took a deep breath “He’s now petrified that being honest with you has just made things worse. Doesn’t that tell you something?”
Fliss looked at her brother, taking in his words. This was all unchartered territory for Frank too. What they were building together was new. He wanted it and more importantly he wanted it with her. As that realisation washed over her so did another one, the understanding that he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise what they have.
“Look, what the pair of you have is special. Don’t let something as stupid as this ruin it all because you both deserve better than that.”
The tears in Fliss’ eyes began to spill down her cheeks and Steve sighed, pulling her to his chest, gently rocking her to and fro, simply allowing her to cry.
****
When Fliss got home Frank wasn’t there, but there was a Pandora Gift Bag sat on the coffee table. Curiosity got the better of her and she undid the bag, opening the box inside. It was a small stroller charm and she swallowed, placing the box back in the bag. She heard the door open and turned as Frank appeared in the doorway.
“Before you ask…” Frank nodded at the bag in her hand “I didn’t buy you that as a sweetener. I got that in Vegas before any of this kicked off. It’s not supposed to be a bribe.”
“I didn’t…” she shook her head, placing it back on the table “That wasn’t what I thought.”
He gave her a nod and she studied him for a second, before Mary bounced into the room.
“Hey!” Fliss smiled at her, “You had a good day.”
“Yeah, it was okay” Mary nodded “They were all doing math today but I did some of my uni work whilst they did the times tables. Have you and Frank made up yet?”
Liss hesitated and Frank gently dropped his hand to the back of Mary’s head.
“We talked, and we still need to talk some more. Any chance you can give us some space?”
She eyed him for a moment before she shrugged “I got homework, I’ll be in my room.”
“Thanks Stack.” he smiled and she turned and headed back out of the room. Once she was out of ear shot Frank turned to Fliss.
“So I had a visit from Steve.”
“I’m sorry I told him not to.”
“He was just being a big brother.” Frank shook his head “But I’m not gonna lie, he scared the shit out of me.”
“Well he came to the yard after, fighting your corner. As Bonnie has been.”
“Honey, I didn’t ask them to.”
“I know.” There was a moment of silence before she sighed. “Frank, I’m sorry…”
“Liss…”
“Let me finish, please.” She shook her head and Frank fell silent, his hands falling into the pockets of his jeans. “If I’m honest I don’t think I ever thought you’d really cheated, I guess, well I guess I saw the photos and…” she trailed off, shrugging “I’m sorry for not believing you, but I’m still pissed at you for getting yourself in that position in the first place.”
Frank hesitated for a second. He was about to protest that he was just drunk, point out that he hadn’t meant to get himself in any position at all, but then he stopped himself. She was angry and hormonal, and he’d rather have her pissed at him for being an idiot than believing he was unfaithful.
So instead he nodded “Ok that’s fair. I get it. And I’m sorry.”
She looked at him for a moment and he stepped forward to give her a hug but she simply moved back a little and gave him a small smile “I’ll start dinner.”
“Sure…” his voice was quiet. He wanted nothing than to hold her in his arms, run his hand over the place his baby was growing, her bump seemingly even bigger than it had been that morning but he also didn’t want to push it. She hadn’t left, she believed him, but she was pissed. However, Frank knew she would get over that in time…which he understood he had to give her, and respect the boundaries she set too. So, with that in mind he took a deep breath and followed her into the kitchen.
“Do you want me to help or…”
“No, it’s only stir fry.” She shook her head. “Did you already feed Mary or…”
He frowned and looked at her, and then realised what she was referring to. They hadn’t been home when she arrived.
“Oh, no…I picked her up and then ran my suit into the dry cleaners.” He said “It had something all over the front of it. God knows what.”
She nodded. “Okay, well it won’t be too long.”
“I’ll set the table then.” he nodded. He moved around, careful not to step into her space as he gathered the various items around and carrying them into the dining room. Once he had completed that he headed out telling Fliss he was going to wash up and tell Mary to do the same.
Fliss acknowledged him and continued with cooking, when suddenly she felt a really strange sensation in her stomach. It was like a fluttering, almost as if she had bubbles inside her belly, and then she realised instantly what it was.
Their baby had moved. And she’d just felt it for the first time.
Pausing what she was doing her hand fell to her bump as the tiny little sensations flooded her and she felt a smile creeping over her face.
“Hey Bean.” She whispered, softly.
At that point Frank came back into the room and saw her, her hand on her bump, stood perfectly still, looking down at her belly and he frowned.
“Lissy?” He looked at her as she raised her head to look at him “Everything ok?”
“Yeah, I just felt Bean move!” she smiled, her eyes bright and Frank let out a grin.
“Really?” he stepped forward, his hand out but he paused. Fliss looked at him and he locked eyes with her. Fliss understood instantly, he was waiting for her to say it ok after she told him last night not to touch her.
He was asking her permission.
Instantly her heart melted towards him, she loved this man, with everything she had. And he loved her. She gently took his hand and pulled on it softly, and he closed the distance as she pressed his palm to her stomach, leaving her hand resting over his.
“I doubt you’ll feel it…it was just like bubbles, not really a kick or anything.” She said as he looked down before he raised his eyes back to her “But they can hear you now though, according to Mary’s extensive research.”
“Yeah?”
She nodded. Frank took a deep breath and knelt down, both his hands resting on the side of her belly as he grinned “Hey kid. You cooking well?”
Fliss felt the flutters again, a little stronger this time and she smiled, her hand running into Frank’s hair “They just did it again. They clearly know your voice, daddy.”
He glanced up at her, his eyes watering “I love you both so much.”
“I know.” She sniffed. “I love you too.”
Frank stood up, his hands sliding up Fliss’ thighs to her hips and as he did, hers fell from his hair to his shoulders. They both stayed still, simply looking at one another till Frank leaned forward and gave her a soft kiss.
“This doesn’t mean I’ve completely forgiven you.” She muttered against his mouth and he smiled.
“I wouldn’t dream of suggesting it did.” He shrugged “But is it at least enough to get me off the couch? My back is killing me.”
“You wanna compare back ache?” She arched an eyebrow.
“No, no, not at all, obviously yours is far worse than mine could possibly be…”
Fliss narrowed her eyes. “Is that sarcasm?”
“Absolutely not.” He told her sincerely, shaking his head. His eyes, however, told her a different story. Those azure blues she knew and loved shone with humour, utterly betraying him.
“Hmmm, well I’ll think about it.” Her hands moving to pat his chest. “Now get lost, I need to finish dinner.”
Frank turned away, a smile on his face. As he always told Mary, an I’ll think about it wasn’t a no.
****
Chapter 5
#riding on#frank adler#frank adler x ofc#frank adler x original female character#gifted#gifted fan fic#chris evans#chris evans characters
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