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zankivich · 5 years

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The Arrangement: CEO’s Son/Dom!Shawn x Black Sub Reader Chapter 7

a/n: this is like my favorite chapter so far. I feel like I’ve been waiting this whole story to ge tot watch these two interact in this way. I hope it comes across as authentic. I worked really hard on the pacing for this story. You all have been incredibly kind to me lately with feedback for this story and I sincerely hope you keep it coming. It is without a doubt the brightest part of my days recently. Thank you so much for that. K bye.

WARNINGS: sex without a condom (gotta wrap it before you tap it). mentioned of white supremacy, racism, and micro-aggressions.

*Shawn’s point of view*

Nothing ever simultaneously works out. It never all gets to be perfect. His life had been a memoir with that exact theme and yet somehow he always let himself forget. Y/n leaves and he somehow has a date with her. A date. Not a hookup. Not some elaborate set up to make her cum. A date. With like conversation and personality. He hadn’t been on a date in years. And sure he knew he was really good at sex, but that didn’t mean shit about being able to actually hold a conversation. She was lightyears above him mentally, and he had no idea how he was going to manage to not fuck it up. But he had a date. She said yes. And that within itself was a win. So of course something in his life was going to have to go to shit. Hold that thought.

Brian makes it back sometime between his gym run and a shower. By the time he gets out, the asshole is sitting on his couch fucking up his kill rate on COD.

“Move over, jerkoff! And switch to two player.” He grunted plopping down on the couch beside him.

“Jeez, bro take it down a couple notches. I am nursing a hangover from the depths of hell over here.”

“Not my fault you can’t ever handle your liquor.”

“Well Melanie seemed to think I handled it just fine.”

“Melanie sounds like she’s still never had an orgasm before.”

Brian punched him in the bicep which only resulted in him returning the favor. Idiot.

“Not all of us sneak our hookups in in the middle of the night.”

He rolled his eyes fingers smashing on the controller.

“I didn’t sneak anyone. It’s my fucking apartment you idiot.”

“Yea, sure, whatever. Did you at least hook up with someone new?”

His fingers stumbled on the joystick, sending his player headfirst into a grenade. Lovely.

“No. No I didn’t.”

Brian looked over at him. “You fucked the same girl again?”

“I don’t think we should be equating Melanie and y/n here. y/n is a woman. A grown ass woman. Trust me, she never lets me forget.” He snorted.

“What is up with you and this chick? You never fuck the same person twice.”

He supposed now was as good a time as any. He actually was going to need shit for brains’ advice.

“I like her okay! I like her. And we hooked up last night but it was...it was different. I didn’t tell her what to do. I didn’t pull out any bells or whistles. I just...We just had sex. And she kissed me like she liked me too. So I asked her on a date.”

“A DATE?! I haven’t seen you go on a date since you were like a child!!”

“No shit, jackass. I’m going to need every fucking ounce of help I can get. And that includes your ass, unfortunately.”

“Stop pretending you don’t love me bitch. Now tell me how you plan to get a thirty year old woman who isn’t on drugs to actually enjoy spending time with your sorry ass.”

What are best friends for?

***

*y/n’s point of view*

y/n: I HAVE A DATE.

y/n: I NEED YOU HERE ASAP

Tiana: Oh shit. K. omw.

The last time you went on a date was in 2016, what some might call the beginning of Armageddon. After a slew of horrid dates, you had been completely and totally ready to throw in the towel. But then this cute guy came out of nowhere. He was nice, sweet, not very funny but in a way that made you laugh. He was also persistent enough to not take no for an answer, without it making you uncomfortable. No immediate red flags. So you went on the damn date. And all was well. It wasn’t an earth shattering date, but you weren’t not enjoying his company. And then it happened.

I just really think Trump will genuinely make America great again ya know?

You nearly choked on a piece of lettuce.

“Really bruh? In front of my salad?”

“No just hear me out though. Is he unorthodox, sure. But Hillary? Hillary and those emails. It just wouldn’t have worked.”

“I absolutely understand what you mean.”

“You do?” He smiled.

“Yep. CHECK PLEASE!”

“Bitch we do not have time for you to disassociate I am trying to make a wing here!” Tiana huffed.

You rolled your eyes and reached for your phone working to still your features so that Tianna could continue with your makeup.

y/n: Are you a republican?

Shawn: Well thank you for asking, I’ve had a lovely day. How was yours?

y/n: I’m serious.

Shawn: I’m Canadian.

“Shit. I’m so stupid.” You whined.

Tiana tugged at your chin. “Not stupid. But NOT still.”

“Sorry, ti.”

y/n: Would you have voted for Trump if you could have?

Shawn: No. No I wouldn’t have. What kind of a person do you think I am?

y/n: Idk. idk. I just needed to be sure. It never came up when you were tying my arms behind my back.

Shawn: You didn’t mention political discourse as one of your kinks. Is there something I should know before tonight?

y/n: No. It’s fine. I swear. Just haven’t been on a date in a really long time. And my last one didn’t go so well.

Shawn: It’s been a long time for me too. But I’d really like to have a go at it, if that’s okay with you?

y/n: yea, I’d like that. Should I meet you at your place still?

Shawn: Actually I’m gonna pick you up. I’ll be at your place at 7?

y/n: Oh. Okay.

“Hmmm.”

“Hmmm what? What’d he say?” Tiana asked.

“I’m not meeting at his place anymore. He’s picking me up.”

“Well where is he taking you?”

“If I knew that, Ti would I be sitting here in a ball of anxiety?!”

Tianna dropped her eyeliner brush and reach instead for the body lava. All hail Rihana.

“I sure hope he dicks you unconscious for a few hours. You have got to relax, sis.” She giggled. “It’s going to be alright, okay? He likes you. You like him. Let that be enough for right now.”

“Okay. Okay. Just...make my titties sparkle? Please?”

“Lord, chile. You don’t pay me enough.” She snorted.

Friendship!

***

Shawn: I’m here. Do you want me to come up?

y/n: No need! Here I come.

Outside your apartment building is one of those SUV hummer situations that you only ever rode in when you were visiting one of your artists on tour. Shawn is standing outside the door of the vehicle, and you can’t help but pause right there in the middle of the sidewalk. He traded the black jeans for a black slack that hones in on the fact that he’s most definitely not wearing a chelsea boot for the first time ever. They’re dress shoes. Like proper, wing tips. And he’s wearing a short sleeve button up with yellow, black, and white stripes. There are enough buttons undone to see the way that his rosary necklace melted into the firmness of his chest nestled amongst the most sinful amount of chest hair. God, where the hell had they made this one at? And how the hell did he wind up at my front door?

“Hi.” He smiled, legs crossed and chest broad. “You look really beautiful.”

You peered down at the jumpsuit you’d picked out with Tiana’s help. It was a really pretty shimmery gold color and the entire back was cut out too. In hindsight, it didn’t seem nearly as impressive as to what he was wearing now.

“Thank you. You look pretty beautiful yourself. Really showed me up tonight.”

He laughed. “Yea, sure. Come on, it’s cold out. Let’s get going.”

In the car, there’s a bottle of champagne and one of the playlists that you recognized from Shawn’s apartment is playing softly in the background. He pours each of you a glass, your legs somehow knotting simply together on the floor of the car. It’s weird in that it’s not like a first date in the traditional sense. You put his balls in your mouth for one. He licked orgasms out of you like ice cream. But the nerves are still there. You find that you care about what he thinks of you, of how he feels about you. That’s new. And scary.

“So uh...where are we going?” You asked between sips of champagne.

He bites his lip and looks nervously over at you. It’s a new look for him. But one that you find solace in.

“Would you be angry at me if I said it was a surprise?”

You raised an eyebrow. “No. But I would be curious as to what that surprise is.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll know soon enough.”

“I think I heard that line one time. I think Hannibal Lector said it.”

He rolled his eyes and threw his head back and you wished it didn’t make you giggle, but it does.

“Funny.” He smirked hiding behind his glass. “I just wanna impress you a little bit. Is that okay?”

“You wanna impress lil ole me huh?” You smiled. “That’s sweet.”

“Just a little.”

He licked his bottom lip and his hand inched its way up your knee. He was warm. Way too warm to not have your body react a little. Rude.

“Whatever happened to your friend from the other morning? Am I taking you away from him?”

“Oh Brian?” He snickered. “He’s just happy he’s got my place to himself. He couldn’t believe I was going on a date at all.”

“Tiana either.” You snorted.

“Yea? She try and convince you not to go out with me?”

“She is...surprisingly Pro-you for some reason. Must have something to do with me not having enough time to be a bitch as work with our arrangement and everything.”

“Hmmm. Well it’s nice to know I’ve got one person on my team. Maybe by the end of the night I can win you over too.”

“Maybe.” You smiled.

The car eventually rolls to a stop, and you’re not even aware of how long you’ve been talking. All the nerves that you couldn’t actually be together without the sex part sort of faded away. He could make you laugh. He could hold your attention. And you could offer him the same. Just when you were starting to think that it was all going to be fine? Shawn came to open your door.

Your heels touched gently to the ground and you let him pull you from the car. Behind him was not a restaurant. Not a bar. Not even a fucking hotel. Nope. Instead you were stood right in front of Mendes Industries’ private jet and a fucking flight attendant with a bag in her hands that looks surprisngly like your Louis Vitton. Fucking Tiana.

“What the hell. Shawn, what the hell?!” You gasped. “What is this?”

“You were concerned about people seeing us right? Well no one’s gonna see us. No one but the locals.”

“The locals?! I can’t--I can’t just fly away with you Shawn. I have responsibilities. I have a--a job.”

He reached for your hands, which tended to do a lot of movement when you were flustered, and stilled them by placing them on his shoulders.

“Listen to me,” He murmured silencing you. “It’s already set. Tiana canceled all of your meetings for three days. It’s just three days. Look I...I really like you, okay? More so than I know what to do with right now. And I think that you like me too. Do you like me?”

“Y--Yea! Yea, of course I do. That’s not really the point is it?”

“It is. Just get on the plane. Please? I just wanna take you out. Let me take you out.”

You peered up at him, all soft brown eyes and chiseled everything else. He had really come along out of nowhere. It was incredibly disorientating, and intoxicating. You lived your life by a planner, a set time for every hour by the hour. And here he was asking you to throw that all away, to let yourself be something else for a chance. And it wasn’t all that different from what he asked of you in the bedroom. Just let go. Release.

You sighed. “You know when most guys ask to take a girl out? They don’t mean out of the state.”

“I’m not like other guys.” He shrugged.

“No shit. Where are you taking me, white boy?” You groaned letting him steer you towards the plane.

“Try to contain your excitement.” He snorted. “Remember that time we had sex in the back of a storage room during Khalid’s video shoot?”

You smiled awkwardly at the flight attendant and knocked your arm into his shoulder.

“Oh please. We’ve had this jet since I was fifteen. I’m almost positive my dad has done some incredibly sketchy shit on here. Martha knows all. Thank you Martha!”

He leads you to a seat. There’s more champagne. You don’t know how you got here. This man was wild.

“Get to the point, maybe?”

“Right. We hooked up in the storage closet, and you told me that story about how you missed your high school trip to Rome because your mom was having heart problems and couldn’t afford it with the medical bills? You had a Lizzie Mcguire fantasy and everything.”

“I was drunk that night. Khalid had just gotten his first number one.”

“So you don’t want me to take you to Rome?” He asked.

“ROME?!”

“Rome.”

“....Who are you?!”

He chuckled. “I’m just a guy standing here asking a girl to let me take her on a little trip.”

“Oh my god. He quotes romcoms. This is too much.”

“Just relax sweetheart. We’re about to do liftoff.”

Jesus Christ.

***

*Shawn’s point of view*

He’s a little worried that he may have broken her. Maybe it was too much too fast. He should’ve just taken her to fucking dinner like a normal person. The problem was he wasn’t normal. And she sure as hell wasn’t normal either. She was so different from anyone he’d ever been with before. He wanted to spend time with her. And the last thing in the world he wanted was her to think about his dad while she was with him. He could tell that it bothered her more than she was willing to admit, and he just needed them to be on equal footing. What said equal footing like going to a country where neither of them spoke the language. Tiana had given him the green light when she agreed to change y/n’s schedule around and even pack her a bag. It seemed like maybe it might go well.

She calms down after her first glass of champagne, and sits more comfortably into the seat next to him, her legs folded so that her knees poked gently at his thigh. She was closer, close enough for him to smell her perfume and he kind of loved it.

“So are first dates the one’s where we spill all of our dirty laundry, or is that the second one?” She asked.

He chuckled and laid his hand on her thigh. She smiles at him, so he doesn’t pull away.

“Your guess is as good as mine. Do your worst, woman.”

She situates herself a little more gently into the chair, chin propped up on her palm. He gets lost in the glitter on her collarbones and neck.

“Why haven’t you been on a date in a long time?” She asked.

Heavy first question. But he told her to do her worst.

“Well I uh...the last date I went on was with my girlfriend of about two years. And on said date she told me that she had been sleeping with a producer at Atlantic records for six months, and that he was going to share her demo. So, she didn’t need me anymore.” He shrugged around a sip of champagne.

“Two years? Two fucking years before she pulled that shit? That’s fucked.” She said. “I’m sorry.”

“Yea. It was really heavy at the time. Blamed my dad for a lot of it, even if it probably wasn’t his fault this time. But ever since then I just thought it might be easier to stick to the meaningless sex route.”

She nodded. “I fuck that up for you a little bit?”

“You have no idea.” He grinned rubbing his thumb along her chin. “I should’ve known the second I caught you checking me out at that party.”

“Excuse me? For the last time I was not ‘checking you out’. I was simply observing that snooze fest your father put on.”

“I was checking you out.” He admitted honestly. “I asked my dad to introduce us. I just knew I had to have you. And then I spoke to you and I found out you were trouble, and you weren’t going to take any of my shit. I should’ve known then.”

It’s a lot softer than anything he’s ever admitted before, and every time that he remembers that this is more, that they’re trying to become more, it makes his heart stutter in his chest. But she leans her head against his seat and she smiles at him like it means something to her to be open, to be vulnerable. And that alone is enough to get him to lean in.

“So maybe....maybe I was looking in your direction.” She says softly. “I’d heard of you. I’d just never actually seen you in person before. And maybe I was curious.”

“Curious?!” He laughed. “Okay. Curious. We can call it that; I’ll take it. Your turn. Worst date. Spill.”

She groaned softly and slid a little deeper into her seat, head fitting perfectly against his shoulder.

“I accidentally went to dinner with a Trump supporter.”

“Accidently?” He snorted.

“Don’t laugh asshole! It was thoroughly traumatic for me. I just thought that logically a white supremacist would not be interested in asking me, a black woman, on a date. I forgot that logic is not in their wheelhouse. It was awful.”

“Now your texts make a lot more sense.” He chuckled reaching his arm to pat her cheek. “That enough to take you out the game, aye?”

“I don’t know man...the world is fucking scary right now.” She sighed. “Sometimes it feels like there’s no one we can trust, like there’s no one who doesn’t have it out for us. It’s not just political agendas. It’s my safety. It really is that deep. It has to be.”

It’s this moment where she’s offering more of herself than she had in the entire time that he’d known her. Y/n was beautiful and sexy and intelligent, but there was also always this aura of mystery around her. Like she wasn’t quite ready to share herself, didn’t know if she could. And he wanted to find his way on the other side of that. He wanted to know her better than she knew herself. And he wants to cherish any moment where she’s willing to let him try that.

“I understand.” He paused and closed his eyes feeling maybe a little flustered and out of his element. “I mean I don’t. I know that I don’t, that I couldn’t but..I hear what you’re saying. And I believe you. I would like to know more at some point. If you’re willing to share it with me.”

Her eyes flicker over to his and they’re wide and brilliant and he wants to kiss her so bad.

“You do?” She checked.

He nodded and chanced reaching to pull her face a little closer, palm resting against her cheek.

“I do.”

She kisses him and it feels like the sun. It feels like everything.

***

*y/n’s point of view*

Rome is kind of perfect. It’s not so hot that you’ve got to cover yourself in deodorant, but the sun is still pretty and bold in the sky. The hotel he takes you to has an entire terrace open for your access with those flowy ass curtains you only saw in cheesy 80’s pop music videos. There are couches that might as well be beds there so soft and plush. You touch down in the middle of the night and there’s not much to do but keep talking to each other, keep touching each other. You take your shoes off and sit out on the couches wrapped in blankets with another bottle of champagne. If the redness in his cheeks is anything to go off of, he’s just as tipsy as you, and it means that it’s not weird when you lean into him. No one’s gonna say anything for letting him hold you.

“It’s four am right now.” You giggled hiding your face in his neck. “It’s so beautiful here.”

“Do you like it?”

“Yea. I really do. I always wanted to come here. I can’t believe this is our first date.”

“I wanted it to be special for you. You deserve that.”

“Since when?” You asked so thoroughly confused by everything that he was. “I mean, yes. I definitely deserve this but...when you did you realize that you want it to be more than what we were? I thought you just wanted to fool around?”

“I did.” He whined stubbornly tracing your nose with his thumb. “I really did. But...you are very good at sex.” You laughed and he smiled. “I’m serious! One of the best partners I’ve ever had. And sometimes when our bodies were moving I just got lost in you. Like you were a fucking beautiful ass star capturing me with your light. And then you stopped arguing with me so much and just letting me be like...a friend to you? And then Miami happened and I just--I wanted to be with you. And I realized that I wanted to be with you as a person, even when we weren’t having sex. I was scared. Until I realized that you liked me too. Then I got my confidence back.”

“Oh lord not your confidence.” You rolled your eyes.

“You have got to stop acting like you are not all up on this okay? I see the way you stare at me, honey. It’s okay. Let yourself give in to Mendes Magic!”

“I am officially not attracted to you anymore.” You snorted going to pull away.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and tackled you down to the couch. Your laughter poured out into the night as his fingers dug into your belly. You laugh until your stomach aches. Until there’s tears in your eyes. Until he kisses you and you feel it in your toes. Until the only thing you can think about, feel, smell, is him. And you melt like that against the couch.

***

Rome is beautiful. It’s the most beautiful place you’ve ever been. The sun rises in the sky and you’re up immediately tugging Shawn out of bed. There’s breakfast at this little place near the hotel that looks out over buildings that were unlike anything you’d ever thing. Everything was historic and rustic and so endlessly different from everything you’d seen before. It was really like something straight out of a movie with cobblestone walkways and buildings that were works of art themselves. It’s wild. It would be wild on any day of the week. That was before you looked over your glass of wine to this guy smiling at you like the beauty of the city around him meant nothing in comparison to looking at you.

You liked him. Shit you liked him a lot. And every time he looked you in the eye and hung on every word you said? It just blew you even further away. And you kept trying to remind yourself how unrealistic it all was. You were thirty afterall. The two of you were in different times in your life. He was still holding on to every word his dad said. You had plans for your life, for your career. It was hard to figure out whether or not he could fit into those plans. And maybe that wasn’t first date type of thinking, but hello! He took your ass to Rome. None of it was normal. So you walked a little faster, tried to hold harder to the moments that you had to share. Cause why not?

“Hey can we slow down for a sec?” He asked as you pulled him towards your third museum of the day.

You frowned. “I wanna see the ruins.”

“We can. I promise. Just let’s sit down for a second, yea?”

You’d been walking all morning, stopping at every nook and cranny that you came across. It was a three day trip anyway. You had no idea when you’d ever be back, if you ever would be back. But there’s something special about the company too. You remind yourself that he’s the reason you’re there. The vacation, though amazing, was really just an opportunity to be with him.

“Yea, of course.”

He tugged you to a little corner of these big huge steps that were filled with people just sitting down, chatting, eating their lunches. The second you’re no longer standing on your feet is a little bit like heaven.

“Okay make you were right.” You sighed wiggling your toes. “I’m tired.”

“Well that’s good. I was starting to think you were a robot.” He chuckled. “I’m glad I packed tennis shoes.”

You peered down at his feet and quickly laced your legs with his where the white tennis shoes stuck out in contrast to his black jeans.

“They look so funny on you. I like them. You’re cute.”

He smiled over at you. “I’m cute, aye?”

“You heard me.”

“Yea, well maybe I wanna hear you say it again.” He murmured taking your cheek into his hand.

“You’re cute.” You whispered before pressing your lips together.

You had yet to get over this new style of kissing. The way he rubbed so softly at your cheek you got goosebumps. The way his tongue could make you feel like time was slowing down. Almost like there was nothing left here. Nothing but the two of you and the way you could make each other feel. It was maybe the best feeling in the world.

“You’re beautiful.” He murmured when the kiss had ended, forehead pressed against yours. “I can’t believe you’re here with me right now.”

“I can’t believe you whisked me away to a different country for our first date.” She hummed. “What are you hiding? Do you have a third nipple or something? A serial killer perhaps?”

“Why are you so insistent on me killing people?” He laughed. “And you’ve seen all of my body at this point. If there was a third nipple don’t you think you would’ve seen it?”

“Well you’ve got me there. But statistically speaking at least fifty percent of all murders probably fit your description, honey. I’m just being realistic. I’ve seen what you can do with rope.”

He rolled his eyes and he found that it made you smile. And so he tended to do it more and more often. That’s kinda how you knew you were fucked.

“What do you say we go see these ruins of yours, find some pasta, and fuck until we fall asleep?”

“As long as it’s in that order!” You gasped tugging him back to his feet to continue your wild adventure of the day.

***

*Shawn’s point of view*

He’s got a new kink. And it’s definitely her calling him baby when he’s inside her. It is without a doubt the sexiest thing she could do for him. Which makes so little sense. How fucking soft had she turned him in a few short months? This is where he was now, almost blowing his load because a woman called him baby. It’s not just a woman though. It’s her. Holy fuck it’s her, and the sound of her voice is like directly tied to his dick or something. Shit.

The couches on the terrace are perfect for sex in broad daylight. It’s completely secluded to just them, but anyone at the other hotels around would easily be able to hear them if they opened a window. It’s just another thing that seems to get them both hot and bothered. Her body is a dream. And he doesn’t need to tie her up to get lost in her. (Even if he really, really liked tying her up). All he needs is the feel of her body against his and his hands to direct her where he wants her to go, where he needs her to go for both of them to explode.

“Fuck.Honey you’re dripping. You’re dripping all over my dick.” He groaned tugging her thighs more ruggedly against his own.

“Baby I--I wanna cum.” She gasped, voice breathy and chaotic as her hips bucked like a fucking dream. “I wanna cum on it. Please?”

“It’s yours. Cum on it. Make yourself cum.”

He reached around her waist to grind his fingers deep into her clit. Her ass began to bounce against him, quick and sharp and rugged. He’s barely holding on by a thread. And then she starts to squeeze down on him, her hips working to bring herself to her own climax, and he’s already done for.

“Fuck! I’m cumming.”

His fingers work harder on her clit, dropping down to his knees to drive desperately into her with everything he’s got left inside of him. It thrusts her over the back of the couch and he plasters himself against her back grinding tightly with everything that he’s got.. When she cums it’s just another accomplishment, another moment of making her feel good. It’s all he’s ever really wanted since they met.

“Holy fucking shit.” She gasped collapsing against his chest. “So good.”

“Yea? Still think I can’t dom you and date you at the same time?”

“Shhhh. No one has time for you sir, I can’t feel my legs.”

He nuzzled his way into her neck placing kisses against the skin. His arms were still wrapped around her and her fingers were playing in his hair. It was different than their usual hook ups, for sure. But, he liked it. He liked feeling close to her. He liked touching her and feeling her heart beat beneath his finger tips. Did she know how amazing she was?

“You want me to go get a towel?” He asked softly, pecking at her ear.

She hummed. “Not yet. Don’t leave yet.”

God he was ruined. Just like that.

“Yea okay.”

***

She hops in the shower and he has every intention of following her, of maybe pressing her into the shower door and fucking her until the glass breaks. But then his phone starts ringing and she giggles and runs off leaving his dick to twitch against his thigh. He was stupid on her. Aboslutely idiotic. And whoever was getting in the way of his idiocy was about to get an ear full.

“There better be someone dying!” He huffed eyes still very much on the shower where perhaps the most beautiful woman alive was waiting for him.

“That can be arranged. Can you explain to me why I had to find out from Tiffany that your half whit ass is in Rome right now instead of New York?” His dad roared.

Remember that whole things falling apart narrative? Surprise.

“Shit. Dad look I..I just needed to get away for awhile okay?”

“On the comapny fucking jet nonetheless?!”

“That jet has been open to family members as long as I’ve been alive. Since when is it even a problem?”

“Since you’ve been on that jet more than you’ve been in my office. I am tired of trying to explain this to you Shawn. The rules are very simple. You work for me, you do a good job, you get your inheritance. If you don't, you know what happens Shawn. Is that what you want, to make me have to do that to you?”

“Look Dad I,” He let his voice drop softer, shyer. “It’s not what it looks like. This isn’t just me fucking off okay? I--I like someone. Like really like them. And I just wanted to impress her. She’s different. And I wanted her to like me. This isn’t one of my hookups, I swear.”

He hadn’t liked someone in so long, hadn’t even come close to what he was feeling for y/n. Even though his dad was a dick and they had fought since the time he was eleven, there was still a part of him that yearned for his approval. It was hard not to get caught up in what the world knew his dad to be. It was hard not to feel like if he could just make him proud, just make him happy, then everything would be okay. He hadn’t been that naive in a long time, but it still pulled at him every now and again.

Manny sighed. “Great, son. That doesn’t help the fact that you went behind my back and are continuously neglecting your duties.”

“I--I’m not though. Niall is sitting at sixteen songs as we speak. You only wanted twelve remember? I convinced the producers to look into doing a deluxe edition. That’s gonna make the label happy, Niall happy, and it’s more money for you right? I’m back in LA in a week to work on the roll out for Sarah Leone to the press. I’m kind of working my ass off here. I’m doing everything you wanted.”

“Look whatever just get your ass back to New York, okay?” He muttered.

“I’ll be back in two days.”

“Shawn.”

“Two days. I’ll be back in two days, and I’ll keep living in this hell of a life you’ve set up for me , alright? See you then.”

He tossed his phone back onto the bed in frustration. The noose tightened a little in his absence, sick and tired of always fighting and always losing. It seemed like no matter what happiness he carved out for himself, he was always going to have to return home. Maybe he was kidding himself. Maybe there was no winning in this life.

He stands there for like forty-five seconds feeling sorry for himself, and just fully like a piece of shit. And then he hears her. It’s soft and gentle and sweet. He moves a little closer to the bathroom, the door still open and her naked body visible through the foggy glass door. She’s singing.

“I’m like a bird, I’ll only fly away.” She cooed softly. “I don’t know where my soul is, I don’t know where my home is.”

Her voice was soulful and low, her fingers cupping her breasts and rolling down over her hips as she sang. It really kind of hit him in his heart. He leaned against the edge of the doorway, head lolling back for support at this gorgeous sound coming out of this gorgeous woman. The music lover in him just wanted to sit on the floor and listen to her all day, it was so pretty. Maybe map out some harmonies for the two of them. And the fact that he could see the smile on her lips as she sang only made his heart feel two times too big for his sturnemum. He wasn’t ready for the way that she could make him feel. He thought he’d known that, thought he was preparing himself. Not so much. He wasn’t sure one could prepare themselves for a woman like y/n. Maybe that was his lesson to learn.

She catches sight of him out of the corner of her eye and her lips glue firmly shut. He practically pouts when she stops singing. His arms crossed against his chest tighten in dissatisfaction.

“What are you doing?” She whined leaning her head out of the shower.

He shrugged. “Was just listenin’. You didn’t tell me you sang.”

“You didn’t ask. And I don’t. I was just...humming.”

“Humming?” He laughed softly. “Okay. Well you hum beautifully.”

“Well thank you, I suppose. Was your phone call okay?”

“No. Not quite but, I’m good now. Can I wash your back for you maybe?”

“Yea. Boy, you ain’t gotta ask to wash my back. Come on!”

He steps back into the steam of the shower and it’s like nothing exists but the two of them. And he just really wants to keep it that way for a little while longer. If only for a little while longer.

***

They’re lying on a hotel bed that’s so soft it feels like they’re sinking. After another glorious round of sex he found himself tangled in the sheets beside her. Their heads at the foot of the bed because that’s the position where he’d made her cum last, and their feet intertwined at the headboard. She’s not looking at him, but instead up at the ceiling. This doesn’t seem to stop him from peering over at her. She’s kind of too beautiful to not look at.

“Can I ask you something?” He hedged carefully.

She peered over at him, eyes warm and sated.

“Yes.”

“I don’t...I really don’t know how to ask, or what to ask. And maybe--maybe I’m gonna come across like some dick, but I don’t wanna do that with you. I want to learn ya know? I want to understand.”

“Shawn?” She pressed getting his attention. “Calm down. Just ask.”

He nodded softly and took a deep breath. His fingers twitched anxiously against his stomach.

“That stuff you said earlier on the plane...you know about--about the trump supporter, and how that made you feel? And then sometimes...sometimes it sounds like you don’t really like white people, which like makes sense right? We’re the worst. But I just...I wanna understand more about...about what that means for you? Fuck. I’m sorry. That sounded dumb just saying it.”

He closes his eyes ready for her to slap him and take his jet all the way back to New York. He thinks maybe he’d deserve it. It wasn’t even that he’d never been with a Black woman before. Black Women were beautiful and ethereal and wonderful. But, even his tiny white man brain could understand that the state of the world was simply a little different nowadays. His mediocre understanding of racism and privilege simply wasn’t enough. And he knew that if he wanted to be with this woman, if he wanted to feel like he deserved to be near her and absorb her intellect, than he should probably do his absolute best to understand the world in which she walked. Because it certainly looked different from his own.

He feels her hand on his chest and his eyes flutter open. She curled her fingers around his own and sent him another gentle smile that made his toes curl at the other end of the bed.

“It’s not dumb.” She assured him. “You’re asking. You might not have the language, but you’re asking. And that means a lot to me, okay? A lot.”

He nodded his head dumbly, eagerly hanging on every word that she said. She lied back once again, her head nestling a little closer to his. She doesn’t let go of his fingers.

“So, I do hate white people sometimes.” She mumbled. “Sometimes in the discourse Black folks will often try to explain that it’s not all white people, it’s just some. And most days I can get there. I can recognize that. But like… that’s not really how it works you know? Even white people who wouldn’t lynch my black ass grew up in a culture that would. Even white folks who might not feel the need to say the n-word grow up in a culture that situates their body, their worth, their value over mine. And even if that’s not your fault, and I can recognize that it isn’t you know? That’s how privilege works, it’s subliminal. But even if it’s not your fault, it doesn’t mean that you don’t benefit. And it definitely doesn’t mean that you haven’t absorbed messages about my inferiority.”

He watches her face the entire time, more specifically the emotions that seem to rush through every pore and every muscle. There’s a bit of agony on her features. A bit of frustration. But as she warms up there’s a freedom to it too. He knows that she’s not editing her words. She’s not doing anything for his benefit. He asked and so she would tell him, in whatever way was meaningful for her.

“White people just...sometimes it really seems like y’all don’t give a shit. I’ve had the cops called on me at the very building that I work at. On the top floor, with some of the most powerful people in show bizz twenty-seven times since I started. To the point where Mike in security has to keep an updated description of me every time I change my hair just in case. I have walked onto sets to manage my artists and been told that the back up dancers are in the trailer around back. Every step I take, every goddamn day, there is always at least one white person there to tell me that I don’t deserve it. That I don’t belong. And the intersections of my blackness with my womanhood mean that I am consistently and constantly facing an uphill battle of two indentities that the world just doesn’t give a fuck about.”

He couldn’t look away from her. Never had he ever seen her be so vulnerable for him. Y/n was always just an inch or two behind a wall, always peeking out to give him glimpses but never really showing herself in her entirety. He watched the way that her chest rose and fell more rapidly, watched the way her fingers tightened around his own, and her eyebrows wrinkled on her forehead. It was anxiety. She was anxious and angry and sad. The way that her lips pointed down and her eyes blinked faster than normal told him as such. It kind of broke his heart.

And it’s all so new for him that the only thing he can do is follow his instincts and hope that either he doesn’t fuck it up, or that maybe she’ll forgive him if he does. So, he rested his head firmer against her and held her hands just as tight like maybe it might root her a little better in this room with him, like maybe she might feel safe with him.

“And the people...the people that do these things to you. That do these racist acts all the time they--they look like me don’t they?”

Her eyes that were trained on the ceiling fell down to meet his again. They’re still sad, but a little softer now.

She nodded slowly a bit of a grin forming on her lips.

“I’ma be honest ain’t nobody walking around looking quite like you but...yes they--they kind of look like you.”

He nodded slowly and tilted his head back to peer up at the ceiling now. There’s an anxiety to it for him too. In asking the questions that he didn’t have answers to, to be vulnerable enough in his ignorance. There’s a desire to get it right because she’s important to him, and then a dread when he realizes the time it will take to get there, and the pain that might cause her along the way.

“Shit y/n...why the hell would you even wanna go out with me? Even I hate me right now.” He sighed.

“That’s just the white guilt talking baby,” She snorted before sobering up quickly. “Look it’s complicated right? Like given my problems with white people and white men in particular, I’m firm enough in my blackness and my identity to recognize everything that I just explained to you, while also recognizing that things are never black and white. No pun intended. I can still love your humanity and your individuality as long as you’re willing to do the same for me. I can recognize that not all white people are the same, that you all think alike. I just need the space to have conversations like this. I need someone who cares enough to learn. Anything else isn't worthy of my time. Either you’re down with me always, even when it isn’t convenient, or you’re not. So, which is it?”

Her eyes are wide and clear. It’s that firmness in the set of her jaw that gets him. She’s dead serious. Either he buys into her, and all of her, or he doesn’t deserve any of her. He can see that. He can understand it. It’s not that he wants her bad enough to “deal” with the rest of it. It’s that he wants her bad enough to understand all of her. He wants to know. Needs to.

“I’m down.” He assured her reaching for her cheek in his palm. “For all of it.”

“You’re sure?” She mumbled with desperate eyes. “Cause if you’re not we can go back New York and just be fuck buddies again. You can still find you some white girl without hundreds of years of internalized genocide and systemic oppression on her shoulders.”

He shook his head and kissed her until the tension melted from her body. Because he needed it to. He needed her belief in him, her trust.

“I’m so damn sure it’s insane. Just want you.” He whispered.

She reached for his lips pulling him back to kiss her again.

“Promise.” She demanded as if it was even an option.

“I promise.”

***

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thomaslightwoodenthusiast · 4 years

Text

here is the second request!

love at first...body swap?

- in which a clueless magnus wakes up in the body of a tall, dark, and very handsome Shadowhunter, and a mystified alec wakes up in the body of a very, very glittery Warlock. who also happens to be very attractive.

[disclaimer: this describes show!malec, as alec has hazel eyes, but you can still read it as a book fan and imagine blue is there instead!]

requested by @ilostmymojo !

➰➰➰➰➰

Magnus had been on holiday in London for a week now. Well, it wasn’t exactly a holiday so much as he had some business to deal with, but he was enjoying the time anyway. He opened his eyes as he woke up-

To a black wall?

Magnus was confused. His hotel room was definitely not this dark. Then a string of dread ran through him. Had he gotten too drunk? Had he went home with someone and forgotten? He rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn’t seeing things, and almost did a double take.

There was black ink on his arms. Ink in the shape of Shadowhunter runes. Now, this really wasn’t funny. These runes were incredibly toxic to him- they should’ve killed him by now. There were so many. He rolled up the shirt he’d slept in.

A Parabatai rune on his left side.

He flicked the lights on and had possibly his third heart attack of the morning.

Now, Magnus was Indonesian. He was born there, to an Indonesian mother. His father was a goddamn Prince of Hell. So to put it simply, he was...not white. At all. But apparently he was now. The feeling suddenly hit him.

He’d been body swapped. And, god forgive him, he didn’t mind it one bit so far. Whoever this was? His body was...well, it was incredible. Magnus smirked to himself- was it himself?- and gave in to his desperate want to look in the mirror. Oddly though, there was only a very small bathroom mirror that looked like it was forced there. He must be kinda insecure, Magnus thought. He couldn’t understand why though. The face he was met with was beautiful. Soft brown hair, fluffing out across his forehead. A gorgeous sharp jawline. The most beautiful hazel eyes. There was a bolt of almost recognition sent through him. Had he seen this person before? He couldn’t get their name though.

Magnus got dressed- he was very upset with this Shadowhunter’s lack of fashion. His wardrobe was mostly black. And old sweaters. He decided to leave the room and see if he could figure out his name, or find even one person he recognised. He knew he was in the New York Institute, so he was hoping he’d see Clary.

“Hey big bro!”

Magnus spun around, terrified. He’d been caught by this man’s sister.

“Hey, sis!” he said, awkwardly but not without a smile.

“Mom wants you. She wanted to see how you’d settled in to your new position as Head!”

Oh god.

It was getting worse.

“Uh, sure. Where is she?”

“The library. I’m off to get breakfast first though, wanna come?”

“Of course!” he exclaimed. He was starving. “One question- where’s Clary?”

The girl he was with raised an eyebrow. “What do you need her for?”

“I have to tell her something.”

“Why can’t you tell it to your sister, huh?”

“It’s...private,” he said. He must’ve blushed, because she had a sudden look of realisation on her face.

“Is it about her friend? That warlock? The one you totally have a massive crush on now even though you only saw him once for a split second at that party?”

Then it dawned on him why he recognised the person whose body he was in. A few weeks ago, Clary and her friends had come to one of his parties. As far as he remembered, this was Alec Lightwood, and the girl in front of him was Isabelle, his sister. He had no idea where the Herondale boy was though.

Isabelle’s statement was convenient enough. He now knew that not only was Alec gay, but he apparently had a little bit of a crush on him.

This was very pleasing information.

“Hey! Sorry I’m late, I slept in. Are you guys going to get breakfast?”

A short ginger girl had appeared. Clary.

“Bisc- I mean, uh, Clary? Can I talk to you in private for a second? It’s urgent,” he whispered. Clary looked slightly shocked- to be fair, he had almost called her Biscuit, and as far as she was concerned Alec didn’t know that.

“Sure,” she said with a questioning look on her face. He dragged her away before Isabelle could follow or make any more jokes.

“Hey, biscuit.”

“Why are you calling me that? Only Magnus calls me that. And you shouldn’t even know-“

“No wait! Clary. It is me. Magnus Bane. I don’t know what the hell happened. I was in London, and I woke up here in I think Alec Lightwood’s body?”

“Yes,” she replied slowly. “Yes, you’re Alec.”

“So from my understanding, the Head of your Institute is currently stranded in London in the body of an admittingly gorgeous and incredible Warlock with absolutely no idea how to use magic or how to get back?”

Clary put a hand to her forehead. “By the Angel Magnus. It’s nine am. What have you gotten yourself into?”

“I don’t know, and I have to apparently go and talk to Alec’s mom in a minute and probably do other things too.”

“Okay. Look. I’ll help you out, okay? Do you know the number of the hotel you were staying at? The sooner we let Alec know what’s going on the better.”

“No- but my phone isn’t with me. I only have Alec’s. I know my own number- I could call it on his phone?”

Clary smiled. “Perfect. I imagine Alec won’t quite be as calm as you seem to be, though.”

“Honestly, being in this body? I wouldn’t be upset if I was permanently stuck this way. Alec is gorgeous.”

She giggled. “Oh my god. You know, everyone around here knows Alec has a huge crush on you. Everyone except him. He blushes any time we mention you, and when he starts talking about you he doesn’t stop. Like verbal diarrhoea, but cute.”

“Please never say ‘diarrhoea’ and ‘cute’ in the same sentence ever again.”

➰➰➰➰➰

Alec Lightwood woke to his phone ringing. He rubbed his eyes and grabbed for it. When he reached out for it, he noticed that his arm was incredibly tan- like the shade of gold, but slightly darker. Weird. He was white as hell. It had been quite warm yesterday though- maybe he’d tanned.

He noticed something odd about the number calling him. It was his. Confused, he answered it anyway.

“Hello?”

He got another shock- his voice didn’t at all sound like his own.

“Hi Alec. It’s Clary. I have someone who needs to talk to you.”

“Oh- okay.” Then, a man’s voice spoke. The man sounded exactly like him.

“Hello, Alexander. It’s- it’s Magnus Bane. You were at my party a few weeks ago?”

Alec felt himself blush immediately. He’d only saw Magnus briefly there, but he was insanely attractive. He’d been trying to figure out how to talk to him. “Yes, I was.”

“Well- I need you to go to the bathroom for me. Or wherever the nearest mirror is. And please don’t freak out.”

Confused, Alec got out of the bed. Weirdly enough, this was not his Institute room at all. The bed had pure white sheets, and the wall was gold. Then he found a mirror.

“What the hell?! I’m- am I you? I- what is this?!”

Alec stared at the mirror. He was reminded of just how attractive Magnus was. His spiked black hair, his lean and muscular body. The smooth skin on his face, and his beautiful slit cat eyes.

“We wanted to let you know that. And...you’re in London.”

“LONDON?! But I have an Institute to run! I can’t be stuck as a Warlock all day- no offense. But what am I going to do? Could I draw a Portal rune?”

Clary took the phone back for a second. “No- you’ve got to remember you’re Magnus right now. And I’m not entirely sure yet if other people can use my runes. Magnus says that, if you want, he could tell you over the phone how to do a Portal? Your only other option is to get a plane.”

Alec ran a frustrated hand through his- Magnus’s- hair. “I don’t know. I need to be back there ASAP though.”

Magnus took over again. “Hey, don’t panic. A Portal uses a lot of magic, but I don’t mind. Our priority is getting you back safe and quick. If you focus, you can do it. But it is very important that you imagine somewhere other than the Institute. We need to make this as discreet as possible. Put the phone in your pocket.”

Alec did so, taking a deep breath. He had no idea what he was going, but he could try.

“Now, focus. What you need to do will come to you- you shouldn’t have to try too hard to imagine it. Then get an image in your mind of somewhere in New York.”

He pictured Central Park. A sudden jolt went through his mind, and as if propelled to do so he snapped his arms and his fingers and was able to create a Portal.

“I did it! Should I go through now?”

“Yes! Well done! Go through, then once you’re through tell us where you are so Clary and I can get there.”

Alec stepped through the Portal. He’d done this many a time before. It should be easy.

Or not.

“Oh!-“

Of course, he’d Portaled himself in the middle of the lake. He grabbed the phone.

“I’m sorry! I’m in Central Park! I landed in a lake-“ and then the phone died. Water damage. Hopefully Magnus wouldn’t be too pissed- he remembered when he’d been angry at two of the men at Pandemonium and, well, it had been scary. And another word beginning with s and ending in y.

“Magnus?! What the hell are you doing?!”

Alec turned. A woman in a nurse uniform was staring at him with the most incredulous look on her face. “Uh. I just dropped my phone in the water.”

She rolled her eyes and laughed. She was a pretty woman, a Warlock woman. He could tell because she’d been glamoured, but in her surprise the glamour disappeared to reveal her true skin colour- a beautiful sky blue. Her hair, mad curls, was a darker shade of blue too. “You’re insane, my friend. I freaking love you, but I would kill you if I could,” she said, smiling to herself whilst walking away. Alec waded out of the water. The phone wasn’t working, so he decided he’d be best off walking towards the entrance to the park.

In the distance Alec could see a bright crown of red hair bobbing towards him, alongside- well, Magnus, but technically himself. He met them in a more secluded corner- they were glamoured, but the more security the better.

Clary looked mystified when she saw him. “You know the weirdest thing about this? Even in Magnus’s body, I can still tell you’re Alec.”

“Is that a compliment?”

Clary shrugged and snickered. “Anyways. You guys don’t really need me anymore, do you? Bye!”

She dashed off quite quickly, and as she did so Alec noticed she took out her phone and called someone. She was laughing, and kept looking back at them.

“Well. So, uh, I know how to reverse this. But not on myself.”

Alec stopped for a moment. “Well then what can we do?”

“I’ll have to call a friend. Are you okay with that?”

“As long as they can get this fixed then sure.”

Magnus faked hurt. “Why are you so desperate to get out of my body? Am I truly that detestable?”

This made Alec worried, which was hilarious. “No! I just need to be back at work. You’re perfect!”

Magnus put two and two together. “Clary left us because she knows how we feel about each other, doesn’t she? Damn, smart kid.”

“How do we feel about each other?”

Magnus raised an eyebrow. “Are you seriously that blind? Well for starters, you’re gorgeous as hell. I’ve known many Lightwoods over time, but you just, hit so different. I suppose I don’t know you that well, but I can tell you’re sweet too. You’re a family guy. I don’t know what that’s like. I mean, I have no blood relatives. I wish I did. But I respect that. You’re cool,” he finished, with a smile. There was a rose tint to the top of his cheeks, like a blush. It looked beautiful. When he blushed, it looked like a ghost had actually applied blusher to his face. When Alec blushed, he looked like a tomato.

“Well, thank you. I really like you. You’re one of the only people I know that isn’t in some way related to me. And you’re pretty as hell. Like, just so...breathtaking. Also by the way your skin is SO smooth.”

Magnus pretended to fan himself. “I try.”

“But yeah. You’re really genuine. You’re super friendly, but you also seem so sad sometimes. I don’t know what you went through, but all I know is that you have tonnes of new friends here for you.”

“Thanks,” was all Magnus replied with. If Alec knew any better, he’d say his eyes were slacked with tears. But he wasn’t crying, nor was he going to show it. He rang his friend instead.

“Hey, Cat! So. Bit of an awkward situation. Yes, this isn’t my phone. I broke it. I need you to come to Central Park ASAP. Thank you!”

Shortly after, a Portal opened up. The same woman stepped through as the one from earlier- the blue lady.

“Why is there a Shadowhunter here? Magnus, what on earth have you done?”

“You see, that’s just the thing. So. I’m Magnus. And this,” he said, gesturing to Alec, “ is Alec Lightwood. Current Head of the NY Institute.”

Catarina’s jaw dropped. “Did you body swap with a goddamn SHADOWHUNTER??”

“At least he’s sexy?”

“Jesus Magnus. You are certifiably insane.”

“In fairness, it would’ve been more awkward if I body swapped with a Shadowhunter woman. You know, boobs and stuff. I mean, not that I wouldn’t want them, and I would probably be a sexy ass woman, but I would hate to wear a bra. They seem so uncomfortable.”

“Magnus, if you don’t shut up, I will summon your dad.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I can threaten to though.”

Alec, who had been watching the conversation with extreme confusion, butted in. “Sorry to disturb but isn’t there, you know, a more pressing matter at hand than what Magnus thinks he would look like with boobs and summoning his dad?”

Catarina smiled weakly at Alec. “I’m sorry honey. I’ve dealt with this hot mess for over 300 years. I don’t know what you see in him. But in the event that you actually do see something in him, be aware.”

“Aware of what?”

“Of me. I don’t let any of my friends get hurt.”

“I can assure you we have the same intentions then.”

Catarina nodded at him. “Right. Okay. Let’s do this.”

She stood in between the two men, and jutted her arms straight out either side. Both felt a sudden change, like an out-of-body experience. Then they blacked out and collapsed.

Magnus stood first. He was back in his body, and seemed happy enough to be so. Alec got up next, rubbing his temple. “Thank you, Catarina.”

“No problem. Now if you’ll excuse me, ya girl here has work. You know, saving lives and stuff.” And with that she too was gone. Leaving both Magnus and Alec, now rightfully in their own bodies.

“Well I think it’s high time we properly introduced ourselves to each other. Magnus Bane,” he said, sticking out a hand. “Alexander Lightwood. But everyone calls me Alec.” They shook hands.

“Can I ask what your middle name is?”

“It’s Gideon. I think it’s kinda weird and old. Why?”

Magnus smiled, like he was recalling a memory. “It is an old name. I remember him. Gideon. He was a lot like you in some ways. You want to know how he met his wife, Sophie? She made scones and brought some up to him. When she brought them up, they’d talk. So of course, rather than just telling her he thought she was pretty, he ordered about fifty scones up to his room. He didn’t eat a single one. Just so he could talk to her.”

Alec laughed. It was nice, he supposed, to hear about his old relatives. They seemed cool. “Wow. She was called Sophie? Isabelle’s middle name is Sophia. That must be why.”

“It very well could be.”

The two stood in silence after that. It took a while for Alec to realise that they hadn’t dropped hands. Nervously, he wondered. He slowly let go of Magnus’s hand, and let his hand slide to his waist. Magnus cupped his head with his hands. He leaned over slightly and kissed Alec’s forehead; a soft and sweet gesture that completely melted his heart.

“You should call me sometime. Maybe we could get some drinks?”

“Or we could just chill at your apartment? I mean, not that I don’t like drinks, but I just-“

“You’re a lightweight, aren’t you?” said Magnus, interrupting him.

“I am not!”

“God. First Lightworm, now Lightweight. Joking. Look, we can do whatever you want.”

“I’d really love that.”

“Now, don’t you have a meeting with your mom to get to?”

➰➰➰➰➰

i hope u like it ! sorry it took so long. i have one left to do!!

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in-tua-deep · 5 years

Note

i’m really interested in writing a baby!five (like someone he’s regressed even younger than 13 but is still, like, mentally the five we know and love) fic bc i love him- how would you characterize him? and what do you think his relationships with each other the siblings would be?

I have some info about headcanons for a babier Five right here! I’ll be honest most of my own personal musings on a little Five have focused around him and his relationship with Claire bc I have a feeling they would team up and become an unstoppable duo together - which also ends up with me thinking a lot about Patrick as well lmao so there’s that

But overall I think his relationship with his siblings would be,, tense to say the least until they came to a happy medium about being realistic about his current capabilities vs. his fierce independence born out of not having anyone to rely on for the vast majority of his life

I’d say it’s probably the most tense with Allison?? Because she’s a mother so of course she’s going to treat him like a child. She has a child. She’s going to lean on what she knows and do some stuff automatically and Five would hate that!! At least the other siblings probably would have no idea what to do with a child or how to treat one and so they have no preconceived notions about what a small child is capable of tbh

Probably second worst at first is Klaus?? Just because Klaus would 100% swing Five up into his arms and use a baby voice and make kissy noises and proclaim that Five is “Adorable!” every few minutes if only to wind Five up and make him angry. It probably gets better after a pretty frank meltdown on the issue that has Klaus treading more carefully, but I mean,, Klaus is a touchy feely person. That’s who he is.

But as an interesting paradox Klaus being 100% willing to sweep Five up and cuddle him might actually lead to Five seeking Klaus out more if he wants affection since he doesn’t know how to ask for it. He’d put up token protests, but any protest short of actually jumping away or using a knife is probably just for show tbh so yeah when he wants affection and doesn’t want to admit it he’d go to Klaus,, plus Klaus probably takes Five’s side on arguments to play devil’s advocate and start shit because you know Klaus totally would

Vanya probably respects Five’s choices the best out of the siblings, automatically making her Five’s favorite. If Five insisted on doing something by himself she’d probably just let him. If he succeeds, he succeeds. If he doesn’t, she’ll help after, easy as that. She probably doesn’t pick him up mainly because she’s afraid of dropping him but I mean I’m sure Five jumps places and is perfectly capable of jumping onto counters or tables to have conversations at a better height tbh. She always frames things as requests or reflecting back on her like “I get worried when you vanish” and so therefore Five is letting Vanya know when he goes off not because she told him he has to but because he doesn’t want her to worry and stuff like that

Luther is just,, awkward tbh bless his heart. Probably not super patient with Five and has a tendency to just grab him and move him places which makes Five bristle and get on the defensive. But I mean. Luther also has no concept of what children do or are capable of so he’s also probably the one Five jumps in front of like “Luther drive me to the department store/library/other place in town” and Luther is just kind of like “okay I can do that” (also probably the one who threatens Five with a child leash if he just ditches Luther someplace again because then Allison will chew him out about losing a Child)

And there’s Diego who has all these protective instincts and a very unwilling recipient who swings wildly between “You know what fuck you do what you want I don’t care” and “but what if you got HURT or LOST, Five????” and just generally does Not Know what to do with himself in this situation. Probably butts heads with Five a lot over Five wanting to go off on his own or otherwise do things Diego classifies as dangerous and it never helps that Klaus, who loves to start shit, will often take Five’s side regardless of any actual opinions on the topic just to start drama

and oh man I could see Five really getting vicious, like being too small to do real damage physically makes him feel way more cornered than your regularly scheduled Five but he is certainly capable of using his tongue as a weapon and hitting all of the siblings where it hurts (and then you have the issue of Five being fully aware of the punishments Reginald gave him at his current physical age, because I doubt Reginald stood for defiant behavior very well, and so he might just be pushing boundaries to figure out where those boundaries are because it’s really scary to not know where the line in the sand is - especially for someone used to toeing that same line)

but I mean I think each sibling will have pros and cons and issues that need to be addressed - they’re all still processing their own childhood traumas after all and Five, who as I mentioned is incredibly independent and almost incapable of relying on others after his extreme isolation, is going to have a really rough time if he’s being forced to rely on others and he’d absolutely hate any and all limitations placed upon him and would probably reject those limitations even if they’re in place for a good reason (like being forbidden from using the stove, or having to be in a car seat/unable to drive period, or having someone with him when he goes out, absolutely no alcohol, and other such ground rules)

But yeah there are so many potential stories within such a universe!! I’m definitely curious to see where you take it and please do link me your story if you do go for it as I would love to read!!

#ask me #theincredibleholland #tua au #number five #five hargreeves #baby five #far tua long #honestly my headcanon is that patrick is a really good dad #like some supremely good dad material #which may or may not be an excuse to point out that not all fathers are like Reginald Hargreeves #because five right now has 0 frame of reference for what parents are like #besides like #grace being a mother and also taking care of them #but she was programmed to do so #so yeah i just have a scene in my head about claire misbehaving and five being ??? about her punishment being something small #and not traumatizing #because to him he associates father figures with hella trauma #so yeah just the realization that parents don't have to be scary and bad is what i'm getting at

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miraclesnail · 5 years

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Writer’s Month Day 12: Dreams

Fandom: PJO

Summary: 1000 ways to tell the Stoll brothers apart and I can name you one. Clovis - Dreams

Content Warning: bullying

Clovis — Dreams

Mid The battle of the labyrinth

“You think this is going to last? That he’ll be here forever?”

Running. He’s running.

“War is a terrible thing.”

He can’t breathe. His sides ache.

“It just takes and takes and takes.”

Where is he running? There’s nothing here. It’s all ruins.

“It doesn’t discriminate. It doesn’t judge.”

There’s nobody here. Where is he? He’s always here with him.

“It just takes.”

It’s raining. Pouring. Torrenting.

“It takes and takes and takes till it can take no more.”

And around the corner, there’s his brother. He’s standing (alive) and talking (alive) and smiling (alive) but there’s a girl with him. She’s holding a knife.

She’s holding a knife and it’s pointing at him.

Stop laughing.

Don’t you see the knife? Don’t you see she’s about to hurt you?

Hello? Hey?

hey?

hey.

HEY.

Hey, pay attention, T—

“Who knows it might just take him too.”

—

Clovis’s eyes fly open and he goes automatically for his handy dandy trash can.

But fortunately, this is not one of the dreams that upsets his tummy and Clovis rolls back over to his back.

He stares at the dark canvas of the upper bunk bed. He glance at the digital clock on the night table. 2:45 am.

A nightmare.

He had a nightmare.

Gods, he hates nightmares.

He sighs.

Lately, that’s all they been getting. It shouldn’t be a surprise. If anything, it should be getting worse and worse as the war goes on.

He closes his eyes and roll onto his side and tries not to listen to the squeaking of a bed, the creaking of a ladder, the shuffling of clothes, and a voice— wobbly and weak— in the stark silence.

“Travis? Are you awake?”

“Mmphhmmmmpppp.”

“I had another dream.”

“Ya wha? Whas it abou’? Do ya need so’ alo’ time?”

“It’s just the usual dream. Can I sleep with you tonight?”

A bed groans. The ladder creaks some more and bed sheets rustle.

Then silence.

And Clovis stops trying to not listen.

“Again and again… how long is this going to go on before you realized joining me is the best choice?”

He have this thing where he drifts into people’s dreams when he’s sleeping. Not on purpose though. No, he’s a big advocate of personal privacy and would never even dare dream of spying if given a choice. It just… he just sort of tumble into the dreamscape of his fellow campers when he’s asleep and when they’re asleep. An unwilling participant to an unknowing host.

Most of it is incomprehensible. Just a mumble jumble of visions, words, and thoughts.

But some of them,

Their crystal clarity,

The lucidity,

It's like he’s awake.

Most times it’s just silly dreams. Someone forgot their pants. Someone had an exam. Someone forgot to flush the toilet after a deuce. Sometimes, though, it’s like last night. Visceral. Allusory. Something more than trivial matters.

He tries not to think about who’s the dreamer.

He tries not to think what they mean.

He tries not to listen.

“They taunt your siblings. They hurt them without repercussion. Are you not angry? Is it not unfair? Or perhaps you don’t care for them? You don’t love them? Is that it?”

“Your brother did this you ugly freak. He’s the reason we’re all going to die.”

Luke isn't my brother. I’m not even a son of Hermes. Stop bothering me. Clovis wants to say but he… isn’t really a fighter.

“Aren’t you going to say something? Huh?”

He’s more of a pacifist.

“Oi, uglyface, are you listening?”

A pacifist that really wishes someone would come save him from these three bullies.

“I’m going to knock some — shit, Connor’s coming!”

“Are you sure that’s not Travis?”

“Who the fuck cares!? I’m not going to risk it! Connor’s scary, man. I’m outta here.”

Clovis puts down the book he clutches and exhale, unable to stop the shake. He raises his head to greet his savior.

“Thanks, Connor.”

“I’m Travis,” Travis says, eyes not at him but at the backs of the three departing campers. His eyes narrow. “Were they bothering you?”

“No,” he lies behind a closed lip smile, mind going back to the demeaning nightmares.

But Travis goes to pat him on the shoulder.

“It’s okay. You’re not bothering us. If anyone picks on you, tell us and we’ll deal with, yeah?”

And Clovis nods but in his mind, we resolves to tell no one.

They already have enough problems.

A plain field. He’s walking for what seems like ever. No ones here. No one but him. Then he turns around and there’s Travis. Travis with a sword through his chest.

He seen this a thousand times. He experienced this a thousand times. It’s a dream. He knows it’s a dream.

Still the terror is there and it clogs his throat. He can’t breathe. He can’t think. He can’t move. His whole world is crumbling

And he’s falling.

“Keep the dagger up. Elbows out. Be aware of your surroundings. Don’t get too focused on one thing, okay Callie?”

“Okay, Connor!”

In another world, Clovis would say how wrong it is for a child to teach another child how to hold a dagger. It’s wrong to teach a child how to protect herself from nonhuman and human attackers. It’s wrong for a child to be fighting at all. Callie’s six. She should be holding crayons or a book, learning how to read not how to butcher a monster.

But this is their world.

And their world is breaking apart.

The ground tremble. People are screaming. A horn is sounding. Someone, everyone, is running.

He hears Clarisse yells, “Lock shields!”

He hears roaring, inhuman roaring and without his permission his knees shook.

Connor stands with steely eyes, sees the trembling in his hands, and he hates the worry he sees in his eyes. He knows Clovis isn’t a fighter. He knows Clovis is a wimp. He knows Clovis is going to pee his pants the first minute he sees a monster.

“Kronos is attacking. Clovis, take Callie somewhere safe and stay with her.”

And before he could say anything Connor is running to where the monsters are.

He walks through a mountain of corpses. Lee. Michael. Silena. Beckendorf. Castor. Pollux. Clarisse. Katie. Miranda. Percy. Chiron. Annabeth.

And at the very top, his brother.

“This is what’s going to happen in the end. I’ll make sure you’ll survive. You’ll walk wthrough your loved ones graves. You’ll be the sole survivor and you’ll suffer for eternity. For eternity, you’ll be left with your failures. You failed to save them. You failed to choose the right side. You failed.”

“Tell me, Connor. Are you willing to bet everything on your brother’s faith to the gods?”

The first battle (of many).

The first casualties (of many).

Clovis presses his fist into his eyes and sobs. Gods, why did this have to happen? Everywhere around him, all he hears are weeping and he doesn’t want to sleep tonight. He doesn’t want to sleep ever.

Clovis watches the burial shrouds burn of their friends, their brothers and sisters, a counselor, until it’s their cabin turn to burn their losses.

And he watches Travis and Connor takes the torch together and light up three of their shrouds.

Martin. Ava. Celise.

It’s unfair. It’s not right. They’re only kids. We’re only kids. It’s not fair. It’s not fair.

It’s not fair.

Something’s different. This isn’t right.

He stares at the burial shrouds before him and there’s a hand squeezing his heart, squeezing his throat.

“That was easy, wasn’t it? A single swing and goodbye, Lee. A little stab and night, night Castor. And your poor cabinmates. One eaten oh so slow—”

He screams, curling into himself. “Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up! ALALALALALA I can’t hear you! I can’t hear you.”

But that’s wrong. He can hear him loud and clear.

“You can’t protect him forever. One day you won’t be fast enough. You won’t be quick enough. You won’t make it in time. He’ll die. And it’ll be on your hands. But I can guarantee his safety. I can guarantee his life. Not even your father can do that.”

“Travis, your father let your brothers and sisters die. If he truly cared for you like you hipe for, then Tell me. Why are they dead.”

When Clovis is shove back to reality, he reaches for his trash can to throw up everything.

Clovis plays with the helium-filled balloon in his hands. Bouncy. Light. Elusive.

A single push.

And it goes wherever he wants.

The only thing keeping the balloon grounded is a string and a weight.

So easy to manipulate.

Clovis steels himself and glances at his counselor. His dried-eyed counselor

“You okay, Travis?”

Which is stupid. Of course he’s not okay. None of them are okay.

But Travis and Connor never mocks them for something like that. He looks up from his work to face him. “Hm? Oh, yeah. I’m perfectly fine. A-okay.”

And Travis even forces a smile to complete the image.

“You seem distracted. Are you worried Chris won’t be good?”

Travis stiffens, his hands stilling.

“I won’t know until he gets here. But I have total faith in my brother.” And Travis nudges him in the shoulder lightly. “You should too, Clovis!”

“Are you worried you’ll lose Connor?”

Travis bites his lips but still answer nonetheless.

“Connor is incredibly capable. I think he’s more worried about me. But, yeah, I guess I worry about that sometime.”

Clovis looks down at the string wrap around his finger. He isn’t good at this. He’s never good at this. And he’ll be exposing his secret if he says something. But … he got to try … he needs to. Travis is… Travis can’t…

“You can’t join Kronos, Travis,” he blurts.

And Travis’s eyes widen.

“How did you—

But it’s cut short when the door slams open and Chris, with his head bowed, yells

“H-Hi everybody!”

A/N: God I love angst.

#writersmonth2019 #pjo #travis stoll #connor stoll #clovis #hoo clovis #this is sorta like a rough draft #a sneak peek I guess #will I ever finish the behemoth chapter I need to post?#no #probs not

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maddgarbagemonkey · 5 years

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I Just Saw the Wicked 2019 Touring Cast and Boy Howdy, am I excited to Rant! (All Good things!)

There's a lot so buckle up your seatbealts!

So, first off, this was my first time seeing the show *cough cough* legally *cough* and I was amazed.

I instantly fell in love with the big metal dragon and nearly screamed when it moved and started blowing smoke out of its nose, as my Grandpa lied and told me, even though he's seen it 4 times, that the dragon was just decoration.

I love that the first solid 5 minutes of the show are just winged monkeys running around on the stage and looking concerned at one another before the opening number starts.

Glinda, played by Erin Mackey, was my WIFE.

During her first speaking part of "No one Mourns the Wicked," she got stuck on her big metal bubble and the ensemble had to crowd around her to help her get off, which, because coming off of the bubble was her cue to continue, led to a really long silence. But it kinda fit and showed that she hesitated to celebrate Elphaba's death so yeah! I just thought it was adorable and I admire how she was able to turn it into a cool window into her character!

When Elphaba, played by Mariand Torres, entered we all screamed for a solid 3 minutes and, after seeing her performance, she deserved a solid 8 more. I loved her so much!

I loved her early performance of Elphaba at Shiz because she played her as an angry little bean that snapped at everyone and everything instead of just shy and quiet and it worked so well, especially with how overprotective she was of Nyssa.

A girl literally faints upon seeing Elphaba and I can relate cause she was SO PRETTY!

Mariand's "Wizard and I" was so powerful and emotional at the same time I just wanted to pick her up and keep her! <3

THE 👏 GLINDA 👏 AND 👏 ELPHABA👏 HEIGHT👏 DIFFERENCE!

Usually you see Elphaba portrayed as tall while Glinda is shorter but, because Mariand was a tiny angel and Erin was a tall goddess who literally towered over Fierro without heels, it was quite the opposite and I l o v e d every second of "What is this Feeling" because of it.

I would die for tiny little ball of angry Elphaba and Tall, regal, princess Glinda holding her back from fighting everyone who dares look at them funny and you can pry them out of my cold dead hands.

Mariand did the thing where she mimicked Glinda for the "Your Voice" line and made it extra squeaky and I died.

She also, whenever Glinda had her back turned, copied her with a stupid little kicking dance and tossed her hair way too frantically and I fell in love.

For the "boo", Elphaba had to look directly up and jump at Glinda because she was so short and I squealed

Oh my God. C U R T. H A N S E N. This man was in Big Time Rush and I can not picture Fierro's entrance without the theme song ever again. (Bruh, Chill)

His choreo also had some "not-so-subtle" scarecrow like poses and taps.

Dude, he played him as such a snotty little twink and I loved it! He almost knocked down the statue in the center like eight times during "Dancing Through Life!"

His mic also made him sound like he was under water for a total of one (1) line and I snorted.

Nyssa, (sorry Mili Diaz, you were incredible and I love you,) Please exit my server.

Glinda made at least 16 Tik Tok references and I know, it's not towards the app because duh, but I'm still very conflicted.

Elphaba was S O mad at the scene with Dr. Dillamond I was so proud and in love!

E L P H A B A ' S D A N C E!

It was so good and pure and when Glinda joined she made it look so graceful!

And Elphaba looked very doubtful at first but then she looked around at everyone doing her dance and back at Glinda and she had the biggest smile on her face and tears in her eyes because she was accepted for something and it was beautiful!

Only Boc's mic was really working at this part so the "Let's DAAAANCE" reverberated deeply into my soul and stayed there for a really long time.

Popular was superb and I literally cried.

Literally.

When Erin got out of breath, she fell on the floor and just layed there for 16 counts breathing really heavily into the mic. Pure Poetry

Glinda suffocated Elphaba with hugs to her throat and swung her around like a rag doll while she just glared angry and helpless.

During "Don't Make me laugh" Glinda pushed her hand into Elphaba's face and gently and slowly set her back on her bed and if that ain't the biggest mood.

So many kicks and giggles I LOVE ERIN MACKEY!

When Glinda fell into Elphaba's arms crying after Fierro ran away at the train scene she took up half of her body and I just needed to write that out.

The egg-like Emerald City suits without arms that extended their necks and twirled them like lassos. Need I say more?

Elphaba's teary smile at "Finally, no one's looking or staring at me!" And then Glinda takes off her glasses and grabs her hand saying that she looked as beautiful as an emerald and... A C K

Upon meeting the scary robo wizard, Glinda got scared and tried to hide her 5'9 body behind little 5'1 Elphie and she looked so protective and ready to throw down I loved it!

Monkeys. Monkeys. Monkeys.

"Let her go! It's not her that you want! Its ME!" She sounded so powerful and angry I would die for her.

The part where Elphaba's begging Glinda to go with her but she's too focused on the fact that she's shaking and ties that spooky cape around her shoulders.

Mariand's "Defying Gravity" was so strong and beautiful with all of her God-tier belts and riffs I could not stop smiling and when she finally flies I yelped because you always hear about how cool it is and looks but then you really S E E it and it's beyond words! I had to do nothing and breathe for a second afterwards to find my bearings!

I loved Erin's "Thank Goodness" a lot. She poured a lot of emotion and beautiful vocals into it and just... god, she's gorgeous!

At the part where Elphaba appeared in the closet in Nyssa's office and the mirror became see through I heard a kid behind me exclaim "Zoo Wee Mama" and I won't be the same.

I don't remember Nyssa being so horrible but... *shrug* She gets it from her Dad I guess.

I love that Boc's reaction to finding out Nyssa can walk is just, "oh, good! Now you can work on this whole walking thing and get tf away from me! This worked out perfectly!" Same, boi.

I loved! LOVED! Nyssa Rose's song with a passion and the way her words get all twisted and angry literally talking about how she's going to rip Boc's heart out for leaving her and it gave me a good amount of spooks.

"Don't say I'm beautiful. You don't need to lie to me." B A B Y

"My Family has a Castle! No one lives there or will see us besides the guards!" "Where do you live, now?" "... The other castle." Oh sweetie.

Glinda, you deserve so much more than scarecrow boy and I would die for you!

Elphaba's voice drops at least 8 octaves during her line in "As long as Your Mine" The "For the first time I feel...

Wicked

I have never been more physically and emotionally attracted to a green lady Other than Princess Fiona

Also, there was so much smoke during that song that I could hear some Orchestra members cough.

During that scene with Elphaba's and Glinda's argument at Nyssa's "Funeral", while preparing to fight Glinda twirls her wand and strikes at Elphie like she came out of the Karate Kid.

Elphaba's witch laugh after Glinda slaps her followed by the most serious "Feel Better?"

Both Fierro and Glinda yell at Elphaba to leave before she gets hurt and I feel things because of that.

While Fierro is fake/real threatening Glinda with a gun, she just tearfully shakes her head in a silent plea and he INSTANTLY drops his gun. I love 'em

The way Glinda's "Fierro" melts into Elphaba's "FIERRROOO!" Love.

"No Good Deed" will always be my favorite song. ITS SO GOOD! Mariand's voice was incredible and her riffs and belts added so much!

During Elphaba's little "let all of OZ be agreed I'm wicked through and through," she makes her voice all scary and raspy, but it melts back into her own voice and beautiful despair at "since I can not succeed, Fierro saving you!"

NO GOOD DEED! 10/10 LOTSA SMOKE

March of the Witch hunters always has and will give me chills. Nothing more to say. Just one good bop.

This is the part where I cry too much.

"For Good" was gorgeous and I cried. A lot. A lot.

Elphaba kisses Glinda's hands and wipes her tears away.

Glinda runs her hands across and straightens Elphaba's hat and OH MY GOD!

It hurts how frantically Elphaba hides Glinda to protect her! Side note, I would also die for Chistery.

At their final moments together, Elphaba blows Glinda a kiss and then proceeds to get "murdered" in a really cool way by Dorthy.

Glinda's "Elphie!?" Is so tragic and panicked I was struggling to make it through, and then she grabbed her hat and cried into it and I was long gone.

Fierro adopts spooky Scarecrow movements at the end which I think is really cool and he also mimics Elphaba's "Don't lie to me!" Line.

Before Elphaba leaves, she becomes entranced by Glinda's beautiful singing, like she's thinking of telling her she's okay, but then she turns around and walks through the door with Fierro.

The last thing we see of Elphaba is her wearing her signature hat and walking into dust with Fierro. The last thing we see of Glinda is her sobbing into Elphaba's book in her bubble.

In conclusion, IM NOT OKAY!

Nah, Fam! But seriously! Mariand and Erin's vocals and performances were to die for! It succeeded my wildest expectations! I had so much fun and would 100% recommend seeing the show if you haven't seen it or want to see it a 19th time. Both are just as valid. :)

#wicked #wicked 2019 #glinda upland #elphaba #wicked the musical #musicals #fierro #wizard of oz #erin mackey #mariand torres #glinda the good #elphaba x glinda #glinda wicked #wicked witch #curt hansen #musicals 2019

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dear-wormwoods · 6 years

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i know that eddie's first encounter with It and the way It manifests itself as his fear is very telling of him being gay, but what do you think the encounters It had with the other members of the loser's club (like mike with the bird, stan with the dead boys, etc) are indicative of?

Okay Let’s Talk About the Losers’ Fears!

The interesting thing about IT is that, for most kids, the fears IT manifests as are pretty basic. Movie monsters, comic book monsters, vampires, mummies, etc. So not all the Losers have super deep meanings behind their fears, the way Eddie and Beverly do, and I think it definitely reflects the level of contentment they experience in their every day life. Obviously Eddie’s IT experiences are symbolic of his fear of his sexuality and the self-loathing that comes along with that, disguised as a ‘diseases are gross!’ sort of thing because that’s easier to process for a little kid (and because IT needs something physical to take the shape of). We don’t need to rehash that. But as for the others…

Beverly is not afraid of blood, her fear is much deeper than that, blood is just the easiest physical representation for what she really does fear, which is her own womanhood. In one of MANY parallels between Eddie and Bev, both of their fears are based on gender and sexuality, and both fears exist, at least in part, because of their abusive home lives. Bev’s fear takes on the disguise of ‘blood is gross!’ but really it’s about puberty and menstruation, and what that change will mean for her sexually - because her dad never stops talking about how boys look at her, and what her role will be as a woman re: having sex with boys. And this isn’t the first time King has used blood symbolism for a girl’s fear of the sexual unknown - he did it in Carrie too (and lbr if Eddie and Beverly were fused together into one character, it would be Carrie and if Sonia and Alvin were fused into one character, it would be Carrie’s crazy fucking mother).

Next we have Bill, whose fear is pretty self-explanatory. IT always manifests as something Georgie-related for him, but what Bill fears most is not literally Georgie’s corpse, it’s Georgie BLAMING him for his death. Bill feels incredible guilt for what happened to Georgie, and feels responsible because he helped make the paper boat and because he was too sick to go out with Georgie that day and therefore could not protect him (this comes up again and again re: his insistence that Eddie not leave his line of sight like, ever, because he’s projecting his Georgie guilt). Bill actually comes the closest to ‘losing’ to IT because his fear is the most emotional - he almost gives in to the apparition of Georgie basically accusing him of murder, and would have, were it not for the other Losers (particularly Eddie) screeching that it isn’t really Georgie.

Richie’s fears are all based around movie monsters, but they’re a little more symbolic than that because of one small addition: Richie’s name being used repeatedly as a label FOR IT’s manifestations. IT also seems to talk to Richie more, because taunting him is more effective than just existing as a visual. On top of that, IT takes multiple forms for Richie, which is unusual. So we have three (unless I’m forgetting one) - the Crawling Eye, the Werewolf, and Paul Bunyan. The Crawling Eye is a movie monster that really freaked Richie out as a kid to the point where he’d have nightmares about it and wet the bed, and he has a lot of eye-related body horror dreams and it’s pretty gross… dreaming about eyes can symbolize needing to (or refusing to) look inward, and dreaming about something being in/hurting your eyes can symbolize being unable to (or refusing to) confront certain truths, or avoiding emotional intimacy. All of this can easily be applied to Richie, the King of Avoidance, and it’s particularly interesting that the Eddie is the one who injures the Eye, and encourages Richie to fight it too, and that Eddie is mentioned by IT later on in relation to the Eye (the SHOES THING also ties into the Eye whenever it comes up!). So there’s THAT. The Crawling Eye, imo, stands for Richie’s denial and emotional stagnation.

The Werewolf is also a movie monster, and Richie was very effected by the plight of the teenage werewolf when he watched that movie - so it’s telling that when IT manifests as the werewolf, it is wearing a jacket with Richie’s name stitched into it. I know this has been said over and over, but Richie relates to the werewolf on some level because the werewolf is seen by its peers as a horrible monster, but it’s something it cannot help, and while it presents as ‘normal’ most of the time, when the ‘monster comes out’, it’s instantly ostracized from society. Richie sees himself as a ‘monster’ because he’s consistently treated as annoying, or ‘too much’, or borderline-suicidal to the point where he scares a lot of people off from wanting to get to know him. He feels guilty about being a burden on his parents, he hates that he constantly gets himself into trouble for things he can’t seem to control (undiagnosed and untreated ADHD, most likely), and on top of all that, he’s also hyper-aware of the dangers of ‘looking queer’ in public if he’s caught being affectionate with his male friends. There is a lot going on in Richie’s head that all point to him being very aware that he’s not ‘like everyone else’, but he can’t help it, so Richie sees himself reflected in the Teenage Werewolf… and IT knows that, and tries to use that to ITs advantage.

FINALLY, there’s the Paul Bunyan statue, which involves a little more reaching to figure out, so bear with me if this sounds insane… Paul Bunyan, in a way, represents Richie as well. Richie is well aware that the statue is an attention-grabber, but it’s also kitschy and stupid looking - he himself describes it as having a ‘cheerful vulgarity’. It’s big and loud, but people hate it and think it’s lame. Richie wants attention, but he’s afraid of being Paul Bunyan - he wants to be GOOD at something, and get attention because of his skill and his humor, not just because he’s loud and ridiculous. He doesn’t want to be talked about as “horrible, garish, and unbelievably gauche”, the way Derry townsfolk talk about Paul. As an adult, Paul turns into the clown and has a literal, casual conversation with Richie, and then eventually turns into Buddy Holly - a musician Richie admired and related to, who died tragically young - only Buddy’s glasses weren’t his usual glasses - they were Richie’s glasses, mended with adhesive tape. So even then, he’s sort of seeing parts of HIMSELF in what IT appears as. SOOO LONG STORY SHORT, Richie is his own worst fear.

Stan’s encounter with IT, I think, was meant to push the boundaries of what his mind would accept as ‘real’. Stan’s whole worldview was based on order and a certain expectation of reality being… reality. So IT created a visual as ridiculous as possible, while still maintaining some level of offensive realism (by using corpses of real kids who drowned in the Standpipe) and creating a multi-sensory onslaught that Stan couldn’t deny - music, smells, visuals, etc. ITs goal wasn’t to scare Stan so much as break him, but Stan was able to ground himself in reality with his bird book well enough to escape. But what he takes away from the experience in the end is being offended by what happened. He doesn’t give a shit about being scared, he’s just plain OFFENDED by what he saw. So I think Stan’s kids-in-the-Standpipe experience was meant to just…. totally insult the way he sees the world around him. It’s also one of the coolest visuals in the novel and I will be forever angry that the movie changed his IT experience so completely.

Ben’s IT encounters are SUPER typical… movie monsters, Halloween costume type of shit, like most of the other Derry kids who became ITs victims. The clown with the balloons floating against the wind, the mummy, the vampire… but unlike Richie, I don’t think there is much deeper meaning to it than just being your run of the mill scary shit, because unlike Richie, Ben doesn’t hate himself. Ben is pretty damn content with his life. He loves his mom, they have a close relationship, he doesn’t have any friends before the Losers but he wasn’t bent out of shape about it… he was fine with being alone, and just being a good student, a quiet bookish kid, and he liked buying candy and eating it in front of the TV with his little bathrobe on. Like, Ben was chill. He was confident in what he liked and what he knew how to do, he was a real ‘you do you’ kid. He wasn’t even THAT upset about being fat until other kids made fun of him for it. So Ben’s just going through life, more comfortable than the other Losers. He’s content with his gender and sexuality, he’s content with his skill set and his interests, he doesn’t care about how others perceive him, he’s adaptable, and he’s not plagued with guilt. So IT doesn’t really have a TON to work with, lmao. Movie monsters are all IT has at ITs disposal when it comes to Ben, and that’s all there is to it. And in general, Ben is one of the least affected by IT… he really doesn’t even seem that afraid of IT, on the whole, but he reacts most strongly to the things that sort of go against the laws of physics (the balloons moving against the wind, the Neibolt House seeming to change shape and size)… but even then, the only real symbolism there is that Ben loves physics and architecture.

Lastly, Mike’s experience with IT is… interesting. I’ve talked about this a lot with @mikehanlonstan and we can’t really come up with good symbolism for the bird aside from the simple ‘he was attacked by a bird as a baby’ explanation from the novel. Which would be fine, if it weren’t for the fact that Mike’s dad… saw the same bird?? Like, what is it with the Hanlons and this weird bird? Who knows, I sure don’t. I was looking for racism symbolism but like… I feel like ‘It’s a bird… like a crow, get it?? Like Jim Crow??” is too lazy even for Stephen King. Also it wasn’t a crow, anyway… it was something that doesn’t exist in the real world, otherwise Stan wouldn’t have been able to get it to go away with his bird facts later on. If anything it just establishes a stronger connection between him and his father, and the long-term connection they both have to IT.

#asks #stephen king's it #it novel #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #beverly marsh #ben hanscom #bill denbrough #stanley uris #mike hanlon #it meta #my meta #anonymous #meta #losers club

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lydiaandarry · 5 years

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{The Murder of Alternative Character Design}

Hello there!

My name is Arabella, but you can call me Arry if easier. You may be looking at the title and feeling a bit confused by it. “The Murder of Alternative Character Design” may be quite a confusing title and leave others wondering what the hell it even means. But that is why I am here to spread awareness about this horrible phenomenon that is going on in recent pop culture. Especially with superheroes. ‘Alternative Character Design’ to me is when a character (usually a superhero) looks different from the traditional standard of the type of character they represent. I can name quite a couple of alternatively dressed superheroes who get made into more traditional wear or boring wear in their live-action debut. So let’s invade the topic!

(The poor costume design recently...)

I don’t know if you have noticed but the quality of costume design and the importance of comic accuracy has lowered in demand. It seems now like live-action adaptations of a comic book character just throw whatever they can to seem “different” or “out there”. Yet it murders the costume design to begin with. Recently in “Birds of Prey”, one of my favorite DC female characters ‘Black Canary’ has had her main outfit leaked on set. And there are no fishnets to be seen or a bodysuit or anything that represents the character in the comics. I personally love Black Canary for that reason with how different she looks and how she isn’t afraid to wear leather, fishnets and reveal skin, things that could be seen as hooker-ish. She rocks and makes it look stylish and badass. Yet in Birds of Prey, it seems like they went for a more ‘preppy’ approach where nothing about her screams ‘Black Canary’ but perhaps the colors. Even then, black and yellow in DC and especially to non-comic book readers just screams Batman. Netflix recently released a show called “The Umbrella Academy” and I don’t really know much about the comics except that it was created by My Chemical Romance babe Gerard Way who I grew up listening to his music. Even after they broke up. It saddened me to see the complete difference from the comics to the actual live-action adaptation. The art is nearly killed with the inaccuracy as Allison Hargreeves doesn’t have her awesome purple-blue hair. Klaus didn't have his awesome skull shirt, ouija pendant necklace and signature bright orange hair. Diego’s long, blond hair is completely disregarded despite the lack of longer hair on dudes in superhero shows. All of this is disregarded for a more preppy, modern and “up to date” look that kills the character design that made the comics look so different in the first place. And it’s Gerard Way’s creation for crying out loud! He was part of an alternative group! They didn't look nearly as normal as the people in the show look. Even Klaus looks normal compared to how these people used to look. It’s changed for diversity and relatability to other characters but where’s my representation? Where’s my second personality’s representation? And this isn’t just on DC’s end. Marvel does this as well with my favorite X-Men character, Kurt Wagner, a.k.a Nightcrawler. Who seriously wore a Thriller jacket in X-Men Apocalypse. It was the worse outfit I have ever seen on Nightcrawler. Nightcrawler in the comics is basically Gothic. He wears dark clothes, looks kind of scary to the point where people fear him on a daily basis, and has hints of red here and there. The usage of color in Kurt’s design is usually creative and done justice. Now I could understand if they were going for a more X-Men Evolution Kurt but even then, the outfit was better and Kurt is rarely seen as blue in that outfit because when he is blue, it is shown to hardly work with being blue.The colors don’t go well with his skin. Also, his personality is a lot different to X-Men Apocalypse’s but we are talking about character design not writing. And can someone please show Legion FX how to dress punk people? Don’t say David Haller is punk when you hardly dress him as punk.

(Why is this an issue?)

So, why is this an issue? You may ask me when reading this post. They’re characters, Arry. They aren’t always going to be comic-book accurate. Why are you so upset over all of this? As an artist, to me, character design and clothing choices is just as important as personality. Appearance is the first thing you see of anyone and it can say a lot. You express yourself through your appearance more than you think. When creating a character, I always make sure that I have the character design down pack. It’s my favorite thing to do. I am not against preppier clothing or modernizing things. I understand that this is something that has to be taken into consideration when taking a character and placing them in live-action. There are some things that are too difficult to carry over. But why make a live-action adaptation of something if you are not going to use the version that everyone who reads the comics is familiar with? What’s wrong with having abnormally colored hair? I get that diversity is a hot topic right now and it’s amazing that everyone is getting representation in one way or another. But diversity goes deeper than just skin tone. I have never seen a true alternative like character outside of cartoons that was done right. And I have tons of favorite goth girls in cartoons (Gwen & Crimson from Total Drama, Sam Manson from Danny Phantom, Mandy from The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy, Triana Orpheus from Venture Bros, Jinx & Raven from Teen Titans, The Hex Girls from Scooby Doo, Rogue from X-Men Evolution, Joan of Arc from Clone High, Marceline from Adventure Time, Marie from Ed, Edd, and Eddy.) the list goes on. These aren’t characters you see in live-action though. These aren’t female characters that are even considered in live-action or even superheroes for that matter. And comic books are incredible for the reason that you don’t have to conform to normality. You can make any character you want. That’s why we have such unique characters in comic books and even in cartoons. Justice Friends has a colorful witch named Miss Spell and Valhallen is a metalhead. This is one of the many reasons why Neil Gaiman has been picky and harsh over making his Sandman comics into live-action because Sandman features so many subgenres of styles. Goth and punk, mostly. These characters aren’t represented in live-action adaptations. They are forgotten about or normalized. Kurt Wagner is a background character and they still couldn’t dress him how he is in the comics. The Umbrella Academy normalized its characters a lot in clothing choices. And it’s sad. There are people who dress like this and should be able to see themselves in at least one superhero. Kurt Wagner teaches us that not all goths are gloomy and depressed or dangerous. He’s a goth with a pure soul and good heart. Sandman comics make Death and Dream and Delirium seem normal, like they don’t have to change to be liked or good-hearted. They are who they are. The Umbrella Academy basically showed that you could wear abnormal costumes, have colored hair, have longer hair for a dude and still be an awesome superhero. X-Men has tons of abnormally colored hair characters that rarely make it onto the big screen, they are usually brought to small screen like Blink and Polaris in The Gifted. And in Legion FX, the most evil and villainous character is a punk. David Haller is not a good person on Legion nor can he be considered an anti-hero anymore. He is a despicable being with a god complex. Punks already get the bad rep of being dangerous, angry, and mean-spirited. Do we really need a character in mainstream media to be punk while also had killed multiple people and raped his girlfriend? That’s not progressive, that’s moving backwards. Superboy doesn’t even have his leather jacket, leather gloves and black circle sunglasses anymore with his undercut. He’s just narrowed down to a tee shirt and jeans most of the time.

(How can we change this issue?)

I am not exactly sure. I know it seems kind of lame to like… bring up an issue and then not offer a solution. I feel like the best way to fix this problem is to hopefully notify costume designers that the world is in need of different styles. Their designs are not “out there” or “different”, as the comic book characters designs were already out there and they completely changed them. I am a huge judge when it comes to costume and character designs in live-action adaptations and I may make a post on why that is. I feel like we need to open our eyes to newer looks. To give some representation to those who dress differently from others. The issues that I brought up are already done and over with. Bad representation for punks as evil and villainous. The Umbrella Academy normalized every character, even Klaus. And hopefully Marvel can give us the Nightcrawler that we deserve as Fox no longer has the rights. All we can do is hope that this comic inaccuracy is a pasting phase and that creators will soon give the outcasts a voice and a chance for better representation. To stop being the villains or bad guys.

This was a short rant that I felt had to be done and I had to explain some issues. I hope you enjoyed my post and agree with some points that I made. If you have any questions on the matter, feel free to message me. If you like this post and want to see more like this, feel free to follow our Tumblr! And if you liked the post, feel free to reblog and like. I post every Wednesday and Saturday! I will see you on Wednesday. Peace out!

#character design #characters #cartoon characters #dc comics #marvel comics #x-men #rant #the umbrella academy #birds of prey #black canary #superboy #nightcrawler #kurt wagner #alternative #alternative fashion #post #my opinion #my post

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j-exclamationmark-l · 5 years

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Personal rant

So I found out the hard way about two or three months ago that some phrases trigger some form of PTSD in me from the way I was raised. At least, I think that's what it is. I get filled with this aimless dread, I start seeing memories as clear as day. I start seeing exactly what happened years ago, I can feel myself screaming even though logically I know I'm not actually screaming, it’s just a memory but it's so real, like time doesn't exist and everything is overlapping on itself and I feel like I'm going crazy but I know I'm going crazy, I know none of these things are actually here, and it's like I'm being split in two by the reasonable side of my brain and this pure emotion that's insisting the threat is still right here in front of me.

I started crying at work and asked my coworkers to stop saying it. That was maybe two months ago. It's not even a common phrase - I think people used to say it in the 90s, but until recently, I hadn’t heard anyone say it.

But since I asked, my oldest coworker has kept saying it. I ask her to stop every time and she keeps defending herself. She’s incredibly self-centered, always talks about herself and how awesome she is, brags that she has the most exciting life outside of work (not really? she’s exactly what you’d imagine a white, middle-aged party-girl divorcee to be like), always cuts me off, never remembers things I say, always tries to get me in trouble. She also likes to insinuate that I’m gay by saying frequently that girls with short nails are lesbian (have you ever seen a violinist with long nails?). Her way of asking me to do things is to say “Why am I always the one who has to do this?” I’ve tried being nice to her. I try to listen to her a lot. Once I accidentally said her son was autistic and she began yelling at me that he’s not autistic, he has Asperger’s, so I apologized and asked her what the difference was, since I’d always thought before that Asperger’s was a form of autism. I didn’t fight her on any point she made, I just asked her out of curiosity because I genuinely wanted to know. The next day at work she bragged to the other woman in the office about how she totally schooled me, even though I’d asked.

Friday, everyone in the office was talking about cheesecake, and how Japan’s just doesn’t compare to cheesecake in other countries.

“When my best friend first came to Japan about eight years ago, cheesecake wasn’t really a thing that had caught on,” I said. “So he went to a restaurant and saw ‘hot cheesecake’ on the menu and decided to try it.”

“Gross, cheesecake isn’t supposed to be hot,” this woman cut in. “In Australia--”

“That’s not the story,” I frowned. I’ve been getting more aggressive about her cutting me off. She fought me to begin with, but slowly, other coworkers have started pointing out when she cuts them off, too. “He ordered it, then what was served wasn’t cheesecake at all, but a pancake--”

“That’s not cheesecake,” she interjected. “We were talking about cheesecake--”

“...A pancake. With a slice of processed cheese, like American cheese, on the top.”

“Some cheese could taste really good on sweets, like cream cheese, or--”

“It wasn’t cream cheese, it was a slice of processed cheese, like you buy at the supermarket, the plastic-y ‘torokeru cheese.’“

She began listing off other cheeses that could taste good on a pancake, and I tried to reiterate that that’s not what my friend was served.

Realizing she had nothing else to say to derail the story I thought was kind of funny, she looked me in the eye and said the phrase that she knew triggered me.

At first, I was just really confused. I wasn’t even upset, it was just so weird - not even that she’d say it, but that she’d tried so hard to derail my story. The room went silent, as I’m sure everyone remembers the time I started crying. I made a mental note to tell my friend how hard she’d fought his story. I wondered how weird he’d think that was. I wondered if there were any other details about it he’d share that I’d forgotten; it had been a long time since he’d told me, after all.

I could kind of feel it gnawing at the back of my mind. I knew what she’d said, but I was busy, and if I put on my headphones and went back to work, the flood waters barely sloshed over the top of the dam. If I didn’t process what was behind that wall, if I ignored it...

The minute I was out of work, the minute I was alone, the dam broke and I realized what she’d said, and saw my father looming every time I closed my eyes. I could almost swear he was hiding behind the crowds of people on the train, ready to scream at me. But I knew that was ridiculous, he hates me so much he’d never dare follow me to Japan.

But part of me was certain he was there.

The commute home takes an hour, and for that hour I felt torn, telling myself he wasn’t there and yet somehow convinced he was, and that I was 14 and he was threatening to leave me somewhere and my mother was telling me I was crazy and he was changing the pictures in the frames to not include me or how he dumped all my food down the sink or...

It sounds so stupid now that I write it out. Like a paper tiger. It looks scary, but there’s nothing actually to it.

I got home and drank. I drank more than I thought I could at once, I drank until I passed out.

In the morning, I woke up for long enough to send my coworker a message saying I noticed that she said that phrase and asking her to stop. I passed out again.

I was woken up by her reply. It was long and wordy and filled with phrases like “it’s been ubiquitously ingrained into our lexicon” and how I can’t expect everyone to change their speech patterns just for me. I was so angry that I woke up fully to tell her she’s literally the only person I know who uses that phrase. She then claimed, after her lengthy rebuttal, to have forgotten what the phrase is that upsets me. She also insinuated that nothing I’ve experienced could possibly be anything worse than the shit she’s seen and told me she has more compassion and empathy than anyone else alive, I’m just being an unreasonable little shithead.

So I tried to describe for her what it’s like, being reminded of my dad like that. I know I can’t stop from being reminded of him all the time, but somehow knowing I asked her to stop and seeing her continue to do it makes it worse. I’m not about to tell her that even the word “family” is dangerous territory for me because even I know that’s unreasonable to tell everyone to stop saying that word. But there are things I can do - thinking of my friends as my “family,” thinking of Kiryu’s music as “home.” But that phrase, the one that upsets me, has no actual meaning, and no one even really says it anymore, except for her.

And in the office, I told her, I do what I can. I try to listen to music to block out their conversations most of the time. Yeah, it’s antisocial, but I don’t want another episode and I don’t want to have to force them to change their habits.

But the way she interrupted my story to look me in the eye and say it during one of the few moments I didn’t try to block it out...

She didn’t reply to my message.

I stayed inside for fear of running into her on Sunday (she lives uncomfortably close to me) and I felt sick to my stomach at the idea of seeing her on Monday, but luckily she ignored me yesterday, and today, too.

I wish I could explain it to them, I wish there was a way to let them see instead of seeing it myself all the time. I know they don’t have the attention span to listen, though, and I don’t actually want them knowing that much about me. I just wish they’d understand, I’m not trying to be unreasonable.

I’m in pain and they’d poke me with sticks telling me to “get over it.”

I remember how her friend yelled at me after the first time I broke. She apologized later, but I still don’t trust them. I don’t trust any of them. They lack the imagination to empathize with anything they haven’t experienced firsthand, I think.

I remember friends in high school making jokes about how awful my dad was. I didn’t get it, not really. I mean, I wasn’t happy, but it was normal to me. I didn’t get it until I reached college. And how unfair it was that these people had families that loved and cared for them.

I’ve been having the same nightmare I used to have all the time.

It feels like it will never end.

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jinterlude · 6 years

Text

Innermost Thoughts

↳ header is made by yours truly. I do not own the rights to the image used.

➳ Pairing: Mark Lee x Reader (female OC)

➳ Genre(s): Soulmate!AU, Barista!AU, Romance, Fluff, Friendship, & Humor

➳ Words: 6.6K

➳ Summary: You work at the local coffee shop. He currently interns at a business firm. Your life is right on schedule. His life is a mess. He is always on the go. You take one day at a time. Total opposites, so why is there a special connection between you? More importantly, why is there a bunch of random phrases written on your palm? You don’t remember writing down anything to help you remember, so this honestly strange to you. It doesn’t help that Mark too is experiencing a strange phenomenon when it comes to his own body. There’s no way that your experience is linked with his. Absolutely no way...

Soft whispers from the outside. An icy cold breeze brushes through the naked tree branches as it pushes the million snowflakes, that descends from the vast sky, in different directions. Falling at a decent pace as it joins their brother and sisters on the concrete ground.

Winter is an interesting season as people either love it or hate it. People simply focus on the harsh coldness that it comes with it or focus on the mere fact that Christmas is soon approaching. For you, you always love the season. Not because it means that the year is almost over or that you’ll receive gifts from your friends and family. No. You are in love with this weather because of the tranquility that comes it. Seeing the blanket of pure white snow on top of what used to be your grass? Magical. Observing the footprints that causes your eyes to follow after it? A fun adventure. Most important, you absolutely love your job. Being a barista at the local café and serving hot drinks to the customers as they chat away about anything that has happened during their daily life. It is because of this job that you have the opportunity to meet some interesting characters. It is because of this job that you believe in the idea of soulmates.

As you prepare their orders, you overhear the coffee lovers talk about how they met one another. From the months of working there, you gain the knowledge of the “red thread of fate”, “two soulmates who feel the exact emotions”, and the list goes on.

Hearing about their stories makes you question if you have that special someone to call your own. Someone who is destined to make you into a better person. Someone who will love you unconditionally until the end of time.

In simple terms…

Someone to call your own…

With a soft smile gracing your lips, you grasp your fingers around the handle as you steam a cup of milk. You hum a Christmas tune to yourself as you focus on making the perfect latte for a customer.

“Hey cutie!” shouts a fellow barista, who also happens to be your partner in crime.

“You’re late Sowon…” You point out with a grin.

Sowon scoffs, rolling her eyes, as she ties her hair up in a ponytail.

“Sweetie, a queen is never late. Everyone else is simply early.” She says, putting on her apron and tying it in place.

You chuckle as you do one of your signature flower art on the customer’s latte before serving it.

“Here you go sir.” You smile sweetly at the elderly gentleman.

The gentleman says a quick yet polite thank you before taking his drink back to his seat.

Sowon perks her eyebrow up, “I think you made yet another person fall in love with you.” She states as she clocks in for work.

You wave away her remark before attending to another customer.

This is going to be yet another amazing day for you.

In a different part of the city, sadly, a certain intern at a business firm isn’t having such a wonderful start.

For Mark Lee, his day has been filled with nothing but sweat, tears, and some curse words. With his hair a disheveled mess, he forces himself to knock on his boss’ office door, praying to God that he has noticed him rushing in late. While he is a music major at the local university, his professor has suggested that he should also expose himself to the business side of the industry. Luckily, a colleague of his has helped land the internship.

However, looking at his situation now, he honestly doesn’t think he’s so lucky.

His boss is scary. His fellow interns only care about themselves. He is always late because the train and bus schedule are always unpredictable.

There are some days where Mark Lee wants to quit but decides against it when he remembers that his dream goal is so close to not being a dream anymore. He is going to be a famous producer one day, working with famous artists left and right. Yep. He can see the end goal. He just needs to keep trucking on.

Taking one final breath, Mark Lee musters enough courage to knock on the glass door. His face slightly grimaces when he hears his boss’ harsh, cold voice demanding that he enters. He wraps his fingers around the door handle and pushes the door open.

“Take a seat, Mr. Lee.” Demands his angry boss.

Mark Lee nods meekly and quickly takes a seat. His timid stare meeting the strong, confident stare of his boss.

“Mr. Lee, may I ask why you are late for the hundredth time this month?” His boss asks, leaning back into his seat.

“It wasn’t a hundred times…” Mark thinks, “I am incredibly sorry, sir. I woke up late and then both the train and bus arrived late, and—” Before Mark can continue his explanation, his boss interrupts.

“Mark, I do not want to hear your excuse. No matter what, I expect you to be here on time and ready to work,” His boss pauses, sighing, “I am not sure if this is going to continue to work out. While, yes, you are an intern, I still treat you as if you are one of my employees, and I expect my employees to have an amazing work ethic. Quite frankly, you are not displaying any of that.” He says; each of his words stab a whole in Mark’s pride.

He is right. The boss man is always right. Mark knows that he hasn’t been given his internship a 100%. He always gives whatever the task he is handed his all. What makes this internship any different?

“You are absolutely right, sir. I have been half-assing this intern. I come up with excuse after excuse, and I apologize for that. That is not an exact representation of my work ethics. Please give me one more chance, I promise that I will deliver you nothing but the best from now on.” Mark says; confidence dripping from every word. A total 180 from his earlier mannerisms.

His boss finds himself nodding. A light humming emits from his lips as a short smile begins to form.

“Okay.” He tells Mark shortly, alarming the poor boy.

“Okay?” Mark repeats in a questioning tone of voice.

“Okay as in I will give you one more shot. You blow this, and you are out of my company. Got it?” The boss clarifies, standing up and fixing his suit jacket.

Mark practically shoots up from his seat, grabbing his boss’ hands as he proceeds to shake them.

“You will not regret this sir!” He shouts with an eager smile before dashing out of the office.

Mark’s boss shakes his head but with a smile as he takes his seat. An amusing thought occurs in his mind causing the distinguished man to chuckle.

“I can go for a cup of coffee from my daughter’s café.” He utters to himself as he sends Mark a quick text message with his order.

Now scrolling through your phone, as you are currently on your 20-minute break, you hum along to your music. You have the habit of getting lost in your music. Something about the lyrics and the melody just speaks to your soul.

And the funny thing is that it’s always about love. The idea of falling in love. You can say that you tend to be a hopeless romantic.

“Say yes…say yes…say yes…” You sing softly; your eyes trailing up as you drink in the peaceful atmosphere. You watch the precious snowflakes slowly trickle down before blending in with the rest.

A faint smile appears before focusing your attention back on your phone. As you reach for the device, you feel an odd sensation on your palm. More specifically, on the palm. This tickling feeling continues for a few more moments, then it suddenly disappears.

Your brows scrunch together. Tiny creases form on your forehead. You have had your share of weird encounters, but that takes the cake.

You flip over your hand. Your eyes widen as you see handwriting on it.

“That’s odd…” You think to yourself as you scan the written content, “Why is there a coffee order on my hand?” You mentally add, finding it even weirder that you register it as your dad’s go-to coffee order.

So many questions begin to swarm your mind. Questions like, “did I write this down earlier?” or “Maybe Sowon got a message from him and had me write it on my hand for her?”

Ah…this is going to bug you for the rest of the day.

The funny thing is that you didn’t even think about the possibility that maybe this is your soulmate’s doing. Don’t you love ignoring the obvious?

With a quick huff, you grab your phone and stuff in one of the pockets of your apron. You push in your chair and head back inside. Maybe it won’t hurt to ask Sowon.

She’s one smart cookie after all…

Feeling the warmth from the heater as it melts away the icy, numb feeling from your face, you smile at each customer, checking up on every other one, as you make your back behind the counter.

You push open the little entrance door, walk up to Sowon, and whisper roughly,

“Hey, did you have me write down something for you?”

Sowon stares at you with a questioning expression.

“Uh…not recently. Why?” She asks, putting down her pen.

Instead of answering, you show her your palm. Sowon leans forward; her eyes squinting to make sense of the tiny font that decorates your palm. A few words quietly exit from her mouth before returning to her original position.

“Yeah…are you feeling okay? You go from writing down a coffee order to writing anything and everything that comes to your cute little mind.” She asks, stating what she has read on your palm.

Wait what?

Last time you checked, only a coffee order is written on your hand. You quickly flip over your hand and low and behold, Sowon is right. Instead of a simple order, there’s a bunch of random words.

You read over the jumbled-up words, stifling a laughter that forms within your chest.

“One large iced Americano with two pumps of…wait…what time did the boss man say he wanted the summary report on his desk? Shit…! I think he said that he wanted it on his desk tonight! Fuck!” You read aloud, chuckling at the number of times the word, “fuck” is written on your hand.

Sowon watches curiously at you. She takes note of the goofy smile that is glued on your face. How your head tilts to the side as you continue to read the essay that is on the palm of your hand.

Wait a minute…

That is quite strange that out of all her years of knowing you, you only just now start to write things on your hand. Normally, you’ll grab your tiny notebook and jot down anything and everything that pops into your brilliant mind.

Suddenly, a light bulb lights up.

Sowon swiftly grabs your hand, and her assumption is right. Her eyes observes the ink disappear but soon appears once again. This time bearing a new set of phrases. Sentences that go from being articulate to being simple rambles.

“Say, you haven’t found your soulmate yet , right?” You hear Sowon randomly ask.

You simply shake your head before standing behind the register. Sowon hums in response as she access her mind bank, specifically looking for her knowledge on soulmates.

She leans a part of her body against the counter, continuing to look through her intelligent mind.

Then, it hits her. As if someone has taken a book and lightly smacked it on her head.

She quickly pushes herself off the counter and moves next to you. Completely ignoring the fact that you are helping a customer.

You smile sweetly at the lady, who appears to be in her mid-twenties, and hand her exact change. You grab the order receipt and place it on a clip before moving around Sowon to help prepare your signature latte. What can you say? People love your signature drink. It’s probably because of the fancy latte art that you do, but whatever helps bring revenue to the café.

“Are you even listening to me?” Sowon throws her hands up, sighing loudly.

You smile apologetically as you tighten your hair up again and quickly wash your hands.

Sowon frowns as her eyes narrow; they practically become slits.

“I promise, I will listen to what you have to say after work. Right now, I need—” Before you can finish your sentence, requesting your dear friend to actually work instead of chit chatting, you hear an awkward voice speak up.

“Um…excuse me? I would like to order.”

You give a Sowon a look before stepping around her and position yourself at the register.

“Hi sir! How may I help you?” You ask politely, lightly drumming your fingers against the register screen.

A short, airy chuckle leaves the customer’s lips.

“Sir? I would’ve thought we would at least be on first name basis with each other.” The person says, causing you to softly giggle.

You raise your brow as you tell him, “Well... Seeing how I am at work, Mark, I need to keep a sense of professionalism. I can’t play favorites with my customers.” Near the end, you playfully wink at him

The customer, who is now revealed to be Mark, laughs at your remark. He quietly says, “true”, before relaying his go-to order. Every day, Mark comes in ordering two things. He orders one coffee for his boss and then orders something to calm his nerves. Almost always he orders a plain old cup of coffee with a few shots of espresso and can’t forget a little bit of room for the creamer.

“You know…eventually, all of that caffeine is going to kill you.” You playfully say as you ring up his total for his drinks.

Mark eyes you with a lazy yet amused smirk as he digs out his wallet from his back pocket. He then hands her the company credit card before jokingly wipes away his imaginary sweat. He is honestly amazed with himself for finally having his boss’ order correct. His prior attempts either had him making the drink too sweet or too bitter. Sometimes, he’s even forgotten to make the drink iced.

Now Mark understands why he’s always been assigned coffee duty while the other interns are either filing away important documents or scheduling important meetings for the executive board members.

If he can’t remember a simple coffee order, then how can he remember the tiny details of his clients needs—wants—when it comes to their music?

“Everything happens for a reason…” He chants like a broken record.

As you insert his card into the card reader, you notice Mark mouthing something out of the corner of your eye. You secretly find it both adorable and hilarious that he tends to do it whenever he wants to memorize something.

Wow…you have seen him enough to know that small detail about him.

That’s kind of depressing…

“Your order will be up soon, Mr. Lee.” You announce as you hand him back both his card and the receipt.

“Ah… I thought we went over this. Mark is just fine. Mr. Lee reminds me of my dad.” Mark tells you, finding it quite amusing to hear you say that.

You giggle at his response, “Funny. I can say the same thing when people call me Miss L/N. It reminds me of my dad’s employees address me. It’s just weird.” You say.

The moment he hears you say your last name, he feels this poking sensation on his brain. Why does your last name sound so damn familiar?

“Say…you don’t happen to know an elderly gentleman named, Y/D/N L/N?” inquires Mark as he mirrors your steps.

A look of confusion spreads all over your face as you begin prepping a drink for a customer that is ahead of Mark.

“Yeah I do! He’s actually—” However, before you can spill the beans that the person in question is your dad, you hear your Sowon shout,

“Oh, baby girl! Stop flirting with the handsome intern! The manager is demanding that you provide her with your amazing hands! Apparently, she can’t make those latte arts that the people are so fond of!”

You smile apologetically to him before handing off the shot of espresso to Sowon and leaving behind an even more confused Mark.

Mark eyes your retreating, displaying a genuine smile and walking away himself. As he’s walking away, he rolls the sleeves up just 3/4ths of the way as it has grown a tad warm inside the coffee establishment. He then glances behind his shoulder; his smile growing by the second. Seeing you smile and chat away with your manager triggers a few fond memories. To be specific—he begins to recall the first day the two of you have met…

Heavy pants leave his mouth; the air in his lungs disappearing right in front of his eyes. He exerts every ounce of stamina to make it the local café shop and back to the office before his boss arrives. Mark has only recently been accepted into the business firm and now is going to be late on his first day. What an amazing first impression he wants to establish to not only his boss but his senior employees as well.

To add insult to injury, he’s forgotten what the assistance has told him about his boss’ favorite coffee combination.

Why didn’t he write it down?

Oh….

That’s right…

He’s a cocky idiot thinking that he can remember a simple order.

Life is cruel to him…

With the coffee shop nearing in sight, Mark picks up his pace. He loosens up his tie and unbuttons a few of buttons of his dress shirt. The last ting he wants to add to his piling list of “reasons why I should be fired” is the fact that his shirt stinks of sweat and despair.

Uncaring about being a perfect gentleman, he pushes past the sea of customers, wanting to make it to the front of the line. He ignores the loud complaints and profanities as he rests his hands on the counter.

He tries his best to catch his breath fairly quickly. Time is precious to him, and he can’t afford to dawdle right now.

With you, on the other hand, you have all the time in the world. Your dad has given you permission to work at this wonderful café since he knows about your hidden passion for creating any form art. Whether it’s with a paint brush or a colored pencil, you always have to create something.

When Jae Hwa told you that the local café near the university was hiring, you immediately jumped at the chance. Now, you can practice your latte art and be technically paid to do so.

“Hey, can you cover me at the register? My dad has been keeping me updated with my little brother, so I want to give him a call and see how things are.” Jae Hwa asks with a hopeful smile.

You tighten your pony tail and quickly say, “yes”. She has covered for you before, so why not return the favor?

Jae Hwa happily and swiftly thanks you as she exits the bar area and goes outside.

You quickly type in your login credentials before taking the next person’s order.

“Hi there! How may I help you this fine morning?” You ask with a warm smile, though, you observe the look of dread that’s painted all over the poor soul’s face.

“…yeah…I need…uh….shit…” The person mumbles, trying his hardest to remember of the coffee order.

This unexplainable feeling of pity fills your heart as you notice the morning rush piling on behind him.

“Would you like me to recommend something for you? You seem tense…” You politely question, taking note of the constant sweat that trickles down the side of his face and his uptight body language.

“Nah. I’m okay,” He pulls out his phone and opens his messaging app, “I’m lucky that my boss’ assistant messaged me his order.” He replies before relaying an interesting drink order.

A grin of curiosity forms on your lips as this knowing feeling in the back of your head pokes at you. That drink is oddly too familiar; however, you decide to push that thought onto the back burner. The morning rush needs your absolute focus. You can dwell on why that drink order is familiar later.

“Will that be all?” You ask, remembering your training.

The person quickly says, “yes”, and then you total the amount for his drink.

“Okay that will be $5.87, and may I have your name for the order?” You ask, taking his card and inserting it into the chip reader.

“Oh! Um…Mark Lee.” He says awkwardly as you hand him back both his card and receipt.

You smile sweetly before telling him that you’ll call him when his drink is ready. Mark returns the smile but it’s not as wide as yours. It seems rather timid—almost nervous like. You watch him move to the side and try to find an empty table to park himself at until his drink is ready.

“I think he likes you…” says an all too familiar voice.

“What do you want, Jungkook? Sowon isn’t scheduled to work until the afternoon shift.” You state, ignoring the annoying grin that is currently on his face.

Jungkook holds his hands up in defense, “Hey now. I’m just here for a good old cup of coffee and to see my favorite latte artists.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, “Whatever,” However, before you can resume your register duties, your manager comes up to you and asks you to start delivering drinks to the customers. When you ask her why, she says that the place is too noisy that no one can’t hear their names being called.

“Fair enough.” You salute her as you grab Mark’s and another person’s drink orders. You first deliver the other person’s drink since the woman’s sitting at table closest to the counter. Then, you carefully make your way to Mark’s table. That boy just has to sit in the farthest corner.

“Mark!” You try to yell subtly, hoping to gain the boy’s attention. After no response, you try again and luckily, he looks up.

His eyes widen as he notices you struggling to push through the sea of people. Mark stands up and makes his way towards you.

Unfortunately, he should’ve just waited for you…

“Holy…I am so sorry Mark!” You apologize loudly as the two of you eye his now coffee stained shirt.

You quickly pull out a clean rag from the back of your pocket and carefully wipe down his shirt.

Mark frowns and admits that his shirt is ruined. He then gently grasps your wrist, ignoring this spark electricity that shoots up his arm, and forces you to stop cleaning.

“I think you can stop cleaning my shirt. Coffee stains are a bitch.” He tells you, causing you to blush from embarrassment.

You awkwardly stand up and once again apologize for ruining his dress shirt. Mark waves off your apology as he deems it his own fault for trying to meet you halfway in this packed café.

“Let’s just say we are both dummies, and I’ll quickly go remake your drink.” You tell him.

Mark chuckles softly, “Don’t worry about it. I’m already in trouble for being late. What can having a dirty dress shirt and no coffee do to me?”

You frown; your eyes dripping with sympathy. You want to help him, but it seems like his mind is made up.

“Well, how about this? Next time you visit, your coffee is on me.” You suggest, smiling.

Mark returns the smile,

“See you tomorrow then…”

His last words echo throughout your mind. The more you think about it, the more you find yourself smiling as you watch Mark leave your line of sight. Now having a better look at him, you take note of his attire. A dress shirt, a pair of black slacks, and a nice pair of black vans.

A short hum emits from your lips as you find it odd that a college student is wearing such a dressy attire. Maybe he works right after school, so that’s why he always stop by to buy a few drinks before dashing out of the door.

Though…

What type of job requires such a fancy attire?

More importantly, what kind of job requires this poor boy to down so much caffeine that you should just start giving him a pot of espresso to go instead of simple large cup?

To make it your thought process even wilder, you find a tad interesting that Mark always orders your dad’s go-to drink to go with whatever is his choice of the day. People can develop similar tastes in drinks. You have seen enough duplicate coffee orders to know that your hypothesis is indeed correct.

“…nah…” You say quietly as you resume your duties.

Maybe one day, the two of you will meet outside the four walls of this coffee shop, and you guys can talk about anything and everything that comes to mind.

Meanwhile, with Mark, he is currently scrolling through his work email. Reading over everything and anything that his boss has CC’d him in. He silently curses at the fact that he didn’t bring his work laptop with him. If he did bring it with him, then he would’ve been working on the many summary reports that has piled on. Looks like he’s going to be staying behind late…yet again…

Mark can’t help but sigh, questioning his life decisions, however, before he can be completely lost in his thoughts, his phone sounds off.

As he reaches for his phone, he notices something that is drawn on his arm. His lips pursed together as he wonders what’s on his arm. He doesn’t remember being bored and doodling on it.

Wait…

Did he doodle on it?

Today has been a long day, and it’s not even evening yet.

He flips over his arm, wanting to get a better look at the doodle that he has supposedly drawn. His face is blank with emotion. Then, his bottom lip disappears followed by a few hums. He tilts his head to one side and then to the other. Yeah. Mark’s now even more confused.

“Why is there a flower drawn on my arm?” He thinks as his eyes scan the intricate details of the flower. His brows continue to be scrunched together the more he works his brain into overtime about this damn plant…

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Mark looking at his arm. His face extremely close to it. You continue to stare until hearing Sowon say something to you pulls you out of your stalker behavior.

“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” You politely request as you resume making another latte art. This time, it’s a heart because the customer who has requested wants to give it to his lady friend. Apparently, he’s going to confess his love to her.

Ah…young love…

“I said, ‘have you noticed that your hand writing now says the same thing over and over?’” Sowon repeats her question, roughly flipping over your hand and causing you to mess up the heart.

Your mouth nearly drops to the floor. Your perfect latte art is now this ugly blob. You honestly want to cry. Maybe your tears will make the coffee art all pretty…

You mumble a few curse words under your breath as you begrudgingly dump the perfectly made coffee into the sink. You quickly grab another cup and create the order yet again.

Sowon, wanting your undivided attention, purposely gets in your way. While you have no idea why she’s behaving like this, a part of you has an inkling.

Sowon is quite observant. Even more than you. She has seen the depressed gleam in your eyes whenever you overhear the customers talk about their soulmate. How this heavy sigh leaves your lips as you hear her gush about Jungkook and what he has done for her that day. This envious tone in your voice when you politely ask her to stop talking about the idea of having a soulmate.

Over the years, Sowon has helped couple after couple find their better half. Yet when it comes to you, she’s absolutely stuck. Without your knowledge, she has subtly checked for any signs that your soulmate is going to show up. It varies from checking your left pinky finger to seeing if you experience the same emotion as the one you are destined to be with.

Sadly, every time, she has come up emptied handed. It’s as if the Gods of Romance is telling Sowon to stop meddling and allow you to find your soulmate at your own pace.

When you found out what your best friend has been doing, you’re annoyed at first, however, you later thanked her for efforts and then told her that you’re fine with not knowing.

After all, you have accepted the fact that your soulmate is not going to make an appearance anytime soon, and that is fine with you—or so you think.

“Can I please finish this person’s coffee? He really wants to confess his love for his lady friend before the day is over.” You say to Sowon, steaming another cup of milk for your famous latte art.

Instead of answering, Sowon grabs your hand, making sure to not accidentally burn you. She holds your hands firmly as she closes the gap between the two of you.

“Jae Hwa! Cover us!” She demands as she pulls you out of the café and into the cold, harsh winter air .

The rush of icy air hits your body like a ton of bricks. Your body begins to shiver. Your teeth starts to chatter. Why didn’t Sowon bring your jackets?

“Okay, young lady. I have figured out why you have a bunch of words randomly scribbled all over your hand!” Sowon declares happily, flipping over your hand.

She then shoves your palm into your face, causing you to pull your head back a smidge. What? You don’t want to get slapped by your own hand.

That’s just embarrassing…

“In one the many books, that I have read during my months of denial over Jungkook being my soulmate, I have read somewhere that whatever your soulmate is thinking, it will be written on your hand,” She draws back your hand, examining the ever-changing sentences, “When did you notice the writings?” asks Sowon.

Using your free hand, you tap your chin lightly. Once you figure out the answer, you then quickly tell it to her. You reply that you have only noticed it today, however, it doesn’t rule out the fact that this strange occurrence could’ve happened prior to today.

Sowon nods as she says, “okay”, repeatedly.

The thing about soulmate is honestly tricky. There is no definite answer as to why one’s soulmate will appear when he or she least expects them too. One person can go on for years without knowing who their soulmate is while the other can meet their soulmate in less than 24 hours. It’s random gamble.

With Sowon, she hasn’t seen any signs of her soulmate for almost a year. Then, one day, when she’s walking back to her car, she feels random emotions hitting her all at once. A few days later, she comes face-to-face with Jungkook, and everything begins making sense to her.

With you, it hasn’t even been a whole day yet and the Gods of Romance wants you to meet your better half ASAP. However, the downside is that anyone can be thinking the things that are written on your palm.

The human mind is always changing; naturally, the thoughts change as well.

“I don’t see why you couldn’t tell me this inside…I can’t feel my face anymore…” You mutter, crossing your arms over your chest.

Sowon laughs at your comment before pulling you back inside and allowing the two of you to defrost. You can see Jae Hwa secretly freaking out as she gives it her best effort to remain calm.

You and Sowon glance each other as you rush to Jae Hwa’s aid…

Back with Mark, who is still deciphering what his newly found tattoo means, he is currently scanning the Internet for any answer. While he is a stranger to the world of soulmates, it didn’t mean that he’s completely oblivious to it. He knows what a soulmate is, and why people have one. He’s just unfamiliar with how one obtains their other half—the one person that is destined to love him for all of eternity. Better yet, he hasn’t quite understand how one finds their missing pair.

In his group of friends, half of them already have found their missing piece of the puzzle. While the other half, they are either currently searching or patiently waiting for the next clue to smack them in the face.

Now with Mark, he’s been too busy to either care or even notice that there has been tiny hints. He just didn’t know it…

Sending a quick S.O.S to his friend, Taeyong, Mark stares at his phone intensely, waiting for a response. As he is doing this, he fails to realize that an odd combination of numbers appears underneath the detailed drawing of the flower. To be more specific, a certain date now displays nicely below the drawing.

After what seems like a forever, Mark’s phone makes a bell like sound, signaling the anxious man that he has a new message.

[From TY-Track 05:45 PM: First off, aren’t you still doing your internship? Second of all, since have you become so keen on this soulmate stuff?]

[From TY-Track 05:47 PM: You always seemed disinterested whenever the fellas and I talk about it…]

Mark’s brows furrow together. His buddies have discussed this before? Then, a look of realization washes over him. They do talk about their missing half whenever they get the chance because they give each other great advice on the topic.

One of the many joys of having a growing group of friends. You will always have at least three people who are experiencing something similar.

With a sheepish grin, Mark quickly types a reply, not knowing that you are walking towards with his order. You are embarrassed that you honestly forgot about Mark’s order since the café has gotten so backed up to the point that the order number has become incredibly disorganized.

Why is there only the three of you working the rush? The world will never know…

You gently place down his drink order and tell him to enjoy his flavor of the day.

Mark laughs and just as you are about to walk away, he notices some familiar words written on your palm.

Why is his boss’ drink order written all over your hand? More importantly, why is his mental memo to strangle Jisung written all over it.

Without a second thought, he grabs your hand and pulls you down to the seat in front of him.

You eye him with confused eyes, “Uh…may I help you, Mark?”

Instead of answering, Mark flips over your hand, creating that surge of electricity once again.

“Why did you write my weird ass mental note on your head? Actually, how in the world did you know what I’m thinking?” Mark fires question after question.

You can’t help but gawk at his questions. Last time you checked, you aren’t a mind reader, so there’s no plausible explanation as to why you have his “mental note” written on your hand.

The two of stare at your palm a few more seconds until you notice a familiar design underneath his forearm.

Without uttering a word, you grab his arm and hold it close to your face. The way it is drawn is the same way you create your flower design for your latte art.

“I have a question for you, why do you have my flower design tattooed on your arm?” You question him this time.

Mark looks taken back, so this is your flower design? Oh…! That’s why it looks familiar to him. Every time he picks up his order, he always sees plenty of drinks with your latte art waiting to be picked up by their owner.

“Okay…this is honestly freaky…” He mumbles to himself as he takes a moment to process everything.

You hum in response as you too take a second to process a moment.

“So, I see you have found your soulmate, my soft princess.” The two of you hear Sowon say.

Both you and Mark become confused by her words.

“I’m saying that you two experienced the rarer side of finding your soulmate. For you, whatever your soulmate thinks, it appears on your palm. At first, I thought you were having a mental breakdown but then I realize that you had names written down that I couldn’t match a face to, and I know almost everyone in your life,” She turns to Mark, “And for you Mark, you have what they call a significant symbol that means something to your soulmate. In this case, Y/N loves art and creates intricate designs on our customers latte.” She clarifies while Jungkook simply nods in agreement.

You open your mouth to speak but soon close it. You have no idea what to say next.

Mark, on the other hand, is feeling both terrified and over the moon that he has finally found his other half. Happy that he has found the person that is going to make him the luckiest man alive yet terrified that he feels he’s not worthy of having you.

Before speaking, he clears his throat and with a sincere smile, Mark asks,

“What do you want to do?”

You are taken back by his question. Is he seriously handing the ball over to you? Never once in your life have you ever thought about your soulmate giving you the power to decide on the bond between you two.

This is truly sweet of him…

“Well, I’m willing to explore this newly found bond between us. I mean, we are paired up for a reason,” You then take his hand, “Even more so since you have my birth date written underneath my flower design.” You confess, finding it quite hilarious that the Gods of Romance has given him another sign of his soulmate while you’re only given one.

Mark looks flabbergasted as he scrambles to check his arm. His eyes home in on the not-so-random combination of numbers on his arm. He softly repeats the digits of your birthday before lowering his arm.

“Huh….well, I’ll be damned,” He smiles brightly, “If this isn’t a sign that we are meant to be together, then I don’t know what is.” He jokes, causing you to practically smile from ear-to-ear.

“I’m ready for this crazy adventure.” You tell him sweetly.

Mark nods, agreeing with your statement.

“I have a question for you though.” He asks, remembering that he wants to ask you about your last name.

You hum in response, waiting for him to continue.

“Are you related to Y/D/N L/N?” He asks, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh! Yeah! He’s my dad!” You happily announce, unknowingly instilling fear within Mark.

“He’s your dad?!” He pretty much shrieks in terror; his eyes widening to the size of dinner plates

“Don’t worry…I’ll put in a good word for you with him. After all, I gotta take care of my better half now.” You comfort him, gently rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb.

“Nah…that’s my job.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Mark.”

A/N: And there you have it! My second soulmate!AU one shot! I am honestly quite amazed with how long this one one turned out! The only time I have ever written a long one shot was for a Jungkook smut I had decided to revamp last year!

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one shot! I will try and update my other stories whenever I have the chance. My weekends on October might be limited since my grandma is flying back to Irvine, CA next weekend, and I’m going to visit her with my mom. Also, I need to start buckling down on my studies, so I might put some stories on hold or just work on it slowly. Hope you guys understand and be patient!

Don’t forget to leave a comment/like/reblog/a message in my inbox! I love hearing your thoughts! :)

- Kim

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alicewritesthisstuff · 5 years

Text

One year of being on tumblr

Ok, so I’ve been on tumblr for a little over a year and I really need to get some things off my chest.

So, I guess this is going to be what some would call a “rant”.

When I first joined tumblr, it was because of a dare. My best friend wanted me to post my writing online and I was pretty sure that tumblr was the “safest” place to do so - aka none of the people I associate with irl would ever find it, seeing as I’m over the age of 30 and live in Germany. Yes, I know there are a few Germans on tumblr as well, but they’re not exactly the kind of people I hold close relations to irl. Every time I actually mention tumblr to anyone, their eyes tend to glaze over and their most frequently used answer is: “huh?”

So, in short, I was confident that no one I’d ever get in personal contact with would read my writing, and that was quite alright with me.

I actually am a published writer, abide I write under a synonym and quite different things that I tend to publish on tumblr, so it’s not like my creative ego needed a boost - it only needed an outlet. Plus, missing her was driving me insane. It’s better now....most of the time.

It didn’t take long for me to stumble upon the eating disorder community here on tumblr. It always seems to find me, no matter where, and I don’t think that will ever change. I have approx. 20 years worth of personal experience with anorexia and bulimia and I’ve been working with people suffering from eating disorders for quite a few years as well. Some may call that hypocritical of me, but I’m very good at my job - because I know EXACTLY what’s going on in my patient’s heads. That makes me a pretty good person to talk to and I’m proud to say I’ve helped many people onto the road of full recovery. I’ve tried several times to do the same thing for myself, but that’s where all my rational sense tends to go out the window. I’ve been stable for roughly six years - ever since I became a mother - and I’ve managed not to get myself into a life-threatening state since then, but I’m not going to lie and pretend that I’m miraculously healed. There’s no coming back from an eating disorder once it’s turned chronic, and that’s another reason I’m so passionate about helping young girls (and boys) get out of this hell as soon as possible - they have no idea what’s in store for them if they continue down this road. None at all.

Anyway, I found the eating disorder community on tumblr and went through my usual inner turmoil of disgust, anger, sadness, pity and - yes - envy. I still get triggered by the bodies of pre-teen girls with tiny limbs and missing hips and bones running visibly beneath their pale, cracked skin.

It’s not that I find it attractive - I honestly don’t - but I know the state of mind that goes along with having that body (because I’ve been there more times than I could count) and I somtimes miss it, even if it did bring me to death’s door.

It’s not rational, but, like I said, rational thinking tends to go out the window when I let myself peak into the box in the back of my mind labled “ED - do not open or you will lose everything good in your life”.

First thing that deeply annoys me about the ed-community members on tumblr:

I will follow a girl for a couple of weeks, read their posts about losing weight, about comments people make, about their families starting to worry about how tiny she’s become, about being cold all the time, etc. and I compare it to my patients and think “that poor girl’s going downhill fast”....until she posts one of those ridiculous and heavily triggering “body check” pictures - mostly lying on their backs on matresses with arms stretched above their heads, like that won’t make pretty much anyone look “thin”, but more about that later - and I realize she’s at a perfectly healthy weight.

Now, I do realize you do not need to be underweight to be classified as having an eating disorder - remember, I work with eating disordered patients daily - but for ANOREXIA, there are certain symptoms that are stated as required to be diagnosed as such. And one of them is being underweight. However, there is such a thing as ATYPICAL ANOREXIA, which is not classified by being underweight, only by showing anorexic behaviour.

BUT - and I start to wonder if this might be a problem of our current first-world economic state - have our images of a healthy weight been so distorted that we now think that being a healthy weight is the same as being underweight?? Why would everyone comment on how thin you are and why would your family worry? Are we getting so used to seeing overweight people that that has become the new norm? I find this quite unsettling. I feel like this is mostly a problem in the US but it’s slowly creeping overseas to infest Europe. Great Britain seems to be having a pretty big issue with obesity as well - I was there to give a talk about overweight children to parents that were partly actually shocked when I told them their child is heavily overweight, they just did not SEE it because it seems to have become the new norm - and here in Germany, I see more and more bulging bellies as well.

So are we really getting so used to seeing overweight people that families actually start to worry about their child becoming normal weight?? And does that child then really start to see themselves as “anorexic”? This of course brings up a whole different issue - who is really the one with disordered eating and distorted thinking?

So, on we go:

The pictures...Of course, we all know that the “thinspo” pictures are triggering. And most of them are of A) Models, B) pre-teens or C) heavily photoshopped A&Bs...

Most people are aware of this, but the images still burn themselves into your brains and distort your vision for what is actually a slim, healthy body. That’s fucking sad, especially considering how young (AND NAIVE) most tumblr users still are. But I think that’s on the parents - there needs to be MUCH MORE control about social media usage and parents need to be educated about these things - also about eating disordered behaviour, which is another thing I actually do, and it’s scary how much parents actually DON’T KNOW.

This is also something I’d like to say to the young kids on tumblr cussing out their parents for being “emotionally abusive” or “mean” or “dumb” - you really shouldn’t say these things about the people that love you more than anyone else and are (and this goes for the vast majority of parents) only trying their very best to be there for you and raise you right. Show some fucking respect and be thankful they’re there for you. They HUMAN, they cannot know about every little thing going on inside your heads right now, especially if you’re not talking to them about it, and what you may feel is “emotionally abusive” is just a fucking normal comment, only you’re so damn sensitive in your puberty-state that you take huge offence and log onto tumblr to complain about how terrible your mother is...that’s childish and very unfair.

There are kids out there being emotionally and physically abused by their parents and that is a terrible thing, but PLEASE, take a moment to really step back and consider the situation and what YOUR part might be in it before blaming your parents for every little thing going wrong in your privilaged lives right now.

PS: My parents didn’t realize I had an eating disorder until I was hospitalized being 25lbs underweight. Because I fucking hid it, like most people with eating disorders do. And that’s a pretty common thing, so don’t blame your parents for not “paying attention”. Eating disorders LIVE off secrecy. Really, parents have little to no chance at all recognizing it in time to save their child’s live. It’s not their fault. You have a voice - USE IT.

Something else about those “body check pictures”:

I get really angry at the girls posting these pictures (contorting into incredibly awkward positions to make sure a bone is sticking out somewhere) and titling them with totally unrealistic weight and/or BMI stats.

Like I‘ve mentioned earlier, I work with people with eating disorders, so I can pretty much tell you the BMI of any person just by looking at them (in my job quite useful but otherwise an incredibly useless and triggering “talent”).

So if there’s a girl titeling their pic with “BMI 16.5″ or something like that when they are CLEARLY somewhere around BMI 20...what the hell do you think that’s doing to those impressionable young girls looking at the picture?? Can you imagine them thinking “oh wow, if she looks like that at BMI 16.5 then I’d better aim for BMI 10″...can you even begin to realize how fucking DANGEROUS that is?? If you’re embaressed by your BMI to the point that you feel the need to lie about it, WHY MAKE THE POST AT ALL? Is it really so impossible for you to get validation for something else, somewhere else?

God, think about your actions for one fucking second, would you?

I get so, so angry about this, honestly, and I experience pure joy in reporting those blogs.

And lastly, and I know I’m pissing A LOT of people off with this - but then again, the whole post probably already pissed a lot of people off - the eating disorder community on tumblr is fucking toxic.

That whole bullshit about this being “a safe space”, “a place to vent” and “giving support to each other” is CRAP. The only thing running a tumblr blog about having an eating disorder and following other blogs about eating disorders does is make you spend even more time in the grasp of said disorder and sinking deeper and deeper into it.

That’s the reality of it and deep down, I think everyone fucking knows that.

You’re just making yourself sicker and sicker, and - even though I try to follow these blogs to offer help to the poor souls actually suffering - I really do hope they are all shut down once and for all.

I’m not stupid - like I said, I have 20+ years of being anorexic myself - there will always be an online community of poeple with eating disorders triggering the shit out of themselves. But you should at least be honest about it and not call it “a safe space”. Becuase there is NOTHING safe about a tumblr blog about an eating disorder. And I just wish people would finally realize that and stop fucking lying about it.

Rant over. Merry Christmas.

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elliearchive · 5 years

Text

CUPCAKE & CINNAMON ➝ GRANBIN.

TAGGING ➝ Grant McCarthy, Robin St. James.

LOCATION ➝ Hospital; car.

TIME FRAME ➝ 4/22, late morning.

WARNINGS ➝ NSFW.

NOTES ➝ Grant and Robin find out they’re having twins. Also they have sex because when don’t they?

GRANT MCCARTHY

Grant felt a lot different about this appointment than he had their last one. It wasn’t that he hadn’t been excited for their first appointment. He had just been worried. They were still waiting for an actual confirmation last time, but this was different. They knew Robin was pregnant. And this time, they were actually going to get to see the baby. That was a whole different ballgame. He was just excited to see Robin experience all of these things for the first time. It was her first child. And even though it was his second, he felt a lot more involved this time around. His hated of Jessica and his busy schedule had kept him sort of distanced from Jessica during her pregnancy. It didn’t take long for Robin’s name to be called and for the two of them to head back into the actual exam room. He held onto Robin’s hand the entire walk from the waiting room into the exam room. Of course. They were always holding hands anyway. The nurse asked a couple questions, similar to the things they were asked last time. A lot of questions that were for Robin since she was the one pregnant. Then the nurse left them alone to wait for the sonogram technician, so they could actually see their baby. “I went to a couple of these with Jessica. I remember she complained that the gel is really cold. Just warning you,” Grant said with a small smile. He was always in awe of Robin, but the fact that she was carrying their child only made him love her more. “We’ll get to hear Cupcake’s heartbeat. Actually see him or her and realize they’re so huge,” he said, trying to make a joke. He knew she was still worried about what Jessica had said a few days ago and he was still trying to ease her worry a little bit.

ROBIN ST. JAMES

Robin had been excited for this appointment, way more so than their first one. There was so much they were unsure of last time, but not this time. This time would be different. Her bump showed that there was very evidently a baby growing inside of her, so there was no guessing, no wondering if the pregnancy tests had been wrong. She was just excited. Then Jessica had opened her mouth, and suddenly Robin felt that familiar worry again. It wasn’t like they couldn’t afford more than one baby, or they didn’t have the room or the love for more than one baby. It was more so that Robin was already terrified of passing along her illness to one child, let alone two. And she didn’t know what kind of mother she was going to be. Maybe to one, she’d be great. What if more were too many for her? She tried to keep an open mind, tried to tell herself that Jessica was wrong, though she knew she seemed worried throughout the entire day, and that the short responses she was giving to the nurse’s questions may have been efficient enough for the nurse, but that Grant knew her better than that. She was expecting him to say something about it once they were alone, but was grateful that he didn’t, and Robin looked over at him as she laid back against the bed where the nurse had left her, her hand in her fiancé’s. “I’m growing a human in my body, the last thing I care about is cold gel,” she laughed softly, her thumb instinctively running along his knuckles. Her other hand was resting naturally on her stomach. The top of the bed was elevated, and she rested her head back against it, staring up at the ceiling and letting out a small sigh, head shaking a little bit. “I’m worried,” she admitted, not yet making eye contact with Grant. “What if Jessica was right? Most of the time she’s just trying to be a bitch, but she seemed so serious.” Finally, she looked over at him, her voice small. “What do we do? What if it’s too much?”

GRANT MCCARTHY

Nobody knew Robin as well as Grant did. He could tell that the whole Jessica thing was weighing on her. Jessica was good at that. Finding out how to get into someone’s head. It was one of her talents. She had done it to Grant many times and it sucked that she had been able to do it to Robin. It would have made him angry, if he gave a damn about Jessica, but it didn’t. She was just Jessica and he used to her antics by now. Still, he wanted to make Robin feel better. That was his main priority. “If you say so, but if it’s super cold, you can squeeze my hand as hard as you want. I can take it,” he replied with a grin. He didn’t really know what to think of the idea of having more than one baby. It seemed crazy. Not that crazy since Robin was a quadruplet and he had a set of twin siblings himself. It wasn’t impossible, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready for it. It wasn’t because he didn’t think they could handle it. He had faith in them. It was just a lot to take on all at once. “Jessica’s always trying to be a bitch,” Grant said with a shrug. He lifted up their intertwined hands and brought her hand to his lips, placing a small kiss against it. “We’ll sell one of them. It’ll be fine,” he joked. He didn’t have much of a sense of humor usually, but felt himself trying his hardest to just make Robin laugh. He figured it might help her deal with the stress of thinking about having twins, or even triplets. He didn’t want to think about more than that. He honestly didn’t think he and Robin could handle four babies. He didn’t think anyone could. “Do you love me, Robin?” He asked, already knowing the answer to the question. “The man you love is right here telling you that we’ll be fine. We can handle one baby. Or two babies. I trust you. I know you’re going to be a great mother. No matter how many babies are in there.”

ROBIN ST. JAMES

Although she was definitely worried, if there was anyone that could help to ease her mind, it was Grant. Just being around him always made her feel calmer. Even if she was in the midst of a total breakdown, having one of her recently more frequent episodes, Grant being there could always help to soothe her, always bring her back faster. So the fact that he was here now helped, and she laughed quietly in response. “Alright, deal. Think you can handle it without an epidural? I have a habit of squeezing really hard, but I hear they’re easy to get ahold of here.” Her tone was playful but still soft, laced with a kind of undeniable sadness. Still, Grant managed to make her laugh again, a little more authentically this time, too. “I bet that was something my dad said to my mom when they found out about me and my sisters. We’ll sell three.” Honestly, the thought of one baby was scary to her, so how her parents had successfully raised quads, and then another two afterwards, was wild. Taking comfort in her fiancé again, she nodded when he questioned her, even though he already knew the answer, and offered him a small, appreciative smile, watching as he lifted their hands to kiss hers. “Okay,” she agreed, her voice still soft, though it was sincere. “You’re right. I trust you.” She gently squeezed his hand as the door opened with the lady who Robin assumed was the sonogram technician came in to join them. She sat up a little, shaking the lady’s hand and going back and forth with her questions and information, before she had Robin lift the loose shirt she was wearing to reveal her bump. The tech explained that the gel would be cold before squeezing a good amount out onto her stomach, the feeling causing Robin to jump a little bit. She squeezed Grant’s hand in reaction, laughing softly as she looked over at him. “Jessica was right, about it being cold,” she nodded, turning to look over at the screen as she technician began moving the wand over her stomach. Robin had no idea what she was seeing on the screen, she was just waiting to hear their baby’s heartbeat.

GRANT MCCARTHY

Grant liked being the calming force in Robin’s life. She was his too. She wasn’t the only person in their relationship that had a tendency to spiral out. There were definitely instances where she had to calm him down. He liked that about them. They were always helping each other. it wasn’t a one-way street with them. He was able to help through breakdowns and she helped him when he was being neurotic and jealous and couldn’t calm down. Plus, she had helped him reconnect with his daughter in a way that he hadn’t deemed possible. Although, she wouldn’t take any credit for it, Grant was still incredibly thankful for everything she’d done to help him bond with Caroline. “Are you accusing me of making dad jokes?” Grant teased, letting out a small laugh. He wanted to spend more time reassuring his fiancé that everything was going to be alright, soon they were being joined by the sonogram technician and all he could think about was being able to see their beautiful baby. He knew it was still going to be way too early to tell if baby Cupcake was a boy or a girl, but at least they’d be able to see their healthy baby. He leaned over and pressed a kiss on top of Robin’s head before turning his attention back to the screen. He stood there with a dopey smile on his face, waiting patiently to hear the heartbeat of their baby. And suddenly there it was. Beating with a quick rhythm. “It’s supposed to be that fast, right?” He questioned, getting a smile and a nod from the technician. He remembered that from Caroline. “And here’s the second heartbeat.” He scrunched up his face at the technician before looking down at Robin with a shake of his head. “I guess Jessica really was right. Two heartbeats mean... Two babies.”

ROBIN ST. JAMES

This was scary. Laying on a bed in an examination room, about to see and hear their baby for the first time, it was all so scary, but Grant had some kind of magic touch where Robin was concerned. In spite of her fears, he could still make her joke around with him, and she found herself laughing again at his question. “That’s exactly what I’m saying,” she nodded her head, squeezing gently onto his hand. The technician commented on how adorable the two of them were once she’d entered, likely a way of trying to ease their minds, but Robin appreciated it regardless. She knew that to most people they probably seemed obsessive and annoying, but as far as she was concerned, they were adorable, so she appreciated when others pointed it out, too. Was it possible for a heartbeat to also be adorable? Because that was Robin’s first thought when she heard it filling the room, almost forgetting to breathe herself as she listened intently. It didn’t even sound like a heartbeat. It was fast and sounded echoey, but Robin couldn’t help but think it was perfect. It was beautiful. So much so that even as the technician continued, bringing up the second heartbeat, Robin didn’t freak out. “Twins?” She questioned, voice cracking a little bit, though it wasn’t in the terrified, devastated way she’d expected. The tears her eyes were filling with as the technician explained that yes, they were going to be having twins, were honestly happy ones. She couldn’t explain the feeling. Robin finally tore her gaze from the screen to look up at Grant through teary eyes, the smile on her lips a natural one. “Do you hear that?” She asked, voice soft, “Those are our babies.”

GRANT MCCARTHY

Grant didn’t really believe the technician when she said they looked adorable. They were annoying to the outside world. He was sure of that. The rarely ever let go of each other’s hands and they were almost always kissing. Sometimes, inappropriately so. They were keeping things G-rated right now. There was absolutely nothing sexy about a doctor’s office. They were both so focused on seeing their son or daughter for the first time. Grant couldn’t even remember the last time he had been so excited about something. Probably when they had come here for the initial visit. He had been pretty excited to confirm that they were growing their family. Hearing the first heartbeat was overwhelming. He knew they were having a baby, but this was so real. That was their baby. Then there was the second heartbeat and he found himself trying to gauge Robin’s reaction. He needed to know if he was going to have to calm her down or what, but she seemed clam already. And happy. “Those are our babies,” he repeated, before leaning down to press a small kiss on her lips. “I can’t believe it,” he mumbled out, shaking his head. It was kind of unbelievable. But they were Robin and Grant. They didn’t do things half-ass, so if they were going to be having a baby together after a few months of dating then of course, it was going to be twins. “Cupcake and Cinnamon McCarthy,” he teased, shaking his head. He could tell from the look on the technician’s face that she was hoping that they didn’t really give their babies those awful names. Twins was going to make everything different. He squinted down at the screen, trying to make sure he could see both babies in the image. “You’re gonna print this out, right?” He questioned, receiving a confirmation from the woman. He was a proud dad. He wanted as many copies as he could get.

ROBIN ST. JAMES

Robin had always been such an unpredictable person. Even she couldn’t predict her next move sometimes, so nothing really surprised her anymore. But she and Grant did. Everything that maybe should’ve been bad, that she thought would’ve been scary and upsetting, she found herself feeling the exact opposite with Grant by her side. She’d been terrified when she’d first taken those tests, but before the day was even through, she’d accepted it and even allowed herself to feel excited. This was just like that. She’d been terrified that this was more than one baby, but when the reality hit, when the confirmation that it was came, things suddenly weren’t so scary anymore. She watched the screen in awe, still not fully believing it even as she’d turned to look up at Grant. Robin lifted a hand to rest her fingers under his chin when he moved to lean in, smiling against his lips in spite of her tears that were definitely now wetting his face, too. Her small giggle was natural as she pulled away, nodding her head. “Cupcake and Cinnamon,” she repeated, looking over at the technician and quickly adding, “Very much subject to change.” The way Grant seemed so excited only made Robin feel even better about the whole thing. “Now we just need to know if they’re boys or girls.” She looked up at her fiancé again. “We’re not waiting to find that out, by the way. As soon as we can know, we’re going to.” Obviously Grant got a say in that too, but they both knew he’d let her get her way. The technician explained that they’d hopefully be able to find out the sex of their babies at their next appointment in about eight weeks time. She finished up whatever she was doing on the screen, halfheartedly wiped off the remaining gel from Robin’s stomach — she’d go home and shower, most likely with Grant, it was fine — then told her she could pull her shirt back down, which Robin did. Her hands were a little shaky as she looked up at Grant, the technician busy getting their copies ready. “Are you scared?” She asked her fiancé in a soft voice, her own cheeks still wet, but there was a gentle smile on her face. “I am, but I think it’s good scared now.” She wanted nothing more than to kiss him, but she’d wait until they were out of here and in their car for that.

GRANT MCCARTHY

Grant never liked surprises. Even on his birthday he played along and pretended to enjoy the surprises Caroline and Robin had planned for him. This was a different surprise. One he actually enjoyed. He was definitely terrified. But no more terrified than he was by the idea of one baby. He had come to terms with her pregnancy a little quicker than Robin had. Even while she was still in denial, he pretty much knew it was a done deal. He was still adjusting to the fact they had just seen twins, but he was happy about it. He was ecstatic. “Or one of each,” he suggested with a shrug. Gender didn’t matter to him. He may have leaned more toward boys just because their house was very much controlled by the women living in it, but he really didn’t care. He liked raising a daughter and would not mind raising one or two more. Whatever Robin wanted, she was going to get. So, if she wanted to wait to find out the genders, he would. Even if it killed him. Thankfully, they were on the same page and wanted to know as soon as they could. He nodded his head as the technician spoke. He was already pretty excited about their next appointment. Grant could feel that Robin’s nervousness hadn’t completely dissipated. He was hoping it was more of happy nervousness. Similar to what he was feeling. “Yeah. I’m a little scared,” he admitted. He always knew he could be honest with Robin. Even if he wanted to be super strong and tell her everything was going to be okay, and he truly did believe that everything was going to be okay, he still wanted to be truthful with her. “I’m excited though,” he mumbled out with a soft chuckle. “This is a good thing. This is a great thing. I’m so in love with you and I love our family.” He had been smiling since they walked into that office and it left his face yet. At this rate, it never would. “Honestly with two babies, that gives us a family of five. That’s a starting lineup for a basketball game.”

ROBIN ST. JAMES

She was still trying to digest the idea that there were two babies in there, so for some reason, the thought of there being one of each gender had slipped her mind. Maybe because she and her quads were all girls, or because Grant’s twin siblings were both girls. That thought was exciting, though, the thought of one of each? It made her eyes glisten, not just because they were still filled with tears. “Or one of each,” she agreed, nodding her head. It wasn’t like she wanted Grant to feel any kind of uncomfortable way about any of this, but it was almost a comfort to her to hear that he was a little scared, too. That it wasn’t just her, and that it didn’t automatically make her a terrible parent. It made her feel normal. “I’m so in love with you, too,” she nodded, wondering if the technician still thought they were adorable or sickening by now. Not that Robin cared. Plus, they didn’t have too much longer in the room, and soon were being told they were allowed to leave, with the technician handing over an envelope with their things. “You’re so goofy sometimes,” Robin grinned up at her fiancé as she climbed down from the bed, taking his hand in her own. “I don’t know how good I’d be at basketball. You and Caroline are tall, but I’m like a mouse. Our baby might be, too.” She paused, lips curving upward a little. “Our babies, I mean. Two babies.” It was beginning to sink in a little better now. Robin thanked the technician, then walked hand in hand with Grant out of the room, looking up at him once they were back outside. “I’m gonna get a mom haircut,” she decided, glancing down at her currently just below boob-length hair. “You tell dad jokes, and we’re about to have three kids. I need a mom haircut. But first we should go home and shower, that stuff was sticky. Wanna shower with me?”

GRANT MCCARTHY

Grant could tell from the technician’s expression that she didn’t think they were all that adorable anymore. They were annoying. They were constantly gushing about how much they loved each other and didn’t understand that some people probably weren’t into all of their PDA, but they were Grant and Robin, so they had no plans to change that about themselves anytime soon. Especially not now. They were both excited. They’d just seen their babies for the first time ever. And they’d just found out that they were having multiple babies instead of just one. It was crazy to think about. He was relieved when the tech handed over the envelope full of materials. He was pretty excited to show off these pictures. Addie was going to see thousands of them. And Kristy was probably going to be bombarded with them too. He had been this way about Caroline too. He still carried the first picture of him holding her around in his wallet. She hated it, but he didn’t care. She was his baby. And it wasn’t any different for the two babies Robin was carrying. He was going to carry their sonogram picture around in his wallet until they got their next one, then he’d eventually replace it with actual pictures of them once they were born. He helped his fiancé climb off the bed and immediately started guiding them in the direction of the exit. Even if they had gotten good news, hospitals still sucked, and he was ready to go. “Have you ever tried to play basketball? You could be great. I’ll teach you as soon as possible. You’re gonna be huge,” he teased, letting out a soft chuckle. Jessica had been right. She was clearly carrying more than one baby in there. “I don’t tell dad jokes. I tell Grant jokes,” he shrugged, using his free hand to twirl his fingers in her hair. “I love your hair. Mom haircut or no mom haircut,” he said with a small smile. He perked up his eyebrow at her and moved to open her car door once they’d reached it. “I will never say no to a shower with you. You know that.”

ROBIN ST. JAMES

Just like last time, Robin found that she was leaving the hospital in much better spirits than she had been when she’d entered. Last time, she’d been worried about the outcome of the tests, and whether there was actually a baby there at all. This time, she’d been worried about how many babies, and was still surprised by how happy she was with the result. Her smile was pretty permanent for now, even if she did playfully roll her eyes up at her fiancé. “I have. I have a little brother, I used to try play basketball with him and my dad. I was never any good at it,” she admitted, glaring at him as he continued. “Was that about my epic basketball skills, or about the size of my bump?” Not that she was actually angry. Honestly, Robin was kind of excited to see the progress as their babies grew inside of her. Although she wasn’t so excited for how much more exhausted the extra weight was probably going to make her. She was under three months pregnant and already found herself needing to nap all the time. So, she was grateful once they’d reached the car and she could sit, sliding into the passenger side and smiling up at Grant. “I like my hair too, but I think I’ll like it even better shorter. Besides,” She paused, pulling her seatbelt in place, “Think about how much hotter it’ll be for you to pull on it.” A smirk stretched naturally across her lips as she sat back into the seat, tugging the door closed behind her and waited for Grant to hop in, too. Once he had, Robin’s hand immediately found its way to his thigh, just resting there where it always did when they were in the car together, while her other hand settled on top of her stomach. “Are you still gonna think I’m hot?” She asked, glancing over at him. “When I have a bump big enough for two babies?”

GRANT MCCARTHY

This visit had been a lot better than their last. Their last was great, but they were less worried and on their way to the car, they weren’t swarmed by people with cameras trying to take their picture. He was still pissed that even happened. Plus, he was pretty confident that Scott and Charlie weren’t going to be waiting for them when they got home. If they were, then he was just going to have to punch one or both of them again because nothing was going to kill his joy today. They had just found out they were having two babies and all he wanted to focus on was their own happiness and their life together. “That was about the size of your bump,” he admitted with a chuckle. Once she was in her seat, he made his way over to the driver’s side and climbed in, shutting the door behind him. “I do love pulling your hair,” he grinned as he felt her hand rest on his thigh. He loved that feeling. It was comfortable. That was just how they rode in the car together. He glanced over at her and sent a wink in her direction before starting the car, setting off in the direction of their house. “I should never shave my head, huh? You’d have nothing to hold onto.” They were always like this, even before they were together. Touchy and flirty without even really trying. They were both right though. They did have a habit of pulling each other’s hair. And they both loved it. “I have always thought you were hot,” he replied with a small shrug. He didn’t think there was ever going to be a time when he didn’t want his future wife. Even when she was going to look super pregnant, he was sure that he was going to want her. Because she was Robin and he was Grant. “I think we’ll have to be a little creative with positions,” he teased, letting out a small chuckle. “Car sex will definitely be out of the question. But the shower will still work.”

ROBIN ST. JAMES

“I thought it might’ve been,” Robin glared playfully up at him. Of course, playing fake annoyed didn’t stop her from her hand resting exactly where it usually did. She always wanted to be touching Grant. They’d never had a serious fight, but she was pretty sure that if that day came, they’d still somehow manage to be touching one another the whole time. It was kind of laughable, the idea of them yelling back and forth while holding onto each other’s hand. Not that she wanted to experience it. She was kind of on cloud nine right now as she sat comfortably in the passenger seat, head resting back and face turned toward her fiancé. “I know you do. But imagine how much hotter it would be if it was like this length,” she brought up the hand from her stomach to motion to her shoulders, “You’d be able to get your fingers right the way in then.” Leaving the hospital was probably not the time nor the place to be talking about sexual things, but this was just them. They evidently didn’t wait for appropriate times to express their constant need for each other. Why should they? Robin’s eyes widened. “Shave your head? Nope, no way,” she shook her head. “I mean, you would look super hot, but I need to pull on your hair when you’re going down on me. I know you like it when I guide you,” she smirked, always entirely comfortable to discuss their sex life so openly with him. His response made her smile, it reassured her, and Robin nodded in understanding. “So I’ll still be very fine looking?” She teased, smirk returning as he continued. “That wasn’t a hint for car sex, was it, baby?” She spoke softly, her hand traveling slowly up his inner thigh. She squeezed gently with her fingers. “I’d give you road head right now, but my three babies are in this car, I can’t risk distracting you like that.” Her voice softened further. “But if you want to pull over somewhere, I have a feeling this skirt might make for perfect car sex access.”

GRANT MCCARTHY

The first time they’d had sex, Grant had looked over at her and had paid her some awkward compliment because he was so uncomfortable talking about those things. He wasn’t open like she was. At least, not back then. Now he could laugh and make jokes about their sex life and talk about it as openly as she wanted. He knew she liked that. Plus, it didn’t hurt that whenever he talked about how much he enjoyed being with her, it usually got her all worked up and it led to more sex. She had definitely reinforced that behavior. “That does sound really fucking hot,” he mumbled out, glancing over at her. “I think you like it when I pull your hair as much as I do,” he teased. Talking to Robin about sex, thinking about sex with Robin, it didn’t matter, but it almost always put him in the mood. If it were up to him, he’d speed up and get them home as quickly as possible, but his future wife and babies were in the car and he wasn’t going to risk that. He’d just have to wait to be with her. Grant knew there was no real way their sex life was going to change because she was pregnant. Honestly, they would probably have a lot less sex when the babies were born, but he didn’t want to scare her with that information. Getting alone time together was going to be difficult when they had two little people screaming for their attention 24/7. “Is my girl feeling a little frisky?” He teased, licking his lips as he glanced over at her. He turned his attention back to the road as he started searching for a side road to pull over at. One of the last times they’d pulled over in a car together, he’d been pretty depressed thinking this was going to be their last kiss ever. “Take off your panties,” he instructed as he kept looking for a spot to stop in. He spotted one and finally pulled the car to a stop, putting it in park and taking off his seatbelt. “You know someone could see us in here,” he teased, biting down on his bottom lip.

ROBIN ST. JAMES

To put it bluntly, Robin loved sex. She always had. But never more so than when she’d met Grant. Sex with Grant made everybody else she’d ever been with seem so insignificant, because it was true that with feelings it was better, and she’d never felt anything as deeply for anybody as she did for Grant. So, it wasn’t even just a hormonal pregnancy related thing, the fact that she always wanted him so badly. It was a Grant and Robin thing, and luckily, it seemed they were both always just as in the mood as each other. Even now, driving home from the hospital. “You know I do, baby. I love it when you’re rough with me,” she winked, fingers brushing along his inner thigh. She suddenly wished there was no barrier between her hand and his leg, since just this conversation was turning her on. “Your girl is always feeling a little frisky when she’s around her man,” she smirked, nodding her head. They hadn’t been able to keep their hands to themselves right from the start, so it really wasn’t any kind of surprise. It was an even bigger turn on, watching as Grant searched for a private spot for them. It told her he wanted this just as much as she did, and Robin’s smirk returned once more as he instructed her to take off her panties. “Oh, sweetie, you think you’re calling the shots here?” She shook her head, hand cupping between his legs for a moment, before she pulled it away to take off her seatbelt. “We’re pulled over because I told you to.” Shifting in her seat, Robin moved over the center console to eventually straddle Grant’s lap once he was parked, looking down at him with a smug expression as her hands rested on his cheeks, making him look up at her. “And what your baby wants, your baby gets, right?” Her voice quietened as she ducked her head to press her lips to his neck, mumbling against his skin. “You take them off. Rip them just like you did after the party that time. And then unfasten your pants so I can ride you as hard as we both know you want me to.”

GRANT MCCARTHY

Grant’s eyes couldn’t help but glance down at the hand she was stroking along his thigh. Robin was really good at knowing what to do to get him in the mood. All she had to do was instruct him to find a place to stop and he was already on it. He was never going to turn down an opportunity to be closer to her, even if someone did drive by and see them. He didn’t really care. A trespassing or indecent exposure charge would be worth it. He could already feel himself getting turned on, and that feeling only intensified when she quickly cupped over his bulge before removing her hand. She knew what she was doing. “No ma’am,” he teased, shaking his head. “My baby’s in charge,” he said with a nod. His eyes stayed on her as she started to shift, watching as she climbed over to straddle his lap. “What my baby wants, she gets,” he mumbled out, already enjoying the feeling of her lips on his neck. He moved his hands underneath her skirt, finding his hand to the waistband of her panties. He really did love having a fiancé that liked wearing dresses and skirts. The easy access was greatly appreciated. He pulled at the material the same way he had that other night, gripping at it until it ripped, happy to toss it to the side. His hands moved to the buttons on his own pants, hastily unfastening them so he could feel the feeling he’d been waiting for. He bucked his hips upward and moved his length, teasing at her clit with his tip. He knew how badly Robin wanted him. He knew how they operated. Just their conversation earlier had turned the both of them on. He moaned at the feeling of her wetness against him. “You want me to fuck you, don’t you? You need it, don’t you, baby?” He moaned, still teasing at her center with his shaft. “Show me how badly you want my cock.”

ROBIN ST. JAMES

“That’s right,” Robin nodded her head, eyes filled with lust. It was a contrast from how playful they’d been only moments ago, but that was how they worked. They could go from joking around with each other to suddenly making one another scream in no time, something that Robin happened to love about she and Grant’s relationship. “Good boy,” she smirked against his neck as she felt the snap of her panties breaking away, knowing she was already dripping with her own need for him. Robin brought her head back up so that she could watch him as he followed her instructions, the sight of how hard he was in his own hand making her lick her lips in anticipation. She wanted to feel him inside of her, but she wasn’t done working him up yet. Although she was definitely trying to take the lead here, trying to give Grant orders, she couldn’t deny that there was nothing sexier than the love of her life telling her what to do, and she could feel herself clenching at just the sound of his voice, the feeling of him rubbing himself against her. Robin rocked her hips a little bit, coating him in her wetness. His words made her bite her lip, but she shook her head as she looked down at him. “What did I say?” She asked, voice a little lower, tone laced with lust. “I told you I’m in charge.” Robin paused, reaching for Grant’s hands, effectively pulling him away from where he was holding himself against her. She wrapped her fingers around his wrists, lifting them up above his head and holding them together. Her gaze never left his. “And when I fuck you, when I’m riding your cock, it’s going to be on my terms.” She scanned over his face, her expression serious, despite how badly she ached for him. Finally, she let go of his hands, opening up the door. “Get out,” she instructed, pulling Grant’s arms around her back. He’d know already he had to carry her. “You’re going to fuck me over the hood of the car.”

GRANT MCCARTHY

Grant liked it when Robin took charge. He didn’t mind taking charge either, but there something incredibly sexy about her telling him what to do to her body. He was terrible at holding back though. The anticipation was always too much for him. He wanted her as soon as possible, so once her panties were ripped off, he was just waiting to be inside of her. He was stepping on her toes and he knew that, but it was second nature to him. Wanting to feel her and telling her exactly how badly he wanted to be inside of her. And loved it when she spoke to him and told him she wanted him just as bad, but he was enjoying taking orders from her too. It was hot. Not something people would have thought a six-foot-tall basketball player was into, but he liked it when his super short fiancé bossed him around. He smirked as she pulled his hands away from his length and positioned them over his head, hanging on every word that was coming out of her mouth. “Sorry, ma’am. I just really want you,” he playfully apologized. It was almost painful how much he was throbbing thinking about her. The next words out of her mouth surprised him. They were in a pretty secluded area, but he still couldn’t control the flow of traffic. It wasn’t an impossibility that they wouldn’t be seen. But he was also very interested in finishing what they had started, so he could not complain. He positioned his feet out of the car after she’d opened the door and ducked their heads down, so they didn’t bump once he started to lift them both out of the vehicle. He carried her over to the front of the car, his pants still at his ankles. He placed her down on the ground and turned her around, his hand resting on her head as he bent her down against the car's hood. “Like this, baby? Is this how you want me to fuck you?” He questioned, inching himself closer to her. He knew he couldn’t wait any longer, he needed to feel himself inside of her.

ROBIN ST. JAMES

Where this little act had come from, where Robin had decided she was in charge and Grant had to do as she said, she really didn’t know. But then again, questioning why Robin did anything she did was pointless really. Plus, Grant humored her, which was probably kind of laughable to anyone on the outside looking in. If Grant’s basketball fans could see him taking orders from his tiny blonde fiancée, they probably wouldn’t believe it. “Mhm. Don’t let it happen again,” she warned, her gaze drifting to his lips. She wanted him so badly already, and she knew by how hard he was that he wanted her, too. It was almost torture, making them wait, but Robin was having her fun, and she had a feeling Grant was also into it. It almost surprised her when he did as she said, lifting her up and moving the both of them out of the car and into the possible view of passers by, but it made Robin smirk, and she looked up at him with darkened eyes as he set her down, letting him turn her and bend her over the hood just like she wanted. “Exactly like that,” she nodded, reaching down to grab the fabric of her skirt, inching it upward until she knew he had a good view. “For now, anyway. Go ahead, baby, fuck me. Feel how wet I am for you.” She glanced over her shoulder. “How badly I want your cock.”

GRANT MCCARTHY

Taking orders from Robin was hot. Plain and simple. Grant had a naturally dominant personality from years of playing basketball and from just being born grumpy. He knew what he liked and was always easy to tell someone what he did or didn’t want. That had clearly all changed when he met Robin. From that moment on, he had pretty much been willing to do whatever she wanted. Whether it was play pool or go ice skating, or act like her bitch while they fucked outside of their car. It really didn’t matter. He was going to do. He liked amusing her. As much as Grant wanted her, he also liked playing around with her. He enjoyed carrying her over to the front of the car and bending her over until he had the perfect amount of access. He would have teased her again, but he knew they had to go quickly. As much as they liked an audience, this was a lot even for the two of them. He inched himself forward again, closing any gaps that were between them as he guided his way inside of her. His hand automatically found its way into her hair. She had been right earlier. He really liked pulling her hair and it would be even better after she cut it. He bucked his hips forward, immediately quickening his pace as he reveled in just how wet she really was for him. “Fuck, baby,” he breathed out, bringing his free hand down to slap against her ass. Even though she was still in control, he could not resist the impulse. He moved himself in and out of her as he moaned, the grip he had on her hair tightening. He pulled back on it as he dug his fingers deeper into her locks, his length swelling as he continued with his movements.

ROBIN ST. JAMES

Robin was anything but shy, and if how loudly she’d been screaming for him when his parents were there was anything to go by, she was totally okay with an audience. This was of course a little riskier than just fucking loudly in their home, but she didn’t care. She wanted Grant too badly, so much that she was practically throbbing between her legs once he’d bent her over the car, legs spreading a little. She pushed her hips back as Grant began to guide himself into her, the initial contact drawing a soft moan in response already. She’d only told him minutes prior just how much she liked it when he was rough with her, so she was hopeful that he’d take the hint, and found herself smirking as his fingers gripped onto her hair. “You always fuck me so good,” she breathed, hips rolling to help ease him in and out of her at a faster pace. The slap to her ass was a nice touch, it made Robin whimper in response, then she was back to breathing faster, her head tipped back with his fingers bunched in her hair. She let him continue a moment longer, before finally reaching behind herself to push him back. “Stop,” she ordered, already a little breathless as she pulled away, turning around to face him. “I want to see you.” She grabbed ahold of his shirt, tugging him closer as she hopped up onto the hood of the car, spreading her legs and pulling him in between them. “Fuck me,” she instructed once more, lifting her arms to wrap around his neck. Her gaze locked with his; she wanted to really see him. “Make it even harder this time. Keep going until you make me come.”

GRANT MCCARTHY

There were a lot of things Grant was learning about himself since he and Robin had gotten together. Apparently, he didn’t completely hate holding hands with someone all the time. He actually loved it. Apparently, he didn’t mind that there were tons of flowers in his house and he didn’t hate bubble baths. But the biggest surprise of all was that Grant wasn’t too timid to risk having sex in public places. He had always been so quiet. The most public place he’d ever had sex in before getting with Robin was his back office at the brewery. Even as a wild basketball player, he had never done anything like this. He had never bent a woman over the hood of us in car in a public area and pulled back on her hair while he fucked her. Her words only made him move harder before he shuttered as she pulled away from him. He definitely wasn’t expecting that. “Yes, ma’am,” he replied, smirking as she pulled him closer to her. He repositioned himself at her entrance, laying his hand on their car as he prepared himself to follow orders. She was going to get what she wanted. He guided himself back inside of her, this time not wasting anytime as he started rocking his hips quickly. He started slamming himself inside of her, trying his hardest to brace himself with the hand he had resting on the hood. He brought his other hand to rest on her waist, moans escaping from his mouth with her stroke of his hips. His eyes fluttered shut as he pounded himself inside of her, sliding in and out at quicker, rougher rate. He couldn’t focus. He could feel the beads of sweat dripping from his forehead and he could tell that his hand was probably red judging by how hard he was pressing his hand into it. “Fuck,” he moaned out, exhaling as he cursed.

ROBIN ST. JAMES

If they were at home, if they didn’t have to worry about anyone catching them, Robin would’ve probably had him fuck her from behind a little longer. She would’ve stayed where she was, she would’ve moved against him a little more slowly, because the longer she could make sex with Grant last, the better. She just wanted to be touching him all the time, for the two of them to be wrapped up in each other and connected the way they were. She knew they had to make this faster than usual, though. She also knew it wasn’t going to take her long to reach her edge, because there was really nothing sexier to her than watching Grant’s face as he pounded in and out of her, and now that she was facing him, she could do just that. His movements made Robin moan louder, her hips moving in time with his. “Fuck, Grant,” she moaned, her arms loosening around him so that she could slide her fingers up into the back of his hair. There was no way she was ever letting him shave it, she wouldn’t be able to grip onto it the way she currently was if he did. The car was rocking with their movements, something Robin would probably feel smug about later, but right now, all she could think about was Grant, about what he was doing to her. How he was making her feel. “Baby, come for me,” she instructed breathlessly, leaning forward to bite gently onto his shoulder, just to drown out her sounds. She was moaning loudly already, but it wouldn’t have surprised her if she started screaming, and they really didn’t need that right now. Not here. The hand not tugging on his hair began to roam down his back, fingers gripping onto the fabric of his shirt to keep herself steady as she felt herself reaching her release.

GRANT MCCARTHY

The fear of being caught was causing Grant to move a lot quicker. Quicker than he normally would. But it didn’t how fast or how slow they went. It was always good with them. Even their first time. He couldn’t even remember a time where it hadn’t been completely spectacular. Even this quick fuck on the top of their car was amazing. There were a lot of things he wished they could be doing. He wished he could get on his knees and taste her, but the idea of getting caught was way too prevalent in the back of his mind. As much as Robin had relaxed him as a person, he was still the same neurotic Grant deep down. But he knew she loved him no matter how nervous he acted. And he could tell by the way she gripped his hair when he was deep inside of her and the way she moaned uncontrollably as he continued pushing himself in and out of her. He kept bucking his hips forward, her words begging him to come helping to send him closer to his edge. Robin always knew exactly how to get him there. He sped up a little as he felt himself nearing his release. His body was so very aware of how her hands were roaming over it. Even with his shirt on, it still felt pretty amazing. He exhaled as he finally reached his climax, his high coming down as he slowed his rhythm before coming to a stop. “Fuck,” he breathed out with a soft chuckled as he bent down to pick up his bottoms. He was still a little nervous about literally getting caught with his pants down. He buttoned up pants before leaning down to place a kiss against her lips, making sure to still stand in between her legs. “That was pretty daring, Mrs. McCarthy. I didn’t know you had it in you,” he teased with a smirk. “Do you want me to pick you up? I will carry my babies back into the car.”

ROBIN ST. JAMES

There was no way this was going to be the end of their hooking up for the day. Robin had every intention of fucking her fiancé in the shower as soon as they got home. In fact, maybe she’d have him reenact the time they’d gone iceskating and then fucked up against the front door as soon as they’d walked inside. Basically, she planned to spend the day paying as much attention to Grant’s body as possible, she planned to draw this same reaction from him multiple times throughout the day as the one he was giving her now. Robin was of course enjoying riding out her own orgasm, but seeing Grant reaching his limit like that, that was always incredibly sexy to her, too. She almost wished they weren’t in public, because she desperately wanted to go down on him, or for him to go down on her. Or both. She tried to catch her breath as he pulled out of her, watching him closely as he leaned down to pull up his pants and boxers again. “I really wish I was taking those off of you, not you putting them back on,” she smirked, her words coming out between deeper breaths as she tried to regain her composure. Her lips pressed back eagerly to Grant’s, arms lifting to wrap around his neck again as she looked up at him, nodding her head. “Of course I do, Mr. McCarthy. If I could stay in your lap the whole way home, I would. But I guess you can carry me to the car and then I’ll reattach myself to you as soon as we get home.” Her arms tightened around him, legs wrapping around his waist as she leaned forward to press her lips to his once more. Her voice softened, lips curving into a small smile against his. “I never want to be away from you.”

#robin st. james.#robin x grant.#granbin x 026.#mutyler

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elshopper · 5 years

Text

Wish You Were Here

Chapter 3 - The Second Lie

Hi people I have added a new chapter :) Here she is. I owe a large thank you to everyone who has given me such nice feedback since I started writing this... you’re all incredible and i love you.

Ch. 3 WC: 6,131

Rating: T

Summary: Mike and El continue their journey on the run as they slowly but surely come to the realization that this ‘vacation’ isn’t exactly what they thought it would be. They wait anxiously for Hopper’s first report, both secretly hoping that he’ll send the all clear that lets them make their way back home.

Read on ao3 here, or down below. You can find Ch. 1 here.

June 14th, 1989 – 9:35 AM Brandon, South Dakota

Taking a deep breath of the stale air around him, Mike comes to after his first full night of sleep in what feels like weeks, except it’s only been a day.

Holy fuck, it’s only been a day.

He blinks, and turns his head from one side to the other, waiting for his neck to pop. The pillow the motel had graciously given him was nothing less than a sack of Legos, and he felt like he must have been absolutely exhausted to fall asleep that early, on that uncomfortable of a pillow, and still have slept all the way through the night.

He got up to pee. He was trying to be as quiet as he could to avoid waking El, looking for her in her bed as he passed. She was curled up in the thin sheets, facing the window, looking absolutely lost to the world.

The morning light was shining through the cracks in the curtains, and he thought it might be time that they hit the road again. One glance at his watch, and he knew it was time. Dammit. We gotta go, and soon.

It probably wasn’t as urgent as Mike felt it was, but he was freaked out. So freaked out, he had tried his absolute hardest to hide it from El all day yesterday because he didn’t want her to worry about him. He didn’t want her to worry at all. So maybe, if he acted like he was actually enjoying this whole thing (a ‘vacation’, if you will), she would too.

That way, she wouldn’t notice that he checked over his shoulder every five minutes for that menacing white-haired man in a suit that he saw in his nightmares. No matter the monster, no matter the scenario in front of him, Mike had always been haunted by the mere appearance Dr. Brenner. He made Mike so angry that it terrified him. He hoped, for the bastard’s sake, he was dead or on some far away island, because when Mike got ahold of him…

Shut up. Mike thought, stopping himself. You aren’t going to kill anybody, calm down.

But he was still freaked out. He felt like, if they didn’t get a move on right this very second that the bad men and scary doctors were hot on their tails with guns and ropes and sleepy medicine in syringes to make sure El would never escape and he would never be seen or heard from again.

All that faded away on his way back from the bathroom, when he saw that El had shifted in her sleep to face his side of the room. Her face was all smushed up in her pillow, and her mouth was open just slightly. She looked so calm, like she didn’t know how stressed Mike was at the moment. He thanked his lucky stars that she didn’t have a nightmare last night, thankful that she was getting some much-needed rest. He was always there when she called him in the middle of the night, but he had a sneaky suspicion that she didn’t ask him for help as often as she needed it.

He stood above her, ready to gently wake her up so they could keep going, but he stopped himself before he could gently shake her shoulder.

No one is following us, at least not closely enough to be all the way out here by now.

So, he just got back in bed, deciding to let her wake up on her own.

He was so lucky to know so much about her – he knew how strong willed and powerful she was, how stubborn and determined she could be. He knew what made her laugh, he knew what made her nervous. He knew what made her happy and what made her want to hide. Even though he felt like he had known her for as long as he’d been breathing, he was still completely in awe by the simple things she did. For example, how adorable of a sleeper she was.

He let himself catch up to everything a little. Reminding himself what he was really so nervous about, and simultaneously why all of his worrying was unnecessary. If El was here with him, they were going to be okay. She was unbelievable, indestructible, and fierce. They would be just fine. He knew it.

El breathed what sounded like a contented sigh in her sleep. If he was being honest, he absolutely loved it that she stole his Math Camp shirt from him a couple of years ago. He never once questioned where it went, because he figured she had snatched it from his room. It was cute. Perfectly cute. What normal girlfriends did with their normal boyfriend’s t-shirts.

He wanted to reach out and touch her, but she was too far away.

He didn’t know how he was going to make it through college without living in the same town. He was torn – torn between being with her, and having the “true college experience” his family was always on him about. Even though (to his absolute disdain) his dad rambled on about “branching out” and “meeting new people” every chance he got, Mike knew he was at least a little bit right. New experiences in a new town were a good thing, but it didn’t mean any of those new experiences needed to replace El. Or any of the rest of his friends, for that matter.

He loved her. Much more than he could have ever imagined loving someone. It was different… that was the only way he could describe it. Different, in the way he was just sure. He was sure about everything she said, sure about everything she did, sure about everything she was. When he looked at her (even right now, as she was stirring out of sleep and blinking into the morning), he didn’t have a single doubt in his mind.

“Oh my God…” she said, yawning. “Mike, how are you already awake?”

“It’s almost 10,” he replied, reaching to flip the lamp switch on. She winced at the sudden brightness. “Sorry.”

“Did you sleep okay?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.

“I did, what about you?”

“Fine,” she replied. “Just fine.”

He was sitting now, waiting for her to start making her way out of bed, but she wasn’t. She was letting her eyes drift open and closed, fighting the idea of being awake. It would make him antsy if he wasn’t totally lost in watching her wake up.

“Why are you just sitting there staring at me?” she asked.

“Because I love you.”

“That’s weird,” El said, yawning one more time before opening her eyes for good this time. “But I guess it’s okay.”

“Oh, really?”

“I guess.”

Mike smiled, and it broke into laughter as he stood himself up to walk towards the bathroom. Before he could get very far, she rolled her way out of bed and stopped him, standing in his way with her arms crossed. Her hair was a little… everywhere since she slept on it wet, but she hadn’t yet noticed. He was glad, he loved her hair like that.

“How long have you been sitting there staring at me because you love me?”

“I dunno. Forever, probably.”

He leaned down to kiss the top of her forehead and walk on to the bathroom to brush his teeth, but she stayed in his way, pulling him into a hug which he gladly reciprocated. An impenetrable force, she seemed.

“Good morning,” she mumbled into his shirt. “I love you too.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you trying to walk away from me?”

“I’m trying to brush my teeth so my breath doesn’t stink, is that okay with you?”

She let go of him then, and followed him to the sink in the bathroom. He grabbed his toothbrush from the holder, and she did the same. In seconds, they were both brushing their teeth, taking turns spitting into the sink and trading looks in the mirror. She giggled at him, and he laughed at her – for what, neither of them seemed exactly sure.

Wiping the rest of the toothpaste off his mouth with the spare towel on the rack behind them, he turned back around to face El, who was doing the same on the washrag by the sink.

“Better?” she asked, mocking him with her facial expression in the mirror. For that, he swept her up all of a sudden, spinning her around and lifting her up so that she was eye level with him, his arms wrapped around her waist. Her feet were dangling about a foot off the floor.

“Mike,” she laughed. “Put me down!”

But he didn’t. He kissed her instead, and with that her hands moved from his shoulders to his face and she sighed. He did it to cushion what he was about to say, but he forgot all about that for a few seconds while he got a little lost in the way her fingers were playing with his hair. I’m sorry, El. I’m so so sorry.

Just as she was moving her right leg up to lock around his hip, he lowered her back down to the floor and pulled back to see her look back at him – all dazed and confused.

“El, we should get back in the car.”

She rolled her eyes and threw her head back, exasperated.

“Why?” she wined. “Haven’t we driven far enough? Can’t we just stay here?”

He could tell she was hoping that the proposition of staying here would tempt him, but he was sure they needed to leave and she frowned.

“I think we should keep going. I said so last night.”

“I thought you would get over that,” she said, as she grabbed her toothbrush and set off for her bag in the room.

“Come on, El, don’t make me the bad guy…” he tapered off, cringing a little at his choice of words and praying she wouldn’t fixate on them.

She fished for a set of clothes in her bag. He figured he should do the same.

“I just don’t want to sit in the car for an eternity like I did yesterday.”

“I get it, I don’t want to either,” he said, thinking hard about a way to make her not completely hate this. She stepped in the bathroom to change, so Mike just stayed put, swapping his pajama pants for jeans and pulling on a fresh t-shirt.

“Well, we can try to find something to do every couple of hours, how does that sound?” he called to her through the wall.

When she opened the door, she was in a different t-shirt and a pair of shorts with her hair up in a pony tail.

“I guess that’s okay,” she said, walking past him to grab her bag and toss it over her shoulder. She turned around, looking over the room one last time to make sure she hadn’t left anything. “Come on,” she said, and nodded him towards the door He took a few steps to follow her before stopping in his tracks.

“You go ahead, I’m going to check one more time to make sure we didn’t leave anything.”

He reached into his pocket and tossed her the keys. She caught them in her free hand.

“Alright… see you in a minute.”

When she closed the door behind her, Mike let out a small sigh of relief. Almost forgot. He opened the bedside drawer where he had stashed Hopper’s gun last night while she was showering, and made sure the safety was on before he stuffed it in the waistband of his jeans.

He figured she didn’t need to know about Hopper giving him a weapon unless something crazy happened – she would only get more concerned with the state of things and want to go back home all the more. Of all the places he could take her, that was the only place they couldn’t go.

It turned out that Sioux Falls was just a couple of miles away, so Mike decided it was the perfect place to refill the gas tank and grab them some breakfast at the nearest McDonalds. A couple of quick Egg McMuffins and cups of coffee later, he and El were at the first gas station he could find fueling up the car before they set off to find new scenery.

She sat in the passenger seat, with a baseball cap low on her head to avoid any of the stupid cameras that might be at the gas station – though Mike thought that was unnecessary. He didn’t see any cameras anywhere, as if they’d even have that kind of technology up here anyway.

As he was watching the gallon ticker move up steadily and tapping on the folded up manila envelope in his back pocket, El got out of the car and came to the back to stand by him.

“I’m going to run in and go to the bathroom really quick,” she said.

He mouthed to her, “Watch out for the cameras!” which earned him a light slap on the arm before she walked across the parking lot and into the store. A few minutes later she came back out to him, grabbed his hand and begged him to come inside with her. He reluctantly followed her away from the car, praying the door was locked.

“El, what are you doing?”

“I had an idea… look at these!” She motioned him over to a stand in between the named keychains and the mini license places.

They were postcards, with beautiful pictures of Sioux Falls, South Dakota in all its glory – scenic rivers and flowers and rocks and whatever the hell else was out here. El started spinning the stand, and her eyes lit up.

“El, you know we aren’t supposed to tell anyone where we are…”

She acted like she didn’t hear him, plucking one of the post cards up with the phrase Greetings from Sioux Falls in bold, loopy cursive over a rocky waterfall. Wish You Were Here!

It was kind of dirty – Mike could only guess the postcards had been on the shelves since the 70’s – and El blew the dust off the card.

“It’s only 15 cents, Mike.”

“But we can’t send it to anyone at home,” he whispered.

“I don’t want to send it,” she whispered back, determined. “I want to keep it. If this is a vacation, I want to treat it like one.”

She turned to him with those big, defiant eyes of hers, and Mike knew he couldn’t say no even if he wanted to. And where was the harm, really? As long as she didn’t secretly slip them to Max back at home, he figured it was a pretty good idea.

“That would be a cool way to know where we’ve been...”

“Like a travel diary!” she finished his thought for him. “I found one of Joyce’s in a box once.”

He fished a dollar out of the envelope in his pocket and she went up to the counter to buy it, putting the spare change in the Take a Penny Leave a Penny jar in front of the cash register.

Her souvenir in a little brown bag under her arm, El climbed into the passenger seat and waited for Mike to strap himself in. Once he buckled his seatbelt, he looked over to her and she was pulling postcard out, admiring the waterfall on the front. It was a pretty scene, but Mike didn’t have any idea where it was.

“We don’t have to tell anyone we never saw the real thing,” she said, smiling at him. He grinned, and leaned in to give her a quick kiss before shifting the car in drive and peeling out of the gas station. She grabbed the map out of the console, and tried to find their position on the tangled mess of roads and highways.

“Vacation day number two,” Mike said. “Where are we headed, El?”

---------

June 18th, 1989 Bismark, ND

The past few days had whizzed by in a weird slow blur, and El was convinced she knew both of the Dakotas as if she had lived in the two states her entire life. Her and Mike had weaved north and south through forests and plains for the past couple of days, deciding that they didn’t want to head much further from home before hearing what Hopper had to say that Sunday.

El had secretly been dreading what there was for Hopper to find in Hawkins. She had been pushing that tiny aspect of their predicament from her mind as often as she could, buying post cards at every stop and writing a few sentences about their day whenever she got a chance. It had been like a vacation so far – no bad men or horrors from their past in sight – except the fact that it was absolutely boring most of the time. El was pretty much reading her book one page at a time just to prolong the inevitability of finishing it in a couple of hours and having nothing else to preoccupy herself with.

Mike had been good. They had been driving less and less as the days moved past them, stopping to walk around quaint downtown squares, look in store windows, and eat in little country kitchens to avoid another burger from McDonalds. The places they’d been staying had been alright so far, with no extreme complications to date. One time, El was positive there was a hair that didn’t belong to her in her bed, but she just flung it on to the floor and forced herself not to think about it.

Mike was still getting them double rooms, something that El still did not understand.

At the time, she just figured the first time must have been a mix of nerves and exhaustion, but the next couple of nights were the same. I mean, we’re still sleeping two feet from each other in the same room. El thought, every night, like clockwork. What’s the difference?

He let her drive sometimes, though, and she loved those few hours of freedom while she let him rest. They had spent so much time talking about everything under the sun, that El couldn’t imagine there was anything else left on earth to talk about.

After complaining about her lack of clean clothes, Mike had asked their waitress about the nearest laundromat (Laundra Matt? Who the hell is Laundra Matt?) and they had spent a couple hours sharing a pint of chocolate ice cream from the nearby convenience store and doing their laundry in this seemingly massive laundry room. Mike exchanged a few dollars for quarters and they did a few loads, goofing off while they waited. Why anyone would ever want to do their laundry at home in their tiny laundry closet when they could do it in a place like this was completely lost on El.

That was probably her favorite night so far, and she still stifled a laugh when she thought about being caught with Mike pushing her around the isles in one of the laundry carts by the old, persnickety attendant woman.

“What are you kids up to? I’ll run you out of my store if you’re messing around with the equipment.”

“So sorry ma’am,” Mike said, trying his hardest to hide his laughter. El hid behind him, a smile cracking on her face. “We’ll stop. We’ll leave soon, I swear.”

Now they were held up in North Dakota. After dinner that night at a diner outside of Bismarck, Mike pulled them into the adjacent motel, and El carried their bags while he went in to pay for the room. It had been a nice day, the sun had been shining, but there was a looming presence over them. She knew Mike would never ever say it, but he was hoping Hopper would tell her it was alright to come home. She hoped so too, and she had been anxious about it all morning – biting her nails and being fairly silent on the drive. She knew he noticed. He always noticed.

Mike passed her the keys – Room 115, and what do you know? El thought. A double room... At least this one has a TV. She put her bag down on the sixth bed she’d slept on this week, and they watched reruns of America’s Funniest Home Videos, Mike checking his watch every couple of minutes, until…

---------

“Hey, kiddo.”

El has grown to hate it here, in the dark expanse of her mind. She always tries her hardest to come back here only when she needs to. Most recently, those needs had only been to find people of interest for Dustin and Lucas after saying “Fine, if you’ll shut up,” and seeing what Mike was doing sometimes when she missed him.

She hadn’t gone in her mind to look for… him… in about a year. She was too afraid she’d stumble upon something she wasn’t ready to see, or something that would make her lose control and create another… rift in the Earth. She felt like the world was too fragile for her to ever be exploring the full extent of her powers. They did much more hurt than good. She stuck to grabbing things that were out of her reach, being effortlessly coordinated, and doing the occasional party trick for her friends. The black void in her head was no place for her to spend too much time, especially when there were wonderful people in the dimension in front of her that she didn’t want to risk.

She was here now, though against her will, and Hopper was in his chair back at home. The lamp was on over his shoulder, the yellow light spilling into the darkness. There was a chilled beer can on the side table next to him. His eyes moved around the room, and El wondered about the rest of the scene… was Joyce waiting in the kitchen trying to look busy? Was Will impatiently listening on the couch?

“It’s about 7:30 our time. I don’t know if you’re listening yet, or not, because of the time changes… I hope he remembered the time changes…”

El almost rolled her eyes. He was always so on Mike’s case about being late. She swiftly moved her concentration to the lamp, and the lightbulb flickered a few times, enough to catch his attention. He looked up at it and smiled.

“Okay… okay you’re here then.” His voice grew in excitement. El took a step closer and looked in his eyes – they looked impossibly tired, like he hadn’t been getting much sleep. She sighed. She hoped, oh she hoped he wasn’t smoking again. She glanced on the table looking for an empty box of cigarettes but didn’t find one. Hopefully Will is holding him to his word.

“I – we miss you,” he continued, staring straight ahead. El moved a step over, so that she could pretend, just for a second, that he was looking right at her. That he could see her. “I hope you’re not mad at me.”

Ha. I’m not mad at you, I’m pissed, you stubborn son of a –

Hopper’s gaze shifted to someone she couldn’t see.

“What’s that? Oh. El, blink twice if you’re mad at me.”

Without a shred of hesitation, the lamp light blinked two times.

Hopper started laughing, likely with whoever else was in the room. It was absolutely agonizing not to know who.

“You don’t have to answer that quickly, Jesus,” he said, rubbing his eyes and reaching for the beer beside him. “Your little friend Max is already mad at me enough for the both of you.”

Max.

“Speaking of which, she’s fine. Everybody is fine.”

Hopper started to tell her what was going on in Hawkins. It was the absolute talk of the town that Ted Wheeler’s son had run off with his girlfriend for “no apparent reason” although most people in town knew it was because Ted probably told him he didn’t approve. Karen was upset – with Ted, mostly, for being so insensitive. She called Hopper every day to see if he had any updates on their kids, and every day Hopper lied and told her he had no idea where they’d run off to or why they’d gone.

He said her friends were told everything they needed to know, and they were pissed at him for not letting them tag along. Max was the angriest of all of them, and she had asked who needed to die in order to bring Mike and El back home. Will was a little down, probably because he was faced with all this for the first time in a while, and it was showing. Hopper was worried about him, and El could tell by the way he avoided talking about him altogether.

Just as El felt responsible for everything, so did Will. They shared that, and would often argue over it, but El couldn’t understand why he wasn’t scared of her. She was the one who did those things to him. He was the victim, and she knew it. She would say she was sorry, and every time he just threw the I’m sorrys right back at her.

Will, please be okay.

What El and Mike wanted to hear, most of all, was when they could come home. It didn’t have to be tomorrow, but they just wanted to know that it would be soon. The uncertainty of everything was weighing on them, and she could tell when she looked in his eyes. He was cracking under the pressure – pretending for so long that he was alright with it all. He was trying to be so strong for her, but she didn’t need it. She just needed to get them both back home somehow.

As she waited for Hopper to continue, she could feel Mike’s pulse in his hand that held on to hers. It was grounding her, and she squeezed it to let him know she was alright. He squeezed back. Any news would hopefully be good news. They just wanted to know something.

“But, uh, we don’t have any more leads,” Hopper shifted the subject. “Everything’s gone quiet.”

El swallowed.

“So just keep moving, kid. And be careful. Please.”

He’s still not going to tell me what he knows, is he?

“Have a good week. Be safe. We love you,” he said, his tone wavering a little as he spoke.

El flickered the light one more time, just before she opened her eyes.

“Any news?”

It was Mike now, and she had almost forgotten how refreshing it was to be seen by someone. That was one of the things she hated so much about being in there – not being seen.

“No,” El said, moving her hand to wipe her nose.

“Here,” Mike said, handing her the tissue in the hand that wasn’t tightly gripping hers in his lap. “What did he say?”

El remained solemn, she didn’t want Mike to know homesick she was. She knew he was too, and having to comfort her through it wouldn’t make him feel any better.

“Max is pissed,” El said, with a half-smile and Mike laughed.

“Of course, she is! She’s pissed she can’t be in on all the action.”

El rolled her eyes.

“He says your mom’s okay,” she said, moving on with a faint smile. “And that she’s madder at your dad than at you.”

“Shocker…” Mike said, lightening the mood a little. El laughed.

“Come on, I’m worried about your mom.”

“She’ll be okay once we get back,” he said, reaching to run a hand through his messy hair. “Which, I guess won’t be any time soon?”

“No,” she answered. “He didn’t tell me anything. He just said everything had gone silent and that we should keep going.”

“Well...” Mike said, and then he abandoned his train of thought and shook his head. “Then, I’m going to take a shower.”

As he stood, he put a hand on El’s shoulder and leaned down to kiss her forehead, taking her bloody tissue with him as he walked towards the bathroom.

“I’m sorry, El,” he said, turning around to face her from the door. “I wanted to go home too.”

She smiled at him in reassurance one more time, but once he closed the door, El flung herself back onto her bed, put a hand over her mouth and let a few tears escape from behind closed eyes as she heard the shower turn on.

I just want everyone to be safe. Is that too much to ask?

It wasn’t the not being home part. They were in a boring part of the country, sure, but El didn’t mind going on daily road trips with Mike. She didn’t mind eating loads of fast food. She didn’t mind getting to see him every night before she went to sleep and every morning when she opened her eyes. She didn’t mind a single bit of that.

But the fact that they couldn’t turn around, the fact that they were floating around the northern plains as fugitives running for their lives, the fact that her friends were in stupid stupid danger back at home… it was soiling all of that goodness. She didn’t even know who the hell she was running from… who was looming right over her hometown waiting to snatch her up the second they went back home... who was…

Mike drew her out of her thinking spell then, peaking his way through the door, his hair all wet, wrapped up in a towel like he’d forgotten his change of clothes on his bed.

“I’m sorry, El, but I have to know. It’s killing me.”

“You have to know what?” she asked, sitting up and sniffing away the last of her tears.

“He’s dead, right?”

“What?”

“Dr. Brenner is dead, right?”

El blinked, and opened her mouth, but before she could speak…

“Right?”

---------

A few minutes later, with Mike freshly clothed and sitting cross legged on the foot of her bed, El was trying her hardest to think of any possible way out of this.

“I mean, he died, right? He died when we were kids.”

“Y-yes,” she answered, looking down. Convincing. Way to go.

“How do you know that?”

His questions weren’t pressing, just curious. That didn’t mean she could answer him, not in a way that would ease his state of mind. Her heart was racing under her sweatshirt, and she moved a hand up to her chest to try and slow it down.

“Because,” Mike went on. She could see the gears turning in his head, connecting the dots. “What if he didn’t die? What if he’s still out there, and that’s who’s back in Hawkins.”

El swallowed, and looked down at the piece of lent she was playing with from the bed spread.

“He’d dead. I know it.”

“How do you –“

“Why can’t you just trust me?” she cut him off, a little harsher than she meant to. He took a breath.

“Are you scared to go find him? Because –“

“I’m not scared. I just don’t need to, I know he’s not there.”

He took another breath, looking lost in thought. Much to El’s udder frustration, she knew he wasn’t going to give up on this.

“Because, I’ll be here with you. But, I really think you need to do this. To make sure.”

Her heart beat buzzed in her ears. He was right, again. That was the worst part. He was right and she couldn’t avoid him looking at her in that way… like he would forgive her and love her no matter what she did next. Even if she persisted and kept refusing, he would still kiss her and wish her sweet dreams before he shut his eyes and went to sleep that night. Still, a tiny part of her wanted to do it. For him.

You’ll be able to prove it this time, she thought. This time, when you say that he’s dead, you will know.

El turned so that she was facing Mike on the bed, and took his hands in hers.

“Don’t let go, okay?”

“You’re going to be fine, El,” he said, nodding his head. “I promise.”

She closed her eyes, and away she went…

The blackness was back surrounding her for the second time that night. The water cold, the feeling eerie – like if she spun around quick enough she would see her greatest fears coming to greet her. But there was nothingness for eternity, just like always.

She could still feel Mike’s hands in hers, grounding her from what seemed like an infinity away. She knew he was there with her, his thumbs rubbing the backs of her hands.

Okay, El thought. You’ve been through worse. You can do this. Do it for Mike.

She pictured him, cold and domineering, and she felt her breath quicken at the sight – even if it was just her imagination. A lightning-fast rumination of all of her memories of him flashed before her, making her gasp and then squeeze her eyes shut – all to open them all over again to the blackness. This time, she could feel it. She was not alone.

She didn’t want to see anything at all. Blackness, like he never even existed.

El was very torn in two pieces. She could remember with grotesque clarity reaching out to find Nancy’s friend when she was a kid. What she found was a corpse, not a person. She wanted him to be gone so very badly, but she didn’t want to see him like that. And if he was gone, that’s the way he would be. Rotting away in the Upside Down. Demogorgon food. Like he should be.

Holy shit. She hadn’t thought about the damned Upside Down in years. She’d been pretending that it didn’t exist, like they’d all made it up as a part of some game. A figment of Mike’s brilliant creativity. It all came flooding back then, every ounce of their past as being something excruciatingly real and El couldn’t take it anymore. The only thing reminding her that she was still a part of the real world were Mike’s hands holding on to hers even tighter than before, and the wetness she could feel streaming down her face.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m right here, you can open your eyes if you want to.”

She could hear him somewhere above her, echoing out across the rippling water.

Deep breaths, El thought. Get ready. Do it. One two three.

El kept her eyes closed, but spun around, omitting a quiet sob into the blackness. That’s when she swore she heard it – and she knew it wasn’t Mike because he hadn’t called her by that in years.

“Eleven…”

El’s eyes flew open then, but she found Mike kneeling in front of her with his arms out stretched, ready to catch her when she came falling forward. She fell into him, and he held her as tight as he could, stroking her hair with his hands.

“Shhhh, it’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay, you’re back with me, see?”

She was aware then that she was sobbing, a pretty red mess dripping out of her nose that she went to wipe on her sleeve. She tried to breath deep and control herself, but it was so hard.

“Here,” Mike said, reaching again for a tissue and wiping her nose for her this time as she kept crying into his shirt, feeling bad for the mess she was probably making.

He just let her go, until her breath was back to normal and she stayed all curled up in his lap with her eyes closed.

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry,” he rubbed her back with his free hand. Why on earth is he so sorry all the time? It’s not like any of this mess is his fault. “I shouldn’t have asked you to do that.”

They stayed that way for a few minutes, as El’s heart beat slowed. She was pressed tightly against his chest, so she could hear his too. Beating in quick rhythm with hers.

“Do you want to tell me what you saw?”

El made a decision right then and there, and she didn’t regret it. Not one tiny bit. She couldn’t go back there, she couldn’t feel that again. She couldn’t keep letting her mind – her fearful mind – trick her into insanity.

She looked up at him, with glassy eyes, and said to Mike with as much certainty as she could muster…

“He’s gone.”

And that… that was the second lie.

AN: Dun dun dun... (sorry). Part 4 is coming soon! Thank you so much for reading, let me know what you think!!!! ilysm

Tagging some sweet people: [ @puzzlingsnark ] [ @eleven-n-mike ] [ @dancingskygreen ] [ @formerlyjannafaye ] thank you for your kindness 💕💕💕💕

#stranger things #mileven #stranger things fic #stranger things fan fiction #st #mike wheeler #eleven #writing things #marty writes #wish you were here

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nosignalformiles · 2 years

Text

True Name: Rune

Goes by: Wynn

Age and Birthday: Unknown age, for his species he’s an equivalent of early-ish 30s? Born in what’s now around mid to late May.

Height: 5ft8

Pronouns and gender: He/him or they/them, man

What they are: household spirit specializing in pest control in rural areas, but just as prone to mischief or malevolence if crossed and mistreated, but perfectly helpful if not.

Style and Appearance: Always in yard clothes, muddy coveralls, everything is worn down, easy to move in, blends in. Layers. Scruffy, short, loose curls.

Piercings and tattoos: No piercings, holly tattoo on his upper right arm.

Scars and distinguishing marks: Well. I’d probably count his left leg being missing below the knee as both a scar and a distinguishing mark. Other than that he has a lot of little scars all over, and some bigger ones across his left arm, face, and upper leg. Like something dragged across that side.

Sexuality: I have honestly no idea yet. I’d guess maybe aro and demi tho.

FC: X

Personality: Quiet, overprotective, hyper alert, very responsible and mostly even tempered, until something goes wrong in specific ways, then he gets Scary Angry. Underneath many, many, years of bs, there’s a jokey, temperamental, idiot, good luck finding it though.

Abilities: Ridiculously good movement detection, fantastic low light vision, mild natural transmutation magic. Shape shift, partially and fully, between forms. Full transformation is a three foot tall humanoid barn owl, with feathered arms as well as wings. Anywhere in between is possible. No full flight, but he can glide, control falls, and generally course correct. When in his full human appearance, his wings are easily 16ft wingspan. Control over who sees him.

Weaknesses: Iron and silver. Hawthorn and holly plants, the berries, thorns, tools made of the wood etc. No specific immunities, so can be hurt by most things.

Links: Headcanons - Media - Fun Stuff - Playlist - Music - Threads

Other bits and pieces:

Has raised Finch on his own, but considers him a brother more than anything, because of his attachment to Finch’s former self.

Is an excellent hunter. It’s part of how they make money, he hunts things from elphame, earth and the hollow, and sells the raw or processed materials. Sometimes on commission, usually just as a supplier to stores or individuals.

Also runs a farm, supplying herbs and veggies from earth and elphame to locals and people on both side of the veil.

Has gotten in actual physical fights with Cyren. The first when Cy showed an interest in getting Finch to work for him, and a few since Aster came to town and he and Finch became friends.

Technically, he’s older than Cyren. In reality, he’s considered younger. Not only is his species one that ages and matures slowly, time passes differently in the fairy realm, and despite being born in the late-ish middle ages, he’s still in the early thirties.

Lived on the farm for years before Finch’s mom showed up. She was respectful and knew how to deal with house spirits, so they got along. He was still very young, and it was his first house, she sort of took care of him, and when her own son was born, he took on a role more like an older brother than a house spirit.

So much guilt. Completely unfair guilt. Just piled onto himself. Dealt with by becoming overbearingly protective, sheltering, and aggressive when it comes to Finch. All at the expense of himself, what he likes and wants, and any sense of self in general.

Long form backstory and bio - I really went off the rails with this one, so totally feel free to skip:

Wynn’s first house, as a household spirit, was the farm. It was removed from the nearest village and manor, geographically at least, still owned by that lord. The first resident, who already lived there when the spirit showed up, rented the land. They were incredibly rude to their new household spirit, and also shit farmers who didn’t know what they were doing and damaged the land and mistreated the animals. So Wynn started making life difficult for them, breaking things in the night, releasing animals, dulling blades, general mischief and chaos, until either they left, or started doing it right. They left.

Nearly a full year later, a woman moved in. No one ever came to collect rent and tax, so until they actually spoke, Wynn had no idea if anyone even knew she was there. Not that it mattered to him. What mattered was that after her first night there - where she started repairing tools left behind and fixing up fences, only for Wynn to finish that work in the night - she put food out as a thank you.

It was months until they spoke, by then she was having trouble doing a lot of the physical labor herself - being heavily fucking pregnant - and in frustration she yelled for the fairy to please help. He did, all three foot and feathers of him.

From then on, they worked together. At first, she did all the talking, which is how Wynn found out about the baby’s father, why she was living there, and that she was a witch. Not to mention, it’s when he learned her name - Margrete.

By the time Myles - her son - was born, Wynn had picked up enough of human language to talk back, and had started taking a more humanoid form, especially to help with bigger jobs where strength was required.

After the first winter, some men showed up, Margrete pushed Myles into Wynn’s arms and told him to hide them both. It wasn’t exactly hard, as long as he held the baby, Wynn could make them both invisible for anyone he wanted. The men were asking about the baby, if it was a girl or a boy, where it was. Margrete said the boy had died over the winter. It wasn’t news that went over well. Wynn just remembers shushing Myles and singing quietly to keep him calm. Immediately after, while Wynn picked up broken furniture, Margrete started to fuss over Myles. Saying she might as well have cursed him with a lie like that. The cleansing spell she worked was the first time Wynn saw her use magic.

From then on, like anyone else not in the local lord’s employ, someone came to collect rent for the farm.

Other than that, things continued on just fine. Wynn’s hunting was what earned them the most money. Almost inhumanly good knack for it. Myles grew up well, hiding when visitors appeared became routine, with him and Wynn sitting together in a nearby tree and watching more often than not.

It was years before everything went wrong, but boy howdy it went wrong. Myles got killed, playing in the woods when he fell. He couldn’t even be buried properly or given last rites, because he couldn’t exist. Margrete still blamed herself, and couldn’t cope. Suddenly Wynn was doing everything to keep the farm still going, and keep her at least physically okay.

Months later, she heard of a child in the village getting ill, and guilt pushed her to intervene. It wasn’t even magic. Just correctly picked herbs and luck. Somehow, the story went from her being a healer, to her being a witch. It didn’t bother anyone who knew them, but when the story reached the manor, it changed again. It became she was a witch who’d killed her son years ago, and who was suspiciously prosperous for an older woman living on her own.

You can probably guess things didn’t exactly go smoothly after that. Still, most of the normal people didn’t give a shit, but it wasn’t like they had a lot of agency and say if the lord made the call.

As a way to deal with her grief, when it became the right time of year, Margrete planned to bring Myles back, to make him new. Harvest done for the year, the connection to other realms stronger, she managed to catch some scraps of her son’s soul. The project was underway when those same men from the first year showed up again.

Wynn was trusted to keep the future baby safe, the magic still working, it would take a few weeks to grow, so he was told to run. Not before they saw him, feathery and small and taking off. He didn’t get away without injury, his left side badly scarred, his lower leg unsavable, and his wing broken. Still, it was better than Margrete faired. They killed her, and burnt the buildings to get rid of any evil. She’s still buried somewhere near there, with a holly wood fence stake through her body to make sure she couldn’t escape the grave, and a holly bush that grew up on top.

Not knowing where to go, Wynn took himself and the bundle of witchy stuff in a clay pot that would eventually become Finch, into the fae realm.

To them it only felt like a few decades had passed, Finch grew up in near total isolation from others besides Wynn. Then, with Finch fully mature, Wynn stepped out into the human world for the first time since that night. Scouting somewhere safe and quiet to allow Finch to connect back to what he was without just dropping them both into the fray. He found Wellspring. (I left this bit more vague because this is mostly in Finch’s bio)

At first they continued to live in the fae realm, while building and growing a home and business elsewhere. To those in Wellspring, they seemed to vanish for months at a time, only to return for a few days and disappear again soon after.

Only within the last three years have they been permanently living in Wellspring. It was entirely Finch who set up the business, Wynn would’ve been content to just keep themselves hidden away on a homestead on the outskirts.

#muse bios #headcanon wynn

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sainadazai · 3 years

Text

Chapter 4

A/n ahh yesterday was bakugous birthday I love him oml everyone say happy birthday even though its late

"They say clothes make the pros, ladies and gentlemen. And behold you are the proof." all might spoke, smiling brightly as everyone exited the changing rooms.

You walked out in a group, making it difficult to see everyones costumes, but you caught a glimpse of some that were rather cool. All Might seemed to think as well his words being "This is getting me all ramped up, you look so cool!" He really is too excited for his own good.

As everyone had finally taken their places, standing scattered in a bunch of costume-clad teens, you could finally look around and take in some of the impressive ideas your classmates had. Momo, wearing a quite revealing one-piece that was a beautiful red, contrasting with a yellow belt. It was showy, but you wouldn't say she looked anything less than badass.

Might be difficult to fight her while she wears it, though. You would want any mishaps to happen for the perverts around here, or in here.

"Woah! L/n I like your costume! It fits your quirk, haha" Momo approached you, as she laughed joyfully.

It better. This hero suit design had been in the works since you were just a preschooler. A skin-tight silver body suit that stops in the middle of your thigh. Two purple stripes going down either side from the shoulder down. A zipper, metal obviously, by the slightly turtlenecked top that goes halfway down your bust. On your hands, purple fingerless gloves, with concealed brass knuckles to benefit hand to hand combat.

Then, around your left thigh, a garter that also served as storage for small capsules of your own blood, just in case you're in need of something metal, and would be at risk if you cut yourself. The capsules are secured in little pockets around the garter, a pop of red to the otherwise shiny grey costume.

However, the favorite part ever since you were little, was the boots. They were a shiny purple that rose tightly up to your lower thighs, they were fireproof material with removable silver heels. Why? Well so that you can shoot them off using your quirk at any point in battle,or, if liquified, could be used to make you float.

This was an idea you and your mom thought of after seeing a movie where a girl shot bullets from her high heels, she told you that that was a badass woman moment, and ever since badass has been your favorite compliment to give. That was at age 7. Finishing off the costume you wore thick silver and purple glasses that scanned objects for metals and told you what metals they were, to make things easier to manipulate and multiply.

"I-am sorry-"

"L/n!"

"Sorry, um thanks! Yours looks badass, too. "

"Thanks L/n."

The two of you made your way over to jirou and continued to talk, or try to talk while stuttering. As they spoke to you, subconsciously you kept on the lookout for Todoroki. He was nowhere to be seen in the mess of teens, but you did spot Midoriya having what looked to be a seizure as he conversed with a very revealed Uraraka. She looked beautiful,too. Even though her suit was skin tight, it fit her well, showing her curves in a modest but flattering way. Her most gorgeous feature,though, was her hair, so instead of your eyes lingering on her body in its glory, you found yourself entranced with the shine of her hair, and the blush on her cheeks.

Even though you were stuck in your own attempts at conversation, not paying attention to the half and half boy anymore, he was paying attention to you. His eyes stuck to your face as it smiled and your eyes when they brightened. Wandering down to your chest, luckily zipped up and away from the observing eye, your curves every little dip around your waist and hip, your legs, thigh, calf, all the muscles you'd worked to obtain since childhood. Todoroki was entranced by you, and how you looked like a hero already.

He wondered if the girls had made you their friend since you were shy, if they took you in and wanted to be your friend since you didn't have the words to ask them yourself. If so, should he do the same? It seemed to work for them, he might need to re-think his plan.

You both were brought away from your separate places as Iida spoke.

"This is the fake city from our entrance exam." He spoke robotically, from inside a full armored suit.

You looked around, not previously noticing this was indeed one the cities from the exam. "Will we be conducting urban battles again?"

"Not quite,I'm going to move you two steps ahead!" All Might gestured the number two with his fingers.

"Most of the villain fights you see on the news happen outside. However, statistically speaking, the most disastrous villain fights happen indoors. Think about it, backroom deals, home invasions,secret underground layers. Truly intelligent criminals stay hidden in the shadows. For this training exercise you'll be split into heroes and villains and perform two on two battles."

The girl from lunch, with the frog quirk, spoke up, "Isn't this a little advanced?"

The pro simply smiled "The best training is what you get on the battlefield,"

"Wouldn't call this a battlefield.." you mumbled, looking around at all your classmates who you supposed would be villains soon. How did he expect other hero students to be able to play the villain? You understood that getting in a villain's mind might be important, but really how good could anyone do?

"But remember you can just punch a robot this time, you're dealing with actual people now."

"Sir, will you be the one deciding who wins?"

"How much can we hurt the other team?"

"Do we need to worry about the losers getting expelled like earlier-"

You walked down the concrete path keeping All Mights words in mind.

"The situation is this: the villains have hid a nuclear missile somewhere in their hideout. The heroes must try to soil their plans. To do that the good guys either have to catch the evil do-ers, or apprehend the weapon. Likewise the bad guys succeed if they protect their payload or capture the heroes."

Next to you stood a tall, blonde haired boy with a tail, he'd asked you to call him ojiro. The two of you, much to your dislike, were meant to play villains. Another dislike, you'd be going up against Shoto Todoroki and Mezo Shoji. After thinking it through, you figured they could use Shoji's ears and other heightened senses to find the two of you, and Todoroki would probably just freeze you. How could you fight if you couldn't move, right? Wrong.

Ferrokinesis is the manipulation of metal through the mind. You had especially trained yourself to combat without using a single bone in your body, it just takes concentrated breathing. It might have been nice to inform your partner of that, to ease his mind, and maybe plan some sort of strategy, but you haven't been able to speak outside of greeting him. Thus, you entered the tall building silently and stood by the missile, waiting for the "Heroes" to come.

"Uhm, L/n, did what happened earlier make this whole thing a lot more...scary?" He began, startling you by initiating conversation.

"Um, what do you mean by that? Like Midoriya and Bakugou fighting?" You questioned, a lot more comfortable considering you were just alone with him.

"Yeah, like seeing how real it can get, you know.." his face screamed nervousness, and that really wouldn't help the two of you, plus you needed to get into a villain mindset, still.

"No, you see, the fact that things might get more real now, it'll only help us. Recovery girl is there to heal any injuries later, so I say we should all fight like that. Well, not like- I- you"

"I get it."

"Uhm, yeah, if we all give it one hundred and ten percent, that's how we will actually get better, and maybe learn how to handle ourselves in different situations. If things go bad now, it'll be easy, we just get really angry and mean like bakugou, perfect villains, ha"

"Heheh, yeah, your right L/n"

"S-yeah, thanks"

You suddenly felt cold rising from below, guess you were right about that. Feeling proud of yourself, you decided to indulge the part of the villain just a bit more. Earlier had simply been two kids talking, but now, you'd strut your heels and be the scariest female they'd ever seen, or try at least.

"Mmm, why must heroes be so predictable!" You stomped and let out a crazed pout.

Ojiro was taken back by your sudden behavioral change, not knowing how you and dad used to play hero and villain all the time. His eyebrows raised in question at your statement, and he took a few steps away. The task to become villains totally forgotten as he watched you throw a fit.

"Damn todoroki, it's cold up here now! Don't you fools get it. Missiles need heat. C'mon then pretty boy, hurry up and freeze us so we can see that dumb hero smirk! I know you want too~" You were talking to the floor, swinging your arms and legs around as you paced back and forth. Trying your best not to overthink the cheesy, embarrassing words coming from your mouth.

"Frozen?"

Turning to your partner you shot him a smirk, "Yeah, pretty boy thinks he can immobilize us from outside, pft. How silly of him, thinking I'd go down without dinner first." Your words were getting out of hand. Was this what villains were like, or were you just hiding some secret vulgar persona? He was confused until he saw the strained tears building in your wide eyes. You were doing this against your own nature, trying your best to succeed.

"So then, um L/n, you must have quite the plan to escape these pros and keep our missile intact, hahaha" His fake laughs were nowhere near as good as yours, but it eased you that he was trying.

Meanwhile, Shoji was waiting behind Todoroki, face completely red and eyes wide. He heard your comments easily, and was completely frozen on the image of, well, what you had insinuated.

"Why are you red?" todoroki questioned, as his teammate looked incredibly flustered. Had he done something to fluster shoji? He didn't think so.

"G-go, um, L/- she" he short circuited before he could finish, being completely flustered and no longer functional.

"Alright..."

Todoroki continued his way up the several floors of the building now covered in ice, having been told where the two of you were hiding along with the missile. His feet crunched loudly against the ice covered floors, a smirk residing on his face. The boy was a little upset at first that his first interaction with you would be like this.

However, images of his father in his mind made him remember his purpose for being here. He was supposed to be the best, and you were supposed to be a villain. Number one heroes dont take pity on a villain just because she's cute.

"This quirk is insane," He heard your partner speak before entering the room. Upon showing his face, Ojiro was quick to take a defensive stance, while you were off in the corner of the room, leaning against a wall, feet equally stuck to the ground.

"Pry yourself up if you want, but it might be hard to fight me with no skin on the bottom of your feet." He smirked.

Shoto was continuing to walk towards the missile, thinking he'd won. Until he heard two little clicks from the corner.

"God, they really have to stop catering these trainings to my quirk, pft. God, ice is slippery."

His head shot up at the sound of your voice, your feet seemed to be free of ice, and the floor where they had been stuck showed two irregular lumps of stiff concrete. How? He thought you manipulated metal? Were there metals in concrete?

"God, I really do love these glasses," you tapped them. "Make my life a lot easier, less scientific novels and what not." the voice you had was so casual, were you pretending to be shy this whole time? Or were you just a really good fake villain. He felt like you were a real villain, eyes perking up a bit at the idea of a challenge.

"Lets see, how many walls do you think I could drop on you before the building collapses? Two, maybe three? Or I could just tie you up, huh?"

He smirked, "Oh really, shy-girl? I'd like to see you try.."

His words shot through your act like a bullet, piercing you right in the heart. His voice should not be allowed to sound like that. It's unfair, cheating even. Your face changed from confident to wavering and hands began sweat. Could you really hurt him? You saw bakugou hurt midoriya earlier, he did it like second nature, but you wanted to be a hero, learn about villains and put them away, so you proceeded. This was your chance to show off your combat skills.

Zipping down the zipper on your chest, you remove the tiny holder for it, causing it to fall in your palm and begin to liquify. Your glasses told you the different metals in it, and that allowed you to focus on multiplying them, closing your eyes as the liquid began to grow.

Your partner was staring between the two of you, hoping whatever you were about to do was successful, since his feet really did hurt. Suddenly your finger began making a circular movement, the metallic liquid mimicking it. It flowed in a ring of silver around your middle body.

"Metal is a fun element, you know. It's easily found in almost every environment, easy to hide, and disobeys many scientific theories. Like this liquid metal here, it looks normal, but it only gets this way by becoming scorching hot." You winked at no one in particular and swung your finger down in a straight line, a mini-mimic of Iida's air chopping.

The hot fluid melted the concrete in a straight line on the floor, ice and ground in that area being dissolved completely. It felt good to use your power to win, you could tell from his eyes todoroki was scared. Maybe you were stronger than you thought?

Losing, however, was not what he was scared of. The wave of heat that fell over him after your swing sent him into terrible memories. His scar began to itch and burn at the recognition of heat. You saw that, too. How his fear held deeper meaning, and it made you scared of yourself. You didn't want to be a villain anymore, you just wanted this to be over, your eyes almost welled with tears at how mean you'd been, acting like the villain.

"I-um-ugh" Your foot stomped down on the floor, slipping a bit but forcing concrete to envelope the boy's feet, while simultaneously forcing the ground up and the temperature just hot enough to free your partner.

"J-Just, where's Shoji?"

"I'll get him, since you did the fighting here, l/n...." Ojiro stated, running out of the room, having been uncomfortable with the tension.

The next words to come out of your mouth should have been expected, but never had they meant so much to todoroki. His eyes were back to normal, face stone once again. Trying to pretend that fear he felt, those memories, were never there. Steel walls being put up once again to hide away hid feelings, but you manipulate metal.

Your e/c eyes shoot to look at the scar around his left eye and then back to his whole face. Taking a few steps closer to him, ignoring the teachers yell of how your team had won, you whispered.

"Im so sorry."

No one else would understand it, not the other students watching intently from the observation room, not your partners downstairs, but he did. Shoto heard those words, and felt your eyes lingering on it, and his chest got tight. You knew, and you didnt call it ugly, and you stopped using heat because you knew.

It was your job to be the villain at any cost, but you worked harder to not use heat. You weren't just sorry for scaring him, but for the fact that he had to be scared. So he spoke to you, for the first serious time, saying the only words that felt appropriate.

"Thank you."

#todoroki x reader #todoroki fluff #shoto torodoki #todoroki shoto x reader #mha todoroki #mha fanfiction #mha fluff #momo yaoyozoru #momo x reader

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concussed-to-pieces · 7 years

Text

Survival

Fandom: Jurassic World

Pairing: Owen Grady/Unnamed OFC

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Here it is! My first Thirst Party Saturday foray into another fandom! Tagging @toxiicpop naturally and I'd like to give an enormous thank you to @im-an-octopus, their Chris Pratt character headcanons (the Pratt Pack, if you will) are incredibly thought out and articulate. Enjoy!

[This takes place essentially in the middle of the Indominus incident, and goes from there.]

He’d seen the large body from quite a distance away, but the smaller form crumpled beside it hadn’t been apparent until he went almost full circle. Owen jerked up the brake, fumbling to get his seat belt off and quickly slinging his rifle over his shoulder.

There were strategically placed feeding stations close to the Gyrosphere path in the Valley to encourage more animal visibility, she was one of the volunteers who stocked the dry feed and ferns for the Apatosaurus herd. Sometimes he saw her assisting with the one juvenile Apatosaurus and the squirmier Gallimimus in the petting zoo area. That was all he knew. He couldn’t even remember her name, he honestly wasn’t sure if he had ever known it to begin with.

The first thing that got his attention when he opened the car door was the sound of quiet crying. So she wasn’t dead, then. Probably just in shock. “Hey!” He hissed, trying to keep his voice down as he was unsure of whether the Indominus was still close by. “Hey, are you alright?”

She didn’t give any indication that she had heard him and when Owen rounded the long neck of the animal he saw her clinging to it, sobbing pitifully like a child. The sight made his throat ache and he squared his shoulders, irritated with himself.

He crept closer, doing his best to rustle and make his presence known through exaggerated footfalls and coughing once or twice. She paid him no attention, her focus wholly on the huge animal that was currently dying. Owen bore no ill will at being ignored in this instance though, remembering all too clearly the sting of sadness and even worse, the feeling that he’d failed when a raptor out of his pack clutch didn’t survive. Poor Foxtrot.

“-didn’t deserve that, y-you were always the sw-sweetest thing.” She hiccupped between sobs. Owen noticed her comparatively tiny fingers pressed over a gaping slash wound in the Apatosaur’s neck. The herbivore gave a pained grunt of breath, blood bubbling from the gash. “It’s okay, sweetheart. No one w-will be angry with you if you sleep now, okay?” Her shoulders shook with the effort of holding back tears so she could reassure the giant animal. “You can sleep. You were so brave, k-kept me safe from whatever that was. Sleep, sweetheart.” She whispered, pulling herself closer so she could rest her forehead on the scaly skin. “It’s over now.”

After several seconds of its breathing becoming slower and more labored, the Apatosaurus shuddered and went totally still. She couldn’t hold back her tears any longer at that, tightening her hold on the creature’s neck and burying her face. Owen felt like he was witnessing something he shouldn’t be, shifting back and forth awkwardly for a minute before finally tapping her on the shoulder.

She shook her head. “She died for me.” She mumbled. “She kept me safe from that…whatever that was. The huge one.”

“They named it the Indominus Rex. I guess callin’ it the ‘Shitshow Waiting To Happen’ Rex was a little too on the nose.” Owen didn’t know why the hell he even said anything about it. She was clearly emotionally compromised and not in a listening mood.

“That’s what they’ve been making, isn’t it?” Her question startled him. He hadn’t known they were cooking that giant lizard up, how the hell would she know? Owen wasn’t exactly the most social guy but he liked to think he had a decent finger on the pulse of the island. “In the lab, that’s what they were all so happy about.” Her voice was shaky. “A couple of the inside nerds came into our break room the other day, told a bunch of us that we were going to be rendered useless in a matter of weeks.”

Owen’s brow furrowed. “Why the hell…?”

“They said a crane had been proved to do our job just as well, and if a crane gets broken it’s not counted as a casualty.” She pulled away from the Apatosaurus, scrubbing her dirty hands on her shorts. “They said it would help prevent accidents, take down operating costs if they didn’t have so many of us little khaki-clad park rangers running around.” She sounded bitter and Owen didn’t blame her for one second. “I’m sorry, I’m just...could I possibly hitch a ride with you back to the fence? I should be able to get to the resort on my own from there.” Her body was still shuddering a little from her lengthy crying jag but she was obviously trying to put on a brave face. Whether for him or in honor of her deceased charge, Owen wasn’t quite sure.

He got the feeling that he would regret this, but he couldn’t in good conscience drop her off essentially in the middle of nowhere to make her own way. Definitely not with that big beasty roaming free. “Listen. I know you’re mournin’ your charges right now, so it would make me feel a lot better if you just stuck with me and I could get you to the resort in one piece.” He tried to gentle his voice without seeming patronizing. “I don’t know where the I. Rex is and if somethin’ happens to you, somethin’ that my ass could have prevented…” He trailed off.

“It killed most of the herd, then it took off. I heard it coming and it was just…I thought it was Rexy at first but the color was all wrong, and then I saw how long its arms were. It was practically on top of me by the time I realized I should run and it was too late. I…are you going to kill it?” She asked hesitantly.

Owen grimaced. “Masrani an’ the powers that be are a little leery of dumping that kind of money down the drain. Me, on the other hand? If I can kill it, if it can be killed, I’m definitely killing it.” He doubted a creature that unstable could be subdued without emptying a clip or twenty into its skull. He held out his hand. “Hop into the truck, ma’am. I’ll bring you home safe.”

...

That promise was lofty as hell and honestly, I should have known better than to make it, he thought ruefully as he stood in front of her, arms spread. Blue was staring him down with Delta and Echo flanking them. As if the clusterfuck with the helicopter through the Aviary and the subsequent panicking vacationers hadn’t been enough bullshit for one day. As if the I. Rex itself wasn’t a living, breathing clusterfuck all on its own.

The missing presence of Charlie was like a quiet chorus of wrongwrongwrong in the back of his mind. He wasn’t used to seeing less of his pack and he whickered quietly in his throat, hearing Delta mimic the noise. Blue continued to focus on Owen and he realized that she was the only one who still had a camera strapped around her head.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Owen inched his hand out. Murmuring reassurances the whole time and making sure the beta Velociraptor could clearly see his hand, his fingers finally touched the buckle on the side of her jaw. Blue chuffed at him and Owen found himself smiling a little. “Shh, easy. Just me.” He said quietly. “Good girl, good girl.” The woman at his side moved just a fraction closer to Echo. Owen barely caught the motion out of the corner of his eye. “Stay still please. I like my hand the way it is.” He said in the same calm, quiet tone.

“Sorry, used to the herbivores.” She apologized, her own voice deliberately gentle. To Owen’s surprise Echo made a noise that was usually associated with playful behavior, a warbling little chirp. The volunteer didn’t seem particularly afraid of the raptors despite having clearly witnessed the fact that Owen wasn’t the one in charge of them anymore. He couldn’t decide if that was stupid or not.

“Easy girl. Let’s get this off, okay?” Owen pressed down carefully on the buckle and unclipped the straps, letting the camera drop to the ground. Blue clicked warily at him, watching as he eased his hand back just as slow. “There, that’s better, right?” He continued, doing his best to keep the beta calm. “Good girl. I’m sorry about Charlie, Blue. Thanks for not rippin’ a chunk out of Barry. Delta, you’re gettin’ extra scratch time with Barry for tearin’ Hoskins apart.” He was sort of rambling at this point, wondering how long this truce would last before his girls lit him up.

Blue hadn’t stopped staring at him. Echo chittered loudly, seeming to try and pull Owen’s attention. He knew better than to glance her way, very familiar with how his pack hunted.

“I know you’re there, Echo. I’m busy at the moment. Gotta’ keep my eyes on the boss.” Owen felt the ground shudder and he was not ashamed to admit that he lost his breath for a second or twelve when the I. Rex rounded the corner of Main Street. The sheer mass of the creature was terrifying by itself, never mind that it had been specifically engineered to be scary (ala the Carnotaurus motif; Owen was honestly surprised that they hadn’t given the thing blatant horns on its skull instead of the smaller protrusions). The jaw structure designed to crush, the spines that were obviously cosmetic. What the hell did a fake dinosaur in solitary confinement need defensive spikes for anyhow?

“Imagine that one, fraction of the size. Deadly, intelligent, able to hide from the most advanced military technology.”

Owen could still barely wrap his head around the fact that Hoskins had thought this was a good idea. Not only that, but good enough to pour inGen’s resources into indiscriminately. Sure, he’d had a bit of a clue that he wasn’t being hired to train Velociraptors to balance balls on their noses or clap like goddamn seals, but if he had known that the end game was a fake T. Rex with goddamn cloaking, social anxiety and an incurable affection for cranes he doubted he would have taken the job.

The Indominus Rex rumbled at the Velociraptors. Owen could practically hear it pitching a tantrum, why haven’t you eaten them yet?! Blue turned to hiss back, snapping her jaws and surprising the hell out of Owen with her defiance. For the first time since Delta chased them back out of the Innovations Center he felt a faint glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe.

“Pointers for working with large carnivores?” She muttered out of the side of her mouth. It was a relief to realize that she wasn’t scared brainless. Shitless maybe, but she hadn’t fainted and her gears were still turning. The hope burned a little brighter.

“Avoid doing so. Barring that, be really fast and good at hiding. Mask your scent.” Owen replied. “This thing…it isn’t exactly well-adjusted. Little to no training, not like my raptors. Hell, Rexy is more trained than this thing.”

“Well you could have just said that we were fucked.”

“I don’t know if we are yet.” Owen said evenly, watching Blue interact in a more and more hostile manner with the genetic mishmash towering over them. “We’ve got a prayer here. I think Blue took me back as alpha, s’long as my girls can keep it together we have a shot.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Owen caught the wave of hysterical laughter that wanted to break free, the barest snicker escaping him. “I meant the raptors.”

“Rude.” The fact that she could be glib at a time like this was unexpectedly comforting. Owen eased his hand down and wrapped his fingers around her own, squeezing lightly. She squeezed back after a moment. “Thank you. Sorry.”

Blue screeched abruptly and the I. Rex roared furiously in reply, swiping the beta into the wall of the nearby Starbucks. The Velociraptor slumped to the ground and Owen barely kept from screaming, biting down on his fist. Blue!

Echo and Delta both turned to face the Indominus, angrily chirruping and snapping at the large creature. Owen, doing his damnedest to wrestle himself back under control, felt the volunteer's grip tighten on his hand again. He didn’t have the luxury of going to pieces right now, dammit. He still had his rifle. He still had two of his girls. His eyes narrowed and he sucked in a breath, then emitted a piercing whistle.

The raptors immediately went on the offensive, clawing and tearing their way up the sides of the Indominus. Owen gave the woman a quick push towards a small merchandise kiosk and she bolted for the building, leaving him with the remainder of his pack and the giant creature in the middle of Main Street.

Hell of a showdown. Owen smiled grimly, slinging his rifle around and setting the stock firmly before taking his first shot. Circling the massive beast, firing whenever he had a clear line of sight, Owen did everything that he could to put dents in the thing’s armor so his girls would have a better (albeit slim) chance of tearing it apart.

Hell of a way to die. His brow furrowed and he pulled the trigger again.

When Delta was flung through the Winston’s Steakhouse window and promptly roasted alive in a burst of flame from the still-active grill, when the Indominus crushed Echo in her jaws and tossed her aside, Owen felt his guts seize. His fingers grew clumsy as he reloaded and he almost dropped his rifle, blinking back the tears. He’d raised these animals, God damn it, imprinted on them, grown with them. He thought of the woman who cared for the Apatosaurus herd, putting her own sorrow on the back burner to assure the long-necked herbivore that it was alright to leave.

“No one will be mad at you.”

There would be time to mourn, assuming he got out of this alive. Time to grieve the loss of his pack. But at this moment there was no room for sorrow.

Owen made a mad dash for the relative shelter of the kiosk, but to his horror when he vaulted over the counter he found the tiny store deserted. Oh no. He heard a loud, rattling inhale behind him and he froze, listening to the I. Rex tramp around outside. The huge jaw of the creature banged into the side of the kiosk, tossing stuffed dinosaurs and T-shirts onto the young man. He was well and truly screwed, he realized as the Indominus’ talons broke through the side of the kiosk and gouged the floor in an attempt to tear him apart.

He pressed himself against the opposite wall, wishing that he could close his eyes and open them again to find that this was all a bad dream. His girls were gone, and he was about to be torn limb from limb by some bastardized horror show of a dinosaur. His only solace in that moment was knowing that he’d fulfilled his promise to that volunteer. Because obviously she was safe, she was probably boarding the ferry right now.

The Indominus isn’t moving its feet but the ground is shaking, why is the ground shaking if the Indominus isn’t moving?

Owen could feel the thunder of colossal footsteps and he saw a flare go sailing by to bounce off the side of the creature attempting to eat him alive. His eyes widened. Oh Jesus, she didn’t-

The trumpeting roar that Rexy let out was teeth-rattling, he had heard her before of course but always from a safe distance. Being up close and personal with the park’s goat-fed matriarch was an experience he could have lived without. He caught the barest glimpse of the volunteer, standing practically beneath the T. Rex. Holy shit, she did. His flicker of admiration was short-lived as Rexy and the Indominus met each other head-on almost directly in front of his hideout.

Owen would have nightmares later on, about being crushed to death or torn apart when the T. Rex ended up crashing through the side of his hideout. In the moment though he wildly debated just jamming his rifle into the animal’s gaping maw and firing until she decided to latch onto him. At least he’d go down fighting like his girls.

But the Indominus dragged Rexy back out without giving him the chance to act on his crazy idea, and Owen bolted from the stand seconds before it collapsed on top of him.

Adrenaline give me fucking strength!

He careened to a halt beside the woman who had taken up shelter by a large volcanic boulder on display, unsure of whether he ought to kiss her or scream at her because what the fuck, the T. Rex?! She caught his hand and clung to it tightly, which sort of made the decision a little simpler.

To Owen’s horror he suddenly realized that the Indominus appeared to be gaining the advantage, flooring Rexy and pinning her head and neck with its claws. The I. Rex opened those fearsome jaws, leisurely moving in to rip Rexy’s throat out and Owen turned his head away, refusing to watch another animal die at the proverbial hands of this beast. She buried her face in his chest, tears soaking his shirt as she seemed to grasp that Rexy had been their last-ditch effort, and the odds were not exactly in their favor.

A faint sound caught Owen’s attention, making him jerk his eyes back up. He hardly dared to hope, but-

“Blue.” He breathed, recognizing her distinctive, ‘coughing’ call. The raptor, coming from the far end of Main Street, quickly picked up speed and vaulted off of Rexy’s prone form to fling herself at the face of the Indominus. The I. Rex brayed in confusion, swinging wildly in an attempt to shake off the Velociraptor and not appearing to notice when the T. Rex rolled back onto her feet. But it sure as hell noticed a second later when Rexy caught it around the throat and slammed it up against the wall nearby. Sparks popped and hissed as elaborate lighting fixtures were destroyed, showering the two humans hiding behind the rock with glass and other small debris.

Owen gripped the volunteer’s arm and fled across the plaza into the larger gift shop, knowing that the building would at least provide them some cover. When Blue crashed through the glass in front of them and immediately got back to her feet he wanted to holler, to tell her she was doing a ‘great damn job!’ But he stifled the urge so as not to distract the only surviving member of his pack. The beta had more than enough problems to worry about without being made victim to his emotional, human responses.

Owen felt a faint twinge of remorse when Rexy forced the Indominus into the side of Margaritaville, a little amused with himself for thinking about drinks at a time like this. But if they survived this endeavor, he knew exactly where he would go. The volunteer gripped his arm tightly, her breath coming in panicky gasps. She didn’t seem able to look away from the clash of the titans going on mere feet in front of them.

Rexy tossed the I. Rex into the metal fencing surrounding the lagoon, sending a portion of it crashing into the water. The Indominus floundered back to its feet, that terrifying, discordant roar echoing on Main Street as it stood. Blue screeched loudly in reply and Rexy opened her own jaws wide to bellow.

In all the chaos Owen had forgotten about the denizen of the lagoon. Mosasaurs hunt close to the surface of the water...fish, turtles, smaller Mosasaurs. The aquatic predator leaped headlong at the I. Rex through the freshly-made gap in the fence, sinking her teeth into the creature’s neck. The Indominus flailed for a split second before being dragged bodily into the lagoon.

There was a long moment of silence, and then the haunting, low frequency call of the feeding Mosasaurus faintly reached Owen’s ears. He exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in a long, slow whoosh.

The volunteer let go of his arm, fumbling at her waist for something as Rexy stared at Blue. The raptor chittered uneasily at the larger animal and Owen took in the long-scarred wounds on Rexy’s neck beneath all the fresh ones. Velociraptor claw marks, he was sure of it. But how could that have happened?

She was from the first attempt Grady, it ain’t like that shit went well.

A snapping noise pulled his attention to the woman beside him and he was horrified to see a now-burning flare held tightly in her hand. The noise and light had also gotten Rexy’s attention, distracting her from the Velociraptor. Owen felt a wave of gratitude almost overcome the panic he felt, she had (intentionally or otherwise) saved his last raptor. But before he could so much as open his mouth the woman took off at a dead sprint back across Main Street. Paddock Nine, Owen thought numbly, watching her raise the clunky walkie-talkie to her mouth. She’s going to try and get her back in her cage. Jesus fucking Christ.

Blue chirped uncertainly at him, turning to watch Rexy tromp off after the woman. Owen’s voice shook as he called to Blue, snagging her attention so she wouldn’t give chase. “Good girl. Jesus Christ Blue, I think you’re the only one who’s ever teamed up with a T. Rex and lived to talk about it.” He extended his hand, clicking his tongue in an imitation of his training clicker when she didn’t immediately go into an aggressive stance. “Good girl, shit I wish I had somethin’ to give you. You done damn good, Blue.” He praised, chuckling incredulously.

She croaked at him and he mimicked the noise, wishing now more than ever that they had dedicated less time to getting the raptors under their thumb and more time to understanding them. He would have happily handed over every one of his paychecks from inGen if it meant he could have communicated better with his girls. Blue gave one last fond-sounding whiffle of breath and headed off in the direction of the Innovations building. Owen had to blink back the tears again as he heard her call for her deceased pack mates, the familiar grunts and snaps going unanswered in the night.

He finally shook himself bodily and urged his exhausted legs to carry him across the square, giving the area of destroyed fencing a wide berth. That would be just his luck. Paddock Nine. He picked up speed despite his weariness, the fear finally seeming to hit him. She’s alone with a fucking T. Rex and she’s unarmed, oh my God. Owen’s eyes narrowed and he began reloading his rifle as he ran. She had saved Blue. He would be damned if she died without him tearing at least a few holes in that T. Rex.

His frantic run was cut short as he came whipping down the long passageway between the paddocks and foggily noticed that Paddock Nine was in fact, closed up nice and tight. What really got his attention was the body curled against the wall on the opposite side, a walkie-talkie resting on the ground nearby.

“Hey!” He yelled, almost slipping on the smooth cement in his haste to reach her. “Shit, shit shit shit, no no, fuck c’mon, don’t do this shit to me.” He swore under his breath as he dropped to his knees.

She raised her face to look at him dazedly, her cheeks wet with tears. “I…”

“Fucking hell.” Owen wrapped her in a fierce hug, cutting off whatever else she might have said. “You gave me such a fucking scare, what the hell were you thinkin’?” He scolded, both irritated and relieved beyond measure.

“I didn’t…your raptors--I-I j-just…” Her voice petered out and she slid her arms beneath his own, digging her fingers into his vest. “I couldn’t w-w-watch that, n-not again.” She managed to sob. “M’ so sorry, I j-just--”

Owen hushed her, rubbing her back in slow, careful circles and letting her cry. “I didn’t mean t’ yell at you. I’m glad you’re safe.” He said quietly. “I owe you at least one debt of gratitude for savin’ my girl. Two, if you count savin�� my ass as worthwhile.”

“God Mr. Grady, I’m fucking exhausted.” She said bluntly, making him chuckle. “I am…I am clearly out of shape, Jesus Christ. Rexy running buddy is a hell of a motivator.”

“So I saw. We’re lucky she’s well-fed and curious.” Owen got to his feet and held out his hand. “I’m lucky that you’re so smart.” He said a little quieter, almost to himself. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t had brushes with death before, but never with quite so many teeth.

“No, you’re lucky I’m too dumb to think about things before I do them. Otherwise I would have been scared stiff.” She corrected, grabbing his hand and letting him haul her upright. “Holy shit, I can’t even believe we did it. Wow.” Her fingers clenched in the fabric of his shirt and she swayed on her feet, stumbling a step.

“Whoa, easy now.” Owen steadied her, sliding an arm beneath her shoulders. “Easy. We’ll get back to the plaza, okay? See if we can grab some grub. I don’t know about you, but I’m fucking starvin’.”

“That sounds incredible.” She murmured, putting one foot in front of the other at his gentle urging. “Sleep after that, yeah?”

“Hell yeah. We are gonna’ sleep like the dead.” Owen wasn’t sure if he would ever sleep again after everything that had happened. “We’re sticking together though, I don’t know if the volunteer bunkhouse has been compromised. Plus, I ain’t exactly gonna’ leave you alone out here.”

“Thank you.” She suddenly let out a hysterical little giggle. “I outran a T. Rex.”

“Twice!” Owen added, the insanity of that statement hitting him. “You were phenomenal, I’ve never seen shit like that. I thought I was dead. I hoped you got to the ferry and that I’d bought you enough time and instead you came back, whippin’ that flare at the Indominus like a crisp Washington at a stripper. Jesus.”

She snorted with laughter, knocking the side of her head into his chest. “We’re just lucky there was still someone in Central Control.”

“And that you were smart enough to think of setting up a real-life Godzilla fight. Maybe a little further away from me next time though, okay?” Owen joked.

“I’ll do my best.”

He found himself gripping her a little tighter than he needed to as he made a beeline for the shattered remains of Margaritaville, carefully stepping through the destroyed front of the bar. “What’s your opinion on strawberries?”

…

The MVU drove like a boat and Owen was a nervous wreck about his motorcycle tumbling out of the back, doing his damnedest to avoid every bump on the road. The Scrambler was kind of his prized possession. A grin snuck across his face at the memory of riding through the forest with his girls. Hunting together like a real, honest-to-goodness raptor pack.

The grin faded as he remembered Charlie getting blown to pieces minutes later. At least I still have Blue. He wasn’t sure if raptors were intelligent to the point of understanding death, or whether Blue would keep looking for them forever. His heart sank a little at the idea of poor Blue calling for her pack.

We’re all that’s left. Dogs of war, like Hoskins said. He glanced over at the woman in the passenger seat. Her back was ramrod-straight, arms firmly wrapped around the bottles of tequila and miscellaneous provisions he’d rustled up. Well, dogs of war and one…volunteer of war. She stared straight ahead, jumping a little when he quietly said her name. “You alright? Almost home.”

“I’m okay. Just…kind of rattled.” She tried to smile at him.

“Almost there.” He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, noticing the sky pinking up overhead. “We’ll catch some Zs and then…shit, we gotta’ feed the whole damn island. I don’t know whether inGen is gonna’ send more troopers so I guess we’ve got a pretty big mission on our hands.”

“It’s the carnivores that will be the problem. Ninety-five percent of the herbivores are foragers anyway.” She dug her wallet out of her back pocket, searching for something in it. “Sharks for the Mosasaur, along with a giant bottle of Pepto because I bet that I. Rex gave it indigestion…goat for Rexy. Two goats for Rexy. Six goats for Rexy. Ferns for my girls and for the Anks and Gallies. Shit, what will we do about the Pterodactyls? Yes, I still have my access card. Okay. As long as the security protocols haven’t been messed with we should be fine.”

“And if they have?” Owen asked.

“I guess we’ll pray that there’s one nerd left in Central Control.”

He nodded, sighing in relief as the bungalow appeared in his headlights. “Jesus, home sweet home never looked so damn good. Food before bed?” She shook her head, her exhaustion putting itself on full display when she nearly tumbled out the door of the MVU. “Whoa, easy there!” Owen grabbed her arm to catch her, not letting go until she got both feet on the ground. “You got precious cargo, right? Have to be careful.” The excuse was flimsy and he knew it even as he nodded towards the tequila.

She nodded back, her eyes already half-closed. She was fading fast. Owen hurried through the motions of unlocking his door and he ushered her inside, probably nearly breaking the bottles of alcohol when he took them from her slack grip and essentially tossed them off to the side. She made a noise of protest and he hushed her again, leading her to the futon.

“I’ll grab you a sheet, get the fan going. Just take your boots off.” She obediently sat to undo her laces and he headed to the bathroom to find his barely-used second set of sheets.

This isn’t normally what happens when I bring a chick back to my place, Owen thought with a touch of amusement as he unfolded the sheet and snapped it over the edges of the futon. She was on the soft surface almost before he was done and Owen couldn’t keep from chuckling, pulling the flat sheet up over her shoulders. On an impulse he stroked her hair and he just barely heard her murmur, “good night, Mr. Grady.”

Guess I can make an exception.

…

He wasn’t sure what time he had gone to sleep, but when he was shaken awake the clock displayed nine sixteen. He groaned loudly, swatting at the hand on his shoulder. “Not yet, c’mon.” He snuggled back down into his pillow with a sigh, closing his eyes again. Wait, since when do I live with anyone?! His eyes shot open and he sat bolt upright, flinging the pillow off to the side. It was that woman, the volunteer, looking disheveled. Owen’s eyes narrowed for a minute as he stared silently at her. The events of the previous day came flooding back in suddenly and he dropped his face into his hands, groaning again. “Fuck, fuck fuck.”

“You have a…guest.” She said, raising an eyebrow.

“S’it Barry?” She shook her head. Owen peeled the sheet back and got to his feet, yawning and then pulling on his boots as an afterthought. Extra clothes could wait until he had shooed whatever bigwig on his doorstep off into the jungle where they belonged.

He opened the door, fully prepared to lean against the frame in the most insolent fashion he could muster up. So he almost fell off his porch when he realized who it was.

“Blue!” The Velociraptor stood at the bottom of the steps, cocking her head to the side and chirruping at him. “You…good girl, good girl!” Owen felt like he was going to burst with happiness. She came back. Something touched his hand and he quickly closed his fingers around it, wary of breaking eye contact with his beta.

The volunteer had gotten one of the rats from his fridge. “I assumed they were for her and not for breakfast,” The woman said in a wry whisper, “but if you'd like I could try to whip her up an omelet instead.”

“I think this will do just fine.” Then, “Blue! Eyes on me!” Owen said firmly, absolutely flush with pride when the raptor immediately straightened up, her attention on the rat in his hand. “You're the only one left now, girl. I guess that means I'm gonna' have to spoil you.” He tossed the rat to the deadly predator at the edge of his porch, smiling through his tears as he watched her quickly devour it. “Alright Blue, breakfast is over. Go!” He ordered, gesturing off towards the thick foliage. She hesitated for a moment, looking up at him and seeming confused. “Go on, Blue. It's alright.” He said, a little less firm. “I'll...I'll see you later, okay girl?” Owen was pretty sure she didn't understand the sentiment, but he could hope.

The Velociraptor purred at him and then bolted into the undergrowth on the outskirts of the little plot his residence rested on. Owen rubbed at his eyes, doing his best to keep himself together. The volunteer put a hand on his shoulder and he felt his self-control slide a fraction. “You're a good alpha. She'll be back.”

“I can't...God, I hope so.” Owen mumbled, “She's all I've got now.”

“She will.” She squeezed his shoulder and then stepped back. “Alright, we have a hell of a day ahead of us. Should we get started, Mr. Grady?”

“Call me Owen.” He didn't know why it mattered all of a sudden. She'd been calling him Mr. Grady since they'd met. “Please.”

“Okay...Owen.”

…

From Ankylosaurs to Suchomimus, Baronyx to Triceratops and everything in between, they worked their way through the paddocks and enclosures. Not for the first time Owen was immensely grateful for the automated systems that were in place, and the scientific advances that made cloning so stupid simple they wouldn't run out of meat and vegetation for months (resources permitting, naturally).

She kept him talking as they finally rattled along through the Apatosaurus field, which was a comfort in and of itself. He could tell she needed it too, her words fading a little once they came across the first huge carcass covered in noisily-squawking vultures and crows. He reached over the gear shift in the Jeep to rest his hand on her thigh for a second, pulling her attention back to him. “It's alright.” He said quietly.

She smiled at him, tears threatening to fall regardless. “We waste so much, you know? As humans. I wish...I'd love to have them back.” She murmured, gesturing over her shoulder.

“I'd give anythin' to have the memory of Charlie getting blown to bits turn out to be nothing but a bad dream,” Owen confessed, “but the truth is that neither of us are getting our girls back. All we can do is work to keep the survivors in good health and just...try to take care of each other, I guess.”

“I'm glad you're here, Mr.--Owen, sorry. I don't know what would have happened to me if you hadn't showed up.” She twiddled her fingers. “I’m glad that--oh, here we are!” She said hurriedly, patting his hand on the gearshift. “Right here, see?”

The far-off buzz of a small motor caught Owen’s attention while she was up in the tree and he quickly checked his rifle over. God only knew who might be coming. He knew if it was inGen they would be shit out of luck.

Owen breathed a sigh of relief when he realized it was Barry. The larger man’s four-wheeler skidded to a halt and he quickly dismounted. “Owen fucking Grady, you are a sight for sore eyes!” Barry exclaimed, hauling the other man in for a lung-collapsing hug.

“Hey man. Glad you’re okay.” Owen wheezed.

“I thought you were dead, Owen!” Barry held him at arm’s length, looking him over critically. “You look half-dead, or around that percentage. Merde.”

“Always know how to make a guy feel better, Barry.” Owen said wryly.

Barry laughed at that, rumpling Owen’s hair. “Not much sleep for either of us, yes? What are you doing out here, anyway?”

“I’ve got uh…guard duty.” Owen flicked a finger upwards at the tree. “We’ve been workin’ ourselves to the bone gettin’ the island fed, man. My whole body hurts. Pretty sure she’s in the same boat, but these herbivores are like her raptors.” Owen shrugged and Barry shielded his eyes, squinting up at the tree.

“Sorry Owen, she’s obviously too smart and adventurous for you. Hello again!” He called, waving at the woman. She waved back, yelling something in reply.

Owen chuckled at his friend’s antics, shoving his shoulder roughly. “Easy. We’ve had a hell of a night. That Mosasaur popped up in the absolute nick of time and--shit, that woman up there outran Rexy. Twice.” He said proudly.

“Careful Owen, I think you have a crush!” Barry teased.

“You’re damn fucking right I do!” Owen grinned. “I tell you what, the next time a good-looking gal outruns an apex predator for you, I’ll ask when the wedding is.”

Barry held up his hands in surrender, still smiling. “Fair enough.”

She dropped to the grass between the two of them, but before Owen could so much as get a word out she had bolted, heading for the rapidly-approaching form of an Apatosaurus. “Shirley!”

Barry snorted. “She even named them old lady names.”

“Hey, we can’t all be elite dolphin-raptor trainers. I’m tired to death of calling animals Sierra Hotel India Tango or whatever the fuck.”

“Our girls are gone, aren’t they?” Barry asked softly as they watched the woman practically cavort around the tree trunk legs of the huge herbivore. “I saw Echo, and I assume Delta. What was left of her, anyway.”

“Blue is…Blue’s what we have now.” Owen swallowed, the words thick in his throat. “After Charlie got…I mean, Delta and Echo fought hard but that giant fucker just…”

Barry jammed his hands into his pockets. “Fucking Hoskins.” He said finally.

“Delta got him.” Owen remembered the weird sensation of simultaneously being proud as hell and terrified when Delta latched down on Hoskins’ hand. He’d done that move a thousand times and to see it backfire on someone else…well, if he wasn’t respectful of the danger that came with the job before, he sure as heck was after that. “It was a sight.”

“My girl.” Barry shook his head. “She hated him from the start. It is fitting, I suppose.” He turned to look at Owen. “This is such a mess.”

“You said it.” Owen agreed. “All that research. All that effort, time and energy. So Vic could flush it at the first chance he got. We worked with those animals for two years.”

“I hear you, Owen. It is…it is difficult to understand men like Vic Hoskins. Especially when I don’t really want to.” Barry said bluntly. “Look at her with her big friend. No one normal who looks at that would think of making her twist that animal to do her bidding. They are better this way.”

Owen decided that changing the subject was in his best interest. Barry could use some good news. “Blue showed up for breakfast this morning.”

“Good! She is free-roaming then?”

“I don’t know if she knows that the others are gone yet, I think she may be looking for them. But yeah,” Owen nodded, “she’s all grown up now, I guess.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Barry murmured. “Let her be free before inGen comes swooping back in and starts ruining everything all over again.” He shook himself bodily after a few moments of brooding. “I have to get back to work. Some of the containment fences were damaged so I have been working with the young man in Central Control to get them back online. I will see you later, Owen.” He extended a hand to Owen, who pulled him into a hug instead.

“Take care of yourself, man.”

…

“So I know the dinosaurs don’t mind, and maybe you don’t mind. But I know for a fact that I probably smell like a landfill at this point.” She said out of the blue as the vehicle trundled along the access road. “If there is a shower situation at your uh…cabin, trailer thing, I would-”

“It’s a bungalow.” Owen corrected, grinning when she stuck her tongue out at him. “Get it right, shit.”

“Oh my apologies, your highness.” She snickered. “I didn’t think you had a shower. You don’t look like the showering type.”

“You got me. I’d rather haul Ma’s old wash tub out into my front yard and share bathwater with the raptors.” Owen teased. “It’s a freein’ experience.”

“…Can I borrow a towel and a toothbrush, or do you share those with your pack too?”

“’Course I share ‘em with my pack. That’s why you’re welcome to ‘em.” Owen listened to her sputter, his grin widening. “Heck, you ask nice and I might even rustle up some clothes for you. Hope you like neutrals though. Bright colors would distract my girls. I’ve got one of those little washers if you wanna’ wash your stuff.”

“What a gentleman.” She pretended to swoon and Owen reached over to tousle her hair.

“I’m sure that’s exactly what every ex I’ve ever had will tell you. Definitely not ‘he loves those dolphins more than me!’ or ‘I wish he’d jump off a cliff!’” Owen mimicked in a falsetto voice. “Obviously I’m irresistible. That’s why the only ladies that will associate with me are intelligent predators…and the animals, too.”

“Oo, low blow. Well I guess coming across me was a stroke of luck on your part, seeing as how I’m neither of those things.”

Owen almost choked while she smiled in a rather self-satisfied manner. “You sure about that? Because that was an ambush if I ever saw one.”

“Seriously though, you trained dolphins? How cool was that? Did you learn all the clicks and whistles and shit?!” She asked excitedly. “Are they as smooth as they look, or are they like sharks?”

“Why does everyone always ask about the--yes, okay? I learned a few basic…clicks.” He huffed, a little embarrassed. “And they’re smooth.”

“Is that why they had you train the raptors? Are pods like the pack mentality?”

“I think they took one look at my file and went ‘yeah, he’s nuts, sign him up!’” Owen joked. “Oh, maybe they thought I was qualified? I definitely needed help though, that’s why I had them give Barry a call. Otherwise you can bet them khaki shorts that I’d have been raptor chow ages ago.”

“You’ve had such a cool run of it. God.” She settled back in her seat. “I wish I could have done something like that. Instead, I make king-size salads.”

“Hey, we all serve a purpose. Without you pulling Rexy, Blue would have died.” Owen cleared his throat. “Me too, of course.”

“Yeah but if you hadn’t stopped yesterday in the first place I would probably be eviscerated in the jungle somewhere.” She pointed out glumly. “We may all serve a purpose but I guess yours is just a bit more lofty than mine.”

“It ain’t your fault you’re not Navy bred. You might wanna’ consider heading through a basic training program, you’re good at thinkin’ on your feet.” Owen regretted it as soon as he said it. The last thing he wanted was one more person chewed up and spat out by a military system that would grind that compassion right out of her. “I mean, tactically speaking. It uh. Looks good on a resume.”

“'Tactically speaking’? What a nerd.” She snorted, making him chuckle. “Nah, I know I’d definitely get eaten alive in a military environment. Thanks for the suggestion, though. And the compliment.”

“Hey, I told you. I’m irresistible.” Owen winked, thoroughly enjoying the way she rolled her eyes at him.

…

“They sound more like-” Owen clicked his tongue and then his teeth, mustering up a few sloppy chirps. She burst into giggles, almost falling off the edge of the futon. He laughed along with her, pleasantly tipsy himself. The tequila was great stuff, Cretaceous Era agave made a hell of a drink. He knew that for most people, the allure of tequila was the complicated bullshit involved in drinking it, combined (of course) with the possible chance of licking someone else’s body. But for him, the enjoyment came from nursing a heavy-handed margarita and swapping tales with the rich old bastards that frequented Margaritaville.

This is nice too, though he decided, watching the way she smiled brightly. She was still hiccupping giggles, fishing a frozen strawberry out of her cup with her fingers.

Owen took a minute to study her. Mostly how she looked in his clothes. “You’re incredible. You understand that, right?” He asked quietly, making her look up at him. “You…hell, no one, and I mean no one, would have blamed you for running your ass down to the docks and gettin’ the hell off this island. But you didn’t. Blue and I are still breathin’ because of you.” He paused to take a sip of his drink. “I dunno’ if I’m getting all sappy because I miss my girls or whatever the hell but…but seriously. You’re incredible.”

She was shaking her head before he was done talking. “No, m’ really not Owen. You don’t have to lie to me to make me feel better. I think it was just like…a series of progressively dumber choices that somehow panned out. A hell of a lot of luck.”

“Well shit. I guess you’re my lucky charm then because damn, the fucking T. Rex is still blowing my mind.” Owen grinned, bumping her shoulder with his own.

She didn’t return his smile, though. If anything, she looked strangely serious. She swirled the liquid in her cup for a second, like she was thinking about something. Owen took the moment to finish off his own glass. “So…on Main Street, when that Dimorphodon was trying to eat your face and I whacked it, tranq'ed it and pulled you back up, I thought you were…that is, I hoped that…” She fell silent and Owen was startled to realize that she was blushing.

He wracked his brain for what had happened. There had been so many close calls just during that assault alone, it was a little jumbled.

“Thanks for the save, sweetheart.” He’d said breathlessly, her body pressed flush against his own. He could feel the way she was shaking, her heart pounding in her chest. She had swallowed, looking up at him wide-eyed, lips slightly parted and-

Oh. Owen felt a wave of heat rush over his body. “You…you were waiting for me to…” He ran a hand through his hair.

“I mean, not exactly? It was just that kind of moment. In the movies you see it all the time.” She explained. “Someone saves someone else and in the heat of the moment it’s totally ludicrous but they somehow manage to avoid getting killed long enough to kiss.”

“I mean I’m not gonna’ say I didn’t think about it.” Owen said honestly. “You saved my face with your quick rifle-butting. I definitely thought about it.”

“Really?”

“'Course! You’re damn pretty and you had literally just kept my skull in one piece. I…if I’d…look, we’ll re-enact it, okay? Here, stand up.” He urged her upright and then rolled off the futon onto the floor, pretending to grapple with a winged fiend snapping wildly at his face. “And then you come in with the butt of the gun like ‘bang!’” Owen laughed as she ‘aimed down the sights’ of her finger gun and stuck her tongue out. “Lights out, little bastard. And then!” He held out his hand and she only stumbled a little bit when hauling him upright.

Owen pulled her up against him just like last time, acting like he was taking a gun from her hands and surprising a laugh out of her. He couldn’t help pushing a stray lock of still slightly-damp hair back behind her ear, watching how she nervously licked her lips.

“You saved my life.” Owen found himself suddenly serious, pressing his forehead to her own. “You saved my damn life, sweetheart. Anythin’ you want, it’s yours.” The sincerity in his voice came naturally.

“Kiss me?” She asked softly, lowering her eyes when Owen cupped her face. “Please?”

“You got it, sweetheart.” He murmured, pressing his mouth to hers. She held onto his shirt as he licked into her mouth, tasting her for the first time. “Damn.” He breathed softly when he finally pulled away. “It is a very good thing that I didn’t do that the first time.”

“Why?” She asked, looking a little dazed.

“Because now I can do this.” Owen kissed her again, harder this time. He felt her hold on his shirt tighten and she whimpered, almost a mewl. Oh they would have been absolutely screwed because that noise alone had his body lighting right the hell up. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you might like when I kiss you.”

She nodded, ducking her face into his chest. “I do.”

“You want more?” He asked softly, tipping her face back up. “I’m not inclined to deny a pretty girl a request.”

“I’m not-”

“Trust me sweetheart, you are.” He interrupted, knowing where she was headed. “You don’t get it, I guess.”

“Get what?”

He shrugged, smiling ruefully. “I’m better with animals than people. Always have been. But there’s no deceptive crap with animals and I piss a lot of humans off by being too blunt. When I say something’s true though, you can bet your ass I believe it’s gospel. So don’t…don’t put yourself down. You’re beautiful, okay?”

“I mean…I have good days just like everyone else.” She seemed flustered and it was weirdly gratifying to see.

“Yeah, every day that ends with ‘y’.” Owen teased, smoothing out the hem of the shirt he had loaned her. His lighthearted mood faded relatively quickly, the quiet sadness bubbling back to the surface. “Listen,” He continued a little quieter, “I’m kind of a broken guy right now. Lost most of my family last night. But you keepin’ me busy today got my mind off it. Tequila’s easing the edge on the hurting bullshit at the moment. I should probably put on some James Taylor and get into bed before I make a fool of myself, I just…I wouldn’t mind a little company tonight, is all.�� He mumbled, surprised when her hand cupped the back of his neck and tugged him down.

She tucked his face into the crook of her neck and shoulder, stroking his hair in a soothing motion. Owen grimaced, fingers digging into her shoulder blades as he held her tightly. “You’re allowed to be sad.” She whispered.

“I’m not some gargantuan herbivore for you to console.” Owen muttered, a little off-balance.

“You can be angry, too. I know a lot of people find that easier. But you’re allowed to be sad.” She repeated firmly, pulling away and taking his hand. “C’mon, Owen. I guess I can keep you company.”

“Well you’re just a swell one, aren’t you?” He allowed himself to be led to his own bedroom. “Your sacrifice is duly noted.”

“Oh please, shush.” She scolded, “I’m doing this because I want to. Your sarcasm is unnecessary.” Her irritated face was almost too cute. Owen was powerless to resist kissing her nose, chuckling at the expression she made.

“I wasn’t being real serious, you don’t have to-”

“Ah ah, no take-backsies Grady. You’re stuck with me.” She laid down, sprawling across the bed almost diagonal with a very satisfied smirk on her face as she looked up at him. “And now I’ve taken your whole mattress. My master plan this entire time, finally come to fruition.”

“God, you’re weird.” Owen straddled her, mouthing down her neck slowly. “You’re lucky I like my women dangerous.” He murmured against her skin.

“I dunno’ if I would consider myself dangerous.”

“Oh you’re dangerous as hell, sweetheart. Those eyes? These curves?” Owen dropped a hand to her thigh, loving the way she moved up at his touch. “You’re nine hundred miles worth of dangerous and I want to learn every damn inch if you’ll let me.”

“Yeah?” She propped herself up, meeting his mouth in another languid kiss. “I think I’d like that, Owen.” She breathed, nipping at his lower lip.

Owen groaned when she arched her back, pressing her body against his. “I love you wearin’ my shirt, but I think you’d probably look better without it.”

“You take yours off first. Please?” She requested. Owen quickly obliged, leaning back to undo those fiddly buttons. She held her arms up once he was done and he tugged the long-sleeved shirt up and over her head. Owen took a second there to observe her, committing to memory the way the dim light of his lone bedside lamp had turned her into a gentle fantasy, here for him and him alone.

He made a soft noise in his throat that she answered with one of her own, urging him to touch her, taste her, to know that she was real and here. Owen fairly devoured her at her request, love bites blooming on her breasts and neck as he took his time to learn what she liked.

It was only once she was a heated mess, her hair sticking to her forehead and her whole body flushed with arousal that Owen moved lower. He was a firm believer that the wait was what tended to make the act, so to speak, and he continued his methodical exploration with his hands. She cried out when he slowly slid two fingers inside her, her hand coming up to grip his short hair tightly. He lost his breath a little at just how wet she was, feeling almost stupidly proud of himself. “More?” He asked, muffling his satisfied growl by kissing her thigh when she touched her fingers to his own and nodded furiously. “How much?”

“All of it.” She sounded a bit desperate, a bit exasperated. An excellent combination, in Owen’s not-so-humble opinion. “Please, Owen, I need you.”

That caught him funny in the chest and he propped himself up, kissing her hard. “Goddamn sweetheart, you make me feel worthwhile.” He said thickly, rubbing his thumb over her clit in tough little circles. She moved her hips up to meet his motions, eager sounds and his name falling from her lips in a ridiculously attractive fashion. “Absolutely worthwhile. I told you that you were dangerous.”

She huffed out a breath and he relented, his next kiss lazier while he unbuttoned his pants and struggled out of them. Granted, it would have absolutely been simpler if he'd stopped kissing and touching her to take them off, but there was the whole 'stop kissing and touching her' part of that plan that didn't appeal to him in the slightest.

Owen propped himself up on his elbows again, this time searching her eyes. It was an ingrained habit at this point to scan the body language of whoever he decided was worth this kind of effort, he couldn't exactly help it. But what he saw there thrilled him to his core. Pupils dilated, shoulders relaxed, hands coming up to frame his sides. Her thighs trembling a little and she's smiling, fuck she's smiling at me, she's enjoying this, she likes this he realized, not sure why that surprised him so much. He wasn't necessarily one to brag, but he'd had his name screamed once or twice.

This was just...it was easy and gentle, not frantic at all like it usually ended up being when he reached this point. “Are you okay? We can stop, if you need to.” She offered softly, seeming to misunderstand his hesitation.

“Oh I am great. Never better.” He smiled, bumping their foreheads together. “You ready?”

“Please.” Her voice was a whisper, a crooning plea that drew itself into a moan as he carefully, carefully entered her. “God.”

Owen gritted his teeth at the sound of her voice, the blatant heat there that sent an electric jolt down his spine. “Fuck's sake sweetheart you...fuck.” He forced himself to be slow, to take his time and let her adjust. He waited again until she was begging, until she was squirming.

Kisses, hungry, needy kisses kept pressing to his jaw and throat, stuttering his breathing every time because it was never this way. It had been ages since anyone so much as bothered to try to match the attention and affection he invested when it came to sex, so long that he'd almost forgotten what it felt like to enjoy what he was doing instead of worrying about putting on a great performance. She kept saying his name and all these good things about him, about how much she liked it, her fingers digging into his back as his thrusts picked up.

“You can still talk. Means m' not doin' my job right.” Owen panted, coaxing her knees up over his shoulders and planting a few kisses on the skin of her thigh while he fucked down into her deeper. “Touch yourself for me, sweetheart, please, p-please. I don't know if I'm gonna' last, fuck you feel so fuckin' good!” He knew he should probably be embarrassed at his volume but he could hardly muster up the brain power at the moment. She arched up as best as she could, taking his breath away with the sight of her spread out underneath him, her fingers grazing his cock when she started rubbing back and forth over her clit. “Shit, yes.” The snarl came from deep in his chest and he felt her whole body quiver. “That is fucking gorgeous, you're so fucking perfect.”

“God, Owen I just-!” Her voice cracked. “I need you, I need you, please!”

“You want me, sweetheart? You need all of this? I'm yours already. And you are mine.” Owen growled, not exactly sure where the certainty came from. He clung to it all the same in the moment. “We're gonna' keep each other safe and we're going to make you come, Jesus Christ, I need you to come!” Whether he was begging or demanding or a little bit of both, it hardly mattered because she obeyed, everything pausing for a split-second before she was in spasm around his cock, her slick drenching him as she cried out his name.

He had never heard anything so perfect in his whole life and he moaned her name in reply, looking down to where their bodies joined. She was gasping for breath and still kissing his throat, whimpering with every aftershock that rolled through her even as she continued to take his cock.

“Where do you want it?” Owen said through gritted teeth, tearing his eyes away to focus on her face again. She looked like absolute sin, her hair a mess and her own eyes half-closed in pleasure. He felt a rush of pride. She tapped her stomach, teasing her fingers down over his shaft again. With a low groan he withdrew from her, startled into momentary silence when she quickly wrapped those fingers around his aching cock. Very momentary. “Oh, fuck, Jesus, sweetheart-” He gasped, hips shuddering as he fucked her fist rapidly. “Fucking--dammit, dammit you-!” She teased her thumb over the sensitive head of his cock and that was it, his whole body trembling when he came hard on her stomach.

Owen almost collapsed, the abrupt tightness in his shoulders and arms letting him know that maybe he had overdone it. He groaned loudly, sliding his cock back and forth a few more times just to savor the feeling of her fingers on him, coated in his release.

“Wow.” She said softly, staring up at him and Owen had to kiss her for that, he had to, it was required.

“So I think it's bedtime now, yeah?” He murmured awkwardly once they parted, not sure why she was still staring. “What?” He asked finally, sitting up and rubbing the back of his neck.

“I just...I mean, wow.” She repeated, her smile much more sleepy now.

Owen returned the smile uncertainly and got to his feet, stretching. “I'm gonna'...um, get a washcloth. Don't go anywhere.”

The clean up was usually his least-favorite part, but Owen found himself not minding it so much this time. She gave him these wonderful little sounds as he wiped her down, almost like purring. Once he was done, she made herself at home in his arms without a minute of hesitation. Owen could definitely get used to this.

“We gotta' stick together, you and I. For survival and stuff.” He murmured into her hair.

And when he woke up at some point after midnight with a new night terror still fresh in his mind, tears trickling down his face because I lost them, I lost them, she soothed him back to sleep with quiet words and assurances. You're safe, you're allowed to be sad, you're safe, it's alright, you're safe Owen...

…

Loud knocking on his front door roused him from his slumber the next morning and Owen muttered something decidedly unkind, a little startled when he opened his eyes and realized that she was still there, still asleep in his bed. He felt like a doofus, smiling at a sleeping person, but he decided he was alright with that title. He kissed her forehead and slowly untangled himself, yawning and scratching his ribs.

Time to face the next problem. He wasn't all that upset, honestly. He knew he would probably go stir-crazy without some kind of conflict. Hopefully she was up for the challenge as well.

For survival.

#owen grady/unnamed ofc #jurassic world #thirst party saturday #welcome!#In which Atlas gets to ramble about dinosaurs #All is well #owen grady #owen grady smut

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