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starsstruck · 4 years ago

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cloudbusting; part one.

a classic coffee shop story. harry is a painter that quickly becomes a regular at his neighbourhood cafe, and it just might have something to do with a certain barista. hazy opening shifts, paintings on walls, and new regulars.

pairing: harry x reader warnings: language words: 8.3k

art by holly warburton. (i have no vision for the mc of the fic, people in the images of paintings i use are purely because this is how i envision harry’s art to be !)

series masterlist | story tag

a/n: first part !! i am so excited (and slightly nervous) to start and share this story i really hope everyone enjoys <3. as always, please share if you can and i would love to hear your thoughts !

There was a lot you liked about the city, especially the city in the morning.

The walk you always made to work wasn’t too long, the day still early enough that there were only a handful of people out along with you. Some joggers, some dog walkers, some people heading to work and likely some heading home.

Grateful for the sun being up before you were, the July morning already heating up the early air of the day. Feet moving you quickly through the Brooklyn Heights neighbourhood, you walked the last few blocks that led you from your apartment to the coffee shop.

The one thing you didn’t like about the summer morning, was that the air was making your eyes itch.

It was that fresh morning haze, the one that held the night’s humidity and somehow the night’s pollen as well, having you rub your nose for what seemed like the thousandth time that morning.

The sky had turned a light blue, a warm glow just rising over the buildings as you crossed the road, your hand already in your bag to fish out your keys.

Grabbing the newspaper that was placed on the street by the door, tucking it under your arm, and unlocked the door to the café. Stepping inside and promptly closing and relocking the door behind you. The air inside was stuffy and hot as it always was in the summer especially after a lack of airflow all night.

Punching in the security code, haphazardly throwing your bag and keys on the counter before shrugging off your jacket, already finding yourself feeling too hot. It was always the same path you followed, every opening shift.

Turning off the alarm, dumping your things on the counter, moving further behind the counter to turn on the iPad where POS were made, before walking into the even hotter back room to turn on the sound system. One of your playlists was already queued, soon the sound of Lizzo blasting through the shop while you moved to prep and bake the pastries.

Your body worked on auto pilot, not even having to think that much; preheating ovens and unwrapping thawing croissants. The air conditioning was slowly settling in the large space, grabbing yourself a glass of iced water to help cool yourself down.

Opening didn’t take very long; it was just the food prep that took a bit longer and needed you to come in a slightly earlier than necessary.

The café would be opening in about twenty minutes, and all you had left to do was brew the drip coffee and dial the espresso. It was always simultaneously your favourite and least favourite part of opening.

It gave you your first taste of coffee of the day, but it also meant you had to take multiple sips thus drinking too much coffee at once in the morning. Scrunching your nose at the acidic taste of the first shot you pulled, promptly dumping it out in the sink and rinsing out your mouth with some water.

Every opening shift was the same, hands moving without your mind as you pulled a few more shots, adjusting the grind of your espresso.

Two minutes until opening; you flipped through the daily newspaper and easily found the crossword, taking out the section that contained it to put it aside.

Grabbing the sign that would sit outside in one hand, you unlocked the front door and placed it on the sidewalk by the door. Moving the patio furniture that was kept inside at night, laying it out along the side of the café across the windows.

Changing your playlist as the clock changed to 7:00, the soft sounds of Leif Vollbeckk filling the space. Grabbing your laptop from your bag, hoping for a slow morning as you pulled up order forms you needed to fill out for next weeks deliveries. Filling a glass with ice, deciding to finish off the rest of the cold brew –knowing there wouldn’t be enough to fill up a cup to sell to a customer.

“Morning!”

Smiling at the sound of the familiar voice, diverting your attention from the spreadsheets on the screen to see the older man walking up towards the counter.

“You’re here early today.” Grinning, you pushed yourself away from the counter and grabbed the crossword puzzle and a pen that were put aside earlier.

“I’m going for lunch with my son later,” Dani sat himself in the plushy chair he loved so much. “I still wanted to make sure I could come in for my coffee.”

Handing him the crossword that was always saved for him, knowing he loved to get to it first.

“Let me know when you want your coffee,” you hummed, hands resting on your hips.

“I’ll take it right away today.” He told you, as you watched him reach in the paper bag he brought with him, pulling out a bagel.

He often brought his own food. You really didn’t care that he didn’t patronize the café for its food, and only the coffee. He came in nearly every day, sometimes two times in a day and he was definitely one of your favourite faces to see walk through the doors.

“I brought you some breakfast.”

Another reason why you really didn’t care was that he often brought you a little treat along with his own. He was familiar with everyone who worked with you, constantly asking about the schedule and who would be working when so he knew who to expect. But you knew that you were his favourite, and he never forgot to tell you that.

“You didn’t have to,” you smiled, as he waved off your comment and handed you your own bagel. “Thank you.”

“I know how you are in the morning, always running out of time and forgetting to eat.”

Leaving it with him at his table, making the short distance to go back behind the counter to get his coffee ready.

“It’s going to be hot out today.”

You listened as Dani spoke to you in the empty coffee shop, making the obliged daily weather talk. “I know. It was far too hot in here already when I came in.”

The big windows that didn’t have blinds acted as heaters in the morning, the rising sun shinning through them and heated up the entire coffee shop. The air conditioning that was recently turned on was starting to help with the air flow, but it was still heavy and humid around you.

Your hands working on muscle memory alone as you twisted your arm, tamping the espresso and clicking the portafilter in on the machine. Grabbing the little scale you used to weigh out the water, still early in the day and tinkering with the grind of the espresso, making slight adjustments.

Steaming the milk until you felt it hot enough, knowing Dani liked it extra extra hot no matter the time of year. Tapping the air bubbles out until you were satisfied, filling the paper cup up only halfway, just the way Dani wanted it.

“For you,” walking back to the regular customer, placing his coffee in front of him and seating yourself in the empty seat beside him.

You watched as he took a sip of the coffee, smile on his face. “Excellent as always.”

It was mostly a joke amongst everyone, that Dani would always personally review everyone’s skill at making his drink. It still gave you little ego boost every time he commented on how well you made coffee.

“I’m glad,” you said, swirling the ice around your glass before taking a long sip. You sat together for a bit, eating your bagels together while Dani told you about how his grandkids were doing.

This was probably one of your favourite parts of your job, getting to know the regulars. It was always so nice when you saw them walk in with a big smile, asking how you were doing and how things were going in your life.

Dani was obviously by far your favourite. He sometimes brought in his kids and grandkids, a big order of coffee going around as he bought everyone their drinks. He had lost his wife a couple years back, telling you that ever since then he was always looking for a new routine, and you were so happy to be a part of his daily pattern.

Your conversation was interrupted as a couple and their child walked into the shop, recognizing them as regulars as well while they waved hello to you.

Making your way back to behind the counter, putting their orders through. You knew they lived in the neighbourhood; you often saw them around. It was endearing, how often they came in for a little breakfast and coffee together with their daughter who couldn’t be older than four.

Things were starting to pick up slightly, a few other people stopping by for a coffee and breakfast to go on their way to work. You kept darting your eyes over to the big window that faced the street, checking the time over and over knowing that you had a milk delivery coming in at any time.

“Are your croissants baked in house?”

“Yes,” you nodded, not technically lying. “We get them frozen from a bakery, and we proof and bake them here every morning.”

“So are they fresh?” The middle-aged man asked, eyes glancing over to where the food sat in the display case.

“Yes,” you repeated. “They were baked this morning.”

He nodded again, pausing for a second. “I’ll just take this.” He grabbed for a muffin that sat in front of him.

You only nodded, blowing out a quiet sigh from between your lips. Already finding your patience running a bit thin this morning. Really for no particular reason, other than it would finally be your day off tomorrow.

Putting his order through, grabbing the itemized receipt for yourself so you wouldn’t forget what his drink was and bagged up his muffin.

You heard the door open, glancing up to see someone else walk through the door. “Can you make mine right away?” The man who had just ordered glanced towards the door as well, seeing the other customer walk in. “I’m in a rush.”

Only nodding, narrowing your eyes at him slightly in annoyance. If anything, him telling you that he was in a rush made you want to make his drink even slower. Still, ever the good customer service employee, you pulled the shots you needed. Steaming the soy milk and making a bit of a messy design with the milk, not quite caring about how his latte turned out.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” You didn’t hide the wrinkle in your nose at the use of the pet name, the man not even noticing as he struggled to get the lid on, spilling a bit of the latte on the counter before he headed towards the door.

Plastering your fake smile on your face, going back to the till to take the order of the client who had been waiting. “Hi there, thank you for waiting.”

You glanced around the space by the register, knowing that the pen you liked the use was sitting on the counter somewhere. “What can I get for you today?”

“Do you have bulletproof coffee?” Deep accent pulling your attention away from the search for your pen, facing the man standing on the other side of the counter.

“Uh –” you paused and bit your lips together for a beat, trying not to show your distaste. “No, I’m sorry.”

“That’s too bad,” the customer hummed, craning his neck to look at the menu board that hung behind you.

Is it really though? You saw your pen tucked between two receipts on the counter next to you, gripping it between your index and middle finger.

“I think Garden Coffee might have it? They’re a couple block down.”

Pointing in general direction of the neighbouring coffeehouse, personally not finding a liking to their coffee. It was a very similar set up to where you worked, but in your opinion, they tried far too hard to mimic a trendy third wave coffee shop and came off highly pretentious.

“No, no that’s okay,” the guy smiled at you. “I’ll have an espresso. Are they doubles?”

Nodding, you put his order into the system. “All the espresso drinks come as doubles, but I can do a single if you’d like? Or a shorter shot.”

You were mindlessly flipping the pen between your fingers, eyes continuously darting out the window just knowing the milk delivery was about to arrive. “No, a double would be perfect.”

“Sounds good,” you said. “Was that going to be for here or to go?”

“Here,” he nodded, opening his wallet.

“And was that going to be all for you today?” Not even fully paying attention, speaking through every line you asked customers before finalizing their order.

“Yeah – thank you.”

Telling him his total, opening the till as you dug out his change.

“Any reason you don’t have bulletproof coffee?” He brought your attention over to him again while you double checked you had the right amount of change.

It’s gross. “It’s not very popular,” you told him truthfully. “We don’t get asked for it too often either. Plus,” you tried to hide your grimace at the thought. “It’s a bit of an odd order. Not many people like it.”

He laughed at that. “Guess it is a bit of a refined taste.”

You could only nod, refined not really being the word to come to mind but you weren’t going to tell him that. Heading over to the corner where the espresso machine sat, quickly going through the same motions all over again and waited for the little mug to fill.

Taking a sip of your water as you watched the seconds pass on the machine, the slow and steady pour of the espresso landing right into the cup.

The man who had just ordered had wandered over to where orders were to be picked up, glancing around the space. “I’ve never been here before,” he was standing opposite of the espresso machine, half of him hidden behind it. “It’s a nice place.”

“Yeah, I like it,” you nodded, not glancing up at him to stop the espresso, tapping the little cup on the counter once the pour ended. You never knew what to say when people complimented the coffee shop, saying thank you seemed a bit odd since you weren’t the owner, but any other response always sounded the slightest bit off.

“Espresso for here,” you smiled, placing the little cup on a plate, spoon next to it and slid it over to the counter towards him. He was leaning closer to the wall, arms crossed over his chest and eyes slightly narrowed, likely observing the paintings that hung up on that wall.

Your name was called through the café, attention being pulled away to see Dani now standing, empty cup in hand.

“Bye!” He called, waiting for you to walk to his side of the counter as he handed back the pen that you had lent him. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“No,” you shook your head, watching a look of mock shock dawn Dani’s face. “Even I need a day off.”

“That’s true,” he laughed. “Get your rest, I’ll see you Saturday.”

Waving bye to him once again, attention turning to another patron that was waiting for you by the till. Another morning regular, putting their order through quickly and heading over to make it.

“How does one get their art up here?”

“Sorry?” You weren’t paying attention, small diversions all around you.

The incoming milk delivery being on the top of your list of things to think about; next to making the iced americano, cleaning up some milk you spilt, and the shrill cries coming from the toddler seated directly across from you.

“The art.” The guy who had asked about bulletproof coffee was still standing in the same spot, small mug in hand, by the series of paintings that covered the wall. “Who – I mean how could I get my art up there?”

It was a common question, but not one you could get into right away because it was just then that you saw the familiar logo on the white truck pull up across the street, signaling your milk delivery.

It was like this every week, but you hated when you were alone and this delivery came. Since it was one that you had to put away right away, and if customers came in they would get fussy because you had to be in the back, putting away all the dairy since it couldn’t exactly sit out for that long.

“Uh –” you smiled at the regular when you handed him his iced americano, turning to the other customer who had the question about the art. “Sorry, just a sec.”

Watching through the window as the delivery man made his way with a dolly packed with crates. Moving from behind the counter and taking the short walk to the front door, propping the door open for him.

Greeting him as you usually did, grabbing the order form from him to sign while he brought the dolly around the back, knowing where the milk went. Quickly signing your name at the bottom as you reviewed the order, shoving your pen back into your pocket to go fill up the back fridge with rows and rows of milk jugs.

The delivery man had already left, and you knew he was going to be coming back with more so you worked as quickly as possible, keeping an eye on the front counter to make sure there were no impatient customers waiting for you.

Stepping out of the back room, searching for the folder where you kept receipts and order forms from deliveries. Delivery man promptly returning, leaving another stack of crates for you before he headed off to use the restroom.

“Do you need a hand?”

“Jesus,” you couldn’t help the small curse at the unexpected voice and presence that made itself known next to you.

Accented voice pulling you out of your thoughts once again, seeing the bulletproof coffee man standing far too close to the inside where only staff were allowed in. Realizing he was offering to help with putting away the milk, you narrowed your eyes slightly at the odd offer of help.

“What…” you paused, fully taking in his appearance for the first time. He was young, probably around the same age as you. Brown hair that fell in floppy curls around his face, square jaw and bright eyes that completed his whole charming look.

“I’m good, thanks,” you took a step towards him, hoping he would get the hint and take a step outside of the space that was really just for staff. He seemed to catch on, watching you with a little smile playing on his lips.

“Sorry,” you found yourself apologizing, remembering he was waiting for an answer about the paintings. “I just have to –” sticking your thumb to point behind your shoulder, motioning to the dairy that was left to be put away. “I’m nearly done.”

“No worries, take your time.” He smiled, and you couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit watched as you walked through the narrow back room to where the fridge sat in the back, unloading the rest of your delivery.

Finishing up, waving goodbye to the delivery man you knew very well you’d see again in a week’s time as he wheeled away empty crates on his dolly.

Searching for where you last placed your coffee and half eaten bagel, grateful to not have seen a single new customer and you added some more ice to your now watered down cold brew.

Eyes flitting over to where the bulletproof coffee drinker stood by the counter where you had left him, seeing him currently glancing at the space around him. You yanked open the messy drawer next to the till, rifling through it while you looked for the business cards you knew you kept somewhere deep down.

“Here,” grabbing the attention of the man who was observing paintings on the other wall, leaving the inside from behind the counter, to the open floor of the café.

He turned around to face you, eyes dropping down to the card you extended out to him. “The art doesn’t go through us. This woman here,” you motioned to the card. “She runs it, in a few coffee shops actually.”

You had only met Janeen a handful of times – when the art got switched out and a couple other times when she came in for a coffee. She was probably in her late fifties, a painter herself.

“Some of the art up right now is actually hers,” you glanced around, pointing to a few you were fairly certain belonged to Janeen, all for sale.

“Great thank you.” He gripped the card between his fingers, eyebrow furrowing slightly as his eyes skimmed over the name and email on Janeen’s card. He really must be an artist. Catching what you assumed was dried paint on his hands, the deep blue swiped over his skin standing out.

“Do you know how I should like, submit art to her? Or if there’s a process or anything?”

“I don’t, sorry,” offering him a small sympathetic smile. “It’s out of our hands, best bet would be to talk to Janeen about it.”

“Is there a manger I could ask?” He was glancing behind you as if you weren’t working alone.

Narrowing your eyes at him, knowing it was an easy mistake and was not at all meant to be a rude comment towards you, but for some reason you found yourself so socially exhausted so early in the morning.

“I am the manger.”

It came out a bit harsher than intended, but you didn’t care too much by this point. You saw his eyes visibly widen, mouth part slightly. “Oh -” tripping over his words as he held your narrowed gaze. “Sorry, I… I didn’t mean anything –”

He was cut off, saved by the bell if you will, to a group of young women walking through the door which meant you had to excuse yourself and head back behind the counter.

Mind drifting as you took their orders, feeling slightly peeved with the way the conversation with the apparent artist went. You knew you shouldn’t take it personally, customer’s said things all the time that really shouldn’t be taken seriously.

But it was small things like that, that had your mind trickling down a drain of will I ever be taken seriously and what am I doing with my life.

You loved your job, for the most part at least, you really did. But there was always that little voice of doubt inside of you, telling you that you weren’t doing enough with your life.

And when someone seemed to doubt the things you accomplished in life, it left a bad taste in your mouth and an unhealthy train of thoughts bringing your mood down.

At its core, it was pretty dumb to be irked by a comment asking for the manager. It was obviously because as the manager, you felt like maybe your position wasn’t well deserved, or like it shouldn’t be what you’re doing.

After making two iced mochas, cleaning up the small mess of spilt chocolate on the counter before digging out the folder where order forms were a bit haphazardly placed. Deciding now was the best time as ever to start putting them in order.

Glancing at the clock, you saw it was just barely past 8:30. You realized you still had about six hours left on your shift. Your eyes quickly shifted around the shop, seeing mostly empty tables as most of the morning customers got their orders to go. There weren’t any dishes pilled up anywhere, not yet at least.

The man who had been asking you about the art seemed to be finally seated, hunched over a table in the corner with a little book in front of him, twirling a pencil between his fingers the same way you did. You felt a bit bad for snapping at him, but you didn’t feel like entertaining conversation with him again.

Heading to the back room again, deciding that soft indie guitar wasn’t really the mood anymore, you changed your playlist once again.

A soft sigh left your mouth again, already feeling done with this day. You don’t really know why you felt so on edge. It was likely because today was the last day before a day off, after working a long stretch of shifts without much of a break.

Hours trickled by, the day never really picking up with just a slow stream of customers coming in. It gave you time to finalize the upcoming weeks schedule, sending it out to the rest of the staff.

It was just before one o’clock when Aleena came in, bright smile on her face when she greeted you.

Aleena as by far your favourite co-worker. She was in her mid thirties and was an absolute sweetheart. She was, for lack of a better term, your work wife.

When the both of you worked together you were always on the same page, not having to talk to know what the other one was thinking. The two of you would take turns bringing each other lunch, or snacks, or just little treats for each other.

“How has today been?” Joining her in the back room, shooting a glance to the front to make sure no customers were coming in.

“Hey Leena! It’s been okay,” you shrugged, watching her hang up her purse. “Pretty slow, which is kind of nice. I’m just,” you blew out a sigh for what felt like the hundredth time. “Tired today. I don’t really feel like talking to customers.”

She offered you a sympathetic smile. “You’re off tomorrow, yeah? Hope you have the time to relax, and see your friends.”

“I am! I’m seeing Mae tomorrow, she managed to get the day off too.”

“That’ll be good! You know if its slow it’s okay if you want to leave early today.”

You had an hour left on your shift, a small overlap between workers. It was unusual, to have one person working alone all day. Usually one person opened and then was joined by another later in the day, and the two people would close together with some staff changes in the middle of the day.

But with a last minute shift change due to someone getting food poisoning, you spent all day alone and Aleena would be closing alone. You had offered to come back in later in the day to help her close, since it was a bit of a feat to do alone, but she has insistently refused and said you needed your time off.

“I think I might…” you smiled at her. “If you’re okay here! I doubt it’ll pick up, the sales today have been really low.”

“Of course,” she waved you off. “Go, go. I’ll be okay.”

Forever grateful for Aleena, wrapping her in a little side hug as you bid your goodbyes and promised you’d bring her some baked treats next time to thank her.

“Oh! And the schedule is out, and I’ve already done the ordering for next week so there’s nothing else to worry about. Take it easy today.”

Gathering up your things and making yourself some iced tea for the road, swinging your bag over your shoulder and dreaming of the next day and a half of putting your feet up, and seeing your friends, not giving the shop one more look now that you were off.

You were never really one for routines.

Rather, you weren’t really one to be setting routines, instead letting them work into place for you. In a sense, you still really didn’t a set routine, forever slightly disorganized.

Your weekly schedule was always a bit different, depending on the shifts you had. Sometimes it would be the same ones for weeks on end, being able to find a good groove with them.

But that never lasted. You didn’t mind though, always saying that you were just taking life as it came.

The one big consistency was the walk from your front door to behind the counter at work. No matter the time of day, it was always the same. Walking the steps down from your building and out to the street, sometimes taking your time and sometimes your pace quick.

And when you opened the door to work, you would head to the back room first, take a few seconds, and then face the rest of your day.

This Saturday was no different at all.

Waving hello to your, after the much needed day off, shutting the door to the staff room behind you for a second of peace before the long shift started.

“How’s the day been?” After taking a minute by yourself, you walked out and stopped to ask one of your coworkers, Erinne, about the sales so far.

“Busy,” she sighed, turning away from the till to face you. “Finally slowed down for a bit, but I’m sure it’ll be the same this afternoon.”

You only nodded, glancing around the space to see Aleena and another colleague, Noah, working on bar. They were cleaning up grounds that littered the counter and arranging milk in the small fridge underneath the bar.

Signs of a rush that hit the café, the quick clean up that was needed before another wave of people came in.

“Well, I’m off.” Erinne said from next to you, clocking out of the system.

You didn’t have a single bad thing to say about any of your coworkers, or least you pretended that you didn’t. When you became manager, you knew that you were no longer able to gossip too much or talk about baristas you didn’t like.

Still, you couldn’t help but slightly dislike Erinne. She showed no sign of ever really listening to you, only doing half a job even when you reminded her to finish her duties.

“Have a good rest of your day,” you smiled to her, watching her reach for her phone that was in her back pocket as she headed to the back to grab her things.

Walking over to the back, greeting Aleena and Noah, promptly making yourself a drink to get a little caffeine boost. “How was your day off?”

“Really good,” you nodded, smacking your lips at the slightly bitter espresso, making a mental note to double check that later.

Filling in Aleena on your day off, before the conversation was ultimately interrupted by a group coming in. She went to the till, taking their orders while Noah stayed on bar to make the drinks. You saw them not needing that much help, no yet anyway, deciding to grab the dish bin to collect the emptied mugs you spotted left behind on tables.

Walking to the back of the shop first, finding a few mugs stacked and abandoned. Propping the dish bin against your hip, gathering up the dishes to be cleaned. Eyeing over seated customers, catching snippets of their conversations as you walked by.

Your eyes fell to a table tucked in the corner, recognizing the man who had been asking you about who to contact in relation the paintings on that hung on the wall. He had the same black book in front of him, pencils laid out around the table with one in hand, tapping it against the table.

He glanced up at you seemingly when you walked by, eyes flitting over to yours. He sent you a small smile as you bussed the table across from his, your eyes briefly leaving his to glance up to the front of the café, making sure the line wasn’t that long.

“I emailed Janeen.”

His voice pulled your attention back to him, as you picked up the buss bin again, not seeing any more dirty dishes that needed to be run through the dishwasher. He was obviously talking to you.

“That’s good,” you didn’t know what else to say.

He put down the pencil he was tapping against the table, closing the book in front of him. “I – I’m sorry about the other day –”

You were nearly embarrassed about snapping at him. Shrugging as your lips twitched to a little smile, gaze falling over the table in front of him. He had another espresso in front of him, this time over ice. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“I didn’t mean it like – you couldn’t be manager or anything. Just –” he motioned with his hands, as if replacing his words. “Looking to get some more exposure for my art.”

“Is a little coffee shop really the best exposure?”

“I mean,” he shrugged, sitting back in his chair. “I’ll take what I can get.”

“That’s fair.” Assuming the conversation was over, glancing back up to see Aleena taking someone’s order.

“How long have you been working here?”

“Hm? Over two years now.” Glancing back at him, hearing the door opening and most likely welcoming more paying customers.

“That’s a while,” he nodded, shifting in his chair again.

You nodded absentmindedly, seeing two large groups walk in the café, knowing you needed to head over to work behind the counter. “Sorry – I need to head back.”

“Of course,” he sat back again. “Sorry again.”

The sound of your name on his lips stopped you in your tracks. You turned back towards him, brow furrowed and mouth slightly gaped open.

“Heard a customer say your name last time,” he spoke before you could ask how he knew your name. “I’m Harry.”

“Nice to meet you,” words mumbled, quick nod in his direction before you were walking back towards the counter with your dish bin in hand.

It wasn’t uncommon, that customers would learn your name. No one wore nametags, so it gave a slight ounce of anonymity.

Obviously, regulars like Dani got to know you pretty well.

But it wasn’t all of them. Some customers would introduce themselves to you and ask for your name even though you swore you’d only seen them once, and some would come in everyday without the slightest inclination of wanting to get to know you.

Harry watched you walk away, disappearing to the back room before he heard a loud clang of dishes, assuming you set down the bin that you had been holding. He saw you reappear again, quickly walking over to the register and putting a hand on your coworkers’ shoulder, telling her something.

He looked around the coffee shop again, glancing at the paintings that decorated the walls. He had already taken his time to look at each and every one, nearly all of them by the same artist. They were all beach scenes, the talent of the artist very apparent in the way that they painted the reflections off the water.

Though the only one that really stood out to Harry was one depicting a sunset, bright oranges and reds filling the entire frame.

He glanced down to his own orange coloured pencil in hand, the haphazard shapes and scribbles that were on the page in front of him. He hadn’t made much progress as he tried to plan out his next series. All he knew is that he was currently very drawn to orange, tangerine to be exact, and that he wanted this next series to be big.

He still had yet to find it, the small idea that would start to form in the back of his mind that would grow into something huge. His inspiration usually came from little mundane ideas, liking to take his time to observe everything around him.

The warm glow from the sun cast through the windows, the harsh hiss of the steam wand from the espresso machine, the crumbs that fell around a child eating their croissant.

He took the last sip of his coffee, crunching the spare bits of ice that fell out of the cup and under his teeth.

Sketching random faces he saw around him, eyes moving all around the space. Gaze flitting over to where he saw you reappear for a very brief second, placing a now empty dish bin out for customers to fill, before spinning way and disappearing from his line of sight again.

The scuffed white floor wasn’t one that was particularly nice, per se, but it gave a feeling that this shop was lived in and well frequented. There was one wall that was all wood, with little shelves lined against it. Potted plants and random books placed on the shelves, next to a little sign that read ��take a book, leave a book”.

He had no idea how he’d never seen this café. He must have passed it a few times at least, never really noticing it until the other morning when he walked a different route.

It was big and open, but still felt warm. The ambiance inside wasn’t stiff or off-putting, instead it was inviting and bright.

Even on a day like today, where the lineup at the register never really seemed to go away, there was a calmness in the air and not intensity or stress.

Which is why he came back a couple days later, bright and early on Monday morning. He realized it was a slight oversight on his part, getting there a bit too early, before the doors were even unlocked.

Seeing as he had about ten minutes to kill, deciding to take another walk around the block while he waited. Going down the street and walking past the shop, squinting lightly to gaze through the windows.

Harry saw you at the counter, gloved hands holding a knife as you carefully sliced a loaf, one he assumed to be banana bread. Your eyebrows were lightly drawn together, concentrating on the task at hand.

Amused to see you grab what appeared to be a thinner piece away from the others, breaking off a corner and popping it into your mouth. He didn’t realize he had stopped walking, until your attention diverted away from the cutting board in front of you and up out the window.

He immediately heated up as your eyes found his, embarrassed to be found watching you through the window. He was already certain he hadn’t made a great impression on you, and this wasn’t really helping his case.

Your lips moved in a small smile, eyes darting away from his for a beat. He followed your gaze, assuming you were looking up at the clock that hung on the wall.

The next time he glanced at you, you had placed the knife on the cutting board and were walking around the counter until you reach the door to his left.

“Were you waiting to come in, or?”

Propping the door open a bit, waiting as Harry walked the few needed steps over to you. “Yeah! I know you’re not open yet so –”

You moved aside, keeping the door open. “You can wait inside, if you’d like.”

“Thank you,” he said, after a slight pause. He was a bit shocked to have you inviting him in like this even with only a few minutes left until the shop opened.

“Yeah, no worries,” you closed the door behind him after he walked in. “Although,” you spoke again, already walking back to the counter. “I won’t serve you for another eight minutes.”

He could hear a small smile in your voice, even with your back turned to him. He only laughed in response, putting his bag down at the same table he sat at last time, secluded and tucked away in the corner and with the sun’s rays hitting the wall next to it.

Suddenly the music around him changed, mood going from loud and upbeat, to soft and soothing with what seemed like the volume being turned down quite a bit. Harry couldn’t see you form where he sat, but he heard the occasional tap turning on and whir of a coffee grinder.

He waited a bit longer, making sure it was past seven before he walked up to the register. You were standing in front of the espresso machine, swirling a little clear glass a couple times before you took a sip.

“Espresso this morning?”

You hadn’t moved from your spot, taking another little sip from the glass in hand.

“Please,” grabbing his wallet from his pocket, digging through for some folded bills. You walked the short distance to the till, standing in front of him with the counter separating the two of you.

Wordlessly grabbing the money from the counter, putting the order through and counting up the change. “Oh, keep the change.” He smiled, refusing your extended hand.

“Thank you,” you murmured, palm opening to let the coins fall into the tip jar in front of you.

He followed you, from opposite sides of the counter as you moved to the back where the espresso machine sat. “It might be a bit bitter,” your voice cut through the shop. “I’m still adjusting it a bit, so let me know if its no good.”

“Will do,” Harry nodded, hearing the whir of the grinder as you prepared his coffee. He didn’t know why he was suddenly finding himself so unsure of what to say to you, very aware of the emptiness of the shop.

A beat of silence passed, the only noise in the shop coming from the music blaring through the speakers. He’d never heard it before, quickly finding a liking to whatever you were playing.

“Have you heard from Janeen?”

The question took him aback slightly. “No, not yet anyway.”

You hummed from behind the counter, tapping the cup on the counter like you had last time, before placing it on a little plate and sliding it over to him. “I think they’re changing the current painting’s soon. She’ll for sure be in for that so I can ask her about it if you’d like.”

He beamed. “That would be great! Thank you.”

Getting a taste of the coffee you had just made him. “It’s good,” he nodded. “Not too bitter.”

Another moment of silence fell, and that would be when Harry should’ve grabbed his coffee and walked away but for some reason, he didn’t want to leave the counter just yet.

You broke the silence again. “You’re here really early for a sit-down coffee, and not a to go.”

“Is that odd?” Harry was curious of why you brought it up.

“I mean,” you only shrugged, moving from where you stood to do something behind the espresso machine he couldn’t quite see. “Not really but – usually early morning regulars who get coffee for here are above the age of sixty. At a minimum.”

Harry laughed, watching you fiddle with the blue mugs that sat on top of the machine. “I’m just up early I guess. I like the sunrise.”

You smiled in return, and Harry thought that maybe he hadn’t made that bad of an impression on you after all. He didn’t know why he was so suddenly drawn to this café, drawn to spending his free time here, but he warmed when you mirrored his grin.

But when he heard the door open behind him, and you moved to greet the customer that came in, he realized that it was simply your job to be nice to him.

“Someone’s here before me!”

Harry recognized the older man from the other day, the one who had called out your name when he said bye to you.

“I thought I got the first coffee of the day?”

You laughed, grabbing a cup from where they sat stacked. “You didn’t get the first, but you get the best.”

Moving to make Dani’s drink, pulling a shot and steaming the extra hot milk, bringing the cup over once the drink was made to where he sat at his usual table.

Harry had gone to sit back down, once again hunched over a black book with a pencil twirling between his fingers.

You took your time to fully notice his appearance. He loose fit blue jeans, with an off-white teeshirt that read something you didn’t quite catch, slightly tucked in. You had never fully noticed the tattoos that covered one of his arms before, only briefly catching glances of them but in this moment, they seemed to stand out even more.

His hair was falling over his forehead as he leant over the table, and you couldn’t help but admire the clear cut of this jaw that was apparent to you as you gazed at his profile. Your eyes fell back to his hands, fingers toying with a pencil. Even from slightly further back, you could see some green splotches of paint on his skin.

You were slightly curious to what he was doing.

Always a bit nosy, especially with customers that you recognized to come in more than once. Whether they were writing a novel, reading a book, working from home; you liked to see what people would come in to do.

Both you and Aleena loved to discuss the personal lives of regulars, mapping out your own stories for the lives your customers lived. Based off who they came in with and small tidbits they would share with you.

You liked to think that you were good at reading people, and that you could more or less understand people just based off small interactions.

It was obvious to you that Harry was going to become a new regular. He had already come in three times in the past five days.

You wished you weren’t working alone, because you found yourself needing to talk to someone about him. Although you knew nearly nothing about him. Only the fact that he for some reason liked bulletproof coffee, that he was an artist, and that he liked to wear vans.

Another thing you did know, was that making him his coffee was going to become part of your work routine.

He always ordered an espresso, sometimes over ice. From the few times that you walked past his table and stole quick glances at the sketchbook that he always carried, he seemed to be working on bright colourful sketches. Always using pencil crayons, and never pencils or pens.

He had become such a quick new regular, that even Dani was talking to him. The both of them often came in the earliest out of anyone else.

In the past three weeks, he had come in nearly every day that you were working. He usually came in bright and early, right after the doors were unlocked and would seat himself comfortably in the back.

On the days when you weren’t opening and would stay to close, he was already there and would leave sometime in the afternoon. A few times he came in later in the day, staying close to closing as the coffee shop emptied out.

He had kept asking you about Janeen, and if he could get his art up on the walls one day. You had seen her one day when he wasn’t there, briefly asking her about the process of how she decided about who’s art went where.

You knew that her little painting rotation ran in a few other shops around town. She said that she wasn’t looking for anything new for a bit, but she was keeping all the submissions she got on file.

“Did she say when she would start looking again?”

“No,” you shook your head, after repeating what Janeen had told you to Harry the next time you saw him. “Sorry. But I’m sure it shouldn’t be too long.”

Harry nodded, glancing down at the glass of water between his hands that he had gone up to grab, before you went up to him with the news from your talk with Janeen.

“Why isn’t it run through you guys?”

“What?”

“I mean,” Harry paused. “I’m just curious about how it works. Why is it Janeen who does all the art if she has nothing to do with this café?”

“Honestly I don’t know,” you told him truthfully. “The owner set it up with her, long before I started.”

“Oh okay,” he nodded. “It’s a neat thing, to have local art for sale like this.”

“It is,” you glanced at the art. “But honestly we don’t sell them very often. I think only two or three times in my time here I’ve seen one sold.”

That surprised Harry. “Really? I mean, I guess people don’t come for coffee to buy a painting. Still, it adds a nice atmosphere to the café.” He paused, watching your lips quirk up to a smile. “Would be nice to have my own art up, but…”

Your eyes narrowed on him slightly. “Can I see this art? That you so urgently need to put up in here?”

He tried to stop the beaming smile that was building, biting his lips together for a second. For once feeling like it wasn’t him incessantly asking you something or bugging you, this time you asking him something about himself.

“No,” he heard himself saying, watching your eyebrows jolt up in surprise.

“No?”

His smile was sly, idea forming. He quickly walked back to his table and ripped out a small piece of paper from his sketchbook. He turned back around, seeing you hadn’t moved from your spot by the register.

“Here,” he said once he returned to his side of the counter where he had left you. “I have a few pieces up in a show next week. It’s just for one night, at a little gallery downtown.”

Writing down the date of the show and the name of gallery, he handed the scrap paper over to you. “You should come.”

#harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #I HOPE everyone enjoys enjoys !!!!#please let me know what u think and share if u can !! <333 #cb

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thebestworstidea · 3 years ago

Text

The Green Knight’s Lady (4)

Sequel fic to “The Witch and the Green Knight” (on Ao3)

Warnings: undeserved redemption arc, graphic imagery and as of this chapter violence against minors.

Chapter 1: In which Rowan has Unexpected House Guests

Chapter 2: In Which They Try to Figure Out What the Hell is Going On

Chapter 3: In Which Remus and Rowan’s Stupidity Escalates to Treason (sort of)

>-<>-< ——————-<>——————- >-<>-<

Chapter 4: In Which Life is Difficult

>-<>-< ——————-<>——————- >-<>-<

The winter waned in a sloppy miserable way, kicking out with a few snowstorms like the flailing of a dying animal. Despite not really being bothered by the cold, D.N. practically hibernated, most often found in a window seat in the library, going through Rowan’s Mother’s books and being snarky about bad information about fairies. Rowan was fairly sure it was just a way to safely lash out. She dug out an old laptop and gave him access to the Netflix account. If nothing else it kept him distracted. Something Rowan had learned was that the fair folk did, as legend said, love stories.

And apparently, soap operas and romcoms.

Like herself, Remus seemed out of sorts in the late winter, though more in the way of someone who had woken up long before they wanted to. He’d gone into the woods and returned dressed in his more normal attire, also having brought back a few changes of clothing that was closer to D.N.’s size, and of a finer make than anything in the Baker house, despite Rowan’s sister’s cautious attempt to find a fabric the fae child would like. For the most part, the rest of Rowan’s family treated D.N. with cautious courtesy, and a certain level of ‘not be alone in a room with him’. Remus, by contrast, was treated more as a benign nuisance, though not without kindness. Frankly, that was more understandable than Rowan’s blase attitude. That didn’t stop a certain level of speculation as to why ‘Leif’ and his friend were staying with them.

“I’ve figured it out!”

Rowan balled a pair of socks and tossed it in her sister’s basket across the table. They were sorting the laundry by owner, and Rowan had made it her mission to find as many pairs of socks as she could.

“Figured what out?”

“What’s going on with Leif and the kid!”

“Have you now?” Rowan said dryly and a little nervously. Her sister nodded.

“It’s pretty obvious if you think about it. The kid is the spawn of the last fairy king.”

“What.”

“Look, it’s obvious that Leif served him, right? And we know he’s dead. So then Leif disappears for months and reappears with a kid? With scales? We know that Leif’s traveled outside Wickhills before- so clearly he knew where the kid was, maybe he was even the one who took him away, probably more of a Cronos eating his kids thing than a Arthur sent into hiding thing, and now he brought him back.” She pursed her lips. “You know, I bet Leif can change genders like a frog.”

Rowan started laughing.

“Leif might even be the mother-” she went on.

“Definitely not.” Rowan choked.

“But he is related. I’ve connected the dots.” she said smugly.

“You haven’t connected shit.” Rowan retorted throwing a pair of pants at her.

“I’ve connected them.”

As spring burgeoned forth, Remus agitated with the need to leave the house. It was clear he wasn’t used to staying in one place, even for a few weeks like this. Rowan could always tell when Remus had gone wandering in the night, because D.N. didn’t come down from the attic until he’d come back. It wasn’t as if D.N. was avoiding his so-called hosts, so much as he was totally avoiding the humans in the house as much as possible as if by pretending they weren’t there he could pretend none of this was happening.

When spring officially arrived Rowan made them clothing, a shirt of heavy green broadcloth for Remus, and a more delicate shirt of the finest white linen she had for D.N. The shirt he generally wore was made of undyed silk, and Rowan feared that the substance had come from the shroud- or rather bag- she’d sewn for the bones of the Serpent King. It was tricky to give them, as D.N. certainly wanted no gifts from her, and Remus wanted to gift her in return. But it was simply tradition, that for the first day of spring everyone had a new garment. So her green brother and erstwhile guest needed something new too, for luck. Honestly, Rowan thought he could probably use all the luck he could get.

It was a fine warm day in mid April, when leaves were finally starting to show, and only the most stubborn bits of snow were sticking around in the darkest shadows, when Rowan was working in her garden.

“Little tree! You’re wearing pants!”

The whippy rose vine Rowan had been arguing with slipped out of her hand as the twist tie sprang from her other, and she took the momentary break to glare at Remus, who had appeared in her personal bubble with no warning whatsoever.

“I wear pants all the time.” she retorted, giving him a half hearted shove.

“Yeah, but usually you have dresses over ‘em.” theatrically, he collapsed to the scrubby grass outside the garden and sprawled in the sun.

“Well, I learned that arguing with rose bushes in a dress doesn’t end well for the dress.” She grabbed hold again with her gloved hand, and pulled a fresh tie out of her apron pocket, lashing the thorny vine to the wrought iron trellis that kept most fae out of her garden. They could, in theory, pass under the iron arbor that faced the wood, wreathed as it was in plants, but until Remus it hadn’t been much of a problem. “How are you doing?” she asked quietly. He was looking better. He’d been kind of wan, a sickly sort of green rather than his normal healthy hue like a ripening acorn.

“Starting to feel my oats.” He responded, tipping his face into the sun. “It’s a good spring. I’d say that spring was happy about something.” in the distance, a door opened and closed.

“Seasons do seem to have emotions.” She agreed, and had to step delicately over him to get to the next bush, pulling clippers from her pocket and studying the bush thoughtfully, before pruning a few branches, and returning to tucking them in safely so they wouldn’t grab passers by too badly. That done she carried the trimmed branches away. D.N. emerged from the widdershins side of the house, having exited the front door and walked so he didn’t have to pass the rowan tree, even if he could do so under the protection of the porch. He glared down at Remus with frustration.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

“Having a kip?” Remus suggested, as Rowan stepped over him again to get back to the rose bushes.

“You should tell me as soon as you come back from the forest.” he said grouchily, not making eye contact.

“Well, not much is going on, so there’s nothing to tell you.” Remus shrugged.

“That’s good right?” Rowan asked.

“A secret unsaid is a secret kept.” D.N. muttered, not addressing Rowan at all. “What are you doing out there anyway?”

“Favors.” Remus sighed. “So many favors. I’m not exactly a favorite right now. People don’t want me to do favors for them, but I need the currency. Also fixing up my house.” he rubbed his hands over his face. “It’s kind of out of the way, so it might be safe enough. It’s nice enough to visit with my little tree, but…”

“We can’t stay here forever.” D.N. agreed. “It buzzes.”

“Yeah.” Remus nodded. “So I’ve got some improvements to make, and gotta reassert my territory. No one got near the tree, but I don’t have much around it.” he clicked his tongue “Fun and all, but I’m in a hurry.” he made a kissy face at them both. “But I’ll always hurry back to you.”

Rowan snorted, and D.N. rolled his eyes. He crossed his arms and cocked his hip, glaring down at the green-clad fae.

“I’m sure whatever you stay in is better than this.”

“Hey, owch. It’s a good house. We finally got the roof fixed last year.” Rowan glared, waving her clippers at him. D.N. leaned away.

“Well it’s hardly the hovel I’ve seen other witches live in,” he sneered at the Victorian style house. “But it isn’t anywhere I would choose to stay.”

“Sorry for not being a magical house.”

“Oh it’s full of magic alright. Human magic, thick and inelegant, like mud on the bottom of a pond.”

“I like mud.” Remus commented, popping up and bracing himself upright on his hands. Rowan noticed that his knuckles were reddened and split. Putting her clippers away again, she dug into her other pocket, coming up with a small, shallow clay pot, closed with a wide cork. She crouched down and grabbed one hand, dabbing the ointment onto the wounds. Remus obligingly offered his other hand when she was done.

“Why was this in your pocket?”

“It’s better to get the ointment on big jabs right away, and I’m doing lawn work.” she shrugged, and went back to her work.

After a while, Rowan finished her discussion with the rosebushes, and headed back inside without saying anything. Shortly after that, a car drove up hidden by the bulk of the house. Another short while later, it drove away again. Rowan returned to her garden, hooking her apron over her head again.

“Bloody busy-body is what she is.” Rowan grumbled to herself. “No need to come by every time, her tea hasn’t changed in over a year, if I wanted everyone coming by and bothering me all the time I’d start up a tea room in town and read palms and cards. It’s what I get for being helpful and offering to do a unique blend.”

“Can you tell the future?” Remus asked, popping up on the other side of the hedge wall of rose bushes, making Rowan yelp and clutch her rake.

“Like the weather.” She retorted. “Which is to say, not really worth anything.”

“You’re a useless kind of witch, aren’t you?” sniffed D.N. who had taken up a seat in an Adirondack style chair they had acquired somewhere, and everyone in the Baker family hated, which is why it wasn’t on the porch.

“Yeah, kind of.” she didn’t rise to the bait, and watched him stare at the woods. “You could go, you know.”

“What?”

“Nothing’s keeping you here if you wanted to leave.”

“Little tree-” Remus said, sounding hurt.

“Not you, you’re welcome any time. And for that matter, if he wants to go for a bit and come back, that’s fine.”

“I can’t actually. I have to ‘stay here’ until further notice.”

“Oh right. Fairy parole officer.” Rowan sighed. “Well you could probably get as far as the property line, or where our ‘official’ lot meets up with the woods.”

“It isn’t as if I’m desperate to wander in the woodlands, Witch, I just don’t want to be here. At all.”

“Boy, do I hear that.” she sighed deeply, pausing to look into the woods herself. The small leaves were misting the tips of the trees with color, and there was a smell of wet and rot in the air. It looked like a storm was building in the west. It would probably hit the before nightfall, gathering the dark in the clouds and making the night come that much faster in the growing spring day. Better to get her gardening done before it hit, so she’d only have to repair the damage it did, not do that and the maintenance. The plants were being especially springy this year, and she was tempted to put this down to Remus’s presence.

D.N. continued to watch her, as though she was some sort of reality TV show, while Remus sprawled in the scrubby grass next to his chair.

When the first cold wet gust hit, all three of them headed inside.

The storm was really having fun, so they were in Rowan’s room instead of the loft. Remus liked to hang out with both of them, so Rowan coming to work on whatever she was doing -some sort of project involving embroidery floss at the moment- and sit with Remus while Remus would root through her work basket, or bring out a pouch and do something himself- embroidery, or sharpening knives, occasionally woodcarving. Sometimes he’d sit behind Rowan and brush or play with her hair, braiding it into elaborate arrangements that she’d have to ask for help to undo.

Sometimes Danger Noodle would use Remus as a cushion or a backrest as if he was staking his claim. That night however, he’d pulled the beat up floral armchair Rowan kept next to one of her windows to a different window (further away from the dancing limbs of the rowan tree) and settled down with a book.

Rowan noticed that he would raise his hand and rub the back of his neck occasionally as if it were hurting. She nudged Remus’s leg and inclined her head at D.N. He shrugged.

“Are you in pain somehow?” Rowan asked, startling him into dropping his book.

“Kindly mind your own business.” Danger Noodle sneered.

“Are you cold?” Remus asked. “You do-” he rubbed the back of his neck “lots.”

D.N. growled under his breath, picking the book up.

“It isn’t important.” He told them.

“But it is a thing.”

“You never used to.”

He sighed, explosively. “Are you two going to leave me alone about this?”

“Well now I’m curious.” Rowan admitted tipping her head with a smile on her face that reminded D.N. far too much of Remus’s mischievous expression. If it weren’t for her obvious humanity, he would think they were siblings. “If you’re cold, I could get you a blanket, is all.”

“I’m not cold.” he rolled his eyes. “I’m a winter.”

She looked unimpressed. “So what’s with the lounging in sunbeams?”

Danger Noodle sneered at her, scales glinting in the lamplight.

“It's just a feeling. It’s like a cold hand on the back of my neck, it’s not squeezing but it’s there.” D.N. spread his fingers over the back of his neck. “Like something’s watching me, constantly.”

“Huh.” Remus and Rowan said in unison, heads tipping to the side. Danger Noodle glared, there was no way they weren’t doing that on purpose.

“Might be something?” Remus asked thoughtfully, looking at the corners of the room.

“I’d want to keep an eye on him, if it were me.” Rowan admitted.

D.N. sighed again, exasperated, then Remus perked up digging in one of the many pockets inside his vest. After a search he came up with a bag, tied firmly shut with cord. He climbed off the bed and went to kneel next to the armchair instead.

“I made this for you.” Remus opened the intricately tied knot, and from inside the bag, produced a scarf. It looked like heavy silk of some sort, dyed a beautiful saffron yellow, covered in single-thread embroidery. Vines twisted and twined along it, with a snake hidden among them. D.N. stared at it for a long moment, then recoiled.

“Are you out of your mind? Wait, never mind I retract the question.”

“I made it for you a while ago but…” Remus admitted. “You wouldn’t have taken it.”

“I’m not taking it now.” He stood up, tossing the book on the chair. “What makes you think I would even want it?”

“You’re not as strong now-”

Danger Noodle hissed, flashing sharp teeth, pupils narrow.

“-so I’m going to protect you until you’re stronger.” Remus finished as if he hadn’t just been threatened.

“I am still stronger than you.” the young fae said disdainfully, drawing himself up to his full, unimpressive height.

“Are you though?” Rowan asked, setting her project down and watching them.

“I am certainly more powerful than you.”

“Oh, that’s not even a question.”

“So what this looks like is Remus is offering you his favor to wear, showing that you’re his... I’m going to say ‘ward’, because you’re a kid.”

“I am not a kid!” D.N. retorted, stamping his foot like a child.

“And therefore under his protection. Displaying a connection.”

“It’s a little more complicated than that, but yeah.” Remus agreed.

“Which is why I’m not interested.”

“I don’t have to give you an oath to give you my favor.” Remus pointed out, he just stared up at Danger Noodle entreatingly. The room was silent except for the storm outside, and the faint sound of someone watching a movie elsewhere in the house. D.N. rubbed the back of his neck again, and Rowan shivered, like a gust of cold air had made it through the window. Her eyes shut and she saw dead branches against a milky sky. Blinking the vision away, she got to see D.N. throw his hands in the air.

“Uugh enough with the eyes. Fine. I’ll take it, but it doesn’t mean anything.” He accepted the scarf and looped it around his neck, spreading the folds upward to the base of his hair.

“It means you’re wearing something I made you.” Remus pointed out and rose up, gathering Danger Noodle into a hug, to which he submitted, to Rowan’s surprise. “Which makes me happy.”

“Mmgnh. Fuck off.” D.N. mumbled, face pressed to Remus’s bicep.

Rowan decided not to comment on how cute it was.

#willow is writing #the witch and the green knight #laoft recursive fic

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mypersonalrambling · 5 years ago

Text

Passion Warfare

Warnings: Violence, Sexual themes, Language, Smut, Angst

Word Count: 11087

Pairing: Alex x Reader, Bill X Reader

Requested: By @walkxthexmoon :). I hope you enjoy this piece. Thank you for being patient during this process!

Author’s note: This took awhile for me to finish. It’s been one the more challenging pieces to write because I know next to nothing about boxing. I wanted to make sure the sequence of events was as close to reality as possible, although there still may be some inaccuracies.

Summary: AU Alex Hogh Andersen and Bill Skarsgard are well known Scandinavian boxers. The two know nothing of each other until an encounter has them realize they both want the same woman.

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

Today is the only day Alex hasn’t been in training. The two of you are watching his last boxing match on TV. Alex repeatedly states he needs to watch his matches over and over, to learn what he could have done better. He isn’t one to let things go when it comes to boxing. Anything he could improve on he was going to. Even when he has no upcoming matches he’s in the gym training close to every day. This isn’t a complete shock though, you’re ex-boyfriend, Bill, is also a boxer and it was the same way. You realize that if you are going to continually date boxers then your life will consist of always being second to the ring.

Unlike Bill, however, Alex is more flexible, understanding, giving you time and attention. Alex and you aren’t even dating and he makes time for you. Bill hardly ever did and the two of you dated for four years. You met Bill before he’d made it big. He wasn’t training much in the beginning then he won his first match and things went crazy from there. Bill blew up seemingly overnight. He went from fighting a couple of times a month to only fighting three or four times a year, to give him time to prepare. “You okay, Babe?” Alex questions, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah, just daydreaming is all. What were you saying?” Alex looks concerned but he lets it go. He knows if you aren’t ready to talk about something, there is no use prying.

“See right there, I should have put my weight on my left leg instead of my right leg. I wouldn’t have fallen back when he hit me,” he points his finger at the huge screen, rewinding the recording for what felt like the hundredth time.

You try to appear interested but you’ve heard this all before. It makes you nervous, knowing the relationship could take a turn, ending up how it did with Bill. “If you’d kept your weight on your toes, it would have given you more leverage to block, but also allowed you to maneuver out of the way.”

“See that’s why I like you. You don’t mind watching and listening to my critiques. Plus you’re able to give tips. No one else is ever interested in this. They all complained and always asked to be doing something else.” Alex rests a hand on your thigh, rubbing circles with his thumb. Though you would rather be engaging in other activities, you take any time spent with him.

“Yeah, I’ve been around it for so long that I’ve picked up on some techniques.” Alex knows your ex was a boxer but you’ve kept him in the dark about who it was. You made a promise to yourself to not tell him in case he ever met him or worse fought him.

“I remember you saying that before, but you’re with me now. I’m not going to be like him. I know I train all the time, but I still make time for you, right? I know there are times like this where we’re watching the last match so I can improve but we’re still together. How about we go out to dinner tonight? That little place on the corner is open late. They have the best Chinese food.” You shake your head yes, appreciating the gesture. He may not always have time, but he makes up for it with nice gestures and letting you know how much he cares for you.

The two of you spent the next few hours watching and rewatching his match. He virtually fills an entire notebook of improvements to be made. He would take them to his trainer, Leif, tomorrow so the two of them could come up with a game plan to incorporate the adjustments needed for Alex to become better.

By the time you arrive at the restaurant, the dinner crowd was slowly filing out. This made the dinner more intimate, able to focus on each other. Alex isn’t extremely well known but enough at least one person usually comes up to ask for an autograph when the two of you are out. Conversation flows freely, the two of you are able to talk about anything. Alex pays attention to the littlest detail when it comes to you. He grasps onto everything you say. “I love listening to you. I could listen to you talk about your passions forever. You invest your time into such important issues, it makes me wonder why you would ever put up with a simple boxer like me.”

“You’re not just a simple boxer. You care about important issues as well. And if you don’t think I feel the same way about listening to you talk about boxing then you’re mistaken.” You reach over to rest your hand on top of his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. The food was magnificent, you forgot how delicious food could be when it wasn’t frozen. The end comes way too quickly, however much to your pleasure Alex invites you to stay the night.

By the time you awoke he was gone, the first thing you do every morning is to make a cup of coffee. Alex had preset the coffee machine to have a cup ready for only a few minutes ago; the steam still rising out of the cup. He left a sweet note on the kitchen counter next to the coffee machine, “Thank you for spending the day with me yesterday, Doll. I’ll be back around three and I made reservations at your favorite place. Be ready by five, see you soon, have a great day.” The note is signed with the letter A accompanied by a smiley face.

Since today is one of the only two you didn’t have to work, you decide to get Alex a little present. The first thought you have is to grab his favorite dessert, for after dinner. However, since he was training you decide to get him another sweet treat. There is a lingerie shop a few blocks from you. You make the short trek to the shop, eager to find the perfect piece. Considering Alex’s favorite color was red, even his boxing uniform had to have red in it, you look for any ensemble with red.

Walking into the shop, the choices are overwhelming, so many colors and styles. You want a piece that is simple, but elegant. Understated is usually your go-to, although today you are feeling adventurous. Suddenly a dark, red ensemble catches your attention. It was simple with lace cups, flowy at the bottom, yet would accentuate all your amazing assets. He would never know it was under your clothes until he was getting ready to take them off of you.

Alex keeps to his word and is home by three. He looks worn out, you’re unsure if he will even still want to go to dinner or if the only thing on his mind was sleep. “You’re looking rough, tough workout?”

“Yeah, it’s been kicking my ass. My trainer wants to continuously get me into better shape for any upcoming fights there may be in the future. Let me rest for a bit, I’ll hop in the shower then we can head to dinner.” He throws his bag on the floor by the door. You knew it would be there until the next morning when he stuffed even more clothes into it.

“Are you sure you aren’t too tired? We could always reschedule.” Of course, you want to go however, you know the toll training has on his body. You learned long ago plans would inevitably be canceled more than kept. A moment of thought crossed his face but soon is replaced by exhausted determination.

“No, no I’m just needing a moment to relax. A massage might help,” a smirk spread across his face.

“You know if that happens we won’t make it to dinner. Now go take a hot bath.” He makes his way to the bathroom. You take this opportunity to change into the lingerie and the outfit for the night. You hope he invites you to spend the night again or at least accepts the invitation if it comes to staying at your place. Alex comes out not too much later looking like a new person. He practically looks as if he hadn't been training all day. “You look refreshed.”

“The bath helps, but probably not as much as a massage would have.” He winks always having to make a cheeky comment. He is never one to hold back when it came to sex or jokes about sex. Usually, he would make the comments at the most inappropriate times, only loud enough for you to hear.

“Maybe if you’re good. I’ll give you one after dinner.” Your eyes take in his entire body. It’s difficult not to stare when he is standing completely nude. He isn’t shy about his body, not that there was a need to be, he has a relatively perfect physique.

“Oh yeah? What do I have to do to get one?” He and you have slept together a few times that never stops you from being amazed at how good he looks. His body is defined from all the training, his muscles becoming more prominent by the day. “Helloooooo, you know it’s not polite to stare?” He says, waving a hand.

“Sorry, you just look so good. Dinner is a pretty good start, may add more stipulations later.” You throw clothes at him, signaling for him to get dressed.

“Well, that’s not fair. How am I supposed to be good if there are no guidelines?” He makes a show of nonchalantly putting his clothes on. Knowing you wouldn’t be able to keep your eyes off of him. His playfulness is one of the many things you like about him.

“Life isn’t fair, you should know that. Now come on, let's go or we’ll be late.” He finishes getting dressed, and you know he isn’t done with the teasing. It would be an all-night event.

The dinner goes successfully, the conversation flowing freely, and the food is delicious. It’s a small hole in the wall joint that makes the best pasta around. Alex and you can barely keep your hands to yourselves. The two of you are sitting on one side of a quaint booth. Throughout dinner Alex keeps a hand on your thigh, giving a gentle squeeze here and there. As you suspect he skips dessert, knowing if he didn’t, it would mean an extra hard workout the next day.

Alex drives with one hand on your thigh. His skin is hot against yours. He always seems to have his hand touching some part of you. It feels peculiar to be with someone who is openly affectionate. You are used to a minimal amount of touches or caresses. Not that it was necessarily a bad thing, you aren’t the best at showing affection. He drives you back to your apartment, the anticipation killing you. He parks out front waiting for you to initiate, “Do you want to come in?”

Alex didn’t take long to say yes. It’s easy to see the lust in his eyes. Now you’re standing in the bathroom staring, hoping he likes the lingerie you chose. Although, you know Alex likes you in anything. He’s told you plenty of times you could wear a garbage bag and he would love how it looks on you. He was the type to just appreciate having an intimate moment together. When you finally open the door you see him lying on the bed propped up on his elbows, “Wow, you look…….exquisite,” he pauses before the last word.

“You think so? I picked red because it’s your favorite color.” You sit down straddling his lap, running your hands through his hair, watching as his whole body relaxes. Moving your hands to his shoulder, beginning to knead them giving him the much-needed massage. As you begin to stand up, Alex lets out a frustrated humph. “Take off your shirt and lie on your stomach,” you say motioning the action.

He doesn’t need to be told twice, turning until he’s lying face down. Grabbing the oil that’s set on the nightstand, you kneel on the bed so you’re straddling him. You generously pour oil on to his back, already able to feel how tense he was. Even though this is a foreshadow of the night's events, you want to do your best to make him feel better. You work slowly, making sure to knead every tense spot. “Ughhh, your hands are magic. I swear it doesn’t even feel this good when a professional does it. Have you ever thought about changing professions?”

Though you know he is only joking, it has crossed your mind a couple of times. Every single partner you’ve been with had suggested it to you. You did plan to massage his entire back, however, Alex couldn’t wait for the end. He flips you over about partway through, “Sorry Doll, can’t wait any longer.” You’re able to feel how hard he is and begins to grind while he’s on top of you. He presses you into his chest, trying to get as close as possible. The two of you spend the night getting your own type of workout that would have him extremely tired for tomorrow’s training.

You work the next couple of days, they go by in a blur. You and Alex talk a bit on the phone, just to check-in. You‘re excited to go see Alex train today, it is one of your favorite things to do, watch hot, sweaty men beat the shit of each other. By the time you get to the gym, Alex has already been training for three hours. You find Alex has been utilizing the heavy bag and speed bag. One to improve his speed the other to improve accuracy and technique. Currently, he is hitting the speed bag. His arms moving at such a fast pace, it was practically impossible for you to be sure how he could see the bag to hit it properly. Leif is giving improvements as he went, Alex taking and utilizing them promptly.

Two hours later, Alex is finished for the day, he tells you to wait while he takes a quick shower so he doesn't stick all the way home. You sit outside the locker room, scrolling through your phone until someone coming out of the locker room catches your eye. Doing a double-take, your breath hitched. It couldn’t be him, he is usually in Sweden, why would he be here in Denmark? You try not to stare, but your eyes are glued. You must have made a noise because the next thing you know, his eyes are locked on yours. You wish he would walk away without saying a word. The two of you haven't talked in months and now isn’t the time to do so. He doesn't seem to feel the same because he makes his way to you. “Hello, Y/N,” his voice is strained.

“Bill, what are you doing here?” Your heart is racing, what if Alex came out? How would you explain this to him? You’ve kept Bill from him, knowing he wouldn’t be able to handle it. He isn’t one to not show his protectiveness over you; it would be even worse after finding out Bill was your ex.

“I train here now, closer to my new apartment.”

“You have an apartment here?” Shit, he even moved closer to you. It seems impossible to get away from him. Bill and you didn’t end on the best terms. “Why did you move here?”

“I moved because my trainer quit and I found out this place has the best trainers. I couldn’t just go to any trainer. They need certain qualifications. What are you doing here?” He is agitated, his jaw set, his nostrils flared, his hands were balled at his side.

“Just waiting on my friend. They train here as well.” You know that isn’t the whole truth, however, it isn’t a lie. Neither you nor Alex set a title for your relationship. Without a doubt, you know Bill wouldn’t accept that answer. He is never one to leave things alone.

“They...are you waiting on a boyfriend?” His fists clench even tighter, inevitably knowing his nails would be leaving marks on his palms.

“No, it’s not a boyfriend.”

“Then who?”

“It just...doesn’t matter. I don’t have to tell you. We aren’t dating anymore.” Now you are beginning to get angry. Who did he think he is? Acting as if you were still part of his life anymore. He didn’t have the right to know your life. He lost that right when he failed to put any effort into the relationship.

You shift from side to side, hoping Bill would leave before Alex came out of the locker room. It would cause even more problems than you’re already facing. Much to your dismay, Alex pops out seconds later.

He makes his way over to the two of you, “You ready to go? Who is this?” Alex knows who Bill is. He’s too popular for Alex not to know that he is also a boxer.

“I’m Bill and you are?” Bill’s voice is overly sweet although his facial expressions gave his true feelings away.

“Name’s Alex, how do you know Y/N?” He isn’t any better at hiding his emotions than Bill is. It makes you wonder if all boxers have that issue.

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Bill states.

“Pretty sure I asked you first.” Distain seeping through Alex's voice.

“I’m Y/N’s ex-boyfriend. We dated for four years. Surprised she hasn’t mentioned me.”

“Oh, she has, most of it not good I’m afraid.” It wasn’t necessarily true, you did speak about the good times you shared with Bill, however, you let Alex know upfront about your apprehensions of dating another boxer.

“Oh really?” Bill’s eyebrows raise in shock. You would do anything to disappear at this moment. You never wanted to have them in the same room together, let alone having a conversation with each other.

“Yeah, she’s much better off now. Anyway, we need to get going, don’t we Babe?” Alex slips his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. If either Bill or Alex could get away with it, you were sure either of them would throw a punch.

“Yes, yes, we have a lot to do.” The reality is Alex and you would go separate ways tonight. Though you know there would be a long conversation about the events of today. And you knew there is a high probability he is going to be very upset at the fact you never mentioned Bill’s name.

“Of course, I’ll see you around.” Bill gives a forced smile before Turning the other direction and walking away.

“He’s your ex? I’ve seen him here for the past couple of months. He’s here almost every day that I’m here and I’ve been training beside him, not knowing this is who you’ve been talking about all this time. I thought he was an arrogant bastard before. Now I know he is, all the shit he put you through.” Alex runs his fingers through his hair, giving the ends a little tug. He isn’t one for confrontation, outside of the ring of course. Although he isn’t able to hide his emotions, you know that he would never actually hit someone without being provoked.

“I’m sorry, I just thought it would be better if you didn’t know, for this reason. You’re in the same sport, you were bound to run into one another. And he can be a little cocky at times. Well maybe really cocky, but this right here is what I wanted to avoid.” Your voice squealing at the end, unable to fight your anxiety any longer. “Please can we just go.” Your whole body feels as if it would implode at any second, your entire body shaking.

To no surprise Alex takes you home, leaving you to think about the events over and over; wondering if there was any way to avoid it. Then you realize, nothing you did would have avoided this. If they hadn’t met today, they would have met at some point at a match.

You lay in bed until you’re unable to keep your eyes open. You knew you had to wait until your physical exhaustion overtook your anxiety-ridden mind.

Meeting Alex happened by accident. You went to the gym to find Bill, however, you ended up funding Alex. Seeing him in person was completely different. You kept up with all the up and comers, Alex being one of them. He stopped his training session just to come to talk to you. “Hello, I’m Alex. What’s your name?”

“I’m Y/N.” You were unsure of his intentions. Bill was nowhere to be seen. You hoped he didn’t come out anytime soon.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the cheesy line. “Sorry that was so bad, has that ever worked on anyone?”

“Got your attention didn’t it? So it can’t be that bad. You looking for someone might be able to help you find them.”

“Uh, just a friend, doesn’t look like they’re here though.” you hoped Bill didn’t pick this time to show his face. Maybe this was the sign you needed to not go back to him or more attempt to have him take you back. Alex is confident but hadn’t crossed the line into cocky. You awoke in a sweaty mess. Of course, your dreams are filled with the two of them. You couldn’t even get a break while asleep. Looking at the clock, you sigh in relief when you realize there are still a few hours to sleep. Turning on a podcast, hoping to take your mind in a different direction.

The morning arrives all too soon. You make your way to work thankfully it was a short shift. Meaning you would have time to go see Alex train for a bit.

The moment you walk in your heart stops, Bill is training next to Alex. All this time you’ve never seen him, now he’s appearing everywhere or so you felt. Walking over to Alex, he stops to greet you, “Hello Doll, how was work?”

“It was good, nothing exciting happened. Looks like you’re training hard. How much longer do you think you’ll be?”

“Maybe an hour or two. You can always wait for me at my apartment if you’d like.”

“I can wait. I like to watch, you look good when you’re all hot and sweaty.” There is just something so hot about seeing sweaty men that turns you on. It makes you wonder if that’s the only reason you continue to date men who are involved in extreme sports.

You watch as Alex gets into the ring with Leif. Leif was a former world champion boxer, now turned trainer after he became too old to compete. Both put on the required equipment, appearing determined. Leif’s fighting style is an out-boxer whereas Alex is a swarmer. Alex isn’t short, but he tends to be smaller than most of his opponents so he has to overwhelm them. He is very good at bobbing and weaving. He’s fast on his feet, easily able to evade most other fighters. Alex usually gets hit countless times before he can land a solid punch.

Alex invades Lief’s space, immediately trying to close the space between them. Leif, however, is more of an out-boxer, wanting to put more space instead of less. He easily steps out of Alex’s reach, returning to a defensive stance. Alex knows exactly the offensive steps to corner Leif. Alex backs into the corner letting Leif come to him. Leif steps forward, leaving enough space Alex would have to step forward to hit him. Alex keeps his gloves to his face, shuffling until he can throw a hit. He misses, this doesn’t stop him from pushing Leif backwards until he is against the rope. This gives Alex ample opportunity to land punch after punch. The two seperate, Leif informing him of everything he needs to improve on.

Watching him box is so sensual to you, the way he concentrates, the way he calculates moves. His strength and power showing through, making you want to jump him right there. Your shifting must have been noticeable because Bill caught your gaze, his mouth set in a straight line. Bill begins hitting harder, faster, knowing you’re watching. Your shifting worsens, the desire between your legs growing. Your mind wanders to both of their bodies pressed against yours the only thing on their minds is your pleasure. The two of them working together to make you feel nothing but pleasure. Their hands roaming your body, lips pressing against your skin leaving marks to be discovered later, A grunt pulls you out of your daydream. By the look on Alex’s face, you must have been staring at Bill.

Excusing yourself you head to the restroom to splash water on your face. The coolness doing nothing at first. The desire between your legs isn’t any better, no amount of shifting was helping. Sitting down on a bench, giving yourself a moment to get your thoughts straight. Time escapes you until a message from one of your friends pops up making you realize Alex should almost be done training.

Once you are done, you make your way back to the training area. Much to your relief Bill is gone. Alex begins to gather his belongings, giving you the side-eye. You watch as he gathers his gear, not once looking at you. Usually when he’s done the two of you make plans for the rest of the night. He doesn’t say anything but you know what he must be thinking, “I wasn’t staring at him,” You blurt, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

“ No one said you were.” Alex does his best to keep the irritation out of his voice.

“I was just daydreaming.” you sound defensive, knowing you’re giving your guilt away. “I...I…didn’t mean to. Alex, he and I dated for years, it’s still difficult to see him.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I don’t want to lose you to him. I like you Y/N.” This is the first time Alex truly sounds like he’s letting his emotional guard down. It’s enough to break your heart. This is the first time you realize how much of your past relationship you’ve brought into this one. From the start you let your apprehensions be known about dating another fighter. You can’t believe it’s taken this for you to understand. Alex has been fighting against Bill this entire time. If you didn’t let past things go this would never work out with Alex because you would never let your guard down enough for him to truly win.

“You won’t, Alex it’s...he was a part of my life for so long.” This situation is bringing up all your buried emotions for Bill. However, this is just what you need to work through the suppressed feelings. Alex is a genuinely kind person, someone you didn’t want to lose. “I’m sorry, I should have never brought my pain from my past relationships into ours. I know right now there is nothing I can say will make it better, but I am sorry.”

“I know Y/N, I know.” You remain quiet, letting the moment settle. The tension didn’t alleviate much, however, Alex drives to his apartment not willing to part with his routine. Many words aren’t spoken but that doesn’t stop the two of you from sharing one of the most passionate nights since you’ve met. Alex makes a show of letting you know the type of person you’re with now. A person who rarely puts himself above others, someone who never lets you forget how important you are to him. The night left you feeling more secure than you’ve felt in a while.

The next few days went by like usual. When you aren’t working, you are at home or with Alex. Before this you had failed to recognize the routine Alex and you have fallen into. It makes you feel empty when there’s deviance. Everything has been going smoothly until you are at Alex’s apartment on a Friday afternoon. The television has been on in the background for most of the day. Paying it no mind until Bill’s face came onto the screen. “I challenge Alex Hogh Anderson to a match for the Scandinavian Championship title.”

“That asshole thinks I won’t.” Alex jumps up from the couch, rapidly pacing in front of the television. “Knew I couldn't stand him, he thinks I’m scared. I’ll show him,” he declares, punching the air a few times, getting into his defensive stance. “He’ll wish he’d never challenged me.” Alex has yet to sit back down. The news keeps replaying the segment. After hearing and seeing the smugness of Bill’s challenge a few times, you shut off the TV unsure of anything to say. Alex took this as guilt from you, “You’re awful quiet, did you know he was going to do this?’

“Of course not Alex, I don't talk to him. The last time we spoke was at the gym. I know you can beat him, but this is exactly what he wants from you. He wants you angry, he likes to know that he can get under your skin. Don’t give him that satisfaction. He’ll never let you live it down, he’ll always have that power over you.” You’re still in shock. Bill had always been competitive and cocky, you just now realizing how much. The nerve he had to challenge Alex, only because you’re with him, making your blood boil. Did he think this would win you back? Part of you wants to message him, but you know it was useless. And would only irritate Alex more. Alex calls his manager to let him know he isn’t going to back down from the challenge.

On your way home, you wonder if this is worth it. Being with boxers is exciting, of course, but there always seems to be drama, no matter what. You don’t know how much longer you will be able to handle this. Is dating them worth this? You could find someone with a different profession, maybe a teacher. Someone who’s career doesn’t involve fighting or competitiveness. Although in your heart you know that would bore you to death.

Lying in bed you will your mind to rest. Nothing would be more satisfying than sleeping for the rest of the night. Thoughts of Alex’s answer float through. You can only imagine the anger that will seep through his press talk. Alex has an almost perfect public image, he’s very knowledgeable about the art of remaining composed just enough for the camera’s yet having enough showmanship to attract the eye of new potential sponsors. Images of Bill and Alex flood your mind. The thought of them fighting made you sick to your stomach. Deciding there is nothing for you to do at the moment, you grab your favorite book, knowing eventually it will help you fall asleep. Before you know it you awoke to a book flung onto the floor, your phone buried under the covers, and a sore shoulder from falling asleep in the most uncomfortable position.

You barely heard from Alex during the next few days. He’d send a text now and then, telling you he was training harder for the next few months. He promises you he isn’t upset however your gut is telling something completely different. Without evidence to support your irrational thoughts, you let the situation be for now. Bill messages you after the broadcast asking to meet and talk. You type and re-type a message a hundred times, yet no words seem right. Nothing good would come of meeting with him. If anything it would make matters worse. You know Bill would only apologize for the behavior then continue to not change. Bill tends to be impulsive and you are sure he is only doing this to attempt to get you back. He has learned something because he isn’t blowing up your phone. Bill used to be relentless, hardly ever letting things go even when you begged him.

After a week of little communication, Alex finally messages you stating they have a date for the match. It’s five months away, giving both enough time to prepare. You are nervous for Alex; Bill is bigger and has more experience. Both of them are competitive with a bloodlust for winning. The fight would not be easy for either, it would take a complete knock out for the other to win. Messaging back you ask if the two of you can spend time together.

A couple of hours go by before he responds. “I don’t have much time. I’m training once if not twice a day now. But I can squeeze you in. I feel bad for not seeing you lately. Would you mind meeting me at the gym? N’ bring an overnight bag. If you want that is.”

You respond with a simple, be there as soon as I can. Instead of packing your normal overnight back with extra clothes to change into after sex, you only pack the essentials. It isn’t that you don’t want to have sex with him, however, you know from the sounds of his training schedule, he would be lucky to stay awake for longer than a couple of hours.

Arriving at the gym, you take a few deep breaths to prepare yourself encase Bill happens to be there as well. Thankfully, Bill is nowhere in sight. Alex looks in even better shape than he generally does. His six-pack defined the lines sculpting a perfect shape. His arms are more prominent, the veins popping out when he clenches his fists. Even his jaw seems more defined, though you doubt it’s true. “Hi, Alex,” you keep your voice monotone, not sure how his mood is at the moment.

“Hello, I'm glad you could make it.” A smile breaks out across his face. His demeanor would have you thinking, nothing rocky has happened in the past few days.

“It’s quiet here today, generally more people are training.”

Alex must have read your mind because he goes quiet for a minute, “Yeah, Bill took his trainer to a different gym so we could train without the other seeing all of our moves. Both of us would have been too focused on watching the other to learn their style rather than focusing on bettering our own.” He goes back to punching the bag in front of him, hitting the same spot over and over. This has always been one of his best strategies, able to land multiple blows with force to the same spot.

You sit down, enjoying the view. Alex trains for the next few hours, you occupy yourself by scrolling through your social media feed, wandering the gym, and attempting to hit the punching bags as you’ve seen Alex do. It makes you laugh when you can’t hit the bag more than twice in a row. You know there would be no boxing career in your future. Towards the end of the session, your stomach lets itself be known. Leif and Alex look over both give a small laugh. “Sounds like someone is ready to go. Let’s end it here for today. No training for tomorrow, you need a rest day with these extra workouts. I scheduled a massage for you in the morning, take it easy. I mean it,” Leif states giving a side-eye to both of you.

Alex doesn’t clean up at the gym, wanting to get home as soon as possible. The two of you hop in the shower, you give him a mini massage of your own. Neither of you bothers to take Leif’s advice, by the time you are finished it was difficult to move. You can’t imagine how he must be feeling. It doesn't take much effort at all to fall asleep or stay asleep.

You wake up feeling more refreshed than you have in a long time. Alex is still sound asleep, snoring loud enough to wake the neighbors. Since it is the first time in a while you are awake before him, you decide to fix his favorite healthy breakfast. He stumbles out just as you’re finishing, “Mmm, smells delicious. You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

“ I know, but I wanted to. You deserve a day of rest and being catered to.” You sit a plate in front of him. He shovels a couple of mouthfuls in while still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “What time is your massage?”

“Eleven, I believe. It’s only an hour though then we can spend the rest of the day together.”

“What do you suppose we do with the rest of the day? I was thinking we could watch a couple of movies, maybe eat some popcorn, and just relax. I don’t want you to be too tired to train for the rest of the week.” Many more things pop into your head that you would much rather be doing, however, Alex needs to focus on his workouts to prepare for this fight.

“Sounds like a great day to me. This is delicious by the way.” By the time you finish cooking your food, he’s almost done.

“Thank you, now go hop in the shower before you’re late to the massage.”

“I would much rather you be the one giving me a massage.” He finishes the rest of his food before hopping in to take a quick shower. You clean the kitchen before taking a shower yourself so you can go to the store and grab a few snacks. You make sure they are healthy so he'll be able to eat snacks without feeling guilty.

Alex trains harder than you’ve ever seen him in the past couple weeks. Most days he is in the gym with only an hour or two break. While he’s gone you set up the living room for the most comfortable possible way to lie there all day. You hop in the shower before throwing on a pair of sweatpants and a large t-shirt.

He returns home, not much later looking somewhat relaxed. “How was the massage?”

“It felt great while she was doing it, but now I’m sore. I’m gonna get some ibuprofen. Then we can spend the day watching movies.” He moves slowly, you feel bad, wondering if he should just lie in bed instead of on the couch with you. Though you know either way he is still going to be sore.

The rest of the afternoon is spent watching a variety of movies. Everything from pure romance to the bloodiest scary movie. Although some movies go unwatched because the two of you are too busy catching up. You choose to stay the night, not knowing when the next time this will happen. It’s easy to get back into sync with the other as if your routine never strayed.

The next four months continue in this pattern. You see him maybe one night a week for a few hours. You do appreciate the effort and any time you can see him. Many times you think about going to watch him train at the gym, but didn’t want to distract him. Only once did you visit him while training, however, that was to only drop off some extra workout clothes. He gave you a quick thank you, see you later before rushing back to training.

Next week was the big press conference where Bill and Alex would trash talk, weigh-in, attempt to intimidate the other. Neither of them is the type of person who is easily intimidated. There is a high chance you are terrified enough for everyone. Alex could talk shit with the best of them, but so could Bill. The only difference was Alex was better at keeping his composure. Bill has a difficult time not showing his emotions on his face. This whole process was eating you up inside. You are with Alex but Bill is still important to you as well, though you hated to admit it. He was your first love and you’re unsure if you’ll ever be rid of feelings.

In the next few days, you feel as if you are going to jump out of your skin. Your anxiety was so terrible, hives began to break out on your legs. Great, you thought, just what you need, another thing to worry about. You’ve been using every coping skill available to you. Some worked more effectively than others. You can’t wait for this to be over until then you are going to put your focus on the positives. Alex invites you to stay the night, even though the two of you will most likely be sleeping.

The day of the press conference finally arrives, your nerves on edge. Alex leaves early in the morning, wanting to ensure he has enough time to make last-minute touches to his speech for the conference. You make the short drive to your apartment, giving yourself enough time to raid your closet. You want to make sure you have something appropriate to wear. Another part of you wants to dress alluring to throw Bill off his game.

You settle for a compromise between business and alluring. You pick a blue dress, Bill’s favorite color, that hugs your body perfectly. A small part of you is uncertain whether it’s the best idea to try and attempt this. There is a chance this could backfire and would anger Alex even more than he already will be. These last few months have been hell for the two of you. Alex barely had any time for you, you were even lucky to receive a message from him. It’s been a long, lonely road, one you hope to never go through again.

When you arrive at the conference, the place is already packed. The fans wait impatiently for it to begin. Alex makes sure to have a seat up front for you but off to the side so you aren’t grouped in with the fanatic fans. He knew how quickly things could become chaotic. You sit calmly, scrolling through your phone, answering the few messages from friends about the fight. Your best friend has been by your side, listening to you complain, talking you through the overthinking and doing their best to keep you sane. The stage is set so the moderator is in the middle of the stage with stools on each side. The closest two are where Bill and Alex will sit. Far enough apart the two wouldn’t be on top of each other, but close enough when things become heated, they could be in each other’s face.

Finally, the moderator comes out on stage, “Is everyone ready?” Almost the entire crowd screams “YES!” at the top of their lungs. Nervousness washes over you, your stomach instantly began to hurt. “Alright, alright, here they are. Bill Skarsgard, a two-time champion and Alex Hogh Andersen, a first-time contender!” They work their way up to the stage, each sitting on opposite sides of the moderator. Bill scans the crowd, his eyes becoming glued to you the moment he sees you. You’re able to see his breath hitch for just a second. Alex watches the interaction, a moment of displeasure crosses his face. Someone who didn’t know Alex very well wouldn’t even notice, but you did. He knew you only wore the dress to tease Bill.

The press conference is one of your most favorite parts of boxing challenges. There is just something thrilling about watching the two trash talk, doing their best to agitate the other. The conference starts calmly, however it doesn’t take long before the two can barely contain their disdain for the other. Every few minutes your eyes lock with one of them. The longer Alex sees you in the dress the more irritated he becomes.

Both give and take little jabs at each other. Before long the two are in each other’s faces, close enough you’re sure spit was hitting the other every time they spoke. Bill did some of the best trash-talking, that was until the very end. Alex let the crowd die down as the conference was coming to the end, “I would just like to thank everyone for allowing me the opportunity to be a part of this. I most want to thank my gorgeous girlfriend Y/N. You know her, don't you Bill? Well, maybe not so much anymore.” Bill’s face turns red, clenching his jaw, and tight fists at his sides. If there hadn’t been cameras and a thousand or more witnesses you’re sure Bill would have punched him right there. The crowd goes silent, everyone waiting for Bill’s response, however instead Bill walks off stage.

After the conference, you meet up with Alex for just a brief moment. The two of you sit in his car not saying a word. You decide to break the silence, “Really Alex? You just had to bring up the fact I’m with you know. There was no reason for that.” You know you shouldn’t be as pissed as you are, but you felt he crossed a line.

“Yes because I knew it would get to him. I couldn’t think of anything else at that moment. He deserved it, after all, he said to me. But you’re right I should have tried to think of another comeback.”

“I’m sorry, I overreacted. I know it’s hard to think on the spot when you're in front of that many people. This whole thing is ridiculous to me so it seems everything puts me on edge.” You grab his hand, rubbing your thumb over the back. The two of you spend the next hour talking about all the activities you’re going to do after the match. The one thing you agreed on is a vacation, it didn’t even matter where.

The match is finally here. You aren’t sure if you’re calm because your anxiety has passed beyond feeling anxious or if the fact the day finally here, you are excited for it to be over.

Alex messages you, “Good morning. Can’t wait to see you.” He must have gone to his trainer to prepare. Nothing would make you happier than being able to relax, Alex told you after this fight, he was going to take it, at least easy for him.

When you arrive, the only people there are the crew and the building personal and of course Alex and Bill. You walk to Alex’s locker room to see him and Leif going over last-minute strategies. “If he backs up, keep moving until he’s in no position but to fight. Don’t let him maneuver past you, his defense will be thrown off.”

“Okay.” Alex’s voice gave away his true feelings. There was a barely distinguishable shake in his voice.

“If that isn’t an option, try to stay back until he tires himself out. Use his strategy against him.” Alex shakes his head, looking focused.

“Hey, Alex.” Your voice is meek not wanting to interrupt them, but you doubt they would have stopped talking anytime soon.

“Y/N, you’re here early. Thought you wouldn’t be here until a little later.”

“Yeah, I just wanted to see you before the fight. I can leave and come back if you’d like.”

“No, no it’s fine. I’m happy you’re here.” He walks over, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you in for a kiss. “I do have to prepare though. Can she stay?”

“No, I want all of your focus on preparing. Sorry Y/N.” Leif did sound genuinely apologetic. It makes you wonder if Alex had told him who Bill was to you.

“I understand, I’ll see you after.” Leif did inform you there is a lounge to sit in if you didn't want to leave. You decide to stay so you won’t have to fight the crowd coming in again. You sit down on the couch, grab your book out of your purse and begin to read.

A couple of hours later you take a break, checking your phone, ignoring all of the texts flooding your phone. You know most of them only want to discuss the fight. Getting on Twitter you see the championship is trending, everyone debating on who they thought is going to win. It’s split fifty-fifty; some thought Bill would win due to the fact that he has more experience. Several thought Alex would win due to his fighting style and determination.

The lounge remains empty, much to your enjoyment. You didn’t have the energy to talk with anyone especially knowing it would only be about who you thought would win. Only a few members of Bill’s team would know your relationship with him and would take too much energy to explain you’re here for Alex.

Around an hour before the match, you change into a custom made jersey dress. It’s red and black with Hogh Anderson on the back. You didn’t tell Alex about it, wanting to surprise him. You opt to go to the locker room for hopefully a short, encouraging pep talk. Alex’s eyes grew huge when he saw you in the dress. “You like?” You grin, giving him a little twirl.

He closes the space until you’re pressed into his chest. “Very much so,” he leans in to press his lips against yours. It’s as if no one was there besides the two of you. He pulls away first, “Now that’s what I call a good luck kiss. Sorry to cut it so short, but it’s almost time.”

“Of course, I’ll see you afterward. Good luck baby.” You whisper the last part in his ear.

Walking towards the arena you scan until you see Alex’s family. You and his mom converse, that is until Valter notices you are sitting beside him. “Hello Y/N, long time no see.”

“Uh...yeah, been busy.” Your brain pauses unsure of what to say. It crosses your mind to ask one of Alex’s family members to switch seats, but you aren’t going to let him get the best of you.

“I bet dating a boxer is difficult. Although you would know since you’ve dated two. Funny how you left one just to date another.” Heat shot to your face, is he really going to talk about this here. Bill let it be known you’d hurt him, but maybe even more than he let on.

“Really? Are you seriously going to talk about this now? It doesn’t even concern you.” Valter doesn’t seem fazed. He turns back to his family, acting nonchalant.

Soon Alex and Bill walk out of their locker rooms, followed by their teams. The crowd erupts in cheers. It takes a few minutes for everyone to settle down. The announcer, Jesper, stands in the middle of the ring, the crowd quiets down to a murmur. He faces the camera informing the fans in person and at home, the fight would soon begin. Alex and Bill are in their respective corners, both turn to face the middle, their teams hyping them up. “Welcome to the Heavyweight Championship of the World. In this corner, we have Alex Hogh Anderson.” Jesper reads off Alex’s stats, a mixture of boos and cheers arise from the crowd. “AND in this corner, we have the returning Scandinavian Champion, Bill Skarsgard!” Jesper then reads Bill’s stats from the previous year.

The referee then steps in announcing there will be twelve rounds, lasting three minutes and explains the rules to each contestant. Both appear focused, only one thing on their mind, winning. Alex and Bill stretch, jump and wait for the bell to ring. Shortly after the bell rings signaling the beginning of the first round. Alex makes the first move, trying to get Bill pushed into a corner, Bill maneuvers himself out of the way. Alex tries once more to no avail. Bill analyzes the situation waiting for the right moment to take his first swing at Alex. His fist collides with Alex’s left cheek, stunning Alex. The arena erupts in cheers, the excitement of the first hit landed. It doesn’t take long before Alex regains his composure, starting his method of attempting to corner Bill. He isn’t able to accomplish this before the round ends. They go to their corners, taking a break, their trainers reminding them of techniques.

The next few rounds continue in the same fashion. Alex and Bill, both get in their punches. They become more and more exhausted as the match goes on. There are many instances where it looks as if they are cuddling in the ring. It makes you giggle if only the two actually liked each other that much. Bill is usually the first one to push away, giving him the best chance of trying to catch Alex off guard and get a few hits in. This only works a couple of times. It doesn’t take Alex long to learn Bill’s strategy.

By the time the final round arrives the anticipation is killing you. Both have gotten their fair share of hits in. At this point, it seems to be anyone’s game. As much as you hate to admit it, you are surprised Alex has been able to keep up with Bill. The differences in strategies add a level of learning for both of them. They have to try and gauge the other’s next move though it’s different than what they themselves would have done.

Bill lands a few punches making Alex unsteady, blood dripping down his face. Alex dodges Bill’s assault for the next thirty seconds. Regaining his composure Alex comes back twice as hard, pushing Bill until he has nowhere to go but in a corner. Alex lands punch after punch. Bill is only able to block a few, his efforts to push Alex back appear useless. The timer continues to count down until only ten seconds are remaining. The crowd shouts along with the timer until it hits zero. When the bell signals the end of the round, Alex backs away, leaving everyone to see Bill’s bruised and bloody face. Bill slumps down unable to move. Alex looks more shocked than anyone.

Medical personnel and Bill’s team swarm to give him the appropriate medical attention. Once he regains consciousness they go to their corners, their teams help them rehydrate, take their gloves off, and wipe off the sweat. The energies exuding from either side are vastly different. Cameras are instantly in the ring, ready to interview them. They interview Alex first, giving Bill time to have his wounds cleaned. After the interviews are over, the crowd disappears slowly. You remain in your seat until there is almost no one left. You hope it’s enough time for Alex to have time to rest.

Arriving at the locker room, you’re surprised to see it empty besides Alex and Leif. The two are reviling in the win. Walking a little closer you can hear what they’re saying, “I told you that I knew you’d win. That’s your first knockout Alex and against a previous champion. It’s no easy feat. I’m proud of you Alex.” Leif hugs him, giving him a few pats on the back.

“Alex,” you announce wanting to get his attention, but not wanting to interrupt.

“Y/N, I can’t believe I won,” he says bewildered, making his way towards you. The two of you stay in the embrace not wanting to let go. It’s been so long since the two of you have had time to just enjoy the other’s presence. Leif excuses himself, letting Alex know they would celebrate tomorrow so he could have the rest of the night to relax. “I want to thank you, Y/N. You don’t know how much your support means. It’s one of the only things that kept me going. You know I’m gonna take it easy for the next few weeks and give you all my attention.”

“Alex, I’m just happy it’s finally over. I know the risks of dating a boxer. Of course, I was going to support you. I am happy you won.” You lean in to kiss him. You are happy he won, however, the relief of it being over overshadowed the win. He doesn’t seem fazed, not wanting anything more than to be with each other. “Here let me help you with your wounds.” He sits down while you gather the supplies.

He flinches when you first apply pressure. It doesn’t take long since most of his wounds had been tended to during the match. A soft knock causes you both to turn. Bill is standing near the door. “Hi, I just want to say congrats on the win and sorry for causing all of this.”

“Thanks, man. You did a great job, surprised I won actually.” You knew that had to hurt Alex to admit, but he was trying to play nice with Bill. The tension in the room was thick, almost suffocating.

“I’m sorry for starting all this Y/N. I shouldn’t have challenged him just because I was jealous. I was upset about losing you, especially to another fighter after you said you didn’t want to date me anymore because training took too much of my time. I was having a hard time letting you go,” Bill says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Thank you for apologizing. I’m just glad it’s over. I will admit the process was exhausting and the match was entertaining.” What you want to say is the match was provocative. The two of them fighting, their sweaty bodies pressing together. The imagery brought heat between your legs.

“Y/N?” Alex questions raising his hand in front of you. “You not staring at Bill again?” He asks smirkingly.

“I...uh…” You’re at a loss for words. There is no way you are going to be able to explain your way out of this.

“Again?” Bill appears confused, but also intrigued.

“Oh, yeah a few months ago before this all started. When you first began training at the gym. She blurted she wasn’t staring at you. Can’t help but wonder what goes on in her head.” You’re starting to panic, how are you going to get out of this?

“Oh did she. I bet I know what’s going on in her head.” Bill has known you much longer than Alex, giving you time to confess some of your deepest sexual fantasies.

“Oh yeah?” Alex stares inquisitively.

“She mentioned a few times a fantasy of hers was to have a threesome. I assume you already know about how hot she gets from watching us box.” Bill’s voice is laced with cockiness.

“She’s mentioned the latter, but never the first part.” Alex raises an eyebrow at you. The tension in the air soon turned from awkward to sexual. Alex makes his way over to you first, Bill follows soon after. Alex stands behind you, placing kisses to your neck. Bill is more hesitant waiting for permission from you. Giving him a reassuring nod, he shuffles forward placing a hand on your waist. Looking into his eyes feelings of lust come rushing back. Bill pulls you closer to him leaning down to kiss you.

Alex’s hand slips under your dress, fingers grazing over your covered core. Instinctively you tangle a hand in Bill’s hair, bringing back the last time the two of you were together. He follows Alex’s lead, bringing a hand under your dress to knead and pinch your nipples. You tug at the bottom of Bill’s shirt wanting it off, you want anything standing between you and the two of them gone.

They follow your hint, the three of you racing to get clothes off. You stand back looking at the two of them: cocks hard, dripping precum, their bodies bruised from the fight, their eyes almost black from dilation. Making your way to them, dropping to your knees, grabbing both cocks in each hand. Both men let out a slew of cuss words, their hands naturally tangle in your hair. Bill’s cock is long and slim, whereas Alex has more girth, both beautiful.

Quickly you move your head until your lips are almost touching Alex’s tip. You lick a long strip up his shaft, teasing, knowing he loves it. After a few short licks, you take him in your mouth until his tip is reaching the back of your throat. Your pace is moderate, not wanting him to come too soon. Popping him out of your mouth, you switch to Bill. With no hesitation, you take him into your mouth. It’s more difficult than you could have imagined trying to concentrate on two people at once.

Bill pulls you off of him, pulling you so you are standing. He attaches his lips to your neck: sucking, biting, sure to leave a mark. You’re so focused on him you fail to notice Alex dropping to his knees, only noticing when you can feel his hot breath against your thighs. Alex gives you no mercy, leaving many marks behind. Bill soon switches his assault to your breasts. The feeling is so overwhelming, you can barely keep your knees from shaking. Thankfully both of them have a grip on you.

With no warning Alex wraps his lips around your clit, sucking, using his tongue to draw circle eights. You feel fingers running along your pussy, collecting the quickly forming juices, though it isn’t until they’re slipped in, you realize it’s Bill’s fingers. Bill is still working on making as many marks as possible along your torso. Sweat begins to form on your forehead, a tightening in your stomach, you are grasping at the air. Your orgasm rushes over your body, both men holding you up until you regain your composure. Once they’re sure you can stand for yourself, they move away.

Alex searches for anything to throw on the floor. He finds and throws a couple of towels down, hoping to cover enough space to lie down without being on the cold floor. He lies down waiting for you to climb on top of him. You hover above him, so you can align yourself. A moan escapes your lips, loving the feeling of having him inside of you. You move your hips in circles, Alex’s hands resting on your hips. Your high is close approaching, so fast you almost forget Bill is standing there. “Come join us.” You whimper.

Bill looks unclear of where he should place himself. “I have lube in my bag,” your breathing is labored. A puzzled look crosses his face, but not for long. He digs in your bag finally finding it at the bottom applying a generous amount to his fingers before running a couple around your puckered hole. Bill inserts his fingers slowly, stretching you until he’s sure you’ll be able to take him. You’ve never been so thankful for almost always carrying lube in your overnight bag.

Alex stops thrusting so Bill can inch into you. Bill takes his time when he’s fully in neither of them move. You thought you’d felt fullness before with just one of them, this, however, is one of the most breathtaking sensations. “Please...move.” Your voice is weak and pleading. Alex thrusts first setting the pace of long, hard strokes. Bill attempts to copy Alex’s movements so they were thrusting at the same time.

The feeling of two cocks thrusting at the same time was euphoric. It’s nothing that you’ve ever felt before, practically too hard to explain in words. Their strokes switch to short and fast, Alex hitting that sweet spot inside of you each time. The two finally are able to sync, pleasure building, becoming too difficult to hold off. Alex brings his fingers to your clit, rubbing circles, applying pressure wanting to feel you come around them. Bill’s lips are pressing against you, surely leaving more marks.

Your second orgasm was approaching hastily, your body still tired from the first one. Your eyes are barely open waiting for the high to wash over you. Alex knows one thing that will get you off pretty much every time you’re that close, “Come for me Princess,” he feels your muscles tightening around him, “That’s it, come Princess.” You love being told when to come. There’s something powerful about someone else controlling it.

It’s your turn for a slew of curse words to escape your lips. Your second orgasm of the night hits you like a truck; your legs shake uncontrollably, your hands grasping at Alex’s chest, your walls clenching around them. Both keep thrusting through your high, you can tell they’ll come soon after. Bill comes first, his cock twitching, spurts of come filling your ass. Alex comes soon after, holding your hips to his.

The three of you lie there catching your breath. You would have never imagined this happening especially after the events that took place. You’re the first to move, gently sliding forward until Bill’s cock slips out of your ass. When you stand up, all you can feel is come dripping down your legs. Alex hands you one of the towels he’s been lying on. Once you’re cleaned up, you sit down on one of the benches. “Well, I wasn’t expecting that.” You say in a gleeful frame of mind.

“Me either,” Bill states. Alex gave an affirming nod. “So what now?” Bill asks, still processing the events.

“Well I don’t know about the two of you, but I’m starving,” you announce throwing your clothes on. They begin to clean up as well until there’s no trace anyone has been in the locker room, let alone had sex. Bill decides it’s best to home, not wanting to push his luck any farther.

Alex and you end up at his apartment and order food. You had planned to talk with him about the situation however you decide you're not up for that discussion right then. You replay the night’s events in your mind over and over. You don’t know where this leaves the three of you, but what you do know is having a threesome was more mind-blowing than you could have imagined. You fall asleep wondering what the future has in store.

#alex hogh andersen #alex hogh #aha #bill skarsgard #au #smut #angst #boxing #bill skarsgård imagine #Bill Skarsgård #bill skarsgård fanfiction #bill skarsgård x reader #alex høgh andersen #alex hogh imagine #alex hogh x reader #writing #billskarsgard #alexhoghanderson

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ladylillianrose · 4 years ago

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Karaoke to the Max a Max Richman/Zoey Clarke Fanfiction

Summary: What if Leif wasn't the only one doing karaoke in episode 1x11?

A/N: I've had this little one-shot rolling around in my head since episode 1x11. I couldn't resist writing drunk Max doing karaoke!

Thank you as always to my beta extraordinaire aubreyrichman

The song is "Truly Madly Deeply" by Savage Garden (Listen to it here https://youtu.be/WQnAxOQxQIU)

AO3

It was late and Zoey was relieved to be home after the awkwardness at the bar with Max. Her phone pinged with a message. The only person who texted her this late had made his feelings abundantly clear with his heart-song.

It was from Max, she raised her eyebrows in confusion as she opened the message.

Zoey, it's Leif. I have Max's phone because, well, frankly he's not in the best mindset at the moment. It's easier to just show you.

There was a video attached, curiously she hit play.

"Next up we have Max! Come on up, Max!"

Zoey watched in fascination as Max made his way to the stage and grabbed the microphone stand. She could tell by his body language that he was more than a little drunk. He smirked at the camera and pointed, "This one's for you, Zo!"

Zoey could feel her cheeks flushing even though she knew he couldn't see her.

I'll be your dream, I'll be your wish, I'll be your fantasy.

I'll be your hope, I'll be your love, be everything that you need.

I love you more with every breath, truly madly deeply do

I will be strong, I will be faithful 'cause I'm counting on a new beginning.

A reason for living. A deeper meaning.

Zoey sat enraptured by his song, so different from what his heart-song had told her. Unlike Leif's earlier performance, there was no cringing as Max poured his heart out. She saw a few women at a nearby table sending him appreciative looks.

I want to stand with you on a mountain.

I want to bathe with you in the sea.

I want to lay like this forever.

Until the sky falls down on me

And when the stars are shining brightly in the velvet sky,

I'll make a wish send it to heaven then make you want to cry

The tears of joy for all the pleasure and the certainty.

That we're surrounded by the comfort and protection of

The highest power, in lonely hours, the tears devour you

I want to stand with you on a mountain,

I want to bathe with you in the sea.

I want to lay like this forever,

Until the sky falls down on me

Max left the stage to applause and the video ended.

Her phone pinged with another message from Leif.

I don't know what happened with you two, but he's clearly broken up about it. You may want to get down here.

Zoey sighed before changing out of her PJs and into a pair of leggings and a hoodie. If she was going to deal with drunk Max, she was going to be comfortable dammit.

She made her way back to the bar and walked inside. She spotted Leif at the bar and walked over to him.

"Where is he?" she asked.

Leif turned around, "You came! He's in the bathroom."

Zoey nodded, "How drunk is he?"

He cringed, "I sort of lost count after the third whiskey sour."

Great, that meant Max was pretty far gone then.

"Well, now that you're here I'm gonna head out," Leif said moving towards the door.

Zoey grabbed his sleeve, turning him to face her. "What do you mean you're heading out?" she hissed.

"It means Max tried to help me out tonight, so I'm returning the favor," he explained matter of factly.

Zoey narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously, "I still don't trust you."

"And yet, here you are," Leif removed her hand from his sleeve and walked out of the bar.

Zoey sighed, ordered two glasses of water, and took a seat to wait for Max.

She didn't have to wait long, she saw Max weaving his way through people to get to the bar.

He raised his hand to signal to the for another drink when Zoey put her hand on his shoulder, sending a discrete head shake to the bartender.

Max turned and looked at her in surprise, "Zoey?! I thought you left? Why are your clothes different?"

Zoey handed him one of the waters as he took a seat next to her. "Drink that. Leif texted me and told me you might need my help."

"Pffftt, Leif. What does he know? You know, he's still in love with Joan?" Max whispered the last part to her as though it were a secret.

"Umm yeah, caught that with his performance earlier," Zoey cringed.

"Oh...right…." Max looked confused. "But we're mad at each other, so why would you even come?"

She sighed, "Because you're still my best friend, Max. Even if you're mad at me, I'll still show up when you need me. That's what friends do."

"Right….friends," Max said bitterly as he drank his water.

Zoey winced, she knew they needed to talk about everything, but Max was in no condition to hear what she had to say.

She handed him the other water, "Finish this, and let's get you home."

Max rolled his eyes, "You're not the boss of me anymore….in fact, I'm a boss now, so you can't tell me what to do."

She blew out an exasperated breath, she forgot how stubborn and childish Max could get when he was drunk. "Fine, don't drink it, have a terrible hangover in the morning. But we are leaving," she told him firmly.

He glared at her before drinking half the glass and then standing up.

Zoey sighed in relief, watching carefully as Max attempted to make his way to the door. Grabbing his arm she guided him through the crowd and out to wait for their ride.

Max leaned against the wall watching as Zoey kept an eye out for the car.

"You're beautiful," he said grinning lopsidedly at her.

Zoey felt herself blush, "And you're drunk."

"Doesn't mean I'm not right," he argued. "You're smart and funny, and beautiful, and adorable," he rambled.

"Rides here!" she cried out in relief.

Grabbing his hand, she pulled him towards the car and maneuvered him inside.

Once they were settled, Max leaned over and placed his head on her shoulder. "Thanks for coming, Zo," he murmured.

Zoey sat quietly unable to respond, enjoying the feeling of him leaning on her. She had leaned on him so many times before, it felt nice for their roles to be reversed for once.

They arrived at his apartment, and Max managed to stumble through the door before collapsing on the couch.

Zoey grabbed some ibuprofen and a bottle of water and set them next to Max's bed. She walked out into the living room, "Come on, time for bed."

Max nodded and walked towards his bedroom with Zoey trailing behind.

"Okay, I put some water and pills right here for you to have in the morning. And...eeep!" Zoey turned around and was faced with Max standing there in nothing but his boxers.

She couldn't stop staring as her eyes raked over his body. Sure, she had seen him without a shirt, an image she had revisited over and over again in her head. But that was nothing compared to this. She cleared her throat and averted her eyes flushing.

"Anyway, I guess I'll just be going," she headed towards the door but was stopped by Max's hand on her wrist.

"Stay with me?" he asked.

Zoey bit her lip, "Max, I don't think that's a great idea…."

"Please?"

She sighed, "Fine, but you have to put a shirt on, and I'll need to borrow one too."

She reached into his dresser and grabbed them both t-shirts. She headed to the bathroom and pulled on his shirt. She'd just have to wear her leggings to bed, at least they weren't jeans.

She walked back into the bedroom and found Max already in bed, waiting for her.

She got in on her side of the bed and smiled at him, "Goodnight, Max."

"Goodnight, Zoey," he yawned, reaching over to turn off the light.

Zoey lay there, waiting for him to fall asleep so she could slip out and sleep on the sofa. As she listened to his breathing, she felt herself drifting off, falling into a restful sleep for what seemed to be the first time in months.

________________________________________________________________

Max woke up to his head pounding and his mouth feeling drier than a desert. He saw the water and pills and gratefully swallowed them. Glancing down, he realized he was wearing a t-shirt which was unusual since he didn't normally sleep in one. The bed shifted slightly and he glanced to his side, he did a double-take as he realized that Zoey was in bed next to him.

How had she gotten there? Actually, how had he gotten home last night? He remembered seeing Zoey at the bar, Leif's embarrassing karaoke song for Joan, and then Zoey and Joan left. He and Leif had a few drinks and talked some more but the rest of the night was pretty fuzzy, though he remembered something about Savage Garden?

Shaking his head, he grabbed his phone, quietly got out of bed, and headed out to the living room.

Sitting on the couch, he began scrolling through his messages looking for clues as to why Zoey would be here. He noticed that Zoey was the last person he had texted, which was odd because he definitely hadn't texted her since their argument. Clicking on the message, he saw that it was Leif who had reached out to Zoey on his behalf.

Max sighed. That meant Zoey had come to help him get home since he was drunk. Who knows what he said or did last night.

Spotting a video file that Leif had apparently sent her, he opened it. He watched himself make his way to the stage, dedicate the song to Zoey, and then sing "Truly Madly Deeply."

Max groaned in embarrassment, looks like Leif wasn't the only one performing karaoke love confessions last night.

"It was quite the performance, I'm sorry I missed seeing it live," he heard Zoey say from behind him.

He turned to look at her and saw that she was wearing one of his old t-shirts over a pair of leggings. Her hair was a mess and she still looked tired but he had never seen anything so gorgeous in his life.

Zoey played with the hem of the shirt, "I had to borrow this to sleep in. Hope you don't mind."

Max swallowed and shook his head. Of course, he didn't mind. In fact, if she only ever wanted to wear his clothes, that would be fine with him. But aren't you still mad at her? His traitorous brain supplied.

Clearing his throat, he looked at her, "Why did you come last night?"

Zoey took a seat on the couch next to him, "Because even though you're pissed at me, you're still my friend and I care about you."

"Why stay though? You got me home okay, there was no reason to stick around."

Zoey sighed, "You asked me to."

Max scoffed, of course, he had asked her to stay, he was mad at her but that didn't mean he wasn't still in love with her.

"And because I wanted to."

He looked up at her questioningly.

"You need to know that I didn't mean anything I said that day at the office. I was hurt and upset so I lashed out at you, which you didn't deserve."

Max looked at her in surprise. "Zoey, I…"

She held a finger to his lips, "You are an amazing programmer, a wonderful person, and the least selfish man I know. I was upset because I knew that things would change with you moving to the sixth floor, and we all know how well I react to change," she said with a wry chuckle.

"But it made me realize how much I missed you. How I need more Max in my life," she said smiling at him.

Max felt his heart beat faster, was she saying what he thought she was saying?

Zoey looked at him, waiting for his response.

"Do you mean that?" Max whispered.

She nodded, smiling at him as she leaned forward and brushed her lips against his.

Max reached up to cup her face, pulling her closer to him as he lost himself in the taste and feel of Zoey's lips.

They pulled apart after a few minutes, panting in an attempt to catch their breath as they grinned at one another.

Max went to lean forward, for another kiss but stopped, "Wait...does this mean that I have to be nice to Leif?"

Zoey rolled her eyes, "Really, you're thinking about Leif right now?"

"Hey, he's not a guy I want to have to owe a favor to," Max responded.

"Fair. No, he said something about how he owed you for helping him out, so now you're even."

"Okay, good. I'm not sure I even know how to be nice to him," Max rambled.

"Max, stop talking," Zoey said and pulled him into another kiss.

#Clarkeman #clarkeman fanfiction #max x zoey #zoey x max #max x zoey fanfiction #zoey x max fanfiction #Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist #zoey's extraordinary playlist fanfiction #Zoeys playlist fanfiction #zoeys playlist #ZoeysPlaylist #Zoeysplaylist fanfiction #fanfiction #Karaoke to the Max

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ofstormsandwolves · 4 years ago

Text

I’ll Stand By You

Zoey x Joan

Teen. Set during Zoey’s Extraordinary Night Out. Canon divergence. Angst, emotional hurt/ comfort.

Any familiar lines are taken from the show (paraphrased if not completely correct). Basically this came from an idea of a tipsy Joan trying to get Zoey a cab after Simon and Jessica's party...

Synopsis: What if Maggie's phone call came just a few minutes later, after Zoey had left Simon and Jessica's party? And what if a certain brunette woman had followed her out to check on her?

Read on AO3

Leaving behind the burning rose wall and the bickering couple, Zoey fled back inside Simon and Jessica’s house. She’d known it was a mistake coming to the party. But drunken Joan was very difficult to argue with. Well, sober Joan was pretty difficult too.

Shaking her head, Zoey set a brisk pace through the house. She didn’t want to stay there a minute longer than necessary.

“Zoey? Zoey!” Max fell into step beside her, a concerned look on his face. “Zoey, are you ok?”

“I’m fine,” Zoey said, sniffing. She kept her head down even as she moved towards the front door.

“Woah, you’re not fine,” Max argued, grabbing her arm to bring her to a halt. He gently tilted her chin up so she would look at him. “Zoey, talk to me.”

Zoey sighed, and pulled herself from Max’s grasp. “Max, just go back to the party. I’m fine, I’m going home, I’ll call you later-”

“Zoey! You’re still here!”

Both Max and Zoey looked round in surprise to see Joan standing in the doorway to the kitchen-diner. She was grinning broadly, but the smile faded when she saw Zoey’s dejected look.

“Joan,” Zoey said, surprised to see the other woman there. “I- I was just leaving, actually.”

“Oh, ok.” Joan said, frowning. “Why are you leaving?”

Zoey shrugged uncomfortably. “I’m just not really in the mood for a party.”

“Well, come hang with me and Leif!” the brunette offered, pointing towards Leif on the sofa. “Leif has a really good idea-”

Before Joan could finish speaking, Tobin’s excited shouts filled the air as he barrelled into the kitchen.

“Guys! Guys, Zoey set fire to the rose wall-” Tobin broke off sharply as he saw Zoey stood in the foyer. “Oh, hi, Zoey.”

More than a little embarrassed, and desperate to leave, Zoey gave Tobin a tight smile and looked back to Max. “Like I said, I’ll call you later.”

“Well, how are you getting home?” Max asked, reluctantly accepting that Zoey was going to leave regardless of what he said. “The Warriors game will be getting out soon-”

“Max,” Zoey cut in, a fond smile on her face, “I’ll talk to you later.”

Stepping out onto the street, Zoey let out a shuddering breath as the embarrassment of the evening swept over her. If Tobin knew she’d set the wall on fire, did that mean he knew about Jessica thinking she and Simon were sleeping together? Zoey wasn’t sure she could bear it if everyone in the office thought she and Simon were having an affair.

“Zoey! Wait up!”

Joan’s calling voice made Zoey stop in her tracks, and she turned to see the older woman hurrying towards her. Considering the amount she’d drunk that night, Zoey was surprised that Joan was that steady on her feet.

“Hi, Joan,” Zoey greeted forlornly. “I thought you were hanging out with Leif?”

Joan snorted and waved a hand dismissively. “Nah. You looked like you needed to talk to someone, and you obviously don’t want to talk to Max, so I thought I’d offer.”

That made Zoey frown. She was very aware that they were standing in the middle of the street, and that the Warriors game was getting out. People were starting to fill the street, but Zoey felt no desire to move.

“Why?” Zoey asked. “I mean, why are you offering?”

Joan shrugged. “You helped me with Charlie, and you’ve put up with me complaining about him. Plus you let me drag you to that club tonight.” There was a pause, and Joan looked almost shy. “Besides, I like spending time with you.”

Blinking, Zoey tried to figure out a response to that statement. What if it was just the alcohol talking? Would Joan even remember the conversation tomorrow? But before Zoey could come up with something to say, her phone began ringing.

“Ugh, sorry,” she said, as she fished her phone out of her bag. Frowning when she saw it was her mom’s number, she answered the call quickly. “Mom?”

As her mom spoke, Zoey felt like she was going to be sick. She must have looked pretty bad too, because Joan was looking rather quite concerned. Maybe that was what she should focus on more, Zoey wondered idly. Maybe Joan’s concern was better than hearing her mom talking about her dad being in hospital, about Paul slipping on the stairs while taking Mitch up to bed.

“Yeah, Mom. I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

As Zoey ended the call, Joan was staring at her with wide, worried eyes.

“Zoey? Is everything alright?”

Staring at her phone, Zoey took a moment to answer. “No,” she said after a long pause. “No, it’s not.” She slowly met Joan’s eyes, feeling a little disconnected. “My dad’s in hospital.”

It very quickly became clear that, with the Warriors game just letting out, getting a cab was going to be near-on impossible.

“Why did this have to happen now?” Zoey muttered, trying to ignore the burning tears in her eyes as she stalked down the street.

Every cab she saw was taken. Joan was hurrying along beside her, brow furrowed and lips pursed as she scanned the street.

“Come on,” Joan said suddenly, and grabbed hold of Zoey’s hand. She then set off down the street, pulling Zoey behind her.

As they walked, strains of music began drifting towards Zoey, and she looked up in surprise as Joan began to sing. She was even more surprised to find that Joan was singing to her. Her gaze was on Zoey, a sympathetic look on her face.

“Oh, why you look so sad?

Tears are in your eyes,

Come on and come to me now.

Don’t be ashamed to cry,

Let me see you through,

‘cause I’ve seen the dark side too.”

Zoey blinked at Joan’s singing, allowing her boss to pull her down the street from potential cab to potential cab. But every cab they came across was occupied. Joan let out a frustrated groan before resuming her singing.

“When the night falls on you,

You don’t know what to do,

Nothing you confess

Could make me love you less...”

Wide-eyed, Zoey stumbled as she processed just what Joan was singing to her. Surely she meant ‘love’ in a platonic, friendship sense, right? But the thought made Zoey feel funny, like butterflies in her stomach, and suddenly she felt like a teenager with a crush again. Did... did she have a crush on Joan?

“I’ll stand by you,

I’ll stand by you,

Won’t let nobody hurt you,

I’ll stand by you.”

Joan abruptly stopped singing, and pulled Zoey across the street.

“J-Joan?” Zoey spluttered. “Where are we going? I have to get to the hospital!”

“I know,” Joan responded, not looking round. Instead, she dragged Zoey over to a dark SUV with a man sat in the driver’s seat. “Hey! Hey, you!”

She dropped Zoey’s hand and thumped on the car window. Zoey flinched at the noise, and quickly moved to pull Joan away. The man in the car glared and wound the window down.

“Hey! What the hell?” the driver demanded, looking more than a little furious.

“Sorry,” Zoey apologised quickly. “I’m so sorry. My friend’s had a bit to drink-”

“We need your car!” Joan interrupted sharply. “We can pay you, but we need to get to the hospital. My friend’s father got taken in.”

The driver frowned, and surveyed the pair of them for several long moments, before squinting suspiciously at Joan. “How much are you offering?”

Joan grinned, flung open the back door, and bundled Zoey inside.

Halfway to the hospital, Joan turned to Zoey in the back seat.

“So, what’s the deal with your dad?” Her voice was soft, more sympathetic than Zoey had expected, and it surprised the younger woman.

“Oh, uh, he’s dying,” Zoey admitted quietly. “He has this disease, Progressive Supranuclear Palsy. It’s... It causes dementia, balance problems, speech problems...”

“Oh, Zoey.”

At Joan’s sympathetic look, Zoey swallowed. Her cheeks were damp, she realised, and the driver was giving her an odd look in the rear view mirror.

“Dad’s friend Paul was looking after him tonight, because Mom was helping Simon and Jessica. Paul was taking Dad up to bed and he slipped on the stairs...” Zoey shrugged, more tears falling as she spoke. “I mean, I don’t think Dad’s badly hurt, but...”

Suddenly Joan’s hand was on top of Zoey’s. Rubbing reassuring circles into the back of Zoey’s hand with her thumb, the older woman seemed to be considering what to say.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Joan asked after several moments.

Her voice was still quiet; they were both aware that they were in the back of a stranger’s car, and that this was quite a personal conversation.

“You told me not to bring my personal life to work,” Zoey responded, trying to wave away Joan’s concern. “And besides, it was kind of nice being able to go to work and not have people asking how I am all the time.”

“You still should have told me.”

At that, Zoey sighed. “I know. I’m sorry. As my boss, I should have informed you-”

“Well, yeah,” Joan interrupted, “but I don’t just mean as your boss.” She shook her head, tried to gather her thoughts. “So we weren’t exactly friends before the whole Charlie fiasco and my divorce, but I like to think that’s changed now. You should have told me you were going through this, Zoey, so I could help.”

Blinking, Zoey tried to process that. “Oh.” Then a small, hesitant smile tugged at her lips. “We’re friends?”

“Uh, yeah?” Joan rolled her eyes. “I don’t make a habit of taking my employees drinking, Zoey. I invited you because I like you. I mean, the rest of the team isn’t bad, but I like you best.” Her eyes went wide then as she realised what she’d said. “Don’t tell them I said that!”

The redhead gave a watery laugh at that. “Your secret’s safe with me, Joan.”

Smiling in relief, Joan sagged back into her seat. “Good.”

Zoey balked when Joan handed over $50 in payment to the impromptu taxi driver, but before she could protest, Joan was pushing her from the car.

“Come on,” Joan said, already moving towards the entrance to the Emergency Room.

Zoey hurriedly fell into step beside the older woman, glancing up at her in surprise. “Uh, thanks for that.”

Joan shrugged. “It was nothing. We’re friends. I look out for my friends.” She frowned, thought about that. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet, and she was seemingly talking more to herself than to Zoey. “Well, I did when I had friends.” She shook herself and gave a hesitant smile to Zoey. “How about we head inside and find your parents?”

Stepping into the ER, Zoey tried to calm her racing heart. Her mom had sounded upset on the phone, but had assured her that it wasn’t too bad. That didn’t, however, stop Zoey’s mind from conjuring up horrible scenarios. Doctors and nurses hurried around, patients and family members were sitting around on uncomfortable-looking chairs, and the strip lighting was harsh and cold. Swallowing, Zoey moved towards the admissions desk.

“Hello? I’m looking for Mitch Clarke, I was told he’d been brought in?”

The nurse at the admissions desk directed Zoey to Mitch’s bed and turned back to her computer. Pursing her lips, Zoey set off in the direction she’d been told her dad was, and was surprised when Joan fell into step beside her. The younger woman came to a halt, looking up at Joan with a frown.

“You don’t have to stay, Joan,” she said. “I mean, you’ve already done enough-”

“Do you want me to go?” Joan asked, brow slightly furrowed.

Zoey considered the question. “N-No,” she admitted slowly.

The brunette smiled slightly. “Then I won’t.” She slipped her hand into Zoey’s, squeezing the redhead’s fingers.

Taking a breath, Zoey stepped forward into Mitch’s room.

Maggie had called David and Emily to the hospital too, and Zoey was quickly caught up talking to her family. She knew her mom had clocked the fact that she and Joan had been holding hands, but with all focus on Mitch, it looked like she might avoid answering any probing questions.

Not long after Zoey arrived, the doctor came to talk to them about Mitch’s condition. She was only half-aware of Joan slipping out to give the family some privacy, and when Zoey herself managed to escape for some air, she found Joan waiting outside the room with a coffee.

“Thought you might need this,” Joan said, holding the takeout cup out to her. “We’ve both had a lot to drink tonight.”

“Thanks,” Zoey responded, taking the coffee. She walked a little way away from her father’s room, Joan following.

“How is he?”

“He’ll be alright,” Zoey shrugged. “The doctor’s surprised this hasn’t happened sooner, though. Dad’s getting worse, and we’ve been taking him up and down stairs, and...” She trailed off, met Joan’s eyes sadly. “I know we were lucky it wasn’t worse, and he’s mostly just bruised, but it doesn’t make it any less scary.”

Joan pursed her lips for a moment, before responding. “I’m not sure situations like this are ever anything but scary. Someone you love got hurt. Of course you’re upset, and of course you’re angry.” She shook her head. “I wish I could give you some advice, but I can’t.”

Zoey gave a small, tight smile at that. “I know. But you’re here, and that’s a huge help.”

For a moment, Zoey thought Joan was going to brush off her comment, but then there were the faint strains of familiar music starting up again, and moments later Joan was singing.

“So if you’re mad, get mad.

Don’t hold it all inside,

Come on and talk to me now.

Hey, what you got to hide?

I get angry too.

Well I’m a lot like you.

When you’re standing at the crossroads,

And don’t know what path to choose,

Let me come along,

‘cause even if you’re wrong...”

“Uh...” Zoey said. Even though she was getting used to her powers, there were still times when she was a little uncomfortable with the singing.

But just like all the other times she’d tried to talk to someone during a heart song, Joan ignored her.

“I’ll stand by you,

I’ll stand by you.

Won’t let nobody hurt you,

I’ll stand by you.

Take me in, into your darkest hour,

And I’ll never desert you.

I’ll stand by you.”

And then suddenly Joan was no longer singing, but was complaining about how she’d struggled to find a working coffee machine.

“-of course, they were no help at all. I ended up going up to a ward.”

“Right,” Zoey said, even though she hadn’t heard most of the conversation. “Well, thanks. Again.”

An awkward silence descended over the two women then, neither of them quite certain what to say. Zoey sipped at the coffee and tried to gather her thoughts. It was still possible Joan was singing that song platonically, but there was an odd sense of disappointment whenever Zoey considered that, and that was something she didn’t want to examine right now.

“They’re, uh, gonna discharge my dad,” she said, startling Joan. “They’re just waiting for an ambulance to be free to run him back.”

Joan frowned at that. “How will you get back?”

Zoey shrugged. “I’ll grab a cab, or something. My brother offered to drive me back, but I told him it’s fine. His wife’s pregnant, and it’s late, and, you know...” She trailed off as Joan nodded.

“I know,” Joan assured gently. “We can split a cab.”

And before Zoey could fully process what was happening, Joan was stalking off, phone in hand, to call a cab.

For the second time that night, Zoey and Joan were sharing a ride. At least this time, it was an actual taxi. Zoey still wasn’t fully aware of how she’d gotten into this situation, particularly as Joan seemed to be coming to her parents’ house with her. But whenever she’d broached the subject of Joan heading home, the brunette simply waved off her concern.

“You really don’t have to do this, you know,” Zoey said for the third time since getting into the cab. “I mean, I’m sure you want to go home.”

But Joan shrugged. “Nah, I’m good. It’s not like there’s anyone waiting for me at home. Well, my dogs...Besides, I thought I could be some help. It’s just you and your mom, and another pair of hands might be useful.”

Zoey wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Joan’s offer to help was quite touching and unexpected, but the younger woman couldn’t help but feel like she was monopolising her boss’s time.

“I don’t know,” Zoey admitted a little uneasily. “I mean, you already left Simon and Jessica’s party early for me. It really seemed like you and Leif were getting along, and you left because of me-”

“Ok, Zoey,” Joan interrupted, “first of all, don’t flatter yourself. Yes, I left that party to follow you, but I probably would have left soon anyway. Secondly, I want to help.”

The redhead sighed. “I know, I helped you and you want to repay the favour...” She trailed off at the uncomfortable look on Joan’s face.

The brunette’s bright eyes were cast down, and she looked embarrassed, much like she’d looked after Charlie had accused Zoey of meddling in their marriage during the ill-fated SPRQ Watch meeting.

“It’s not just about repaying you, Zoey,” Joan finally confessed, voice quiet. “I know I keep saying it is, but when you told me about your dad...” She trailed off, sighed. “I wasn’t much older than you when I lost my mom. She was ill for a while before she died- cancer- and I just remember how... Difficult it was, watching her fade and knowing there was nothing I could do about it.” She shook her head, as though to clear it of horrible memories. “What I’m saying is, I understand. And the one thing I kept thinking at the time was that I wished I’d had someone to help me manage, someone to use as a sounding board. So please, let me help you, Zoey.”

Joan’s eyes were damp, and Zoey was fairly confident hers were too.

“Ok,” Zoey agreed softly. “You can help.”

Joan nodded, and both women looked out their respective windows as they neared the Clarke residence. Unable to stop herself, Zoey slid her hand across the empty middle seat to find Joan’s fingers. She tangled their fingers together, refusing to look at Joan for fear she’d- well, that she’d look horrified, or angry. But instead there was no reaction. Frowning, Zoey sneaked a glance. Joan was still staring out the car window.

Then she felt it; Joan’s hand squeezing hers reassuringly. A small smile spread across Zoey’s lips as some warm feeling she refused to identify settled in her chest.

Zoey didn’t see the small smile on Joan’s face too.

Joan stood back as Mitch was settled in the sitting room.

“Have you given any thought to sleeping arrangements?” a paramedic asked Maggie pointedly.

The woman blinked, and looked around the room as though seeing it for the first time. “Oh. Uh, n- no.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Zoey chimed in at the paramedic’s concerned look.

As the paramedic started explaining that it really wasn’t a good idea for either woman to attempt to carry him upstairs, and as the two Clarke women discussed the possibility of Mitch sleeping in his favourite armchair, Joan took the opportunity to look around.

There was clearly little space in the sitting room, or the dining room. But there was another room across the hall, a reception room that looked like it hadn’t been used for a while. Joan wasn’t sure what they used it for, perhaps as a home office, but what she was sure of was that with a little rearranging it might be a workable space for Mitch. Pursing her lips, Joan strode back across the hall.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” she said, smiling reassuringly at Zoey and her mom, “but you’ve got a room across the hall there. If you guys had a spare bed we might be able to set Mitch up down here.”

“That would be a better idea,” the paramedic agreed as Maggie’s shoulders slumped in relief.

“Ok, then that’s the plan,” Zoey said, smiling gratefully at Joan before looking to her mom. “We can bring the bed down from my old room. I know it’s not the biggest bed, but it would do for now, right?”

Joan watched as Zoey looked to her father then, clearly seeking his approval, and the sight broke her heart. She wasn’t sure quite how much Mitch was able to communicate with everyone on a normal basis, but he seemed pretty subdued to Joan’s untrained eye. Perhaps the shock of the fall and the lateness of the night were making him more distant than usual, but it still hurt to see Zoey seeking approval her father didn’t seem able to voice.

“That sounds good,” Maggie admitted cautiously, “but how do we get the bed down here?”

Zoey looked to Joan then, wide-eyed and uncertain. Before she knew what she was doing, Joan found herself speaking.

“Zoey and I can do that.”

“You can?” Maggie asked in surprise, looking from Joan, to her daughter, and back. “You’ve both had a bit to drink tonight, and I don’t want either of you hurting yourselves-”

“I got us both coffee at the hospital,” Joan explained. “And neither of us were that drunk to start with. I might have to take my heels off, but we should be able to manage it.”

Maggie considered that for a moment, looking to her husband. Then, she looked back to Joan. “Thank you.”

Twenty minutes later, the paramedic had left and Joan and Zoey had moved all the furniture in the other room to the edges so they could fit the bed in. They had moved upstairs to Zoey’s childhood bedroom and were busy trying to figure out just how to get the bed downstairs.

“Thanks for this,” Zoey said quietly as they hauled the mattress off the bed frame. “I know Mom’s already thanked you, but I wanted to say it too.”

“It’s fine,” Joan shrugged, smiling at the younger woman, before surveying the bed frame and frowning. “Although I have no idea how we’re actually going to move this bed. I usually just pay people to do this sort of stuff.” She paused, thought. “Do you think we could pay Tobin and Leif to-”

“I’m not letting Tobin and Leif into my childhood bedroom,” Zoey cut in dryly. “Besides, it’s late. They’re probably even drunker than we are.”

“We’re not drunk,” Joan responded haughtily, though there was a tinge of teasing in her voice. “We’re tipsy.”

Zoey surveyed her old bed frame and sighed. “Well, whatever we are, we still can’t get this bed downstairs. Should we take it apart?”

Joan gave her an incredulous look. “With what? And how will we put it back together? Zoey, I’m a programmer, not a carpenter. I don’t know how to put a bed together!”

Frustrated, Zoey ran her hands through her hair. “Then what do we do? Dad can’t get upstairs, and we can’t get the bed downstairs!”

“Ok,” Joan said, hands up as she tried to calm Zoey. “Ok. Let’s take a breath, and think about this.”

“I’m too drunk for this, Joan,” Zoey protested.

“Not drunk,” Joan repeated, almost reflexively, “tipsy.” She let out a breath. “Ok. We can’t exactly take the bed apart, because we probably can’t get it back together, and your dad kind of needs an assembled bed... But the staircase is quite wide. Are we sure we can’t just, you know, lift it?”

At the suggestion, Zoey frowned. “And you want us to just carry it downstairs? Backwards?”

The older woman shrugged. “Do you have a better suggestion?”

Pouting, the redhead responded quietly. “No.”

“Ok then,” Joan responded. “Grab an end and lift!”

It took more than a little manoeuvring, and one worrying moment where Joan very nearly slipped backwards down the stairs, but eventually the women got the bed frame down into the second reception room under Maggie’s watchful eye. With the frame in place, Zoey disappeared back upstairs to get the mattress, and Joan suddenly found herself alone with her friend’s parents.

“Thank you for this,” Maggie said, giving the other woman a small smile.

Joan shrugged awkwardly, trying to brush the thanks off. “It’s nothing,” she said with a small smile. “I uh, I know what this situation can be like.”

Maggie tilted her head at that as she realised just why Joan would sympathise. “I’m sorry. Who did you-?”

“My mom,” Joan admitted quietly. “I, well, I was probably about Zoey’s age. It was quite a while ago.” She gave a tight laugh then.

“Well,” Maggie said, “I’m sorry for your loss, but I must say I’m glad Zoey has someone like you to talk to. This sort of situation... It can scare people off. They don’t really know how to react, or what to say. And it can be lonely.”

A sad smile was on Joan’s face. “It can.”

There was a noise then from the stairs, and Joan went to see what was happening. Zoey was halfway down the stairs with the mattress, having laid it flat on the stairs to push it down.

“Need help?” Joan asked, somewhat amused at Zoey’s approach.

Rather than answering, Zoey simply arched an eyebrow at her boss. Suppressing a smile, Joan moved forward to start pulling the mattress down the stairs. Within minutes, they’d dragged it through and had it settled on the bed frame.

“There,” Zoey said, once they were done, turning to her mom with a relieved look on her face. “How’s that?”

Maggie surveyed the bed for a long moment, before giving her daughter a hesitant smile. “It’s... It’s good.”

Once Mitch was settled, Joan decided it was best for her to leave. She got the sense that Zoey needed some time with her family, and honestly she couldn’t blame her. Catching Zoey’s eye, she nodded towards the door. With a small smile, Zoey got up from where she’d been sat with her parents on the bed and stepped out into the foyer.

“Hey, I’m going to get going,” Joan said quietly, giving the younger woman a warm smile.

“Ok,” Zoey nodded. “Thanks for tonight, Joan.”

Joan looked about to wave off Zoey’s words, but before she could, she found the redhead was hugging her tight.

“I can’t begin to tell you how much this means to me,” Zoey murmured.

Hesitantly, Joan’s arms came up around Zoey and she hugged the smaller woman back. But she wasn’t quite as relaxed as the redhead, and it felt like she was being a little cautious. Pulling back quickly, Zoey gave Joan an uncomfortable smile.

“So, uh, I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Joan agreed, a soft expression on her face as she stared down at Zoey.

Her expression made a shudder run through the young coder.

“I- I’d better go,” Joan continued, holding her phone up. “My ride should be here soon.”

Zoey saw her out the door then, watching as the other woman walked away from the house. As she watched, a familiar swell of music started up and Joan came to a stop under a street lamp, turning to look back at Zoey.

“I’ll stand by you,

Take me in, into your darkest hour

And I’ll never desert you

I’ll stand by you,

I’ll stand by you.

Won’t let nobody hurt you,

I’ll stand by you.”

And as the warm feeling started back up in Zoey’s stomach she finally realised just what was going on. It really was quite possible she had a crush on Joan. Her eyes went wide.

“Oh, fu-”

#zoeys extraordinary playlist #zoey x joan #zep fic #zoey clarke #joan bennett #my fic

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scullysexual · 5 years ago

Text

What was originally just going to be a simple epilogue turned into a full blow sequel. Halfway through this a multi-chapter format began and I can’t see this being posted just one big final chapter so now it’s just a sequel which might or might not be a good thing but I guess we’ll see.

@today-in-fic @purrykat @baronessblixen @suitablyaggrieved @sarie-fairy Tagging you guys cause I know you’d want to be tagged haha. Anyone else wants tagging let me know. @kittydurs

I hope you enjoy this as much as you did Jewel.

Sunlight streams through the gap in the blinds. A small bedsit positioned perfectly that the first rays of light are bright enough to wake him up.

Mulder should be grateful for it, really. The first to wake means he’s the first to find a good spot on the pier, leaving the night owls to fight for the remaining places.

It’s been almost three months and this humble life has already proved to be much of a trial. He had underestimated it his whole life. Sympathy for those who lived this kind life he’d always had but the empathy had been lacking. Only now can he truly understand just how hard they had to work.

Beside him, Scully stirs, muttering something that sounds a lot like What’s the time? eyes struggling to open.

Mulder smiles, a hand reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair out of her face as she twists and turns to face him.

“It’s early,” he mumbles into the quiet room. “Go back to sleep.”

He watches as she settles, eyes falling shut once more.

The months passed since the disaster hadn’t been easy on either of them. When they had finally arrived at New York, the world had held its breath- maybe not directly for them but Mulder and Scully had felt it all the same, parting the ship, the miraculous survivors of a ship that couldn’t sink.

His dreams were still plagued with that night; icy water and chilling screams. When he slept, he had no escape- he was back there, clinging onto that rail, watching people drop to their deaths all around him. Sometimes he even saw Scully fall and those dreams had frightened him the most.

He never fell, though. Even when he was in the water, he could never die. Only those around him could die.

Scully fared no better. Sometimes she would just stop, get lost somewhere in the memory of that night. They never spoke about it, it was an unspoken agreement they had made stepping onto the docks. Nobody was aware they had been on the ship at all. After all, Fox Mulder had died and Dana Scully had never stepped onto the ship. It was easier that way, or so they told themselves.

With time wasting away he climbs out of bed. Their mattress in the corner has him scrambling over Scully to actually get out. His efforts to not wake her fail and, as he’s fumbling with his clothes, her eyes open for the second time.

“The pier doesn’t open until later,” she croaks. “Why do you need to leave so early?”

“Got to get the best spot on the pier, Scully,” he says, rolling up his sleeves. His attire had changed in the months that had passed. Gone were the handmade tailored suits he’d wear to dinners, now it’s just a simple shirt and some trousers. Even his shoes had taken a turn for the worse.

“You need new shoes.”

There’s a hint of worry in her voice, they barely have enough to pay their rent and eat.

He ignores the way the leather rips away from the sole.

“They’ll be fine,” he says, reaching over to grab his sketchbook- the only expensive investment he’d made after he lost his original in the sinking. He tries not to focus on that. There’s only a few drawings in this book, mostly personal stuff for when business is low and his hand aches to draw something real aside from the cartoon portraits of people willing to waste their cents.

Now ready, he walks the short distance back to the bed.

“I’ll see you later, okay?”

Scully nods and Mulder presses a kiss to her forehead and then her lips before he grabs the keys and heads out.

The hallway is littered as always, even this early in the morning, people sit on the stairs trying as best they can to sleep. They don’t live here but the landlord does nothing to prevent them from entering, he’ll just go round with a cup and a silent request for money.

“Good morning, Leif.”

It still takes him some time for realise that he is Leif, not many people call him by that name and he’s Mulder to Scully regardless. No, only one person calls him Leif.

Mulder turns to see Susi standing in the doorway of her studio, scantily clad as always.

He smiles, intending on continuing with his journey before Susi’s speaking again.

“You know if you ever get bored, my door’s always open,” she tells him, with her cracked-teeth smile.

Mulder awkwardly nods and smiles, saying nothing. He tries to keep his conversations with Susi brief after their first night here and she had gotten a little too friendly with him in the communal area, much to Scully’s dismay. He had only tried to make friends.

He leaves Susi where she is, unlocking the front door and making his journey to the pier.

Scully spends her days counting coppers. Better with numbers than Mulder, they agreed that she would handle their funds and that’s how it had been for the past four months.

Yet her heart drops when she’s finished adding and subtracting the money away to find that there isn’t enough to pay the rent and feed them.

In the early days, when they’d discussed what they would do about jobs, the price of Mulder’s drawings had been brought up a lot. He’d argued that the drawings were worthless and if he was selling them at a ridiculously high price nobody could come to him. She, in turn, had argued that maybe the price should be decided on the work put in and the work produced.

It doesn’t work like that, Scully, Mulder had told her afterwards. People pay for what they get, they don’t care about how much effort has been put into it.

Scully could only scoff. How would you know? she’d asked. Everything you wanted has been handed on a gold plate. All Little Fox would have to do is throw a temper tantrum and Mammy and Daddy would cough up.

Perhaps it had been a low-blow but his words had only made her angry. He knew nothing of this, of trying to find a good-enough job to pay the bills. Once upon a time, he’d have inherited some big company, his wealth sealed in that outcome and until then he’d been all nice and cushy.

After a while, after what Scully had said had fallen to the floor, Mulder said, Perhaps it’s best we get away from each other for a while. We’ve been cooped up too long in this room. With that he’d left, leaving Scully to figure it out.

Just like she has to do now.

She stares at the numbers, maybe hoping they would magically change to the right number but no, they don’t, they stay as they are.

She can owe, she thinks. She’ll have to.

He hands the stupid drawing to the woman as the man drops the money into the pot.

The third person. The third person in five hours.

Despite it being August, despite it being lunchtime, the sun high in the sky and pier packed, nobody was interested.

Mulder cracks his back, already sore and aching. Still six hours to go, still a chance to bring home some real money.

“Business not going well?”

Mulder internally groans at the sound of a familiar voice.

“What do you want, Fuller?”

He tiredly looks over to the weasel-faced man casually poking around his stall, his face lacking stress, his hands in his pockets, and a cocky demeanour reminding him all too well of Alex Krycek.

“Just looking around,” Fuller says. “Seeing how the competition is doing.” He picks up Mulder’s money jar and pulls a face. “Ooh, not well I see.”

“You not got your own stall to man, Fuller?”

Fuller laughs. “I’m on a break. See, unlike you, I can afford these little luxuries.”

Mulder had met Fuller very early on. They both fought for the same spot on the pier- the spot Fuller now occupies- and since then it had been a race to see who could get there first. Fuller always beat him, regardless.

“Why don’t you have your little break somewhere else then?”

He goes to push Fuller out of his stall but the little weasel man is quick, hopping out of the way just before Mulder can grab him.

“Careful, Brevik,” he says. “Otherwise you won’t be around much longer to pay that rent.” He gives a sideward glance to the jar again. “Not that you’ll be paying it this month anyway.”

Fuller saunters off then, back to his own stall.

Mulder sits back down on his stall, wipes the sweat off his forehead and looks wearily at the jar himself. He thinks it’s rent day today and just hopes there’s enough at home to cover it.

“It’s Mulder, isn’t it?”

Mulder pauses. His real name being uttered by somebody else…He chances a glance up at the person, not really sure what to think.

“Christ, they said you were dead.”

Mulder frowns at the man who stands before him. He looks familiar but Mulder can’t for the life of him replace him.

The man chuckles. “You don’t recognise me, do you?” he says and holds his hand out. “John Byers, we met on the Titanic.”

Realisation sinks in as Mulder remembers him. He smiles, jumping up from stool and shakes hands with Byers.

“I’m sorry,” Mulder says. “A lot’s happened recently.”

“Yeah,” Byers agrees. He looks at the sign next to the stall. “First class suits on the Titanic to selling cartoons on Coney Island. What happened?”

“A lot,” Mulder says. “A lot happened.”

They’re meeting lands them in a bar just off the pier. It’s still early, Mulder guesses it’ll start to pack up later.

“Didn’t think you’d survived,” Mulder says.

Byers laughs. “Yeah, Suzanne wouldn’t get on a lifeboat without me. The officer just looked at me and shrugged. What about you? They say you’re dead but you’re here in front of me.”

Mulder chuckles slightly, picking the label off his beer bottle. “I didn’t marry Phoebe Green,” he says.

Byers nods. “Yeah, your father put that in the papers. Said his son had died a dignified death, sacrificing himself to save women and children.”

“Of course he did,” says Mulder, begrudgingly. He hadn’t touched the paper. The headlines were everywhere, the story plastered on every newspaper being sold. He had lived the tale, he didn’t need to read some exaggerated version of it.

“So, you didn’t marry Phoebe because you died, what was the other reason?”

He looks up to the ceiling, trying to figure out the way best to explain it.

“I met someone,” he says. “Someone from the third class.” He hears Byers breathe out heavily but ignores it. “And after a day I knew I didn’t want to marry Phoebe. I didn’t want to marry her at all, I didn’t want to get on the ship but there was nothing I could do about it.” He shrugs, smiling. “Then I met Scully and I didn’t want to be anywhere else after that. I decided I was getting off the ship with her and the only way to do that was to change my name and pretend I died.” Mulder sits back in his seat and looks towards Byers, holding out his hand again. “Leif Brevik, by the way.”

Byers laughs, shaking Mulder’s hand again. “That’s quite the conspiracy,” he says and Mulder shrugs again.

“Listen,” Byers tells him. “I have some friends who have been looking into the sinking.” Mulder’s ears piqued up at that. “We think it might have been an insurance scam.”

Mulder frowns. “What makes you say that?”

“There’s just some evidence that seem to point towards it being a possibility. We have a base not too far away from here, if you want to see.”

Mulder looks from his pitiful jar of money, to the window where he can see Fuller’s long line of people queuing for their portrait. With one final decision, he nods.

The dreaded knock on the door finally comes. Scully jumps slightly, taking her head out of the medical journals Mulder sometimes brought back with him.

Her stomach squeezing with nerves, she grabs the bag of money and with a deep exhale, opens the door.

Mr Roth stands on the other side, his arms already full with other tenants’ rent.

“You’re rent, Mrs Brevik.”

Cautiously, Scully hands the bag to the landlord. He snatches it- ever one without manners. As he begins counting, Scully’s fingers begin to nervously fiddle with her necklace.

Mr Roth shakes his head, muttering. “Where’s the other $9?” he asks.

“That’s all we have,” says Scully.

Roth looks at her for a moment and Scully waits.

“I want $35 next month,” he says and with that limps off down the corridor.

Scully lets out a breath.

“Better be careful.”

Scully looks up to see her neighbour hanging out of her front door.

“Last tenant who couldn’t pay the second time was out on the streets.”

Scully smiles, saying nothing and retreats back into her house. Maybe it was a time she got a job also.

#xf fanfic #titantic au #a jewel beneath the moonlight sequel #i write

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rsbry-beret · 4 years ago

Text

Trying to Smile with Your Heart

Find it on Ao3 here:

Leif Donnelly was not the type of person who believed in magic.

He was raised Catholic, which was awful because of the whole liking guys thing, and when you grow up around a God that you’re told hates you, it’s hard to want Him to exist.

Of course, his therapist and his friends keep telling him that there are plenty of churches that support lgbtq+ people, but… Leif wasn’t sure if he could make himself go back, if he was honest, or if he even wanted to.

Tobin believed in magic, though.

Not God, or Gods plural, but magic. Healing crystals, burning incense, casting circles— whole-ass-in witchcraft.

Which was weird, at least for Leif.

In highschool, Leif and Tobin were the type of friends who shared everything, even beliefs. Tobin was the only person Leif talked to about his doubts in the church, Leif always listened when Tobin laughed about how confused he was the first time he visited the Donnelly household, and he had to say grace before dinner. It was… nice, to have someone he could trust with that.

Then Leif went to college and Tobin went to jail, and Leif walked away with a degree and semi-confidence in his atheism, and Tobin walked away saying how he felt ‘grounded’ and ‘connected to the earth’.

They’ve been sharing an apartment for almost five years, now, so Leif is used to the candles and the smell of sage and cinnamon, and Tobin was his best friend so of course Leif supported him. But sometimes it was still weird.

Like now, for instance.

Leif and Tobin were sitting on the floor, legs crossed underneath them. Tobin shuffled the cards in his hands, whispering something under his breath, and Leif tried to focus on the fast shuffles and not the way Tobin’s hands moved around the cards.

“Tobin, I appreciate you doing this for me and all, but you know I don’t exactly believe in it, right?”

Tobin nodded and looked up to meet Leif’s eyes, still mixing the cards. “I know, man. But you looked stressed. Even if you don’t actually care about this stuff, it can still help to see it layed out in front of you.” His hands faltered, and a card fell out of the deck and landed face up- two figures stood on it, with an angel between them. Along the bottom were the words ‘The Lovers’. Tobin picked it up and frowned at it before putting it back in the deck. “Of course, if you don’t want to do this, we don’t have to. It’s up to you, man.”

And the thing was, Leif did want to do it. He didn’t put weight on it, didn’t think that energies or whatever existed, put Tobin did, and this was how Tobin wanted to help. And Leif wanted Tobin to be happy.

And maybe he was a little bit curious, too.

“No, it’s fine,” he said belatedly.

Tobin nodded once and shuffled the cards one more time before laying them between them, to Leif’s left. “Cool. So first, think of a question.”

Well, that was vague as fuck. Leif squinted at him for a second and Tobin turned red.

“I mean, like, ‘what can I do to get a promotion’ or ‘how do I welcome love into my life’, etcetera. Try to make the question active, not passive- it’s about guiding you, giving advice, not about telling the future.”

Leif’s mind flashed back to Joan, the fight they had had two days ago and the way they had stormed away from each other. Leif liked Joan, and Joan at the very least liked sex with him, but it seemed like every conversation ended with an argument now. He wasn’t sure how to fix it, or if he even wanted to.

“Do I have to say it out loud?”

Tobin cocked his head to the side. “No, I guess not. It might make it a little easier, but…” He shrugged.

Leif stared down at the deck, face down. “Okay. I’m ready.”

Tobin smiled at him, then gestured at the cards. “So, first you need to cut the deck, and then draw three cards and put them in a row, face-down.”

Logically, it was just a deck of cards with cool pictures on them. Leif knew that, knew that they didn’t mean anything, not really. Knew that it was a way to help people cope with the universe screwing them over, and yet- when he reached out to split the deck, his hands were slow, careful, shaking a little bit. Pushing forward, Leif cut the deck as close to the middle as he could, then picked three cards off the top and lay them down in front of him, a line between him and Tobin. He leaned back, and Tobin was smiling at him, soft and tilted at the edge, like he knew something Leif didn’t.

Just as gently, Tobin reached and flipped over the first card.

“This is the tower, reversed.” The picture was upside-down, a stone tower being struck by lightning and two people falling from it, faces scared. “Upright, the tower means sudden, unexpected change. That’s the lighting, here.” Tobin’s pointer finger brushed the card. “Usually it’s associated with negative change, but I consider this a good card. Sometimes, you need something to break apart so you can have a break through.

“Reversed, this card symbolizes a fear of change. The people are afraid as they fall, but we can’t see where they’re going to land, if it will be safe or not. Usually it signifies that you, the querent, are avoiding a change because you’re scared of the outcome.”

Leif realized he was holding his breath, and let it out. It was just make-believe, he reminded himself, and tried to steady the tremor in his hands.

Tobin moved on, flipping over the next card. It showed two kids in a town, one giving the other a goblet filled with white flowers. “This is the six of cups, also reversed. It’s associated with nostalgia, see, with the little kids playing?

“Reversed, it means you might be idealizing the past. The flowers everywhere, right, and how bright the picture is? It could also mean that there’s… something in your past you want to return to.”

For a second, Leif was worried that Tobin was trying to convince him to go back to church, before he realized that he didn’t even know his question, his question had nothing to do with that, and anyway, they didn’t mean anything in the first place.

Leif followed Tobin’s hands as they glided to the last card and and thought, maybe, the thing from his past that he wanted wasn’t religion at all. Maybe it was a person.

“Oh, wow. Your last card is the moon, upright.” Tobin pauses for a moment, examining the card, before his eyes flickered up to meet Leif’s and he smiled awkwardly, sitting back. “It’s probably the hardest card in the deck to figure out.

“The crawfish coming out of the pond, that represents fear again. The wolves howling at the moon signify transformations and anxieties. The towers in the background are a metaphorical threshold, and the sea at the back is eventual peace of mind.”

Tobin traced the card for a second before pointing to a yellow trail, leading from the bottom of the card to the horizon. “But there is a clear path. Usually this means that you already know where you want to go, or what you want to do. You just have to face your fears if you want to make it.”

Tobin withdrew his hands, setting them in his lap and looking up at Leif again. Leif blinked at him, looked at his eyes for longer than was normal, probably.

Face your fears, he thought. Avoiding a change because you’re afraid of an outcome. Idealizing the past.

He leaned in.

#coder boyfriends #leif donnelly #leif x tobin #tobin batra #zep #zep fanfic #zep fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #leif centric #tarot #my posts #my fanfic #batronnelly #zoeysplaylist #zoey's extraordinary playlist #zoeys extraordinary playlist

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heartifilias · 5 years ago

Note

1-100 i triple dog dare ya

Challenge accepted, Sarah.

1. Spotify, Soundcloud, or Pandora?

Pandora.

2. is your room messy or clean?

clean.

3. what color are your eyes?

brown

4. do you like your name? why?

yeah, i think it’s pretty nice especially since my mother chose it out for me so i learn to appreciate it.

5. what is your relationship status?

single

6. describe your personality in 3 words or less.

a dumb crackhead.

7. what color hair do you have?

black. yes, it really is black and it’s not dyed.

8. what kind of car do you drive? color?

i don’t have a car yet because i’m broke as fuck. it’s a sad life.

9. where do you shop?

costco.

10. how would you describe your style?

casual and laidback.

11. favorite social media account?

tumblr.

12. what size bed do you have?

queen.

13. any siblings?

yes, 3 of them.

14. if you can live anywhere in the world, where would it be? why?

guam. i’ve been there before but i want to go there again because of the beautiful view.

15. favorite snapchat filter?

the hearts around the head filter.

16. favorite makeup brand(s)?

i don’t wear makeup.

17. how many times a week do you shower?

four times.

18. favorite tv show?

supernatural, the witcher, the good place.

19. shoe size?

six and a half.

20. how tall are you?

4′10, leave me alone.

21. sandals or sneakers?

sneakers, but sometimes sandals.

22. do you go to the gym?

nope.

23. describe your dream date.

not expensive, nice and romantic.

24. how much money do you have in your wallet at the moment?

$12.

25. what color socks are you wearing?

white socks.

26. how many pillows do you sleep with?

27. do you have a job? what do you do?

nope.

28. how many friends do you have?

a good amount.

29. whats the worst thing you have ever done?

um, lied. i would say something else but i’m blanking out,

30. whats your favorite candle scent?

apple cinnamon.

31. 3 favorite boy names.

Dean, Dante, and Mitch.

32. 3 favorite girl names.

Ha’ani, Kiara, and Athena.

33. favorite actor?

Chris Evans and Dylan O’Brien.

34. favorite actress?

Ana De Armas.

35. who is your celebrity crush?

dylan o’brien and chris evans.

36. favorite movie?

knives out.

37. do you read a lot? what’s your favorite book?

yeah. percy jackson.

38. money or brains?

brains.

39. do you have a nickname? what is it?

leif, levi jeans.

40. how many times have you been to the hospital?

15 times.

41. top 10 favorite songs.

my time by jungkook, all for us by zendaya & labrinth, bloom by rkcb, moment 4 life by nicki minaj, short kings anthem by tiny meat gang, dancing queen by abba, big god by florence + the machine, on by bts, you should be sad by halsey, all the good girls go to hell by billie eilish.

42. do you take any medications daily?

no.

43. what is your skin type? (oily, dry, etc)

oily.

44. what is your biggest fear?

getting a papercut in my eye.

45. how many kids do you want?

2 kids.

46. whats your go to hairstyle?

straight, short.

47. what type of house do you live in? (big, small, etc.)

small.

48. who is your role model?

my mother.

49. what was the last compliment you received?

i can’t find any from my texts oop.

50. what was the last text you sent?

balthazar idk.

51. how old were you when you found out santa wasn’t real?

i never believed in santa.

52. what is your dream car?

bmw 507

53. opinion on smoking?

it’s bad.

54. do you go to college?

i’m taking a year off before i go.

55. what is your dream job?

fbi agent.

56. would you rather live in rural areas or the suburbs?

rural.

57. do you take shampoo and conditioner bottles from hotels?

no.

58. do you have freckles?

no.

59. do you smile for pictures?

they keep telling me to.

60. how many pictures do you have on your phone?

92 photos.

61. have you ever peed in the woods?

yeah.

62. do you still watch cartoons?

hell yeah.

63. do you prefer chicken nuggets from Wendy’s or Mcdonald’s?

McDonalds for the win.

64. Favorite dipping sauce?

Hot mustard.

65. what do you wear to bed?

short pants and a t-shirt.

66. have you ever won a spelling bee?

i participated in one but i didn’t win.

67. what are your hobbies?

art and writing.

68. can you draw?

yeah.

69. do you play an instrument?

no, but i used to play a violin for two years.

70. what was the last concert you saw?

i never went to one, but i’m hoping i can this year.

71. tea or coffee?

both.

72. Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts?

Starbucks.

73. do you want to get married?

sometime in the future, yeah.

74. what is your crush’s first and last initial?

D & O.

75. are you going to change your last name when you get married?

yeah, but i want a hyphenated last name.

76. what color looks best on you?

blue.

77. do you miss anyone right now?

dylan o’brien.

78. do you sleep with your door open or closed?

closed.

79. do you believe in ghosts?

no.

80. what is your biggest pet peeve?

when people take up the entire area of the hallway and walk slowly.

81. last person you called?

my father.

82. favorite ice cream flavor?

chocolate.

83. regular oreos or golden oreos?

regular.

84. chocolate or rainbow sprinkles?

chocolate.

85. what shirt are you wearing?

a gray logo shirt.

86. what is your phone background?

stitch.

87. are you outgoing or shy?

shy.

88. do you like it when people play with your hair?

no.

89. do you like your neighbors?

sure.

90. do you wash your face? at night? in the morning?

yes, at night.

91. have you ever been high?

no.

92. have you ever been drunk?

yes.

93. last thing you ate?

eggs & fried rice.

94. favorite lyrics right now.

“my love, do you ever dream of candy coated raindrops?”

95. summer or winter?

winter.

96. day or night?

night.

97. dark, milk, or white chocolate?

dark chocolate for the win.

98. favorite month?

june.

99. what is your zodiac sign?

taurus.

100. who was the last person you cried in front of?

my brother.

#love dove sarah🌿#blvckcanry #answered

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comicteaparty · 4 years ago

Text

June 8th-June 14th, 2020 CTP Archive

The archive for the Comic Tea Party week long chat that occurred from June 8th, 2020 to June 14th, 2020. The chat focused on Devil Tongue by Samuel Soto-Saines and Lucas Soto.

Featured Comment:

Chat:

Comic Tea Party

BOOK CLUB START!

Hello and welcome everyone to Comic Tea Party’s Book Club~! This week we’ll be focusing on Devil Tongue by Samuel Soto-Saines and Lucas Soto~! (https://deviltonguecomic.com/)

You are free to read and comment about the comic all week at your own pace until June 14th, so stop on by whenever it suits your schedule! Discussions are freeform, but we do offer discussion prompts in the pins for those who��d like to have them. Additionally, remember that while constructive criticism is allowed, our focus is to have fun and appreciate the comic! Whether you finish the comic or can only read a few pages, everyone is welcome to join and chat with us!

DISCUSSION PROMPTS – PART 1

1. What did you like about the beginning of the comic?

2. What has been your favorite moment in the comic (so far)?

3. Who is your favorite character?

4. Which characters do like seeing interact the most?

5. What is something you like about the art? If you have a favorite illustration, please share it!

6. What is a theme you like that the comic explores?

7. What do you like about the comic’s story or overall related content?

8. Overall, what do you think the comic’s strengths are?

Don’t feel inspired by the prompts? Feel free to discuss anything else that interested you!

mariah (rainy day dreams)

1. I really appreciated how this comic felt really authentically shonen manga right off the bat without feeling tropey or overwrought. 2. I liked when the protagonists confront the ghost in the theater. I just really enjoyed the ghosts dialogue and dramatic jestures. 3. Moira is my fav so far. She's got a sword and seems capable, though is also still an apprentice so I'm looking forward to seeing how she grows.

boogeymadam

1, ALL THE CATS!! :D but more seriously, the way the characters are introduced through their job, and yet their personalities still shine through~ 2, i liked the scene when they're leaving the Lemaire house and walking on a dark misty neighborhood street at night. It's so atmospheric and perfect for their discussion on what kind of ghost their target might be, as well as what kinda threats it may pose :0 3, I can't decide, they're all interesting. Leera was introduced last but I like her enthusiasm! 2, Moira and Leera during the scene where Moira is explaining tinctures to Leera. Moira's so goal oriented and focused while messing with some apprently-very-dangerous stuff and Leera's just trying to avoid boredom. Moira seemed patient of Leera (for the most part) and willing to explain stuff, which was cool. It made me smile. 5, Oh Man, a lot!! The lines are so very clean and precise, every characters' silhouttes is distinct. It's hard to pick which page is my favorite, but I'd have to say https://deviltonguecomic.com/comic/chapter-01-page-32/ because of all the dynamic angles and expressions on the characters. 6, Pupils taking over from the mentor. I like how Emery is allowing his pupil, Moira, to prove herself, and she seems extremely eager to do so and also: good at it! I can only imagine what Emery is like at this job :0 8, A fun and classic premise of paranormal investigators, of a sort, but with magic of their own, making it even more interesting. It's easy to root for the protagonists and feel curious about what got them into this business, or what they were like before they reached this level of fame and skill. And also, there are talking cats!! Huge draw!

mariah (rainy day dreams)

I agree with your #6 Boogey. I do really like how Emery is like "I'm just here to mentor, this is Moira's job." I like seeing the apprentice really get to take point on the mission. I did see though on the cast page that Emery's magic type is just "?????" which definitely makes me what to see him throw down some magic now XD very curious what it is

boogeymadam

OHHH i hadn't spotted that! a secret, how exciting :0c

copperine (Lady Changeling)

I'm not familiar with this one, but I'm intrigued now (and should stop reading this channel till I've read the comic...)

I'll read in the morning and try to give some thoughts

RebelVampire

What I like about the beginning is the character development. Cause we get a lot of it and find out things like Emery being an ex-magician, his relationship with Moira, etc. Yet, at the same time, the plot is not sacrificed and the story is still moved along smoothly, which is a great balancing act. My favorite moment in the comic so far is actually all the times Emery feigns that he doesn't care but then we get those shots of him peeking and spying. I find those adorable but just also really nice character moments. My favorite character at the moment is Emery. I like aloof characters and he fits that bill. I also like his general cynicism about life. Emery is the sort of character who I'd have as a friend in real life. XD As for characters interacting the most, probably Leera and a combo of Emery and Moira. Leera has pretty different motivations for being there, is somewhat opposite in personality from the main pair, and just all around adds an interesting dynamic too the group that kind of makes certain elements of the story seem more grounded. I really just in general love the comic's linework. Not only is everything super clean (making the action easy to follow), but it really knows how to bulk up the shadows to create specific atmospheres that really work for each panel and add so much to each scene.

In terms of themes, I like that the comic somewhat explores with Emery the concept of what to do with your life after your previous life fails. I think we all kind of like to believe we'll do X forever and X comes to define us in a lot of ways. But then suddenly X might not be there and it's like, what is life now? How do I deal with life? And with Emery, I do think we get to kind of experience one path that kind of takes. What I like about the comic's overall content is the...strange mix of fantasy and realism. I can't really put it into words. Like this is definitely a fantasy story, yet there's elements of realism thrown in I wouldn't expect. Like things are almost scarily normal in some respects like the houses or journalism, etc. So everything about the world really intrigues me since it feels super unique in tone. Finally, for strengths, I'm referring back to the art here. I think the atmosphere the art adds to each scene really helps give the comic that extra oomph.

Erin Ptah (BICP | Leif & Thorn)

Everyone's covered all the stuff I like about the characters, so let me just throw in some extra praise for the backgrounds. Those elaborate buildings! That towering opera-house interior! That one sequence with light streaming through elegantly-patterned windows!

Comic Tea Party

DISCUSSION PROMPTS – PART 2

9. What do you think Emery did that caused him to be exiled by the Magician Order? How does this factor into his general cynicism and bitterness? Also, do you think Emery will ever be a magician again?

11. Besides following Emery and Moira around, what role do you think Leera will have in the story? How might Leera’s presence hurt or help the duo on each case? Also, how will Leera change as she experiences things firsthand?

12. How do you think Moira and Emery will resolve the haunted opera house situation? Can the kidnapped girl be saved, or is she truly gone forever? Additionally, what other sorts of cases do you expect to see after this one?

Don’t feel inspired by the prompts? Feel free to discuss anything else that interested you!

RebelVampire

Honestly, I get the impression that Emery was good but also just a rebellious rule breaker type. So he probably got exiled for just not fitting in with the club regardless of anything else he might have done. Which to me would explain the cynicism cause it would show him how much of life is just a popularity contest. As for being a magician again, maybe, but the bigger question is would he want to? My current theory for Moira was that she's just ill-suited to the order. I'm sure she's heard awful things about it from Emery, so why join team lame when you can join Emery and be on team winner. As for how Moira will grow, I think she'll just learn to take things a bit more seriously and mature (though probably still pretty happy and excited). I've talked about Leera a bit already, but I think her major role in the story is the grounding element and reader's eyes. Cause someone needs to ask questions for the readers, and I think that will be Leera. But in terms of plot, I also think Leera will just help them get more work by spreading their name to lands far and wide. I think in terms of how Leera will change, I think mostly she'll maybe find better things to publish about and the power she wields with words. I think the kidnapped girl can be saved, but that it needs to be done quickly. As for how this will ultimately resolve, I assume epic battle followed by emotional ghost revelations. As for other sorts of cases, I actually am expecting lots of drama ones with heavy emotional reveals from side characters. I could be wrong, but that feels like the route the comic is going. O_O

Comic Tea Party

DISCUSSION PROMPTS – PART 3

13. What are you most looking forward to seeing in regards to the comic?

14. Any final words of encouragement for the comic?

Don’t feel inspired by the prompts? Feel free to discuss anything else that interested you!

Ryccomics

1. What did you like about the beginning of the comic? Very good dynamic introduction between Moira and Emery. Very quickly and effectively I understood Emery is an older cynic, and Moira is the energetic and out to prove herself. 2. What has been your favorite moment in the comic (so far)? The magic reveal of what the potions/chemicals do is fun. I do not really understand how they work at this time, and I don’t really need to. 3. Who is your favorite character? Mauretta, she’s a lot of fun in design, and she gets to talk more than usual character type. I’m not sure what this character type would be called, but I’m going with person who starts the Scooby Doo mystery. 4. Which characters do like seeing interact the most? Moira and Emery have good chemistry. Having the young rookie be more powerful than the experienced partners adds to the dynamic. 5. What is something you like about the art? If you have a favorite illustration, please share it!

So much going on in this panel. All 5 characters are doing something. 6. What is a theme you like that the comic explores? I don’t have an answer yet, because how this encounter goes will shape the narrative, everyone could die. It could be resolved peacefully, it could wrap like a monster of the week story, or lead to bigger things. 7. What do you like about the comic’s story or overall related content? I like the map in FAQ area of site is cool. Gives information for those who want it, but can be safely ignored by those that don’t. 8. Overall, what do you think the comic’s strengths are? I like your line art, a lot. The silhouettes read really well. And when working in black and white having distinct shapes is so important, you’ve color code your characters. 9. What do you think Emery did that caused him to be exiled by the Magician Order? How does this factor into his general cynicism and bitterness? Also, do you think Emery will ever be a magician again? I know from the Cast FAQ, he broke their laws, in what contest will tell a lot about Emery and the Order. I am a little unclear what the Magicians are at this points, how powerful they are in this society. Are the Magicians outside of the Magician’s order?

10. How do you think Moira became Emery’s apprentice despite Emery being an ex-magician? Similarly, why do you think Moira hasn’t joined up with the Magician Order? As the story develops, how do you think Moira will grow and change as a magician? I think Moira will have to confront what caused Emery’s cynicism. I expect she will get more powerful as the story begins. 11. Besides following Emery and Moira around, what role do you think Leera will have in the story? How might Leera’s presence hurt or help the duo on each case? Also, how will Leera change as she experiences things firsthand? I Leera’s role will be mainly to ensure the characters get back onto the plot. Most stories have some form of this function, whether it is the Greek gods, a ticking clock to motivate the characters to act right now Given she works for a newspaper, she can prod the characters to do news worthy things. 12. How do you think Moira and Emery will resolve the haunted opera house situation? Can the kidnapped girl be saved, or is she truly gone forever? Additionally, what other sorts of cases do you expect to see after this one? I feel it will have a happy ending, monster defeated girl saved. This is because the character dynamics would change really drastically if Moira had to confront extreme darkness so early, she would get cynical. 13. What are you most looking forward to seeing in regards to the comic? Will be interesting to see how the combat functions with regard to group dynamics, are the other characters going to plan a part in the combat, or are they on the sidelines. 14. Any final words of encouragement for the comic? I was sad when it ended.

RebelVampire

I am looking forward to finding out more about Emery and what Emery is capable of despite the circumstances. As for final words, this is just a lovely comic with tons of unique aspects about it that I really like.

Comic Tea Party

BOOK CLUB END!

Thank you everyone so much for reading and chatting about Devil Tongue this week! Please also give a special thank you to Samuel Soto-Saines and Lucas Soto for volunteering the comic and creating it! If you liked Devil Tongue, make sure to continue to support it via some of the links below!

Read and Comment: https://deviltonguecomic.com/

Devil Tongue’s Story: https://deviltonguecomic.com/store/

Samuel’s Twitter: https://twitter.com/sainezart

Lucas’ Twitter: https://twitter.com/lucaswordcraft

#ctparchive #comics #webcomics #indie comics #comic chat #comic discussion #book club #bookclub #webcomic bookclub #webcomic book club #comic tea party #ctp #devil tongue #samuel soto-saines #lucas soto

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starspangledsprocket · 5 years ago

Text

AN: @maplerosekisses commissioned this months ago, and because I am trash I’m only just getting around to posting it. I hope you like it, sweetie! They requested a fic that included my OCs - you can find the timeline they also created for me here, if you so wish.

“Where the hell are you?” James greeted as soon as Noah picked up the phone. “I’ve called you seven times already.”

“Hi, honey, it’s nice to hear from you, too,” Noah drawled back, and James rolled his eyes. “I’m stuck in a little traffic, but shouldn’t be too much longer. I’m only like ten blocks away.”

Despite everything, James breathed a sigh of relief. “Well… other than Peter and MJ, everyone else has arrived. You need to get your perky little ass over here right now.”

MJ was mere days away from giving birth to her and Peter’s first child. With that in mind, Dad and Pops had decided to give them a free pass from Family Dinner and Game Night so they could go over their final preparations before the birth. James hadn’t been granted the same immunity, and had somehow ended up inviting Noah to come along with him.

They had been dating for a few months. James had never brought anyone to Family Dinner and Game Night before, and… he really wanted it to go well. He didn’t do relationships, usually, but… he really liked Noah. He didn’t know if he could stand it not going well.

“Stop panicking,” Noah advised over the phone, as though he could actually hear James’s thoughts from ten blocks away. “I’ll be there.”

“I know,” James replied automatically, and then, with more feeling, “I know you will. It’s not you I’m worried about.”

“Your family loves me. There’s no need to be worried at all.”

Noah had met everyone at least once already, but never… all together. They didn’t do Family Dinner and Game Night very often, but when they did everyone was there. Extended family, friends, kids – anyone Dad and Pops considered in The Inner Circle got an invite, and it was always a really fun night, sure, but… it was official. Everyone whose opinion James cared about would be there, and they knew him. They knew he didn’t usually do relationships, and there would be… questions.

He just didn’t want to put Noah through it, really.

“They’re just… a lot,” he sighed, leaning against the wall. “A lot, a lot.”

Even now, Uncle Clint was wrestling with Uncle Thor for the remote over on the couch. It was the kind of wrestling that looked friendly and age appropriate, but James knew Uncle Clint was going to end up going through a wall if he wasn’t careful. James could just imagine the trip to the hospital coming, but refrained from saying anything. If Uncle Clint wanted to break his hip again, all he had to do was keep prodding Uncle Thor with the clicker.

Lily was helping Dad and Pops in the kitchen, but Leif and Runa were playing noisily in a corner with their Dad. Dorsteinn let out a mighty roar and then spread his arms wide, letting his cackling kids hit him repeatedly with the foam swords they were both holding.

Uncle Bruce was playing chess with Aunt Nat, and they both looked very perturbed by the amount of noise going on – though neither of them said anything. Their silence was more terrifying than if they had.

James didn’t know where everyone else was – Uncle Rhodey, Aunt Pepper, Uncle Sam and Bucky, and whoever else had decided to show up – but he knew they were hanging around somewhere. There were always people everywhere in Avengers Tower.

“I’m sure I’ll be able to handle it,” Noah replied, and he sounded like he was smiling.

James loved it when he smiled.

“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he sighed, though he was smiling, now, too.

“I won’t,” Noah promised. “And I’ll still be there to hold your hand anyway.”

James gasped, faux-dramatic. “Wait… do you think they know we’re more than friends?”

Noah snorted. “Dork.”

James couldn’t help but grin. “I’ll see you in a few minutes, okay?”

“See you in a few,” Noah agreed, and then the line cut off.

James was still smiling as he locked his phone and slid it into his pocket. Knowing he probably looked like a fool, but not really finding himself too bothered by that, he pushed himself off the wall and wandered into the kitchen.

Dinner smelled great. Pops had suggested Italian food, and of course Dad had immediately seconded that idea, so a whole heap of pasta was boiling in a pot on the stove, and the heavenly smell of baking chicken parmigiana settled across the whole kitchen in heavenly waves.

“Hey, baby,” his Pops smiled from over by the stove, reaching out for a hug that James was only too happy to step into. “Is Noah on his way?”

“Yeah,” James nodded, resting his head momentarily on his Pops’ shoulder before stepping out of his embrace entirely. “He hit a little traffic, but he shouldn’t be too much longer.”

“Good,” his Dad chipped in, already pulling a mountain of plates from the cupboard, “because dinner is pretty much ready. Go get everyone sat at the table, would you?”

“Yes, sir,” James nodded.

He turned back to the living room, studiously ignoring Lily as she good-naturedly called, “And wipe the lovesick puppy look off your face! It doesn’t suit you!” as he went.

---

He had already given everyone the shovel-talk on his own behalf, because of course he had – he wasn’t stupid. His family each thought they were the funniest person alive, and fresh meat was a practical gold mine of friendly jibes and discreet-but-not-so-discreetly invasive questions.

He just wanted one dinner where nobody asked about his sex life, honestly.

“Okay,” he grunted, situating Runa on top of a pillow-clad chair at the table. “Happy?”

“I could’a done it,” she grumbled, already reaching for her fork – which James tactically plucked from her tiny fingers. “I’m almost five!”

James gasped, as though he didn’t know exactly how old she was and didn’t already have a mountain of presents stored in his wardrobe at home. “No way!”

“She is,” Leif told him seriously as he slipped into his seat on the opposite side of the table – also as though James didn’t know how old his niece was.

Kids.

“Well then – I guess you guys are going to be on your best behaviour, then, huh?” he hummed, absent-mindedly stroking Runa’s beautiful, braided hair. “Seeing how you’re basically grown-ups.”

Leif practically beamed at that, and sat up primly in his chair. “I can tie my laces – Daddy is teaching me how to tie all kinds of knots! And! Grandpa Tony showed me how to weld the other day –“

“Well gosh,” James rolled his eyes, because of course his Dad had showed welding to a seven-year-old. “Grandpa Tony sure doesn’t change, does he?”

“Why am I in trouble now?” his Dad asked, stepping through the door with a huge pot of heavenly smelling chicken in his oven-mitted hands. Behind him, Pops was lugging the pasta. “I hear my name, it’s usually never a good sign.”

“Leif was just telling me how you’ve been teaching him to weld,” James grinned.

“You’ve been doing what?” Pops gasped, turning to his husband quickly. “Tony, he’s seven.”

“And he asked,” his Dad replied defensively. “What was I supposed to do, Steve – not show him how to weld?”

“Yes! That is exactly what you were supposed to do -!”

“Oh, wow, look at that – dinner’s on the table,” his Dad called over his Pops, and James just grinned harder. “Everyone come sit down! Protect me from Grandpa Steve!”

Runa and Leif giggled, and pretty soon the room was packed full of family and friends. As James took his seat, he spotted his Dad lean in and peck his Pops on the lips, mouthing a sweet apology that had his Pops smiling reluctantly in seconds.

James hoped he ended up with someone who loved him as much as his Dad and Pops loved each other.

“Hello?” a familiar voice called suddenly from somewhere in the hall, and James sprang to his feet.

“In the dining room!” he called, even as he ducked through the door to meet Noah in the other room. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself,” Noah smiled, leaning in for a kiss that James was only too happy to return.

“You’re late,” he hummed, but found he wasn’t angry in the slightest. “Dinner’s on the table.”

“Wow, when did you become such a housewife?” Noah laughed, handing his coat to James as he led him back towards the dining room.

“Excuse you,” James replied, throwing the coat onto a pile of others on a nearby armchair. “I am a domestic goddess.”

“I’d believe you if I didn’t have to constantly pick your underwear up off the bathroom floor –“ Noah started as they ducked back into the dining room, and then abruptly cut himself off. “Hey, everyone!”

A raucous chorus of hellos was thrown back, and James let out a sigh of relief. So far, so good.

While Noah went to shake his Dad and Pops’ hands, James took his seat beside Runa and ladled some chicken onto her plate. They weren’t a family of tradition by any means, so everyone was already tucking in by the time Noah took his seat on Runa’s other side.

“Uncle Noah?” Runa asked – quite unexpectedly – in a sweet voice. “Can you help me cut my chicken?”

James felt like he was about to spontaneously combust. A quick glance around the room told him that almost everyone had heard Runa call Noah Uncle for the very first time, if their smug grins and bright eyes were anything to go by. Noah, to his credit, just smiled warmly and leaned in to help.

“Of course I will, sweetheart.”

And that was that. The world didn’t end. Everyone – after staring at James for a very long time – went back to eating their dinner as though it was no big deal. Taking their lead, James picked up his fork with a slightly shaking hand and forced himself to eat, too.

---

“You’re freaking out.”

It was later, after everyone had finished the last scraps of dinner. While the rest of the party moved back to the living room to start some board games, James had volunteered himself and Noah to do the dishes. It was quiet in the kitchen, with only the occasional whoop or jeer drifting in from the other room.

“I am not,” he replied defensively, even though it was a complete lie. “Why would I be freaking out?”

He startled a little when Noah took the hand-towel from his grip, and realised he had been staring firmly at the plate he was drying. Swallowing hard, he looked up.

“Hey,” Noah hummed gently, and cupped James’s cheek. “Was it – is this too much? Are we going too fast?”

“No,” James gasped, horrified by the very thought. “No, no, that’s not it, I swear, I –“

“Then talk to me,” Noah murmured, stroking a gentle thumb across James’s cheek. “Because, right now, you’re the only one acting weird. Is it because Runa called me Uncle?”

“Well… yeah,” James sighed, and then immediately backtracked when Noah dropped the hand from his face like it had burned him. “No, no, I –“ he growled, frustrated. “I told you they could be a lot, and now it’s this thing, and –“

“Honey, wait,” Noah told him, and James immediately stopped talking. “James, do… do you think I’m the one freaking out here?”

“Of course you are!” James cried. “They’re always so intense, and I didn’t want to put that kind of pressure on you, and –“

“James, you are the biggest idiot in the world,” Noah cut over him, and James would have been offended if he wasn’t also inclined to agree.

“I’m sure you’re right,” he murmured, “but you’re going to have to walk me through it.”

Noah smiled, then, and James began to realise that he was missing something important.

“Honey, no offense, but you’re the one who’s always been a flight risk in this relationship,” he hummed, and James frowned. “You know I’m the monogamous type – it’s why it took me so long to agree to date you in the first place.”

“I…”

That actually made sense, James realised. He’d had a reputation, once, of sleeping with people and then never calling. He’d chased Noah for months before they’d finally fallen into a relationship. James had thought that Noah just didn’t feel as strongly as he did, but obviously he had been wrong about that, too.

“So, you’re… you’re not freaking out about being an uncle?” he asked in a small voice, and leaned in heavily when Noah pulled him into his arms.

“I love you so damn much,” Noah replied, dropping a kiss onto the side of James’s head. “No, I’m not freaking out. I love Runa and Leif. I love your family – I love that they think of me as family, too.”

“Oh,” James replied, starting to smile. “Okay.”

“Do you like them thinking of me as family?”

“You are my family,” James replied decisively, with no hesitation. “I want you to be part of my family.”

“Okay, then,” Noah nodded, smiling all the brighter. “So there’s no need to freak out, then, huh?”

“I guess not,” James grinned, and then leaned in to capture Noah’s lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Noah replied, pulling back reluctantly. “Now let’s finish these dishes. I don’t want to have to explain to Runa why her Uncles were making out, too.”

James couldn’t help but beam. Uncles. Maybe Noah really was in this for the long term, just like James was.

#stony #stevetony #oc james #oc lily #oc dorsteinn #oc runa #oc leif #avengers #oc noah #petey #maplerosekisses #au 2

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thekoshertribble · 6 years ago

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“You’re no mystery to me. I know exactly who you are.” Women of Star Trek Blog Entry #12 “Space Seed” Marla McGivers

*rubs hands excitedly together* Oh boy, we’ve arrived. I’ve been thinking about writing this entry for a while now. This is gonna be a rough one, so buckle up people. This is will be another long post. As you’ve probably figured out by now, I’ll be discussing the main female character in this episode, Marla McGivers.

(content warnings: this entry will discuss abusive relationships both mental and physical in nature. Please proceed with caution.)

Before I crack this episode wide open, I want to relate it to my own life. When I was 15 I was involved in a very unhealthy relationship with an upperclassman at my school. While never becoming abusive, my “boyfriend” regarded me as a possession, and his aggressive tendencies towards others made me constantly afraid of him. I never said “no” to him, in fear of retaliation. This all ended many years ago, but I honestly haven’t been the same since.

I went to therapy during the relationship and afterwards, and during one of my sessions I showed my therapist this episode.* She immediately understood why I was so drawn to this story. “Khan is [your boyfriend’s name]” she said, “and you’re Marla. I hadn’t realized that before, but she was right. For 10 very painful months, I was Marla.

Marla McGivers may be one of the most tragic characters of the Original Series. Even after it appears she redeems herself at the end of the episode, we learn in “Wrath of Khan” she pays for her mistake with her life years later.

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves, here. Let’s rewind to the beginning.

Marla McGivers was a lieutenant on the Enterprise when it came across the Bontany Bay and it’s fateful cargo. She was the ship’s historian, apparently specializing in Earth’s history. We first see her in her quarters, working on a painting of a gladiator. (We don’t often see crewmembers engaged in hobbies, so it’s nice that we get this extra detail about her.) She’s quiet spoken, almost timid. It’s suggested that she doesn’t get much work on the ship, and that not many crewmen know her. When Kirk is talking with Spock and McCoy on the bridge, he says:

KIRK: I'll need somebody familiar with the late 20th-Century Earth. Here's a chance for that historian to do something for a change. What's her name? McIvers?

So her lack of routine tasks and her timid nature probably makes her a rather forgettable and isolated figure on the Enterprise. (Spock remembers her name, of course, but he’s Spock - he probably has the whole ship’s roster memorized.) But now, she has an opportunity to apply her knowledge on a mission. Marla, Kirk, Scott and McCoy beam over to the Botany Bay. They find it’s full of humans in suspended animation, as Marla explains to the group:

MARLA: I've seen old photographs of this. Necessary because of the time involved in space travel until about the year 2018. It took years just to travel from one planet to another.

Excuse me, Marla, but it’s November of 2018 and we still don’t have sleeper ships! Where are my goddamn sleeper ships Marla??

*clears throat* Sorry about that. Where was I? Oh, yes. So it finally seems that Marla can apply her knowledge on a mission...aaand then the shit hits the fan. One of the men in suspended animation is hot. And Marla gets, uh, distracted.

KIRK: Could he be the leader? The leader. Lieutenant?

MARLA: (dragging herself back from just gazing at the man) Yes, sir. The leader was often set to revive first.

They get the man out of cyro and bring him on the Enterprise to recuperate. Kirk is not exactly happy with Marla, and they have this conversation:

KIRK: If I were to rate your performance as a member of the landing party today I - MARLA: I know, sir. I'm sorry. KIRK: Lieutenant, at any one time, the safety of this entire vessel might depend upon the performance of a single crewman, and the fact that you find a man strangely compelling to you personally - MARLA: Not personally, Captain. Professionally. My profession is historian, and when I find a specimen from the past alive, I'm in the sheer delight of examining his mind. KIRK: And men were more adventuresome then. Bolder, more colorful. MARLA: Yes, sir, I think they were. KIRK: Good. If I can have honesty, it's easier to overlook mistakes. That's all.

It freaks me out that this conversation has not only foreshadowing but double and triple foreshadowing. It not only refers to Marla’s betrayal of the Enterprise, and then saving the Enterprise by betraying Khan, it also can be tied to Spock’s sacrifice in Wrath of Khan. Is your mind blown yet?

Apart from the foreshadowing, it’s an awkward conversation. Marla literally got distracted on her first mission, apparently because the guy they were rescuing was too hot. She tries to wave it off as professional fascination, but Kirk knows it’s not just that, and to her credit, she owns up to it.

Marla reappears a few scenes later to meet the man they rescued from cryo, some dude who calls himself, “Khan.” She begins to introduce herself but he cuts her off. He already knows who she is. He asks her to “sit and entertain” him, as though she’s only there to amuse him. Determined, Marla sits and begins to question him:

MARLA: I'd like some historical information about your ship, its purpose and

KHAN: And why do you wear your hair in such an uncomplimentary fashion?

MARLA: It's comfortable.

KHAN: But it's not attractive.

Khan stands, moves Marla to a nearby mirror and just starts pulling the pins out of her hair. “There. Soft. Natural. Simple,” he says, admiring his work as though he were a hairdresser. (If only he were that and not a dictator). Finally, Marla speaks up for herself:

MARLA: Mister Khan, I'm here on business.

KHAN: You find no pleasure here?

MARLA: My interest is scientific. Men of. That is, the world of the past. I'm sure you understand to actually talk to a man of your century -

KHAN: There. Simple, soft. Please remember.

Marla’s subject is not being cooperative, nor does he seem to understand the concept of personal space. As she turns to leave, he grabs her arm and looks into her eyes:

MARLA: Perhaps some other time, when you feel more like talking about the past.

KHAN: I'm glad you came. Please do it again.

It’s...unsettling to watch this whole exchange. The average viewer might thing she’s starstruck by him, but I see fear in her eyes as well as awe. I think by this time she’s begun to realize just who he is - she can’t confirm it, but her intuition is guiding her. She has admired him and others like him across the safe distance of time, but now, the subject of her fascination is here before her, real and dangerous. This was something she never had to plan for.

Following this encounter, we learn that Marla suggested inviting Khan to a dinner with the ship’s top officers. Perhaps she did this because she hoped that Kirk could get the answers out of Khan that she couldn’t. I don’t think she made the suggestion simply because she fell head-over-heels for him. It cannot be that simple. Before the dinner, Khan comes to Marla’s quarters, saying he wants her to escort him to dinner. He sees her paintings and compliments her on her technique and her choice of subject.

The paintings double as a visual cue to the audience. It shows her hobby and her...interest: “old, brave, men of the past,” to borrow Khan’s description. Figures as Napoleon, Leif Ericson, and a gladiator named Flavius. It’s suggested that these men are not simply a “hobby” as Khan asks, teasing Marla. Khan then sees one of a turbaned man hidden under a cloth. He nods and simply reacts, “I am honored.” He holds Marla firmly in his arms, and adds, “but I caution you: such men dare take what they want.” He then kisses her, and we see Marla responding, pulling him deeper into the embrace.

We also see, as Khan indicates with satisfaction, that Marla rearranged her hair in the “natural” way khan had arranged it in sickbay. This and the kiss lead us to conclude that despite Khan’s dominating behavior toward her, Marla still feels some attraction to the 20th century dictator.

The dinner Marla requested does not go well. Marla sits next to Khan, oddly saying nothing for the whole scene, while Kirk and Spock needle Khan into finally slipping and admitting that he and his fellows on the Botany Bay are in fact the ruthless genetically engineered humans who vanished in the 1990s. Khan is angered enough to leave the dinner early and retire to his quarters, where Marla finds him brooding. Keep and mind that she did not have to talk to him - she seeks him out because she feels the need to apologize for the actions of her superiors.

MARLA: I wanted to apologize. They had no right to treat you that way.

KHAN: Quite understandable, since I'm something of a mystery to them.

MARLA: You're no mystery to me. I know exactly who you are.

KHAN: Do you?

MARLA: Leif Ericson, Richard the Lion Heart, Napoleon.

Marla says this last line with a little “gotcha” smile. Khan’s expression is one of slight surprise (even though he saw his portrait in her quarters earlier.) Then, Khan turns the tables and the fate of the Enterprise will be changed forever. Here is the conversation, with my notes:

MARLA: I don't know if you're going to like living in our time.

KHAN: Then I'll have to remold it to my liking.

He reaches out to grab her suggestively, but she pushes him away.

MARLA: Please don't.

Angered by her sudden rejection, Khan pushes her away.

KHAN: Go. Or stay. But do it because it is what you wish to do. Well?

Marla makes her fatal decision.

MARLA: I'll stay a little longer.

KHAN: How many minutes do you graciously offer?

MARLA: I only meant -

KHAN: This grows tiresome. You must now ask to stay.

MARLA: I'd like to stay. Please.

Khan smiles in satisfaction and offers his hand to her. She takes it, and suddenly he is pushing her on her knees before him. She cannot escape his grasp.

KHAN: Open your heart. Will you open your heart?

MARLA (her voice is small): Yes.

KHAN: I intend to take this ship. Do you agree?

MARLA: Oh, please don't ask me -

KHAN (squeezing harder on her hand) : I need your help.

MARLA: You won't harm anyone?

KHAN (accusingly): Now you question me?

MARLA (fearfully): No!

KHAN: Will you assist me?

MARLA: Oh, please, Khan, don't ask me -

Khan throws her to the floor.

KHAN: Leave me then. Go, I say.

MARLA (whimpering): No. I promise. I'll do anything you ask.

(Khan smiles with cold-blooded satisfaction down on her as we cut to commercial).

In a matter of moments, Marla has gone from confident and standing before her fantasy-made-reality to crying quietly at his feet.

Let me pause the episode narrative for a moment to talk about the overall themes of this episode, since we’ve reached the major turning point. If you’ve seen this episode before, you probably remember the ending in which Khan alludes to Milton’s Paradise Lost, inferring that he is Satan cast into Hell, choosing to rule in Hell rather than serve in Heaven. We can actually expand this literary allusion to the whole episode. Khan of course is Satan, the snake in the garden of Eden, so what does that mean? Say it with me now: Marla is Eve, the Enterprise is Paradise (and Kirk is God, I guess?) Paradise Lost is a retelling of the Fall of Mankind - via the tempting of Eve by Satan - and the promise of Redemption by the sacrifice of Christ. Space Seed, similarly, is the story of Marla’s “corruption” by Khan, resulting in dire consequences for the Enterprise and her crew. And like Milton’s great epic, more than Eve’s repentance will save mankind. A greater sacrifice is required:

Anyway, so Khan and Marla work together to bring over Khan’s people from the Botany Bay, capture the Enterprise bridge and hold the crew hostage. By now, the crew know that Marla is working with Khan. Interestingly, Marla has apparently been given some authority by Khan over his people. We see this when one of Khan’s men begins to hit Lt. Uhura for not cooperating, and Marla loudly orders him to stop.

Marla then stands behind Uhura dominantly. She’s essentially become the “good cop” to Khan’s “bad cop.”

And then we get to yet another turning point. When Khan threatens to suffocate Kirk in a sickbay decompression chamber to get the bridge crew to cooperate, Marla remembers the words of her dying captain:

Lieutenant, at any one time, the safety of this entire vessel might depend upon the performance of a single crewman.

She turns to Khan, and asks quietly but firmly, “Khan, there’s no reason I must watch this, is there?” This is the most assertive we see Marla. Something has suddenly changed. Khan nods, but remarks that he is disappointed, “I had hoped you would be stronger.” Marla leaves, apparently because she does not want to see her former commanding officer die slowly, and she heads down to sickbay, hides a hypo behind her back, and approaches the guard watching over the decompression chamber: “Khan said to watch him very closely. He may decide to co-operate.” The guard obeys, and as soon as he turns, she stabs the hypo into his neck. She frees Kirk from the decompression chamber, and immediately says: “Captain, I saved your life. Now please don't kill him.” Kirk frees Spock and successfully they regain command of his vessel. Yay!

But wait...what about Khan and his people? and Marla?? Kirk tells Khan that a nearby uninhabited world is suitable for colonization and that he and his people will live there in exile. Marla, meanwhile is given a choice: court martial or exile with Khan. She chooses the latter. To be fair, it really isn’t much of a choice, between certain imprisonment or uncertain life on a planet. But it’s notable that Marla once again chooses Khan’s side, a choice that Khan admires: “a superior woman. I will take her.”

Sadly, going with Khan does indeed lead to her death by a Ceti Alpha eel some years later, causing Khan to go mad from grief and anger. And we all know what happens next...

Now, I do not mean to sound as though I am “blaming the victim” here. I do not mean to say that Marla got what she deserved or wanted, even though the events of the story revolve around her decisions. As you’ve probably realized, it isn’t that simple. Marla is a complex character - her motivations may seem clear but sometimes they’re clouded. Her behavior goes back and forth between assertive and submissive. Complicating all this is the abusive relationship she has with Khan. From personal experience, I know that when you’re in an unhealthy relationship, you don’t always find yourself standing up for yourself, even when your mind is screaming for you to. People ask you, “why didn’t you just leave?” If it were that simple, I would have left as soon as things went wrong. If it were that simple, Marla would not have apologized to Khan, or helped him take over the Enterprise, or travelled with him to Ceti Alpha V.

I’m afraid I don’t really have any further insights into this character, so I’m going to end this blog entry here. However, if you have any thoughts on Marla and her motivations in this story, please share them in the comments. Maybe you saw something I missed? And of course, if you enjoyed it, please leave a like or reblog. See you next time, when I discuss: A Taste of Armageddon!

P.S. If you’re in an abusive or unhealthy relationship, please get help. It may feel as though no one knows you’re hurting but keep on reaching out until someone hears you. And please stay safe.

*My therapist had never seen Star Trek, and I wanted to show it to her to explain how it influenced me. We’ve both come to the conclusion that Star Trek very likely saved my life. It basically served as a coping system for a few years.

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