#understanding myself a bit more while being distant w others but also lost for the very same reason. ITS SO CONFUSING n complex ofc. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

youn9racha · 3 years

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I Know (Part II)

Pairing: Changbinxfem!reader

Genre: smut

Warning: mild stalking, stripping, phone sex???, mutual masturbation, semi-exhibitionism, a tiny bit of corruption kink, and an even tinier praise kink, switch!changbin, switch!reader

Words: 2.8k

Extra Notes: like I’ve mentioned in the last part, everyone is above the age of 21 (think senior year of college age), so thats that. I’ve also noticed that the lyric is not that related to the story, but oh well :’) anyways, hope you enjoy this

And baby, I know, I know whatever city you’re in, you’re still the boy that I’d pick…

PLEASE READ PART 1 FIRST BEFORE THIS !!

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This is no way representative of the way Stray Kids act. They’re nothing but references of character, and in no shape or form is this how they act. And I am in no way romanticizing or glamorizing any toxic behavior exhibited, they’re just stories that is meant to be read. Readers discretion is advised.

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Changbin’s calling me…

What in the world does he want to talk to me about in this ungodly hour? It wasn’t late, but it certainly wasn’t early enough for a call like this. I looked back at the window and I still see the curtains still closed, assuming he was out or maybe in another room. I answered and put the phone in my ear.

”Hello?”

“Hey, (y/n)! I just wanted to call to check up on you,” he said, “how are you?”

Damn, he only called for innocent intentions... Why is he so damn cute?! (y/n), you got two choices to respond back; you either respond give him a nice sweet response, or you give a sly yet friendly comeback. It can work—

“(y/n)?” The voice out of the phone took me out of my inner self’s debate.

“Yes! Yes! I am fine,” I said, embarrassed and mentally facepalming myself. This is not doing well, he already thinks I am a creep and a loser. Or maybe not, since its seems like I heard a faint chuckle and the word “cute,” followed by, but that could just be a figment of my imagination. “How are you?”

”Oh, I am good, just came back from hanging out with Chan and Han,“ changbin responded, there were shuffling in the background so he could be doing something while on the phone, but what is it? I wouldn’t know. I heard him and Chris mentioning a ‘Han’ in our conversation we had while preparing for my apartment, so that name is familiar, however the owner’s not. “You should meet him one day, I think you both will be good friends.”

”Woah there, you better take me to dinner first before I meet your friend,” I teased. Keep it going, (y/n), you’re on the right track, you’ve definitely caught him off guard, like you always do.

“Give me a place, time, and date, you’ll get that dinner, or maybe I’ll let Chris take you.” Changbin nonchalantly said, oozing confidence just by his voice. That bitch… Always makes it harder for me than it already is. As if he saw my blushing reaction, he began laughing.

“What’s wrong, princess? Cat’s got your tongue?” He said it in a low voice. Usually, I would gag if anyone—let alone a man—calls me princess, but with him, it felt different. It felt… arousing? No! No! (y/n), get a grip!

I rolled my eyes and laid on my back to be more comfortable, “What is it, Changbin?” I said, changing the subject, “What is that you wanted to call me at 10 p.m?” Yes, pretend like he didn’t just call you princess in the sexiest tone of voice you’ve ever heard. Totally would work.

”I told you, I just want to check up on you,“ he confessed but he also paused to say something further, “and also I am bored and I kinda felt like talking to you. I’m not wasting your time, aren’t I?” Although I couldn’t see him, he does however sound really sincere with his words. I don’t want to sound naive, but he sounded truthful.

“No,” I shook my head, “you really didn’t, besides I just got out the shower and was just scrolling through instagram.” I said, looking down in my nails.

”Oh, really?” He said, “were you going to sleep?”

”No, I stay on social media for a long period of time, I don’t sleep that easily“

”I see,” he said, but then he stopped talking. As the awkward silence has erupted between us, I started to think more about the first time I saw him and how I felt. While I thought it would be better for me to tell him later on and on person, but this balloon inside of me was getting bigger and bigger as guilt is inflating it. I sighed and started to speak, “Hey Changbin.”

”Yeah?”

“Can I confess you to something?”

”Tell me anything, doll, I’m all ears.”

Dammit! You’re not making it easier.

I bit my lips, “uhh,” I am glad he wasn’t looking at me, grimacing and slapping my head.

”You know hitting yourself isn’t gonna help,” as soon as Changbin uttered these words, my heart sank. My eyes widened as I got up and looked out window. His curtains were open, and it showcase a very, very pleasant show.

I see Changbin, sitting at the edge of his bed, facing me as his black shirt was fitting his form really well, especially with the semi-flexed arm that has his phone near his ears meanwhile the other arm was holding the elbow of the occupied arm. He was look at me straight at my eyes when we made eye contact, and fuck, was that an image to look at. As I looked like a deer going through a headlight, Changbin tilted his head in confusion, but he still had a smirk, “what is it you wanted to me?” he said through the phone.

”I-I“ I stuttered. At this point, I’ve lost all sense of dignity and my self thought, I am about to get called a creep by a good looking man I met not too long. Here goes nothing.

”I may have invaded your privacy,” I said, which caused Changbin to furrow his eyebrows in even more confusion, still having a slight smile to it. “What are you talking about?”

”Ugh, Changbin, I saw you half naked when apartment touring numerous times!” I yelled in frustration, as he kept pushing my button. I looked away, not bearing to look at him, as I closed my eyes out of guilt. “I understand if you don’t want to be friend, even though we met for only a week, but I just couldn’t bear the guilt that I—“

As I confessed, I heard a laugh coming put of the phone, I opened my eyes and looked at Changbin looking down, with shoulders shaking up and down. Now, I have the confused look that he had, “What’s funny?”

“Oh, princess, you have no idea,” He said, still looking down. Me still being bemused, he noticed my silence and looked up at my frowned face.

”I know…” He smirked, while my eyes were widened. Son of a bitch.

”W-wh-“

“I thought you knew that I’m doing all this on purpose, I’ve been trying to catch your attention every single way.” He leaned forward, placing both elbows in his knees, “I thought you were smart, only to be a gullible baby.” He whispered the last part, as I gulped at the last part. God damn, he’s so intense with his gaze. His eyes wandering all over me meanwhile maintaining a very dark yet exciting aura, which typically puts me off but now, I’ve never wanted to pounce a man so badly.

I smirked at him, the guilt I had had fizzled away, only to replace with arousal.

“So you’re not mad?” I looked at him, with innocent eyes, now laying on my side, facing him, as my robe slipped and exposed a part of my shoulder and the upper of my chest. He breathed in, as he was examining me, “no, why would I be mad at you?” He leaned back, as his head was thrown back, neck exposed, placing his free hand on the back of his neck.

God, is he so fine…

”I could never be mad at my precious baby.” He smiled a seductive smile at me, which made me riled up by rolling my eyes and looking up. “You like getting called that, don’t you?” He may have said it in a question form, but it didn’t feel like one, it was rather a statement than a question. “Hm,” I said, looking back at him, eyes half opened out of hunger for him.

We had an intense eye contact, where if it weren’t for the distant and the glass that is placed in front of us, we’d probably be all over each other.

”Has your hang out with Han and Chris worn you out?” I asked, decievingly innocent. Man, the power this man has over me is no joke. He scoffed, “so you’re just going to mention other men like that?”

Ignoring him, I got up, letting the towel that was loosely in my head fall onto my bed, and went closer to the window, “let me relieve you of your stress, if you don’t mind.” I shyly fidgeted on my robe belt. He looked at me up and down, licking his lips, “I wouldn’t mind, if you don’t as well.”

There’s nothing more sexier than mutual consent. (y/n), shut up, don’t ruin the moment.

I smiled and backed away from the window. I put my phone on speaker and put it on the side. I looked back at him, as I held onto my robe belt, he looked at me with a smile. I turned around with a slight sway on my hips, as I slowly undid my belt, slowly exposing my back at him, smiling as I heard a shuddering breath coming out of the phone.

As the robe completely fell off my body, being just in my underwear, exposing whatever secret flaws that has been hidden from the public. I silently gasp at the cool breeze as I held onto my chest, sensing my nipples getting hard. “Turn around for me, baby,” Changbin’s breathy voice echoed all over the room.

We may not be in the same room, and we maybe exposing ourselves to whoever is above and under us as well, but neither of us care. In our eyes, we only got each other, and we’re the only ones in existence.

I turned to him, letting go of my breasts and letting myself be bare, only to see him palming himself through his tight pants, groaning at his lack of full on skin-to-skin touch. It’s like he was waiting for me to tell him touch himself, which proved correct when he said, “please, let me touch myself.”

I smiled sympathetically, and also slightly astonishingly. I have never met a man with such switch like that. His dominating demeanor has faded and been replaced to a submissive cutie, which I obviously seem to admire very much. Pretending to thinking, I sat down, and looked at him, putting my hands behind me, “only if you give me a show too.”

I smirked at his state. He was disheveled, and adorned a beet tint all across his cheeks and nose. He looked beaten, but I loved it, and he does too. He put his phone on speaker too, quickly got up, and rapidly got his shirt.

“Ah ah!” I said, which caused him to freeze, looking at me, desparation was seeping through his eyes. Menacingly smiling, “slowly.”

Which he obeyed, surprisingly patient and sensual, I jokingly remarked that “he got dancer hips,” with the way he took off clothes while his hips moved in a way not many who can control their bodies can. He chuckle, “you should see how it works wonder,” his cocky attitude has made a comeback, which should piss me off but it made the whole thing hotter than it already is.

We’re both in our underwear, looking up at our eyes and looking down at each other’s half-nude bodies. Changbin wasn’t the tallest man I have ever met—not that it matters—, but he got many aspects that makes up for it, and its not just looks or personality. Just by the outline, I can tell that his little guy wasn’t little.

I propped myself with my elbows as I spread my legs, for him to see the wet spot that is stained in my underwear. He grunted at the sight, while I chuckle, “you like what you see?” I faux-innocently asked as I trailed my hand from my neck, making my head fall back, down to the valley of my chest, onto the waistband of my underwear.

“Fuck…” Changbin cursed, admiring the sight in front of him. He didn’t realize how lucky he was to see me in a state like this, not many have the privilege, especially not with men I met in a short amount of time.

I tugged my panties, took it off and exposed a part that he was dying to see, which caused him to gulp. He sighed with a smile, “god damn, (y/n),“ he shook his head in disbelie, “I’ve always thought you were gorgeous, but now I’m convinced you’re a goddess“

I giggle at his words, “and you, sir, are a demon disguised as a greek god” I teased back, tracing my two fingers around my lips, I noticed that he still was in his underwea. He still waited for my permission. How adorable.

”You can take off your underwear, Binnie” I didn’t even mean to give him the nickname, but I was too excited to even think straight. I looked at him, and saw him reveal his friend, and I gasped loudly, which made Changbin alert. “What? Whats wrong?”

”Nothing, its just,” I chuckle, “you have a nice dick.”

”Thank you,” He smirked as he sat down and looked at me, with full attention. I put my two fingers into my mouth, while maintaining eye contact. I then trailed my finger down to clit, which resulted in me letting out a blissful gasp. Meanwhile, Changbin was repositioning to a comfortable position as he began to touch himself, which caused him to let out a choked out groan.

”Binnie, as you touching yourself?” I half-whispered, but it was still loud enough for him hear along with my fingers movements that moved from my clit onto my slit, which made me moan.

”Ah-y-yes” Changbin groaned and nodded, as he was stroking his dick following the pace that I was going at.

After hearing Changbin’s groans, I began inserting my fingers at my slit, making me whimper in the process, “oh, fuck” I cursed, as I started to thrust my fingers in and out, noises coming out of my mouth along with the wetness of my pussy were getting louder, which excited Changbin, as his stroking was audible through the phone along with his beautiful groans.

“god, (y/n), if only I could touch you,” Changbin spoke through groans when he saw me fondling my breast and going faster. I was getting louder with my noises, in contrast of Changbin’s quite yet beautiful and audible noises. So much so, it sounds like Changbin was watching porn, rather than getting fucked at a distance.

“Ah-are-fuck-are you close?” Changbin asked through whines, his speech was getting difficult as he was getting closer to climax with his strokes going as fast as I was.

I nodded, out of struggle of speech, whining out, “Ah! Binnie!”

“Fuck, (y/n), I’m—“ Changbin grunted, as his strokes was started to get sloppy, he began to thrust onto his hands. I began to feel like something burning up in my stomach, moaning at the sensation, “Chang—I’m cummin— I’m cumming”

“Me too…” He choked on his words, as his groans and moans were also getting louder. Our phone voices combined was dirty but erotic, topped with the scene of two people masturbating to each other, now thats even a hotter view.

“Binnie!”

“Go ahead, baby... cum”

And just like that, I let out a squeal as I reached my peak, still playing with myself until I sensed an overstimulation. Not too long after, I was hearing a lot of grunt from the call and then I looked at Changbin, who ended up cumming onto his stomach, his chest raising up and down, letting himself catch his breath. Still out of breath, we both looked at each other, we both laughed at our fucked out state.

“Holy fuck, was that hot?” Changbin commented, taking the phone, putting it out of his speaker and back to his ear. I laughed at his sudden remark, nodding, “oh yeah, can’t wait to feel what you feel like,” I bit my lip.

”At least buy me dinner first,” He teased, referring to the remark I had at the time, which made me roll my eyes and him to chuckle. “You’re a dick,” I said.

”A big one, and a pretty one according to you,” He teased again. I started to jokingly groan at his words, causing him to laugh, “alright, alright, I’ll stop.”

I got up and picked the phone, looking at him, “I had fun, we should do this again,” him and I started exchanging a smile, this time it was more pure than the smiles we had earlier. He nodded, “for sure, but the next time is going to be in one of our beds, I really need to touch you.”

”The feeling is mutual.”

We began to talk a little more, until we both have felt that slumber was starting to sneak up onto our eyes. We both ultimately had to hang up, since we don’t want to raise our phone bills with our already long call. While facing away from the window, I couldn’t help but started admire Changbin in my head.

I typically hate men, but Changbin wasn’t just like any man.

He was Changbin, and I highly doubt that you’ll ever find a man like him.

#changbin fanfic #changbin scenarios #changbin smut #changbin imagines #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfic #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz fanfic #skz smut

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urimaginespimp · 3 years

Text

Three Months Apart

Tommy x Reader

angst + maybe a happy ending?

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Today was the day you were going to ask him.

You’ve been with Thomas for over six years. The countless parties and weddings you’ve attended together become more and more intolerable. All because every time you went to them, the more you wanted to have your own.

It didn’t help that your family was pressuring you to it, no matter how against they were of your relationship. Your father often told you, that If you were going to associate yourself with such a dangerous family, might as well make sure you’re officially entitled to their protection.

You gave him the signs, hell even Polly and John started dropping their own hints at him to help you after they figured out what you’ve been trying to do. But as much as Thomas was one of the most intelligent people you know, he seemed to be oblivious about it.

Pacing back and forth outside his office, you were close to backing out when the door opened, revealing Thomas.

“Is there a reason why you’ve been pacing back and forth out here for the last three minutes?” your boyfriend asks you with a smile.

“I uh… wanted to talk.” You answered quietly, walking inside.

Thomas was confused with the nervousness of you voice. Closing the door, he turned to see you already on the seat in front of his desk, fidgeting with your fingers.

“Is there something wrong, Y/N?” He asked you.

“A friend of mine from London is getting married next month.” You don’t know how, but that lie just rolled off your tongue.

“Y/N, you know you don’t have to be nervous about asking me to be your date, right? We’ve gone through occasions like these about a hundred times.” He chuckled.

“Right. We’ve been through a lot of weddings.” You nodded, smiling. “But I never got the chance to ask you the very same thing I often ask my other unmarried friends.”

“Well shoot, darling.” He walked towards you and took the seat opposite yours.

“Do you think they’re making the right decision?" you finally asked him, feeling a rush out of your system. You didn’t even realize how tense this has been making you.

“Frankly, if it’s no benefit for a company, like let’s say an official alliance, then it’s a waste of time and money.” He answered nonchalant, taking a cigarette out of his pocket.

No matter how appalled you were at his response, you tried not to show it.

“Not even if they do love each other?” You felt your throat tighten up.

Thomas sighed. “If they really do love each other, they wouldn’t need to have such a unecessary event to shove it to other people’s face.”

“Good God, Thomas.” You whispered.

“Tom, it’s more than just telling the world how much you love each other. It’s also sealing devotion to each other. Giving them the gift of the right t-to let’s say, visit you in a hospital without having to wait for a real family member tell them that you are indeed the patient’s significant other. Or not having to deal with stupid people labeling you as their whore or temporary piece anymore.” You ranted to him, not being able to hold back in including your personal reasons.

“Is this what this is all about? You let those petty comments in your head even after years of being together?” He asked you, irritated. You stood up from your seat.

“I’m a woman, Thomas. And it’s quiet disappointing that at this time of age, being one still isn’t that significant. I quit my job for you. I left the comfort of my family’s home for you. Everyone I run into knows I’m with you. Now God forbid, but what would become of me if one of your dangerous antics would lead you to your demise? Who would hire a Shelby trash? And I might as well kill myself if I’d have to go back and hear my mother’s non-ending comments about me.”

“You know my family’s still going to take care of you.” He answered quietly, still wrapping his head around your sudden outburst.

“That’s not the point.” At this rate, you were gripping your dress to stop yourself from crying. Not until you ask him one more thing at least.

“Have you even thought about marrying me?” You blinked at him, hopefulness laced your voice.

But for the first time in the years you’ve been with him, Thomas Shelby was out for words in an argument. Your question left his mouth parted, trying to give you an answer.

Your stomach dropped. The defeated look on your face almost pushed him to give you the lie you wanted to hear, but he couldn’t do that to you.

“I understand." You said looking down at your dress and running your hands through it as if an effort to smooth it out, when you were only trying not to show the tears that have finally spilled.

Taking a deep breath, you prepared yourself from the dreadful thing you were about to say next.

"I can’t do this anymore.” You barely said and willed your shaking self to walk out from him that day.

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That was three months ago.

You were in your father’s debt for helping you “disappear” off the radar for a little while. He sent you to live with a wealthy distant relative in the countryside, giving you time to pick yourself up and work on your personal happiness again.

It was safe to say that you were getting there, if it weren’t just for your own mind betraying you every once in a while, when you’d unexpectedly think or dream about him.

And of course, there were times where you almost regretted that day. You were already happy, right? But at the same time, it was better than spending more years before realizing he’d never marry you.

Thomas. You hadn’t heard directly from him ever since that day. Of course you gave a haste tearful goodbye to everybody, promising to write to them in the future. But it was a few letters from your sister that gave you a few updates.

She’d told you how he came to your family’s home a bunch of times on the first month, asking for your father’s favor to tell him where you were. On the second month he’d resort to calling every now and then, but on the third, there was nothing.

You guess he’d finally move on. And that was your cue to finally come home.

A few days back in your family’s home, one of your maids handed you an invitation to your name. It was dated a month back, but what caught your attention was that the seal was clearly already opened.

“It got delivered straight to the Shelbys first, miss.” She told you after seeing your confused expression.

Giving her a nod and a small smile, you opened it and saw that it was a formal invitation to a friend’s engagement party, set three nights from now.

“Should I send you sincerest regrets?” She asked you, and you stared back at her. “S-since you just got back from a trip.” She clarified awkwardly.

“No. Just go with me to find a dress tomorrow, please.”

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“I almost lost hope that you’d even come, Y/N” your friend hugged you as soon as she got you alone after introducing you to her betrothed.

“Don’t be daft. I’d never miss a chance to see my friends happy.” You smiled at her. “I never even knew you were dating someone.”

“Yeah, it’s for the family’s benefit. We like each other though, so it’s no problem.” She explained, chuckling. “So…” she continued. “Where have you been these past few months? I tried calling but all I got was that you’re out for a vacation.”

“I’m no longer with Thomas. Had to clear my head for a lil bit." You smiled awkwardly. Sooner or later you had to tell people anyway.

“Y/N I- I am so sorry for the invitation mishap. Had I known, I wouldn’t have sent it to his address or listed him as your plus one.” She squeezed your hand in remorse.

“It’s fine, really. You didn’t know.” You assured her.

She was smiling at you in gratitude, but something behind you caught her eye that made her gape in surprise. Curious, you turned your head and saw that it was no other than your ex-boyfriend heading your way.

“Do you want me to get someone to escort him out?” You friend asked in panic. Turning to face her, you took a deep breath to calm yourself.

“No, I’ll handle it. What I want you to do is enjoy your party, okay?” You smiled reassuringly. Giving your hand one last squeeze, she excused herself when Thomas was a few steps away.

Turning to face him, you were surprisingly feeling calmer than expected.

“Mr. Shelby.” You addressed him with a curt nod.

“Can I talk to you in private?” he cut to the chase. You bit your tongue back from making a remark about his lack of greeting, after seeing how his eyes were pleading despite his cold tone.

“Lead the way.” You found yourself saying.

On your way to wherever he was going, you caught your friend’s worried eye, and gave her a playful scolding look for not enjoying herself like you asked. Sure enough, he led you both in an unoccupied room that looked like someone’s study.

As soon as he closed the door behind him, you were taken aback when he suddenly charged at you and engulfed you in his arms. Thankfully, you were quick enough to steady yourself so that you both wouldn’t fall.

“Please don’t ever call me that ever again.” He whispered in your ear, shakily.

“W-wha-“

“Mr. Shelby. Please don’t ever call me like I'm just some associate. I hate it.” He cut you off. Your eyes watered at the tone of his voice. It sounded like he was as miserable as you’ve been these past few months.

Unable to give him any response, he slowly finally let go of you from his embrace and faced you. Looking at him, he was in one of his expensive suits, but that could only take away a little of your attention from his real state.

He had never looked as tired as he does right now, he looked like he lost a few pounds, his skin was paler than usual. You resisted the urge to touch his face.

“I’m sorry.” He finally spoke up.

“I’m fine now, Thomas.” You answered, though the lone tear that rolled down your cheek said otherwise.

“I’m not.” He answered frankly. “These past three months have been hell, Y/N. I kept going to your father, begging him to tell me where you were, until Poll told me that the more I persisted, the longer I wouldn’t see you.” He wiped the tear on your cheek with his thumb.

“H-how did you know I’ll be here?” you whispered, still trying to find you voice.

“I opened the invitation. But I risked going here just without guarantee you'd come.” He explained to you.

“I was in a distant aunt’s home. I just had to get away.” You didn’t know what else to say, so you told him where you’ve been. “It had a big garden, and I was treated really well there. They gave me everything I requested, I got to ri-”

“Marry me.” He told you in the middle of your babbling, catching you off-guard once more. “It was selfish of me to merely think of marriage the way I did, without even thinking about how it would mean for you.”

Recovering from the shock, you shook your head at him.

“No.” You replied sternly.

“No?” the hurt in his tone didn’t go unnoticed.

“I don’t want to force you into doing something you don’t believe in Thomas. I left not because I didn’t love you anymore. I did it because we want different things, and we both deserve to be with someone who would have the same mindset as we do. Because yes, I would’ve just accepted your answer and be content with our relationship. But I knew that along the way I’d start to resent you. I never want that to happen.”

“But that’s the thing, Y/N.” He held both of your arms. “When you left, I thought about everything you said and asked. You asked if I ever thought about marrying you. No, I haven’t, but I always thought about spending my life with you, having kids, owning a home together, and all that hosting events bullshit.” He chuckled. “And I realized that I can have that. But I also want to make it official first.” He added softly.

At this point, you couldn’t answer him anymore as tears prickled your eyes. Then he got down on one knee before your standing figure.

“Now please, Y/N. Will you take me out of my own misery and give me your hand in marriage?” He was already crying too. Who knew that the excruciating past three months would lead you both to here.

But just when you were about to give him your answer, the door suddenly opened, revealing your friend who had worry written all over her face. But it quickly turned into a shocked one when she saw that what Thomas was doing.

“I thought you were in trouble since you were taking too long.” She smiled sheepishly at both of you.

You smiled back at her. Then turned your attention back to Thomas.

“I guess we should invite her first, then.”

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douxspider · 4 years

Text

— 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐲 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐧.

‘ARVIN RUSSELL x READER INSERT’

( potential spoilers for “the devil all the time” ) — Reader is new to town, working at a bakery ran by a kind old lady. Getting used to the ropes of the city, a man in blue arrives unsettled, holding a bloody rag against his knuckles and shivering just slightly. (occurs after arvin approaches the three bullies.)

warnings: blood, mentioned alcohol abuse, bullying. word count: 2,330 published: 9/17/20 ao3 link — part 2, 3

— — • — —

You didn’t ask for much in life. You didn’t want much. Your entire life you let the sea take you where it wanted to take you, and if it brought you to a flourishing island with the most beautiful sunsets and the softest sand, you let it. If it wanted to take you to the dangerous, icy hurricanes where waves clashed and thrown against each other and you drowned in the salty depth, you let it.

You don’t have a will, the town would mock you.

You were new to Ohio, originally coming from New York, and they liked to call you city girl. Your accent was more urban compared to the rural dialect around you. You stuck out like a sore thumb. The community grew together, knew everyone’s names, and when a random strange girl with only a plastic bag of clothes arrived at the nearest motel, it was all the rage.

Luckily, you managed to find a sweet baker lady to take you in. She had a plump figure, rosy cheeks, and graying auburn hair that spoke of pies and sunshine. Her name was Marilyn McCann, she was in her late 50s, and she had lost her two dear sons in the Vietnam war, her husband previously passing from health complications. Marilyn opened the baker, naming it McCann Boys in honor of them.

You were seated behind the counter on a stool, picking at a lemon and poppyseed muffin, placing chunks of the bread in your mouth and eating slowly. It was a quiet day, rain splattering against the window, most people wanted to bake indoors.

While you fidgeted with the book in your lap, idly reading it, you heard the bell ring. You glanced up, and instead of the man moving to the counter, he only took a seat by the window, a rag covering his knuckles as his hat hid his face. He refused to return your eye contact, which was used as a silent method of do you want me to come to you?

You were running the shop alone. You couldn’t ask Marilyn who this strange fellow was. You had to take the initiative.

Getting up from your seat, the stool groaned against the hardwood beneath you, and you made your way towards him. He was bouncing his jean-clad leg excessively, winding the rag around his tightened fist. There were dark stains on it, but you paid it no mind.

“Sir?”

The man twitched his head in your direction, his cap revealing only an inch more of his face before moving back down to the table. “Yeah?” His voice was low, a bit hoarse.

You leaned to the side a bit, crossing your arms, crooking a brow upwards. “You good?”

“Yeah, ah,” he spoke, moving his chin upwards to look at you, and he stopped. You did as well, a silent, complex tension thick between the two of you, before he continued, “Just uh… needed to sit down, s’all. Do I…” he cleared his throat after a voice crack, “do I need to buy somethin’?”

Shaking your head, you gave a quiet, slow, “No.”

Taking a better look at his hands, you noticed it was blood on the rag. So, he was getting that post-fight clarity. You moved to the back and grabbed some pure alcohol you and Marilyn liked to keep, pouring only a bit on a clean washing rag, before heading back to the mysterious man’s location. Taking his hands, he gave a quiet noise of surprise as you tore open his fingers from the old rag and placed it to the side.

“Lady, what are you— ow! Shit...”

Lightly sponging the rag against his knuckles, you then placed the new cloth in his hands, taking a seat in front of him.

The man in front of you seemed somewhat offended, clutching onto the rag and padding it over his knuckles, but also giving you a scowl. “The hell you do that for…? ‘Didn’t need that, I can take care of myself.”

“So, what’d the man do? Pissing contest taken too far?”

He removed the cloth from his hand and wrung his knuckles together, and you stared at the scabs. “Maybe you should keep your nose where it belongs, darlin’.”

You hummed, leaning over the table and resting your bare arms against the surface, looking out the stormy window. “Y’seem like a sweet girl,” the man spoke up, catching your attention, “but that kinda behavior here… askin’ too many questions, it can get ‘ya hurt.”

Eyeing him up and down, you tilted your head so it nearly rested on your shoulder. “Well… y’gonna hurt me, stranger?”

Brown eyes fogging over with clear distant memories, you watched his expression dampen, no longer seeming agitated but only conflicted. “No… no, I wouldn’t hurt ‘ya.” His voice was only a low grumble. “I was taught better than to hurt girls.”

Giving a hum as a response, you tapped your painted fingers against each other. “I’m not trying to be nosy,” you then confessed, “...just curious. Don’t hear much from this town regarding fist fights.”

“You’re the city girl?” With a wince, you nodded. “Ah.”

“That a bad thing, mister?” You asked, trying to analyze his expression. He seemed distant, staring off, before his eyes turned as round as saucers glancing at you.

“No, no, miss, I ain’t imply that. Lotta people know about you ‘round here, it’s rare for a cityfolk to come to this dot on the map,” he explained, “Just curious.”

Clearly that was an insinuation for you to indulge him on his question. Though, feeling smug, and honestly in your right, you told, “You tell me why you’re bleeding from your hands, I’ll tell you my harrowing tale of ending up in Ohio. How about that?”

Surprisingly, the stranger let out a quiet laugh. It was breathy, and for some odd reason you could tell he doesn’t do that often by the way it seemed foreign coming from him, the product from his lips being stopped with his mouth closing. “Fair. You’re good at this game, little lady.” He let his knuckles out into the open air before crossing his arms together, leaning back in the booth.

“My old man,” he started with a distant voice, grimacing at the latter, and you assumed there was a dark history there, “he taught me t’protect myself. To protect others. Now, he was no layabout, he was straight outta the war,” the stranger chuckled, “if anyone tried anythin’, he wouldn’t let ‘em. He taught me that with physical expression.” The jean jacket around his arms got tightened with his whitening grip. “Now, y’see, lotta folk in this town ain’t kind. They ain’t acceptin’, they don’t like new things. They don’t like concepts.”

You listened quietly, feeling your heart slow its pace within your chest, trying to silence itself to take in every word. “I got a sister. Step-sister. She’s sweet, but she ain’t like the others. They don’t like that.”

His jaw tightened as he looked out the window, his blue cap shading his eyes. “...Had t’put an end to it.”

An understanding finally settled in your head. You fiddled with the apron draped around your legs, chin tilted downwards as you took in the information. You looked back at him. “...That’s a good thing.”

“What?” He glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

“Protecting your sister. That’s a good thing.” You could tell he felt guilty only slightly, perhaps he was scared of himself, scared of what he did. “I never had a sibling growing up,” you told, “having someone there to protect me would’ve done me wonders.” The stranger moved his hand up to his mouth, rubbing the side of his index finger against his chin. You gave a weak smile. “People aren’t too kind here to me, so I don’t need to fantasize your sister’s reality. I can’t imagine what it must be like to be outcasted from your own town like that. Your sister must be a kind soul, being thrown to the wolves like sheep like that.” You shook your head. “It’s not right. I think you did what you had to do. Sometimes that’s the best you can do.”

He was staring at you, and you couldn’t help but to wonder if you said too much. If you were prying too much. You had never met this man before, he could’ve just killed someone for all you know for no rhyme or reason, he could be a sociopath, luring his next victim, but you trusted your gut on saying that this man was right in what he did.

The corner of his lips quirked upwards and he gave a quiet exhale through his nose, nodding his head before glancing at you, head tilted downwards. “Now, your story. Fair trade, little lady.”

With an amused smile, you shrugged. “Came from New York, had no ties. Father ditched when I was still learning my ABCs, mama abused alcohol, that’s what wound her up in the grave. Took that as my sign to go.” You recalled the dirty poor Manhattan streets you grew up on. “Manhattan… it’s a busy city. Too busy. No one knows ‘ya, but they assume they do.” You pointed at him to exaggerate, closing an eye, “If you’re in the wrong neighborhood, that’s what you are now. Wrong. I was a wrong, poor girl with no faith.”

“No faith?” The stranger asked.

“Faith didn’t keep me alive there. Only money.”

He nodded slowly. “Surprised to see someone here not lookin’ to God.”

You clasped your hands together and shrugged. “Well, when he brings me something nice, I’ll go to church.” Glimpsing up at him, you asked, “Do you have faith?”

“Only for my grandmama and sister. I ain’t got no interest listenin’ to a man for hours.”

“You seem like a family man, mister.” You smiled, leaning back. “Are they the only reason you’re here?”

A moment of hesitance resulted from him. “Yeah.”

You decided not to press further.

Taking in the quiet rain, you tapped your hands on the table beneath you three times and stood up, placing your hands on your hips. “Well, mister, do you drink coffee?”

He seemed so small in the booth, huddled up with his arms crossed, brown eyes that were no longer iced over with memories, but instead focused on you with a round childish charm to them. “Ah… yeah, I do.”

Smiling with a nod, you headed and started up the yellow coffee machine. You looked back at him, saw him staring out the window, and you finished up the mug of coffee and gave it to him, hot. Sitting in front of him with your muffin, you both indulged in your delicacies in a peaceful silence.

When his coffee was just about gone, he asked, “Mind if I smoke in ‘ere?” He wondered, and you gave him permission.

“Sure. The only thing I’m concerned about is the gross taste coffee and tobacco must have together,” Wrinkling your nose at the thought, the man laughed, amused as he placed a cigarette in his mouth and used a lighter.

He puffed in the smoke and then removed the cigarette from his mouth, pulling over an ashtray that rested on the table. Blowing through the thin slit between his lips, he murmured, “Arvin.”

“Hm?” You asked, wiping off your hands on your apron from crumbs.

“My name is Arvin Russell.”

Blinking at him, you smiled, testing out his name carefully. “Hi, Arvin. I’m Y/N L/N.”

Arvin seemed a little shy, his cap hiding most of his face before he moved his head up just slightly, catching your eye, pointing out, “‘Like that name. Suits you. A pretty name for a pretty girl.”

A little flustered, you pinched your bare lips together before giving out a breathy chuckle. He moved his cigarette to his lips, watching you closely, inhaling the smoke. “You’re sweet.”

Arvin smiled, the paper-wrapped cancer stick between his lips, he pulled it out with a quick huff and said, “You’re the sweet girl talkin’ to bloody strangers sulking in the corner of your shop and givin’ em free coffee, Y/N.” He was staring at the window when he said this, but his head turned towards you, relaxed against the seat behind him, tapping the ashes into the ashtray. “Y’deserve better than this place.”

Feeling overwhelmed with all the positive comments— you didn’t receive many— you tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Well, Arvin, I think you deserve good things, too.”

Arvin gazed at you, a soft expression on his face before checking his watch. “Have to head home.” You both stood and you began to clean up. Arvin went up to the counter and gave a few dollars, and you stared at the money, gawking before giving a nervous smile and shaking your head.

“You don’t need to do that, Mr. Russell—”

“Arvin was doin’ just fine, sweet girl,” Arvin said with a smile. “Y’helped me out today. Thank you. Genuinely. I wanna pay back however I can.”

You took the money cautiously, feeling shy.

“Take that money for yourself. Buy yourself another pretty dress,” he said, eyeing the one you wore and tipping his hat. He was about to leave before he turned, hand flat against the glass, the other tucking his old rag into his coat pocket and gazing at you. “...We’ll be seein’ each other again, Y/N.”

Feeling overrun with flustered emotions, you smiled and said, “I would sure hope so, Arvin. I liked having you around.”

Arvin looked to the side, murmuring, “Likewise.”

You were left in the silence of the bakery, the rain turning into a light mist outside. Pressing your lips together, you changed your weight from foot to foot, turning to lean your back against the counter and giving a sigh.

Each encounter with him from then on would slowly grow into something more.

#arvin russell #arvin russell x reader #fic #the devil all the time #tdatt #reader insert #tom holland #mine #2k #peachy keen #douxdamian #my writing #sfw #T #multichap

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oikirstein · 3 years

Text

𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 | 𝐤.𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐚

PAIRING: tsukishima x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: You’re in your third year at Karasuno High, and have liked Tsukki for all of them, but after finally being in a relationship with him for the past six months, you realize his cold, careless demeanor, which you once fell in love with, was the same reason you were falling out.

CONTAINS: Angst (?)

WORD COUNT: 2,610

A/N: Anyway, this is my first time writing a char x reader one shot, so hopefully it isn't too dreadful to read. I wanted this one to be about Mr. Kei Tsukishima because the phrase “take it back” sounded angsty, and I have a burning hate towards him, so I thought it would be fitting.

Part two here.

Prompt from here.

Six months.

That’s how long you’ve been in a relationship with Kei Tsukishima, but is that how long you’ve practically been in love with him? Of course not. You’ve liked the blonde boy since your first year orientation, when you noticed how much he soared over the other students. Obviously his height wasn’t the only thing you liked about him. You adored the way he cared about his best friend, Yamaguchi. You found it hilarious when he picked on the other first years (and occasionally the upperclassmen as well). You were in awe of how he almost glowed at the end of a long game. You grew to love his stone cold face, which he wore so effortlessly and so undeniably well. You were fond of the way he’d get annoyed of his short golden curls tickling his forehead. You were desperately in love with every little thing about him. Who would’ve thought that over these past six months, those things that you found so much comfort in, would’ve also become the exact reason you were in the position you’re in now?

You had the grades, you had the looks, but most importantly, you had the boy. What more could you ask for?

It was January when Tsukki had seemed to have forgotten to walk you home—which you thought was strange since he’s walked home with you everyday for the past year and a half—but you made the excuse nonetheless.

Maybe he’s just running a bit late. Maybe practice was taking longer than expected. Maybe he just lost track of time. Maybe—

Excuse upon excuse was running through your head as you sat outside the gym waiting for him, like you did every day you were together. You always asked him why you couldn’t just wait for him inside so you weren’t vulnerable to the elements (and so you could watch him practice).

“You’d only be a distraction,” is what he always said before walking away and leaving you all alone beyond the gym doors.

A forced smile spread across your face as you shrugged your shoulders and turned on your heels to sit on the bench near the vending machines. You wondered why he was so distant with you—no—you longed for a real answer. Was he trying to hide something within those concrete walls? You knew Tsukki had secrets that he kept from you, hell he hardly ever talked about the things that weren’t secrets, but to say you were shocked when you found out the secret he was keeping was you, was an understatement. Because that day, that special winter day, was the day the sky decided cry.

Your legs moved before your brain could think, and suddenly you were running towards the gym’s entrance, seeking refuge from the rain. The sounds of sneakers squeaking against the laminated hardwood floors, the echoes of volleyballs ricocheting off of walls and hands, the murmurs of huffing and puffing coming from the athlete’s chests—they all came to a halt as they stared at the girl who just interrupted their practice.

“Can we help you?” their captain, Yamaguchi, said with a smile and both hands resting on his hips.

“Oh um sorry. I was waiting for Tsukki outside and it started raining so I kind of just ran in here without thinking,” you giggled to hide your nervousness, but your shaky tone was still apparent.

“Tsukki?” Yamaguchi questioned.

“Yeah...” you trailed off thinking of what to possibly say. Tsukki wouldn't be very happy if he found out that you actually came into the gym and showed yourself in front of his teammates, but then again it’s not like he ever got upset about anything, “it’s just that me and my boyfriend usually walk home together and he still hasn’t come out.”

If according to routine, Tsukki typically would’ve been done with practice about two hours ago. At this time, It would usually be just Yamaguchi left alone with the first years, as he liked to spend extra time working with them and their skills.

“B-boyfriend?” the green haired boy almost couldn’t contain his laughter in his reply.

“Yes...” you tried to laugh with him, but the awkward tension in the air kept getting thicker and thicker.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled, “it’s just that Tsukki’s never told us he had a girlfriend, or even liked anyone before.”

Oh. So that’s why he wanted to keep you out of the gym.

“Say, how long have you two been dating now?”

“A little over six months.”

His expression went a complete 180. What was once the look of light, friendly banter, was now riddled with fear, shock and a jaw nearly touching the floor.

“Oh my god,” Yamaguchi looked as if an apology was on the tip of his tongue, but before he could get the chance, you opened your mouth.

“Uh well since Tsukishima obviously isn’t here, I’ll just walk home myself. Thanks for the help Yamaguchi,” you hurriedly replied, one foot already out the door.

Step after step, the time it took between your strides became shorter and shorter, as you broke into a run, making your way towards home. Why would he keep you a secret from them? Why is he always so cold? Why does he always push you away? Why does he always tease you with that same monotone voice? Why did he not love you?

You stopped mid-step as you took in your surroundings. You knew exactly where you were. This was the intersection where you and Tsukki would part ways. You debated: left or right? My house or his? Where should I go?

You took a minute to think about which direction to take, when suddenly your phone rang. Pins and needles ran through your skin and a chill went down your spine as you read the caller ID.

“Tsukki”

You stared at the phone in shock, eyes wide, mouth agape, and skin turning paler by the second. He never called you first, so why start now? Ah. That’s right. Yamaguchi probably told him what happened.

“Hello?” you practically almost whispered.

“You went inside the gym today?”

“Uhm yes?”

“Why do you sound like you’re not sure,” his words said one thing, but his tone said another. Like he was trapped trying to scream in a place where the volume was muffled.

“Yes,” you said, more stern this time. Today was the day you were going to get answers.

“Why?”

“Take a fucking guess, Tsukki.”

Silence.

“I was waiting for you. Outside the gym. For four fucking hours,” you all but yelled into the phone.

“You could’ve just stayed outside.”

“Are you blind, four-eyes? Did you forget your glasses or something? Its raining!”

“Y/n,” he didn’t say your name often, maybe that's why it always had you so weak in the knees, “where are you right now?”

“Why?”

“Well you sound upset and it seems noisy in the background,” maybe he actually did care about you?

“The intersection.”

“Theres thousands of intersections in Miyagi, Y/N, try being a little more specific,” there it was, the passive aggressiveness he was so good at using.

“I know that, dumbass,” annoyance dripping from your lips, you tried getting across to him that you were fed up with his attitude, “the one where we always split up.”

“K,” was the only thing he uttered before you heard the dial tone.

Could he be on his way here? Did he want to talk to you? Did he want to see you?

One ounce of you. All it took was one ounce, one sliver of hope, for you to be waiting out here in the rain, not entirely sure if Tsukki was going to show up or not. You made a deal with yourself: if he wasn't here in the next fifteen minutes, you were leaving, and the two of you would be over. Right then and there, you hadn't realized that one of those things would have been inevitable anyway.

Five. Ten. Fourteen.

You cautiously watched the clock on your phone as your anxiety grew more and more intense with every passing minute.

There it was. Fifteen.

Some part of you must have known he wasn’t coming, because when the clock struck exactly fifteen minutes, you did not hesitate to get up and take the right to finally go home.

As you turned the corner, you heard the faint tap, splash, tap, splash, tap, splash, coming from behind, growing louder and louder the closer it got. You thought it was just a dog, or maybe some sweet, innocent child playing in the rain. Then you heard the volume of a voice you never thought you'd hear.

“Y/N!” Tsukki cried while running towards you, “Wait!”

You did not stop. You did not wait. Your steps did not waiver the way your breath hitched at the sound of your name. You continued on as if nothing was said at all.

Though this plan of yours didn’t work as you had forgotten one important factor: Tsukishima was an athlete. You forgot how fast he could run if he really wanted to...but maybe you wanted him to run after you? This was all you wished for after all. For once you wanted him to understand how it felt to chase after someone with no requiting in sight.

You didn't stop walking until you felt a heavy hand on your shoulder and an audible exhale against the nape of your neck.

“Why are you running away from me? I know you heard me,” he said, his monotone tone of voice almost slipping...was he...pleading?

You hadn’t turned around yet when you spoke, “You have some nerve asking me that,” you all but spat.

“W-what?” Oh so now he was stuttering? Was this even the same Tsukishima you fell in love with all those months ago?

You turned around so fast, you could have sworn he winced when his arm was violently whipped to the side.

“Isn’t that all you’ve been doing for the past six months?” You raised your voice—something you’ve never done in front of him before—but little did you know that this day was going to be full of firsts for you two, “Just look at today. You forgot about me. You didn’t tell your team about me. You barely even talk to me.”

“Wait, that’s not true—”

“Is it not? Your best friend didn't even know that you had a girlfriend,” you cut him off.

“Well if you would just shut the fuck up and let me explain you would know why I did all of that!”

What a terribly heartbreaking sight: to see two young lovers yelling at each other in the rain. Tsukishima grabbed your wrist and turned around, making an effort to start walking in the opposite direction.

“Just follow me,” he sighed, putting his headphones on and dragging you along behind him.

You were tired—exhausted really. It was draining to be the only one putting in effort to stay together. You genuinely believed that if you stopped initiating, the two of you would fall apart. That’s probably the reason why only a mere whisper could be heard from your lips.

“Do you even like me?”

With the sound of the rain’s relentless smacking of the puddles on the floor and the music coming from Tsukki’s headphones, he wasn’t entirely sure if he heard you correctly, or if you had really said anything at all. Still, although his pace never faltered, he still felt a pang in his heart from your supposed words.

You used your free hand to ever so lightly tug on the hem of his shirt, and that’s when he realized you truly did utter those broken hearted words. It was like he nearly came undone at your touch.

“What?” he said as he slowly lowered his headphones to rest on his shoulders.

“I know you heard what I said,” suddenly the sky wasn’t the only thing crying that day, but unlike the heavens above, your tears were warm, livid, and came slowly down your face—inaudible to the human ear.

“Y/N—”

“It’s a simple yes or no answer, Tsukishima,” you said this despite already knowing the answer. He was either going to tell the truth or lie.

“Yes.”

He lied.

It was true: you had the grades and you had the looks, but life could not grant you the boy.

“Let’s,” your voice almost broke at the thought, but you kept yourself together for just a little longer, “break up.”

Tsukki swore his heart stopped beating for a second. Surely you weren’t serious.

“W-what? Why?” His voice was shaky and panicky—two things you wouldn’t dare associate with him.

“You’re smart! Do you need me to spell it out for you?” You looked up at him, eyes glossy from oceans spilling out of your lash line, and the sound of defeat flowing out of your throat. “I’m so tired of this whole relationship being one sided! Do you want me to start coughing up rose petals for you until I can’t breathe? Because surely I’m getting there.”

“Do you seriously think I don’t like you? I wouldn’t be standing here if I didn't care for you,” he half-screamed. Tsukki was offended that you’d doubt him, but he was the one who gave you every reason to.

“For the first time in six months—six fucking months—you came for me. Where was this attitude yesterday? Or the week before? Or months ago? The fact of the matter is,” you took a deep breath as to not unravel right then and there, “your heart is the one thing that will never be mine.”

You turned away from him and whispered, “So let’s just end this here, before any of us—before I—get hurt,” and you walked away. It wasn’t until you were out of earshot when Tsukki’s heart wrenching three words slipped from his mouth.

“Take it back,” he held his hand out for you, watching as your petite frame got smaller and smaller with every stride.

When you disappeared from view, he slowly turned around and slumped in his step. He went back home and dropped to his knees when he opened the door to the reminder of your absent presence.

Why had he left early?

He planned a special surprise for you at his house for your six month anniversary. A banner, chocolates, roses, teddy bears, and all of your favorite movies. It took him all of six months to build up the courage to do something as heart warming as this—but unfortunately, he was six months too late.

Why was he so cold?

He knew that’s why you caught feelings for him. You told him all about how you fell in love with his distant demeanor. How you thought it was cute when he cringed at people trying to make conversation with him. He never changed because he thought that's what you wanted. After all, that is the reason you liked him, wasn’t it? Maybe he was just too inexperienced to recognized what you truly wanted—no—what you truly needed.

You see, Tsukishima was the type to love in silence, the way you did all those years ago. He left you love letters in your shoe locker, the ones you assumed to be from random secret admirers. He’d leave practice thirty minutes early so you wouldn’t have to wait for him too long. He’d make sure to shut anyone up who dared speak a single negative thing about you, because he too, was in awe of every single aspect you had to give.

Neither of you could have predicted that that unassuming day six months ago was truly the beginning of the end.

reblogs are greatly appreciated :)

#ik i don't like tsukki but writing this kinda made me sad #hopefully its angsty enough #keitsukishima #tsukki #tsukishima x reader #reader x tsukishima #tsukki x reader #reader x tsukki #haikyuu #haikyuu one shot #haha fuck tsukki #gel scribbles

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buckstaposition · 4 years

Text

I cling to your lips like gloss (3)

a Javier Peña x OFC story

also on AO3

author: @youhavereachedtheendofpie 👋

tags&warnings: spoilers for season 3, wonky timelines & odd pacing, drinking, swearing, mentions of sex work, mentions of canon-typical violence, Miss Salome is back!, some mild domesticity, partial nudity, a lil’ bit of sexual & romantic tension, soft&protective!Javi today tomorrow and forever

words: 8906 🙃🤡🙃🤡

summary: “The United States government is buying you a dress because you being at that party is of strategic importance to this investigation.”

Author’s note: Thank you SO SO much everyone who read, reblogged, and commented! It means so much to me and I want you to know that I read those comments and reviews at least every other day

Also this chapter was originally going to feature more as I was planning to move into the actual plot of the season, but then it just got longer and longer and I wanted to keep it under 10k words so that has all been moved to the beginning of ch4 instead. Anyway, remember it’s okay to take breaks in between, stay hydrated, and enjoy!

—

Tag list: @keeper0fthestars @opheliaelysia @dindjarindiaries @fromthedeskoftheraven @shikin83 @cinewhore @maddoggrahaml

(message me if you want to be added to the list)

beautiful moodboard made by @huliabitch

Masterlist

Prologue • Chapter 1 - The Informant • Chapter 2 - A Wedding and Four Funerals

Chapter 3 - Swallow Pride and Anger

He made a habit of checking in with Miss Rivas regularly, usually on Wednesday evenings. It was late enough in the week for her to have gathered something to tell him, and for him to need interactions beyond dealing with pissy bureaucrats and the chorus of 'yes boss'es from his agents. That and he made the conscious choice to never bother her on Thursdays, seeing as how often she'd come back from a work day in the double digits, only to rise again with the sun on Friday mornings for her frequent trips back to Medellín.

On this Wednesday, his self-imposed cigarette embargo inside his office combined with a slow and frustrating day had led him to go back to his apartment at an uncharacteristically early hour. He threw his jacket, wallet and keys down on the table, then loosened his tie and grabbed a beer from his fridge. He took a slow pull from the bottle, allowing himself to slump a bit against the kitchen counter. This apartment, while never what he would call a home, was still a sanctuary of sorts, even if most days he only came here to sleep and change clothes. He finished about half the bottle before clicking the bent cap back on haphazardly and placing it back in the fridge. He checked his watch and decided that a shower would, if not make him feel better, at least wash off the stale dryness of the embassy complex's aircon.

His hair still damp, he exited the bathroom about half an hour later. He padded across the floor barefoot, shuffling around the few rooms a bit, pulling on a clean t-shirt and preparing a small meal in the kitchen. He didn't have much except for the usual staples, chosen by how easy they were to prepare and by how effectively they would fill his stomach, rather than for any considerations of taste. The only thing he allowed himself to indulge in was the selection of fresh fruit he picked up at the street market down the road. By the time he'd gotten something in his stomach it was nearing seven. Javier reckoned she would be home by now and would have had enough time to settle in. He grabbed his fruit plate and trudged over to his wall-mounted landline phone. After placing the plate on the low side table, he dialled the satphone's number and waited for the line to connect.

"Agent Peña, good evening!" The sound quality was much better than with those tinny phone cells. It allowed him to hear how pleased she sounded as she greeted him, and how slightly out of breath.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you, Miss Rivas. I can call back later?" It occurred to him that she might be in the process of making dinner herself.

"Oh no, it's alright!" He heard the shuffling of steps and the hum of music in the background. "Hang on, let me finish on the landline, then I'm all yours." She must have set the satphone down right next to her stereo system. He could hear music more clearly now, still distant like not all of it survived the transmission, but distinct enough to make out a string section paired with electric guitar and words in an unfamiliar language.

"Interesting music selection." He mused as she came back on the line.

"Huh? Oh yes, Angelika let me borrow some of her tapes. Newly historical contraband from behind the Iron Curtain." She laughed quietly, and Javier thought of how for some of his former CIA colleagues, that might have been reason enough to drag her in for an interrogation. He sneered at the notion, glad it was no longer relevant. "Not that I understand anything, but that's why music is called the universal language, I suppose."

"Your German friend." Javier hummed thoughtfully. He'd had to look up what that Stasi remark meant, embarassingly enough. Despite the added information included, he'd been made to change it to 'Calí KBG' in his preliminary report on the matter.

"Yes. I'm sorry I couldn't convince her to help more. It's half the way she was brought up and half fear. I guess the thought of going up against a powerful drug cartel and helping the American government at the same time is just a bit too much. And with her and Julio now trying for a baby she just really doesn't want to risk it, you know?"

"It's okay." Javier said reflexively, allowing himself to sit on the floor by his phone, his back against the wall. Angelika Florez-something-long-and-German-with-lots-of-umlauts that he wasn't even going to attempt to pronounce worked at the Calí phone company and would have been an invaluable asset, but then again she'd already placed herself in danger by allowing Diana to relay what she knew. Javier wasn't going to force anyone to become an informant. "Anything new on your end?"

"New corner office."

"Nice."

"Oh, very." He heard more soft rustling over the line, as if she was moving around, and then some light clicking noises that might have been a large window or door being opened. "Miguel Rodríguez did stop by yesterday. Unannounced, of course. Cut into my lunch break."

Javier straightened, the hand with a piece of orange sinking back down from his lips. "Oh? What did he want?" Unfortunately it was nothing he could be nailed down for. The Rodríguez brothers did own that bank and had every right to be there, every once in a while.

"Wanted to talk about the tax evasion scheme I devised. I swear, there's nothing rich people hate more than paying their taxes!" Her huff made him laugh softly, despite everything. "Nothing of substance to report, sadly."

"We'll get them." Javier promised. "With your help, they'll go down like a bag of rocks in water."

She hummed, tapping her nails against the phone casing absently. He could hear the light click of it over the line. Javier let himself enjoy the reprieve this unassuming silence offered.

"I've been wondering," she started again after a moment, pensive, "how you met Gabriela. Was it when she was still at the brothel or after?"

Actually screw reprieve. Javier felt like all his blood was now rushing to his ears and neck. "Umm..." he said, eloquently. "W-why d'you want to know?" And hadn't the other woman told her that detail, since they apparently shared everything? He had made it until now in forcibly not dwelling on what exactly this 'everything' would entail.

"Sorry no, that came out wrong. I was just wondering if she'd ever been in any way involved in your... work. I'm sorry, this isn't... I just- I worry."

Javier exhaled slowly, thinking back on the night he'd chanced upon the stunning redhead at a bar. He hadn't planned on it becoming a regular thing, and then before he knew it, the sporadic nights he spent with her were the only thing removed from the stress of his job. "No, never."

"Dammit."

That was... not what he'd expected. He frowned a moment before it dawned on him.

"You're worried that by involving her when Maritza asked you for help you put her in danger."

"...Yes." She sounded glum now, not pleased and at ease enough to attempt to joke with him like before. He hated it.

"Hey, it's alright. Nothing happened to her." At least to her. At least one person had come out of that nightmare mostly unscathed. It was something to be grateful for. "They're gone now. Escobar and his men are gone. She's safe."

"Thank you, Agent Peña. I just-" Her voice sounded so small, suddenly. He frowned, plate of fruit long forgotten. "I couldn't bear it if I lost her, too. And while I didn't live in Medellín for all of it I ...you hear things."

Unbidden, his mind flashed to the brothel on 23rd street in Envigado, all the women executed, La Quica putting bullets through their brains because one of them had been brave enough to call the Search Bloc and DEA on him. He thought of Helena. He thought of the dozens more who had the violence in their lives compounded tenfold because they'd dared to defy the narcos' terror. And often enough, through him. Sometimes the guilt ate Javier alive.

"Hang on a moment." He said, already heaving himself up and striding over to the kitchen, grabbing his unfinished beer from the fridge, then doubling back over to the bar and grabbing a glass and a bottle of whiskey. Mixing the two was probably not a good idea. As much as drinking in general. He didn't care right now. Javier tried to be a better man than he had been, but there were times when he slipped.

He poured himself a glass of the liquor as he sat back down and snatched the phone receiver back up from where it swung against the wall.

"I'm back." He announced simply and took a swig.

"I shouldn't have brought it up." She sighed long and drawn. "I'm sorry for... I suppose I just wanted to make myself feel better. That if something had happened to Gabi it wouldn't have been my fault, too. I didn't think- I cannot begin to imagine, Agent Peña-"

"It's alright." Javier said, reflexively. The beer bottle was just one generous sip away from being empty now. His fingers played with the rim of it absently as he stretched his legs out in front of him, the tumbler of whiskey at his side.

"It's not alright." Miss Rivas insisted, sounding even more distraught. He hated that, too.

"Maybe. Maybe not. It is what it is." He scrubbed a palm over his face, rubbing at his burning eyes. The alcohol was beginning to swirl through his bloodstream. It helped, he supposed, that there was a sort of artificial distance through the telephone line. Otherwise the next words would likely never have left his lips.

"Can I tell you something?" Javier Peña wasn't a religious man, but there were times when he saw the sense of a confessional.

"Of course." Her voice was just the slightest bit shaky. "Should I get myself a drink, too?"

"If you want." He threw back the last bit of beer, following it up immediately with a gulp of whiskey, then pressed the still cold bottle against his flushed neck. He hesitated a moment, listening intently to the shuffling and rustling on the other end of the line. He felt his shoulders tighten and draw up, let his head fall back against the wall with a soft 'thud', his fingertips tracing the rim of the glass until he heard her soft affirmative.

This was not a time to let shame hinder him. Hell, the fact that he paid women for sex was the first thing she ever knew about him.

"You should know that I have a kind of... reputation." Javier began slowly. Like she didn't know that already. Like she couldn't guess. Like maybe this illusion where he could make this a confession instead of a confirmation was somehow more dignified.

He'd gotten the idea a few months into coming down here. Or rather the idea had found him in the shape of a lovely, doe-eyed brunette who'd introduced herself as 'Aurélia'. And Javier had been hungry and lonely, his shame at his ruined wedding fresh and the frustration of running after leads into empty corners even fresher. And he doesn't even remember how he ended up inside her room, and while under no illusion that what was about to transpire was merely a business deal, a service rendered and compensated for, he'd found himself talking. Javier wasn't a talker, but she'd been so sweet in the way she carded her slender fingers through his hair and let him ramble on, probably wasting her time.

"That's who you're here for?" Javier remembered still, with such distinct clarity, how her fingers had stuttered against his scalp. Javier had lifted his far-too-heavy head from her comfortable bosom and peered up at her, wondering whether disclosing all this had been a mistake. What kind of idiot walks into a brothel in Medellín half drunk and says he's a cop looking to take down Pablo fucking Escobar plus associates?

"They come here sometimes. Those sicarios I mean." Aurélia had said, resuming her caresses. Sweet girl. Sweet, sad girl who kissed so softly.

"Oh yeah?" Just his luck. "Not tonight though, hopefully." Suddenly he wasn't quite as drunk or tired anymore.

"Not tonight, no. At least not that I know of. Anyway, it's not- I shouldn't tell you this." She'd tilted his head up and pressed a lingering kiss to his lips. That girl could kiss like she was in love with you.

That was that. Four days later he'd come back, with a proposal wrung from his superiors. Any information that could lead to the capture of one of the Cartel's sicarios for a generous chunk of solid American cash.

"Aurélia?" Miss Rivas asked in a voice as if she was running calculations. "With curls or with a birthmark?"

"Umm, birthmark." A mole on her left cheek, just under the eye, like a rococo lady in every period piece about the French, except real.

"Oh! Catalina Vasquez!"

"You know her?" Of course she knew her. Apparently Medellín was actually a damn village and not a city of millions.

"Yeah, the family lived just down the street growing up. I used to babysit them sometimes, her and her younger sisters."

Javier hummed, unsure of how to reply. He pinned the receiver between his head and shoulder and shoved the freed hand up under the collar of his shirt to rub at the tension in the back of his neck.

"Sorry for interrupting, do go on."

It had taken some convincing. A whole lot of planning, too. But by the end of it he had one of Gacha's sicarios in custody. A large, brutish man who'd nicknamed himself 'Cobra'. Low-level and not especially bright, as it turned out, but not completely worthless. Javier had gone back to the brothel that night to give Aurélia her reward, and then he'd come back again the night after, when the high of success had worn off and he'd craved being kissed again like it meant something. Only, she'd been gone. Left without a trace, her erstwhile colleagues unwilling to divulge the whats and wheres and whys. Frustrated and anxious and in no small part betrayed, he'd drowned himself in a willing bottle blonde who could do extremely interesting things with her mouth. And that was that, the start of a career and a reputation. Not that he ever expected to be 'serviced' when he was there in a professional capacity. But when they offered, he found himself too weak to refuse. And they almost always offered. For whatever reason.

Professional pride perhaps.

"What happened to her?" It had been years but he had to ask, just on the off chance.

"She took your money and cut loose, moved to the coast and got a job at a baker's. Last thing I heard she was married and had another baby on the way."

"Good. That's ...good." He'd wondered, all these years... "Thank you."

"I didn't do anything."

"For listening. For letting me ...unload." For lifting a bit of guilt and uncertainty off of me. "Just... you don't have to do that. So thank you."

A short rustling, the squeak and groan of a chair, then: "I will listen to whatever you want to tell me, Agent Peña."

Javier released a sigh, deep and weary, and set aside his glass and the bottle that was significantly lighter than it had been. His mind was somewhere in that soupy stage now, floating aimlessly on some sort of thick fog. It dulled the creeping pain in his back that told him he was too old to be sitting on the floor now. He mumbled something indistinct, rubbed his eyes and shook his head in an attempt to clear the haze.

"Well, in any case, now you know." He'd only need to tell her about Lorraine, Helena, and Carillo, and he'd have shared all of his major sins. Huh.

"What are you asking for?"

Absolution. "A verdict?"

"I have no intention of judging you, Agent Peña. Not for this. You acquainted yourself with all the working girls in Bogotá and Medellín, and I married a man I did not love and stayed with him for years."

"That's hardly the same."

"Isn't it?" Her voice was soft and rueful, brimming with words not ready to be spoken quite yet. He sensed it, and agreed, and therefore decided that it was time to cut this heart-to-heart off here for both their sakes.

"Hell, I don't know. Maybe, in a way." He was way too drunk for this. He shouldn't have drunk this much. Where had his threshold gone? It's like he'd spent years tempering his liver for nothing.

"Well then, I'll let you know whether or not it'll be worth for you to come down to Medellín next weekend. Sleep well. And drink some water before then."

Javier glanced at the clock mounted on the oppsite wall. When the hell had it gotten this late? No wonder his ass was numb and his back was killing him. There was a moment when the strangest words were just hanging on to the tip of his tongue, ready to plummet off. That it would always be worth it to see her. Even just to take a turn about a park with her and the kid. Javier swallowed thickly. Gathered his professionalism and detachment.

"Until then, Miss Rivas. Good night." --- --- --- The phone rings insistently in a way that tells him it's been at it a while. Javier sighed while sliding the glass door of his office shut behind him. He hadn't planned on being all but ambushed by one of Stechner's CIA stooges under the guise of 'inter-agency liasing', and that was after getting caught up with a lenghty presentation one of his newly transferred agents had prepared for him. Feistl, he'd said his name was. The presentation was full of good ideas, too, just too involved. Javier had told the guy as much. If you can get your point across with ten words there's no point using fifty.

Javier picked up the receiver, one hand rubbing at the dull throbbing that was just starting to build in his temple.

"Peña."

"You're still at your office? It's past eight, you should go home." He smiles despite himself, and the chiding tone.

"Got delayed." He offered by way of an explanation. She harrumphed softly.

"Not that I'm not delighted to hear from you, but what's the occasion?" She rarely called him, he usually called her. She certainly didn't call on Thursday nights because when she wasn't preparing to drive up to Medellín she was usually exhausted enough at this point in the week to turn in early.

"I hope you're sitting down."

Javier perched himself on the edge of his desk where it wasn't piled high with reports and mind-numbing paperwork awaiting his signature. "I am."

"They're having a party and I've been invited. Friday next week. They'll all be there; Santacruz is apparently coming down from New York for it. The chief accountant, the money launderer, everyone. And their wives, or other-"

Javier's foot slipped a bit where he'd foolishly leaned a significant percentage of his weight on it. He caught himself as the desk gave a loud groan, slipping a bit on the linoleum floor. He righted himself quickly, sitting more firmly on the edge of the desk.

"What do you know?"

"Apparently there's going to be some sort of important announcement, but no one knows what it is, not even Miguel. Gilberto called it. All I know is that all four of them will be there, as well as everyone important in the organization. And then some. Likely every politician and law enforcement official in their pocket. Other cartels, too, but I don't know who exactly-"

"Miss Rivas, stop." Javier said firmly. Her voice had gotten that rambling, frantic quality that wore thin its natural pleasant rasp. "That's plenty. This is..." he twisted around and fished for his desk calendar, grabbing the nearest pen to circle the day, "This is huge. It could even be just the break we need."

She was silent for a moment, only her long, deliberate breaths crackling over the line. "You think so?"

"I think regardless of what it is, if it's important enough for a gathering this big, then yes."

"I don't suppose you could raid the party and arrest them all just like that?" She mused.

"Only in my dreams, Miss Rivas." He allowed himself a second to picture it: surroundig what was no doubt a very large and fancy property, riding in like the cavalry, the dumbstruck faces as the Gentlemen of Calí and their associates realized their luck had run out, clapping the handcuffs on them - he'd want to do it himself, hear the gratifying click of metal on metal that would wipe the self-satisfied smirks off their faces.

The warrants for the Calí godfathers existed, that wasn't the problem. The problems started with finding the location, circumventing their no doubt expert security, getting the lot of them without anyone escaping... Then there was the trouble of getting a search warrant for the property, even if they did know the address, and it was going to be a whole lot more complicated if the guy who signed those warrants was at that party himself. Then there was the fact that for all the valuable intel Miss Rivas had provided already, it wasn't nearly enough to nail the godfathers beyond what their army of slippery attorneys could weasel them right back out of. What they really needed was for someone to talk. Someone who had been there for longer and knew the operations of the cartel more intimately than Miss Rivas ever could (or than he would want her to, if Javier was being honest). The mysterious money launderer perhaps, or the chief accountant. Either would be good, both would be better - then again, the immunity deals that usually came with these kinds of cooperations didn't sit too well with Javier.

"Hell, I don't even have a plus one. Do I really have to go? I could pretend to be sick." She sighed and scoffed, and muttered something about not having anything to wear.

"I think you know." And if these people didn't know his face (and would put a bullet through it on sight) he'd gladly offer to be her plus one, if only to keep her safe. He hated knowing she'd be all alone there, among the wolves. It didn't make what he still had to ask of her any easier.

"Yes, I know. Miguel called me the 'third corner of their finance trifecta'." A bitter laugh, not that Javier needed that cue to know. He could tell from her voice alone how much she despised it. "In any case, now you know, so you can make whatever arrangements you need. I'll see you tomorrow?" Ah yes, about that.

"I'm afraid I can't make lunch. Urgent meeting called by the ambassador." Urgent and useless, but when the new president and minister of justice wanted a briefing he had to oblige. "Sorry."

"That's alright. Dinner then? My aunt will be in the hospital overnight."

"I'll see what I can do." There was just one more thing. "Miss Rivas?"

"Yes?"

"Would you be willing to wear a wire? To the party?"

"Well, I was thinking a cocktail dress would be more appropriate-"

Javier scoffed. "You know what I mean." He could picture her grin on the other end of the line, pleased at her little joke.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I suppose I might as well, seeing as I'm not getting out of this-"

"Thank you."

"Best bring the necessary ...equipment with you. I need to go dress shopping this weekend."

He promised that he would. He promised to call as soon as he knew when he'd be in Medellín. And he promised to go home for the day as soon as they said their good-byes.

He intended to do just that; he only needed to file away some things first.

"Boss?" Another one of the new transfers poked his head in after knocking. Why was he still here at this hour? Javier struggled to recall his name.

"Yeah, what is it, uh..." He did feel bad about it, too. A little bit at least.

"Van Ness, sir."

"What is it, Van Ness?"

"Duffy just faxed this over." Van Ness leaned further into Javier's office, holding himself steady on the doorframe, and handed him the flimsy sheet of paper. "They've gotten a lead through Cornerstone."

--- --- ---

Dinner instead turned into an apologetic phonecall during a meeting break and then a red eye flight out to Medellín. Then there's another meeting at the Search Bloc home base with Colombian National Police representatives and the only high point of it is that he briefly sees Hugo Jr who looks well. So by the time Javier finally starts out to Envigado it's lunchtime again. He makes it there just slightly after.

He walked up to the small house, past the flowerbeds on the windowsills, and knocked on the door. That side of the house was south-facing and it was a hot, cloudless day that has him sweating in his suit in no time. He's just about to knock again, thinking perhaps the first time he'd been too soft to be heard so as not to disturb the aunt who must be resting after her overnight stay at the hospital, but then he hears the quick tap of feet and the door is yanked open by an out-of-breath Diana. "Hey."

She was wearing a wide smile and cut-off denim shorts with a simple blue cotton blouse and her hair was loose and much longer than when they'd first met. It seemed like no time at all had passed since then when in reality it had been close to a year now.

"Hi," Javier breathed, "Sorry for the delay."

She waved it off. "Come on in, I saved you a plate." She turned and walked back the short and narrow hallway. Stop gawking at her legs.

"That's not necessary." He tried to deflect, toeing off his shoes near the door and loosening his tie and shirt collar, just the top button.

"Nonsense, unless you've eaten?" She looked over her shoulder before turning into the small kitchen.

"I haven't, no." Javier conceded, following behind. It wasn't exactly spacious, a round table squished to one wall with just enough space for three chairs. Little Salome sat at one, drawing with an array of colorful crayons. She acknowledged him silently before going back to her drawing and Javier sat down.

"Coffee?" Diana asked over the hum of the microwave, already pulling two mugs from a cupboard.

"Please." Javier stretched his legs out as far as he could without becoming a tripping hazard. "How's your aunt?"

"Resting now. She's been better recently, but overall she's been declining so I don't know-" She gave a helpless shrug, then brought over the mugs, shortly followed by the steaming plate which she set in front of him. He'd learned a while ago that even the most minute resistance was futile anyway. Besides, he actually was really rather hungry. Catering wasn't a priority for the CNP.

He waited until she sat down in the chair opposite to start eating. They talked quietly, not exactly smalltalk, but nothing too heavy either. It was strange sort of almost-domesticity if one looked over the fact that he was being snuck in like a teenage delinquent boyfriend whenever the aunt was out or asleep (which was fine by him as he had no desire to meet the woman whose only daughter he'd gotten killed).

"So how does that whole wire situation work in real life?" Diana asked after she'd cleared away the dishes (and physically slapping his hand away when he moved to help).

"Well it's... there's a literal wire, a microphone on one end, and a recording device on the other. And a battery." Javier began haltingly.

"And it needs to be concealed under the clothes, obviously."

"Obviously."

"Hmm, I see. How big?" She sat back down again, brushing a hand through Salome's hair affectionately. "And how do I secure it under the dress? I need to know these things so I can pick out one that'll cover it all, you see."

Javier nodded. "Did you want to leave soon? Because I was thinking it's probably easiest if I just came along."

At this, she seemed surprised, but recovered quickly. "You sure?"

He sipped the last of his now tepid coffee and nodded again. "Yeah, let's go buy you a dress."

"There's no need to buy me a dress, Agent Peña." He recognized that tone by now, how testy she got at any allusion of charity. It was an ingrained reflex that he knew better than to be irked by.

"The United States government is buying you a dress because you being at that party is of strategic importance to this investigation." He stood to put the empty mug in the sink before she could beat him to it, then returned to the table, standing behind the seat he'd previously occupied and gripping the back of it. "Besides, more of American taxpayer money is spent on worse things." Like Stechner's salary, he thought. She gave him a look that said they'd have more words on this, probably when they reached the checkout, then stood, saying she'd go say goodbye to her aunt.

Javier nodded, watching her leave. A little noise caught his attention. Salome still didn't speak much, but she knew how to make herself known nonetheless. "What is it, Miss Salome?" Javier stooped to get closer to eye level with the kid. She looked up at him with her big brown eyes and held up a scrap of the paper she'd been drawing on.

"Oh, what's this?" She shook the paper insistently in her tiny fist, an adorable frown creasing between her brows, as if miffed that he was being slow. And it's... he's gotten more relaxed around the little girl by now, but it still always lingers that he's part of the reason she's an orphan, and traumatised into a selective mutism that apparently even the average counselor or child psychiatrist doesn't quite know how to deal with to boot, that leaves him with a lingering apprehension that manifests in the kind of awkward hesitation that now has her scrambling off the chair and patting his leg as she holds the paper up for him to take.

"Want me to take a look?" He bends and takes it gently. Is answered by a sort of long-suffering sigh. The scrap is barely the size of his palm, covered in colorful blobs of red and orange and yellow and blue, pink and green and purple swirls in between.

"Very pretty." He decrees and attempts to hand it back just as Miss Rivas is poking her head back the room.

"Can you please grab the car seat?"

"Huh?" It's not very eloquent, but then again he's engaged in a game of impromptu reverse tug-of-war with a toddler. "She's coming with?" She's also pushing the paper back at him again, pouting.

"Yes of course she is. The car seat? It's on the shelf behind you." There is no argument to be had with the women in this family, so he doesn't even attempt it, just straightens and looks for the car seat which is indeed in the described spot. "And that drawing is for you so just take it."

"For me?" It's still clutched in his hand, and Salome is heaving a huff as if to say 'Duh. Idiot.' His throat feels tight all of a sudden. "Well, thank you very much." He makes a show of tucking it very carefully into the pocket of his suit jacket, then turns to retrieve the car seat. Together they make their way out. It takes a moment to set up the car seat in the back, another to wrestle the stroller into the trunk, but eventually they're on their way downtown.

--- --- ---

They have entered a world of ruffles. And sequins. For a moment Javier thinks he's having flashbacks to Lorraine's endless sessions discussing bridesmaid's dresses all those years ago. He exchanges a look with Miss Rivas, her expression stony and tense.

"Alright, quick in and out. If at all possible, I want to be out of here again before Salome wakes up." Javier nodded, tightening his grip on the stroller handles. Salome had dozed off in the car on the drive over and was now out cold, not even stirring throughout the transferral from car seat to stroller. Javier eyed the sea of satins and gulped, then turned to the woman at his side. "What's your plan?"

"I'm going to find a shop assistant." She narrowed her eyes, gaze flitting over the masses of racks.

"Good plan." Javier mumbled. He had an inkling that they'd be here forever if they attempted to brave this ocean of dresses alone.

"Right, you can..." she trailed off as her eyes fixed on a woman some feet away, her head just bobbing up from between two racks where she was rearranging some very bright red and very small garments, "...um, wait by the changing rooms?"

"It's fine." Javier replied, starting to push the stroller in that direction. If nothing else he figured he could function as a temporary clothing rack or something. On instinct, he scans the perimeter while Miss Rivas elucidates to the shop assistant what she is looking for and the younger woman, perhaps in her mid- to late twenties, snaps her fingers in triumph before announcing that she has 'just what you're looking for' and starts marching away. They follow her like ducklings from rack to rack, and a good ten minutes later they have an armful of cocktail dresses of varying lengths, cuts, and colors. It's the kind of brutal efficiency that even Search Bloc could only dream of, all in the petite shape of this eager retail employee with a side pony.

"Let me know if you need help." She chirps as she deftly deposits them in the changing room area before returning to her other tasks.

It's an almost enclosed space, five curtained cabins in an open half-circle arrangement with a long-ish bench in the middle and some tall mirrors on the spaces between. He wheels the stroller beside the bench and sits a moment later, so that the both of them are facing the changing room where the shop assistant had hung up the dress selection. Shrugs off his suit jacket, then drapes it carefully over the sleeping child to block out the light and muffle the noise of shoppers. Miss Rivas looked at him expectantly, one hand on the curtain that was half drawn.

"What?"

"You're gonna have to show me how to put on the wire thingy." She jerked her head towards the changing room. Javier gulped, the implication dawning on him. Looked at the stroller helplessly. There was nothing but an effectively timed baby snore and a twitch of one little ladybug-socked foot.

"Come on, the sooner we get this over with the sooner we can leave." As previously stated, there is no arguing with the women of this family, especially when they're right, so he resigns himself, dives for the case that holds the machinery, and stands. Miss Rivas stepped aside, drawing up the curtain after a furtive glance around. "We're both adults."

"Yeah." Javier agreed, his throat tight. At least these cabins were decently sized or they'd be squished in there like sardines in a can.

Javier turned away to give her some privacy, fiddling with the wire instead, pretending it had gotten more tangled than it was. At her soft confirmation that she's ready he turns around, making a conscious effort not to look... anywhere really. At least she'd only chucked her top; the shorts are still on.

"Agent Peña, I would assume that you have seen women in their underwear before." She sounded amused, and clearly more relaxed about this than he could ever pretend to be. He gives a terse nod, making his eyeline give a wide berth until his gaze lands squarely on her face where a bemused smirk just barely masks something more uncertain.

"Sorry, there is a real dearth of female agents or this would be much less awkward." Javier stepped closer, holding the wire in his hands like the world's flimsiest shield. She's right of course, the sight of a woman's brassiere hasn't been new to him since he was a teenager sneakily perusing clothing catalogues in his bedroom after dark. Hers isn't even... it's... functional, off-white, unwired and unembellished, and reveals just the edge of a tan line, something he quickly drags his gaze away from. The problem is of course, that the path his eyes take is further down her body, suddenly snagging on a raised line down at the very edge of her ribcage on the left side.

"What's this?" His thumb drags across the raised skin instinctually. It's a thin, straight line of scar tissue, around half the length of his index finger and sitting right on the lowest rib. Diana gasped softly and he snatched his hand away like he'd touched one of the electric fences back on the ranch. "Sorry."

"It's fine, it's just a scar." She took a steadying breath and retraced the path his finger had just taken on her skin with her own, pensive. "I got caught in a shootout on my way home when I was home for summer from university once. It's just a graze." Just a graze that would have been more than that if it had hit just a few inches to the side. Javier felt faint at the thought.

"Do you have any?"

"Huh?" His brain is lagging on something, hence the eloquent reply.

"You said you get shot at a lot in this job. Ever been hit?" She ducks her head a little, looking up at him through her lashes from where she's leaning back against the wall. "Come on, I showed you mine, you show me yours." It's clearly a joke, and one she obviously regrets as soon as the words are out, judging by the pained expression that comes right after the statement.

"Just one." Javier said, tapping his leg about a handwidth above the knee. "Went right through. Apparently missed the main artery by less than half an inch."

"Hmm, " she hummed, "Looks like we're both lucky then."

"Yeah," Javier agreed, his voice soft and low, "lucky."

The changing rooms really were not cramped, but with two fully grown adults inside, they were just about spacious enough. They stood barely an arm's length apart, mirror to one side and thick faux-velvet curtain to the other. Javier felt heat prickle from the base of his neck downwards, and he wasn't even the one with half his chest out. He'd only rolled up his shirtsleeves to his elbows, leaving his forearms bare.

Her hand brushed over one gently, curling around his wrist and startling him out of whatever feverish reverie he'd zoned out into.

"So," she trailed her fingertips further down, over his knuckles and the wire slung around them, before tapping against the small black cylinder that housed the recording device and battery, "does this thing get hot?"

Pull yourself together and be fucking professional! "It shouldn't."

"Right, well let's get it on then."

He handed her the microphone end first. Explained ideal placement, the closer to the face the better. This was a modified necktie bug, small and discreet, secured against the skin with tape if necessary. She took it, pinned the mic to the strap of her bra, high up on the shoulder. The wire itself was long enough to wind around her torso once with some slack. The slim casing that held the battery and recording device she tucked into her bra for now. Listened intently as he explained how to turn the device on and off.

"I'll keep this on for the rest of the day, just to get used to the feeling." Her smile was a bit wobbly as she spoke.

"Yeah, that's ...uh, a good idea." Javier fidgeted a moment, not sure what to do with his hands. "Right, I'll leave you to your-"

She gripped his hands just as he was about to turn and leave. Alarmed, he stilled. Watched he lip wobble and the rims of her eyes redden under furrowed brows. "Hey, what is it?, What's wrong?"

She heaved a deep and shaky breath that ended in an even shakier laugh. "I'm sorry I'm just... I'm scared."

"You don't have to do this if you don't feel safe." Javier was quick to offer. "You've helped us so much already."

She swallowed hard. "No, I do want to! Do this, help you. I want to bring them down! Besides, I'm going to be there anyway, so it would be a waste not to-"

She was trembling now, unaware of her own body's reaction until it was brought into sharp relief by his large warm hands on her shoulders.

"Hey," he said, thumbs rubbing gently at her collarbones, "It's going to be alright. I won't let anything happen to you, okay?"

She knew, realistically, that there was only so far he could carry a promise like that, but her nerves calmed nonetheless. It was silly, really. This relationship was just a professional alliance, no matter how many deep secrets they'd shared with one another. Officially of course they couldn't ever be associated, at least as long as any of the 'Gentlemen' of Calí still roamed free. And yet, she trusted him.

"I know. I'm sorry." She babbled, nerves imploring her to externalize her anxiety through words. "I came to you; I wanted this... want this. I'm in. I'll try to be brave."

He squeezed her shoulders gently. "You're one of the bravest people I know." And that was the crux of it, wasn't it? Because deep down he didn't want her to be brave. Helena had been brave too, and what did it get her?

"I'm just… I'm tired of being afraid." She steadied herself on him, hands gripping his biceps now.

"Sometimes being afraid is what keeps us alive." He murmured, bringing one hand up to tilt her face to meet his gaze. "Listen to me. I will do whatever it takes to make sure you're safe, okay? Whatever I can, I promise. I can't have you on my conscience as well." The last part was whispered so softly that she barely caught it, but she nodded, pulling herself together and schooling her breathing.

"Thank you." She squeezed her hands once and let go. Javier searched her face for a moment longer, thumb brushing over her cheekbone absently, before he remembered himself and drew back.

"You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah," she nodded, "yeah I'll be fine."

"Okay." Javier breathed, straightening, hand going for the curtain. "I'll wait outside."

Her answering smile was still shaky, but not quite as much so.

When Javier ducked out of the changing room his first glance is towards the stroller, where Salome is still napping peacefully. His second glance is directed towards the shop assistant sorting through the returns rack, directed there by the woman's disapproving huff. It's not the same one who helped them pick out dresses, but a slightly older woman, one who carries the gravitas of authority derived by experience with her.

"Did your wife need help?" She quips while untangling garments from hangers. Out of all that's happened over the past quarter of an hour or so, this is what really makes Javier's ears burn.

"Yes, with the um... zipper." He stutters, wishing for the first time that day since leaving the base that he could have a smoke.

"Hmm," the shop assistant resumed her folding, "You would not believe the kinds of things people get up to in there." Her disapproving stare moved to the stroller where Salome was still blissfully asleep under his blazer. He snatches the garment away guiltily, but Salome doesn't even stir, just slumbers on cutely. At last, the woman's eyes soften.

"Yes, well... call me or any of my colleagues if you need further... assistance."

"Thanks." He clears his throat and sits as she sails off with an armful of clothes. Miss Rivas poked her head out not a second later.

"I'm sorry, your what?"

At least she was laughing again, even if her eyes were still slightly red-rimmed and watery.

"Sorry, next time I'll be sure to clarify that you are my confidential informant and we're taking down the world's biggest drug cartel together." He retorts, and she breaks out into a wide grin accompanied by a snorty burst of laughter.

"Well, if you put it like that it sounds almost romantic." Now it's his turn to snort. "I do actually need help with this zipper, though."

She stepped half out of the little alcove, clad in a floor-length, wine-red halter gown with intricate beading all over, and a slit so high it makes his brain short-circuit. Which causes him to just stare at her dumbly for a long moment, even after she's already turned to present the high back of it.

"Agent Peña?" She throws over her shoulder, somewhere between amused and slightly concerned. He jumps and strides over, fingers fidgeting with the zipper tab until he gets a decent grip and starts to pull it up the rest of the way.

"Uh, no I meant down." Her voice is as strained as he feels. He pulls the tab down, desperately trying not to focus on the skin being revealed as he does. She releases a relieved breath when he's done and turns, stepping back inside the changing room.

"Thanks."

"This one good?" He asks with a non-committal shrug, nodding towards the dress without really looking at it.

"No, I think I do need to be able to breathe. And also I'd like to be able to walk without flashing everyone. I do work with these people, after all." She smiled, one hand on the curtain ready to draw it back shut. "I'll be quick with the rest, but you can take Salome for a turn if you want, maybe have a smoke outside? We can meet back here or by the registers."

They both look at the little girl's sleeping form simultaneously, watch her eyes move rapidly under her lids as she is lost in dreams.

"Thanks, but it's alright. I can stay in case you need further...help."

It really isn't long after that. She hurries, but they also make light conversation while she tries on another five or six dresses. She doesn't come out with most of them but narrates all their flaws very entertainingly. Javier once again enjoys how forward she is, not censoring herself in the least as she complains about everything from odd sizing to itchy material to unfortunate placement of embellishments.

"Okay, last one." She announces and then draws back the curtain with a flourish and Javier... just gapes. The dress is midnight blue, so dark it looks almost black until light hits the silky fabric and reflects off of it. The color compliments the deep bronze tan of her skin like it had been chosen specifically for her. It's slim-cut, body-hugging and high-collared with thin spaghetti straps and subtle beading on the bodice. A tasteful slit goes to just above the knee and the hem brushes just over the tops of her feet.

"I think this will work."

'Oh it definitely works.' Luckily Javier's mouth is currently too dry for these words to slip out, so he just nods, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"Great! Let me change back real quick and let's get out of here."

He's just adjusting his suit jacket to lie over the still blissfully sleeping toddler like a blanket when Diana steps back out, back on her shorts and top.

"Looks like the American taxpayers are in luck. It's discounted." She said as she read the tag, then draped the blue dress over the top of the stroller. "Twenty percent. Not bad."

Javier snorted. Took the other dresses and hung them up on the returns rack. Grabbed the stroller handles and gently set the vehicle in motion. Salome stirred a moment, then bunched a chubby hand in the fabric sheltering her from the chilly air-conditioning and settled back down. Diana's gaze is soft upon her niece, and soft still when she raises her eyes to meet Javier's.

They make their way down to the registers, walking from the top floor of the department store downwards, weaving around racks and shelves and other shoppers. Javier is pushing the stroller, Miss Rivas at his side where possible, her hand loosely hooked into the crook of his elbow again as she likes to do. It's two floors down, as they traverse the men's section, that she suddenly sidetracks, half disentangling herself, half pulling him over to a wall display. Neckties. He raises a questioning eyebrow.

"Since we're here already." She shrugs, like that explains everything. It doesn't. The eyebrw remains up and quizzical.

"Explain."

There's a dangerous glint in her eye as she lets her fingertips glide over the assorted fabrics.

"Gabi said you only have ugly ties." Has she now.

"She's only seen two!" Javier protests without heat. She eyes him critically, eyes the tie he put on this morning at the asscrack of dawn for his damn meetings. He has half a mind to argue that he didn't feel like dressing up all pretty for some pissy general at half past four in the morning.

"Was this one of them?" Though truth be told perhaps his tie selection is a bit... outdated. This one is several brownish tones in a very 70s pattern, if he's being honest.

"No?" But this one was also one of the old ones that had been gifts from Lorraine he'd never gotten rid of.

"Then you have three ugly ties." There is no arguing with this woman. So, he submits. "You'll have to make announcements on national television sooner or later; you'll need to look decent."

"I'm not arguing, am I?" He figures what's the point. What's the worst that could happen. And she knows she's won, too. Gleefully starts peering through the selection before them.

"Is this revenge? For this?" He motioned to the dress still draped over the stroller, his meaning clear between them. Is this for making you go to a party with the world's most powerful drug bosses with a wire up your boobs.

"No." She lied, picking up a solid charcoal tie and holding it up to his collar. "Of course not."

She picks out four, two solid and two patterned.

By the time he parks the car back on a side street in Envigado Salome is awake and very grumpy. A snack of peach slices and crackers mollifies her somewhat, but just enough to get her in the house and distracted by her toys before throwing a fit. Javier carried in the car seat and then the stroller, after Diana's signal that the coast was clear, and lastly he grabs her shopping bag and stuffs the last item on his itinerary for this visit inside, before he forgets again.

"Another coffee?" He wants to, he really does, but if he ingests any caffeine now he knows he won't sleep until well after midnight. So he shakes his head, apologetic. He's tired, sure, but he'll power through until he reaches his hotel (and then promptly collapse on the bed there.)

"I have one last... I brought you something, just in case." He hands her the bag, and she looks at him quizzically. Until she looks inside, that is.

"What's this?" She holds the garment up in question, turns it in her hands a a few times. Javier clears his throat.

"Bulletproof vest."

She gulps. Pales imperceptibly, eyes flitting between him and the vest.

"You really think this is neces-"

"Just in case." He insists. It probably wouldn't- it's a newer model, thinner and more discreet than the tac vests they use out in the field, but likely still too bulky to be hidden under her normal work clothes, even though she favors looser cuts. He takes it from her gently, motions for her to put her arms up so he can lower the vest over her head and do it up at the sides. Explains how it needs to be secured tight to the body so it doesn't shift.

"It won't work under my normal work clothes." Miss Rivas frowns, hands smoothing down over the front of it, calculating. Probably going through her wardrobe mentally. Doing an admirable job of not letting fear grip her again like that earlier hiccup. "It's too bulky."

"No, you're right." Javier conceded, hands still at her sides where his fingers are hooked into the clasps of the vest. "You should still take it. Who knows when it'll come in handy."

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Author’s note cont’d: this is the song Javi is hearing over the phone in the first scene btw

youtube

learn about bugs and wires here (though I do admit that I am playing a bit fast and loose with this here ;)

this is what I based the first dress on:

and here’s the final dress:

and yes, I hate about 90% of the ties they have him wear in the show and that is how that bit came about. Sorry to throw Lorraine under the bus a bit there but I’m sure they were fashionable at the time :/

Next Chapter

#narcos (tv)#narcos #narcos fanfic #I cling to your lips like gloss (series)#like gloss tag #javier pena x ofc #javier peña #javier peña fanfic #my writing #multipart #series #part 3

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noyasenpaii · 4 years

Text

Covetous - Kageyama Tobio x F!Reader Part 1

An au where Y/N is the Volleyball club's second manager and is a second year at Karasuno. Y/n helps Kageyama open up about his troubles with loneliness🙌💓

Pairing : Kageyama Tobio x F!Reader

Genre : Angst, Fluff, Swearing

Wordcount: 1.5k

Please don't be shy to give me feedback! I'm always up for improving my writing 😊

══

Covetous:

cov·et·ous

/ˈkəvədəs/

adjective

having or showing a great desire to possess something belonging to someone else.

══

Nishinoya received the ball with ease and it flew to the setter. Kageyama inhaled and jumped, tossing the ball to the perfect position for Asahi to spike.

"No!" Daichi yelled.

Nishinoya screamed, "It's too short!"

The ball smacked the wooden floor. No one was able to cover.

Fuck.

"Kageyama."

What's wrong with me today?

"Kageyama?"

I can't. The ball.

"Kageyama!"

Why?

He looked at his fingers.

Why doesn't it feel good today?

Why wasn't it perfect?

"KAGEYAMA," Tanaka screamed, "FOCUS."

He jolted at the sound of his senior. Kageyama clenched his jaw, an attempt to forget his disgusting toss . One more point and the match will be over. They defeated Shiratorizawa once, they can conquer them again. He had to show them that they are worthy of going to nationals.

"Something's wrong with Kageyama," Y/n muttered. Coach Ukai nodded.

Kageyama closed his eyes and exhaled. Sweat dripped down the corners of his face.

All I have to do is toss. I can't miss it. Focus. I have to toss. I have to toss. I have to toss! I HAVE TO TOSS.

But... where's the ball?

It hit the floor with a sickening thud. The whistle blew and the practice match was over. They lost the set. 25 - 16. They only lasted 30 minutes.

Hinata looked up. "You were supposed to toss."

Guilt tiptoed down his spine. He knew there was something wrong with him. Kageyama stepped back, horror evident in his face. His hands shook violently as he looked at his teammates.

"I feel sick."

As his teammates yelled at him to come back, Kageyama ran towards the baseball field. He didn't care that it was dark and that he wasn't able to see his surroundings, he just needed some time alone.

══

"Tobio-chan?" Y/n sat next to the boy. "Ryu said that this would cheer you up." She smiled as she handed him a blue carton of milk.

They sat in comfortable silence and on prickly grass. Amidst the dim lighting of the moon, Y/n underestimated the cold of the night. He sipped his beloved milk and looked at her.

"Thank you... L/n senpai. I owe you one." Y/n frowned.

"Tobio I told you to just call me Y/n! I don't like the way you refer to me as senpai I feel like Yu and Ryu." She stood up and chuckled at the second years' names. It had a weird ring to it. "So do you wanna you know? Talk? About it?"

Just talking to him makes me so nervous. Shit, did I just call him by his first name?

With only his back in view Y/n thought that she said something that upset him. Unreadable expressions that consistently decorated Kageyama's face proved it difficult to create a bond with the first year. Hinata and Yamaguchi were really easy to work with although they still called her senpai or san. Tsukishima gradually became comfortable with her presence and she let him call him by Kei. Calling Kageyama by his first name was definitely a mistake.

"I don't really know what happened." Y/n's heart broke. She never heard anyone else speak with such defeat naked in their voice. "It's complicated."

Ah. He doesn't wanna talk about it with me.

"I... see." She turned her back to the boy taking a step towards the Volleyball club's gym. She bit her lip, "I guess you don't want to talk about it with me."

"Y/n." Her eyes widened. "T-that's not what I meant. I jus- I don't know I mean. Please stay with me for a while Y/n san..?"

Kageyama never felt so uncomfortable using someone's first name. He hated the way it rolled out of his mouth. He hated how you were so cool about it when you called the third years by their name. You were so friendly with everyone. Everyone.

Even Tsukishima that annoying little shit.

He wanted to be just like that. He wanted to gain everyone's trust just like you. It mattered that you joined the club later than him and still managed to create a bond with everyone on the team. He thought he was the best setter in the prefecture. But can a setter be at his best when he doesn't even have the trust of his teammates?

Y/n burst into giggles. It was loud enough to attract the attention of Hinata and Nishinoya.

"Is L/n san laughing?"

"Did Kageyama make her laugh or what?"

They looked at each other. "That's weird?" The duo peeked and watched Y/n and Kageyama's antiques.

"Tobio kun why do you have to be so awkward?!" Y/n choked from laughing too hard. He glared.

"Shut up."

"Why is your face so scary? Stop being so mean all the time." She whined.

"IT'S THE ONLY FACE I HAVE DO YOU HAVE A PROBLEM?"

It took a while for you to calm down. By then Kageyama was back to his original position, sitting down on the grass once again. It felt as if the sky turned a shade darker and Y/n didn't want to stay out too late. She didn't like walking home in the dark.

"Okay then Tobio kun, spill all your deepest, darkest secrets and I promise I will do my best to not be judgemental and love and accept you for who you are and also be a good senpai and set good examples for you to follow." She sat down.

"I have to spill all my secrets?"

"N-NO I was just joking I was just exaggerating don't take it so seriously!"

"It started happening... just last week." He looked at her face.

I think I'm forgetting that I'm not talking to Hinata who has a 2 second attention span.

"I realized that I needed to get better... fast. I started training at home for 2 hours with 5 minute breaks in between. I practiced tossing, spiking, receiving all by myself even though it was really hard. I started practicing with Hinata during lunch but he kept distracting me so I stopped and practiced by myself. I went home early after club session and I continued practicing. Everyday, every night all I do is practice. I don't have time for distractions. But this week, it seems as if I can't concentrate enough. This week it seems as if everyone trusts my toss a little... less."

Y/n blinked. His rambling was too fast for her to follow. However, she was more confused by the fact that he opened up to her. This person who barely knows her trusts her enough to be completely honest with her. Her heart swelled with how proud she was of the boy. He was finally opening up.

"You're wrong. You were the one hesitating," Y/n pursed her lips. "This isn't just about volleyball is it?"

For a moment, Kageyama looked scared. As if he was threatened by how much she saw through him. He looked away, making sure his scarlet face was not visible.

"I d-don't know."

"You think I haven't noticed you pushing everyone away?" Kageyama froze.

I was pushing everyone away?

"W- what?"

"You never go home with Shoyo anymore. You never show up when Daichi's treating all of us curry buns. We all know how much you love your curry buns. Even Shoyo is worried!" Y/n didn't understand how she was so fired up. She never liked to be straightforward with people who made her upset. She has noticed Kageyama being more distant lately but she never questioned it. It wasn't really her business.

"Tobio chan… I think you're lonely."

Lonely?

What do you mean by lonely?

"How could I feel lonely when I'm never alone?" Kageyama whispered. He didn't understand what this was about. He kept everything to himself and he liked it that way. It was the most effective way to deal with his problems. Why would he go around boasting about his troubles like some of his classmates? The 1st years solved their issues with childish methods, gossiping and talking behind others' backs. It wasn't very nice. He didn't want to be like that.

"Because you feel like you don't have anyone to talk to. This team, you know you can trust them." She smiled at him.

Realization struck Kageyama. She meant talking to the people he cared about. His team were his… friends.

" I see. People who I can talk to, people I trust. They're the ones I should go to when I have troubles?"

"They'll be there for you. I promise."

I've been pushing everyone away just to get better when all I needed was their company.

Small arms embraced Kageyama's hips, her head on his chest. Y/n knew the boy was astonished by her actions but she couldn't help it. Ever since she joined the volleyball club, she wanted to show Kageyama a little bit of her love and care for him. It was too obvious that he was some type of loner. All she wanted was to get close to him so he knows he isn't all alone.

"Y/n it's getting late," Kageyama muttered.

"Hug me back or I won't let you go, Tobio chan." The boy muttered a small 'fine' and put his arms around you. She grinned so hard it felt like she would burst from all the joy.

He trusts me now.

"Come on, let's go home. YU, SHOYO WHAT ARE DOING STARING AT ME LIKE THAT HUH?"

part 2 coming soon

tags

@yunggumii @blobbyx2blobfish @daiseukis @noyapai @letshaikyuu @gulfwanq @blkjackals @heccingdead @baby-boy-taichi @bokutokoutarou @dateko @maple0bwawe @allywritesimagines @chasin-l @1tsnoya @nugget-warrior @hihiq

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mavspeed · 3 years

Text

First Line Meme

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line, then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

Hey @applesfallingfromblondehair, thanks for the tag love!! likewise i dont usually do this but this feels interesting so lets see if my ass has improved over the last few stories lmfkjgjk

also this will prob be a mix of xmcu fic + kingsman fic bc i think i have a more or less equal number of fics written for both

The first time Charles meets Lucifer Morningstar, actual devil from hell, ruler of the underworld, fallen son of the lord above and god knows what else, it had been after Erik had been sentenced to life imprisonment in the highest security cell in the Pentagon.

- this is from a professor and a devil walk into a bar, which is kinda a crossover rarepair fic that rose out of me and mutuals on twitter discussing tom ellis and james mcavoy being roommates and kinda... devolved from there. i am proud of this one lmfnjgkj

“Are you okay, Professor?” Hank asks quietly.

Charles blinks. He supposes it’s a valid question. He’s been in a bit of a funk the past few days- scratch that actually, the past few years. He’s just lost so much- his father, and then his mother’s love, and then Raven and Erik and Sean and countless others. Building a school, gaining students he loved to teach and nurture hadn’t helped him in the slightest, and he’s as lost as he ever was, wandering the halls of a drafty mansion alone, feeling like he’s been stranded at sea even whilst surrounded by people.

- from in the belly of the beast, which again came out of me wondering what would have happened if fox had gone w their original plan and charles had been that last horseman instead of erik. this story will prob gain a sequel... sometime in the near future when im not too bogged down by current wips

The Xavier family hall of the deceased- because of course they’re weird enough to have a cemetery- is full of rows upon rows of holograms. Charles is four and gets bored of his father crying over his mother’s hologram, so he toddles over to the other rows. Unfamiliar names, all of them- Charles is young, and he doesn’t understand death. He doesn’t even know who his mother is, who’d died at childbirth and left him with a father still at a loss when it came to bringing up a kid.

- from tequila on a spaceship, the sequel to a fic that still has some people angry at me i think. this fic never did gain as much traction as the first one but im still proud of it esp since it discusses certain themes of reincarnation that ive always wanted to see explored for myself in reincarnation aus (and i only ever saw it in danveresque’s reincarnation au)

There are cork boards covering every inch of the wall. Red strings, photographs, conspiracy threads, everything. Raven takes it in, swallowing, noticing the picture in the middle.

It’s one of Charles, when he’d been in university. His final year- he'd just been done presenting his year- end project, his fringe a tumbled mess and a bright smile on his lips. Erik had taken the picture, Charles scurrying to his side once he’d been done and demanding to look at the image, his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth. He looks like how Raven had always imagined him to be.

“He wouldn’t want this,” she finally says, turning to look at Erik.

- from tequila on a beach, the first fic to the fic above. this fic is v special to me because i actually wrote this on a spiral after having a very tough visit with one of my parents in the hospital after a surgery for organ removal to prevent the onset of cancer. its simpler than my other fics yet i think more powerful because of what happens. also i think the first time i killed charles off lol (spoiler alert). also idk if ppl were aware of this but this is called tequila on a beach precisely bc charles and erik were tipsy from tequila at a frat party and then went to a beach. its the way they first met (and will continue to meet for all their next lives)

Erik doesn’t know how it all started. Maybe it was when his insane sergeant had started rambling about imaginary cities, treasures of gold and cursed incantations. Maybe it was when trickles of rumours had started pouring down about the higher ups wanting to investigate unfound territory, disregard the Egyptian government’s feelings on the matter, and put a previously unfound myth on the map for all the world to see. Or maybe, Erik thinks, it was when archaeologist Klaus Schmidt put a bullet through his mother’s head and he ended up going to America armed with dual citizenship and the sole intent of wanting to drive a coin directly between Schmidt’s eyes, joining a division of the American military focused solely on guarding archaeological digs- more importantly, in Egypt, where Schmidt’s interest had shifted.

- from courting the end of the world, another one i’m just insanely proud of! this is the first time i’ve ever attempted a multichapter movie au and it actually managed to work pretty well, i at least haven’t run out of inspiration for it yet lmfjgjg. also erik as himbo rick connell... very rent free in my head

The day after they murder Shaw and leave his house of horrors, Erik crosses the Canadian border with Charles across his back. Charles had started getting tired while they’d been walking, stumbling and nearly tripping until Erik had forced him to get on his back, ignoring Charles’ protests.

The blood’s seeping out steadily from Charles’ nose, staining his shirt and soaking it through. It’s been leaking on and off, and the effects are already obvious in the dark circles beneath Charles’ eyes. Any more, and Erik knows they’ll have to find him a doctor. He hopes the nearest town in Canada has one that would be willing to treat them.

- from a world built for two. i actually dk where the inspiration for this came from, i think i was once again on a depressive spiral and wanted to break my comfort characters into pieces and put them together again. this also deals with codependency and unhealthy coping mechanisms as a result of trauma which i showed as sweet in the fic but i would def not recommend in real life. pls if u relate to either charles or erik in this go see a therapist

The call comes in the afternoon, an hour before Charles is supposed to teach his Intro to Genetics class. Frowning, Charles abandons the game of Candy Crush he’d admittedly been playing rather badly and picks it up. “Charles sp-”

“We need you, Prof,” Kitty says desperately into the phone. “He’s been in a temper all morning, and then Alex’s reports missed out a whole subsection, so he’s fired the entire marketing team! Please, Professor, you have to come immediately!”

- from and we can be pirates. i wrote this in like 4 seconds for my friend who wanted professor charles and ceo erik and actually did not expect this to gain the attention it did... its always the fics u write in like 4 seconds lmfjggj. a sequel for this Is coming too probably at some point in the very far future

Charles Xavier can admit as he sits across from Essex, hands cuffed to the desk, that in hindsight, this had perhaps not been one of his better ideas.

He refuses to admit it as he controls Erik’s mind, preventing him from lashing out and making him close his eyes to the nightmare unfolding in front of him. He refuses to admit it as he gets shoved into the back of a black pickup truck, and the butt of a gun is smashed across his forehead hard enough to knock him out cold for a few hours. He refuses to admit it when he wakes up what appears to be hours later in a cold interrogation room, hands cuffed to the table in front of him, with a suppression collar rendering his mind dark and almost achingly silent.

- from from the land of gods (bring me home). i’ve been struggling w this fic a lot (it didnt come as easily to me as the first one did) but its getting there. also i put charles through hell in this rip sorry mister xavier

In the aftermath, both of them stand at the border of the mansion. The air feels frigid, slicing into Raven’s lungs like a thousand paper cuts. “Charles, please,” she begs, heart in her throat and voice hoarse. “He wouldn’t want you to be like this. He wouldn’t want you to do this. It’s not too late, you can come back.”

Charles gazes back, a brick wall. He hasn’t even cleaned up, still in that damnable yellow and blue suit with blood drying in the corners of his mouth, the bridge of his nose. There’s nothing in his eyes- blank, almost see through. He looks as if he’s a mere shade, a ghost lounging about where he once was. Raven knows better.

“I will raze the world to the ground,” he finally says, his voice free of any inflection, “and when I’m done, no one will be left standing. Not you, and certainly not me.”

- from where all the poets went to die, a dark fic based on what would have happened if moira had killed erik with the bullets. its the first time ive written dark charles and it was v fun if im being honest

10.

Charles is a light sleeper. It’s a trait that stays with him- all the way from his father and the tests to taking care of his mother to Cain Marko and his fists to Cuba and then now, the dust of Washington settling over him and making the waking world lie an inch beyond his eyelids. It therefore stands to reason that the second the windowsill creaks he’s up in a shot, hoisting himself up and lashing out with his telepathy instantly.

That’s not a trait that had stayed with him. That’s a newly formed trait, bitter and bold, carved into existence by Cuba by his students disappearing one by one in Vietnam by the letters that announce Sean’s death in black unfriendly print by-

The tendrils of his telepathy forged cold and distant meet a barrier and recoil, stunned. He focuses his eyes and then widens them, staring at Erik who stares back, hidden beneath that infernal muddied magenta helmet of his. They stare at each other for a moment before Erik clears his throat.

- from in the valley of kings (you will come home). my first ever cherik fic! im actually also proud of this one even if i ended it horribly and half my mutuals refuse to read it bc of how it ended LMFJGJGJ. i cant believe this was supposed to be a funny and cute kid fic and then i turned it into an angst ridden mess. also leo is actually an oc whose adult version is fancasted as charlie rowe by me and another mutual on twitter and im v proud that readers are willing to die for the baby

11.

Mike has to google it, finding a crafts shop nestled into the corner of the street right smack in the middle of Louisiana, past a long and winding dirt road and the crumbling farmhouses relics of a time long past. The air is hot, humid, sticking to the back of his neck like an unwieldy parasite as he pushes the door of the shop open to the sound of the bell tinkling above.

He finds the origami paper quickly enough and has a momentary breakdown about what Bill’s favourite colour even is- he had never thought to ask him. Twenty seven years of following every single footstep of his like a dedicated, most definitely creepy stalker, three months of more than a few states traversed with Bill’s laughter now echoing in his ears like a shadow that trails after him, and this is what stumps him. It takes ten minutes, but he finally settles on light green.

- my first and last entry into the IT fandom bc i love these two but to be very fair there isn’t much content out there for him (and twitter content actually intimidates me lmfjgjjg) a thousand paper cranes never got much traction either but i suspect its bc i was horrible at promoting it. also i very much love this fic even if it never did that well bc ive always wanted to write a fic like this after watching the movie in cinemas in 2019

12.

ok nsfw i guess

Mornings start like this- Eggsy snuffling into David’s neck, attempting to work his way back up to wakefulness as David sleeps the sleep of the dead, the streams of morning sunlight gradually lightening up the room. It’s a while before he gets the energy to sit up, pushing an eager V off the bed- V for Vendetta, a kitten named after one of David’s favourite movies that they’d adopted about a month after moving in together- before stumbling to the loo. He’s already in the shower when David comes in, naked as the day he’s born with his arms entwining themselves around Eggsy’s waist as he murmurs a sleep-soft, “Good morning, love,” as he presses a kiss into the two-days-old hickey on Eggsy’s shoulder. His breath smells of toothpaste, the minty fresh kind he insists on buying from Target no matter how much Eggsy insists that the other brand is much better. Without fail, Eggsy always has a split second thought of thinking that he must truly be in heaven because no way can this be his reality, every single day, before sinking to his knees and allowing David’s cock to hit the back of his throat.

- from that’s the kind of love i’ve been dreaming of. i genuinely wish i had an opinion for this but i don’t remember writing this its been way too long

13.

The first time Eggsy sees her is in Trafalgar Square.

Trafalgar Square is uncomfortably packed on any normal day, but on New Year’s it is quite the hothouse. Sweating armpits and hot bodies plastered against each other, the twinkling lights overhead providing a flash of blue and green and yellow and red, screaming children and giggling teenagers shoving their way through- it’s a recipe for disaster. Eggsy doesn’t know how he ends up there. It happens sometimes- one second he blinks, sequestered in the comfort of his living room, and the next he’s somewhere else, as if he’s been teleported. “Life goes past you,” Tilde had said once, “and you don’t even notice.” Tilde would be right.

- this is a roxy and eggsy friendship centric fic that i abandoned bc i lost my ardor for this world about the same time i got into xmen lmfjgjg. all the king’s horses also had some great fancasts in it with dev patel fancasted too... rip ig

14.

once again, nsfw

Eggsy, truth be told, doesn’t actually like having sex in bathrooms. First of all, bathrooms generally have an unsanitary air about them. Besides that, the granite of the sinks always feel cold against his hips, there is the ever present fear of being walked in on and unlike what people might say, he actually really isn’t that much of an exhibitionist- and truth be told, he’s never liked the look of himself in the mirror mid coitus.

For David Budd, however, he suspects he might be up for anything.

- from do you ever dream of me. im actually proud of this fic and this series, i never usually write straight up porn or friends w benefits and i think it worked well in here. once again didnt get much traction but that was very of the norm for my kingsman fics lmfjgj

15.

It is on his fifth meeting with the therapist on site that she brings the issue up. The elephant in the room- or the bomb , David thinks morbidly. If asked, he can’t remember specifics about that day now. All he remembers is this- the burn of Julia’s picture in his wallet against his thigh, the Botticelli painting on the far wall and Miss Paulson’s face, severe and unsmiling.

“When you couldn’t reach Julia,” she says, after he finishes describing the feeling of running to Julia, the panic searing his chest as he’d prayed for his legs to work faster so he could do something, anything to reach her hand. “How did that make you feel?”

- from your haunted social scene. i genuinely... do not remember anything about this either helpfkjgjg,,, this has 55 comments tho which. Nice

16.

David brings her home on- in a move far too cliche for it to be reality- a stormy night. It’s in fact storming so hard the windowpanes shudder like leaves in the wind, droplets crashing against the glass in a cacophony so loud Eggsy more than once considers turning the radio all the way up to drown it out. He’d gone scrounging for David’s sweatshirts instead of his own halfway through, wincing intermittently at the flashes of thunder. At a particularly loud one JB had jumped up, squeaked in a very undoglike manner and skidded across the floor to cower beneath the sofa, only coming out when coaxed by Eggsy to do so. Officer Oatmeal had watched the proceedings from her regal place by the armchair, dozy eyed and blinking heavily.

- from a cat named lavender. from what i remember this was also my first try at bringing up trans eggsy

17.

He first appears at the black prince on a cold Monday evening, eyes like Frank Sinatra and lips arresting anyone’s gaze if they weren’t careful enough. He stood out too, clad in a respectable bomber jacket and boots that clicked against the tile rhythmically and loudly, a sort of organised, measured cacophony.

“Go and serve him,” Andrew said, fat and disinterested, seated behind the counter and idly flicking through bills, less than ten percent of which he pays Eggsy. “I’m busy.”

- from trust is left in lovers after all. i never continued this which is sad bc this did get a lot of attention... it was just v hard to keep the story going

18.

It usually rains cats and dogs in London but for some reason, the rain is heavier than usual today. The droplets splatter against the windows in a constant buzzing rhythm, the sound meshing together in a melody not altogether pleasant to the ears. It’s half past five and yet the light has to be kept on because that’s how dark the sky has gotten- thunder rolls like a loud crack, abrupt and deafening, causing Daisy to jump in her seat.

“Just a thunderstorm, flower,” Eggsy says. They’re seated at the dinner table, Eggsy going over her homework while David sits opposite them, hunched over his laptop as he attempts to finish a post mission report. Eggsy is half convinced he gave up ten minutes ago- he’s got his earbuds in and he hasn’t really typed anything in a while, eyes focused on the screen. His eyebrows are scrunched up in a glare that’s too adorable for his own good- and for Eggsy’s.

- from could feel like kryptonite. a lot of my kingsman fics are actually so much happier than my cherik ones... i should prob look into that rip

19.

“When you’re done lazing around you can come in, you dozy dog,” he tells Officer Oatmeal, who butts her nose into his knee. She’s the only one not on a diet in the house, Eggsy deeming her far too healthy and skinny to need one anyway. In fact, she’s under strict instructions by Eggsy to fatten up instead.

Once the animals are done feeding- Eggsy sporting a suspicious scratch on his left forearm- they settle down to eat their scrambled eggs and toast. David’s taken a large gulp of his scalding coffee when Eggsy says, all of a sudden, “So, I have a school reunion.”

- from gonna set this dance alight. don’t remember much about this either tbh

20. (the last one FINALLY)

It isn’t a big event or explosion that makes David realise he wants to see his father’s ring sitting pretty on Eggsy’s index finger. No teary confessions in the rain like in the rom coms Eggsy loves to rent out and sniffle his way through, or a fight that makes David see sense. In the end, it’s breakfast that cinches the deal for him.

The day had started out normally enough. David wakes up at eight like clockwork, the soft downy hair at the base of Eggsy’s neck tickling his nose with his arm locked tight around his waist. He’d yawned, exhausted- mostly because they’d stayed up very late into the night making good use of the bed- before standing up and shucking his shirt off to head for the shower. Eggsy had shifted in his sleep, mumbling something unintelligible, and the sight had been too endearing to resist so he’d bent down, pressing a kiss to his forehead and smiling when Eggsy groaned out loud.

- from lover boy rules. i actually started a lot of my kingsman fics in the same way which is rather awful of me. im glad thats changed with my xmen fics lmfjgjk. also this has 15 comments???? i dont even get that much attention with my xmcu fics these days... which is arguably a more active fandom... Hello

anyway that’s the end of it needless to say i do not know 10 other authors so im just gonna tag whoever i know rn: @hellfre , @queerneto, @ikeracity, @drinkingstars, @zebraljb

#whew this is super long i apologise #u can pinpoint the exact time i replaced taron with james as my number one boy #fic tag #fic meme

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dollbitch24 · 4 years

Text

A Bowers’ Bet (Part 3)

Sorry for the long wait on this one! I hope you enjoy!

Summary: When Henry and Patrick make a twisted pact on who can steal Derry High’s most inexperienced student’s virginity first, they think it will be their most exciting game yet. But what happens when one starts to develop feelings, while the other is determined as ever to win, no matter what or who is standing in their way? A Bowers Bet (Part 2)

On Saturday morning, Juliet’s parents left for an overnight for one of her father’s business trips. Her mom typically went along with him, but only if it consisted of a night or two and if Jennifer’s mother was going along as well. Juliet met her close friend Jennifer through their dads since they both worked for the same company. Their families were persistent in upholding their respectable, high status in Derry. Jennifer’s mom, Theresa, was a lawyer, a very dignified woman that Juliet quite admired. However in Jennifer’s case, having two successful parents who were hardly ever home meant coping with her loneliness by excessively and maybe even purposely, using her parent’s credit card when they were gone.

Juliet knew a shopping trip was in order, Jennifer always planned one whenever both parents were out of town. Even though the two girls have been best friends for years, their personalities couldn’t be any more polar opposite. Jennifer’s track record of guys is impressive while Juliet’s is clean, Jennifer cheerleads while Juliet is in literary club, Jennifer is the life of the party while Juliet has only been to two in her lifetime. But that’s kind of what makes their friendship work. They each have a tendency of balancing each other out and sometimes bringing out different side to them that no one would expect.

Juliet has the devil on her right shoulder and the angel on her left as she sat in the car with Jennifer, deciding if she should tell her about Henry or just keep her mouth shut. Deep down she knew what her reaction would be, but maybe if she explained everything from the poem and how wonderful last night went, she’d understand. Although at the moment, Jennifer was much too preoccupied with going on and on about how Gretta was sabotaging her by making the cheer team wear their hair entirely up instead of having the option to do half up, half down.

“The whole school is going to see my huge fucking dumbo ears because she needs the attention taken off of her horrendous overbite,” Jennifer hisses before changing the radio station. Juliet quietly chuckles at her as the only sound between them is the low hum of Mick Jagger and the harsh wind from the windows being slightly open.

“You’re quiet,” Jennifer states in her typical blunt manner, eyes on the road, being able to read Juliet without even having to look at her.

“No I’m not,” Juliet defends, staring out the window, knowing if she as much glances towards her direction she’ll crack.

“Juliet we have known each other since we were eight. At this point, I know you almost better than I know myself. Tell.”

Juliet slowly turns her head towards her while biting down on her lip, trying to hide her immense blushing and smirk just from the thought of Henry before letting out a soft giggle. Jennifer begins to gasp, knowing the look on Juliet’s face means only one thing. “Stop it right now! Who’s the guy?!” Jennifer rushes, her eyes widening with pure anticipation.

“Well...,” Juliet hums smiling, causing Jennifer to slightly swerve the car a little too far to the right.

“Juliet,” Jennifer warns in her typical voice that means “stop beating around the bush and say it.”

“W-well it’s just like, Ugh-I don’t know, i-it’s nothing serious yet, but-”

“For fucks sake Juliet, I hate when you stutter like that kid Bill Denbrough, just spit it out,” Jennifer demands, her patience running thin.

“I went on a date last night with Henry Bowers,” Juliet responds, causing Jennifer to slam on her brakes in the middle of the neighborhood, causing Juliet’s body to be yanked to the point where she almost got rammed into the glove compartment. “Jesus Jennifer,” Juliet scolds, rubbing the back of her neck from the sudden jolt she experienced from the abrupt stop of the car.

“Henry Bowers?” Jennifer pronounces the name slowly, her tone in disbelief mixed with a whole lot of judgement and well, repugnance. “Have you lost your mind? You were too scared to ask the waiter for ketchup last week, but you went on a date with Henry fucking Bowers? Please tell me you only went because he had you held up at gunpoint.”

Juliet knew how unbelievable it sounded coming out of her mouth, but how could she convince her that it was one of the best times out she’s ever had?

“I get it. I know his reputation, but he’s-he’s different, I swear, he-”

“God Juliet, don’t be so naive,” Jennifer interrupts, rolling her eyes. “Henry is known as Derry’s scum for a reason. He’s dirty. He’s gross. And even worse,” Jennifer pauses, her nose scrunching in disgust, “He’s poor.”

Juliet’s fingers begin to rub her temples in distress, immediately regretting her decision of even mentioning Henry to her in the first place. Jennifer finally takes her foot off the brakes and continues driving, but her rant was far from over. “I mean come on Jules, you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into. That whole gang is fucked up. They only flirt with girls like you for one reason.” Jennifer states, having a hard time deciphering how she should choose her words without being a little too brutally honest.

Juliet snaps her eyes away from the passing houses from the window and swung her head to face her. “And what’s that?” Juliet persists defensively, her eyes piercing at Jennifer.

Jennifer huffs, her stare intent while looking out onto the road contemplating what to say next. “Because you’re an easy target,” Jennifer murmurs, her voice low, but more calm. “You have never been seen at school with a boyfriend or really any guy for that matter and they can smell your inexperience from a mile away. He’s using you. I’m sorry, but guys like Henry don’t fall for girls like you.”

Juliet could feel some tears begging to break loose, but she pushes the feeling aside. “You mean girls who are at the bottom of the school’s hierarchy?”

“You know that’s not what I mean. You’re beautiful and smart and kind and deserve somebody better than Bowers. I’m just telling you his intentions can’t be good. Him and the other ones hit on every girl that has a pulse,” Jennifer responds, sticking an unlit cigarette in her mouth before she continues on and says, “They see someone shy and untouched like you giving them a chance and go fucking ecstatic.”

“That’s not true,” Juliet mutters, shaking her head in defense while staring down at her hands nestled on top of her lap. “Henry told me he would never hurt me and that I was safe with him.” There was a part of Juliet that could feel herself sounding like one of those girls she would roll her eyes at in a cheesy romance movie. Was it honestly too good to be true?

“I know you try to live your life trying not to be noticed, but guess what? You are. People see you. Henry sees you. He sees someone fragile, someone who he thinks he can easily control and manipulate.” Jennifer responds before taking a puff of her cigarette.

“You are always telling me how I should loosen up and try to put myself out there more, and now you’re giving me shit for finally going out with someone?” Juliet chides, her voice slightly raising. Juliet could tell she was getting irritated because she started talking not only loudly, but with her hands.

“Yeah Juliet, but that wasn’t secret code for me telling you to go out with the school’s biggest psychopath and not even tell me about it beforehand. What the fuck were you thinking?” Jennifer scolds, her tone harsh, making Juliet recoil in her seat. An awkward and tension-filled silence immerses in the car, causing the two close friends to suddenly feel distant.

Jennifer finally breaks the stillness and says, “Look. We’re going to the mall. Let’s get you a cute outfit for Gretta’s party tonight and you can come with me and you’ll see that you’re more than capable of meeting someone who isn’t a total delinquent.”

Juliet wanted nothing more than to decline her offer that sounded like a demand than an option, but it’s bad enough she had to keep Henry from her mother, she didn’t need Jennifer added onto the list and on her case about it as well. She thought maybe if she just went for a bit and pretended for Jennifer’s sake, she’d make everyone happy.

“Fine,” Juliet huffs, slouching back in her seat while crossing her arms.

Juliet is used to having to deal with what life throws at her alone. Between having a mother and best friend who shares similar traits of being dismissive and controlling, she felt like she was always more worried about pleasing other people instead of worrying about what actually made her happy. Henry gave Juliet a certain kind of attention that she wasn’t used to receiving from anyone. He made her feel understood, special, pretty enough, smart enough, but most importantly, Henry made Juliet feel like being herself was good enough. Juliet wasn’t going to let anybody get in the way of that. Not this time.

………………………………………………………………………………………

The last party Juliet attempted going to was last December. Similar to now, Jennifer begged and convinced her how much of a good time it’d be until it resulted in Tyler Brian barfing all over Juliet’s lap mid-conversation. She can only hope that history won’t repeat itself.

The black dress Jennifer picked for her was slightly sexy, but not too much to where it strayed far from Juliet’s character. The sweetheart neckline was cute with a very tiny black bow that was attached right in the middle. It was also a quarter sleeve and babydoll style. Jennifer pleaded that she wear heels, however, Juliet absolutely refused because she didn’t want to meet anyone new in the first place and her leather black booties would go just fine with it. To no surprise, Jennifer handled not only her wardrobe, but makeup too. She blushed and hollowed out her cheekbones, glossed her lips, and applied some cat eyeliner to enhance her eye shape, which surprisingly Juliet liked, even if she did still have to wear her glasses over them.

Juliet’s knee was uncontrollably bouncing up and down the whole ride there. She could already hear the music blaring from outside before they even drove up to the house. Her heart almost jumped in her throat though when she saw the infamous Trans Am parked in the sea of cars that were in Gretta’s driveway, causing her leg to stop shaking. Oh no. As soon as Jennifer parked along the sidewalk, she turned the ignition off and began clapping her hands fast in an excited way. “We’re here! You ready?”

No.

“Yeah!” Juliet exclaims in her best, fake eager voice she could muster.

When they walked inside the large, red brick house, Juliet immediately sees a staircase decorated with people from school either talking, smoking, or making out. Her eyes shift to the left where it was the Keene’s living room, but was currently being occupied as a dance floor flooded with sweat, alcohol, and hormones.

Juliet didn’t want to admit to herself that she couldn’t help but feel somewhat paranoid Henry was here. Would he be happy to see her? Confused? Angry? “Let’s go grab a drink,” Jennifer yells in Juliet’s ear because of the blaring music, interrupting her thoughts. Juliet nods as they walk down the hall to where more couples were lingering on the sides of the wall, kissing.

When Jennifer walked into the kitchen, she was immediately greeted by Gretta and a few other girls as well as a group of boys who hollered at her as soon as she stepped in. Juliet lingered by her side.

It wasn’t hard for Juliet to not feel Gretta’s typical judgemental stare as she eyed her up and down. Moments like this was the reason why Juliet would never want to be able to read minds. “Interesting seeing you here Juliet,” Gretta sneers in a tone that could only be described as condescending and then says, “Nice dress. For once it doesn’t look like something your grandmother picked out.” This causes a fit of giggles from her posse that are attached at her hip.

“Nice frizzy ponytail that you wear every single day,” Jennifer quickly intervenes before grabbing Juliet’s hand to lead her near the sink where all the glass bottles of drinks were laid out. “Your ability to be quick on the spot never fails to impress me,” Juliet smirks while nudging her shoulder with hers, earning a wink from Jennifer.

“Here,” Jennifer offers, handing Juliet a red solo cup. “It’ll ease the nerves,” she grins with a mischievous glint in her eyes before taking a sip. Juliet gave her a small smile, deciding it would be best to at least try it. Her eyebrows raise immediately at the strong concoction Jennifer mixed together, deciding it would be best to not finish this unless she wants to be found blacked out on the front lawn.

“Shots time!” Peter Macintosh shouted, his cheeks flushed from what was most likely the high amount of alcohol he has already consumed. He was a heavy set guy, who for some reason always looked sweaty and wore his jersey pretty much everyday. He was only useful on the team for his size since he could tackle just about anyone. This was Juliet’s que to relocate elsewhere for a few minutes.

“I’m going to run to the bathroom real quick,” Juliet says while lightly grasping Jennifer’s arm.

“Use the one upstairs. The bathroom that’s down the hall is always where Tommy Johnson and Pam Kirkland are fucking each other’s brains out,”Jennifer informs, physically shuddering at the thought of when she had accidentally interupted one of their sessions last time.

“Good to know,” Juliet chuckles, shaking the vivid thought away before nudging her way through the intoxicated crowd that was beginning to form. Once she reached the staircase and begins walking up them, she couldn’t help the strange feeling like someone had their eyes on her.

…………………………………………………………………………………

“Any fucking time now Criss,” Henry huffs, waiting for Vic to hand him a cigarette while he was pulling one out of his pack. He was in his usual, typical annoyed stance with his arms crossed while leaning against the house, impatient as ever. Him, Patrick, Vic, and Belch were huddled outside on the back patio smoking, each with a beer bottle in their hands.

Casey Fletcher walked by them and Belch couldn’t help but turn around to get another last glance at her ass before turning back around to face his friends. “Is it just me or is there a lot of hot chicks here tonight?” Belch asks, swigging his beer back.

Vic nodded, seeming to still be mesmerized at Casey’s backside as Henry only shrugged. Belch and Patrick give each other a knowing look, seeing how that reaction wasn’t a normal one for Henry. This would be the part where he agreed and told them what he’d like to do with a girl who had an ass like that. But tonight he was off and they could all tell.

“What’s the matter Bowers, don’t see a bitch here we can share like last week?” Patrick taunts. Henry rolls his eyes, remembering the dumb blonde girl whose name he didn’t even know because well, he didn’t even ask. She wanted to take turns which resulted in Patrick having his first go and once he was finished he tossed her right over to Henry.

“All I see are a bunch of easy sluts who try too hard,” Henry utters under his breath, checking briefly over the girls who are standing on the other side of the pool who were unshamefully giving, as the gang would call it, their best “fuck me” eyes.

Vic snickers before he mumbles, “Somebody’s whipped,” causing a breathy chuckle from Belch and Patrick.

“The fuck you say?” Henry asked, but it was in fact a warning.

“He said your whipped man,” Patrick responds for Vic before he continues and says, “Pretty little Juliet most have swept ole Henry here off his feet. Awh, how sweet is that?” This causes an amused reaction out of the boys. Patrick knew what he was doing. He wanted to get a rise out of Henry. He wanted to edge him on. Rile him up. Make him do something that could work out in his favor.

“I ain’t fucking whipped alright. Has anyone forgotten that she’s just a fuckin’ bet? All I got from last night is that she’s just another needy bitch with mommy issues who’ll jump at the chance to spread her legs if it means adding some excitement to her boring life,” Henry responds, the words tasting disgusting coming out of his own mouth. He didn’t mean what he said, but he refuses to have his friends, especially Patrick, thinking she has even in the slightest, meddled her way into his stone cold heart.

Patrick however, knows his bluff. He hid in the woods and eavesdropped last night when Juliet and him were in the treehouse. He knew that she in fact wasn’t exactly easy considering she freaked the minute Bowers touched the waistband of her panties, but secondly, he knew Henry opened up a bit about his dad to her. Patrick couldn’t tell if that was a ploy to get her to feel bad for him or if he was being genuine. However his lack of eagerness to get any action tonight is evident that Henry might in fact be developing the worst F word in his book. Feelings.

“Sounding a little cocky there Bowers,” Patrick responds, crossing his arms over his chest.

Henry laughs before saying, “Says you. At this point you should honestly just call the fucking bet off. She was all over me last night and I think she's made it clear that she wouldn't touch you with a ten foot pole. Face it Hockstetter, I’ll have her underneath me by next week.”

If Patrick wasn’t certain before, he is definitely certain now. He could see what Henry was trying to do. Persuading him to call the bet off so he can walk away hands clean with the girl who he thought was just another mediocre virgin to fuck in Derry. No. As far as Patrick is concerned, Juliet belongs to him. Henry can try to convince Patrick all he wants that he has no chance, but he remembers that look Juliet gave him in the movie theater. He sees how she’s into Henry regardless of his well known, fucked up reputation. Henry and him were one in the same. Patrick knows the kind of girl Juliet is. She’s attracted to people who are broken, people who need to be fixed. That’s the only reason why she instantly fell for Henry first, because she thinks there’s hope for him. Patrick has no problem playing his part until she sees the truth.

“If you think she’ll easily fuck you first then why call the bet off early? Isn’t that the whole point why we made it in the first place?” Patrick retorted, his cheshire grin growing from ear to ear. Henry could hear the teasingness in his tone and realized that Patrick could sense what he was trying to get at, so Henry attempted to play it off the best way he could. “I’m just sayin.’ You got a lot of catching up to do Hockstetter. Thought I’d be nice and give you a little warning to save you from the embarrassment later,” Henry smirks while patting him on the back.

“I appreciate that,” Patrick responds, reciprocating the action by giving Henry’s shoulder a friendly pat, but instead he doesn’t release his shoulder and pulls him in closer, his mouth inches away from his ear. “But the only one who’s going to be embarrassed here is you when I’m balls deep inside your little girlfriend’s tight virgin pussy, wrecking her fucking insides.”

Henry has to physically bite his tongue on the right side of his mouth to prevent from attacking him on the spot. At the end of the day, Juliet is technically a bet that Henry conjured up in the first place. Henry couldn’t show any possession over her, no matter how much he likes her, no matter how crazy it drove him. He releases an amused huff, wishing he could actually drown him in the pool.

“But for now,” Patricks states, his tone a lot more uplifting as he wipes the shoulders of Henry’s jacket, “Let’s play with what we’ve got right here.” He grins, referring to one of the girls that was staring at them earlier with his pointer and middle finger.

Henry knew if he turned down the offer, he’d look like the biggest bitch of all time. What guy says no to pretty girls practically yearning to get any sort of attention from them? But the thing was that these girls weren’t Juliet. They didn’t look like her, act like her, or even laugh like her, but all Henry could do is play along and keep the twisted mentality that whatever Juliet doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

The brunette Patrick beckoned over, whose name was apparently Tracy, seemed to be the most interested in Henry, however, she was quite the talkative one. She wasn’t getting Henry’s not so subtle signs of disinterest in conversation as he responded to everything with a monotone one worded answer and the habitual way he continuously kept flicking his pocket knife in and out. Patrick and Vic actually got so bored they ended up ditching Henry and thought walking over to the other side of the lawn to watch a drunk Peter barbecue Doritos was a much better source of entertainment.

Patrick and Vic started to make their way back to Henry, Tracy, and Belch, passing the patio’s white french doors again until Vic’s clunky, black combat boots come to a stop.

“Oh shit!” Vic busts out laughing, which causes Patrick to turn around and see what the hell was so funny. Patrick stalks slowly towards him and mimiks his stance. “Look who showed up,” Vic smirks right as Patrick sees Juliet on the other side of the clear glass door. He licks his lips, taking in her appearance. Her all black, short dress is enough for him to already feel a slight hard on in his jeans. Her hair was down and loose like usual, with her petite glasses still adorning her face, but the fact that she was wearing clothes that actually fit her and the more heavily applied makeup made the two boys have no choice but to gawk at her for a minute.

“Damn. She looks hot,” Vic observed, crouching behind a bush so the two could have a closer look without their ogling being too obvious. “But I wonder what she’s doing here. I’ve never seen her at parties and I know Henry didn’t invite her.”

“I don’t know why the hell she’s here either Vic, but it must be my lucky fucking day,” Patrick mutters, staring at her intently. He could tell that regardless of how good she looked, she was uncomfortable. The way she kept glancing at the ground and the nervous way she was toying with her necklace was a clear sign that she didn’t wake up this morning and say “there’s nothing more I’d love to do today than go to a wild high school party.” Patrick felt sort of jealous, hating how he wasn’t behind the cause of her anxiety at the moment. Soon though.

“I gotta go tell Henry, he’s going to absolutely lose his shit,” Vic chuckles all giddy, getting ready to stand up before Patrick grabs him by the collar, yanking him harshly back down.

“Don’t say a word to him that she’s here or I’ll fucking cut your tongue out and make you wipe my ass with it. I want to see the look on that fucker’s face when he sees her here himself,” Patrick sternly warns, not wanting to tell Vic exactly what he has planned.

“Alright, Jesus I won’t. Let go of me dick bag,” Vic shrugs, nudging Patrick’s grip off him. Vic brushes the knees of his camo pants and starts to walk back towards Henry again. He couldn’t feel Patrick’s presence near him and his senses were proven right when he turns around and sees Patrick stepping into the house, closing the door behind him. Vic quietly snickered to himself, knowing it was only a matter of time before shit was about to hit the fan.

When Patrick enters the house, he spots Juliet down the hall. He watches and follows behind her closely before she reaches the steps and carefully walks up the stairs while holding the banister. As soon as she gets to the top, that’s Patrick’s que to begin heading up there as well.

……………………………………………………………………………

Juliet started analyzing the Keene’s bathroom decorations, realizing exactly what she was starting to do. Quit stalling, she thought to herself before shaking her head and giving herself one last glance over in the mirror before opening the door.

As she was walking she heard what sounded like a muffled scream coming from one of the rooms on the right hand side. She stopped and slowly tiptoed her way closer to the door until Juliet heard a girl’s moaning and then it all clicked. Oh.

“Sounds like fun,” a voice says, making Juliet frantically spin around to see none other than Patrick Hockstetter.

“Patrick, hey! I didn’t see you there,” Juliet smiles nervously, having no clue how someone with his height can have this special talent to pop up out of nowhere.

“Listening in?” he questions with a smirk, the sound of the headboard banging into the wall now apparent.

“No! Oh, god no,” Juliet laughs, running a hand through her hair. “I was using the bathroom and came out and heard a girl screaming and got nervous for a sec, but uhm- yeah I, uhh, thinks she alright,” she chuckles, making Patrick simper from her innocent response.

“So what brings you here?” Patricks asks.

“I just told y-”

“No, I mean like the party. I’ve never seen you at any before,” Patricks states, leaning on the side of his shoulder and resting his head against the wall.

“Jennifer wanted me to go with her so I thought I’d just come for a little while,” Juliet explained, not wanting to get into detail as to why Jennifer insisted on her being here tonight.

“Henry didn’t invite you?” Patrick asks, his eyebrows knitted together in curiosity. Juliet shakes her head, feeling stupid that the boy she just went on a date with last night was at the same party, but she was trying to almost avoid him for reasons she didnt know why.

“Huh. Weird,” Patrick quietly mutters under his breath. sliding his shoulder alongside the wall to inch closer to her. His response suddenly made Juliet feel self conscious. How come he didn’t ask her to go to Gretta’s party? Was he embarrassed of her? Maybe he knew she didn’t go to parties and thought it’d be stupid to even ask?

“You’re not having fun are you?” Patrick observes, a sly smile forming on his lips.

“I mean I’ve only been here for about fifteen minutes, 7 of those minutes I’ve spent in the bathroom so…” Jennifer bites down on her lip, suppressing a shy smirk which made it extremely difficult for Patrick to restrain himself from pushing her into one of the empty bedrooms.

“Does Henry even know you’re here?” Patrick asks, and it’s like Juliet can feel he already knows the answer.

“No I haven’t seen him yet. Like I said, I really haven’t been here very long,” Juliet explains, twirling her necklace between her fingers. Patrick notices the nervous habit and begins to feel exhilarated.

“Well he’s right downstairs. Let’s go surprise him, he’ll be thrilled to see that you’re here, especially since I heard you two uhh...really kicked it off last night,” Patrick winks, grabbing her wrist and leading her down the rest of the hallway. Juliet felt confused in the way Patrick said that, but she couldn’t even think clearly with Patrick practically dragging her so fast that she almost tripped going down the staircase. Once they reached the bottom he motions for her to take the lead as he stands directly behind her.

“Do you know where he is?”Juliet turns her head to ask him.

“Last I saw he was talking outside to some girl named Tracy,” Patrick responds casually, pretending to search for him in the living room, knowing exactly what he was doing. Juliet couldn’t help but feel the tiny pit in her stomach grow in size. She didn’t know if she was being completely played or acting totally crazy over a boy she has gone out with only one time.

“C’mon. Maybe he’s still out back,” Patrick says in her ear before walking in front of her as she follows close behind. He opens one of the french doors and she takes in how there’s quite a lot of people out here as well. Between the ones hanging around the perimeter of the pool, or the guys to the far right playing some sort of drunk version of football, Juliet briefly glances around the area. That is, until her eyes suddenly land on Henry’s back. His arm is wrapped around some girl’s waist. She’s whispering something in his ear, causing Henry to smirk as he pulls her in closer, his mouth inches from hers as he says something Juliet can’t hear, but it causes her to start kissing down Henry’s neck.

Patrick notices Juliet has spotted them because of her obvious stare and her face that portrayed nothing but disappointment. “Well that’s not Tracy,” Patrick clears his throat as if what he’s witnessing is awkward, even though he’s the one who perfectly managed to make Juliet catch Henry in the act.

Suddenly, Belch and Vic walk up to them, the look on their faces completely different. Vic’s was more friendly while Belch’s was full of concern.

“But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east and Juliet is the sun,” Vic mocks in his best shakespearean voice he can summon while giving a bow.

Juliet swallows her utter dismay and smiles at Vic. “Impressive,” she smirks, causing Vic to grin back at her. Belch interjects when he says, “Hey Juliet, Henry would be so happy to see you here. Let me go get him, I know he’s around here somewhere.” This was his poor attempt to try and cover Henry’s ass, but he knew in that moment it was most likely too late.

“No.” Juliet demands, her voice so stern that it almost surprises herself. The three boys gaze at her in a bit of a shock. “Let’s go say hi to him together,” Juliet offers, putting on a brave face. As much as Juliet just wanted to go home and cry in her room, she realized she was over everyone thinking she was like some china doll that’s could break easily. Her heart may feel broken but it was her mission in that moment to make sure no one saw the cracks.

“O-Okay,” Belch stutters, watching in bewilderment as Juliet takes heading towards Henry. The unknown girl is still draped all over him, but Juliet wasn’t annoyed at the poor girl having a good time.

Once the three of them approach him, Juliet gently taps him on the shoulder, causing Henry to turn around. His initial face was of pure annoyance until he realizes who’s standing behind him. He quickly yanked his hand away from the blonde’s side and his mouth opened slightly, but no words were coming out.

“Juliet,” Henry observes, taking in her appearance while also in complete shock that’s she even standing in front of him in the first place. A million thoughts and questions were racing through his head, making for once, Henry Bowers actually speechless.

“Hi,” Juliet responds, her voice soft, deliberately acting like she was unfazed. There was a few seconds of awkward silence before the unknown girl helps breaks the ever present tension when she says to Juliet, “I love your dress! I almost bought the same one at the mall, but they didn’t have my size.”

“Thank you! My friend actually picked it out. You see, she wanted me to come to this party to meet someone because I went out with this guy last night who she thinks is a total waste of time. Told me I could do so much better,” Juliet looks so her eyes are now instead staring right into Henry’s. “Turns out she was right.”

This results in a fit of breathy chuckles coming from Patrick and Vic while Juliet maintains her cool. Henry’s piercing blue eyes were like daggers into hers, but she never once glances down at the ground. Juliet gives him one last glare before turning swiftly around and walks straight back to the house. The most horrible and pathetic part of this whole situation was that there was a part of Juliet that wanted Henry to chase after her. Unfortunately, he never did. Juliet didn’t know why her heart was beating out of her chest or why the back of her neck felt slightly sticky or why she was breathing so hard, but she knew that she could not stay at this party for another second.

Patrick jogs after her, not wanting to lose her in the crazy crowds of people inside. When he steps into the kitchen, he quickly catches her wrist.

“Where ya goin’?” Patrick asks.

“I’m going home,” Juliet states, tucking some hair behind her ear.

“Didn’t you come with Jennifer?”

“Yeah, but I actually live close by so I’m just going to walk,” Juliet responds while her eyes casually search the area for any signs of her best friend. Things were bad enough with Henry, the last thing she needed right now was for Jennifer to see her talking to Patrick Hockstetter of all people.

“I’ll walk you home,” Patrick demands.

“You don’t need to do that Patrick, I’ll be okay,” Juliet tries to convince him.

“Sorry princess but I’m not taking no for an answer. Your face is too pretty to be on a missing person's poster downtown,” Patrick places his hand at the small of her back, using that as an advantage to guide her through the small crowd of people so they can reach the front door to leave. Juliet didn’t particularly want Patrick’s company, especially now, but he did have a decent point.

“Okay, just let me find Jen to let her know I’m going,” Juliet explains before Patrick gives her a nod. “I’ll be waiting outside.”

Juliet scouted through the living room first and luckily spots Jennifer on the couch, sitting on Ryan Novack’s lap. “I’m leaving,” Juliet states, making Jennifer get off the jock’s lap, analyzing her intently.

“What do you mean you’re leaving, we just got here.”

“I just don’t really feel that great and I think it’d be best if I went home,” Juliet lied, hoping Jennifer would be easy going. Hoping.

“First about Bowers and now this. Catching your little lying habit from your hillbilly boyfriend?” Jennifer hisses, crossing her tan arms over her chest. Juliet stares at her offensively before Jennifer continues on and says, “Although I guess I shouldn’t talk since I forgot to mention how the Bowers Gang are notorious for getting laid at parties.”

Suddenly, the light bulb goes off in Juliet’s head as she connects all the pieces together. “You brought me here on purpose,” Juliet utters, almost as if she’s saying it aloud to herself.

“Don’t give me that look. I mean how else would you be able to see what a pig he is? You should be thanking me.”

“I should be thanking you?” Juliet chuckles in disbelief. “Okay then, thank you for dressing me up and bringing me here to only make me look like a total ass. Congratulations, you proved me wrong. Henry is a total jerk and you’re a complete bitch.”

Juliet has never spoken to Jennifer like this before in her life, but Juliet’s blood has been boiling since her encounter with Henry and Jennifer wasn’t helping simmer down the heat. Juliet shook her head at Jennifer and darted out of the living room as fast as she could, leaving Jennifer quite dumbstruck. For some strange reason, Juliet didn’t feel bad for saying exactly what was on her mind, even if it hurts her. The only thing that made her heart feel heavy is that the two people she cared about deceived and lied to her in just one single night. And unfortunately, the lanky boy waiting for her outside wasn’t any different.

……………………………………………………………………………

The night air was a little chillier than usual, making Juliet cross her arms over her chest to warm up her hands. Patrick notices the small sign and takes off his leather jacket and drapes it over her shoulders.

“Oh. Thanks,” she smiles at him before slipping her arms through the sleeves. A small smirk plays at her lips when she says, “It’s a perfect fit.” It was comical how huge the jacket was on Juliet. The sleeves were so long that you couldn’t even see her hands.

“It looks good on you. Ya know I’m really digging this whole look you got goin’ on. It’s sexy,” Patrick smirks, tugging slightly at the bottom of her dress.

“It’s definitely different, but I think you pull it off a lot better than me,” Juliet teases, referring to his similar all black ensemble of boots, jeans, and a thin long sleeved shirt.

“Are you saying I’m sexy Jules?” Patrick smirks while throwing his arm over her shoulder. As shocked as she was, Juliet started to feel a sense of comfortability with him. Nobody besides her family or Jennifer called her Jules, and for some reason hearing Patrick use the nickname gave Juliet a sense of warmth that she didn’t think Patrick was capable of. Juliet thought to herself that Patrick could have easily let her leave the party alone, but he wanted to make sure she was safe whereas Henry let her walk away, not caring whatsoever about where she went or how she felt.

“Patrick?”

“Princess?”

“I want to apologize,” Juliet states, keeping her eyes straight forward as they walked while Patrick looks at her slightly confused. “I just feel like I’ve been rude to you lately and that I was quick to judge you before even actually getting the chance to know you.”

Patrick was beaming with pure ecstasy. He had her right where he wanted her.

“Don’t sweat it sweetheart,” Patrick responds, petting her head. “If it makes you feel any better, I seriously underestimated you. I didn’t think you had it in ya to tell Bowers off like that.”

“Neither did I,” Juliet chuckles before she says, “But you were right and tried to warn me and I didn’t listen. I’m sorry.”

Juliet suddenly feels tiny droplets of water speckle across her nose before she realizes that it’s starting to lightly drizzle. In a literal instant, the light drizzle turns into harsh, downpour rain.

“Shit,” Juliet hisses before Patrick grabs her hand and they both begin to run down the sidewalk. They sprint for a few blocks, each step like walking into a giant puddle until Juliet steers Patrick towards the white house that’s hers at the end of the cul-de-sac. They race across Juliet’s soggy lawn and up her creaky wooden porch steps when they finally make it to the front stain glass door.

They both stood there, catching their breaths while taking in each others sopping wet appearances. “This is the second dress in a row Hockstetter. I’m starting to think you’re some kind of bad luck charm to my nice clothes,” Juliet jokes, referring to when he spilled soda on her just last night and now this. Patrick leers at her, his eyes studying her face to her wet hair to the droplets of water on her exposed skin to the way her makeup is slightly smudged. She looked messy and it made Patrick’s appetite for her all the more unbearable. Juliet feels his thumb graze over her knuckles and that’s when she glances down and realizes her hand is still interlocked with his.

“I’m sorry,” Juliet awkwardly apologizes, slipping her grasp from his and instead placing her hand on the door knob before she rambles on and says, “Please, come in so you can get dried off and wait until this rain passes. It’s the least I can do.”

“If you insist,” Patricks smirks, gesturing his hand out for Juliet to walk first. She obliges and he follows, making sure to lock the door behind him.

@kola95

#Henry Bowers #patrick hockstetter #bowers gang #it 2017 #it imagine #henry bowers x reader #patrick hocksetter x reader #patrick hocksetter imagine #it fanfiction #the bowers gang

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captainchocolatesstuff · 4 years

Text

Wings of the American Redstart (Part 2/Final)

Harpy! Katsuki Bakugo x Reader

Getting along with Katsuki was not easy.

At all.

He yelled at you when you went to redress his injuries, and when he tried dressing the injuries himself he would often use up the small ointment bottles that you usually had saved. You hardly let his behavior get to you unless you were doing something that needs the majority of your attention. Still, there were occasions when you let him be aggressive and tease him about his behavior after he threw his “tantrums”. You didn’t always let him get away with that behavior often, so half the time you had to put your foot down when he was going too far and he’d reluctantly abide by your wishes with a pouty scowl.

Katsuki always hated it when you helped him catch his food, and he especially hated it when you had to help him preen the backside of his wings, he took solace in the fact that you’d never go as far as helping him preen the underside of his wings. “At least you know your boundaries you damn dirt walker”, he’d say after you were done helping him preen, he’d either get a nonchalant shrug of your shoulder or a light tug of his hair in response to his insult.

“Hey, land crawler”, Katsuki called to you as you walked on foot with Stardust clopping after you.

“Yes, Kacchan?”, you hum as you loaded your gun with the bullets you had, knowing Katsuki would hate it when you used a nickname his fellow harpy gave him (Izuku was his real name apparently, not Deku).

“I told you not to call me that dumbass”, he huffs before continuing, “Why did you begin this whole “jumping slaver trades” shit thing? I get that slavery is a shit awful thing to do with anyone, but you made a name for yourself and there are very few people like you. Hell, that one slaver you ran into while saving our flock looked like he was pissing his pants already when he saw you”, he stared at you as he walked beside you.

Stardust snorted as you sighed, biting your lip as you pat the horse’s muzzle, “Well, for one, I was a former slave”, you explain, Katsuki nearly widened his eyes but caught himself as he looked at you, he made a small sound that signified that he was still listening. “I think I was five or six years old, do you know an old kingdom by the name of Muselua?”, you ask.

“Yeah, it was known for its arts, magic, and advancement in medicine I heard that a war started between them and a neighboring kingdom, Deusbellum”, he recalled.

You give a wry smile, “I was a citizen of Muselua, and the war took away the lives of my family, eventually I was found by some slavers that were collecting any survivors from the war. Eventually, I found myself serving a noble of Deusbellum, and of course, I had to serve them anything they wished for if I even messed up the slightest bit they would come up with punishments to remind me that I had no rights, I was nothing more but an animal to them”, a distant look was in your eyes as Katsuki listened to your story.

“But if anything I hated the slavers more, they were worse than the nobles, cruel and awful people who got their kicks when they hurt their “cargo”, we weren’t even seen as animals in their eyes, we were just objects that they could use whenever they pleased… One slaver killed a man just because he lost in a game of poker…”. You closed your eyes at the memory distantly hearing the cries of his daughter, and the sounds of bones breaking and flesh ripping, “His kid was forced to watch before they too were thrown around for being “too loud” when they were crying”.

Katsuki couldn’t say anything, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to after hearing your origins, but you were able to briefly catch the sight of his fist clenching. “I was able to escape by some miracle, but I had to steal in order to get a meal for a single day, eventually I began to make a lot of ruckus for an old adventurer to take notice of me”, you smile with a soft chuckle.

“His name was Achillies, a man of a few notable talents, master swordsmen and ex-scribe to list a few, I began to see him somewhat like a father, he even gifted me these clothes you see now, but he passed away several months back”, you trail off as you looked up at the sky. “For a while, I didn’t know what to do not until I recalled the day I gained back my freedom, I remember thinking; “I didn’t need wings to break free from my chains back then, maybe I can spread that thought to others that are like me”, and it was then that I decided that I would venture out and stop all slavers that crossed my path, I would save slaves from their chains and give everyone the hope they needed to rise and break free from the people who wanted to take away their rights”.

Katsuki looked at you with slight wonder as you grinned at him, “All beings have the rights to freedom, maybe I could be the spark that drives others to do the same”, you say as you look ahead, “There is a town up ahead, I’ll go see if they accept Harpy guests”, you sigh softly as you walked over while commanding Stardust to walk beside Katsuki.

Katsuki could only stare at your back as you walked ahead, looking down at his arm he saw several feathers growing back and his arm was healing up nicely, he scoffed before letting out a lax smile as he looked at Stardust, “Your master is really something huh ponyboy?”, the appaloosa whinnies as he nudged Katsuki’s shoulder before nibbling on the harpy’s hair, “Hey, my hair isn’t dry grass you long-faced bastard!”.

As days passed you took note of the small change of behavior Katsuki displayed, he still was loud and threatened you on several occasions, but you took note of how “playful” his threats were. You never mentioned it though, you knew it was him adjusting to you. Katsuki also took note of the few displays you showed that meant you were comfortable around him, and he took it to heart despite how he acted, your prodding of one another was more playful rather than mocking or rude. Katsuki’s wing healed well to the point where he could move it but still, he couldn’t fly just yet.

“When Deku first got his flight feathers the idiot didn’t know how to handle them, so he ended up flying into several trees and one time even broke his wing”, Katsuki huffed out a laugh as you chuckled.

“I hear his species are often fast, considering their small size”, you say as you took a sip from your drink, “Must be hard trying to learn how to fly”, you give a lazy grin.

“Heh, as if, I mastered it in no time”, Katsuki boasted.

You chuckled again until you both quieted down, you two were going to be parting ways soon, you were nearing the Skies of the Harpies, a place no human had stepped foot in unless they were backed up by a harpy.

“Hey (Y/n)”, Katsuki calls to you as you give a light hum, “I… I want you to come to the Gathering of the Rising”, he suddenly says, making you nearly choke on your drink.

“Wha-what?”

“I know no human has ever stepped foot in the heart of our community, but… I want you to be there when I get my ranking”, he confesses, his voice didn’t waver as he held your gaze with his own.

“I know they would accept you, they can’t ignore what you have done for us, hell I’m even a witness to what you do when you saved other harpies and humans alike from the slavers, they have to accept you”, Katsuki’s brows furrowed as your lips slightly parted.

“Katsuki…”, you softly say.

“I mean I understand if you have places to be, but- damn it! You’ve become really important to me, hell!- I’ve even think of you as a- a flockmate!”, he grits his teeth as you smiled, touched that he sees you as a very close friend in harpy terms. But Katsuki was frustrated, he wanted to say something else, you were more than a flockmate to him, he just couldn’t figure it out.

So with a smile, you spoke so Katsuki wouldn’t have to explain, “I’ll go with you”.

Katsuki froze as he gave you a bewildered look, “You- you’re going? No joke? Because if it’s a joke I’m kicking your ass-”

“I’d like to see you earn your rank in the Guardian of the Rising ceremony Katsuki, besides I am more interested in seeing you kick someone else’s ass”, you grin as Katsuki’s expression changes back into his usual grin.

That was also the moment you two overheard a certain conversation, “I hear there are slavers trying to catch some harpies again, north of here I think”.

“Really? Again? Slavers don’t usually stay in one place though”, another replied.

You and Katsuki look at one another, grins on your faces, “You ready Katsuki?”

“Come on let’s give those bastards a nice surprise”

~~~

It was a trap.

Honestly you should’ve been a bit more careful, and now that you thought about it the two men that spoke of these slavers trying to catch harpies did raise their voices in a way that should’ve put you on edge.

You cursed at your lack of caution as Katuki scratched one of the pursuers’ face when they got close, “DIE JACKASS!!”, he roared.

“Come on Stardust! You can do this!”, you urge your appaloosa, who panted and grunted as he jumped over a log on the ground. Looking back you saw several of them trying to aim their crossbows at you only to miss when you sharply changed course.

“Tch! These bastards are persistent, I’ll give them that!”, Katsuki grunted as he dodged a flying short spear.

With gritted teeth, you furrowed your brows, “Sorry Katsuki, but this is where we split”, you suddenly say, Katsuki sharply turned his head towards you.

“What did you just say?”, he demands, eyes wide as his tail feathers rose. You suddenly tie his non-injured wrist to Stardust’s reins as you look back at him with a wry smile as you pull out your gun.

“Take care Katsuki”, with that you jumped off your horse, surprising Katsuki as your pursuers caught up to you.

“(Y/NNN)!”, Katuki called to you as he tried to untie himself, looking back at you he saw you fire your gun with a loud bang echoing through the forest as more men gathered around you until you were out of sight.

~~~

You stare at the ground as you stand at the stake, arms above your head and weapons stripped away from you as well as your armor. Your body was a bit sore after the beating you took when you attacked the ringleader of the slaver group, you knew you had a price on your head, but to hear that it was nobles and slavers that wanted you dead, you could only give a dry laugh at the news.

But you were happy that Katuki was at least safe now, the slavers interrogated you about any harpy hot spots you could know about since they found you with the two harpy feathers, they figured that you were well educated with the harpy culture.

You never said a word, you didn’t bother to speak or have the pleasure of hearing your pain. You tilted your head up and took note of the rising sun, ‘Ah, this would be my fourth day here then’, you muse as you close your eyes. When you opened them you saw some blurry birds that were starting to become larger, you would have facepalmed if your hands were untied when you figured out that the reason that these “birds” were getting bigger was because they were harpies.

Two of them looked very familiar, it was Izuku and Eijiro the hummingbird and cardinal that you met when you saved a flock of harpies several weeks back.

“What…?”, you absently say as they circled around you with six others in tow.

“(Y/n)!”, you hear Izuku and Eijiro shout for you.

Feeling someone’s presence in front of you, you looked ahead of yourself and jolted when Katsuki was there, climbing up the steps to reach you.

“You know, it was really stupid of you to tie me to your damn horse to take on people that obviously outnumbered you”, Katsuki huffed as he went to work with your chained up arms, you could only smile.

“I see that your arm is all healed, can you fly?”, you ask.

“Don’t change the subject, I still plan on kicking your ass for what you pulled”, he huffed, you could only grin.

“Bakugo, you should really hurry! We don’t know how long it will be before the slavers break down the door!”, bluejay harpy shouts down at him.

“I get it four-eyes! Just hurry up and leave!”, Katsuki shouts back as he picks the lock with his long nails.

“Hey! Wingless One!”, a feminine voice shouted down at you making you look up, it was a long-tailed tit harpy, in her talons was your armor, “We got your stuff!”, she chirped.

“Yeah! And your weapons too!”, the girl next to her also cheered, she took after a pink robin it seemed.

“I’ll have to thank you some time then!”, you shout back at them as you grin when Katsuki was able to release your arms, you momentarily stumbled when your feet touched the ground, Katuki was able to catch your waist when you did.

“Yo! Bakubro! They broke the doors!”, the prairie warbler harpy warned.

“Shit!”, Katsuki cursed as you stood on your slightly wobbly feet with a wince.

“Let go then!”, you yell as you make your way off the platform, Katsuki followed after you as his harpy friends flew in different directions.

You both ran as shouts and yells soon began to sound out from behind. “Kaminari! Sero! Now!”, you hear Izuku shout.

Looking up you saw the prairie warbler harpy again, accompanied by the crow harpy, flying past you with some barrels in their talons. Following their flight path, you saw them drop the barrels in front of your pursuers’ path, and a large puff of smoke took over.

“Todoroki!”, you hear Eijiro call.

“I’m on it!”, you hear a different voice shout, looking above you again you saw the brahminy kite harpy carrying a torch before dropping in within the smoke, lighting it on fire.

“You guys really came in with a plan!”, you shout.

“No duh! As if I’d get your sorry ass out of this dump without a damn plan!”, Katsuki shouts at you.

“Guys- wait-!”, you hear Izuku shout, you both looked up at him before looking ahead and skidded into a stop. It was a cliff. You heard Katsuki curse before you both heard the shouting catching up from behind.

“Katsuki~”, you warn.

“Damn it- tch! Fine…”, he growled before holding onto you, looking up at him you furrowed your brows, “Just trust me”, he says before he picks you up and jumps off the cliff. You couldn’t help the surprised scream that followed as you both fell. You could hear his friends calling for him as you looked at him.

“Katsuki!”

“How ‘bout we test we test that wing!”, he grins, you were caught off guard as he let go of you -while fixing your position to have your back face him- before handling you with his talons, wrapping them around your waist before spreading his wings.

There was a sudden gust of air as you felt the twists and turns before you felt…steady. You didn’t realize you closed your eyes until you opened them, bending your head to look down you saw the body of water and large trees below you. You didn’t notice Katuki looking down at you, but the expression you had was certainly a memory he would remember forever.

“Yeah! We did it!”

“That was so close!”

“So cool!”

Katuki heard his friends cheer, and he couldn’t help but smirk until he looked at you, “(Y/n)”.

You looked up at him with a confused expression, he huffed as he continued to speak, “What are you doing Wingless One? You’re in the sky now, spread your wings already”.

Your eyes widened for a moment before you smiled, with a laugh you did just that, opening your arms you cheered with the rest of his friends who laughed with you, feeling the wind flow through and past your body. Katsuki smiled as you laughed and while he was sure that no one would notice, Izuku did and he went along with it, to keep his friend happy.

~~~

“So you can fly again, pass the trails in the Gathering of the Rising with flying colors, and earn your recognition, what do you plan on doing now Kacchan~”, you grin lightly as Katuki gives you a light glare.

“The hell if I’m supposed to know, maybe look for my own territory and begin building my nesting ground…”, he grumbled as he trailed off, you only nodded.

“Well, that’s a start”, you say as you get your bag up on Stardust, when Katsuki suddenly laid his hand on your own, you look over at him. His face had a small but noticeable red hue as his eyes diverted from you before he glares at you and holds your face in both his hands.

“Then, I want you as my nest mate!”, he blurts before nuzzling your face against his own, you blushed and stuttered when he did before he let go of you before trying to march off.

You stood there dumbfounded for a moment before grinning cheekily, jogging after him you “Katsukiiii!”, you yell, jumping on his back.

He cursed at you as you laughed before you shut him up by tilting his face towards you and kissing the corner of his lip, making him freeze.

“I love you too, you dork!”, you chirp as he huffed, ruffling his feathers as he turned towards you and hugged you, covering your body with his wings.

______________________________________

Tagged;

@mrsreina

#bnha katsuki x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha #Katsuki Bakugō #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #harpy au #harpy!katsuki #this is also on my AO3

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bekahdoesnerdshit · 4 years

Note

ask Two for the angst ones this time: 13 for raini, 5 (possibly will be pertinent come the end of this minicampaign) & 29 (she literally has Any Weapon w/ her pact so it's fititng) for ayen, 7 & 10 (hehe I know there's trauma in this one) for cog, and then mix and match 4, 17, 18 between Caspian, Ryker, and Brilliance bc I don't know them as well and I would Like To

My life is just below readmores now, I guess. Will I ever learn to shut the fuck up? No! And that is a promise

Raini

13. What does it take to make your character cry? Oh boy. Raini definitely isn’t a big crier, because she a) doesn’t really let herself get to that point and b) hard pivots into “angry” over “upset” and she isn’t an angry crier. She’s cried twice in game so far, and probably not many times before that. In both in game cases -and likely the always alluded to but never seen “before times”- the catalyst for her crying was being overwhelmed. In a good way, bad way, whatever, but that’s the trigger. Just- Looking at something, not knowing what else to do but let yourself cry about it, and not seeing any reason to stop yourself. (shfjsdjkfh the funny answer is: during sex. But can you IMAGINE jskdfskjdf)

Ayen

5. Would they ever turn on someone they just met in order to save themselves? Oh for sure. Without question. Not without guilt, in fairness, but without question. She’s pretty well adjusted, pretty “go with the flow”, but she did grow up in a pretty cutthroat world. She was spared from having to make those kinds of brutal decisions from a super young age by Shadow Mom, but she definitely saw the fallout of those choices and learned that, while it’s all well and good to do the “right” thing, it’s much more important to do the right thing for you. If that means condemning some stranger to die so you and yours don’t have to? So be it. Better people have done worse, because that’s sometimes just how things go. I’ll be honest! This character decision was a completely on the fly one when we were having that debate in the library about what we should do with the information we learned in the library. But I stand by it. In character, Ayen 1000% sees whatever’s going on as Not Her Business. It’s fucked up, sure! But, you know. Not her monkeys, not her circus. 29. What is their weapon of choice, and what weapon do they dislike using the most? Bro I love that Ayen doesn’t have A Specific Weapon SO much. Especially because Pact of the Blade specifically makes it so that, whatever weapon she summons, she’s proficient in while wielding it. So she sees somebody using a weapon, goes “oh! cool!” and summons it herself, and then just. Intuitively knows how to use is. How fucking funny is that conceptually?? Her go to if things are serious or she doesn’t have time to pick something obscure is a longsword. Dad uses a greatsword, and a longsword is pretty close to that! Image how cool they looked fighting off assholes, back to back, with two bigass swords? Is that the only reason it’s her favorite? No of course not!!!! That would- that would be silly. And childish. Swords are just cool is all. She hasn’t used any in game, but I think she honestly just doesn��t like any kind of polearm. It’s like, is it technically safer to be a little further from your enemy? Sure. Does it give you a small tactical advantage? Maybe so. But they’re so uglyyyy and they look weird and you have to use both hands and the balance is weird and >:( Spears can stay because you can throw them but you’re on thin fucking ice.

Cog

7. If your character was allowed to murder one person without any consequences, who would it be and why? Thank GOD Alex I wanted this one for Cog SO bad!!! Valentine WastelandGame! If you can read this! You’re a dead motherfucker!! This is for a variety of reasons including but not limited to: - Is responsible for the deaths of at least 3 separate world leaders! Uh oh! - Asked for my blood one time! To do Science on! Not cool! - Ace doesn’t like him. Enough said. - Called Ace “hotheaded” and “brutish” keep his NAME out of your MOUTH - Is fucking Maelo’s ex I think? Honestly I lost that plot on that one a little bit - Keeps taking Sunny on dates! We’re protective and Jealous?? Hard to say! We don’t have time to unpack this one let’s keep moving - Is convinced aliens exist? And are coming to attack the world? OKAY - Talks in fucking circles about philosophy and the greater meaning of “good” and “evil” in the context of the world. Like, no sir! Good is when you help people and evil is when you kill them! Except unless it’s me killing you which is going to happen because I can cast Finger of Death now and you better believe that spell has your fucking name on it. Freak boy. - Just like. Eats straight raw steak. Not Evil but really weird and probably not great for you? - Overall just a very bad slimy manipulative and stinky dude. 0/10 I’m gonna put an arcane bullet in his skull. Like. Everything Valentine does, everything she learns about him, convinces Cog more and more that the world would be a better, safer place if he wasn’t allowed to exist in it anymore. She was kinda neutral on the guy until he gave his grand speech in Cormir about how the only way to save the world is to ‘conquer and subdue it’ and tried to talk her in circles enough that she had to agree with him or seem like a hypocrite. Since then, it’s been a slow creep from “I don’t trust this man and don’t want to work with him again, even if it makes our lives harder” to “he’s dangerous and needs to be stopped” to “...if given the opportunity, I would kill him myself”. And now that she has our new friend the Shadow Demon whispering in her ear, telling her that “the world will tremble and change before her” and that she should “stride boldly, and fear not the consequences that may follow” honestly? The next time we see Valentine, he might be in trouble! 10. What were the character’s parents like? What was the affect the parents had on the character? Oh, is there trauma in this one? Is there? Alex? Is there? Maybe so!! We’re gonna talk about Cog’s dad first, because he’s a) still alive and b) I KNOW you’re fishing for more mom angst. Cog’s dad name is Conrad Grace! He’s the head of Lafaroh’s town guard, whatever that means for a town of maybe a hundred people. I feel like his day to day really consists more of making rounds to check on people than dealing with criminals, although he likely has to break up the occasional disagreement or toss somebody in the drunk tank for the night. He’s also in charge of making sure the Guardians -the gods that live deep in the swamp outside Lafaroh and protect the town in exchange for food, building supplies, the occasional corpse, and other resources- get their offerings (This is Important, because he does Stop doing that soon). He married into he Grace family (that’s RIGHT he took his wife’s last name because it’s 2021 and he’s Woke not because her family like runs the town okay moving on), initially because I genuinely believe he fell in love! They were probably pretty young, because Lafaroh is very much a Deep South Swamp Town Analogue, but I don’t think it was just a social power move. The most important Conrad fact? He told Cog that he became disillusioned with the Church when she left home, because he couldn’t imagine continuing to support something he could now see had so clearly been hurting her. And I, Rebekah, a homosexual who has had Words with my Christian parents about the way their religion has hurt me? OH buddy we were a little bit of a mess about it. DM Ryan! Don’t you know I’m projecting!! Please be more careful! (Editor’s Note: This is the moment that made me realize I was projecting. Whoopso!!) Cog’s mom name is Charlotte Grace Sr. because, I guess, we’re freaks. I hate that this makes Cog technically a junior because the thought of anyone calling her Charlotte Jr. makes me break out in hives, but it is, technically, correct. The distinction while Cog was growing up was, instead, “Charlotte” and “Charlotte Olivia” because, again, we’re southern as hell. Charlotte Sr. is, unsurprisingly, the head of Lafaroh’s church, which means she very much has more actual power than her husband does. She did love Cog, I think, but in a way that very much more felt like someone guarding an investment than raising a child, especially when Cog became a teenager. She had high, exacting expectations, and grew more distant from Cog the older she got. Whether this was an unintentional side-effect of Charlotte Sr. becoming more engrossed in the preparations necessary to allow Cog to become the “Conduit”, or whether it was a purposeful decision because she knew she would lose her daughter and wanted the sacrifice to hurt less is unclear. Cog’s dad is kinda just a dude, but we KNOW this bitch has mommy issues. I also think an important distinction to draw between the two is that while I’m willing to give Conrad the benefit of the doubt and say that he may have just wanted Cog to stay in Lafaroh when they party returned because he was worried about his daughter and wanted her home, Charlotte Sr. wanted Cog there because it was Where She Was Supposed To Be, because she had a destiny to fulfill. More than that, when Charlotte Sr. found out that Conrad had stopped sending supplies to the Guardians when Cog left and had instead been selling them to Bandits to get money to rebuild the town, she was not nearly so understanding. She accused him of heresy, and ordered for him to be, uh. Flayed alive. Which wasn’t great. It’s what got her killed ultimately; Cog had to choose between her parents, and after watching her Mama summon a shadow demon that very nearly choked the life out of Sunny? It was a choice with only one possible outcome.

Caspian

18. Would society call your character a good guy or a bad guy? What would they say they are? Caspian is. Caspian is Just a person. Like she is just out here doing her best, trying not to get killed by, idk. Pirates or ghosts or w/e. This is an endeavor that, statistically, could be going a lot better. I think the more interesting angle to look at this question from is the fact that she’s a monk from a well known monastery, and that there’s Expectations on how she conducts herself in the world as a result of that. She is Just A Person, but that’s not good enough. Not when she’s running around wearing Pelor’s holy symbol, representing his monastery, reflecting on him. For a long time, I think Caspian resented the expectation that put on her! Why can’t she just be a kid? Just a person? She didn’t ask to be raised by these monks in this kind of life. But when she left home and realized how suddenly lonely she was, there were quiet, sad moments it was easy to soften with prayer. Rekindling her relationship with her god was her way of staying connected to home, and I think it also made her want to go from being Just a Person to actually wanting to take pride in being a Good Person. And then her campaign lasted for two fucking seconds lmao so it didn’t even matter hahah! :)

Ryker

4. Has your character ever been hurt or betrayed by someone they thought they could depend on? What happened? YEAH BOY rye-bread got his SHIT handed to him lmaoooo His whole “why are you adventuring?” deal is that he fell in love with the noblewoman he was hired to escort across the country to her betrothed’s estate, and she played him like a fucking fiddle and convinced him -after her wedding, after she was pregnant with her husband’s first child and therefore heir- that she was in love with him too. But of course, because she was married, her husband would never let them be happy together. She talked Ryker into killing her husband, and promised to meet him the night he did it with horses and supplies for both of them. Anyone reading along at home with even a shred of common sense probably just said, “uh oh!” And uh oh indeed; she fully sold his ass out. There’s something emotionally devastating about slipping out of the bedroom of the man you just killed, his blood still on your hands, to find the woman you love standing between two enormous guards, but I can’t quite put my finger on what. Ryker figured out her plan in the following days he spent in a cell, awaiting execution. She didn’t love her husband, but by playing the role of grieving widow and anxious mother-to-be she could ingratiate herself with his family enough to be allowed to take control of the estate while her son, the true heir, grew up to run it. It was cruel, and clean, and if Ryker hadn’t managed to escape it would have gone off without a hitch.

Brilliance

17. Is your character afraid of death? Why/why not? Brilliance isn’t afraid of death, she’s afraid for what she’d leave behind. One of the songs on her playlist really leans into this (and I’m very excited to be posting her playlist soon! Stay tuned!), because she is terrified of what her death might do to Sienna. She never planned to become an adventurer, much less travel to the Hells to try and save an entire city. She was content, more than content, to guard Sune’s church, to help the people that came seeking her goddess’ blessing and guidance. When her city faced a sudden influx of refugees from Elturel after its destruction, she was even happy to volunteer to help the Flaming Fist keep order and root out would-be troublemakers. She never meant to get caught up in a job that would take her out of her home city, much less out of her home plane entirely. Every fight she got into in Hell, every time it seemed like she may be staring down something that might kill her, Brilliance had to swallow down the overwhelming guilt of knowing that if she died here Sienna would never know what happened to her. The image of Sienna, worried and pacing, looking toward the door to their apartment every time there was so much as a whisper in the hallway, desperate for any sign that Brilliance had come home-- It wasn’t delusions of self-importance or self-preservation that had Brilliance taking Glasya’s deal to save her from the narzugon’s clutches; it was the image of Sienna collapsing onto their bed and sobbing because she finally admitted to herself that Brilliance was never coming home. Still. Sienna needs her, but her party needs her too. They’re counting on her to be there for them, to take the big hits that they can’t handle. First one in, last one out; she doesn’t leave until everyone else is safe. She wants to survive, she wants to go home and marry the woman she loves, but she couldn’t live with herself if she did it at the cost of the life of someone who was depending on her. Brilliance isn’t afraid of death; she would die for her party members, even the ones she doesn’t particularly like. She just knows exactly what the cost of her death would be.

#sometimes.........i am a prose boy. sometimes....i write answers like 7 for cog. depends #rainivere #amnesia campaign #ayen morwraek #creepy campaign #cog #wasteland campaign #caspian #gos #ryker #brilliance #dia #syn-odics #answered #also idk if i've mentioned it before but it's very important to me that y'all know the bit about it being 2021 wasn't a joke #canonically wasteland game takes place in 2021 so folks things are Really gonna go to shit in the next four months lmao #uh oh!!#word count: 2633 #mine

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irondad-defensesquad · 4 years

Text

Familiar

Fandom: MCU

Rating: T

Relationships: Tony & Peter, Tony & Jarvis

Characters: Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Edwin Jarvis (flashbacks), Pepper Potts (minor role); other characters are only mentioned

Summary: When Tony comforts Peter, his brain suddenly clicks, as if it’s remembering something that’s been lost inside him for years. Or, Tony realizes how much his relationship with Peter reminds him of Jarvis.

(AU where Thanos is defeated only a few months after Infinity War and nobody dies - except for the purple prick, of course. Tony and Pepper get married and expect Morgan. May didn’t dust and neither has everyone in Peter’s class, only a few people.)

Word count: around 6,529

Also on AO3! (separated in two chapters)

–

A/N: Heya! This MCU sideblog is kinda new, so I posted the full work here, too. I hope you guys enjoy it!

WARNINGS - mentioned child abuse, alcoholism and character death.

Tony knows something is up with the kid.

Having known Peter for a couple of years now, the teenager is prone to bottling things up. It started off with wounds, which were easily detected by his suit. Following that, Tony would find out he had the same coping mechanism when it came to things that deeply, mentally affected him; and that is harder when you’re unable to get reports on someone’s emotional well-being.

Peter hasn’t been out as Spider-Man as often. Tony has somewhat expected it after bringing the kid and everyone back, but it doesn’t help that the kid rarely answers his calls now. When he does, Peter comes with excuses not to come visit him, arguing he has his own life to get through, which Tony understands at first, but then Peter straight up ignores him, and the man becomes skeptical and worried. He even goes to the point of calling May, who only tells him that her nephew has grown a bit distant overall.

It takes two or three months for Peter to come visit at all, and it’s pretty much thanks to his aunt, who finally convinced him to sleep over there since she would have to work on helping the people affected by the Snap. Happy picks him up, almost bringing Tony to the good old days when Peter used to come by the compound… he can’t help the reminiscent feeling.

Pepper snaps him out of it with her sweet, concerned voice. Her hand is carefully placed on his knee, caressing it with the most gentleness.

“He’s coming now, Tony,” She reassures him, as if reading him like he’s an open book. “You don’t have to be worried.”

Tony sighs. “I couldn’t even get him to come here by himself, Pep… what can I do?”

“You have to be patient with him, honey. Peter has been through a lot… he’ll tell you once you make it clear that it’s okay.”

He doesn’t reply then, as she gives him a supportive smile. Tony tries to believe that’s how it’s going to work out, so he returns the gesture and holds her hand. His eyes gaze at Pepper with adoration and sheer joy of expecting their child.

(He won’t admit out loud that there’s fear somewhere inside him, too, despite having literally dreamed about it and becoming so enthusiastic after. Not only was his father the worst role model, there was… also the guilt of Peter dying in his arms, as Tony couldn’t do anything. Nightmares would still haunt him to no end.)

It takes Tony another moment to return to reality when Happy arrives with Peter. The head of security has a rather uneasy and concerned expression on his face, silently telling Tony that the kid is acting off. The older man doesn’t have to take another minute to confirm it as Peter barely looks at him and Pepper in the eye when they greet the teenager.

Being the great people he could’ve asked for, Pepper and Happy make up the excuse they needed to get something heavy inside the house. They disappear quickly before Peter can protest. It’s probably the first time they’re alone in such a long time.

“So, uh, wanna get inside?” Tony proposes. “Or do you want to sit out here for a bit?” He presents the chairs standing in the porch.

Peter simply shrugs and sits in one of them, refusing to look at the man as the stubborn boy that he is.

“How have you been, kiddo? Has school been tough?” He asks nonchalantly, only to get no response.

Tony really wants to be patient with him like Pepper suggested, but he’s had it. The kid hasn’t talked to him properly in freaking months, has only ignored him. It’s obvious that something is wrong, and all Tony did was give it time. He’s given enough time, more than enough.

“Kid,” The man stands on his knees in front of him. “Pete?”

Peter turns his head away, only the dead silence replies.

“Peter, you’ve been away for months now and you’re not going to tell me anything?” Tony insists.

“No.” The kid’s voice is the quietest he’s heard, beating it to when Peter said I’m sorry before he faded away with the wind.

“And why is that?”

Nothing. Tony sighs, almost groans.

“I know there’s something wrong, Peter. You don’t have to hide it from me. You’ve been ignoring my calls and texts all over. Your aunt noticed you’ve been quiet, too,” Tony explains. Having no reply, his voice lowers, “Jesus, kid, I’m- I’m really worried about you. Why won’t you talk to me?”

The question makes Peter shift to anxious and guilty, yet it doesn’t convince him to talk. No, it makes the kid more stressed, as his hands are visibly shaking.

“You know you can trust me, right? I… Kid, I care about you, so much. You’re so important to me.” Tony almost feels hurt that Peter seems to not believe it. Has he not made it clear before?

The man reaches the boy’s hand, grabs it gently. “Pete. Please look at me.” At Tony’s pleading tone, Peter hesitantly raises his head, revealing unshed, repressed tears. “You can tell me anything – anything that’s hurting you. I won’t think any less of you.”

Tony doesn’t take the eyes off the kid, who’s unable to contain the following sniffs that escape. The older absolutely hates seeing Peter in this state, but it’s worse when he thinks just for how long he’s been bottling it up.

“I-I don’t- I c-can’t fit in, Mister Stark,” Peter whispers.

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t fit in! I-It’s only been months and- and everything feels so different, Mister Stark! I don’t- I don’t know how to explain and it’s frustrating, like—” Peter sobs. “E-Everyone is just acting like n-nothing happened. And I’m here, still remembering every single detail. Still feeling myself disappear. I can feel everything, and I c-can’t forget.”

Tony’s heart breaks. “Peter…” He holds his hand tighter.

“May’s found someone, my classmates aren’t always there… Ned and MJ were dusted, too, but they have their own lives, too. A-And you, you got married… you’re gonna have a kid…” Peter’s eyes are fully red, tears falling nonstop. “Everyone is moving on but I’m still here… fearing I’m gonna disappear again.”

He takes a while to reply. Tony blinks his own tears again, as his hand reaches Peter’s cheek.

“Oh, Pete…”

“I just- I get it, y’know. I’ve never been a normal kid. Now it’s pretty much worse and I’m trying to accept that, too. That I’ll never fit in. I want everyone to be happy. I w-want…” Peter sniffs. “I want you to be happy, too. You have your own family. Y-You don’t have to babysit me anymore.”

“No, Peter—”

“It’s okay, Mister Stark. I-I’ve always been different- I’ve always been a freak—”

“For fuck’s sake, kid, that’s not true,” Tony snaps for once, immediately toning down as he feels Peter flinching. His own dark eyes are burning now. “You’re not a freak, you’re- you’re my family, too.”

He places both hands on Peter’s shoulders firmly and doesn’t look away, ever.

“Peter, you’ll always fit in my life. And in May’s life, and your friends’. I want you to be here. You’re my kid, you’ve- you’ve always been my kid, and nothing will ever change that, okay? Nothing.”

“But—”

“I mean it, Pete. Do you have any idea how much I missed you? Do you know how fucking horrifying it was to watch you die in my arms? It was hell without you, all those months…” Tony’s own tears start falling. “It was killing me, Peter. May couldn’t handle it, either.”

The teen grows quiet again. Tony starts drying some of his tears with one of his hands.

“You don’t… you don’t get it, everyone’s just acting like things are fine and I just c-can’t forget what happened.”

“It’s okay if you don’t feel okay. You’ve been through so much, Pete… everyone copes differently, you’re not forced to act like everyone else does. You shouldn’t bottle it up.”

There’s silence between them for a couple of minutes before Peter hesitantly speaks up again.

“B-But what if… what if everyone gives up on me?” He wonders, absolutely frightened, despite his whispering tone. Just those words manage to destroy Tony inside more.

“That’s never going to happen, not in a million years. We love you, kid. I love you so much you have no idea.”

Peter only cries more, and Tony finally hugs him. The teen sobs in his shoulder, breaks down hard as the man holds him, putting one of his hands in the kid’s brown curls while the other soothes his back. Tony can’t help letting out shaky breaths in the meantime, but he’s still firm in his grip, grounding the kid, reminding him of the unconditional love he has for him.

Knowing Peter, the teenager will need the reassurances over and over again, and Tony is going to do that every single day if necessary.

When the boy’s sobs start quieting down, the man plants a kiss against his cheek and squeezes him, unable to contain his tears. Tony pulls him away only slightly, still holding him by his arms and keeping him close.

“We’ll get through this, okay? I’m never giving up on you, kid,” He reassures, sighing deeply while Peter is able to breathe slowly. “I will always stand by your side.”

Peter, teary-eyed, looks at him with certain doubt. “Always?”

“Always.”

The teen jumps in his arms again, only for… for something to catch Tony off guard. There’s something like… like a click. In Tony’s mind, that is.

He freezes for a moment, but he cannot refuse to comfort Peter again. The mechanic mumbles soothing nonsense, only for him to become silent as his attention shifts… to somewhere else.

This moment, he realizes… it feels like a deja vú. Except it’s not actually a deja vú. If that makes sense.

It doesn’t help that Peter notices when they finally face one another – or at least when the kid looks at him, since Tony is facing the nature around them, not quite focusing on the trees themselves.

“Are you okay?” Peter asks, taking him out of the trance.

“Wh- of course, kiddo. You shouldn’t worry about me.”

He doesn’t look convinced. Tony almost feels hypocritical now, not wanting to worry the kid with some weird impression he has. But how can he explain when it doesn’t even make sense to himself?

Before Peter can question him again, Pepper and Happy are back there. The latter tells them he should get back to the city and the former offers them to come inside and get themselves something to eat. Peter finally looks a little excited, maybe because he might be hungry, so he no longer focuses on Tony, or so he hopes. The kid isn’t stupid.

Pepper and Peter get to the kitchen first, especially as the teen offers to help her. Tony doesn’t follow them immediately, facing the wooden walls of the house. Words fly around and replay in his brain, somehow in different voices other than Peter’s and Tony’s.

It’s almost like Tony has actually heard them. Somewhere, a long time ago…

It might be a lost memory. It sounds so familiar. Why is it?

He doesn’t think about it now as Pepper calls for him. Tony shakes his head and is able to put on a mask for the meantime.

(Yet not for a moment does he try to stop struggling to remember.)

It comes to him at night. If anything, it’s nothing more than a mere glimpse.

Everything is mostly blurry. He can recognize old colors, that remind him of a distant past. Of a familiar face. One so important and meaningful that has craved a place in his heart. He can’t put his finger on it, however.

He hears silent crying. Feels warmth wrapping around his body. Arms that feel like… like home.

I will always stand by your side. The voice says, in a memorable accent.

A-Always? It’s a tiny, young one that asks.

Always, Tony.

Tony wakes up with actual tears in his eyes. He’s not scared, but… it’s something strong regardless.

It was an actual memory. If it weren’t, he wouldn’t have gotten so shaken.

He… He wants to understand. He wants to remember.

As a result, he doesn’t fall asleep again. No, he ends up going downstairs. Tony doesn’t think too straight, so next thing he knows, he’s somehow inside the garage. To find answers.

B.A.R.F was created to recount traumatic experiences, change them, give him some comfort. It was his own therapy method for quite some time after he’d developed it. Tony hasn’t used it in a long time, though, but he still remembered to implement it in his E.D.I.T.H glasses (… which might have its name changed now that the big battle is over).

Today, he doesn’t mean to use it to change something in his past. This time, he wants… he wants to activate his brain, somehow. He’s still trying to make sense of the flashback he had. More and more words fly here and there, and he knows there’s something meaningful about them, about the memory he’s striving so hard to clear it up. It’s too bad that he can’t rationalize.

He keeps feeling the same pain and warmth from that moment. He remembers his frustration. He knows it’s from his distant past, long before Tony was known as the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist persona. It’s a part of his life that the Stark has forced himself to repress, to the point where it’s still affecting him now.

Now that he has the glasses, parts of the memory are coming to life, right there in his garage. There are the same colors he’s seen. Dark red that reminds him of blood, of violent words and remarks. The sunset outside, a rather beautiful and tear-jerking sight. Frustrated yelling, except Tony can’t understand any of it. In contrast, there’s another calm voice that tries to reason with it.

Tony knows he’s going to feel even more fucked up. Almost nothing about his past leaves him at peace. It always comes back to haunt him with the same questionings about himself. He partly blames the media for getting literally anything from his life and making a huge deal about it, despite having become familiar with being such a recognizable figure.

He doesn’t want it to matter now. He wants to understand what happened. There are memories that may never come to the surface, thanks to the long-term trauma. A mechanism his body has developed all those years, long before the occupational hazard that is to be a hero.

Tony is sure he’s on the verge of breaking down as he tries to force it to come out. No, it’s not working. He shouldn’t do it this way. Shouldn’t yell at his oppressed, younger self that’s never been truly gone. That’s been quiet, in an inner coma, suffering all at same.

He should be… patient. Suddenly, Pepper’s words come to him again.

You have to be patient with him, honey. Peter has been through a lot… he’ll tell you once you make it clear that it’s okay.

He takes comfort in them. He should… give himself time.

It’s okay, he tells himself. It’s okay. You don’t have to come out now, but you don’t have to be afraid. You’re… You’re safe.

In response, Tony is able to breathe again. He tries not to focus on what B.A.R.F is up to.

You’re safe, he repeats again, and again. He closes his eyes and relaxes, at last.

He… lets it flow.

(Distantly, it kind of reminds him of that movie with the cartoon panda achieving inner peace. He must have seen it with Peter one time. It feels like decades ago.)

In. Out.

In. Out…

When he opens his eyes, he’s no longer in the garage.

Rather than the cozy wood, it’s a wide room with dark red walls. Tony recognizes it to be the living room of the Stark mansion. He’s been so used to the lake house that he forgot just how big (and empty) everything was. Sunshine rays enter the residence, it’s a rather beautiful day.

In contrast, there’s the yelling again. Fighting. The bright blue pixel figures slowly come to surface. One he acknowledges to be himself. Young Tony seems to be at least 15, as he’s already wearing one of his old MIT hoodies. The other person turns out to be Jarvis, who still has his fancy, black suit.

The two are arguing. A very rare occasion to happen. They never got into a bad argument, not like Tony and Howard constantly did. Though, if anything, Tony is the one yelling. Jarvis calmly tries to get to him, which makes the teenager behave worse.

“You don’t GET IT, Jarvis!” The boy screams. “I don’t fit in anywhere! Not in MIT and certainly not in my own home! My parents send me away whenever they have the fucking chance!”

“Master, they only… they only mean to do the best—”

“DON’T YOU DARE DEFEND THEM! You hear them say that yourself! They don’t want me around, n-nobody wants me around.” Tony’s voice is angry, furious, yet it’s dangerously close to break in tears that threaten to fall. When he was young and more emotionally unstable, he’s not yet learned to keep on a mask. That would happen after MIT. “Nobody gets it, Jarvis. I’m… I’m never going to be normal. I’m a Stark. I’m supposed to be great, but I’m… not.”

Present Tony feels the words stinging in his heart. The look on Jarvis’ face only makes it harder to watch, to listen. He doesn’t repress it again, though. It’s too late to go back.

“Mom and Dad gave up on me when I was fucking six, Jarvis,” Young Tony hisses, words poisoned with disgust. “They barely let me get home now. And when I am here, they never want to see me. They’re ashamed of me.”

The boy’s eyes only grow deeper as he continues, “I w-want to believe you, Jarvis… I want to believe Mom, that she and Dad… that they love me, but it’s- I’m not that fucking stupid, okay? No matter how hard I try to be better, I’ll never be good enough. No matter how many stupid robots and engines I build, that’s never going to change.”

(Present Tony feels it. The shame. The disappointment in himself. It was never truly gone, was it?)

“I don’t… I don’t blame people for feeling ashamed of me. For thinking so little of me.” The teenager’s voice breaks in sobs. “I-I know I’m a fucking freak. Okay? I get it. I’ll never be normal. And… you know what? You don’t- you don’t have to keep babysitting me anymore, Jarvis, you can- you can just leave me, too. Y-You have your family to get back, you should be with them. I’m not worth it.”

Jarvis is silent. He’s completely torn, heartbroken.

(Tony almost wishes he could never remember the look on the man’s face.)

“Maybe Howard was right,” Young Tony says bitterly. “I’ll never be someone anyone can be proud of.”

The teenager weeps and falls to his knees. Present Tony only stands there, unable to see the look on Jarvis’ face as he stares at his younger self. Tears creep in his own eyes, the speech getting through his heart, ripping it to a million pieces again.

(He hates that he still feels like Young Tony to this day. Feeling useless at the battle against Thanos. Helpless as he watched Peter die. Failing to save half of the universe. Watching the world still falling apart, despite everyone getting back. Expecting his child, Morgan, to arrive and fearing he’ll fuck her up, too.)

Present Tony doesn’t say a thing. The silence that follows in the scene almost drowns, suffocates him.

It’s a long time before he hears slow footsteps coming to him. His teenage self, that is. It’s then that Jarvis wraps his arms around the young boy. The Present Stark can feel its affection from there.

(He faintly feels what teenage Tony must be feeling right now. Having always wondering how a hug from Jarvis felt like. It’s something he never admitted to himself until maybe that moment and right now, years later. Tony can even smell the butler’s cologne and it’s so much like home.)

Young Tony freezes; stiffens his body while Jarvis welcomes him in his embrace. The butler places a hand behind his head, touches his dark hair so caringly that Tony finally gives in – he downright melts.

“I’m… I’m very sorry. For making you believe all of this.” Jarvis sighs. “I will not defend them – and not him ever again, because he is wrong. For a so-called genius, he knows nothing about you. I have not known a boy as intelligent and as good-hearted as yourself.”

The younger makes no noises nor moves while the older continues, “You have already changed the world… and you will make it much better, because you are going to be greater than he could ever be.”

“Jarvis…” He whispers. “I…”

Present Tony can tell he wants to say I love you. But he doesn’t. He’s too shocked, too broken to say it; but Jarvis seems to hear it anyway. The butler soothes him as he leans his chin against the top of Tony’s head.

“I am very proud of you.” The man speaks, with the most sincerity he’s heard. It might be the most genuine and positive thing anyone told the fifteen-year-old in more than a decade.

Jarvis gently pulls him away, faces still close and he gazes at him with unconditional love.

“I will always stand by your side.”

“A-Always?”

He doesn’t hesitate. God, Jarvis smiles fondly at the hurt boy. “Always, Tony.”

It’s the first time Jarvis calls him that. He’s not Master Tony. From the sound of it, he has never been just Master Tony to the man. He’s always… been family. Just like that, the teenager sobs even harder, only to be protected by Jarvis’ arms again. The crying echoes in the living room, and so the sun illuminates them both.

“M-Mister Stark?”

Tony doesn’t startle up, even though he was entirely integrated. He partly turns around, finding Peter, his curly hair the biggest mess he’s seen. Were it not for the situation the teen finds him, Tony would have squished the kid for how freaking adorable he is.

“I-I’m sorry, I uh- I heard you wake up and you- you just rushed out here and I got w-worried, so I followed you and… I kinda saw some of that. Sorry,” Peter rambles. “Are you okay, though?”

Despite the tear that rolls down Tony’s face, the man nods. “I’m fine, Pete. Sorry for scaring ya… there was something that wouldn’t leave me be. Not the first time that happens,” He shrugs, which doesn’t really soothe Peter. Tony then admits, “But it was… different this time.”

The boy’s puppy eyes shyly glance at the projection of B.A.R.F, which hasn’t faded away. It’s paused like a Youtube video, so it has stopped by Tony having a full crying attack while Jarvis holds him.

“Who’s… W-Who’s Jarvis?” Peter asks.

Tony is almost shocked to realize that he’s… he’s never talked about the butler before. Well, he never opened up much about his past, but the kid is already aware that Howard wasn’t the best father in the world. The billionaire would have, maybe, if he had the A.I., but much like its inspirational muse, it was… gone, for good. Remembering what happened to Vision makes Tony’s heart drop more.

“He was… like a father to me. When my old man couldn’t be.” He swallows a lump in his throat. Tony ends up gazing at the projection of his own father figure. His real one. “You know I wasn’t in a good place before… but Jarvis was always there to take care of me. He never stopped, not for once, until he passed away.”

From the corner of his eye, Peter nods in silence. Tony doesn’t mind that he hasn’t stopped crying quietly himself. He just lets it all go. As he gazes at the image in front of them, guilt fills Tony’s heart. Certain… fear of letting people down. It’s a feeling he honestly only felt when he was a kid. Maybe, it’s there whenever he remembers Yinsen, whose advice Tony never once forgot. But now that he truly remembers this argument with Jarvis, it makes him feel worse. Makes him feel like he’s been… ungrateful to his father figure – forgetting him.

Part of Tony remarks that he couldn’t remember this, it is his coping mechanism, whether he likes it or not. Still… he can’t help feeling terrible about it. He hates that he ever developed that method.

“What’s wrong?” Peter isn’t dumb to ignore the look on his face. This kid… he’s too good.

Tony sighs in fondness, looking at Peter briefly with a sad smile before resuming to Jarvis. How sweet of a man the butler was… to the freaking mess that younger Tony was.

“Just feeling nostalgic is all.”

It’s true; B.A.R.F reacts to what his brain is currently thinking. The scenario changes to what was Tony’s bedroom, as huge as the rest of the mansion was. An even younger Tony Stark, probably seven or eight, fixing a little electronic car toy that he built. Jarvis is standing next to him, watching with clear interest.

“Look, Jarvis! I think I got it!” Little Tony claims, very proud of himself.

“I knew you could repair it, Master Tony.” Jarvis smiles. “Let’s put it in action, shall we?”

Following that, they test the car, that runs at full speed while the child controls it. Tony is having the time of his life and the other is satisfied.

“Look at it go,” Jarvis says in his same tone, not taking the smile off his face.

Another memory replaces it. Little Tony hesitantly enters a room, crying and hugging himself. There are plenty of bruises in his arms, from what they can gather from the rare lighting from the night outside.

“J-Jarvis?” He calls, vulnerable.

The butler wastes no time to get there.

“H-H-He got m-mad that I w-was- was p-playing with the…” Tony tries to explain it but is interrupted.

“Shhh… you don’t need to explain it.” The man carefully holds his hands. “I will take care of this, alright?”

Tony nods. “I-I don’t like it when he drinks… h-he gets really worse.”

Jarvis sighs. “Neither do I. But you are safe now. Once I get you cleaned up, I could tell you a story. What do you think?”

“I like stories. C-Could I… have some some chocolate milk, too?”

“Of course.”

There are others to come. Jarvis greeting a younger Tony whenever he gets home. Jarvis comforting him after a nightmare. Tony shyly giving him a hand-made Happy Butler’s Day card one time when he found out that day existed, since he… he never had the courage to do the same when it was Father’s Day. Not even when it was just Jarvis and Tony after Howard and Maria died.

The unpleasant memories of that time are projected by B.A.R.F, too. A nineteen or twenty-year-old Tony Stark coming home drunk with some random lady. Jarvis isn’t looking pleased, but he could never be angry. He’s just worried.

“Ah, beat it, Jarvis,” Tony groans. “Don’t need to baby me anymore. See?” He smirks at the lady that playfully threatens to bite him.

“Sir, this is getting too far.”

“Sheesh, can’t I have some fun? C’mon. You would like that too, old man. Next time, I’m gonna bring you a lil’ friend.”

Jarvis can only sigh. Tony scoffs, “Alright, whatever, we’re going to bed. See ya.”

“Let me assist you—”

“Hey- Hey! Leave it, okay?” He almost slaps the other’s hands away. “Ugh, Jarvis. I can handle stuff on my own. Don’t need any diapers. See?” Tony kisses the girl passionately. When he finishes, he says, breathlessly, “I’m a big man now.”

The butler doesn’t protest, if not for a pained look. “Of course.”

The drunk young man stumbles to his room with the girl, leaving Jarvis on his own. The man was old, nearing the end of his life and yet he still insisted to take care of Tony, even if he was nothing more than some stupid piece of shit that always disappeared in parties, coming back with random girls every night he came back.

Current Tony is silent when the last memory comes. He’s at some other event, some party at Stark Industries. Obadiah brought him to meet some of his co-workers and stuff. Tony is having the time of his life when someone rushes to him; one… one of the housekeepers that sometimes helped Jarvis at home.

“Mister Stark,” She tries to get to him.

“Marisa! What’re you doing here? You’ve come to join us?” Tony laughs with the others, but she looks serious.

“Tony, this is no time for partying.” When she calls him Tony, that’s when something is wrong. His face almost falls.

“Shit, you’re scaring me; what happened?”

“It’s… It’s Jarvis, he’s…”

What she says next isn’t heard, as Tony doesn’t remember. The look on the twenty-one-year-old says otherwise. Next, he’s at the hospital. Awaiting with Obadiah by his side, he’s insisted to come.

When the nurse comes out, she has a heartbroken look on her face.

“How is he? Is he okay?” Tony already throws a bunch of questions, even though her expression… it tells him everything. He can’t accept it.

“No. No, c-c’mon. Jarvis is the strongest person I know, he can’t… he can’t just…!”

He doesn’t finish the sentence. The nurse lowers her head. “I’m very sorry. We tried everything we could. I’m sure he tried, too.”

Tony doesn’t cry; he straight up faints. The alcohol must have worsened it. When he awakes, they’re alone at the corridor and he begs Obadiah to assure him that Jarvis is fine. He hopes his butler rushes to see him, so they could go home, watch the genius build something, play a game, do anything.

He couldn’t be more wrong. The now older Stark almost feels disgusted as his younger self craves Obadiah’s comfort, but well. He couldn’t have known.

“He can’t die, Obie,” Projection Tony whispers, only to raise his voice. “H-He can’t die. He can’t leave me, too!”

Finally, the man removes the E.D.I.T.H glasses. The whole hospital ambience disappears and they’re both back at the same old garage. Everything feels so small now. So crushing, all this knowledge.

He almost forgets Peter is there at all. The teen saw everything… all the details. Tony didn’t want to hide anything from him, not anymore. On the other hand, he also regrets it when he sees Peter’s sorrowful gaze. Shit, it’s too much for him.

Tony looks away in shame and regret. “Yeah. Now you get why I don’t talk about that past stuff with anyone,” He jokes darkly. He sighs and tries again. “I’m sorry you had to see all that.”

Peter looks a minute away from crying with him, but he takes a deep breath and replies, quietly, “It’s okay.”

The mechanic holds the glasses like they’re going to break at one touch. He puts them away where they were, by the desk with everything else he kept there. Tony resumes to the same spot he was, no longer seeing the projections, just his adapted workshop. Everything is very quiet now, not even the crickets outside can be heard.

(It felt like his house after Jarvis was gone. Tony would barely be there, drowning himself in every drink he found at bars.)

“He died before I could say I was sorry.” Tony whispers. “I… I forgot what he told me. That he believed in me. And after my parents died… I just stopped caring, for good. But he didn’t stop caring about me and…” His lips are quivering. “He was gone before I could realize it. Before I could b-be better.”

Peter takes one step. “Tony…”

Tony now stares at his own feet, the tears making it to the wooden floor. He realizes he doesn’t have any socks warming the former. “He… never gave up on me. But he knew I was ruining my life. I… I let him down. Really bad.”

He can hear Peter stopping. He knows the kid is closer, but he doesn’t have the courage to approach. Maybe it’s the right thing to do. Tony feels like the worst person in the world now. God, he’s fucked up so many damn times.

The broken man is silent for dreadful and long minutes, Peter not getting any closer, nor saying a thing, either. Tony’s hands are shaking.

“I just… I wonder if…” His breath trembles. “I-If he could come back and see me one last time… wh- what would he think of me now?”

He doesn’t expect an answer. Or, he might know it. It might not be too pretty.

Tony embraces the dead silence. At least, before he’s embraced by two arms from behind.

“I-I… I think you’re pretty great, Tony,” Peter gulps, clearly crying. “You grew so much, you became a hero. You saved the universe, you… you saved me.”

Tony’s mouth opens but nothing comes out. Especially not when the boy hugging him, desperate to reassure him, continues with a whisper full of intensity, “You changed the world, just like he said. He would be so proud of you, Tony. We all are.”

That’s enough to break the elder. Tony sobs, his own hands reaching Peter’s arms and squeezing them. For once, he turns around and hugs his kid tightly again. They stand there for an eternity, ugly crying, repeating reassuring words.

“I love you. I love you.” Peter repeats, each time with more sincerity than the last.

“God, I love you too, kiddo.”

(He hopes he can feel Jarvis’ presence there, too. Even if that’s technically impossible. Jarvis never left his heart, after all. Tony promises he will stop hiding it. He’ll make sure to tell Morgan about the man, too. He was his hero. He just wishes he could have actually realized it sooner.)

Finally, Tony leaves one last breath before pulling away from the crushing hug. He still holds Peter’s arms affectionately.

“Thanks, Pete. I needed that in this moment of catharsis,” He tries to joke, getting a little smile out of the kid.

“Are you okay now?”

“Never been better.”

Peter nods. Tony wonders what they can do, seeing as it it’s so late in the night. They both have terrible sleeping habits, he’s afraid.

“Let’s get outta here, yeah?” The older suggests. “How about we see a movie? I miss late movie night.” He puts an arm around Peter’s shoulder, guiding them both out of the garage and closing the door behind them with his spare hand. “Remember we used to put on Star Wars for the hundredth time when you couldn’t sleep?”

Peter snorts. “Y-Yeah, that would be cool. Any suggestions? Would be nice to pick something different.”

Tony hums and thinks for a while… then he has it. “I remembered this one… you know that, uh, that panda that learned to gain some inner peace or something? And he did those moves with the water?”

“You mean Kung Fu Panda?”

“Yeah, that’s the one! I suddenly remembered it today. Thought of refreshing my memory.”

“Oh, cool. That’s the second Kung Fu Panda movie, by the way. The best one in the series, to be fair.”

“Of course.” Tony smiles as they reach the house and get to the living room. The lights are dimly on, thanks to his instructions to F.R.I.D.A.Y.

They both stay awake until the movie ends. Doesn’t take long for the two to fall asleep right there and warm themselves up with the blanket Tony grabbed. They snuggle against one another, safe with each other’s company.

He missed this.

When he falls asleep, though, he remembers Jarvis tucking him in to bed one night. Like every other night, Maria is at a business trip and Howard just isolated himself somewhere in the mansion.

“Tell me that story, Jarvis! You promised!!” The enthusiastic, small Tony demands.

“Very well. Once upon a time, a very stubborn little man went to bed… the end.”

Tony groans. “That’s a horrible story!”

Jarvis openly laughs that time. He is usually contained, being affectionate in his own way, and much better than his father, that’s for sure. Still… it’s nice to hear it.

“Do not worry, Master, I have many other ones like that. You will learn to appreciate true art.”

“Noooo, I know you have better ones, Jarvis!”

“Oh no, you have discovered my secret.”

“Tell meeee,” Tony whines.

“Very well. Can’t say no to that face.” Jarvis dramatically sounds defeated, making Tony giggle. He then sounds serious again. “Once upon a time, there was a very smart boy who created amazing inventions. He had a room full of them, but he had to hide; for his intelligence was misjudged by the mean people of the village. His father would not give much support, either; but the boy was fearless.” Tony’s eyes brightened up as the man continued, “He went outside and helped everyone with their problems. Built stronger homes, vehicles, all constructions you could imagine… and one day…”

Jarvis grabs the little metal man Tony built when he was six, which sitting on his bedside table.

“… He discovered how to fly. He created magnificent wings and flew by his village. The people saw him as their hero… and they had hopes. For the little boy, now a grown man, changed their world and would continue to change every other place he went, making the whole world a better place. The end.”

Tony blinks in awe. “Woah…”

“Did you like it? I personally prefer the one of the boy going to bed, though,” Jarvis teases, the boy rolling his eyes as a response.

“I loved it,” Tony answers, clearly flustered.

Jarvis smiled at him for a couple of minutes. Then, he would stand up and say, “Very well. It is time to sleep, Master Tony.”

“Okay.” The boy yawned, feeling the exhaustion coming to him. A gentle hand is placed by his leg. “Good night, Jarvis.”

“Good night. You can call me if you need anything.”

Once Jarvis turned off the lamp, Tony closed his eyes, faintly hearing the butler close the door in the distance.

When Tony opens his eyes again, he’s flying in the blue sky. Flying to the horizon ahead of him. Knowing the people down there are counting on him. They are proud of him. They’re their hero.

Somewhere down there, he knows his family is there rooting for him. Peter, Pepper, his little Morgan, Rhodey… and Jarvis is there, too, smiling with pride.

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sophfandoms53 · 5 years

Text

History Repeats Itself AU

It all started on that one Christmas Eve. At age 17, when a strange duck dressed all in purple appeared at McDuck manor. She claimed to Webby that she was a distant relative and said her name was Violet. Webby, of course, having a complete encyclopedia of the McDuck tree didn’t really buy it, but didn’t question it.

“So.. where’s Dewey?”

“I don’t know. Probably outside somewhere.”

“Why aren’t you with him? Aren’t you guys like.. together?”

“Yeah we are.. I’m just.. I just wanted some time to myself today.”

“On Christmas Eve? That’s boring! C’mon, lets go find Dewey!”

That was ‘Violets’ main goal. To find the blue duckling. Webby followed the young ones enthusiasm and they went on their quest to find him and when they did, he does his Dewey thing.

“Haha! Caught ya gorgeous!”

“Dewey! I’m not in the mood for one of your games right now!”

“....Dewey..?”

There he was. In the flesh. Not that he’d recognize her at his age. His main concern was getting Webby out of this funk.

“Would you do me a favour and get us down.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said no. Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong!”

“You’re such a bad liar Webby! I know somethings bothering you.”

“How could you possibly know that!? I haven’t been with you all day!”

“That’s how he knows somethings wrong! You two have been together for over a year now! And even before that, you guys are best friends, of course Dewey’s gonna know when somethings bothering the girl he loves. That’s why he set this all up. He just wanted to spend Christmas Eve with his girlfriend but you were too caught up in your own brooding to notice he was trying to help you- and I have to apologize to my family when I get home.”

“You set all this up.. for us?”

“Well yeah.. this is kind of our spot anyways.”

“Awh, Dewey Im so sorry.. I’ve just been so busy with something I don’t have, that I forgot the great guy I do have.”

“It’s alright, I’ve been there too, Angel.”

Seeing them both happy and in love brought a smile to ‘Violets’ face. This wasn’t something she saw often, and it made her slip up.

“That was some quick problem solving back there Violet. Your parents are lucky to have a such bright daughter.”

She then jumped into his arms hugging him tightly, she’d never had this chance before.

“Um.. okay.. this is happening now.”

“Sorry it’s just, I’ve never been able to spend Christmas with both my- cousins on my great aunt nephews brother side- yes, that was it.”

Dewey and Webby exchanged a look.

“You’re name’s not really Violet, is it?”

“Uhhhhhhh..”

It didn’t take long for Dewey to connect the dots. The girl’s determination to find him and wanting to spend Christmas with both him and Webby, he figured it out. But he knew that meant something else. He couldn’t worry about that now though, who knows when it happens? Before he and Webby sent her off, she left Dewey with this small bit of information.

“Dad-... Dewey!”

“Yeah?”

“It’s Skye.”

“What?”

“My name is Skye.”

Skye thought she could handle it on her own, with the help of her cousin Troy too, but she was wrong. Hiding it wasn’t right. Even with her good intentions.

The look of betrayal and distraught on both her twin brother and younger brother’s faces made her heart snap. She didn’t realize what she was doing until it was too late.

“Skye! What is up with you?!”

“Why are you being so strange! In case you haven’t notice this isn’t exactly the best time!”

She clenched the jacket and bag close to her.

“Because it belongs to Dad!”

“WHAT?!”

Chase, her twin, was furious.

“How do you know this belongs to Dad?!”

“Uh.. I’ve kind of been.. doing some research on him by myself.. only a little bit. I just looked him up in the Archives and when we made that stop to Ithaquack I spoke to the goddess Selene and god Storkules- aaaand this isn’t making my case better.”

“How could you not tell us about this!?”

“I was trying to protect you both in case Dad did something bad!”

“Yeah Okay! Or you just kept to yourself because you’re insecure about your place in this family! Typical Skye! He’s our father!”

“No! It’s not like that Chase! What happened was I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you guys to get hurt, then with all this new information and holes in the story I couldn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to hurt me! I’m sorry okay!”

“You’re only sorry because you got caught!”

While her twin called her out on her actions, her little brother stayed quiet, steadying his breath as he held his father’s jacket close. It was his dad’s. His father’s. The man he never met. Their father was around for the first two years of Skye and Chase’s life. Danny on the other hand, never knew his father, and having this piece of clothing in his arms, made him feel several things.

“Danny... are you okay?”

“You kept a secret about Dad... nothing about that is okay.”

Desperation. Ambition. Impulsion.

It was the last bit of information she needed. It was now or never. The truth about Dewey Duck.

Her eye was on the prize and nothing and nobody was going to hold her back. Not even her families cries.

Her cousin, Troy, who was with her since the start of the investigation pleaded to her first.

“This is insane Skye! Get back here! I know you want to learn about your dad but this isn’t the answer you’re looking for!”

Danny was next.

“I get it Skye! I want to know what happened to Dad too but you can’t risk all of us just find out what happened to someone we lost!”

Her Uncle Huey grabbed the walkie talkie, holding his son, Troy, close and pleaded to his niece.

“Skye sweetheart please, you have to get back here! I was in a similar situation to this a few decades ago! If your father was here he’d be telling you the same thing I am now! You need to get back here!”

Her twin, Chase, spoke out last.

“Skye, I miss Dad too, and I want to know where he is. But think about this. Mom and the others had to deal with losing him when it happened, and they pulled through together! Don’t you see? Our family is incredible! We’re enough! Let this go!”

Gritting her teeth as anger boiled her blood, she chucked the walkie talkie away.

Let this go?

No.

That wasn’t an option. Not when she was this close. And without knowing the truth about her dad, it would never be enough.

Louie looked on at his niece and watched as she slowly turned into Dewey when he was desperately seeking an answer about Della.

“She really is her father..”

The plane hit a snag and caused the duo to fall onto their bodies. Louie almost falling off the edge, and Skye crashing into the propeller. She looked up and saw the last piece. It was right there. She stood up and reached for it.

Louie pulled up close behind her. Begging and pleading.

“Skye please! I.. okay! I can’t protect you as much as I thought! Okay I said it! How can I get you to come back with me!”

Skye looked at her uncle, her hand crushing the paper, and her glare instense. She opened the paper up and her eyes scanned it. They widened as they looked over the image conveyed in front of them, a glimmer of sadness, tears forming in her eyes but she refused to let them fall.

“You want me to come back?”

“Yes! What can I do?!”

Skye held the paper up and into her uncle’s view as she yelled.

“Tell me what happened to my dad!”

Webby knows her babies are hurting. She’s been there. Losing Dewey was the hardest thing she ever went through. But her children are what kept her at bay. She needed to stay strong for them.

It’s what Dewey would’ve wanted.

When everything happened, Webby cut off ties with everyone and took her kids. She watched on her own as Danny hatched, and helped when he learned to walk and talk. Skye and Chase, despite both being two, helped as much as they could.

They all grew up with little or no memories of their father and it hurt Webby everyday to wake up with no one next to her. This wasn’t suppose to happen.

He promised her he wouldn’t make the mistake his mother did.

He swore he’d be there to see his children grow up.

But he lied.

Possibly.

Webby didn’t know. She had a constant clashing in her chest. Her husband made her have all these mixed emotions. She was angry and furious but she was also hurt and sad. She knows Dewey. She knows he loves her. He would never abandon her like this. There was more to the story, she knew that. But she didn’t know what.

She thought keeping her children away from the McDuck family would make them not want to be apart of adventures but silly her. They have her and Dewey’s DNA in them. Adventure is in their blood and core. Nothing was gonna stop these three rascals.

Letting them see their Uncle Louie, Uncle Huey and Aunt Shelly brought a new happiness to their lives, and she knew that.

But she never told them about their father. She wanted to but.. she was afraid telling them about him meant she’s accepted he’s truly gone. And she didn’t want to accept that. A small part of her believes he’s still out there. Somewhere. And that’s because of her kids. The lights of her life. The reason she looks forward to the mornings. All of them inhabit something from their father. And she took note of that every single day.

When she saw how distraught the truth made them, she had to tell them the rest.

“I get it you’re all upset. We were too. We all miss Dewey very much. But you three need to understand your Uncle Louie didn’t just give up on him. Louie tried everything to get him back. But if he tried anything else,he’d be broke and lost.”

“Broke and lost?”

“He really did try to get Dad back..”

“Well whatever Uncle Louie tried, it doesn’t matter, Aunt Shelly. We’re sticking with our true family. Right mom?”

“...No.”

“W-What?”

“Your Aunt Shelly is right. Louie did everything in his power to find your father. And to no avail. I don’t know exactly what he tried but that’s his brother. He wouldn’t leave him behind.. I walked away from this family before and that was a big mistake. The McDuck’s are always stronger when they’re together. I just.. I forgot that for a moment. But not again. We all need to stick together. Come here my babies.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, as they did in her two sons, who jumped into her arms and she held them tightly, allowing them to sob and let their tears out.

She looked up at her daughter, tears in her eyes.

Skye tried her best to keep her composure but she felt herself slowing falling apart.

“Skye, sweetie, I understand. You’re hurt. You’re sad, scared, and confused. Your father meant more to me than anything. I know what this is like. And it’s okay for you to be upset. Let yourself cry.”

She sniffed and looked down at her boys.

“If your father was here right now, he’d be incredibly proud of the three of you. Awh Danny, if he saw how your hair is when it’s zooshed back, he’d call you his mini him! And Chase, you were his little buddy, champ and warrior! The things you had him chasing you around for! And Skye, you were his baby girl and little princess. I never saw him have so much fun while teaching you how to walk. He was protective of you even when you were in your egg. I guess he knew the beautiful duckling you’d become. You three meant the world to him, and I know he’d give up his life if it meant you’d three are happy.”

Her daughter looked up, tears falling down her cheeks and ran into her mothers arms. She felt her brothers embrace her and the four of them all cried.

They all loved each other. And they all loved him. They knew if he was still out there, he’d be proud.

“We’ll stay strong for him.”

8 years.

He has spent 8 years alone on that orange rock, Mars that is.

Now being on another planet would usually sound like an exhilarating opportunity for Dewey but not when it meant he’d miss so many milestones and life on Earth.

When he first crashed, it was the week his son was suppose to hatch and he missed it.

Dewey did have his hands full at the time, as he had to deal with his right leg being crushed and unable to get it out. He looked around and had no other options.

Hey, Scrooge and Donald did say he reminding them of Della.

With his right leg now amputated, which he did so with the help of Della’s book, and Oxy-Chew on his side, still only Black Licorice flavoured, thanks Gyro.

Dewey has one goal. Get back home.

He missed his son’s hatching, he missed Danny’s first words and steps. He missed Skye and Chase’s birthdays and Danny’s too.

He missed anniversaries with Webby.

Man did he miss his wife.

Other than his kids, she was the only one in his thought.

“What was I thinking!? I just left Webby! And with three kids to raise! On her own! Ugh.. some husband and father I turned out to be..”

Was what he said on his first transmission.

Everyday he looked at their family portrait. Which was him holding Skye in his arms, Webby holding Chase in hers, and each of them placing one hand on Danny’s egg whom was placed in the middle of them.

His children and his wife, they were his motivation. He had to remind himself of that. He needed to get back to them. He needed to get back to her.

Each transmission Dewey tried his best to remain postive but it became harder as each year went on. Things became bleaker and he began to doubt that there was a way for him to get home.

During the 8th year on Mars, Dewey broke down. Collapsing on his knees, the tears he very rarely let fall, were pouring out like waterfalls as he sobbed into his own arms.

“I’ve tried everything! And nothing!”

He felt hopeless. He was stuck. Nothing he tried worked. And he didn’t know what else to do. He looked down at his wedding ring and choked back his tears. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the kind of state Webby’s in. 8 years of raising their kids on her own.. he felt terrible. He wants to be there for her but because of his own stupidity he’s stuck here.

A static sound caught Dewey’s attention. He looked over his shoulder and saw the tv he’d been working on the past few months. He walked over and placed his goggles on, connecting the wires and adjusting the satellite. He saw the picture appearing and heard the sound.

It was a live new casting.

“And all the magic in our town has gone away as Lena and Aurora De Spell have returned to normal and been reunited with Duckburgs saviors! Louie Duck and his family!”

Dewey’s eyes scanned the screen. He saw his younger brother in his green suit, smirking at the camera with his arm wrapped around Lena’s waist whom was in a dark purple gown and her hair had a light pink stripe in it. On the left side of the screen he saw Huey in a red shirt and white vest, with Troy whom was in a similar outfit as his father standing in front of him, and next to Huey he saw Shelly with a short low ponytail, a light blue sweater over her turquoise shirt with a blue skirt. Then on the right side of the screen he saw,

“Webby...”

She looked just a beautiful as ever even with the slight tired look in her eyes. He couldn’t help the small smile that reached his beak at the sight of his wife.

That smile slowly turned to a gape as he looked down at the three small figures standing in front of Webby.

Pink, Purple and Blue.

They were cheering and smiling at the camera. They all looked so familiar.

Dewey slowly placed his hand on the television and it hit him.

He gasped while lifting his goggles up and backed up to get a clear view of the trio.

“...Kids?”

They say history repeats itself because we don’t learn from the past.

But what if we do?

And we just make those decisions again hoping for a different outcome?

Or to make sure certain events happen?

History will always find its way to repeat itself.

And it hit the McDuck family in the hardest way possible.

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codynaomiswireart · 5 years

Text

“Gauze in the Wound” - Part 20

The Captain let out a sigh of relief as he and the rest of the company of soldiers slipped out of their horses’ saddles and made their way to the stream running by the side of the path that led to Molson’s Grove. Both men and horses were glad to get the chance to refresh themselves by the cool waters of the stream after having traveled for the last couple of hours in the heat of the burning sun, and on such short and unexpected notice as they had been given that day.

“We must not stop for long Captain,” King Frederic said with a tone of urgency as the Captain splashed his hot and sweaty face several times with the cool and clear water of the stream. “We have to get to Molson’s Grove as soon as we can.”

“Understood, sire,” the Captain replied as he wiped the droplets of water from his eyes, and tried his best to not betray his own feelings of agitation at Frederic’s impatience with him and his men as they took a few moments’ rest by the water’s edge. He couldn’t totally blame him though. The Captain knew King Frederic was just as tired as the rest of them after all that had transpired over the last few days, and as Frederic had filled the Captain in about the queen’s distressing news as they had prepared for travel that day, he could understand why Frederic would be so uneasy…

Yet the Captain was also different from Frederic in that in being an experienced soldier – and also due to his own natural personality – the Captain tended to quell any feelings of anxiety over things he had no control over, and so his patience would often run a bit thin with those who were constantly worrying about things they could not affect nor change in the moment. That had been one of Frederic’s greatest weaknesses, if the Captain were honest, and it often drove the king to either withdraw from conflict altogether, or else act upon it without thinking everything through. Fortunately, Frederic was not adverse to taking counsel from others, and having his ideas challenged by his closest confidants. However, even when Frederic was willing to hear others’ out on important matters, it was never a guarantee that he would heed such counsel and criticisms when they came.

“Well,” the Captain thought to himself as he turned to walk several yards to where the king paced about nervously in the shade of a big oak tree, “hopefully he’ll be willing to listen this time around.”

“Ahem, your majesty?” the Captain began with a nod of greeting as he approached. “If I may make so free as to speak with you a moment?”

“By all means Captain,” Frederic said, now pausing in his pacing, though his tone and expression were still full of an underlying tension. “Go ahead.”

The Captain frowned as he thought of how to begin. “This…situation that we may be facing at Molson’s Grove…Well, I don’t need to tell your majesty that if the queen’s report is accurate, we may very well be facing a threat that we’ve never faced the likes of before in all our years of defense and combat.”

Frederic remained still and silent as the Captain continued.

“I certainly don’t doubt the courage of the men sir,” the Captain said. “But, if I’m to be realistic, I also can’t guarantee that we would be able to keep you safe if…well, if Varian were to go rogue again and do…whatever it is he’s able to do now, apparently.”

Frederic blinked back at him. “And?”

“And,” the Captain said in emphasis as he clenched his fists behind his back, “this means that your life would almost certainly be in danger if that were to happen. I know her majesty said that Varian is currently in no condition to cause any trouble, and that he had acted defensively in her and the kingdom’s favor the other night, but…I still don’t like it sir.” Here the Captain showed the slightest hint of pity in his eyes mixed with determination as he spoke. “After everything he’s done, and in light of my duty to you as Captain of the Guard, I must advise you to consider the potential grave danger that Varian may pose to your person in a possible encounter, and as such I would highly suggest that you return to the capital while we take care of-”

“No, Captain,” King Frederic interrupted firmly, with the Captain looking back at him with his own steely gaze. “I will not run away again.”

“This isn’t about running away your majesty,” the Captain tried again sternly. “This is about being realistic. If I may remind you, you have a kingdom that needs you, and one that needs you alive and well. We cannot afford to have you take such a risk. Not if Corona is to remain in any semblence of stability.”

Frederic frowned hard, and looked away. “No Captain,” Frederic repeated. “I have to be there. I have to make sure that Arianna is all right. And-”

“She said in her note that she was fine,” the Captain replied, trying to conceal his anger that was now beginning to grow at his king’s unreasonable stubbornness. “If I were you, sire, I would trust her majesty on that point, and wait for her back at the castle while we escort her back from the rendezvous point.”

“And if Varian were to go rogue as you seem to fear he might?” the king asked with a piercing glance.

The Captain’s eyebrows scrunched together, and he swallowed hard as he dared to say what he had to say next. “If that indeed becomes the case,” the Captain began slowly, “then it will be all the more reason to ensure that we have at least one of our monarchs still safe in the capital to be able to rule.”

Frederic clenched his jaw and fists at this, but only silence followed as he again turned away and began pacing once more, the shadows of the leafy branches overhead darkening his brow further as he clearly thought hard and painfully over what decision he ought to make. On the basis of pure reason, Frederic knew that the Captain was probably right. If the situation were to escilate, and either he, Arianna, or the both of them were to come to great harm, Corona would be in some dire straights for sure. Especially with Rapunzel – the next heir in line – being so far away in distant lands…and not with the full certainty of returning home again.

“There are the contingency plans,” Frederic mused aloud now, trying to ignore the deep frown from the Captain at this comment. “We have Stan and Nigel looking after things while we are away currently, and if something were to happen to Arianna and I and…and if Rapunzel did not return…” Here Frederic swallowed hard as the old, familiar, searing pain ghosted its way through his heart once again, after he had thought it gone forever once his long-lost daughter had finally been returned to him. “W-we could still send for Arianna’s cousin’s second daughter to come and take the throne, should the worst happen.”

“That seems a pretty hefty gamble to take, your majesty” the Captain replied, earning a look from Frederic, though the Captain did not back down. “And if I may be blunt about this sir, it seems unnecessary to put your people through the even greater uncertainty of saddling them with a new leader that they have never seen, let alone heard much about for that matter. In fact, last I heard, not even the citizens of Arendelle know much about either of their own princesses.”

“I’m sure Iduna wouldn’t have raised any monsters,” Frederic retorted.

“You know that’s not the point,” retorted the Captain, now clearly exaspered as he sighed, and tried to get the conversation back on track. “Look, just be honest with me your majesty, please. Why are you so determined to do this when all reason tells you not to? I don’t mean any offense sire, but really, it does seem very foolhardy, and I can’t make heads or tails of why you want to go so badly.”

Now it was Frederic’s turn to sigh deeply as he looked up at the sky through the branches of the tree.

“…Because I’m tired of being useless.”

The Captain didn’t know what he had expected his king to respond with, but he knew it hadn’t been that. He remained silent as he let his old friend continue sharing his thoughts with him, looking almost more vulnerable than the Captain had ever seen him before; his countenance looking almost like that of a helpless child as he spoke.

“Rapunzel had been right all along…I’m tired of being behind walls, Captain. I’m tired of being up in towers and behind closed doors. I’m tired of watching the women I love more than life itself go off to face danger on my behalf, while I can’t do anything for them in return. I’m tired of being powerless against the forces that seem to be against us, and I’m tired of running. I’m tired of only being able to sit back and worry about how things will go, rather than doing something about it myself.”

Here the king paused, and somehow managed an ironic smile.

“You know, this wouldn’t even be the first time all of us were in danger. All three of us were all there at the Battle of Old Corona-”

Here the Captain frowned again with a stern clearing of his throat as he recalled the memory of that day – of lying incapacitated in the infirmary as he had been informed about the raiding party heading for Varian’s stronghold to rescue the queen, with both the king and Rapunzel being right there on the front lines with everyone. Of course Frederic had taken the opportunity to go when the Captain was in no position to protest against it, and the Captain still wasn’t sure if he had forgiven the king for that.

“Much against your own wishes I know,” the king acknowledged briefly, with a small, sympathetic and grateful glint in his eyes, though this appeared to do little to soften the Captain’s mood as his own face remained stoic. “But…” the king continued anyway, “even though we were all in danger like that, I must say Captain…Perhaps the irrational thrill of battle made me a bit crazy, but it did feel amazing to feel like I was able to do something about what was happening. It had not been much in retrospect, but it was something. Do you know what I mean?”

[“…Someone had to do something! I had to do something!...”]

“…I think some of us would,” the Captain managed to reply diplomatically, though feeling a slight knot in his stomach as Varian’s own words from all those days ago were echoed back at him in the king’s own musings. And what incredible irony it was, given Varian’s own motivations for action in the first place being due in large part to the king’s negligence to act before then.

Not knowing the Captain’s thoughts, however, the king merely gave a small nod and said, “Then you’ll understand why I have to do this. I’m sure you’re right Captain. This could be very dangerous, and I’m putting a lot at risk. But so much would be at risk in either event, should our worst fears be realized. And I’d rather face this head on as king and protector of my people in the here and now, rather than hide behind Corona’s parapets as a mere figurehead, only stalling the inevitable. And…”

Here the king paused again in his speech before daring to say, “You said to trust Arianna’s words, Captain. And if Arianna’s words are trustworthy, Varian did act in defense of her, of Xavier, and indeed Corona as a whole the other night. Like you, this does not mean that I trust the boy now. He’s proven to be dangerous in the past, and I also do not deny the possibility that this…new development may be our undoing from him. But Arianna, for reasons I do not yet fully understand, was willing to give him this chance, and he did come through for her. I’m uncertain about his motivations, yes, but he did. And he is still Quirin’s son. I can’t let my old friend down. Not again. Especially not in light of…of all this magic – magic that neither of our children chose to possess. And whether we like it or not, Varian is still in our charge, and is still a citizen of our kingdom. We must see to it that he is returned, that he does no further harm, and that he gets the help I promised I would give him.” King Frederic frowned. “Up till now, I’ve let you and Xavier take on most of the responsibility for that help, and now Arianna. No more. Now it’s my turn to face this.”

The king set a brotherly hand on the Captain’s shoulder. “I thank you for your advice and your diligence, Captain. I appreciate it. Truly. But I will be going to Molson’s Grove with you all to await Arianna, Xavier, and Varian’s arrival there. I have to do this.”

The Captain’s eyes narrowed a little, but he didn’t put up another word of argument as the king gave his shoulder a half-hearted shake, and then turned away to also refill his canteen before summoning the men to continue their trek deeper into the forest. The Captain let out an uneasy hum as he watched the king walk up to the water’s edge and stoop down for a drink. That conversation had not gone at all the way he had hoped, but the result also didn’t surprise him. Sure, it was possible that Frederic could be right, and perhaps Varian was coming around to a new way of thinking. But the Captain still had his doubts, especially as he remembered his near-broken leg and Cassandra’s bruised ribs from that dreadful night of the battle. Yet he also remembered Varian’s panicked screaming in his sleep that one night as he had a nightmare about hurting people, and the boy’s uncontrollable sobs as the truth came out about how Quirin became encased in the first place. On the other hand, the Captain also vividly recalled the Varian’s looks of deep-rooted resentment that had been a constant on his face since the day he was brought back from the battle.

And if Varian were to have a similar loss of self control as he did back then…If he snapped again now…?

The Captain laid a hand on the pommel of the sword at his side, and also began to immediately think of how to strategize a possible confrontation, recalling a map of Molson’s Grove in his mind as he rejoined the group at the stream and hoisted himself back up onto his horse’s back as the call went out for their journey to continue.

“No funny business now Varian,” the Captain thought threateningly (but also with a hint of pleading, though he tried to ignore that) as he led the line of troops onward. “Don’t make us do something we’ll all regret.”

------------

When it came to Sabine’s Safehouse, Varian had never before been in a nicer place.

While his old lab and his old home would’ve been the most comforting environments of all to him (should they have been able to be brought back from the ashes and rubble of Old Corona), the safehouse was by far the coziest place Varian had ever been in his life. The whole building was constructed with a charming mixture of wood and stonework, the furniture was modest yet very comfortable, there always seemed to be a warm blanket within a short walking distance of any corner of the place, and the door and window frames were all decorated with flowery carvings that had subtle colors painted into them. Instead of carpeted floors, the floors of the safehouse were left as smooth, clean, bare wood, save for a few throw rugs placed here and there where it suited best to have them. There also seemed to be the constant presence of sweet aromas all about the place, though never so strong as to be overpowering, or to block out the fresh scents of the outside that wafted in through the widows that were almost always kept slightly open. It was indeed a very comforting and homey place.

Varian’s own recovery room felt like a tiny living space – not so unlike his living quarters back at the castle. Though instead of being furnished only to the minimum, this room was kitted out generously with bookshelves filled with tomes and novels of various sorts, a fireplace with two high back armchairs set in front of it, a small table with matching wood chairs and a lace tablecloth in another corner, a tasteful selection of paintings hanging on the walls (which were mostly of flowers, animals, and other miscellaneous nature scenes), and candles and lamps set strategically around the room for the best possible light and ambiance for the hours after sunset.

Varian had never known any of his grandparents, so he had never had the experience of going to one of their houses for a visit. But given what he had heard from other people about such visits, he suspected that they were supposed to feel something like this.

Yet despite such welcoming accommodations, Varian was of little disposition to actually enjoy it much. For one thing, he found Sabine herself to be rather irksome. After he had woken up from his charmed sleep, the crazy one-eyed lady had immediately begun bombarding him with questions about how he was feeling, and if he remembered anything before and during his whole unconscious experience. Varian’s only response to such questions had been telling her he felt like he had been hit by a delivery cart, and no, he didn’t remember anything that had happened after she had induced his sleep.

However, the truth was that Varian did indeed remember everything about his unconscious experience. But he didn’t want to talk about it with anyone…especially not after all that he and Lord Demintus had talked about. So, taking great care to not look directly at Ruddiger’s own bewildered expression as he said it, Varian had told the lie that he remembered nothing about his experience beyond hearing Sabine chant the sleep incantation, and then coming to here sometime later. But Ruddiger’s bewilderment at Varian’s response didn’t go unnoticed by Sabine, and while the little creature couldn’t tell her himself all that he had witnessed in Varian’s psyche (as she wasn’t able to communicate with him like she could with Pontus), Varian could tell that she suspected something was up with him. Varian couldn’t hold steady eye contact with her after that, especially when the one eye that she looked at him with once again made him think of what people had told him about visits with their own grandmothers, but not in the pleasant way. Rather, it was the kind of look a grandmother would give her grandkids when she knew they had taken the last of the cookies without her permission and then proceded to lie about it to her face. Naturally, there was still the hope that some more home-baked goodies would be coming again anyway, but you certainly wouldn’t take them without permission again after earning that look.

But even with Sabine’s questioning, and the concerned looks from both Arianna and Xavier as they had also awaited his response that day, Varian couldn’t bring himself to tell the truth about what happened. One reason was because of what Lord Demanitus had told him, but another reason had been because there was still a part of him that wanted so desperately for all of it to have been just a bizarre, bad dream. Things had been complicated enough before the events of the last few days. The last thing Varian wanted was to have to come to terms with what may very well have been a series of actual visions, and to have to cope with all this new business with magic as well.

…Magic…

Varian bit at his bottom lip as his thoughts again turned to it – Varian hating it with every fiber of his being ([“But you may grow to like it…”]) as he stared with a sullen gaze into the small flames flickering about the logs in the fireplace. It had been a little more than twenty-four hours since Varian had regained consciousness, and while he had gone through another natural sleep cycle within that time, no other huge developments (nor fantastical visions) had taken place during that time, save for him managing to get up from bed the next morning.

For the last fifteen minutes or so now, Varian had been sitting in one of the high backed chairs by the hearth in his room, with Ruddiger curled up sleeping in his lap, and Varian stroking the raccoon’s pelt mechanically with a gloved hand, taking care to not ruffle the bandages on Ruddiger’s side. Varian also tried hard to ignore the round patch of white fur still present on Ruddiger’s forehead – a further testiment to the horrible reality of the situation from the day before. By now, Varian had been told about Pontus bestowing some of his powers as a familiar to Ruddiger, and that this was how Ruddiger was able to reach Varian in the dream world. Yet even though Varian had seen the two creatures exchange some sort of communication with each other shortly after his and Ruddiger’s return to the waking world, Pontus did not take back whatever magic he had given to Ruddiger, and as the stag was now mysteriously absent from the scene for reasons unknown to any of the humans in the house, Varian was unable to know for sure whether this was because Pontus couldn’t take them back, or because he chose not to.

…And if he chose not to, then why?

Varian’s brow furrowed in suspicion at this question as his gloved fingers scratched gently along Ruddiger’s spine, earning a small purr from the raccoon, who then rolled lazily onto his back so Varian could also rub his tummy. Underneath his gloves, Varian’s hands remained bandaged, though Sabine had taken the time to change the dressings earlier after Varian had come back around. Varian had winced hard as he saw for the first time the darkened skin of his hands and forearms, and he also caught a glimpse in the dresser mirror of the markings that peeped out from along his hairline as Sabine changed the bandages around his forehead as well.

It had been an unnerving sight to say the least.

It was also during this time – as Sabine struggled to push Varian’s locks out of the way of where the bandages needed to go around his head – that Varian came to notice how his hair had grown out more over his time in custody. But this only lead to yet another revelation about the strange effects of the Moon Drop’s magic on Varian since the night of its awakening in him, for as Sabine had tried to trim off some of Varian’s hair in order to make tending to his head wounds more manageable, her scissors unexpectedly shattered in her hand as she closed the twin blades around the dark strands, and thus they all came to find that Varian’s hair had now become unbreakable – just like Rapunzel’s. Considering Sabine’s own choice of wild hairstyle, Varian couldn’t help but feel a flickering moment of relief that she could do nothing very profound to affect his own look. However, such a feeling was very short lived, and it was quickly replaced with a deeply sour mood that had persisted up through the present moment.

While Varian absolutely hated the idea of paralleling Rapunzel of all people in such ways, he did eventually relent to allowing Sabine to pull his hair back into a small, low ponytail, in order to help keep it out of the way for the time being while the bandages had been applied around his hairline. The new hairstyle felt very strange to Varian, and he dreaded the possibility of his hair continuing to grow even longer without being able to cut it, but perhaps the one comfort that the parallels to Rapunzel could offer him on this point was the possibility that after coming into this unbreakable state, such hair would also not grow beyond that point.

Not being able to grow, nor being able to be cut – as if it were frozen in time, with Varian’s soul feeling very much the same way…

Perhaps he should try moving about a bit more.

With a heavy sigh, Varian gingerly got up from his seat, with Ruddiger letting out a yawn as he blinked his bleary eyes open, and conceded to get off Varian’s lap with a soft bound to the floor. After stretching his aching back and shoulder muscles, Varian put on over his nightclothes the slippers and robe that had been left for him on the bedspread, and headed out to the hallway to begin to look for the bathroom. About a half hour earlier, Sabine had popped in to tell him that she had drawn a warm bath for him, and that it would be ready for him whenever he was. Despite Varian’s dejected mood about everything, he figured he might as well try to have a good soak and get cleaned up a little, even if the water only ended up being lukewarm again by the time he worked up the wherewithal to move.

However, whether by some magic or some device that Varian was unaware of, the water in the tub was plenty warm by the time he got into it, and even the dark cloud that seemed to surround Varian’s soul that whole day couldn’t help but lift just a little as he was able to relax in the foamy, lavender-scented water, and he could feel it seep through the bandages covering his burns and somehow soothe his wounds. While Varian had been hesitant to submerge any of his bandages into the water, Sabine had also reassured him that they would not come undone if he did this, and that the bandages would quickly dry again afterwards once he was finished. Varian didn’t even bother asking if this was due to some sort of magic or alchemy in their makeup, or somehow both. As it was, he didn’t really want to know.

…Magic…

Varian frowned as he tilted his head back and stared up at the bathroom ceiling, the light reflecting off the bath water leaving shimmering patterns that danced about dimly up there. Varian’s eyebrows scrunched together as this subtly reminded him of the celestial plain that he had seen in his dreams, with its liquid land underfoot and glittering celestial lights streaming overhead. And before that, the feeling of sinking below its surface in the dark depths of…wherever all that was. Varian still wasn’t quite sure what to think about it, or what to call it.

No, he knew for sure. He had to tell himself that. There was nothing mysterious about it. It was all just a figment of his imagination.

“It was all just a dream,” he tried insisting again to himself with a shake of his head. He then let himself sink again now, but only below the surface of the sudsy bath water with a deep, grumpy breath, and really wishing that he could make himself believe his own words as he felt the water close up over his head, and could feel it begin to alleviate the pain that had prickled along his scalp. “It was all just a dream…”

---------------

“Oh good, you’re up!” Sabine chimed to Varian some minutes later as the boy shuffled his way into the kitchen, where Sabine appeared to be preparing some sort of light meal at the counter. Ruddiger cheerfully led the way in front of Varian as the two came in, and the raccoon greeted Sabine with a friendly chortle as she knelt down to give him a scratch underneath his chin. Sabine looked at Varian with her one good eye as she stood back up. “How are you feeling, young one?”

Varian’s eyes narrowed slightly at the lady’s question. Another quality he found rather off-putting about the healer was her peculiar style of speech, which seemed at times to be reminiscent of something out of an old fairytale book – calling him things like “young one” or “young master” or even simply “child.” That last one especially annoyed him, and he almost wanted to tell Sabine off for it.

But, as it was, Varian didn’t feel like he had the energy, so instead of arguing with her he simply answered with a glum, “…Ok I guess…”

“Hmm,” Sabine hummed pensively as she studied him for a moment, with Varian shifting awkwardly beneath her one-eyed gaze. “How does your head feel?”

“Again with the questions,” Varian thought with a mental eyeroll, but managed to simply reply in a dull tone, “Throbbing.”

“Yes,” Sabine said with a small sigh. “Such is to be expected. I trust the bath helped at least a little bit though, yes?”

Varian shrugged sulkily. “I guess.”

“Mmm,” Sabine hummed again as she looked him in the face. “I can see you also still have a fever too,” she said in a musing tone, and bringing a thoughtful finger to her chin. “I had hoped that the bath would help alleviate that as well…But at least your temperature hasn’t increased in the last few hours. That’s a good sign. What else ails you at present?”

“You,” Varian wanted to say out loud as he felt himself losing patience with Sabine’s prying, but again he managed to contain himself as he said, “Just…aching all over.”

Sabine responded to this with a look that was a bit hard for Varian to read. He thought he could detect some sort of suspicion in her countenance, but also something of deep sympathy as well. For a few seconds, Varian tried to hold eye contact with her, as if wordlessly carrying out an act of defiance towards her and her attempts to break through his defensive demeanor with her confusing mannerisms. But Varian found he couldn’t keep that up for long. Not that Sabine’s look was at all glaring or condescending towards him, but something about it made his stomach turn into knots on the inside as he tried to look at her steadily. He lowered his eyes, and subconsciously began rubbing at his arm nervously.

Reading the boy’s body language, Sabine finally relented with a gentle, “I see,” and then continued on with a more lighthearted, “Well, you came just in time, young master. I was just preparing some afternoon tea for some of our other guests, and I’ve heard tell that Xavier has taught you a thing or two about creating a good brew. Would you mind helping me whip up a pot for everyone while I finish with the apple pies?”

Varian blinked up at her, feeling completely thrown for a few seconds by suddenly being asked to do a favor out of the blue like this (especially given his current condition). He also concluded for one hundred percent that this lady was the epitome of eccentricity, if not outright crazy. The mentioning of Xavier and his lessons about tea also put another knot into Varian’s stomach – one that twisted especially hard. While Varian was dimly aware that the healer’s invitation was most likely a well-meant attempt at cheering him up, or at the very least just giving him something to do to, he couldn’t help but feel further resentment towards her for it. Even though it had only been a few days ago since he and Xavier had last had tea together in the forge, after everything that happened, it felt like almost an eternity had passed since then, and it impressed further onto Varian how alienating things suddenly felt.

…And how absurd they seemed too, especially in light of everything that had now happened.

[“I’ve lost my home! I’ve lost my freedom! I’m stuck here doing stupid, meaningless work and drinking tea while my dad is still trapped in an amber that I made!!! I don’t even know if I’ll ever see him again!! Ooooh no, but no, it’s ok! Really! It’s all fine! Just write a few equations, hammer down some steel, or read a bunch of fairytales for a few hours and it’s all gone! Poof! Completely forgotten! Never happened!...”]

Thus by this point now, Varian was just done cooperating. Without even giving Sabine the courtesy of a verbal response, Varian wordlessly turned away and sank his way down into one of the empty chairs at the kitchen table, letting his head rest on his arms crossed on the tabletop in front of him, and turning his face away towards the window as Ruddiger cooed in a concerned tone from his place on the floor.

“I see,” Sabine said gently after a moment’s pause. “Well, if you feel up to joining the others, tea will be served in eight and a half minutes out on the veranda. I will also need to apply more salve to your burns at five o’clock sharp. In the meantime, young master, you may make yourself at home, and please let me know if you need anything.”

Varian made no move to indicate that he had heard Sabine, but of course they both knew he had. As Sabine continued to bustle about the kitchen, Varian found himself lazily tracing a gloved finger along the grain of the wood table as he let his mind wander again. It had been so frustrating to be stuck yet again in a situation where Varian could do little to nothing about it all. Had it been within his power, Varian would’ve headed back to Corona straight away (whether by a magical warping house, or on foot if he had to, or even if he had to crawl all the way there if his body failed him otherwise), but Sabine had told him that the house’s magic needed time to regenerate in order to make another jump from Equis to Molson’s Grove in Corona.

“All magic comes with a price,” she had told him, while ghosting a hand thoughtfully over her patched eye with a frown. “In this case, the price has to be made in the form of time I’m afraid.”

But Varian was so tired of waiting. If only he had gone to Old Corona while he had the chance! Or if the Separatists of Saporia hadn’t attacked when they did and brought the whole of the kingdom to a screeching halt, it could’ve all been over by now. His dad could’ve been freed, and then…Well, Varian wasn’t sure about after that, if he were honest.

…But…perhaps he would have some ideas…If it was real…And if what he said was-

“All set!” Varian heard Sabine announce, snapping him out of his thoughts as she scooped up a wooden tray that held the various tea things and a small platter of scones.

“Oh…erm, would you mind carrying the pies out for me dear? My hands are full.”

Varian looked up miserably at her from where he sat at the kitchen table, and was almost of half a mind to just not move out of spite. But somehow, perhaps due in large part to his own appetite wanting an excuse to partake of the warm, fresh pastries, Varian sulkily got up from his place, and picked up the plate full of small, personal sized apple pies, and proceeded to follow Sabine onto the veranda, with Ruddiger coming up cautiously behind him at his heels.

As the trio approached a small set of table and chairs placed near the corner of the veranda, Varian felt his heart sink inside of him as he saw Xavier sitting at one of the chairs, and again he felt a sharp twisting inside of his stomach. Varian stopped for a moment, wanting for a moment to turn back around and retreat into his room; not wanting to face yet another betrayer of his trust. But somehow, perhaps due now to Ruddiger’s gentle nudging from behind, Varian gathered himself, and angrily approached the spot where the blacksmith appeared to be sitting opposite another person at the table. On the table, Varian could see that a full chess set was spread out atop it, and Xavier seemed to be in the middle of a round with the other guest sitting opposite him. Naturally, Varian assumed that this other guest must’ve been Queen Arianna, but as Varian rounded the corner of the house and could finally see who it was-

“GAH! Whoa whoa wha- WH-WHAT IS HE DOING HERE!?” Varian couldn’t help but exclaim in utter perplexity and nearly dropping the plate of pies as he saw that the person sitting opposite Xavier was the male Saporian spy that they had fought the other night!

“I’m having my lunch,” the man answered Varian smugly as he bit into what appeared to be some sort of sandwich, and Varian glared hard at him in return.

“Easy now, young master,” Sabine reassured Varian over her shoulder as she set down the tray of tea items on the table, and gave the Saporian spy a stern look. “No one will hurt you here I can assure you. Isn’t that right, Donovan?”

“No need to patronize me Sabine,” said the spy. “As you can see, we’ve all getting along quite swimmingly at present.”

“I’m not sure I’d put it that way,” Xavier now chimed in as he moved his own bishop piece to take out one of Donovan’s knights. “But yes, for the time being, I see no reason for us to fight.”

Donovan frowned at Xavier’s words and the capturing of his knight, and took another hard bite from his sandwich as he planned his next move, and Varian tentatively handed the plate of pies to Sabine who began dishing up the treats for everyone.

Varian crossed his arms in front of him, trying to ignore the feeling of vulnerability that he felt in facing the Saporian agent while wearing recovery clothing and looking like a total wreck. “So, what?” Varian began questioning the agent. “Did you just feel like hanging around here for tea and toast? I’d have thought you would have other things to do, like stabbing people in the back for instance.”

“Oh, you do go on about things, don’t you?” Donovan replied with a mocking glance at Varian, causing Ruddiger to bristle from where he now sat perched on the back of the chair next to where Varian stood, and Xavier raising his eyebrows at him in his own warning. “But very well. For your information, I’m here waiting until my sister is well enough to make the journey to rejoin our comrades – Sabine’s healing expertise in exchange for my letting you go free…for now.”

“No making threats here Donovan, if you please,” Sabine said as she passed him and Xavier their plates of pies and scones. “Or else you and your sister may leave right this minute.”

“Tch!” Donovan chuffed, but conceded to back off a bit as he finished off the last of his sandwich and turned now to his teacup.

“Oh, finally!” Varian heard yet another horribly familiar voice call from the safehouse’s doorway, causing him to stiffen as the lady spy now came limping passed him to grab her own serving of tea and treats. “So, was anyone going to tell me that tea was being served out here, or was I just supposed to figure that out myself?”

“I can’t be expected to be in two places at once now can I, Hilda?” Sabine retorted with a mixture of irritation and amusement.

“With your magic, I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Hilda replied, before turning to fix her gaze on Varian. “Well, it seems you got me good, little brother,” she said as she gestured to her injured leg. “I hope you’re happy.”

Varian didn’t reply to this beyond clenching his fists at his sides.

“Also, you’ve got bony elbows, you know that?”

“What?” Varian asked in terse confusion.

“Oh yeah, sorry, my bad,” Hilda said sarcastically as she took a bite out of her blueberry scone. “I guess you wouldn’t remember much about us both hitching a ride on Pontus to get here, would you? I swear, the hassle that it was trying to keep your flimsy unconscious body from falling off that whole time-”

“All right Hilda, that’s enough,” Sabine interrupted. “Now, if you lot aren’t going to be able to get through tea without quarreling, I suggest you take it elsewhere, because I won’t have it in my house.”

“Fine, whatever,” Hilda replied with a shrug, and proceeded to scoop up her tea things as she made to head back into the house. “You coming brother?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Donovan said with a sigh and getting up from his seat. “This game was getting quite dull anyway.”

“Oh, I found it quite riveting,” said Xavier, as he moved his queen on the next turn, bringing the game to a solid checkmate in his favor. “But if you’d like to have a go again sometime, I’ll be waiting.”

With a soft huff, Donovan turned away from the table, and followed his sister into the house, the latter of whom Varian could hear giggling about her brother’s defeat and his own grumbling retort back at her. With the two of them now gone from the scene, it was now Sabine, Xavier, Varian, and Ruddiger left on the veranda. Varian didn’t make eye contact with any of them as he sunk down into his own chair, and despite the absense of the Saporian enemies, the atmosphere remained tense.

“Well,” Sabine continued after a moment’s awkward pause. “I believe I’ll go to see if her majesty would be interested in having tea as well. Please, excuse me.”

As Sabine went back into the house, Varian clutched his gloved hands in his lap – hating the feeling of Xavier’s eyes on him as he waited for him to speak.

…Here they were yet again, with tea and sweet treats…but oh, how things had changed now.

…It was time for a talk.

------------

Yup, threw in a "Frozen" reference in there for fun!

I'm pretty sure real royal succession wouldn't work the way that King Frederic had described it, but I really do like the "Frozen"/"Tangled" theory that suggests that Queen Iduna is somehow related to Queen Arianna (as they are somewhat similar in appearance), and as such, the royal families of Corona and Arendelle would be connected through marriage, and thus Princess Anna may have been called in to rule Corona should Rapunzel not have returned (either from her years of being held prisoner by Mother Gothel, or from her journey to the Dark Kingdom).

#tts #rta #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #fan fiction #gauze in the wound #varian #king frederic #captain of the guard #xavier the blacksmith #sabine the wounded healer #ruddiger #rudiger #the separatists of saporia

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coral-station · 5 years

Text

1: Fresh Start Station (Draft)

Agent 8 needed a new name. After everything she had gone through and despite all that she had gained, it wasn't without loss. Her arduous journey that started with her fateful encounter with a young squid she would come to know as Agent 3, propelled her through the darkest depths of the deep sea and - perhaps without her full understanding - culminated in the social liberation of her kind. Torrents of demanding feats and tests came at her one after the other as she was set in pursuit of Agent 3. The reasons and truths drew closer each step of the way and, Agent 8, surfaced alongside them. Agent 8, with help from a surprisingly crackpot team of Squid, Cuttlefish and Octopus had overcome a maniacal and ancient evil to, much like their composition, united societies and found a freedom deeper than the oceans they escaped from. What was lost however, was Agent 8 herself. 'Agent 8' was a nickname for convenience sake; her previous name, memories and life was left behind, torn off at the bottom of the sea. The only thing Agent 8 had left floating in her mind was the heavenly melody of the Calamari Inkantation, brought in by a rebellious tide that carried so much flotsam from a wreckage of life to be left behind.

"How about we just call you 8?" Said Pearl who, by this point, had become tired of thinking about the same thing for this long.

"No, Pearlie. It needs to have more meaning to it, you know" Marina looked over at me, warmly considering my feelings "You've gotta start fresh, right?"

"Yeah, you're right. I want to start re-establishing me again, somehow" Marina shot me a quick pose as I did my best to hide the pensive look that grew on my face.

Pearl stood up from the lavish sofa, perhaps jumped off like a small child who sunk too far into the overly fluffy cushions would be a more accurate way to describe the small squid's movements. I watched as she trudges along the matching pink, fluffy rug that filled in the floor space from here on the sofa to most of the way to what was more window than wall. Sunlight broke through the thin cloud cover and warmed the large open-plan seating room so effortlessly in a way I never thought I would experience. I have a vague recollection of seeing the sun's rays break through the waves far above my head. Thinking of when I would have been in such shallow waters as to see the sun gave me a headache. While remembering specifics of my life from before is tough, I still recall clearly how cold and dank Octarian society was and, most of all, how profoundly deep down our lives were. This separation from the world above was stressed upon us no more clearly than in rare specs of light that penetrated our darkness, teasing us of what was up there - teasing us only if you still had a mind to think with of your own.

After concluding the events that had me fighting for the liberation of all Octolings from a society that was as oppressive as the ocean's pressure, I began to live with Pearl and Marina. This duo had assisted me under the guises of M.C. Princess and D.J. Hyper_Fresh respectively. Pearl was a shorter-than-most-squid who, despite living in luxury her whole life, was honest, tireless and as loyal as a barnacle. Marina, on the other hand, was actually an Octoling like me! Likewise, her life was changed when she first heard the Calamari Inkantation. Unlike me, she had managed to escape to the surface world and join the Inkling's society all by herself. When Pearl and Marina met, they had instantly bonded over their love of music and formed a band: Off the Hook. Off the Hook just as instantly became a hit and the two of them of are at the forefront of Inkling pop-culture, but I've come to know rather differently following their stint as my undercover saboteurs.

"But what you did was really something!" Pearl spun around from large pane of glass and beamed a smile as radiant as the summer afternoon. "I thought that continuing to call you 8 would carry some ... gravy"

Marina and I surely shared the same dumbfounded look on our faces for a moment until Marina cracked the code. "Do you mean gravitas?"

"...What did I say?" Pearl then joined ranks and wore a similar confused expression. There was nothing to do but laugh about it.

"Thanks, Pearl. I just would rather start life here with a blank slate and fill it out myself from here on" I stretched out my legs and stood up, leaving what I imagined was the softest place on this earth. I had no real intention to go anywhere and just walk around idly, but as if catching me before I left forever Marina spoke up.

"Are you still thinking of leaving soon, finding your own place?" Marina may well have held out her arm to grab me "I mean, I- uh, we, want to help you all we can. It's the least we can do"

It was clear Marina felt somehow indebt to me personally, owing to her also being an Octoling. The significance of it all was never lost on me. "I would love that" not being in a position to be as self-reliant as I want to be quite yet, I could only accept gratefully.

It was the polite thing to do anyway, to oblige and let both Marina and Pearl express their gratitude - not that I feel deserving completely. Truthfully, the whole ordeal was such a whirlwind, I can hardly believe I was capable of doing something of the things I had to. They say in certain dire situations you find that your body is capable of unimaginable physical feats. I must have tapped into my primal instincts - do or die. It was a real rush! Living with Pearl and Marina in their stylish mansion far from the city - further from the sea - it was too quiet, relaxed and I was on edge. Even now I find it uncomfortable to sit still for too long. When I look out to or ponder around the well-kept garden, the smell of cut grass and trimmed hedges that soothes others only makes me almost uncontrollably agitated by the serenity of it all. My bedroom window towards the rear of the estate overlooks the garden's stone bird water feature, waking up to that sight in the morning irritates me. I cannot comprehend that thing. Marina often sits beside it watching the flesh and birds that congregate to sing, as if offering their songs for consideration to Marina as she works on her with her laptop and headphones. I think it’s supposed to be calming - at least that's what she says. "The sun's early morning warmth and sweet bird song are all I need to recharge my heart when I'm feeling down or burnt out" was her answer when I asked her once. Not that I meant to, the question just found its way from my head and out through my mouth to Marina. "Oh! And my Pearlie! Nothing else works quite like her when it comes to recharging my heart" she would add with a coy smile pressing one hand against her cheek.

I want to break the whole thing. Kick my legs out at it and flail my arms until one or the other breaks.

My head often fills with sudden impulses like that. Even when I see Pearl and Marina cosy-up with each other, all I can do is fake a smile and try not to wrest my tentacles from my mantle. Not that I have anything against them, my emotions just go from zero to one hundred with only enough time for me to pretend they don't exist. I've never acted out of turn though, I've managed to resist these compulsions for now. Though, when my mind isn't preoccupied with something else, or when I'm not kept busy, I'm constantly bombarded from the inside like this. It gets worse. This next bit is very tough for me, I don't want to admit it’s going on. I can hardly bring myself to believe it’s real. I'm haunted by a phantom. Not a phantom of the gloopy life form that inhabited the telephone, but of the train. When I close my eyes and silence is all I hear, the distant chug of the train rolls in from the darkness. The darkness itself soon bares arrival to the train's headlights. The long hallways of Pearl and Marina's grand design does nothing to abide this presence either. At night, I see the train pull past the far end of the hallways. The sleek finished double wooden doors around the house shift their state to better resemble the automatic doors of the deep-sea metro's carts when I'm on my own and no one else can see. The normal relationship of commuter and public transport has been spun on its head and the train awaits my arrival, with this house the station - or perhaps, more specifically, the destination. Trying to reconcile these thoughts cuts me deep to my core. I have no sense of previously established sense of self to draw from and explain my own thoughts logically thereby. Where there may once have been a 'me' is lost and replaced by the mess I am now. This new me that I am now has lost something far more integral to my being than the difference in the change of my surroundings. It is as though I left behind all my personal belongings on the station when I boarded the train, or left them on the train when I alighted the station. Which way around is it? I cannot possibly tell.

I let Pearl and Marina know I would be stepping out the rest of the day, to get some air and explore around. Pearl had some business in the city that evening and insisted I join her on her way down if I was going that direction. Since it would be no imposition on her driver to have me as an extra passenger, I took her up on her offer. A launch event for a line of Camp Triggerfish camping gear, clothes and various other sundries was being held at The Reef. Since Camp Triggerfish was owned by Pearl's family, it was her idea to hold a wild launch party with live performance from Off the Hook. In the end, she had to settle for much more tame press event purely for publicity sake. Canopies and expensive champagne would be the height of the festivities to encourage favourable write ups. While it may just be purely circumstantial, Pearl was certainly much more active and busier than her impression gives off, so this half-hour at most car journey would be the most time I've spent in her company just the two of us. It was a little hard to tell if Pearl felt as anxious about this as I was, but the thought of visit Inkopolis gave me an opportunity to act on one of my impulsive thoughts that a little awkwardness wouldn't be too hard to put up with. Thankfully, Pearl is just as surprisingly comfortable to be around.

"You know, my Dad has a few empty condos not too far the pad now that we could set you up in" Pearl could tell I had something on my mind and, as outlandish as her lifestyle is, her offer was completely genuine and considerate to me.

"Wow, thank you. Honestly. But I'll have to pass up on such an offer. Not that I want to reject all your generosity, I just had something smaller in mind. Something more quaint" Sitting next to Pearl on the leather seats, absentmindedly stroking the fabric upholstery in Pearl's chauffeur driven limousine it wasn't hard to imagine how it was possible that she just offer up a condo space for me so easily.

At home Pearl is a little slobbish, unkempt and sometimes disastrous when it comes to household chores, but here in the car's atmosphere she cuts a much more refined figure. It was as though she could flip a literal switch that turned her from an unruly child to a sophisticated and responsible adult. I was about to ask after her father's work when she leaned over to the window on my side and redirected my attention. "Check it! The ocean. It's for real mad, yo!"

Without time to breakdown what she was saying, I looked outside to see the cliffs break to reveal the ocean that expanded across the horizon. "Mad" I found myself repeating. The sight was gorgeous. The ocean could be seen from Pearl's place but the cliff edges were a little further on so the view was always a little oblique. I had yet to return to Inkopolis since moving in with Pearl and Marina so this was an entirely new vista for me. The sun reflected so large on the ocean with waves' ripples further imposing its size. To the east the tall skyscrapers of Inkopolis also made their presence on the ocean's surface known too by cast an equally impressive reflection. Driving down from the hillside also brought into view the harbour opposite the mainland of Inkopolis. It was this harbour from which we bested Tar-Tar and the weaponised statue. The partially recognisable head of the statue that remained mostly sunken beneath the ocean would soon come into view, and so too would the memories of the fight. The sky rails. The bombs from the helicopter. Pearl's heroic roar. The throbbing of my hearts.

"You can see it, yeah, the head?" Pearl broke the silence and my intense stare relaxed, but my eyes still remained fixed.

"I wonder if anyone else really know what happened" I took a deep breath then breathed out. Pearl sat back in her seat contemplating how to answer. No, was the obvious answer, but I think my question had an extra layer to it that we both knew to be there, hidden underneath.

"Perhaps someone else saw it. Perhaps a few. It was such a big to-do and we got so caught up in focusing on what we had to do that we could have had a large cheering crowd before us and we didn't notice"

"It wouldn't have been at all like you to miss out on a chance to put on a show for them" I surprised myself by saying something like that so casually.

"Hey! What do you think my scream was for? I can only hope they boo-yah'd back!" Pearl and I shared a good chuckle.

Spending time with Pearl on the car journey into Inkopolis was a lot more rewarding than I imagined. I actually felt somewhat embarrassed being so initially pensive, but I think Pearl understands me a whole lot more than she lets on. Soon the car drove through the harbour and across the long bridge over the ocean into Inkopolis proper. Showing further her ability to intuit me, or at least the mood, Pearl instructed the driver to stop the car and let me out after we finished our cresting the bridge. I thanked Pearl for bringing and for the pleasant journey. It was probably unnecessary to say that second part out loud, my mouth had gotten the better of me. Pearl shrugged it and, before closing the door and zooming off to prepare for her event this evening, she gave made me one more offer.

"The thing at the Reef tonight, come to it if you want. Sorry I didn't remember to invite you sooner. Just say you're on the guest list!" She closed the door and waved to me from inside the window, at some point she managed to put on a pair of dark sunglasses without me noticing. Pearl rode off without telling me a specific time for the launch party and smile played its way on my face. That was more along the lines of what I expected from Pearl. Nonetheless, I was now in Inkopolis. I felt empowered. I felt like was finally taking my own lead again. But my mind soon grew blank. Where was I going? No, that's not quite right. I knew where I wanted to go, I'm just hesitating. There was only one place I felt drawn. I had to shift the balance, put it right again. I had to go to underground, back to the deep-sea Metro.

#coral-station #coral station #ink-182 #splatoon oc #splatoon fan fic #splatoon fan-fic #splatoon #splatoon 2 #ink 182

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ethospathoslogan · 6 years

Text

heavy crown, heavy heart: part four; a royalty!logince/sanders sides fanfic

A/N: this chapter sure was intense to write omfg

summary: Most importantly, however, was that Logan listened to what Roman had to say, and Roman believed that Logan saw who he truly was. For once, Roman did not feel like he was screaming to be heard. He did not feel like he was struggling to keep Logan’s attention, and that he had to hide himself for Logan to like him. He could just be with Logan. Roman did not even realize the weight on his shoulders until he was with Logan and felt free, felt alive. Loving Logan was a wonderful thing; Loving Logan was a terrible thing. Loving Logan was not real.

Roman sighed and looked down. “I feel like I am destined to ruin myself every opportunity I get.”

“I feel like you are trying to let yourself live the life you want in a household that says otherwise,” Logan said. “It is incredibly brave of you.”

ships: logince

WC: 6,778

content/warnings: mentions of homophobia, self deprecation, angst, pining, alcohol/drunk-ness, extreme father/son fighting

masterlist

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hchh taglist: @definentlynotjustanotherlemon , @peachie-keeen , @red-the-ruler , @syndianites , @mirror2thespirit , @ravenclawunicorn1, @candiukas , @monikastec , @princeyssash

general taglist: @princelogical , @onemorebookidontneed , @justanotherpurplebutterfly , @sanders-sides-thuri

Roman liked to believe that his life had a plan to screw him over every chance it got.

Reason number one: Roman never got along well enough with his father. Even as a toddler, he wildly preferred his mother, and then as he grew older, his father preferred his other sons.

Reason number two: At age six, Roman lost his mother

(Reason number two, subsection B: Roman was left with his father, who became even more emotionally distant, and he and his two younger brothers were left to be raised by nurses.)

Reason number three: At age fourteen, Roman’s best friend of practically his entire life told Roman that his parents were enrolling him in a academy out of the country.

Reason number four: At age twenty, a servant told his father that Roman had been messing around with one of the son’s from the visiting noble family. His father told him that if he ever embarrassed him like that again, Roman would be lucky to still be allowed to live in the slums of the city.

Reason number five: Said best friend from reason number three has returned, and Roman, currently age twenty-two, was madly in love with him. And Roman was, frankly, fucked.

If Roman when he was fourteen thought that Logan could be everything he ever wanted, current Roman had a wonderful thing to tell past him.

Logan was smart, incredibly smart. The things he talked about with Roman, what he learned while away at the academy and university, blew Roman off of his feet. He always knew that Logan was smart, that Logan had a certain knack for understanding and knowledge, but to see it was entirely different.

Logan got along well with Patton and Virgil, which Roman had not realized would be a big deal until he saw it himself. Logan accompanied Patton on his usual garden walks and seemed to balance out his high energies in a way that let Patton breathe calmly for once. Logan would spend hours in the library with Virgil, both discussing what they had read and recommending what each had not. Logan provided the quietness that Virgil needed, and the balance that Patton needed.

Most importantly, however, was that Logan listened to what Roman had to say, and Roman believed that Logan saw who he truly was. For once, Roman did not feel like he was screaming to be heard. He did not feel like he was struggling to keep Logan’s attention, and that he had to hide himself for Logan to like him. He could just be with Logan. Roman did not even realize the weight on his shoulders until he was with Logan and felt free, felt alive.

Loving Logan was a wonderful thing; Loving Logan was a terrible thing.

Loving Logan was not real. It was not something that could ever happen. Roman doubted that Logan even considered reciprocating his feelings. Logan, even though he was not fond of their upcoming arranged marriages, probably wanted a pretty wife to have pretty kids with. He probably just saw Roman as his close childhood companion who he had been reunited with. Logan was probably not attracted to men.

Then there was, of course, the very slim chance that Logan did reciprocate, and somehow that broke Roman’s heart more. If Logan reciprocated, and loved Roman like Roman loved him, it just meant that they were both doomed to a life of unhappiness, forced to be with people who were not each other. Roman’s father made it very clear; he knew who Roman preferred to be with, and he either had to choose that, or choose the throne.

Roman loved Logan. He fell in love with him eight years ago, and loved him all over again now.

But it was something that he could not have. If he was not striving towards something, not preparing to be King, he would feel as if everything he had done previously had been a waste.

“Are you alright, Roman?”

Roman jumped, perhaps a bit too much, when he was brought back to reality. He spun around to see Logan -of course, Logan- standing right behind him. Roman had gone off to one of their more private libraries for that exactly, privacy. He needed time to himself to work through his thoughts as he walked aimlessly up and down empty aisles, yet it seemed that all it worked to do was bring the subject of Roman’s thoughts to him.

“Oh, Logan, I apologize,” Roman said, proud of himself for his voice not wavering. “I did not see you enter.”

Logan then smiled and gave a small laugh. “I would have been surprised if you did,” he said. “You seemed quite deep in thought when I walked in.”

“Well, you know how I am,” Roman said. “Just catching up on some of my favorite reading.”

Logan raised an eyebrow as his eyes flicked to the books behind Roman. “I thought you hated history.”

Roman looked back over his shoulder and saw that, yes, he had managed to mindlessly walk himself into the one section of books that he could barely stand. “People change?” Roman offered weakly and Logan laughed at the obvious lie.

“So, since you have become so interested in history, I assume you have something new to share?” Logan asked with a smirk, teasing obvious in his voice.

Roman ignored the flutter in his heart at the smirk and rolled his eyes. “Of course I do,” he said, glad that his years of learning his own history was finally usable. “Did you know that when my great-great-grandfather, King Thomas, just began his reign, he conducted peace talks with the ruler of our neighboring country, Queen Valerie, who we were at a long war with, and in just half a year, the nations were at peace? To this day, we are still allied countries.”

Logan nodded. “I did know that,” he said. “But you think well on your feet for someone who was obviously not studying history.”

Roman laughed and shrugged. “You caught me,” he said. “I was very much not reading history books. I just needed to… clear my thoughts.”

Logan furrowed his eyebrows. “About what? Is everything alright?”

Roman decided that he could not tell Logan that he was, in fact, thinking about him. Instead, he went with, “Oh, you know, just everything that has been happening, and everything that will happen. Quite a lot is going on.”

Logan sighed and nodded. “That is true,” he murmured. “I have found myself, too, lost in thought.” He then smiled at Roman. “But perhaps that is why I came to find you? I cannot let you be alone with your thoughts, especially if they are troubling.”

Roman hated that he felt his face flush. Logan had come looking for him. Logan had not just been passing by when he saw Roman; no, he had been searching for Roman.“That is very kind of you, Logan,” Roman said with a smile. “Well then, since you found me, shall we be off? I suspect that you have something much more entertaining planned than spending our day in the history section of my library.”

“I believe we will find something better to do,” Logan said. “Now, come on. I do not think you should have to suffer in this particular section any longer.”

Roman willingly followed Logan out of the library, glad to be away from the dim room and its dusty books. He tried to ignore the pounding of his heart as Logan rambled on about something that Roman could not catch; the sunlight shining in through the corridor windows washed across Logan’s face, and Roman could not help but be distracted by the way Logan’s hazel eyes sparkled.

Life was truly out to torture Roman.

They were hosting a dinner party at the castle tonight. Roman’s father and Duke Clark believed it was time for their sons to start meeting possible future fiancees, and now Roman could no longer properly enjoy his time with his best friend, who was also the center of his affections. From here on out, it was going to be dinner parties and balls and Roman being forced to talk to women who, while probably extremely sweet, were not who he was interested in.

The Kirkland and Herington families were their esteemed guests for the night. They were two noble families from the City with riches that dated generations back. While Roman hated to admit it, if they were to be forced to marry, the daughters from those two families made the most sense on fortune alone.

The families both had only one daughter among many sons. Roman used to play with some of them when he was younger, but the only two that mattered were the daughters. Lady Adelaide Kirkland and Lady Victoria Herington; one could not be mentioned without the other trailing shortly after. They were two years his junior, and from when they were children, Roman could not recall a time where he saw one without the other.

When his father told Roman who they would be having as guests for the night, Roman already knew which of the ladies he would be set up with: Adelaide Kirkland, the eldest child of Lord and Lady Kirkland. While both families were both very well off, the Kirklands had the upper hand, and bringing Adelaide into the Sanders line was sure to bode well. The family had riches to offer, though they were not necessarily needed, and younger sons to enlist in their Royal Army. It had been a long time since Roman had seen Adelaide, but he was informed that she has grown into a beautiful, respectful woman who would make a great wife.

It was not that Roman doubted that, but it was hard to be enthusiastic about being forced to talk to a woman he had not seen in years while Logan sat right next to him, doing the same.

He was even sure that she would be a great lifelong companion for someone else. Not Roman, though, because Roman was not attracted to her and would never be.

Roman sighed at his reflection in the mirror. Under strict instruction from his father, his hair had been silcked up and out of his face because, apparently, a hair falling out of place on a hot, humid night was unbecoming. He observed the red jacket he wore and frowned at the multiple medals and tassels and whatever else shone on the jacket; even with the ladies arriving with their jewels and accessories, Roman would not be surprised if he was the most decorated of the party.

Roman would not lie, he typically liked being dressed up. While some might call him narcissistic, he was just proud of how he looked and liked to present himself the best way possible. Tonight, though, everything Roman was wearing just felt wrong. He was dressed up and decorated for a night he knew he was not going to enjoy. He was going to have to endure listening to the man who he was greatly attracted to talk sweetly to Lady Victoria Herington, who was said to be best, most sweetest girl in the-

A sudden knocking and quiet talking on the other side of Roman’s door caused his head to whip around. He narrowed his eyes when he realized that it was his brothers talking behind his door, and he grew more annoyed than he already was at his moping, internal monologue being interrupted.

He could not catch what his brothers were saying as he approached the door, though it sounded like they were bickering, and when Roman swung open his door, both of their heads snapped towards him.

“You two really need to work on your subtlety,” Roman said. “You cannot let anyone else know that you are fighting, it makes everything much more intense.”

“We were debating whether or not you decided to climb off your balcony in an attempt at escape,” Virgil said. “I suggested that you were already halfway across the City right now.”

“And I, because I have trust in you, said that you were getting ready because, even though this situation is rather… unpleasant,” Patton said with a sigh. “You know that it is only one night and that nothing is set in stone after it.”

Roman worried his bottom lip. “Shit,” he finally said with a shake of his head. “I did not even think about escaping. That would have been good.”

Virgil laughed as Patton adamantly shook his head. “No, that would not have been,” Patton said quickly. “While, yes, I do believe in doing what makes you happy, and I guess escaping would do that, but then things will only be harder when you return!”

“If he did,” Virgil muttered.

“Oh, I would,” Roman said with a nod. “I am quite a fan of dramatic entrances. I can see it now. Me throwing open the front doors, waving a half empty bottle of liquor like a flag. Shouting into the corridors that I cannot be contained in these castle walls, forced to follow rules that I will surely change when I am king.” A pause. “And then our father kicking me outside onto my ass with nothing but the underclothes on my back. So it is probably a good thing that I did not telepathically receive Virgil’s plan.”

“That was very thought out,” Virgil commented.

Roman shrugged. “What can I say? My imagination runs wild with the ways I can imagine myself further disappointing our father before I am crowned king.” He then leaned on the door frame, raising an eyebrow. “But I assume that you two did not come here to ask whether or not I have made my great escape.”

Patton sighed and frowned. “The Kirklands and Heringtons will be arriving soon,” he said. “Everyone thought it best that we summoned you to the parlor. That we would be the ones most likely to bring you without any... ” His brother trailed off and flicked his eyes away.

Roman rolled his eyes with a sigh. “Everyone else is expecting a fight from me. Perfect.”

“If the three of us hated each other, they would never had made us be the ones to fetch you,” Virgil said. “It seems that our Adviser thinks you might swing at him if he came here, but if everyone thought you would do the same to us, maybe they would have decided that it would be best to leave you alone.”

“It is never too late to start hating each other,” Roman said as he stepped forward. He closed his bedroom door behind him and sighed again. “Alas, I have a feeling this night is going to be tiresome enough without a new, unwanted sibling rivalry. So, might as well get it over it.”

The three brothers began their walk to the main parlor, albeit slowly since Roman desired to prolong the inevitable as much as possible. Servants could be heard in other parts of the castle bustling around, fixing any finishing touches before their esteemed guests arrive. Everyone knew how important this night was to be; his father had said it enough times.

When the three were about to reach the final corridor, Patton suddenly stopped walking and both Virgil and Roman, after trailing a couple steps in front, stopped and turned around. Roman furrowed his eyebrows at the troubled look on Patton’s face. “Is everything alright, Patton?”

“Do you want to be king?” Patton asked. Roman blinked at the question, finding himself lost for words. The suddenness of the question caught him off guard, and he was unable to find his answer before Paton continued, “Because, with everything that is going on and the state of your relationship with our father, you seem very apprehensive and I would hate to see you live out this unhappy life because of something that your supposed to do and-”

Roman held up a hand and Patton immediately snapped his mouth shut. “Yes, Patton, I do want to be king,” he answered. “It is something that I have always dreamed about. I appreciate your concerns, and while some of the… requirements are daunting, I believe -I hope- that the outcome will outweigh anything else.”

“You do not have to marry Lady Adelaide because our father likes the family,” Virgil said quietly.

“You should not have to marry anyone at all if you do not want to,” Patton said, frowning. “That should not be the subject of our father’s concerns. You should not be forced to do something that you are unhappy with, and it should not affect your state as the heir.”

Roman did not ever actually plan to tell his brothers about his attraction to men. He had already torched whatever relationship he eventually could have hoped to have with his father, and he did not want to ruin the friendship that he and his brothers had. It occurred, however, in the aftermath of what happened two years ago, and that was when Roman realized that he had two more people in his corner than he thought he had.

Roman smiled and, upon seeing that, his brothers’ concerned expressions washed away. “Thank you, both of you,” he said. “I believe that, too, and while I hope nothing actually comes out of this night, I have to go through with it. I might not be particularly happy doing it but, sometimes, you have to do what is required of me, even if it is not pleasant.”

However, upon the three finally entering the parlor, Roman believed that doing what was required of him was going to be much easier said than done. Firstly, because Roman was still quite aggravated with the night ahead of him and his brothers’ support only sedated him for a short period of time. Secondly, because Logan looked completely dashing. He was sitting on the edge of one of their loveseats, his posture poised and relaxed. He adorned a black waistcoat -velvet, Roman noted- with a dark blue cravat knotted neatly around his neck. His hair was pushed back out of his eyes and, even though he had seen them many times before, Roman could not help but be taken back by how Logan’s eyes shone behind his glasses.

Fuck, Roman thought as he took a seat next to Logan, who smiled at him. This night was suddenly going to be much more difficult, and he found himself already bitter at knowing that he will have to endure Logan talking with someone else that was not him.

“You clean up well, Marquess Logan,” Roman said as he sat down next to Logan, slipping back into the formalities they would have to use for the night.

“As do you, Prince Roman,” Logan replied and Roman averted his eyes as he felt his cheeks flush.

“Now that you are both here,” a voice said from across the room and Roman jumped, snapping his head forward. Their father’s advisor stood at the front of the room. Roman had not even noticed that he was standing there. Their Advisor raised an eyebrow at Roman and Roman flashed back what he hoped was a charming grin.

“Cyril, it is a pleasure to see you, too,” Roman beamed at their Advisor.

“Now that you are both here,” he repeated, blatantly ignoring Roman’s comment. Virgil and Patton took their seats on another one of the couches with their eyes on him, and if Roman was not being watched, he would have made it a point to show them how tired he already was of this ordeal by rolling his eyes. “It is time that we, once again, go over what is expected of you two tonight.” Roman wanted to groan dramatically but, fortunately, kept that outburst repressed. “While it is poignant that everyone is on their best behavior, it is pivotal that you two-”

Roman quickly began to tune out the etiquette lecture that he had been receiving since he was five. He, instead, let his thoughts drift to the man sitting next to him. Yes, it was going to be awful having to not pay all of his attention to Logan. It was going to be a pain to have to sit and smile in front of a large group of judging adults, forcing conversation and a smile. It going to be abhorrent sitting next to Logan as he put all of his attention into another girl. However, it was only for a night, and most likely nothing would come of it, and it would be fine.

Roman decided halfway through the dinner that the night felt like it was taking a thousand years and that, no, it was not fine.

The first red flag that made Roman think that the night would quickly go to Hell is that both of the women were gorgeous. Roman might not be attracted to women, but he still had eyes to see what was in front of him, and he still had ears to hear someone comment that “Lady Adelaide would be such a pretty edition to your family, Your Majesty”.

The second was that, early on in the dinner, it was discovered that Logan and Lady Victoria’s eldest brother attended the same academy and university, and they got along very well. “Your brother Robert is a good man,” Logan had said, which made the jealousy Roman was feeling already flare up for a completely different reason.

The third was that Logan and Lady Victoria enjoyed the same books because of course they did. Logan, despite his previous discontent with their whole situation, seemed very invested in his conversation with Lady Victoria. Which is good. He was supposed to be invested because it was polite and what he was supposed to be doing, but Roman was also having a terrible time witnessing it.

The fourth was that Roman was on his third glass of wine to dull the pain of the first three red flags, and the dinner was not even close to being over.

Roman was on the path to being very bitter, very intoxicated, and probably crying later in his bedroom. But it was fine. It was only a single night. It was fine.

“Prince Roman?” A voice said next to him and he suddenly remembered that he, too, was supposed to be talking with the Lady to his left and not thinking about the man to his right.

“Pardon?” Roman said, turning back to Lady Adelaide.

If Roman was being honest, he pitied himself, yes, but he also pitied Adelaide. Like him, she was the eldest in her family with younger brothers to look after. She, too, was expected to marry soon, except not because she had a title to take over, but because she had none. Her father had made it so that his second eldest child, and his eldest son, was to inherit their family’s estate. Adelaide was in a similar situation to his own; dining with noble families, along with the royal one, in hopes of finding a new title to take.

Roman did not want to marry her, and he did not wish to be stuck in a marriage that was made purely out of titles and fortunes, not love. He was not heartless; she truly was very kind and he knew that she deserved better than a marriage to him.

Adelaide laughed, finding Roman’s absent minded state more endearing than not. “I said that it has been quite some time since I have last been here,” she said. “I think you were just fifteen.”

Roman thought back for a moment and suddenly remembered the event she was talking about. The castle had thrown a ball for a reason Roman could not remember. It had been almost a year since Logan had left to go to the academy, but Roman was still mourning the departure of his friend. Logan had been the one to stick by Roman at the tiresome parties, and Roman was left to fend on his own. He remembered that he and Adelaide barely talked, and that he had been distracted by others the whole night.

Before Roman even got the chance to respond, Lord Kirkland, who Roman did not even know was listening, decided to speak up, “Oh, Adelaide, that is right!” He then turned to Roman’s father and Roman had to hold back the eye roll. “Quite funny, is it not, that these two have been brought back together, Your Majesty?”

Not funny at all, Roman thought as he drank the remainder of his wine. Considering you were one of the people who planned this. A servant came around and refilled Roman’s glass.

“I believe it is,” the King said with a smile. “We should count ourselves lucky that you heeded to our invitation. It is an honor to reunite our families.”

Reunite, Roman thought with an internal eye roll. If I remember correctly, we have never been extremely close with the Kirklands. He flicked his eyes to Logan in hopes of sharing an exasperated look, but Logan was currently speaking with Lord and Lady Herington.

He repressed a sigh with a sip from his glass.

“Oh, believe us, we are the lucky ones,” Lord Kirkland said, gesturing to himself and his wife next to him. “We were just wondering what had become of your eldest when we received the invitation to join you and your son for dinner.” Roman noted that the Lord bluntly ignored the King’s other two sons. Lord Kirkland then turned to Roman and grinned. “We must thank you, too, Prince Roman, for meeting with us and our daughter. I was starting to worry that, with all the possible suitors you must get, that Adelaide here would have no chance of meeting with you.”

“Actually,” Roman said, setting his wine glass down. He felt warm and sluggish from the alcohol but he was able to keep his words straight. “I really have not been looking for any suitors. I find myself rather… occupied with other hobbies.”

The look his father sent him could have incinerated him on the spot, but Roman kept his eyes on the Lord sitting across from him, who grinned. “It is always so charming to see an independent man invested in his responsibilities,” Lord Kirkland said. “I am sure that with all the training I assume that you are doing and all your meetings, you might see that it is time to consider settling down, no? Besides, it is good to have a strong familial backing when being crowned our next Regent, as I expect you hope to be someday.”

“Perhaps, but I do not believe that that has to be the case,” Roman said. He was now aware that all eyes were on him, and that he should be wary of what he was to say next. However, It was the first time that he could speak the truth without being afraid, most likely due to the alcohol, so Roman ignored the panicked looks he was getting from his brothers at the end of the table and continued, “I do not see why I have to look to be married so soon. I am only twenty-two, I still have a long life ahead of me. I see no point in confining myself to an arranged marriage now when there is still so much of life to live and people to meet who I am not forced to be with, and who are not forced to be with me.

“I do not think that marriage has to be this huge ordeal where two people are forced to be together because of titles and fortunes to offer. Really, I think it is rather detrimental. Why should I -or anyone- have to be with someone who I barely know, especially when I am only just a few years into adulthood, and still have many years in front of me? It makes quite little sense, especially when I do not even want it-”

“That is enough, Roman,” his father’s stern voice snapped Roman out of his rant and his eyes flicked to his father across the table. Roman realized that his father was livid. “I believe that is an outburst you only say if you have really thought about it and are prepared to face the consequences for what you say.”

“Oh, I have thought about this,” Roman said. He saw no point in turning back now. “And I am prepared to face whatever you have. It cannot be much worse than previous times.” He paused as his words washed over everyone else. With a nod, he then stood, rather unstable. He was lucky to have the arms of the chair to push himself up on. “I believe that now should be the time when I excuse myself.”

With that, Roman ignored all the eyes on him, jaws dropped to the floor, and managed to walk out without too much stumbling.

In his bedroom, watching the clock, Roman noticed that it took less than five minutes for his father to come after him. He had not knocked and, instead, shoved open Roman’s doors so hard, Roman thought they might break off the hinges.

Roman, who was slouched in one of his chairs, raised an eyebrow at his father.

“Get up,” his father growled. Roman hesitated. “Now, Roman.”

Roman pushed himself up, using the chair for balance. When he was finally upright, albeit swaying, his father shook his head in disgust at what he saw.

“I thought the instructions I gave you were very clear, Roman,” his father said. His voice was low and quiet despite his anger and it sent chills down Roman’s spine. “You were to treat this seriously. You were, for once, to think about someone other than yourself and understand that this is what you must do if you wish to take my place.”

Roman barked out a laugh and shook his head. “Think of anyone but myself?” he questioned. “How about you look at yourself first, father? You are doing this for yourself. This- this arranged marriage bullshit is so that you can feel better about your son! This is all so that you can show people that you did not, in fact, fail as a father because, look, Prince Roman took a pretty wife so let us just ignore his unhappiness! Let us just ignore how for twenty-two fucking years he was berated and ignored and criticized by his father!”

“I was preparing you for your responsibilities, Roman,” his father snapped. “I was showing you that what you want does not matter when you have responsibilities to adhere to. Complain all you wish to about the unfair life that I have, apparently, been giving you, but do not act like you do not deserve any of this. For years you have gone out of your way to defy me, you have humiliated me in front of esteemed guests, and you have made me realize that someone in this room failed as a person, but it is not me.”

Roman shook his head, his lip curling. “Yes, such a shame to have a son who you cannot contain! What a tragedy, having a son who cannot find pleasure in the women thrown at him! How terrible it is to have a son who wishes to do as he pleases and not listen to the beck and call of his emotionally distant father! It is a wonder why he never listens to you! You have obviously shown yourself to be the epitome of a perfect parent, especially after your wife died!”

The room fell deathly silent and Roman swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat. His father shook his head and sighed deeply.

“If only your mother could see who you have become,” his father said. “I doubt she would be able to recognize you.”

Roman broke at that, a sob breaking out of his lips as tears began to run down his cheeks. He clasped his hand over his mouth to dull the sound, and his father did not look back as he turned around and walked out.

The door echoed as it slammed behind him.

Roman wondered if a person could ever cry themselves dry.

The hours passed later into the night and it seemed that Roman was constantly switching from numbness to weeping. His drunken state had transitioned from a warm, blurred feeling to a pounding headache and the awareness that everything was currently too much.

Roman was lying on his bed, his eyes trained on the ceiling, in a current state of numbness. If he was correct, their guests just left, and now the barrier between the household and the Roman was gone.

As if on cue, like there was a sign directing everyone to Roman’s room, there was a soft knock on his door.

“Go away,” Roman said. He winced at how hoarse and broken his voice sounded.

“Roman, it is Logan,” Logan said on the other side of the door. Once again, tears sprung to his eyes and he pressed the palms of his hands to them in hopes to hold back the tears.

Roman shied away as his door was pushed open, rolling onto his side and curling into himself. Logan was the last person he wanted to see him like this, but he could not bring himself to push him away. As the tears fell, his attempt to push them back failing, he pressed one hand to his mouth in a hope to suppress the sob that escaped his lips. It barely did, and ended up just letting a choked, pitiful sound escape.

“Oh, Roman,” he heard Logan say softly behind him as the doors closed. The bed dipped behind him and, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Logan sitting behind him.

Roman shook his head, curling further in on himself. Logan then gently ran his hand down Roman’s shoulder and back.

“Roman, can you sit up for me?”

“I do not want you to see me like this,” Roman said quietly, his voice thick with tears and hurt.

Logan sighed. “Roman, this does not bother me,” he said. “I just want to talk to you, help you.”

Roman hesitated, thinking over Logan’s words. It did not seem like Logan came to his room to judge him, and what he said appeared genuine. Finally, slowly, Roman pushed up so that he was sitting. His head pounded from being drunk and crying, and the movement did nothing to help him. Roman sat, cross legged, in front of Logan, staring down at his hands.

Logan then placed his own hands out to Roman. Roman snapped his head up, searching Logan’s face. He looked for the scrutiny, for the joke, for the waiting for Roman to take his hands only for Logan to run from him.

All he received, though, was a small smile and an encouraging nod.

Roman, worrying his bottom lip, placed his own hands in Logan’s. Logan gently squeezed them and Roman relished in the softness of his companion.

“You have finally seen how unstable the heir to the throne is,” Roman said weakly, his voice cracking on the last syllable.

Logan shook his head. “Not at all,” he said quietly. “In all honesty, Roman, I admire your honesty. I… it might have been difficult to say what you did, but I never would have even been able to think about saying what I wanted to me parents.”

Roman laughed bitterly and shook his head. He averted his eyes as more tears spilled out. “It was not worth it,” he said. “I feel mortified, I think I insulted our guests, and my father hates me for it. He-” Roman’s breath caught again and he had to force his next words out. “He said that my mother would be disappointed.”

“Oh, Roman,” Logan said, frowning. “You know that that is not true.”

“How do I know?” Roman asked, fire burning in his tone. “She is not here to say that she is proud of me.”

“She is not here to say that she is disappointed, either,” Logan pointed out calmly and Roman’s aggravation died as quickly as it started.

Roman sighed and looked down. “I feel like I am destined to ruin myself every opportunity I get.”

“I feel like you are trying to let yourself live the life you want in a household that says otherwise,” Logan said. “It is incredibly brave of you.”

“Brave?” Roman scoffed. “I just told one of my possible suitors and her family that I see no point in marrying someone who I do not want.”

“Lady Adelaide is not offended,” Logan said. Roman furrowed his eyebrows. “Lady Victoria was telling me that there is a noble boy she is in love with. Her parents adore him but had high hopes for a royal marriage.” Logan then offered a small smile. “If it makes you feel any better, now she will get to marry who she wants.”

Roman could not help but give a weak smile back. “Silver lining,” he murmured.

An idea sprung to his mind and the thought made him look away from Logan. Roman had already said so many things throughout the night that have had their consequences. He could say one more thing, and it would further determine whether or not he was destined to have his heart further broken by Logan.

Roman pulled his hands away and Logan allowed it. He trained his eyes on his hands, fidgeting as he waited to find his words. Logan said nothing, patiently waiting on Roman’s terms. “I have to tell you something,” Roman finally said quietly, tilting his eyes up to Logan.

“You can tell me anything, Roman,” Logan encouraged.

“I…” Roman worried his bottom lip, looking anywhere but at Logan no matter how hard he tried. “I do not want to take a wife. I never did. And… and not because I just did not want to marry. If I had the opportunity, I would marry in an instant, but… not to a woman.”

“Oh,” Logan said and Roman’s heart dropped into his stomach. This was it. This was when Logan got up and left, simultaneously laughing and horrified at him. This was when he alerted his parents that they must leave immediately and leave Roman alone and drunk and heartbroken and- “I am the same way.”

Roman’s mind short-circuited. “Pardon?” he asked stupidly.

“I feel the same way you do,” Logan said.

Roman blinked. “But- But you were talking to Lady Victoria so much about those books-”

Logan laughed and raised an eyebrow. “So talking books means that we are destined to be married?” he questioned and Roman blushed. “Besides, I was much more attracted to her brother in the academy than I could be to her.”

“Oh,” Roman said quietly. He had wondered what it would be like to find out that Logan felt the same way he did, and was curious if it would hurt more because he and Logan could not be together, then. However, Roman found that this scenario hurt much more. His heart soared knowing that Logan was like him, but now Roman knew that there was no way Logan would be attracted to him after this display. Whether Logan found it brave or not was no matter; Logan was calm and collected, and most likely preferred a man who did not cause scenes at dinner parties.

“Yes, perhaps oh,” Logan said. “But I think that this should be a subject that we talk further about tomorrow when you are sober. Is there anything else that you need help with, anything that you need?”

For you to reciprocate what I feel for you. “I am okay,” Roman said instead. “Thank you, Logan. I genuinely appreciate this.”

“You know I am always here for you, Roman,” Logan smiled as he stood up from the bed. Logan began to walk out but stopped in the doorway and turned back, “Rest well, Roman. We will talk tomorrow.”

“Rest well, Logan,” Roman said, his brain feeling as if it was working on its own. “I… I will see you then.”

Logan smiled and gave Roman a small wave goodbye before letting the door close behind him.

Roman blinked at the now closed door before falling back onto his bed.

Roman would like to ask the universe why it decided to give him a best friend who was also attracted to men but who would never be attracted to him. He thought it was a very cruel joke to play.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #logince #roman sanders #logan sanders #stuff i write

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shiroe-is-my-baby · 6 years

Text

Missing You

Summary: A night of fun and relaxation just isn’t in the cards for Ashley right now. Mainly, because she can’t seem to get him off her mind. Good thing she has wonderful friends to help take her mind off of things and help her realize the importance of expressing her problems.

W: self-insert x canon, fluff, angst

((Note: Kind of a continuation from the last angsty fic that I did. It’s been on my mind for a while and I finally got the inspiration to do it. Just a lot of missing and situational stuff. It’s really cute seeing my side of things too because Shiroe’s mood change happens around here and I kind of see it but don’t really know the reason for it. But I mean, we all know it XD also this fic takes place after they capture the pker. also im shitty at summaries XD))

The sound of laughter and conversation was a relief after the several days that we had experienced. It was a nice change of pace, now that everything seemed somewhat at peace. For the moment, at least. Catching this killer, while it was a terrible situation for all of us, wasn’t the only thing on my mind. This whole time, I had felt a dozen emotions all at once. First, I was upset and lonely from having to deal with being apart from Shiroe. Then, I was anxious for a close friend, watching her go through something that seemed impossible for me to fully grasp. And finally, hearing about someone possibly killing adventurers.

It all seemed to be a crazy situation.

But tonight wasn’t about any of that. Now that he was captured, a whole bunch of us were gathered together and spending the night sort of celebrating. It all seemed fine for the moment, and I still couldn’t seem to find myself getting into the spirit.

I wanted to. I tried desperately to smile when Marielle sat beside me, asking if she could braid my hair and we could chat. The last thing I wanted was for her to know I was feeling this way, but there wasn’t anything I could keep from her. As my older sister, she is entirely aware of my ticks. But I’ve been with all of them so long that everyone knows when my emotions are all over the place.

The room was alive with chatter, the other girls laughing and I couldn’t find myself joining them. But because I have the best group of friends, they were immediately there to comfort me. I felt like a child, but right now I couldn’t pretend to be happy when I wasn’t. Henrietta tugged on my shoulders, letting me lay my head on her lap, that she rested a pillow on. Her fingers softly brushed through my hair, unraveling the braid Marielle had made almost an hour ago now.

Akatsuki sat in front of us, her legs folded as she stared at the ground. The look of understanding she gave me before told me that she was already aware of my feelings. I heard Marielle’s voice as she plopped down beside Henrietta, giggling about something she heard on her way over. The familiar feeling of anxiousness started to spread once again. I was afraid that letting my emotions show was going to ruin their good time. That was the last thing that I wanted to do.

I swallowed, feeling Henrietta tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

“You haven’t been yourself these passed few days,” She spoke up, “I suppose it has something to do with Shiroe.”

I lifted my eyebrows and barked a small laugh, which caused her to chuckle.

“It’s alright. I understand that you’re not used to being apart from him for this long. Besides…” She let out a small sigh, “Things haven’t been at all easy…”

I nodded.

“You know that we’re always here for you, Ashley. What kind of big sister would I be if I didn’t help you through this!” Marielle said, smiling a bit.

“Same here. You know things have been tough for me too.”

Sayeko sat down on the opposite side of Akatsuki, coming back from her short bathroom break to join us. She smiled a bit, and I gave her a small smile back. The two of us probably felt the exact same in this situation, and a part of me felt a bit selfish to act this way. I also felt like a child, being upset and almost crying over this. It was pathetic. I can’t be apart from him, and that made me pathetic.

“Thanks guys,” I said, “I’m okay… just having a hard time tonight. I’m sorry you have to deal with me sulking…”

“Hush. We’re all friends here to help. You don’t have to be ashamed of your feelings. It’s normal for you to be feelings this way. Being distant from those that you lose isn’t easy.”

Henrietta touched my forehead, continuing to brush back my hair. She hates whenever I call her mom, but she really does act that way. It seems more towards me, but I’ve seen her act similar to others as well. It’s not a bad thing at all. I enjoy her motherly interactions with em a lot. It helps in situations of sadness, especially being in a world that is completely different than your own. Trying to make things work, even though sometimes I can still feel homesick.

Though, I’m lucky to have my sister with me.

“Thanks guys… I really appreciate it… I’m sorry that you have to-”

“What did I just say?”

Henrietta gently tapped my head, causing me to wince and chuckle a bit. She rolled her eyes, but was laughing under her breath.

“Stop apologizing, Ashie! We’re here for you because we want to be!”

“Yeah! And besides, don’t you think Shiroe would want you to be having fun? He wouldn’t like you being down like this at all.”

Marielle smiled, patting my leg for reassurance. I gave a small nod to her, slowly sitting up and allowing Henrietta to sit more comfortably. Slowly wiping away the tears under my eyes, I gave a bigger smile to my friends. I was lucky to have them around me, here to save the day whenever I was feeling down. It was a tough time, but Marielle was right.

She threw her arms around my neck and squeezed, knocking the wind out of my lungs. Though, it was exactly what I needed. I wasn’t going to deny the hug at all. Everyone laughed at the woman’s reaction, and I let her squeeze me until she finally let me go.

“Now, why don’t we get you something to drink? We can play a few games! Or maybe we can tell ghost stories!”

“I don’t know about that one, but I’ll take the games.”

“Oh, come on! It’ll be fun to get a little spooked!”

I rolled my eyes at Sayeko and Marielle. Anything to me sounded like a good idea, though before I could choose anything, I heard a familiar sound. Furrowing my brows, I saw the name flashing in front of my eyes and realized I was receiving a call. My heart jumped in my chest, and I could feel the eyes around me in full curiosity.

“I’m sorry guys, but… I have to go outside for a minute,” I said.

“What is it?”

“Is everything okay?”

I nodded, immediately dashing out of the room.

It was a little stupid of me to go outside, given that my pjs weren’t like the other girls. Mine were literally a shirt and shorts even though it wasn’t appropriate. I couldn’t help it, considering I get hot easily if I’m wearing something longer. The cold air didn’t bother me, though. In fact, I barely even noticed it. The warmth running through my blood right now kept me from noticing, and I felt my face heating up the faster my heart beated in my chest.

Biting my lip, I couldn’t even get a word in before I heard the familiar voice.

“Ashley, are you there?”

I could almost cry, hearing that voice like he was standing in front of me.

It had been a while since we last talked. He didn’t want to communicate unless it was completely necessary, keeping calls to importance only. Though, there was that one time that he had to call me. He said it was because he needed a second to breathe, and it helped me feel better knowing that I was that comfort for him.

Though, the lack of communication was definitely hurting my heart. It was the main reason why I felt so lost and alone. Not being able to hear his voice that often was almost as if he was gone. I didn’t like it, at all. I hated having to be apart from him, and not being able to hear his voice. And it hurt even more when I found out that Naotsugu was breaking that rule calling Sayeko a couple of times more. Not that I wasn't happy for them. I was glad that he was calling her, knowing that she was in the same position I was. It just made me wish I didn’t have a boyfriend that was so… by the book.

“Yeah, I’m here… it’s so good to hear your voice,” I said, not caring that my voice broke a bit.

There was a soft pause, before Shiroe spoke up again. I could hear the smile in his voice, and it made me grin.

“It is… I miss you so much… but I have good news.”

“You do?”

“Yep. It’s over… finally…”

When he said those words, I felt like I could cry. Even more. It almost felt like a dream, hearing his voice and feeling the coolness of the air around me. A part of me thought that I’d wake up and this would all be a crazy dream. But it wasn’t… Shiroe was talking to me, and I was standing out in the cold hearing him say it.

My heart leapt in my chest, and I couldn’t stop smiling. My cheeks already hurt from all the smiling, but I was extremely happy. It made up for the hard time I was having just a moment ago. It felt like I was finally getting a break, after the days of emotional shit I had to deal with.

“That’s… that’s so great, babe. Did everything go okay? According to plan… I guess…” I giggled a bit.

“Yeah, well, you could say that. We should be home in a couple of days. There’s so much that I want to tell you.”

I smiled, leaning against my palm and closing my eyes.

In my head I could see him smiling, and I could almost feel him near me. It reminded me just how thankful I was. To be completely in love with this amazing and adorable man. I couldn’t wait for him to be standing in front of me for real. To be able to hold him and kiss him and never let him go. He was never going to leave my side again. I was going to make sure of that.

“I can’t wait, baby… I want you to tell me everything, and don’t leave everything out. There’s so much that we need to make up for… things have been difficult without you.”

“I know… and I can’t wait to see you. I’m sorry it’s been hard for you. Trust me… it hasn’t been easy for me either,” Shiroe mumbled, and a part of me wondered if he took that harder than I intended, “But I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“I know you will. I just want you to be home… that’s all I want.”

I smiled, biting my lip.

Shiroe and I talked for a little bit longer, mainly just discussing plans for when he returned. He sent me a message from Naotsugu to Sayeko, which I gladly said that I would give. Although, I knew that she’d want to hear from him personally. It was nice to have a long conversation with him, and I could sense something different from the last time we spoke. It was a good thing, but I couldn’t quite grasp the reason.

Not that it was ever easy with Shiroe.

Eventually, I started crying, tears streaming down my face. I was just so happy. Shiroe was telling me just how much he loved me and missed me and I lost it. I didn’t want him to know, but he knew me better than that. He knows whenever I’m crying, and I could hear him stumble on his words a bit.

“I need to go,” Shiroe said, “I don’t want to, but… there’s a lot we need to prepare for.”

“Okay, baby. Thank you for calling me…”

“Of course… I’ll see you soon. And Ashley… I love you.”

“I love you too. So much.”

I smiled, feeling my voice breaking once again.

Shiroe and I said our goodbyes, quickly hanging up before we decided to stay on for longer. My heart felt heavy, but it was fine. I felt fine. For the first time in a month, I felt okay. Excited even. Knowing that he was coming home brightened my mood, and I knew that I would be able to finish the night on a good note.

It almost made me feel like this was meant to be. It had to be. The phone call just after I was feeling down, and now I felt on top of the world. It was the best way to end the night. And I couldn’t wait for the next couple of days when Shiroe finally returned home.

#self insert #self ship #self insert writing #otp: shirey #my writing #fluff #angst #fanfic #fic #fanfiction #self insert x canon

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