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letsgivethisonemoreshot · 4 years ago

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BruiserMates

Word Count: 4,644 (it's a long one)

Warnings: Sexual Situations, banter, there's some fluff in there somewhere.

Summary: The British Bruiserweight is more grumpy than usual. But his friends and a co-worker think they just might know a way to fix it. (Also, I tried to make an attempt to keep true with accents for the first time. So I apologize if it's horrible!)

The lukewarm water rushed out of a shower head in the back of the arena. The water pressure in these showers were never that good, but it was early and Lauren had the whole locker room to herself. She had the curtain drawn for privacy, just in case anyone else arrived early. Mostly because she was in the men’s showers. And just as she was rinsing the shampoo out of her hair, she heard several voices from the locker room echo into the bathroom.

"You could've stopped to get breakfast first." A British accent rang out.

"They 'ad food at the hotel." The familiar accent of Pete filled the room.

"Not anything for a vegan. And ya know that." Another voice argued.

"I don't know every damn vegan place in tha country." Pete spat back.

"Uh guys, just so you know you're not alone in here." Lauren informed them.

"Who in the bloody hell is that?"

"Lauren. I'm a backstage interviewer here. I really needed a shower after my workout before I got ready to work and they were cleaning in the women's locker room when I got there. No one was in here so I ran in. I'll be quick." She explained.

"Pete?"

"Yeah, she works here." He vouched, recognizing her voice.

"Ah. Alright then love. As long as you work here. I'm Tyler by the way."

"Trent." The other voice rang out.

"You guys are here from NXT UK for the tag tournament, right?" Lauren asked.

"You got it love." Trent answered as he turned on a shower on the opposite side of where Lauren was. "And you don't 'av to rush. We don't mind if you don't."

"As long as you stay on that side of the curtain." Lauren responded in a joking but friendly way.

"Great." Pete murmured.

"What's wrong with you?" Trent asked him.

"He's still sore about his girlfriend messin' around on him." Tyler answered getting ready to get a shower himself.

"Tell my business to the whole locker room, why don't ya." Pete said annoyed.

"She's the only otha one in here. And she sees ya more than us. I'm sure she's noticed you're grumpy."

"No more than usual." Lauren said as she conditioned her hair.

"Aw piss off all of ya."

"See? He's always this pleasant."

"I thought you said you were gonna be quick." Pete pointed out.

"I was, until Trent was nice enough to tell me I didn't have to. So now I'm taking my time."

Pete let out an aggravated grunt. "I can't shower with 'er in here."

"Relax Pete, I'm almost done. What brings you guys in here so early anyway?"

"Time change. Kind of has us messed up. And Pete just doesn't sleep." Tyler replied. "What about you? And working out nonetheless. I’d think you’d moreso be off writing questions."

"How else am I supposed to fit myself into those tiny dresses they want me to wear?" Lauren partially joked, causing two of the englishmen to chuckle. "I have a few interviews I have to do for some social media shows before the actual show tonight. This was the only time I could fit in a work out. I was going to shower real quick then get to work, but the women’s bathroom was closed, so I that brought me here. I guess it’s just bad timing.”

"Ah, I wouldn't say that love." Trent said.

"Well maybe not on my part. Anybody could walk in here. So many people have probably had fantasies that start like this. But apparently, it’s bad timing for some of you.”

"Would any of those fantasies include any of us by any chance?" Trent asked in a joking tone.

“Trent, ya can’t just ask a woman ya just met something like that.” Tyler chastised.

“Why not? I’m just joking.”

"Hm, some just might." Lauren answered.

"For fucks sake…"

"Jesus Pete calm down, I'm done. I'll be out of your hair in a minute." Lauren said as she turned off the water and wrapped her towel around herself.

"Yeah relax mate. We're just messin' around." Trent said to his friend.

"You need to get laid." Lauren stated.

"Excuse me?" Pete asked, sounding offended.

"We've been telling him that the last two weeks love." Tyler said to her.

She pulled open the curtain and stepped out of the shower stall. "Take it from someone who pushed away a lot of her friends by being a negative mope after going through a rough breakup. If she's gonna fuck around, then so can you. Try smiling, go get laid, and live. See ya later boys. I believe I'll be the one interviewing you later!" Lauren called out before walking away.

Lauren left them alone in the men's locker room and walked back to the women's which was thankfully now able to be occupied. She walked quicker than she planned seeing as how she couldn't get dressed there with the guys there. So she was running around in just a towel. No one had really showed up to get ready yet, but she still had to go over interview questions, get dressed, and was expected by the stylists soon. She was rummaging through her bag when there was a lock at the door. She dropped what was in her hands and curiously walked over to the door. Upon opening it she saw an annoyed Pete Dunne standing there. He was still in his trousers, nice button down shirt, and vest. His hair pulled back. Obviously he still hadn't gotten into the shower yet.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from you? Miss me already?"

Pete held out a plastic bag with tiny bottles inside. "Ya left your crap in the shower."

"And you're such a gentleman you brought it back to me?" Lauren joked.

"I drew the short straw."

"You sure it doesn't have anything to do with what I said?" She asked as she took the plastic bag from him. “Because my fantasies about you usually start with me still dressed and you ripping my clothes off me, but if this is how it happens I’ll take it.”

“No, it’s because I was the only one who was still dre…wait, what?”

Lauren smiled "Thanks for bringing my stuff back Pete. I forgot it in all the conversation. And if you’re just here to drop it off, I really need to finish getting ready. I need to be in make-up soon. I’ll see you around later.”

She closed the door, leaving Pete standing there dumbfounded at the interaction he just had.

Lauren had gotten dressed and was sitting in the make-up chair. She had decided on a short black off the shoulder dress. Even though the shoulders were bare, the dress had long sleeves, making a bit more acceptable in the workplace. The strappy heels that she had on also made it a bit less casual. She already had her hair done. She chose to leave it down since it was only shoulder length, but add some waves to it. Pete had wandered over to the area as Lauren was laughing while the make-up artist applied the dusty pink lipstick. Lauren was deep in conversation with the artist. She got along with everyone. Well, mostly everyone. She was easy to talk to and calming, which was a plus with her job. The interviews always flowed nicely and never seemed forced. She never really had any real problems with anyone she worked with. Pete leaned against a wall off to the side watching her talk. He had his wrestling gear on now, and had his long hair dangling down over half of his face.

"Alright, all set. How's it look?" The make-up artist asked as she held up a mirror.

"It looks great! Thanks Rachel!"

"Awesome. If you need a touch up just let me know."

"I will. Thanks!"

Lauren checked in the mirror one last time, pursing her lips together, before jumping out of the make-up chair and leaving it for someone else. She walked away from the styling area and right passed where Pete was brooding.

"Lauren."

"Hey Pete." Lauren replied as she walked by.

"Hey, hold up."

"What's up?" She asked as she stopped and turned to him.

"You tell me." Pete stated.

"Is this about what I said earlier? I’m sorry for getting involved in your business. And I never would have said anything had we not already been in the middle of a conversation. But I’ve been there, and I didn’t want you to end up pushing your friends away with your bad attitude like I did.” She explained.

"Not that. After. At the locker room." Pete said in a much lower voice.

Lauren smiled and crossed her arms. "What is this? When is Pete Dunne so timid?"

Pete rolled his eyes. "F'get it."

"No I'm sorry. I couldn't help myself." Lauren said reaching out to grab his arm. "I'll be good. What did you want?"

"You to stop being intimidating for a moment would be good."

"I've heard that once or twice before, but not from anyone like you."

"What you said earlier, did you mean it?" Pete asked changing the subject.

"That you need a good lay to forget about her? Absolutely. Your friends seemed to agree."

"No. That you've 'ad fantasies about me." He said as he took a step closer to her.

"Maybe a few times." She answered, surprising him by the serious tone in her voice. He stood there not quite sure how to follow up while Lauren opened the small bag she had with her and looked through it. "Listen, I really have to go and interview Daniel Bryan. But if you want to take my advice, I would love to be the girl that gets under you to get over her. Room 308 if you're interested."

She slipped her spare hotel key into his hand before turning around and continuing to walk down the hallway. Later on that night Pete sat in the back watching the show on a t.v. He was watching Lauren interview his two best friends while he spun the hotel key around in his fingers while being lost in thought. He pulled it together to go out and put on a good show, like he always did. All of his cockiness and aggression was on display. Lauren had been watching his match extra closely that night.

After the show Lauren was sitting alone in her hotel room. She hadn't made any plans for the night in case Pete decided to show up. After about an hour of waiting, she decided to change her clothes and get comfortable. She had the television on and was laying down in the bed, trying to relax, but she found herself not paying attention to it and trying to figure out what reasons Pete could have for not showing up. After driving herself crazy for some time, around 11:30 she realized she was being silly. His good friends whom he hadn't seen in months were in the country for a bit, so he was going to be spending time with them. Plus with all the joking around that she had done with him that day he probably didn't even think she was serious. Or maybe he just wasn’t interested and didn’t know how to tell her in a nice way. Lauren grabbed her phone and laid down on her bed to play some games until she got tired. Only a few minutes after she relaxed herself for the night, there was a knock at her door.

Lauren put her phone down and got out of bed. She walked over to the door curious of who could be there this time of night, especially without texting her first. She looked through the peephole and saw Pete standing on the other side. She quickly opened the door.

"You do realize I gave you a key so you wouldn't have to knock and wait in the hallway, right?"

"I didn't feel right usin' it." Pete told her.

Lauren opened the door wider and stepped aside inviting him in. He stood near her as she closed the door.

"I see you stayed dressed for me." Pete joked as he looked at her in her pink tank top and black yoga pants.

"I could say the same for you." Lauren retorted noticing Pete was in grey sweatpants and a t-shirt.

"It's not m' job to look pretty." Pete stated.

"Good thing I'm off the clock then."

They hadn't really talked much before now, other than just a hello or exchanging pleasantries. Maybe being involved in the same conversation as a group of people. Mostly that was because Pete kept to himself or only really talked with the people he was close to, where as Lauren would talk with everyone and insert herself into others conversations. But Pete definitely took notice today that not many people were able to throw back at him the way that she did, and he liked it.

"So did you just come here to criticize my clothes or…" Lauren trailed off.

"Actually, I wanted to talk." He answered.

"Oh, uh okay."

Lauren definitely hadn't been expecting that. She lead him into the room a little bit more and she sat down on the edge of the bed. Pete took one of the seats that were in the room and placed it in front of her before sitting down as well.

"So?"

"I've been thinking about what ya said. And you're right. If she's gonna bang a bunch of guys and not care, then I should too. Well, ya know."

"So what's the hold up?" Lauren asked.

"I don't want pity sex with someone just because they feel sorry fa' me. Especially if it's someone I 'av to work with."

"I can understand that. I'm not really one for random hook ups either." Lauren agreed.

"But then why did you…"

"I like you Pete." Lauren told him.

"Why? I'm kind of a bastard." Pete asked confused.

Lauren laughed. "Yeah, most of the time. I've watched you. You're grumpy face and your angry promos. But I've also seen the way you joke around with your friends. I've seen how interact with kids. I know how much you care about animals. There's a sweet guy behind that whole bruiserweight thing."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Your best friends. Those goofballs wouldn't waste their time with a complete asshole." Lauren answered with a smile. She reached out and placed her hand over top of his. "I'll be honest. I've had the hots for you since you started coming around. And then when I actually learned things about you I had a crush on you. And seeing you laugh with your friends, I've wondered what it would have been like if we had that kind of relationship."

Pete couldn't help but flash a genuine smile that he usually kept hidden. "Why didn't ya eva say anything?"

"You had a girlfriend, remember?"

"Right. Right. Forgot about that."

"Well that was the plan." Lauren giggled.

"So girls really dig the whole aggressive arse thing huh?" Pete asked amused.

"Oh yeah. There's something wired wrong in our brains. And the accent doesn't hurt either.”

Pete leaned back slightly in his chair and chuckled.

"Did I just make Pete Dunne laugh?" Pete didn't even try to hide it this time after she pointed it out. "Up until now I think I've only made you scowl."

"Yeah yeah, just don't spread it around."

"Don't wanna ruin your unlovable reputation, huh?"

They both sat in awkward silence for a few moments, neither knowing what to say next. Pete fidgeted in his chair slightly before standing up. Lauren promptly stood up along with him. He reached out and pulled her to him so her body was flushed with his, wrapping his arms around her in a bear hug. The act took her by surprise.

"Thanks." He said into her ear.

Lauren put her arms around her torso returning the hug. But her senses perked up. He was still holding her, his head down and his nose grazing her neck. The thought of his mouth that close to her, with his history of biting, sent an electric wave through her nerves. She tried to push those thoughts out of her head and hugged him tighter.

"Anytime Pete." She said lightly.

Pete broke the hug and stepped aside looking down at her smiling. She gave him a half hearted smile. She was glad that she was able to be there for him, and it seemed like there was a friendship forming between them. But she was a little disappointed that it wasn't going further. And embarrassed that she told him how she felt, and now she had to deal with him at work all the time with him knowing that. She didn't say anything as she followed him as he walked to the door.

"I'll see ya around, alright?" Pete said as he put his hand on the doorknob.

Lauren nodded with a smile. She closed the door behind him and leaned it against it sighing. She felt like an idiot. She was just hoping he wouldn't make a big deal about it at work. She began walking back to her bed. When she was a few steps away, she heard the door click. She turned around and saw the knob turning. It pushed open and Pete walked back inside.

"Hey. Everything okay?" She asked confused.

He slammed the door behind him and walked towards Lauren, throwing the room key onto the bed as he passed it. He made it to where she was and placed his bands on her hips and pushed her up against the wall crashing his lips down onto hers. Lauren put her hands up on his shoulders, bracing herself at his actions. He moved his hands from her hips up to her sides all while continuing kissing her neck. He traced along the top of her tank top before grabbing it with both hands and ripping it down the middle. Lauren gasped into his mouth. Pete didn't give her any time to adjust to what he was doing before his hands traveled back down her body and behind her thighs picking her up and pressing her against the wall. He tore his lips away from hers to slowly lick down her chest until stopping at her partially exposed breast. He lightly licked around her nipple a few times before taking it into his mouth. Lauren ran her fingers through Pete's hair, softly moaning. When he lightly bit down she moaned deeper and arched her back off of the wall. Pushing herself even further into him, she became even more aware that her legs were spread around him and she could feel herself getting wetter every time he nibbled.

Pete pulled her away from the wall and carried her over to the bed. Lauren laid on the bed looking up at him trying to catch her breath. He was looking down at her with his signature cocky smirk. He reached out and lightly grabbed the waistband of her pants before yanking them off and crawling on top of her. Pete nuzzled into her neck kiss and biting causing her to arch her hips up and feel the large bulge in his sweatpants. Lauren slid her hands under his shirt and scraped her fingers down his chest bringing a low growl from him.

"You are wearing entirely too many clothes." Lauren informed him.

Pete chuckled, but it wasn't the light hearted one from earlier, there was a deeper tone to it. There was something sexy in that chuckle. He leaned up onto his knees and peeled his shirt off.

Lauren took the moment to just look at him, kneeling in front of her with his hair hanging down partially in his face. Watching his eyes in the light. He could see her eyes glancing up and down his body.

"Is this what ya wanted?" He asked.

"Fuck yes." Lauren answered out loud, instead of in her head like she planned. "But this was supposed to be for you."

"Does it seem like I'm not enjoyin' it?"

"Well yeah, but what is it you want?" Lauren asked.

"Haven't been asked that in a long time. Honestly?" Lauren nodded. "I want someone to want to be with me. Not just use me ta get off and pass out. Someone who enjoys being with me. To feel loved."

Lauren leaned up so she was sitting up in bed facing him. "Really?"

"Yeah. Sounds stupid. I guess when ya with someone for so long those things kind of become lost."

"No Pete, they don't." Lauren said as she placed her hand on his face. "That's what happens when people stop caring."

The words hurt Pete, but deep down he knew she was right.

"Lay down." She told him.

"What?" He asked confused.

"Take your pants off and lay down. Let me take care of you." She said it in such a calming tone, you'd forget they were just dry humping each other.

He complied with what she asked. Lauren removed her underwear and straddled him. He rubbed his hands on her thighs She pulled off what was left of her shirt. Pete unknowingly bit his lower lip upon seeing her naked in front of him.

"Like what ya see?" She asked with a coy smirk

"Damn love."

"You sure you wanna do this?" She asked him.

"Love if you don't get on me right now I'm going to push you down and get back on top of you."

Lauren smiled and moved to slide herself down onto his dick. She gasped as she slid down. She could have guessed the size of it based on what he wore in the ring, but she didn't think it was as thick as it was. Pete hissed as she began riding him.

"Fuck babe. You're so tight." He commented.

"Yeah, it's been a while." She replied as she rolled her hips.

"You're so wet." He stated.

"I told you, I like you. Now are you gonna do commentary the whole time or just enjoy it?"

"Oh I'm enjoying it love." Pete said as his hands slid up her legs. He groaned as he saw her bouncing on him, her breasts bouncing along with her. He ran his hand along her body and brushed his finger onto her clit causing her to yelp. He liked the sound that she made and continued to rub along her clit as she rode him.

"Fuck Pete if you keep that up I'm not gonna last long." She warned him.

"You keep makin' those sounds I won't eithea."

Lauren pushed his hand out of the way and brought her upper body down so she could kiss him before moving to his neck. She began kissing and sucking on his neck like he had been doing to her earlier. Pete reached around with both hands to grab her ass. She was moving at a slow and steady pace, keeping with his grunts of pleasure. She would bite down on his neck every once in a while hoping to catch him off guard. He would squeeze his grip tighter pushing her at a different pace causing her to moan.

"Wait, Lauren stop." Pete said suddenly.

Lauren stopped and sat up. "What's wrong?"

"I wanna be on top." He told her.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

Lauren wanted to stay on top and take care of him, but it's what he said he wanted to she switched positions with him. She had to admit having Pete in between her legs staring her down was something she had thought about several times. He began placing kisses down her collar bone as she ran her fingers through his hair again.

"Mmmm Pete, please." Lauren begged bringing a smile to his lips.

"Please what?" Pete asked as he ran his length along her entrance, teasing her.

"I know I'm being selfish at the moment but please, I need you." She moaned as she tried to push herself closer to him.

"Baby, I love hearing you beg." He said as he entered her starting slow at first.

"Pete, faster please."

Pete grunted before speeding up, loving the feeling of her needing him, He began to thrust harder as he sped up. Lauren wrapped his leg up around his waist to give him better access.

"Oh God Pete, I'm so close." Lauren said as she scratched her nails down his back.

"Let go for me love." He rasped into her ear.

Lauren grabbed onto Pete's face to pull him into a passionate kiss as she came. Pete finished shortly after her before collapsing next to her. Their session was relatively quick, but emotional and intense. They laid next to each other trying to catch their breath.

"Well, that was unexpected." Pete stated.

"Yeah, definitely didn't think that was gonna happen when I woke up this morning." Lauren agreed as she laid next to him.

"I'm sorry it wasn't really what ya wanted." Pete apologize.

"What do you mean?"

"Ya said you wanted aggressive, and ripping clothes off, and all that."

Lauren leaned up on her elbow and turned to face him. "That's one of the things I've thought about, but I really just wanted you Pete."

He responded by lightly placing his hand on her head and pulling it down to rest on his chest. Lauren laid there cuddling on Pete, which is something she never would have expected from him, and soon found herself falling asleep.

Around three in the morning Lauren jerked awake. She didn't mean to fall asleep. She didn't even realize she was that worn out. Or maybe just comfortable. The room was now all dark, Pete must have turned the lights out. She couldn't see anything but she felt over to the other side of the bed and it was empty. Of course it was. He came for what she said she'd give him and then left. He wasn't looking for anything beyond that. Lauren knew that when she offered him to come to her too, but she didn't think it would hurt that much when he was gone. She laid back down in her beg and pulled the covers up feeling pretty stupid. Just then she heard the toilet in her bathroom flush and the door open. Pete walked out of the bathroom and back over to the bed.

"Pete?" Lauren asked.

"Hm." He replied.

"I thought you left."

"Why tha hell would I do that?" He asked as he pulled up the covers and got back into bed next to her.

"You were gone. I thought you got what you wanted and left. Especially after I fell asleep on you."

"I believe you're tha one that wanted this love." He reminded her. "You’re the one that offered."

"Well, yeah…"

Pete wrapped his arm around her waist and held her hand, lacing his fingers in with hers. He nuzzled his nose into the back of her neck.

"I'm pretty glad you did though." He admitted. This was the most love he had felt in a long time. He really felt like the person he was with wanted him, needed him. That she was focused on him, and it made him want to be focused on her. He felt an actual connection, which is something that he had been missing.

"I'm not goin anywhere for awhile love." He said as he squeezed her into hug, pulling her body to his. "I loved those sounds I heard earlier. They drove me crazy. I look forward ta havin' ya make more."

Lauren giggled as Pete kissed the back of her neck. Neither knew what the future would hold, but right now they were both enjoying the moment.

#pete dunne #pete dunne one shot #pete dunne fanfic #pete dunne imagine #wwe fanfic #wwe fanfiction #mustache mountain

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nnightskiess · 4 years ago

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‧₊° 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐡 𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐤𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

‧₊° 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘/𝐍 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩. 𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐘/𝐍 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧?

To say Y/N had been working hard, would be a real understatement. Even with only a few bites of food in her system, the girl had pushed herself all week to upkeep their little camp and help provide for the rest of the girls. No matter how much the other girls had protested for her to take a break, she had kept going and going and going. Sitting around and doing nothing would only make her feel guilty.

After Leah had lashed out and persisted for her to wear a baseball cap to take the heat out of her face, and thus lessen the severe sunburn she was already sporting, no one else had been able to make the girl listen to them. Thus Leah made sure to stay close, offering the girl water, pushing her to work in the shade or making her splash some seawater in her neck to try and keep her a bit cool. It was all she could do and all that Y/N accepted.

“Leave it!”

Y/N’s yell echoed over the sound of the waves, making everyone’s head turn to her and Dot, who was standing next to her— both girls holding onto the axe.

“You need to take a fucking break or we’ll have to bury you next.” Dot yelled back but there was less hostility in her tone— she mostly worried.

“We’ll have to dig nine graves if I don’t do anything!”

“So you think we’re not doing enough? Low blow, Y/N.” Rachel chimed in.

“Stop putting words in my mouth!” Her exhaustion and the pain everywhere in her body didn’t help to keep calm towards the others.

Fatin stood between the two, quickly trying to divert the attention, “Look, as much as I love me a hard-working, independent woman, I think it’s best if you just come with me and relax a little. Let’s get some shade, come on.” Fatin grabbed the girl by the shoulders but Y/N didn’t really budge to walk away with her.

Rachel rolled her eyes, “You’re her polar opposite. Not doing anything doesn’t help either, Fatin.”

“Uh- this isn’t about me, but fine, there’s some truth to that.” she shrugged nonchalantly.

“I’m sure Y/N didn’t mean it like that.” Nora mindlessly trudged towards the girls, the others following her actions.

“Oh, didn’t she? We’re working our asses of in this heat while my body is screaming for food, water and rest and she has the fucking audacity to-”

“Man, leave her the fuck alone.” Toni suddenly appeared next to Y/N and grasped the axe out of Dot’s hands before giving it back to the girl next to her. “She’s working so fucking hard to keep us alive, keep things going, and all you guys fucking do is attack her for it.”

Rachel’s lip curled into a sneer. She was doing her best to swallow back the bitter reply she had prepared and walked off.

“You good?” Toni grabbed the girl’s forearm to get her attention after the lack of response.

Y/N mustered up some energy to smile in return, “Yeah, I...I’m going to get us some leaves for the roof.” She gestured to the forest behind her, getting a nod of acknowledgement from Toni.

“You know I meant well, right?” Dot furrowed her eyebrows, still feeling worried. “At least let me go with you then?”

“I know. But I can’t stop, you know that too, right? We need a solid shelter. And no, it’s best if you stay here so you can hold down the fort.”

“But-” Leah finally joined the conversation, having observed from the sidelines until now.

“It’s alright, Leah. I feel alright, I’m fine. I can keep going.” Y/N awkwardly adjusted the cap, trying not to touch her painful sunburned head. Leah decided against trying to change Y/N’s mind, noticing the persistent look in the girl’s eyes. But the way Y/N winced when she brought her hands up to get her hair out of her face, didn’t go unnoticed by her.

Y/N tried to hide how tired she really was and continued, “When the shelter is done, I might take you up on that relaxation offer.” She turned to Fatin, “But right now it doesn’t feel good to rest, knowing that we could be having another sandstorm or rainstorm tonight. I appreciate your effort, though.”

Fatin smiled sympathetically at the girl before watching her walk off towards the forest.

“I don’t... I don’t feel comfortable having her go alone.” Leah bit her lip and faced Dot and Fatin.

“Me neither, man, but you know she gets prickly when she feels like we watch over her like a child.”

“Well, we kind of do watch over her like a child...” Martha added, a guilty expression on her face.

“Yeah, but only because we mean well...” Shelby bit her lip, watching Y/N disappear into the forest.

“Try telling a growling lion that you mean well and just want to pet it... see how that goes.” Fatin snorted but immediately kept quiet when she saw no one laughing along, only Nora gave her a hesitant smile.

Leah had zoned out and suddenly turned to where Y/N had walked off to, realising she needed to leave now if she wanted to catch up to the girl.

“Where are you going?”

“Gonna help her.”

Was all she said before abandoning the group.

Y/N tried to ignore the most prominent aching— the one in her head — and tried to zone out all the pain she was feeling with every step. Her throat started to feel like a knife every time she swallowed and her limbs were on fire. But still, she pushed on to take one step after the other. She knew Toni and Dot had cut the bushes closest to camp already, and therefore she trekked further into the heart of the rainforest, scouting for whatever may come in handy. But it got harder with each step. Her vision seemed to blur and the trees started to sway from left to right and as she looked down at her feet, she saw not only two, but four of them. She let out a shaky breath, realising this wasn’t good and what would probably happen next. Dot had been right, she had needed a break after all. Y/N tried to look around as much as she could with her current vision, the headache not helping, but she could no longer make out any depth, let alone find a nice tree to rest her back against. Before she knew it, she had fallen face forward and slid off the path, landing a few meters down into a thick pile of mud. She heard the few items she had managed to find fall after her before they landed harshly on her back. One last look around and her vision went black.

Leah’s worries were already high the moment she stepped into the forest. The slow blinking of Y/N’s eyes and slow, painful movements overall, the split seconds she’d grab her head or stomach and the way she had taken deep breaths had made her worry for the girl. But after forty minutes of walking around trying to find Y/N, to no avail, that worry started to grow. She couldn’t go back now, she needed to find Y/N first.

It might have been the lack of sense of time, but back at camp, the girls were starting to worry where the two girls were at.

Dot had been drawing with a stick in the sand before pointing with it at the sky, “Sun’s going down in two hours, should we go look for them?”

“No.” The corner of Fatin’s mouth curled up into a smirk. She stifled a laugh, earning confused looks from the rest of the girls who had put their work on hold for the day. “You guys!” She rolled her eyes and sighed, “Let them have their fun.”

Toni snorted, knowing what she was going on about.

“Um-” Shelby rubbed her neck, feeling slightly awkward, “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

“Have I seriously been the only one who noticed?”

Rachel shrugged, “Probably. We’re too busy working to even notice stuff like that.”

Fatin made a mocking but playful face and sat up.

“They both like to retreat and sit alone now and then, right? I’m sure everything’s okay.” Martha tried to lift everyone’s spirits but it was clear that most of them were now starting to worry, not taking Fatin’s remark seriously.

Dot stood up.

“I say we should start looking for them.”

“Y/N?!” Leah’s voice cracked. If only Y/N could hear her, she could yell back or follow her voice, even if she wasn’t near. “Y/N!”

Leah frantically looked around and slipped, thick mud now coating her clothes.

“Leah, are you okay!?” The rest of the girls had found her and helped the girl back up. Leah’s breath was laboured and she held her head in panic, not even realising her hands were muddy. She frantically looked around.

“Leah, Leah, hey-” Fatin walked from the back and grabbed the girl’s arms, “Breathe, tell us what happened.”

“I don’t know- I-I don’t know what happened, I don’t-” She looked around again, yelling for the girl. “We have to find her. S-She’s fine… I mean, she has to be, right?“

Toni opened her mouth, “You never caught up with her?”

Leah’s eyes landed on Toni for only a split second before she shook her head and looked around again, hoping to catch a glimpse of the dirty white top Y/N had been wearing that day.

“Hey, I’m sure we’ll find her. Okay?” Fatin tried to reassure her friend.

“Yeah, knowing her she's probably busy cutting down the whole rainforest.” Shelby tried to lighten the mood as well, but it went over Leah’s head.

“Not to piss on anyone’s parade, but it took us a good while to even find Leah, the sun’s going down soon and as much as I would hate leaving without Y/N, I don’t think it’s such a great idea to walk around at night.” Dot twirled the stick in her hand, hating having to break the news. “We should call it. You know, start out fresh in the morning...”

Leah’s voice was harsh from yelling, “We have to keep looking.” It was clear to everyone that she was on the verge of breaking down, “We can’t stop looking.”

“Leah-”

“We have to find her...” Her voice now merely above a whisper, the birds of the rainforest filling the silence. “Please...” She stated more than asked. The girls looked at her. They were worried too, but Leah seemed to be panicking even more. She scanned everyone’s faces, but when no one said a word, her heart sank into her stomach.

“S-She went in here for all of you-” She pointed a finger, “She-”

“She’s right.” Toni nodded, “Leaving her alone is a really shitty way of saying thank you for all that she’s done.”

Leah didn’t need to hear more and yelled out the girl’s name again, the others now following her lead. They hiked a good half hour before Martha stopped to pick something off the ground. It was completely covered in mud, but the shape was still inevitably that of an axe.

“Guys...” She held it in the air.

“She had that with her.” Toni nodded, remembering she’d given it to Y/N.

“Why would she leave it here?” Marty added, “Do you think something happened?”

“Y/N!” They all started yelling, realising the girl couldn’t be far now.

“Wait, wait, wait-” Rachel, who could’ve punched the girl just a few hours before, was just as worried as the rest when she pointed at the evident slip marks in the mud. “Do you think she could have slipped?”

“Most definitely.” Dot winced and was already making up a plan when she tried to determine how deep it was.

“That’s her!”

Leah’s panicked yell got their attention. She pointed at something down below. It was hard to see, but if you tried, you could see the messy mop of hair and the clothes dirtied with mud lying sideways.

“Okay, we need to make a plan-”

Leah shut down every rational thought the moment she saw Y/N’s unconscious body and slowly but clumsily let herself slide down onto her belly. Toni followed her lead immediately, yelling angrily when she got down, “Don’t stand there, fucking do something!”

“Wait, let’s think this through first before we’re all stuck down there.” Dot stopped them. While the girls above them were trying to figure out what to do, Toni and Leah were tending to Y/N.

Toni scrunched up her face when Leah turned Y/N to lay on her lap. Y/N’s right temple was heavily coated with blood and mud.

“That doesn’t look too good.”

The sudden move of her body made Y/N open her eyes, which didn’t go unnoticed by the two girls holding her.

“Easy, I’ve got you.” Leah grabbed her cheeks to try and get a better look at her eyes, to see how responsive she really was.

Y/N suddenly realised what had happened and wanted to sit up straight until two sets of hands gently pushed her back down. She let out a cry of pain immediately.

“Sssh, just lay down, it looks like you hit your head.” But when Leah squeezed her arm to try and comfort the girl, Y/N let out another yelp.

“I’m not an expert but her elbow looks fucked up.” Leah shot Toni a look, telling her to keep her mouth shut in front of Y/N.

“I don’t feel so good.” Y/N managed to get out.

“I know- Shit, um- J-Just hold my hand.” Leah mumbled curse words under her breath, feeling terribly out of control. She didn’t know what to do or how to help the girl.

“Everything okay down there? We’re sending Rachel to help. Can Y/N stand on her own?”

“No, her arms fucked and something hit her head.” Toni replied, sending an apologetic look Leah’s way when she shot her another look.

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t pass out on me!” Leah saw Y/N’s hazy eyes slowly open and close.

“Does anyone have water with them?!” Leah panicked.

A bag of pecan nuts hit Toni in the head, who let out a grunt.

“Sorry...” Martha gasped.

“It’s fine. Can you give me a heads-up on the bottle of water, though?”

“Watch out!”

Toni waddled on her knees through the thick mud back to Y/N who was now sitting in between Leah’s legs, leaning back against the girl’s torso.

“When’s the last time you ate? Or drank?” Leah asked softly, trying not to worsen Y/N’s headache. Y/N only shrugged in return.

“Open up,” Leah held back the girl’s head and helped her drink a bit, then splattered the remaining water in her face and neck. Y/N was tired, but tried her best to keep her eyes open, if only to soothe Leah’s worries.

“Here, this’ll help.” Toni watched with a worried smile as Y/N slowly ate a few pieces.

“Hey, let’s get you out of here, alright?” Rachel appeared with a rope made out of clothes in her hands. “We’re going to tie this around you, push you up from here so the others can pull you up.

Y/N was too tired to reply or acknowledge the girl.

“Careful with her arm!” Leah panicked when Rachel made a move to grab her. Rachel glared at her, she wasn’t stupid.

Toni grabbed the other side while Leah slowly pushed the girl up by her back. They tied the made up rope around the girl’s torso.

“Thank you...” Y/N mumbled out.

“You’re gonna be alright, okay?”

The sun had gone down the minute they returned to camp. They had to tell a worried Nora everything that had happened after she saw a tired and bloody Y/N being supported by the girls. Dot had immediately given the girl some medicine and as she had dozed off, Leah made sure to gently rid the girl’s face and temple from the dried up blood and mud so that Dot could clean the wound and bandage it up.

She dapped the damp cloth onto Y/N’s temple, who furrowed her eyebrows in her sleep in return. Leah smiled softly to herself, the nerves and worries finally washing away now that she knew Y/N would be fine.

Y/N went to turn around in her sleep but Leah quickly stopped her from putting weight onto her arm. After Dot had examined it, it seemed less severe as they had all initially thought. The wound in her elbow was deep, yes, but it was better than a broken bone. And the gash on her temple would probably leave a nasty scar, but that was all.

Y/N opened her eyes slowly after feeling the resistance.

“I’m sorry.” Leah whispered out, a sympathetic smile on her face. “You were going to hurt your elbow. Feeling better?”

Y/N mumbled a bit, “Mm, I think...” She rubbed the bridge of her nose, “Don’t know if this is just the after effects of the meds or if it’s still from the exhaustion and dehydration.”

“Or your sunburn.” Nora appeared behind the two, “If you get a bad sunburn, some symptoms might be headache, fever, nausea and fatigue...” She smiled hesitantly when the two stared at her. “Here, this might help.”

Leah grabbed the bottle of after sun and inspected it suspiciously before eyeing Nora again, “Where did you get this?”

“Oh... it washed up on shore.. when you were all gone.”

“Thanks, Nora.”

Nora trudged back to the rest sitting around the campfire.

Y/N quickly dodged her head to the side when Leah made a move to smear the after sun on her face.

“What are you doing?!”

Leah sighed, “Let me help you.”

“You know, we could all use a bit of after sun. I don’t really need it.”

“Y/N.”

“I’m good, my sunburn isn’t that bad, it doesn’t hurt.”

“Stop being so incredibly stubborn and let me take care of you for once, okay?”

Y/N widened her eyes and after a few seconds of silence she let Leah smear the cool ointment onto her cheeks. A content hum left her lips, she immediately felt her skin calm down.

“Feels better, huh?” Leah playfully smeared some onto the girl’s nose, who only hissed in return.

“I’m good, it doesn’t hurt.” Leah mocked.

“Fuck you.”

The two chuckled. Y/N quickly found herself staring into Leah’s eyes, who in return, was concentrated on tending to the girl’s face. However, Leah noticed after a while. She stopped her movements when she realised why she had been extra worried today— she cared for Y/N way more than just a friend should.

She inched closer to Y/N’s face before coming to an abrupt stop, the hesitance taking over for just a split second— what if Y/N didn’t feel the same? But the look in the wounded girl’s eyes spoke differently.

Leah planted a quick and shy kiss on Y/N’s lips. Leah sat back up immediately and cleared her throat, looking around as if nothing had happened. What the fuck had she done? A sudden tug on the hem of her shirt brought her back just mere inches away from the girl’s face. Y/N pulled her into another kiss, one that lasted longer than a second but was still just as gentle as before. Y/N let out a lighthearted chuckle when Leah pulled back.

“W-What?”

“You’ve got a little...” Y/N smeared out the after sun on Leah’s cheek before looking down, feeling embarrassed.

“Thank you for coming after me. Fatin told me you didn’t want me to go alone. I should really listen to you more often.”

Leah laughed at Y/N’s cheeky smile, “Yeah! You should!”

Another moment was spent in silence before Leah opened her arms and sat back against the log, “Come here.”

Y/N let out a content sigh as she relaxed in the brunette’s tight hold while the two of them watched the flickering of the fire.

Life on the island was rough, but having Leah made it so much easier.

#leah rilke #leah rilke imagine #leah rilke x reader #leah rilke imagines #leah rilke one shot #the wilds imagine #the wilds x reader #the wilds imagines #the wilds one shot

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hadtochangemyurlquick · 4 years ago

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here’s 7.1k of Toni pining and Shelby and Toni being childhood friends and also far more character analysis of Rachel than I was expecting? also Marcus is real and I made him a gorgeous himbo. it’s based off that poem by @theycallmedizzy and you can find it here. lmk if you want a second chapter from shelby’s perspective, tho i literally just finished this one. like literally ten minute ago.

Mr. Williams finishes reading the poem and looks over his spectacles at the class. Yes, they’re spectacles, those kind of tiny thick ones that make his eyes too big because he’s much too old to be teaching.

It’s eight am on a Tuesday, Toni walked the three miles to school because she missed the bus only to walk into her shitty honors English class and hear the teacher reading a poem aloud to the class. Her poem. She’d sat down after a momentary pause and listened to him read the final damning stanza.

And then he looks at Toni.

He reads her essays right? What if he recognizes her writing voice? Is that a thing? Or maybe her handwriting or—

“Toni, I was just explaining to the class that whoever wrote this should submit it to the state literature festival,” Mr. Williams says, Toni almost sags against her chair. “I was hoping someone would come forward,” He turns back to the class, eyes hovering over Quinn and Monty, two of the more sensitive guys who sit in the back and ruin the curve for everyone. “But I’ll leave it on the board here,” he clacks it on with a magnet and Toni flinches, “and hopefully someone will come forward. Now onto today’s lesson.”

After class Martha goes up to the board and takes a picture of it, her eyes a little starry at the words and Toni grits her teeth.

“You have to admit it’s pretty,” Martha says. “Even you can’t deny that.”

“It’s dumb,” Toni says flatly, crossing her arms.

“Well I’m keeping it anyway, maybe someday someone will write a poem about me,” Martha says.

“How do you know it’s not about you?” Shelby asks coming out of nowhere and uninvited too. Toni glares at her, letting her open disdain shine through like sunshine through clouds after a gully washer.

“No guys notice me,” Martha informs Shelby sadly. “I bet Andrew wrote it for you.”

Shelby purses her lips and looks over the poem, “I doubt it. He’s more of a doer, I think. Besides, I’m sure that guys notice you, you went on a date with that boy Sam last month.”

Martha sighs and before she can launch into what a disaster that date was, Toni tightens her hands around her backpack.

“I’ll see you in science,” She tells Martha and manages to escape Shelby’s eyes burning at the back of her neck.

———

reasons not to kiss her

1.) this sort of love is not allowed. you are both too soft, and the world around you is all knives and chipped teeth

Toni had played about every sport she was allowed to growing up. Basketball was her favorite, but she loved beat it ball, the game she made up with the other kids in the neighborhood. It was basketball but without rules, devolving into fist fights within the first half. Nothing tasted better than her own bloody lip on a hot summer day. Not even the cool glass of lemonade Mrs. Blackburn always had ready when she ran all skinned knees to Martha’s telling her about how she beat guys two years older than her.

She got angry when she had to stop playing, moving to a different neighborhood. Apparently, Mrs. Blackburn had figured out that she wasn’t only getting her split lip from the older kids in the neighborhood.

The new foster parents were a little stricter, a little richer, and signed her up for youth soccer when she complained about how there was nothing to do without beat it ball.

Martha Blackburn would always be her person, but Toni didn’t expect to find her people so young. Dottie killed as goalie, and Becca’s sweetness made her defense all the better. But it was Shelby and Toni who were the dynamic duo. Toni had a never ending amount of energy as a midfielder and Shelby’s precision made her the perfect striker. It worked the same way every game, Becca would kick it to Toni, who got it to Shelby, who scored a goal. It got to the point that Becca didn’t even need to do much and the coach had to pull Toni aside to tell her to pass to the other girls too.

At the end of the season they sat together at the team party, wearing orange slice smiles. With sticky fingers they held hands and Toni kinda wondered how someone’s eyes could be so green.

Toni doesn’t remember why Shelby’s parents were so angry about them holding hands, but she knows Mr. Goodkind talked to her foster parents and Toni was off to a different home, in a different district, and she lost even Martha for a few months.

———

At lunch everyone’s talking about that fucking poem. Martha sent it around to the whole school and Leah is discussing its merits with Rachel and Nora. Even they don’t seem bored with the topic, though Nora is sure Quinn didn’t write it.

“It could be Monty,” Leah says. “I wouldn’t have thought he had an eye for this stuff.”

“I don’t think it’s Monty,” Rachel says. She looks at Nora, “C’mon, you know what I’m talking about, right?”

“What?” Nora asks.

“I mean it smells like Anna Akhmatova had a baby with Adrienne Rich,” Rachel says.

“Who had a baby with who?” Martha asks.

“Please,” Fatin says. “You’re not exactly the world’s leading expert on free form poetry.”

“Uh, I know when something’s written by a girl,” Rachel says. “I bet you fifty bucks some closet case wrote this.”

Everyone looks at Toni. “You caught me,” Toni deadpans.

“Rachel’s right,” Nora says. “A girl definitely wrote this. Toni, do you know anyone?”

Toni glares at her. “I’ll shake the lesbian phone tree and see what comes out.”

“Well, could it be Regan?” Martha asks. “Maybe she wants to—”

“It’s not fucking Regan,” Toni grabs her books and stalks out, kicking a chair randomly strewn around away as she did.

She hears Shelby sit down just as she leaves, “What’s got her madder than a baptized cat?” Shelby asks and Toni rolls her eyes.

———

2.) no one ever taught you how to love. your war paint and scarred hands could never hold her like she deserves

The worst of it was that Shelby was gentle. Her hands were warm and soft around Toni’s callouses, and there was a crinkle between her eyebrows as she focused on Toni’s hands. No, the worst of it was that Shelby didn’t let go of Toni’s hands when she finished, kept holding onto them as she met Toni’s eyes.

“Well?”

Toni swallowed hard, “I’m not gonna apologize.”

Shelby sighed, her thumb traced little circles around Toni’s hands. “I know today ain’t easy for you.” Toni scoffed and looked away. “But you know you were pickin' a fight. Andrew promised to leave you alone.”

Toni ripped her hands away and jumped from the bench of the locker room. “What the fuck do you know? You weren’t fucking there.”

Shelby’s calm only made Toni’s anger redder, “You ain’t denying it.”

“Why the fuck are you dating him? He’s a self-satisfied little asshole who just wants a little trophy girlfriend to—”

“Toni,” Shelby cut her off sharply and got to her feet, meeting Toni’s eyes.

“You’re not denying that either,” Toni spat.

She could’ve screamed at the hypocrisy. She wanted to scream. She wanted to pound her fists against the walls and bleed all over the bandages Shelby wrapped around her knuckles. She wanted to hurt, to make Shelby hurt. She wanted everyone to see and feel how hurt she was, and hurt them with that hurt. Finally level the playing field.

“Andrew is my business,” Shelby said. “Not yours.”

“He becomes my business when you—”

“When I what?” Shelby asked.

Toni looked at her hands, “Never mind.”

Shelby sighed, “Martha’s helping you move in today, right? Shel’ll be there the whole time?”

“Don’t pretend you give a shit.”

“Of course I care. The last time you lived with your mom you didn’t eat for a week.”

“I was five, not fifteen,” Toni said. “And seriously, stop pretending you give a shit.”

She shoulder checked Shelby as she walked out and winced at the sound of Shelby hitting the gym lockers. Her hands still sting where Andrew’s teeth had scrapped them.

———

Regan approaches Toni during science, her eyes serious. Martha straightens, and Toni does her best not to make eye contact.

“It’s not mine,” Regan says.

“Yeah duh,” Toni mutters.

Regan frowns, “I just—I didn’t want you to—”

“You made it perfectly clear what you want,” Toni says.

Regan sighs and leaves and Toni regrets it.

“Shelby thinks it’s Marcus,” Martha tells her. Toni blinks up at her and Martha nods. “She thinks he wrote it for me.”

“Martha, that kid is dumber than a box of rocks,” Toni says.

Martha furrows her brow, “Maybe he has hidden depths.”

“If you think it’s him ask him out,” Toni says.

“Shelby thinks it’s him,” Martha is quick to correct. “But he doesn’t even know who I am.”

Toni rolls her eyes. Marcus had been in love with Martha since the ninth grade. They had gotten placed as lab partners and he literally didn’t take his eyes off her the entire time. Every time there was a dance he would always look like he was about to say something, shoot his shot, when Martha would loudly proclaim she couldn’t wait to go with her friends.

Toni would’ve pulled the guy aside and told him to grow a pair, but a guy who’s not brave enough to go after what he wants wasn’t good enough for her Marty, not by a long shot.

“Rachel still thinks a girl wrote it,” Martha says.

“Maybe Rachel wrote it,” Toni mutters.

Martha’s eyes light up.

———

3.) no one has ever loved you this full surely you would drown in it all

Being a lifeguard was the worst. It was super boring, the pay was shit, and also Toni would probably get someone killed. Like, they pretended she was CPR certified but she absolutely had no idea how to do it. She went to some hour long course, slept through it, took a test that was just: should you kill people? And then they wrote some bullshit on some papers about a three week long set of classes.

But Shelby was tanned and golden looking and on their shifts they’d text back and forth about which kids they were betting on to win sharks and minnows. Tweenage boys in all their adolescent infancy would gaze open mouthed at Shelby and Toni alike but Shelby was the only one who let them down gently. Toni would ruin them for girls forever with something enough to cut through even the thickest skin.

On the fourth of July the pool paid for fireworks and Toni found a blanket and Shelby found her and they sat watching the reflections of the lights together. Shelby rested her head on Toni’s shoulder, all gentle, like she was afraid Toni would spook.

“I know this ain’t much of a holiday for you,” Shelby said. “But thank you for spending it with me.”

She had her hand on the blanket, splayed out like she was waiting for Toni to take it, there in front of everyone. Toni imagined a world in which she did.

———

“Yeah it’s not me,” Rachel says. “I wish I could write that good.”

Which is such bullshit because Toni knows Rachel could say well if she wanted to. Rachel’s weird inferiority complex about Nora pisses off Toni to no end. Nora’s the smart one, Rachel will be the first to say, and Rachel’s the athletic one. But Nora has a six minute mile and Rachel has perfect pitch so Toni hates them both.

“Maybe it’s Dot,” Toni suggests and Rachel, Nora, and Martha snicker.

Out of all of them, Martha’s the best driver, but they always end up in Rachel’s car after school anyway.

“Most of the school seems to think it’s by Andrew,” Nora says. Toni’s fists clench.

“Yeah,” Rachel rolls her eyes, “I’m sure he would love to take the credit. C’mon Toni, you don’t know any lesbians who could’ve written this?”

“You’re a lesbian too,” Toni says. “You don’t know any?”

“I don’t have a life outside of the pool,” Rachel says, “and none of them have picked up a book since Hop on Pop.”

“Regan says it wasn’t her,” Martha cuts in helpfully. “But maybe it’s another kid in theatre. Shelby says—”

“Oh my god,” Toni grits out. “What is everyone’s deal with her anyway? Why is everyone still obsessed with her? She’s just another basic Jesus bitch.”

The car goes quiet and Toni wishes she could melt into her seat cushion.

“I didn’t mean that,” Toni says.

“Except you did,” Martha snaps.

Toni winces.

“What’s your deal with her?” Rachel asks. “You guys were fine last year.”

“Quinn says there’s a poetry club,” Nora says. “Maybe it’s someone there?”

No one takes the bait and they don’t talk the rest of the way.

———

4.) she belongs in a museum, and you are merely here to gaze. look around you, all the signs scream ‘do not touch’

“Shelby?”

Toni grabbed the shoulder of the girl and pulled her away from Marcus. Shelby was bruised lips and ruined make up and Toni took her by the hand. Thank god Martha wasn’t here, thank god Andrew wasn’t here, thank god Marcus looked just as trashed.

“Toni?” Shelby sorta stumbled, her ankle twisting painfully on her heel and Toni steadied her.

Shelby could do a cartwheel in six inch heels.

“I’m gonna get you home, okay?” Toni called over the music.

Shelby didn’t really respond, just leant into Toni as she led her away and outside. The party had spilled into the backyard and front yard some, the cops probably already on their way, but everyone was too fucking hammered to notice them making their way out.

Shelby’s house was only about a twenty minute walk but it was cold and Toni was only wearing her basketball shorts and her mom’s jacket that she promptly put over Shelby’s shoulders.

“Are you still—” Shelby swallowed hard, “You’re still living with your mom?”

“Mostly with Martha,” Toni said.

“Martha’s great,” Shelby said. “She’s so pretty it makes my eyes hurt.”

“One of our finest,” Toni grunted as Shelby nearly fell on her heels again.

“She could be a model,” Shelby told her. “We should get waffle house.”

“Shelbs, we’re nowhere near a waffle house.”

“What was Becca’s order? At waffle house?”

Toni sighed, looping an arm around her. “I dunno.”

“Neither do I,” Shelby said.

“I’m sorry, Shelby,” Toni said.

Shelby shook her head and stopped right there, circling her arms around Toni and pressing her into a hug. Toni closed her eyes, holding her back as tightly as she dared.

“Oh, Shelby, I’m so fucking sorry.”

———

“Day two!” Mr. Williams calls. He taps the poem again, “I will investigate the handwriting if the poet doesn’t come forward by Friday. I know it’s someone in one of my classes.”

His eyes narrow as he takes them all in and his eyes don’t linger on Toni. Not even for a moment.

There’s a part of her that wants to march up to the front of the room and write her name down, make eye contact with everyone who never even considered her before. But no one expects shit from her, and even if he does go over the handwriting he won’t really be able to pin it on her. He might not even bother checking to see if it matches.

Toni tries not to jump when Marcus takes the seat in front of her during quant lit. It’s not like they have assigned seating but everyone sticks to the same seats anyway. Marcus won’t get shit for it though, perks of being the quarterback.

“So, listen,” he scratches the back of his head and Toni rolls her eyes at him. “I know we aren’t really friends but I—um.”

“Marcus,” Toni says.

“I wanna ask Martha out,” Marcus rushes out. “She’s like the nicest, smartest, coolest girl in the school and like her eyes are out of this world radical.” Radical? “And I would take her somewhere nice like Olive Garden. Or Cheesecake Factory? And pay for it, and open all the doors for her, and I’d carry her books to class—”

“On your date? This is happening during school?” Toni asks.

His eyebrows furrow as he tries to connect the dots. Football players.

“Oh no! I meant like, after, if she wants me to,” He says. “Can I?”

“Can you what?”

“Can I ask her out?”

Toni blinks at him. “What?”

“My buddy said if you want to get with a girl you get close to the best friend first, and I figured I’d ask you for your blessing because that’s what they do in old fashioned stuff right?” He bounces up in down in his seat. “Can I? Or like, do you wanna give me your blessing?”

She feels like she’s having an aneurysm.

Listen, Marcus having feelings for Martha is one thing. Everyone on the planet who’s ever met Martha falls a little in love with her. That’s kinda just how she operates. Toni narrowly avoided that pitfall by being lucky enough to know her since she was five, but it was a tough time. But Marcus was never gonna act on it. Marcus can’t—he’s the quarterback.

It’s basic math, Marcus is a six foot five football player with shoulders wide enough to bench press the Subaru Forrester Toni’s legally required to buy when she turns thirty-two. He’s got that all American boy smile that shows of perfectly white teeth, and dark hair that sweeps in front of his eyes. His face looks like it was sculpted out of marble, like literally he looks like some sort of roman god, except if that roman god volunteered at the humane society on the weekends and called his mom Mami.

Martha is a res girl who’s best friend is the dyke with anger issues. And like yeah, she’s stupid pretty, but Marcus has exclusively dated varsity cheerleaders since the seventh grade.

So yeah, even if Marcus may have feelings for Marty, everyone fucking does, and there’s a host of reasons why she doesn’t have a date to every dance and a new guy every week. And most of them are the cliche high school movie hierarchy sort.

“It’s really none of my business, man,” she says.

“Dude, it’s totally your business,” Marcus says. He leans closer, “you two are like sisters right? What do I gotta do to prove I’m not gonna hurt her? I’ll do your math homework for a month, no two months.”

A thought occurs to Toni and it’s a terrible one. But when has that ever stopped her?

“You’re in my honors English class right?”

Marcus’s face screws in, “Uh, yeah. But I don’t think you want me doing your homework in there, I’m like totally failing.”

“I have a better idea.”

———

5.) she touches you like youre fragile, and if you break you wont be able put yourself together again

Dot was asleep which was Toni’s first indication that something was deeply wrong. The second was that Shelby wasn’t. She was definitely trying her darnedest, but Toni could tell she was awake. Awake in her arms.

Toni shifted, just enough to let Shelby know she was awake too. The movie was some horror flick, something dumb and flashy and almost muted it was so quiet. It was the only thing rated R that they could all agree on. Dot’s house was the only place they were allowed to watch anything rated R when they were still thirteen, so it was all they watched there.

She felt Shelby shift up, so her head rested on Toni’s chest, shifted until her lips met Toni’s clavicle.

Toni wondered if she’d die.

Shelby went up instead of down, pressing kisses up the length of Toni’s neck, soft barely there things that made Toni’s breath catch as she watched Dot snore on the couch next to them.

Toni’s hands moved to the inside of Shelby’s thighs and they stared there, tracing delicate patterns that only made Shelby curl closer.

“I think you’re probably the most beautiful girl I ever saw,” Shelby whispered.

“I—”

“I’m not done.”

Toni’s mouth clamped shut.

“I think about you all the time,” Shelby whispered. “Even when I—”

“Shelby,” Toni warned. Shelby pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“You’re right,” Shelby said.

Neither of them slept that night.

———

Toni walks into class three minutes late with Mr. Williams, and takes her seat with a sulk.

“He still won’t let me redo that paper,” Toni mutters to Martha who’s eyes are wide.

“Toni, Marcus just—” She nods her head at the poem where Mr. Williams is studying it too.

“Marcus Gonzales?” Mr. Williams asks.

Marcus gets to his feet.

“You wrote this?”

“Yessir.”

“This poem right here?”

“Yessir.”

Mr. Williams blinks and takes off his spectacles, setting them down on the desk. “We’ll talk after class. I should hope everyone has a copy of—”

“I wrote it for Martha,” Marcus doesn’t sit down and the entire class stares at him.

“—Franny and Zooey and I would like you all to turn to page 52. Begin by annotating—”

“Martha, can I take you out on a date?” Marcus asks.

“—this first section, and on to page 64. Remember what Seymour serves as in—”

Martha blushes hard and glances at Toni who smiles before she looks back at Marcus in all his golden boy 6’5” glory.

“Um, okay,” she mutters out and he grins.

“Cool.” Marcus finally sits and gives Toni a thumbs up. She rolls her eyes.

“—this story and compare that to his roles in the other parts of the work we’ve read.”

“I told you it was for you, girl,” Shelby says on Martha’s other side. “People always have a way of surprising you.”

———

6.) she is all bubblegum skies and chapped stick kisses, and you cannot watch the love run out of another persons eyes

They were all a little bit slap happy by the end of the night. A little bit drunk, a little bit high, and laughing far too hard at one another.

“I’m scared,” Shelby told them, still grinning wider than any pageant smile.

“Girl, you picked dare,” Fatin said.

“I did,” Shelby bit her lip. “But all y’all dared Leah to do was finish the vodka.”

“That was—that was bad vodka,” Leah slurred from her position on Dot’s lap.

“But now we’re out of vodka,” Martha sang. “You picked dare.”

“I’ll go with you,” Toni got to her feet, surprised when they were more steady than she assumed they’d be. “Two chairs right?”

“Alright,” Shelby said. “And you’ll hold my hand?”

“Sure princess,” Toni rolled her eyes.

It was an office supply place, probably. The parking lot had this killer decline, and it was one of those spring nights where nothing could really ruin anything. Not forever.

The rolling chairs were kinda gross, left there but not yet picked up by the garbage men. They had to do a special pickup for that, which costed extra. No one in the office had done it for the weeks the girls had been going there after parties.

“Be careful,” Nora urged.

“Don’t fall,” Rachel suggested.

“Hold on, I’m not recording yet,” Fatin said. “Okay now go.”

They pushed off in their rolling chairs, holding hands, and sped down the decline laughing as they barely managed to hold on and steer at the same time.

Toni went flying as she bumped into a patch of grass and for some reason, Shelby went flying with her, landing on top. Toni grunted, but she wasn’t in pain, not really.

They met eyes.

“Sorry,” Shelby said. She didn’t sound sorry.

“You okay?” Toni asked.

Shelby smiled, this real soft thing, Toni wondered what it’d taste like.

“Fuck yeah bitches! I’m so putting that on snapchat!” Fatin screamed and Shelby pulled away, turning white.

“God if this is you in in freshman year, I’m terrified of you as a senior,” Toni called back.

Shelby’s hand slipped out of her’s and Toni tried very very hard not to overthink it.

———

“So I’ve been thinking,” Leah said. Toni took her gym bag out of her locker, pretty much the only thing she kept in there.

“Oh no.”

“Rachel was right about that poem being written by a girl,” Leah continued. “Which meant Marcus lied. And Marcus would never do that unless someone gave him permission to take credit. And since Marcus lied so he could ask Martha out that means the person who wrote the poem wanted Martha to be happy.”

Toni swallowed hard and tried not to fumble with the lock, stumbling with it.

“Toni,” Leah walked over to her. “You need to face the facts: Shelby’s into you.”

Toni blinked, “What?”

“She wrote that whole poem for you, don’t tell me you don’t see it. It’s about you!”

“She—” Toni stopped and furrowed her brow, finally making eye contact with Leah, “You think she wrote that poem for me?”

Leah nodded, “And she let Marcus take the credit. Listen, I know I’m right. I’ve been thinking about it for ages. Whatever fight the two of you had—you need to get over it. She’s into you, Toni. She’s been into you.”

“You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about,” Toni told her. “Seriously, fuck you Leah and fuck off. This is none of your fucking business.”

“You aren’t denying it,” Leah crowed. “Shelby likes you.”

“No she fucking doesn’t!” Toni spat at her. “She fucking hates me! She didn’t write that poem Marcus did! For Martha!”

Leah’s brow furrowed, “But… but you wanted her to. Didn’t you?”

Toni looked away.

“Shelby’s actually straight, isn’t she?” Leah asked. “Fuck Toni.”

“I’m happy for Martha,” Toni said, and marched away.

———

7.) if you jump, she might catch you, and then youd have to watch as she tumbled through the dark

“What if we ran away?” Shelby asked, which was Toni’s third indication that the punch was spiked.

The first two were her arms wrapped around Toni’s waist, swaying in the soft breeze to the distant music of Junior prom.

“Oh yeah?” Toni asked. “Where’d we go?”

“Peru,” Shelby said. “Or LA, or New York or—” Shelby sort of trailed off, losing her thought halfway through it.

“Our parents,” Toni pointed out. She’d moved in with Martha a few months ago but her mom had taken it as a wakeup call, promising to get her shit back together as soon as she could. Toni couldn’t help but believe her, even if it put her in stasis.

“Right,” Shelby sounded cold, “Our parents.”

“Are things worse with them?” Toni asked.

“No,” Shelby said. “The same, really. They’ve lightened up since—since Becca. Have you heard from your mom?”

“Every week or so,” Toni said. “And if you ever need a break you know—“

“Martha is happy to have me,” Shelby finished.

Toni smiled and pulled away enough to meet Shelby’s eyes, her hands slid from behind Shelby’s neck to either side.

“Did I tell you you look beautiful tonight?” Toni asked.

“You did,” Shelby said.

“Can I say it again?”

“You can.”

“You look beautiful tonight.” Shelby closed her eyes and Toni tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “You’re gonna get out, you know that right?”

Shelby nodded, leaning into Toni’s hand.

Later, Toni will learn that was one of two lies Shelby told that night.

———

Martha gets home at 11:30, exactly when Marcus promised, and Toni smiles as her sister collapses backwards into her bed.

“Toni,” she actually giggles, giggles like a little school girl. “It was amazing.”

“Where’d you go?” Toni asks.

“Olive Garden, I think he was trying to win points with you,” Martha says.

“As he should,” Toni nods.

“He was the perfect gentleman,” Martha swoons. She rolls onto her stomach and looks at Toni and oh god, Toni knows that look. “He did tell me something about you, though.”

“Oh yeah? How I’m better in quant lit than him?” Toni asks.

“He told me you wrote the poem,” she says.

Toni looks away, “Okay, and?”

“You told me you were over Regan,” Martha says.

“It’s complicated,” Toni decides. “And whatever. I wrote it awhile ago anyway.”

“Have you thought about submitting it to that contest Mr. Williams was talking about?” Martha asks.

“Can we go back to talking about your date with Prince Charming?” Toni says. Martha acquiesces, she’s too damn giddy to do anything else.

———

8.) her gaze is too gentle. you will not be the one to tell her that not everything can be fixed with a smile

“Toni,” Dot began, and Toni could tell she was looking at her. “Toni, is Shelby—is she gay?”

Toni snickered, “Dot, Shelby is possibly the biggest straight girl in our school. Maybe our state. She’d sooner give herself a buzzcut than she would ever even kiss a girl."

“Andrew said Shelby got a job as a counselor at this church camp—Guiding Light—in Plano,” Dot said. “I wanted to find the address so I could write to her and it’s a conversion camp.”

The breath left Toni’s body.

“What?”

“And I got to thinking,” Dot said. “About what a mess she was after Becca died this year. Ignoring us, going to all those parties, signing up for a crazy number of pageants. Hell, it was only once you two started talking that she talked to us again.”

“Stop it, Dot.”

“Toni is Shelby gay?”

“Dot,” Toni said.

“Because if she’s gay, if she’s not there as a camp counselor—Toni, did you know about this?”

“Of course not! Jesus!” Toni said. She jumped to her feet and started to pace, “Jesus Christ. Oh my god.”

“Toni is Shelby gay?”

Toni looked at Dot and Dot sighed, her entire body sagging.

“What do we do?” Toni asked.

Dot, her solid, steady, friend since fucking youth soccer was silent.

“Dot, what do we do?”

“Dot, what the fuck do we do?”

———

Shelby finds her before school, Toni smoking like she hasn’t since ninth grade when Bernice gave her a stern lecture about lung cancer. It made Toni cry, actually. Not because it was so stern but because Martha and Toni had been separated for three years and Bernice still cared enough to get angry with her. She promised then and there to stop, and each drag she took now makes her feel like she’s committing treason.

“Smokin’ kills,” Shelby tells her, like they didn’t all go to Dot’s dad’s funeral last year.

Toni takes another drag, just to watch Shelby roll her eyes.

“How’d Martha’s date go last night?” Shelby asks.

Toni glares, “Seriously? You avoid me all year and now you’re asking about Martha’s date?” Shelby looks away. “It went fine. Whatever.”

“I just—I was surprised Marcus wrote that poem is all.”

“You literally said multiple times you thought it was him,” Toni says.

“I know, I know but—”

“Still holding out hope for Andrew?” Toni sneers. “Marcus may not be the sharpest tool in the shed but he cares about Martha. Even a fucking idiot could write a half decent poem if they had someone worth writing about.”

Shelby meets her eyes and Toni’s breath catches.

“Know a lot about poetry, Toni?”

Fuck fuck fuck.

Toni flicks the only half used cigarette away. “I have to go to class,” She says, aware it’s just about the worst thing she can do.

Shelby doesn’t even need the last word, she’s aware she’s already won.

———

9.) she is so good. she is so good, and you cannot ruin one more good thing

It hadn’t been the first time Toni found her mom overdosed on the couch, but it’d been the most terrifying. Toni had waited in the school parking lot for a pick up for twenty minutes before Shelby had offered her a ride.

When they trooped inside, after having to use the key Tamera kept tucked away in a loose brick, her mom had been passed out on the couch. And the stupid thing had been that Toni had known her mom hadn’t been doing great. Like she’d known Tamera had lost her job, and was close to losing the car, that the pain in her back had been getting worse again from stress. Toni had known that.

But for some stupid, naive reason, Toni had never thought she’d pull this, go back to who she was.

Her tolerance was low, the doctors had told her, because she’d been clean for so long. She hadn’t realized it and had taken more than she could handle.

Shelby had taken the three of them to the hospital, helped carry Toni’s drooling mother into the ER, and held Toni’s hand until the other girls showed up, who she texted to come.

Shelby had been there when the police and social services came to talk to her about going back into foster care. Shelby had never left her side.

Toni couldn’t help but contrast that to the Shelby she saw now. The Shelby who showed up for senior year was barely christian, barely anything, just sort of blank and empty and waiting to grow up so she could have daughters that'd also wait to grow up so that they could have daughters that’d also wait to grow up so that they could have daughters that’d also

Shelby didn’t even look at her, for the first week of senior year she didn’t even look at Toni. She talked with Martha in that faux friendly way, she passed off on lunch invitations to do school work and Toni felt like she was going insane.

Sometimes she would just stare at the back of Shelby’s head in English class, writing whatever gibberish came to mind, and not listening to Mr. Williams at all. Just stare, for forty-five minutes, at a girl who wouldn’t even make eye contact, Toni’s pencil moving rapidly as she barely even glanced at the words her hands produced.

On the last day of the semester Toni finally looked away and came to two realizations:

a. Her mother was never getting better. Not really. b. Toni had written P E R U over forty times in her notebook.

As quietly as she could she tore the page out, and maybe about fifteen pages behind it, filled with similar drivel and recycled them at the end of class.

When the next semester started the seats were changed and something she’d written that she barely remembered was on the board.

Her mother was still in rehab.

———

Toni watches Marcus carry Martha’s backpack to class and watches as Martha giggles at him, argues with him. She is literally so happy it makes Toni’s heart burst.

“Shelby’s quite the matchmaker, huh?” Fatin asks.

Toni looks at her.

“Leah told me,” Fatin explains.

Toni rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, that’s what I said too,” Fatin says. “Leah’s good at noticing things but putting the pieces together is not her strong suit. So I called Dorothy.”

This makes Toni’s shoulders tense and Fatin wraps an arm around them.

“Dorothy didn’t want to talk but what she didn’t say was enough.” Fatin sighs, “I’m all for a little drama but this is cutting into my me time.”

“What going from twenty-four hours a day to twenty-three and a half?” Toni asks.

“God forbid,” Fatin nods sagely. “I didn’t know you could write.”

“I can’t.”

“Clearly not.”

Toni slips out from under her arm, and follows Martha into class. Mr. Williams glares as she comes in and Toni realizes if Marcus came clean to Martha he definitely came clean to Mr. Williams. At least the poem is off the board.

When he passes out papers from a recent essay her’s has a “see me after class” sticker that makes Toni slide down in her seat. Martha doesn’t even notice enough to give her an odd look because she and Shelby are yukking it up about the quarterback.

When everyone files out she hangs back and he looks at her, over his spectacles.

“I’m disappointed,” he says at last.

Toni scoffs.

“You write essays based off spark notes, you never participate, and half the time you don’t even do the homework. But you write this.” He slides the crumpled paper over his desk, her poem shining back at her. “So all I can conclude is that you’re lazy.”

Yeah, obviously.

“Why did you have Marcus tell everyone he wrote it?” Mr. Williams asks.

“So he could ask out Martha.”

“He didn’t need to have written the poem to do that,” Mr. Williams says.

“Can I go?” Toni asks.

“I want to submit this poem to a contest, I want you to start trying in this class, and this,” he hands her a slip of paper with about twenty sets of numbers on it, “is a list of Dickinson poems I want you to read by next week. Pick at least three to write me at least a page about. Single spaced.”

“What?” Toni asks, “You can’t make me do that.”

“I know half the kids in this class write off spark notes, I can easily have them all—including you—fail. So yes, yes I can actually.” He takes off his spectacles and Toni glares at him. “You’re a smart kid, Toni. You’ve got a talent for this.”

Toni shakes her head, “I’m a one hit wonder.”

“You know Britney Spears said the same thing after Baby One More Time.”

“That’s not true,” Toni says.

“Yeah,” Mr. Williams says. “Because she kept working at it.”

And Toni takes the slip of paper with the numbers on it, and marches to her next class and he watches her the whole way, not bothering to put on his stupid spectacles.

———

10.) you will not watch her crumble under the weight of your sins. she is too light, too breathless to be caught up in the dizziness of your heart

Dot didn’t invite them all to the funeral but they came anyway, even Shelby who Toni knew had been waffling back and forth.

Some of his army friends showed up, a doctor or two, and Mateo—the hot nurse Dot steadily ignored. It was a small and quiet service, and the seven of them sat towards the back, holding steady for her.

There was too much on Dot’s shoulders, there always had been, but she didn’t look any freer now that the burden was lifted. She just looked scared, small, and sad.

Toni couldn’t help but wonder if that was what she’d look like, if she got the call about her mom. It was a terribly selfish thought but who could blame her?

Shelby’s hands interlocked with hers, in broad daylight, and stayed there for the entire day. When Toni met her eyes she saw pure terror reflected back at her.

God, were they really only seventeen?

———

Rachel is complaining at lunch about owing Nora five bucks, how she was so sure some closet case wrote the poem but it’s no surprise Nora got it right.

Fatin and Leah don’t contribute and Martha probably wouldn’t have either except she was eating lunch with Marcus, they had found their own little table and were smiling at one another.

“They’re certainly cute together,” Shelby says, glancing back at Martha and Marcus.

“I say it’s weird they have the same name,” Rachel says.

“Says the girl who dated a guy named Raymond,” Nora says.

Rachel throws a straw wrapper at him, “That was a phase and you know it.”

“Marcus is sweet,” Shelby says. “If anyone deserves someone sweet it’s Martha.”

“Don’t you think he’s a little,” Leah trailed off and they all looked at her. “You know a little…”

“Spit it out, Leah,” Rachel says.

“Like the porch lights on but no one’s home?” Leah says.

“Martha is smart enough for the both of them,” Toni says. “And thank god because I was sick of doing his homework in quant lit.”

“That’s literally the easiest math class there is,” Fatin says and Toni shrugs.

“What’s that?” Shelby asks, pointing at the yellow slip sticking out of Toni’s binder.

“Some extra credit stuff, from Williams. Apparently I’m not doing so hot in that class,” Toni says.

Rachel leans way over from the other end of the table. “What is that, Dickinson?”

“It’s a list of numbers,” Shelby says. “Why would it be Dickinson?”

“All of Dickinson’s poems were numbered. It was only after she died that other people named them,” Nora says.

“And Nora said it so you know it’s true,” Rachel smirks.

“Join the fucking club,” Dot says to Toni. “I don’t know why y’all didn’t take non-honors English twelve with me. We just sit around and talk about whatever football game was on the most recently.”

“Well I’ve never liked football so.” Toni gets up, “I’ve gotta talk to my science teacher. I’ll see you guys after school.”

“I’ll go with you,” Shelby smiles and Toni clenches her jaw. “Ms. Roberts said I needed to rework my psych paper.”

“See you guys,” Rachel says and as they leave she’s arguing with Dot about why football is stupid and Toni can feel Fatin’s eyes on her all the way out.

———

reasons to kiss her

1.) she loves you, and her eyes are closed, and didnt your mother ever tell you not to leave a good thing waiting

Toni hated the magnet program kids at her middle school. Like everyone not in their cluster she found them annoying, rich, and privileged as fuck. They only hung out with each other and it was clear they’d never give—

———

“Toni?”

The stair well is empty, it’s the short cut through the language hallway and no one goes there during lunch.

Toni is working hard on ignoring Shelby but is forced to turn around when Shelby stops halfway up.

“Ms. Roberts doesn’t need me to rework my psych paper.”

Toni stares at her.

Shelby takes a step up, one step closer to Toni.

“I had hoped maybe you wrote it for Regan,” Shelby says.

“No such luck,” Toni croaks out.

“That’s a lot of reasons not to kiss someone,” Shelby says. “You’d think if you really shouldn’t kiss someone you’d only need the one.” She takes another step up, until they’re only separated by a few inches.

“I guess,” Toni says.

“Are you really gonna keep me waiting?” Shelby says.

Toni blinks, “You mean you still—”

“I have to do everything myself,” Shelby says.

She kisses her.

#did something different with time than i usually do #and with structure #lmk what you think #shoni #the wilds fanfic #the wilds #goodfoe fanfic #goodfoe #shelby goodkind #toni shalifoe #gus writes #ren don’t

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antiloreolympus · 3 years ago

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10 Anti LO Asks

1. ok but thats also i think i dont get? because without the series or character names, what of any of the promo images or banner or anything else give away it's supposed to be a greek mythology story? they just look like people with weird anatomy who are colored like highlighters. at the very least some iconography should be on them, but there's not? like even percy jackson stuff makes sure to give him a trident and have water flowing around him.

2. rachel made three times where persephone could have made the choice to be with hades willingly and didnt do it each time. first time she was drugged and put into his car, where he phsyically handles her unconscious body and puts her in his bed (ew). second is her working for him, which was hera forcing it. third was her going to the underworld not because she wanted to, but because she was hiding from the law/apollo and he found her. where exactly is her agency in all of this?

3. LO seems like the fast food of webtoons. because there's no room to speculate or theorize, you just read an episode and move on, the bright colors distract that it's a rushed and lazy product over something with high quality and effort, the characters are flat and boring, and the plot has no substance. it's meant to be consumed in a rapid binge, because if not you realize what low-effort and what little you're actually getting from it when you slow down and actually think about it.

4. i mean rachel does have some logic to her fancasting, the problem is it seems the only people of color are either demonized for being hypersexual (aphrodite, eros until he's with psyche) or are literally r//pists who are out to harm her white-fa casted persephone (apollo), so yeah, there is logic there, it's just pointing to rachel being (hopefully unintentionally) racist

5. It pisses me so much that I work over time (using references and looking at paintings and reading history for ideas for interesting character motifs) so that any of the ancient greek characters I draw look cool and authentically greek, and yet fucking Rachel Smythe, who can't even be bothered to do more than 5 seconds of research to learn that not all ancient greek outfits were shitty, minimalist off white and eggshell, gets to be revered as an artistic revolutionary. It pisses me off so. Fucking. Much. Not just for me, but for everyone else like me who absolutely ADORES greek mythology and wants to draw accurate portrayals of these characters! To whoever is reading this, stop. Stop rn and go read Sleep and His Brother Death (a comic on webtoons), go play Hades (the video game), go read The Song of Achilles (a book by Madeline Miller). Those are beautiful pieces of fiction about Greek mythology that deserve your attention more then Rachel and her shitty pink highlighter self inserts.

And a sidenote, I know that this is kinda like a modern AU for the gods. I am aware. Does not change that fact that anytime any character is drawn in ancient greek fashion it's always the SAME. SHITTY. CHITON. Maybe with a.cape or a scarf, but for the most part? It's just the same stupid, off white chiton.

6. oh, i thought you guys were joking persephone is now stuck with red eyes. is that seriously what look we're stuck with now? does rachel know it looks really ugly?

7. i feel like the lineart less style actually hurts LO in a way. way too often you can look at a panel and it becomes really murky where something starts and ends, and it looks even worse on a phone screen, because on an even smaller screen the images look even more compressed, making it even harder to tell stuff apart. this wouldnt be as bad if the comic took back up its more high contrast look from the begging, but now it's all one flat shade and im not sure why.

8. im really confused over the marketing of LO, tbh. like the ads are all hxp focused, but the series name implies its not about them, but focusing on the 12 olympians, but then the synopsis is general mythology and at the very end randomly mentions its about persephone? but then you read it and nots sure whether its a teen romance, a comedy, a serious drama, and can't stay straight with its messaging and timeline? and persephone is not there for a chunk of time. like whats actually going on?? 😭

9. Chapter 173 is like 50% filler. It gives more questions that answers, and not just from the reporters. Like the reporter stuff was mostly filler, and the Persphone and Hades stuff was like yeah we know dont need to drag this on.

My questions are WHAT ARE THE RED EYES? Is it when she’s mad? Horny? Sad? Happy? I feel like the red eyes just show up whenever RS wants to draw them

Flying? I feel like Persphone has always been flying like it wasn’t a bug moment at all. She flew home when Minthe and Hades kissed. But apperently Demeter didn’t know? I guess I don’t remember her flying in the mortal realm but her flying didn’t seem like a big moment, none of the other characters seemed surprised by it.

“Answer mine first!” When i got to that line I reread some of it just to find where the question was. That line normally matters when you’ve already asked the question not if you haven’t gotten there yet. Like of course Demeter is gonna be worried and ask a million questions.

I know the pomegranate pin is gonna be important but I felt the focus on it was a little too much, like an excuse not to cover more this chapter. Because honestly it felt like 5 minutes of the plot was covered in this chapter.

10. So uh, whats up with Hades weird ass comments... Like "Persephone you look beautiful and if someone says otherwise they can go play on the highway" ???

Because Persephone looking good during a murder trial is clearly the most important thing here.

Also, Perse's response to the reporter who asked her about her friendship with Hades. I mean, on one hand Persephone is right, her "friendship" (or whatever it is they have going on) is nobodies business but her own - but at the same time, its kinda also the underworld denizens right to know in the sense that their future leadership could be affected so they might want to know whats going on if their getting a new co-ruler / Queen that they will be subjects of. They probably will want to know who Persephone is, should she and Hades get married because it's very likely that when (cause lets be real its a 'when' not 'if' they get married) they do get married that Persephone will inherit half the title.

So, eh?

#anti lo #anti lore olympus #lore olympus critical #lo critical

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kuroopaisen · 4 years ago

Text

rascal. (bokuto koutarou)

➵ maybe pirates aren’t so bad, after all.

wc: 5.6k

warnings: f!reader, copious amounts of fluff, tomfoolery

a/n: rachel darling i remember you were the one to request pirates, so here it is! you’re an absolute sweetheart, and thank you for always popping into my inbox and being as lovely as you are! i hope you enjoy this! ren and remy, thank you so much for your help on this fic!

Inheriting your aunt’s tavern wasn’t exactly a blessing.

If anything, you planned to sell it off after a year or two. You were only going to work it for a year out of respect – it was giving you the opportunity to secure some sense of financial freedom, after all.

Not that it was the act of running a tavern that you were uncomfortable with. Not at all – you’d never had access to this much money before, and it was less gruelling work than that of the farm.

And it helped you stave off getting married for a few years – thank the gods.

The issue was one of reputation. Your aunt’s – no, your tavern – was known for playing host to patrons with less than sterling character. It was known for servicing ‘unscrupulous fellows,’ as your father had grumbled. In that very same breath, he’d told you that you had to take it – the money was too good to pass up.

So, you’d moved to this bustling port city, intent on making at least something during your first few months. You’d hoped that the reputation of your patrons was all hearsay; rumours spread by competitors, or maybe gullible travellers.

Unfortunately, your father was right.

Pirates. Pirates, everywhere. How your aunt had built up a client base composed primarily of these seaborne rogues, you weren’t sure.

But you were wise enough to keep your opinions to yourself. These men would be lining your pockets for the foreseeable future, after all.

Had you been scared, at first? Yes! Absolutely terrified! But you had to accustom yourself to it – and fast.

You even knew a few by name; regulars who always seemed to come in at least twice a month or so. Some came weekly, which always made you doubt just how much seafaring they actually did.

Some even brought you spoils from their ‘travels’. Goods like wheat and barley, mostly – stuff that you were wise enough to turn a blind eye to. Most of the time, you would just donate such things to the local orphanage. They had better use for such things, anyway.

You were sure that a few of them, blinded by their drunken haze, couldn’t actually tell the difference between you and your aunt. But it was no matter; whoever your aunt was, she was tough as nails. That wasn’t a surprise, though. She had left this place simply because she wanted to go travelling around the world. You wondered, more than once, if she’d actually run off with a pirate.

There was a certain group of regulars that confused you, though. Admittedly, you were quite fond of them, but you had no idea if they were pirates, or just some old chums. They always came in at least once a week, and they were never short on gold.

But they treated you well, and always made a habit of hanging around the bar.

Their leader was striking, a tall, muscular man with a pair of sparkling golden eyes and the world’s brightest smile. He certainly had the look of a pirate – that typical white shirt that revealed a little more of his chest than maybe it should, the sun-kissed skin, the sword slung around his waist.

But his personality only half fit the bill. Loud, gregarious, bold – but sensitive, childish, naïve.

And yet despite all that, you could tell that he was in charge. Things always seemed to come back to him, no matter what. Even if his stunning black-haired friend – likely the first mate, if they really were pirates – seemed to call most of the shots.

Not that it mattered, in the end. They paid up, and that was enough.

“So, what do you think of pirates?” This leader, who you’d surmised was called ‘Bokuto’, asked, tilting his head to the side. He looked a little like a bird.

A ripple of exasperation ran through his friends.

You laughed. “Why do you ask?”

“Rumour is they’re your main clientele.” Another one of the men – possibly called Konoha, if you remembered correctly – smirked at you from over his flagon.

“Ah,” you smiled, propping your elbows on the bar and resting your chin on folded hands. “It’s hard to tell these days.” You’d play the game, if you must.

“Huh?” The lot of them frowned at you; were they offended, maybe?

“I like my pirates traditional, see,” you sighed, adding a touch more exasperation than necessary. “You know; eyepatches, big feathery hats, peg legs… but nobody who comes through those doors looks the part.”

Konoha and some of the other men snorted, but Bokuto perked up.

“Wouldn’t pirates be bad for business?” Konoha raised an eyebrow at you. “Driving off other clients, and all that?”

You shrugged, biting your cheek. “What use is respectable clientele if they’re not willing to pay for an entire barrel of ale?”

Some of them laughed at that. What a relief; it meant they weren’t paying attention to the discomfort behind those words.

“I just wish they looked like pirates.” You shook your head, standing up to full height again. “If you’re going to be a pirate, you may as well dress like they do in all those romantic tales.”

“So you’re upset that they’re not meeting your personal tastes?” Konoha chuckled. “Isn’t it bad to ogle your clientele?”

“Well, they see no problem with ogling me, so I think it’s only fair,” you shrugged, waving a hand at him. You barely felt the sentiment, but you weren’t about to be vulnerable in front of a pirate.

A small racket erupted from the lot of them, a cacophony of responses that ranged from concern to amusement. You took the opportunity to turn away from them, a serene smile masking your face.

You liked those boys. You really did.

But it certainly felt remiss to befriend a group of pirates. Even if they did pay your bills.

✧ ✧

“Is he okay?” You asked, handing Akaashi two flagons.

“Hm?” Akaashi blinked, a small frown touching at the corners of his mouth.

“Your captain.” You nodded in the direction of the man in question. He was sitting on the other side of the tavern, very conspicuously not looking at you. That in itself was abnormal. But what really made it weird was the eyepatch. And the pointed leather hat adorned with an obnoxiously big feather. Those were both new additions to his get up.

“Oh,” Akaashi sighed, placing the flagons on the bar. “He’s fine.”

“But… his eye…”

“He’s still got both of them, don’t worry,” Akaashi said, shaking his head. “He thought he needed to change up his image.”

“Change up… his image?”

“He wanted to look more fearsome,” Akaashi deadpanned, his eyes flicking down. “More like a true pirate.”

You giggled at the thought. “So, you’re really pirates, then?”

“You already knew that,” Akaashi smiled softly.

He was the cleverest one, that was for sure.

Your eyes found their way back to Bokuto. He seemed to be struggling with his new costume, constantly readjusting the eyepatch and pushing the tip of the hat back up so it wouldn’t obstruct his vision. Occasionally, he would screw up his nose a bit. Not really the look of a fearsome pirate captain.

“I see he hasn’t sawed his leg off, though.” You bit back a smile.

Akaashi chuckled at that. “No, he’s not unreasonable enough for that.” He raised an eyebrow at you before turning to look at his captain. “He did some asking around. Got a good scope of all those romantic pirate stories you were talking about.”

“Really?” You scoffed. If this was his attempt to woo you, it surely was the most creative yet.

“Well, tell him that I don’t like my pirates reticent,” you smiled, winking at Akaashi. “I much prefer it when they talk to me.”

Akaashi laughed quietly, shaking his head. “Will do.”

Within five minutes, Bokuto was back at your bar, the eyepatch replaced by his typical brilliant smile. The hat remained a part of the ensemble, but you didn’t mind. You were quick to assure him that you preferred it that way.

✧ ✧

“Bokuto.”

“Yeah?”

“This is a terrible idea.”

“It’ll be fine!” Bokuto beamed at his first mate, scratching the underbelly of the parrot sitting on his shoulder. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you Birdmeat?”

The name ‘Birdmeat’ had come from the suggestion that Bokuto should name his parrot after his favourite food. He was the only one who failed to see the issue with it.

“I fail to see how a parrot is supposed to impress a woman,” Akaashi muttered.

“It’ll impress her because he can speak, duh,” Bokuto scoffed, as if he’d just said the most reasonable thing in the world. “Isn’t that right, boy?”

“Idiot!” The bird squawked, flapping its wings. “Idiot!”

Bokuto’s face fell. But for once, he let it slide. “Just you wait, Akaashi,” he beamed, pointing a finger at his first mate. “This will impress her.”

It did not, in fact, impress you.

“What if it shits?” You grimaced, gazing at the gaudily coloured bird with an expression that could only be described as thinly-veiled contempt.

“It… won’t.”

“It will.”

“Akaashi—”

He just shot Bokuto a look that said, ‘I told you so.’ The fact that it was empty of any malice or self-righteousness just made it more infuriating.

“I’d be… willing to let it slide if it was… restrained, somehow,” you said carefully, your mind running through all the possible ways this could go wrong.

It was just a bird. It couldn’t cause too much mayhem.

But, it belonged to Bokuto. The human manifestation of havoc.

And that made you nervous.

Bokuto nodded vigorously, turning to Akaashi. “We can manage that, right?”

“Uh.” Akaashi looked at you. There was something about his eyes that made it seem like he was apologising. “Do you have any rope?”

Five minutes and a lot of squawking later, and the parrot had a tenuous rope wrapped around it’s belly like a harness. You’d felt too bad about tying its wings or legs up, so you’d made Bokuto swear to not let go of the rope. He’d been resolute, promising that he’d be very mindful of his little companion.

Finally, it seemed, you could get back to business.

“One spiced mead, please!” Bokuto beamed, hands on his hips in some sort of pose.

You swallowed down a sigh. You’d be damned if this man wasn’t entertaining – perhaps even charming, in his own way – but by the gods did he give off the impression of a disaster waiting to happen.

Just go about your business, you thought to yourself. It’s fine, Bokuto’s got a grip on the rope. It’ll be fine.

“Here,” you sighed, placing the flagon on the bar in front of him.

In his enthusiasm, Bokuto used two hands to pick it up.

Two. Meaning one wasn’t holding the rope.

And Birdmeat knew.

Even Akaashi wasn’t fast enough.

It sprung off Bokuto’s shoulder, landing in his flagon with an undignified splash.

Bokuto shrieked, swatting at the parrot with one hand. Akaashi had dove head-first at the ground, missing the rope by a mere margin.

“Bokuto!” He yelled.

Bokuto flinched, realising a moment too late that he’d let go of the damn bird.

Birdmeat shot straight up, its wings flapping at full speed.

You should’ve trusted your instincts.

Chaos erupted.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto shrieked, flailing his hat in the air.

The man in question looked like he had just left this mortal plane. You had half a mind to join him.

The bird was still flapping around the tavern, squawking at the top of its little lungs.

The rest of Bokuto’s crew was on their feet, staring at the bird with some sense of dumbfounded resignation. A normal day for them, you supposed.

“That fuckin’ bird just shat in my ale!”

Oh no. Oh no.

Laughter erupted from one end of the tavern – likely that poor sod’s friends. But you didn’t have time to worry about that. You’d just give him a free drink or two later. Your main concern was stopping that little fucker from doing anything worse.

The last thing you wanted to do was try and calm a pirate who had bird shit running down his forehead.

How were you even supposed to catch a bird? Did you have a net?

Your other patrons had noticed by now, their expressions ranging from amusement to annoyance to anger. Multiple voices were crying out, but you couldn’t quite tell what any of them were saying. All you could do was watch the parrot fly higher and higher, the short leash of rope rising well out of reach.

The bird clattered onto one of the rafters, its claws skittering across the wood. You’d never get those scratches out.

“Idiot!” It squawked. “Idiot!”

You could’ve sworn it was looking at Bokuto.

“Do you have a plan?” You hissed, head whipping round to him.

Bokuto glanced at you sheepishly, his cheeks red as anything. “Maybe?”

Why did that make you feel worse?

“Akaashi…”

“Please don’t tell me…”

“It’s the only way…”

You looked between the two of them, frowning. “What? What are you planning?”

“Trust me,” Akaashi sighed. “You won’t like it.”

You didn’t.

Bokuto’s ‘plan’ was to prop Akaashi on his shoulders, hoping that would be high enough to reach that damn parrot’s leash. And admittedly, that wasn’t the worst plan. But this was Bokuto. Anything could go wrong.

Poor Akaashi looked like he knew that quite well.

You watched in horror as he stood himself on one of your stools, giving you an apologetic nod in the process. You stared at him, dumbfounded. Bokuto dashed forward, turning around so his back was facing his precariously balanced friend.

“Be careful,” Akaashi mumbled, swinging his legs over Bokuto’s awaiting shoulders.

Bokuto nodded with a grunt, clamping his hands over Akaashi’s knees as if to stabilise him. It certainly didn’t make you feel any more at ease.

This was a disaster waiting to happen. You just knew you were about to watch someone split their head open on the floor of your tavern.

The lumbering form of Akaashi-plus-Bokuto ambled towards Birdmeat, each wobbly step taken with great purpose.

You watched, rapt with horror as they inched closer to their target, one of Akaashi’s hands outstretched and the other planted on the top of Bokuto’s head.

Birdmeat cocked his head.

Akaashi leant forward, swiping at the air. He grabbed the rope, giving it a careful tug. Birdmeat flapped its wings, scrambling as it fell backwards off the scaffolding.

One more yank and it was against Akaashi’s chest, caged in by his arms.

A confused cheer rippled through his crewmates as they crowded around him.

You frowned as you watched them squabble amongst themselves for a bit, fingers pointing and voices raised as they disagreed over who should have to deal with the bird.

A hush set upon the tavern, each and every pair of eyes turned to the small gaggle of men bickering amongst themselves. You were sure that your patrons were just as worried as you were that they’d accidentally let it go in the midst of their bickering.

You weren’t about to let that happen.

“Get that damn thing out of here,” you grumbled, pointing at the door. A few more moments of bickering, and the bird had safely traded hands. One of the men, a shorter fellow you’d come to know as ‘Komi’ nodded, scampering out the door with the parrot safely clasped between his hands.

“I’m so sorry,” Bokuto mumbled, drawing his knees up to his chest.

This was their captain? This big, muscular behemoth of a man who was sitting on your tavern floor, curled up in a ball?

What kind of pirate crew was this?

“It’s… okay,” you sighed, pressing two fingers to your eyes. “Nobody got hurt, so…”

Bokuto braved a look at you, his golden eyes round and pitiful. Hell, even his hair seemed like it had deflated. How was that even possible?

“We’ll help you clean up,” Akaashi said, giving you a quick bow. “I deeply apologise for the commotion.”

You waved your hands at him, overwhelmed by the sudden formality. “No, no, it’s fine!”

Maybe you should’ve been angrier. Maybe you should’ve been more upset. But something about this was just… delightfully absurd. Nobody but Bokuto would’ve thought that this was a good idea. And it was nice to have some excitement that didn’t involve cutlasses for once.

“Just… just help me clean up, okay?” You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Then we’ll call it even.”

A week later, a poster took pride of place above the bar. It read, in big, bold lettering: “ABSOLUTELY NO PARROTS, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES. EVER.”

Akaashi had made it himself.

✧ ✧

Bokuto liked to think of himself as a well-mannered man despite his disreputable occupation.

He’d even tried to get Akaashi to market them better; something along the lines of ‘debonair,’ the whole ‘criminals, but with a conscience’ shtick. Akaashi had refused, calling it a waste of time – they were pirates after all, and regardless of how moral their conduct was, they were going to have a bad reputation.

But that didn’t stop Bokuto from trying his very best to be a rogue with a heart of gold.

And he was currently debating whether or not punching an asshole in the face challenged or reinforced that identity.

“Akaashi—”

“Don’t do it.”

“I haven’t even said anything yet!” Bokuto whined, pouting at his second-in-command.

“She’ll be mad at you if you start a fight,” Akaashi murmured, taking a sip of his ale.

Bokuto huffed, head whipping around to look at you again.

To anyone else, you looked unbothered; smiling like you usually did, laughing at each poor joke directed your way. But Bokuto could tell that something was off. That you were uncomfortable. And he didn’t like that one bit.

He’d been watching long enough to identify the source of your discomfort.

Some dude that he’d only seen a handful of times, but had seen enough to know that he distinctly didn’t like his aura.

“Akaashi, I’m gonna do it.”

“Don’t do it.”

“But he’s making her uncomfortable,” Bokuto whined, looking between Akaashi and the bar with a certain hint of desperation.

“Maybe you should ask her about it before doing anything brash,” Akaashi sighed, rubbing one of his temples with two fingers. “Walking up to some dude and punching him in the face isn’t a good way of impressing your crush.”

“I don’t have a crush!”

“Sure you don’t, Bokuto,” Akaashi said, taking another sip from his mug.

“Psst!”

You raised an eyebrow at him. Was he trying to be subtle? Because leaning the entire top half of his body over the bar wasn’t exactly understated.

“Yes?”

“If I started a fight with that dude, would you get mad at me?”

What? Your eyebrows shot up in shock, eyes growing wide. “Bokuto, what the fuck?”

“Not, like, a proper fight,” he mumbled, pouting. “Just, like… a warning.”

“A warning?” Why did he think that sounded any better?

“Like a territorial thing!”

You blinked. “Bokuto, what are you talking about?”

“Well, like… if he feels unwelcome here, he’s not gonna keep bothering you, right?” Bokuto asked, tilting his head at you. He always looked like a little owl when he did that, eyes big and round and far more innocent than they should be. Wasn’t he a pirate captain?

But there was something charming about his simple logic. And something touching about the fact he was this concerned.

“Look,” you sighed, reaching over and taking his hand. You didn’t miss how his entire face bloomed red, right up to his ears. “I appreciate the thought, but I’ll be okay.”

A thought crossed your mind. A foolish thought, really. But one you didn’t abhor.

You leant forward and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

Bokuto looked like he’d ascended. His golden eyes were wider than you’d ever seen them, his mouth forming a tiny ‘o’ as he gaped at you.

You giggled, giving his hand a squeeze before letting it go. “I’ve got a sword out back anyway.”

Those words yanked Bokuto back down to earth.

“Wait, really?” For some reason, he couldn’t quite comprehend it. But the thought of you wielding a sword made him… feel things he was rather ashamed of.

You giggled, picking up a flagon and turning to one of the barrels lined up against the wall.

“I know how to use it, too.” You shot him a wink. “My father thought that’d be a pertinent skill for me to learn, seeing as I was moving all the way out here.”

“Right.” Bokuto nodded, almost a little too vigorously. “Right.”

“Enjoy the rest of your night,” you smiled, handing him the flagon. Spiced mead. His favourite.

You had to take his hand and wrap it around the handle, shocked and flustered as he was.

“Off you go,” you tutted, waving him towards his friends.

Somehow, he managed to walk all that way without tripping.

“Oh come on,” Konaha groaned, rolling his eyes.

Bokuto wasn’t looking at them. He couldn’t, really. All he could think about was you – about how pretty you were, how soft your lips had felt against his cheek, how you smelt like whiskey and cinnamon and freshly baked bread.

Gods, having a crush was hard.

✧ ✧

“Do you… like it?” Bokuto stood on the other side of the bar, cheeks flushed and hair dishevelled with intoxication.

You’d faced many things in your time as a tavern wench. You’d believed that it meant you’d be ready to face any kind of situation, no matter how bizarre or off-beat or unsettling it might be.

That was naïve of you.

Because as you stood in front of Bokuto, very expensive-looking necklace in hand, you didn’t know what to say.

“I…”

The necklace really was beautiful. It looked like a sapphire of some kind; a rich blue gem grafted into an oval. The faintest of glows emanated from it, adding an air of ethereal dignity that you didn’t quite know how to comprehend.

You were uncomfortably aware of your surroundings. Of the dingy walls, the rafters that definitely needed a touch-up or two, the general stink of sea and men and drink.

You were uncomfortably aware of yourself. Dressed in some prettied-up rags, your hair pulled out of your face with a strip of cloth, your entire body coated in a slick of sweat and dirt.

You shouldn’t be holding something this expensive. It was wrong.

Hell, you didn’t even know where this came from. You didn’t know how he’d gotten his hands on it.

“I can’t take it,” you said decisively, reaching for one of his hands.

He jumped, but the contact was enough to catch him off guard. You turned his palm upwards, placing the necklace in the centre and gently curling his fingers over it.

“It’s too… much,” you said, shaking your head. You tried to smile at him, but you knew there’d be a melancholic touch to it.

“I’m sorry,” he frowned, casting his eyes downwards. “I just… I wanted to say thank you. For putting up with u—with me.”

“If you want to say thank you,” you mused, crossing your arms over your chest. “How about you teach me to sword fight?”

He puffed out his cheeks as he pouted at you. You weren’t sure if he’d meant to do it or not. “I thought you said you knew how to use a sword.”

Those words had been seared into the back of his brain for the past two months.

“I mean—” You swallowed, straightening your shoulders. “I do, but not well…”

Bokuto blinked at you, completely unsure of what to say.

Did he want to spend more time with you? Absolutely.

“Okay.”

The word left his mouth before he’d run through all the options. Did he trust himself not to make a complete and utter fool of himself, should the two of you be alone? Absolutely not.

But when you smiled at him like that, maybe he didn’t mind the thought of humiliating himself.

✧ ✧

“It might be better if you held it with two hands,” Bokuto mused, his own cutlass falling to his side as he took a step closer to you.

You sighed, lowering your blade. “Right.”

Gods, you were tired.

Bokuto had made good on his agreement without complaint. If anything, he seemed a bit too enthusiastic about it. He’d shown up a good three hours before opening, and had launched into his lesson before you’d even had time to process what was going on. You hadn’t even had your sword at the ready.

But it had gone well, all things considered. So well that you’d insisted on doing it again.

This was now your fourth lesson. You had a lot to learn, and Bokuto certainly wasn’t a bad teacher; so long as you could wrap your head around what he was saying.

And usually, you’d be able to have a good time.

But today was different. Today, you couldn’t put up a veneer of joviality. There was too much to worry about.

“Hey, are you alright?” Bokuto pouted, tilting his head at you.

You flinched, drawn out of your own thoughts by his voice.

You hadn’t heard those words in a while. You hadn’t really had time to make friends in this port city, let alone find people who gave a damn about your well-being. You’d just been so busy, running the tavern. Its reputation hadn’t helped you in the social sphere, either. It was hard convincing people you were worth their time when you were known for supplying pirates with their ale. No, the only people who looked out for you were back home.

Like your poor father.

No. No, don’t.

It set upon you before you could stop it. The lump in your throat. The tremble in your hands. The burning at the corner of your eyes.

It took only a second for you to come undone.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Bokuto started, his sword clattering on the ground as his hands came up to clutch your shoulders. That was enough to shock you back to the moment at hand.

“I’m sorry!” You gasped, covering your face with your hands. Gods, this was embarrassing. What sort of tavern owner cried in front of her own damn customers?

“Don’t apologise!” He cooed. “You don’t have anything to apologise for!”

Oh, but you certainly did. Before your days running the tavern you might’ve completely broken down in front of him, dignity be damned. But you were much better at holding your composure now. Several months of serving pirates would do that to you.

“I’m…” You took a deep breath, clenching your fists. “Can we finish early for today? I’ve just got… a lot of things I’m dealing with right now.”

Bokuto gazed at you sadly, running gentle hands up and down your arms. “Of course.”

“Sorry to bother you,” you said, keeping your voice as stable as possible.

“You can… talk to me,” he murmured, squeezing your arms gently.

You looked up at him. You knew you shouldn’t. You knew you might regret it later.

But fuck, you needed to talk to someone.

“It’s just…” You swallowed, trying to ignore the tightness in your chest. “My father’s ill.”

“Oh.” Bokuto’s whole demeanour deflated. You closed your eyes, trying to block out the look on his face.

“And… and all the money I’m earning out here is being sent home for treatment,” you sighed. “They’ve even called in some mages to have a look at him, but that gets… expensive.”

“I can imagine,” Bokuto frowned, unsure of whether or not he should wrap his arms around you. Would that make it worse? Make it better?

“That’s not even taking into account the cost of running this place.” You bit your lip, gesturing to the tavern in question. “Or how expensive it is to subsidise my family. Mother’s income alone isn’t near enough to help them get by…”

You didn’t know why you were telling him all this. He didn’t need to hear all this.

“I’m sorry,” you swallowed, crossing your arms over your chest. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Hey now.” Bokuto shook his head, wrapping his arms around you and drawing you into his chest.

You flinched in surprise, but you didn’t move away. He was warm – and muscular. And it had been a long, long time since anyone had held you like this.

“I told you not to apologise, didn’t I?” He hummed, resting his chin on the top of your head. “It sounds like you’ve got a lot on your shoulders.”

You nodded weakly. Your arms were trapped between your body and his, but you really, really wanted to wrap them around his waist.

“You can just relax for now, okay?” He said, giving you a little squeeze. “Take a breather.”

He loosened his grip a bit. Just enough for you to manoeuvre your arms around his waist, pulling yourself closer to him.

He’d intended to let you go, fearing that this was all too much for you. Apparently, that wasn’t the case.

But no matter how fast his heart was beating, or how embarrassingly red the entire top half of his body must be, he wouldn’t deny you this moment.

Not if it might just help you smile.

✧ ✧

“Hey, hey, hey!”

That bright smile really did nothing but bring you relief, didn’t it?

“Hello, Bokuto,” you smiled, fighting off your exhaustion. It was about an hour or so until your official opening time, but you certainly wouldn’t begrudge his company.

He half-ran up to the bar, smile in tow. It hadn’t faded even a little bit since he’d opened the door.

“What’s got you so happy?” You chuckled, looking him up and down.

“Well,” he grinned, voice a little more theatrical than usual. “I spoke to the fellas.”

“Huh?”

“Hello,” Akaashi nodded.

You jumped. Where had he come from? Had he even walked through the front door? Or had you just been so distracted by Bokuto?

Oh, but you had something else to worry about.

A fat sack of coins, sitting on the table you’d just been cleaning.

“What’s this?” You frowned, looking between the two of them.

“I may have mentioned that you were… having a bit of financial trouble, and we decided that… we wanted to help in any way we could,” Bokuto mumbled, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “So we went around to the other guys who come here and we asked them to throw in a little cash.”

Your eyes focused on the bag again. How much was there? You pulled the string at its neck with a trembling hand, daring a look inside.

Shit, were these all gold?

“I can’t take this.” You shook your head, holding your hands up like a shield. “It’s too—"

“Aha!” Bokuto pointed a finger at you, a triumphant grin on his face. “I knew you’d say that!”

You blinked at him.

“You see, this isn’t a gift! This is a combined tip from all of your patrons! Money given willingly, as a thanks for your service! So, you have no reason to feel bad about accepting it!”

You stared at him. Of course he’d come up with something like that.

“You deserve to be happy,” Bokuto said, cheeks flushed as he struggled to meet your gaze. “And… you’re not going to be happy if you’ve got all this stuff to worry about. So… so hopefully this’ll help.”

Your body moved before your mind did.

You weren’t sure how you cleared the distance between the two of you, but your arms were around his neck, pressing your body against his. The poor boy froze, both heart and mind doing backflips.

“Thank you, Bokuto,” you smiled, loosening your hold around his neck and moving back just enough to get a proper look at his face.

He looked like he was about to burn up, but he was beaming. Strange and chaotic and silly as he could be, you really were fond of him. Fond of the amusement he brought to any and all who interacted with him. Fond of the weird way he looked at things, so optimistic and kind. Fond of how he seemed to bring light with him whether he went.

You noticed, not without some amusement, that Akaashi was no longer in the room.

You could certainly take the hint.

Your hands came up to cup his face, and you marvelled at the look of tentative excitement in his eyes.

“You’re a bit like a typhoon,” you chuckled, gaze flicking from his eyes to his lips.

You didn’t miss the way his Adam’s apple bobbed.

“Is that… a bad thing?” He mumbled, hands absentmindedly finding their way to your waist.

“Not at all,” you smiled. You stood on your tiptoes, pressing your lips to his with the most chaste of kisses. You lingered for just a moment longer than necessary, revelling in the sharp little breath he took.

When you met his eyes again, there was a new glint in them. One you rather liked.

“Can you… do that again?”

You laughed, rubbing one of your thumbs over his cheek.

If you hadn’t inherited this den of rogues and rapscallions, this wonderful mess of a man wouldn’t have come crashing into your life. Life was a funny thing, wasn’t it? You’d been so ungrateful when you’d first arrived, and now look at you. Kissing a pirate. You could never have predicted it.

But maybe pirates weren’t so bad, after all.

#bokuto x reader #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto kotaro #bokuto kotaro x reader #bokuto imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuucreations #ew tags #anyway this was fun #boys being dumb #does it get any better

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crystalnet · 4 years ago

Photo

Current X-book Mood-Ring Guide

There are an awful lot of X-books on the shelves right now. They are most of my monthly haul. No joke it is at least 12 books at this point. So, in order to cope with that, I’ve organized all the books into one of four different categories, aka “booster-pack” themes. Click through if you want to jump aboard the best X-men run since Morrison before the boat pushes off for the Hellfire Gala this summer! These are the 4 categories:

-Mainline Blue/Gold-style

-Jr. Mutants Academy

-2nd-Wave Krakoa Niche (aka “the good stuff”)

-Cetera

#1. Mainline Blue/Gold-style

Mood-color/vibe: Actually 90s-style Blue/Gold and like bright primary colors (but also muddy-ass colors from X-factor).

Books included: X-men, Excalibur, Marauders, X-force

Typical Pokemon: Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Wolverine, Betsy Braddock, Kate Pride, Beast, Black Tom, Storm, Bishop, Emma Frost, Rogue, Gambit, Jubilee, Kid Omega, Domino, a Pyro, Iceman, Avalanche. Rare drops: Apocalypse, X-23, Synch, Darwin, Kid Cable, Fantomex (in that Giant-Sized!)

These be the books for someone who wants those direct, mainline, core-members-style lineups. On the main book (adjective/word-play-less X-men) Hickman/Yu have worked wonders with their run, but it hasn’t been a stable team, instead focusing on Scott and his adventures dealing with some of the more prominent threats to Krakoa.

So it’s essentially been a revolving door of a book with Cyclops sometimes leading assaults against major problems and sometimes just being a dad to teenagers from the future, and it’s been generally great.

Meanwhile, the teams we find on the other 3 books could basically be a main X-men team if you just throw Jean/Scott/Logan onto them (except for X-force because Logan is usually on that one, actually, and Jean sort of is..)

X-force: Wolverine usually, Kid Omega, Beast, Jean (quitting?/back-up), Domino sorta, Sage, Black Tom Cassidy, Colossus once? Forge sorta. [Lot’s of backup or sometimes-members on this team but kinda centers on Beast, Omega, Wolverine and Jean or Domino]

Excalibur: Betsy Braddock, Rogue, Jubilee, Gambit, Avalanche, baby/dragon Shogo, Apocalypse (honorary, mia)

Marauders: Kate Pride, Storm, Emma Frost, a Pyro, Iceman, Bishop

On X-force, you get a little Morrison-homage energy going on what with Beast being sus, Quentin Quire having a character arc and dating a cuckoo and then all the body-horror. This one hasn’t been amazing and the art sometimes has issues for me but it’s been a solid expansion on Krakoa-Era lore.

On Marauders, you get a book centered on Kate Pride and the Hellfire Club. It’s been aight but I’m not the biggest Kate fan. Definitely has heart and the art has been beautiful.

Excalibur started a little weird for me... I lack the references or attachment to Otherworld or Davis/Moore-era Excalibur so I don’t think I’m even really the target demo, but I will say it recently, post-X of Swords-- which it set up single-handedly basically [along w/ one ish of X-men]-- has gotten more interesting in recent months. The Betsy + Kwannon stuff was great! And Howard did great with Apocalypse before he went off to another dimension. (points off for iffy color-palettes sometimes).

#2. Jr. Mutants Academy

Mood-color/vibe: Pastel

Books: New Mutants, X-factor, Children of the Atom, Cable

Common Pokemon: Magik, Cable, Rachel Summers, Doug, Warlock, Armor, Boom Boom, Scout, Dani, Warpath, Karma, Glob, Beak, Daken, Eye-boy, North Star, Rachael, Prodigy those Children of the Atom kids, Magma, Rahne, and a lot of lil kid mutants runnin’ around in Akademos/the Wild Hunt area of Krakoa whose names I don’t know yet.

This is the junior-crew club. New Mutants would be in the Blue/Gold books practically due to being part of the first wave of post-HoX/DoX books, but its basically been 3 different books/teams over its run and along w/ Children/Cable/X-Factor, it feels like there a whole handful of books offering up junior-crew shenanigans specifically.

So New Mutants has been all over the place, starting with a lineup of OG Claremont era New Muties, then focusing on a team consisting of Glob, Armor and Boom Boom (perpetual...”young adult” I guess?), now settling on a new team under Vita Ayala with Magik and Warpath heading up a squad of young ‘uns (beautiful art on the recent stretch). Hopefully it’s settling into its self now, because I can see longevity for this new squad... maybe.

I still have to read the 2nd issue of Children of the Atom, but am intrigued by it. X-factor meanwhile seems to be focusing on queer representation with people like Prodigy, Daken, North Star and Rachel on the same group together. Polaris started out the lead of that title only to be plucked out by Duggan (or the fanbase) for the main X-team coming up. This honestly makes sense, because even though she isn’t drawn this way, shouldn’t Polaris be considerably older than someone like Rachel? Eh.

Also, in issue #4 of X-factor we had a beautiful homage to the Academy X mutants, with several cameos, so it seems like Marvel is intentionally using these junior-crew books to acknowledge all the various junior-crews, whether it be OG Claremont kids, Generation X people, the kids intro’d under Morrison and Whedon, or even the dang ‘ol Academy X ones, they seem to all be getting at least some representation in some book.

Also Cable owns. Didn’t know I’d like the Kid-Cable guy until this book and his appearances in the main title, but now it’s confirmed. Him dating Esme, Kid Omega dating Phoebe? These crazy telepaths! Anyway, I hope Duggan’s main-team book is more like Cable than Marauders, in terms of pacing and characterization, but they both have beautiful art!

New mutants: Karma, Magik, Mirage, Scout, Warlock, Warpath and Wolfsbane

X-factor: Daken, Eye-boy, Polaris (quit?), North Star, Rachael, Prodigy

#3. 2nd-gen Krakoa Niche aka “the good stuff”

mood-color/vibe: purples, metaphysical/cosmic pallets, tertiary colors

books included: Hellions, S.W.O.R.D., Way of X

common Pokemon: I mean they’re basically all rare drops

This is the good stuff! Who would have thought. And when I think about it, Way of X and S.W.O.R.D., as part of the second wave of Krakoa-era books that started with Cable, both address some of the core issues and ideas that the whole HoX/DoX mini kicked off better than-- or at least more directly-- the other books. So I guess the non X-men, first-wave Krakoa books feel “mainline” in terms of their team lineups, but in terms of content, these newer ones almost feel more relevant by design. S.W.O.R.D. focuses on the cosmic context of the mutants post-Krakoa and Way is Kurt’s first spot-light moment in the era and is expressly concerned with Kurt’s addressing of the deeper moral quandaries that a people who have conquered death will be faced with. I mean, it's expressly about religion and like, spirituality-- a very tall order, but first issue pulled it off super deftly.

Also Hellions is better than it has any business being! Read this if you want savagely dark humor and some very obscure mutants + Havok/Psylocke/Sinister. But if I had to reccomend one, it’d be a tie b/w S.W.O.R.D and Way. First issue of Way was exceptional and got right into things and Kurt’s very well-written and will surely prove a meditative lead for a book like this, whereas S.W.O.R.D is epic in scale while still have sick character moments/dialogue. Manifold had a great issue or two and is now my favorite new mutant, even in the context of a somehow-actually-good King in Black tie-in. Damn! And everything going on b/w Magneto and Fabian Cortez (who was made to argue for why mutants should be allowed to murder “flatscans”/humans to the whole Krakoan council this week whilst naked. It’s fantastic. Hell, even the Snark-War sounds...interesting? What’s happening to me.

S.W.O.R.D.: Fabian Cortez, Magneto, Abigail Brand, Peeper, Manifold, Wiz-Kid, Mentallo, Fenzy

Children of the Atom: Cherub, Marvel Guy, Cyclops-Lass (?), Gimmick, Daycrawler

Hellions: Havok, Psylocke, Empath, Orphan-Maker, Nanny, Wild Child, Sinister, Greycrow

#4. Cetera

Mood-color/vibe: colorless, “normal” element

Books included: Fallen Angels (complete 6-ish mini), All the damn Wolverine books, the uh Sword of X “guidebook” and the new Peach Momoko Demon Days books and whatever X-men Legends is.

These are titles which are either complete or don’t fit in with other things or in Demon Days or the X-men Legends’ books’ case, I think don’t even occur in-universe. And per usual of course there are multiple Wolverine books... the main one seems fine.

Anyway all-in-all, these books are doing weirdly well. Mutants as a concept shouldn't be able to be spread this thin story-telling wise, but the books don’t really feel redundant and most are filling a specific niche or purpose. I may be dropping some of the first-wave Blue/Gold style books (Marauders and X-force I'll probably just check in on from time-to-time), but S.W.O.R.D., Way, the main book under Hickman or Duggan and Hellions all have me verrrrrry satisfied. Even standard stories in the Krakoa era feel special, and that speaks to the power of Hickman’s vision. Hellfire Gala, here we come.

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thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 5 years ago

Note

The gang on their wedding days

[Been meaning to post this one for a while — since I’m applying to get married today, now seems like the time.]

Jake steps into the room like a child wandering into his parents’ dinner party. His bow tie is askew, seams of his jacket misaligned for all that it’s a custom-tailored tuxedo. If the buttons of his shirt aren’t one hole off from their intended placement, they still manage to convey that impression from across the room.

Rachel feels a rush of affection for him, her first best friend. The boy who’d run and fought and splashed through mud with her, back before adults started telling her to be careful of her dress and him to be careful of her. Only he could show up to his own wedding looking like he’s ready to be expelled at any moment. Only Jake.

And yes, she gets mushy at weddings. Sue her.

Tom steps up next to Jake, far more elegant in an off-the-rack suit. Some people actually got the fashionable genes in this family.

Rachel surges across the room. Tom gets a quick hug, and then she turns all her attention on Jake.

“You only have to look nice for the next three hours,” she tells him briskly.

“Three. Hours,” Jake repeats.

With expert motions she realigns his… everything, until at the very least the clothes are sitting the way the tailor intended. She tries to finger-comb his hair, thankful for the heels that put her at an inch above his height, but it’s obvious that he has also been running his hands through it and the style is hopelessly deformed.

“You can survive anything for three hours,” Rachel says as she does all this. “I’ve seen you do it.”

“But if I mess it up—”

“Then stop, go back, and do whatever it is over. We’re not exactly on a time pressure, here. Nobody’s gonna die if you trip at the altar or forget your lines.”

“Okay.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets, deforming his jacket again. “Okay.”

She can see him starting to relax as he glances around, shoulders coming down. Cassie’s place isn’t quite like they remember — it’s been repaired since the war, the Wildlife Rehabilitation Clinic expanded to nearly five times its original size — but it still feels as close to home as any place does.

“Have a glass of water,” Rachel says.

“But what if I have to pee during the ceremony?”

She rolls her eyes. “Babysit him,” she mouths at Tom.

Tom gives her a gesture in response that approximates What do you think I’ve BEEN doing? Whether he means the last four hours or the last twenty-six years is, really, a moot point.

Rachel leaves him to it, and charges off to go check on the others.

************

Marco leans against a tent pole, trying to roll one of the rings across his fingers the way Vegas poker players do with chips. So far it’s not going well.

“Canapé,” Ax is saying carefully. He attempts to lean next to Marco, nearly going all the way over. “Can-nap-peee?”

“Uh, no.” Marco catches the ring as it makes its third or fourth bid for freedom, stuffing it back into his pocket. “That…” He tilts his champagne flute to point. “…is a canopy. Or a chuppah, I guess. Canopee. Canapay is the little pastry thing you’ve already filched in bulk, don’t think I didn’t notice.”

“Ah,” Ax says. And then, “This temperature and rate of precipitation is within optimal survival parameters for humans, is it not?”

“Nuh-uh, Ax-Man, I will not be pulled in by your smooth small-talk skills.”

“Did you not wish to make conversation?” Ax frowns. And then he stuffs another canapé in his mouth. “This is making conversation,” he adds through the mouthful.

Marco squints. “Is it, though?”

“It is indeed. Did you know that the rotating-wheel can opener was patented in 1870?”

Marco’s response to that one gets cut off when Rachel comes charging across the open tent space like a small freight train. Tobias is balanced on her shoulder, flaring slightly as she runs. She yanks the champagne flute out of his hand. Marco makes a squeak of protest, but Rachel just sets it firmly on a bussing tray and turns back to glare at him.

“What did we agree?” she asks sternly.

Marco rolls his eyes. “That I’d stay sober-ish for the toast, and not do anything too embarrassing.”

“You’re the best man. You have one job, Marco.”

“Excuse you, the best man’s one job was that banger of a bachelor-slash-ette party we did Wednesday night. Did you like the part where we all dived out of a helicopter and flew clear through the lower atmosphere to that rooftop bar? Because—”

“So you got the drinking out of your system. You promised.”

“Sober-ish, come on, it’s just one wine-spritzer-thing!”

Rachel turns away from him, looking Ax over. “You realize you’re going to have to demorph and remorph at some point before the ceremony, right?” she asks. “And that when you do, someone’s going to have to go through the whole kit and caboodle of getting you into that tux all over again?”

“Yes,” Ax says. “Yes, I do.”

She stares at him. He stares back, looking as innocent as it is possible to look while also chewing three jalapeño pastries at the same time.

«You should probably just listen to her,» Tobias suggests. «By the way, where’s your date? Not that I quake in fear for the wedding cake or anything, but, uh…»

“Menderash has been instructed not to eat anything on a human plate without seeking my opinion first,” Ax says, somewhat stiffly.

“Yeah,” Marco says. “So far he’s only eaten two earthworms, a candle, some decorative sand, and part of Collette’s bouquet. You two have nothing to worry about.”

“Part of Collette’s bouquet?” Rachel demands. “We can’t send a bridesmaid up the aisle without—”

“Already replaced it, I am on top of this.” Marco flips his hair back from his face. “I am a flower master.”

«So where is Menderash now?» Tobias asks.

“Helping Cassie’s mom,” Marco explains.

«And Cassie’s mom is…?»

“Delivering a baby cow.”

Rachel makes a noise like she’s choking on air. “Doesn’t Michelle have vet techs for that kind of thing? She’s supposed to be getting ready, not, not…”

“It’s cool,” Marco says. “She’s got her makeup on, her hair is done perfectly, she’s got an apron-thing to keep her dress nice and gloves over her nails, it was a breech birth so they needed a real doctor and Walter was busy supervising the caterers, she’s got Menderash and Steve helping her out—”

“She kidnapped Jake’s dad?” Rachel demands overtop the continuing babble.

“He said he had never delivered an offspring outside of his own species before, and expressed deep curiosity on the subject,” Ax offers. “Menderash is a certified medic with andalite training, so they should be well-equipped to assist.”

Marco makes jazz hands in the air. “It’s a free pre-dinner show! Cow birth. Better than icebreakers.”

There’s a very long pause. Rather than dignify that with a response, Rachel turns and stalks away.

Marco watches her go, halfway awed at her ability to navigate an open yard so well while not only wearing six-inch heels and a multi-layer floor-length dress, but also balancing an enormous updo on top of her head and a red-tailed hawk on her left shoulder.

“Is it just me, or did Jake and Cassie make a monster when they asked her to be maid of honor?” Marco says.

«You wanna take over her responsibilities, then?»

Of course Tobias heard that. Stupid hawk hearing.

“No thank you!” Marco yells after them.

Cassie, meanwhile, is currently picking her way across the open space under the tent, bunches of dress hiked up to above her knees. This last is, of course, the source of Rachel’s consternation.

“Here.” Rachel attempts to pull the wads of skirt out of Cassie’s hands and drop them back to the ground. “You’re going to wrinkle it.”

Cassie stubbornly refuses to let go. “You told me not to let it drag on the ground. If I let it down, it’ll drag.”

“Cassie, Cassie. That is a hand-tailored Christian Dior gown that I commissioned to be custom-fitted to your measurements. There is no way that it is too long if you let it…”

Cassie drops the bunches of tulle. The end of the skirt falls all the way down, where the bottom two inches rest, unmistakably, on the muddy ground.

Rachel somehow manages to wince with her entire body while also not moving at all.

«It’s a look,» Tobias suggests, by way of consolation. «Kind of.»

“How…?” Rachel peers closer at Cassie. “Wait, where are your shoes?”

Cassie shrugs, embarrassed. “Uh, inside somewhere. I was having trouble balancing in them.”

“Well that’s why!” Rachel’s emphatic gesture almost dislodges Tobias. With years’ experience, he dodges her waving arm and retains his perch. “The dress was tailored to fit you with shoes on.”

“They were getting stuck in the grass—”

“They’re kitten heels!”

“Yeah, and they’re still heels.” Cassie looks stuck somewhere between amusement and embarrassment. “I don’t really do heels. Sorry.”

“Hey Tobias?” Rachel says, as if to thin air.

«Nuh-uh, leave me out, I want no part in—»

“Remember me telling Cassie that we should really try the whole outfit on before the wedding?”

«Uh. Yes?»

“Do you also remember Cassie agreeing to it, and then the day of, haring off to go try and save a bunch of vultures instead? Remember how we tried to reschedule, and there was that ALF mission on the same day so she never showed? Remember that?”

Cassie clears her throat loudly. “I think it’s a very nice dress. It’s fluffy and also comfortable, and look!” She tucks her hands away. “It has pockets.”

«Vultures are actually fundamental for waste disposal in ecosystems all over the world, and the poisons used on livestock—»

“Do you think you could at least wear the shoes long enough to go up the aisle?” Rachel asks. “And maybe even for a few photos as well?”

“Uh. I’ll try.” Cassie hikes her skirt back up (Rachel full-body winces again) and starts picking her way across the lawn back toward the house.

“There’s no way I’m going to be able to un-wrinkle it in time,” Rachel mutters.

«Yep. So you’re just going to have to live with it.»

“I hate living with it.”

«Wanna go check on whatever monstrosity of a replacement bouquet Marco probably inflicted on Collette?»

“Fine, fine.”

**************

Cassie walks up the aisle in a custom-tailored gown, an edelweiss and valerian flower crown, and slightly muddy Timberland work boots. The sole on the boots is apparently tall enough that the skirt does, not, in fact, drag on the ground or get tangled in her feet.

«Somewhere out there,» Tobias comments, «Christian Dior is crying into an overpriced silk handkerchief and doesn’t even know why.»

Marco has never more deeply felt the utter unfairness of Tobias being able to use thought-speak while human, because they’re currently standing at the front of the aisle and he can’t even respond.

But Rachel should still count this one as a win. The gown looks stunning on Cassie, lacy and princess-ruffled while also having the kind of practical cut that allows her freedom of movement. And, Marco notes with a smirk, freedom to wear her morphing leotard underneath; the purple spandex is just visible peeking out from underneath the white silk neckline. He’s got morphing clothes under his own tux — never leaves home without ‘em — so really, he can’t judge.

Plus, Michelle’s got her dress and just her dress on by now, and her locs are still tucked into their silver-beaded updo. Really, the cow birth was just a momentary inconvenience.

“Hi,” Jake whispers, when Cassie reaches him.

She grabs his hand. Then she stuffs her bouquet into one of his jacket pockets, and grabs his other hand. “Hi,” she whispers back.

“This is pretty exciting, huh?”

“Yep.”

Ax clears his throat delicately, and they stop talking.

“There is an Earth tradition,” Ax says to the entire assembly, “that the captain of any ship may perform a wedding ceremony at will.”

In the front row of seats, Michelle laces her fingers through Walter’s.

“Although there is no legal precedent for this custom,” Ax continues, “it is nevertheless possible to become ordained as a wedding officiant if one just completes the proper applications.”

One of Jake’s great-aunts mutters something loudly about the lack of rabbi. Sarah leans over and kicks her in the ankle. Rachel beams her approval.

“Therefore, I am here to make official through human custom that which has already been forged through affection and respect.” Ax looks from Jake to Cassie and back. “The bond between warriors who have fought and faced death together can be neither lessened nor improved upon by mere ceremony. The honor shared between two such beings who have chosen to risk loving each other in spite of knowing the reality of loss is one that we recognize today. We can recognize it, but not sanctify it beyond the sanctity of what these two humans have already shared.”

Rachel lets out an audible sniffle. Marco does his best not to smirk at her. It’s not that sappy a speech.

“I have been assured that the bond between two humans who like each other far exceeds the bond between those who merely enjoy each other’s company,” Ax says.

And now Marco has to fight the urge to bang his head against the nearest support pole.

“I have witnessed this myself.” Ax stares around the room. “I have witnessed compromise and forgiveness, compassion and challenge between these two. I therefore believe it is correct and proper that this bond be formally recognized by the State of California. Is there anything you would wish to add?” he says to Jake and Cassie.

Cassie leans up on tip-toe. Jake bends to meet her.

She whispers her vows into his ear, not bothering to share with the rest of the gathering. After a moment, tears on his face, he leans in and whispers back.

Recognizing his cue, Marco grabs the rings and passes them over. They’re boring-looking, in his opinion, plain silicon bands without anything shiny. But they’re also easy to morph, easy to shovel manure while wearing, easy to wear without catching on anything. Very Cassie. Very Jake.

Speaking of which, the Timberlands prove to be a good call. When the time comes, Cassie stomps the shit out of that ceremonial glass.

**********

In a slight break with tradition, Rachel and Tobias are actually the first ones to go back down the aisle. Then Marco wheels Collette out, followed by Tom and Melissa, then Jake and Cassie go. That way, Rachel’s got time to sprint back over to the main tent and check on the banquet.

Most of the tables are arranged correctly, the centerpieces in place and the cards arrayed. Rachel does a mad sprint of the room, straightening decorations and confirming with the caterers that they got all the instructions about who needs what in their diet. Between the number of kosher eaters on Jake’s side and the number of vegetarians on Cassie’s, Rachel made the call to go all the way to a fully vegan buffet. That’s probably going to get some of the relatives complaining about kids these days and rabbit food, but there’s no pleasing everyone.

Rachel deftly switches a few of the placecards, thereby putting Jordan on point to deal with their great-aunt and grandmother who have both already overindulged at the open bar, muttering an apology as she does. She puts Tobias to work making sure the bows on the backs of chairs are straight, and rushes up to the long table at the front to confirm that the armless chair meant to accommodate Cassie’s bulky skirt is in the correct place.

D.J. is here, playlist at the ready. Dance floor is clear of grass. Weather’s holding, but tent covers are on standby.

Slightly sweaty, she rushes back out with a chair under each arm just in time to catch the guests coming across the lawn.

“Everyone except the parents, head off to the cocktail hour!” she calls. “Jake, Cassie, moms and dads, with me.”

While Marco’s date (a photographer named Dakota) sets up the camera, Rachel goes into a flurry of motion straightening bowties, adjusting hairdos, and touching up makeup. Steve’s got a spot of cow blood on his forehead, she discovers to her horror, and by the time she’s done scrubbing that off Jake’s managed to get his tuxedo jacket misaligned again. Finally she steps back, breathing hard, and nods to Dakota.

Everyone smiles. The camera goes off.

“Okay.” Rachel claps her hands loudly, because Jake and Cassie are looking ready to stand up and go join the reception. “That’s one down, just twenty-three to go.”

********

Rather than tossing her whole bouquet all at once, Cassie picks it apart and gives a single flower to every single guest she can find. When the bouquet itself runs out, she disassembles her flower crown and hands that out piece by piece until everyone’s got at least one blossom. It just seems fairer that way, she says when Rachel asks.

Several of the traditions, Rachel reflects, seem to be lost on Jake and Cassie. They cut the first piece of cake… and immediately hand it to Ax. And then they cut the second piece, and the third piece, and keep right on cutting slices of cake and handing them out to people until Rachel has to step in and wrest the knife away. She’s grateful that they refrain from any of the food-fighting nonsense, since both their wedding outfits are headed to a charity auction first thing tomorrow morning, but honestly. They’re supposed to eat the first two slices, not drop half a tier of cake into the black hole of hungry andalite.

Cake served, Marco clinks a fork against a glass. “Ladies, gentlemen, and proletariats!”

There’s a general murmur as people look around, trying to spot who’s speaking.

With a hand from Jake, Marco climbs bodily onto the banquet table. “Everyone!” he shouts, and now they’re all looking at him. At him, and at the champagne flute in his hand. “Jake and Cassie!”

It gets a polite round of applause.

“Gotta start at the beginning, right?” Marco looks around the room, grinning. “So there I am, some snot-nosed three-year-old, minding my own business. And this chubby, dorky-looking little white kid comes running up to me and is like…” He leans in. “‘You wanna be my best friend?’”

He grins at Jake, who is flushing bright red.

“I shit you not, that was his opening line. ‘You wanna be my best friend?’ So I’m like…” Marco pantomimes reeling back in shock. “I dunno man, seems like a lot of commitment to make to a total stranger. You want explore our options first, maybe get a prenup, see if we’re compatible? I mean, for all I know five years from now you’re gonna find some younger, hotter best friend and then there I’ll be out on my ear with nothing to show for it.”

There’s a smattering of laughter throughout the room. Marco visibly draws strength from it.

“But you know what?” Marco leans down to look around, smiling like he’s got a secret. “Little dork kept right on showing up to my house and letting me use his television and getting his mom to give me fluffer nutters, and next thing I know it turns out he really is my best friend. I think he was onto something.

“Anyway, you think that one was bad…” He raises his eyebrows. “Couple years later, there we are in first grade, and this girl in teeny-tiny first-grader overalls comes into the room like…”

Marco claps one hand over the top of his champagne flute and clamps the other under the base, and actually walks a few steps down the table with the determined air of a very small and klutzy version of Cassie.

“And her opening line is…” Marco raises the flute to his mouth like it’s a microphone, dropping his voice. “‘You wanna see my moth?’”

Again, there’s a smattering of laughter. Cassie has a hand over her mouth, halfway doubled over in giggles at the memory.

“Now, us being minuscule and all, I’m like ninety-nine percent sure that there was no double entendre going on here,” Marco says. “And I have to admit, no one has used that line on me since. So I say ‘sure,’ because I’m like six years old and this seems like a reasonable question. She lifts her hand up…”

Marco accompanies this with a pantomime of peering through his own fingers into his champagne.

He looks up. “And it’s not even a freaking moth!” he cries out. “Turns out, it’s just some little worm thing. So I tell her.” He puts on a snotty voice, mocking his younger self. “‘That’s not a moth, that’s just some little worm thing.’”

There’s a pause. Marco glances around the room. “See if you can tell where this story’s going.”

Marco and Cassie glance at each other. Cassie’s grinning smugly.

“She puts it in the classroom’s terrarium,” Marco drawls. “It turns into a rock. Two weeks later, rock cracks open and out pops a moth.”

The room cracks up again.

“So fast forward another few years, and she’s standing there holding this eight-eyed, venom-fanged thing. And she’s all like ‘just touch the spider, Marco. Don’t you want to be a spider, Marco? Isn’t it cute and fuzzy?’ As if she is completely unaware that she’s holding a giant-ass eight-legged freak.” Marco takes a sip for strength. “And right then, I look at Jake. And I’m thinking Jake, don’t ever let this girl go. Because if she doesn’t even think wolf spiders are ugly, then she’s got no idea about you. So here’s to Jake and Cassie. Made for each other, because no one else will have ‘em.”

Jake pokes Marco in the ankle, but he’s laughing as he does it.

“All right,” Marco says, “brace yourselves, and someone get some more tissues for my second mama, because I’m about to get sappy. I love you, Jean!” he calls. “I know we all gotta cry it out sometimes.”

She laughs and flaps a dismissive hand at him, but she’s also misty-eyed already.

“Dudes, I gotta be honest.” Marco is looking at Jake and Cassie. “I didn’t think we’d get here. I honestly did not believe, for a good long while there, that there were gonna be any weddings or graduations or driver’s licenses in any of our futures. Just seemed like a good idea not to bet on any of us having any futures, you know? Seemed like it might be the surest option.”

Cassie laces her fingers through Jake’s. Silently, her mouth pressed into a line, she nods.

“So, uh.” Marco sniffs, spinning back around and thrusting his champagne flute into the air. “Here’s to me being wrong, yeah?”

“To Marco being wrong!” Jake echoes, and tosses back his glass.

“To Marco being wrong!” the entire room calls back.

Marco jumps back down, Cassie and Jake catching him as he lands.

**********

After everyone but Menderash and Ax has finished eating, it’s Tom who becomes the next one to tink a fork against a glass for attention.

“In the spirit of full disclosure,” he tells the room, strolling slowly toward the head table. “I promised my brother there wouldn’t be a horah.” Tom stops, directly next to Cassie. “But what he didn’t know is that I’d already made a promise to my new sister-in-law that there would be. So what’s a guy to do?”

He snaps his fingers.

At this cue, several things happen at once. The DJ switches to “Hava Nagila.” Several people mob Jake at once. Tom grabs Cassie and lifts her bodily over his head, carrying her chair and all to the middle of the dance floor.

With a squeak of laughter, Cassie grabs the top of Tom’s head for balance. Jake is being hauled out next to her on a chair of his own, supported by Tobias and Menderash and Rachel and James. Marco and Ax are herding the rest of the gathering, shoving people into a circle and linking arms together as they go.

“I hate you!” Jake calls over the sound of the music and his own fit of giggles.

“Gotta keep the in-laws happy!” Tom yells back, unrepentant.

*********

“You sure you’ve got everything you need?” Rachel asks.

Cheyenne, the head caterer, gives her a double thumbs-up. The staff are tipped and most are ready to go, having divvied up the several extra schaeffers’ worth of falafel and butternut squash puree and other entrees that Rachel’d set aside for them. Melissa is set to take over tending bar from here, as planned, and she’s going to keep the groomsmen after for a few minutes for cleanup duty.

“Okay.” Rachel glances around at where the last of the countertops are getting a quick once-over with disinfectant. “Okay. If anything comes up…”

“I have your number.” Cheyenne smiles and nods.

Pushing back out of the room, Rachel heads for the gift table. Everything looks like it’s in good order, but she wants to make sure it all gets packed up properly and that none of the cards get lost in the kerfuffle. It’s mostly donation receipts, at Jake and Cassie’s request, but some of the traditionalists on both sides came with soup tureens or the like —

“Hey.” Jake catches her by the arm.

Rachel turns to look at him. “What’s wrong? Is it the great-aunts?”

“Nothing’s wrong. It’s all perfect.” He’s smiling shyly. “Thanks.”

“I need to check on the gifts,” Rachel says, because she’s a coward who doesn’t know how to do mushy conversations, especially not with Jake.

“The gifts are fine,” he says. “It’s all fine. Because you made it that way. So… thanks.”

When he pulls her into a hug, Rachel can’t resist straightening his hair one last time even as she returns the embrace. “You realize I do this for fun, right?” she asks, holding him at arm’s length and looking him in the eye. “Like, I could’ve hired a wedding planner, but honestly why bother?”

He shrugs. “Doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate everything. All of it. Without you, Cassie and I wouldn’t even…”

Then, because this is all getting too honest, Rachel links her arm through his and drags him onto the dance floor for, he’s about to realize, their middle school gym class’s favorite godawful square dance.

*********

When she has do-si-doed Jake within an inch of his life, Rachel tosses him at Cassie. She pivots around and gives Tobias a flourishing courtesy; he returns it with an equally ridiculous bow.

“It is marvelous, how well they have adapted their balance to compensate for their lack of legs,” Menderash comments to Ax.

“Very true.” Ax leans next to him against the bar. They are currently sharing a delicious beverage Melissa has made for them, simply by unscrewing the lid from a nearly-empty jar of olives and handing over the remaining liquid.

It is true, some of the dancers are more talented than others. Michelle and Walter are synchronized with each other and the beat of the music, even if their choice of moves is not nearly as audacious as the spinning thing Marco and Dakota are doing. The bride and groom, meanwhile, are looking at their own feet and keep bumping into each other as they move. Between their relative unconcern with anyone but each other and the broad hem of Cassie’s dress, the other couples are giving them a wide berth.

“Do you wish to attempt such feats?” Ax asks, glancing at Menderash.

Menderash gives a full-body shudder. He flaps one hand in an andalite gesture that, if translated to English, would approximate fuck that.

Ax grins, drinking more olive juice.

“Have you done such a thing?” Menderash asks.

“Never for very long,” Ax says.

Jake and Cassie have given up on dancing entirely, descending into a giggle fit in the middle of the dance floor as they both attempt to disentangle Jake’s cuff link from the lace of Cassie’s hem. Rachel swirls by, briefly blocking their view. She’s switched partners. Dakota is doing their best to teach Tobias how to waltz while Marco and Rachel are now swing-dancing their way across the dance floor.

As both andalites watch in awe, Rachel spins Marco in a circle, swinging him out and then drawing him back close to her body. Marco pirouettes, throwing his head back so that his hair flares around his face, and then throws himself backwards. Rachel catches him neatly around the waist, dipping him nearly to the floor. Marco braces on her shoulders and she flings him upward with her whole body so that she actually lifts him off the floor for a second before gracefully sweeping him back down. They separate until just the tips of their fingers are touching, and then spin back together until Marco suddenly swoops under Rachel’s arm, coming up on the far side as she pivots around in time fro him to fall back against her.

Ax is reminded of the way they fight. There’s something almost joyful in their ferocity on the battlefield. There’s something almost frightening in their enthusiasm on the dancefloor. Neither of them seems to know how to do anything by half measure.

One by one the other clusters of dancers have stopped to watch as well. Jake and Cassie, now sitting hopelessly tangled up in each other, seem quite happy to have the spotlight stolen.

Rachel swoops an arm around Marco’s waist and slides into a back-and-forth tango step. Within two beats he’s caught on, falling into the same rhythm as her. When the tempo of the song changes he grabs her shoulder and nudges her into a circular waltz. They’re unrehearsed, and inexpert, but moving with such force and communicating so rapidly that it doesn’t really matter.

“Yes,” Menderash says softly, “I very much do not wish to attempt to dance.”

Ax smiles at him over the rim of the olive jar. It’s empty, and in the time it takes him to set it back on the bar and catch her eye, Melissa has replaced it with maraschino cherry liquid.

The song crescendos; Marco leans his full weight back as Rachel flings him into a long spiraling turn that ends with him sliding on his knees clear between her legs, popping up behind her just in time to brace as she tips backward into him. She spins once, twice, four times, then swings him into a dip so low that his hair brushes the floor.

As the song ends they freeze like that, chests heaving, hair damp with sweat.

They both seem to become aware at once that the whole room’s watching them. Marco opens his mouth to say something, when Rachel’s smile turns wicked. That’s the only warning he gets before she opens her arms and lets him drop. Marco squawks indignantly, throwing out both elbows to catch himself. He gets ahold of Rachel’s arm and tries to yank her down as well, but ends up pulling himself to his feet as well.

The whole room breaks out into clapping. Marco sweeps into a low bow. Rachel visibly considers pushing him over again before deciding against it. Instead she runs to try and rescue Cassie’s hand-sewn lace hem and Jake’s antique silver cufflinks from their respective owners’ incompetence.

*********

“Hey Tobias?” Rachel says around a yawn.

«Uh-huh?»

Idly they watch as Tom waltzes Cassie’s grandmother around the dance floor. She’s 4’11” to his 6’4”, so it’s pretty hilarious to witness. But at least they’re not totally mismatched: each has a single sprig of valerian from Cassie’s bouquet tucked behind one ear.

She and Tobias are sitting on the ground at one corner of the dance floor. Rachel’s got her shoes off to massage her aching ankles, and Tobias is perched back on her shoulder. With clever motions of his beak he’s fishing the pins out of her hair one by one, dropping them into her hand as he slowly disassembles her updo.

“How do you feel about never, ever getting married?” Rachel asks.

Tobias drops another bobby pin into her hand. «Best idea you’ve had all year.»

#animorphs #animorphs ficlet #animorphs au #(sadly)#long post #weddings #jake/cassie #cake #alcohol mention #rachel berenson #is the canonically biggest cassie/jake shipper on the planet #do it for her #anonymous #asks

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lloydskywalkers · 4 years ago

Text

planetary go

me: hey this would be a great time to actually do some of that oc development I’ve been planning for the last two years

also me: lloyd has no good very bad spiderman day

i’ve had this in my drafts for...over a year now, i think?? it’s entirely self-indulgent and i was very much committed to never posting it ever, but it’s oc day, so. maybe i will leave it up for five minutes before hiding it again gdhjkfg

(for background, the oc is Rachel, who’s Brad’s friend from school and a useless nerd, and one day i’ll actually take the ideas i have for her further, but today she’s just a kid who got her hands on an axe)

In theory, bringing Lloyd on their school’s annual planetarium field trip sounded like a great idea. Brad’s been trying to get Lloyd to hang out with them in a normal setting for forever now, and he knows that, as much as Rachel secretly enjoys waving at Lloyd during life-or-death situations because deep down she’s an adrenaline maniac, he also knows she’s been wanting to have five minutes of peace and normality with him as well.

As for Lloyd, Brad’s pretty sure he doesn’t even know what that is, but there’s always time for a learning curve.

Plus, Lloyd deserves it. As soon as Brad managed to get wind that the only education his friend’s had is Darkley’s — which is a tragedy, honestly — he’d started scheming a way to sneak Lloyd into his school. Only for the fun stuff, of course — he’s not about to subject Lloyd to the horrors of Pre-Cal, or AP Physics.

A field trip, though, is perfect. All the fun parts of school, without the actual busy work or potentially anxiety-inducing memories of school hallways. Sure, the planetarium their school insists on visiting is boring as it gets, but it’s still better than math class. It’s a full hour-long bus ride away, too, which means that by the time the teachers or the ninja catch wind what’s happened, they’ll be home free.

(Well, Brad thinks so. If Lloyd didn’t end up clearing this trip with the ninja and snuck out instead, he’s not sure their school bus is up to outrunning a bunch of dragons. It’d be funny to watch, though.)

The point is, it had been a great idea, until Rachel went and fell asleep in the first five minutes. Which would’ve been fine, except Lloyd took one look at her and decided that he liked the idea of being asleep too, so now Brad’s lost two friends to naps, and he kinda needs them awake, because hour-long bus rides are boring.

He eyes the two where they’re sleeping in disdain. Some friends they are. He contemplates shoving them both off the school seats for a second, and watching them sprawl all over the floor like a pair of idiots, but he decides against it. Lloyd’s packing a little too much power, and he’s seen Rachel when she’s angry. Also, he watched the news report this morning, and he knows the kind of night Lloyd had. Brad’s still trying to figure out how he doesn’t have ugly bruising all up the left side of his face, much less a decent night’s sleep.

Nah, he’ll let them sleep for now. He can read Lloyd’s comics in the meantime, since he doesn’t have school books. Brad can be nice, when he wants to. Not that it’s going to make up for the hour long bus ride on his own, but he can suck it up this once, he supposes.

If only that had been the worst of his problems today.

*********

“This is a terrible plan.”

“What do you mean?” Brad’s eyebrows furrow. “This was your plan.”

“Well, yeah, okay, fine, but I mean—” Rachel shrinks in her seat, still rubbing sleep from her eyes as she glances around at her classmates on the bus warily. “I didn’t really think it through,” she mutters.

Brad rolls his eyes. “Kai’s not gonna find out, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Oh, it’s not Kai I’m worried about,” Rachel scoffs. “I figured that out. Lloyd was right, Kai’s just a big softie. It’s Nya you gotta worry about.”

Brad scoffs. “Wimp.”

“Fine, you can face her down when she comes at us with all the wrath of god for hijacking Lloyd for the day.”

Lloyd shifts guiltily where he’s crammed in the seat between them, jacket hood pulled over his head, as it that’s gonna hide who he is. “I don’t have to come, guys.”

“Yes, you do,” Brad immediately responds.

“We want you to come,” Rachel says, emphatically.

“You can’t just ditch us, you’re the only exciting part of this dumb field trip,” Brad adds. “Plus, it’s like, way too late to back out now. We’re ten minutes from the planetarium, you should’ve spoken up earlier.”

“You deserve a normal day out,” Rachel steamrolls over Brad. “You’re coming.”

“Okay,” Lloyd says, still unsure as he glances around. He’s starting to wonder how, exactly, he managed to sleep through the better part of this trip. The West Ninjago High school bus is chaos incarnate, the high school students crammed in the seats all chattering loudly and occasionally chucking everything from straws to entire notebooks at each other.

Maybe he should get his reflexes checked, he thinks dully. Then again, it’s not like the school bus is an immediate threat. It’s pretty nice, actually — a lot nicer than the buses they used to have at school the guys taught at, at least.

“We do need to work on your disguise, though,” Rachel mutters, surveying his outfit. Lloyd tugs anxiously on the school jacket Brad lent him, the dark blue fabric scratchy and uncomfortable. Luckily, Brad and Rachel’s school doesn’t require a uniform, so his casual outfit blends in just fine. The jacket’s just a field trip requirement.

Why he’s crashing their field trip, he’s yet to figure out, but they’d made it sound fun, and he hadn’t had anything better to do today, so Lloyd Garmadon’s now Brad’s distant cousin from Metallonia. They haven’t decided on his fake name yet, because Rachel wants to use Luke Skywalker, and while Lloyd isn’t great at going undercover, he’s not that bad.

“Here,” Rachel says, rifling through her backpack. She pulls out a pair of glasses, unfolding them and handing them off to him. “The lenses are fake, don’t worry.”

Lloyd stares at the glasses in his hands. “This is my disguise?”

“Yeah,” Brad nods. “Like Clark Kent.”

“Clark Kent has the most obvious disguise ever.”

“Yeah, but no one ever finds him out.”

“Because it’s the comics. This is my life. Something’s gonna go wrong.”

Rachel doesn’t seem to share his concerns, pushing the glasses toward his face. “Just put them on?”

Lloyd sighs, complying. He slides the glasses on, frowning at the unfamiliar weight. “There,” he grumbles. “How do I look?"

Brad snorts, but he gives him a thumbs up. Rachel turns a weird color and coughs quickly, before saying what Lloyd’s pretty sure is “they’re alright”.

He’ll take it.

“So I’m good to go?” he asks, glancing at the teacher up front anxiously.

Brad and Rachel stare at him. Lloyd isn’t a fan of the looks on their faces.

“Well, you’re gonna have to…talk with your mouth closed a little more,” Brad winces. “The uh, the teeth.”

Lloyd shuts his mouth tightly. Right. His genetics.

“And um…” Rachel bites her lip. “Is there any way you could, like…turn the brightness down?”

Lloyd frowns. “The what?”

“The uh—“ Rachel gestures to her own dark brown eyes. “The eyes.”

Lloyd folds his arms, glaring at them. “This is part-human discrimination.”

“It is not—“

“Yeah, the only part we’d discriminate you for is the lame part—“

“We’re just trying to make sure no one figures out you’re a big ninja celebrity!”

Rachel immediately claps a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. Lloyd sinks lower into his seat, and Brad cringes.

“Sorry,” Rachel whispers.

Fortunately, no one else seems to have overheard, or they simply just don’t care. Lloyd straightens up a bit, still wary, but he uncrosses his arms.

“Yeah, I get it,” he sighs. He closes his eyes, focuses briefly on the thrumming power that’s always in his veins, then opens them.

Rachel looks guilty, and Brad snorts.

“They’re, um, they’re red now.”

Lloyd bites back a curse. “Darn it.”

By the time they reach the planetarium, Lloyd’s finally got his eyes to stay a color Rachel says could be normal, and Brad says is lame. Lloyd’s eyes are itching, and he’s starting to have seconds thoughts about this, because the kids in the seat across from him are giving him weird looks.

“D’you think they recognize me?” he asks Rachel under his breath, pulling his hood back up over his head.

Rachel looks over, and her lips pinch. “I don’t think so,” she says. She gets a weird look on her face. “I think they just…like you.”

“Like me?” Lloyd frowns. “They don’t even know me. I haven’t even said one word to them.”

Rachel stares at him, the weird look replaced by a blank one. “Lloyd.”

“Yeah?” he blinks.

“Never mind,” Rachel sighs, and Brad snickers. “Hey, we’re here.”

Lloyd’s stomach does a little flip, which is ridiculous, because he’s faced things ten thousand times more terrifying than a field trip. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s got a miserable track record with disguises, and really just acting in general?

Yeah, that could be it, Lloyd thinks. He never could pull off accents, unless you wanted like, an Oni one, which was useless anyways, because any Oni would probably just kill him for being a blood traitor on the spot, and anyone else who heard it would go running for the hills, or lock him up, or—

“—c’mon, Lloyd, we’re going!”

Lloyd snaps back as Brad shoves at him, forcing him out of the seat and into the aisle. He stumbles in with the other high schoolers crammed in the bus, all fighting to get to the front exit first, and is immediately onset by claustrophobia.

“Move it, people, come on—” Rachel shoulders her way past him, shoving the people in front of them until they’re stumbling forward, gradually thinning up the crowd. “I hate this bus,” she grumbles beneath her breath. “It’s like a mosh pit, but without any of the fun."

“I can start kicking kneecaps in,” Brad offers.

Rachel glances back at him, unimpressed. Lloyd considers it briefly, before quickly schooling his expression into “unimpressed” as well. Brad deflates.

Rachel finally gets them out by sheer value of being taller than most of the other kids, and Lloyd can’t help but be grateful as she tugs him in front of her, letting him escape the bus first. This last about half a second, because he immediately comes face-to-face with their teacher.

“Uh. Hi,” Lloyd says, weakly, as the teacher frowns at him.

“I don’t remember you,” he mutters glancing down at his clipboard, where he’s been checking off students. “Do you sit toward the back?”

“Ah, no, sorry, he’s with us!” Rachel says quickly, coming to his rescue. “He’s a visitor, just checking out the school, y’know?”

The teacher narrows his eyes. “Is that so,” he says, and Lloyd shrinks under his gaze. “And you’re who, now?”

“He’s my cousin,” Brad answers for him. “Luh — Floyd. Floyd…Calrissian?”

Rachel makes a muffled sound of agonized exasperation. Lloyd has to violently stifle the urge to stomp on Brad’s foot.

“Yeah, Floyd,” Brad nods, steamrolling ahead. “He lives out of city, in, um…“

“Ignacia,” Lloyd says, seizing on the name.

“Ignacia, yeah!” Brad snaps his fingers. “You know how it is there, real small town. He’s checking out schools here, so I thought I’d…bring him along…for the day.”

The teacher stares at them all for a beat, then shakes his head, looking uninterested. “You’re supposed to check him in, you know, but we’re already here. Nothing for it now. Keep an eye on him, Tudabone. Miss Lennox, you keep an eye on them both.”

“Yes, sir,” Rachel says, ignoring the face Brad’s making. “Thanks, sir.”

She seizes both their arms, dragging them away before Brad can make any kind of undoubtedly snarky remark. Lloyd’s too relieved to be out of the teacher’s stare to complain about being manhandled — he hadn’t realized how much he didn’t like teachers. Real good to know that he’s scarred for life thanks to Darkley’s, apparently.

“I thought you were gonna be from Metallonia,” Rachel hisses at him as they pass through the sliding doors, interrupting his train of thought.

Lloyd bristles. “I blanked, okay? It was the first thing I could think of on the spot. At least I did better than Brad.” He glares at him. “Lafloyd? That’s my name now?”

“It’s better than whatever you could come up with,” Brad shoots.

“Really?” Rachel turns on Brad. “‘Cause — Floyd Calrissian? Seriously? And you gave me heck for wanting to call him Luke.”

“Whatever, Miss Lennox, snooty teacher’s pet—”

“Oh, just ‘cause I didn’t spray-paint the teacher’s lounge—”

“Hey, here’s a fun idea, why don’t you drop it.” Lloyd glares at them both, immediately silencing them. Rachel makes a face, but her cheeks darken, and Brad glances at the floor. Lloyd watches his sneakers on the linoleum, where bright colored solar systems have been inlaid in fun little patterns.

“Lafloyd is a funny nickname,” Rachel suddenly remarks, quietly.

Lloyd stares at her, hoping it conveys the utter, crushing betrayal. Rachel just grins brightly back at him.

“Lafloyd Calrissian, from Metallnacia,” Brad snickers, and Lloyd feels a headache coming on.

At least it’s not Lloydkins, he tries to convince himself. Floyd is not the most awful option here. It could be worse.

*********

The planetarium is actually pretty cool, more so than Brad was selling it as when he termed it “the most boring school trip conceived”. The domed, dark room is quiet and comfortable, and Lloyd could go for a really long nap in here, if time permitted. But then the ceiling lights up in constellations and the teacher starts introducing some visiting Serpentine professor, and Lloyd figures taking another nap would probably be rude. He’s here to hang out with Brad and Rachel, after all, he can’t sleep through the whole thing.

Plus, astronomy is fun, now that he’s getting to actually learn about it from a nice planetarium seat, as opposed to hurtling through space on a nindroid spaceship in a desperate attempt to stop the Overlord from ending the world.

Not that it’s going to stop him from bragging about it.

“I’ve been on an asteroid,” Lloyd remarks under his breathe, as the professor starts detailing the orbital paths of comets. “It’s not as cool as it sounds.”

Rachel chokes where she’s sitting beside him, coughing out what might be a laugh. Brad stares at him, before casting his eyes to the ceiling digging his hands in his hair. “Of course you have,” he mutters. “Why not. Been to six different realms, what’s one asteroid?”

“You’ve been to other realms?!” Rachel hisses, looking equal parts flabbergasted and wildly interested. “Which ones? What were they like? Did you make it to that one that’s supposed to have fire-breathing dogs?”

“Shh!”

All three of them shrink in their seats as the teacher hushes them. Lloyd swaps looks with Brad, who’s already smirking at the familiarity.

Lloyd grins back, a bubble of happiness rising in his chest. His recently-rebuilt friendship with Brad has been slow-going at best — mostly because of how busy Lloyd’s schedule always is — and he’s been quietly fearing that the bridge their friendship was built on might’ve been a little too burned to build back. That there’s too much distance between them now, with how different their lives are.

It’s nice to proven wrong, he thinks. In fact, this entire field trip thing was a good idea, in hindsight. He’s having a pretty good—

The back door slams open with an almighty crash, and several shrieks ring out as a frazzled, deranged-looking man in a stained lab coat stands highlighted in the doorway, one accusing finger pointed toward the Serpentine lecturer.

“And you thought you could escape me, you halfwit snake.”

—oh for crying out loud.

“You,” the lecturer says, his face paling as he takes a noticeable step back. “You’re supposed to be in prison.”

“It didn’t agree with me,” the man cackles, his expression manic under the spiraling lights of the solar system. Brad and Rachel’s classmates are rooted to their seats, watching the scene unfold with wide eyes like some terrible soap opera. Their teacher’s kind of just gaping at the entire thing, like he can’t believe this is happening. Lloyd can completely sympathize.

“Should we call the police?” Brad whispers uncertainly, his eyes wide.

“No way, the police are useless,” Rachel hisses back. “Lloyd, use your zappy power-thing.”

The crazy guy continues before Lloyd can form a response. “So you’ve regressed to teaching now, have you? How the mighty have fallen.” A leer drags up the corners of his mouth, and Lloyd’s hair stands on end. Nope, he doesn’t like that—

“Luckily for you, I perfected the serum even without your help,” the guy continues, and the lecturer makes a strangled sound of horror as he pulls out a syringe. “Or unluckily for you, I should say."

The deranged man then grins, looking entirely too unhinged, and Lloyd’s stomach drops. He’s on his feet before his brain can catch up, ignoring Brad and Rachel’s yelps of alarm as instinct wired into his limbs drives him towards the guy before he can do anything, because Lloyd knows that look and he’s definitely going to do something—

“This is the turning point, old friend,” Crazy Guy hisses. “Now, no one will ignore me, ever again!”

He raises his hand, the syringe glinting in the dim lights of the planetarium. Lloyd puts on a burst of speed, mere yards from the guy, if he can just—

“Lloyd, wait!”

The man slams the needle into his arm, injecting the vivid purple right into his bloodstream. Lloyd reaches him just as the last of the liquid’s draining, launching himself from the top of one of the seats as a student screams, and kicks the syringe into an arching spiral away from his arm.

Oh, mistake. Big mistake. The guys gives a loud shriek, and the slight change in air pressure is all the warning Lloyd gets.

He whips back around to the students, eyes wide as he screams a warning. “Get down—!”

There’s a spectacular purple flash, and Lloyd goes flying, hurtling backward and smashing through an entire row of seats. This wouldn’t be so bad, except then his head cracks against something entirely too solid, and Lloyd’s vision goes out in bright, incredibly painful fireworks.

On second thought, this was a bad idea, is his last conscious thought, before the fireworks go dark.

*********

Lloyd jolts back into awareness to a throbbing pain in his head, and a feeling similar to someone trying to tear his arms off. He moans, blinking hazily as sound filters back in with consciousness, the unfortunately familiar sound of panicked screaming and destruction filling his ears.

That’s a bad sign, he thinks dizzily.

“Oh, thank FSM — he’s waking up! Lloyd, Lloyd, can you hear me?”

Brad finishes this last statement by yelling it in his face, and Lloyd flinches back, his head pounding.

“Stop that, you’re hurting him!”

He registers that as Rachel’s voice, coming from near his left side. He cracks his eyes back open, trying to get his bearings, and realizes that he’s being dragged forward. The pressure on his arms must be Rachel and Brad’s grip where they’ve got them slung over their own shoulders, they’re hauling him away from — from what?

“The crazy scientist guy lost it,” Rachel explains, her breath coming in sharp pants. “I think he’s got some big grudge against the lecturer, or something? Like, really intense drama—”

“That’s not the point!” Brad hisses. “He just turned himself into a freaky lizard monster, how are you not focusing on that?”

“Details are important!” Rachel snaps back, flinching as something explodes from behind them.

Lloyd blinks again, trying to get his dazed brain to work with him again. His first thought is, I didn’t know I was Spider-Man.

His second thought is that he needs to get with the program, now.

“Where’d’e go,” Lloyd slurs out as he yanks his arms from their hold, stumbling briefly before he finds his balance. He wavers as a searing pain slices through his head, and he grits his teeth, pressing a hand to his temple as he takes quick inventory. Other than his head, everything else seems to be in working order, he finds with relief.

Which is a really good thing, because it sounds like mutated science guy is about to try and start snacking on high school students like popcorn shrimp.

“He’s still back in the show room, but — Lloyd, you need to sit down,” Rachel says, her hands flitting toward his head anxiously.

“Yeah, you hit your head bad,” Brad echoes, his eyes wide. “I mean, the crack was epic, but you were passed out for like, ten minutes or so, which is bad.”

“M’fine,” Lloyd waves them off, blinking in an attempt to get the room to stop spinning. “Everything’s gonna be fine. Here,” he shoves his phone into Brad’s hand. “Call the guys if I’m not back in fifteen, okay?”

Brad and Rachel stare at him like he’s lost his mind, their eyes wide and faces pale. Which is rude, they could at least try and have some confidence.

“Lloyd—”

“I got this,” he says, and gives them a thumbs-up. Or he’s pretty sure he does, his vision is still doing that weird wobbling thing again. “I do this like, every day, guys. Just get somewhere safe, okay?”

Before either of them can protest, Lloyd takes off sprinting back to the show room, where the worst of the roaring is coming from. He grinds his teeth as another chorus of screams ring out, green light already flashing at his fingertips.

No luck. He’s got no luck at all.

*********

“We’re so dead.”

Rachel doesn’t even respond. She’s just standing there, rooted to the floor while their classmates run screaming past them for the doors, her fists clenched.

“His team’s totally gonna kill us,” Brad continues, trying to stifle mounting panic. “Kai’s gonna roast me alive. We’re gonna die.”

Rachel still doesn’t answer, staring after where Lloyd disappeared, her jaw working.

Brad shakes his head, flinching as another roar echoes from the back. “Let’s go.” They should probably at least honor Lloyd’s final wishes, he thinks, dizzily.

Rachel shakes her head. Brad’s stomach begins to sink.

“Rae, come on,” he implores. “We gotta go, Lloyd said—”

“No,” Rachel cuts over him, and Brad’s stomach finishes sinking right to his shoes. There’s something dangerously stubborn in her eyes. “We can’t just abandon him,” she continues. “Friends don’t leave other friends to fight crazy mutant lizard monsters on their own.”

Brad gapes at her. “Uh, yeah they do, if one friend is a super-powered ninja, and the other two are just average joes!”

Rachel whirls on him, and his sputtering dies in face of her glare. “Brad, it’s just Lloyd, all on his own! And he’s already concussed, he needs our help!”

“What help?” Brad throws his arms out, helplessly. “What are we even supposed to do?! We don’t! Have! Powers!”

A high-pitched explosion echoes from the back, as if to emphasize his point.

“Didn’t you go to a school for evil masterminds?” Rachel snaps back, and Brad flinches. “Use your brain, come up with something!”

Brad sputters at her, but she’s darting off before he can reply, fiddling with something on the wall. Brad fists his hands in his hair in frustration, trying to formulate an explanation that while he did, of course, go to a school for evil kids, he never actually got to the part where they taught him how to fight, much less defeat giant mutated lizards, and he has no idea what to do about it. If they were going to be of any help to Lloyd, they needed to make sure they weren’t giant liabilities, first off, and then they’d have to find out what the scientist had actually done to himself, and if there was a way to reverse it.

“And we’re gonna have to — holy FSM, is that an axe?”

“Yup,” Rachel says, testing the weight and swinging it briefly. “It is.”

“Where did you get an axe?!”

“From the glass box for fires and emergencies, duh.” She swings it again for emphasis, then nods in satisfaction. Brad jumps a foot back.

“Don’t you want to be a doctor?” he yelps. “What happened to ‘do no harm’?”

“That thing is trying to eat Lloyd,” she snaps. “So yeah, I’m gonna do some harm. Are you coming or not?”

Another explosion goes off from the halls inside the planetarium, and two of the kids on the basketball team run by screaming. Rachel blows her breath out, sets her jaw, hoists the axe and takes off after the high-pitched sound of Lloyd’s powers.

Brad looks at the exit, then back at the hallway of doom. He brings his foot down hard, and groans. “I — you — gah, we’re so gonna die.”

He grabs the fire extinguisher and heads after his friends.

*********

On the bright side of things, Lloyd’s managed to get all the high schoolers and their dumbstruck teacher out of the show room, and hopefully they’re now running to safety. He got the poor lecturer out too, even if it was a ridiculously close call and he’s gonna look like a rabid lizard attacked his right shoulder the next two weeks. Now the only ones duking it out in the room are Lloyd and Mr. Crazy Lizard Guy, so the chances of collateral have gone down, at least.

On the significantly less bright side, Lloyd might actually be losing this fight. He’s not sure, because the room’s pretty dark and the only real light is from some distant solar system the ceiling’s still whirling them through — which is really not helping with his headache, or spinning vision — but the fact that Lloyd, trained ninja that he is, hasn’t already obliterated this desk-job half-insane scientist is a bad sign.

As it turns out, fighting half-concussed just isn’t Lloyd’s strongest point. Which is dumb, because you’d think that by now, he’d at least be used to it.

“Infuriating child, why won’t you die—!”

Lloyd yelps, twisting aside as the mutated lizard-guy takes another swipe at him, razor-sharp claws whistling through the air where his head just was. Lloyd powers up a burst of green to retaliate, only to look back up and find that there are now three lizard monsters swimming in his vision, warping and swaying like snakes.

He shakes his head, desperately trying to re-focus, but it’s a fatal hesitation. The next swipe lands solidly against his side, and Lloyd cries out in alarm as he’s sent flying again, slamming into the auditorium seats before tumbling to the floor.

“Ow,” he coughs into the carpet, propping himself up with his arms and trying not to throw up. He’s going to feel this tomorrow — and look it too, probably. Man, the others are gonna kill him—

Scaled claws suddenly slam into the floor next to him, and Lloyd yelps, flinching back and craning his head upwards.

“Next time, know your place,” Crazy Guy hisses through jagged teeth, eyes flashing in deadly intent. Lloyd’s brain slams into panicked instinct, and he grasps at his powers, preparing to blast the entire room—

Thwack.

Lloyd stares with dinner-plate-sized eyes as Rachel appears from nowhere, swinging an axe straight into the mutated man’s raised arm with a wild shriek and a startling amount of force.

“Go to hell, you maniac—!”

Her next hit finds a shoulder, and before Lloyd can blink the guy’s scaly right arm is gashed open, his mouth open in an agonized howl as he staggers back. Rachel’s eyes are wild as she gasps heavily, brandishing the axe like a baseball player gearing up to swing. Lloyd manages to gape for a good three seconds before someone’s hands are pulling him to his feet, dragging him back.

“Move, move you moron!” Brad’s yelling, as he slings Lloyd’s arm around his shoulder and retreats. It takes Lloyd another second to realize he’s not yelling at him.

Rachel is still staring at the monster, her face pale and axe held aloft, frozen by shock. Or terror, either one’s fair game.

Lloyd snaps himself out of it, shrugging off Brad as the world swims again. He darts forward, grabs Rachel by the hand and pulls. He snags Brad as they go, hauling tail away from the still-howling scientist and throwing them behind the control podium at the back of the room, just barely sliding in behind them and out of lizard guy’s sight.

“We’re gonna die,” Brad gasps, his dark hair a frazzled mess. “It’s been real nice knowing you guys, we had a good run—”

“We are not gonna die,” Lloyd hisses, blinking black dots from his vision, That’s probably a bad sign. He shakes his head, fixing them both with a glare. “What are you guys doing?! I told you to get somewhere safe!”

“What, and let you die?” Rachel whispers back hotly, her hands still shaking around the axe she’s clutching, an odd green liquid dripping from the blade that Lloyd doesn’t wanna think about right now. “You were getting trashed out there!”

“No I wasn’t!” Lloyd defends. “I was just—”

“You think you can stop me?!” Crazy Guy’s voice roars across the room, and Lloyd pulls Brad and Rachel closer to him, ducking down lower. “Insignificant children, you’ll be the first to fall to my reign!”

“Wow, he’s really gone off the deep end,” Brad mutters, as if that, of all things, has jolted him from his ‘we’re gonna die’ mindset.

“I told you, huge grudge,” Rachel murmurs back.

Lloyd briefly wonders just how, exactly, he managed to end up with two utterly insane people as friends, then remembers who he is.

“Okay,” he breathes, pressing a hand to his throbbing head again and squeezing his eyes shut. “Plan. Need a plan. Um.”

“We got one,” Brad offers, exchanging looks with Rachel. “Uh, sort of.”

Lloyd looks between the two of them, trying to ignore how they suddenly blur into four of them.

Rachel makes a face. “Brad’s going to hack the light system and we’re going to get really, really annoying.”

Lloyd stares at them. “Absolutely not.”

Brad and Rachel glare back stubbornly, the planetarium lights dancing over their faces, their expressions set in shaky determination as the lizard guy continues to tear the room apart, searching for them. Lloyd’s hit by another vicious wave of anxiety. Brad and Rachel aren’t his team. They’re just — they’re just people, his friends, maybe, but civilians, he can’t ask them to—

“It’ll be fine,” Rachel assures him, the effect somewhat ruined by the manic way she’s clutching her axe. “I’ll be your eyes, so you’ll actually know where to shoot.”

“You can throw that axe at him, too,” Brad mutters, eyeing it warily.

Lloyd shakes his head. “No. No way, it’s too dangerous. You guys are gonna run, and I’m going to take care of him myself, because it’s my job.”

Brad and Rachel have those glares on again. “Sorry, Lloyd,” Brad says, with a burst of confidence Lloyd really wishes didn’t exist. “This isn’t Darkley’s. Friends don’t bail on each other. Also, you’re obviously gonna die if we don’t help out. No offense.”

Lloyd puffs his cheeks up with air, then slowly blows his breath out. This is an awful idea.

But he’s to the point where he’d admit that he’s concussed to Nya, and that means he needs all the help he can get.

“Okay,” he sighs, heavily. “Okay, but one rule — you are all staying far behind me.”

*********

Rachel breaks the rule in the first five seconds, but it’s only to stop Lloyd’s skull from getting banged up any further, so he’ll let it slide for the time being.

Also, he’s too busy trying to listen to her harried shouts over Crazy Guy’s enraged screaming to be mad at her now.

“Five — no, six o’clock!” she shrieks at him, tugging on his shoulder to move them out of the way. “Six o’clock, ten feet!”

Screwing his eyes shut against the dizzying lights, Lloyd hurls a streaking ball of energy where Rachel’s told him, and is rewarded with a screeching cry of pain.

“Nice!” Lloyd winces as Rachel yells directly in his ear. “Sorry, sorry — you hit him dead on!”

“Please tell me he’s down.”

“Uh, I think he might — oh, nope, he’s getting back up, but he looks a little dizz—yyyy duck, duck!”

Lloyd grabs for Rachel’s hand and pulls her down with him, sending them both sprawling across the floor as a something large whistles overhead.

“He’s tearing up the seats and throwing them at us,” Rachel pants, sounding indignant. She’s got a death grip on his hand, which might hurt if she wasn’t shaking like she’d shotgunned energy drinks.

Lloyd gets it, even if his adrenaline high of terror is more because he still can’t see straight.

He can see enough to tell that the lights of the planetarium are still going berserk above them, flashing from panel to panel and lighting up the dark room in a dizzying kaleidoscope of changing skies. It’d be super cool if it wasn’t one) really disorienting, and two) taking place while a mutated monster of doom tries to murder high schoolers.

“Guys, get up!” Brad’s scream echoes from the control podium, where he’s spinning them through Ninjago’s nearest satellites now. Lloyd feels the floor vibrating a second before the lizard monster comes barreling toward them, screeching in fury. Rachel sucks in a sharp breath of horror, and Lloyd’s stomach drops as he runs into another row of chairs. Reacting half on instinct, he grasps Rachel by the arm, pulls her close, and gasps out a ‘hold on’ — then, briefly siphoning the green power — tosses her straight up in the air, soaring inches from the ceiling.

Lloyd barely registers Brad swearing in shock as Rachel screams, but he’s too busy counting the seconds as the lizard monster charges him.

One, two—

Lloyd sidesteps, wind whistling past him as he narrowly avoids being pummeled again—

Three, four—

Lloyd sends two screeching bursts of energy into the monster’s back, a howl of pain missing with a sizzling sound as he goes flying across the room—

Five—

Lloyd skids back into place, and throws his arms out just in time to catch Rachel as she comes screaming back down.

“Sorry,” he pants, carefully setting her on her feet. She’s rattling in place like a wind-up toy now, but Lloyd can just see her giving him a shaky thumbs-up through his spinning vision.

“L-little more warning, next time,” she gasps, sounding winded. “Would be nice.”

Lloyd feels a flash of guilt bubble up, followed by a helpless burst of frustration. She shouldn’t be anywhere remotely near this kind of situation, neither her or Brad — they’re his normal friends, he’s supposed to go on dumb boring field trips with them, not blow up half a planetarium in a fight for their lives.

Rachel suddenly goes rigid, then grabs his shoulders and pulls him back. “He’s up!” she yelps. “He’s coming, he’s rushing us—”

Lloyd can see that, through the dizzying lights of the nearest solar system. “Get behind me!” he orders, just in time to get sent flying by a torn-up chair the guy’s chucked at them.

A litany of curses streams through his brain as both him and Rachel cry out, and Lloyd barely has the sense of mind to wrap himself around her before they slam back into the floor, rolling several feet before Lloyd’s head slams right against the stairs with another solid crack.

So many aspirin, he thinks faintly, as the world pulses in and out in dizzying flashes of white. Gonna need so many aspirin tonight.

“—et up, Lloyd, come on—”

That’s Rachel’s voice, a vaguely functioning part of his brain notes. She sounds upset, all scared and worried, which is…that’s bad, right? Lloyd’s not sure, there are like, five of her all up in his face right now—

A roar sounds closely behind her, and Rachel’s expressions spasms in panic. Lloyd’s vision finally solidifies just in time fore her to throw herself over him, and panic screeches everything back into awareness, but it’s too late because the lizard monster’s right on top of them—

Another solid crack rings out across the room, but this time it’s not Lloyd’s head. Crazy Guy howls in pain as he staggers back, clutching his head where the fire extinguisher struck his temple. Lloyd stares blankly as Rachel shakily lifts her head, before Brad’s suddenly in front of them, grabbing them both by the arms and struggling to haul them up.

“Get up!” he yells, dark eyes wide but glinting in determination. “Don’t just lay there, you’re the green ninja, come on!”

“Shu’up,” Lloyd slurs, but Brad’s words are enough to cut through the hazy film inside his head. He staggers to his feet, highly conscious of Brad and Rachel supporting both arms. This is beyond humiliating, what kind of—

“Children.” The guttural hiss has all three of them freezing in place, hair standing on end as lizard-like eyes pin them in place, glinting yellow in the flashing lights. “All of you, infuriating bugs to be crushed beneath my feet. Your deaths will be the first in my new reign—”

Irritating monologuing aside, Lloyd can’t help but be grateful for the way the guy pauses to detail their deaths, because it gives him a split, beautiful second of clarity to finally send a concussive blast of green hurtling dead on. There’s a high-pitched shriek as it sends him flying, hurtling across the room and smashing into the bottom edge of the planetarium screen with a blinding burst of sparks.

“Now that’s more like it!” Brad crows, watching as the lizard guy flops to the floor. “That’s what you get for messing with us, you ugly—”

The lizard guy pushes himself to his feet, briefly swaying dizzily before turning furious, burning eyes on them.

Brad swallows. “Did I say ugly? Actually—”

Lloyd’s already gearing up for another round, green sparks lighting on his fingers as Rachel brings her axe up again — when an ominous cracking sounds from above them. Lloyd glances up, the frantic flashing of the cracking planetarium screen nearly blinding him, and his eyes go wide.

“Get down!” he cries, pulling Brad and Rachel and diving beneath the control podium. And not a moment too soon, because in the next second the entire planetarium screen comes crashing down with an exploding screech, large chunks of mangled ceiling smashing down on the guy, pinning him firmly in place.

Lloyd, firmly crushed between Brad and Rachel, but otherwise spared any further head trauma by the solid control panel sheltering them, gives a shuddering exhale of relief.

“Well,” Rachel finally says, with a shaky laugh. “You probably won’t have to worry about boring field trips here anymore, Brad.”

Brad makes a pained, weary sound of exhaustion, and simply buries his face in Lloyd’s shoulder.

*********

Lloyd’s used to the after-battle adrenaline crash, for the most part. Brad and Rachel, as it turns out, are not. Five minutes after the paramedics have stopped fussing over them, leaving all three wrapped in the ugliest orange shock blankets Lloyd’s ever seen, there’s a sudden weight on both of his shoulders. Lloyd blinks, his head swiveling to where Brad and Rachel are snoring on either side of him, then sighs, staring upwards. At least they’re warm, he tells himself, even though it’s starting to get hot under the shock blanket.

Despite the screaming sirens all around him and the frantic voices of the students, Lloyd’s almost tempted to drift off himself. With the loss of adrenaline, his head’s really starting to hurt by now, and the flashing lights of the ambulance aren’t helping his headache in the slightest. He’s just deciding that dozing off with his friends is a good idea, when a familiar sigh has him yanking his eyes open.

Lloyd immediately wants to close them again. Kai and Nya are standing in front of him, arms crossed in identical expressions of disappointment, though it’s tinged mild amusement.

“Hi,” he croaks. He glances between Brad and Rachel, still snoring peacefully against his shoulders. Traitors. “Um. You got my text, then?”

Nya gives him a careful, judging look. “A month. You’re grounded for a month, at least.”

“Oh, come on,” Lloyd moans. “I was living my teenage years. Having a normal day.”

Kai snorts loudly, glancing back at the smoke still rising from the planetarium. “Totally normal teenage stuff, huh.”

Lloyd drops his head back, squeezing his eyes shut. “S’not fair,” he moans. “It’s not my fault trouble’s always following me.”

Nya’s expression eases up, and she shakes her head, uncrossing her arms. “Hey, we’ll have a normal evening back at home, okay?” She eyes Brad and Rachel, her lips quirking in amusement. “You can have a sleepover with your friends, or something. I’ll braid your hair.”

While the idea of anyone going remotely near his head sounds awful right now, Lloyd can’t help but smile back.

“Sounds like a plan,” he yawns. Anything to get them out of this parking lot. At least he knows what he’s missing out on with school, now.

Really, he doesn’t get the hype.

#ninjago oc day #ninjago #the physical agony...of posting something with my oc...#i would say at least lloyd's having fun but. he's not gdbnjfg #my fic

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bittywitches · 4 years ago

Note

I’m obsessed with the college roommates concept— maybe you’re feelings lonely and kinda sad abt ur love life one night and Grayson offers to take you on a date just for fun as friends but then ~feelings~ happen ☺️

Umm do you mean that one episode in season 8 of friends where Joey takes out pregnant Rachel and gets his crush on her??? Bc yes :))

It’s probably just been one of those weeks, you know? An assload of assignments, tests and exams every other day, most of which you’d completely bombed and were feeling shitty about. You hadn’t had more than 5 hours of sleep a day in like a month, you’d been living off of microwavables and instant noodles, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a sip of water since all your energy has been from coffee. And the kids in all your group projects this semester? Idiots. Selfish pricks. Every single one of them.

So it was needless to say that you were just in one of those moods. It was a Friday night, so things had slowed down enough, finally, but it also finally gave you some time to let yourself think, and god it was not great when you had to think.

It had started as just one of those basic thoughts; “What am doing? Where is this going?” which lead to “Why am I even in college in the first place?” Ending with “Oh my god I’m wasting my life and I’m gonna be alone forever”.

By the time Grayson had made it home that night, you were huddled up in the living room sofa under a blanket, your laptop open in your lap and snacks all over the table a couch while “Isn’t she lovely” by Stevie Wonder played on your phone as you tried your best not to burst into tears at the thought of never finding a boyfriend.

“Whoa, I don’t remember getting my invite to this slumber party.” He laughed, kicking his shoes off and throwing his bag onto the single sofa next to yours.

You slumped your shoulders. “It’s not a slumber party, it’s a pity party.”

“Oh?” He sat himself down on the sofa. “Who for?”

“Me, who else?” You wallowed, stuffing some more popcorn into your mouth.

“Why, did you get marks back?” He asked, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, a bit concerned at the volume of popcorn you were putting into your mouth with each bite.

“No, but what’s the point? I already know I’m doing bad.” You slumped backwards into the couch, just wishing you could be swallowed by the pillows and cushions.

“Hey,” He placed a hand on your knee, looking at you seriously now. He knew you. Your general melt downs he was used to, but this was different. He could tell something was wrong. “You okay?”

You sighed, grabbing your phone off the counter and pausing the song so you could think straight. “You don’t wanna hear about it.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

You sighed, slipping your legs out from under you and dangling them off the couch. “Okay, um..” Grayson’s hand had fallen away, and you suddenly felt like rubbing the spot on your leg where it had been. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve just been so busy lately, and it’s just gotten me thinking about my life in general. And how I haven’t gone out on a date in like…” You had to stop and think, and started laughing after a few seconds. “In so long I can’t even remember. Wow, god.” You sunk back into the couch. “I miss dating.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you. “Yea?”

“Yeah, you know,” You waved your hands around vaguely. “The whole excitement of it. Getting to dress up and look all nice. Feeling all pretty.” He tilted his head at you, and you shook your head and laughed. “But you know, not that I need the reminder. I’m obviously hot as fuck.” You gestured to yourself, highlighting your nest of hair and your stained sweatshirt. You waited for him to laugh, but he just continued to look at you with that weirdly deep expression.

“What?”

“How about I take you on a date?”

You blinked at him, then started to chuckle, confused. “Huh?”

“You know, as friends. But I’ll give you like, the whole experience.”

You almost spit at that. “The ‘whole experience’?”

He rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. We’ll get all dressed up, go out to a nice place for dinner or something.”

You sat up now, your eyes narrowed at him. “Why?”

“Why not? It’s a friday. If you have stuff to do you can always do it later.”

“You know where that mindset gets me, Dolan.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun.” He smiled. “Plus, you deserve a fun night.”

You scoffed. “Yea, but not with a boyfriend or anything. With my roommate.”

“You think you could do better?”

“Incredibly.”

“God just shut up and go change.”

You laughed. “I— You know what? What the heck.” You got up, and he did with you. “Ah, okay!” You gave him a quick squeeze before running to your room, and his eyes followed after you, a gentle smile on his lips.

…

He’d done the whole shebang. He got dressed in a nice dress shirt and clean black jeans, something you’d actually never seen him wear before. He’d somehow gotten you a bouquet of flowers, which, you weren’t even sure where or how he’d gotten them, because you couldn’t have taken more than twenty minutes to get ready. Nonetheless, he truly was the gentleman you had never expected. This was Grayson, the guy you watched old disney movies with and cried with during finals. He was the one you’d eat whole pints of ice cream with and play The Last of Us with and helped you master. He certainly wasn’t the one who was supposed to be complimenting you on your dress and taking you out to nice dinners. But here he was, doing just that.

He’d parked his car and was now escorting you inside this tiny but upscale italian restaurant, simple but elegant. As you entered through the glass door, the dazzling chandelier above the waiting area along with the gorgeous red sconces blew you away.

“Grayson how did you get a place like this on such short notice?” You whispered to him, gripping his arm, a bit intimidated by all the fancy folk waiting inside.

“I know some people.” He responded, a small smile on his lips.

You slapped his arm. “As if, you don’t even know the name of the Starbucks barista on campus.”

He rolled his eyes. “Can’t you let me be cool?” You stared at him waiting for the response, and he sighed. “This place is fairly new. Not that many people know about it yet, so it’s pretty easy to get a reservation.”

“How’d you know about it then?”

“Found it when I was looking for a place to take Sarah to.”

“Oh my god that girl from your Kinesiology class?” You looked at him with wide eyes and a grin on your face. “No way! I didn’t think you’d grow the balls to ask her out.”

“Hey,” He said, but you laughed. “Well, I haven’t exactly asked her yet. I was just checking it out.”

“Well either way, she’s going to love this place, it’s so extravagant.” You made it to the front and Grayson informed the woman standing there of his reservation. She escorted you both inside and brought you to a table next to one of the windows. She’d dropped off two glasses of water and menus for you both to look at in the meantime. You peaked at the one in front of you, and your eyes grew again.

“Gray, did you happen to look at the prices before coming here?”

“Don’t worry, I’m buying.” He flipped through his casually, as if he wasn’t exasperated at the large numbers printed on the cards.

“Are you serious? What are you, made of money?”

“Hey, I promised you a fun night, right? I can make a few sacrifices.”

A young man came up to your table, and you both gave him your order. You ended up choosing the cheapest thing on the menu, because a) you didn’t want to be too much of a burden on Grayson, but also b) you barely knew what any of it was anyways. He left, you both chatted for a bit, and he returned with your meals, both of them being some sort of pasta that you were a bit embarrassed about not knowing the differences between.

Grayson didn’t really know that much either, to be quite honest, but for some reason he felt the need to impress you with this place. And he was pretty giddy about the fact that it was working.

But throughout this, you had kept staring at him, frankly a bit shocked at the whole situation you both were in. You had to shake your head to get your thoughts straight, but ended up giggling. “So, you always this sweet with the girls you take out on dates?”

He bit his cheek, but decided to play along, lowering his fork and leaning in towards you to hear you over the chatter in the restaurant. “Why, you interested?”

“No, just curious what it is that Grayson Dolan pulls to get a girl.” You crossed your arms on the table, on elbow propped up with your chin resting on your hand. “Tell me, you have any moves?”

He laughed. “What, that I just use with every girl?”

“Don’t act so modest. There’s gotta be something. What gets them drooling?” You asked a playful smile on your lips.

He rolled his eyes, taking a bite of his food. “Okay fine, um.” He cleared his throat. “It usually starts out the same, I ask them about themself. Where they’re from, what they do— like, okay. What do you like to do in your spare time?”

You snorted. “Are we doing this? Are we playing this out?”

“Yesss, go with it.”

You laughed. “Okay, uh well. I like to paint sometimes.”

“Yea? What kind of stuff?”

“Well I used to do more traditional stuff, my parents were really into those pretty realism paintings. I’d do flowers and fruits and whatever, but every since, I guess junior year of high school, I’ve been doing more pop art pieces? And a lot more self-indulgent stuff. And I…” You trailed off, realizing you were rambling, but also realizing that Grayson had his soft eyes fixed on yours.

“What?”

His eyes widened a little, as if you’d shook him out of a daze, and he chuckled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just, uh... “ He smiled. “Your eyes are really pretty.”

Your face flushed a little bit, and you looked away from him, taking a sip of water to use it as your excuse. “Ah, thank you.”

He shook his head. “Anyways, so do you still do pop art now? Or has it changed since you’ve started college?”

You blinked at him, then covered your mouth as you opened it in slight shock. “Wow, that was really good.”

He laughed. “Yea?”

“The eye thing was good on it’s own but to know you were actually listening to me? I’m impressed.” You nodded in approval.

He tilted his head, chuckling. “Thank you, thank you.” He took another bite of food before continuing. “So what about you? You have any moves?”

You snorted again. “Gray, I barely go out on enough dates in the first place, much less enough to establish any moves.”

“Why are you always so modest? You can tell me you know.”

You laughed. “Yeah duh I know, but I’m genuinely serious this time. I don’t get asked out all that often.” You shrugged. “It’s why I get excited when I do get to go on dates. It’s fun.”

Grayson was the one who couldn’t help but stare now. He blinked at you, unable to really comprehend what you were saying to him. How could people not want to ask you out? You were incredible. Looking at you now, your hair up in a dainty bun, a few curls falling down the sides of your face; your pretty off the shoulder dress that matched your deep magenta-maroon lipstick. And he wasn’t lying about your eyes, they really were so pretty. They sparkled, even more so when you were laughing. Which was usually accompanied by your scrunched up nose, making you look like a cute little bunny. He smiled at the thought, as he loved seeing that expression on your face.

“Huh.” he said out loud then, not realizing when it was he had starting noticing your small actions like that so much.

“What?” You asked, looking up at him, and suddenly, seeing those same eyes he always saw staring at him, he felt almost light headed. His face felt warm, seeing you look at him like that. He was almost afraid that you could see what he was thinking. But why would that be a problem unless…

Grayson slowly widened his eyes. Did he seriously have feelings for Y/N?

“Nothing, sorry.” He said with a smile, looking back down at his food. Sure, he’d always thought you were amazing. You were gorgeous, sure, and you made him laugh. And yea he loved hanging out with you, watching movies and playing video games, and he adored being your roommate, having late night conversations and spending all your free time together…

He wanted to mentally smack himself in the face. Shit, he had feelings for you.

This was going to be a long night.

#not me getting ~carried away~ as usual #grayson dolan #grayson dolan imagine #grayson dolan concept #grayson dolan blurb #grayson dolan x reader #dolan twins #ask #anon

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thorne93 · 4 years ago

Text

History Repeats (Part 3)

Prompt: Life’s hard, right? Well throw in a not so great job, a broken heart, and chasing a pipe dream in LA. But could someone come along to make all the bad shit disappear? Or is he just another heartbreak waiting around the bend?

Warnings: language, drug addiction, alcohol addiction, angst/heartbreak, adult themes (??)

Word Count: 2318

Note: Aesthetic made by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo because she’s absolutely amazing Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo . Brainstorming from @carryonmyswansong

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

Your friends had asked you to come out, but you just weren’t feeling up to it, and since your friends shared the same stomping ground as you and Jason, you were afraid you’d run into him. Not to mention, more often than not, your friends were Jason’s as well, you hung out in the same crowd, and now that you’d broken up, you maybe had two friends that weren’t his friends when you met. Maybe he was right, maybe you really were a hermit.

No matter, you weren’t going to apologize for wanting to stay home, or in this case, for tonight, not wanting to go out. You were perfectly content just being at home, alone…

For the past few days, you couldn’t help but think constantly of Hayden. It wasn’t that he was an actor, that fact hardly ever made an appearance in your mind. No, you were more mesmerized with...him. He was so funny and quiet, and sweet. You two seemed to see eye to eye on a few things so far and it was really nice. It was a breath of fresh air.

You and Jason disagreed on a lot. For the longest time, you thought it was just small stuff, like what sets of plates to buy, which way to arrange the living room. But when you broke up...it didn’t hurt quite as bad as you thought it would, which surprised you. You thought you loved Jason, maybe you did at one point, but the truth was, at the end of the day, neither of you agreed on the big things, and for you, that was major. For most people it should be. People should want to be with rather like minded people when it comes to kids, futures, how to live your lives. And that just wasn’t there for you and Jason.

Didn’t mean you weren’t sad to lose a relationship though, you still cared for Jason, he lived with you, and you shared your lives. Of course ending that chapter of your life hurt, and you sometimes wished it didn’t end at all...But the part in you that could see past the current tumultuous situation, knew that things ending with Jason was for the best.

Which brought you back to Hayden. Rachel seemed to share some of the same issues that Jason had, at least when it came to how they see you and Hayden. Perhaps...perhaps that meant something.

Your shift was winding down, your thoughts filled with Hayden and hopes of getting to talk to him again, because your friends clearly didn’t get that you weren’t in the mood to go out and be social right now. Only one of them had asked you how you were doing after the breakup, and even that was only one time. Since then, they hadn’t checked in on you or checked how you were. Maybe trying to invite you out was a way of distracting you, but if it was, it was a poor attempt on their part, and they should know by now you didn’t work like that.

Standing at the front counter, ready to take any late check ins, you were going through the schedule for tomorrow, when Hayden came gliding into the lobby, but you didn’t see him. He nearly passed the front desk but his desire to talk to you got the better of him.

“Hey,” his voice suddenly greeted as you were bent over.

Your heart filled with warmth as you heard his voice. You raised your head to face him. “Oh, hey, you’re coming in late,” you noted. Typically, you’d caught glances of him in the lobby heading to his room around six or seven at night, not at nearly eleven. “Out partying?” you half-teased with a smile.

“Oh yeah, you know me. Total party animal,” he responded with his own grin.

You laughed in response.

“Hey, I was dropping by to see if maybe you would...want to hang out when you get off?” he asked. “Normally, I wouldn’t bother you. I’m sure you want to go home and relax...It’s just...I sort of...would like someone to talk to,” he said, shrugging and appearing nervous, and a touch sad.

You nodded. “Yeah, of course. No, yeah, I’d love to hang out. Where would you want to go?” you inquired. A small bout of guilt hit your stomach as you realized you blew off your other friends, but Hayden asked and you jumped at the opportunity. But...in this case, it was different. He seemed sad and you wanted to be there for him.

“I was wondering if maybe we could just go to my room? I’m a little...exhausted from being out all day,” he remarked, hoping you understood.

You nodded, fully understanding how draining being out and about socially can be.

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll be up there after a bit,” you said, smiling a friendly smile at him.

“Cool. See you up there,” he said before knocking on the desk and walking off to the elevators. Watching him walk away gave you a strange feeling. You had this desire to walk with him, to be by his side. His presence made you feel so...calm, and steady. Jason never truly made you feel at ease, and being around Hayden, you realized that now. In fact, none of your friends did. You felt that you always had to be fully engaged, fully “on” to be around them. Not with Hayden.

Now, you had something to look forward to after work, and the first time you’d looked forward to anything in a long time. A smile was plastered widely on your lips for the rest of your shift, and when you got off, you gathered your things and made your way to the sixth floor, heading to his suite.

After one knock, he opened the door, grinning from ear to ear, clad in a black sweater and dark blue jeans, looking incredibly handsome.

“I’m so glad you came,” he said, stepping aside.

You nodded, walking into the room.

“Yeah! I’m looking forward to us talking again,” you confessed.

“Me too. Uh, we can sit here if you want,” he said, gesturing to the living room suite that held a couch and two chairs and a coffee table.

You nodded, setting your stuff down and out of the way before sitting on the couch.

“You want something to drink or are you hungry or anything?” Hayden offered, as he walked over to the small bar in the room.

“Actually, uh, yeah I wouldn’t mind something to drink, and maybe eat. I didn’t get a lunch break today and forgot to grab something before my shift,” you said, a little embarrassed, causing a blush to rise to your cheeks.

“No problem. I’m starving. Care if I order room service?”

“Not at all.”

“Cool. What would you like? They have salmon, steak, burgers...Oh, hell,” he said, laughing as he threw back his head, letting the menu rest in his hands. “Look who I’m telling,” he remarked. “Sorry about that,” he apologized.

“No need to apologize for being considerate,” you said with a smile. “But I think I know what I’ll have,” you said, ordering your favorite grilled cheese from them. It had three types of cheese, sauteed onions, and the bread was always perfect. You got a cup of tomato soup on the side and a coke.

After he ordered, he came over and sat down on the couch, a cushion between you two.

“So how was your day?” he inquired kindly.

“Not too bad, actually,” you said truthfully, nodding, thankful that it was easy. “Typical day. Steady pace. No crazy guests,” you said with a laugh, which he returned.

“That’s good,” he said with a smile.

“You? How was your day?”

“Same. We reshot the same scene about fifty times though,” he informed, feigning frustration.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were here for a film,” you informed, surprised.

“That’s the business,” he reminded with a sideways smile.

“Ah! Yes, you did say you were here on business, I forgot. Then I didn’t put two and two together,” you remarked, laughing a bit at yourself. “That’s really cool though! Do you like this project?”

He smiled, a light behind it, he seemed amused at your question and you couldn’t decipher why.

You slightly laughed as you asked, “What?”

“Well, typically, people ask me what it’s about, when they can see it, who I play, how much I’m making...You know, sort of superficial questions. I’ve never had anyone ask me if I like the work I’m doing though. So thank you for asking that.”

You nodded, not thinking anything of it. That was a normal response for you. You cared more if people were happy, rather than what they were doing.

“But to answer your question,” he continued, shifting gears, “yes, I do like it. It feels very different from what I’ve done in the past and I really like that. I’m always trying to push myself and challenge myself, so having this new role is really amazing, to me at least.”

“I get that,” you agreed. “I’m a singer--well, a struggling singer--but I try to constantly hit new notes, sing in tones I’ve never done before. I try to do Christmas songs to blues songs to lounge songs, to pop songs...I am all over the map,” you said with a laugh.

“Oh you sing? That’s a really cool talent to have. My ass can’t sing to save my life,” he remarked.

You shrugged. “It’s not for everyone. I used to think that anyone could sing, if they tried, but after working with a lot of friends and offering lessons and such over the years, it’s not the case.”

“I bet. Same as acting. I’ve met a lot of people that I thought, ‘Sure they can do this’...Then we start working and...it’s not there. Sometimes it’s just something someone has.”

“Yep, definitely,” you agreed. “So did something happen at work that upset you or…?” you questioned and he frowned slightly at you, so you elaborated. “You said you needed someone to talk to…”

“Ah, right,” he noted, leaning forward. “Well, I guess it’s just...all the shit surrounding this breakup. Being in this city, seeing places we used to go while we were filming or visiting each other. Like, I saw this ice cream shop that I took Briar to when Rachel brought her while I was shooting.”

You nodded, listening to him.

“Or, like I saw this cool little pizza place that I took Rachel after we finished shooting Jumper,” he said, shrugging.

“I know what you mean. Even just...being at my house now is a little stifling. I mean, I know at the end of the day, Jason and I weren’t meant for each other, but it still sucks to come home to an empty house. I look at it now, and I see the couch where we binged Punisher. Or the kitchen were we made so many meals and joked around.”

“Yeah,” he agreed quietly. “Yeah, shit like that just gets me. And of course, not seeing my daughter anymore. That’s really the worst. I just...I was with her every day of her life, and now I barely see here. It’s almost worst being here because she’s so close, but so far...ya know?”

“I think I do,” you agreed. “I can’t imagine how hard that is for you. I’m really sorry,” you offered, placing your hand on his knee.

“Thanks. I mean...I’m kind of like you, where, I know that Rachel and I are just two very different people. It took me a long time to realize that. I think I started seeing it while we were still together, and she definitely did. Then after the breakup it still took me awhile, but I’m starting to accept that.. She’s a socialite, she loves being around friends and being out and about, and I get that. That’s cool for her. But I just can’t stand the pressure of that shit and I prefer to be home, playing games, working. It probably sounds like a stupid reason to break up but--”

“No, it’s not,” you countered gently but firmly. “If two people aren’t right, then you aren’t right. You two deserve to do things you want with no pressure from the other to conform.”

“Some people might argue that you should compromise, if you really love them,” he challenged.

You shook your head. “Compromise is getting Chinese for dinner instead of pizza, or going with the cheaper china set than the one you really wanted because you just can't afford it right now, or choosing gray because you want black and they want blue. It’s not one person saying ‘I’ll stay home forever because you want it’ or ‘I’ll go to every event because it’ll make you feel better.”

“But wouldn’t the compromise be for me to go to some events and for her to stay home sometimes?”

You shrugged. “In that case, it’s sort of picking your battles, right? Well, how do you pick your battles. Let’s say she wanted to go to a wedding this month, so you go, but next month, there’s a baby shower that you don’t want to go to, but she really wants to go. Now, you’ve done her a favor, it’s time she did you one, but it probably wouldn’t turn out that way.”

He slightly smiled, amused. “You make this sound like prison. You get time to do this, but not this,” he said, gesturing with his hands from one imaginary thing to the other.

You shook your head. “No, not at all. But if we go with your idea that it should be a compromise then you’re sort of limited. Let’s say you go to everything she wants to go out and do; drinks with friends, shopping, a house warming party, whatever. Let’s say you go to all of those, what do you get out of it? How do we make Hayden happy?” you asked rhetorically.

He shrugged in response.

“You leave early. Instead of spending two, three, four hours, you spend an hour and a half and leave,” you suggested.

“But then it almost feels pointless,” he added.

“Exactly. In your case, there’s not going to be a clean, even way to make sure everyone’s happy. You toss a coin, figuring out when to go or stay or you sacrifice both of your happinesses by cutting it short for her, but making it end for you.”

“You make it sound so...cut and dry,” he retorted.

“Do you see any other option?” you challenged.

Of course, though, he didn’t. How could he? If he saw a different option, he would’ve done it. He would’ve exhausted his resources, you could tell. You hadn’t known Hayden long, or knew him well, but he seemed like a man who cared, and cared deep. You didn’t feel like he would give up without a fight, especially if his daughter is involved.

“No,” he sighed truthfully.

“Precisely my point. You either both compromise so much neither one is happy, or you just...let each other go. It sucks, it hurts like hell no matter how logical it is, but...sadly, that’s life.” You shrugged, watching him as he listened to you.

He bobbed his head in agreement. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

“Unfortunately, I am most of the time,” you said with a bit of a laugh. His gaze slid to yours, trying to give you a look of “give me a break” but he failed and started to chuckle.

Just then, the room service arrived. Hayden let them in and you two sat your things on the coffee table and you were about to dive in when Hayden asked you if you wanted to watch TV. You said sure and he turned it on some random sitcom you’d never seen before, but it was enjoyable.

After your dinner, you had started to talk about the show that was playing and you two had segwayed into other shows and movies you liked. Come to find out, you had rather similar tastes, but at some points you butted heads and debated key points to movies. He thought some were superficial, you thought they were deep and moving. You thought some were just over stimulated guy flicks, and he said they were well thought out heist films.

At some point, you’d started talking about Great Gatsby and if he’d read the book. He said he had, and that sparked more discussion on books versus film, then you started simply talking books and you two didn’t overlap too much there, but it was still fascinating to hear what he reads. As well, he seemed to be intrigued by your choice of books as well.

The entire evening felt so relaxed, and fun, and no pressure to impress him, or to agree with him like you had with Jason. With Jason, if you disagreed, he tried to make you see his point, but he went about it in a way that made you feel stupid and uneducated. He made you feel bad for having your opinion, if it was somehow wrong. You didn’t think he did it on purpose, but by the end of your conversations with him, you couldn’t help but feel that way.

Even with friends you felt this way. Your friends always seemed like they needed constant entertainment, something new and exciting, something to gab about, instead of just...chilling. Not Hayden.

You left around three in the morning and headed home, feeling so warm, and happy for the first time in a long time, and you didn’t want that feeling to go away anytime soon.

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

Forever Tag:

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@magpiegirl80

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@marvel-imagines-yes-please

@missinstantgratification

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Hayden Christensen:

@coldlilheart

@haydens-moles

History Repeats:

@multifandomblog315

#history repeats #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christiansen fic #hayden christian

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rory-for-short · 3 years ago

Text

We are not our parents|Part Five

He couldn't see them

When Lucy had gotten the call from her, well, she didn't know what they were... her Richard Grayson, asking for her measurements, she was ever the skeptic.

"Is this about your dad's big fling?" She asked over the phone as she settled on her couch.

"Possibly," he answered from the other end, sitting at a desk in his room.

"Why don't I just pick what I wear," she questioned. The way she said where was like "whey-uh" . It was all Jersey, and made Dick laugh to himself.

"You definitely could, but I just wanted to give you a designer option," he explained.

"You think I can't afford a designer option?"

"I know you can't. You make 11 dollars an hour in Gotham city

"Fair. Okay. Fine we can try designer, but I have some specifications."

"Okay, shoot."

"No checker board, no pinstripes. Nothing that says criminal. I don't mind blazers or flowers. Nothing flashy I'm laying low," she rattled off.

"Don't worry. I know you are feeling a little weird about this-"

"-A little?-"

"But I know what I'm doing. Well, I guess the dress maker does. I don't have any say. I can pass on your message to them though," he explained. She gave a sigh of relief. She had been freaking out all week about this party. This stupid, ritzy, heart of Gotham party.

After she found out about her man being THE Richard Grayson Wayne, she wanted out. Even if her parents weren't terrorists, she still wouldn't be on his level. She missed when she thought he was just a gutter rat greecer wannabe punching muggers for fun. But he was educated. High Socioty. Fit as a fiddle, and hot as the Sahara. Yet he chased her. He wanted her. He was so infatuated.

It's not like she didn't see anything good about herself. On the contrary, she knew she was hardworking, pretty funny, nice to look at expessialy when she was trying, and all in all she was a cute, blonde girl next door. However, sometimes it felt like none of that mattered. She was surrounded by a dark legacy. She couldn't even consider having her own kids. What would she tell them, and mabey crazy skips a generation.

But this dumb, cute, himbo of a boy saw none of it. Or at least, he pretended not to notice it. Sometimes he'd give her a strange look and she wonder if he was thinking about the people who raised her. She started being a bit more subtle. No dark makeup, lest she look like her mother. No red lipstick, because that was her father's signature look. Hair up in pigtails? Off limits. The colors red or green, she avoided them before Dick Grayson anyway.

"Hello? Lucy are you still there," Dicks voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

"Sorry I think a siren was going by," she said avoiding the truth.

"No worries, I was asking if you wanted me to get a hair and makeup person too?"

"Oh gawd no! I know what looks good on my face," she laughed.

"Even with you not knowing what the dress will look like?" He challenged.

"On second thought-" she trailed off. She could hear him laugh from the other side of the line.

"Gotcha, I'll get it all set up," he assured.

He got it all set up alright. The afternoon before the party a knock on her door sounded. She opened it to fing him grinning with a black dress bag slung over his shoulder.

"Heya-Hiya," he greeted fondly. She noticed he wasn't alone at the door. There was also a pale woman with raven hair longer than she'd ever seen and jagged bangs. She wore a mesh top, black shorts and a leather jacket. She was ethereal and beautiful. Lucy almost forgot to talk.

"Babe, this is Rachel. She's really good with makeup and she's a buddy of mine," he introduced.

"So you're Lucy? The way your Golden retriever of a boyfriend described you I was expecting Shera, or Captian Marvel," his friend mused. Dick was turning bright red from the tips of his ears to his neck.

"Yeah, yeah, that's really funny Rachel," he awkwardly laughed. Lucy welcomed them inside and Dick layed the dress bag on the couch while Rachel carried in a big metal mackup case.

"I haven't seen the dress yet," Dick admitted, "I told her all that stuff you told me. Hopefully they listened." He said getting ready to unveil it.

Rachel was now standing beside them as Dick revealed the dress. As they stood there taking it in, she realized that there was a color she forgot to say was off limits. It was a beautiful dress. The top of it like a Corsett with spaghetti straps. The tooling elegant and down to the knees. There were several star details on it. They lay on a sky of deep purple. Lucy bit her lip nervously. Richard noticed immediately.

"Well, that was an oversight on our part," he sighed disappointedly. Rachel cocked her head confused.

"And I thought I was a Debby downer. It's a beautiful peice, plus it isn't too bright. Hell, I'd wear it," she concluded settling her hands on her hips. And she was right, it was beautiful. Mabey beautiful enough to distrct from the rest of her. If the only people talked about was her dress, she'd be okay with that.

"I love it," she said smiling.

"Yeah, Dick doesn't know what he's talking about. He has zero taste unless it's in women," she joked. She met eyes with her boyfriend and smiled.

Bruce was stewing in indecision. His son had come to him and told him that he and Lucy discussed the risks involved with a public appearance, that he could protect her, and that she had been through enough in her life so she should be able to just have fun for one night. He agreed. Deep down he agreed. However, he knew the kinds of people that attended these parties.

Not all of them were in it for the charity. Big names who wanted investors, ass kissing new moneies wanting to climb ranks. People with dirty money. It was an open charity event, and gossip from the criminal higher ups couldn't be discounted. All his parties had this risk, but this time it felt more pressing. On top of that he now knew the Jokers name. His full name. All he had to do was bluff with the first name an Harley had spilled all her info. She had told him all about Joker, her daughter, and how no matter how brutal the man was she wanted to stay with him.

"Yah know, I could handle our fights. The way we went round and round. I never considered leaving him until he suggested we get Lucy in on the family business," she sighed taking a drag of her cigarette. "I knew then I had to get the hell outta dodge. You and I both know a battlefield is no place for a child. She was only 15-" she stopped herself as she realized just who she was talking to.

"Nevermind. I guess you wouldn't get it. I wanted her to be normal. Arthur wanted her to be us. You always gotta want better for your kids. I might be a criminal psychopath, but why drag her into it. Why make her fight my battles? Or his? Or anyone's? I started a money stash. I was gonna run away with her," she looked down at the ash falling from her cigarette, and stamped it with her foot.

Bruce knew the rest of the story or at least from the perspective of his and police. Jason was his Robin at the time. They got an anonymous tip on the Joker's hideout. Harley had sold him out. When they arrived on the scene there was almost no reason to interfere. The way the two clowns were going at it, they would probably just end up killing eachother.

Harley's neck was cut. Only deep enough to make a red necklace that was surface level but he could guess what Joker was trying to accomplish. The Joker had two knives in him. He was still on his feet sporting a death grip on a hatchet with Harley's name on it.

There was also a hostage. Looking on, holding a gun, and not knowing who to shoot at. She was about 15.

They didn't even stop to look their way. They knew he and Robin were there, but this was deeply personal and toxically volatile.

Bruce remembered how easy they were to take down. Gotham police had them unarmed, sedated and in medical vehicles in practically no time; they had already done so much damage to eachother they hardly needed a push. Jason got the gun from the hostage. While Batman delt with the authorities and offered to gaurd the hospitals, not to keep anyone out, but keep the two clowns in, he left Jason in charge of the hostage.

He found out later that night, or he guessed, the next morning, that she was their kid. He learned when he read the police report. He forgot about her after that, but it did cross his mind that she was out there, somewhere, from time to time.

Dick and Lucy headed to the mannor before the party. He explained how his dad was a tightass and his butler was a total bro, so they'd be going through the garden and climbing the wall.

"You want me to climb in this dress and heels? In your dreams puddin," she scoffed rolling her eyes and playfully hitting him on the shoulder.

"I'll lift you over you won't have to break a sweat," he coerced. She lifted her eyebrow, amused.

"I'm 5'9 and 173 pounds of pure woman. If you think you can get me over that wall you are psyco!" She laughed exgerattingly gesturing as she spoke. When they had first got together, he would have had one of those danger reactions to this. To her eyes going wide with disbelief, and throwing her head back in a cackle. But those happened less and less. He realized something

He couldn't see them in her anymore.

Without another word he placed his hands on her waist and practically ballerina tossed her. She managed to catch halfway up on the flat part Making the wall a ledge. It almost knocked the breath out of her. But she managed to steady herself and hoist her body the rest of the way up. She was a bit of a ballerina after all. When they had both sets of feet in the garden, he flashed an "I told you so" smile. She rolled he eyes and gestured for him to lead the way.

When he began sliding open the kitchen door, he heard Tim's voice carry from the foyer.

"Well, well, well, how the turn tables!" He cackled. He heard a frustrated groan.

"Forget it, I don't see why I ask you for anything," he heard another male voice carry. The two pairs of couples entered the kitchen at the same time. Tim with his 'friend' Connor, and Dick with Lucy.

There was a beat of silence.

"So, you went the kitchen route huh?" Drake noted.

"Yeah, we went the kitchen route," Dick sighed.

"You look like a ruffian," Conner stated.

"I'm getting into my suit. It's wool and everything, I just didn't before picking up Lucy," he srugged.

"The matching ties are cute. You guys look adorable together," Lucy chimed in.

"We're not together," they defended in unison.

Another beat of silence.

"Well, okay. We are going upstairs. You guys have fun," Dick announced as he practically dragged Lucy behind them. Once they hit the back staircase they went from stone cold silence to giggling.

"They were wearing pride pocket squares and matching ties, how was I supposed' ta know," she defended with a hushed alarm.

"Oh they are. They just don't know it yet," he lead her to his room and opened the door for her.

#bat famfanfic #batfam #batman #bruce wayne #lucy x dick #lucy quinzel #lucy flek #dick grayson #Nightwing #harleenqueenzel #harley quinn #fanfiction #fanfic #tim drake #connor #tim x connor

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phykios · 4 years ago

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honesty and promise me, part 4 [co-written with @darkmagyk] [read on ao3]

July twelfth dawns like any other day, Annabeth wrapped up in Percy’s sheets. She’s spent significantly more nights in his bed than she’s spent in her own apartment over the last two months, but who could blame her? This bed is literally to die for. Therapeutic mattress for the fucking win.

Percy, to her greatest confusion and chagrin, is a morning person. Well, actually, what he is is someone who runs on very little sleep for three weeks at a time, before crashing headfirst into his bed for thirteen hours. It is a decidedly unhealthy way to live, but it means that Annabeth is used to waking up alone. The nights where she gets to wake up with Percy are the nicer ones, sure, but his presence is suffused in every corner of the room, his smell wafting from every piece of sweaty clothing tossed haphazardly about the floor, so much so that she never feels like she is truly waking up alone.

Gross? A little. But the smell is oddly sexy, too, especially after he’s just come home from a run, all wet and glistening and flushed, panting hard--

Ahem.

The point is, when Annabeth rolls out of bed in one of Percy’s shirts (the one that says “Do You Even Lift, Bro?” with an image of a male dancer raising his partner, courtesy of one Jason Grace) and stumbles into the kitchen for one of Percy’s patented brunch specials, it’s a pretty normal morning. What catches her off guard is the spread: eggs and bacon, obviously, with fruit and granola and yogurt, but also an enormous tray of delicious, flaky croissants, perfectly crescent shaped, with little bowls of every condiment imaginable, multiple flavors of jams and preserves and Nutellas.

“Bounjour, mademoiselle!” Percy says cheerfully from the oven, perfectly accented, bending over to take out a tray. “Ça va bien?”

“Um… bonjour…” She pokes a croissant experimentally, and is equally delighted and dismayed to find that it is just as flaky as advertised.

“Take a seat, these ones just need to cool for a bit and then we can get started.”

Spring in his step, he opens the refrigerator, taking out the most beautiful cake Annabeth has ever seen in her entire life. Perfectly round, paper white, with little blue borders piped around the edge, but it’s got Annabeth feeling like she’s just been doused in cold water. “How the hell did you know it was my birthday?”

Immediately, she knows it was the exact wrong thing to say. His eyes go wide as the saucers on the table, mouth open in shock. “It’s your birthday?”

Goddammit. “Um.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Because birthdays were inherently a dumb concept? Because her father had to be reminded of her birthday more often than not? Because her mother had stopped sending her birthday cards after she turned thirteen, calling them a waste of money and resources? “I don’t know,” she shrugs, dipping her finger into the strawberry jam. “I guess I just didn’t think it was a big deal. Ooh, does this have rosemary in it?”

“Annabeeeeth,” he whines, plopping the cake onto the kitchen island. “I can’t believe you! I love birthdays.”

“Well,” she flounders, attempting to duck his sudden attention, “what were you originally celebrating? I don’t usually think of cake as a brunch option.”

He raises an eyebrow, not at all impressed with her attempts to change the topic, but he answers dutifully, “Originally, we were celebrating me being one month cig-free--”

“Percy!” Annabeth gasps, clapping her hands delightedly, and a little exaggeratedly. “That’s great!”

“But,” he continues, “now we’re definitely celebrating your birthday instead.”

“Oh, come on!”

“Nuh uh,” he chides, grabbing his phone and beginning to type something, “I am asking Nico to pick you up a birthday card as we speak.”

Oh. “Nico’s coming?”

“Well, this is his apartment. Part of the deal is that I make him breakfast. I think he’s bringing his boyfriend.”

“Is… anyone else coming?”

“Just a couple of people, my friends Frank, Grover, Rachel… I invited Hazel and Thalia, too, but I think Hazel told me she was busy, and you know Thalia. If it’s not at a crappy dive bar then the odds of her showing up are virtually none.” Percy pauses in his text, fixing her with an odd look. “You really don’t want anyone to know, do you?”

How easily he reads her is a little disconcerting, and also a thought that she just can’t handle right now. “I just don’t like people making a big deal out of it. You know, it’s just another day. I’d much rather celebrate you quitting.”

He holds her gaze for a beat, before smiling, finishing typing out whatever he was doing on his phone. “Yes, I am officially quitting. Cigarettes are terrible for you, and I do not have the money to keep up the habit. So, I swear,” he holds up a hand, “No cigarettes, no weed, no vaping. Not that I ever vaped before.”

“Oh, never?” Annabeth teases.

“Not ever.” He leans in, grinning that devastating grin that is seriously detrimental to her health. “You could not pay me enough.”

“Good.” She goes to meet him, pressing her mouth to his, sweetly and chastely, but swiftly turning deeper, almost against their higher brain functions, like they only exist to be here in this moment, lips against lips, tongue and tongue. She’s always hated the taste of cigarettes, she prefers edibles to blunts, and anyone who vapes is automatically dropped from her list of potential partners… but she’s never minded the taste of ash on Percy’s tongue. It was just another part of him, another facet of the whole sexy package.

Now, though, she has the full taste of him, unfettered and unfiltered, his morning coffee and his morning breath. It is disgusting, but again, oddly thrilling. This is Percy, stripped down and divested of all the trappings of blue lipstick and tight pants. She wonders what he thinks when he sees her like this, messy haired, face and ears empty of metal, last night’s mascara smudged all around her eyes. Given the way that he deliberately threads her hair through his fingers, winding the frizzy curls around him, pulling her close enough that the pristine cake is in danger from some serious smushing, she thinks he likes it just as much.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on which perspective, either Percy’s, Annabeth’s, Nico’s, or the cake’s, their little impromptu makeout session has cold water dumped on it before they can end up doing it on the kitchen island. The sound of someone unlocking the front door is almost comically loud, and they break apart, equally red and flushing.

“Gross,” says Nico di Angelo. “No heterosexuality allowed in my kitchen.”

“Take that back, you biphobic ass,” Percy says. “I have never been heterosexual in my life.”

“I’m not biphobic, I just don’t want to see you getting it on on my marble countertops.”

“Speak for yourself,” chimes in Will, setting down a grocery bag right on the spot which would have been ground zero. “Hi, Annabeth.”

“Hey, Will.”

“Nice of you to join us today,” he says, as though he doesn’t see her here all the time.

She offers her assistance in cooking or setting up, knowing full well that she will be firmly rebuffed--domestics are not her strong suit, by any stretch of the imagination--and is sent away with an iced coffee that Will has so thoughtfully bought for her instead of the birthday card she was dreading.

Soon after, the party is in full swing.

Well, she uses the term party loosely. It is fairly intimate, even with Nico’s enormous apartment making everything smaller. They have assembled an odd amalgamation of people: “You already know Nico,” Percy says, indicating the goth prince next to, “and Will,” his boyfriend, the perpetually cheery med student, next to, “and this is Frank,” a large, physically imposing man with a shy smile, next to, “Rachel,” a red-headed girl who looked like she just walked out of a paint shower, all making space for, “and my buddy Grover,” the guy in crutches who had immediately dropped into the single, out-of-decor, but extremely comfortable-looking loveseat Nico had placed nearest to the bathroom. All told, they look like the brochure for a community college who really, really wants to publicize how diverse their student body is, but with a kind of natural chemistry and camaraderie that those kids on that brochure could only dream of. “Everyone, this is Annabeth.”

They greet her, each giving a limp wave.

Then Percy leaves to attend to his brunch spread, but not before giving her a quick peck on the cheek. She can feel all eyes on them, hot and burning.

Silence.

“So,” Annabeth says, as awkward as a freshman in an orientation mixer. “What’s up?”

“Your hair is amazing,” says Rachel.

Hers is crusted with paint, a deep red that turns pink against the orange in the light, a close cousin to Annabeth’s, which is in dire need of a touchup, curls thrown in disarray by Percy’s grasping fingers. “Thanks, I--”

“So how do you two know each other?”

Annabeth blinks. “Friend of Thalia’s,” she says. “You?”

“Used to do ballet together,” Rachel says, brusque, efficient. “Frank, too.”

Frank waves again.

A beat passes.

Annabeth looks to Grover, who watches, bemused. “You, too, I take it?”

Another second. Then he laughs, weird, but hearty, a joyful bleat. “Oh, sure,” he says. “I’m a regular Baryshnikov.”

She can almost feel the room relaxing, heaving a sigh after holding its breath.

“Are you with NYCB, too?” she turns to Frank, shoving her hands in her pockets, fingers curling around the fabric there.

Shaking his head, he swallows his orange juice. “I mostly do modern and hip hop, now, music videos and stuff.”

Objectively, she knows that you don’t have to be skinny as a rake or bodybuilding champion to dance, but Frank is neither of these, a huge, sweet-faced guy with a healthy layer of fat around his face and torso--a strict counterpart to Percy, who could give the Belvedere Apollo a run for its money. “Have I seen you in anything?” Not that she really watches music videos, but she figures it’s the polite thing to ask.

“Um, maybe,” he shrugs, embarrassed. “I’ve been lucky enough to work with some really big people.” Though he offers no further details.

“Working on anything cool?” She asks, doing her best not to cajole.

He nods. “Percy and I have a thing coming out probably in the next month or so, with--ah, well. Can’t say.”

“Tease,” Rachel grumbles, tossing back her mimosa. “I’ve been trying to get the secret out of him for months.”

Frank smiles, secretive and a little smug. “Sorry. You’ll find out along with everyone else.”

“Do you work together a lot?” Annabeth asks. She had thought that Percy was strictly ballet--though, she supposes dancers do crossover work more often these days, if only for the money.

“Not as much as we used to, sadly,” he replies. “We actually lived together in Paris for a few years while he was contracted with the opera before I decided to come back home. Vancouver,” he adds at her unspoken question.

“Bit of a hike, from Vancouver to New York,” says Grover.

Frank shrugs. “I was in town anyway, and I haven’t seen Percy in about a year.”

Annabeth frowns, doing some mental math. If Frank hadn’t seen him in two years, then that meant… that Percy had been alone in Paris all that time. The man thrives off of friendship and social interaction; no wonder he was jonesing to come back to America.

“Remind me again how long you two were together?” Rachel asks, red hair bouncing as she cocks her head. A jolt goes down Annabeth’s spine, appraising Frank in an entirely new light.

“On and off for about two years,” says Frank, thoughtful. “But I just lived with him to save money. The rent in Paris sucks.”

“And you were the best roommate I ever had,” Percy says, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “Clean, good cook, better kisser--”

Frank shoves him away.

“You’ve only ever had one other roommate, other than Nico or your mom,” Grover points out. “That one guy when you first moved overseas--Frodo? Fedora?”

“Fyodor,” Percy corrects. “He was terrible. I didn’t know any Russian, he didn’t know any English, and our French wasn’t good enough to actually hash it out, so he just gave me a permanent cold shoulder.”

“Kind of a low bar, don’t you think?”

“And there was my roommate in Boston.”

Sharply, she turns her head. “You lived in Boston?”

“Yeah, for like a year. I told you I was with Boston Ballet for a little bit, didn’t I?”

Pretty sure he didn’t. She almost opens her mouth to retort, to ask when and compare notes, to mention that she lived in Boston, too, before remembering who she is with, swallowing her words.

“Fyodor hated you,” Frank hums, reentering the circle. He’d wandered away and returned with a croissant, dipped in chocolate.

“Trust, me, the feeling was mutual.”

“It must have been,” Frank says, “because I saw your new apartment after he kicked you out--that place made a shoebox look luxurious.”

Something in Percy’s face almost falls when Frank says that. Annabeth is sure there is a story there.

But Rachel laughs. “Annabeth, you have no idea. It was a Chambre de bonne ,” she says, exaggerating the accent, “which might sound super fancy and French and cool, but trust me, it wasn’t at all. It was this size.” She slaps the kitchen island, a little too hard, her third mimosa making her loose-limbed and loud. “When I visited for Thanksgiving that year I had to pay for the heating bill, because Percy basically refused.”

“It was cozy,” Percy mutters, suddenly very preoccupied with the half a croissant on his plate.

“It was not.” Rachel says. “It was sad and cold and small.”

Nico looks interested, but not nearly as boisterous as Rachel or Frank, “Was that the place…”

“Ye,” Percy cuts him off, “Yes it was.” He smiles, Stepford-strained. “But, then Frank came to town, and so did his grandmother’s money.” He slaps Frank on the back. “And I got a bathtub.”

“I still can’t believe that a ballet dancer lived anywhere for two years without a place to soak,” Frank says, shuddering.

“I can’t believe you waited until Frank got to Paris to get yourself a sugar daddy,” Grover quips. Percy throws a grape at him. Grover, to her immense surprise, manages to catch it in his mouth.

Annabeth can’t really be impressed. This is the second time someone has brought up Percy and Frank having a history. Something hot and angry curls in her stomach. But Percy is laughing.

Rachel laughs too. “Oh, he didn’t wait,” she says. “He had a bevy of sugar mommies for trips to Ibiza and Moscow and Beijing.”

“It was Tokyo,” Percy says, “and they weren’t my Sugar Mamas.” He turns to Annabeth, sheepish, but not actually shameful. “They weren’t. Honestly.”

“Uh huh.”

“They were mostly Kym’s friends, and sometimes we’d go out when they were in town, and if we had fun, they’d invite me wherever they were going next. And if I didn’t have to work, I’d go with.”

“I have heard rumors,” Will says, popping his head in, Nico attached to his hip, “of Percy Jackson, boy toy of the rich and famous of Europe. Is it true?”

“Yes,” Grover and Rachel say at once.

“Do you want to hear about that, Will?” Percy asks, “Or would you rather hear about the summer Nico came to stay with me and Frank before he started college, and slept with every single dancer in Europe except Frank?”

Nico waves him off. “Only because you were already sleeping with him, cause he was your sugar daddy. Not like I needed the money.”

“It wasn’t like that.” Frank says.

“And now that we’ve aired all of my dirty laundry,” says Percy, “I need to borrow Annabeth for a second.” Gently, but with force, he tugs her arm, his other hand around her waist, directing her where to go like she’s one of his dance partners. Usually, she minds--a lot. She’s not about to let anyone, let alone a man, tell her where to go--but, you know, it’s Percy. Alone time with him is never a bad thing.

He pulls her into the hallway, shoving his hand into his pocket. “What’s up?” she asks.

“So.” Mouth open, he pauses for a moment, just… looking at her. His eyes are soft, warm like the first day of spring.

“What?”

“Uh, nothing,” he shakes himself a little, pulling his hand out. “Sorry, I just--I know you said you didn’t want anyone making a big deal out of your birthday…”

Oh, no. She braces herself for the worst.

Uncurling his fingers, he reveals his present for her.

“It’s… a pin?”

“Yeah,” he smiles. “Remember when I took my sister to the Met a few weeks ago? They were having that thing on Egyptian jewelry? Well, of course we had to stop in the gift shop, and I saw this and just--you know, thought of you.”

It is a pin--one of those lapel pins that more often than not are added to a collection usually displayed on a backpack. This pin is a silhouette she recognizes instantly: the Parthenon, its columns and angles rendered in sterling silver, little grooves dug into the metal in an approximation of the fluting.

“Wow,” she breathes. “Thank you.”

“It was nothing.” His ears are pink. “Happy birthday.”

And then he hugs her.

After a moment, she hugs him back.

It’s amazing how she can have had sex with someone so many times, but feel so awkward giving them a hug.

“I didn’t, um, tell anyone else,” he says, pulling back. His hands linger on her shoulders, thumb tapping at the base of her neck. “But, I kept meaning to give this to you, so, you know, now was as good a time as any, yeah?”

“I love it,” she says, honestly. Which surprises her. “Thank you.”

She slips it into her own pocket, not even minding the sharp corners.

When they return, Nico has already cut into the cake. “You were taking too long,” he snips.

It really is delicious. Much, much later, Percy sends her home with a sweet, soft kiss, and one of the last remaining slices, rather than staying for dinner.

Percy is the kind of boy who goes to his mother’s for dinner every week. She had been invited, but also threatened with the promise of another cake, and his ten year old sister, who would “love to make you a present.”

It sounded nice, but Annabeth knew when she wasn’t really wanted, and so she demurred, citing a need for some solo downtime.

She hasn’t heard from Thalia in, like, four days, which meant she had probably gotten a short-term gig. (“You’re lucky, she’s had Jason paying for her phone the whole time you’ve known her. Before that, she was almost impossible to get ahold of.”) Piper would take her out to dinner tomorrow, “just because.” But they would both know it wasn’t true.

So, to refresh and relax after a long, harrowing day of socializing, Annabeth goes home.

Or at least to her apartment.

It doesn’t have a doorman, or the views, or the room, like Nico’s place. Nor does it have any of the people, the energy, the joy. Her furniture doesn’t fill it up. The most appetizing thing in her kitchen are the granola bars Percy had made the week before, or maybe the brownies he made four days ago. She sets her to-go bag of cake and croissants down next to them, a smorgasboard of Percy’s culinary prowess.

Despite the long hours, her clothes still smell a little like last night’s bar, and her skin has a faint patina of dried sex sweat, and smudged makeup.

She doesn’t want to start leaving things at Percy’s place--don’t want him to get the wrong idea--but she also occasionally needs to be able to touch up her eyeliner. She’s either going to have to find a bag that isn’t embarrassing to carry, or surreptitiously shove some eyeliner and lipstick next to the condoms in Percy’s nightstand next time they have a sleepover. Or raid Nico’s bathroom.

Regardless, she needs a wash something bad.

As she scrubs down, she does her best to focus on the lemon scent of her body wash, and not Percy’s perfect form, dripping with water. She tries to visualize her last trip to Sephora, not blowing him under the hot water.

It doesn’t really work, so she gets herself clean and gets herself off and considers just spending the rest of the day naked, in case the mood strikes her again. But it's only 5PM, and she doesn’t have Percy to cook her some dinner tonight, so she sucks it up and puts on some pants.

When she had visited Boston for work a couple of months back, Alex had insisted on taking her shopping, complaining that her sister and her friend Mallory didn’t understand Versace quite like Annabeth did, and that Blitz sucked all the fun out of fashion, anyway. Then, she had bullied Annabeth into buying a set of sweats, claiming it was because of the Grecian patterns, but probably because she thought Annabeth in that much purple would be funny.

But eventually, she had wheedled, cajoled, and threatened Annabeth into buying a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. After deciding to forgo a bra, because that is just one more area she has always fallen short in, she shoves on a School of Architecture underneath them. The crimson clashes terribly with the lavender and seafoam, but she kind of likes it. Piper would call it “artfully nauseating,” or something.

Besides, no one is going to see her but her delivery guy. And if someone did see her, someone like Thalia or Percy, well, the clashing colors would be the least of her worries.

She is folded into her couch, wedged into the corner, very much not looking up Paris Ballet clips from the past few years, trying to spot Percy in the background, when there is a knock on her door.

Not for the first time, she curses her lack of doorman--and then frowns. Who even knows where she lives?

Piper and Leo? Magnus and Alex?

Has she already ordered food and just forgotten?

Is memory loss a side effect of a SK-II mask no one had warned her about?

Tentatively, she creeps towards the door, opening it slowly. If this were a horror movie, the door would creak open, revealing the villain cast in the shadows of the hallway, holding his weapon of choice.

She sighs.

The man is only a few inches taller than her, and dressed impeccably in a t-shirt and jeans that probably cost half a year of her rent-- a big critique coming from her, since she wears a month of her own rent as sweats. His blond hair is impeccably combed, his tennis shoes impeccably white, and his smile the most charming thing you can find this side of the Brooklyn Bridge.

“Happy birthday, girly,” he says, giving her an awkward, one-armed hug, trying to avoid getting any of her facemask on his shirt.

“What are you doing here?”

“It's your birthday,” he reminds her, holding up the bag. “I told you I’d stop by last week.”

Had he? Maybe, and she’d just been too drunk or hung over to really process it. But maybe he’d also meant to, and then failed to follow through. Luke has a bit of a nasty habit of treating his intentions as the same as his actions. His intentions are good, usually, but it means that he often ignored the actual actions. Like how his intention was to support his mother in the best nursing home in the northeast, but his action was to work with Saturn, a very shady hedge fund, to facilitate it. Or how his intention was to have someone at a stuffy party to talk to, but his action was dressing up Annabeth as his arm candy because none of Piper’s models would call him back anymore. He hasn’t asked her to do that since, like, February though, thankfully.

“Sorry,” Annabeth says. “I just… you know I don’t like my birthday.”

He also has a bit of a habit of ignoring her distaste in a really blatant way.

He’s a little like Percy that way, actually.

She’d only ever told Luke about her birthday back in those embarrassing freshman days, when she’d thought he looked as good on paper as any Harvard MBA student possibly could, with a devastating smile to match. She’d been so convinced that he would be the right boyfriend that might finally get her mother’s approval, and she figured that her future husband should know her birthday.

“Come in,” she says, reaching for the bag, but he shakes his head and brushes past her, dumping his black back on the coffee table. Graciously, he doesn’t look at her as he starts to empty out its contents, giving her an opportunity to dart back to her bathroom and peel off her facemask. Luke would forgive designer sweats, but they aren't at the “just chilling in a facemask” level of a relationship.

When she returns, there is a small assembly line arranged on her coffee table: a stack of paper plates, a carton of Haagen Daas, forks and spoons, and a Milk Bar cake, all wrapped in its box.

“Is Milk Bar still the ‘it’ thing?” she asks. “With locations all over the country, I figured it would be passé by now.”

“I know it’s your favorite,” Luke says. “I don’t always have to choose the most popular thing.”

Milk Bar had been her favorite, that is true, right up until she’d started fucking Percy Jackson, and eating his food.

“Thanks,” she says, cutting herself a slice, and scooping herself some ice cream.

“That’s all you’re going to get?” he asks, cutting himself a sliver.

“I have had so much cake today,” she says. Milk Bar really isn’t as good as Percy's, but it reminds her of birthdays in high school, waiting for her mother to visit, sneaking out when she inevitably didn’t, convincing the local bad boy to buy her some alcohol. She eats it, eagerly.

Luke’s jaw drops. “You had a birthday cake? By choice? On your birthday?”

She shakes her head, swallowing. “No, I was at a party with some friends. They didn’t even know it was my birthday,” Until she had stupidly revealed it. Whatever. She just has to make sure he’s been excised from her life by this time next year. And maybe freeze some of his baked goods beforehand.

Luke doesn’t let her go through with her evening plans, which consisted basically of watching Legally Blonde for the gazillionth time while she slurped down some pierogies, but he capitulates to Roman Holiday , helping her put away the leftover cake and ice cream. “Thanks,” she says, when the movie was done. “I’m glad you came over. “

No one ever comes over. Thalia is her best friend, but Thalia would have questions about how she could afford the place, Piper never understood why she’d moved out here at all, and Percy… Percy was irrelevant. There is no reason for him to come here.

“I always like to see my best girl.” He smiles at her, charming and rogueish.

“If all those models you keep trying to date know that your best girl is an architect who lives in Brooklyn who you actually feed, that’s probably why they don’t want to date you back.”

Luke laughs, leaning over and knocking his shoulder against her own. “None of those girls could hold a candle to you.”

“God, you must be a terrible boyfriend.”

“Probably,” he agrees, sitting up and stretching, before reaching back to the bag he brought the cake in. “After all, you are the one I bring all the nice presents. But I think I’m a pretty good friend.”

He takes out a box, burnt orange, a black ribbon wrapped around it, because Luke is nothing if not predictable.

Annabeth sighs internally, quietly reminding herself that money is how Luke shows his love. And that she is wearing Versace sweats.

“Herm é s,” she says, pulling off the ribbon. “This box looks too small for a Birkin.”

“Do you want a Birkin?” he asks. “I can get you a Birkin.”

“I probably don’t need a Birkin,” she admits. Though maybe it would be nice to have one in her closet, if her mom ever calls her up for lunch again. She could show up with a Birkin and an eyebrow ring. Sweet revenge.

Luke waves a hand. “It doesn't matter if you need one, just if you want one.”

Inside the box is a scarf, the silk soft and smooth between her fingers, a pleasing gradient of oranges and reds and pinks and corals. When she unfolds it, laying it out before her, she finds a sharp, geometric design, columns stacked together like skyscrapers. Luke obviously had her in mind when he picked it out.

“Thanks,” she says. It’s pretty--perfect for an ambitious young architect with two degrees from Harvard who had moved to New York City with an offer from one of the best architecture firms in the world. And Annabeth has no idea where she could possibly want or need to wear it.

“Hey,” Luke says, suddenly soft, “don’t cry.”

Shocked, she reaches her hand up to her face. It’s wet.

Luke is probably the only person she will let herself cry in front of. She’d spent three years doing that in college. He’d seen her through heartbreak and hangovers, guiding her through it all like an aloof big brother.

“I’m okay,” she hiccups, wiping her nose.

He hands her a napkin.

Annabeth blows her nose, wet and gross. “I’m sorry, I promise I’m alright.”

“You sure?” He sounds sincere, but she catches him glancing down at his wrist.

“Do you have a date?”

“I…” At least he has the decency to look sheepish. “Just some guys at work. You can come, if you want.”

It could be fun. Hanging out with Luke can be fun. Get a little lit, take a business bro home, screw his brains out, send him on his way. But there’s an unspoken dress code to these things, and Annabeth just doesn’t wear Louboutins anymore. And the idea of fucking a business bro just… doesn’t hold any appeal right now.

“No thanks,” she nods, using the clean edge of the napkin to wipe her eyes. “I am going to watch The Search For Elle Woods , and you're going to strike out with some models, and everyone is going to be happy.”

“You really are so mean to me.” Luke complains, as she walks him to the door, before giving her another hug. “You sure you’re going to be okay?”

“I am.” She is different and new, but Luke is still her friend. She had survived. It would be okay.

“Well, call me if you need something.” He kisses her cheek, sweetly, without any heat. Perfectly platonic. “I love you very much. Happy birthday.”

“Thanks,” she says, “I’ll see you around.”

“Always.” And he is gone.

She folds the scarf, going to put it in the dresser in her room, shoving it among a handful of accessories, gathering dust. She realizes, with a start, that she’s left a week’s worth of clothes all over her room on the way to the shower, and, with a sigh of adulthood, and the knowledge that if she doesn’t follow the ADHD gods and pick them up now, they’ll be there for weeks, languishing on her floor and stinking up the place, she goes to at least move them into her hamper. She rifles through ripped jeans and band t-shirts and black socks as she goes, checking each for anything like discarded change or a bus pass she doesn’t want to wash.

She shakes out the pants she’d worn out the night before, and therefore the entire day until she’d gotten home. There is a rather unfortunate stain on the knee that she can’t quite parse--ketchup? Chocolate?

Then she reaches into the pockets, touching metal, and she suddenly remembers her other birthday present for the day.

Pulling out the pin, she feels strange, hot in the face, funny in the belly, tossing the jeans haphazardly in with the dirty laundry. It's small and shiny, cheap metal for mass market production, and yet, she walks it over to the dresser, laying it down on the silk scarf like it's the diamond broach her aunt gave her for her sixteenth birthday.

She really is beyond Hermès scarves now. But that pin? Well, you never really can get more Annabeth--the middle school know-it-all, teenage debutante, college perfectionist, New York yuppy, or barfly and punk princess--than one of the greatest architectural achievements in human history.

She is still a little shocked by how much she loves it. How much it means to her that Percy saw that it was perfect for her.

And like so many times when she is confronted with an emotion she doesn’t like, she slams the door closed, and goes and watches a favorite movie from high school.

She does order dinner, eventually, setting out her meal in between texting Piper about brunch tomorrow. It's a whole thing, pretending that they’re not going out for her birthday, but eventually they agree on a time and a place, and she can eat her sausage and watch everyone practice the Bend and Snap in peace.

So she is very annoyed when her phone buzzes again.

Maybe the reservation fell through. Or maybe she doesn’t want Annabeth to show up in ripped fishnets, even though that only happened once.

Her stomach sinks when she checks her phone. It isn’t Piper.

Hello Dear, Happy Birthday. We miss you. Please call anytime. Love Dad, Mary, and the boys.

Below the text is a link, leading to a gift certificate for $200 to Sephora, which has Mary’s name written all over it. Aunt Natalie would have suggested Bergdorf Goodman.

Her hand clenches, momentarily overcome with the urge to hurl her phone against the wall. But there is no one around, so there wouldn’t be any point to it.

She stabs at a pierogi with a chopstick, and watches the girls dance on screen, humming along.

She passes out on the couch after midnight.

Her mother never called.

#my fic #darkmagyk #pjo #percabeth #the rivalry ends here #ballet au #slightly douchey big brother luke castellan ftw!!!!!

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atlafan · 5 years ago

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My Everything - Part Six

A Take it Slow Sequel

What happens with Harry and Y/N after he proposes? How will the two navigate the engaged life while also continuing to juggle their jobs, friends, and families? Let’s find out.

Warnings: Fluff and smut.

a/n: not proofread fam, I didn’t have the strength.

Masterpost

“What do you think you’re gonna be for Halloween this year? I hope you step up your costume from last year.” You giggle with Niall at lunch.

“I know, Netflix and Chill wasn’t exactly original. We have somethin’ in mind, but we’re not tellin’ anyone. What about you guys?”

“We’re also keeping it a secret. I’m really excited El’s gonna stay with me while Louis and Harry are in Wisconsin.”

“Yeah, it’ll be good for you guys to get to know each other a bit more. Is it awkward at all that you and Sarah are in her wedding party, but Rachel isn’t?”

“Not really.” You shrug. “Mariah’s taking their photos and Rachel’s actually doing the videography, so she’ll still be there.”

“Oh good! I still can’t believe Harry’s finally gonna see a Packer’s game, he must be so excited.”

“He is! I’m sorry I couldn’t get a third ticket, it would’ve been nice for the three of you to go.”

“Nah, we don’t need to do everything together. It’ll be good for them to have a little trip just the two of ‘em, but I appreciate you thinkin’ of me.”

You get home from work, grab the packages waiting for you, and head up.

“Babe! The fabric for our costumes got here, I can start putting it together tonight!” You say as you come in. Buster trots over to greet you. “Hi baby boy, where’s daddy?”

“Daddy’s right here, pumpkin.” He comes over and kisses your cheek.

“Pumpkin?” You giggle. “That’s a new one.”

“I got a little inspired. I bought a couple today for us to carve, thought we could roast the seeds.”

“Oh that sounds like so much fun! We could put them out on the balcony for decoration too.”

“I was thinkin’ the same thing, baby.”

You and Harry eat a quick cauliflower crust pizza for dinner, and you get to work on the costumes. You were so excited to be making them, just like when you were a kid. Once you get a good chunk done, you both sit down to carve your pumpkins.

“What kind of face are you gonna make?” You ask him.

“I don’t really make faces, I like doin’ designs.” He says, concentrating with his sharpie.

“Alright, then what design are you going for?”

“Have you ever seen The Nightmare Before Christmas?”

“Of course I have.” He turns the pumpkin around to show you his sketch.

“It’s the dog.”

“Harry…I didn’t know you could draw.”

“A little here and there.”

“That’s gonna look really cool.” You look down at the triangles you’ve drawn on your own pumpkin. “I guess mine will look pretty sad compared to yours.” You laugh.

“Nah, yours will be a classic.”

You both cut holes in the tops of the pumpkins and take all the guts out. You separate the seeds into a different bowl so you can roast them later. You finish your pumpkin much sooner than Harry’s, so you go in the kitchen to work on the seeds.

“It’s all done, come look, I put some fake candles inside them. They look pretty cool on the balcony.” He says to you as he washes his hands.

“Oh wow!” You gasp. “You’re so talented, babe.”

“Not my best work actually.” He shrugs. “So I’m still comin’ to your office tomorrow to take those pictures?”

“Mhm. Apparently I’ll be in the winter edition of the magazine…I’m really excited! Zach put a really cool video interview together.” You both plop down on the couch while you wait for the pumpkin seeds to finish up in the oven.

“What did you talk about?”

“Why knowing your alumni network is important, why getting involved with clubs on campus is so important, getting out of your comfort zone to make friends, stuff like that. Then I talked about how I fell into the work I did, if it was my dream job, stuff like that. I talked about my hobbies. Even Buster was in the video for a bit. I talked about you too, of course, and how having a supportive partner can make a huge difference.”

“Aw, you didn’t need to mention me.”

“Well, you could see the pictures of us on my desk in the frame, so he just asked quick. I didn’t talk much about my personal life since that wasn’t the point of the interview. I also talked about why checking your benefits when job searching was a really big deal, and how I’m getting my master’s for free.”

“Yeah, that’s one of the reasons why I stayed with Plant Geo for so long, they had great benefits.”

“Speaking of benefits, when we get married did you want to come onto my insurance plan and all that? Or do you wanna keep the state’s?”

“It depends on how cost effective it is. More will be taken out of your paycheck, and it could just end up equaling the same as what I pay now…”

“True, I could talk to someone at HR and they could go over the plans with me. My copay is only like $10, not too bad.”

“Yeah, that’s really good actually. Man, that’s the one thing I miss about home, health insurance and medical bills are way less fucked up.”

“Yup, it’s all just big business here.” You sigh. “At least I work at a company that actually provides what I need.”

“Mhm, like your maternity leave? I still can’t get over that.”

“I think it helps that the CEO is a woman…she gets it, you know?” He hums his response.

“When exactly were you planning to get off the pill?”

“Oh god, I have no idea. We have so much time, I was thinking maybe a year before the wedding? I read that it can take like three months before you have a regular period again if you were irregular before you started the pill, and I was very irregular. Why?”

“Just wondering. I’m trying to mentally prepare myself for havin’ to use condoms all the time.”

“I guess we’ll just have to make sure we’re stocked up. Plus…it’s not like you’ll never be able to stick it in raw, you can, you’ll just need to pull out and come on me.” You shrug.

“You would be way too paranoid.” He laughs.

“Well, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, okay? Not something we even need to think about right now.” You hear the oven go off. “Seeds are done!” You kiss Harry’s forehead and go into the kitchen.

While the two of you were crafting he couldn’t help but think a few years down the line, having a toddler, and carving pumpkins with them. You’d probably put them in a cute costume for trick or treating as well. With how well you took care of him and Buster, Harry knew you were going to be an amazing mum someday. You come back out and sit down.

“Where are the seeds?”

“We can’t eat them yet, we have to wait for them to cool. They’ll burn your mouth.” He throws an arm around you and kisses you. “What?” You giggle.

“Nothin’, just love yeh.”

“Hi, Mr. Styles.” Trish beams at Harry when he comes up with his camera equipment.

“Trish, uh, you know you can just call me Harry, right?”

“I do, but you’re here for a professional purpose today. I thought we’d keep things formal.” She gets up and leads him down the hall to your office. “The CEO was thrilled that Y/N was being featured in her college magazine.”

“She was?”

“Oh yes, what a great way to plug Mark It. Maybe more young people will want to work here.”

“Right.”

She knocks on your door and opens it.

“Y/N?”

“Hi, Trish.” You say without looking at her, finishing up an email. It was nearly the end of the day.

“Mr. Styles from Styles Photography is here to see you.” She giggles.

“Ah, okay, send him in, thank you.” You smile and stand up from your desk.

“Did you tell her to be so professional?” He smirks. “They know me around here.”

“I didn’t say a thing.” You go over to him and give him a kiss on the cheek while Buster trots over to say hello to his daddy. “But…” You move to whisper in his ear. “It does create a new fantasy, doesn’t it?” You step back and blush.

“Don’t you start.” He shakes his head. “If I get my wheels turning on that…”

“I could really see it. A hot photographer coming to take my picture, you do that thing where you brush some hair from my face, suddenly we’re making eye contact…”

“Y/N.” Harry says sternly. “Enough.” You fake pout at him while he gets his equipment set up.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to rile you up.”

“M’not.” His face was flushed and his pants were growing tighter.

“Okay.” You scoff. He side eyes you for a moment and then gets back to his things. “So…how do you want me?” You ask in a genuine tone.

“Alright.” He stands up straight and walks over to you. He takes your cheeks between his thumb and index finger. “You’re not bein’ a very good girl right now.”

“I just asked a question.”

“Well, I-“

“Oi!” Niall says walking into your office. “You know the door’s open right?” Harry lets go of you and turns to look at Niall. “Probably shouldn’t be doin’ all that.” He smirks.

“Just gettin’ her how I want her for the pictures.”

“I hope that magazine is gonna give you credit.”

“They will.” You say. “I wouldn’t have let Harry do this if they weren’t going to put his name in. They’re even giving him free ad space at the back of it.”

“Oh, that’s great! Well, I’m headed out for the day. See you tomorrow.”

“Night.” You smile. Him and Harry wave each other off.

“Okay, can we be professional now?”

“Yes, I’m so sorry Mr. Styles of Styles Photography.”

“You’re a little bit goofy at the end of the, huh?”

“Just a little bit.”

Harry gets some good shots of you in your office, and a really nice one of you and Buster. He has you pack up your things, and takes you outside the building to get some nice outdoor shots before the sun sets.

“Thank you so much for coming to do all of this.” You kiss him. “I’ll see you at home.”

“Be ready for me when we get in.” He says, loading his car up.

“Be ready for what?” He walks closer to you and presses you up against your car, his hips pressing into yours. “Oh.” You blush.

“Yeah.” He kisses you and lets you go.

When you get home, you get Buster fed and some fresh water before going into your bedroom. You wanted to freshen up for your man. You were just putting on some fresh lace panties when Harry walks in.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but you can just leave those off.” He smirks.

You slide them back down your legs and kick them away as he approaches you. He grabs you by the back of your neck and tilts your chin up.

“What I don’t appreciate is you purposefully trying to get my hard when you’ve told me over and over that you don’t want to fuck in your office.”

“I wasn’t trying to make you hard, I was just playing around.”

“Just playing around, hm.” He nods his head and lets you go. He undoes his pants and sits down on the bed. “How about you play around with this?” He points to his crotch and you get on your knees in front of him. “Wait, let me grab you a pillow, honey.” He reaches behind him and hands it to you.

“Thank you.”

You get his hard cock out of his boxers and lick your lips before licking up and down his length. You suckle on his tip while your hand pumps him slowly. You look up at him, and he’s already looking down at you. It’s intense it makes you groan against him. You sink down further on him, and his hips buck up, trying to fit as much of himself in you as he can. You think of something, and you pop off him.

“Harry, I need you stand up.”

“Wh, why?”

“So it’s easier for you.”

“Easier for me to do what?”

“You know…fuck my face.” You mumble. His eyebrows shoot up, and he doesn’t hesitate to stand.

“You really want me to do this?” His hands cup your cheeks to get a better grip on you.

“Mhm.”

“You’re gonna gag a lot.”

“I’ll work through it.”

“Just tap my legs if it gets to be too much, okay?”

“Okay.”

You grip his hips and open your mouth wide for him. His slides back in and moans softly from how good your mouth feels on him. He thrusts in and out slowly, going a little deeper each time. He had hit the back of your throat before, numerous time, but usually you were the one in control of that. Your eyes start to water as his pace quickens, and you try to focus on just breathing through your nose. When he hears you gag he slows down to give you a second, and then he jumps back in to what he was doing before.

“Fuck, Y/N.” He groans. “I’m gonna come.” He pulls out, and you leave your mouth open. His comes onto your open mouth, neck, and chest. He helps you up before he sits down on the bed. “Jesus, I think I’m light headed.” He chuckles and runs a hand through his hair. He looks at you, and you’re not saying much as you stand there naked in front of him. You had an odd look in your eyes. “Shit, let me go get a rag to clean you up, baby.” He stands back up, kisses your forehead, and rushes into the bathroom. He comes back out with a warm rag and wipes up your chest. “You did really well, took it all down that pretty throat of yours. Felt so good.” He steps back and looks at you. “There, all clean.” You blink at him. “Are you alright?”

You tap your throat and try to speak but it comes out really scratchy and hoarse. You try to clear your throat but it doesn’t help much.

“Lemme get you some water…maybe I was a bit too aggressive.” You grab his wrist. “What?”

You tug at the hem of his shirt, and he gets the idea. You wanted him, the water could wait. He gets you on the bed, and hovers over you. His lips find yours, and he sucks on your bottom lip. He plants gentle, wet kisses down your body, stopping to suck on one of your nipples. He twists your piercing between his teeth, making your head roll back. His hand slides between your legs while he continues to work your breasts. His middle finger runs up and down your slit before entering you. You gasp when he starts to curl it up.

“You’re so wet f’me baby.” He mumbles, switching to suck on your breast. He slides a second finger in and pumps in and out of you.

You grind against his hand, and he lets go of your breast with a pop. He retracts his fingers, and slides them up to your clit. Your mouth falls open and you moan out his name when his tongue enters you. You hear him groan as he moves his tongue in and out of you, and you tug on his hair.

“Harry.” You moan again, throat dry and hoarse.

He head your legs shaking. Your voice cracks as you cry out from your release. He continues to rub your clit as you come down. He grabs your hips and flips you over gently, spreading you apart and entering you. You loved how quickly he could get hard again. His chest was flush with your back as he rocks in and out of you. His hand snakes underneath you to rub your clit and you feel like you just wanted to melt. It still amazed you how much he paid attention to your body. It was never about him getting his, it was about this mutual pleasure that only you two shared.

Everything felt really good, and you were overstimulated.

“Oh my god, don’t stop.” You say in a raspy voice. “Fuck, Harry, that’s so good.” You clutch at your blankets and pillows. He bits down on the back of your shoulder as he feels you come around his cock.

His thrusts get sloppy and quicken, and a few moments later he’s filling you up. He pulls out of you slowly and rests on the bed to look at you. He smooths some hair out of your face and you smile at him.

“My throat really hurts.” You giggle.

“I know, I’m sorry.” He kisses your nose and gets off the bed. He wiggles his boxers up his legs, and watches you walk into the bathroom. “M’gonna get dinner started.” You give him a thumbs up and he leaves you to clean yourself up.

You come into the kitchen in a pair of light sweatpants and a t-shirt. Buster comes over to you and you pat him on the head. You guzzle down a nice glass of water and try to clear your throat. Harry was working on a stir fry.

“Why’d you want me to do that to you, I feel bad…”

“I don’t know.” You cough, and clear your throat again. “Just thought of it. I like when we take turns being more in control of those things.”

“But I hurt you.” He frowns.

“No! It was fine, it was just different. See, I’m all better now.” You smile. “My throat just got dry.”

“Okay.” He kisses the top of your head and puts his attention back to dinner. “Just veggies and rice, that okay?”

“It’s perfect, thank you.”

You sit down at the island and wait for him to finish preparing everything. He makes a plate up for you and he sits down next to you. He tells you about his day at the studio, and how cute some of the little kids in their costumes looked.

“I still can’t believe parents pay to have Halloween cards sent out.” You laugh.

“I choose not to question it. If these rich people wanna pay me for these little things, I’m all for it.”

“Oh, definitely! I think it’s great you’re doing all these little sessions.”

“The Thanksgiving sessions are all booked, and there’s only a few Santa sessions left open.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“All that social media stuff you do makes such a big difference, that’s why so many people are signing up.”

“It’s nice getting to work together in this capacity.” He stands up and takes both of your plates.

“My sweet girl.” He says as he kisses your head before putting the dishes in the dishwasher. “Wanna watch TV for a bit? I’m beat.”

“Mhm.”

Harry lays down on the sofa and you lay in front of him so he can spoon you. You were nearing the end of the third season of Glee.

“God, the show got so hard to watch after these last few episodes.”

“Why, baby?”

“Just everything with Rachel and Finn, you’ll see.”

You get to the last episode of the third season. You both sit up so you can watch intently. You were sobbing already, and Harry was getting to that point himself.

“Wait…he’s not goin’ with her?!” He looks at you. “I mean, I wasn’t in favor of them gettin’ married right away, but…he’s sendin’ her off to New York alone?”

You couldn’t even speak you were so upset.

“Finn, no, what the fuck?!” He looks at you again. “That’s how they ended it?”

“Yes.”

“And you had to wait an entire summer to know what happened next…Jesus.” He wipes his eyes. “This show is fucked up.”

“You said it.” You wipe your own eyes. “Come on, we need to go to sleep.”

“You can’t be serious, we need to-“

“Harry, it’s already after ten, come on. We can watch more tomorrow.”

“Okay, but only because I wanna cuddle some more.”

“Morning, Harry.” Isaac says as Harry walks in.

“Mornin’.” He takes his coffee from him. “Ah, thank you.”

“So your day is going to be interesting.”

“Define interesting…”

“Lot of single moms and their kids…”

“Oh, why is that interesting?”

“Look at the reviews of you on Facebook.” Harry comes around to Isaac’s computer to look. “See, this one says, both Harry and Mariah are extremely professional, I’m very happy with their work.”

“That’s…I’m very confused.”

“Look at all of the comments. Harry was amazing with my son, I can’t wait to bring my kids to see him, I wouldn’t mind him taking my photos…and they sort of escalated from there. You know how wine moms can be. I made it so some of them weren’t visible.”

“These people do know we do any type of portrait, they don’t just need to have their kids involved.”

“You’re missing the point. They’re thirsty for you.”

“Thirsty?” He scoffs.

“I notice them flirting with you from time to time.”

“A lot of people flirt with me.” He shrugs. “I just don’t flirt back.”

Just then a young woman and he toddler walk in. Her daughter was already dressed like Bat Man.

“Woah, looks like the Dark Knight has arrived, Isaac.” The little girl giggles.

“I had hoped she’d want to be a princess, but she insisted on Bat Man.” The mother sighs.

“Nothin’ wrong with that, is there?” He smiles. “I just need a few minutes to get settled and set up. Isaac can get you anything you need.” He turns and goes upstairs to his office.

“So, how’d you hear about us?” Isaac asks.

“Word of mouth. One of the other moms at Janey’s preschool raved about someone named Mariah, but she was all booked up today. Then someone else mentioned Harry might have more open spots since he owns the place.” Isaac nods. “I heard he’s very talented.”

“He is.” Isaac smiles.

Harry comes down shortly and gets his spot set up the way he likes. Mariah was in her office editing photos.

“Okay, Janey, I mean, uh, Bat Man, come on over.”

The little girl runs over to Harry.

“Janey, don’t run! I’m so sorry, she never listen to me.” The woman huffs.

“No worries.” Harry smiles and looks down at the girl. “Is it okay if I lift yeh up and what not?”

“Mhm.”

“Thank you.”

Harry picks her up and puts her on a chair decorated for Halloween. There were pumpkins and other Halloween things around her.

“Smile, Janey. Grandma’s gonna want to see that pretty face.”

“No.” She pouts. “Bat Man doesn’t smile, mumma.”

“She’s right.” Harry says. “But sometimes he does.”

“He does?” Janey asks.

“Oh sure. Right after he gets a bad guy, like when he sends the joker to jail, that makes him really happy.”

“Okay.” She giggles and Harry snaps a shot.

He’s able to get a lot of great shots of her, and wraps everything up. He hands Isaac the SD card from the camera. Lately, Harry had let Isaac touch up these simpler photoshoots.

“Isaac should have these to you in a couple of days with the design you chose.”

“Thank you so much, Harry. I haven’t seen her have so much fun since…well, I won’t bore you with my problems.”

Isaac has to refrain from making a gagging noises. He knew exactly where this was headed.

“You’re a single mum?” Harry asks.

“Mhm, it was all for the best, but she misses her daddy.”

“Yeah, that’s, uh, gotta be tough.” Harry and Isaac make knowing eye contact. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go give my fiancé a ring before my next appointment. It was nice meeting the both of you.”

Harry slips away and almost runs up to his office.

“Oh, he’s, um, not single?”

“Nope, very taken.” Isaac smiles. “Will that be cash or credit?”

#my everything #take it slow sequel #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles smut #harry styles smut fic #fluff #smut #sorry for the delay!#come hang in my ask box

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