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365days365movies · 4 years ago

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May 9, 2021: A.I. Artificial Intelligence (2001) (Recap: Part One)

Welcome to the future.

At this point, we’ve mostly looked at the past, present, or the near-future (as in, the next ten years, if that). Additionally, we’ve looked either at nonexistent technology in a contemporary setting, or an extension of existing technology taken to a logical next step. But no more. No more realism, no more real-world rules, and nothing that we’re even close to in this reality.

Well...mostly.

That’s genuinely impressive, not gonna lie. Anyway, yeah, from here forwards (for a bit), we’ll be looking at the future and futuristic technology. Now, there are a couple of ways in which these films tend to go. The first big way that we tend to represent the future in film is the same way we always have: flying cars, futuristic technology, smart houses, and robots.

Now, there are countless examples of this future, and it always changes a bit depending on the present. Which, yeah, makes sense. After all, what I’m doing right now, at this moment, would’ve been seen by many people as a massive technological achievement, even around the time that I was born. Which, yes, I’m old, deal with it (because I can’t). Anyway, the way that this begins is with the first major filmed view of a seemingly idyllic future: Fritz Lang’s 1927 film Metropolis.

The overly mechanized (and politically dystopic) society seen in this film, as well as the visuals and technology, would inform our ideas of the future throughout the next century. Multiple themes and common objects reoccur throughout futuristic fiction. You know the stuff I’m talking about. Flying cars, automatic food machines, robotic assistants, video watches, holograms, jetpacks, so on and so forth.

But here’s the thing about the future. It’s always ahead of us, and eventually...well, we’ve gotten to most of those things to some degree. Either they already exist...

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...or is currently being developed.

Well, one of them we’re still working on. And the development of more advanced AI is something we have yet to perfect, or even fully develop. However, the development of A.I. (and the consequences of that technology) are ALL OVER science fiction. Sometimes, they’re merely used for flavor to help establish the futuristic setting.

Sometimes, they’re characters with their own agency and conflicts, which may or may not define the plot. In these cases, they’re often simply there to back up the main human characters, and help with their development, and sometimes their own. You know, manic pixie dream robots.

And then, possibly most often, they’re the abject villains of the piece. they can be mysterious alien technology, like in The Day the Earth Stood Still, or a man-made danger that turns on the race that created and/or abused it.

But then, on occasion, an A.I. is given the chance to develop as a character, without being used to define the development of a human character. Sometimes, the question of what life truly means is raised through these characters, and we become attached to them outside of any other character. This isn’t nearly as common as the others, but it’s definitely not unheard of.

And for the record...things don’t often go well for those AIs. But still, some of those characters have quite a lasting impact. So, there’s quite a lot of potential for this type of character, from a dramatic standpoint. And that potential leads us to the guy who made this.

I WILL MAKE A JURASSIC PARK REFERENCE AS OFTEN AS POSSIBLE

Steven Spielberg gives us today’s entry, and this director of a classic science fiction story about science gone awry teamed up with the director of a science fiction film where an artificial intelligence went awry. You know, this thing.

I didn’t forget about HAL. And I won’t forget about him later, either.

Director Stanley Kubrick is pretty well-know for his mind-bending films, especially The Shining and 2001: A Space Odyssey. But he also worked with Spielberg on this film before his death in 1999, as this was one of his dream projects for many years, and the two directors were well-known friends.

And so, eventually, Spielberg was given the reins from Kubrick, and results were...mixed. It’s funny, because I’ve never actually seen this movie, but I remember it through its surprisingly widespread ad campaign. I used to go to NYC as a kid a lot, and there was a massive building-side plastered with the iconic logo of this movie. So, I’ve been hovering around this movie for a long time. Enough navel-gazing!

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (Part One)

It is, unsurprisingly, the future. A marrator informs us that climate change has caused the ice caps to melt, and global flooding drowns several countries. You could say that it’s a...Waterworld.

I genuinely considered watching that movie at some point, and then I decided I liked myself to much to watch 2 hours of Kevin Costner’s emotionless acting. Granted, it’s not much better now, listening to the emotionless acting of...

Professor Allen Hobby (William Hurt) is a straight-up sociopath. OK, technically, he’s a robotics engineer, but dude’s making a speech, right? He talks about how far robots have come, dissing my boi Deep Blue in the process, and notes that pain-memory response can also be demonstrated by robots. He proves this by stabbing a woman in his audience, like RIGHT through the hand. Jesus, man! Why the hell would you do that?

Oh. Holy shit, I got fooled. Advanced technology indeed. But OK, so Sheila’s a robot, and a very advanced one...to us. But Hobby wants more, and proposes to his workers to make a robot that can really TRULY love. And through love may come a true subconscious, which means making a robot that can dream. And what better robot to make than a robot child? After all, all child conception requires a license in this futuristic world, so many childless couples are yearning for a child.

Which is why, twenty months later, the first robot child is offered to Henry and Monica Swinton (Sam Robards and Frances O’Connor), a couple...with a child. Um. Guys. You JUST SAID that there are legit childless couples who need a child, and those people would be best suited to love that robot child back (a VERY GOOD question raised by one of Hobby’s subordinates). So why give it to a couple whose son is still alive? Yeah, he’s got a rare disease that they don’t have a cure for yet, and is currently in cryostasis, BUT THEY HAVE A KID! Surely, that’s going to be a potential emotional conflict! And what if the kid wakes up or some shit? This is a TERRIBLE goddamn idea. Think this shit through, guys.

And yet...

This is David (Haley Joel Osment), Cybertronics’ first child robot, brought home by Henry to essentially replace their son. Which is AMAZINGLY FUCKING TONE-DEAF AND INSANE, GODDAMN. That’s extraordinarily messed up. And, for the record, I totally get what Spielberg’s going for, but Jesus Christ, man. This was a terrible way to go about this. And it gets fucking WORSE.

See, Henry (who actually works for Cybertronics) tells Monica that, once they sign the papers and complete the updates, David will imprint on them and see him as their true parents, loving them unconditionally. Which...yeah, fuck, that’s an entire DUMP TRUCK of ethics issues right there. And, while we’re at it, David is...creepy as shit. I mean it, dude, Haley Joel Osment is a VERY good child actor, but he’s laying on the creepy robot child thing THICK. And yeah, this is BEFORE he imprints on them. Jesus fuck, man, there’s a scene where the still uncomfortable Monica is outside of a glass door, and he looks back at her THROUGH THE DOOR like a goddamn SERIAL KILLER.

And I gotta tell ya, dude does not lay off that creepy-ass dial one iota. And for that matter, the music by John Williams ISN’T FUCKING HELPING. LISTEN to this shit, and imagine a robot child that you don’t know wandering around your house. It’s amazingly fucking creepy.

AND IT JUST. KEEPS. GETTING. WORSE. There’s a scene where they’re all at dinner, right, and David’s just staring at them as they eat, mimicking their actions. After all, he’s a robot, he can’t actually eat or drink anything because of his internal working. And then, out of FUCKING NOWHERE, he starts laughing like the FUCKING JOKER, and it scares the EVER-LOVING SHIT OUT OF ME. And somehow, they laugh alongside him, in the never-ending Stockholm syndrome that is this movie! And as soon as its over, he just STOPS laughing, spontaneously. Fuck me, man, I’m tempted to stop watching here and now, and I’m only TWENTY MINUTES IN! I need a fucking break.

And after that...OF COURSE she decides to activate his imprinting protocols to make him, let me remind you, LOVE HIM FOREVER! She reads out a series of words, and after “FREIGHT CAR”, he knows his mission is to kill the Prime Minister of Sokovia. But first, he’ll settle down and love Monica unconditionally (again, FOREVER), calling her Mommy and making me shit my pants in fear. IT WASN’T ME, IT WAS FUCKING DAVID

Oh, and by the way, isn’t it kinda shitty to do that without Henry being involved AT ALL? Like, cool, he has unconditional maternal love, but Henry wasn’t a part of that conditioning at all! And he still refers to him as “Henry” instead of Dad! However, Henry definitely doesn’t care about that, because he still sees David as only a robot. Hey, guys, maybe using these two as your first experiment with a robot child WAS A TERRIBLE FUCKING IDEA, YOU IDIOTS! No wonder William Hurt was cast as Thunderbolt Ross in the MCU. Already shown he can play a character with shitty ideas before.

Anyway, after this terrible series of events, David prevents the parents from leaving one night due to his childlike antics. When Monica goes to comfort him, he asks how long she’ll live, and tells her that he hope she never dies, a COMPLETELY NORMAL THING TO SAY. Look, I get that he’s a robot, but only a goddamn emotionless sociopath would program emotional responses like this into a robot. Which, given what we’ve seen of Hobby, makes sense.

In response, she gives him Teddy (Jack Angel), a technologically advanced teddy bear with sentience, a personality, and the voice of Astrotrain from The Transformers TV series. Because, yes, I am THAT MUCH of a goddamn nerd.

Soon after, the house gets a phone call, which David receives...literally. He takes the phone and allows it to speak through him. It turns out that, shock beyond shocks, THEIR SON IS CURED! Yeah, fuck. Maybe giving David to a family with a STILL LIVING SON is a fucking ABSOLUTELY TERRIBLE IDEA, for about a thousand reasons.

And, fucking understandably, Martin Swinton (Jake Thomas) is a little upset to find out that he’s essentially been replaced by a robot kid. Although, to be fair, he’s also kind of a dick to David, holding his humanity over him and treating him as a toy that he attempts to manipulate and bully. My Lord, this is a massively stupid idea. And Martin immediately shows his dickishness by asking his mother to read Carlo Collodi’s The Adventures of Pinocchio to them. Which is meant to be a punishment for Pinocchio. However, of course, David loves it.

Still, however, there’s trouble in paradise for David, as he tries to compete with Martin for being a real boy, and eats spinach at dinner one evening. Despite Teddy’s mildly ominous warning to him (”YOU WILL BREAK”), he keeps eating until he basically has a stroke and breaks, forcing him to be repaired by some of Cybertronics’ technicians. Monica has a bit of a break down as a result, which Martin notices. This causes Martin to go pure supervillain, manipulating David to do creepy things in order to insert doubt into Monica about David. Jesus, Martin’s a creepy kid, too. No wonder Monica grew to be cool with David, her actual son is a FUCKING SOCIOPATHIC MONSTER! Are there ANY truly normal people in this world? IS THIS WHAT THE FUTURE IS?

Martin convinces David to cut a lock of Monica’s hair while she’s sleeping. And lemme tell ya, a little boy holding scissors over someone while they sleep is not exactly comforting. Henry agrees, and after stopping him, believes that they need to return him. Monica disagrees, knowing that they’ll destroy him if brought back. But David, ever the semi-sociopath himself, ignores any signs of humanity in David and dismisses Monica's feelings for him entirely. He also says this thing about “IF HE CAN BE PROGRAMMED TO LOVE, CAN NOT HE BE PROGRAMM-ED TO HATE?”, which...no. No, he cannot. He didn’t learn to love, he was programmed to. And, again, that’s ethically FUCKED, but taking that into account...no. HE WASN’T PROGRAMMED TO HATE, HENRY. Goddamn, buddy, use your head here.

It’s Martin’s birthday, and his friends at the pool party expose David to the fun world of anti-robot (or Mecha) racism, and test to see if he has Damage Avoidance Systems by threatening him with a knife. And he does. Buuut, when those systems kick in, he goes to the nearest point of safety to keep himself safe. That point is, unfortunately, Martin, whom he gets behind...and accidentally drags into the pool.

Thing is, because of Martin’s recent illness, he can’t exactly swim, meaning that David almost drowns him. When Henry and other partygoers go to save him, they abandon David in the pool completely. And now, David’s fucked. Because although this situation isn’t even a little bit his fault, he also just nearly killed Martin. And so, after seeing notes that he’s been writing to her, Monica offers to take for a “ride in the country”. Which definitely means something good. In reality, she’s planning on taking him back to Cybertronics. But once in the car, there’s a change in plans. And hear me out...it’s arguably far more horrifying.

She decides to abandon him in the woods completely, despite how hard it is for her to leave him. She’s sparing him from death, sure, but also throwing him into a world he doesn’t understand, and for reasons that he doesn’t understand. It’s genuinely terrible. And then...yeah, she leaves him forever, to an uncertain future.

End Act One.

I think this is a good place to stop. It’s early, and I need more coffee to handle this shit. See you in Part Two. Of Three. Yup. It’s a long one.

#a.i. artificial intelligence #ai artificial intelligence #steven spielberg #stanley kubrick #haley joel osment #jude law #frances o'connor #brendan gleeson #william hurt #science fiction may #sci-fi may #user365 #365 movie challenge #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year #movieedit #filmedit

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just-my-sickly-pride · 5 years ago

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The Night Comes Down || Brian May x fem!Reader x Roger Taylor

summary || one of the first rules you’d ever made with brian, your friends-with-benefits, eight months ago, was that anyone could back out of the arrangement at any time, for whatever reason, and then everything would go back to normal. back to how it was. and that’s fine. you have no problem with that. you’re fine. you’re so fine. it’s... fine.

rating || no smut, but some implied explicit content. warning: there is a brief scene where reader is being heavily pressured into kissing someone at a party.

word count || 9.7k

author’s notes || all good things must come to an end! so i’ve been working on this series for over a year. how did that even happen?? anyway yes this is the end of the try series. no it’s not a happy ending. i debated back and forth for a long time whether to end the series or not, but it felt too weird not to. and i couldn’t figure out any reasonable ‘happy’ way for it to end. a big big big thank you to everyone who’s stuck with me for this entire journey, or part of this journey, or even if you’re just tuning in now - thank you! and if you’re still somehow invested in this little ’verse after all this time, don’t abandon me just yet 👀 p.s. i think i’ve ironed out most of the timeline issues but don’t look too closely. this series is not my proudest in terms of continuity

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tag list: @the-huttslayer @scorpiogemini @redspecialty @supersonicfreddie @killer-queen-xo @a-night-at-the-0pera @rogerscupboard

Part of you had known it was inevitable. Another part of you liked to pretend that it wasn’t. But it was.

It still felt like it had come out of nowhere, though.

Brian was watching you cautiously, adjusting the grip on his laptop and workbook. “Did you… want to say anything, or…?”

“Um…” You blinked a couple times, and shook your head. “Uh, no, I’m just… surprised?”

“I feel like I’ve mentioned her a few times,” Brian said.

“Once or twice, maybe,” you said. “I didn’t know that you and her…”

“Yeah.” Brian scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, we hooked up, like, two weeks ago, and then again a few nights ago, and we’ve been talking every day, so.”

“Oh.” It sounded twisted, wonky, but you forced a smile onto your face, wondering why you felt so… uncomfortable hearing about this. “That’s great. And you like her?”

“Yeah, I really do,” Brian said, and his voice sounded warm, and he had a little smile on his face, and something ugly and strange twisted in your gut. “And I want to take her on an actual date, but obviously, I’d feel a bit weird about it if I still had, y’know. A, uh, side arrangement. But you’re all right?”

“Of course,” you said brightly. Side arrangement. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be? That’s great, Brian, really. I’m – really glad you’ve found someone.”

“It’s been a while, that’s for sure,” Brian said with a chuckle.

“Are you going to tell Rog?”

Brian frowned a little. “Um, no, I don’t think that’s necessary. I never had – anything with him. And he’s already met Dani, so.”

“Oh!” Ah, Christ, that had sounded dreadful, even to your own ears. “Where– Where’d he meet her?”

“The other day.” Brian gave you a sheepish smile. “The morning after. She ran into him in the kitchen.”

You pushed a strained laugh out of you. “Oh, right, yeah, great.”

Brian chuckled as well. “Yeah, it was a little awkward, but what can you do, right?”

You swallowed, and nodded. Your face hurt from smiling.

“You’ll love her,” Brian said. “She’s wonderful. She’s so smart, and funny, and she’s so pretty. I mean, so pretty. Absolutely beautiful. Completely knocked my socks off when I first saw her. Can’t believe she fancies me.”

“Great,” you said. You were saying great too much. “She sounds–” Don’t. “–so great.”

“She is.” Brian beamed. “You’ll have to meet her soon.”

“I’m sure I will,” you said.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Brian said. He sighed happily. “Well, I should head off.”

“Yeah, course,” you said. “Me too.”

“I’ll message you,” Brian said. “We can arrange a dinner at the flat or something.”

“Can’t wait!”

Brian smiled, nodded in satisfaction, and then said, “All right, see you later.”

“Bye!” You turned around and hurried away, in the opposite direction you needed to go.

Hmm. Huh. Right. Okay. So. Brian just. He just.

You went to the food court and sat down at the first available seat you could find.

You took out your phone and immediately went to message Veronica.

Brian just

Your thumbs paused.

He just what? He just found someone he wanted to date, and ended his arrangement with you. On paper, not that big of a deal. It was part of the unwritten contract of it all: any person was allowed to end things for whatever reason, and there would be no consequences. A rule you had written yourself, all those months ago.

Side arrangement. Side piece. Dirty secret. Not as good as the real thing. Not as funny or smart or pretty or wonderful or beautiful as Danielle.

You froze. Whoa, where had that come from?

You weren’t jealous. You couldn’t have been jealous. You’d never wanted to date Brian. You still didn’t want to date Brian. You didn’t have a crush on him, and you never had. Brian didn’t break up with you.

So what the everloving fuck was going on in your head right now?

You put your phone away. Nope, you couldn’t go crying to Veronica for no damn reason. This had always been bound to happen, and now it had, so you just needed an hour or so to process it, and then things would be fine. You’d go back to normal.

Your idea of ‘normal’ seemed to greatly differ from Brian’s.

You didn’t hear from him for a week. Whereas before you’d talked every other day, he went almost totally radio silent. Every meme or message you sent was either seen and ignored, or responded to with a vague Haha or a thumbs-up.

You met up with Roger on your usual catch-up night, but you hadn’t gotten very far into anything before he stopped and said, “You’re not really feeling it, are you?”

You made a face. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He passed your shirt to you, and he fetched his from the floor and slipped it on. “So… Brian has a date tomorrow night.”

You frowned. “He does?”

Roger nodded. “Yeah, he didn’t tell you about it?”

You looked down at your hands. “Um, no. He didn’t. I haven’t heard much from him, actually. After he… ended… things.”

“Whoa,” Roger said, climbing onto the bed. “Wait, really? With you?”

You nodded, and suddenly felt your throat close over. But you were not going to fucking cry about it, Jesus Christ. You swallowed it down, and gave Roger a mild look of interest. “Yeah. I didn’t even know he liked Dani, and then I ran into him at uni last week, and he just sort of said, ‘Hey, while I’m here,’ and then that was it. But I didn’t know the date was tomorrow night. He didn’t tell me.”

“I’m sure he was just distracted,” Roger said. “He gets like that with a girl he likes.” He shook his head. “Damn, he must be serious about her.”

“Yeah, must be.”

Roger paused, and then said, “Are you… okay?”

You shrugged. “Yeah, of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I dunno, it’s a pretty big… thing to have ended.”

“No, I’m fine,” you said lightly, giving him a smile. “We’re still friends. And I’ve still got you, right?”

“Yeah,” Roger said, although he didn’t sound entirely convinced.

“Yeah. So I’m good.” You sighed, willing away all the gross mess of emotions you were feeling. “I’m not really feeling going all the way, but making out sounds good, if you’re down.”

Luckily, that immediately distracted Roger, and he didn’t ask any further questions. And you poured everything you had into your kisses, hoping it would distract you, too.

You were hoping things would settle down for you, emotionally, over the next two weeks or so.

But that didn’t happen. Everything grew to be so much worse. Exponentially. You didn’t know whether you hated Brian, or Dani, or hated them as a couple, or if you just hated yourself. You couldn’t bear to be in the same room as the two of them, and you hadn’t spoken more than ten words to Dani. The thought of trying to be friends with her turned your stomach. She wasn’t particularly annoying, and she wasn’t a bad person in any way, but just something about her face and her voice and her fucking presence in your life just infuriated you.

You couldn’t get the idea out of your head that she looked like a mouse. Or a rat. Small pointy nose, big dark eyes, slight buck teeth. She was curvy, and at least a foot shorter than Brian, although it was hard to tell with the heels and platforms she always wore. Her hair was browny-blonde and long and thick, and she wore it slicked back in a pony, like Ariana Grande. Her ears glittered with delicate piercings. She liked to draw on freckles.

She was pretty. For a rat.

You did your best to hide how you felt about her. You thought you should’ve gotten a freaking Oscar for how well you hid it. At least from Brian. On the rare occasion that Dani wasn’t by his side, you let him talk about her, and did your best to seem encouraging.

There was a part of you – a bigger part than you wanted to admit – that believed they were going to break up soon enough. Then things could go back to normal, and this weird hiccup could be forgotten.

But they didn’t break up. They stayed together.

And so you ended up ranting about it all to Veronica. You knew you were really going on about it, and somehow you kept finding things to say about the situation when you knew there was nothing really more to say. Veronica listened, to a degree. But her advice was sensible and responsible and mature and you really didn’t feel like being any of those things. You wanted to throw a goddamn tantrum.

So you turned to Roger. Thank God for his high sex drive.

He wasn’t completely clueless. You had an air of desperation about you that you knew he could sense, and knowing that was almost enough to make you draw away from him, too.

Almost. But he always took such good care of you. It was selfish to keep asking him to meet up, but you felt like you would explode if you didn’t.

About a month after Brian and Dani had started dating, you and Roger were making out on the couch. It was rough, as sex frequently had been these past few weeks, and Roger’s grip on your waist was bruising as you rocked against him. Things were moments away from moving to the bedroom, when the front door opened unexpectedly.

You quickly looked up, a deer in headlights, and your stomach dropped.

“Oh, sorry,” Brian mumbled, ducking his head.

“No, it’s fine,” you said, and you’d tried to go for nonchalant, but your voice came out too sharp.

Roger tilted his head back. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Brian said. You watched as he kicked his shoes off and chucked his keys on the kitchen table.

“Sorry,” he said again, shooting you a quick glance. “I’ll just, uh…”

He hurried to his room.

There you were, looking already thoroughly debauched, on his couch, in Roger’s lap, and Brian had just ducked his head and ran.

You stared after him, your heart twisting around itself. He hadn’t even… He didn’t…

Once, he would have taken one look at you and pounced on you. He would’ve begged to kiss you, would’ve torn your clothes off.

Now, he acted like he’d walked in on Roger having a one-night stand with some girl he’d picked up at a bar. He acted like he’d never even been attracted to you at all.

Was it really so easy for him to move on? Were you really that forgettable?

“You all right?” Roger asked, his thumb touching your bottom lip.

You snapped to look at him. Shit, how much had you let on? “Yeah,” you said with a smile. “Just lost in my thoughts, nothing important.”

“You sure?” Roger asked.

You bit your lip and nodded. “Mm-hm. How about you take me to your room and fuck all those stupid little thoughts out of me?”

Roger paused for a moment, like he wanted to say something more, but your tongue darted out, lapping at the pad of his thumb, and you kept your eyes on his as you licked his thumb into your mouth. You watched, half excited, half relieved, as his eyes glazed over, his gaze fixated on your lips around his thumb.

It sickened you to even think about it, but you definitely had a little voice in the back of your head that hoped Brian could hear Roger fucking you.

“We should hang out,” you said to Brian. Just over a month, now. Final exams were breathing down everyone’s necks. It didn’t help your situation. “I feel like I never get to see you anymore. You’re with your girlfriend all the time.”

You’d run into him at uni. That was almost the only way you got to see him these days. And he no longer hugged you hello or goodbye, just kept a firm, amicable amount of distance between you.

He didn’t often look you in the eye these days, either. He shifted about whenever you talked, like he wanted to be somewhere else.

“Mm, yeah, maybe,” he said.

You swallowed down the hurt. “How about a movie night? Or we could just hang out, just the two of us.”

“Um.” Brian scratched his nose. “I’m pretty busy at the moment. Maybe we could do a group thing? That’d be fun. Me and Dani, John and Veronica, you and Rog.”

You frowned. “Me and Rog?”

“Yeah.”

“We’re not together.”

Brian shrugged. “I just thought– Well, I think it’d be nice. You two suit each other.”

“We don’t want to be a couple, Brian. What are you on about?”

“I just think it’d be good for you, that’s all. Being in a relationship is, well, really nice, and I think maybe you and Rog should at least give it a go.”

You were gobsmacked. You wanted to throw something, yell a stern reminder of, Hey, are you fucking stupid? Do you not remember the past eight months of our lives where you seemed perfectly content to not be in a relationship? Remember how many times the two of us were hounded by our friends about dating? You fucking hypocrite.

But you didn’t say any of that. There was an unspoken rule that neither of you ever brought up your old arrangement. It was as if it had never existed.

Most of the time, it seemed like Brian wished it hadn’t. Like it was some embarrassing secret.

“Well, we don’t want that, so you can mind your own business,” you said. “And where does Freddie fit into your little equation, anyway?”

Brian shrugged again. “He could bring a date along as well, I don’t know.”

“We’re not going on a– a quadruple date. Jesus.”

“Just an idea,” Brian muttered.

“You can still hang out with friends without your girlfriend, you know.”

Brian sighed. “Okay. Well.”

You sighed as well, gathering yourself. You tried again. “What about a party, or something? We haven’t been to a party in forever.”

Brian hesitated. “Well, one of Dani’s friends is having a party this weekend.”

Not exactly what you’d meant. “Maybe a little group of us could go?” you suggested. “If Dani’s all right with it? That could be fun.”

Brian nodded to himself. “Yeah,” he said mildly. “Yeah, that could work. I’ll ask her.”

“Great,” you said with a smile that you most certainly had to force onto your face. You began making a quick retreat, not waiting for him to formulate an excuse. “Text me, okay?”

“Yep,” he said, and you could tell he was already forgetting about it completely.

But, to your surprise, that weekend, you got a text from him. Dani said it’s all right if you and the others want to come along.

Your lip curled. It hardly sounded like Brian wanted any of you there. great, you replied. pres at yours?

I’ll actually be having pres at Lachlan’s, Brian sent. He’s one of Dani’s friends. But I’ll send you the details of the party and I’ll see you there.

But no one else wanted to come.

“No thanks,” Roger grumbled. “I’ve met some of Dani’s friends. They’re all complete wankers.”

“But I don’t want to go alone,” you whined.

“Ask Freddie. He’s always down for a good time.”

I can’t darling, Freddie texted. work early the next day. they said if I turn up hung-over or still drunk one more time they’ll fire me

u don’t have to get that drunk, you replied hopefully. just drink a bit and then go home early

then what would be the point of going lol?? Freddie sent.

“Sorry,” Veronica said. “Studying.”

You sulked. “You can’t afford to take a break just for a couple hours?”

“No. And, honestly, I don’t want to enable whatever thing you’re going through right now. I think getting drunk around Brian would be a bad idea.”

“I’ll be fine,” you said. “I just want an excuse to hang out as friends, okay? That’s all. It’s not enabling, it’s supporting.”

Veronica made a sound that told you she disagreed. You huffed and gave up. What did she know, anyway?

“Hey, Dea–”

“I’m not going to that party tonight,” John cut in smoothly, not even looking up from his textbook.

“But–”

“I’d rather sever my own foot.” He glanced up at you, giving you an apologetic half-smile. “Sorry. I just can’t stand being around Brian and Dani. They’re insufferable.”

At least that you could agree with.

everyone else is busy, you texted Brian. You bit your lip, debating whether to ask, but, damn it, fuck it all – can I come to lachlan’s pres and go with u guys?

It took him two hours to reply. Yeah, sure.

You felt sick. This was a bad idea.

It was by far too much trouble for what it was worth to get to Lachlan’s. You were terrified of turning up before Brian and Dani, so you arrived two and a half hours after when you were meant to be there.

That was better. It was easier to rock up when everyone was already pissed.

And they were very much pissed. Lachlan answered the door. He was tall and stocky, with brown hair and blue eyes. The sort of guy who looked like he’d played some kind of contact sport in high school, probably football, but now didn’t have a regular training schedule, and so was slowly losing the muscle he’d once had, replacing it with beer and burgers. The sort of guy who’d lose all of his hair by the time he was thirty-five, and get married so he’d have someone to get his beers for him when he was watching the game with the boys. The sort of guy who wanted kids because he liked the thought of telling people he had a couple of boys, rather than actually wanting to be a father.

Or maybe you were making a snap-judgement.

You introduced yourself, and he gave you a lopsided, skeezy grin, letting you into his place. “You here all on your own?” he asked.

Your shoulders tensed. “No,” you said. “I’m a friend of Brian’s. Dani’s new boyfriend.”

“Oh, yeah, sure, I know that. But you don’t have anyone to bring along with you?”

“Not tonight,” you said vaguely. “Busy schedules. Finals aren’t too far away, and all that.”

“Yeah, sick,” Lachlan said, looking you up and down. “Well.” He gestured with his beer to the crowd. “Make yourself at home.” He shot you another grin that made your hands grow clammy. “I’m glad Dani brought you along. Can’t wait to get to know you.”

You gave him an uneasy smile in return, and frantically looked for Brian and Dani. You found them – Dani was sitting on Brian’s lap, yuck – and fled from Lachlan.

“Hi,” you said.

“Oh, hey,” Brian said, and you could tell right off the bat he’d had a bit to drink already. His hand was splayed over Dani’s thigh, holding her to him, and you couldn’t bear to look at it. “Thought you weren’t gonna come.”

“I’m just late,” you said. “Hello, Dani.”

She gave you a polite smile, but didn’t try to engage in conversation.

Brian didn’t even notice. He squeezed Dani a little bit closer. “Well, you gonna drink?” he said.

Yes. Yes, you were. You held up your plastic bottle filled with Sprite and too much vodka. “Yep.”

Brian gave you a thumbs-up.

Dani turned to him. “Just need to go to the bathroom, baby,” she murmured, tapping his hand.

“All right, baby,” Brian murmured back, and you only just stopped yourself from making a face. The word baby sounded clunky, uncomfortable coming from Brian. “Be careful.”

Dani leant in for a kiss, and you turned away, uncapping your bottle and taking a decent swig, grimacing at the burn.

Brian didn’t like pet names. You knew he didn’t like pet names. And yet this ‘baby’ thing had sprung out of nowhere, and it drove you up the fucking wall.

You listened until the sound of Dani’s heels against the floorboards faded before you spoke. “‘Be careful’,” you muttered.

“What?” Brian said.

“She’s just walking to the toilet,” you said. “Not like she’s gonna get assaulted on the way.”

Brian looked mildly annoyed. “I just don’t want her to trip and fall over and hurt herself. She’s a lightweight, and she’s wearing heels. I’m just… trying to be a good boyfriend.”

You sighed. “Yeah, okay,” you said, not wanting to hear a word of it. You took another hefty swig of your drink. “I think I’ll, um, join the rest of the party.”

So much for hanging out with Brian. You wanted to be near him, wanted to talk to him, but you couldn’t bear it for more than five minutes.

You knew what it was – you wanted to talk to him how you used to. But you couldn’t do that anymore. Instead you had some weird, watered-down version of the Brian you knew.

You joined in half-heartedly with a few drinking games, but quickly discovered that you weren’t really in the mood for getting smashed anyway.

Brian and Dani stayed in their own little corner, giggling and whispering with each other, kissing and cuddling and being generally disgusting.

You didn’t even think they’d bother coming to the actual party. But they did, and the group of fifteen or so people in Lachlan’s sharehouse all staggered along the street for about ten minutes to get to the main event.

You’d managed to get along well enough with some of the girls, and Lachlan wouldn’t leave you alone, so you had no choice but to socialise. Which was good, in a way, because you lost Dani and Brian as soon as you walked into the party.

Not that you particularly liked the girls you were talking to. Everyone just had such a weird vibe, like they weren’t sure if they could be bothered to talk to you, but also felt obliged to make you feel welcome. They kept bursting into laughter and you had no idea why, and no one bothered to explain the jokes. But then they complimented your outfit and asked you how your day had been, and they listened with encouraging nods and wide eyes of interest when you answered. Until someone said something that they found more interesting, and then they turned away from you when you were halfway through a sentence. It was off-putting, to say the least; you couldn’t seem to find your footing.

Lachlan, however, was the icing on the cake. The sour, out-of-date icing on the stale cake. He flirted with you incessantly, either not picking up your clear signals that you weren’t interested, or just ignoring them. The others weren’t helping, either, egging the two of you on. A whole lot of wink-wink-nudge-nudge that you were not enjoying at all.

You should’ve just gone home. You didn’t know why you didn’t just leave.

But, for some reason, you stayed. Maybe you hoped that Brian would see your discomfort and come and talk to you – not that you’d seen him for the past hour – or that this strange group of people would want to talk with their friend Dani, and you’d be able to swoop in and catch up with Brian without Dani hanging around awkwardly.

Whatever it was, it was a stupid reason.

And then came truth or dare.

You didn’t want to play, but you were roped into it regardless. There was a rule, you found out, that you were allowed to back out of one truth or dare, and you had to drink if you did so – but only the once, so you had to choose wisely. Someone dared you to show everyone what underwear you were wearing.

Needless to say, you drank instead.

You could tell that no one was very impressed with any of the dares or questions you came up with, even though your friendship group loved your questions and dares. This group seemed to like the brainless shit – if it was gross, or sexual, or nasty in any way, they were all over it. Barely anyone chose ‘truth’.

Then it was Lachlan’s turn, and he turned to you. He grinned, and your stomach sank to the floor. “Dare you to kiss me,” he drawled, and the crowd gasped and ooh’d dramatically.

You didn’t even hesitate to snatch up your cider, but Lachlan quickly said, “You’ve already drunk, you can’t do it twice.”

“Well, I’m doing it twice,” you snapped, and took a swig.

You received jeers and boos for that, and Gina, the girl beside you, took your beer from your hand and said, “You can’t do that!”

“You gotta kiss me, that’s the rules,” Lachlan said above the sounds of everyone else.

“I don’t want to,” you said, your voice wavering.

“You have to,” said Savannah. “You have to, you have to, it’s the rules.”

“Come on,” said – whatever her fucking name was. “Stop being such a pussy, just get it over with.”

Lachlan was starting to look a bit pissed off by now. “Fucking hell, just come and kiss me,” he said. “Don’t be a bitch about it.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you could feel your hands starting to shake. “Jesus – no, all right? I don’t want to,” you snapped.

The room felt too loud, too stuffy, too overwhelming.

“Lachlan, just think of something else,” you said.

“Okay, fine, whatever,” Gina complained. “Just do something else.”

“No, I gave you a dare already,” Lachlan said sourly. “It’s not even that big of a deal, like, I don’t even know what the problem is.”

“If she doesn’t want to-”

“That’s the fucking rules,” Lachlan said, throwing his hands in the air like you were the one being unreasonable. “Is that not the fucking rules? Goddamn.”

“Okay, then just kiss him already,” said whatever-the-fuck-her-name-was, waving you over. “Whatever, just hurry up.”

“I’m fucking bored with this shit already,” Savannah said. “Just kiss him or don’t kiss him, whatever. God, this party sucks.”

“It doesn’t suck, she’s just being a bitch,” Lachlan protested.

“Don’t call me a bitch,” you said.

“I’m just teasing,” Lachlan said, crawling over to you. You shrunk away from him, your heart beating like a cantering horse, and he grabbed your wrist. “One kiss, c’mon,” he said, his voice light and friendly, like you were happy to play along.

But you weren’t happy to play along. You didn’t know if everyone was too drunk to notice your obvious discomfort, or they didn’t care, but this was crossing the goddamn line.

“Fuck off, Lachlan,” you said, trying to pull your wrist back. You’d wanted your voice to be tough, to be assertive, but it was small and weak, and then Lachlan leant in for a kiss.

You turned your face away. “Lachlan–”

“Just fucking kiss me, for God’s sake, woman,” Lachlan growled, and grabbed your face with his other hand.

You pushed his hand away, and, without thinking, blurted out the one word that your panicked brain told you would stop everything in its tracks: “Nickleback.”

“What?” Lachlan said, and, good fucking God, of course that wouldn’t work, you were such a fucking idiot, and now you had no back-up plan, nothing else to do, and that word was supposed to stop things, why wasn’t it stopping things–

But then Lachlan was gone, and you felt a hand grab your other wrist and yank you up from the floor, and you unthinkingly leant into the body the hand belonged to as you were led from the room and into a bedroom, and the noise around you became muffled as the door closed behind you.

Then Brian was setting you down on the bed and sitting beside you. In an ideal world, he would have wrapped his arms around you and you would’ve been able to breathe again, like in a movie, but instead there was an awkward amount of space between you as he gingerly asked, “Are you all right?”

You barely even snuck a glance at him. You were humiliated by what had just happened, humiliated by needing him to rescue you, humiliated by your desperate craving for his touch, his comfort. You stared at the floor, curling in on yourself, and you nodded silently. Your hands still shook from adrenaline, and you could hear your heartbeat in your ears.

Brian sighed. “I’m sorry about them. I didn’t know…”

You shook your head. “It’s fine,” you mumbled.

Brian said nothing for a while, and then he reached over and patted you on the back. So achingly unfamiliar, and you felt your shoulders grow even more hunched than they already were. You didn’t think he’d ever touched you like that. Like you were a complete stranger.

You ducked your head, squeezing your eyes shut. Don’t you dare fucking cry.

There was a soft knock on the door, and Brian said, “Yeah?”

You glanced up to see Dani poke her head in, and you quickly looked away again. “Hey, baby,” she said.

Your stomach crawled.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Brian said.

“All right,” Dani said. You could feel her hovering awkwardly.

Brian said your name, catching your attention, and then said, “I’ll just… let you have some time to yourself, all right?”

You said nothing. You did nothing. And Brian stood up and left the room, closing the door behind him.

“What happened?” came Dani’s voice from just outside the door.

“Lachlan was harassing her,” Brian said.

“They were just playing,” Dani said. “They’re all drunk, it’s just truth or dare.”

“No, I know, but…”

“You didn’t have to run in there like there was a fire and pull her out of there like that. Everyone’s going to ask me what that was all about. Where did that come from?”

Your ears were straining to hear Brian’s response.

“I… I just knew she needed to get out,” he said eventually.

“She could have left if she was uncomfortable.”

“She gets really anxious sometimes, she just freezes.”

You realised, then, that he must’ve heard you say ‘Nickleback’. He must have heard it and immediately known that something was wrong.

You groaned quietly to yourself, covering your face with your hands. Your ex-friend-with-benefits had heard you yell out your old safeword in the middle of a party, and had felt obliged to rush in like a knight in shining armour to swoop you to safety. Jesus Christ.

“She’s an adult, baby,” Dani said. “I’m sure she was fine.” You heard someone sigh. “It’s sweet that you guys are friends, but you don’t have to…”

“What?”

“Look out for her that much.”

“What do you mean? She’s my friend.”

Dani was silent for a while. “Did you guys used to…?”

The air was sucked from the room. Your ears strained to hear every word.

“What?” Brian said, clearly thrown.

“Did you used to date? It just seems like…”

“No,” Brian said quickly. “No, we never dated.”

“You’re not lying to me?”

“No, baby. I promise you, we never dated.”

You grimaced.

Someone sighed again. “Okay,” Dani said. “Good. The last thing I’d want is for you to be friends with an ex.”

Brian chuckled. It sounded forced. “Yeah, of course.”

“I’m glad we agree. Gimme a kissy?”

You could’ve thrown up right then and there. A kissy?

You could hear them murmuring to each other, and Dani’s voice had a particular whiny, baby-talk tone to it that made you want to ‘accidentally’ open the door into the both of them. But then they left, and you were even more alone than before, and you lay down on the bed and curled into a ball, feeling sorry for yourself.

It was time to go home.

By the grace of God himself, Brian offered to wait outside with you, sitting beside you on the kerb, while you called a ride home. Dani stayed inside with her friends.

“I’m sorry about… what happened,” Brian said, and you went still as a statue.

“What do you mean?” you said softly.

“Lachlan, and all of that.”

You let out a breath. “Oh,” you said. “Yeah, that. It’s fine.”

Silence. It wriggled under your skin like cockroaches.

You wanted to touch Brian. You wanted him to touch you. You wanted Roger there, too. You wanted them to want you, like they used to. You wanted to be allowed to want them like they used to love.

But Roger wasn’t there. And Brian barely was, either.

“Brian?” Dani called from the front door.

Brian twisted around. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Oh, okay. Just checking everything’s good.”

“Yeah, we’re fine. Still waiting for the car.”

“Okay. See you inside.”

“Yep.”

“Miss you, baby.”

Brian chuckled. “Miss you too.”

You waited until Brian had turned back around to face the road, and then blurted out, “Why do you let her call you that? You hate pet names.”

Brian frowned, looking to you. “What?”

“Pet names. You hate them.”

“I don’t hate them,” he said.

“You don’t like them, at least.”

“According to who?”

“According to you,” you said. “You told me. And you never–” You never called me anything but my name when we were fucking. “You never said you liked them.”

“Well, I do,” Brian said. “And why do you care, anyway?”

“I just think it’s weird,” you said, and you were aiming for casual but you knew you sounded brash. “You don’t sound like yourself.”

“I’ve never had a girlfriend the whole time we’ve known each other,” Brian said. “You don’t know what I’m like when I’m in a relationship.”

“You shouldn’t change who you are when you’re in a relationship,” you said. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“I’m not changing who I am,” Brian said, his face pinched. “What has gotten into you?”

“Nothing,” you said harshly. “I just think you’re lying to yourself. You don’t like calling her baby, and you don’t like being called baby, and I just think it’s weird that you wouldn’t just say that.”

“Well, I just think it’s weird you think you have the right to comment on my relationship,” Brian said. “I like calling her baby. And I like it when she calls me baby.”

“But you don’t,” you insisted. “I can hear it in your voice.”

“What?” Brian exclaimed. “What the fuck are you on about?”

“I know you, okay?” you snapped. “I know you far better than she does. And I know you don’t like pet names, but you won’t tell her for some reason.”

“I won’t tell her because I like them,” Brian said. “And she knows me, too, you know.”

“She’s known you for, like, two months! Less than!” you said. “That’s nothing.”

“Why…” Brian floundered. “There isn’t some – time limit on these things. You can’t judge if someone knows someone better just by how long…”

“I just don’t get it,” you said. “Maybe that’s my fault, but I don’t get how someone can just walk into your life and suddenly they’re the most important person you’ve ever met when you’ve only known them for five minutes.”

“You’ve clearly never fallen in love,” Brian said snootily.

“Oh, fuck off,” you scoffed. “You’re not in love with her.”

“How would you know?”

“You’ve only been dating a couple weeks! Come on, Brian. You can call each other baby all you like, but I know you.”

“I like pet names,” Brian said, his voice hard. “I just never called you one because, in case you’ve forgotten, you were never my fucking girlfriend. So, for the love of God, can you stop acting like a jealous ex.”

It was like a stab to the gut and a twist of the knife all at the same time. All you could do was sit in stunned silence.

Brian looked at you, almost like he was waiting for a response, and when he never received one, he sighed, stood, and left.

Your chin wobbled, your vision blurred, and you scrabbled for your phone in your handbag.

Roger opened the door. “Hey–”

You leapt onto him, kissing him furiously. He stumbled, but kept his balance, one arm curling around your waist and the other groping for the door, pushing it closed. You spun him around and backed him up, pressing him against the door, and ducked your head to suck at his neck, palming at him through his sweatpants.

Roger jumped. “Oh, God, okay,” he said with a surprised laugh. “You’re really…”

You nodded, and captured his lips again, nipping at his bottom lip. “I want you so bad,” you breathed. “I want you to fuck me hard, Daddy, please.”

You didn’t wait for him to reply, and kissed him. You slipped your hands into his underwear, and he tensed underneath you, surprised again.

You needed him to fuck you, to bruise you, to bite you. To make you feel wanted, needed. To mark you up, to make you scream, to make it hurt. You needed it so badly that your hands shook.

Roger put a hand to your collarbones, and you thought he was going to choke you, but instead he pushed you back, just enough to stare into your face.

“Are you sure you want to call me Daddy?” he asked unsurely. “You seem a little…”

“What?” you said.

“Not yourself,” Roger said. “Are you– Have you been drinking?”

“The fuck does that mean?” you said. “I just really need you to fuck me hard, does that not sound like me?”

“I don’t–”

“Roger,” you cut in sharply, and then quickly softened your tone into something whinier, needier, more enticing. “Daddy. I want you. Please.”

Roger’s frown never disappeared. “I don’t want you to call me Daddy,” he said.

You blinked, taken aback. “Um, okay,” you said. You could still work with that. “No Daddy.” You went to kiss him again, but he held you away.

You resisted huffing in frustration. “Roger…”

“This is about Brian, isn’t it?” he said.

“What?” you said. “No. Why would it be about Brian? I want you.”

“You’re drunk and upset and jealous, and you want me to fuck you how he used to fuck you, because you miss it.”

A slap to the face would’ve hurt less. Your hands fell limp at your sides. “What?”

“Is that not what’s happening right now?” Roger said, his hands dropping as well. “Is that not why you’re over? You went to that party, got yourself all worked up and upset, and now you want to be fucked how Brian used to fuck you?”

You blinked. “N– No,” you said, and you meant it, but the more Roger said it, the more you thought that maybe he was right, and you hadn’t even realised.

“Because it’s what it feels like,” Roger said. “It feels like I’m just an outlet for you. It’s not even about you and me anymore, it’s about you and him.”

Oh my God. You hated to admit it, but he was right. You covered your mouth with your hands, horrified at yourself. “Fuck, Roger, I…”

“I’m ending the arrangement between us,” he said simply. “It’s not fun anymore, and it’s definitely not healthy. You need time to… I don’t even know. But you need time, and I don’t really feel like being collateral damage. Especially not with end-of-year exams literally just around the corner.”

No. No, no, no, fuck, not this, anything but this.

“No, Rog, please, I’m sorry,” you said. “I wasn’t thinking, I– I can’t–” You felt tears welling up in your eyes. “Please. I…”

Roger sighed, and pulled you into a hug. You clutched onto him, and, finally, cried. “Jesus Christ,” he murmured sympathetically, stroking your hair. “This whole thing has really messed you up, hasn’t it?”

“I c– can’t lose you t– too,” you sobbed into his shirt.

“You’re not losing me. We’re still friends. It just… won’t be with the benefits anymore. For now, at least. Maybe forever, I don’t know. See how things go. But I’m never going to stop being friends with you.”

Your body shook as you cried, and Roger rubbed your back, letting you ruin his shirt.

The Bee Movie played on the TV, but your heart wasn’t in it. You leant against Roger, a cup of tea in your hands, and one in his. You were exhausted from crying, and you almost found yourself nodding off. Normally there was nothing more fun than enjoying the trials and tribulations of Barry B. Benson with Roger, but now not even casual bestiality was enough to cheer you up.

Roger didn’t say much, either. You had no idea what he was thinking, although you were pretty sure he wasn’t really watching the movie, just staring at the screen.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice breaking a little.

Roger sighed. “It’s okay,” he said, giving you a soft, sad smile. “I know you’re going through a tough time right now.”

“I don’t even understand why,” you said, your bottom lip trembling. Not again. “I never liked him like that, not ever. I know I never liked him like that. I didn’t want to go out on dates with him, or be his girlfriend, or any of that. So I don’t get why it – hurts so much.”

“Your thing went on for a really long time,” Roger reasoned. “And now it’s gone. I can’t blame you. I…” He bit his lip. “I… kinda miss it too, to be honest.”

You frowned at him in confusion. “You miss… Brian?”

“I miss…” Roger took a sip of his tea. “I miss the dynamic, I suppose. We actually got a lot closer because of it. And it was fun, you know? Especially the threesomes, those were really fun.”

You managed a tired laugh.

“It was just nice to have… a thing, that was ours,” Roger said. “Us three, I don’t know. This thing that was ours. I don’t know if that makes sense.”

“No, it does,” you said. You paused, and then said, “You and Brian aren’t as close now?”

Roger shrugged a shoulder. “Not… really?” he said unsurely. “We haven’t really hung out a lot recently. I mean, we’ve been studying a lot, so I haven’t really seen much of anyone as of late, but, like, for a while, me and Brian hung out a whole lot, just the two of us. Guess you end up feeling closer when you have to talk about your feelings all the time. And when you see each other naked every so often.” He shot you a smile, and you smiled back. “But now it’s sort of in a weird place. I mean, none of us have seen him a lot, he’s just with Dani all day and night. Which makes sense, they’re in their honeymoon phase. But I do miss… that.”

You nodded in understanding. “It doesn’t even feel like he wants to be around me,” you said in a small voice. “Like I’m not even friends with him anymore.”

“You are,” Roger assured you. “You just… both have to learn how to be… normal friends again.”

“And us too,” you added.

Roger blinked, but nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, us, too.”

You didn’t want to say it, you knew you shouldn’t say it, but the alcohol had loosened your tongue: “You gonna miss me?”

Roger’s eyes widened for a moment, and then he took a big breath in and out, shaking his head. “Damn,” he muttered.

“Sorry, ignore me,” you mumbled. “I’m just being sad and pathetic.”

“You’re not sad and pathetic,” Roger said. “But I’m not gonna miss you, you’ll still be around.”

“You know what I mean,” you said.

“Yeah, I know,” Roger said. He sighed again. “I don’t think… it would be good for either of us if I answered that.”

You said nothing. It felt like Roger wanted to say more, but he didn’t.

“But…” You looked to him, and he looked to you. “Can we still be friends like before?” you asked him. “I mean, just – with Brian, he won’t even hug me hello or goodbye, he barely looks at me, he doesn’t want to be near me, I just–” You shook your head. “I couldn’t stand it if you did that, too. Can we at least just be friends?”

Roger nodded. “Of course,” he said.

“Yes?”

“Yes, of course,” he said again. “I promise you, okay? I like hugs just as much as you do.”

You nodded, reassured. “Thank you.”

Roger threw his arm around you and gave you a squeeze, then took his arm back.

A month and a bit ago, he would’ve left his arm there, around your shoulders. You would’ve pressed closer into him. Probably eventually would’ve lifted your head to kiss his neck, or maybe your hands – or his hands – would’ve gone wandering.

But a squeeze was something, at least, and you were grateful for it. You told yourself you were grateful for it.

Three-ish months later

The air was just starting to cool, and, for the first time in a while, you pulled on a jacket.

It had been a while since you’d seen your flat. You’d gone home for the summer – not for the whole time, you still had rent to pay and you didn’t want to waste it, but for a few weeks – which had been a welcomed change of scenery.

After how your previous semester of uni had ended, the last thing you’d wanted was to hang around the flat.

It had been an uncomfortable summer. The mid-year break, last year, you hadn’t gone home. You’d told your parents it was because of the rent thing, but in reality, it had mostly been about Roger and Brian. A month off uni, and your flatmate Lucy had gone home for the break, meaning you had a free house? That had been a wild couple of weeks.

You shook your head. Stop, you reprimanded yourself. It did you no good to reminisce. You’d had an entire summer to sort things out for yourself, to reset, and it was a bad idea to let yourself slip. You’d barely spoken to Roger or Brian all summer, just to give yourself some space.

You’d missed them. A lot. Maybe cried once or twice. Maybe more. But that was only for you to know.

You doubted that they’d missed you.

The thought still felt like a stab to the gut, and you squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head at yourself. Stop it. Stop.

There was a knock on the front door, and you were momentarily surprised – but you knew it was Veronica. You took a moment to get your thoughts together, then hurried to the door to let her in.

She greeted you with a joyous cry of your name and a warm hug. “It’s been so long!”

The two of you rocked from foot to foot, and you breathed in her familiar smell. You hadn’t seen her since before Christmas.

When the hug eventually ended, Veronica sighed happily. “Can’t believe I’ve missed you,” she said, and you laughed, giving her a backhand slap on the arm.

“Cow,” you said.

“So you’ve kept the same place?”

“Yep,” you said.

“Lucy still your flatmate?”

“Yeah. It works well, so.”

“No, no, she’s lovely,” Veronica said with a nod. “Did she want to come to drinks tonight?”

You glanced towards Lucy’s room instinctively, even though you knew she wasn’t in there. “She’s not coming back until Wednesday, I think.”

“Ah, well, answers that question.” Veronica gave you a smile. You could tell there was a question on the tip of her tongue, and you just stood there, waiting for her to ask it.

She sighed again, resigned. She knew she’d been sprung. “I wasn’t going to ask. I– I wasn’t sure if I should.”

“I’m okay,” you said. “I’m fine.”

Veronica squinted at you unsurely, like she wanted to press you for further information, but wasn’t sure if it was a good idea. “Fine?”

“It’s been a bit rough, but I’m okay,” you said.

You’d tell her the truth soon enough. You had no willpower when it came to Veronica. But you weren’t in the mood for a whole conversation right now.

“So you’re all right for tonight?”

You rolled your eyes. “Am I capable of getting drinks with my friends? Yes, I think so.”

“Even though Dani will be there?”

“Brian and Dani have been dating for, like, five months now – and don’t say it like that. Brian isn’t my ex.”

“Roger’s dating someone,” Veronica blurted.

Your heart leapt into your throat. Stop. “Oh?” you said, and it sounded warped and wonky. “Since when? Good for him. Have you met her?”

“Once,” Veronica said. “Just last week, when I dropped by the flat. Her name is–” She let out a laugh. “Actually, this is really funny. Her name is Freddy.”

You laughed. “What?” you squawked. “Freddy?”

“Freddy with a Y,” Veronica said. “Roger made that very clear when I met her. As if that changes anything.”

“God, I bet that’s confusing in bed,” you said.

“Yeah, well, I’m guessing the ‘with a Y’ part makes all the difference for Roger.”

“Freddy,” you mused. “What’s it short for?”

“No idea. But she’s not as hot as you are.”

You shot Veronica a mock glare. “Roger isn’t my ex either.”

“Still,” Veronica said lightly. She hesitated, and then said, “Have you spoken to either of them recently?”

“No, not really,” you said, as casually as you could muster. “Look, Ron, could we just… table this conversation for later? I’m not really up to it.”

“Yeah, of course,” Veronica said, waving a hand. “Sorry, sorry, I’ll keep my nose out of it. Let’s just go. Are you ready?”

You took a steadying breath. “So ready,” you said, hoping you sounded more confident than you felt.

Arriving at the local pub felt like coming home. The smell of beer, the roar of conversation, the bundles of people crowded around tables. The floor was sticky, there weren’t enough places to sit, and the prices up on the chalkboard on the wall were far too high.

You scrunched your nose. Coming home sucked.

“I forgot how much I hate this place,” you yelled into Veronica’s ear. “We need to find somewhere less popular, Jesus.”

“I know,” Veronica said. “I’ve mentioned it to John; he thinks the same.”

“Next time.”

“Yeah, next time.”

You said that every time.

Veronica corroborated her instructional texts from John with the view in front of her in order to find everyone else. They were tucked away in a corner booth, crammed into the space.

You’d had enough trouble as it was, trying to fit everyone into a booth. You couldn’t even imagine how you were going to make it work with two new people in the group.

Veronica took your hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze as you neared the table.

There was John, at the end of the booth, facing you – his eyes lit up when he spotted Veronica, and began shifting over to make room for her beside him. At the end of the table, on a chair, was Freddie. He noticed John’s line of sight, and he turned to you, his smile wide.

You couldn’t really see the others. Just the back of Brian’s head. But that was hard to miss.

Freddie stood up to give you a warm hug as Veronica tossed around a few ‘hello’s and slid in next to John. “Darling!” Freddie said. “I haven’t seen you all break.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you said.

Freddie waved you off. “It’s fine,” he said. “I understand.” He glanced towards the other occupants of the booth.

“Don’t start,” you muttered, and Freddie gave your arm a swift pat.

“Speaking of which,” he said, turning. “Roger, Brian, you remember our dear friend, I’m sure?”

You resisted elbowing Freddie in the side, giving Brian and Roger tight smiles.

At the same time, your eyes landed on Dani and her browny blonde Ariana Grande ponytail and her mouse face and her curvy body pressed into Brian’s side. And beside Roger, tucked under his arm, was a blonde, tanned girl. Blue eyes, like Roger, but hers were light, strikingly so, and a perfect full face of make-up. Her brows were dark and bold, and her lips looked pouty and soft.

‘Not as hot as you were’ your arse. This girl looked like she modelled in her spare time.

Your jaw clenched. You resisted dragging Veronica away by her ear and having a word with her.

Stop it. Stop it.

“This is Freddy,” Freddie said.

“With a Y,” Roger added quickly.

“Yes, with a Y,” Freddie said dryly. “Roger’s new flame.”

“Hi,” Freddy said with a smile. Her teeth were very white. She lifted a well-manicured hand to fiddle with the silver chain around her neck.

You could see the discolouration on her knuckles. Well, at least you knew her tan wasn’t real. That was something. Wasn’t it?

No. It wasn’t. She looked incredible anyway. Didn’t even matter that she was wearing fake tan. What a stupid thing to think.

You introduced yourself.

There was a pause where no one really knew what to say next.

“Hi, by the way,” John said.

Relieved, you gave him a smile. “Hi, John, how are you?”

“Not too bad. Do you want to find a chair?”

God bless John Deacon. “Let me help you,” Freddie said, and you both began wandering through the crowd together, knowing there was no way in hell you’d be able to find a chair.

“How are you?” Freddie asked. “Actually, sod the fucking chair, let’s get a drink.”

“Sounds superb,” you said.

“Try again,” Freddie said when you’d gotten in line. “How are you?”

“Fine,” you said. “And you?”

“Good, fine,” Freddie said. “Lonely. I want a boyfriend. Everyone else is in a godforsaken relationship, so I only think it’s reasonable. Look at me, the token lonely, single homosexual in a group of straight people. Right out of an early 2000s chick flick. I may as well start wearing skinny scarves and a vest and talk about how much I love shopping. Do you think I’m sassy enough?”

“Stop it,” you said. “If you start wearing skinny scarves, I’ll strangle you with one.”

“If I start wearing skinny scarves, I’d practically be begging you to,” Freddie muttered.

“I’m sorry you’re lonely,” you said. “I could be your wingwoman, if you like. We could go out together.”

Freddie gave you a smile. “Yeah, I’d like that,” he said. His eyes scanned the chalkboard, as did yours, but it was more habit than anything else. “What did you get up to during the break?”

“Slept,” you said, and Freddie chuckled, nodding in agreement.

“Ate too much,” he added.

“Yep, that too,” you said with a laugh. “Never left the house.”

“Except to buy more booze.”

“Or take the bins out.”

Freddie laughed. “Isn’t summer wonderful.”

“Oh, it’s just perfect,” you said, and it came out so bitter, with such a sneer in your tone, that Freddie cracked up. A few heads turned, but they usually did, with Freddie.

“Did you stay here or go home?” you asked.

“Both,” Freddie said. “Mostly here, though. Just wanted to see the family for a while, but I’m far more comfortable here.”

You nodded.

“Did you talk to Brian and Roger much?” Freddie said.

You shook your head. “No.”

That was all.

“Well, shit,” Freddie said. “That’s all just completely fucked, then?”

“It’s fine,” you said. You reached the front of the line, and went to order. Freddie followed you.

You ordered a cider, then Freddie ordered a pint. “What do you think of Freddy with a Y?” Freddie asked as the bartender poured your drinks.

“I’ve barely met her,” you said. “Didn’t know she existed until Ron told me just before we left mine.”

“Jesus,” Freddie said. “You really haven’t spoken to them.”

“No,” you said. “And Roger doesn’t post much on social media, either, so. And Brian posts far too much, so I know way too much about him and Dani for my liking, which is wonderful.”

“I’m sorry,” Freddie said. “God, I’m sorry it’s all gone to shit, I really am. That’s miserable, darling.”

“It’s fine,” you said. The bartender set your drinks in front of you, and you and Freddie collected them, weaving your way back to the table.

“Did you… get around to dating much?” Freddie asked.

“Wasn’t in the mood,” you said.

Freddie said nothing. Message received.

You arrived back at the booth. While you’d gotten a drink, you hadn’t solved the seating problem.

You bunched up next to Veronica. It wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t unbearable.

You met Brian’s eyes across the table. He gave you a warm smile. It hurt. You hated that it hurt. “I haven’t said hi yet,” he said, like you hadn’t just gone three months without seeing or speaking to each other. “How you going?”

“Good, good,” you said, and took a swig of cider. “You?”

“Yeah, great. Get up to much?”

“Not really. Did you?”

“Not too much,” Brian said. “Dani and I took a little trip south. That was nice, wasn’t it, baby?”

“So nice,” Dani said with a cheeky, knowing little grin at Brian.

He shook his head at her, and she giggled, then reached up for a quick kiss.

You knew about the little trip south. Everybody knew about the little trip south. Brian had waxed poetry about it on Instagram for every single day they were away. “So lots of sex, then,” you said.

Veronica choked on her water, and Roger burst out laughing.

You hadn’t realised he’d been listening to the conversation.

Dani’s face was turning tomato-red, and she hid her face behind her hand. Brian managed a good-natured chuckle, albeit a slightly forced one, and you could tell he was rubbing Dani’s knee under the table.

“What, what was the joke?” Freddie said immediately.

“Nothing,” you said, and turned to Roger. “So, Freddy, with a Y, how did you and Roger meet?”

“Bumble,” Freddy said, unabashed. “About a month ago?”

“Yeah, about that,” Roger said.

“Yeah, Ron said,” you said. “That’s nice.”

“So there’s…” Roger licked his bottom lip. “There’s no one you’ve got your eye on, then?”

“No,” you said, uncomfortable. Why would anyone want you? You were messy, you were too much. You were demanding. You were easily replaced.

You took a sip of cider. Stop.

It had been three months, for God’s sake. Three months of no contact, and still you were left with an ugly, twisted feeling in the pit of your stomach after everything that had happened.

None of it had even mattered. You’d always known it had had an expiration date. You were just…

You hated feeling like this.

“Hey,” Veronica said suddenly, raising her glass of water. “Let’s make a toast, shall we? To the new year. To– to passing our classes, and to ramen, and to… fresh starts.”

Everyone raised their glasses, saying something along the lines of cheers, and began clinking their glasses together. You took a moment longer, but joined in.

Veronica met your eyes to clink her glass to yours. “Fresh starts,” she said with a small smile.

You couldn’t quite say it back, so you smiled and nodded, then took a sip of your cider.

You could feel Brian’s and Roger’s eyes on you. You pretended to be interested in something happening across the room.

God, you couldn’t wait for this chapter of your life to be nothing but a bad dream.

#try series #try verse #my writing #queen fanfiction #roger taylor x reader #brian may x reader #rpf #angst

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captainjimothycarter · 4 years ago

Note

Prompt: what about Peggy and Fury? Like, did she hand pick him to replace her when she retired? Did she train him? Like, what’s their history or backstory?

okay, so I don’t 100% know the history of Shield because I don’t follow comics and MCU doesn’t like to give us lots so here’s my interpretation of it.

Nicholas Fury had to be one of the most frustrated man she’s ever worked with. Not only did he undermine her orders but he wasn’t afraid to step up to the Director of Shield and tell her that she’s respectfully wrong. And even during one heated argument, he’d told her that maybe her old age was starting to catch up to her. And even worst, during one particular hard argument, he’d told her maybe those strokes she had a few years ago left some damage on her brain.

Those two times, Fury had walked home with a broken nose and was lucky that was the only thing she’d done to him.

And damnit, didn’t he know it.

While Fury was frustrating as hell, he wasn’t afraid to speak his mind. Peggy had to admit a few of her orders had been out there, not fully understanding the situation, in the same manner, her men on the ground were. She wasn’t fed the whole situation, rather then bits and pieces that didn’t quite give her the same point of view, so she understood when he put her in her place those few times.

But mentions of her age? Her strokes? Uncalled for and unmentioned information that didn’t need to be said.

That being said, Fury made the hard calls that she’s seen no other agent made. She’s seen him make the wrong choices for the right reasons. She’s seen him deal with the consequences of his decision with no complaint, rather that was extra training the new agents that he hated to do or put on the bar until she was determined to have cleaned up his mess. Of course, both times he’d go behind her back to continue his job because it was the thing to do.

The worst thing about it? This entire worst thing about it. He reminded her of Steve when it came to speaking his mind. Maybe it was nostalgia catching up to her, but not even Steve was this hardheaded.

Maybe.

“Who trained you, Agent?” Peggy sighed as she sat back in her chair, throwing back the last of her whiskey.

Fury laughed and rolled his eyes, tossing yet another folder onto her desk. There was quite the pile-up here of new recruits. “I think we both know the answer to that one, Director.” His eyes flash to hers and there was that smirk. “You did and you knew it. Hand trained me for whatever reason you deemed fit. Said you couldn’t trust any other agent.”

“I still don’t. Your skills in the military spoke to me, your career history, there’s something different about it that threw me off.” Or reminded her too much, either way, she made her choices and had to lie in her bed.

“Was there a point to this question?” He poured them both another one and threw his back before she had a chance to even pick up her glass. “You’re not the conversational type.”

“Then you don’t know me in the right company.”

“I’m afraid Stark Isn’t either – not anymore. Too focused in whatever the hell they’re doing in Stark Industries.”

“You know anything about that?”

“Jack shit as ever, not even my men can get a clue down there. He’s too good at hiding whatever the hell he’s doing and that’s bothering me. No man like that – nothing good comes out from him hiding stuff.”

Peggy hummed in agreement. It went without saying that Howard's hiding things never ended well. Half of Manhattan was still recovering from lost eyebrows at this point. “You’re right,” she sighed, closing a file with a disgusted noise. Something about the man’s juvenile history, she refused to hire people on with the history of past abuses. “There was a point to that question. We have a diplomatic meeting tomorrow in the UK.”

If Fury was surprised at that matter, he said nothing. He just closed his file and drained the rest of her whiskey from the bottle and left. Peggy had to admit as she watched him leave, she admired this young Agent with a full life ahead of him.

Diplomatic meetings were the worst part of the job if you asked her. Technically Shield wasn’t supposed to be here, given the circumstances but they’d asked her to come so to keep the good faith, she did. And she supposed that’s where the problem began, trying to keep the good faith. She was no idiot, no fool to surprises, so when this turned to a surprise kidnapping, well, Peggy was not so fooled as they wanted to think.

It wasn’t easy taking down three men but she managed. She still had the skills, just a little slower in her age. The men were unconscious or dead on the floor, at this point she didn’t care. There was a stinging in her side from where a knife grazed her skin and all she wanted to do was get that stitched and curse out the idiot who scheduled this thing.

Where the hell had Fury gone?

She followed the backside of the man up to the rafters, cursing as she watched his hand-to-hand combat with nothing in his defense against a gunfight a masked man. “Carter watch out!”

Peggy barely had time to move out of the way before the bullet grazed her shoulder. If Fury hadn’t knocked the man down by tackling him, she would’ve been killed on the spot. She watched as the young Agent was kicked in the head by combat boots and a metallic arm was swung to pick him up by his throat, holding him over a drop that would, sure enough, kill him.

She hasn’t used a gun in weeks, but Peggy’s no stranger to it. She fired off all five rounds in the direction of the masked man, one bullet catching the metallic arm. It was enough to make him drop Fury, the man grasping the rafter before he was simply gone.

“Are you okay?” Peggy asked, looking up at Fury while a medic stitched up the gash along her ribcage. Fury was worst for ware with a bullet wound in his shoulder and bruises forming on his throat, but beyond a new appreciation for his feet on the ground, he was better off.

“I should be asking you that, Director.” He cleared his throat and jerked his chin at the guy cleaning her wound, taking over for him. “I should’ve stayed by your side to protect you, as the plan was but I saw him coming for you. I take it you know him?”

“The Asset? No. He’s a goddamn mystery. Anyone who sees’s him is supposed to be dead. Why in the hell he didn’t finish just you and me off, I have no idea.” She paused as he caught a sensitive area, cursing slightly. “You did what you had to do. You made calls that no other agent could’ve. That’s why I brought you. I know in the end, you’ll get the job done that needs to be done. I know you’ll lead Shield into a solid, strong ground for the future to come.”

The agent paused as he applied the gauze, reading her stoic face before nodding his head. If he was surprised, he said nothing. Not that Fury ever had a damn thing to say. That’s what infuriated her so damn much. She couldn’t read him as much as her other agents.

“That I will, Director. Are you saying you’re giving up command?” His voice was soft, lips barely moving as he pulled her shirt down and stood up to wash his hands.

Peggy laughed at that. “Not quite so easy, Agent. You need some more training under your belt, I think.” She paused with a smile on her red lips. She held her hand out to him and gave a firm shake. “As of today, you’re Co-Director of Shield until I am satisfied that you can fully take over without…too much of a problem.”

Fury smiled and Peggy had to admire the rare sight on the handsome face. “I bet you I’ll be running Shield in no less than three years.” He paused for a second before shaking his head. “No, make it two.”

“In two years, Agent? Well, if anyone could do it, it might as well be you.”

#Peggy Carter #Director Peggy Carter #Older Peggy Carter #Young Fury #Agent Fury #Co-Director Fury #Peggy Carter Prompt #Nonny Prompt

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syms-things-5 · 5 years ago

Text

Clear The Area - Chapter Five

Previous chapter HERE

Warning: Language

Summary: Sarah gears up to explain her choice to meet with her birth mother and finds Chris to be a bigger comfort than he realises.

Note: Bit of a shorter one, sort of a bridge into the next few situations...

Chapter Five

It was an unusually cold afternoon in Concord. Sarah had opted for a run for the first time that week and took a scenic route through Emerson Park to view the new sculpture exhibition the Mayor had opened back in March. it was rare she this time to herself and she had found her anxiety spiking pretty badly of late. Running always seemed to help with that.

She circled back around through the local town centre but soon regretted decision when she had to take shelter in a shop doorway during a sudden downpour. Thankfully, it didn’t last long but the strangest thing happened on her way home: she would up buying cream cakes in Bryson’s Bakery a couple of blocks away from their apartment. Hell, she’d put in the effort. she deserved a sugary treat.

Walking into her apartment, she was greeted by an obscene number of shopping bags, suit bags, and what looked like a hat box. There was almost every designer brand she had ever heard of or at least had recognised from the episode of America’s Next Top Model Shan had made her watch that one time. Speaking of which, she could hear the enthusiastic chatter between Shanna, Carly and Lisa coming from Shan’s bedroom and managed to climb over the bags to find her kitchen as she’d left it, complete with movie star hiding out with a newspaper and a beer. Chris looked so chilled out, she was almost jealous. She looked down at her jogging clothes and the few extra pounds clinging to her thighs and then back at him dressed casually in a black tee and jeans, as toned as he ever was. Fucking effortless. Jerk. He hadn’t been to the gym in weeks - something he would proudly broadcast to anyone within earshot - yet still managed to avoid putting on a single pound. He was eating and drinking whatever he wanted. He was just lucky with his metabolism, he explained. It was a goddamn deal with the devil, thought Sarah.

Chris looked up from his paper in time to see Sarah walk in and clock the bags on the floor. It took him all of .4 of a second to eye the box in her hands. He loved Bryson’s. Often, one of the first things he would do when back in town, after seeing his family of course, was to buy whatever they had left in store. He figured at this point he was one of their most valuable customers, probably more so than the unnamed NFL player Chris was certain was Julian Edelman. He hoped more than anything else that Sarah might have a strawberry cream donut in there especially for him but kept this thought to himself until he could ascertain just how annoyed she was with the mess taking up space in her home.

“Sorry, it’s for my birthday party next week. Some designers sent some things over and Mom’s evidently lost her shit. Hey, have you heard of a designer called Migos?” Chris asked as Sarah planted the box down on the kitchen island. “There is a neon yellow jumpsuit by him that I think Shanna has chosen and honestly, it’s the worst.”

“Migos? No clue I’m afraid. Why are they all sending stuff over for your party?” She opened the box and handed him his donut. Chris could have kissed her.

“The production company thinks it would be a good idea for me to have some pictures taken for social media. Show I’m an average guy or something, so they sent some outfits for the girls to wear.” Chris shrugged, too wrapped up in the donut to overthink it. Sarah could have sworn she blinked once and it was gone.

“And you’re OK with that? I thought it was just going to be a small thing? Family and close friends?”

“Yeh, I’m OK with it, I guess. As soon as Mom found out, they all got really excited about it. Didn’t have the heart to say no.” He gestured to his family currently laughing in unison down the hall. “It’s OK. It’ll get Matt off my back for a while, too.”

It wasn’t often that Sarah felt sorry for him, all tall and handsome and wealthy as he was, but she knew he prided his privacy above all things where his career was concerned, and he tried hard to keep his loved ones out of the limelight as much as he could. This couldn’t have been a decision he took lightly. As casual as he was trying to come across now, she could tell her was nervous about it, about what would be said and where the pictures would end up.

“You know I could hook you up if you like?” he offered. “There’s a lot of stuff coming in apparently. I’d bet you look great in Chanel. It’s not neon, I promise.”

“What and spill something on it? I don’t think I could live with myself.” she scoffed, mouth half full of cheesecake.

Chris look a little wistful for a moment as a comfortable quietness fell on them while she enjoyed her cheesecake. Soon, the only sound filling the apartment came from two doors away as someone had clearly made a great choice, the distinctive sound of expensive heels clicking on the wooden floor. Sarah contemplated hiding the other cakes from them and keeping them for herself but knew she couldn’t go through with it.

“Do you think I’m boring?” She asked after a couple of minutes.

“Define boring.”

“How many different ways are there to define boring?”

“Well, there’s...” he looked up from his paper for a moment, trying to think. “No, you’re not boring.”

“OK. That took a while. Appreciate it.” she threw her fork into the sink.

“Who said you were boring?”

“No one, really. Just the other day Greg said I was unassuming.” She made air quotations with her fingers.

“Unassuming isn’t the same as boring.” he reasoned. “Unassuming just means you’re quiet, y’know? What you see is what you get type of thing.”

“And that’s not boring to you?”

“No. It’s nice. It’s....comforting.” He smiled trying to reassure her but saw the concern etched across her face. “Sarah, you’re not boring. I wouldn’t be here as much as I am if you were boring.”

“But I’m no exciting, am I? Like, you wouldn’t call me a risk-taker.” Sarah wasn’t sure if she was asking him a question much less wanting to hear an answer. Compared to some of the people Chris hun out with, she was practically Mother Theresa.

Chris couldn’t work out if she was laying a trap for him here. Her had flashbacks to conversations he’d experienced relationships, times when he tripped up. Do I suit this Givenchy? Do you think your co-star is pretty? Were those sex scenes easy to shoot? Often, he found, there was no right answer. Difference her was that Sarah wasn’t like that.

“Sarah, you wouldn’t suit being a risk-taker. Trust me. It doesn’t get you anywhere fast.” He sounded serious. “You don’t need that shit in your life.”

She was grateful, of course she was, but nothing could stop the niggling doubts in the back of her mind that maybe she played things a little too safe at times. Why did she feel awkward accepting a date with Greg? He was nice and clearly into her. Maybe she was a little too quiet and careful. Maybe she could afford to be a little rash with her decisions every once in a while. What harm could be done? Audrey was right. She could learn to have a little more fun without worrying about the consequences.

“Sarah! We thought we’d missed you!” Carly came bouncing into the kitchen and wrapped her arms around Sarah’s shoulders from behind where she was sat. “Chris, you should see some of the clothes and shoes. I don’t know how you could ever get tired of this.”

Chris flicked his gaze to Sarah who looked a little apologetic, before he turned back to Carly. “Well, I’m glad you guys are having a lot of fun. Figured it out yet?”

Carly nodded. “Oh my god, yes! You’re gonna be so proud of us baby bro! Hey, Sarah? Have you figured out your plans with your folks? They should be arriving soon, right?”

“Um, yeh, that’s a good point actually. I should probably check in to see where they’re at. I’m not actually sure they remember when I live.” She grabbed her phone from her pocket and headed to her bedroom where it was quieter and she could focus on something different. She closed her door and took a breath. This wasn’t what she needed to be worrying about right now, whether a guy she was - at best - half interested in seeing thought she was a “safe” option. Her folks would be arriving at some point that day and she could look forward to spending some much needed time with them. That was all that mattered.

She located Jocelyn’s number in her iPhone and hovered her thumb over the dial, psyching herself up to call. Just as she was about to do it, Chris appeared in her bedroom holding up a garment bah with the unmistakable Chanel logo emblazoned across it.

“i grabbed this for you. Seriously, take a look. It’s pretty cute and it might make you feel better.” he laid the bag carefully on your bed, stroking down the front to remove any creases. Sarah was grateful. The only other time she’d worn a designer brand was at her graduation ceremony and she kept the label attached inside so she could return it afterwards.

“Thanks Chris. That’s really kind.” she smiled at him. Chris paused a second before backing out of her door, aware that she was gearing up to call her folks.

“Hey, just for the record?” he stopped and leaned back into her bedroom, arm leaning on the door frame. “I think you’re great just the way you are.”

Next Chapter HERE

#chris evans #chris fic #chris evans fic #sarah bernette #chris evans x original female character #clear the area #evans fic #Syms Writing

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protezioni · 5 years ago

Note

⚑ for Sepheir and Zuro... and how about an unexpected crossover duo with ☂️ Shima And Yarohe :3 (yes this is Bc of the BQ Thieves)

Of course !! I love these duos with my whole heart!! Also omg, yes the BQ Thieves is a great squad!!

SHIMA IS A CHARACTER FROM ZETA, STAN @zetacomic !!

Zuro/Sepheir

…seeing someone else getting too close to your muse = ⚑

A mission for her and Zuro alone was something that wasn't rare. Her team usually works by their own individual missions, but these two went together a lot. The reason for this was because Zuro may have been strong, but he always wanted Sepheir by his side. After the whole incident... They promised they wouldn't leave each other, no matter what the consequence... and that promise will be kept. Right? "Sephie, something off?" He was confused for a moment, his hands still in his pocket. He stopped walking, his eyes just focused on hers. "Were you thinking of something negative again? Should I fight your bitch of a brain?" He removed his right hand from his pocket to cup her face. "Listen up, brainy bitch boo, stop making Sephie-"

She blinked a couple of times before smiling a bit. "Zuro, quit acting like that. I am fine." She held his hand and placed it away from her face. "We should focus on the mission at hand." She began walking ahead of him and he only grinned as he followed behind her. She sometimes wondered if he ever got tired of walking around, just following her pace... She wasn't even someone who was that interesting, but she admitted that she always felt relieved that he stayed with her. The whole world can be crumbling down, but he would still be a person who'd reach down to save her... But no one really saw that side of his except for her. "Zuro." She called out to him, and his head perked up. "Thank you for giving me special rights."

"Fuck yeah! You better be thankful, no ordinary person will get such treatment from this bitch!" He ran next to her before sticking his tongue out. "Only the best people can gain such a privelege from me, yeah?" He grinned as he began nudging Sepheir, who only began rolling her eyes but it soon became reslly silent laughs. "There we go, now we've got that smile showing! Fucking bless, that's some good shit. Mhmm." He might have a bad reputation, being a well known rule breaker and liar--- but this never changed the fact that he was someone who was actually the closest to her. Well... she was one of the people who saw his best sides. "I miss that smile of yours."

"You saw it a week ago."

"Still doesn't change the fact that I missed it."

"Despite being a bad boy as you call yourself, you're really sweet." She commented, before poking his cheek. "You're surprisingly considerate to the people you love, and you try your best to cheer them up. You always call yourself the personfied version of the devil, but yor actions say differently. You're no angel, you're no demon... But if you were any different creature, you'd be... probably a reaper. You take lives at your will, but you never do unless the time is right." She tried to make up words in her head, and she believed she sounded reslly stupid but she did not even look at Zuro to see how wide his smile was, his hand running through his hair.

"Well that's---" He stopped talking and coughed loudly. "Sephie, I think our targets are nearby." He whispered before bringing out his usual atmosphere. "Mafia drunkards, what bastards. They focus on human trafficking and smuggling those goods." It was good he remembered what they were known for, and she only nodded her head- her expression getting serious again. "As far as personality goes, there is no information. But as far as what they did it for, it was plainly for money. They joined the famiglia to gain access to that, and also for power. They don't have any family members... But they killed several. What has the leaders chosen, huh?"

"Unanimous decision of death." She replied before hiding her weapon. "You should be the one to hit them. As far as I know, they aim for women." She states this and Zuro twitched slightly. "They wouldn't have interest in a guy, but they would be interested in having a woman who they can sell." Without any sort of resistance, she removed her hair tie and her bag, handing it to him. "Be quick, you should be the one to kill them. I will only act as bait." She began using her position as a capo to make him obey, and he only sighed loudly before a scoff came from him. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. Just follow the plan. Kill them once they're distracted enough."

"Understood, Sephie." He clenched his fists. "I swear to god, I'll kill them. Even before they touch you." No other words from him, he quickly went into hiding as she stayed in place. Messing up her hair, removing her suit, and unbutton some parts of her shirt. It was late at night, and it was easy to attract some men who were drunk. Skin usually gets them... They're digusting. She tied her blazer around her waist and only waited for them to come closer. Smell of alcohol and cigarettes, sight of bastards and drunkards... Whispering to each other as they eyed her... Then they moved closer. "These fuckers."

"Why, hello there, Miss~! Aren't you a pretty one? Would you want to-"

Sepheir's eyes widened as she noticed that their death was instant. Zuro has used her tonfas to bang the back of their heads, cracking their skull open in just a split second. "I told you to do it when they're distracted... You do know they would have a chance to counter. They're people from the mafia and---" She noticed how he didn't talk at all, he just began buttoning her shirt with a rather pissed off expression. "... You seem rather... You know what- nevermind. Thank you for ending this really quick... But be more careful." She continued talking, yet there was still no response. "Are you mad?" No answer... Until she was all buttoned up.

She felt his arms wrap around her and she began patting his head... "Not at you, but at them... Anyway, can we clean them up now?"

She only nodded her head, realizing that Zuro's protective side showed up just for her again.

Yarohe/Shima

…sharing an umbrella with your muse = ☂

The rain was only getting stronger as the minutes passed by. The rain drops was loud, the trees were swaying. Fuck. Why the hell did he not bring an umbrella? Of course he fucking didn't! There was no hint of rain when he went out of the damn academy, and weather decided to be a bitch and let this happen. He didn't voice out his complains, he only stayed under the shed with one word escaping his mouth... "Fuck." POP! Goddamn it, Ren isn't even fucking around! Great. A storm happening and now a flower on his head. This day was going horribly, and all he wanted to do was play his games. If only he-

"Shima?" Huh? "Shima? Shima! Yeah, it is you!" Someone began running next to him. She was soaking wet but she also had a bag with her. "Didn't expect to see you outside! But hey there!" He did not know how to feel about how radiative the positivity of this person was, but then... she was someone who was part of the BQ Thieves... Something established about a week ago. Or two. And well, she was one of the members and he compared her to the tea-loving chick. She only smiled brightly at him and he could definitely see why the Protezioni referred to her as one of the sunshine trios. "Do you want to come with me?" She blinked innocently and he only raised an eyebrow.

"Come with you? How would I come with you if you only have a rain coat? I'd get soaked." He brought this up and she only began fiddling with bag to find something... Then she pulled out an umbrella. What the fuck? "If you had an umbrella like this, why aren't you using it in the first place?!" He began to question her and he only sighed when she began laughing nervously. "Sure, whatever, let's go." He prepared the umbrella and began looking at her... She was someone who was described as selfless, but he still didn't like the fact she got wet even if she had a damn umbrella prepared. "Are you going or not?" He began questioning. "I won't get you wetter than you already fucking are. You're fucking soaked."

She began laughing before going under the umbrella with him. "I enjoy the rain!" She replied to him. "I remember when I was younger my family... Well, my biological family... Would play under the rain." She explained. "So when I get the chance, I do that a lot too and I don't care about the rain... but for now... I don't mind being under an umbrella with you." She quickly changed the topic so she wouldn't make herself sad. "I should probably get my jacket dry anyway, so I will end up squeezing the water out of it as we walk!" She brought up the yappy atmosphere again and Shima only muttered some inaudible things. "What was that?"

"I said that you don't always need to act so happy. Even compared to Namito, you show sadness less." He had to admit the truth. "It is weird to remain happy all the time, and I'm surprised you can actually fucking do that." He gave his opinion to her and Yarohe only tilted her head. "What I mean is- it is okay to be sad. Even for a little while. You can't always be this positive shit even when bad things happen. Or you'll end up masking yourself for the rest of your life." Fuck. Did he say too much? "But whatever, you decide with want you want to do with that. You can remain yourself, I don't really care." He shrugged.

There was silence in between them before he felt her pluck off a flower off his head. "You really are nicer than you act like you are." She brought the flower close to her face. "I wouldn't say you're the sweetest or nicest, but you are one of those people who I see as nice and sweet... And I really want to thank you for being such!" She plucked another flower off his head and he only uttered the words ow as she did. "But don't worry, I don't hide it all the time. I vent to people time-to-time. The other capos know how I truly feel, and so does my crew. Now, you do too! So does Ren! BQ Thieves, you know? Oh and Care Bear too! You guys know me well." She named people as she continued to pluck the flowers off his head.

"But it's only been two weeks."

"Four months!"

"FOUR FUCKING MONTHS?!"

"FLOWER!"

"Ow." He held the part of his hair where she plucked out the flower "I didn't know it was that long already." He didn't count the days after the collision happened, and he didn't count the days ever since the BQ Thieves happened, but he guessed that everyone else but Izami did... He was surprised by the fact it has been that long, but a part of him didn't mind at all. "Shit, did I actually lose the tract of time? I have just been playing different videogames for four months." He mumbled and she only continued walking next to him. "Anyway, where the fuck are we going? To the Protezioni House or Zygos Academy? This is your umbrella, so it's proper if you decide."

"Why don't we go to the arcade... It is the nearest place here and we could wait until the rain gets weaker... We could play a couple of games too!" She raised both of her arms in celebration. "You VS Me! In Arcade games! Since I offered it, it could be my treat! Then we can go to Zygos Academy, and I can bring my umbrella home and go back to my place! Does that seem fair enough?" She finally placed her arms down and Shima began thinking about it... Hell, it's her treat and playing games could be fun... "So what do you say?" She waited for his answer and he nodded his head.

"I'm down to do that." He agreed with her plan, knowing there was no reason for him to deny it. "Can we eat in Burger Queen after that?" It was part of the routine for them to eat there every time they went to a mall for whatever reason--- but he didn't really know if eating together was something that applies if only a part of the team was there.

"Of course we can!" She grabbed his arm and began pulling him to the direction of the arcade as he tried his best to hold unto the umbrella. What the fuck was she on? She was much stronger than she looked- what the fuck, she dragged him like a stroller bag... "FORWARD MARCH!"

"Fuck."

#ask #sepheir #zuro #yarohe #protezioni #shima #zeta comic #STAN ZETA

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shawnsorangeglasses · 6 years ago

Text

Better Conversations - Part 3

2.3k words

Get you some tea, it’s BC Part 3

Hello yellow, you gotta read part 2 if you haven’t already. Better yet, here’s the masterlist.

It feels like the whole world has gotten wrapped up in Shawn’s appearance with (Y/N) in the streets of New York. She faces some consequences.

warnings: a little dramatic, sweeter ending

......................

News of Shawn’s mystery “girlfriend” caught fire and spread rapidly across all social media platforms. Fans were either happy, suspicious, or appalled. No matter what they felt about it, young girls from all over the world began to analyze and pick apart pictures of them together in the streets of New York. The group of fans they met at the diner took a video of their meeting with Shawn and that only stirred up some more talk online as well. There were screenshots and red circles and literal YouTube videos on this. It’s not like (Y/N) and Shawn were caught holding hands or making out, but all the gossips sites wasted no words and no time getting their articles out for clicks.

The video of them only caught her from the chest down, a snippet of her voice, and Shawn’s full body sat at the lunch counter. Some people were kind enough to comment that whoever this mystery girl was had really nice legs. That seemed to be the only positive aspect in all the chaos.

Bea, (Y/N)’s sister, only recognized her because of her clothes, specifically the boots she always wore. She was just as confused and shocked as the rest of the world when she called. It took about ten minutes to calm her down and explain the whole mess.

Shawn still had to leave for Toronto that night. Goodbyes weren’t even an option. His people wanted him and him alone at the airport, which (Y/N) understood. In her mind, she had already caused enough trouble.

Miraculously enough, not one person had been able to place (Y/N)’s face or social identity. She never really posted pictures of herself online and rarely allowed anyone to take a picture of her and post it without permission. Her Instagram page only had three posts, all city photography, and her profile picture only displayed a solitary bumblebee doodle. For a while, it seemed like the damage would repair itself. (Y/N) thought she may have been in the clear.

Then she woke up. More photos were published. Her phone had ten missed calls. Eight from Jason and two from Lawrence Derringer, the head executive of his branch. (Y/N) prepared for the worst.

It was Sunday by now. The Jason and Mr. Derringer opened up their offices just to talk to her in the conference room. She wore the most conservative outfit she could find in her closet.

“Ms. (Y/L/N), are you aware of the story that has surfaced about you and Mr. Shawn Mendes in the news?”

“Yes Mr. Derringer, but I can explain. Nothing happened at all between Shawn and me. I would never get involved with a client in that fashion, and as far as I know, they never even got a picture of my face.”

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Ms. (Y/L/N).” They present a laptop screen to her, opened to a TMZ article with her and Shawn stood at the gemstone pop-up shop. Her face is clear and visible. “This was published eight hours ago,” Jason mumbles.

“I know your intentions must have been pure, Ms. (Y/L/N). What I’m struggling to understand is why you never questioned any of the endeavors you had with Mr. Mendes. Harmless as they may have been, this could have a negative effect on our firm’s relationship with him as well as our image in the industry. Did this not occur to you when you realized you were being photographed? Surely it must have.”

(Y/N) doesn’t answer, right away. Saying no, would have been a lie. She did consider the possibility of them getting a little publicity, but she didn’t think so far ahead about how that might affect the company.

“I suppose you’re going to have to fire me then?”

Mr. Derringer glances at Jason, then back at (Y/N). “Fortunately, no. You will not be fired for this. Apparently, Shawn called our offices several times last night trying to get a hold of one of us. He managed to reach me and said the day out was his all idea and that you should not be fired for the events that followed.”

“So, I’m not in trouble?”

“Well yes and no. I told him you would keep your job but that does not mean you can get off without some repercussions. Since Whitman was the one who hired you, I figured he should be the one to enforce that.”

Jason steps forward, looking like he was trying so hard to be authoritative in front of his superior. “I made the decision to prohibit you from attending any future corporate events where Shawn or any other Island Records artist may also attend. It’s probably for the best that you don’t see Mr. Mendes anymore in public for any reason. Your recent promotion has also been revoked as well and your salary will revert back to the earnings you made prior to said promotion.”

(Y/N)’s jaw set, keeping her tongue from saying everything she wanted to spit in his stupid Ivy League face. Everything she’s wanted to say to him for the past eight months feels like holding acid in the back of her throat. She swallowed her thoughts.

“I understand. My sincerest apologies, Mr. Derringer. It won’t happen again.”

“I certainly hope not, Ms. (Y/L/N). You’re a valued member of our staff and you contribute so much to the floor and the board. It’d be a shame to lose you over something like this. Jason will see you out. Have a good evening.”

(Y/N) is already at the elevator smashing the down button before Jason can even make it down the hall. Tears of humiliation sting her eyes as the elevator slowly takes her and Jason down from the top floor. He tries to lay a hand on her shoulder, apologetically, but she shrugs it off and steps further from him. If he was sorry, it only because he felt like he had to be, not because he actually was.

“Are you seriously pissed at me? You brought this on yourself.”

“You have no right to try and keep me from seeing him or anyone.”

“That’s what you think this is about? Maybe you ought to think twice before sleeping your way through our list of clients.”

Of course, it’s all my fault that I didn’t feel like eating alone one afternoon.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware going to lunch with one man is the equivalent to shoving my tongue down his throat.”

“You might as well have been, the way you were smiling at each other in those pictures.”

“I knew it. I knew you had a problem with me seeing other people. You can go and fuck every girl in Times Square if you want, but I have to sit idly by like your personal dumping ground?”

“You can see whoever you want. Just not him. You should know better. This firm—”

“Like you give a damn about the firm. This is about you and your fat ego. You can’t handle the fact that somebody might even be a little interested in me because you know that as soon as I find someone who actually gives a damn about me, I won’t have a reason to come back to you for a goddamned quickie in the janitor’s closet.”

“It’s that kind of thinking that keeps you behind that desk.”

(Y/N) falls silent. No more words are spoken. There was no use in trying to argue or be right. Jason was jealous again. He’d done this once before when another coworker, someone on (Y/N)’s pay grade, showed interest in her. The elevator doors finally open and she treads heavily out the front doors, never looking back.

…………………..

(Y/N) spent the rest of the evening wrapped in her bed sheets, at first crying with her makeup still on, then eating leftovers and watching Criminal Minds reruns. Hearing Dr. Reid talk about m.o.’s calmed her down. She’d turned her phone off hours ago just to get some peace. Family and friends were calling and texting her non-stop yesterday evening about her appearance with Shawn. At the time it was too much to handle with possibility of getting fired still looming over her head. But now with the worst over, (Y/N) figured she should probably check her notifications for anything important.

Through all the messages from cousins and people who barely knew her, one single text from Shawn floated to the very top.

[please call me]

He sent it about an hour after (Y/N)’s meeting with Mr. Derringer. It’s 1 AM now but Shawn was in LA. She checks the time zones first then finds his contact and presses the call button. He picks up on the first ring.

“Hey, are you okay?”

(Y/N) grins for the first time today, more than happy to hear that soft voice again. “I should be asking you that. Every news outlet has a story on you. And me, I guess.”

“Yeah but are you okay?”

It sounds like he’d been waiting to ask her this question all day. Technically, (Y/N) was okay, but she could be better, given the circumstances. She chooses her next words carefully.

“I…I will be. I didn’t get fired if that’s what you mean. Thank you for that by the way.”

“I’m so sorry. I said everything would be fine and I should have known this would happen.”

“It’s not your fault. People aren’t that crazy about it. Your fans are being relatively nice to me, now that they know my face.”

“They know your face?”

“Yeah. More photos came out this morning.”

Shawn goes quiet for a moment. It sounds like he’s moving into another room away from the chatter in the background. “Could we video chat?” The new echo of his voice sounds like he’s moved into the bathroom.

(Y/N) looked at her reflection in the mirror on the wall across the room. Dramatic streaks of mascara still trailed down her cheeks and her eyes were still very red. She should say no, but she desperately wants to see his face. And this technically didn’t go against Jason’s stupid new rules for her.

“Give me a minute.”

She washes her face in the bathroom the best she can. Her eyes are still red when she’s done. Fuck it, she thinks. Maybe he won’t notice.

(Y/N) flops back down on her bed and opens the app. Shawn’s face pops up on her screen, riddled with concern. He’s sat in the bathtub, one in a hotel probably, wearing a white t-shirt, hair fluffy and wild without its gel. One “s” curl fell on his forehead.

Unfortunately, he does notice. “You’ve been crying?”

(Y/N) bites her lip. “Maybe.”

Shawn doesn’t speak. He just wants to look at the girl on his screen. The truth is he didn’t really have a good reason to facetime her other than just wanting to see her again. He was so sure that she would never want to talk to him again after all of this.

“I want to know why, but you don’t have to tell me,” he says.

“No, it’s alright. I’m not fired but I am never allowed to be seen in public with you again as long as I work there.” (Y/N) sniffles. “Which is fucking stupid.”

“So quit,” he mutters. The words leave his mouth before he can think twice about saying them.

“Quit?”

“I mean—I’m kidding, that’s not what I meant. God, that sounded really bad.”

“It did,” she says through a smile. “But I have thought about it. About a year ago actually.”

“What changed your mind?”

“I met someone. At work. We’re not a real couple but...” (Y/N) realizes she doesn’t have an appropriate label for whatever she and Jason are, but Shawn seems to understand. “I wasn’t trying to get ahead. I did actually like him once upon a time. But he never wanted to be anything more with me. Then he became my boss and things just moved under the table.”

Shawn thinks this time before speaking. “Was it that guy you were with at the party?”

“Damn, you’re good. How much of that did you see?”

“I saw when he tried to get you to dance. And when he was at the bar.”

“Well if this music thing ever bombs—it won’t—you should be a detective.”

Shawn gives her a weak smile. A piece of his heart broke a little when she admitted to being in a relationship, albeit a noncommittal and toxic one. Someone already had her heart and her eyes.

“Do you still love him?”

(Y/N) thinks about it for second. Love? It seemed so unattainable for her at this point. At the start, Jason was romantic but never with the usual gestures. Just clever lines and secret lunch dates on the rooftop. Then one day he just stopped. Looking back, it doesn’t seem like love anymore. Just regular sneaking around. “I don’t think we ever made it to the love stage of it all.”

Shawn slouches down into the tub more, forcing his long legs out and his feet up on the tiled wall in front of him.

“I take it back. Maybe you should quit.”

(Y/N) blinks at him. “Very funny. I may be unhappy, but I still have bills to pay. That bastard docked my salary too, so I’ll be working double shifts again.”

“No, I’m serious, (Y/N). If you go in tomorrow and put it your two weeks’ notice, you can have a job as my assistant.”

She sits up in her bed, not believing a word of what those bright pink lips were telling her. “I thought we we’re joking when we talked about that.”

He shrugs. “I wasn’t.”

“Doesn’t there have to be a few more conversations with a few more people before you just bring a new person on board?”

“I’ll talk to Andrew tonight,” he promises. “He knows who you are, and I’ve told him how hard you work.”

“I’d have to think about it Shawn. That’s a big leap.”

“I know, but I do mean it. You have a job waiting for you whenever you want it.”

(Y/N) tried feel good about this, but everything about working for Shawn scared her. She knew his intentions were good but there was more risk than that. What if she fell into the same hole she did with Jason? What would fans say? What would people think?

“I call you when I have an answer.”

......................

taglist:

@spider-mendes @sebsdreamboat @innositer

#shawn mendes #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes imagine

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ladyvegeets · 6 years ago

Text

Edible 4

-For all those asking for more Edible. Inspired by @okebtrash’s adorable picture of Bulla patching up her papa with bandages.-

Read Edible on AO3 or FFnet.

~xox~

Vegeta stared down at the beautiful woman he — by some stroke of luck — called his wife. Bulma lay sprawled beneath him. The soft glow of morning highlighted the rise and fall of her chest, flushed cheeks, and matted hair. ‘Thoroughly fucked’ was one of his favorite looks on her.

The column of her throat beckoned. He leaned in to kiss it while contemplating an encore.

“Mmm,” she sighed sleepily.

Ah, he knew that tone. She was exhausted, even now her breathing was evening out. What time had she come to bed? He couldn’t recall, having fallen asleep waiting up for her.

Damn. Perhaps waking her up so early for this wasn’t the best of ideas.

He gently pushed off. She made a half-hearted sound of protest as he wiped her clean, but was half-way asleep by the time he tucked her in under the blankets. With a final kiss to her brow, Vegeta pried himself away, ignoring the instinct to stay and watch over his mate.

He headed for the spare bathroom by the kids’ rooms so as not to disturb Bulma’s sleep while he cleaned up. Along the way, hushed voices caught his attention. He slowed to a halt.

Trunks and Bra were coming down the opposite end of the corridor, the older boy bent to whisper in his little sister’s ear. “—just remember, don’t tell Dad or—”

“Don’t tell me what?”

Trunks froze, the color draining from his face.

“Papa!” His daughter’s face lit up and she came dashing towards him. “I’m BLEEDING!”

What?! For a sickening moment, Vegeta couldn’t breathe.

“Bra, you snitch.” Trunks slapped a hand over his face with a groan.

Bra came to a halt by his boots and raised her skirt to show off her bleeding knee. A tiny wound. But the impression it left was huge. Vegeta scooped her up before laying murderous eyes on his son, the same glare he had leveled enemies with. “Boy, you have five seconds to explain yourself before I send you to the afterlife.”

“Dad, c’mon. We were playing outside and she tripped. No big deal, I swear.”

“Tunks says I might get a scar like you, Papa!” Bra announced excitedly.

“Bra!” Trunks hissed with desperation, begging her to stop making the situation worse.

Vegeta tightened his fingers over his daughter. “Oh, he better hope you don’t. Trunks, go make breakfast. Your mother worked late last night, so you’d best be quiet. I’ll deal with your lack of common sense regarding the care of your sister later.”

Trunks made a sour face but dragged himself off to the kitchen without further protest. Vegeta shifted Bra’s weight in his arms, brushing back her fly-away hair. “Let’s get you fixed up.”

“Okay.”

He carried her to the bathroom and set her on the sink. “Is this the only place you’re hurt?” he asked, looking at the graze on her knee. It was already scabbing over. Thank you Saiyan genes.

“Uh-huh.”

Such a wound for a Saiyan was inconsequential, but he wasn’t about to take any chances with his little girl. He cleaned the wound and dug around in the cabinet, pulling out a box of all-purpose band-aids.

“Nuh-uh, not dose ones. I wannit the ones with the staw-bees!”

Vegeta sighed and kept searching.

“Papa?”

“Hn?”

“You have lotsa scars.”

Glancing down, he saw Bra scrutinizing his torso. It was the same look Bulma gave when puzzling out a malfunctioning invention.

“Did you fall down too?” his daughter inquired.

If anyone else accused him of tripping over, Vegeta would have ended them. Permanently. But Bra’s world-view was small and innocent. She meant no insult, and she certainly couldn’t comprehend the suffering or horror that he had endured and inflicted to earn his scars. Like hell he was going to ruin that innocence just yet.

“…Something like that.”

“Oh… You’re really clumsy, Papa.”

His cheek twitched. Thankfully Bulma wasn’t around to hear that one; he never would have lived it down.

“So it would seem. But what’s important is that I picked myself up again. Every time.”

Her little brow furrowed with contemplation. “You didn’t cry?”

A few unpleasant memories resurfaced. “…Only when it really mattered.”

She fell silent, and he resumed his search for the bandaids.

Ah. Finally. A box of bandaids with cartoon strawberries smiling obscenely at him was tucked away in the far back corner. Someone really needed to organize this cabinet better. Vegeta dug it out and peeled open a plaster, smoothing it over his daughter’s knee.

“How’s that?”

Bra lifted her leg to examine his handiwork. “It’s crooked.”

“Then fall more symmetrically next time.”

She laughed, her whole face lighting up. At least someone got his sense of humor. The sound was infectious, wriggling under his skin and easing the tension in his body he wasn’t aware he carried.

Despite himself, he smiled back. “Alright, Princess. Let’s go check on your brother.”

“Okay.” She made grabby hands, and Vegeta picked her up. As they walked towards the kitchen, her chubby fingers traced a scar on his shoulder.

“Papa, did your Papa help fixit your hurts too?”

His mouth thinned. His father? Now that was an old wound. Time had mostly healed it over but it still stung when dug at. “No, he didn’t.”

Couldn’t.

Or wouldn’t.

A side-glance found Bra watching him with big blue eyes. He stopped his thoughts before they ruined the morning.

“What do you think Mommy would like for breakfast?”

Bra gasped and bounced in his arms, excited to know the answer. “Staw-bee pancakes!”

Vegeta smiled and carried her off to the kitchen as she chanted the words over and over.

~xox~

Bra wasn’t watching where she put her spoon. It missed her mouth, smearing mashed sweet potato over her cheek. She rubbed the mess away with the back of her hand, eyes fixed on her parents.

Papa sat on a kitchen stool, his face as grumpy as the troll in her Saturday morning cartoons, only the troll didn’t usually bleed bright red from a cut on his brow. Mommy was sewing up Papa’s hurt. he didn’t look happy about it, but still he allowed her to fix him. After all, Mommy was very good at fixing broken things; she had fixed her toys more than once.

“Can’t you and Son ever go easy on each other?” Bulma asked.

“Tch. That is not how true warriors train. Besides, I gave Kakarot as good as I got, and more.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Bra adjusted her spoon and this time found her mouth. Blergh. Her nose scrunched at the taste of cold vegetables. With a careful glance to make sure her parents weren’t watching, she spat the food back on her plate.

“This is entirely unnecessary,” Vegeta grumbled. “You know it will heal on its own.”

“Not before bleeding all over the damn place. Besides, it’s deep enough that it might scar, and I think you have enough of those.” Bulma finished her stitches and put a bandage over the wound. With a warm smile she leaned in, nudging her nose to Vegeta’s. “There. As rugged as that might look, I’ve grown fond of your face the way it is.”

He huffed, his large hands grabbing Bulma’s hips and pulling her closer. “Why do I tolerate you?”

Bulma nuzzled his cheek. “Let’s go to bed and I’ll remind you.”

He started to smile, but then his eyes slid to the side where Bra was still pretending to eat. “Echalotte.” She snapped upright at his sharp tone. “Did you finish your dinner?”

Her plate was mostly untouched. “Uh… not yet, Papa.”

“Stop dawdling.”

Her head lowered at his reprimand. Papa rarely told her off; she didn’t much care for the experience. Sullenly, Bra pushed her vegetables about on her plate, kicking her feet into the kitchen counter below.

“I’m going to wash off,” Vegeta said, and left Bulma to pack up the first aid kid.

Still sulking, Bra smooshed her peas into her plate. “Mommy?”

“Yes honey?”

“Why do you helpit Papa? I don’t think he likes getting fixed.”

Bulma laughed. “Ah, your father just thinks he’s too tough for help. But truth is, he’s not used to getting any and doesn’t know how to ask for it.”

“He doesn’t know how?” Bra asked, amazed there was something Papa couldn’t do.

“Nope. So I just help him.”

Bra reflected on that as she swirled her food into paste. Papa was always helping her and Tunks and Mommy and even the whooooole universe from evil bad guys. It didn’t seem fair that he couldn’t ask for help in return.

“Mommy?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks for helping Papa.”

Bulma smiled and came to sit by her. “Of course.” She brushed Bra’s bangs out of her face. “That’s what families do: help each other. Because we love each other, right?”

Bra beamed. “Right!”

“Now finish your dinner.”

“Ugh,” Bra whined, dropping her head forward in defeat.

~xox~

Blood splattered the ground where Vegeta walked. His wife would be pissed. Bulma hated when he made a mess but in a roundabout way, this was her fault. Sure, he might have asked Bulma to increase the intensity of the training bots but she was the one who exceeded his expectations. If he didn’t know any better, he would think his wife was trying to kill him.

Goddamn she was amazing.

Still, he had underestimated her upgrades and now suffered the consequences. With some luck, he hoped to make it to the bathroom before anyone noticed.

He limped passed the living room where Bulma’s mother was keeping an eye on Bra.

“Oh my!” Panchy exclaimed. “Vegeta sweety, don’t you look a fright.”

So much for not getting noticed.

At Panchy’s announcement, Bra’s head jerked up from her coloring book, her eyes going wide seeing the state of her father. “Papa! You’re hurt again?”

He paused. “It’s nothing. Keep drawing.”

Bra ignored him, hurrying over and grabbing his hand. It made his heart tighten to see how tiny her fingers were compared to his. Bra examined his wounds, her brow furrowing mightily. What had got her so worked up? She had seen him injured before. But before he could ask, Bra sprang off down the hall. “Wait, Papa. I’ll helpit!”

Ah, goddamn it. Off to fetch her mother, no doubt. With a heavy sigh, Vegeta followed. May as well get this over with.

But he didn’t get far. The patter of little feet heralded Bra’s return, a box of bandaids held in her chubby hands. She looked at him with the same determination he had seen countless times on her mother’s face.

“Okay, Papa. Let Bra take good care of you!”

Well fuck. How could he say no to that?

With a sigh, he sunk into a sitting position before her, and allowed his daughter to play nurse.

Just like her mother.

“You have so many hurts,” Bra tutted as she stuck plaster after plaster on him. At least it wasn’t the goddamn strawberry ones. “Don’t worry, Papa. Families helpit each other.”

He peeled open an eye to look at his daughter’s earnest face. Family… Did he ever imagine he could have such a precious family after everything that had happened to him?

Bra was opening another plaster when he scooped her up into his arms and hugged her tight.

“Aren ilgnen kalor, Echalotte,” he whispered fiercely in her ear.

“Papa!” she squealed, and soon her laughter filled the corridor as he tickled her sides and nommed her tiny neck.

~xoXox~

#edible #vegebul #echalotte #ladyvegeets #okebtrash #fanfic #edible au #bra #bulla #bra briefs #vegeta #trunks #bulma #papa getes #staw-bee #briefs family

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mysteli · 6 years ago

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Loose Truth (Drake X MC)

A/N: Hey! So this is the second part of whatever this series is. It follows up on the fic called Not Meant To Be. Gotta admit, this part is hella angsty and I’ve decided to make a third part which will be up soon. Grab your tissues people cause it’s about to get dark!

First Part - Not Meant To Be

Warning: Angst!

Tags: @princesstopgun @mechaspirit @skyila @mind-reader1 @speedyoperarascalparty @blackwidow2721 @eileendannie @endlessly-searching-for-you @xo-endlessmayhem-xo @brightpinkpeppercorn @mymandrake

No. No. No. This can’t be happening. Out of everyone in the whole goddamn world, it was Liam that had to walk in on them kissing. Reagan and Drake abruptly pull apart, shock overtaking them completely. For a long, long moment, what seems like forever, Liam just stares at them, a lost look in his eyes.

Why? Why did she have to do this? She should have just left things the way they were and force herself to fall in love with Liam. If Drake had never confessed his feelings, she probably would have been successful at that but the sexy bastard just had to reveal the truth and just add to the load on Reagan’s shoulders. She doesn’t regret falling for him or wanting to be with him but this is the part she didn’t want to face. Liam. Telling him that she’d fallen in love with his best friend is all she wanted to avoid. One day, Drake and her would have to stop being cowards and face Liam. Any awkward and painful conversation would have been better than him walking in on them.

He sure as hell wasn’t expecting to find the woman he loves and his loyal best friend with their tongues down each other’s throats but there must have been some part of him that knew there was a chance that Reagan wouldn’t return his feelings, even if he thought that what they were fighting for was him. It’s painful to think about, as Reagan apologetically stares at a motionless Liam. The man she came for but he was never the endgame.

Drake is and maybe he just has to accept that.

With Liam continuously staying silent, Reagan shares a regretful look with Drake. They both knew this day was coming but why so close to her name being cleared? Sighing heavily, the betrayal in Liam’s eyes finally starts to show, which only adds to the pain stabbing at Reagan’s heart.

“Liam...” Reagan tries to ease him into it, a weak, reassuring smile barely making it to her lips.

“No, Rae!” Liam snaps, his hands clutching strands of his pitch-black hair and the anger practically flew off of him. Startled by the volume of his shouts, Reagan stumbles back, almost tripping over her own feet before she catches herself in time. Once again, she glances at Drake, who hasn’t dared to move. It’s rare to see Liam so pissed off and when he is, he is a mess. “Why? Just why? Why would you do this to me, Reagan?” He starts to pace back and forth angrily, his enraged gaze staying locked on the traitors, which is what they feel like. “My best friend is sleeping with the woman I told you, Drake, that I wanted to marry!”

“Liam! It’s not like that!” Drake clarifies, arching his bushy eyebrows at a frustrated Liam. Drake has no right to be offended or insulted, he knows that. He calms himself, lowering his tone and using caution when he says his next words. “We haven’t slept together.”

Liam scoffs, eyes plastered with disbelief. “Wow, Drake! That makes everything much better!” He laughs forcefully and it rings like a deadly reminder in Reagan and Drake’s ears. His sarcastic tone is something Liam never uses. He’s just not that type of person but everything changed with him here. “Maybe I should marry you guys, right now! Don’t worry Drake, she’ll be sleeping with Maxwell by the end of the week!”

Drake steps closer to Liam, refusing to believe he actually says that. “Are you calling the woman you love a slut?!” He questions, his voice frustrated and lost with annoyance but when he couldn’t quite hide the pain in his eyes from what he’d done. Drake tended to hide his mistakes with his unnecessary temper.

“Of course not!” Liam denies, twitching his nose at Drake and glaring at him with the betrayal as his most distinct feature.

“Then why the hell did you say that? What’s gotten into you, Liam?!” Drake enquires, wondering why Liam was acting so different. Of course, they were fully aware that he’d be hurt but he’d try to act understanding. But why was he being so... sarcastic?

“Maybe I’m just upset that you’ve been messing around with the one I love, without even telling me!” Liam argues, pain throbbing through his eyes and hitting Drake like a dart right in the heart.

“I didn’t mean for you find out this way, okay, Liam?” Drake tries to fight back and calm Liam down but he wasn’t having none of it.

Liam laughs incredulously but it’s shaky and unbalanced with all his negative emotions. “Seems like you didn’t want me to find out at all!” He snaps back, his glare deepening as his dark eyes burn into Drake, clearly making him feel vulnerable. Besides, all he wanted was his forgiveness.

Before anything else could escalate, Reagan jumps between them and holds them back from one another, realising how far this had gotten.

“Guys, please! Don’t do this!” She pleads and Drake looks into her eyes and melts at the desperation in them. Silently and without words, he steps back, eyeing Liam blankly but the anger Liam’s eyes doesn’t dare falter. It’s a mask he put up to hide the true sadness he feels.

Drake sighs, running a hand through his dark brown hair. Nodding to him, Reagan turns around and looks Liam dead in the eyes, watching how he furrows his eyebrows at her. He looks disgusted at the sight of her, which Reagan refuses to believe is true.

“Listen, Liam. I know this hurts. I know it’s painful. But you gotta talk to us instead of yelling at us.” Tears rise in Reagan’s eyes, as she notices Liam’s anger start to die. “I know how you really feel right now and that the anger is just a way you think this will be easier to run away from. But just trust me, okay? I still love you. I know it’s not in the way that you want but...” She trails off and her sobs start to leave her eyes, moving at a desperate pace. Liam sighs hesitantly, tears starting to rise in his eyes as well.

Drake watches them carefully, understanding the pain Liam must feel right now. He’ll learn to accept that Reagan chose someone else but he’ll never accept that his best friend went behind his back, without even gaining his consent. In other words, he’ll learn to forgive Reagan. But he’ll never be able to forgive Drake. And that is just the harsh truth.

Finally, Liam fights through the sobs, clearing his throat and preparing to speak. “I... still don’t really know what to say.” He admits, his thoughts pounding in his mind and bashing around his brain. Reagan nods almost understandingly, placing a hand on Liam’s shaking arm.

“It’s okay for you to be angry. You’ve been... betrayed by us.” Reagan admits, a whirlwind rising in her mind. While she speaks, she glances back at Drake and she can see the loss in his eyes. The guilt he must feel is indescribable. No one was afraid of this outcome more than Drake and now the nightmare has arrived.

Liam follows Reagan’s gaze, locking eyes momentarily with Drake. Suddenly, the mental image of them together reenters his mind and it made him furious. He couldn’t hold back a sneer and Drake shot him a pleading look, wanting more than anything to make things right. Slightly surprised by the rare look on Liam’s face, Drake steps back, raising his hands in the air as a sign of surrender.

Liam turns back to Reagan, eyeing her sharply. “You did betray me!” He shouts in a menacing tone, slamming the open door shut which caused an earthquake throughout the room. Confused but not frightened, Reagan jumps back and accidentally trips over her own feet. However, she doesn’t hit the ground because Drake catches her in time. They share a knowing look and the they know that whatever the consequences were, they weren’t good.

This was a side to Liam they’d never seen before. Something they thought would stay buried forever until a serious betrayal rose. Which was this.

Liam eyes them and snarls at how intimate they are. “You chose someone else! You made me love you and actually want you to marry me!” He rants, more honesty in his words than before and Drake and Reagan listen, knowing they’d regret it if they didn’t. “I... I came here to tell you that I broke off my engagement with Madeline!”

“Wait, what?” Reagan questions, a weight slamming down on her heart.

Liam stops in his tracks, a knowing look in his eyes. “That’s right. I did that just so I could be with you. Wow, that was a mistake.” He pauses, sighing heavily. He was more calm than before and it slightly reassuring for Drake and Reagan but his words were still hitting them like bullets. “You know what, I can’t believe that I ever thought that you could love me back.”

Liam prepares to leave but Reagan leaps up and yanks at his wrist, pulling him back. Drake follows, obvious hurt in his eyes and looking at Liam only makes it worse.

“Don’t leave Liam! Please! We need to talk about this!” Reagan pleads, her raven tousled and uneven, her face swollen from the tears she’s shed. This was one of the only times this would mess her up that bad.

Liam scoffs, surprised. “Talk? There’s nothing else to say, Reagan. You and Drake are fucking. And I’m broken-hearted. End of story.” He states, releasing himself from Reagan’s gasp and starts towards the door. But she’s having none of it. Reagan runs like a lost prey towards the wooden door and blocks it with all of her body. Liam eyes her with an unreadable expression.

Hesitantly, Drake moves to stand behind him but Liam is too infuriated to notice. He runs his hands through his raven hair and furrows his eyebrows. The desperation in Reagan’s dark eyes is undeniable and it pains Drake to see her so broken over this. This was the whole reason why he didn’t want Liam finding out because of how she would feel and the situation is just as bad as he envisioned.

“You don’t understand, Liam. We never meant for this to happen. What happened between us... just kind of happened. And we never had any intention of hurting you on purpose.” Reagan tries to explain but she struggles to speak and her words get muddled up from time to time.

Liam folds his arms, straightening his posture. “Oh, but hurting me on accident is totally fine.” He retorts, narrowing his eyes.

“You should listen to her, Liam.” Drake points out suddenly from behind Liam, startling him but once he recognises the voice, a scowl crosses him.

Almost instinctively, Liam swerves around and locks eyes with the traitor that is Drake Walker. But he seemed unfazed, even though the hurt in his eyes was clear. The man who Liam thought was his best friend. The most loyal person ever. The one who would never jeopardise their friendship just over a woman. Well, there’s the problem. She’s not just any woman.

“What?” Liam scoffs, scanning Drake’s damaged exterior and raising an eyebrow at him. Drake releases a heavy sigh, fidgeting with his jacket.

“You need to listen to her...” Drake pauses, staring at the floor momentarily before lifting his eyes to stare Liam dead in the eye. “Listen to the woman you love.”

Liam chuckles almost mockingly, when he hears Drake’s words. “The woman I love? Or the woman you love?” He asks, perhaps rhetorically.

Immediately, Drake presses his lips together, watching Liam’s eyes shift knowingly. He doesn’t know what to say. Why would he admit to loving the girl who had a meaningful relationship with the one he was telling? It doesn’t make much sense but Drake almost feels like an outsider in this situation. The one who shouldn’t be here. The one who should step aside and just let them be together. The perfect ones. The ones who are truly meant to be. Because maybe he was just in the way. Maybe he didn’t belong with her. Maybe he was right all along and Reagan would always end up with her Prince Charming.

At least he can make sure she gets her happily ever after.

Drake flicks his gaze over to Reagan, who is also eyeing him expectantly. Like she wants him to answer the question. Finally, he sighs heavily. “I do love her, Liam.” He states simply, not tearing his eyes away from Reagan while he speaks and her expression lights up when she hears his response. Too bad it wouldn’t last. “I love her more than you’ll ever know and that’s why...” He pauses, reluctant to do what he’s about to do. However, he manages to gather himself. “That’s why it’s better if I’m not around to watch her love me and you hate me.” He admits finally, releasing a sigh of relief but he doesn’t manage to hide the true guilt he feels. It shines through his hazel eyes.

With that, he steps around Liam, heading for the door, which Reagan is still pressed up against, blocking his path. Drake doesn’t dare meet her gaze and just reaches for the door handle but she grabs it first and their hands graze momentarily.

He refuses to look at her but he could feel her heavy breathing so clearly. It was like a virus ringing in his ear. “Drake. What are you doing?” She asks in her usual innocent tone, tilting her head to the side. Dammit, why was she so clueless? Or maybe she was just hoping it was some kind of joke.

“I’m sorry, Kennedy. I love you...” He whispers, finally raising his gaze to stare at her. He watches as tears shower down her face but she doesn’t seem aware. All she can focus on is Drake, not even Liam is there anymore. He plants a soft kiss on her lips and then another on her forehead, before meeting her eyes once more. “And that’s why I have to leave you.”

He takes advantage of her bewildered state and removes her hand from the door but she’s too stubborn. Even though Drake has the handle, he can’t seem to open the door due to Reagan’s whole body stopping him.

“Rae, open the door.” He requests calmly, his voice barely a whisper as he tries to yank the door open, without hurting Reagan. Still, she remains in denial, not daring to take her eyes off Drake.

“No, Drake. I’m not letting you leave like this.” She snaps, trying to pry Drake’s hands off the handle but he’s just too resilient. “I love you and I want a future with you!”

In her mind, Reagan always thought that her saying those three words would surprise Drake more than anything. But when she finally admits it, he doesn’t even flinch and that’s what hurts the most.

“That’s impossible now. Any chance of anything with us is over and we’re both just gonna have to accept that!” Drake rants, his tone more aggravated this time. The whole time, he keeps both hands on the door handle. “Now, please, Kennedy. Open the door.”

“No!” Reagan shouts, using all of her body weight to stop the one she loves from leaving her forever. Once he’s gone, she’d never be able to recover.

“Dammit, Rae. Open the damn door!” Drake orders, not sure what else to do to make Reagan realise that everything that happened with them was a mistake. Every hour. Every minute. Every second. Every single moment was just a lie, a mistake, a moment of weakness.

Reagan arches her eyebrows, her veins exploding from her wrists and forehead. “I’m not letting you walk out on me now just so I’m forced to go for the perfect life that I don’t want.” She remarks, her grip on the door getting weaker as Drake’s strength, anger and determination increases.

“OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!!” Drake demands in a deafening tone, his voice echoing like a bloodhound’s call. Stunned, Reagan freezes, completely paralysed. Instant regret overwhelms Drake as he realises what the hell he’d just done. He releases a heavy, hesitant sigh and pries the door open, carefully moving Reagan away.

No one dares to speak. Not even Liam, who is watching and listening to every second of each moment. It’s impossible to process what just happened and what would happen next. All of this was because of Liam. The only reason this is ending is because of how much it would hurt Liam. But why the hell was he playing such a huge part in a love that should be theirs? This shouldn’t be happening.

Maybe it is Drake’s doubt in himself and ability to be the man Reagan wants. How many has she told him that she doesn’t care about his title? His position in Cordonia. His flaws. His doubts. His unusual obsession with whiskey. His odd way of expressing feelings. His cold temper. Just the way he is.

Drake paces out of the room, pausing once he was outside. Reluctantly, he shoots one last glance at Liam, guilt flooding through his bloodshot eyes.

“Take good care of her, Liam. I’m sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you.” Drake whispers, briefly locking eyes with a silent Reagan before disappearing out of view.

Immediately, Reagan is brought back to reality and she realises that Drake is gone. Her eyes widen with fear and she dashes toward the open door.

“Drake! No!” She yells, desperately calling after him as she makes her way out the door. But before she can get to the hallway, Liam grabs her by the trembling wrist, wrapping her in his arms and pulling her in for a tight hug that she can’t escape. “Let me go, Liam! This isn’t your fight!”

She struggles to fight out of his hold but he’s too strong and resilient to let her go after Drake and hurt herself even more. “I don’t want you doing something you’ll regret.” He states simply, picking her up and carrying her back into the room. She still tries to escape but fails every time.

“Drake’s your best friend. You should want to stop him from leaving!” She retorts, finally slumping and giving in but her statement seems to hit Liam right in the heart and soul.

“I know but Drake has always been better off anywhere but Cordonia. I promised him I’d trust him with whatever choices he makes. I’d never go back on my word.” By the time he finishes speaking, he’s able to put Reagan carefully on the bed before moving towards the door, ready to leave her alone.

However, Liam stops straight in his tracks when he hears the sound of fresh tears drift down Reagan’s face, escaping the defensive cages of her eyes. Unable to stay up, she collapses to the carpeted floor, a river exploding from her eyes. Immediately, Liam rushes to her side, careful about everything he does because of her damaged state.

Carelessly, Reagan wraps Liam up in a hug, pouring her heart and soul out on his shoulder. She lost everything she wanted in a matter of seconds. The future she desperately hoped for. A future with the man she loves. It’s too late now. He’s gone, left, run away, disappeared. All because of his inescapable doubts.

Once all her emotion was let out, well most of it, she escaped Liam’s embrace and rises to her feet, a million thoughts circling her mind. Liam straightens up too, closing his eyes in shame. He knows this is all his fault.

“Reagan-“

“Don’t talk to me. This is all your fault.” Reagan states, wiping her tears that were starting to dry on her cheeks. Despite the sadness in her voice, she was serious and she was right.

Liam hangs his head in shame. “I know.” He admits, his voice barely a whisper and he leans against the bedpost of the canopy bed, contemplating hard. Both of them remain in deep thought for a while, thinking about what the hell just occurred.

It was clear now. Drake has left and they both wonder if there is anything that can fix it all.

#fan fiction #choices trr #the royal romance #Drake x mc #drake walker

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twowritingdisasters · 7 years ago

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Chapter One: Meliodas

hooooo boy here it is, the first chapter in this series! god, this was so painful to write...but so fun! hope y’all enjoy, and please leave a comment if you can!

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The way Merlin meets her first child is...unusual, to say the least. Even more unusual is that it shares similarities with how other, normal mothers meet their children. She sees him, after many hours of long, painful labor, too tired to think straight and barely able to stand, but still somehow registering that this creature was hers. She coaxes him from darkness into light, and vows to protect him almost as soon as she meets his eyes.

Except she doesn't meet him in a hospital, and he's not a newborn basking the glow of new life, and he's not even biologically hers--but that hardly matters, because as soon as she lays eyes on him, she knows. Somewhere, deep in her bones, she knows what he will become, and that she will see him through it all.

She's twenty-one when she encounters him for the first time, twenty-one and partway through college, twenty-one and ambitious and brilliant and fearless. Even her crappy job as a waitress isn't enough to put out the all-consuming flames of her gluttonous desire for knowledge, for success and the chance to revolutionize the world. A biochemistry major working long hours to pay her way through (to victory, her tired, wandering mind supplies with far too much glee to be helpful), she knows that she looks like just another exhausted student swiftly losing faith in the system that's been laid out before them, but she also knows that her mind is sharper, faster than a good many. The fact that she's got a pretty face is almost unfortunate, she thinks ruefully, leaning against the sight of the bus stop. She's more likely to be underestimated, but she signed up for that when she chose her field.

Bah. I'll blow them all away. Equations float through her mind, fire in her heart, and she's willing to do whatever it takes to reach the top. She'll succeed, or she will be nothing at all...and while Merlin Collach is many things, she will never be and has never been nothing. Merlin closes her eyes with a tired hum as she settles on the small bench in the empty bus stop, a dream forming behind her closed eyelids as she rested her head against the cool plastic.

A stage, a dark room, thousands of cameras and waiting geniuses as she ascends the steps, the Nobel Prize glowing gold on the podium. She reaches for it, turning to face the waiting audience with a small, self-satisfied smile--

Green eyes flash out at her from the darkness, and Merlin blinks awake with a gasp, stiffening as the sensation of being watched--being stared at--settles over her. Her instincts screech at her to run, but she takes a deep breath, shaking off the vestiges of her five-minute dream--she doesn't run. Fear is a useful emotion, she reminds herself fiercely, but not if it controls me. Get a grip. She stands, tightening her hand around the strap of her bag, feeling the weight of books, paycheck, and bus pass, her phone suddenly heavy in her pocket. All things that can make quite a bit if stolen and sold to the right person (except, perhaps, for the bus pass), but there's pepper spray in there, too--a precaution she wishes was unnecessary, but one that might finally be put to use today. She wraps her fingers firmly around the small canister and turns.

And she stares, because leaning heavily against the cement wall of an alleyway entrance is a kid. He's young, too, by the look of him, small and bruised and skinny with huge emerald eyes in a pale face. Seven, maybe, or eight if he's just small for his age--and judging by how malnourished he looks (hollow cheeks, collarbone distinctly visible, the outline of bones clear under the skin), that may well be the case. Matted blond hair hangs around his face, falling in his eyes, but she can sense his curiosity, the fear and the hope wafting off of him.

He doesn't say a word, and neither does she. She knows what the look in his eyes is, having seen it in herself a hundred times when she was being bounced from foster home to foster home after her mother died and her father was incapacitated. Hunger. Raw, deep hunger, not just for food, but for someone who cares, for someone to wipe their tears and help them smile and teach them things they never would've bothered knowing before. A hunger for love, and something aches in her, because she knows instinctively that whatever this child had from his parents before he ran to this tiny alleyway in the middle of a cold and callous city was not love.

She remembers the bagel she ate for lunch, how she'd tucked half of it away for later so that she would have something to eat on the bus back to her tiny apartment, and makes her decision swiftly. There's no need to even think about it--this child needs her help, and so she'll help him.

Merlin knows that that's rare in this world, and God, she wishes it wasn't. But it is, and she knows that this kid needs someone to reach out a hand before he sinks back into the shadows for good, so she pulls out the bagel and, wrapping it carefully in a napkin, sets it on the ground between him and her. He inches forward in response, haunted, hunted green eyes flickering nervously between it and her before he lunges for it, snatching it to his chest and skittering backwards. She watches as he carefully rips it into halves, tucking one into the pocket of his tattered jacket before tearing into the other like a wild animal.

Hoarding, she recognizes, heart aching at the sight. Hoarding, because he doesn't know when he's going to eat next. Right then and there, she vows to look out for him. "My name is Merlin," she says softly. "Merlin Collach."

The boy flinches at the sound of her voice, and the only response she gets is a quick glance, green eyes meeting hers almost shyly (terrified, yes, but still curious and hopeful beneath it, not yet broken--just bruised, she comforts herself) before he ducks away again.

The next day, Merlin makes an entire feast in her tiny little kitchenette, ignoring the strain on her finances. She stuffs everything she can into the small refrigerator, packs two sandwiches into her bag (and a small paperback, and a new coat that she found on sale at a consignment store, too big but definitely warmer than what he had), and when she's on her way home, she sets them out again, a warm spread of gifts.

This she does over and over and over, until he trusts her enough to sit next to her while he eats, to keep the phone number that she presses gently into his hand one day and the address that goes along with it.

The day after she gives up her phone and address, however, he's gone--the too-large coat she bought him lying torn and stained on the ground.

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

Six years pass, and Merlin does the one thing she vowed to herself never to do--she falls in love, head over heels for a sweet, shy poet who manages to calm the whirling equations and ambitions and feelings in her mind, the wandering creativity to her sharp, acerbic wit. Escanor is kind and sweet and genuinely interested in what she wants to be, and she listens to his writing (words that inspire feelings in her that she didn't know existed, for God's sake) and cherishes every word. He comes from old money, Escanor Ljon, and a house far too big for just the two of them, one that feels cold when they move into it--but she knows, somewhere deep inside of her, that they'll need the space. In the meantime, though, they've made it theirs, messing with it and laughing as they melted the ice around their new home, turning it from a cold manor to a warm place of belonging, one that she loves returning to after working in the lab that clamored (practically begged) for her assistance as soon as they discovered that she was the Merlin. "As they should," Escanor had said proudly when she first got the offer, and they'd laughed together that night over flutes of champagne that was honestly rather awful, but worth the drink anyways, worth the toast and the bubbles and the glorious feeling that came with it.

Worth it because they were happy.

Because they were simply together, and glad to be.

It's been four years since their marriage and the feeling of joy and comfort in each other hasn't worn off. She's pretty sure that her younger self was wrong about love, or had just experienced the wrong kind, because she's certain that that kind of warmth never will. She sprawls across the couch now, blistered feet propped on a cushion and her legs over her husband's knees as she hums tiredly. Escanor chuckles, reading glasses askew as he closes his book and gives her that small, warm smile that still captivates her to this day. "Hard day?"

"I'm surrounded by idiots," she hisses, stretching her arms over her head. "Do you know how many of these incoming kids can't balance a simple equation? That's high school stuff! Fucking high school, Escanor!" She closes her eyes with a sigh. She loves those kids, adores the interns, can recall what it was like to be back in their place, but it drives her goddamn crazy when they overlook something simple in their excitement, even though she does the same thing. Especially because she does the same thing. "If it was ever applied practically..."

"But you won't let it be." Escanor takes her hand, squeezing it gently, and she sighs. He's right, of course, but she wants to make sure that the newcomers know the consequences of their actions, that they learn so that they don't get hurt. If they end up injured because of a situation she could've prevented...

Wide green eyes. Companionable silence and smiles. A torn coat lying on the cold sidewalk.

Never again, Merlin reminds herself fiercely. Escanor has heard the story of the green-eyed boy and his mysterious disappearance, has comforted her when she wakes up gasping, mind whirling, wondering if she could've done something more. Has vowed with her to protect whoever needs help, to take care of whoever comes to them with a plea as best they can.

Both of them have failed people, and neither of them want to watch someone hurt when they know they can help.

Merlin sighs once more, opening her eyes, wondering if she should tell him what her mind refuses to let go of, wondering if she should've looked harder for the boy, should've protected him more, pressed him a little harder for anything (a name, an age, anything at all)--but before she can get a single word out, the doorbell rings.

Escanor blinks, furrowing his brow. "Do you think it's the Thai?"

She blinks as well, a slight frown twisting her lips. It's early for Thai, late for a visitor (especially one who'd bother to come to the door rather than sending an email or simply calling). "Might be a prank," she murmurs, but she shakes her head, dismissing the idea. Most of the kids in the area were either too young or too well-behaved to bother with pranks, especially ones that took place this late at night. She plants her feet back on the ground, standing with a sigh. "I'll get it." She can always call the cops if it's anything dangerous, or signal Escanor to do so.

However, the sight that greets her when she opens the door...well, it's not dangerous, but she certainly isn't prepared for it.

Not in the slightest.

The boy with the green eyes (older, taller, but still skinny and bruised and small) is standing on her doorstep, trembling and wringing his hands. Words are spilling from his lips as he shuffles in place, digging his nails into his palms. She can make out a few of them ("Stupid--gonna take me away--shouldn't have come," he whispers, and her heart breaks), but most blur into a soft babble of fear and loneliness and pain. "Hello?" she inquires softly, because as much she's imagined this moment, she never thought of what to say.

He flinches back violently, eyes flicking up to hers behind unkempt bangs. Green eyes go wide with fear, hope, and then recognition. "M-merlin," he whimpers, hands stilling as he stares up at her--and then tears start to spill down his cheeks, his voice breaking as he reached for her with a sob. "Merlin..."

He remembers, she thinks, and something in her soars as she instinctively gathers him to her chest, hugging him tightly as he shudders, crying silently. He remembers, and he found me. "Come inside," she whispers, running her fingers through his matted blond hair.

"N-no," he chokes out against her shoulder, and he begins to shift, trying to pull away. "I-I can't, he's gonna--gonna find me and hurt you--"

He? Rage thunders through her veins like fire, and she glances over her shoulder, meeting Escanor's eyes. Judging from the look on his face, he's heard everything, and he's just as furious as she is, his golden eyes icy with anger. "Whoever he is," Merlin murmurs, "he's going to have to go through me." And no one has ever gone through me. "It's cold out and you look hungry and exhausted, so please. Come inside."

The boy--it strikes her now that she doesn't even know his name--stops struggling for a moment, but it's long enough for her to scoop him up (he's so small, so light, and judging from the way he goes limp in her hold he's far too tired to struggle) and carry him into the foyer. Escanor pads up behind her, closing the door before giving her a small, sad smile. The boy stiffens as he nears, though, and Merlin's heart aches and twists and burns with a thousand shades of anger and grief. "Hey," her husband greets softly. "I'm Escanor."

Merlin feels him shift against her, those wide green eyes fixing on her husband. "Meliodas," he whispers in response, and something in her melts. The name is almost lyrical, warm and sweet and the answer to a question she's been asking for six years. Escanor blinks, before a goofy, downright gooey smile crosses his face, eyes flicking to Merlin. She grins ruefully in response, knowing that with one word (one goddamn word), Meliodas has successfully, unintentionally, wrapped both of them around his little finger.

We're keeping this one, she vows to herself even as she carefully sets him down, gently suggesting that he take a shower. His cheeks redden, but he ducks his head obediently as Escanor leads him away towards one of the many bathrooms in their ridiculously large house. Almost reflexively, she heads over to the kitchen, peering through the cupboards before selecting a can of chicken noodle soup. Hollow cheeks, skinny wrists, collarbone jutting out. Merlin's grip tightens and she slams the can down with more force than she originally intended. Never again.

She's halfway through putting together a grilled cheese sandwich (she was just waiting for the soup to boil now) when Escanor loops his arms around her shoulders. Merlin chuckles softly. "He's a charmer, isn't he?"

He hums into her hair. "God, I just want to wrap that poor kid in blankets and cuddle him for three thousand years. The look of utter gratitude when I offered to put his clothes in the washer, like he didn't expect anything at all...and those bruises--I need to go punch whoever did that to him, Mer."

"Get in line," she mutters. She intends to find out exactly where they came from (with a little help from a brilliant friend of hers who, while not exactly operating under legal parameters, is extremely skilled and extremely sensitive to this sort of situation), but it can wait as long as it takes to make sure the poor thing feels comfortable. She flips the grilled cheese over, before glancing up at Escanor, who presses his lips to her hair. "Did you give him clothes to change into?"

He nods, stepping back and taking a spoon from the silverware drawer, giving the soup a quick stir. "Some of my stuff from a few years ago. Might still be a bit big on him, but it's better than nothing." He grimaces, and she sees the sorrow and anger on his face. Escanor was never good at hiding his feelings, but even she can barely cloak her roiling emotions when she thinks of the fear on Meliodas's face. "We can't let him go back to wherever he was. I'm not sending him back into that hell." Determination hardens his voice to ice (so odd, she thinks, for a man who reminds her so much of sunlight to become so cold when he gets angry). "You'll contact Bartra, right?"

"Once he goes to sleep," she agrees, prodding at the sandwich with a spatula before flipping it onto a plate, her mind drifting to the guest rooms. They had fixed them up when they remodeled the house, but their cleaning...well, they tend to skip some of them when they were tidying up. The attic bedroom is quite clean and warm, but I'm not sure if he wants to sleep there...or if he'll even voice his likes and dislikes. The increasingly familiar urge to punch something--specifically, whoever had dared hurt Meliodas--rises up in her and she exhales long and slow, forcing her muscles to relax.

The soft patter of bare feet on the floor makes her turn around, setting the grilled cheese on the table as she takes in the sight of the boy. Escanor's shirt is definitely too big for him (it's almost cute, how he's practically drowning in fabric), and his hands are knotted tightly in the hem of it, but he's clean, blond hair no longer matted with dirt and blood and who knows what else. Those big green eyes drift to the table as Escanor sets down the heated bowl of chicken noodle soup, before snapping back to her. "Is that..."

"Dinner?" she inquires. "We ordered food for ourselves a while ago, so we figured this would be quicker than adding something to our order." She hesitates, realizing that he's trembling slightly, hands reaching up to cover his mouth. Oh God, what did we do? "Meliodas, is...are you alright?" A stupid question, really, of course he isn't alright, but she's not sure what else to say.

“Thank you,” he chokes out, before bursting into tears, his body shuddering with sobs. “T-thank you, t-t-thank y-you so much I-I-I--” Merlin stares, eyes wide as horror and hate for the person who had done this to him crash over her in waves. Escanor moves first, wrapping Meliodas up in a tight hug as the boy wails into his shoulder, meeting her eyes over the top of his head, fury glinting like ice in the normally warm blue. She can read his thoughts perfectly, feel the rage that matches her own burning through his veins, knows that (after just a few goddamn minutes, she thinks with bitter amusement) he’s just as attached, just as entranced by this child as she is.

The story comes out after he eats, bit by trembling, nervous bit. His father, the man he had been running from six years prior, was arrested, and no one was left to take custody of him or his brothers. They were sent to the same shelter, but were brought to different foster homes, and the people who had taken him in proved to be no better (worse, Merlin thinks with a cold flare of anger, even worse)--but when he’d tried to leave, to contact the shelter, they hadn’t listened. They had reassured him and then left him there for another year before he managed to escape with nothing but a memorized phone number from his childhood and an address no one lived at anymore.

A fourteen-year-old boy with nothing had more courage, resilience, and heart than almost anyone she’s ever met, and the world has somehow fucking spat on that. So Merlin makes her calls. She digs up every goddamn bit of information on the family that took him, the shelter that failed him, the father who hurt him, and she digs deep. She watches as Escanor helps coax him out of his shell, as Meliodas grows more comfortable, as he begins to feel safe, and revels in the moments when he initiates contact. She stalks into court like a warrior queen entering the battlefield, chin up, teeth bared, hair swept up so that her scarlet tattoo is visible. She calls upon the best lawyers she knows, Bartra Liones and Zaratras Riddari, to help her win (and judging from the sudden pallor of the opposition’s face, they know exactly who they’re dealing with). Her case is strong, ringing with emotion, the jury looking increasingly horrified and sympathetic as his story is told.

It’s not exactly a surprise when the jury rules in her favor and custody of Meliodas Asmodei is granted to both her and Escanor, but tears spring to her eyes anyway when the verdict is delivered--tears of joy. She practically flies home from the courthouse, thanking Zaratras and Bartra quickly before sprinting (sprinting, she thinks with a wild laugh, she’s sprinting down the street in heels because of such sheer elation) down the street. She bursts through the door to the manor house, panting, disheveled and aching, but triumphant--and immediately gets a gentle “ssssssssh!” from Escanor as she stumbles into the living room. She opens her mouth to protest--this is fucking important, this is vital, this is literally what they’ve been searching for this past month--before stopping short as her husband’s eyes dart down to the small shape curled trustingly into his side.

Meliodas is pressed up against Escanor’s side, an expression of contentment distinct on his sleeping face as the movie the two had undoubtedly been watching plays softly in the background. It’s not the first time she’s seen him asleep, but it’s the first time she’s seen him so peaceful. Merlin feels her heart melt into a warm mush, and she sits down on his other side, a surprised gasp escaping her as he shifts his weight so that he’s leaning against her, the rhythm of his breathing never changing. She cautiously snakes an arm around his shoulder, and a soft murmur comes from his mouth as he slowly opens those big green eyes. “Hi,” he murmurs, and she feels the corner of her mouth quirk up. He’s clearly too sleepy to process anything right now.

“Welcome home,” she says to her son instead, kissing the top of his head. “Welcome home, Meliodas Ljon.”

#nanatsu no taizai #meliodas #lord escanor #take me there take me home series #merlin #the seven deadly sins

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moonhowlerpack · 8 years ago

Text

My old lady {Juice Ortiz}

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MasterList

Ask Anything: {Here}

Request: {Here}

Requested by: @soa-brothers

Juice Ortiz x ChubbyReader

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Blasting music in your kitchen, you got cooking for Juice making him a simple recipe. You stopped mid-stir to dance your favorite part of the song moving your hips to beat feeling hands on your waist you stopped turning around seeing Juice there smiling at you.

“Why would you stop I was getting very into it” Juice whined “I’m cooking” You said simply going back to the stove turning the pot off and serving the meal on a porcelain plate for him. “Thanks love” He whispered before kissing your check, before moving to the table to eat “How was your day” You said he groaned softly “It was complete shit, Tig kept bugging the shit out of me” Juice spoke.

You shook your head recently this Tig guy was really on Juice’s case “What was he telling you” You replied “Don’t worry about it” Juice shook head before taking another bite of his food. You stopped cleaning the counter hearing Juice’s voice sounding sad walking out of the kitchen seeing him poking at the food to avoid the conversation.

“Amor enserio estas bien” (Love really are you ok?) you asked before he knew when you switched language he knew you were serious. He sighed turning around from the table he looked down at his hands picking at his cuticle’s “Si, no mas quiero hablar” (Yes, I just don’t want to talk) he answered, you kneeled down between his legs he looked down at you staring right back at you his eyes glazing over.

He rubbed your cheek with his hand putting his forehead on yours “Enserio mi amor estoy bien” (Really my love I’m okay) you nodded bringing him into a hug. But in your head you knew this was going to continue so you were going to confront this Tig person and you knew for sure after you meet him he is not ever going to mess with Juice ever again.

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Arriving at the TM parking and getting out of your car squinting to see if there anyone, seeing no one in plain sight you started muttering to yourself in Spanish “Un montón de idiotas intimidando a Juan Carlos, se metieron con la persona equivocada pensando que le pueden hacer eso sin consecuencias” (A bunch of idiots bullying Juan Carlos, they messed with the wrong person thinking they can do that to him without consequences.) Seeing a guy in leather walking out of the TM going up to him “Is there someone named here Tig?” I asked.

“Darling I need to know your business here first then I can bring him around” The Scottish man said but he didn’t realize the mistake. “You don’t need know the business I have I just have to talk to him and you just said he was here so you can’t go telling me he isn’t here” I said my patience was wearing off when it came to Juice I had very little patience for people hurting him.

He grimaced frim the mistake “Still can’t do that lassy” He said “Mira que es mi maldito problema, no el tuyo, sólo me trae Tig y me iré justo después de eso, solo necesito hablar con él muy rápido” I stated angrily (look it's my goddamn problem not yours just get me Tig and I'll leave right after that, I just need to speak to him real quick).

“You need to calm down” He told me he looking down at me angrily “Because I will force you to get out”He said I glared up at him.

"No me digas que me tranquilice porque pregunté muy bien al principio, y no pondrás una mano en mí porque si lo haces te juro que te arrepentirás"I half-yelled (Don't tell me to calm down because I asked nicely in the beginning, and you will not lay a hand on me because if you do I swear you will regret it).

“You know if you calm I’ll bring him here” He negotiated “Fine but you better get him” I muttered.

Chibs walked inside looking for Tig mentally cursing him out for being trouble to the young Puerto Rican woman outside who just cursed him out, seeing him with a crow eater on his lap he made his way towards him “Tig someone is outside for you” Chibs said before walking back out of the club house hearing Tig say something to the crow eater that made her giggle.

Walking side by side looking over at you leaning against the car crossing your arms over chest “Dam that curvy lady is for me, I’ve never been into that but after seeing her I’m definitely going to bring her home tonight” Tig murmured Chibs looked at him before looking at the young woman eyeing her up she definitely is a looker.

“You know the closer I get, the harder I get for her” Tig murmured once again.

Looking up from your feet pushing yourself off the car you smiled falsely, walking to meet them somewhat half way your fingers curled into your palm planting your face you swung at him hitting him right on the right side of his jaw.

Chibs yelled at you before trying to grab you from behind but elbowed him in the nose releasing you, the people in the club house heard the yell from Chibs, and hearing Chibs yell at someone was rare so they all ran outside to see the commotion.

Chibs reached over at you again but your fast and twisted his arm pushing him on the floor turning back to Tig hitting him again in the opposite of the jaw where you already hit him.

Juice was behind Jax preparing himself for what was about to happen but recognizing you from behind made him a bit proud to see members of the MC on the floor and you standing between with rage in your eyes. Seeing Jax take out the gun he ran in front of the gun holding his hands above his head “JUICE GET OUT OF THE WAY” Jax yelled.

But Juice only shook his head ‘no’, hearing Juice name being yelled made you look up seeing a gun pointed at him you also put your hands up “What the hell is your problem” Tig said holding his jaw. “I can actually explain that” Juice said sheepishly. “Did you put her up to this” Chibs said “No, I didn’t it was just-” Tig interrupted him “Because Honey if you want to fight later on, we can do it between the sheets” Tig tried using a pick up line on you but of course it didn’t work.

“No you can’t because she’s my old lady”Juice said pointing to himself collective gasps muttering“What”, “Yeah that’s my old lady, curves, attitude and all”Juice said“That still doesn’t explain why she hit him”Opie said.

“Yeah well Tig was messing with I just got a little sad you know so I came home and I told (Y/N) and I guess she might have taken action for what you did to me” Juice explained Tig looked at Juice “I’m sorry brother I didn’t mean for you to actually feel bad” Tig apologized “It’s fine brother, looks like my lady already handled it for me” Juice said.

“Yeah she definitely did, I’m not going to be able to talk for a while after she hit my jaw both sides of it”

“Finally someone made him shut Up”

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GIFS DO NOT BELONG TO ME ALL CREDIT GOES TO OWNERS

Words~~1,244

#soa #Sons of anarchy #requested #chubby #chubby love #juice ortiz #juice ortiz x reader #jax teller #chibs telford #happy #happy lowman #asdfghjkl #asdfghjkjhgfds #asdfghjkk #masterlist #:)#MoonHowlerPack MoonHowlerPackImagines #MoonHowlerPack #MoonHowlerPack Imagines

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ladyofstardust · 7 years ago

Text

Meanwhile in Prague

Word Count: 6k

Rating: T

Summary: In which they go to Prague to vomit, eat, and make-out. In that order. Sarah is still trying to pretend this is Not A Date and Jareth is mostly trying to touch her butt. Nobody does a very good job.

Notes: Apartment-verse fic. Directly follows the Tinder Incident. Before Goblins Roasting.

Sarah paced back and forth in front of the mirror in her kitchen. It was five minutes to seven and she was trying very, very hard not to think about what was about to occur and instead on picking the lint off of her favourite dress.

She’d changed four times. Four times and there definitely wasn’t time to change again. At that point she risked him walking in on her naked. Which he’d like just about as much as she wouldn’t.

She thought about what led to this. Kissing him under the the dim flickering lights of her kitchen. The tv playing 80s sitcom reruns in the background. How she was wearing sweatpants and her old college hoodie. How he’d raked his hand through her gross knotted hair. How his hand ran underneath the sweater and up her cool back. He’d felt like fire. He’d felt like jumping into a cool lake. Or the way you feel right before you hit ‘send’ on an important email. Exhilarating and scary all at the same time. Where you let out a breath only to be punched in the gut.

But then she thought about real stuff. About things other than that split second. About going to the movies with her friends, or walking into a library, or seeing a broadway show downtown. Then about her career, her apartment, her family and friends, her retirement fund (pitiful as it was), her doctors appointments and dentists. The restaurants she loved eating at, and the places she dreamed of visiting.

Fire might keep her warm at night, but it still burned up anything in its wake.

If Sarah was being honest with herself, and like, at this point she figured might as well. She’d dreamed about kissing him from the first. She’d dreamed about a hell of a lot more than kissing him and frankly, if she thought she thought she could have that without consequences, she would’ve long ago made those dreams a reality. Leaving aside everything else, Jareth was just stupid hot. Like walk into walls, drop whatever was in your hands, make yourself forget about your life to kiss them hot. But it wasn’t like this was news to her. Yeah he was hot, but he also drove her nuts.

Even if she didn’t care about the whole, ‘give up your whole life just to see if this is maybe viable’ thing, which she did, Jareth was also the fucking worst. He allowed the goblins to treat her home as an extension of their kingdom, he stole her brother and tried to throw her in a feces filled swamp, he used her feelings toward him as a weapon to trap her in that ballroom, he stole her makeup and leftovers, he left glitter goddamn everywhere, and he hated dogs. Who even hates dogs?

So in what messed up world would she ever want to date him?!

Which is why she changed her outfits four times, and was counting down the seconds until he took her to do just that.

She watched her phone’s clock go over to 7pm and heard the familiar chime of the bell over the mirror.

“Goblin King,” she turned to greet him. “Were you just waiting by the mirror to step through at the precise moment it clicked over to 7? How very Cinderella of you.”

“Is this typically how one greets one’s date in the human world?” he frowned. “I thought you were supposed to be ‘showing me the ropes’ as it were.”

Sarah raised her eyebrows both out of surprise that he was actually planning on holding her to that farce, and his altered appearance. He’d slicked back his hair and tamed it into a ponytail of sorts. He was still wearing his leather jacket, but his shirt was plain in nature and was buttoned fully. He’d also changed into a pair of plain black pants, although he wore the same boots she often saw on him. The change of his eyes was the most striking. Jareth had done something to them. Blunted their effect somehow and instead of a mismatched set, two ice blue eyes stared back at her. Sarah realized that with those subtle differences, he easily passed for human. He reminded her a bit of David Bowie with his androgynous features, though Bowie never rocked the ponytail.

“Fair enough,” she said holding up her hands in a truce. “You look, weirdly nice Jareth.”

He smiled. “You should expect nothing less from me. But I must say, you quite took my breath away as I watched you pacing just now. I’ve lived a long time Sarah, but seeing you tonight has already been a memory I will cherish.”

“Goddammit,” she hissed, giving him a playful whack on his shoulder. “You can’t admit to spying and then drop that Jane Austen shit on me. Don’t make me drape a sheet over the mirror. But thank you, that’s nice, I’m still mad, but that’s also still nice.”

“Apologies,” he said taking her hand in his. She made note that he was still wearing his gloves, apparently that had not been part of his humanization. “I shall endeavour to stare at you less, but you do make it difficult precious.”

He laid a delicate kiss on the top of her hand and raised a brow expecting her to challenge him.

“Okay first rule of dating human girls,” she said withdrawing her hand. “I’m used to you and the way you like to talk. Other humans won’t be. You’re gonna come off as a creep if you use language like ‘I shall endeavour’.”

“So you wish for me to speak as you do? With your imprecise phrases and doublespeak?”

“No I think we can write off you using modern slang entirely,” she said, trying to picture him telling some poor girl that his castle was lit or something. “But let’s shoot for curmudgeonly old person rather than CS Lewis character. Actually that brings me to rule two, absolutely no talk of magic, goblins, goblin adjacent stuff, and most importantly, me.”

“I cannot believe you’d think I’d tell any old human girl the secrets of my kingdom,” Jareth sniped, insulted. “You can insult my person as much as you please, but I’d ask you keep your opinions on my rulership to yourself. If you are neither a citizen of the Goblin Kingdom, nor my wife, then you have no power over my rule.”

“Okay,” she said evenly, pleasantly surprised. She rarely heard him talk about his kingdom like that. She knew he didn’t tell people about goblins or magic, but she thought that sometimes he would let his little games of misdirection and teasing go a bit too far. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have overstepped.”

“Of course if you were my wife, you’d be in charge of deciding these things with me,” he grinned at her.

“I’ll add it to the pro column,” she grumbled.

“Oh I have a pro column!” he exclaimed, delighted. “Well I’m just dying to hear more about all my great attributes over dinner, but I think it best we head off lest we miss our reservation.”

“Yeah considering we’ve already had to apologize to each other and we haven’t left my kitchen, this is starting out like most of my dates already. You said you wanted to pick the place so where are we going? Do I need my car keys or can we walk?”

“I was thinking somewhere a little further afield,” he said, extending his hand towards her again. “Are you willing to let me take us there?”

Sarah hesitated a moment, debating, before sighing and placing her hand in his.

“Let’s roll magic man,” she said. “Before I change my mind.”

“Best to close your eyes Sarah,” he warned, pulling her in tightly so there was no space between them. “It is unpleasant if you are unused to the sensation.”

Sarah closed her eyes and felt the floor drop out from under her. She dug her nails into Jareth’s wrist in an attempt not to panic, and he squeezed her hand right back as if to reassure her he wasn’t going to let go. She didn’t dare open her eyes until she heard his voice in her ear.

“Welcome Sarah, to the great city of Prague.”

“PRAGUE?!” she exclaimed, that had snapped her right out of it.

Well, for about the half second she had to register where she was before she promptly vomited all over the alleyway he’d landed them in. Jareth, to his credit, seemed to take it in stride and simply grabbed her hair to keep her from being sick all over it.

“Great,” she said wiping her mouth. “Usually I like to save the vomiting until later in the date.”

“No time like the present,” he said brightly handing her a handkerchief from his pocket. “I did warn you, the trip can be unpleasant.”

“Understatement of the year. Does everyone puke?” she asked, gratefully taking the cloth from his hands.

“I don’t make it a habit bringing humans along,” he said with a shrug. “It mostly only seems to occur when I move from place to place in your world. It actively works against my magic instead of helping it the way the Underground does. If it makes you feel better, it is deeply unpleasant for me to travel significant distances in cars or most of your trains.”

“That does make me feel a bit better yeah,” she said, smoothing out her dress. She’d missed her shoes at least. “But I’m good now.”

“Still feel up to eating?” he asked, offering her his arm.

“Yeah since you brought me halfway across the world and all, the food better be amazing,” she said linking her arm through his.

“I’ve been coming here for over a hundred years, a relatively new place by my standards,” he said absently. Sarah struggled to think of a place she’d been going to for ten years let alone a hundred.

“You’re a creature of habit,” she pointed out. “You like what you like and then kind of just keep doing that.”

“How true,” he conceded. “For instance I like you.”

“Nope,” Sarah replied, shaking her head. “This date is not a real date. It’s a practice date so you can date other people and stop liking me.”

“Well how am I doing so far?” he asked.

“You lost points when you admitted to watching me standing in front of the mirror, but gained them all back for how nice you were about me getting the pukes in front of you. But I don’t think I need to tell you most women won’t have to deal with teleportation sickness.”

“There,” he said pointing to a little arched doorway. From the outside it didn’t look terribly impressive. An old fresco was painted on top of the doorway, which had writing Sarah couldn’t read.

Jareth held open the wooden door for Sarah to step through. As soon as she entered the restaurant she realized that she was dead wrong about this place. Beautiful elaborate paintings decorated the arched ceilings. Gold chandeliers lit the room, which complemented the candelabras on the individual tables. A luxe red carpet lined the room which looked only large enough to seat about thirty or forty people.

“Jareth,” she hissed into his ear, anxiously smoothing down her suddenly very plain feeling jersey dress. “I’m massively underdressed. Also I cannot afford anything on this menu. I live in a city with hundreds of great restaurants - we couldn’t have just gone there instead?”

“This place is called U Malířů1543. It is named such because that is the year it was established. Excellent year by the way, some of the best wine. You said I could choose the place, and this is one of my favourite Aboveground establishments. If I thought there was any chance I could have taken you to one of the hundreds of fine establishments Underground that I love without you throwing a fit and spouting off about kidnapping and faerie food again, I would have.”

“That picnic was a terrible half-assed idea and you know it,” she interrupted. The time he’d tried to surprise her with a “friendly platonic picnic” she was sure seemed like a great idea in his head. Except he’d forgotten to ask her if she wanted to come and instead just ambushed her one time when she was trying to visit with her friends. Locking her closest friends in oubliettes while he dropped grapes into her mouth like some sort of demented fairytale was not on.

“My point is,” he said gruffly, ignoring her. “I wanted to show you a bit of my world. Or perhaps more accurately, the parts of your world that I enjoy that have nothing to do with you. You’re not underdressed, you look perfect as we have already discussed, and as this date was my idea, I will be picking up the cheque Sarah. Before you interrupt to argue with me about owing debts to faerie, consider the fact that you’re helping me learn how to interact with humans and write it off as a fair trade. Now are there any more objections or can we take our seats? We’re already late for our reservations.”

“I have a feeling reservations is going to be the theme of the night,” she muttered, smoothing down her dress. Maybe if she hadn’t spent so long trying to decide what to wear she’d have had time to iron it. Sarah eyed the lady at a nearby table. Her diamond bracelet clinked against her plate every time she reached for her wine glass. Sarah looked down at the hair tie on her wrist and the cheap charm bracelet her mom had got her a number of christmases ago. She had no business being in a place this fancy and everyone here knew it. They were probably already discussing who that dishevelled, puke-smelling girl that just walked in was.

Jareth stepped forward to speak to the maitre d. He spoke quickly in a language Sarah guessed must have been Czech. Her hands tightened into fists as he led them to their seats. She felt Jareth’s hand over hers and he patted her fist kindly.

“Why are you so concerned about these other people who you will likely never see again after this night,” he whispered into her ear.

“I don’t like people thinking I’m weird,” she replied quietly. “It reminds me of being a kid and feeling powerless when people would make fun of me for, well, being weird.”

Sarah sat down and smiled at the maitre d as he pulled out her chair. If she couldn’t be the best dressed she could at least be the most polite.

“How do I say thank you?” she asked Jareth quickly.

“ Děkuji,” he replied nodding at the maitre d and taking his seat. “Do you mind if I order for you? The menu is also in Czech.”

“Yeah it’s fine, just no white wines and no fish,” she said gratefully taking another look around the dining room.

It really was a beautiful place. Looking at Jareth she realized she was wrong, that she wasn’t the worst dressed here. Jareth was dressed much the same as she was and he obviously didn’t care.

“You dressed to match me didn’t you,” she said, realizing. “You knew how fancy this place was so you watched to see what I would be wearing before choosing an outfit yourself. You didn’t want me to be self-conscious.”

“Yes,” he replied, eyes shooting to hers as he peered over the menu.

“So then why didn’t you just tell me we were going somewhere fancy so I would have worn something nice?” she asked, confused.

“I...didn’t think you’d come,” he replied, equally confused.

“Okay,” she said putting her head in her hands. “I would have probably asked if you were planning on covering the bill and maybe the name of the restaurant yeah, but I still would have come Jareth.”

“I will know for next time then,” he replied smoothly.

“I kinda just want to point out something though,” she said, deliberately stepping over the next time comment. “I think you spend a lot of time feeling like I should loosen up and go with your plans more. Then you say something like how you didn’t think I’d come if you told me to wear something nice. That’s totally different and it kind of upsets me that you don’t get that. I’m not some fun hating monster Jareth. I mean for goodness sakes, I let goblins have free reign of my apartment and I go along with your plans more often than not. But you can’t paint me enforcing what little boundaries I have left as me being rigid. It’s not fair and yes! Before you say anything, I know that life’s not fair thanks. But if you want to date me, or any other human girl, you have to respect our boundaries.”

“So what is the difference between this and say, the picnic,” he said carefully, taking a slow sip of his far too expensive wine.

“Well for starters,” she said, gratefully taking a gulp of the same wine which tasted like every other red wine that didn’t cost an arm and a leg, “that time you didn’t ask. You gotta ask. Like that is level one humaning stuff right there. Most girls don’t mind a bit of a surprise every now and then. I like surprises! This is kind of a fun surprise, I’ve never been to Prague. This is cool. This would have been ten times as cool if you’d told me this is what we’re doing beforehand because I could enjoy it, dress appropriately, and mentally prepare myself to be teleported halfway across the world.”

“Okay,” he said seriously. “Let us do something called compromising. I promise not to take you anywhere without your permission, if you agree to tell me your reservations instead of simply dismissing me. Allow me the chance to convince you,”

“I’ll agree to that,” she said with a sigh. “Though that’s mostly because I know you at this point and I trust you not to do anything shady or convince me of anything that is going to hurt me later. But I feel it’s important you understand that no is an okay answer sometimes. I’m not rejecting you, well, I’m not always rejecting you, sometimes I just don’t want to and that has to be fine. Maybe I just don’t feel like doing something insane and wacky, maybe I just want to hang out on my couch and read a book.”

“Is this how all humans treat their friends?” he asked with interest. “That doesn’t sound like a great deal of fun.”

“Yeah mostly,” she said rolling her eyes. “Fun is when everyone is having a good time. I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t have fun at one of Toby’s soccer games or hanging out at Six Flags. So I don’t “surprise” you by taking you there assuming that you’ll have a good time because I am. You get what I’m saying?”

“I suppose so,” he said crisply. “But what are six flags?”

“An amusement park,” she said with a smile. “Do you wanna go? I could be wrong about this, you don’t seem personally concerned with things like gravity so maybe you’d have a blast.”

“Is that one of those places where everyone gets in the little metal box, allows the teenager standing at the controls to fling them about a bit, then they all get out and talk about what fun that was?”

“The very same,” she said brightly. “Still wanna go?”

“No,” he frowned. “I’m fairly certain some of the lower kingdoms still use that as a method of torture.”

“Exactly. Different definitions of fun,” she smiled, she was cheered up greatly feeling like she’d finally managed to get through to him. “Though while we’re on the subject of dress,” she said gesturing towards his hands. “I’ve always wanted to know something. What’s the deal with the gloves.”

“The gloves?” he said, turning over his hands to examine them, as if he was surprised to find them covered.

“Yeah, you wear them all the time. Any reason? If you touch me will I turn to gold? Are you secretly Midas?” she asked with a grin.

“No,” he said with a shrug. “I suppose I hadn’t really thought about how you would perceive it. Where I’m from, showing one’s hands is an especially...intimate gesture. Unsuitable for polite company and generally reserved for family and close lovers.”

“Oh really?” she asked, intrigued. “I never thought about it like that. Why is it so intimate?”

“Our hands are the conduits for our power,” he replied simply. “We move and manipulate spells with them.”

“That makes sense,” she said nodding. “Do you guys feel the same way about breasts as the rest of North America?”

“No,” he said with a laugh. “The women typically cover themselves but mostly to wear the more elaborate garments most of the high court is so fond of. The peasant women cover them to keep warm in the winter months, but in the summer it’s common to see them walking around mostly nude. We’re not very prudish about these sorts of things.”

“No, I never got that impression from you,” she said with a raised brow. “So the glove thing is a bit of a surprise.”

“I suppose we all have our traditions,” he said with a smirk. “Now what other human things should I be aware of before throwing myself into the dating world of humans.”

“Well for starters, it’s good to ask people questions about themselves. Then listen to what they are saying and ask questions about their answers. It’s not a quiz though so don’t take notes or rapid fire random crap like what their favourite ice cream is. Just have a conversation. Kinda like we’re doing now.”

“Yes I should think I have a handle on that,” he said rolling his eyes. “But why did you request I not speak of you to these women? Shouldn’t one tell their date about their friends?”

“Yes…” she said carefully, she’d really hoped to avoid this, but knew it had to come up at some point. “But I don’t think you should mention me.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not sure you can talk about me in a way that doesn’t immediately tell any date that you’re interested in dating me instead of them,” she answered quickly, just wanting to move past it without much discussion on the subject.

Jareth looked as if he was thinking about this for a moment, considering a possible answer. Then he turned back to his meal as if she’d said nothing at all.

“Are you not going to argue with me?” she was genuinely confused by his reaction.

“No.” he said, taking another bite of his dinner.

“Because I’m right?”

“Yes.”

“Well...okay,” she said confused. He had agreed with her, so why was she so annoyed? In fact, he’d dropped the subject quickly which was the best scenario she could have hoped for.

They sat in silence for a moment as Sarah picked at her dinner. It was easily one of the best meals she’d ever eaten but she was having trouble enjoying it.

“Are you really going to go out with one of those girls from Tinder,” she finally blurted out.

“I don’t know,” he said putting down his utensils. “Do you still want me to?”

“I owe you an apology probably,” she said with another sigh. “I’ve been a shitty friend lately. Running away every time you come near and then shoving all those women in your face like they’re interchangeable. I’ve kind of been behaving like a child.”

“Kind of?” he said with a raised eyebrow.

“Don’t push me Jareth,” she said shaking her head. “I panicked. When you kissed me it reminded me of the ballroom, you know, the elephant in the room we don’t talk about?”

“Yes,” he said avoiding her eyes.

“Yeah so it kinda brought me back to that moment. When all I wanted was to kiss you - which I think you knew at the time so let’s not pretend this is new information. The last time I wanted to kiss you it nearly cost me everything. You nearly cost me everything. I know we’re trying to move past that to be friends, but you kissing me is making that hard.”

He paused and looked at her consideringly. “Has it occurred to you that perhaps I want you to want to kiss me?”

“It’s occurred to me plenty yeah,” she sighed. “But I can’t want that.”

“Can’t?”

“Can’t,” she replied firmly. “The price is too high Jareth.”

“You don’t even know what the price is,” he challenged. “I’ve never asked anything of you.”

“But that’s the thing, you don’t have to ask. I know - I’m not stupid and I’m not some kid who’s just gonna throw my hands in the air and shout about true love being all that matters. For starters true love is bullshit, and for another I have things about my life that I really like that are just straight incompatible with - whatever the hell we’d be if we just started kissing a whole bunch, I don’t know. I just know that I don’t want to want to kiss you.”

“I’m sorry for putting you in a position where you feel you can’t want to kiss me,” he replied. “But know that I hope you’ll change your mind.”

“Yeah, and I’m sorry for forcing your hand so that you felt the only way you could take me on this date was to trick me into it. I can see how we ended up here and this one is mostly on me. But somehow, someway, despite all my very best efforts, you’re my friend Jareth. I’d like to keep you as my friend but you need to cut this kissing shit out.”

“I would remind you who kissed who in the first place,” he said, taking another careful bite of the very expensive potatoes.

“Oh but you finished it Goblin King,” she replied evenly.

“I intend to yes,” he said with a smile that Sarah didn’t entirely trust.

The rest of the meal passed, to Sarah’s surprise, relatively pleasantly. Jareth told her about the last couple times he’d been in Prague and how the city had changed. Sarah enjoyed listening to him tell her about a world that she’d only known from her history books. It was a unique perspective, and one many would kill for. She enjoyed hearing him describe the concerts he’d been to and the different people he’d met. Most of their names he had forgotten, but she was surprised at the affection his voice held when he spoke of them.

Jareth had suggested they take a bit of a walk after dinner. Sarah thought this was a great idea as walking around Prague at night for an hour, and then getting to crawl into her own bed to sleep seemed like a once in a lifetime opportunity. She hadn’t planned for the change in temperature though so Jareth lent her his jacket. Sarah gratefully accepted.

“I feel you should know something,” she told him as they walked along the cobblestone streets.

“Oh?” he said in surprise.

“Yep,” she nodded. “I drank all that fancy wine at dinner and those food portions were teeny tiny and you see I have no food from before in my stomach because of the puking and basically, hello I am tipsy.”

“Excellent,” he said wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Then this would be the perfect time to ask you all those soul searching questions.”

“Oh no,” she said laughing. “You’re not going to in vinos veritas me. No no. Not today buddy, not today.”

“Hmm,” he said considering their surroundings. “This does make the matter of getting you home more difficult though. I don’t want you losing that very fancy dinner all over your nice kitchen floor.”

“Yeah how’d you pay for that anyways?” she asked. “Pretty sure you’re not walking around with a Visa card in those tight pants of yours. I would know, because of how tight your pants are. Your pants are tight Jareth. Tight Pants McGee is what I should call you really.”

“Oh you are just delightful when inebriated aren’t you?” he said with a grin. “Tell me more about my tight pants and all the ways you’ve noticed how tight they are. Actually I’d prefer an alphabetical list of all the times you’ve checked out my ass in my pants.”

“Sure sure ass,” she said nodding. “Definitely just the ass. Anyways no thank you Mr. Tighty, as I just said, we’re not in vinos veritasing me. I’m a strong independent woman who can handle her shit and her wine.”

“I’d never dream of suggesting otherwise.”

“But like, just checking, we didn’t dine and dash that place did we? I don’t think they’re gonna track me down and find me or anything, but I’m not about tricking people that we paid when we didn’t. I know about faerie gold. I can’t really afford it, like at all, but if we need to I can go back and put it on my card.”

“No,” he said waving a hand. “That is a trick for lower faerie. I have some human investments that do quite well. Real estate mostly. It collects a nice paycheque that I use to fund myself and my kingdom’s activities here Aboveground.”

“You’re...a landlord.” she said with disbelief. The idea that Jareth could be anyone’s landlord was somehow baffling. Especially when she considered her own landlord, the overweight fifty something gentleman with a limited understanding of English but who really loved the local hockey team as everything he owned seemed to be plastered with its logo.

“I suppose I am,” he replied. “I don’t actually do anything to earn the money. I have human emissaries who handle that side of my business. Not uncommon for high faerie to have human businesses, and we learn a little about your economics and history during our schooling. I have a couple lawyers and whatnot and I believe an accountant. To be honest I can’t quite recall.”

“This is completely mind blowing,” she said. “You’re probably like crazy rich then. God, my mom would just freak out if she knew I turned you down.”

“Every time I hear about your mother the woman sounds more and more … complicated,” he finished diplomatically.

“Yeah sure,” she said with a snort. “Complicated. You can say shallow you know. It’s not like this is news to me. I worry a lot about ending up like that.”

“You do?” he asked with interest. “Why? You’re nothing like the woman.”

She stopped walking and stared at him. He took his arm from her shoulder and gave her a puzzling look. “What is it Sarah? Have I upset you?”

“No it’s not that,” she said, her head starting to clear up. “It’s just, you know you’re the first person to say that?”

“I am?” he asked, brow furrowing in confusion. “That cannot be true.”

“People are always going on and on about how much like her I am,” she said raking a hand through her hair. “I know I look like her. But my dad and Karen used to say during arguments how I was just like her. So stubborn and sharp tongued.”

Jareth took her by the wrist and gently guided her down a narrow alleyway. “You are stubborn and sharp tongued. But you’re not just like anyone. You’re not vain, shallow, or obsessed with your status in life. From what you’ve mentioned about your mother, I would guess you have very little in common.”

“I know,” she said squeezing his hand. “It’s just nice to hear someone else say it for once.”

“Are you still inebriated,” he asked her taking a quick look around.

“No, I’m pretty sober now. The walk helped a lot. Did you figure out an easier way for me to get home.”

“I did,” he replied. “Or at least, I should like to try something. As I said I don’t take humans alongside very often so I’m not sure if this will work, but I think it is our best shot. Though you may not like it.”

“It definitely can’t be any worse than the trip here,” she said with a laugh. “So just go ahead, I won’t bite.”

“Promise?” he asked with a wicked glint in his eyes.

Sarah didn’t have a chance to answer before he pulled her in. She wasn’t sure if the ground fell because he kissed her or if he kissed her to keep her from falling. He kissed her smoothly and easily, like it was something he did every morning before she left for work. He kissed her like it was summertime and they had the rest of the day to just lie in the grass kissing each other like that. He kissed her like he knew her and it made Sarah’s heart jump to think that maybe he did.

The last time he kissed her, she reasoned that she needed to kiss him back because she wasn’t going to let him ruin kissing for her without ruining it for him right back. This time she kissed him back because it kept her from thinking about them falling through the nothingness of space and time.

Or at least that’s what she’d say if anyone asked. It absolutely definitely wasn’t because he smelled good and kissed even better. Nope, that had less than zero to do with it.

She barely noticed they’d landed before he pulled back.

“There, I thought that might do it,” he said smugly.

“Well...you were right,” she said slightly out of breath. Her head was swimming but her dinner seemed content to stay where it was.

“I was?” he said with smug smile.

“Yep, I didn’t like that,” she said giving him a solid whack on the arm.

“Ow Sarah!” he whined. “It worked did it not?”

“That was absolutely the last kiss you’re ever getting so I hope you made it count because kissing is done now,” she said annoyed.

“Something tells me it won’t be,” he said with a smirk and pushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “But I’d like to point out I did ask.”

“Bite me.”

“I intend to,” he said giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “But as you know all good dates end with a kiss and I think this was a very good date indeed.”

“I suppose,” she grumbled. A small part of her was quite pleased she’d had another excuse to kiss him. But like hell if she’d ever admit that out loud.

“Have a good rest of your evening Sarah,” he said stepping backwards through the mirror. “Until next time.”

“Ugh whatever,” she sighed waving him off. She waited until he was fully gone and then narrowed her eyes into the glass. “And if you’re still watching know that I can absolutely move this mirror into my landlord’s bathroom and I don’t think you’ll like the view from there half as much.”

Sarah thought she heard a laugh somewhere in the far distance and decided she was just going to have to take her chances. There was a reason the mirror lived in the kitchen and not her bedroom.

#SO I ACTUALLY WROTE THIS LIKE TWO MONTHS AGO #and just TOTALLY FORGOT to post it here?????#anyways Sarah is actually dressed perfectly appropriately and she's just got some old hangups #she's working on them #my ownsome #apartment-verse #fanfiction #labyrinth #labyrinth has ruined me

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