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makeste · 3 years ago

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BnHA Chapter 328: Pandora’s Box of Discourse

Previously on BnHA: DEKU TOOK A BATH.

Today on BnHA:

youtube

Also Naomasa grew a beard. Goddamn.

please let this be a cool chapter that plays nice with my ADHD lol

(ETA: lol I feel guilty because a lot of people hated this chapter, but I’m just happy there was a lot of stuff to make fun of, and also that I have another week to work on my backlog of meta posts since the kids were MIA.)

around one month ago?? ah, okay, so we’re gonna find out what was in that Tartarus security file huh

I love that they just randomly set the place on fire

was it necessary to do this in order to escape? no. was it a good idea to set the island they were occupying on fire while they were in the midst of still occupying it? uh. was it cinematic as fuck? fuck yeah

wow it’s a pervert!!

that’s so great that the villains set loose this fine fellow who I’m sure is definitely not a serial rapist. truly the LoV is so noble and misunderstood. they’re just trying to free society from its chains people

oh my god??!

SHANKED!!! oh my god I cheered for Stain before I realized what I was doing. time to have an identity crisis I guess

so he’s all “hey what’s going on.” which, while a respectable question, is something I personally would have waited to ask until I had put a bit of distance between myself and the fiery murder island. but that’s just my personal preference

Stain you really are tenacious I’ll give you that

“what’s the point of escaping prison if you’re not gonna be smart about it” well shit. anyways yeah you’re dead right, society is in the process of collapsing and the outside world is in total chaos, good call there

oh shit

I mean it’s not like we really expecting anything otherwise, but still. fucking brutal. I feel like these guys’ fates were decided the minute that one guy called AFO “scum” back in chapter 94. AFO is unmatched at getting long-term revenge

ahh, was it the security footage??

fdsdfk he’s still alive??

and he’s immediately launching into an inappropriately theatrical monologue even as the darkness closes in on him fdlfksjdlk. you know, was it ever confirmed that the other guy back in chapter 297 was Seiji’s dad? I’m just saying

very impressed that he’s still coherent enough to weigh the pros and cons before making the decision to gamble on giving this info to Stain, who at the very least has his own moral code and isn’t allied with AFO. it was definitely still a risk, but as we now know it was also the right call

what a weird alliance. so Stain tells him that he’ll give it to a just person, and the guy is all,

okay for real though I’m gonna need someone to run a DNA test on this guy. maybe it was some kind of cuckold situation?? the other guy had the family resemblance, but this guy absolutely 100% raised Shishikura Seiji and you are not going to convince me otherwise

anyway, so Stain is all,

PRISON GUARD: “???? ??????? what the hell. what the fuck does that fucking mean. I’m dying here, jesus christ, whatever man fuck you”

(ETA: I kind of feel like this might have been Stain’s last appearance in the manga, given all the fanfare. there’s not really much else he can do for the story at this point, and he seems to have gotten all the character development Horikoshi was planning on giving him. so if this really is it, hasta la vista and good riddance I guess.)

DWLFDKSLDK MEANWHILE, OUTSIDE

(ETA: I feel like this is meant to be evocative of that Sermon on the Mount painting, but in a really fucked up way lol.)

if it were me stumbling upon this scene I would just shake my head and walk right back into the flaming building. not getting involved in that mess. sorry not sorry. I’ll take my chances with the fire, especially given that it’s half-assed neutered BnHA fire lol

blah blah blah and so he decided to pass the info on to All Might -- HOT DAMN, HOLY SHIT

NAOMASA HOLY SHIT. THE APOCALYPSE LOOKS GOOD ON YOU, BOY

“I really like that facial scruff thing Aizawa’s got going on, I think I’m gonna get in on that” yes sir. “also thinking of ditching the tie in favor of the bulletproof vest look. also thinking of getting totally fucking jacked.” good lord. except I’m pretty sure that’s just body armor, but also I don’t care. anyway I should probably stop staring and actually read the fucking speech bubbles here lol

“All Might first handed this information over to Nao, and then went to see Deku, and then came back to Nao” thanks for that tidy little summary Horikoshi. we are capable of piecing events together in sequential order, I just want you to know that. but thank you

“so has Deku finally gotten a bath? also, sucks that Stain saved the day, but what are you gonna do” Nao I missed you so fucking much and didn’t even realize. how am I just now realizing that you are the perfect man

for a second I was gonna ask why Tartarus’s security systems would be cut off from the outside world, and then I remembered that’s a basic security control, and then I actually got impressed by how sensible that is. like, it’s been a while since I could genuinely say that the good guys (excluding class 1-A) did something smart. not that it helped them much in the end, but still

anyway so they’re talking about how AFO was able to coordinate the attack by communicating between his horcrux self on the outside and his ugly peanut-faced self on the inside

huh

okay you have my attention. I am taking notes here lol please continue

ah okay so he says that prior to Jakku, the transfer of information between him and his Vestige self was only one-way. but post-Jakku when Deku was in the hospital, he was able to tell what was happening inside the OFA Radical Lisa Frank Dead People Book Club Realm when he touched him. I feel like we established that before, actually. but he didn’t talk about how it actually felt, though

boy we already know this lol. yes AFO can talk with his horcrux self. and he can also communicate with his little bro in OFA too, let’s talk about that sometime why don’t we. what exactly does that imply, based on the rules we’ve established here

my god I cannot get over Naomasa and his fucking facial hair

no wonder All Might was in such a hurry to leave Deku and get back here

like I have no idea what this radio waves nonsense is but my god, people

that jawline. also so it’s a quirk, I see. except last I checked Deku didn’t have a radio waves quirk, so that doesn’t really explain his connection to AFO. but whatever, hopefully we’re at least getting closer to some kind of reveal here

(ETA: since I sometimes forget that other people’s lives don’t revolve around my theory posts, here are the two relevant links if you by chance want to know my thoughts about this.

Hagakure is still The U.A. Traitor™ regardless of whether Deku is passing information on to AFO through his psychic link, which he almost certainly is.

speaking of said psychic link, Deku is a horcrux.

just posting these now, because whenever trippy OFA stuff happens I tend to get an influx of theory asks. so hopefully this will be a bit of a time saver lol.)

-- wait, what

THAT’S what the recording was??!? holy SHIT. I genuinely was not expecting that. y’all wiretapped his fucking telepathy. fucking quirks, man. wild

AND THEY USED THAT POWER TO DETERMINE WHAT WE ALREADY KNEW, HUZZAH. GOOD SHOW

-- oh shit wait lol, except I forgot we’re not talking about 38 days from the present, we’re talking about 38 days from the date the conversation was recorded. heh. um

yeah that’s the face I would make too if All Fucking Might just casually told me we had eight days left until the end times

oh, pardon me. three fucking days

r.i.p. anyone who thought we were going to have another band arc sob. I sure hope Deku is enjoying that nap

(ETA: I realize people were hoping for a longer rest period here, but given that the man warned us all the way back in chapter 306 that we were entering the final act, you can’t really blame him too much when that turns out to be true. anyway but I do recognize that we’ve reached the point in the story where this kind of discourse is going to become a weekly occurrence, simply because there’s no possible way for Horikoshi’s actual endgame to line up perfectly with the variable headcanons of millions of fans, all of whom have wildly differing and in many cases contradictory expectations which can’t possibly all be fulfilled. anyway, so I’m already bracing myself for that lol. this coming year is going to be a wild ride.)

damn, U.A. out here looking like the motherfucking United Nations

-- is this U.A.?? I actually just realized, U.A. is four interconnected buildings, not two. wait holy shit is this Shiketsu?

wait holy SHIT

based on the overwhelmingly powerful vibes of bureaucratic incompetence, I’m thinking this really is the (future) U.N., or whatever organization it is that deals with international hero stuff

“just let them handle it themselves I’m sure they’ll be fine” yeah okay, thanks guys. appreciate it

wait oh shit did he say that it’s not just Japan?

soooo, what you’re telling me is that AFO is this close to bringing about the end of not just Japan, but the entire world, and you guys don’t think it’s a good idea to help the Japanese heroes stop him? so, genuine follow-up question: are you guys already planning your rich people exodus into space a la Wall-E, and that’s why you don’t give a fuck?? like, what??

omg international heroes

these guys are from World Hoodie Mission, right? is this Horikoshi’s way of reminding me to buy tickets

(ETA: and it worked too lol.)

WHO??? WHAT???

don’t tell me you’re introducing yet another badass new female character for me to fall in love with only to watch as you dismember them and/or blow them up, Horikoshi. I’m getting tired of playing this game my dude. don’t lie and tell me this time will be different. we’re not doing this again goddammit

noooooooooooooooooooo

god fucking dammit lmao. [sighs and rips the previous paragraph into shreds]

on behalf of Americans I apologize for our superheroes always being Like This

I also apologize because I love her already and I’m gonna be shameless about it. so fucking shameless you guys

is her fucking hair red white and blue. it is, isn’t it

this is the volume cliffhanger, 100% lol. it will take every ounce of Horikoshi’s willpower not to put her on the volume cover. he’ll have to settle for the spine or the inner cover this time because Deku VS his class 1-a superpals takes precedence. but it will be a close thing let me tell you

tbh it’s that smile that does it for me. she’s definitely All Might’s protege. get out there and show them how it’s done girl. and maybe call Salaam and BRD and see if you can’t convince them to play hooky from their governments as well. why not. world’s ending in three days you guys. “sorry, I’m busy this weekend” ain’t gonna cut it lol

so while I am not fully caught up with Vigilantes, I have read far enough to know that there’s an American hero named Captain Celebrity whose superpower from what I recall is being a humongous douchebag. and while I haven’t read far enough to know what happens to this guy, I can’t say I’m very disappointed to learn that he’s no longer the number one hero in the U.S. (actually, didn’t they kick him out and that’s why he moved to Japan to begin with?). anyway, so my thanks to Horikoshi for having a marginally higher opinion of Americans than Furuhashi, even though we have definitely not done anything to warrant said opinion lately, and you may have inadvertently opened the door to a pandora’s box of discourse lmao

(ETA: lol I went into the tags and they don’t disappoint. “why is she dressed like a flag” because she’s an homage to Captain America and Major Victory and literally every other character on this list. again, I apologize for fictional American superheroes being Like This. “oh boy another thicc waifu to make the fanboys happy” look, tumblr fandom never seems to have a problem thirsting over Dabi or Tomura or Aizawa or Nao, lol, I’m just saying. “where is Captain Celebrity” idk, probably murdered by the exploding bee cartel, let’s just be grateful for our good fortune and try not to Beetlejuice the man.)

anyway, so let’s see if Horikoshi’s recent character development with regards to making Mineta not terrible anymore will apply to other aspects of his writing as well. I know I was making light of discourse just now, but I do think the complaints about him introducing yet another new character at the 11th hour to be cannon fodder in the final battle are absolutely valid. and again, it wouldn’t be a problem if he didn’t keep maiming/killing off his female characters one by one instead of developing them and letting them kick ass long-term. but that said, I will never complain about Horikoshi adding another female character to the series, regardless of how clumsy the attempt may be. go ahead and pander away, just give us more girl power lol

anyway so we’ll see how it goes, but I think I’m gonna be optimistic and let myself hope once again, even though I’m probably gonna regret it lol. it is what it is. she is standing on an airplane just chilling for fuck’s sake. I’m only human. anyway fingers crossed

#bnha 328 #stain (bnha)#tsukauchi naomasa #all might #stars and stripes (bnha)#all for one #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #eta: how did I forget to type 'bnha' in the title sob

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katytheinspiredworkaholic · 4 years ago

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Correspondence, Chapter 03

Pairing: HotchReid

Summary: An AU where Reid never joined the FBI, but got roped into consulting for the LA field office while working and teaching at Caltech. Hotch gets his email referred from a fellow agent, and they start to work on cases together -- until they start talking on a regular basis. Regular becomes frequent, frequent becomes constant. They know nothing about each other, but they don't really mind.

Rating: Mature/Explicit (eventually)

Chapter CW/notes: Mentions of alcohol, a very long conversation happens where Hotch is a little buzzed. Big, BIG focus on their age difference, and unintentional misinformation. Spencer has no idea Hotch thinks he’s older, or at least not OLD older, and gets a little panicky/clams up -- and yes I realize Hotch could just background check him and find it out but he respects the man enough to not do that. The chapter is linear, it just encompasses a lot of time passing so hopefully that’s not too confusing. Set in season 6, self beta’d.

Word Count: 5025

Masterpost Link

Ao3 Link

Chapter 03

Early September 2010

And so, it begins.

The dynamic shift, the vast change in how Hotch and Dr. Reid had been corresponding for the past few months. Evolving from something so professional and academic to something… looser. More freeing. More room for error, of course, but the risk turns out to be more than worth it for what they gain.

The texts are sporadic, at first. Short interactions, here and there, all stemming from that first, longer conversation about Jack. Hotch follows up the very next day, after he gets to talk to his son in the morning over pancakes. Jessica hovering nearby the whole time. She had apologized for her harsh words, and commended him after the fact how he’d approached Jack on the subject and led the little boy into a conversation rather than a lecture like his teachers had done. Because, as Spencer had mentioned -- there was no need for one. Jack already had the situation handled.

[]6/4, 12:39[] You were right.

[]6/4, 12:39[] He invited the kid that was bullying him over for a playdate. Trying to win him over by killing him with kindness.

[]6/4, 12:43[] My kind of kid.

[]6/4, 12:44[] You’ve taught him well, Hotch.

And that was it. That was all it took to kick off what turns into a frequent occurrence. Slowly, as time passes, their quick texts turn to conversations that naturally revert to work. It’s where they spend most of their time, after all, and what they had bonded over in the first place. But unlike in their emails, it isn’t just about the cases or profiles or statistics required to crack them. It’s much more opinionated than that, erratic in it’s content and frequency. Commentary on Hotch’s team, ideas on the cases they work, case studies and research projects and sometimes even just office gossip that somehow always makes its way to Hotch’s attention despite everyone trying to keep it from doing so.

Or just Dr. Reid observing their antics. This is the beginning of the tonal shift, and Hotch can’t help but think… it just might be a welcome one.

[]6/12, 10:03[] Your tech analyst always sends me rainbow font emails.

[]6/12, 10:07[] Yes, she’s doing that with everyone on the team. It’s Pride month and she’s being supportive.

[]6/12, 10:11[] She considers me a part of the team? How sweet of her.

[]6/12, 10:12[] You are, and as far as the bureau goes you might as well be.

[]6/12, 10:13[] I doubt I could sneak you into payroll, though.

[]6/12, 10:21[] I bet Ms. Garcia could.

[]6/12, 10:28[] Don’t. Say. Anything.

[]6/12, 10:29[] But yes, she could.

It turns into a small reprieve, for Hotch, in the constant deluge of bureaucracy and violence that fills his work day. The single moment he allows a sliver of himself to appear through the cracks of his armor he has to wear to guard himself from it all. To be the stoic leader the team needs, the unmovable tree in the storm.

Only in his quick, typed under the table conversations he has with Spencer does he allow himself the slips of humor. Barely there traces of a smile. Finding the smallest spots of light in his dark days, in his work that can surround and consume to the point of suffocation. Hotch thrives in it, he always has -- while others have drowned. But he doesn’t mind finding this small self-indulgence. Making the decision for himself that he can joke and poke fun at his work and not feel guilty about it. That, for once, he can allow himself this.

Until one day, Spencer returns the favor -- and starts talking about his own work.

[]7/21, 16:17[] If I leave all of my Ph.D. applicants in a ditch in the desert, is that still murder?

[]7/21, 16:30[] Technically or hypothetically?

[]7/21, 16:34[] Different question, would you be my legal council if I snap and it happens anyway?

[]7/21, 16:37[] Of course.

[]7/21, 16:38[] But as your attorney, I have to advise you that we never had this conversation, and murder is wrong.

[]7/21, 16:40[] Hypothetically.

Spencer takes a little longer to open up, but when he does it is through this window into an academic world Hotch had never planned or thought he would ever be privy to. He begins to reveal pieces of it, bit by bit, until Hotch starts to form a picture in his mind of what shape this professor’s life really takes. Making deductions based on his speech patterns, what goes on throughout his day, his word choices, and profiling the man through text message without even meaning to.

He tries to put a stop to it as soon as he realizes this. Dr. Reid isn’t just a consultant anymore, he is his friend -- and Hotch will always do his utmost to not profile his friends. But it’s a little too late for some aspects that can’t help but stand out as time goes on. Such as the inkling that the other man probably isn’t senile with a cane and a stooped back, like Hotch had first thought. Certain parts of his day allude to someone who is a bit fresher to the academic scene -- instead of spending decades on a college campus.

But Hotch sets that aside, to be scrutinized at a later date, and instead turns his focus into enjoying what Spencer has to offer him. As his friend. The stories he shares freely, now that they’ve spent all this time breaking down the barriers. He regales Hotch with his own daily problems, grievances, as well as the little bright spots that he just wants to share with Hotch so that it can lighten up his own days. Which were much more bleak, and crowded with danger and horrid things.

Hotch lives for those messages.

[]7/28, 20:42[] So I have a godson.

[]7/28, 20:44[] He’s four, and he just came to visit last week with his mother. Have you and Jack ever done science experiments at home?

[]7/28, 20:46[] Because I have some that are definite crowd pleasers. Do them right, you can call them ‘physics magic’. I can send you the instructions, it’s well worth it.

[]7/28, 20:47[] I’m not sure how helpful I would be in a scientific area, but I’m always willing to try.

[]7/28, 20:49[] I’d require video evidence of it, then.

[]7/28, 20:50[] But they are so fun, I’d forgotten how much.

[]7/28, 20:51[] No children of your own?

[]7/28, 20:54[] Never found the right person, but I always spent so much time on my degrees that I hadn’t really thought about being a parent.

[]7/28, 20:55[] My Godson really brought it to light, though. I love having him here.

[]7/28, 20:56[] I bet he loves when you come around, or when they get to visit you, too.

[]7/28, 20:59[] I work in a science lab, with lasers and telescopes bigger than my first apartment. My approval rating is pretty high when it comes to my godson.

Although Hotch finds that he doesn’t always start these interactions, the ones that lead to topics outside of work, he also isn’t against them in the slightest. They begin to start messaging at all hours, because of this; first thing in the morning, during their lunch break, whenever something pops up -- what used to be jokes that would just be kept to themselves, turn to conversation starters. And that development shifts the dynamic even more.

[]8/11, 10:31[] Coffee shops always make me feel old, and like I’m a grad student all over again.

[]8/11, 10:38[] You don’t have a T.A. to run and get you coffee?

[]8/11, 10:41[] Of course you would send out for coffee.

[]8/11, 10:42[] Well my order is two steps, not sixteen.

[]8/11, 10:43[] Tyrant.

[]8/11, 10:43[] Pretentious.

They start to tease, banter, and poke fun at each other. Comradery, friendship, and the more it goes on the more it seems to spiral towards something else. Something new.

But it’s these small moments, messages, conversations that can last a minute or an hour, that make Hotch’s chest feel so much lighter as the weeks go by. Hints of a smile easing onto his face, smoothing out and softening the edges in a way they haven’t in a long time. Garnering some attention from the rest of the team, or whoever is in the vicinity that felt brave enough to mention it.

“Who are you talking to?”

“Who’s the lucky lady?”

“No one,” Hotch would answer, schooling himself and pocketing his phone. “Just a consultant on a case.”

This is how it goes… for months.

They never speak on the phone. Never even hint at video calls. Never send pictures. (Although Spencer does make a mention once or twice about that promised video when Hotch finally gets around to attempting the ‘physics magic’ experiment he’d emailed him. Hotch secretly hopes that maybe, one day, Spencer will just get to show them in person. Instead of Hotch having to record it for anyone to witness.)

But they talk like clockwork. Play chess on the regular, allowing them to talk more fluently with a laptop to aid the flow of conversation. It starts with once a week, then twice a week, standing dates after hours that meld so seamlessly with their messages every workday. They keep it to the weekdays, at first, since Hotch is busy with Jack on the weekends. But that doesn’t last long. Suddenly, without warning -- it becomes every night as well. That shift is such an organic, natural progression, that it slips in without either of them making comment on it. A silent agreement, because mentioning it would mean admitting why they were pushing this in such a new direction.

They just… missed talking to each other. Two days was too long.

Now, it’s every day.

They text for hours; check in on each other at random throughout the day even when Hotch is on cases or Spencer is busy with his duties as the leading doctoral expert of Caltech. Times when they should be swamped, unavailable to anything other than their primary focus and work load, still littered with short messages. Before and after each flight, when Hotch gets back to his hotel at night, when Spencer has to lecture out of town and they just so happen to be passing each other during travel -- mere states away. So close, yet so far. It’s all the time, it’s constant, and it’s wonderful.

Spencer still helps with cases. Often, even more often than he ever helped the L.A. field office. But it’s not always through email, anymore. Sometimes it’s just easier for Hotch to shoot him a quick text. A detailed message in the middle of their everyday banter and dribble but no less out of place, knowing the good Doctor will answer him quickly. Time is of the essence when they are on a case, but they are always on retainer for each other. Waiting in the wings, ready to jump in with quick, snappy wit and bitten-back smiles, and Hotch feels so good. So light. Better than he has in years.

Happy.

Hotch is happy, finding a friend in Dr. Spencer Reid, even if sometimes that friendship seems to transcend layers he didn’t know were there. Developing into something else, something he hadn’t touched in a long, long time.

Months pass. Months. Like a blur. Like they’ve only just started this thing that’s anticipatory and comfortable and flexible in its medium and that is so easy -- everything Hotch needs in his life -- that he can barely imagine what his days and nights were like before this. Before Spencer.

But it’s months into this correspondence, this charged and bright thing, that he’s home late one night with a Scotch in one hand and a losing game of online chess long forgotten on his laptop screen. Lost in messaging Spencer, back to his phone instead of the chat feature of the chess game. Because texting is their comfort zone, now. He never thought it would be, had seen teenagers and adults attached to their phones like a lifeline and used to scoff about it, but he finally has begun to understand.

Because here he is -- not even looking up when he takes a drink -- lost in his conversation with Spencer. Making each other laugh, in a way he hasn’t in so long. Loud and high and afraid he might wake Jack down the hall so he stifles it with another sip of his Scotch.

[]9/8, 21:12[] If Jack wakes up, you know that’s it for us. He’ll never go back to sleep.

[]9/8, 21:13[] Then stop laughing so loud. I honestly can’t imagine you laughing enough to wake him.

[]9/8, 21:14[] Usually I don’t. I never laugh like this, but I used to.

[]9/8, 21:16[] Mr. FBI isn’t allowed to laugh, I thought. Didn’t they beat that out of you at the academy?

[]9/8, 21:19[] I was able to retain a smidgen of humor, it’s well hidden. You just seem to bring it out more than others.

[]9/8, 21:20[] I’m flattered.

[]9/8, 21:20[] You should be.

[]9/8, 21:21[] If my team saw me crack a smile I’d probably be forced to get a CAT scan.

[]9/8, 21:23[] Do you need one? I have an M.A. in Cognitive Sciences, I’ll be your second opinion.

[]9/8, 21:24[] Probably, but I’ll live.

[]9/8, 21:25[] Very stiff upper lip of you. They teach you that at the academy, too?

[]9/8, 21:26[] No, that would be Scotland Yard. I liaised there for a while.

[]9/8, 21:28[] Wow, you get around. Have you been anywhere else on your global exploration?

[]9/8, 21:31[] Hardly that, I just go where the bureau tells me. I’ve already been bounced all over the country before landing at the BAU. All you can do is keep the ‘stiff upper lip’ and adapt.

[]9/8, 21:31[] “Keep Calm & Carry On”?

[]9/8, 21:33[] Garcia gave me that on a mug last Christmas. I still don’t know what it’s from.

[]9/8, 21:34[] Your age is showing. Get with the times, old man.

[]9/8, 21:35[] You’re one to talk.

[]9/8, 21:35[] What?

Hotch bites back a smile, thinking about how for months he had been so sure Spencer was this elderly professor in his 60’s or 70’s that just happened to find their conversations interesting. That was… very apparently wrong, Hotch can see that now, but he hadn’t had any evidence to the contrary for the entire time they corresponded those first few months.

He could have done a background check on the professor at any time, is sure Garcia already has one saved in a file ready to send him at his first request, but it’s more fun this way. The not knowing, the learning about each other piece by careful piece. Even the smallest bits of information, such as age.

He bet Spencer would get a kick out of his first impression of the man, though.

[]9/8, 21:37[] Oh come on, you know.

[]9/8, 21:39[] No, I actually don’t. Congratulations, you’ve stumped the super genius.

[]9/8, 21:39[] But really, what do you mean?

[]9/8, 21:42[] I always just assumed you are at least ten years my senior, maybe even fifteen. How are you more with the times than I am?

[]9/8, 21:43[] I work at a University. I am surrounded by hormones and the dribble of youth.

There’s a slightly lengthy pause after that exchange, enough Hotch starts to pay closer attention through the buzz of liquor settled over his skin pleasantly.

[]9/8, 21:49[] How old do you think I am?

[]9/8, 21:50[] I don’t know, is it rude if I answer?

Hotch is not laughing to himself, he promises.

[]9/8, 21:52[] Why do you think I’m older?

[]9/8, 21:53[] This feels like a trap.

[]9/8, 21:53[] It’s not.

[]9/8, 21:56[] Well, honestly just from your academic achievements. Not everyone has that kind of time. And all your departments you run, you have to have a pretty level head and knack for maturity to keep that all in order. Especially doctorate students.

[]9/8, 21:58[] Thank you, I think.

[]9/8, 22:00[] I bet you’re the coolest old man on campus, though, don’t get me wrong.

Hotch does outright laugh after he sends that, manages to keep it a little bit quieter, and commends himself on having the upperhand in the conversation for once as he stares at his phone for a few minutes, awaiting an answer.

If he had to guess, Hotch supposes he’s held on to that stubborn image of Spencer being a stooped old professor out of habit. But the more the two have talked, after he'd gotten to know the man and his written verbal expressions and just the way his life runs day to day, it’s pretty easy to see that that is not correct. Spencer could be someone around Dave or Jason’s age, but more likely even younger than that -- closer to his own.

And that… is an intriguing thought that sparks something in his chest. He smothers it with another sip of Scotch and realizes that it has been a solid five minutes of silence. With Spencer not even typing out a response.

[]9/8, 22:06[] Was it something I said?

[]9/8, 22:07[] No, I’m just… contemplating my answer.

[]9/8, 22:07[] Answer to what?

Hotch hasn’t drank that much, but he doesn’t believe he asked a question at all. He scrolls back through their conversation and doesn’t see one. Spencer has asked a good handful, though, all about Hotch’s perception of his age.

Interesting.

[]9/8, 22:09[] Respond, not answer.

[]9/8, 22:10[] I’m all turned around now.

[]9/8, 22:12[] Flustered in your old age? Now I’m flattered.

This is almost like flirting. Skirts the edges of it, and Hotch feels more emboldened to try the more Spencer tap-dances around what is obviously Hotch’s incorrect assumption of his age. He had had no idea Hotch thought he was older, that is apparent, and it’s throwing the other man for a loop for some reason Hotch can’t ascertain.

[]9/8, 22:15[] I’m not old.

[]9/8, 22:15[] I’m not even older than you.

[]9/8, 22:16[] And how do you know that?

[]9/8, 22:17[] Just trust me on this.

[]9/8, 22:17[] Well, how old are you?

Another long, lengthy pause that Hotch waits for with baited breath. He knows that Spencer is there, that he’s staring at his phone and trying to decide the best way to answer without really answering anything. It’s only a matter of minutes, but that is a long time for them. When they are deep in a conversation like this.

Hotch isn’t laughing to himself anymore, but he’s more pleasantly confused than worried. He really has no idea what is making Spencer so hesitant.

[]9/8, 22:22[] Spencer?

[]9/8, 22:25[] I’m not going to tell you.

[]9/8, 22:26[] What, you want me to guess?

[]9/8, 22:28[] You’ll never guess.

[]9/8, 22:29[] That sounds like a challenge. How many guesses do I have?

[]9/8, 22:31[] None. Listen, I don’t want you to know. I shouldn’t have said anything.

[]9/8, 22:33[] I’m afraid it’s going to change your perception of me, and we’ll stop talking like this.

[]9/8, 22:34[] Just keep imagining me with wrinkles and a cane, I’m okay with that.

That drops the small smile right off his face.

Hotch is… surprised by this turn of events. What could be so shocking about this that Spencer thinks they would stop talking to each other? They’re corresponding every night. How could he possibly stop on a dime like that?

It doesn’t make any sense. And that’s not the alcohol talking.

[]9/8, 22:37[] I honestly don’t see how that would be possible.

[]9/8, 22:39[] I’m not going to stop talking to you just because you aren’t the senior professor I imagined running Caltech with an Iron Fist.

[]9/8, 22:40[] Now you’re projecting.

[]9/8, 22:40[] You saying I’m too strict?

[]9/8, 22:41[] Tyrant, I think was the term I chose.

[]9/8, 22:42[] Pretentious.

[]9/8, 22:44[] But Spencer, unless you are somehow underage with five Ph.D.’s, there’s no reason for us to stop talking.

[]9/8, 22:47[] You would not believe how many people treat me like I'm underage, to this day. So that doesn’t inspire confidence.

Hotch pauses with his glass halfway back to his lips, only a few sips left in the glass. Staring at his phone and struggling to make sense of what Spencer is saying. Hotch had been trying to joke and tease with him, but now the word ‘underage’ feels like a glaring beacon of a word on his screen.

He’s very suddenly more than a little nervous, even through the haze of alcohol. He is 45 years old, no matter what he keeps telling Spencer -- there is a limit to this being appropriate or not. What that limit is, he’d have to consider when he’s more sober, and it makes him feel like he should be reigning in the flirtatious notes that keep worming their way into the conversation.

But it’s not actually possible for him to be that young, and everything he’s learned about the man indicates he’s closer to his own age. Was he in his 30’s? Even that felt too young for what Hotch had (subconsciously) profiled -- no, it has to be something else.

No matter what, he didn’t want to keep getting Spencer worked up like this about it. His age hadn’t bothered Hotch before that night, so maybe if he drops it they can revert back to how they’d been spending their late evening hours before this turn in the conversation.

[]9/8, 22:50[] But I’m NOT underage.

[]9/8, 22:51[] If that needed to be said.

[]9/8, 22:53[] Can you buy alcohol by yourself?

[]9/8, 22:54[] Yes.

[]9/8, 22:54[] See this is what I was afraid of.

[]9/8, 22:55[] Relax, I was trying to tease you.

[]9/8, 22:57[] You don’t have to tell me, Spencer. I’ll just keep picturing Sean Connery, or John Steinbeck in the later years.

[]9/8, 22:59[] I see you have a type.

[]9/8, 23:00[] Well, who do you picture when you think of me?

[]9/8, 23:01[] Hugo Weaving, Matrix era. Or Richard Feynman.

[]9/8, 23:02[] Well now I feel typecasted. Who’s Feynman?

[]9/8, 23:02[] An American Theoretical Physicist from the 40’s-60’s.

[]9/8, 23:03[] Ouch. How old do you think *I* am?

[]9/8, 23:04[] I’m afraid to answer that.

[]9/8, 23:04[] O.u.c.h.

[]9/8, 23:06[] You’ve been borderline flirting with me, and you just said you thought I was in my 60’s! What was I supposed to think?

[]9/8, 23:07[] If you’re looking in that age bracket, I’m sure I can get you the Biology Department Head’s number.

[]9/8, 23:07[] He’s 72 with rheumatoid arthritis.

[]9/8, 23:08[] You are hysterical. So funny.

Hotch is smiling wide down at his phone again, feeling lighter and glad he got them back on track.

But…

He can’t help but think back to what he just tried to drop entirely. Blame the Scotch, or whatever drive to know that makes him dig down and root out information in cold cases in his spare time, Hotch doesn’t think he can let it go. Not when it was something Spencer hadn’t meant to be a secret in the first place. Not when, knowing that it has created misinformation between them unintentionally, results in Spencer shying away and hesitant to tell Hotch anything more about himself.

Not when he’d said ‘flirting’, because that had been what Hotch was doing, and he can’t even describe how disappointing it would be to quit while he was ahead. When the build up has been so gradual and easy and everything he’d been looking for and could never seem to find.

Now, this slight disruption is sticking in his mind, sharp like a thorn in his side. Always there, making itself known, and he wonders if he is lucid enough to try and draw the information out of Spencer via interview tactics -- or if the brilliant man would see right through any of his attempts.

Probably. Who was he kidding? Spencer had more degrees and college hours under his belt than Hotch could manage in a lifetime. Best to do this the old fashioned way, then.

[]9/8, 23:10[] 38.

[]9/8, 23:11[] Oh. Really? That’s kind of young to be Unit Chief, congratulations.

[]9/8, 23:11[] No, not me. You. I’m guessing 38.

[]9/8, 23:12[] Oh.

[]9/8, 23:12[] Incorrect.

[]9/8, 23:13[] I don’t even get a hint?

[]9/8, 23:13[] Nope.

[]9/8, 23:15[] We’re not playing a game. I’m not telling you.

[]9/8, 23:15[] So you won’t guess my age, either?

[]9/18, 23:17[] Chicken.

[]9/8, 23:17[] 45.

Hotch near throws his phone across the room. Almost makes a quip about how reading his file is cheating -- but he knows Spencer just made a stupidly accurate ‘educated guess’ because he knows fucking everything.

They really should just put him on the payroll. Hotch is being selfish keeping the man all to himself.

But God, is he enjoying it, too.

[]9/8, 23:19[] There’s no way you profiled that with that kind of accuracy.

[]9/8, 23:20[] How do you do that?

[]9/8, 23:21[] Black magic.

[]9/8, 23:22[] I’ll get it out of you one day, I swear.

[]9/8, 23:23[] And as a man of your word, I believe that you truly believe that.

[]9/8, 23:23[] Full of jokes tonight, aren’t you?

[]9/8, 23:25[] I live to amuse.

[]9/8, 23:25[] And make you smile.

[]9/8, 23:27[] You are one of the few that do.

With a careful pause, nothing left in his glass, a thought perched on the edges of his mind that is already watery with cognitive dissonance, Hotch starts typing before he’s even fully made the decision.

[]9/8, 23:30[] You really think my flirting is borderline? I was going for subtlety, but I must be rusty.

[]9/8, 23:32[] Actually, I just thought I was projecting.

[]9/8, 23:23[] You were married, I didn’t want to presume.

Oh.

The consideration is touching, and sobering even in the dimness of his home office, but it draws the softest of smiles back to Hotch’s face when he begins to type out his answer.

[]9/8, 23:35[] Thank you, for thinking of me first.

[]9/8, 23:37[] But Haley and I separated a long time before she died. We were actually divorced before she went into WICSEC. I miss her every day. But I did try to date for a while, before that.

[]9/8, 23:39[] No luck? I would have thought the FBI badge would at least garner some interest.

[]9/8, 23:40[] I’ve been told I’m intimidating.

[]9/8, 23:41[] I don’t think you are.

[]9/8, 23:42[] You will if you ever meet me. I’ve made underlings cry before without speaking a word.

[]9/8, 23:44[] The Hotchner stare. Have you coined that?

[]9/8, 23:45[] I should. It’s got a ring to it.

They banter and causally slip a few more… flirtatious comments in, and Hotch realizes it really isn’t that much different than before. That he had indeed been flirting with the man long before he knew his age. Which was odd, he didn’t typically go for older men and women. But now that he’s aware Spencer is younger than he thought, possibly even his own age (he swears he is, would put money on it if he could), somehow there’s more of a charge in their correspondence, a warmth and buzzing elation that has nothing to do with his Scotch. Especially now that it’s long gone.

It’s all Spencer, and how they compliment each other, and Hotch finds himself near giddy with that information.

He tries, towards the end of the night where it tips over into the early hours of the morning, to imagine an image of Spencer again -- and finds that he doesn’t even care to. He’s enamored with the man and his wit and the way he makes Hotch laugh without trying. How he looks, his age, it doesn’t matter. Not really. Not to Hotch.

But he is still curious why Spencer won’t reveal it. He can’t be that young.

[]9/9, 00:43[] You really won’t tell me?

[]9/9, 00:45[] Maybe one day. When I’m feeling brave.

[]9/9, 00:46[] Well, I’ll be there. Waiting.

[]9/9, 00:46[] 32.

[]9/9, 00:47[] You’ll never guess.

[]9/9, 00:48[] There’s only so many numbers.

[]9/9, 00:50[] Goodnight, Hotch.

[9/9, 00:51] Goodnight, Spencer.

(tbc...)

Tagged List: @spencehotchner @ssa-sarahsunshine @gothamapologist @reidology @marsjareau @dragon-snaps-fandom @emmyraebird @just-an-emo-rat @aaron-hotchner187 @dk18077 @more-heid-pls @fakin-it-til-i-make-it @merpancake

#I've read and rewritten this chapter so many times I'm starting to hate it #but it's super important so I hope it lives up to expectations #we get to all the good stuff after this #but the development here is something I've spent WEEKS trying to make realistic so #I hope you all enjoy it <3 #Chapter updates are Saturdays at 5pm EST #if you want in on the tag list just message me <3 #HotchReid #Heid #katyswriting

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stellar-starseed · 4 years ago

Text

Closer Than That

Group: Stray Kids

Pairing: Changbin x fem!reader, Jisung x fem!reader, polyamory

Word Count: 2,330

Summary: Your best friends happen to be 3racha, but Changbin was your closest friend from childhood. When things start to take a different turn in your relationship, you’re left wondering which way is up.

Chapter: 5/?

Other Chapters: Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4

Warnings: 18+; sexual content, language

Note: This is cross posted on ao3

Chapter 5

Changbin entered your empty apartment after waiting outside for some time to no answer. He checked the studio to be sure you weren’t wrapped in a creative streak, but he found it empty along with the rest of your apartment. He sat on the couch and groaned. He really fucked up, he thought to himself.

Although it wasn’t more than a week since he had seen you, it had been so long since he had spent anytime without you it felt empty. On top of this not being a normal occurrence, Changbin felt out of sorts thinking you were truly upset with him.

“I should’ve never said that.” He said out loud. He looked to his side and the first time he kissed you flashed in his mind. You were shocked and he found it so cute the way you tried to deny it all at first. Changbin remembered the feeling of you relaxing into his arms as he pressed his lips against yours. The sweet taste of you as he ran his tongue over your lip. He found himself biting down on his bottom lip.

“Feel better?” Felix asked as he saw Changbin come through the front door. Changbin sighed.

“It’s all good, mate.” Chan pat him on the back, “Felix made the best brownies to date.” Chan stuffed his mouth. “Mmmm!” He did a little dance. Changbin laughed at Chan’s actions.

“Give me one of those.” Changbin sat down at the table. Felix brought over a plate full of brownies.

“There are three different kinds. These are extra gooey fudge, these are dark chocolate, and the last are chocolate with chocolate chunks.”

“What? I didn’t know there were options.” Chan pouts coming back to the plate.

“Bro, you had like four I thought you knew.” Changbin chuckled at the two of them.

“These are good.” Changbin nodded. Felix brightened up and thanked him.

“I’m working on a batch of cookies right now.” Felix turned on his heal and headed back to the kitchen. Changbin chuckled at him.

“You seem like you’re feeling better.” Chan sat next to Changbin and grabbed for a fifth brownie.

“Nah, I’m just realizing how bad I fucked up.”

“I missed you.” You finally spit out the words as your heading out of the coffee shop. Jisung’s heart soars and he can’t hold back his smile.

“I missed you too,______.” His hand reaches for yours and you feel goosebumps run up your arms at his gentle touch. His eyes meet yours and he pulls you towards him. You momentarily don’t know where this is going but it crosses your mind that he wants to kiss you. You shake it from your mind, that can’t be true, you think. As your mind races through contradicting thoughts, Jisung’s lips find yours.

You’re so lost in the shock of it all you didn’t get to fully enjoy the kiss. It was over far too soon. Your lips tingled when he pulled away and you searched his eyes. He seemed so defeated when you admitted to having feelings for Changbin, but now it was as if you hadn’t said a word. He slipped his fingers through yours and let you know he would walk you to your car.

When you reached your car, Jisung pulled you in close. Wrapping his arms around you, he rested his head on yours. He felt content. He missed you, he missed this feeling.

You closed your eyes and let your arms slip around his slender body. It felt so nice to be wrapped in his arms. His scent was familiar and so comforting. You weren’t sure how you could deal without him. The pang you felt when he was gone came back and you pulled away slightly.

“Don’t leave me.” You said looking into his eyes. Jisung leaned down and softly kissed you before he seriously looked you in the eyes again.

“Never.” He said, the way he looked at you made you feel as if he wanted to make sure you understood he truly meant it. You nodded ever so slightly and rested your head on his chest. He tightened his arms around you again. You were both content to stay like that.

Jisung felt refreshed. He wasn’t sure why he let his emotions get the best of him for that long, but he vowed to never do that again. He replayed the first and second kiss in his mind the whole walk home. His heart fluttered and he chuckled to himself as he entered the dorm.

Jisung danced his way into the living room, a song playing on his lips. He stopped at the couch to belt out the last line.

“You’re in a good mood. All of a sudden?” Changbin was slumped on the couch, his hands intertwined and his thumbs circling each other. He looked down at his hands. Jisung froze.

“Uh. Yes?” He cleared his throat. “Hey,” Jisung looked around and sat on the couch. “I’m sorry. You know, for being an ass.”

“Yeah?” Changbin questioned. “Are you sorry for kissing her too?”

You fell back down on your bed with a dreamy sigh. How could his lips be so soft and delicious? You shrieked and had a mini flailing fit. He looked so good in that outfit and he smelled so good. Your mind was flooded with thoughts of your ‘Hannie’. You filled with excitement just thinking he was yours. You giggled to yourself.

Jumping up from your bed, you headed to your studio. You felt inspired and couldn’t shake the grin you had. The scene replayed over and over. The way he kissed you. The way he held you. The way he looked at you like you were the only important thing to exist.

“Seungie.” You said out loud as you gently touched your lips, chasing that feeling again. You had to tell Somin, you thought.

You pulled out your phone and immediately sent a message to your friend. Moments later she text back in her normal skeptical fashion.

Minnie:

18:38: Are you sure about that?

18:39: What about Binnie? I was routing for him!

You send back a few emojis. It was exciting for you to finally kiss your crush and Somin knew what a crush it had been over the years. You felt a bit guilty for it after her text.

You sat down in your chair and noticed a folded piece of paper on your keyboard. You were certain you didn’t leave this here. You unfolded it to familiar handwriting.

You chuckle to yourself when Changbin’s familiar voice runs through your mind as you read over a new nick name for you, ‘my princess’.

“I wanted to see you, but I guess you still need some space. I’m sorry that I upset you, and if I hurt you I’m even sorrier. I care about you and I hope you know that I wouldn’t hurt you on purpose.”

You smile to yourself. Changbin was the biggest sweetheart when he wanted to be and the biggest brat otherwise. You were nearly ready to head to the dorms just to see him when you realized this may not be the best idea. How were Jisung and Changbin going to get along, and how was Changbin going to feel after finding out you kissed Jisung?

*Chime*

You pick up your phone to a message from Minho.

MinHoe:

18:49:

>gif of mad laughter<

18:49:

They’re plotting your demise. I can’t protect you, but I always liked you!

You laugh to yourself. Minho was precious. You text back the most dramatic crying gif you could find and tell him you always loved him. This web you have created is going to affect everyone around you. You sighed. Hopefully they could let out their steam and maybe things could go back to semi normal.

Jisung was caught by surprise. It wasn’t but fifteen minutes ago that he had kissed you. How could Changbin have seen?

“I-“ he cocked his head. “No.” He shrugged, shaking his head. “I’m not.” Jisung answered Changbin’s question honestly. There was a blanket of silence that took over the room.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I was an ass and I shouldn’t have taken it out in you. But I’m not sorry for kissing her. I’m not sorry for liking her. I don’t think you should be sorry for those things either.”

Slowly, their guards were let down. They had a real conversation about the events that had taken place in their friendship over the last few months. They talked about their feelings for you and they talked about the last few weeks of arguing. They were both a little hurt from each other and the situation. Neither Changbin nor Jisung knew where to go from here.

After about an hour going back and forth with yourself between whether this may be a god idea or a bad idea, you open a group text for Changbin and Jisung. You ask them to come over to talk.

Binnie:

18:55: Of course. :)

Seungie:

18:57: Like together?

Binnie:

18:57: He’ll be there.

Seungie:

18:58: Okay! Me too.

You become a little nervous when you think about addressing the situation head on. But you were all adults, and this shouldn’t be so hard. You wanted your friendships to withstand anything, and this was a true test if ever there was one.

You tried to rehearse different ways of approaching this, but in the end you basically just came up with a couple of points you needed to make. Which was better than nothing.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Changbin’s signature knock and you couldn’t help but giggle to yourself. You tried to make sure you were as presentable as possible before opening the door. You realized your heart rate had picked up a bit but you opened the door like normal.

Changbin stood there with his hat and hoodie. He was emanating boyfriend vibes, and you were a sucker for seeing him in hats and hoodies. Jisung’s smile was the next thing to catch your eye and it warmed your heart.

“Well,” you step aside, “what are you waiting for?”

Changbin pauses, glances at Jisung and back at you. He steals a quick kiss and hurries inside. Jisung paused for a moment, a confused look on his face. He wasn’t sure if that was allowed after their heart to heart.

Jisung rubbed the back of his head and stepped closer to you. He stole a quick kiss as well and you chuckled. This is something you could get used to.

“So,” Changbin plopped down on the couch. “You need my superior producing advice, right? That’s why you called me over?” He smiled wide.

“Then why am I here?” Jisung laughed.

“To kiss and make up.” Changbin remarked.

“Oh, in that case.” Jisung stepped forward, wrapping an arm around your waist he gives you a peck on the cheek. “Do you forgive me darling?” You chuckle at his dramatic tone.

“Hey, hey.” Changbin says, “I didn’t approve that kiss.”

“All kisses need the Changbin seal?” You question.

“How else is this going to work? You know I get jealous.”

“How is what going to work?” You look from Changbin to Jisung who shrugs.

“This.” He circles a finger in the air around the three of you. “Us.” He sits down on the couch. You decide to head over to the couch yourself and you grab Jisung’s hand to pull him along behind you. You sit next to Changbin and grab his hand. Looking at both of their hands in your lap, you sigh.

“Us?” You look at Changbin. “We’re going to be an us?”

“Yeah.” He says, a smile tugging at his lips. “You forgive me?” He pouts and gives you puppy eyes. You can’t help but smile at him.

“Maybe.” You pout. “You made me feel like shit when you ignored me to flirt with that makeup girl that has a thing for you. When you said you told Chan we were dating I felt like you were playing games. Please, don’t do anything like that again.”

“I won’t, but she has a thing for Chan. I asked her to do that to make you jealous. I am so sorry that I hurt you.”

You repeatedly smack Changbin’s arm. “You’re the biggest brat, you know that?” You can’t help but laugh at this point. Changbin nods with a smile.

“Seungie?” You turn to Jisung who was unusually quiet.

“Hm?” You pulled him from his thoughts and he turns his body towards you.

“Are you also on board?”

“I just...” he seems to be gathering his thoughts. “Do I have to sleep with him?”

“What?” Changbin sat straight up. “I never said...” he shuddered.

You shrugged. “No one has to do anything they don’t want to do. I’m not asking you guys to suddenly change everything. You don’t even have to agree to this, but I am interested in trying it out.”

“Okay. Then yes.” Jisung says after a moment of thought. “I have always shared you with Changbin and it didn’t seem to bother me. It was when I thought you had made a choice. A single choice that wasn’t me, that’s what hurt my feelings.”

You hold Jisung’s face in your hands and give him a kiss. You lean your forehead against his. You could see the smile in his eyes and it made you happy.

“If I can be completely honest...” You look back and forth between the two of them. “I have had feelings for you both for such a long time that it would’ve been too hard to choose.”

Changbin’s hand slid up your back and he began to rub soothing circles over your shirt. You leaned back into Changbin and pulled Jisung on top of you.

“I could definitely get used to this.” You giggle.

“Me too.” Changbin says softly next your ear before pressing his lips to your cheek.

————————————————————

Thanks for stopping by, lovely!

I hope you enjoyed. Catch you next episode :)

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eurydicees · 3 years ago

Note

As someone who also started watching and enjoys Fruits Basket, did you ever wish Kotoko (Haruhi's mom) was given more of a presence like Tohru's mom was, even after they had passed...? OHSHC is a completely different overall vibe but sometimes I do wish more had been done with Haruhi or her mom at times now that I'm watching Tohru's story. What did you of Haruhi's mom personally, too, and do you have any hcs of her...? ty!

YES. i am beyond sorry that it took this long to get back to you, it's been weeks, i swear. my apologies. under the cut bc i got a lil carried away.

thoughts:

i would have loved for kotoko to have a little more influence on the show! like, she's absolutely vital to who haruhi is as a person; her presence and lack of one in haruhi's life 100% changes who she becomes and how we see her. one thing that fruits basket does really well is show how kyoko is influencing tohru even after her death, just by how she raised her and how much tohru loved her.

the situation is a little bit different because haruhi was so much younger, so it's maybe more comparable to tohru's dad's death, but even there, the influence that he had on who she is as a person today is 100% there (ex. in her vocal mannerisms). it would be there in haruhi as well, and i wish that it was better established.

kotoko def comes up in haruhi, though, especially with the whole lawyer thing. like, haruhi's mom is her idol, and her reason for following the path she's chosen in life:

(^^vol 9 chp 38, about how haruhi wants to be a lawyer)

i think so much more could have been done with haruhi's grief, and it's a shame that it's not as focused on as it could be. for an anime that's centered around her, we get maddeningly little actual focus on her backstory. like. her mourning for her mother and her lack of a mother figure is really important to who she is-- it's part of why she's so driven, and part of why she wants to work so hard and not mess around like the boys are always doing, and part of why she needs to learn to be a child again.

(^^from the haruhi in wonderland ep, about how she's cried enough to fill up a pool; showing how much she's dealt with and how little she deals with it)

overall, i think it would have been fascinating to see more of kotoko and how she influences haruhi in canon. but what we do know about her is just. so good. like. i love kotoko and she gets one (1) full scene in the anime, and one (1) chapter in the manga.

some hcs:

in the haruhi in wonderland ep (which i just watched, and is the reason i have any inspiration for these at all lmao), kotoko talks about how important it is for a mother to be there for her child-- i think that the division in her life between work and family was really hard for her to work out; as a lawyer, she was probably constantly working and would have been in the office way longer than she would have liked, and i think she felt really guilty about that (not knowing that haruhi was idolizing her bc she saw how hardworking her mom was)

that being said, she would do anything for her family, and would prioritize them every time she could

she loved ranka so much. like. so much. that's not a headcanon, though, that's just a fact.

as a lawyer, she worked very hard for not as much money as she could be getting, mostly doing cases she believed in, and in local areas; i'm willing to bet that she saw cases that were Not So Fun to think about, and i'm also so sure that she never brought it home with her. the Bad Shit stays at work, and at home, she's going to love her family even harder because she knows that there are people who aren't as lucky as she is

her extended family doesn't really approve of her ~Life Choices~ but she could care less what other people think of her-- one of her core traits, i think, is simply not caring about being laughed at

which comes in handy in places like law school, where she was belittled and underestimated as a woman, until she became top of her class and smartest lawyer in town <3

she canonically knows karate, and i think it would be fun of her and ranka do have spontaneous sparring matches in their living room. they might accidentally break a lamp every now and then, but it's one of the times she feels most alive

i've talked about this before, but i think she would have LOVED tamaki, and that she and ranka would have gotten into genuine arguments about him

she's a great lawyer, and super logical and reasonable, and she's also super impulsive (exhibit a: her wedding with ranka, which they had after, like, a month of dating or something like that), so she'll sometimes come home with a brand new and sometimes expensive gift for ranka and haruhi that they definitely don't need, but always enjoy, because it's a gift from her

she went to lobelia and was a huge fan of the zuka club, and i think she once auditioned (or however you get in idk), but-- like haruhi-- she has a terrible singing voice (that doesn't stop her from belting out jpop in the kitchen while she does dishes every night, though)

that's all i've got for now (it is 2:00 in the am good lord i need to go to bed), but i will hopefully come up with some more later and get back to you again!

#ohshc #kotoko fujioka #haruhi fujioka

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snowdice · 4 years ago

Text

Big Bang (Sort of) Editing Story [Day 38]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag proofread stories. I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

Not sure how long I’ll go. Maybe be an hour may be six. We’ll have to see!

Chapter 15

Patton strolled up to the doors to the royal wing, his arms crossed casually around his middle.

Kalani raised an eyebrow as he approached and gave her the most innocent expression he could. “Whatcha got there, Pat?” she asked.

“Hmm?” he asked, as his sweater squirmed. “What do you mean?”

She considered him for a moment. “Well, I see nothing suspicious here,” she said. “Do you Owen?”

“Nothing,” he replied without hesitation.

Patton grinned at them both.

Kalani leaned in like she was going to tell him a secret. “Who is it?”

Patton made a show of glanced around like he was hiding it from anyone passing by. Then he shifted around to pull up just the bottom of his sweater.

A small black paw reached out from the depths of his sweater and swatted at the air.

“Ah, I see,” Kalani said, reaching out to touch the little paw. “Hello, Mittens.”

Patton giggled as Owen poked the cat’s stomach gently through the sweater, making her wiggle a bit and try to bite him.

“Well,” Patton said. “I better be off with my totally normal sweater.”

Kalani nodded and stepped to the side, and Patton was free to head down the hallway to Logan’s room. Patton knocked on the door with their new extra secret knock and Logan all but ripped open the door. “I’m late. I have to go,” he said, darting past Patton.

Patton smiled, happy that his plan to be running a little late to come watch Virgil had worked so well, even though he felt a little bit guilty about it. He hoped Logan wasn’t late to his meeting, but he also knew that if Logan had noticed Mittens, he wouldn’t have let her into the room.

Virgil was already out of the closet, sitting on one of the chairs. Patton came in and smiled at him. Unlike Logan, Virgil’s attention was immediately drawn to the oddly shaped lump in Patton’s sweater.

“You’re not very good at hiding things,” Virgil said.

“It worked on Logan,” Patton defended himself.

“Logan was about to rocket into space if you didn’t show up in 5 seconds,” Virgil pointed out. Patton just shrugged, and Virgil tilted his head. “What do you have?”

Patton grinned wide and carefully pulled Mittens out of his sweater. She did not resist this maneuver at all, simply purring. He held her up for Virgil to see. “Ta da!”

“A cat?” Virgil said.

“This is Mittens,” Patton said. He then turned to Mittens. “Mittens, this is Virgil. I thought I’d introduce the two of you!”

Virgil blinked at the cat. Mittens blinked back. Patton thought maybe he should have let them sniff each other from under a door before doing this.

He didn’t need to worry though, as Mittens started purring after a moment. “You can pet her,” Patton offered. Virgil looked up at him. “Just…” he said.

“She likes chin scratchies!” Patton prompted.

Virgil reached out a hand to scratch under her chin and that was the end of it. Mittens stretched out her chin happy to get the attention and Virgil’s eyes widened at how soft her fur was. It was a work of minutes before Virgil was sitting down on the floor and Mittens was happily kneading his thighs and spinning around in circles to make sure he pet every inch of her.

“I did not understand why people like cats,�� Virgil commented. “All I’ve seen of cats is people coming back with bloody scratches from trying to pet them, so I never even tried.”

“Well,” Patton said. “Cats are just like people. If you’re nice to them, they’re more likely to be nice to you.”

Virgil’s hand paused briefly on the cat’s head, but then continued with the petting a moment later. Patton wondered what he was thinking about, but didn’t press.

“She seems to like you,” Patton said.

“Don’t know why.”

“Hey, don’t be mean.” Patton scolded.

Virgil hands jerked away from the cat he’d been petting and then were forced abruptly to his side in reaction. Mittens meowed, seemed very unhappy with the jostling as well as the sudden lack of petting.

“Sorry,” Virgil said, eyes wide. “What did I do wrong. I didn’t mean to be mean to her.”

It took Patton a moment to sus out what he was talking about and felt a pang in his chest when he did. “Oh, no honey. You didn’t do anything wrong. I meant don’t be mean to yourself.”

Virgil gave him a confused look. Mittens bumped her head against his chin and with a blink, he cautiously went back to petting her.

“Of course, she likes you sweetie, you’re a good boy.”

“I came here to kill the king. I’ve killed before.”

Patton smiled sadly. “I don’t think you ever wanted to,” he said. Virgil seemed to grow very interested in mitten’s ears. Patton scooted over so he was sitting beside him and carefully brought a hand up to touch the top of his head. Virgil sort of curled into him, pressing his face against Patton’s shoulder, but continuing to pet the cat.

“It’s fine. You’re going to be okay now,” Patton said softly.

Virgil shook his head against Patton’s shoulder.

“Yes,” Patton insisted. “You’ll be okay. You won’t have to go back.”

Virgil didn’t respond for a long moment. “You can’t keep me in Logan’s closet forever,” he said softly. “When his dad comes back, you’re going to have to turn me in.”

Well, that was true, but… “It’ll be okay. No one will hurt you.”

“The kings would be assassin?” Virgil asked skeptically.

“Thomas is nice. He’ll understand.”

“He’s nice to you. He’s nice to Logan. Maybe he’s even nice to the people he rules over, but what am I? An enemy assassin who would have slit his throat if I hadn’t gotten the wrong room.”

It…it did sound bad when he put it like that, but, but… “Thomas will understand,” he promised, hugging him tight. “He will, and we’ll keep you safe and I’ll introduce you to every single cat in the castle. In fact, we’ll get you a cat to keep as a pet if you want and he or she can snuggle you as much as you want. I’ll show you all around the gardens and introduce you to Mama and help you figure out what your favorite type of cookie is. You’ll never have to hurt anyone again and no one will ever hurt you again.”

Virgil drew away a bit and shot him a half smile. He clearly didn’t believe him, and it made Patton’s stomach twist a bit. Patton knew. He knew Thomas would be nice. There was no way he’d hurt Virgil. Virgil was just a kid and with Logan and Patton on his side, there was no way anything bad would happen to him. He could see it from Virgil’s perspective though.

“I like her feet,” Virgil said, touching Mittens’ little black paw that contrasted her otherwise white coat. Mittens purred and began kneading his legs again with those paws. “I’m guessing that’s why she’s named Mittens?”

“Yeah,” said Patton softly. “‘Cause she looks like she’s wearing mittens.” Virgil leaned forward to kiss her little head and that little action made Patton’s heart ache for him. He deserved so many kitten kisses. So many.

Patton was determined to make sure he got them.

Chapter 16

“Well done,” Logan complimented when Virgil looked up at him for approval. It was the first time Virgil was trying to make the protection charms without Logan’s instructions. Logan was of course still in the room in case he had questions and the boy had a written set of instructions next to him, but for the most part Virgil was doing it on his own.

“Now,” Virgil said squinting down at the paper next to him, “we wait for 35 minutes.”

“Fifty actually,” Logan corrected offhand, focused on his own potion.

“Oh, yeah, right,” Virgil said. He grabbed the timer and set it for the appropriate time.

Then, he stepped away from Logan’s nontoxic potion station. Logan saw him edge a bit closer to peak at what Logan was working on, though he was careful to maintain a distance. Logan wasn’t sure if this was because he’d been warned of the possible harmful substances Logan sometimes used at his experiment table or because he was worried Logan might not want him to approach.

Logan looked up at him. “You can come closer. Nothing here is very dangerous.”

Virgil nodded and walked over to peer at the boiling pot. “What are you making?” he asked.

“I am once again attempting to invent a potion that will reliably remove cat hair from surfaces,” Logan said, glancing over at Patton.

Patton looked up from the bracelet he was making and stuck his tongue out at Logan.

“I can never seem to find an adequate solution,” Logan said.

“The solution is to accept all parts of kitty love!” Patton insisted.

“Or maybe the solution is to exile you from my room for the rest of time,” Logan muttered. Patton chose to ignore him and go back to working on the bracelet.

“Do you want any help?” Virgil offered Logan.

Logan smiled at him. “I’m actually almost finished with this step and there isn’t much left to do but thank you.”

Virgil nodded. “Oh, okay,” he said. He shifted back and forth a few times.

“You’re well on your way to mastering this potion,” Logan said. “I was thinking that next I could teach you how to make a tracking charm. I marked a passage about it in the book on that shelf.” He gestured to one near the station Virgil had been working at. “Why don’t you go ahead and read that while you wait?”

“The…” Virgil said. “The green book?”

“Yes,” Logan said. “I left a bookmark in the correct page.”

“Um… yeah, sure. I’ll go… read that.”

Logan nodded and turned back to put the finishing touches on his own potion as Virgil walked away.

Logan finished up his potion up after a few minutes and covered it to let it simmer. He looked over to see that Patton had flopped onto his back, still working on the bracelet and Virgil had sat near to him with the book on his lap open. Logan walked over to them.

“What do you think?” Logan asked.

Virgil glanced up at him. “Erm,” he said. “Looks good.”

“Which option do you like better?”

“…The second one.”

“Really?” Logan asked, surprised.

“Uh… yes?”

“I’m surprised,” Logan commented. “I figured you would shy away from the ones that required a blood sacrifice.”

Virgil’s eyes widened. “Oh,” he said. “I… didn’t notice that. I would like to not do that one, please.”

“You didn’t notice?” Logan asked. “Half of the entire first page is dedicated to a discussion of it.”

There was a beat of awkward silence.

“Virgil,” Logan said. “Can you read the first paragraph on that page?”

He grimaced.

“You can’t read?!”

“Logan, tone,” Patton snapped when Virgil flinched.

Logan took a breath. “I am not upset that you cannot read, but what have you been doing for the past week when I have given you written instructions for the protection charm potion?”

“Not… read it.”

“How have you been making the potion?” Logan asked.

“I just remember the steps, and if I’m not sure I ask. You’re usually distracted enough that you barely notice.”

“If I had known this, we would have done a completely auditory explanation.”

“Sorry.”

Logan sighed. “You didn’t need to pretend, Virgil.”

Virgil blinked up at him. “Sorry.”

Logan just shook his head. “There is nothing for you to be sorry for. In fact, you are the one who is owed apologies from many people in your life for a multitude of reasons.” He knelt down to take the book from him. “Here,” he said. “For now, I will read this passage to you while we wait for the potions to finish brewing. Later we can talk about changing my lesson plans in reference to the potions as well as adding reading lessons into your schedule.”

“You… want to teach me how to read?” Virgil asked.

“If you are willing,” Logan replied. “It’s a useful skill to have and opens up many doors.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be any good at it,” Virgil said with a frown.

“If you can memorize an entire potion recipe from start to finish with inadequate vocal instructions, I’m sure you can learn the alphabet perfectly well.”

“Okay,” he replied sounding a bit doubtful.

“And once we get you to an appropriate level, I’ll let you read a book about stars I enjoyed in my youth.” He seemed pleased with that prospect, and Logan smiled at him. “For now though, let’s read this together.”

“Okay,” Virgil said. Logan opened the book in his lap and started to read. He noticed that Virgil was leaning over to look at the page despite the fact that he couldn’t read it, and so he began to point to the words as he read. His reactions to the words on the page were honestly quite funny when Logan caught them. His nose would scrunch up in confusion every time he thought an instruction nonsensical, and he’d squint his eyes at the words as though willing the sounds and letters to connect in his head. Logan wouldn’t be surprised with his memory if he had parts of it memorized by the end.

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After a few minutes of reading, a light weight descended on Logan’s shoulder. Virgil had settled his chin on Logan’s shoulder to peer at the words. Logan did his best not to draw attention to this fact and shot a glare at Patton when he clearly noticed, sitting up to smile widely at them. Luckily the boy was sensible enough not to squeal as he oh so clearly wanted to. Logan pointed out a picture while explaining what the caption said and then giving a personal antecedent. Virgil touched the page curiously and asked a question about the story before laying his head back down on Logan’s shoulder. They continued in this way until the potion was finished.

Chapter 17

Virgil’s suspicion was growing. Logan and Patton seemed to have something planned. Luckily, whatever it was didn’t seem to be malicious, at least, Virgil hoped it wasn’t. He truly didn’t think that Patton had it in him to be so clearly excited about anything cruel. He also didn’t think Logan had it in him to be cruel, he was just was better at masking his excitement.

“What?” Logan asked innocently when Virgil gave him a pointed look the second Patton left to do ‘something’. Virgil would almost believe he truly wasn’t planning anything if it wasn’t for the way his lips twitched just a bit at the corners. Virgil glared harder.

Logan dared to laugh lightly at the expression on his face. “Come here,” he requested. “Patton wanted me to make you pick out a book for him to read to you tonight since, I quote ‘You’ve gotten to read him all sorts of stories the last few days.’ I attempted to explain that it was not purely for fun, but he insisted.”

Virgil grumbled, but wandered over to look over at the books laid out on Logan’s bed, settling his chin on Logan’s shoulder. “What do they say?” he asked.

Logan pointed to each in turn. “Five Dragons and a Flame. The End of May. A Stone in the Meadow. Or you can continue to read The Never-ending Garden.”

“I want to finish The Never-Ending Garden,” Virgil decided.

“Good choice.”

“Now will you tell me what you’re doing?” Virgil asked.

Logan just chuckled. Honestly, it was like he didn’t know that he had an assassin right next to his carotid artery. “Why do you think something is happened?”

“Patton’s a shit liar.”

“Be careful,” Logan said. “I might just have to tell him you said that.”

“Then I’ll tell him what you said when you accidently dropped the lavender into that potion,” Virgil threatened back.

“Hmm,” Logan said. “Truce?”

“On that,” Virgil agreed, “but you still need to tell me what’s going on.”

“It is a surprise. A nice surprise,” Logan informed him. He looked at Virgil’s face. “Don’t pout at me.”

Virgil had not been aware that what he was doing was pouting, but he did whatever it was harder.

“Patton would murder me,” Logan claimed, “but I suggest you try that on him the next time you have a chance. You will certainly get whatever you want.”

Virgil sighed and gave up, figuring he’d learn whatever the surprise was soon enough. He chose to flop down on top of the pile of pillows on the floor that had been laid out already. It was his fourth ever slumber party and the first had only been a week ago. He did not know much about slumber parties, but that felt like a lot.

Goodness, it had already been two weeks. He looked up at the ceiling. He felt safe here. He felt like he didn’t need to watch Logan’s every move as he organized things in his room, but it wasn’t going to last, was it? The king was set to be back in a week. Virgil needed to actually attempt to escape soon. He hated that fact. He didn’t want to leave, and he certainly didn’t want to go back. Maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he’d figure something else out, but no mater what, he did have to escape, and soon. He looked over at Logan who was slotting the books Virgil hadn’t picked back into place on the bookshelf. Not tonight.

There was a knock on the door in a familiar pattern, and Logan walked over to open it for Patton. Virgil sat up to shoot a confused look at the giant thing that Patton rolled in.

“Ta da!” Patton said excitedly.

Virgil blinked at him.

“It’s food,” Logan explained.

Virgil perked up immediately. That must be a lot of food if he needed that to carry it.

“I know you haven’t gotten a chance to try a lot of different foods, so I asked Mama if I could use the kitchen earlier today and made a bunch of different type of food samples for you to try.”

That sounded like literally the best idea in the universe. These people were very good at surprises and Virgil would not question them again ever for the rest of his life (or, well, the next couple of days he was around them before he tried to escape and either managed it or died a bloody and painful death).

Patton seemed to feed off of Virgil’s excitement, practically vibrating himself as he gestured to different parts of the cart. “We have a bunch of types of cheese and crackers, mini sandwiches, different smoked meats, six types of pasta, and every leftover I could find on this shelf. On this shelf, we have things with hot sauce, things with spicy dry rubs, curries, and things with a lot of peppers. I’ve ordered them by spiciness level so we can what you can handle, and we’ll only go as far as you want. Then this shelf is a bunch of types of cookies, mini cakes, pies, and ice cream!”

“We are not starting with the sweets,” Logan said firmly.

“But Lo!” Patton whined.

“We do not want to make him sick, do we?” Logan asked.

Patton pouted. Virgil honestly had no preference. All food was good food in his experience.

“Fine,” Patton said. “We’ll start with the cheese.”

They had him sit back in the center of the blanket pile and handed him little portions of things. Some of the cheese tasted weird at first and Patton would giggle at the faces of surprise he made, but Virgil managed to if not like, then tolerate almost all of them.

Then came the different sandwiches, some hot and some cold and all of the pasta and leftovers. Virgil eyed the plate of fettuccine alfredo long after they had moved on.

“You can have some more at the end if you still have room,” Logan promised with a fond smile. Virgil frowned at him. “You want to try all of the food, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then you can’t eat an entire plate of fettucine alfredo.”

“Maybe you can’t,” Virgil said darkly.

Logan just rolled his eyes and passed him another plate.

Eventually they moved on to the next shelf full of what was deemed ‘spicy food.’

“Part of this is figuring out what level of spiciness you can handle,” Patton said. “So, tell us when it gets to be a bit too much and we’ll move on two the deserts. Also, milk helps wash the spicy stuff that so drink some if you need to!”

Virgil nodded and accepted the first dish on that rack.

Virgil, it turned out, liked what they called “spicy” food even though some of it made his nose run a little bit. It was kind of fun to eat them, honestly. Some of them hurt a tiny bit, but they also tasted really good. It was strange.

“I am impressed and horrified,” Logan said when he finished that shelf. “Do you… have nerve endings in your mouth?”

Virgil shrugged. “Well,” Patton said, sounding pleased. “Now it’s time for the best part! Assuming you still have room.” Virgil nodded immediately and Patton handed him a plate he’d covered with chunks of cookies he’d torn off. He ate every single one of those and then went through the rest of the deserts. Everything was fantastic and he’d like to investigate a few of the cakes once more, but…

He pointed insistently at the fettuccine alfredo.

Logan shook his head but handed it over. “How many stomachs do you have?”

Virgil did not care to respond, choosing instead to shove his mouth full of pasta.

When he was done with that, he laid back to relax and digest the food, feeling very content. Logan and Patton had also eaten a bit of the different dishes and were finishing up themselves.

“You good there?” Patton asked after a moment of Virgil just laying with his eyes closed.

Virgil nodded.

“Did you like your surprise?”

“Uh huh.”

“It seems he will not be doing any of the other planned activities for a little while at least,” Logan said. “So now might be a good time for you two to read,” he suggested. “I’ll get the rest of the food stored in case we want something more later.”

“Okay,” Patton agreed. Virgil didn’t open his eyes, but felt Patton settle next to him. Virgil rolled slightly, so his head rested against the side of Patton’s leg. A hand touched softly down on the top of Virgil’s head and Virgil heard a page flip. “So, let’s see. I’m not sure when exactly you fell asleep last time, but how about we start at the Troll Bridge?”

Virgil hummed his ascent.

“Okay,” Patton agreed as he started to read. “‘Melly stepped onto the bridge backwards while sticking her tongue out at Al, but Lydia’s eyes widened as a large looming figure stepped up behind her….’” Virgil listened happily to him read about the four children. He liked this book. He hoped they managed to finish reading it before Virgil had to go.

Chapter 18

They made it all the way to the big blowout between Al and Melly where Melly got mad and left the group to their fate in the magical garden by the time Virgil awakened completely from his food coma (he’d never actually fallen asleep, or at least he always responded when Patton asked) and squirmed around for a bit before sitting up.

Logan hadn’t been particularly interested in the story he’d heard many times before and was reading a book of his own on Patton’s other side, but he put a bookmark in his book when Virgil sat.

“Want to take a break from reading?” Patton asked. “We can do a bit more later, but we have more than just food and books planned for tonight.

“Okay,” Virgil agreed easily.

“Great!” Patton said clapping his hands. “We’re going to introduce you to the most fun sleepover party event ever!”

Virgil tilted his head.

“Dress up!” Patton said. “Also make-overs. We’ll do you first and then we’ll help you learn how to help pick out other people’s outfits and make-up. If you want to, of course.”

“Sure,” Virgil said with a shrug.

“Yay!” Patton hopped to his feet. “You stay here. Lo and I will get everything ready.”

He pulled Logan to his feet and over to the chair that was the perfect height for doing make-up.

They set up what they’d need for make-up and then Patton instructed Logan to grab the clothes of his they usually used for this sort of thing out the closet that Virgil wasn’t set up in while he grabbed the pieces he himself had brought upstairs and strew them over the bed so they could see anything.

Smiling happily, Patton looked over at Virgil who had stood up in the giant pile of pillows and blankets to watch him with intense eyes. He looked like he was memorizing every action Patton took as though expecting a test at the end. He was so adorable. A rush of affection and a touch of mischief hit him suddenly.

“Hey Virgil,” Patton said. Virgil looked over at him. “Can I tackle hug you into that pile of pillows?”

“Tackle hug?” he asked.

“I run over and hug you so hard that we fall into the blankets. I do it to Logan all the time without warning, but I didn’t want to confuse you.”

Virgil considered the offer for a couple of seconds. “Okay,” he finally decided.

“Great!” Patton did a little hop before launching himself across the room. He slammed into Virgil, who apparently had very good balanced because they didn’t immediately fall backwards, but then he seemed to remember that he was supposed to let Patton slam him into the pillows, and so he fell back on his own power.

Patton giggled when they hit the ground and drew back to look at his face. “I got you!” He leant forward to kiss him on the nose. “Oh wait! I should let you fight back.” He propped himself up on one arm and held out the other hand. “Pinkie promise not to hurt anyone if I let you use the 3rd setting again?”

“Pinkie promise,” he agreed with a grin, linking their pinkies.

“Great!” Without hesitation, Patton did the hand motion to allow the restraints to be in the third setting.

Patton was on his back almost instantly, but he didn’t even have a chance to think about worrying before Virgil pressed a kiss to his nose in a mirror of what Patton had done a moment before. “I got you,” he said proudly.

“So, you do,” Patton agreed with a laugh. He reached up on of his hands to card it through Virgil’s hair. Virgil leaned into the touch and then practically melted on top of him. “Virgil,” Patton laughed. “It isn’t nap time.”

He grumbled something unintelligible into Patton’s neck making Patton giggle more.

“Sweetie, please.”

Thankfully Logan saved him from the unrelenting cuddling by poking Virgil in the side. “I have finished preparing the stations for the makeover and dress up. You need to get up now.”

Virgil made a noise that sounded like a growl, but he did roll off of Patton.

Patton hopped to his feet and helped Virgil up before pulling him over to the piles of clothes. “We pick the outfit first, but you don’t put it on. Then, we do your make-up and hair based on it. Then, we get you dressed and do touch ups. Okay? Pick anything you want.”

Virgil looked over the options, eyes going a bit wide. “It…” he said. “It all looks really fancy and expensive. Are you sure you want me to touch any of it?”

“We wouldn’t be offering anything we didn’t want you to touch,” Logan said gently. “In fact, I insist you touch all of it. Beyond just appearance, making sure the texture of the fabric is agreeable is a large part of this activity.”

Patton picked up one of the pieces of fabric he knew was very soft and offered it to him. He touched it with careful fingers, his eyes lighting up at the feel of it. They had to continue nudging him into feeling the different fabrics, and he hesitated when they asked him to pick his favorite at the end, but eventually he shyly pointed at a dark purple dress.

Patton clapped. “Great! Ooo, I already have some ideas for make-up that will go with that.”

Virgil let Patton pull him over to the chair they’d set up and settled down on it.

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Patton hummed. “I think silver and purple make-up mostly?” he said.

Logan nodded and they grabbed a few things from the make-up kit. Logan let Patton do most of the make-up as he tended to be better at the more creative parts, but Logan was the one who gave him the fancy winged eye liner with purple sparkles because he was really good at them.

“You look fantastic!” Patton squealed when they were done. He held up a hand mirror for Virgil who studied himself in it for a long few moments. “Do you like it?”

“It’s really nice,” Virgil confirmed. Patton smiled and hugged him.

“Next hair. We have a lot of accessories. I’ll let you pick from the purple ones.”

He and Logan sorted through the jewelry box full of different hair accessories for the royal family and ended up finding three purple ones. Patton hesitated a bit over one of them, but Logan picked it up and set it in front of Virgil for him.

“Your choice from these three,” he said.

One was a purple feather with little hooks to braid into hair, one was a smattering of purple and silver stars that would weave through the back of someone’s hair, and the last was a string of silver leaves with purple tips that would wrap up the back of a person’s head from a bun.

Virgil thought for a moment and then pointed to the one made of leaves.

Patton glanced at Logan who took the hairpiece. “I’ll do your hair right for that one,” he said. “I know how it fits.”

He grabbed the brush and carefully ran it through Virgil’s hair. Virgil seemed to like the attention, leaning into the touch, and a smile flickered over Logan’s face. Logan started gathering the hair together to make the low bun that would be the base of hair arrangement. Patton honestly did not expect him to speak, but then he did as he started to secure the piece with pins.

“This was my Pa’s favorite hairpiece,” Logan said. “Not the father you came here for, but my other one. He died when I was six.”

Virgil went shock still. “I don’t have to...”

“I wouldn’t have let it be offered if I wasn’t okay with you using it,” Logan said.

Virgil didn’t move as he finished securing the hairpiece. “There,” Logan said when he was done. He picked up the hand mirror and positioned it so Virgil could see. “It suits you.”

“I…” Virgil said. His eyes were wide, and he clearly didn’t know what to say.

“Now,” Logan said. “I believe there are some other pieces of jewelry that would match this very well in the other room. I…” he turned away. “If you will excuse me.”

He turned away and exited through his bedroom door into the hallway. Patton watched him go and then turned to Virgil. “I’m going to go make sure he’s okay, okay?” Patton asked. “You didn’t do anything wrong, there’s just a lot of emotions.”

“I can take it out…” Virgil said.

“No,” Patton said. “I think he likes that you’re wearing it.” Virgil bit his lip. “He never really moved on,” Patton felt inclined to say. “This is… a lot for him, but I think it’s good too.” He leaned forward to kiss the top of his head, being careful not to mess up his artfully done hair. “I’ll be right back.”

He turned to follow Logan out of the room.

Chapter 19

Thomas sighed in relief as the door to the royal wing finally came into sight. He was exhausted from his journey to Lamir for many reasons. Beyond just the physically taxing journey, he’d also had to deal with the emotions of loosing someone he had thought of as a friend while also trying to help her young daughter who had just had the crown thrust upon her.

Now he just wanted to see his own child and curl up into bed. He smiled at Owen and Kalani as he approached. “Is Logan here?” he asked.

Owen nodded. “The prince and his royal advisor are having a slumber party.”

Thomas smiled. “Of course, they are,” he said.

He said goodnight to the two guard as they’d be getting off duty soon even if he did manage to drag himself out of his room again tonight and walked past them into the hall.

He walked past the room where they kept the jewels, though was unsurprised to see that the room was unlatched as Patton loved playing around with the different jewelry and had probably left it open when he grabbed them. He was however surprised when his son’s room’s door was thrown open, as Logan usually couldn’t stand for the thing to be open with or without him in it.

Thomas didn’t think much of it however, and simply walked over to look inside. He was surprised when he didn’t see his son or Patton and instead saw that the only person in the room was a young boy that Thomas did not recognize. He was seated in one of Logan’s chairs and had his head tilted looking at himself in the mirror. He seemed to be trying to get a look at the ornament on the back of his head, and Thomas felt his heart seize a little bit when he recognized the hairpin.

He hadn’t recovered from that gut punch when the boy’s eyes drifted and met his in the mirror. There were a couple of long seconds where the two of them stared at each other in silence.

“Hello?” Thomas finally managed to get out.

Panic. There was suddenly horribly intense panic in the child’s eyes, the likes of which Thomas had never seen before. Thomas could only blink dumbly as he hopped to his feet like his seat was suddenly made of hot coals and then threw himself across the room to the opposite side from Thomas.

He looked around himself, back to the wall and considered Thomas with wildly spooked eyes. Clearly, he realized that he was pinned in Logan’s room by Thomas being in the door.

The boy dropped suddenly and disappeared under Logan’s bed.

“Uh,” Thomas said, confused and shocked and still a bit in pain from seeing that piece of jewelry in use. He crossed slowly over to the bed and bent down to look under it, moving the bed skirt slightly to the side. He saw a small shaking blob curled up into itself under the bed. “Um, hi,” he said softly.

The blob did not respond except to continue shaking.

Thomas frowned and settled himself onto the floor. “It’s okay,” he said softly. Had he been here stealing things? Thomas had to wonder as he wasn’t sure why someone here for legitimate reasons would be acting so terrified of being caught. Though, that posed the question of how he’d gotten past the guards, and why Logan hadn’t noticed him. “I’m not mad,” Thomas said. “You’re fine.”

The boy looked up briefly from his knees looking terrified. Thomas tried to smile at him gently, but that just made him hunch into himself more, his breathes coming faster. That wasn’t good.

“No, shh,” Thomas said softly. “It’s okay. I promise it’s okay.” He did not seem to believe him, and Thomas winced. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t just leave him here but trying to talk him down himself didn’t seem to be working.

Luckily, a familiar voice spoke from behind him then. “Dad?” Logan asked.

Thomas looked back at him. Both Logan and Patton were standing at the door, a couple of pieces of jewelry in their hands. They seemed very surprised to see him.

“You… seem to have a guest,” Thomas informed them.

“I…” Logan said, beginning to edge into the room like he was expecting something to blow up at any moment. “Yes.” He got to Thomas and squeezed himself between him and the bed, putting a physical barrier between Thomas and the boy. Confused, Thomas took a couple of steps away without challenge. “That,” Logan glanced behind him. Patton had moved to the opposite side of the bed from Logan and Thomas and had gotten to his knees to look under it. “That is Virgil.”

Thomas blinked at him. “Virgil?” he asked.

“He’s… new to the castle,” Logan explained. Patton started speaking softly the boy, but Thomas could not make anything he said out. “Patton and I… invited him to a sleepover.”

“The guards didn’t mention anything,” Thomas said, sure that they would have warned him if there was a stranger in the royal wing.

“Uh, well, Virgil is… shy and we didn’t think you’d be back for another week. So, we snuck him past them.”

“Shy?” Thomas asked doubtfully. That was a lot more than shy.

“Particularly of adults,” Logan said.

Thomas took a moment to let that sink in. “Oh.” He was… scared of adults. Thomas could imagine many reasons why that might be the case and none of them set well. “I see.”

“Hey, no, sweetie, stop that,” Patton said, sounding distressed. Patton had managed to draw Virgil out from underneath the bed, though they were both still mostly hidden behind it and Thomas had no question in his mind that if he went to step towards them, Virgil would be back underneath it in a moment. Currently the boy seemed to be clawing at his own head. “No, baby shh,” Patton said, trying to stop him from tearing the pinned in hairpiece out, Thomas realized. “I’ll get it out,” Patton promised him. “Just calm down and let me do it.” He sounded close to tears, and Thomas couldn’t particularly blame him with the way the boy was acting. “You’re hurting yourself, baby.”

He must know, Thomas realized. If Logan had known he was here, then he must have allowed him to use that hairpiece. He’d probably even told Virgil that it belonged to his dead father. Now he was probably terrified that Thomas would be mad at him for touching it, especially when he’d come in to find Virgil alone without Logan to explain.

Patton managed to get all the pins undone and placed the piece delicately on the bed before wrapping himself protectively around the boy and hushing him.

Logan was looking back at them as well. He looked between the puddle of upset on the floor and Thomas. “Could…” he said. “Could I maybe come and see you in a few minutes, Dad?”

“Of course,” Thomas said. “Of course, I’ll go wait in my room. Take as much time as you need.”

He was careful to move slowly as he stepped towards the door, so the poor thing didn’t notice him move and mistake it for him approaching. He closed Logan’s bedroom door softly behind him feeling even more drained than he’d been before as well as anxious and a bit sickened. He went to his own bedroom to wait for Logan.

Chapter 20

Logan let out a slow breath as his father closed the door behind him. That could have been very, very bad. He turned his attention to Virgil and Patton. Patton had curled himself around Virgil as much as physically possible and had tucked the boy’s head under his chin.

Logan slowly rounded the bed and knelt in front of them. “It’s alright,” Logan said, cautiously moving to put a hand on his shoulder. Virgil didn’t pull away. “I asked him to leave. It’s alright.”

Virgil tilted his head slightly too look at him. Logan rubbed a circle into his back as he slowly got control of his breath.

Logan smiled softly at him and reached out to touch his cheek with a gentle hand. “You… didn’t hurt him. You didn’t even try to hurt him.”

Virgil shook his head.

“Why not?” Logan asked curiously. “It was a perfect opportunity.”

“Promised Patton,” Virgil mumbled, and the idea that perhaps the thing that had saved his father’s life was a pinky promise just about gave Logan a migraine, but then Virgil ducked his head. “And it would make you sad.”

“I see,” Logan said, heart in his throat.

Virgil kept looking towards the floor, his eyes starting to fill with tears again. “Are you going to turn me in now?”

He was shaking and barely holding back a fresh wave of tears. Logan knew of course that no one would hurt him here if he turned him in to his father and the guards, but he also knew that Virgil would be terrified if he did so. He was already terrified. Logan didn’t want to know what he thought the fate Logan would be condemning him to.

“No,” Logan said before he could even truly think it through. “No, I’m not.”

“You’re not?” Virgil asked.

“Well, there wouldn’t really be a point, would there?” Logan asked. “The reason we planned to turn you when father got back in is because you posed a danger to him, but you have just demonstrated that is no longer an issue.”

“Really?” Virgil asked, sniffling a bit and Logan saw Patton’s arms tighten even more around him.

“We will have to figure out a better cover for you than just that you’re new to the castle, but I believe it will work fine. No one besides the two of us would ever guess your origin anyway.”

“S-so I can stay?” Virgil asked, “and you won’t throw me into prison or execute me?”

“I promise you were never going to be executed Virgil,” Logan said. “Even if we turned you in, but yes you can stay with us. We’ll figure out a backstory for you that doesn’t involve assassinations and you’ll have to keep up the lie, but I doubt anyone will question it.”

“I’ll do whatever you want,” Virgil said, chocked up. “Thank you. I really didn’t want to go.”

“Well, you’re our friend now so there will be no going anywhere,” Patton said kissing him on the cheek. Virgil relaxed back into his hold, pleased with the affection.

Logan smiled at them both. “Can I see your wrists, Virgil?”

Virgil blinked but offered them and Logan tapped the restraints doing a quick incantation. They popped off after a moment.

“You’re letting me go?” Virgil asked, eyes wide.

“Of course,” Logan said. “We’re not just going to keep you prisoner for no reason.”

“That’s…” Virgil said, eyes watering as he clearly was trying not to cry. “You’re the best people I’ve ever met.”

“I wish that was not so clearly the case,” Logan replied. He slowly reach up and set a hand on his shoulder. “I’m going to go speak with my father. Patton will stay with you.”

“Okay,” Virgil agreed, seeming a bit hesitant.

Logan smiled softly and leaned forward to gently touch their foreheads together. “I will be right back,” he assured. “We will finish our slumber party, though perhaps we will table the rest of the dress up activity for another night.”

He stood then, leaving Virgil in Patton’s capable hands to exit his own bedroom and cross the hallway to his father’s. He took a brief moment to compose himself before knocking on the door.

“Come in,” his father called.

Logan opened the door to see his father sitting on one of the armchairs in his room. Despite the almost disaster that had taken place a few minutes ago, Logan found himself smiling at the man. It was nice to have him home.

“Sorry about that,” Father said.

“It was more my fault than yours. If I knew there was a risk of you coming home today, I wouldn’t have left him alone.”

“Is he alright?”

“I believe so,” Logan answered. “Patton is with him and will certainly smooth out any lingering distress.”

“Good,” his dad said. “That’s good.” There was a pause and then he gestured at the seat beside his.

Logan settled himself down on it. “How was your trip?” he asked. “You’re back a week early.”

“Yes,” Father said. “The trip went better and worse than anticipated.

“How so?” asked Logan curiously.

“Well,” Dad said. “The purpose of the trip was to convince the new queen of Lamir, Cecil not to ally with Mocnejsi, but by the time I’d arrived there wasn’t really a risk of that.”

“Why not?”

“After investigation, it turned out that Cecil’s mother had been poisoned by an assassin from Mocnejsi.”

“Oh,” Logan said, mind already racing.

“They figured out that one of the young women who had been hired on in the kitchen for the winter had done it, and had learned her origin when they questioned her,” Dad informed him. “Considering Cecil was immediately approached for an alliance with Mocnejsi, their aim was likely to manipulate her going forward because of how young she is. Luckily, Cecil is a smart girl and has the help of her mother’s advisor as well as her own. By the time I got there, my only real role was to extend my condolences and reaffirm out alliance. I would have stayed longer, but the possibility that Mocnejsi may think to attack us in a similar way hastened me home.”

“That…” Logan said. “That is wise. I assume you are going to institute more security.”

“I am, yes,” Dad replied. “I would like your input on plans in the coming day.”

“Of course,” Logan agreed.

Dad smiled at him, “But for now,” he said, “I think it’s time you get back to your slumber party and I get to finally go to sleep.”

Logan nodded and got to his feet. He leaned over to hug his father perhaps a bit longer and harder than was strictly necessary, but Dad did not seem to mind at all. “Goodnight,” Logan said.

“Goodnight, son.”

Chapter 21

Virgil woke with something soft but kind of stringy in his face. That was weird. He didn’t know what in the closet would feel like that. In fact, as he woke more he noticed more things that he couldn’t sus out the origin of, particularly the warmth curled up against his side. Curious, he blinked open his eyes. Oh, right. Patton.

The soft stuff in his face was Patton’s hair and the warmth next to Virgil was the rest of the boy’s body. Patton had all but refused to let Virgil go last night after Logan had taken off the restraints and Virgil hadn’t minded the attention. They must have fallen asleep together in the piles of pillows and blankets on the floor.

Virgil brushed his hair gently away, internally (for fear of disturbing him) shaking his head at him. He’d fallen asleep hallway on top of an assassin. He had no self-preservation instincts. He looked at his wrists. It seemed no one had any self-preservation instincts. This of course, included himself as instead of running off when free in case they decided to turn him in after all, he had fallen asleep on the floor with Patton too.

He looked to the side and saw Logan was already awake, reading on one of his chairs. He seemed to sense Virgil’s eyes on him because he looked up after a moment.

“You can get up if you like,” Logan said. “He is a heavy sleeper and won’t wake up if you squirm out of his grip.”

Virgil frowned, unsure if he wanted to risk it.

“I have breakfast ready for you.”

Okay, Virgil was going to risk it.

He carefully squirmed out of Patton’s grip, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead in apology for leaving him before getting to his feet.

Logan handed him a plate of eggs and toast when he walked over and gestured to the chair next to him. Virgil sat there to eat while Logan continued to read.

Virgil ate his food quickly, and then glanced over at Logan once he was done. Virgil was honestly at a bit of a loss. Usually, they came and got him out of the closet only once they were ready to do something, but Patton was still sound asleep on the floor and Logan looked engrossed in his book.

Virgil fidgeted slightly, unsure what he should be doing or even if he should be doing anything. Considering Logan hadn’t given him any instructions, he should probably not do anything. He didn’t want to screw up the first day of… whatever this was now.

Logan glanced over at him after a few minutes. “Don’t forget about the potion,” he reminded.

Virgil nodded and stood, walking over to the closet since it would still be in there from the previous morning. It was about half gone now and it had gotten to the point where Virgil didn’t feel any immediate affects from it anymore other than some warmth. It basically just felt like drinking tea.

He said as much to Logan when he walked back over to him.

“That’s good,” Logan said, “it means it has been working. It has healed any damage it can from malnutrition. Any internal organs that were damaged should be mostly healed. You may even notice your eyesight getting slightly better. Your immune system should also be boosted. You will likely also find it is easier to gain muscle and while you likely will never be as tall as you could have been, you will likely still grow a few inches during your next growth spirt.”

Virgil studied his hands where they were sitting on his thigh now as though he could see the changes that allegedly had already taken place in his body. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

“Of course,” Logan replied, eyes already back on his book like it was some normal thing and not a huge kindness he’d bestowed on Virgil before even really knowing him. As though Virgil didn’t just owe him more than just his life going forward.

They sat in silence then for a few more minutes, before the was a soft sigh from the floor and Patton started to wake. He sat up and looked around. His eyes landed on both Virgil and Logan sitting together and he seemed to light up.

“Good morning!” he chirped.

“Good morning, Patton,” Logan said as Patton popped to his feet, “I have breakfast for you.”

“Thank you Lo,” Patton said, throwing his arms around Logan’s neck, and giving him a kiss on the cheek. Virgil presumed from the lack of surprise on Logan’s face that this was normal for morning Patton, not that the fact surprised him considering how night Patton acted.

He still managed to be somewhat surprised by the fact that Patton turned to hug Virgil a second later. Patton’s lips were pressed briefly to Virgil’s head and then he turned to grab the plate Logan had saved for him.

“So, what are we doing today?” Patton asked.

“I was thinking Virgil and I could continue our reading lessons if he is not opposed,” Logan said. Virgil nodded, happy with that prospect. “Other than that, I have no plans. I have already spoken with my father before the two of you woke. He is going to spend most of his day catching up on things he missed and said I could take the rest of the day off royal duties.”

“A whole day to relax then!” Patton said, happily chewing on his toast. “Reading sounds fun, but we should do something more active too.”

Logan hummed. “We can show Virgil the courtyard after the reading lessons,” he said.

It took a moment for it to register, but then Virgil froze. “Wait,” he said. “We’re going outside?”

Logan raised an eyebrow at him. “Yes.”

“So, we’re leaving your room?”

“Are you alright with that?” Logan asked cautiously.

Virgil nodded quickly.

“Oh,” Patton said at his enthusiasm. “I guess you have been cooped up a while, haven’t you?” He smiled sadly and turned to Logan. “Maybe we can do reading lessons in the garden.”

“That would be satisfactory.”

“Great!” Patton said. He looked over at Virgil. “If we’re going out, we should probably put your hair up and get you in some clean clothes.”

Logan nodded. “You finish eating, and I will help Virgil find something to wear.”

Logan found him an outfit, though it was a bit baggy on Virgil and the hem of the shirt went halfway to his knees. When Patton finished breakfast, he sat Virgil down and carefully worked a brush through his hair.

“Can I braid it?” Patton asked.

Virgil hummed his consent. Having his hair brushed and done up by another person was a lot more enjoyable than he’d anticipated. He’d liked it when Logan did it the night before, though he had to very firmly push away thoughts of where that led.

“Okay!” Patton said after a few moments. “You look good. Ready to go?”

Virgil nodded and they both led him out into the hall. He paused before they got to the door. “What about the guards?” he asked hesitantly.

“I’ve already given them the same story as I did Dad,” Logan replied. “They know you’re here.”

Virgil still hesitated.

“It’s okay,” Patton promised. “Here, hold my hand?”

Virgil took the offered hand immediately, and Logan stepped in front of them both. Virgil felt himself relax a bit knowing the prince was between him and the guards.

They led him to the door.

Logan greeted both of the guards at the door, and they said good morning back. Both of them glanced at Virgil curiously for a moment making him shrink into himself, but they quickly averted their gazes.

Patton pulled him past them without incident and soon they were in the small dining hall Virgil had passed through his first night here. He remembered how he’d snuck around at the edges of the room in the shadows with the aim to kill the king, but now he was being pulled through the middle with the prince having just wandered past the royal guards in broad daylight like it was nothing.

It was so strange, and Virgil still couldn’t totally believe this was happening. The retraced his exact steps back down the spiral stairs near the kitchen and out of the door he and the nice gardener had came through. He could even see the shed he’d been hiding in from here. With a blink, he remembered they were going to the garden, and he wondered if he’d see the man again.

For now, he just looked around them as Logan and Patton led him past the garden shed towards an area with many trees. Orange and yellow leaves were starting to fall from many of the trees.

They made a satisfying crunching sound under his feet as he was led to a tree. He had seen the group of trees when he’d first arrived here and had even thought about hiding amongst them instead of in the shed, but they’d seemed scary in the dark. They were pretty in the daylight, however, and Virgil found himself tilting his head to watch the branches sway in the slight wind.

Logan sat down under it and pulled out a book and some writing materials from the bag he’d brought. Virgil settled down next to him so they could both look at the book at the same time and Patton flopped down on the other side, immediately setting to work tying fancy knots in the yarn he’d brought with him. Patton shuffled slightly to the side so they bumped shoulders as Logan opened the book and started Virgil’s reading lesson.

Chapter 22

Patton bit his lip to keep from laughing or awing. “Do you like the flower, Virgil?” he asked.

Virgil glanced up at him briefly and then his eyes returned to the flower he’d found. “It’s nice,” he said.

They’d finished the reading lessons and let Virgil explore the garden a bit. He’d found a dark purple and yellow flower (a pansy, Patton thought) and seemed to be endlessly fascinated by it. He’d been staring at it for minutes now, almost as though he expected it to do something. Patton did not quite understand his interest, but he was still adorable.

Logan sat next to him and the flower, smiling at him softly. “I imagine you’ll enjoy the garden in the spring,” Logan said. “There are many more flowers then. Of all types. We’ll have to show you all of the best spots. Mr. Deknis has a particularly good eye for colors, and it is always quite beautiful.”

“Who is Mr. Deknis?” Virgil asked.

“He’s the head gardener,” Logan said. “He’s a nice man, though a bit prickly when it comes to his garden. We may see him today if he’s in this part of the garden.”

“Would he have been the multrum I saw in the gardening shed when I hid there?”

“Ah, yes, that would be him. I was unaware you interacted with anyone in the castle.”

“He caught me in his garden shed, but he wasn’t mean,” Virgil said, he tilted his head curiously at Logan. “Why…” he trailed off.

“Yes?” Logan asked.

“Why is he the gardener?”

Logan looked confused, “Well,” he said, “I guess because he wants to and is good at it.”

“No,” Virgil said with a frown. “I mean. Shouldn’t he… he’s…”

Logan seemed to think hard for a moment. “Right,” he said. “You’ve been under a blood compulsion. I’d guess you would have only worked with multrums in the military.”

“I guess I didn’t realize that they could be other things…”

“Of course, they can,” Logan said. “Their abilities don’t make them any less of people. Mr. Deknis likes to garden so he gardens.”

Virgil blinked at him.

“…Of course, all things considered, that may not be a familiar concept to you.” Virgil turned back to look at the flower instead of answering. “Right,” said Logan.

There were a couple of awkward beats of silence. Patton bit his lip and happened to glance up. “Oh,” he said. “Speaking of Mr. Deknis.” He gestured to the gardener who was coming up the path between the trees.

Logan sat up on his knees as Patton waved at him. He saw Patton and turned to walk towards them. “The two of you had better not be up to mischief in my garden,” Mr. Deknis called, his voice a bit gruff. He clearly did not see Virgil who had laid flat on his stomach to stare at the flower.

Logan rolled his eyes automatically. “We were just reading Mr. Deknis,” he said. “Your piles of dirt are safe.”

“No mud cakes?” Mr. Deknis asked skeptically still coming towards them.

“It has been a literal decade…”

Patton saw when Mr. Deknis was close enough to see Virgil.

He stopped in his track and looked down at Virgil who was already watching him a bit warily. “Hello,” he said, his voice a lot softer than it’d been a few moments before. His expression completely flipped in a moment to something very gentle when he saw Virgil and the cautious look on his face. Virgil did seem to have that effect on people.

“Hi,” Virgil replied.

Mr. Deknis looked at Logan and then at Patton and then back at Virgil. “This is our new friend, Virgil,” Patton offered.

“Hello, Virgil,” Mr. Deknis said with a nod.

“Virgil, this is the gardener Mr. Deknis.”

“He’s not nearly as grumpy as he sounds,” Patton assured.

“Well,” Logan said, “yes he is.”

Mr. Deknis shot him a look that only served to prove Logan’s point if Patton was being honest. Logan just smiled back. Mr. Deknis apparently decided to let it slide because he turned back to Virgil.

“It’s good to see you again,” Mr. Deknis said. “Are you feeling better?”

Virgil nodded. “I’m a lot better,” he said. Mr. Deknis considered him for a moment, clearly reading how true that statement was. Patton was glad he seemed satisfied with the answer.

“I see you’ve met these two.”

“Yeah,” Virgil said.

Mr. Deknis smiled slightly. “Be careful with this one,” he said, pointing to Logan. “He’s a bad influence.”

Virgil frowned in confusion. “He’s the prince,” he pointed out.

“And a bad influence,” Mr. Deknis repeated. “He’s a beacon of irresponsibility and mischief and he corrupts that one,” he nodded to Patton.

“I am completely responsible,” Logan replied.

“Need I remind you of the cucumber incident.”

“I was 8,” Logan said.

“I know how old you were,” Mr. Deknis replied, “and you are hardly any older.”

“I resent that.”

Mr. Deknis just smiled and turned back to Virgil who was watching the interaction with pure curiosity.

“I just picked a few more of those apples for Patton’s mom to make into apple sauce. Would you kids like some?”

Virgil glanced over at Logan and Patton.

“That would be nice, thank you,” Patton replied for them all, standing up. Seeing that, Virgil also climbed to his feet.

“It’s back this way,” Mr. Deknis said, inclining hid head back the way he’d came and then turning to lead them that way. Patton followed him. He glanced back to see Logan put his hand on Virgil’s shoulder and give him a gentle push to get him going. “So, what are you kids up to today?”

#proofread stories #not writing

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maylovexhs · 4 years ago

Text

everytime - LOVE ME WRONG(Chp. 38)

Author’s Note: Miss Allie X and Troye Sivan is who to thank for this chapter. They really got me in my emotions. Enjoy this chapter loves! - May

Catch up on everytime here

November 27, 2019. 1 PM.

*Y/N’S POV*

I thought about it and no, I still have decided. It’s only been a week. I couldn’t possibly decide in a week. I wanted to be with Ashton. He was much better to me than Harry has been. I’ve only been with Ashton for three months. I barely gave him a chance compared to Harry. I loved Ashton. But if I loved Ashton so much, why did a part of me wish I was with Harry instead?

“Don’t you have one of those already?” Ashton asked me.

I held the guitar in my hand as I played a few strings on it.

“No” I said. “I have a blue color of it. Not an orange”

“You’re really going to pay for something you already have?” Ashton asked me.

I shook my head, putting the guitar back.

I was Ashton’s work. I surprised him with lunch and decided to stay around for another hour at his job. I wasn’t spending Thanksgiving with him so I decided to try and spend the day before with him. Ashton actually had invited me to spend Thanksgiving with his family but I refused. Firstly, I didn’t want to rub the sight of us in Billie’s. Secondly, I didn’t want to give Ashton’s parents hope that he and I will stay together because I had no idea of who to pick still. And thirdly, I would just be thinking of Harry the whole time there.

We heard the store’s door chime as a customer came in. Ashton and I looked to each other.

“Can I meet you after work?” Ashton asked me.

I nodded.

“Yeah” I said. “Your place. What time do you get off?”

“I close at 7” Ashton said. “So, 8:30 latest?”

I reached up and kissed his cheek.

“I’ll be there” I said.

Ashton smiled at me.

“See you soon” I said to him.

I turned away from him. I started to walk away before I Ashton call me.

“Y/N” Ashton said.

I turned around to him.

“Yeah?” I asked him.

Ashton opened his mouth to say something but quickly shut it.

“Ash,” I said. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing important” Ashton said. “I’ll tell you about it later”

“You’re sure?” I asked him. “I can stay another minute. I don’t have nothing to do for the rest of the day”

“Yeah, I’m sure” Ashton said. “Besides, I don’t want Ron thinking I’m not doing my job and fire me if he sees one more second of us”

I nodded at him.

“Okay” I told him. “But you’re telling me it later”

“I will” Ashton said.

I smiled at him. I turned away. I walked over to the door. I stopped to turn around and look at Ashton before I left. He was already talking to the customers who just walked in.

My smile slowly faded.

I exited out of the shop, beginning to walk down the block.

God, I hope Ashton won’t say he loves me. Not that I didn’t want him to say it or know he loves me, it’s just . . . I didn’t want to hear it now.

I knew Ashton loved me. He may have not admitted it directly but it was obvious ever since he flew to Paris for me. I knew Ashton loved me. I just didn’t want him to say it to me because if he does . . . I’ll have to say it back. Listen, of course I loved Ashton. He makes me so happy and I wouldn’t be with him if I did not love him a little. It’s just I am not quite ready to tell him I loved him, mainly because I was still thinking of Harry.

How could I tell Ashton I loved him when every time I looked at him I immediately think of Ashton? It was not enough I felt guilty for not telling Ashton about what happened last week. How could I even tell him? Ashton immediately suspected Harry was jealous of us after that night at dinner. I managed to quickly dismiss that possibility to Ashton since I thought Harry would never think of me in that way again. But now? If I told Ashton, I would just be confirming his suspicion and slightly be defending Harry.

I turned the corner of the block, walking towards my car.

I should have just told Ashton the day after Harry kissed me. I should have told him and I wouldn’t feel so guilty now. I told Ali I was going to tell him but I needed some days to think about what I was going to do with Harry. What was I going to do about Harry? I couldn’t tell Ashton about it and still be friends with Harry. That would be unfair to both of them. Ashton is my boyfriend. I’m supposed to be loyal to him and choose him above any other man. But Harry was my friend. I’ve known him longer than Ashton. How could I choose only one?

I took my car keys out of my bag. I unlocked my car, getting into the driver’s seat and closing the door.

I knew I had to tell Ashton at some point. I knew I had to do something about Harry too. I also knew I had to do both before it was too late.

I plugged my key into the ignition, the car turning on.

I just hope I would know soon or I would lose Ashton and Harry.

10 PM.

So far, nothing. I expected Ashton to tell me he loved me right away when I met him at his apartment but he didn’t. I was a little happy he did not mention it to me yet. I would have no idea how to react if he did. All I had was Harry on my head. I couldn’t properly think of what to say if Ashton did say he loved me. But, on the other hand, I was surprised. If Ashton wanted to tell me he loved me, why didn’t he yet? Did he change his mind about telling me? If that was the case, did something happen that changed his mind? Did he know something about Harry and I?

Ashton entered his room, holding a bag of chips and a coke.

“As requested” Ashton said, smiling at me.

“I didn’t ask” I said. “But you know your way to my heart”

Ashton handed me the coke and the bag of chips. I sat on Ashton’s bed, watching the television. Ashton sat down next to me. I opened the can of coke and started to drink it.

No. Ashton couldn’t know about Harry and I. The only people I told were Ali and Izzy. Both didn’t have his numbers so there was no way he could know about Harry kissing me. But what about everything else between Harry and I? I didn’t tell Ashton that I dated Harry for a month before. I didn’t tell Ashton I wrote songs about Harry before. I didn’t tell Ashton anything apart that Harry was a very close friend of mine and I knew him for forever. Did Ashton know I had a history with Harry? I’ve always made it clear in the media that Harry and I were friends only but anyone could suspect more.

No, no, no. There was no possibility Ashton knew about my history with Harry. It wasn’t like he knew someone who wrote songs with me about Harry. . . OH MY GOD. BILLIE.

I choked on my coke. I coughed, clearing my throat. Ashton looked worried at me.

“Are you okay?” Ashton asked me.

“Yeah” I said, between coughs. “Drank too fast”

Ashton took the coke from my hand and put it on his bedside table.

“You’re almost done with the can” Ashton said. “Did you chug it?”

I shook my head, regaining my breath.

“Just thirsty” I said.

“I can see . . .” Ashton said.

I bit my lip, knowing how stupid I just was. I looked to television.

Billie, his sister. How could I forget about Billie? Billie - who practically knows everything about my love life just from my songs. Billie could have told him. She could have. But then again, Billie gave us her blessing. Why would she want to ruin something she wants to happen? It didn’t make sense.

I looked to Ashton.

Should I just ask him about it? Should I just mention to him about earlier? What’s the worst he could say? That he loves me? That Billie told him about Harry and I? He was going to find out anyway. Should I really just tell him now? It’s been a week. Maybe I should wait until after Thanksgiving. I don’t want to ruin this holiday for him. I could wait another week. I would know what to do about Harry by then-

“What?” Ashton asked me.

“What?” I said.

“You’re giving me that look” Ashton said.

I immediately perked up, smiling.

“What look?” I asked. “There’s nothing to worry about”

Ashton blinked at me, clearly not believing in me.

“Y/N,” Ashton said. “You just admitted something is wrong”

I frowned.

I’ll just ask him about earlier. I’ll just ask that and nothing else.

“Fine” I said. “Before I left . . . what were you going to say?”

Ashton smiled at me.

“Oh, that.” Ashton said. “I was going to ask you if you wanted to spend Christmas with my family”

I let out a little sigh, relieved.

Christmas? He wanted to ask me about Christmas?

“Oh,” I said. “Why didn’t you just ask me that?”

“I was going to but since you’re not coming to Thanksgiving, I didn’t want to make any false promises to my parents” Ashton said.

I smiled at him.

“Yeah . . . it’s good that you didn’t” I said.

Especially since I have no idea what to do about Harry or you yet . . .

“I mean, I would love to” I told him. “Anything could happen in a month and I usually spend it with my friends but I wouldn’t mind spending it with you and your family. Just thought you would ask me the week before”

“I was planning to” Ashton said. “Wanted it to be a surprise when I asked you”

“Oh” I said, looking down.

I scratched my neck, realizing I ruined Ashton’s romantic proposal. I looked up to him.

“Well, it could still be a surprise. . .” I said. “I’ll just forget about it and you can ask me a week before”

Ashton smiled at me.

“I will” Ashton said. “And not in my room”

I still smiled, looking back to the television.

I knew he couldn’t have known. If he did, he wouldn’t have asked me to spend Christmas with his family. I’m pretty sure if he did know, he would have broken up with me already and I wouldn’t be in his bedroom. But Christmas. . . he wanted to spend it with me. I never had a boyfriend invite me to spend Christmas with them. The closest I have ever received was Anne invited me to spend Christmas with her and Harry. But Harry’s my friend. He was when Anne asked me.

Ashton imagined a future with me. A future that I could actually share with him. A future where I could actually be happy.

I looked to Ashton.

If Ashton imagined spending his future with me, he deserved the truth at least. It was the right thing to do. Ashton would understand. Ashton knows I would never want to hurt him. He would know I never planned to kiss Harry back that night. I was with him. Not Harry.

“I need to tell you something” I said.

Ashton turned to me.

“You realized you can’t come to Christmas?” Ashton asked me.

“No, no” I shook my head. “It’s . . .”

How the hell do I tell him without making him upset?

“It’s what?” Ashton asked me.

I bit my bottom lip.

Well, here it goes . . .

“Harry and I kissed” I said.

“What?” Ashton asked me.

“We kissed” I said. “Well, he kissed me and I wanted to slap him for it. I ran away to my room from him but then he apologized and the next thing I knew was that I kissed him back”

Ashton didn’t say anything. He just stared at me.

“Ashton, say something” I told him. “Please”

“I knew it all along” Ashton said, looking down. “I knew he was jealous that night”

“Listen, I know how it sounds” I began to explain. “I told you he was a friend and I really thought we were because I never thought he would kiss me. Then he did and I wanted to tell you sooner but-“

“It’s okay” Ashton said.

“What?” I asked him, surprised.

“Harry kissed you” Ashton looked up to me. “And he’s your friend. You were confused and kissed him back”

“You’re not mad?” I asked him.

“Well, a little. . .” Ashton said. “This happened a week ago, right?”

I nodded.

“I wanted to tell you sooner but I’m still trying to think what to do about Harry” I said. “I didn’t want to tell you until I knew”

“And do you know?” Ashton asked me. “About what to do with Harry?”

I looked down, shaking my head.

“He’s one of my best friends” I said. “I know it’s wrong if I’m still friends with him after that while I’m with you but . . .”

“You can’t do that to him” Ashton said.

I nodded.

“Ever since he kissed me, all I ever think about is him” I told Ashton. “I swear I can’t even look at you because I just think of him. That’s why I didn’t want to spend Thanksgiving with your family. It would be torture. I’ve been trying to forget him but I can’t. . .”

“Do you think of him more than a friend now?” Ashton asked me.

I looked to Ashton. I knew the answer but didn’t want to say it.

“If I said yes, would that mean I’m horrible?” I asked him.

Ashton looked down. He sighed.

I immediately felt a wave of guilt hit me. I just admitted I had feelings for Harry. And to my boyfriend.

“You should talk to him” Ashton said under his breath.

“What?” I asked him. “I can’t. He kissed me. I shouldn’t even step a foot next to him-“

“Y/N” Ashton said. “Harry’s your best friend. I can’t force you to pick between me and him”

I stayed silent.

I knew how kind Ashton was but I never expected him to be this kind to me. He was putting my happiness above his. He was willing to give up me as long as I was with the right person. I knew he had to be hurt underneath his kindness.

“You need to do whatever is best for you” Ashton said. “If you need time, you should take it”

I felt my eyes water up. I hugged him.

“Why do you have to be so nice?” I asked him. “It just makes it worse”

“It’s part of my job” Ashton said. “I’m your boyfriend. I’m supposed to be”

“I don’t know if you will be anymore” I said. “I want you to be. I wish I just knew”

“It’s okay, Y/N” Ashton said. “I’ll be happy if you choose Harry. I just care if you are happy”

I cried into Ashton’s chest.

I wish I knew.

I wish I just knew.

#hs au #hs fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #hs fanfiction #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #hs imagines #hs imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles au #harry styles one shot #hs one shot #everytime HS #everytime chapters

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horansqueen · 5 years ago

Text

You & Me : chapter 38

A Niall Horan fanfiction ; rated MA

Sequel to AM CONVERSATIONS

CHAPTER 1 || CHAPTER 2 || CHAPTER 3 || CHAPTER 4 || CHAPTER 5 || CHAPTER 6 || CHAPTER 7 || CHAPTER 8 || CHAPTER 9 || CHAPTER 10 || CHAPTER 11 || CHAPTER 12 || CHAPTER 13 || CHAPTER 14 || CHAPTER 15 || CHAPTER 16 || CHAPTER 17 || CHAPTER 18 || CHAPTER 19 || CHAPTER 20 || CHAPTER 21 || CHAPTER 22 || CHAPTER 23 || CHAPTER 24 || CHAPTER 25 || CHAPTER 26 || CHAPTER 27 || CHAPTER 28 || CHAPTER 29 || CHAPTER 30 || CHAPTER 31 || CHAPTER 32 || CHAPTER 33 || CHAPTER 34|| CHAPTER 35 || CHAPTER 36 || CHAPTER 37

NOTES:

-one chapter is her pov, the next is his -4.3k - 4.9k -im sorry, i never proofread, i hate it. -there WILL be smut. but not only smut. -this is a romance, comedy, smut story. -for the summary, check my MASTERLIST.

READ AM CONVERSATIONS AGAIN ON WATTPAD HERE

- notes: nothing happened yet things happened? idk how i feel about this, i just hope you enjoy it, thank you guys for sticking up to this story ilysm!! oh and i chose this gif just because hes sweating lmao youre welcome! i hope this chapter gets more notes than the last haha

if you want to be on the list of blogs i notify when this is updated, just message me :)

requests! : i added as many as possible lol i even got one WHILE i was writing and added it lmao!

TAKE A LOOK AT THE CHARACTERS HERE

Chapter 38 : Her chapter

OLIVIA

April 17th, 2018

"You know what people say when they see a fat girl run." I just let out, raising my nose in a grimace as I tied up my shoes.

"I'm not really the type to listen to stupid people's opinion." Niall replied, making me roll my eyes and sigh before getting up. "And you shouldn't either."

He had convinced me to go run with him and I regretted my 'yes' half a second after agreeing but the way his face illuminated told me that it was too late to go back. I hated running and he knew it, and I was pretty sure he was aware of the sacrifice it was for me. I normally always quote the movie "The Faculty" when he mentions running, because i believe there's no truer words than Casey's line at the beginning of the movie when he says 'I don't think that a person should run unless he's being chased.", even if it's sort of ironic since the characters end up running away from an alien who wants to infect them the whole movie. Well, I would probably run if an alien was trying to infect me, too. And apparently, I would also run if it made Niall happy.

"It's easy for you. You've always been popular and cute and all the girls were in love with you."

"That is a big load of bullshit." he chuckled, shaking his head. "I've been told 'no' many, many times."

"I would like to see the statistics of the number of girls telling you 'no' versus the number of girls telling you 'yes."

This time, he's the one who rolled his eyes but he still had a cute smile gracing his lips and it made mine curl, too.

My parents were spending the whole day at friends' house. It was planned before I told them I'd come and visit them and even if they told me they'd cancel, I insisted that they'd just go. I didn't want to ruin their plans, I knew it was some anniversary or something similar and I could spend one day alone with Niall. Easily. Hell, I wanted to spend way more than one day with him.

"The only statistic I care about is this one." he started, clearing his throat. "How much do you love me, on a scale of 1-10."

I let out a genuine laughter and it made his lips curl. "That scale reaches the sky and it's too far away for me to see any number but there's like, 10 digits."

He took a step closer and I moved my chin up as he bent down to press his lips against mine. It felt so good to be back into this, to have a routine together, and to be happy without stress. I wouldn't go as far as saying it was exactly how it used to be but If I took the time to really think about it, it was even better. Back then, he was a bit immature and I was extremely insecure. Those two flaws sort of clashed together and made our relationship so much harder to handle. Now, I was not as insecure, and he didn't seem immature anymore, and I really felt like it could work between us.

We walked out but started running as soon as we were down the stairs. I let out a short groan of annoyance and it made him laugh. I knew he was going slowly just for me and it made me feel a bit guilty. At the same time, I was doing this for him and because he insisted, so the least he could do was wait for me, right? I don't know how long we ran but I hated it. I hated the burning sensation and the dry feeling in my throat, i hated the sweat on my back, and i hated the pain in my legs. God, I hate running. But then I turned to look at him and something twisted in my stomach and I bit my bottom lip. I loved watching him sweat. There was something sexy in watching him like that but it was not really the time and place to jump on him, unfortunately.

"How's your asthma?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Tolerable." I said, glancing at him again. "How's your grandpa knee?"

He chuckled and shook his head, making me smile more. "Could be worse."

After a while, I just stopped, feeling a cramp hurting like hell on my side, and held myself on my knees. He stopped next to me and bent down to look at me. He looked amazing, how did he fucking look so good all the damn time?

"You okay? Enough for today?"

I nodded and he smiled but I held my breath when I felt his hand on my back. I was in it so deep but I secretly hoped that I would never have to hurt again. I had new limits that I wanted to respect but I wouldn't ask him about every single girl gravitating around him, or cry myself to sleep because of a comment online. However, I would still get pissed if he let an other woman who clearly wants in his pants put her number in his phone, and I wouldn't accept him flirting with random girls at bars. The first time we dated, everything seemed to get to me but this time, It would be different. I would choose my battles and not get insecure about every little thing I see. I believed in myself more and I was convinced it helped me believe in him more, too.

We walked back home quickly and from time to time, I could feel his fingers brush against mine. It's in times like these that I really just wished we could be a normal couple. I knew he would be unhappy if he didn't do music for a living, and it would be a shame if his talent and songs weren't heard by millions of people, but selfishly, sometimes, I wished we could just walk around hand in hand without being scared of the comments, the articles and the hate.

I unlocked the door and when I took my shoes off, I grimaced and groaned low, moving my toes and quickly pulling on my socks., leaving them by the door.

"Petal, you reek." he let out before I turned around, raising my eyebrows. He chuckled and shrugged. "It's true, you smell so bad right now."

"I know!" I finally admitted in a laugh.

"But hey, you don't smell as bad as I do." he added, making me laugh more.

"That's practically impossible." I joked as he stuck his tongue out at me.

I watched him bend down and rub his knees and I bit my bottom lip as I felt a wave of intense love for him wash through me. I took a step closer and he moved his body up before looking in my eyes. I tilted my head, nibbling on my lip again and reached for the bottom of his shirt, finally pulling it up. He moved his arms up to help me as we kept staring at each other. A small smile draw itself on my lips and I just licked them, letting his shirt fall in the floor. Slowly, I let my hands run on his chest, my fingertips brushing against his nipples and moving down to his stomach. I felt my heart hit so hard against my rib cage that I thought it was going to escape. I could feel the sweat on my fingers and for some odd reason, it turned me on even more. My hands stopped at the top of his shorts and he raised his eyebrows.

"Are you gonna take them off, too?" he asked in a low tone.

"You know what I really want?" I asked in a low tone, ignoring his question as my forefingers hooked in the sides of his shorts, pulling them down slowly. He raised his eyebrows to incite me to talk and I smiled more. "Your dick in my mouth."

He didn't answer anything but his lips parted slightly and I slowly got down on my knees, bringing his shorts and boxers with me. I took his cock in my hand and when I got closer, he quickly stopped me.

"Wait!" he let out. I frowned and looked up but he just sighed. "We really need to get in the shower, first."

I stared at him for a few seconds and finally let out an amused chuckle before finally getting back up. He smirked and moved his upper body closer, his lips dangerously close to mine, before reaching for the bottom of my shirt.

"I honestly don't want you to be disgusted by my dick forever." he let out, making me chuckle again.

"Can't happen. But you're right, we should get clean first. Then fuck. And then get clean again." I proposed, making him raise his eyebrows up and down.

"And then maybe fuck again, yea?"

I smiled more at his words and nodded. "Yes."

He moved closer and kissed me, taking a few steps my way and forcing me to move back. He took my shirt off, throwing it on the floor, and I started laughing against his mouth when I accidentally stepped on something and ended hitting my back on the wall.

"Fuck, I love your clumsy ass." he whispered, slithering one of his arms around my waist as the other reached for my breasts. "And your tits, too." His hand moved down and slipped in my panties, making my eyes roll back as I leaned my head against the wall. "And your perfect little fanny, too."

He crashed his mouth against mine too as he flicked his fingertip on my clit a few times, making me whimper before he just took his hand away to pull on one side of my pants. I helped him with the other and stepped out of them. We were both just making out naked against the wall at my parents' house and I couldn't remember the last time I felt this horny. Was that adrenaline or something?

"Mm, your parents aren't coming back soon, right pet?" he asked in-between kisses as he pressed his body against mine. "Because they probably wouldn't enjoy the trail of our clothes on the floor that leads to the bathroom."

I laughed and shook my head as he pulled away. My eyes roamed on his face and It just hit me again how much I loved him.

"No, they'll be gone until very late tonight."

"Good."

He kissed me again and after a while, he pulled me to the bathroom and I tried to keep my mouth against his in a failed attempt as he bent down to start the shower. We laughed against each other's lips and ended up under the stream. I shivered as he grabbed the soap and poured some in my hands before doing the same in his. I washed myself quickly, staring at his hands moving on his body and when he reached his half-hard cock, I felt my heart jump in my chest.

"Sit on the side of the bath." he told me, making me obey immediately.

I was grateful that he didn't ask me to get on my knees because there's honestly nothing more uncomfortable for the knees than a bath. He moved closer and I smiled more when I realized his cock was at the perfect height. I felt like I hadn't had his cock in my mouth for so long and I took it as deeply as I could, making him groan low. I felt him swell on my tongue and spread my knees apart, bringing one of my hands between my legs.

"Mm, don't stop darling, do that thing you always do."

I chuckled low and pushed on the skin of his cock just to run the tip of my tongue between it and his tip, making one of his legs shake slightly. I used my fingers too, touching exactly the same spot and his head moved again to look down at me.

"That feels like I'm just cumming over and over again, fuck!"

I kept going for a while and finally ran my tongue on his length until his balls. He grabbed his cock in one of his hands and started stroking himself. I stuck my tongue out and felt his balls rub and bounce on my tongue with every jerk of his hand. I moved closer and sucked on one of until he grabbed my hair and pulled my head away gently.

"Open your mouth."

I did as asked and gently, he pushed his had cock in my mouth until I choked and pulled slightly away. I could feel him throb on my tongue and I let two of my fingers rub my clit gently as I sucking him harder.

"Stick your tongue out."

I looked up at him a bit innocently and opened my mouth, sticking my tongue out for him. He kept jerking himself hard, brushing his tip on my tongue as he did, and after about a minute, he let out a low groan.

"Fuck, I missed cumming on that tongue."

My eyes closed for a few seconds when his cum spurted on my cheeks, lips and tongue but I moved closer to suck on his tip again, my hands reaching for his balls as he kept stroking himself until he got down from his high. I never really enjoyed the taste but Niall’s orgasms were different, and I knew it probably only had to do with the love I felt for him, but it didn’t matter. He tasted good and I loved pleasing him. He panted for half a minute and finally grabbed my arms to pull me up gently.

"Even if you look really good like that..." he started, bringing me under the stream. "Let me help you."

Slowly, he ran his fingers on my cheeks before moving down to my lips, taking the vestige of his orgasm off. My heart jumped in my chest when he kissed me deeply and I moaned in his mouth as his hands ran on my breasts.

"You need an orgasm too." he pointed out as I nodded. "Sit back down."

I did what he told me to and frowned a bit when he got on one knee, knowing how much it hurts. We could both feel the water falling on us but when he moved his lips to my neck, I let my head fall back and closed my eyes. Two of his fingers slipped inside me as he nibbled on the skin of my neck and he started fucking me slowly. His mouth moved down to my breast and the way he sucked and licked my nipples made my fingers rub against the bath in a weird and annoying sound.

"You're gonna let me fuck you hard later today, won't you princess?"

I shivered, realizing I hadn't heard that nickname in a while, and finally nodded. "Mmhm, whenever you want, wherever you want, for as long as you want. You know I'm all yours."

"Fuck, say it again."

He started finger fucking me harder and I felt my breasts press against his chest as he bit my neck harder.

"I'm yours, Niall, I'm all yours." I let out in a mix of a whimper and a whisper.

"Get up."

I felt a bit too weak to do it but I still managed and when I felt his mouth crush on my pussy, I leaned my head against the cold and hard shower wall. I brought on of my legs up on the side of the bath and focused on the way his tongue skillfully sucked and licked my pussy until I felt an orgasm hit me without warning.

"Oh fuck! Niall!"

I reached for his hair and pulled on it hard, making sure his face stayed between my legs and It took me all my strength not to literally let myself fall at the bottom of the bath. When he got back up, he wrapped his arms around me and I allowed myself to get weak close to him, making him laugh.

"Good?" he asked. I nodded, brushing my nose against his wet neck and whimpered low. "Hungry?"

----

The park was not too crowded and the sun was slowly setting. We started eating the lunch we had prepared together and I surprised myself wishing every day would be like that. It was ridiculous and impossible, but a girl could dream, right?

"What do you think would have happened if we never broke up?" I asked, staring at my water bottle before looking up in his eyes.

He was staring at me, his eyebrows raised and his lips curled into a pensive expression. He looked adorable and I smiled fondly at him. He shook his head slightly and grabbed his fork, playing with his food for a few more seconds.

"I don't know. I like to think I would have matured anyway and wouldn't be a prick but you never know." he explained with a shrug.

"You think you would have cheated on me?"

His head snapped up to look at me and he shook his head harder this time. "No. I was a flirt, but I was not a cheater, I promise."

Obviously, we would never know, and from what I had seen of Niall, he normally broke up with the girl before giving in to anyone else... well, except with me. It made me realize he had cheated on two girls with me and I tried to push away the guilt invading me. After all, I had cheated on Dylan too. The fact that he knew and had decided to ignore it didn't make my action less painful, or okay. We both had cheated and there was no excuse for it.

"You cheated with me. I did too. We both cheated. On Heidi and Dylan, and that was so wrong."

"I know." he sighed. "We can't go back. I mean I wish I could say I regret it, but I don't. It lead us here."

I sent him a sad smile and nodded. I wanted so much for us and even if I still had a few doubts, I wanted us to work. I wanted us to make efforts into this, but I couldn't make them for him. All I knew was that I was going to do everything I could to make this work, and from the way he had been acting with me lately, I was pretty sure he would do the same.

"So what's gonna happen to us now, Niall?" I asked softly. "What's our future together?"

He looked down immediately and it made me frown. Did he have something to hide? I couldn't start thinking like that again, I couldn't start analyzing his every move. I breathed it and let it go, simply tilting my head.

"We'll love each other, become official whenever you're ready, maybe even start attending galas and shit together, perhaps." he proposed, shrugging a shoulder and making me laugh.

"Yea, that's not really your type of things." I pointed out.

"Well it's different with you. Everything is different with you. In a good way. In the best way."

Without thinking, I held myself on the grass between us and leaned my upper body his way to reach his lips with mine. He kissed me back and after a while, he deepened the kiss. I didn't feel nervous, or stressed, and I didn't give a fuck about who could see us.

"I love you. I want to spend my life with you." I whispered. "I know these words used to scare you... how do they make you feel, now?"

I pulled away enough to be able to look in his eyes and his lips curl into a genuine smile.

"Like the happiest man in the world."

My lips curled into a happy smile as something stirred in my stomach. "You're so full of shit, Horan."

He brought one of his hands to my cheek and I leaned against it without thinking.

"I mean it Liv. Trust me." he murmured as I felt his breath hit my chin.

I breathed in deeply and pressed my lips together before whispering too. "I do. I trust you."

---

We ended up watching tv together in the living room after the sun was set and I knew my parents could be back any minute, making me wonder if we had time to fuck or if we should just wait until they would be in bed.

"I wish you'd come with me in Germany." he let out randomly, taking me out of my thoughts.

"You... you know I have to go back in California soon." I explained, feeling my heart sink in my chest. "I mean, we can survive a few weeks away, yea?"

He turned his head my way and sighed. "Of course we can. But we shouldn't have to. And.. I don't really want to."

"I know." I said in a low tone, trying not to cry and looking down at my hands playing with the fabric of my shirt. "I mean, I don't know what else we can do. I'll try to get more weeks off but I don't know when that will be. When's your next week off?"

"Uhm, mid may, I think, but then I have to go back to the UK for that radio show thing."

"Oh." I brushed my palms on my face, suddenly tired and a bit scared, not knowing when I could be with him again. "Tell me the exact date and I'll try to fly there for a few days."

"That's in like... a month, Olivia." he let out a bit annoyed or disappointed... or both.

"I know." I whispered, swallowing hard, trying not to cry.

He sighed again and made a quick head movement. "Come here."

He didn't have to ask me twice : I threw myself against him as he wrapped his arms around me and I buried my face in his shirt, letting out a sob that I desperately tried to suppress without success.

"Hey, it'll be okay." he whispered, kissing the top of my head. "We can do this. We're stronger than ever together. Distance is alright. A month is nothing. Remember my trip to Asia?"

It's not that it was a bad example but it was a rough memory and I sniffed, shutting my eyes tighter as I tried to move closer to him. I didn't want to be a month away from him but I knew it was probably going to happen and I didn't know how to handle it. I was about to answer something when both our phones beeped and I groaned. It couldn't be a good thing and we both knew it.

"I don't want to look." I admitted low as he rubbed my back gently.

"We have to. Let's do it and then go to bed."

I sighed again and nodded as we both grabbed our phones. The problem was apparently Heidi, who had posted a bunch of song lyrics on her instagram stories, and people started speculating about who it was about. After checking, though, I knew it was about Niall. And about me a bit, too.

SHAKIRA - DONT BOTHER She's been to private school And she speaks perfect French She's got the perfect friends Oh isn't she cool? Hey, hey So don't bother I won't die of deception I promise you won't ever see me cry Don't feel sorry And don't bother I'll be fine But she's waiting The ring you gave to her will lose its shine So don't bother, be unkind

THE WEEKEND - CALL OUT MY NAME We found each other I helped you out of a broken place You gave me comfort But falling for you was my mistake I put you on top, I put you on top I claimed you so proud and openly And when times were rough, when times were rough I made sure I held you close to me

JUSTINE TIMBERLAKE - CRY ME A RIVER You don't have to say, what you did I already know, I found out from him Now there's just no chance With you and me There'll never be Don't it make you sad about it?

SAM SMITH - IM NOT THE ONLY ONE I have loved you for many years Maybe I am just not enough You've made me realize my deepest fear By lying and tearing us up You say I'm crazy 'Cause you don't think I know what you've done But when you call me baby I know I'm not the only one

DRAKE - MARVINS ROOM I'm just sayin' you could do better Tell me, have you heard that lately? I'm just sayin' you could do better And I'll start hatin' only if you make me

KATY PERRY - PART OF ME I just wanna throw my phone away Find out who is really there for me You ripped me off your love was cheap Was always tearing at the seams I fell deep, you let me down But that was then and this is now, now look at me

LITTLE MIX - SHOUT OUT TO MY EX This is a shout out to my ex Heard he in love with some other chick Yeah yeah, that hurt me, I'll admit Forget that boy, I'm over it I hope she gettin' better sex Hope she ain't fakin' it like I did, babe Took four long years to call it quits Forget that boy, I'm over it

TAYLOR SWIFT - SHOULVE SAID NO You should've said no, you should've gone home You should've thought twice before you let it all go You should've know that word, bout what you did with her Would get back to me And I should've been there, in the back of your mind I shouldn't be asking myself why You shouldn't be begging for forgiveness at my feet You should've said no, baby and you might still have me I can't resist, before you go, tell me this Was it worth it Was she worth this

SUGARLAND - BABE What a waste Taking down the pictures and the plans we made, yeah And it's strange how your face doesn't look so innocent Your secret has its consequence and that's on you, babe Since you admitted it, I keep picturing Her lips on your neck, I can't unsee it I hate that because of you, I can't love you Babe What a shame, didn't want to be the one that got away How could you do this, babe?

BRITNEY SPEARS - PERFUME Do I imagine it, or do I see your stare Is there still longing there? Oh I hate myself, and I feel crazy Such a classic tale Current girl friend, ex girlfriend, I'm trying to be cool Am I being paranoid, am I seeing things? Am I just insecure?

I read her stories twice, three times, and I swallowed hard until I heard Niall curse under his breath next to me. It caught my attention and I sighed, licking my lips.

"She's right, you know. I don't know how she found out but, we talked about it earlier. We did cheat on them, Niall."

"Alright, but did she need to expose that on instagram?" He closed his eyes and groaned, throwing his phone on the couch and rubbing his eyes roughly. "Are you ready for the storm? You know our social medias are gonna fucking explode."

"It doesn't matter. As usual, we're just gonna stay quiet." I replied, shrugging and sighing an other time. "You should have never dated that girl."

"I know. I didn't know back then but now, I know." he confessed, shaking his head. "I didn't think she was that kind of girl."

I started laughing next to him and his eyes met mine. He raised his eyebrows an I pressed my lips together because chuckling more.

"I mean, seriously, Niall? She was always like that."

He remained quiet and moved his arm on the back of the couch before I leaned my head against it.

"I should have dated you when I was 13 and I tried to match you with Rian for no reason. I should have dated you when I was 16 and horny. I should have dated you when I joined One Direction and you messaged me all the time. I should have dated you after the Take Me Home tour, when I came back home and noticed how much you had changed. I should have dated you during our last tour, before you got attached to Harry. I should have dated you last year, when we were both miserable. I realize it's you I should have dated all those times. Whenever I dated an other girl, it should have been you."

I teared up but tried to swallow the emotions inside me but they were drowning me instead, making me dizzy and happy at the same time.

"Yea, you should have." I whispered, scared that my voice would crack. "What about now, Niall?"

"Now?" he asked gently, raising his eyebrows but his gaze never leaving mine. I felt his fingertips play with a lock of my hair and it made my heart twist in my chest. "Well now I'm here. I'm with you. And I don't intend or want to be with anyone else. Ever again."

#niall horan #niall horan smut #niall horan fluff #niall horan fanfic #niall horan fan fic #niall horan fan fiction #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan story #niall horan writing #my fanfics #yam

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thedistantstorm · 4 years ago

Text

Project Compass 38

Read along on AO3 here

<< Previous Chapter << >> Epilogue >>

This time: The path forward.

Next time: Epilogue

Though the battle had ended, activity did not cease. The reclaimed bridge of the Compass was even busier in the aftermath. Unsure as to how much of the ship would be safe to traverse, and with as many blast doors closed as possible to prevent anything - but more importantly, anyone - from being sucked out into the void, there was little they could do short of gathering information, then improvising with what they had.

Un'hee had much to give, though. It was far easier to be concerned about those she could help than those she couldn't. She refused to think about what was going on outside, about how the comms had really gone down after most of the ship’s electronics were damaged in the explosions that had all but torn the ship in half or how Ezra had silently stood at Thrawn’s side, and, when it was over, touched his shoulder once, and left with a stony expression on his youthful face. She couldn't do anything about that. There were things she could do here, though. With that in mind, she’d taken it upon herself to march up to each individual crew member, pulling them briefly from their tasks as Thrawn and Vah'nya attempted to adapt standard after-action procedures to their situation. Luckily, the crew had been mostly unharmed, some sported bruises or burns from enemy fire, but those were minor details she could fix without exerting herself completely.

She spotted Navigator Ke'hala sitting on a recovering Khresh's lap, curled up against his chest. The Senior Captain had always been cool and aloof, but he kept a hand on the back of the younger girl's head while she slept. They would be stranded for hours, left to wait while the Steadfast addressed the wreckage of a ship filled with mostly Grysk-aligned Chiss. Nobody commented about the Grysk-aligned part, now. Any loss of life was a tragedy in its own way. Un'hee understood that now, better than she'd ever wanted to.

Two of their crew - the first she'd approached, both had kindly but gravely declined her assistance - guarded the last of their enemies. Their grief and disbelief rolled off of them like stormy seas. It was unpleasant. They had done horrible things, and made horrible choices. The Ascendancy would not forgive or forget it, she knew.

At the same time, they could not sweep away the ugliness of the fallout and pretend like it didn't happen, or it would only happen again. Maybe even be worse. No, Un’hee was absolutely certain would be even worse.

The majority of Chiss who had been allied with the Grysks wore drab grayish coveralls. It made their skin look sickly, and the baggy clothing made them look gaunt and malnourished. Three more crowded around a woman, two of the three kneeling, and the third barring their arms around the woman’s chest. She trembled, and Vah’nya could see holes. Her entire right side had been splashed with blaster fire. Maybe she’d tangled with Vah’nya? Un’hee tilted her head, studying the woman. Her left leg was pulled up to her chest, but the right was laid out straight, the leg of her coveralls ripped. Un’hee didn’t see any blood.

Stepping between the guards and ignoring their sputtering concerns otherwise, Un’hee approached them. “You’re hurt,” She said softly.

All three of the client Chiss turned to her, the two not actively holding the woman upright moving back in concern. “I’ll be alright, Navigator,” The woman said softly, biting her lip and averting her gaze.

Un’hee drew closer, crouching down, hands outstretched in a gesture of peace. “I can help you,” She said, and looked down at the woman’s leg. Furious red pathways were alight, twisting and turning, burned from the inside out. The girl looked up into the woman’s face, then back down at her wounded leg. “Navigator Vah’nya did this to you.”

“I would have tried to harm her first,” The injured woman reassured her. She looked down at shaking hands, curled in her lap. “I deserve this.”

While maybe she did need the injury to remind her of what she’d forsaken, of the way she’d betrayed her people, Un’hee could see this woman, could see all their enemies for what they were: Unmade. Adrift. They needed someone to reach out. Un’hee was struck by the thought that she and all her sisters needed to be that lifeline.

Settling her weight more fully on her knees and carefully peeling back the woman’s ripped pant leg, Un’hee tried to figure out where it started. She needed to understand, needed to-

“Navigator.” Thrawn’s voice came from above and behind her. It was tense, almost pinched with a warning note to it. He didn’t want her so close to their enemies. He was trying to protect her. And she hadn’t been doing a great job of listening.

“She needs medical treatment,” Un’hee said, not looking back at Thrawn. She knew if she looked back she’d be forced to desist. She’d already disobeyed him so much already. “I can-”

“You might be able to help those blaster wounds,” Vah’nya said. When she’d come to stand beside Thrawn, Un’hee had no idea. “But there is nothing we can do for her leg with the supplies we have here. We’ll be able to treat her aboard the Steadfast. I’ll make sure of it.” Vah’nya took a knee beside Un’hee. She wondered if Vah’nya could also feel the pressure of Thrawn’s question like a physical thing. “I know it is painful,” She said to the woman. “Your wounds do not appear to be fatal.”

“I will be fine, Navigator,” The injured woman said.

“Who among you is injured?” Vah’nya asked louder, to the whole group of them, the nearly twenty traitors who had managed to survive. When no pressing answer came, the senior Navigator nodded. “You may heal her as much as it is within your power to do so.” Un’hee reached out but Vah’nya grabbed her hand and waited for her to meet her gaze.”Do not strain yourself. Just because you can do something does not mean that you should.”

Un’hee scoffed. “I won’t. I’ll help her out and go sit with Senior Captain Khresh.”

“And you will not leave the Senior Captain’s side until instructed otherwise.”

“Yes, Captain,” Un’hee said.

“She’s never going to follow that order,” Vah’nya said softly, the two of them leaving the young woman to her self-imposed task.

Thrawn’s eyes were hard. Dryly, he commented, “She has yet to follow a single order I’ve given her today.”

Vah’nya inclined her head. “And she’s responsible for compromising the navigation systems. ...And the ships engines.”

“Do not remind me,” Thrawn said, eyes pulsing just that little bit brighter to indicate he was rather displeased at the girl’s actions. “She also coerced me.”

“I heard,” Vah’nya commented mildly. She sat on a console that no longer functioned properly. Thrawn didn’t admonish her as she suspected he might have normally, but then again, most of the others were scattered in clusters and corners, few sitting at the dead ship’s controls to complete their tasks using what equipment came from their emergency stores. The bridge was mostly empty, the majority of their skeleton crew amassed near the hatch. “That’s what Navigator Mi’yaric suggested. I suspect that the Admiral will have some choice words for her once this situation is sorted out.” She rubbed her arms awkwardly.

“Is that,” Thrawn assessed her. “After you and-” He didn’t say Eli’s name. He hadn’t even mentioned the other captain once Ezra had triggered the remote and the comms had gone down. Still, Vah’nya wasn’t fooled.

“The Ascendancy was willing to let him go. The Grysks were foolish enough to think him a hireling, contracted or ordered to track you down.” She smiled ruefully. “Then I’d had a dream.” She nodded toward Navigator Un’hee, still at the client Chiss’s side. “Un’hee was brave enough to confront you, at least. I hid in the engine compartment until he’d been tagged by the Grysks.” The silence spanned between them. It wasn’t unpleasant. “If you think he’s mad at you or Un'hee," She trailed off and shook her head. "I had had basic training, of course, but I was rusty. How often does a Navigator need to defend themself?”

Thrawn stood close, listening, but not commenting. And really, what was there to say? The Navigators hadn't been trained beyond their abilities. Not in a way that suggested they'd ever see combat. They were children.

But now, they wouldn't always be.

"Anyway," Continued Vah'nya, softer now, "Once I was," She parsed the correct word, "Better, the Admiral lectured me for hours. She'd had time to get herself under control so she didn't yell at me, exactly," She looked up into Thrawn's face. "But we both know she's more frightening than the Families ever could be."

Thrawn nodded. The Navigator wasn't wrong. "You were watched closely."

"I was allowed to stay on your family's estate while Eli recovered. I suspect you and Un'hee may spend some time there as well."

"Of that," Thrawn exhaled, "I have no doubt. Coercion aside, I am undoubtedly guilty of desertion."

"In a way," Vah'nya supposed. "But not without good intent." She shrugged, nonchalant. He was turning from her but she reached out to touch his arm. "You'll get out of it, what with Ke'hala and Un'hee."

"Perhaps," Said Thrawn, almost distractedly. With that, the conversation was over and Vah'nya let him go. They had spent only the briefest of moments speaking to one another, however Thrawn was still acting commander (at the very least until Ar'alani arrived), and thus the other groups monitoring the deteriorating ship's status required his attention and direction.

He didn't get very far.

There was commotion near the damaged hatch. The men and women stationed there blocked Vah’nya’s view. They stiffened to attention then parted, stepping aside. “Thrawn,” Vah’nya said, pushing off the console to return to her feet.

Emotion passed over him in a cresting wave. She blinked and he went from stoic and reserved to open and honest and worried. Another blink and it was as if nothing had happened at all. She saw him move before he did, saw the way his fists clenched in one telling twitch before he let his hands fall limp at his sides.

Eli’s tunic was ripped, burned and bloodied but not unrecognizably so. The same went for his face, a small burn on his forehead, a weeping scratch just outside his left eye, and the grime that came with battle mottling his dark skin with debris. His chestplate looked to be dented from concussive force, likely the explosion he’d been running from when they lost had lost contact.

Ezra was holding him upright, Eli’s arm slung around his shoulders as the young Jedi helped him limp into the bridge. Thrawn had turned to beckon her forward, but Eli caught his wrist, slowly shaking his head. He said something that she couldn’t hear halfway across the bridge, and nodded down to indicate what appeared to be an injury to his foot.

There were limitations, afterall, to what she and her sisters could do. They were not gods. She could heal him, but it was all or nothing. And if she healed broken bones wrong, the damage could be far worse in the long run. They’d learned that the hard way. She looked over at the woman Un’hee still knelt beside. They had learned many things the wrong way.

It was nothing at all like what Vah'nya had pictured in her mind's eye. She had expected something romantic, for there to be at least some exchange of sentiment after all the carrying on Eli had done earlier. He had regained consciousness in the Steadfast's medbay drawling vehemently in his native language, 'If that kriffing bastard thinks I waited this kriffing long for him say he loves me just to sit here with my thumb up my kriffing ass while he goes and gets himself killed, he’s got another thing coming,' and Vah’nya had watched the recording. She’d seen Thrawn kiss Eli with an urgent sort of desperation no grainy security holo could hide.

This was… quieter. Very carefully, Thrawn dipped his shoulders to position himself beneath Eli’s other arm, the Chiss and Jedi more carrying him than allowing him to walk to the command chair at the center of the bridge itself. Ezra excused himself immediately, and Vah’nya felt his presence as he swept around by Un’hee, checking in on her before lowering himself to the floor at her feet, his back pressed against the console she’d once again sat upon.

“Is he alright?” She asked, never once taking her eyes off the pair of captains. Thrawn’s face was its usual calm mask, but his eyes betrayed him. She couldn’t see Eli’s from this angle, but he appeared to respond to Thrawn’s questions as the older man produced a kerchief from his pocket and began to wipe away the grime from the human’s brow.

“Mostly bumps and bruises, I think.” Ezra commented mildly. “ He didn’t want you or Un’hee to… y’know. One of the walls caught his leg and crushed his foot. He said it was a job for a doctor and bacta.”

“He’s not wrong,” Replied Vah’nya, snorting, “I am not great at setting bones, especially the small, delicate ones.”

Ezra looked up at her seriously. “What you and the other Navigators can do is special, Vah’nya.” His gaze swept across the room, taking in Un’hee and Ke’hala. “It’s not something to take for granted.”

“I agree.” She put a hand on his shoulder, and he covered it briefly. Squeezed her fingers and let go as she pulled away. “Just because we have these powers does not mean they should be used excessively. They are a tool.”

“They are,” Ezra agreed. “They shouldn’t be what defines you,” He thumped his closed fist over his heart. “They’re just one part of a greater whole.”

“You sound like Ivant.”

Wryly, Ezra smiled. “Well, I think he’s got the right idea.”

Admiral Ar’alani stood proudly on the command walk when the order was given. She was not, however, the one who gave the order. To her right, Senior Captain Khresh -still pale, but insisting that he was well enough - delivered the order to fire a full laser salvo at the derelict Compass. Together, they watched as the vessel’s failing reactor ignited and the ship erupted into a blinding fireball of light.

“And so the first chapter comes to a close,” Senior Captain Khresh said hoarsely.

“So it does,” Ar’alani agreed, resolute. She turned to Commander Faro, standing a respectful distance away, as if this were something she were not already such an integral part of. Ar’alani would dissuade her of that soon enough. “Commander, make preparations for our journey to Copero. I have been advised that our allies from house Chaf will be meeting us.”

“Yes, Admiral,” Replied Faro.

“Hold my communications unless they come from the Aristocra itself,” She commander tersely, not waiting for the inevitable confirmation from her bridge commander to take her leave. “Senior Captain, with me. It is time for us to address today's action with the admiralty."

Eli's foot had been treated, Thrawn realized. It was the first thought he'd had upon entering the admiral's office, his gaze drawn immediately to the crutches discarded in the far corner of the room, and the man who remained upright without them, perhaps in stubborn defiance or accelerated recovery, he wasn’t sure. They had been separated when the hull had been breached just outside the bridge by an expert team aboard the Steadfast. Thrawn had directed traffic as was a commander's duty, and a fading, injured Eli had been swept away by a team of medics. Whatever treatment he had received, he hid his pain well. Only the barest hints of it remained visible in the lines of his face.

He had meant to ask about the man’s condition, but the words weren’t enough. There was much they needed to discuss, words to be spoken that should not be diminished by decorum. And decorum would be necessary. Ar’alani and Khresh had gone ahead of him, settling into the comfortable seating that surrounded the admiral’s desk. Like the woman itself, the furniture pieces were regal yet functionally minimal, all dark tones and burnished metal.

The three of them had spent the better part of a shift in conference with the majority of the admiralty, discussing both the issues of Chiss subjugation and the Navigator’s gifts, their newfound barriers and benefits, as well as the immediate impact on both the military and political playing fields. There were several major takeaways, the largest one being that no Grysks with knowledge of the Chiss Navigators’ abilities had escaped, to their knowledge. There was no indication of a long-range transmission ever relaying this information to the greater Hegemony.

All in all, it was a win for the Ascendancy.

In the end, that was all that mattered.

“You should sit,” Ar’alani said, and at first Thrawn had thought she was speaking to him. He hadn’t moved much further than the doorway. She had, in fact, been addressing Captain Ivant.

“I’m fine here,” He said, unmoving. “If it’s alright by you.”

Ar’alani inclined her head. “Suit yourself.”

The oddity of her casual regard was not lost on him as he took the remaining seat in front of Ar’alani’s desk. Khresh crossed his arms and crossed one leg over the other, watching the admiral intently, no doubt waiting for her to begin. Eli remained behind them.

“There are still several matters we need to address.” Thrawn was hardly surprised. The Admiralty aside, Ar’alani’s ship had suffered a damaging blow that he had caused. He’d felt her furious gaze upon him multiple times during the lengthy discussions with the high admirals. But instead of speaking to him, Ar’alani directed her gaze to Eli once more. “Was your business settled?”

“Yes,” He replied. “The changes were applied retroactively, effective from zero-hundred hours the day I submitted the paperwork.”

Ar’alani nodded gravely. “You’ve lucked out,” And this time, she’d been speaking to Thrawn. “The playing field has changed. As of yesterday at the beginning of your shift, you were tasked with a priority high-risk mission to recover the renegade ship Compass.” She tilted her head. “You, under your mandate from the Ascendancy, were sent with a Navigator to infiltrate the enemy’s defenses and assess the threat to our people.”

“I abandoned my post,” Thrawn refuted.

Ar’alani jutted her chin toward Eli, eyes alight with fury, wordlessly stating that Thrawn clearly did not know when to remain silent.

Thrawn turned to look at him and froze, gaze landing just below the man’s chin. He wore no uniform, only the solid black dress of non-CDF personnel stationed aboard a warship. Eli said, “You did as commanded, were captured by and later extracted from the enemy’s custody by your mission partner, and ultimately regained command of the warship aided by our combined forces Navigators.”

“Mission partner,” Khresh said, knowingly. “Poetic, isn’t it?”

“The holo-footage from my hangar would certainly be illuminating,” Admiral Ar’alani said flatly, and Thrawn stiffened. “Regretfully, Mitth’raw’nuruodo disabeled the holo-feeds prior to his departure and none was recovered.”

“I-”

Ar’alani descended upon him like a predator, leaving no room for argument. “If he had defected as some desperate ploy, I would likely have to chain him to my bridge since he thinks himself some kind of trading stock, rather than a member of my senior staff. I would think that he knows better, yes?”

It was a question, and it wasn’t. The only answer was a confirmation that doubled as a promise that it would never happen again. “Yes, Admiral.”

“Good.” She nodded resolutely and let the subject drop. “We are on course for Copero. I am told that your brother and several representatives of house Chaf will be present.”

“Joy,” Khresh commented blithely.

“You,” She said to Thrawn, “Will stay planetside while we,” She indicated herself and Khresh return to Csaplar with our quarry. I believe you and Ivant will have a great deal to discuss regarding your new position before it is finalized.”

“New position?” Thrawn queried. Then, remembering, he shifted in his seat, turning to face Khresh. “You assumed I was an admiral,” He recalled.

“The Senior Captain jumped the gun on that one,” Eli said. “The Chiss don’t tend to promote retroactively unless someone dies.”

“True,” Khresh acknowledged, then explained, “I had assumed Ivant’s plan was already in motion and that you were aware of it. Obviously, you were not.”

Ar’alani picked up on the silent question in Thrawn’s eyes. “Captain-” She inclined her head toward Eli. “Excuse me, Director Ivant has been laying the framework necessary to recruit a politically unbiased admiral to be his military counterpart to the Ascendancy’s Compass Program for several years now.” She said gravely. “A candidate has presented themself.”

“I don’t understand,” Thrawn said, honestly.

“What is there to understand? The list of appropriate candidates was rather small,” She quipped, and it was almost a teasing jibe, if not for the gravity of the situation.

“If this isn’t what you want,” Eli said, earnestly enough, “You don’t have to. I’ll-”

“Eli is incorrect,” Ar’alani admonished with a blazing glare. “You do. He did not sacrifice himself to our enemies so that you could come back and be indecisive. He did so because we need you. He believes that this is how you can best serve our people.”

A warm hand squeezed Thrawn’s shoulder once before letting go. Thrawn looked up at him. “She’s right,” Eli swallowed against the weight of his convictions. He was so steady now. “They need us: You in command, and me helping prepare the next generation of Navigators.”

When no further resistance came, the admiral continued. “You will report to the Admiralty, while Ivant will report to the Council of Families and greater Ascendancy. That should leave you on even ground. The specifics will be determined after the Senior Captain and I conclude our business on Csilla.” This time, Ar’alani gave the barest hint of a smile, tempered by cool grace. “I believe the logistics of this arrangement will prove advantageous, should certain situations be resolved in your favor.”

“We’ll see,” Eli asserted sternly, no doubt catching her veiled double meaning. And yet, when Thrawn met his gaze, he was smiling.

#thranto #eli vanto/thrawn #thrawn #eli vanto #vah'nya #un'hee #ezra bridger #ar'alani #my writing #sw fanfiction

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kylorengarbagedump · 5 years ago

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pretty please, i will bring kylo back to life for this

Okay, well, here you go. A chapter by chapter breakdown of Kylo’s feelings during the course of Fix Your Attitude. I did my best. Sorry this is so fucking long.

In Chapter 1, I think he’s genuinely just irritated by her. Annoyed that he hears her so constantly in his head. It’s fucking annoying because she’s a big-time complainer, and he’s a busy dude.

Chapter 3, similar issue. But, it’s growing from irritation to fury. Ren gets his wires crossed pretty easily at this point. I don’t think he recognizes this as attraction, but he senses her fascination with him and goes, eh, can use that to get control over the situation.

Chapter 4, seriously playing into that feeling. Her inability to respect him is driving him up the wall, a little bit, and the thought of making her shut up is growing more and more enticing. I think at this point, she’s on his mind rather frequently.

Chapter 5… man he just fucks her face Idk, feels good to make her shut the fuck up. There’s no affection here, I don’t think he feels any in the least.

Chapter 6, that entire distraction and the fire–I don’t think he feels bad at all, but he does enjoy her dedication to her job. I think that’s engaging to him.

Chapter 7, there some desire to chill out her rage–he’s been thinking about her on his dick constantly, at this point, but isn’t necessarily ready to just fuck the engineer who works on his ship, more so just hoping to control her. When she says, “You don’t know what you’re missing”–that’s very exciting for him, the confidence, the snark. I think that sparks a little affection.

Chapter 8, he’s jealous. I mean, he doesn’t recognize it as jealousy, but internally he has this unacknowledged desire to be important in her life–he isn’t aware of this, and wouldn’t have any idea how to make that happen other than demanding it, anyway.

Chapter 9 is all about making it Spacebook Official (get it) and banging it out. He’s like, cool, handled that, fucked her, it’s out of my system, I won’t need to worry about it in the future. Genuinely enjoys her company–so when she asks to spend more time with him, there’s that tiny little part of him that’s like, “I want that.”

Chapter 10, more jealousy. Just getting control, because he can, because he has no way of understanding or communicating his attraction to this person.

Chapter 11, power and control, of course–he’s beginning to grow attached to what he hears in her head, not consciously, of course, but when she thinks, ugh, I wish I could see the ship take off, he’s like, she should see that. When she cries, it nags at him, which he fucking hates. He’s like well, her feelings are annoying, but she doesn’t have to sleep in a cot. She should be near me.

Chapter 12, he’s struggling deeply with this desire to know her better. He can’t figure out how to channel it other than sexually. It bugs the shit out of him. There’s just this constant, pulsing need in the back of his head to fuck this person.

Chapter 13, similar to above. As explored in Chapter 38, he is kind of blown away by what he feels, by her attachment to him. I think at this point she is the most persistent sexual relationship he’s had in a long-ass time. He allows himself to give in to that desire for warmth and affection. I mean, shit, he’s Kylo Ren. The light calls SOMETIMES, bitch.

Chapter 14, she straight up breaks his trust and he fucking loses it. The one time he extends himself with even the slightest vulnerability, it’s taken advantage of. But after he fucks her within an inch of her life, he feels some desire to make sure she’s at least alive. He can’t bring himself to care more than that, because, uh, betrayal, but. Y’know.

Chapter 15, she apologizes, which kind of blows his mind, because I don’t think anyone in his life has ever apologized to him for anything that’s happened to him at this point. He sees her bruise, feels a little guilty for losing it on her.

Chapter 16, the attachment to Sam is getting out of hand for him. He wants control over it, having absolutely no understanding of why she does not feel realistically beholden to him in any way, LOL. Like, excuse me, I get to fuck you, isn’t that enough? What other needs do you have?

Chapter 17, he wants to y’know, enjoy time with her, because again–genuine appreciation of her company–but she can’t stop crossing his boundaries and pissing him the fuck off. Despite that, he wants her around. She thinks, surely there’d been other women, and he’s like, yeah, of course, and she’s like, okay, so… why me? Well of course he doesn’t fucking know, he’s just like, “Idk bitch I like your pussy whatever.”

Chapter 19–explored in Chapter 38. she’s fucked Sam and he is completely fucking devastated. She has to literally spell it out for him that she requires more than just his dick. The choice between vulnerability (painful) and losing her (at this point, even more fucking painful) is made, so he opens up to her in his own way. I think he truly views her as a type of possession at this point, maybe like an actual pet–in that he feels strong attachment to her, but doesn’t process it as anything meaningful, he just knows he likes it and wants it and it feels good and that’s good enough.

Chapter 21, he just expresses his desire to possess her completely–he wants power, he wants to be the only thing ever on her mind because only then he will feel secure and unthreatened. Disbelief that she will miss him. A flicker of tenderness, he snuffs it out.

Chapter 22, his fear regarding her sadness flies out of control, he restrains his need to escalate into sex because he for once, recognizes that will not fix the situation.

Chapter 23, once Snoke threatens to kill her, he does everything possible to prevent that. He is, of course, wretchedly anguished at the idea of not being able to be near her anymore (and essentially get what he wants, boohoo), but the thought of her being dead is even worse.

Chapter 25, already explored in Chapter 38. Self-explanatory anyway haha.

Chapter 26, he has a deep need to be humiliated and hurt by her because of how he feels about her and how he feels about himself. She is the perfect and only person capable of providing him with that release.

Chapter 27, there’s a lack of restraint, at this point. The trigger of her thoughts is too enticing for him. She is always on his mind, he can’t help himself. Reckless, bitch!

Chapter 28, he’s overwhelmed with hatred for himself as he fucks her–like, she gets him to a place where his emotions are more volatile, because of how he feels about her. So he kind of breaks down. Her company is comforting to him. Explored in 38.

Chapter 30, her insistence to be involved in his personal life is far too threatening to him. He feels like at his point he’s done enough, why the hell does he owe her what he’s doing with Rey & co? Totally oblivious.

Chapter 31, covered in 38.

Chapter 32, the reality of almost losing her for real has totally shook him to his core. He has cracked, at this point, is willing to surround her with what she is asking for, even if it is tremendously difficult for him. He really enjoys it, surprisingly, but it’s very foreign to him. I think at this point, he’s thinking she’s more than a possession, but still not on the level of partner. He just knows he needs her in his life.

Chapter 33, just… Idk they have fun together, man. They’re both little snarky bitches, they have a good time.

Chapter 34, explored in 38.

Chapter 36, Snoke has recognized how fucked up he’s been since separating from her, he’s like, fine, fuck her if it helps. Kylo does not understand what he’s feeling is love–he believes that because it strengthens him, it must be the opposite of. Overwhelmed with a desire to keep her because he cannot articulate this feeling, hence the violent sex.

Chapter 38, self-explanatory.

#nerd whinings #cuties #fix your attitude #fanfiction problems #I hate myself lmao #hopefully this answers any questions or concerns #if you have more I'll just do another readmore I guess LOL #anyway I love him so very much to the depths of my fucking soul #Anonymous #my main points are they he likes her sense of humor and her independence

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miss-sternennacht · 5 years ago

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Tsukasa Yugi isn’t who we think he is.

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fairyshuuu · 6 years ago

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black silk pt5.

.summary. They are not your family. Family shouldn’t hurt, family shouldn’t prick like the thorns of a rose, dragging you down to the ground. It’s only when it all feels lost, that you realize this, though. .word count. 5.5k .pairing. baekhyun x reader .genre. werewolf au fluff/angst (will contain smut in future chapters) .other members.

.warnings. talk of human trafficking, swearing

part 1. part 2. part 3. part 4. part 5.

Baekhyun is aware he must look like a mess right now, hair disheveled and sticking up in several directions. His shirt is a light gray instead of the normal white because of the smoke of last night that stuck to his clothes like a lifeline. He’s exhausted, but still manages to send the receptionist a thankful smile.

“Is your friend feeling any better, Mr. Byun?” The blonde asks, smiling over her shoulder at him as she presses the lift button for him. Baekhyun hums, though he can’t help the worried tone that slips in, and gets into the elevator.

“I sure hope so! If not, I brought her a meal larger than her own body for nothing.” He smiles back at the woman when she giggles, letting the doors close on her. She looks like she wants to say more but Baekhyun is too stressed out to give a damn. All he wants is to see you. He doesn’t have the state of mind for pleasantries right now. As soon as the elevator doors close, Baekhyun needs to lean into the wall, doing his very best to keep stable. Yesterday had been a mess, and frankly, his brain is still trying to make sense of all that happened.

Chanyeol and Jongdae suggested bringing you home, but Bumble disagreed strongly. She wanted to bring you to the hospital, and Jongin again broke in to explain how impossible that would be. You were lying near the factory, and would be the prime suspect for the arson charge. Everyone came to the conclusion that it would be best to bring you to a hotel, so that’s what he did. He carried you carefully up the stairs, feeling your soft breath against his shirt. It had taken all of his energy not to break out into a bawling fest from his side, that’s how overwhelmed he had been. When he finally got you in bed, it was 5 am already.

Baekhyun also didn’t want to stay in the same room, in case you woke up and him being there would scare you again, or something of the sort. He’s been going back and forward between keeping Maggie updated on your temperature and reporting to Bumble and Junmyeon. He’s only really coming to terms with the fact that you’re actually real, and that he has to talk to you now, a good 4 hours after. The elevator stops on the fifth floor. He gets out with a shaky sigh, carefully balancing the bag of food and the cup of coffee in his one hand as he looks around for the room key with the other.

He’s been breaking his skull the entire walk back trying to figure out what to say to you, but he keeps falling short. After all, what do you say to the person you’ve been looking for, every day for months without them having any idea. Everything he wants to say seems too sudden, and so he decides not to say anything until it’s needed, or asked for. That he won’t mess up.

He fishes the key card out of his pocket, and gently opens the door. A soft golden light falls over the room through the big window, making the messed up blankets and pillows look especially soft. It’s quiet though, a tense voidness that makes Baekhyun swallow. He kicks off his shoes and sets down the food on the table, sauntering to the bathroom as his heart sinks.

The bathroom is empty, the room is empty, and your stuff is gone. Even his note is gone, only the glass of water left behind, untouched. The quiet is thick and suffocating.

It’s in that single second that his hope is once again ripped from his fingers before he can blink, and suddenly he sinks down against the wall. Before he can stop it, a muffled sob makes it’s way out. Baekhyun lets his head fall to the wall, and tugs his knees towards his body, thick tracks making their way down his cheeks. His soft whimpers go unheard by the rest of the world, that steadily keeps spinning. He presses his hands to his eyes, trying to hide the wetness from himself, as if covering up his feelings would just make them go away.

He’s alone again. Again, and he can’t help but feel like it’s always going to be this way. He pulls up his nose, slumping completely into the cold wallpaper. It’s not like him to wallow in self pity. But everything in this room so clearly screams that you don’t want him. You don’t want to wait for him, you don’t want to see him or hear him or meet him. It’s this that makes him swallow, trying to keep the sound down his throat. He can’t find it in his heart to be mad at you though he wishes he could. As he shifts, he rests his cheek on his knee, letting the tears run freely down his face and neck.

You already have a mate. You’ve found your forever, and Baekhyun is not it. You’re not his to keep, and this makes Baekhyun so undeniably sad, that his heart feels like it’s chewing holes in his chest.

You take out your phone and glance at it, letting your slight worry fade. It’s 10:13. You have about a million missed calls from Dongyoung, but that at least means that he got back fine. And despite everything, you feel fine too. Yuri hasn’t caught you yet, and you’re willing to see this as a big victory. You don’t want to know what he’d do if he would have found you, so obviously guilty. You just sigh, not willing to find out.

As you walk, you can’t help but look back every few steps. Maybe it’s paranoia, but you have a strange sensation in your stomach, as if something is wrong. No matter how many times you look back though, nothing is there. You must be exhausted, or delusional. That’s the only explanation for this weird feeling you’re having.

Your steps bounce back between the houses, empty street longer than you expected it to be. This little neighborhood is nice, though it is a tad bit confusing because all the houses look the same. The long street is lined with gardens, separated by small hedges. The typical family neighborhood. Not a place where a werewolf would normally spend her days, and this is why it’s a good place to hide out. For now. You swallow, and glance at your phone once more to confirm the address.

34...36...38. This must be it. You hold your steps, and take in the place with wide eyes. The big house is a tan sort of color with black tiles, and two big windows in front. The triangle shape of the house gives it a modern sort of look, and though not your personal taste, you guess it looks pretty classy. The curtains are closed. You drum your fingers on your thigh nervously, before stepping into the garden. The soft grass tickles your bare feet. You’re lucky you didn’t meet anyone on the way here, because people would probably have called the police.

The path looks inviting, but still an uncomfortable squeeze settles in your stomach. Taeyong’s outhouse. Yuri doesn’t know of this place, you know this. There’s no way that he could be here, but the thought alone makes goosebumps appear on your shoulders. You slowly walk through the green garden, and arrive at the dark wooden door. With another glance behind you, you slide the backpack off your shoulder and stuff your hand in, easily pulling out the small key.

It slides into the lock smoothly, and the door slowly swings open before you can stop it. It’s the wind, but still it scares you. You peek inside carefully. The house is completely silent. You hurry inside and lock the door behind you, before tossing off the backpack and leaning against the wall. The coldness of the wall calms your tingling nerves. Only when it stays completely quiet does a sense of safety wash over you. You run your fingers through your short hair and pull it a little, swallowing. You’re not dreaming. You actually escaped. You’re out. Free.

The idea sends shivers down your spine and wetness to your eyes, though you don’t let it fall. You won’t cry right now, not when you’re so happy you might jump out of your skin. You pick out your phone and send Dongyoung a message, looking around. It’s been so long since you’ve felt this way, so long since you ran around without any chains around your feet, and you’re not sure how to feel. You want to jump, and dance, and run until you’re so exhausted that you crash in the soft, green grass.

This is impossible, at least until Yuri leaves town, but you don’t let that bring you down. As you lay down to relax into the couch and stare up at the ceiling, words leave your mouth. As if they’ve been locked up and crushed under Yuri’s claws for so long that you forgot about them, but are now spilling out without any holding back. “I’m sorry, Julie. I’m sorry, Angel. I’m so sorry about what happened. I’m sorry about everything I did, and everything I let happen. Please know I’m so, so sorry. I’ll make everything okay now, I promise that.”

Though a single tear makes it’s way down your temple, your heart fills with relief. Because after years, you’re finally you again.

Lily gently knocks on the wood, peering around the hall. An elderly couple pass her with a nod, which she returns. When they are gone, she presses her ear to the door, and sighs. Supernatural hearing would really be handy in a moment like this. She juts out her bottom lip in debate, before slowly pushing against the door. It’s not pushed into lock, so it opens with a little nudge. “Baekhyun?”

The room is clean, no sign of a person anywhere. The bed is still made, even though it does seem to have been slept on, but there’s no soul to be seen. Lily looks around in confusion. She could have sworn Maggie said that he was still here, but it’s been almost an hour without a word from him and so she thought she’d come check on him.

She quickly peeks around the corner, to walk into the bathroom. When she opens the second door, she almost jumps out of her tiny body. “Baekhyun!” The man is stood in front of the mirror, his eyes puffy and red as a cherry. Lily quickly rushes over to inspect him, though he protests. “What the hell are you doing in here, you egg?! You had us worried sick. We thought something might have happened to you.” When she puts her hand on his cheek and turns him to face her, she quiets down. His face is wet, cheeks littered with tear tracks that disappear into his shirt.

Baekhyun seems to pull himself together a little when he catches her eyes, but the wetness spilling out is indication enough. His hand are tight on the sink, almost white because of the pressure he’s putting on them. “She’s gone, Lil. She’s left. I’ve really lost her this time, I think. I don’t know if I can do it anymore.” He looks around the bright bathroom like it might hold an answer, before settling back on his friend’s smaller shape. “I don’t know.”

“Baekhyun.”

“She has someone else, she doesn’t want me!”

“Baekhyun.”

“Why should I keep running after her if she wants me to leave her alone? That’s harassment and you guys are not helping! You’re not helping! This is all your fault, of all of you!”

“Baekhyun!” she yelps, grabbing him by his wide shoulders harshly. “Listen to me! It’s going to be okay. It’s not your fault. It’s going to be okay. I promise, Baek. It’s really not your fault.” Baekhyun swallows, pausing his wild movements. He regards her for a split second, before pulling her close and into a tight hug, while Lily gently pats his head. He’s been through a lot. “It’s okay. Shh, shh, it’s gonna be okay.”

“I don’t know what to do, Lily. I feel like I’ve tried everything,” he blubbers into her shoulder, desperately holding onto her. Lily doesn’t want to imagine the pain he must be feeling being away from his mate like this again. Kyungsoo explained it when the entire situation was settling in, that being away from your mate over and over again can physically start hurting. She doesn’t know if Baekhyun is at that point yet, but he can’t be far off.

“We’ll find her again, Baekkie. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure that you two find each other, in the right way this time. It’s all going to be okay, I just know it. You’re mates for a reason.”

Baekhyun swallows the hardness in his throat, and pulls back, moving to sit on the toilet. He really looks exhausted. Lily’s never seen him like this. She’s seen him with sweat drenching his clothes from fevers and his eyes tired and heavy from days of job hunting, but never once like this. Tired out, not only physically, but mentally. Baekhyun pulls up his nose and grabs some toilet paper to clean off his face, while letting out a deep breath. “I know where she is.”

Lily turns right back around from where she was heading to the bedroom, he brown hair whipping around her face. “You what?” Her eyes are comically big, tiny form tensed. This is definitely a development she was not expecting. “You know where she is? How?”

Baekhyun gives her an almost guilty look, tossing the paper into the trash can. “I had a feeling she’d run again, so I placed a tracker on her backpack.” His eyes flit from the sink to the floor to the towels, but never his friend’s face. Probably because of the judgment he well knows will sit there, rightfully so. “I was never going to actually use it! It just made my anxiety calm down, knowing that I had a backup. I wasn’t actually going to use it.”

He points at his jacket that lays on the floor next to the door, and peeks out his tongue to wet his lips. “It’s connected to my phone, but I haven’t looked at it yet. I won’t look at it, I’m not that kind of person. You’re right, I know that. I know that I need to have patience but-”

“Bless your little soul, we both know you’ve never had any. This must really be driving you mad,” she giggles, coming over to him to clean his face properly with another paper wipe.

Baekhyun smiles a little. “You have no idea.” When Lily tosses the second paper into the trash beside his, he takes her hand, and looks at her closely. “Thank you, Lil. I know you’re all doing your best for me but I really, really appreciate it.”

“Don’t thank me. It was the maknaes who sent me here in the first place. We’re all doing it because we love you. Just be a little kinder on yourself, please.” Baekhyun’s never been one to follow advice, but this time, he’ll do his very best to try.

You swallow as you lean back in the couch, stuffing a croissant in your face. Your coffee is hot in your hand, and your gaze is on the moving shot of the television. The factory is on the news, which somehow sends little tingles of pride down your belly. Not because of the illegal activity, but at the fact that you really fucked Yuri over. It feels good to return the favor, for once. As you lean back even more, letting your shape sink into the fabric, a creak to your side makes you look over.

Dongyoung is look straight at the tv, his coffee clamped in his hand like it’ll slip out any moment if he doesn’t pay attention. His black hair is messy, but still looks good on him. You sigh, swallowing your food. “Are you really not going to speak to me?” you mumble, pointing vaguely in his direction. “After all I’ve been through, you think it’s okay to treat me like this? I was almost dead, you know.”

His jaw ticks just slightly, but he ignores you still, seemingly too focused on the news rapport. You look away, and pout. The curtains are still closed, but now the bright sun of outside reaches in enough to lift your spirit. “You’re really going to be mad at me all day now? Or have you decided to be mad at me for the rest of my life?”

Dongyoung groans, before he turns to you, putting his cup down too hard. Some of the coffee spills onto the table. “You know I’m going to be mad until you apologize.”

“Fine,” you mumble, defiantly lifting your eyebrow at your friend. “I’m sorry. Now will you please spill why the hell you’ve been sat here like there’s a stick up your ass?”

Dongyoung turns back to face the screen, lifting his hand to indicate you to be quiet for a second as the woman on the news talks about the fire. Her soft voice makes you look up. ‘The incident that started at around 3 am on wednesday seems to point in the direction of an accident. There’s not been a suspect identified, neither has there been a question of foul play. The experts say that the packing factory most likely suffered from faulty or old wiring. Luckily, no one was injured because of the fire.’

Dongyoung sighs deeply, but seems glad that the police didn’t find any evidence, and nods. You’re glad too. You’d rather not be in jail right now. “I’ve been sat here with a stick up my ass,” Dongyoung turns to you, his hands back on his coffee, “because you could have died, for one. You’re a stubborn asshole sometimes, and I don’t understand why you put yourself in situations like this.” You want to respond but he cuts you off before you can. “Second, I’m mad because your mate saw your face. You said you weren’t going to do about it, but he is, Aurie. Every time you see him, the bond strengthens and now you can’t just hide in plain sight.”

“So I’ll have to move,” you shrug, though it does send a little bit of pain through your heart, “whatever. I would have moved some time in the near future anyway because of business. The only difference is that now, I have someone else that I have to avoid. I don’t care, I’m just happy I’m out.” You down the last of your coffee and stand up from the couch, looking around the cabin-style house. Your friend follows your movements with his eyes. “This place is nice, how did he get it?”

Dongyoung nods. “Taeyong is renting it for now. He says he feels comfortable between all these people, surrounded by families. I don’t know if that means he sees them as snacks or not, but I’ve learned not to care.”

“Yeah,” you mumble, “that makes two.” Your hand brush over the oak drawers when you walk past.

“You do care though.”

Your hand hovers in mid-air for a second before continuing it’s path to the next piece of furniture. “I feel bad. That’s different. I stopped caring after the second one, because I knew Yuri wasn’t going to stop. But knowing that they were going to people to suck dry, didn’t really settle my stomach, no. They trusted me and I just let them go. I’ve…” a chuckle escapes your lips though there’s not humor in the situation, ”I’ve done some shit things.”

“That makes two.” He gets up from the soft pillows to walk over to you and take your hand, leading you back to the couch. “Stop running away from your problems and sit down with me.” You huff, wanting to dispute his words, but stop midway. Maybe you do have a tendency to run away from your problems, instead of facing them head on. It’s been like that as long as you remember though, so it feels natural now. Dongyoung sighs deeply, and pats your shoulder gently. “How did it start, anyway? I wasn’t here when you all started, I was still off trying to get my shit together. It was only Taeyong at first, right?”

You slowly bob your head up and down, staring at the seams of the couch. “It wasn’t too long after… after everything. We both had our ways of coping with the pain. When ignoring it didn’t work, Yuri tried something else,” your hands shake a little, so you fist them into the clean fabric of your sweater. Or, Dongyoung’s sweater. “He tried blaming me, he tried kicking and screaming until we both lost our voices. Nothing seemed to work, so he kept trying.

“He tried someone else for a while, but they also couldn’t fix what had broken in him, and so he tried another.” You know that there must still be pain lingering in your voice. If it was anyone else, you’d hide it deep down, but Dongyoung knows you. He knows all your secrets, and knows how you work, so it’s no use. “They never worked, so eventually he started hitting us to feel in control. Them first, never me. No, I was supposed to sit on the sidelines and watch, his precious Angel.”

In some ways, it felt relieving, talking about it with him without getting a response back. It made you feel like you were writing it down, more than just tossing it out there. “It’s only when I acted up that he’d hit me. It was like that became his excuse to kiss me afterwards, smoothing away the bruises. And then he had these two girls, that he didn’t want anymore, that would do everything for his affection. So he went to Taeyong, and sold them to him. I guess Taeyong smelled the chance of money, so they made a deal.”

“And you let him.” Dongyoung nods.

“I had no choice. It was them or me.”

“I call bullshit. He wouldn’t get rid of you, we both know that.” Dongyoung is right, and you know it. It feels so much harder though, admitting that you just did something shitty on purpose. Or, without caring about the consequences.

You swallow and look away, voice soft. “I’m not a bad person.”

Your friend’s red eyes focus in on you for a minute, before he slowly takes your hand. “I know that. You’ve just been through a lot of bad situations. More than people should have to go through.” He takes you in for a hug that you only half-return, brushing his hand over your head like you’re a small child, and maybe in some ways you still are. “I still have the letters in that closet over there, if you…”

“I don’t want to see them.” You mumble, pulling away. You brush your hands under your eyes just to be sure, and straighten out your clothes a bit. “I’m going to go set up my room. You should probably do that too.”

It’s only the next morning that trouble comes. You expected it to come, but maybe the same day. Now, at the dining table just after the sun rises not so much. Two harsh knocks come to the door, that send you and Dongyoung out of your chairs subsequently. You glance over at the black haired man, who motions you to go hide. You quickly clean the evidence of your breakfast, and run over to hide in the other room while the door is opened in the main room.

One set of feet walks through the door, your nerves spiking up high at the sound. It couldn’t be him, it shouldn’t be him. Your fingers dig into your thighs while you listen. If it really is Yuri, you would run. No matter the consequences, you’d run until your legs gave out and your hands stop punching. To your slight surprise though, a much softer voice sounds out. Taeyong.

“What did you do?” he sounds, voice tense. “Dongyoung, what did you do?”

Your friend just stays silent for a bit, before clearing his voice. “I didn’t do anything. I just woke up.”

Taeyong chuckles in disbelief as he walks around the other room. You carefully hide a little deeper into the closet you pressed yourself in. “Then why do I have about a million calls from that asshole?” You can hear Taeyong walk back around to where Dongyoung is standing, and grabbing him by the arm. “Move, come on. Yuri is not leaving until he sees your face. I don’t really care about what you did, but I don’t want any part of it.”

You want to come out to help, but if Taeyong saw you here, everything would be over for you. You and him might have known each other for long, but he wouldn’t be the person to get you out of a shit situation. You just hope Dongyoung can understand. They leave the house in silence, leaving you alone once again. You slowly sneak out of the closet and look around. This time though, the silence doesn’t feel comforting as it did yesterday. It feels like a clear indication that once more, Yuri has your life in his grasp. He knows your friends, knows where you go and knows how you function, maybe more than you do yourself.

Even after hours, Dongyoung doesn’t come back. You wish you could say you don’t care, but that’d be a lie. You want your friend safe, but the knowledge that you can’t do anything is driving you mad. You can’t go to see what’s up, you can’t call him, you can’t even ask for any kind of sign. You have to be non-existent. It’s madly frustrating. You’ve walked back and forth through the house multiple times now. Realistically, there’s nothing you can do, not if you don’t want to be found. Your belly keeps flipping though, and despite not knowing what it means, it doesn’t feel comfortable.

You stare out of the slight slit between the two curtains again, and sigh deeply. You just want to know if he’s okay, and if he’s coming back. So that if someone enters the house now, you know what to expect. You tap your nails nervously on the windowsill, before walking over to the door. Your hand feels cold on the handle, clenching around it. With another deep breath, you push the handle down and let the door reveal the outside world. You’d just look for a trail. For anything to indicate where they might have gone, and then you’ll go back inside.

You leave the door wide open, and walk out into the garden, on your socks this time. The beams of the sun on your nose feel so nice, that you let yourself linger in place for just another second. The neighbors here don’t know you anyway, and most of them would be at work on a friday afternoon. Nothing to worry about, you tell yourself. You know deep down that this is a bad idea, but maybe you’re too happy to be free to let that fear settle in.

You open your eyes again and walk to the sidewalk, bending over to stare at the floor. There’s no tracks, but you can smell the gasoline of the car they most likely left in. Would Yuri really go through all that trouble to get Dongyoung to answer him? You know that your friend wouldn’t spill anything about you, but Yuri has never trusted him. Maybe it makes sense to go to him as a first lead. You straighten up and let your hand run over the hedge in thought, the leaves brushing your palm. It tickles.

You take another deep breath, and turn to go back into the house. Only, you stop halfway like a deer caught in headlights. A young man, copper hair falling loosely over his big eyes, is staring straight at you. He’s frozen mid-step, guitar on his back and hands in his pockets as his eyes meet yours. When you open your lips to breathe in, a little sound falls out. Recognition slaps you across the face. The stranger from across the lake. He has the same pretty silver eyes.

You two stand frozen in place for at least seconds, before you can break out of your trance to rush over to the door. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Dongyoung was right, you are a stubborn idiot. You should have never come here, never have opened the door and now he’s seen you, again, and everything might as well come crashing down around you. A desperate voice stops you in place moments before you pull the door closed behind you.

“Wait!” he yelps, stepping a bit closer towards the yard, as if his feet are attached to the sidewalk with magnets. “Please, stop running from me. I’m really losing my mind. I don’t know what you’re running from, but let me help you. Please.” His begging sounds so pure, so sincere that you consider it. For that split second, you consider what it would be like to sit in his embrace and feel his comforting words wash over you like a shield that can block out the big, bad world. Another split second, and you feel annoyed. Annoyed at your mind for allowing you to indulge in something so stupid, annoyed at him for seeing right through you and annoyed at Dongyoung for pointing out so obviously that you always run.

You’re not a fucking coward, you don’t run from your problems. As this anger makes it’s way through your body, you turn around, staring him down across the sea of green grass and flowers that separate you two. You lift your brow. “I don’t need your help.” You even dare to take a step in his direction, feeling the sun tickle your cheeks and the wind ruffle your short hair. “I’m perfectly fine taking care of myself.”

Your answer seems to amuse him greatly, because a huge smile breaks out on his lips. It’s beautiful, and if you weren’t so damn stubborn you would probably break in his arms. He seems to think for a moment, before he answers. His lithe voice filling the silence of the neighborhood. “If you don’t need help, than why are you clinging to that door so desperately?” You blink, and frown at him a little. You don’t want to look back, but sure enough, your hand has yet to leave the door knob. Your ears get hot when he smiles even wider.

“What do you want?” you just respond, crossing your hands across your chest.

The man shakes his head a little, but keeps smiling. He’s enjoying this too much for his own good. “I just told you. I want to help you.”

“And I just told you I don’t need your help,” you snap, pressing your lips together. See, you think to yourself, I don’t run from my problems.

The man’s eyes widen a little, before he holds up his hands in surrender. “Okay,” he chuckles, the sound bright and soft, “how about this? I need yours.” Your frown slips off before you can help it, as he stares at you. His bright hair sways back and forth as the wind plays between you two, drifting away the tension like it was never there to begin with. When he speaks again, his voice is back to that earnest plead of the start. “Please, just let me talk to you.”

Your first instinct is to run behind the door and throw it into lock, so that nothing else can touch you. But you want to fight it this time, and keep your feet in place. It’s scary, terrifying really and still you’re standing here, and a flower of pride seems to grow in your heart. Maybe that’s why you slowly cock your head to beckon him closer, to cross the distance that keeps you apart. Or maybe you’ve lost your mind. One of the two. “One minute,” you point out, voice steady, “you get one minute to convince me why I should help you. Don’t get it wrong. I’m helping you, not the other way around.”

The man’s mouth corners twitch just slightly, before he nods. “Okay. I’m Baekhyun.”

You just uncross your hands from your chest, opening the door a little wider. “That’s three of your seconds wasted already, Baekhyun.”

Woooohhh, I hope you liked this chapter! It’s pretty fast paced but I’m really happy with it. I hope that things are starting to make a little more sense in this chapter and the next, because Aurie still has a lot of secrets in her little body. And finally, finally these two actually meet. Consciously.

If you enjoyed it, please send me a message! I really love hearing your thoughts about it or any questions you have so please don’t hesitate to send me any~~ Thank you for reading!

If you want to be (un)tagged from this series or any others, just shoot me a message. @sehunnies-hunnie96 @unicornsandpinguins @ninibears-erigom @very-important-army @caticorn61 @rissa-is-a-nerd @xius-exos @byunfirstlady @sehunsthetics

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lovemesomerafael · 5 years ago

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El Amor Todo Lo Puedes Chapter 38: Can’t Do This

Source: @peter-stone

Chapters 1-35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37

Peter was drunker than Laura had ever seen him. She’d seen him in pretty much all stages of intoxication: from pleasantly buzzed to feeling no pain to shitfaced. But never like this. She was actually driving faster than she should, on the slim hope that she could get him up to his apartment before he passed out. She seriously doubted there was any way she’d be able to carry him, even in a fireman’s carry over her shoulder. She didn’t want to find out. If the trip from his office to his SUV was any indication, he was going to be enough trouble even when he was bearing a little of his weight. And Olivia wasn’t here to help. Laura now regretted saying she thought she could get Peter home without her.

Even the dangerous amount of bourbon he’d drank in his office hadn’t blotted out Peter’s pain. How could it? What ever would? Only hours before, Peter had watched his older sister be murdered, and had held her in his arms as she died. Laura, who had met Pam only a couple of times, felt like nothing would ever be OK again. She could not even begin to imagine what Peter was feeling.

He was still crying softly, still muttering incoherently about the horror he’d witnessed and the hellish guilt he felt. Laura was very afraid for him. She looked over at him as he leaned against the passenger window, eyes closed and likely entirely unaware of his surroundings. As she turned into the parking garage under his building, she said yet another heartfelt prayer for him.

He didn’t stir when she pulled the SUV into his parking space and turned off the engine. She walked around to the passenger door and opened it, catching him as he tipped out, moving with the door he’d been leaning against.

“Oooookay, Peter, I’m gonna need you to stand up now.” She unfastened his seat belt and guided his feet toward the door.

He muttered something incoherent and basically fell out the door. Having expected that, Laura was standing very close, so that he fell on her, rather than the ground. She supported him while he laboriously stood up, pulling his arm around her shoulder and putting her arm around his back.

“Good job, now let’s walk. Dang, why do you have to be so big?”

“She said my name,” Peter slurred, all but incomprehensibly, as they stumbled toward the elevator.

“I know she did, sweetheart. Keep going.”

As they reached the elevator, he began to sob again, leaning most of his weight on Laura as he threw his arms around her. All she could do was rub his back and murmur comforting words to him. This was feeling way too fucking familiar. It hadn’t even been two years since she’d held him while he grieved for his father. When the elevator arrived, he didn’t let go of her, so that she had to push/pull him with her into the car. She leaned him against the wall and pushed the button for his floor.

Somehow, she got him into his apartment and onto his bed, where within five minutes he passed out. Saying a silent prayer of thanks for that small mercy, Laura pulled and wrestled him out of all but his underwear and covered him with a sheet. She braced him on his side with pillows, just in case he vomited. Sweaty and winded, but relieved to have Peter safely in bed, Laura sat next to him for a while, just watching him sleep. She smoothed her hand over his hair, aching for this beautiful, generous, and loving man, already wounded, whose life had just taken another destructive hit. She let herself cry without restraint, now that there was no one there to see or hear her. When she was cried out, she kissed Peter’s temple and went to his living room to call Rafael.

“How is he?”

“Passed out. We let him get way too drunk, but we didn’t know what else to do.”

“You want me to come get you?”

“Thanks, but I need to stay here. He’s gonna be sick as hell in the morning, and he’s got a lot to do tomorrow.”

There was a strange silence from Rafael’s end of the phone.

“So… um… I’ll come home and change sometime tomorrow, but I don’t know when I’ll be able to see you.”

“I’m sure he’s been drunk before. He doesn’t need a babysitter.”

It took Laura a moment to know how to respond to that. “I… maybe not, but he shouldn’t be alone right now. And I don’t want him to have to make Pam’s arrangements alone, either. I don’t know who else there is. So…”

“Well, let me know when you have time for me.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“Because you’re sleeping at your drunk ex-boyfriend’s place? Nooooo. I’m cool with that.”

“I’m not – Rafael, you do know what happened to him today?”

“Yes. I know. It’s very noble of you to be there for him. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it when he wakes up from his whiskey coma.”

“OK, you know what? I cannot do this with you, Rafael, not right now. So I’m gonna just say goodnight and I love you, and I’ll-“

Barba jabbed the red button to end the call and threw the phone down on his desk as though it burned him. Laura was spending the night with Peter Stone. His Laura. Was spending the night with Peter Stone, with the chin and the abs and the strut. Peter Stone with whom she shared phone calls that involved giggling. Peter Stone who had been her live-in lover for – how many years was it? Too damn many. A sickeningly familiar torment bloomed within his gut. No. This was not happening again. Not with Laura. Please, God, not with Laura. Rafael just made it into the bathroom before he heaved his guts out.

Laura looked at her phone, trying to convince herself that the call had just been dropped, though she knew it hadn’t. She didn’t know what to do. Text him an apology, maybe? But for what? Helping a friend in appalling circumstances? Then she thought about how she would feel if Rafael was spending the night with a woman he’d been involved with, “taking care” of her. She’d be crazy jealous, even if she knew there was nothing going on. And Rafael had good reason to be sensitive to anything that looked suspiciously like cheating. Laura texted a bare “I love you” and hoped for the best. He didn’t respond.

She changed into a T-shirt from a pile in Peter’s closet, found a bucket and put it on the floor next to him, and set a towel and a glass of water on his bedside table. She made sure he was still safely on his side. After she laid down on his couch with a blanket, it took her a long time to fall asleep, the conversation with Rafael playing over and over in her mind. She felt terrible for doing anything to remind him of a horrible time in his life, but there was no way she could leave Peter right now.

Laura was awakened from a light sleep by the sound of Peter moving and coughing in the next room. She jumped up from the couch and ran in to his bedside to find him flailing and blundering around in an effort to get up quickly. She helped him sit him on the edge of his bed, handed him the bucket, and sat next to him, supporting him and rubbing his back while he threw up. When he seemed done, she gave him the glass of water to rinse out his mouth, dried his face with the towel, and laid him back down. She hurried cleaning out the bucket. It was very unlikely this was the only time Peter would be puking this morning.

There was very little light in the sky yet. Knowing he was going to be waking up, probably frequently, Laura took the blanket from the couch and laid down on top of the covers on Peter’s bed.

“Is it… when is it?” He croaked. Laura realized he was still drunk, and probably not confused about the time of day but about the year. If it was the present, why was she here helping him when he was sick? She hoped he could fall back to sleep.

“Everything’s OK. Go back to sleep.”

“Did… Did Pam die?”

Laura rolled over and put a hand on his back. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, she did. We’ll take care of everything later. Get a little more sleep.”

Peter groaned mightily but seemed to fall back into a troubled sleep.

The next time he woke, the sun was fully over the horizon, although still pretty low in the sky. He remembered the bucket was there, and Laura knee-walked across the bed to sit behind him, again rubbing his back while he heaved. After he rinsed out his mouth she asked him if he wanted mouthwash, or to brush his teeth, but he was already flopping back onto the bed.

When she returned with the clean bucket, she made him take a couple of aspirin with some water from the glass she’d refilled. He asked her why she was there.

“I’m taking care of you,” she said simply.

“Why?”

“Because I want to. See if you can get a little more sleep.”

“I killed my own sister. You should just let me die here.”

“Go to sleep, Peter,” she told him, lying back down. “You did everything right, and you’re not gonna die. You’re just hung over. I promise, it’ll be OK.”

“How will anything ever be OK?” He asked, his voice breaking. He was facing away from her, sobbing into his pillow. She put her arm around him and scooted to lay against his back. He smelled like sour sweat and bourbon, but she silently held him while he cried himself back to sleep.

Laura woke when the sun was well up. Seeing that Peter was messily, snoringly asleep, but all right for the moment, she padded into the kitchen to start some coffee. Soon, she heard him throwing up again in the bedroom. When it was over, he seemed fairly awake and somewhat sober, although he was a mess.

He ran his hand over his head several times, groaning. “Gaaaaaaahh. I feel like shit.”

“Don’t try this at home, kids, I am a professional.”

“Bit of a role reversal for us, huh?”

“Little bit. Think you can get into the shower?”

“Do you have your gun with you? Couldn’t you just shoot me?”

“Liv made me take the day off. Can’t shoot you on my day off.”

Peter leaned down, his elbows on his knees, holding his head in his hands. “How the fuck am I supposed to do this? I killed my sister. I don’t even know how many times she was shot…”

“Oh, sweetheart, you can’t…” She caught herself about to tell him not to feel guilty. She knew better. She remembered too well the frustration of having well-meaning people tell her how to feel after she’d been attacked. She was not going to be the one to do that to Peter.

“I know you feel guilty. You think if you’d done something different, she would still be alive. I disagree, but I understand that’s how you feel. The thing is, all that is just too big for us right now, OK? How about we take it one step at a time. Today, let’s just think about Pam. She’s the most important thing right now. You need to grieve for your sister. And we need to make some arrangements for her. That’s plenty to deal with for today.”

“How can you – I am the one-“ He couldn’t find words to continue.

“I know, sweetheart, I know. I don’t know how to help you with that part. But we will deal with it. After we take care of Pam. OK?”

Peter sighed deeply, his breath shaking a little. “OK.”

“First things first. Coffee? Or shower?”

“Coffee in the shower.”

“Excellent choice.”

While Peter was in the shower, Laura called Melinda Warner at the M.E.’s office. She wanted to be able to spare Peter any gruesome details she could about the autopsy that was legally required following a murder. Not that there was any question about Pam’s cause of death. But Laura knew the futility of trying to make that argument.

“Dr. Warner, it’s Detective Parker, Laura Parker from SVU? I’m calling you about Pamela Stone. She came in late yesterday afternoon…��

“Yes, I know the case you’re talking about. A.D.A. Stone’s sister, right?”

“Yeah. I don’t know how much you know about her death, but her brother was there and witnessed the shooting.”

“Oh, my God.”

“Yeah. He’s a good friend of SVU, and a… special friend of mine, so I’m hoping you can help me figure out when she might be released so we can make funeral arrangements for her.”

“Liv got here before you. I’m doing the case this morning. I hope to be able to release her to her family tomorrow.”

“Oh, thank you,” Laura teared up. “I can’t thank you enough, Dr. Warner. This means a lot to me. I owe you.”

“Thank Liv.”

“I will. But this is important to me. I’m grateful.”

“You’re welcome.”

“One more thing…”

“I will call the results to Liv when I have them. She can call you. Stone can call me for the results if he wants, but my office won’t call him. OK?”

Laura swallowed around the lump in her throat and tried to control her voice. “Thank you. I am way in your debt. I’ll let A.D.A. Stone know you did this. He’ll owe you, too.”

“Can never have too many favors to call in.”

The day was long and painful, as Laura had known it would be. Peter seemed to be on autopilot, saying little and showing no emotion about anything. Laura was moved to tears a few times. Peter, not once. He kept trying to push decisions on Laura, who gently pushed them back to him. Not that she didn’t help, but he would have gladly let her make all the decisions for the sister he’d known his entire life, and she’d only met a few times. That seemed wrong.

When they’d done all they needed to do, Laura made Peter eat dinner. He wanted nothing, which she understood, but she knew he’d feel better if he ate something. When he’d finished mostly pushing food around his plate, they left the restaurant and he drove toward her apartment building.

“Are we… picking up clothes?”

“I’m taking you home.”

“Yeah, but…”

“We both have to work tomorrow.”

“We… Peter, no one expects you to go back to work tomorrow. Take some time.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Why would you do that? Seriously?”

“I’m not just going to sit around feeling sorry for myself. What’s the point of that?”

“How about to process the nightmare you just went through?”

“I’ve got a feeling I’m going to be processing whether I’m working or not. Might as well be working.”

The conversation went on for some time, with Laura trying to convince Peter to acknowledge that his sister’s death was a major trauma, and Peter determined to minimize it. Finally, Laura had to admit defeat. There was nothing she could say that would move him to even allow her to stay with him for another night.

“OK, listen. I can’t force you to do anything, so I’m not gonna try. But Peter, this is big. It wouldn’t be normal if it didn’t kick your ass. You should… let it.”

“Let it?”

“Yeah. It’s gonna anyway. This stuff, if you don’t take it straight on, it’ll come out sideways.”

“Well, if it does, I’ll deal with it then.”

Laura threw up her hands. “All right. Well, you have my number. Promise me something.”

“Sure.”

“Use it. When you need me, call me. Anytime. Please?”

“I will.” He smiled indulgently at her, although the smile involved his lips only; nothing else about him was smiling.

“I mean it. Promise me.”

“I will, Sunshine. I promise.”

After hugging as best they could across the console between the seats, Laura and Peter said goodbye and she watched him drive off. She didn’t believe him. She was worried.

Source: @frederickthepsychiatrist

Laura: Just got home. U here?

Shit. Now Rafael had a decision to make. He was home, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to see Laura. Plead work? Exhaustion? Ebola? He’d been turning the decision around all day, and he still didn’t know what to do. Berating himself for being a coward and an idiot didn’t help. Finally, he just said fuck it. The sooner he saw her, the sooner whatever was going to happen would happen.

Rafael: Here. Everything OK?

Laura: Will be when I see you. Can I come up?

Rafael: Just you?

Rafael, please don’t be a dick. I’m too tired and too worried about Peter for that shit.

Laura: Just me.

Rafael: Vamos arriba.[1]

Laura thought Rafael looked tired. Rafael thought the same about Laura. It didn’t make him feel better.

Rafael still had his suit pants and dress shirt on, although the jacket and tie were nowhere to be seen. A few of his shirt buttons were undone, just enough for Laura to catch a glimpse of dark chest hair want to undo some more buttons. Her ancient Chicago Blackhawks jersey wasn’t sexy in the slightest, especially with those damn old jeans with the holes in the knees. But he still felt helplessly drawn to her.

“Are you too mad to let me give you a hug?” She asked, walking over to him without waiting for his answer.

“Si tu tienes que.”[2]

“Tengo que.”[3]

He didn’t want to be so happy to have her in his arms, holding him tighter than normal. He wished his body wasn’t responding to her closeness, especially when she started kissing her way from his ear across his cheek, and he couldn’t help turning his head to capture her lips with his. Nothing about the way he kissed her, angry and demanding, felt voluntary. Especially when she kissed him back with an equally intense need, biting at his lower lip almost hard enough to hurt and crushing him to her. The sudden desperate hunger he felt for her took him by surprise, and she was right with him.

Very soon, her back was against the wall of his home office and they were kissing fiercely and invasively while she pulled at his belt and they fumbled to undo buttons and zippers in their frantic haste to remove each other’s clothes. Laura’s long hockey jersey was getting in Rafael’s way, so he took a moment to tear it off. She reached inside his now-undone pants and boxers to take him in her hand, while he groaned and pushed his pants off. He pulled at her jeans the moment he stepped out of his pants, but only bothered to free one leg, which he wrapped around his waist so that he could pull her hips forward and bury his cock in her. There was no finesse or attempt at romance. There was only a raw, furious need to be as intimately connected as possible. Both grunted and moaned as he thrust into her, her arms locked around his neck and her leg around his waist. She rocked her hips into him, wanting him as much as he wanted her and needing this reassurance that they were still together, still a couple.

When he felt they were both getting close, he hooked one foot around the leg of a straight-backed chair that sat against the wall near where he had Laura pinned. He pulled it toward them and turned them both a quarter turn so that he could sit and pull her onto his lap. She immediately straddled him and put her feet on the rungs of the chair so that she could raise and lower her hips, pulling off of him and then impaling herself on him again. He recaptured her lips, plundering her mouth with his tongue and groaning with his impending climax. Putting a hand on either hip, he began to pull her toward him as she rode him, dragging her clit against him. It didn’t take long. She buried her face in his neck and uttered a wordless shout as her orgasm exploded upon her, and pulled him over the edge with her soon after.

For long, sweaty, moaning and gasping moments after they finished, they clung together as though for survival. Laura began peppering his shoulder and neck with kisses, turning her head to cover as much of him as she could reach without letting go.

“I hate it when you’re mad at me,” she said between kisses and gulps of air.

“I’m not mad at you,” Rafael assured her, squeezing her just a bit harder with his arms low on her back and across her shoulders.

“Please let me stay.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” he growled.

[1] Come on up.

[2] If you have to.

[3] I have to.

#law & order svu #law & order: special victims unit #rafael barba #raul esparza #chicago pd #chicago fire #chicago med #chicago justice #Peter Stone #philip winchester

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whiskynottea · 6 years ago

Photo

An Interruption in the 1st Law of Thermodynamics.

Previously, Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38

AO3

@theministerskat, once more, thank you love, for beta-ing this story! ❤️

Chapter 39. The Exams

Biology.

Cell structure and genetics, homeostasis and synaptic neurotransmission. My first exam, just a week after Jamie’s birthday. A week after that perfect evening; the last time I removed school completely from my thoughts, free of the impending challenge of the exams that would shape my life.

Murtagh had disappeared after we cut the cake – supposedly to leave us alone, although we knew exactly where he was going – and the four of us had decided to make popcorn and watch old Disney movies, to keep the child in Jamie alive.

As if he wasn’t a child already, blowing out his candles with such wonder and fervor, as if a whole new world had opened in front of him.

Ian had declared that one of the movies we had to watch was Finding Nemo, since it had become our party’s unofficial theme. Jenny and I picked Hercules, already giggling over the lines of Hades and the Muses’ songs. Perched on the two couches of the living room – Jamie had stated we were to have the largest one because it was his birthday – we’d sang, laughed, and recited almost all the dialogue of each movie. When Murtagh had come back – whistling a happy tune that made the smiles on our faces broader – I’d given Jamie the longest goodnight kiss in the history of the world and went to sleep in Jenny’s room. After approximately two hours of talking and giggling, Jenny and I had eventually fallen asleep, smiling, celebrating our victory over Jamie’s grief, with his full, belly laughs still echoing in our ears.

When I left their apartment the next morning, I tried to memorize the feel of Jamie’s arms around my body, the softness of his lips, warm and inviting on mine.

We saw each other much less over the following month, and even though we had both agreed that this was the best strategy to follow, it still seemed like the stupidest idea we’d ever had. But we had a goal and we had to achieve it.

Not that many miles south of Edinburgh, lay our future.

Oxford.

Every time I was ready to give in and call Jamie to meet me for a walk, I refocused my mind on that single word, imagining us both strolling around in that fairytale city, hands linked, feet feeling the uneven cobblestones under our shoes. My life was already divided into the pre- and post-Oxford era, and that was enough motivation to make my eyes and my thoughts return to the notes laid out on my desk.

I just had to excel in my exams.

I had been planning, studying, and preparing for more than a year, and it felt surreal that the time of the exams had finally come. I was trying to remain calm, to remind myself that I was ready, that I had done the best I could. It was the truth, after all. Since the beginning of the year I had gone over the content of my subjects more times than I could count. I had even organized my time during the exams; what questions I’d approach first, what I’d leave for the end.

But I knew that my textbooks wouldn’t be enough this time. There was always something more to learn, some new information I could fit in with the knowledge I already acquired. Something that would make a difference, that would demonstrate how hard I had worked, how serious I was about my choice.

When I’d read everything I thought would be relevant, I started watching YouTube videos and reading scientific papers. It was then that Lamb started teasing me, saying if I’d continue like I was I could just skip going to medical school altogether.

Lamb, who kept saying it wouldn’t be the end of the world if I failed my exams, that life always offers new possibilities, some of which I probably never fathomed beforehand.

I couldn’t even listen to him talking about failure, about a future different from what I’d dreamed of. I wouldn’t let that happen.

But… What if I had missed something important? What if I hadn’t paid attention to a significant detail?

“Will ye stop before ye go completely crazy, Sassenach?” Jamie asked me when I voiced my thoughts. “Ye ken everything! Ye’ll do great tomorrow!”

I sighed dramatically and he pressed me tight against his body with a strong arm around my shoulders. I pulled his face down towards me for a kiss, to drink in some of his optimism, to feel the auburn locks cold between my fingers and his lips warm on mine. He had come straight from the swimming pool and had almost dragged me out of my house to prevent me from going through the previous years’ exams one last time.

“Just for a wee walk, Sassenach,” he’d said. “To decompress before the big day.”

It was impossible to say no to Jamie, so I’d tried to silence the little voices in my head, crying that I should stay at home and study, instead of walking around Edinburgh the night before the exams.

“Ye wee nerd,” Jamie said, when I told him I felt bad for going out. I huffed and I nudged him on the ribs, pulling away from him.

“I’m not a nerd!” I protested, in a voice that was more high-pitched than I’d have liked.

He kept silent but raised an eyebrow, while I could plainly see the corner of his mouth curling up in a suggestive smile.

“I’m not!” I repeated, and then crossed my hands across the front of my chest, pouting. Seeing that he still hadn’t said a word, I relented. “Okay, maybe just a bit.”

That made him chuckle. “Come here, my nerd,” he said, curling his index finger repeatedly in a come hither way, broadly grinning.

“Your nerd…” I murmured, thinking, but didn’t move towards him. “So that makes you my jock?”

“I’m not a jock!” he said in a nasal voice, and I could hardly contain my giggle. Following his lead though, I just shrugged and looked at him. “We’re not playing in a rom-com,” he continued, defiant. “First of all, you weren’t secretly in love with me from the beginning.”

I wanted to cackle, but I did my best for a serious voice instead. “No, I wasn’t.” It was a lost battle, trying to keep a straight face, and I knew it, but continued nonetheless. “I could never fall in love with you, the swoon-worthy swimmer... All muscle and no brain… No, not a chance.”

Jamie narrowed his eyes at me and pursed his lips, as if deciding what was the best way to take revenge. “Like that, is it, Sassenach?”

“Mmm, you were sae repulsive, ye ken.” I tried my best to mimic his accent and burst out laughing.

“Ye’re dead, Sassenach,” he said and came towards me with long strides. I ran. He ran, too, and I hadn’t even reached the next block when he caught up with me, capturing me in his arms.

I was dead. I was sure my heart would stop beating at any moment, overwhelmed by a euphoric feeling that made happiness seem trivial.

“You do know I wanted you from the very beginning,” I whispered to him, my breath brushing against his lips. “Jock.”

“And I, you,” he said, his voice utterly sweet, and swallowed my sigh with his kiss. “Nerd.”

The next day I sprang out of bed listening to my alarm clock, with blurry images of cell membranes still fogging my thoughts. I had dreamed of the exams, again.

I took a deep breath and checked my phone, finding a text from Jamie.

Scot: Show them how it’s done, Sassenach.

Scot: ILY ❤️❤️

He had set his alarm clock just to text me.

Sassenach: ILY TOO! 😘

I couldn’t imagine a better way to start my day.

An hour and a half later, I was at school, sitting at my desk, waiting for the paper. The moments before we were handed the exams were the worst. I had quickly found that looking around while waiting was the worst thing to do, so I focused on my desk instead, feeling the smooth surface beneath my fingertips. I fidgeted with one of my two pens, swirling it around and running my nail over the carved letters, to hear the reassuring scratching sound of their resistance. Not having much more to do, I took deep breaths, waiting.

The room was quiet, but there was a tension hanging low over our heads, filled with dreams and opportunities, stress and hope. It felt so heavy and real, that I was afraid I would accidentally breathe it in and it would close my throat, linger in my trachea, to end up in my lungs and keep the oxygen out. The atmosphere was thick with apprehension, and we could almost capture it between our fingers. The same fingers that minutes later, gripped the pens and started writing.

The moment the paper was in front of me everything around me disappeared. It was me versus myself – my favorite competition. My brain was on the verge of being burned with overthinking, my hand hurt from holding the pen too tight, but I continued to write the answers. I knew them all.

I almost danced in the middle of the street when I met Jamie later, success making me deliriously happy. Jamie had one more week before his English exam, which was his favorite subject, and the only one he wouldn’t need in his application for a business management bachelor’s degree. He wasn’t anxious at all, the bloody Scot, and I couldn’t understand how he did it.

Not anxious about the exams, that is. Because every day I watched him become more and more worried about the Scottish National Championship. It seemed absurd to me that he would care that much about swimming, right in the middle of the exams. Especially after all our work, to make his grades in math descent again. “You do realize that you have to finish the exams first, right? That we have more than two months until you’ll swim at the Nationals?”

“Aye, Sassenach. I do.” His voice was rigid, and it made me feel like a mother scolding her child. “Ye dinna trust me now?” he asked, and I kept silent, guilty, because the thought that he overestimated his preparation for the exams had crossed my mind more than once. Jamie exhaled loudly and took my face in his hands. “Claire,” he said, “I do study and I will get the grades I need. I’m no’ a fool.”

His eyes were so serious and sincere that I couldn’t but nod in agreement. Jamie kissed my forehead and pulled me in for a tight hug. “Tis just…” he started, but trailed off.

“What?” I mumbled, and nuzzled against his neck, breathing him.

“I think it’s more difficult to win the National Championship than it is to write an A+ in math and business management. My personal best needs so much improvement.”

I wasn’t sure I agreed with the statement, but I decided to trust him. “I know you’ll make it,” I said, and kissed the hollow between his clavicles, that little part of him I had declared mine, months ago.

It’s sometimes difficult to realize, incomprehensible almost, how things you’ve been waiting for so long come to pass, like fast breaths taken after a long run. And the air I breathed in, leaving the testing hall for the last time, had the taste of accomplishment.

Math was our last exam. When I saw Jamie waiting for me with his red curls falling over his forehead totally disheveled from all the times he ran his hands through them, my heart stopped. But then I saw the huge smile on his face, and it told me everything I needed to know.

We had more than a month before the results would be announced, but we had done well. We had made it.

Oxford was waiting for us.

I walked towards him, grinning, and I felt like flowing above the shiny floor, my feet inches away from the surface.The moment I came to stand in front of him, Jamie hugged me tight, lifted me up in the air, and asked me if I would be his date at the prom.

“We’re going to the prom?” I asked, uncertain.This was the last thing I expected to hear at that moment.

“Aye! Of course we are! So, will ye be my date, Sassenach?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” I replied, teasing him. “This is really on short notice, and I might have plans for that night.”

Jamie shook his head, lowered me to the ground and bent his head to kiss me. “Cancel yer plans, mo ghraidh. Ye’ll be all mine that night.”

Chapter 40

#thermodynamics #The first law of thermodynamics #high school au #jamie x claire #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction

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purkinje-effect · 5 years ago

Text

The Anatomy of Melancholy, 36

Table of Contents. Second Instar, Chapter 3. Go to previous. Go to next. TWs: Blood, insects, not taking chronic illness so well.

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Once they’d stepped out of the office, both Angel’s new top handles and recalibrated thruster facilitated ‘Choly in smoothly mounting it. The chemist ported both his syringer rifle and his .38, and rode his General Atomics custom companion out into the junkyard. The two took a lap around the yard, then set up some cans and bottles they’d found about the grounds. They took turns shooting at them, ‘Choly to measure the facility of firing from atop Angel with the harness replaced by handles and foot-pegs, and Angel to gauge the effectiveness and stability of the upgrades its owner had made. A successful testing round exhausted trash targets, so they then shot at components of junk vehicles. One would call out the part and make of the vehicle in their sights, and then make good on the shot, not at all unlike calling shots in billiards.

‘Choly had never been so great at billiards. Rather than ding its side mirror, the chemist shattered a Pick-R-Up’s passenger window with a pencil round, and he flinched when Angel chortled. He shot again in defeat, purposefully hitting the broadside of the once-red truck’s passenger door.

Soon, he observed the pickup truck shift in place, and his face slacked. The ground had built up not just underneath but around the underside of the vehicle’s chassis... and within it. The scale of it had prevented him from identifying it as any anthill he’d have known, but when the two-foot-long insects poured out of the cab of the truck, there would be no mistaking it.

He slung his rifle over his back in favor of his pistol, and helped Angel in pushing back the giant ants. His jaw tensed as the game shifted to a crisis, and his eyes scrunched wide with frozen loathing as Angel’s last laser fire struck the very bottom-heavy front end of the Pick-R-Up instead of the last ant.

“We have to get out of here!” He kicked Angel as though to spur it to about face as requested. It complied without hesitation, and immediately he rubbed at its chassis with one hand in apology at the reflex.

Before they even exited the front gate of the hurricane fence, the truck’s rusted nuclear engine combusted. Ants and vehicle parts flew everywhere, and in a chain reaction, the explosion resulted in wave after wave of vehicular explosions. ‘Choly looked back as they zipped down, to realize they sped down Route 62 and not North on Route 4 like he’d planned. He bit his lower lip, but accepted the choice. Maybe they could get to U.S. Route 3 by dark.

The longer they traveled, the denser the once-evergreen woods grew. Angel broke the silence after they’d followed the broken asphalt for half an hour.

“I must say, that was a thousand times worse than shooting at a hornet nest.” The Mister Handy switched out its pincers in favor of a laser and two saws while it spoke. “I apologize for my inaccurate aim precipitating our abrupt exit. Hopefully, you had no further need of anything on premises.”

“We both missed shots. I don’t fault you. Those ants were fast. I’m surprised your thruster flame kept them from climbing you.” He frowned, nettled by noticing its companion’s tacit poise, and readied his .38. “Guess we won't be learning what's wrong with that Sentry...”

“For the better, Mister Carey. That wasn’t our mystery to solve. The government didn’t seem to want it repaired, regardless.”

They approached the on-ramp to access US Route 3. Though ‘Choly recalled the crumbling state of the I-95 flyover in Lexington, he opted to direct them to remain on the highway rather than travel around it. Unlike the flyover, Route 3 was not an elevated expressway, and as such, they could hop the concrete guard walls if they came upon a patch they could not cross. Rusted-out vehicles had crashed through these barriers in places, including an overturned freightliner halfway spilled down the embankment. Besides the weaving required to navigate the highway, all remained quiet. Still, ‘Choly could not ignore Angel still had its weapons drawn.

“I take it you’re sensing something I’m not.”

“I’m not quite sure just yet. I didn’t want to mention it until I was certain, in case it could be chalked up to my still acclimating to the new sensor array.”

“Well, can you describe it?”

“It’s more... what do humans call it? A sense of dread. The woodlands have changed so much since we last came this way.”

“So you’ve got the heebie-jeebies.” His smile faded as quick as it formed. “It’s going to be all right. We just have to get up to the base first.”

The Frank L. Johnson Bridge had bellied out into the Concord, so they moved onto the outer shoulder of the highway.

“Should I dismount? And each of us cross on our own?”

“Nonsense, Sir! My hydraulics could handle a little water skimming, even before your upgrades.”

With that, Angel’s thruster sputtered into a different transmission tier, and they smoothly skated across the river with a swift, spraying wake. ‘Choly glanced both up and down river, admiring how even two hundred years after the apocalypse, the Concord had retained its idyllic tranquility. Once upon the other side, another overturned freightliner obstructed their immediate reentry to Route 3, and they continued on the outer shoulder a ways. Before either could register it coming, something that hummed divebombed ‘Choly’s face. Angel abruptly spun about face, but the moment blurred in a sharp pain to ‘Choly’s rib cage.

“Won’t you stay still!” slurred out of the Handy, and blood smeared through the air in front of ‘Choly as the circular saw connected with the assailant. It swerved about to nearly dance with the others incoming. “How dare you!”

Failing not to hyperventilate, the chemist looked down at his vault suit to find a mosquito head lodged by the foot-long proboscis between a clavicle and rib. His vision fell into a vignette, and his prickling extremities numbed. He could notice laser fire, but could barely focus enough to aim his pistol. Until he could reach his first aid for a Stimpak, he had to resist the reflex to pull the instrument of anatomy from his own.

When Angel noticed ‘Choly wasn’t helping it fire on the insects, it understood the immediacy of locating cover, and sped down the highway rather than eliminate them all.

‘Choly next noticed they were no longer on Route 3. Angel meandered meaningfully through a hilly expanse of field, toward a large white colonial building. He felt like he wasn’t processing what he saw, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of observing robotic carnage strewn about the unkempt fairway. They took the stairs up to the patio, and entered. 'Choly took in the interior design, between the gold twelve-point cross-stars mounted all along the far wall and the bar front with its marble-top, and recognized it as the clubhouse of the Billerica Golf Course.

Angel lowered ‘Choly to collapse gently backwards into a lounge chair. It readied a Stimpak to administer the moment ‘Choly had removed the mosquito proboscis. The thrust required to pull the spiny, textured thing back out left him heaving for breath, and he clamped his free hand over the wound to put pressure on the blood flow. He vacuously wiped blood from the lower half of his face. The Handy gave him a moment to catch his breath before offering him the last Melancholia, which he accepted with resignation.

“I fear I put you in harm’s way,” it started, tendrils terse. “I should have acted sooner. Damn bloodbugs! It’s difficult to trust the increased detail and range of my perception. Do tell me you’ll be all right.”

“I’ll be fine.” Proboscis in one hand, numbing beverage in the other, he let out a weak wet chuckle. “Bloodbugs. Went right for the heart. If it hadn’t been for my spinal corset, it might have connected.”

“Forgive me, gentlemen, but I can’t help but notice the terrible scrap you seem to have just been in.”

The chemist jumped, thinking at first the second holographic British voice had been an hallucination brought on by pain and painkillers, but it was far too soft to belong to Angel. He and his Handy both looked up to find they’d been approached by the very dented up brass Handy that once had run the clubhouse’s bar and grill.

“Bogey, was it?” Angel fielded. “I’m Angel. It’s been many years since we came this way, but you might remember Mister Carey?”

“That I am.” Bogey honed its triplicate sensors on ‘Choly. “You were one of our frequent driving range patrons, were you not?”

“Guilty.” ‘Choly tossed the proboscis on the lounge table. “Thanks for not being mad for us barging in. We’re on our way up to Lowell, but we got dive-bombed by m-- bloodbugs.”

“My word. It’s already getting late, and I don’t encourage traveling Route 3 by night these days. You’re free to stay until tomorrow, though it may not be too much safer.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve got an insect problem here, too.” ‘Choly cut off his wheeze with another swig of the cherry-sweet drink.

“You weren’t followed, were you?”

‘Choly and Angel looked to each other, then back to Bogey. He shook his head.

“I don’t think we’ve got any worries, then,” it extrapolated at a caution, its posture slacking. “Come with me, the two of you. It’s been some time since I had a patron to tend to.”

Angel handed him his cane, and the two followed Bogey to the locker rooms. All the metal doors had been opened, but their contents remained. Several skeletons scattered the floor, including one having fallen out of the shower stall.

“You’re free to help yourself to a change of clothes from what’s in the lockers. It’s been two hundred years since anyone’s used them, and clubhouse policy indicates that any belongings left for more than six months become Billerica Golf Course property, and we can’t resell used clothing. Need I remind in advance, however, not to wear cleats in the clubhouse.”

“My, Bogey, that’s most generous of you. And generous to extend us hospitality! Mister Carey has been most distressed at his lack of wardrobe variety as of late, and it’s quite good to see a friendly face.”

“Ah, yes, agreed. That’s a fine shade of blue, but I imagine humans grow tired of the same exterior far more readily than any of us do. On that note, whatever became of you, chum? If you don’t mind my asking, I’ve never seen a Mister Handy in such a hodgepodge.”

The chemist chuckled as he browsed the lockers. Not many of them had anything in them, but he would stop and pull out an article of clothing on occasion. While the two Handy-bots chatted, he picked out a pair of khaki golf trousers and a cobalt blue pinstripe dress shirt with a white contrast collar and French cuffs, and a gold knit button-down sweater vest that he didn’t mind was missing a button. He found a pair of cleats in his size, and even a pair of saddle oxfords. He put a hand on a sock became animated.

“Good god, socks,” he hushed, going back through the locker contents to grab every pair he could find. No pairs seemed to have survived in tact, but he nearly felt endeared to the notion of mis-mates, and held two at a time up to one another with an odd grin. “It’s been months since I had a new pair of socks. Funny how the simple necessities of yesterday have become so... indulgent.”

“You can have as much or as little attire as you like,” Bogey indulged. “It’s simply occupying space here.”

“We have the storage space for a few ensembles, Mister Carey, if you find anything else to your liking. I’ll leave you with a canister of water and a towel, if you’d like to freshen up before you change.” Angel deposited the items beside the pile of clothing ‘Choly had made on the bench in the middle of the locker room. “I’ll be with Bogey in the lounge, if you need us.”

“Thank you. Both of you.”

Once they were gone, he doubled back to the locker where he had noticed its previous tenant had kept several pair of briefs, and he added them to his pile of new acquisitions. He disrobed and cleaned his face and front with a certain detachment. His spinal corset had soaked up a lot of blood, and removing it for the night would ideally help it dry out. He dressed in his new outfit, minus his binding, and finished off his Melancholia. Looking to the empty bottle, he bit his lip askew.

“I suppose it can’t be helped.”

His Pip-Boy click-chirped, and he glanced down to find the health tab highlighted. Last known Pip-Boy to Vault Suit synchronization completed at 16:23. Please reconnect Pip-Boy to Vault Suit to reestablish advanced diagnostics. It was well after five now. He straightened. When Vault 111 staff had insisted the technological excellence of the Vault-Tec Vault Suit, he had balked at it. But he had no idea the two synchronized for peak function.

He flipped the dial over to the health tab and selected it to read it over. Systemic damage to connective tissues due to sustained exposure to unknown CFCs. Chronic arthritis and arthralgia, possibly owing to a general neuralgia. Likelihood of syncope under duress. Undetermined neurological damage manifesting as memory lacunae. Shell-shock. Opioid addiction.

A hand went to ‘Choly’s mouth, and his right arm slacked. He hadn’t wanted to be right all this time, what was wrong with him. The majority of the things the Pip-Boy enumerated, didn’t sound like they could be cured by medicine. He winced at noticing that he’d nipped his lip between his teeth, and licked at the metallic taste. It wouldn’t get better. This was the best he would get. He stood and left the military coat, Vault Suit, orthotics, and various golf clothing in a mound on the bench. He didn’t bother tidying his hair as he shambled off with his cane to meet the Handy-bots in the main room of the clubhouse.

Surely, after the day he’d had, Bogey could indulge him with a stiff drink.

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#fallout 4 #fallout 4 fanfic #fo4 #fo4 fanfic #the anatomy of melancholy #mister handy #billerica #Robotics Disposal Ground #melancholy #angel #bogey #Disabled Sole Survivor

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