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angelikook · 4 years ago

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How to Find Your Soulmate

Pairing(s): Non-idol!Namjoon x reader

Genre: Tooth-rotting fluff, teensy bit of angst

Word Count: 10.2k

Warning(s): None

Summary: Where a journey to find his soulmate took a different turn.

A/n I wrote this as a spur in the moment thing, but it surprisingly came out really well.

The familiar sound of keys jiggling from his front door was a sure sign that he was about to lose whatever amount of peacefulness in his tiny apartment. As he braced himself for what was about to come, the door swung open and came in the person he had been waiting for.

Y/n was her name. Peculiar, wild, and random. Her hair basically could represent her entire personality. Unruly, messy, and out of control. She'd been a loner for most of her lifetime. Definitely a big believer in “I’m a strong independent woman who doesn’t need no man”.

It also came as a surprise to Namjoon when he couldn’t help but to be attached to her a long time ago when they were kids. And ever since that, he had gained a new best friend. Or more like the best friend since he didn’t have that many best friends to begin with.

“Joon, let’s go! We have things to do.” Y/n grabbed on his arm and tried to pull him up from his slouched position on his couch. The couch that became worn out so quickly for its rather frequent use whenever he was stressed.

In his defense, it wasn’t his fault that the couch was so comfy.

Failing to pull him up, Y/n groaned in frustration. “Come on! There’s a bazaar downtown that I wanna check. Can’t have me go alone at this time, right?”

“I don’t wanna get up. Let’s just watch Netflix,” he said as he turned on the TV.

Y/n snatched the remote from his hand and turned the TV back off. “Nope. Let’s go. Tomorrow is Saturday anyways, you can watch the TV all you want.”

Namjoon sighed. “What do I get for this?”

Y/n grinned and cupped her cheeks. “You get to spend time with me.”

“Ugh, I don’t want that,” he teased as he pulled himself up from the couch. “I'm tired of seeing your face.”

“You, mister.” She jabbed her finger at him. “Owe me a boba tea, remember? Now is the perfect time to redeem yourself.”

“Remind me not to wake you up again on Sunday mornings.” He shuddered at the memory of seeing bed headed Y/n screaming on top of her lungs, telling him not to wake her up from her beauty sleep or whatever.

“Are you seriously wearing that, though?” he asked as he eyed Y/n’s outfit.

She still wore the same outfit that she had worn since this morning. There was a noticeable coffee stain on her left cufflinks, indicating she probably had bumped her mug with her hand by accident. Her skirt was already crinkled especially on the bottom part. Disclaimer, he totally did not just check her out. Her heels made her feet red and look swollen. They clearly cut off her circulation, but somehow she insisted on wearing them anyways, claiming that she felt sexy and smart and beautiful in them.

“They look uncomfortable,” Namjoon had commented one day after noticing how her heels made Y/n walk weirdly. “Why don’t you just wear sneakers?”

Y/n scoffed, as if what he had said was ridiculous. “Real women don't wear sneakers to work, Joon.”

“Whatever you say, Y/n.” Namjoon had tried hard to stop the urge of rolling his eyes.

Ever since that, he didn’t even want to talk about her heels. “Let her suffer if she wanted that,” he always reminded himself.

Y/n walked to his full-length mirror inside his room and stared at herself. “What’s wrong with this?”

“Just change into more comfortable clothes,” Namjoon said from the living room. “You’d look out of place."

With that, Y/n closed the bedroom door behind her and grumbled. “This is perfectly fine. People do go out after work to a bazaar.”

She actually said more than that. Way more. But at this point, he didn’t even bother to listen to her. It wasn’t like this was his first time ignoring her blabbers. And he was pretty sure she was used to it, too.

Minutes later, Y/n came out to the living room wearing Namjoon’s hoodie and sweatpants. She even managed to find a pair of his sandals that he thought was gone. Sure her outfit now swallowed her, but at least it was more comfortable.

“Alright, let’s go!” was the last thing she said before they left his apartment.

A boba tea and a corn dog later, Namjoon and Y/n were walking aimlessly. They were just following the direction other people were taking, not really sure themselves where they would end up.

“Aren’t you glad I forced you out of that stuffy apartment?”

“Nope. I still rather be on my couch.”

Y/n frowned. “What?” She gestured to their surroundings. “This is so much better.” She saw a small bench and sat on it, gesturing to him to sit beside her. “I think you need to take a breather and just relax, my dude. Whatever problems you have at work, they don’t exist for now.”

“It’s easy for you to say that.”

Y/n slurped hard on her drink, trying to get as many bobas as possible into her mouth. “You-”. Chew. “-think too much-”. Chew. “-of things you can’t-”. Chew. “-control.”

“Okay, finish your drink first. That’s disgusting.”

Y/n laughed while trying to stop her bobas from coming out of her mouth. After succeeding to suppress her laughter, she chewed on the bobas thoroughly before swallowing them.

“You’re an overthinker who misses on great things in life just because you’re too caught up in your problems. And when you realize you missed those things, it’ll be all too late.” Y/n then continued finishing her drink in silence while he was registering what she just said.

He was so focused on his thoughts to the point he didn’t even realize when Y/n had left him to find a trash can. He was only drawn back to reality when Y/n came to him running and yelling his name in excitement.

Y/n spoke in rapid speed to the point she sounded like speaking gibberish. The only thing he heard was “fortune teller” before Y/n yanked on his hand and dragged him to a small kiosk.

The kiosk was mostly empty. No customers were surrounding it unlike other kiosks. But it wasn’t what set it apart from the others. It was the big letters in front of it that read “fortune teller” in big bold text. Inside, there was only one woman sitting, unmoving, seemingly reading something, a book maybe.

Aware of his and Y/n’s presence, the fortune teller looked up from the book and smiled at them both. Unlike what the media portrayed fortune tellers were, that they were scary and mysterious, her smile was warm and friendly.

“Is there something I can do?” The fortune teller closed the book and stood up.

“Yes!” Y/n replied. “My friend here-” She gestured to Namjoon “-wants to know his future.” After a few seconds of pause, she added, “And about his soulmate too, please.”

Before he could respond, the fortune teller beat him to it. “Very well.” The fortune teller cracked her knuckles before staring deep into his eyes. Her gaze somehow made him feel naked, vulnerable.

They hold their gaze for a while. As seconds became minutes, he felt breathless, and hot. The gaze that at first was soft but strong, became sharper and almost felt painful. But not long after, the fortune teller focused back at Y/n who stood still beside him, gawking at her. He could finally let out a breath that he didn’t realize he had been holding.

“From what I can tell, your friend is on the right track. He’s doing well, but he won’t be if he can’t appreciate the simple things in life,” the fortune teller explained. “As for his soulmate, he already knows who they are, he even knows where they are. The only thing left for him to do is just to figure it out within himself.”

The thing was, he didn’t believe in fortune tellers, astrology, and whatnot. He never even cared about things like that. But seeing Y/n’s grin and the glint in her eyes as she thanked the fortune teller and gave her a tip, he didn’t say anything against it. As much as Y/n called him boring, he wasn’t the type to burst people’s bubble of happiness.

Throughout the walk to Y/n’s apartment, she kept talking about what the fortune teller had said.

“Gosh, I can’t believe you know who your soulmate is.” Y/n lightly punched on his arm. “You never tell me anything.”

Namjoon shrugged. “What’s there to talk about? I don’t know who my soulmate is either. I apparently need to figure it out myself.”

“I know what we can do!”

This sounded like he was about to be in for a bad time. “What?”

“Let’s go do something different! Maybe you'll find your revelation or whatever.”

He really wanted to scoff. “How does that even work?”

“Don’t know. But it's worth a try. Do you want to figure out who your soulmate is or not?”

Of course he did. “Of course I do. What kind of question... ”

Y/n clapped her hands together. “Good! Tomorrow I’ll pick you up. Get ready for a week full of surprises.”

“Wait what? I never signed up for this.”

Y/n rolled her eyes. “You did sign up. You said you want to find your soulmate.”

“But not tomorrow!” he raised his voice in frustration. “We have work on Monday.”

“Just call your boss that you’ll be gone for a week.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Dude, bro, my guy, you need to live in the moment. Plus, you haven’t taken a leave in years. Years, Namjoon.”

He inhaled long and hard before exhaling it slowly. His best friend seriously was going to be the death of him.

“Please.” Y/n looked up at him. He suddenly became aware of the massive height difference they had.

It wasn't that Y/n was short. She said it herself that she was the average height although he didn’t really believe that. She just looked so tiny compared to him. But, on the other side, Namjoon was quite tall for a guy around his age.

He groaned. “Ugh, not the puppy eyes. Seriously.”

“Does that mean I win?” There was a soft gleam of hope in her eyes.

Namjoon was a strong man. At least, that was what everyone who knew him had said about him. So it was weird for the always composed and well mannered man to have a weakness. And to have that weakness took in the form of his childhood best friend was even weirder. What in his best friend that didn’t exist in literally anything that could melt his heart like no other? Puppies and kittens could never even compare. His cute bonsais, too, couldn’t even compare.

He might never find the answer to that. Heck maybe he found out about his soulmate before he could answer that. He could only shook his head in disbelief as Y/n put her bunny headband on his hair.

It was Saturday at 8 a.m, the morning after the fortune teller incident. Y/n simply invited herself into his apartment while he was still in the shower. It was one of the things he regretted after giving her the keys to his apartment. It was meant to be used during emergencies, not for her getting all cozy here and thinking this was her place.

He was walking out of the bedroom, fully dressed and ready for the day, when he heard a sizzling sound coming from the kitchen. He stepped closer to the kitchen and as it came into view, he saw Y/n cooking with her back facing him.

He thought he was being quiet, but apparently not because Y/n turned around and greeted him with a beaming smile.

"Morning! I'm making you some omelette and there's coffee on the table." She pointed at the mug on the table with smoke still puffing out of it. "Exactly two teaspoons as you like it." Then she continued cooking as if nothing had happened.

He was speechless as he looked at the mess in his kitchen. Egg shells on the floor, ketchup smeared all over the kitchen counter, and some puddles on the floor could be seen. It was as if a tornado just came.

“What is all this?” he asked when he finally found his voice.

Y/n carefully plated the omelette before proudly putting the plate beside the coffee. “This is what I call breakfast. Bet you usually only drink coffee in the morning.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. Look at the kitchen, Y/n! Who’s gonna clean up after this?”

Y/n took a look around the kitchen with a readable and all too familiar facial expression.

“I know what you’re gonna say,” Namjoon said as he took a seat. “And to that, I say, I don’t want to clean up your mess. You clean it up.”

She lifted her hands in surrender. “Fine, geez. A thank you would be nice.”

“You not making a mess would be appreciated.”

“Touché."

Usually when he had coffee in the morning, he felt that adrenaline rush. The kind that made you feel giddy, restless, and even made you tremble. This time, thanks to Y/n's cooking, he didn’t feel any of those. He was tempted to tell Y/n about this, but in the end, he just kept it to himself. He didn’t want to fuel her ego. It wasn’t a very good idea to do that so early into this “Journey to Find Namjoon’s Soulmate” or whatever Y/n had called it last night.

Even if he told him all those things, chances were she wasn’t going to listen to him as she was busy admiring her work on his hair. The bunny headband finally put on properly and held his hair away from his face.

“Have you ever put on a face mask before?” Y/n handed him a face mask.

“Umm, no.”

“Let me put it on you.” She smiled as she took back the face mask from his hand.

Within seconds, her trained hands successfully put the face mask on his face. And not long after, her face was also wearing one.

“We’re matching!” Y/n grinned at him. “Let’s take a selfie,” she said as she pulled out her phone.

He wasn’t big on selfies, he didn’t even remember the last time he took one. But seeing the huge smile on his best friend’s face was enough for him to reluctantly agree.

He forced a smile at the camera. He realized it looked awkward as Y/n shoved their photo in front of his face to show him the result. It looked even more ridiculous with the bunny headband on top of his head. However, the girl looked like she didn’t mind as she kept babbling on about how this was their first selfie in years and she wanted to upload it so bad.

“-will ask me about you. And what’s going to happen to me when you date one of them?”

A silence followed her ramblings until he realized she just asked him a question.

He cleared his throat. “First of all, just because I’m dating, doesn’t mean you can’t still be my best friend. Second of all, isn’t the purpose of this… adventure is to find my soulmate?”

Y/n eyes widened in realization. “You’re right! I’m gonna post it then.” As she was about to hit the post button on her phone, she looked at him. “Wait. What should I caption it?”

20 minutes later, when the once cold mask was no longer cold and it started to dry a bit, Y/n carefully peeled the mask from both their faces.

“What do you feel?” Y/n asked expectantly.

Namjoon didn’t even know how to answer that. Truth to be told, these skin care products never really made an impactful difference on his skin, hence the reason he didn’t have a skin care routine. The most he ever did was just wash his face with a face wash and even that was a leftover he found in his sister’s old room a few weeks after she left for uni. A side note, don’t even ask him why he was in her room, he wouldn’t answer it truthfully. His parents would probably say that he missed her, but he knew it wasn’t true… right?

The lack of response from him was enough for Y/n to catch on what he was feeling.

“You don’t feel anything, huh?”

“Wetness on my face.” His answer sounded more like a question.

“You’re unbelievable. Well, since today is just the first day, I’ll let it go. But, the correct answer to that is refreshed, Joon,” Y/n explained in exasperation as she scratched her head.

“What does that have to do with finding my soulmate?”

“You might find out your soulmate faster if you’re not stressed,” Y/n said as a matter-of-factly.

He sighed. “You know what, I don’t even bother to argue with you.”

“Cause you know I’m right.”

That night when he was about to fall asleep, when he was only half-aware of his surroundings, the memory of today’s activity played in his mind. The messy kitchen as his best friend attempted to make him breakfast. Her proud smile as she served his food. The focused look on her face when he was putting on her headband and the face mask on him. And lastly, the tired smile she offered him as she said goodbye when the day ended after they binge watched on Netflix. For the first time in years, he fell asleep with a smile plastered on his face.

The next morning on Sunday, he woke up much earlier than usual. He even woke up feeling energized. He could even feel anticipation bubbling inside of him. The last time he felt like this was when he was around 9 and his parents gave him tickets to Disneyland as a birthday gift. Simply put, he felt like a kid again, waiting for great things that were about to happen today.

As he smiled at the memories of his childhood, he couldn’t help but realize that maybe Y/n was right all along. She always nagged on him because all he did was to mope around on his old couch and get drunk when things got too hard.

“Live in the moment, dude,” she had said multiple times. “You worry too much like an old man who fears the end of the world.”

What a great metaphor, Y/n.

Just like the day before, Y/n entered his apartment without notice. But this time, instead of being in the shower, he was already dressed and waiting for her. He could feel his heart beat get faster when he heard the door being opened.

Y/n widened her eyes in surprise before she smirked. “I like the energy. Let’s just go, then!”

For the second activity in The Journey to Find Namjoon’s Soulmate, Y/n took him to an…

“Animal shelter?” Namjoon asked in disbelief.

Y/n nodded. “I want to see cute animals.”

“We can just go to the zoo.”

“It’s expensive. And they don't really care about animals."

Ever since the start of their friendship, he could never win against her wittiness. So this wasn’t really a rare occurrence where she said an argument so wrong yet so right.

“But a zoo is intended for exactly that purpose. Rather than you playing with those sheltered animals but not adopting one of them in the end,” Namjoon explained.

“Oh, shush. Stop being a party-” Y/n’s eyes suddenly caught a puppy running towards her. “Oh my God, come here, baby!” she yelled as she scooped the puppy up in her arms.

For a few minutes, it was just Y/n cooing at the puppy and he was just eyeing her in amusement. He knew that she would go mushy and all excited around animals, so he couldn’t really blame her for seemingly forgetting about him. Plus, he didn’t want to miss out on seeing Y/n using baby voices to talk to the animals.

His amusement was interrupted when Y/n abruptly shoved the puppy towards him.

“Wha-? I don’t-”

“Just take it. We’re here for you, not me.”

Namjoon sighed in defeat as he accepted the puppy into his arms. Its tail wagging so fast, going for miles per second, to the point he could feel its body shaking from the impact. Its big eyes looking up at Namjoon in… adoration? Maybe going to the shelter might be one of his favorite activities from now on.

They only went home after an entire day spent at the shelter. Namjoon was tired, he almost couldn’t keep his eyes open, but Y/n was probably more tired than him cause she kept running around to chase every puppy and kitten she saw.

He tried to stop her, knowing she would get tired, but she said, “Each one of them deserve love, okay,” before running around yet again.

Now as they sat in the bus on their way home, he saw out of the corner of his eyes Y/n’s head bobbing down every once in a while, following the motion of the bus. He snorted while he tried to hold his laugh. What he had thought would happen, really happened.

Feeling bad because he knew that would feel uncomfortable, he lightly directed Y/n’s head to rest on his shoulder. Instinctively, Y/n snuggled further into his shoulder to make herself more comfortable and when she was finally satisfied, she sighed.

This awfully looked like he was going to have a guest tonight.

The third day was on a Monday. He knew he was weird, Y/n had told him repeatedly, but he really liked Mondays. For him, it was finally the day in which he could do something about his problems at work that he just left off on Friday.

“I swear, you’re literally the personification of weird,” Y/n had commented one day.

To be honest, he didn’t really care if he was really what she had said. Can’t someone like something without being judged?

Right after they both woke up and had breakfast, Y/n went back to her apartment to get ready for the day.

Before leaving, she instructed him to find light clothes as they were going to spend time outdoors for the day. Exactly like what she said, he chose to wear an old t-shirt he had owned since he was in college and khaki shorts he found at the pit of his wardrobe.

“I hope they have mint choco flavor!” Y/n jumped up and down in excitement as they got closer to the ice cream parlor.

“Ew, why do you even like to eat cold toothpaste?” Namjoon asked rhetorically.

Y/n gasped. “What is this mint choco slander? You, mister, have never tasted life until you eat mint choco ice cream.”

“No, thanks. I bet I’d taste death eating those.”

Flabbergasted, Y/n stopped in her tracks and glared at him. “You-”

He quickly cut her off, “Let’s not continue the argument before there’s a bloodbath.”

Y/n chuckled proudly. “Because you know it’d be your blood that’ll be spilled.”

“Um, no,” he interjected. “I think you mistake your blood with mine.”

“Really? You wanna fight?” Y/n took a fighting stance in front of him in which Namjoon just grabbed her elbow and pulled her to walk again.

"Stop that! The kids will think you're one of them," he mumbled.

They were at a busy park surrounding a lake. Kids were running all around the place. Some parents tried to chase them but some went as far as scolding them. A small portion of parents even just let their kids disappear into the crowd of people. He doubted those parents even care about their kids.

He never knew such a place like this existed. During the three days he spent on this journey, he had learned and knew more things than all of his life experiences combined. Maybe he’d have to thank Y/n after they reached the end of this journey.

“I start to think this journey is just your excuse to have a holiday.”

“No way. This is totally 100% for you. Speaking of that, do you already have an idea who your soulmate might be?”

Namjoon shook his head as he opened the door to the ice parlor and gestured to her to enter first. “Just get your damn ice cream.”

There was a long line of people waiting to order, but soon enough, it was their turn.

Even before the cashier could greet them, Y/n already blurted out a question. “Do you have mint choco flavour?”

“We’re unfortunately ran out of it. Maybe you want to try mocha instead?”

Y/n pouted in disappointment as she was trying to find the next best flavor in the menu.

Though mint choco ice cream was his mortal enemy, he couldn’t help but to feel a pang of sadness upon seeing his best friend’s reaction. There was nothing worse than having your first choice unavailable.

“You know what? I changed my mind, bubblegum is now my favorite,” Y/n commented as they walked out of the parlor. A cup of bubblegum flavored ice cream in Y/n’s hand and the vanilla one in Namjoon’s. “Goodbye, mint choco.”

“See? You’re finally agreeing with me.”

“Yeah, but for different reasons. I still think it tastes good, but bubblegum is better. It’s a good thing they ran out of mint choco.”

“Your taste in ice cream is weird.”

“Why would they make these flavors then if not for me to enjoy?” she argued as she put more ice cream into her mouth. She closed her eyes and hummed in content. “I haven’t had ice cream in weeks. I miss how cold it feels.”

“I think you’re exaggerating.” There was no way, in his opinion, not even in alternate universes where she could stand not eating ice cream for weeks. She had a sweet tooth and couldn’t stand not eating ice cream in weeks, at least that was what he knew since the start of their friendship.

“Nope. These past few weeks, my boss has been giving me double the amount of work. I have to work overtime and by the time I’m off work, all ice cream places have closed. So I’m gonna savour all of this as much as I can. God knows when I can get ice cream again.”

Shortly after she said that, a kid, approximately around 9 years old, bumped into Namjoon and accidentally made him drop his ice cream. The kid, unaware of what just happened, just mindlessly bowing and saying sorry before running again to chase his friends.

“Oh no!” Y/n squatted down near the sorry sight of his ice cream.

Before he even registered what was happening, she handed him her ice cream. “Hold it for me.”

Instinctively, he held her ice cream. “Y/n, there’s no need for that. We can find the cleaning service and ask them to clean it.”

He didn’t know whether she was purposely ignoring him or she was so focused to the point she didn’t hear him. All he knew was the fact that she kept on cleaning up as best as she could. And that there was nothing he could do to stop her.

A few minutes later, Y/n jumped up from her squatting position. “All done!” She tossed the now dirty tissue in a trash can nearby.

She thanked Namjoon and took her ice cream back from him. But instead of eating it herself, she scooped some with the spoon and directed it in front of his face.

He must have looked bewildered because Y/n smiled and spoke, “We must share since you lost yours.”

He could swear when she said that, he felt warmth all around his body, originating from his chest. She just said she missed ice cream, yet when he lost his, she didn’t hesitate to share it.

“No, but thanks.”

Y/n frowned and softly touched the tip of the spoon to his lips. Reluctantly, he let her spoon-feed him.

“You said you want to savour it?” he asked after he swallowed.

Her answer, however, was something he never expected coming out from her mouth.

“What’s sweeter than eating ice cream is sharing it with your best friend.”

He swore he almost broke into tears at her words.

He knew how much she loved sweet foods. She even frequently ran to him crying when her brother ate all of her chocolate when they were kids. She broke many friendships because they didn’t want to accept her overpriced candies as presents. Heck, even a moment ago they were arguing about ice cream flavors!

This was a new side of Y/n that he just saw. A side she never showed him before, her best friend slash her only friend. He felt like he was learning more about Y/n than he was about his future soulmate.

So that was how their third day ended. Namjoon and her sitting on a bench facing the lake as they take turns to take a bite of her ice cream.

On Tuesday, the fourth day, Y/n had the genius idea of going on a road trip. It was a huge problem, because one: he couldn’t drive, and two: he wasn’t about to let Y/n drive for hours on end.

“This doesn’t sound like a very good idea,” Namjoon said for the millionth time that morning as Y/n stuffed their luggages into the tiny trunk in her tiny car. “Plus, I don’t think your car can withstand long hours on the road.”

"Shush." She forcefully closed the trunk. "You can't drive, therefore you don't deserve to have an opinion."

The car in question was a 2010 car that originally was owned by Y/n’s dad and given to her when she got a driver’s license. Please note that Y/n had told him long ago that she actually didn’t drive that much and probably wouldn’t need a car since she enjoyed taking the bus to work. Nevertheless, she refused to sell the car when she was in need of money after moving out of her parents’ house. She had said, and Namjoon still remembered it clearly, that, “I want to keep this bad boy until he’s an antique, then I want to sell him to the highest bidder, so I can be rich."

‘Okay’, Namjon had thought, ‘but antique cars are usually just sitting in the garage, not being overworked like Y/n’s.’ However, he never said anything, so Y/n automatically had thought she won again against him.

Minutes later, they were already on the road, going nowhere in particular. Namjoon was still steadfast in his stance. This wasn’t going to end well.

But what if he could persuade her to turn the car around by another means? He wasn't going to pass up this opportunity, so he tried again.

"Won't you be tired? Sleepy?" asked him.

"I'm not weak, Namjoon. Contrary to what you see me as, I'm as strong as you are, if not stronger."

"I lift three times a week." His words sounded more like a question.

"I walk up the stairs to the fifth floor multiple times a day."

Okay, this wasn't where the conversation was supposed to flow, but he wasn't going to back down.

"It's not my fault your apartment is crappy," he clapped back. “They can’t even fix their damn lift.”

"They will get it fixed soon, don't worry."

"That's what they said months ago!"

"Then what do you want me to do?" she challenged him.

"Find a new apartment!"

"They're all expensive. Plus, I’ve lived there since college, I’m kinda attached to it."

"You're a hopeless cause," he mumbled quietly, she probably didn't hear him.

After a few seconds of silence, Namjoon tried again, this time using another different approach.

"What if something terrible happens?"

"No, it won't. Relax. Chill. You're worrying too much. Why don't you just take a nap?"

"You're too chill, Y/n. We go out to nowhere without booking-"

"It's okay, really."

“How?” he asked, exasperated of how calm she was when they were about to go somewhere empty handed and with no planning whatsoever.

“How? Umm, I was on a road trip once.”

He wasn’t convinced. “When? You never tell me anything about it.”

“I don’t need to tell you everything I do! It was when I was 12. My dad and uncle took me along with them to go around the country.”

“12 years old, Y/n! You were 12. Now you’re in your 20s.” Namjoon wasn’t amused at all at this point. “Turn the car around now!”

“What? No!” Y/n exclaimed. “This is an important part of the journey. Being at a place you’re familiar with won’t help you dig deeper into yourself. You’d just be too preoccupied with your problems.” Then Y/n finished her speech off with a quiet mumble, “You’ll never find anything new by being in your comfort zone.”

Namjoon hated once again at how right her words were. He really wanted to argue with her, but she was right. Being on his couch all day, doing the same things everyday, wouldn’t change anything in his life.

He took a deep breath to calm himself down. “Fine, okay, you win. Happy?”

Out of the corner of his eyes, Y/n grinned. “Very.”

That night they arrived at a small motel that probably only had like 10 rooms at most. It had a homey feeling, but the stench coming from the lobby, though. It was unbearable for him.

As they dragged their suitcases while they were trying to find their room amidst the numberless doors, Namjoon asked Y/n, “Why are we in this crappy motel again?”

To answer that, Y/n shrugged. “Don’t know. I just saw the signs and went straight in.”

“Didn’t you smell something at the receptionist?”

They finally arrived in front of their room. They didn’t actually know it was their room, but based on the instructions that the creepy receptionist just gave them, there was a high chance this was it.

Y/n answered as she opened the door. “Yeah. The receptionist actually whispered to me that they just finished eradicating rats. He said there was an infestation in the lobby.”

He couldn’t help but to grimace while following her into the room. She had been told about all of that and she still decided to rent a room. He would never understand her way of thinking even after years of friendship.

As if she could read his mind, she spoke, “Don’t worry. All the rats were successfully killed and all of them were in the lobby. We’re safe.”

“How do you know?”

“I asked him. I’m not stupid, Joon.”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Geez, chill. I just asked you a question.”

And that was how their fourth day concluded.

For the first time since the start of the journey, Namjoon finally initiated an activity on the fifth day.

He managed to browse on his phone for things they could do, eat breakfast with whatever food they had, and even pack lunch for the both of them before Y/n even woke up.

When she woke up, he hesitantly asked her to go hiking. Throughout the journey this far, he only followed wherever she wanted to go, so he didn’t really expect the reaction that he got from her after proposing his idea.

She widened her eyes as she digested his words and her breakfast. “Hiking? Where?”

“Behind this motel, there’s a small hill. What do you think?”

Y/n nodded a little too enthusiastically. “Let’s go. Spending a day with nature doesn’t hurt.”

Oh, how wrong she was.

The idea was for them to hike together, maybe even side by side, as they enjoyed the view. But instead, Namjoon left her a solid 50 meters.

Perhaps it was because he was taller, therefore he had longer legs and strides, or because he was excited, so he walked faster, or even both. No one really knew for sure, not even him.

“Joon!” she called once again in the span of less than 5 minutes. “Don’t walk too fast!”

Namjoon sighed as he stopped in his tracks, waiting for her to catch up with him. She was lucky she was his only best friend or he would’ve strangled her by now because of her naggings.

Quite a surprise to himself, when she finally caught up with him, he squatted down and ordered her to ride on his back. He wasn’t sure what had possessed him, but he just went with it. Maybe his unconscious thought that she would quit complaining if she was on his back. There was only one way to find out.

“Why? I can walk on my own.” She wiped the sweat on her forehead with a tissue.

He scoffed. “You look like you’re about to pass out any second. Just shut up and let me carry you.”

He didn’t know what he had expected from giving someone a piggyback ride and that someone to be Y/n, but he was sure a strangling grip around his neck wasn’t part of the deal.

“Can you-” Gasp. “-not strangle me?”

Y/n immediately let go of him. The warmth of her embrace suddenly disappeared. “Oops. Sorry.”

Once they arrived at the top, Y/n jumped off his back. “Woah, this is so cool.” She pointed at the motel that now looked small. “That’s our motel!” she exclaimed.

They found a large flat rock that they both could sit on and ate lunch together.

As she munched on her food, she asked, “Have you figured out who your soulmate is?”

“Not yet. I start to think this doesn’t work.”

“Good things take time, my dude.”

Oh, how he really wished it was true.

“Hey,” Y/n’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Do you know that I always wanted to tick off ‘hiking’ from my wishlist?”

“The wishlist you had since you’re 10?”

She nodded. “After more than a decade, I finally finished everything on my wishlist.” She suddenly broke into a fit of giggles. “I’m gonna make a new one once we’re home.”

“What’s going to be in it?” he asked curiously.

Y/n took a moment to think before answering, “Maybe… to find my soulmate.” It came out more like a question rather than an answer.

She abruptly chuckled. “Wouldn’t it be crazy if in the end we figure out our soulmates in this journey?”

A lightning fast thought struck him but disappeared just as fast as it came. Throughout the rest of the day, he was trying to recall that thought to no avail.

The next day, on Thursday, they were going home. They couldn’t handle another hour, no scratch that, they couldn’t even handle another minute at the motel. Opposite to what Y/n had initially thought, the stench of rat carcass reached far beyond the lobby to their room.

A series of “see I told you so”s later, Namjoon finally broke her.

“Yes, Namjoon. Thanks for telling me that. I know you’re right and I’m wrong. Now please put on a song, I want to sing.”

Another thing Y/n was bad at, according to him, was singing. He knew she liked to sing, she’d told him about it, but he never understood how she managed to be so confident yet so bad at it. If he were told to rank between her ability to sing and choose a good motel, he’d probably have put singing as the first place based on how bad she was at it. Call him a bad friend, but he was just being honest.

However, he still played a song just to satisfy her. An easy song that no one can screw up, but he knew she would still screw up anyways. After all, enduring her cracked singing voice was the least he could do after being driven from and to a crappy motel.

And then she sang. And sang. And sang. One song turned to three turned to five then ten and fifteen. Before she went for the sixteenth song, Namjoon stopped her.

“Aren’t you thirsty from singing?” Nice catch! The question was just an attempt to make her stop a while so he could regain his hearing.

“Don’t even have to ask.”

As she gulped down water from her flask, Namjoon eyed her warily. He prayed, and he was an atheist, that she would forget about singing.

He didn’t know which God had answered his prayers, but when Y/n put down her flask, she already babbled about something else other than singing. Looked like the world, and God, were on his side today.

She was talking about the random bird that was flying straight to her car, almost hitting the car. Also about a dog that stuck out its head from the car beside them. And about how expensive the motel was for being smelly and dirty.

Lastly, “Do you think I cut out to be a singer?”

Yeah, maybe he was pushing his luck.

Day seven fell on a Friday. They spent the day walking hand in hand leisurely on the beach. Beside him, Y/n was talking about what color she should dye her hair next.

“I think I should go with green. What do you think?” Y/n nudged his side with her elbow and wiggled her eyebrows.

“Your boss won't let you dye your hair crazy colors,” he said. “Please don’t do anything that can get you fired.”

Y/n pouted at his answer. But soon her frown vanished as her eyes fell upon a bikini in a display of a store.

Namjoon exhaled. He knew exactly what was going to happen.

True enough, Y/n pulled on his hand that was still clasped in hers towards the store and only stopped after they were in front of the display.

“What a cute bikini!” she cooed before running inside the store, leaving a bewildered Namjoon outside.

Right when he entered the store, he heard a squeal that could only belong to one person.

He turned to the source of the sound and saw Y/n laughing with a store clerk. A male and handsome store clerk.

He wasn't the type of person who gets jealous easily or possessive, but he never saw Y/n with a man other than himself. So he couldn't really help it when he felt jealousy seeped through his gritted teeth. But he soon had forgotten about it when Y/n looked up at him and grinned.

Y/n approached him while holding a bikini set.

“This is their latest design. I’m gonna try it. Wait for me!” Then she disappeared to the fitting room before he could remind her that she didn’t wear bikinis.

Throughout the time he had known her, not even once she ever said anything about bikinis, let alone wearing one and he had known her since they were in diapers. What made her suddenly want to have a bikini?

Minutes later, after a series of clanking noises and a few curses, Y/n came out of the fitting room and he couldn’t believe what he saw. Surely the fitting room was a magic box or something, because there was no way his childhood best friend, his innocent Y/n, came out looking like a model out of a magazine. Well, maybe more like a model before they got heavily photoshopped since he still could see some tiny spots, cellulite, and scars on her skin. And maybe a plus size model because her hips would be considered wide compared to those models. But he didn’t mind them, they made her look more… natural, more human.

While he was busy admiring her, a cough suddenly woke him from his daze. He turned to see the store clerk from earlier, now standing beside him.

“You look very beautiful,” he commented, not minding the killing glare coming from Namjoon.

Y/n, without heeding the store clerk’s compliment, asked, “Joon, do you think this is okay?”

Namjoon was tempted to say, “Just okay? You look like a greek goddess who just blessed me with her presence.” But he was too paralyzed to say anything.

“I think you look great,” the store clerk spoke up again. For a split second right after he said that, he looked at Y/n’s thighs before looking at her eyes again.

It happened so fast, Namjoon thought he was just imagining it. But when Y/n’s facial expression turned sour and she quickly went back to the fitting room, he was wondering whether she saw that too.

His suspicion was confirmed right after they left the store.

“I can’t believe it!” she said while stomping beside him. “He looked at my thighs, Joon! Did you see it, too?”

He just hummed.

Y/n huffed. “I’m going to file a complaint to their manager.”

“You won’t do that,” he replied knowingly.

“I’m gonna make it viral, then. Let the whole world see how horrible he is.”

Namjoon really wanted to laugh at how ridiculous that sounded. “How? You don’t have footage of him doing it.”

“Damn, you’re right,” she mumbled. “Maybe I’m just not meant to have a bikini.”

A lot of thoughts ran through his mind. He wanted to let her know how pretty she looked in that bikini. How captivating the curves in her body were. But in the end, he only suppressed all of that. In his justification, he wanted a more appropriate timing. He didn’t want to say all that to her when she was mad or she’d think he said that to make her feel better. He wanted not just to comfort her, but to actually make her realize how beautiful she was.

On Saturday, his second favorite day after Monday, Y/n arrived a bit later at his apartment compared the days before. But when she saw him ready for the day, she said, “I’m giving you a chance to wake up late, but whatever.”

As per usual, Y/n didn’t tell him where they were going, and he was surprised when they arrived in front of a large building with a sign that read “library”.

Looking at Namjoon’s puzzled face, Y/n probably could read what was in his mind. “You still have no idea who your soulmate is, right? I just think that maybe it’s because we’ve focused so much on doing physical activities instead of, like, feeding the mind.”

“Huh?”

“Maybe we can do a little bit of reading. Because, you know, reading is like eating but for the mind. Or whatever that quote is supposed to go,” she elaborated.

“I read in my free time.”

“Have you read anything during this entire journey?” she raised an eyebrow.

He rolled his eyes. “That’s because of your brilliant idea of having a journey. Had you let me sit down on my couch, I would’ve read the entire biography of the founding fathers by now.”

“Gosh, you’re so boring. No wonder you haven’t found your soulmate. And for the record, you learned a lot of things from this journey. Things that might help you find your soulmate. You know what, let’s just go.” With that, Y/n pulled on his hand and stepped into the library.

Namjoon was in the middle of reading a philosophy book when Y/n suddenly spoke to him.

“I can’t focus, Joon,” she whined. “I have too many things on my mind.”

Those words were the most terrifying words he had ever heard, especially if they came out of Y/n’s mouth. Every time he heard those words, he felt like he wasn’t being attentive enough towards his friends to the point he didn’t know that something was disturbing their peace. And that feeling was heightened when Y/n was the one in trouble. He knew her for the longest time, shouldn’t he be more caring towards her?

He breath hitched, anticipating what Y/n had to say. “Why?”

She took a deep inhale before exhaling slowly. “I know this stupid because it hasn’t ended yet, but I already miss this journey.”

Obviously he didn’t want to admit it in front of her, she would get a crazy idea otherwise, but he, too, could feel a pang in his chest that felt awfully familiar. It was the same feeling he got when he moved out of his parents’ house and when he was reminiscing the time he spent with his late dog. Also when he graduated from high school and had to leave his high school friends to pursue higher education. He wasn’t a stranger to this feeling. In fact, he knew it too well.

Y/n was right, though. It was indeed stupid to feel this way because they still had one more day together.

So he responded with, “We’re still in this journey. And even after this journey ends, we can still go on adventures together,” as a weak attempt to console her and also himself.

“It’s not the adventures that I miss. It’s the time we spend together. We’ve never spent this much time together.”

Of course he knew that. He knew he was going to miss the time they spent together, but his own pride made him unable to act vulnerable in front of her. Especially in the time when she needed him the most.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, each deep within their own thoughts. That was when a crazy idea suddenly came to him. He usually wasn’t the one coming with crazy ideas, it was kinda Y/n’s thing and she probably would have copyrighted it if it was possible. But he wasn’t just going to be quiet at a time in crises like this.

“We can arrange some small one-day adventures every month. How does that sound?”

Y/n smiled although it didn’t reach her eyes. “Sounds great. Just promise me you won’t rain check on me.”

It worked! He successfully made her smile again. As he cheered inside his mind, he assured her, “I won’t. I’ll write it on my calendar.”

Namjoon dreaded the last day of The Journey to Find Namjoon’s Soulmate more than when he was called for a job interview by a big company. He even had clammy hands and was sweating bullets. His hand trembled as he waited for Y/n to announce what they were going to do on this last day.

“Holiday has to be concluded with a lazy day. So I call for breakfast in bed,” Y/n explained as she once again wrecked his kitchen.

“I’m not in my bed, though.”

“Your bed is not locked for the rest of the day once you’re out of it,” Y/n said in a matter-of-factly.

“But please don’t ruin my kitchen.”

Y/n briefly stopped cooking as she looked around the kitchen. Then she shrugged. “Well, it’s too late. You should’ve said that earlier.”

He originally had thought that Y/n would make food for him, give it to him, clean the kitchen, then left. But he was surprised when Y/n came back to his bedroom while holding a plate of her own after delivering his.

“Move,” she commanded before shimmying beside him on the bed. She grabbed the remote on the nightstand and turned on the TV.

“Now, we relax. Because we’ll be stressed out of our minds tomorrow.” She leaned back and started eating her bacon.

So that was pretty much how their ninth day went. But that wasn’t all.

Long after they had finished their food, they still watched the TV. Messy kitchen and other duties were long forgotten.

As time passed by, Namjoon found himself cuddling Y/n while she rested her head on his buff chest. And not long after, they both fell asleep in that position with the TV still playing in the background.

But all of that couldn’t last long as tomorrow they had to go to work. So after waking up from their nap, they cleaned the kitchen and Y/n went home before it got too dark.

Instantly after Y/n closed the door behind her, Namjoon felt empty. It wasn’t just his apartment that felt empty, but also his mind and soul. He was already used to her constant nagging, her constant company, and her voice. He wanted to run to her and tell her to extend their journey, but obviously, that was impossible. They had responsibilities, especially since they just neglected them for a week.

On Monday, the day that used to be his favorite but now he loathed it, he came home to a voice message from the person he’d been waiting for.

“Hey. Sorry I didn’t talk to you yesterday whether you’ve found your soulmate or not. I was anxious about work so I forgot. Umm… As soon as you receive this message, please call or text me, okay? I wanna hear what you thought.”

He couldn’t help but also notice something in her voice. Fatigue? Or was it sadness? He swore he could hear it and wasn’t just imagining it.

Wanting to check up on her, he automatically called her. First ring. Second ring. Third ring. He waited and waited, but it only went to her voicemail.

Not giving up so early to talk to his best friend, he rang her again. And waited. And waited. And kept waiting. But just like the first time, she didn’t pick up her phone.

In the end, he settled with sending her a text.

He didn’t know why he was suddenly nervous as he typed the message.

It said, “I still don’t have an idea who that might be. Maybe the journey didn’t work. But, hey, are you sad? Or maybe sick?”

He only got the reply the next day at lunch. He kinda hoped to read long messages about how he shouldn’t be so pessimistic and that he surely would find his soulmate, just like how Y/n usually talked. But instead, she just replied with, “What a bummer.”

He only sighed in disappointment.

The next few days were grim and hard for him. His boss gave him so much work despite having to catch up on his other work. Every time he rode the bus from and to work, he remembered Y/n’s slouched position beside him as they came home from the animal shelter. He could almost feel her head on his shoulder again.

Every time he played a song, he got reminded of the time when he had to endure Y/n’s off-key singing. A memory played in his mind every time he passed an ice cream parlor. Heck, he even missed the feeling of anticipation that he felt every time he woke up in the morning.

What was worst of all though was the fact that they didn’t talk at all after her last text. Not even the occasional text messages or sending each other memes just like what they used to do before the journey started.

He knew it was because they both had a lot of catch up to do after neglecting work for a week, but he really wished that they could spare a bit of time to talk together.

Oh, how silly he was when he dismissed her for missing their time together back at the library. What made him feel even more silly was him being a coward and not admitting back then that he was, too, going to miss spending time together.

One particular night, he had trouble sleeping worse than any other night he had been missing Y/n. He kept turning around, hoping to find a comfortable position to fall asleep in, but to no avail. In the end, he gave up and settled to reminiscing their time together.

As he delved into his memories, every single activity they did, every word she said, and every place they went to, his half-awake mind came upon a realization.

He missed her enthusiasm that could lift his bad mood instantly. He missed her pushiness that made him do things he didn’t want to do, only to show him that she knew what he would like. He also missed her short legs and her whines when he walked too fast. He missed her love for animals, her love for mint choco ice cream, her laugh, smile, kindness, and voice.

He missed her beauty, her body, and her sense of style. He even missed her unruly hair. He missed receiving her love and attention. He missed loving her and having her in his arms. He missed loving her. She was the soulmate he had been looking for. She was his soulmate. His. Soulmate.

At the crack of dawn, a few hours after Namjoon could finally fall asleep, he woke up and couldn’t fall back asleep. He had an important thing to tell Y/n. And he had to do it now before she went to work and he lost another chance to meet her.

He checked the clock, it read 5 a.m. He quickly got up from his bed, took a shower, and grabbed a protein bar before leaving.

In the bus on his way to her apartment, he kept tapping his foot impatiently as he chewed on his protein bar. At times like this, he really wished he could drive. But for now he had to settle with the bus.

He jumped out of the bus as soon as it stopped at the bus stop closest to her apartment.

He checked the time again, 5:43 a.m. He still had a few minutes before she woke up.

He arrived in front of her apartment after five minutes of walking. He knocked on the door rapidly to the point he was sure he accidentally woke up the neighbors. However, it was the last thing on his mind.

A minute later, a sleepy Y/n with a bed head opened the door.

“Namjoon, wha-”

He instantly pushed her in and closed the door behind them both.

“Hear me out,” he demanded.

Y/n nodded while yawning.

“Let me help you cross out one activity from your wishlist.”

“Why are we talking about that at this time?”

“Because it’s important."

“I don’t see it."

He started to lose his patience. “It is! There’s one activity that’s really important right? Like, more important than the others.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “Which one? I haven’t written a lot in the list, actually.”

“What are they?"

“To eat a banana-”

For a second, Namjoon was speechless. “What? Banana? Why?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I just miss eating bananas.”

“Okay… What’s next?”

She took a moment to think, then answered, “Ah! I want to buy a new phone. Haven’t changed mine in years.”

He sighed. “Next?”

“Be a babysitter for a day.”

That wasn’t an answer he was looking for. “It’s a job for teenagers.”

“That’s why I only want to do it for a day.”

“Then?”

“Learn skateboarding. A skatepark just opened around here.”

“Anything else?”

She pouted. “You don’t want to help me cross any of those?”

“Not that. But, you said a few days ago on our journey that there was something you wanted to put on your wishlist.”

She tilted her head in confusion. “Really? I don’t remember. What was it?”

He really wanted to strangle someone at this point. Why was she so dense? “You really don’t remember?”

“I don’t think I do. Sorry. What was it, though?”

“You wanted to find your soulmate.”

It took her a second to digest his words, but when she finally did, her eyes widened. “Oh, right. Does that mean you want to help me find my soulmate? Go on another journey? You know, you don’t have to use that as an excuse to-”

“Shut up, Y/n. Stop talking so much.”

Y/n frowned. “Sorry.”

He huffed. “I never knew doing this was going to be this hard.” He looked deep into her eyes. “I don’t want to go on another journey to find anyone��s soulmate. And especially not after I realized last night that we have found our soulmates.”

Before he could say anything else, she cut him off. “Really? Who is yours? What about mine? Do I know-”

“Yes! We know them.” He finally decided to just cut the chase and came out clean. “You’re my soulmate, Y/n. And I’m yours. I was so busy chasing love during our journey to the point I never thought about the possibility of you being my soulmate.” With a softer tone, he concluded, “The fortune teller was right. I knew who my soulmate is and where to find them, but I was too stupid to realize that.”

Y/n was stunned for a while before slowly blinking. Once. Twice. “Wow. That’s crazy.” Then she grinned. “You finally admit that you’re stupid!”

“Y/n, that’s not the point!” he groaned.

“Yes, yes, I know.” She laughed. It sounded like bells in his ears. “I’m just messing with you. So, what should we do now?”

“Y/n.” He turned serious if he wasn’t being serious before. “Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

For a few seconds, Y/n stared at his eyes expectantly, as if she was waiting for something.

“Y/n?”

“What?”

“What do you say?”

“Of course yes, you dummy. I thought it was obvious.”

“Seriously now?” He rolled his eyes.

“Wait. Is this the part where we should kiss?” she asked in wonder.

He was really holding himself hard not to roll his eyes yet again. “Duh, Y/n.”

“But I haven’t brushed my teeth!” Then she disappeared into her bathroom, leaving a bewildered Namjoon in the living room.

As he stared at her bathroom door, he whispered to himself, “What did I just sign up for?”

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stripper-patrick · 4 years ago

Text

China Love 🎎Andy Barber

Part 1

Part 2

Warnings: smut, language, daddy kink, straight up nastiness, dom!Andy, angst, protected, this is a 2 parter

Ima try my best to do a 3rd person POV

Tags: @rebellious-desires @mrsbanreswillseeyou @eclecticblkgirl @designerwriterchic @bvssmob

Relationship: Andy Barber x black plus sized reader

~Andy’s POV~

2:46am and all I can think about is her moans and how good I made her feel. Her smile when I walk into the room, how strong she is, especially strong-minded. Laurie stirs in her sleep resting her arm on my chest and that’s when I look at her. I don’t find the same love I had for her before Y/N. It’s not to say I don’t love her as a person. I do dearly and I love her as the mother of my child but I don’t love her as my wife anymore.

I sigh closing my eyes finally drifting to sleep not wanting to think anymore.

...

Y/N has been avoiding me for about 3 weeks and I can’t help but feel bad. The truth is I don’t know how to tell her I want her. That night is all I can think about. I’ve been so stressed out these last few weeks because my son might be a suspect in a murder case. That’s really been weighing on my shoulders especially since I’ve been kicked off the case. Laurie has been growing cold against me and I think she believes our son did it. There’s no way he did it. And I’m scared to ask just in case she thinks I’m trying to accuse her. I just need to know we’re on the same page as a family.

I’m sitting at my desk when I’ve finally had enough. I press the button for my assistant and she walks in with a smile “hey Lynn can you bring Y/N in here to me please?”

“Yes sir” she leaves and I take a deep breath standing up. I watch out of the glass as Y/N pushes her chair out and walks with Lynn. She opens the door and sees me folding her arms. Flashbacks hit me hard and next thing I know I’m having to shield my boner. She looks so gotdamn good with her beautiful mahogany hair placed into a neat puff on top of her head, her shapely body concealed into a short tight floral skirt and an olive green top with nude sandals with gems on them. Maybe it’s because I was drunk but I’m just noticing the tattoo on the inside of her wrist that says ‘breathe’ in intricate letters

“You wanted to see me” she doesn’t even make direct eye contact with me. I nod towards the seat and she shuts the door and sits down. I lean on the front of my table watching her cross her legs and move back.

“Can I ask why you’ve been avoiding me? And don’t lie”

“Because I feel absolutely terrible about what your wife will say when she finds out you fucked your intern and further more I don’t wanna be fired for fraternizing with my bosses boss” she cuts right the the chase

“Understandable but you won’t get fired” I reassure her

“Andy I already have people that don’t like me in this office and I don’t need our business getting out and I’m scared”

“Don’t be Y/N but if you wanna stop I completely understand” I nod “I just want the old us back” I’m referring to how much we used to be. Like 2 peas in a pod. Bound at the hip. Going from best friends to not even speaking is different for us.

She stares at me with her big daunting brown eyes “I bought you a coffee it might be a lil cold but you’ll be ok” I chuckle dropping my head while she stands up to get it. Honestly I don’t wanna stop what we’re doing because I can’t get enough of her but if that’s what she wants then I won’t argue it.

Y/N comes back with the coffee in her hand and hands it to me. “Have you talked to

Laurie about it yet?” She cross her arms looking at me and it’s just something about her stance that makes me wanna place her over my knee and smack her ass red. Laurie never really enjoyed when I spanked her or pulled her hair or even choked her.

“Absolutely not” I take a sip of the lukewarm coffee. She nods in approval.

“Well back to my never ending paperwork to file”

“Just do these for me and fill this out and have it back to me by the end of the day” I watch as YN scans the paper I gave her skipping the other papers. “This is an official hiring worksheet” she states as a matter of factly.

“I’m aware”

“You wanna hire me?”

“Yea and plus you’ll make more money that what you’re making now as an intern so fill it out and you’ve got it” I smile. She bites her lip and I know she said we should stop but I could fill that pretty pussy one more time.

“Thanks” she smiles. I watch her walk away before taking a deep breath. I sit back behind my desk and continue working.

....

Another late night at the office. I sigh rubbing my hands over my face. I look out and see Y/N coming in here. I believe it’s only me and her in here. I watch as a tall man stand up and walk to her. It’s Neal. He slams papers on her desk startling her yelling throughout the office.

“You dumbass bitch. You filed the wrong fucking stack” she stands up in protest. Anger fills me half way and I’m about to slap the dog shit out of him for talking to her like that.

“Don’t you ever in your gotdamn life say some bullshit like that Neal. I’ve dealt with your shit long enough. That stack was getting filed regardless right? Ard then chill out with the fuck shit” there’s her Baltimore accent. He rises above her with intimidating power and I stand up jogging to the door. Anger washes over me as I swing the door open and stomp towards the pair. I didn’t even notice the shocked scared expression painted on Y/N’s face. I grab Neal by the collar seething like a rabid animal. Without saying a word to him I give him a death glare as a warning.

“Andy” Y/N peeps out. Neal cracks a smile and I press him against the wall watching the humor drain from his face replaced with sheer terror.

“You think this is a joke? Do you?” I scream

“Andy” Y/N screams louder and I come to my senses. I let him go watching him scramble to gather his things leaning collectively. I let out a deep sigh and she’s comes to my aid rubbing my shoulder “calm down I’m ok he didn’t hurt me”

“He wouldn’t have gotten the chance” I take a deep breath

...

It’s been a few weeks since the ordeal and unfortunately after that I was let off my sons case. To make matters worse me and Laurie got into an argument that I’m sure puts us close to the brink of separation. I believe that she thinks Jacob murdered Ben and she won’t admit to it and keeps trying to switch the narrative.

I’m sitting on the couch drinking a beer at 10:30 at night when I get a call. It’s Y/N.

“Hey Y/N” I swig the last of my beer

“Hey Andy are you busy?” She asks. She sounds nervous

“No why?” I ask smiling at the sweet sound of her voice

“Can you come by the office I have something for you”

“Y/N you know they’re gonna lose their shit if they see me in there especially after hours”

“Please it’ll be worth it” she pleads. I can already envision her bottom lip puckered out and her arms crossed. I sigh standing up stretching my back

“I’ll be there soon”

“Yay” she perks up and I laugh hanging up. I grab my coat and hear the footsteps of my basically estranged wife approaching.

“Where are you going? It’s 11:30”

“To handle some business at work” I lie. I’m not even sure what Y/N is up to. If it’s what I think it is then of course Laurie can’t know.

“I thought you were kicked off the case”

“Just some important files I forgot to log into the system. No big deal” I pull on my coat placing my hood on my head and exit swiftly. The heavy rain patters hard on the concrete splashing upward with each step I take toward the car.

I get in and press the start button watching Laurie observe me through the curtain. I reverse out of the driveway pulling off into the night.

....

I open the doors and see YN standing there with a trench coat and some heels on and a bottle of champagne. She doesn’t notice my movements as she smoothes out the wrinkles in her coat trying to perfect herself. She doesn’t realize she’s already perfect.

“To what do I owe this dubious pleasure Ms. YLN?” I inquire placing my hands on my pocket and leaning on the door frame. Her smile is bright when our eyes lock.

“Well I have made a change of my mind on something” I walk towards her where she sits me down in the chair standing before me. My heart is racing and my dick is starting to get hard.

“I bought the champagne just in case you need some extra convincing” she laughs. YN opens her coat dropping it on the floor revealing a beautiful 2 piece LINGERIE set. Her body compliments the piece beautifully and that’s when I really take her in. Not just for her sex appeal but for her in general. She kisses me leaning down and straddling my waist where I hold her hips and grab a handful of what’s really mine.

<3rd Person POV>

Andy can’t help but moan as YN grinds down on his thick throbbing boner just waiting to be released from its shackles. Her dominant side takes over and she grabs his face planting an open mouth kiss on his neck. She works on his pants getting on her knees. Mouth salivating as his dick finally springs free. She wraps her acrylic nails around the base swirling her top around collecting the precum.

Andy sinks in the chair ravishing in her skills. He presses her hair out of the way watching the way her pretty brown eyes stare back at him while she sucks and slurps her way to his soul. His head falls back guiding his hips into the back of her throat never breaking rhythm. She pulls his penis out of her mouth rubbing her thumb and palm over the tip while she takes one of his balls in his mouth. A loud moan escapes his lips. Andy has never experienced this before. Not this detailed to say the least.

All the while he’s receiving glorious pleasure, Laurie is home rocking and sobbing on the shower floor. She’s come to the conclusion that her husband doesn’t love her anymore and than her son is a murderer. While one of those is true she can’t help but feel rage and insanity boil within her.

Laurie collects herself and dries off grabbing a pair of jeans and a a shirt. She places her wet hair up letting it air dry. Her long legs stride to her sons room where he’d playing his game but pauses it and looks at her “are you ok mom?” Jacob asks

“Come with me honey we’re gonna go for a ride” before he can respond Laurie leaves the room going downstairs grabbing her shoes. She’s out of her mind. It’s like she’s watching herself complete this indescribable action and she can’t stop it. But she knows deep down in her heart Jacob murdered this boy and she can’t live her life knowing her son is a murderer.

Andy pulls YN up by the neck dragging his tongue along the bottom of her mouth holding her captive in his spell once again. He pulls her panties off collecting her wetness through his fingers. She’s more than ready. Andy pulls YN down on top of his dick watching her gasp as he fills her up.

“Feel that?” He rasps “that’s all yours”

“It’s mine. You’re mine” she utters rocking and swirling her hips electrifying her heated body. Her hands grip the arm rests of the chair as Andy starts pumping up into her.

Her sweet moans. Andy could listen to her moans all day. Laurie was never loud or pornographic like this. Not by a long shot. He watches her ass bounce on his lap as she licks and nips as his ear. The clapping and slushing sounds of their juices makes music to YN’s ears.

“My dirty little slut so fucking wet for me”

Meanwhile Laurie has just downed her second glass of bourbon while waiting for Jacob to approach. She places her glass in the sink when she hears his footsteps.

“Mom where are we going?” The young boy asks watching his mother look so far gone it looks like it’ll take her aged to return.

“Just for a drive” is all she says before she grabs the car keys walking past him and to the car. Jacob shuts and locks the door placing his hand on the car door and instantly gets this gut wrenching feeling that he needs to stay home.

“Maybe I should stay?” He asks

“Nonsense just get in” she starts the engine and Jacob takes a deep breath getting in the passenger seat. He grabs and locks his seatbelt as Laurie pulls out of the driveway pulling off. She takes an unfamiliar road of what looks like dark road. The sound of the rain was always Jacobs favorite. Only this time it dreaded him even more. The rain was heavy, loud, and unforgiving to any car that would step forth on the slippery slope with a daring intention to overcome it.

“Jacob I’m going to ask you one question and I need you to answer honestly” oh no. Jacob knew this question all too well “did you kill Ben?”

“Mom I already told you no” that wasn’t the answer Laurie had damn near given up her marriage for and she knew it wasn’t the truth. She just couldn’t shake this feeling that he was lying. Before she knows it she starts speeding up to 30 miles an hour when the speed limit is 35 but of course driving slow in this nasty weather is imperative but she didn’t care. It was imperative for Jacob to tell her the truth and she was convinced he wasn’t doing that.

“Jacob I’m being very serious tell me the truth”

“I am mom slow down” he pleads with her trying to understand why he isn’t believing her. Her foot presses on the gas even more going 45 miles an hour He goes on his Apple Watch sending a quick text to his father praying to God he answers immediately.

Andy’s wrist buzzes but he doesn’t even bother looking at it as YN whimpers his name. Her hands shake as they try to find something to grab onto. Andy grabs her arms wrapping them behind her back as he holds her waist down thrusting upward hitting her sensitive g-spot making she cries out and squeeze his thick hands. The black hole soon to swallow the two up at the same time.

By this time Laurie is screaming at Jacob and has reached 70 miles an hour down the long road. Jacob pull on his seatbelt which locked for his protection. “Jacob I know you did. Your father may believe your lies but I don’t. You’re just like him. He lies to me and says he’s doing work and I just know he’s screwing someone else” Laurie is fed up. Tears pool both of their faces. Hers in despair and Jacobs in fear. She reaches 90. Jacob has been trying to call Andy and to no avail, no answer. He’s weighed all the possible outcomes of throwing himself out the car but with his locked seatbelt it won’t work.

“Jacob tell me the truth” before he can answer she presses on the gas going to 100. His chest is tight and Jacob has a feeling he’s going to die.

YN’s legs shake as Andy keeps drilling into her relentlessly wanting to make the biggest mess of her. “Neal can’t have you. No one can have you your mine. Fuck this tight pussy is gonna make me fill you up”

“Andy I’m gonna cum”

“Cum for me darling” As the pair reach their climax grasping onto each other for dear life Laurie reaches hers screaming at Jacob continuing to incline the accelerator as he continues calling his father on his apple watch. The teary eyed boy sees that the speedometer has reached 104 Mph and all attempts to try to stop his manic mother have faded. He silently prays as she yells one final statement “I know you did it”

Andy clutches YN’s quaking body as she whines taking the thrusts of his dick with no other option. The duo moans out loudly just as Laurie and Jacob scream before black consumes the both of them. She crashed the car head first into the side of a brick tunnel.

YN looks at Andy who has a small smile on his face. His hands unwrap from her lower back where he held her in place and she looks at his Apple Watch seeing the 7 missed calls from Jacob and one text reading: “mom losing shit”. YN glances at the time displaying 1:22am. Why is Jacob awake and why did he call 7 times.

“Andy you need to go. Jacob called you 7 times” his eyes go wide as the brown skinned mistress pulls herself off of his deflating member as he tries calling Jacob back. It goes straight to voicemail. Andy can’t think of anything but the worst.

#andy barber smut #andy barber #defending jacob #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans gif #chris evans imagine #andy barber imagine

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bao3bei4 · 4 years ago

Text

girlbosses, male wives, and other lesbian genders

a post about jing wei qing shang. but also mostly about another unrelated movie. spoiler-free.

for a lot of people, mulan 1998 is their definitive “ohhh i’m a chinese woman dressing as a man for contrived reasons and i get absolutely nooo erotic pleasure from this” movie.

however, because i am very special and unique, for me it’s the love eterne 1963. it’s the shaw brothers adaptation of butterfly lovers, the classic chinese folktale. here’s how i’d summarize the movie:

zhu yingtai, an aspiring scholar, convinces her parents to let her dress as a man to attend school. on the way there, she meets liang shanbo, another prospective student, and they become sworn brothers. they study together for three years, growing closer, until zhu yingtai returns home. liang shangbo accompanies her for the eighteen-li journey home while she hints she’s a woman, but he remains oblivious. by the time he learns her gender, her parents have engaged her to another man. he dies of grief, and while she mourns at his grave, it splits open, and she buries herself inside with him. two scraps of her torn outfit turn into butterflies and fly away.

it’s worth noting here that like. this movie is made in the huangmei opera style. so both zhu yingtai and liang shanbo are played by women (betty loh ti and ivy ling po respectively). because of this, basically every level of the film is preoccupied with gender: if we take zhu yingtai’s male performance as credible (as the characters in the movie do) the leads bond through male homoeroticism; the text is ultimately about a heterosexual romance; it is acted out by two women, in a performance that is difficult to mistake as heterosexual or even feminine; and the dialogue of the movie can’t help but remark on this.

basically it asks: what if lesbians could be gay both ways? wouldn’t that be based?

like opera was traditionally made by single gender casts, so roles tended to be genderless, in that the gender of the actor doesn’t determine the gender of the role they play. roles are instead typed into four categories: dan (fem), sheng (masc), chou (clown), and jing (painted face). it’s a sick gender quadinary. each of these roles has further subtypes that are represented through stylized patterns of singing, makeup, costuming, movement etc.

so in butterfly lovers, betty loh ti plays a dan, and ivy ling po plays a sheng. but because of the textual cross-gender play, you end up with a woman playing a woman playing a man who falls in love with a woman playing a man.

i’m going to make a brief digression here into talking about like.. acting theory. in the european tradition, you see it evolving out of early concerns (from stanislavski, brecht) about the fourth wall, and its permeability or lack thereof. in chinese opera tradition, the fourth wall didn’t ever really exist. and mei lanfang, the legendary fanchuan performer, claimed that his success wasn’t just due to his appearance, but rather, his mastery of some nonliteral feminine subjectivity.

If I kept my male feelings, even just a trace, it will betray my true self; then how can I compete for the audience’s affection for feminine beauty and guile?

i’m not going to argue that there’s like, an essence to being a woman because i’m not a fucking idiot. but there’s something to be said for the idea that the gendered interplay between the audience’s perception of the actor, the actor’s perception of themself, and the character they play is a massive part of the appeal of fanchuan performance.

this is echoed by david hwang’s m. butterfly, in which gallimard memorably says, “i’m a man who loved a woman created by a man. everything else—simply falls short.” btw sorry for having the type of brain disease where i constantly reference chinese crossdressing related media. you already know why i have it.

anyway. parallel to that (but far less morally detestably), jin jiang argues “young male impersonators in yue opera embody women’s ideal men—elegant, graceful, capable, caring, gentle, and loyal.” so, trivially, 1) the eroticism embodied by fanchuan performers is distinctly different from their “straight” counterparts, and perhaps less trivially 2) it’s way better.

back to the love eterne for a bit. one of the many reasons it’s lodged itself into my psyche is because there’s something more interesting at play than just all that. normally in opera, to compensate for any perceived residual femininity in the sheng, the dan camps it up even further. so this is how zhu yingtai first appears, this bratty femme pastiche of womanhood. yet within a couple minutes she’s dressed as a man, which she’ll stay as for the bulk of the movie. they do however make compromises with the makeup--more gently lifted eyebrows than the steep angles of the sheng opera beat, and an improbably masculine smoky eye.

that’s right. they performed girlbossification on her.

i don’t want to suggest that she’s straightforwardly feminine. i could write an entire other thing on her relationship to masculinity. instead i want to highlight the erotic interplay not just between the “girl” and the “boss” but also between her and her counterpart: the male wife.

liang shanbo is ostensibly straightforwardly male, but his relationship with zhu yingtai isn’t gay in the ahaha what if i was into my bro way-- it’s a what if i was into my bro and i was his wife way.

that’s right. they performed force fem on a cis woman-man. like when zhu yingtai tells him he can’t watch over her as she recovers from an illness because “boys and girls can’t sleep together,” liang shanbo asks “are you implying that I’m a girl?”

there’s a lot of shit like this that builds up over the course of the movie. it all culminates in that final 18 mile journey. along the way, zhu yingtai compares them to a pair of mandarin ducks, one male & one female. liang shanbo sputters “i am a man inside out-- you shouldn’t--” before graciously conceding, “you may compare me to a woman.”

this is like. a simple punchline. but it’s incredible. it’s true! liang shanbo isn’t a man inside out in that he’s a man and only a man, but rather that he’s a man seen inside first, built for desiring, by a woman & for a woman. as a perpetual object, he becomes a more believable woman than zhu yingtai. and at least in his view, it seems more likely that he could be a woman than her. but beyond that, his permissive tone reads as a kind of wanting in itself--recast, if she wants, “for you, i’ll be a woman.”

obviously this is a classic lesbian mood. who among us has not seen “no gender only lesbian” posts. and speaking of classic lesbians, you might ask. did you just tiresomely reinvent butches and femmes but with a more annoying name? yes. no. okay. well.

first, like butch/femme dynamics have both historical specificity and a classed character such that it’s not rlly that appropriate to impose them on the love eterne. and i guess more importantly, i wanna talk about stuff that isn’t real.

we fight all day about people who confuse performance with performativity, (i use we lightly here. for instance, i go outside every day so i don’t care about discourse) but what if we actually wanted to talk about the former for once? something specifically, whether we choose or are forced into it, that we pretend to be?

anyway. what the hell does all that have to do with jing wei qing shang. i’m going to start by first making the argument that there’s no such thing as a naturally occurring girlboss. i think, honestly, she’s a product of capitalism (“boss” should be the tipoff here) but because both of these stories are set in ambiguously historical china, i’m going to say, instead that she’s a product of uhhh primitive accumulation.

semantics so that i can be canon compliant with marxism aside, if girlbosses are made not born, can you choose to be a girlboss? sheryl sandberg says yes. i don’t disagree, i guess, but i will say: stop glamorizing it! humans only become girlbosses when they’re greatly distressed.

you become a girlboss when you have no other choice not to be one. when your wants are too great to be a woman, when the things you want are not things that women should want-- whether that’s something that really no one should want, like being a ceo, or whether that’s just something like loving a woman (or, as it is quite often, both) -- you have to become something else.

another important part of being a girlboss is that other people are not. your excesses mean that not only do you lose something in the process, but your bosshood comes at the expense of others. the girlboss necessitates a girlworker, or so to speak.

now we’re getting to jwqs. i’m assuming that you haven’t read jwqs, because most people haven’t. that was me until like four days ago. in broad strokes, the novel is about a woman, qiyan agula, who was raised as a prince, and her quest for revenge against the kingdom who slaughtered her people. of course, this involves marrying one of the princesses of that kingdom. it’s all very exciting (lesbian).

what’s striking about jwqs is that both of them seem to fit the girlboss paradigm, in vaguely similar ways. qi yan (agula’s assumed name) seems to follow the lineage of zhu yingtai, who pretends to be a man to achieve her goals. she’s forced to give up much in the process, and also sacrifices a, uh, lot of innocent people. similarly, nangong jingnu, the princess, is inherently a girlboss because royalty sucks. but also, qi yan girlbossifies her over the course of their relationship.

but i wouldn’t say jwqs is girlboss4girlboss. there’s something a little more complicated happening. qi yan isn’t zhu yingtai in that she’s a dan pretending to be a sheng. it seems more like that she was a sheng all along. it’s something that the women of the novel return to often: qi yan seems to be better than a man.

for instance, nangong sunu, jingnu’s older sister, reflects on this.

Nangong Sunu had seen many foolishly loving women who sacrificed everything for the sake of their husbands, but there were rarely any men who would do the same for them.

(...)

Thinking it through, Nangong Sunu felt that Qi Yan was truly becoming more interesting. She intended to observe discreetly for a while, to verify if such a man truly existed in this world. (ch 221)

and i forgot to write down the citation for this, but nangong jingnu also seems to argue that not only is qi yan prettier than a man, but she also seems to be prettier than a woman. (it’s the bit where she’s watching qi yan sleep. help me out here.)

moreover, the way qi yan relates to nangong jingnu is suggestive. jingnu brings out the elements of wanting to be a woman in her. it’s jingnu’s body that makes her wonder what she would look like if she was more feminine. it’s jingnu’s happiness that she resents, wishing that her people could have that as well. it’s her desire for jingnu that makes her a woman.

(another important distinction i suppose--while one person can’t be both a butch and a femme, because the girlboss and the male wife are things we pretend to be until we embody them / them us -- there’s greater slippage between the two.)

anyway, the girlboss/male wife dynamic is reversed wrt who’s actually dressing as a different gender. that suggests an inversion in the implications we see from the love eterne, if we are to take the love eterne as the paradigmatic girlboss text. which i do, for no reason in particular.

so then, is qi yan pretending to be a man? under the opera framework, we’re forced to say no. she’s not pretending to be a man any more so than liang shanbo (as acted by ivy ling po) was. but that, of course, feels incorrect, just looking at the text. is she, then, pretending to be a sheng? i’d strongly say no. the things that others see in her, they authentically see; and she does authentically feel the same things as liang shanbo wrt femininity.

so it has to be the opera framework that jwqs is subverting then. if qi yan kept some trace of her once-womanhood, if qi yan reveals her true self, and yet she still can compete for the audience’s affection-- jwqs’s inversion of the opera framework seems to argue instead that it’s that true self that allows you to compete. it’s being masc that lets you be a desirable woman; it’s being feminine that lets you be a desirable man.

there’s an increased gender ambivalence to jwqs, which make sense, i guess, seeing as it’s not meant to be a het story the way that the love eterne was. for instance, nangong jingnu crossdresses to go out in public, and qi yan remarks that jingnu’s disguise fooled her on their first meeting. when qi yan and jingnu go out in public, both disguised as men, they’re repeatedly perceived as a gay male couple. there’s freedom in that: they could be gay women only privately, they could be straight officially, but they could be anonymously gay publicly.

so it’s through the gay male pretense that they can be gay women; it’s through the qi yan pretense that agula can love women; it’s the qi yan caring husband persona that coaxes jingnu in caring for qi yan in return-- jwqs, more precisely, argues that you can’t be a woman if you’re going to love them, and even less so if you’re going to be loved by one.

this is perhaps well-trodden ground for anyone who has read wittig & certainly many people who haven’t. but it’s the layer of pretense that for me complicates these two narratives.

i think it’s a relatable feeling: wanting something anticipating getting something, or wanting something for yourself anticipating knowing that you already had it. that is, desire in itself being constitutive of that reality.

or less abstractly, knowing that you’d want to be a lesbian if you could, knowing that you’d want not to be a woman if you could-- anticipating any realization of either.

the dramatic excesses & wants of the girlboss, i think, are a decent literary stand in for being a lesbian.

i wanna note here that this is rlly just based on my experience being a transmisogyny exempt nonbinary diaspora lesbian lol. it’s fun & cathartic to overread this history & place myself in the accidental implications.

i don’t think most of the things i say are literally true. and i don’t want to overstep & say any of this can be generalized. please lmk if something here doesn’t read right! ok kisses bye

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inessencedevided · 4 years ago

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There's been a lot of cql/mdzs atla-au posts going around lately and I need to add my take.

Because I think a lot could be done with Wei Ying as the avatar.

Imagine the story goes similarly as in canon. He is the son of traveling benders. Maybe Cangse-Sanren is a firebender and Wei Changse a waterbender. They get killed on some mission and he gets taken in by his father's old friend and leader of the Yunmeng water tribe. (This reminds me a lot of kyoshi's backstory, too.) He raises him a long his own children, his daughter who takes to healing more than fighting, and his son who likes nothing more than fighting.

Wei Ying already showed signes of being a waterbender, so they train him, even though he is the son of a former servant. He is, of course, more talented than any other of their students, even Jiang Cheng. Madam Yu still hates him for it.

At some point, they let all the children of the sect take the Avatar test. He passes. Occurs, they don't tell him until he is 16, so he doesn't know. Madam Yu dies though and her hatred for him for upstanding her son only grows. But Wei Ying is happy and loves them, much like in canon and, much like in canon, he is also convinced that he is deeply indebted to him and always brings more trouble than he is worth.

When they tell him he is the avatar on his 16th birthday, he is shocked and scared of his responsibility, but doesn't show it. He laughs it off and tells everyone he is glad because that means he can see the world and doesn't have to annoy madam yu anymore. He only shows cracks to his cheerful facade when they tell him that he has to leave the very next day. That means he will miss Jiang Cheng's birthday. When he tells Jiang Cheng's this, he gets angry and tells Wei Ying that clearly he is very important now and why not run off to the other sects, see if they will put up with him. He refuses to say goodbye after that, so it's just jiang yanli and Jiang fengmian seeing him off.

He goes to king Nie first who is the most renowned earth bending master of their time. He is unyielding and harsh, but unbelievably fond of his younger brother, who mostly uses his bending to sculp intricate and detailed statues. Wei Ying likes him instantly.

Next is fire. He doesn't like the fire lord who greets him and treats him like he is royalty himself, but in a way that makes Wei Ying's skin crawl. He does like the shy boy in his group lessons and his older sister. Wei Ying is good at firebending, even though it should be his natural enemy. Maybe it's his mother's side showing itself though.

Then of course, to complete his training, he needs to learn air-bending. He gets to Gusu and immediately dislikes it there. They are monks and they live like it, too. There are rules regulating every waking moment and the sleeping ones too and he vows to break at least half of them. By now he us 20 and he'll be damned if he lets himself be bossed around like he's 12 again.

He is greeted by their unusually young leader and his uncle and brother. He expects the uncle to be his teacher, but no. Lan Xichen explains that the honor of training the Avatar will go to the youngest air bender to ever become a master, his brother, Lan Zhan.

Okay, Wei Ying thinks, he can live with that. At least a teacher close to his own age should be fun, right?

Wrong!

Lan Zhan is strict, reticent, unyielding and punishes him for every single infringement of the 3000+ rules. He scolds Wei Ying for not taking the enormous responsibility of being the avatar more seriously. He never smiles and never praises him with more than a "passable".

But he is a challenge. One he is good! The best opponent in a fight Wei Ying has had since he was 14. And there is something so fun at making him react in even the slightest way! Also, his ears blush when he is angry and it's cute!

The first time, Wei Ying uses something other than air bending in their training fights, Lan Zhan is furious (Undisciplined!). But tge second time he grots his teeth and fights, really fights Wei Ying. He holds his own again a 3/4s-trained avatar for more than 30 minutes until Wei Ying let's him get swallowed by a whole in the ground that he than seals with a thick layer of ice that will take him way to long to slice open with air bending.

After that, their relationship evolves. It's more of a mutual rivalry, rather than just Wei Ying needling his air bending teacher until he snaps. After a few months, once Wei Ying has progressed beyond the basics (he can fly now! He loves flying! How can the Lans be so serious all the time? They can fly!!!), Lan Zhan introduces him to musical air-bending. Through bending, they can use the sounds to heal and to hurt, amplify them at will or direct them to a specific direction. Lan Zhan demonstrates some techniques on his guqin and then plays a song, though he refuses to tell Wei Ying its meaning.

Wei Ying picks a dixi. He takes to music like a fish to water and soon he is declared a fully trained air bender. His last night in Gusu is when it happens. News reaches them that Yunmeng is under attack from the Wen sect, who have been annexing more minor territoires for years. By the time Wei Ying gets there Lan Zhan at his side, Lotus Peer is burned to the ground. They barely get Jiang Cheng and Jiamg Yanli out, helped by Wei Ying's old friend, Wen Ning. They make it Wen Qing, who takes one look at Lan Zhan and tells him to go because Gusu is next.

(The wens knew where the avatar was abd where he wasn't abd chose their attacks accordingly)

Lan Zhan rushes back (alone. Wei Ying has brother to get back from the brink of death) but he us too late, too. Cloud Recesses is burned, his father dead, his brother missing and he is taken prisoner.

The war happens almost like in canon. The other heirs are taken hostage and given lessons as to how to behave towards their occupiers. They escape through the stupidity of Wen Chao.

I don't think that there'd be a burial mounts though, nor an equivalent to the list golden core. you can take someone's bending but i want Wei Ying to remain the avatar because:

In his desperation to beat the seemingly almighty Wen and his grieve for the Jiangs who took him in, he devices a plan. A) he goes to Lan Zhan and asks him if musical cultivation might help him to learn how to control the avatar state. He says they can try. They do try and after a while, Wei Ying reaches that state. And B) he rensacks the world for scrolls on blood cultivation.

When they advance on nightless City, he is ready. No one kniws his plan. Even Lan Zhan only knows of his having learned to control the avatar state. He needs the element of surprise and he needs it when he stavds in front of Wen Ruohan.

So he waits. By the time he stands face to face with Wen Ruohan and his army, the floor us littered with corpses.

Wei Ying, in front of his brother, Lan Zhan, everyone goes into the avatar state and with the power of all his former incarnations, bebds the blood of every single corpse, as well as every single Wen soldier to turn on Wen Ruohan and then each other. It's a massacre.

When he comes to it again, there is silence. And then cheers. Everyone cheers for him, even though blood bending has veen outlawed for ages. He won them their war though.

Everyone cheers, everyone but Lan Zhan.

They fight after that, a lot.

(I helped you enter the avatar state. You could have died! - my problem, not yours! - You desecrated the dead! What about their spirits? - what about their spirits? I'm the avatar, i can deal with them! - the avatar state is the sacret link to your past lifes ... - My past lifes, yeah Lan Wangji! Let me decide what to do with them. - Wei Wuxian! - Lan Wangji.)

They part on bad terms more often than not.

So when knews reaches that the Jins, a notoriously rich noble family in some corner of the earth kingdom, has taken Wen citizens, civilians mostly, for slave labour, he goes alone. He is furious, more so when he realises that his friends are among them. He enters the avatar stare involuntarily and has the blood of all present Jin soldiers boil in their veins. Wen Ning is almost dead, but he uses his bending to circulate his blood in his body until he can get him to his sister. She is in Lanling after all, having married their heir.

Now because I love Jiang Yanli, in this au, she plays a bigger role. She saves Wen Ning and shows them out of Lanling.

They flee to a part of Qishan that was all but destroyed during the war and then used as a mass grave for the Wens wei ying himself killed, the ones whose spirits Lan Zhan had warned him about.

And the workd turns on it's Avatar.

The avatar is supposed to bring Peace, stand for balance and justice. Not choose a handful of people to protect at all costs.

But Wei Ying thinks, this is just! The world is full of greedy rich people trying to outdo each other for power, so isn't protecting those who suffer from it through no fault of their own justice?

Now, this could go two ways. Either, in a plot more similar to mdzs, the spirits Wei Ying disturbed abd that he is now living on top of, betray him when the rest of the world finally comes to ambush him (cue Lan Zhan trying g to protect him abd falling from grace himself. And the eternally yearning because he list his chance. the avatar is reborn ofc and Lan Zhan vows to protect them because Wei Ying is still a part of them, but they aren't Wei Ying. They are a completely different person and Lan Zhan never loves again.) DEPRESSING

So, let's go the atla route. Wei Ying goes through a spiritual journey, similar to Korra, gets the Wen remnants rehabilitated, makes the right people see sense and basically does the whole Avatar shitck of first finding peace within himself in order to bring peace to the world. *waves hand*

He confesses to Lan Zhan. They adopt A Yuan. Cue kiss in front of a glowing sunset and "The End" displayed to soaring music.

Admittedly, the second ending needs more flashing out, but it's late,so if anyone wants to have a go, feel free :D

#this got way longer than intended #another thing that fits? all avatars are bisexual i don't make the rules #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #lan zhan #wei ying #jiang cheng #jiang yanli #atla au #the untamed au #mdzs au #long post #sophie writes #barely ...

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babyloposts · 4 years ago

Text

RoseBud

My Hero Academia Gang AU

Character References

Pairing(s): Sero Hanta x fem!reader

Warnings: language, drug use, explicit content, sexual themes, gang imagery, violence

Summary: a simple crush on a guy quickly turns south as you become wrapped up in an unsafe life of lies, drugs, and violence. What happens when you become a key player in a war between to rival gangs and have to deal with a complicated love life all at the same time.

—————————————————

0.1

Sero walked into the shop and you immediately locked eyes. He was your favorite customer. Not only was he easy to talk to and a pretty chill guy, but he was so fine. He was tall and kind of lanky, but still pretty muscular looking. Had a sleeve of tattoos on his left arm and left his right arm scarce with only a few floral patterns and markings here and there. And his hair was just perfect. You’d never seen it down in its full glory, but certainly were not complaining about the cute man buns and hair clips he wore. Plus it showed off his ears that had two piercings with black studs in each hole. If you had a type he was it.

“I didn’t expect you to be working this late. I usually only see you in the afternoon.”

You gulped as you prepared to speak. You couldn’t believe that he payed any attention to your work schedule to the point where he knew your normal times.

“Oh yeah. I’ve been picking up extra shifts lately. I’m basically here all the time now.” You chuckled.

“Cool. I guess I’ll see you around more then.” He winked as you finished bagging his items.

“Yeah. Uh, it’s gonna be ¥2400.” Sero swiped his card and took his bags.

“Thanks. I’ll see you next time.” He winked again on his way out, but stopped in the doorway before leaving. “Hey, what’s your name beautiful?”

You weren’t expecting that at all. Not only was he clearly flirting here, but he actually complimented you. Not only did he compliment you, but he called you beautiful.

It wasn’t like you didn’t think you we’re pretty or anything, but you seldom got any comments about your looks. To say you were surprised was an understatement. You were so surprised that you just gawked at him instead of actually answering.

A smirk grew on his lips as he watched you watch him. “What is there something on my face?” He quirked a brow at you and finally brought you back down to reality.

“Oh no. My bad... you just surprised me.”

“I just call it like I see it...” He leaned into the door frame as he waited for you to fill in the blank.

“Oh, it’s y/n.”

“Cute name. See ya around, y/n.” He flashed a grin before leaving the store. This man was too smooth. He had you swooning with every word he spoke.

You replayed your brief conversation with him in your head and felt the butterflies fluttering in your tummy every time you thought about the way he called you beautiful. But then you realized how much of an actual idiot you were. He had gotten your name, but you had no idea of what his was. That seemed like a reasonable thing to exchange, but your brain had been malfunctioning due to the way he gazed at you with those hazy and inviting eyes. Hopefully next time you could stop acting like a schoolgirl and actually get somewhere with the guy. Getting his name would be a good place to start.

A few customers came in and went since Sero had left and once the store died down you decided to pull out your phone to text Denki and Mina and tell them about your exchange with mystery boy, but it seemed redundant to do so when they were both barging into your store fully dressed and ready to get fucked up.

“BEST FRIEND!” Mina shouted upon arrival.

“Dear God.” You mumbled to yourself as she hollered and sat up on the counter in front of you.

“Jesus y/n, you could at least pretend to be happy to see me.” Mina pouted.

“It’s not that I’m not happy to see you... but I have a bad feeling about what is you want from me.” You shot a deprived glance to Denki who just shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m sorry y/n, she kidnapped me too.” You rolled your eyes at him, both knowing full and well that he was a willing participant.

“What is it that you want from me Mina?” You sighed in defeat. You had a feeling you knew where this was going.

“The keys. It so crazy that I just happened to see your manager outside the store and he told me it was A-Ok to close the store an hour early tonight. And who are we to argue with the boss man.” She giggled.

“Mina please, not this again-”

“Tut tut, you shouldn’t argue with the boss. So get out from behind that counter we’re going clubbing. I swung by your apartment and got an outfit for you to wear and everything. We don’t want it to go to waste.”

Mina’s mind was made up. She would get what she wanted one way or another and for her fucking your boss was the best way to get you guys out and about as per her plan. You sighed and grabbed your purse, keys, and phone from behind the counter and strolled to the store front. As she locked up she grumbled under her breath.

“You know he’s gonna have my ass for not doing inventory.” You sigh.

“That seems like a ‘future you’ issue. Plus no one told you to start doing night shift my love.” Mina pat your cheek lovingly. You sighed as you climbed into the backseat to start changing into your party clothes.

“Denki I can’t believe you let her do this... again!”

“Y/N if you just learn to be a willing participant life will be a lot smoother for you. I mean I don’t want her sleeping with my boss, so what’d you expect me to do.” Your two friends cackled in the front seat. Your friends were psychopaths.

“Okay stop complaining now. We’re about to get fucked up and have some fun.” Mina shouted and turned up the music on her car stereo. As much as you hated the means, you loved your crazy ass friends and knew you were in for a crazy ass night. Might as well enjoy it, right?

A/N: welcome to my first mixed/smau. I hope you all enjoy this story it’s going to be a wild ride and I promise it’ll be worth the read. And for all my Bakugou and todoroki simps out there stick with me because y’all will be getting fed in this story too 😌 check the beginning of the chapter for what the characters looks in this AU are inspired by and to see all the characters of this book.

Send an ask if you’d like to be added to the tag list for rosebud!!

Masterlist

#mha smau #babylowrites #bnha x black!reader #bnha #mha x female reader #mha #black writers #sero x reader #sero hanta #bnha kaminari denki #mina ashido #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x black reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha todoroki #todoroki shoto x reader

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thoughtsonhurtandcomfort · 4 years ago

Text

12C, part 12

Tag List: @deluxewhump @whumpinggrounds @yet-another-heathen @its-mysweetlittlesecret-blog @killtheprotagonist

Content Warnings: immortal whumpee, lady whumpee, captivity, lab whump, dehydration, starvation, exhaustion, temporary character death, sort of dehumanization? or perhaps better stated as disregard for ones humanity

Author’s Notes: I call this chapter ‘I have no clue what I’m doing but I’m trying’. Brought to you by 6 lovely souls. :) Usually I do a deeper edit of these but I’m feeling lazy tonight and really want to get this one up so I can move forward. I was also a little writer’s blocked this week so apologies if it’s not my best work. :\

Also, I think I might post the next set of parts under a new title...picking up where this leaves off, of course! But there’s something nice and complete about there being 12 ‘chapters’ to this, and as you’ll see, the title being named for the room might not apply anymore. ;) So if you’re on this tag list or watching this series don’t be alarmed if suddenly a new title is there when the next part pops up.

----

Emmeline has been gone before - taken away for testing or left somewhere overnight so they can check for results in the morning.

But this is different.

Everything is gone. The table, the equipment, everything except the camera in the corner. The room is completely dark and empty.

Liv pulls out her clipboard and flips to her page for the room - or, she would, if it was there. She hasn’t been given any checklist, any notes, anything for room 12C. It’s as though no one was ever there.

Slowly she backs out of the room and shuts and locks the door. In her mind she begins frantically skimming through every moment of the day she can remember. Did anyone look at her differently? Say something to her?

This has to be my fault somehow.

Right?

And yet, no one called her to an office or confronted her in the hallway. She came in to work and went about her day as usual. Surely if they suspected her of tampering with a subject, or any other violation, they would take action immediately?

Unless Emmeline is being punished instead of me.

But where is she?

Liv goes through her final routine tasks of the night on autopilot, her mind turning over every worst possible scenario.

Maybe Emmeline was taken to another lab. Maybe there’s an even more top-secret level to this lab that she has no idea about. Or maybe...maybe that bastard Dr. Crafton did something with her…

An additional thought creeps in that Liv refuses to dwell on.

What if she died for good this time?

But that can’t be true. Even at her most fearful and cynical, Liv can’t comprehend the tragedy of Emmeline’s light being snuffed out in this prison after hanging on so long.

She has to be alive somewhere. Suffering, scared, but alive.

But where?

----

In the days that follow Liv performs her magnum opus of pretending things are fine.

On the surface she’s as calm, quiet, and moody as always. Inside she’s constantly paranoid, expecting to be confronted at every turn, pulled into an office and questioned. She’s wary of the researchers and of security, even of her own boss. She over analyzes every look and interaction.

But one, two, three days into the week and nothing has changed except Emmeline being gone and, as of Wednesday evening, a new resident in room 12C. The balancing act in Liv’s mind between ‘I’m so fucked’ and ‘where is Emmeline’ tips in favor of the latter. It’s not as though she can ask someone. So she starts simply...listening.

Her late hours are an obstacle; most of the researchers have left by the time she starts cleaning. But the ones that sometimes stay over tend to be the chattiest when they believe no staff - at least, in their mind, no staff worth acknowledging - are present.

It takes caution and patience, but soon from observations and overheard conversations with her headphones in, Liv manages to piece together what happened.

There are whispers of new subjects, more than they have room for. Frustrated complaints of how the ‘research’ with Emmeline was going nowhere, of failed blood transfusions and transplants. ‘Fascinating but useless’ was how one of them put it. Without results the funding would soon dry up, but selling her to a competitor would be disastrous if the competitor had success where they didn’t.

But that’s as far as Liv gets. A why without a where. They don’t have a room for her or funding to continue research, but they won’t sell her. In a better world they’d let her go, but Liv doesn’t humor that idea for a second.

Her suspicions still linger on Dr. Crafton a little while longer. Considering his newfound enjoyment of torture, she wouldn’t put it past him to ‘volunteer’ to move Emmeline to a private lab of his or something.

This soon disproves itself for her. In the fleeting moments she sees Dr. Crafton he seems irritable, not at all like a man who got exactly what he wanted. Then one evening she overhears him griping about the ‘wasted potential’ of the former subject in 12C and Liv is sure he doesn’t have her.

Any satisfaction she gets from these discoveries is quickly dulled by still not knowing where Emmeline is. Liv keeps showing up, keeps hoping, does her work in spite of the gnawing ache of Emmeline’s absence. All this time Liv was trying to help and comfort her, she didn’t realize how much of a help and comfort Emmeline was in return.

I just want to see her again...

----

A week passes, and then another. Liv still listens, still keeps an eye out, but her hope is fading. No one notices, of course. She was always a little sullen, always kept to herself. As long as she continues to be a good worker, no one bothers her or questions her.

That night is particularly quiet. Most subjects are asleep or keep to themselves. Even the chatty guards in Hall A are bored and end up listening to a sports radio show rather than talk to each other or Liv.

Near the end of her shift Liv makes her way to that floor’s storage room. It’s a small, dingy room with a single lightbulb that barely illuminates all of the shelves that line the walls. Nothing important resides here - not samples or expensive medical equipment. Only cleaning supplies, tools for maintenance, a handful of basic first aid, and obsolete equipment gathering dust, some of which might be older than the building itself.

Normally Liv prefers the supply room on the floor above; it’s a little bigger, a little cleaner. But tonight she’s feeling lazy and settles for this one.

As she’s putting things back on the shelves, she notices something pushed back against the far wall that wasn’t here before. It’s just a crate, long and sturdy but unremarkable. But what piques Liv’s curiosity is its presence here at all. No one uses this room except her, the janitor who fills in on nights she’s off, and sometimes maintenance. Maybe one of the researchers might come looking for something they need, but more often than not this room sits neglected.

Liv kneels beside the crate and feels around for a way to open it. She finds a latch and unclasps it easily, then manages to wiggle the lid up enough to get her fingers under. It isn’t even on that tight, and it only takes a couple pulls to lift it open.

What the fuck?!

She gasps and recoils, falling back and scrambling away from the crate, breathing quickly. Not much gets to her around here, but she was not expecting to open that thing and find a dead body.

Once the initial shock subsides she sits up and brushes her hands on her jeans. This doesn’t make sense. Subjects that die are given autopsies and then incinerated. If it’s here in the facility, why isn’t it in a lab room?

Shaken but determined, Liv scoots closer to the crate and peers in again. It’s hard to make out much in the dim light, but she can tell that the body is...fresh, for lack of a better word, and padded with some kind of loose packing material. She moves up along the box, having to tilt a little to keep her own shadow from blocking her view so she can see the face -

For several long, silent moments, Liv just...stares. She blinks against the darkness, trying to process what she’s seeing.

“Emmeline?” she says aloud, barely recognizing her own voice. Hands shaking, she takes out her phone and turns on the flashlight.

The face illuminated by the light, gaunt and lifeless, is unmistakably Emmeline’s.

Liv quickly turns off the flashlight and puts her hand over her mouth to suppress a sound of...of…

Of what?

Relief that she found her, or fear that she’s dead dead, or disgust that they stuck her in a box in a storage room like nothing more than a piece of old equipment.

There are too many questions going through her mind and she pushes them all aside. She reaches a shaky hand down and cups Emmeline’s face. It’s cool to the touch, but Liv has seen her share of dead bodies before and something about this is...different. Like her body is lingering in some state between life and death, simply dormant. It’s just a half-assed theory, but it gives her hope.

Liv brushes her thumb over Emmeline’s lips, finding them chapped. There isn’t a mark on Emmeline’s body, and any drugs to put her under would have worn off by now. The most obvious and awful conclusion is that they simply let her die naturally of dehydration, alone in the dark.

A tear slips from Liv’s cheek onto Emmeline’s neck and trickles down out of sight. Liv sits back with a loud sniff and rubs at her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Fuck,” she whispers. “You deserve better than this…”

She slips her hoodie off and leans forward again, draping it like a blanket over Emmeline. Like this, it’s almost easy to believe that she’s just sleeping.

“It’s going to be okay,” she says numbly, “somehow.”

Then she puts the lid back on, stands, and leaves the room.

----

In the time between when she leaves after discovering Emmeline, and when she returns the next day, something shifts in Liv.

The sight of that drawn, still face haunts her dreams. And when she wakes all she can think about is the notion of Emmeline being stored like a piece of furniture only for them to take out and hurt again someday when they have funding or whatever the fuck.

When Emmeline was in one of the lab rooms the idea of trying to help her with guards and cameras around felt impossible. But the storage room...that she can work with.

She waits until the end of her shift before going to the storage room again. She doesn’t even have to act differently or come up with an excuse; she has plenty of legitimate reasons to be in there.

As soon as the door closes behind her she grabs her water bottle from her cart and goes right to the crate. She opens it cautiously, as though not wanting to startle its occupant. But Emmeline hasn’t moved an inch or changed in the slightest since last night.

“Hey,” she says quietly, just like she would when entering room 12C. It feels natural even if Emmeline doesn’t answer.

Liv leans over the crate and tips the water bottle to Emmeline’s lips. She lets just the smallest trickle of water slip in at first, then another, then another. Nothing happens right away, but Liv isn’t deterred. She has no idea how her immortality works, but Emmeline has been ‘dead’ for days now, surely it will take more than a couple sips of water for her body to heal.

She leans one arm on the edge of the crate and rests her chin on her arm. With the other hand she continues slowly pouring water down Emmeline’s parched throat, a little at a time. Pour. Stop. Wait. Look for signs of life. Pour again.

It feels a bit like watering a plant, and also not at all like that. Emmeline is not nearly so replaceable.

When the bottle is empty, she caps it and sits up with a sigh, stretching her stiff shoulders. She can’t help feeling disappointed. She was expecting something to happen. But it’s okay - if it takes time, so be it.

Just as Liv is reaching for the lid, she hears a soft sound. She freezes, arms out, listening intently. It wouldn’t surprise her if it was a rat or something, with the state of this room…

Several silent seconds tick by and she’s starting to believe she imagined it when the sound happens again. A little louder...and close…

Heart pounding, she looks down into the crate. At first glance nothing has changed, but the longer she looks...yes. Yes, she’s sure of it - her hoodie, still draped over Emmeline, is moving ever so slightly with barely-there breaths. When Liv presses her fingers to Emmeline’s wrist, she finds a weak pulse.

Oh my god. Oh my god, it worked.

The soft sound comes again and it is now clear that it’s the sound of a sighing breath. Triumphant as she feels at having done something right for a change, Liv knows things are far from good. Emmeline is in bad shape. This is going to take time.

Liv touches Emmeline’s arm for a moment, watching her face. Little changes apart from the puffs of breath that now escape her chapped lips, but it feels like a victory. Not to mention a big fuck you to the researchers.

“Hang in there,” she whispers. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

It kills her to have to put the lid back on and leave Emmeline in the dark like that. The best she can hope for is that she remains unconscious a little longer. Liv is impatient, she wants to make this all better right now. But for both of their sakes, patience is necessary.

Hang in there, she tells herself, as well.

----

Part of being patient means not going back to the storage room every night. She used to barely use it at all, and she fears too sudden a change in her behavior will draw unwanted attention. It’s one of the hardest things she has ever done, to walk past that room knowing Emmeline is inside and then keep walking.

Still, Liv manages to hold out for a few days before returning. She parks her cart just inside the storage room door; she doubts anyone will enter, but if they do, the obstacle might buy her some time to quickly close the crate.

Emmeline is no longer breathing. Liv expected as much, but it hurts all the same. This time, though. This time will be different.

Once again she feeds her sips of water and soon enough there are signs of life. This time, Liv is prepared with another bottle - this one filled with apple juice.

She cups Emmeline’s head and lifts it a little to give her a sip of the juice. Another, then another. Slow, patient, hopeful. Emmeline’s pulse grows stronger, her breathing more steady.

And then she moans, and it’s a weak, pitiful, broken sound, but Liv is so damn relieved to hear it, because it means she is that much closer to waking.

Liv continues giving her sips of juice, watching her throat bob as she actively swallows it. Suddenly she begins to cough and it startles Liv so much she nearly spills the juice all over her. She quickly pulls the bottle away and sets it aside, her eyes fixed on Emmeline.

Emmeline’s coughs fade into raspy breaths. She groans and shifts uncomfortably. Then finally, finally, her eyes slowly open.

She’s frail and shaky. Her glazed-over eyes flick around, uncomprehending. Her mouth opens as though to speak, but when she tries nothing comes out.

“Emmeline?” Liv says, very quietly.

At the sound of her name, Emmeline’s eyes land on Liv. The recognition on her face is immediate, and Liv can’t help but smile.

“Hey. It’s just me. Here...”

She holds the bottle to her lips again and Emmeline drinks eagerly.

“Careful, not too fast...that’s better...okay I’m going to take it away again, I don’t want you to overdo it…”

She sets the bottle aside again while Emmeline gasps for breath after practically chugging the whole thing down. Liv can’t blame her, and hates to deny her what she so desperately needs, but she also doesn’t want to make her sick.

“Just breathe. You’re okay.” Relatively. “I’ll give you more in a minute.” She reaches down and takes Emmeline’s hand.

“Where…” Emmeline’s voice cracks. She pauses, swallows, starts again. “Where am I?”

“Do you want the good news or the bad news first?”

“...good.”

“The good news is you aren’t in the lab.” Liv gives her a moment to process that before regretfully adding, “the bad news is that you’re still in the building. In...a storage closet.”

Emmeline blinks slowly up at the ceiling, her brow pinched. “What?”

She shifts again and Liv realizes that she’s trying to sit up. Liv instinctively reaches to help, putting a hand on Emmeline’s back - only to withdraw when Emmeline gasps.

“S-sorry, I was just - “

“No,” Emmeline interrupts. “Please - put it back, it was warm…”

Liv remembers how cold Emmeline’s skin was when she found her like this, and this room is just as chilly as the lab. She slowly settles her hand on Emmeline’s back again and helps her ease herself up. It’s hard to resist the urge to touch more - a hand in her hair, an arm around her shoulders - but she doesn’t know whether it would be welcome.

But Emmeline is shivering and she has to do something.

“Here…” she takes the hoodie that has been acting as a blanket for Emmeline these past few days and slips it around her shoulders. “Arms.” Emmeline obediently slips her arms through the sleeves.

When Liv zips it up Emmeline curls her arms up to her chest and presses her face into the cuffs of the sleeves. “Thank you, this is - oh - “

Emmeline’s eyes flutter shut and she sways, nearly dropping back into the crate. Liv steadies her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Shit...hey, breathe, you’re okay…” Maybe sitting her up so quickly wasn’t the best idea.

Taking slow breaths, Emmeline opens her eyes again. She looks so tired in spite of being under for so long. But then, she’s been denied food, water, warmth, proper rest, safety, and the type of weariness living like that brings is bone-deep and not so easily solved.

Her eyes dart around the room - from the old metal shelves to the dim lightbulb to the concrete floor, and heartbroken understanding falls over her face.

“When they put me in this box,” she whispers, looking so empty, so resigned, “I thought they were moving me somewhere. Maybe another lab. I thought within a day or two the lid would come off. But it never did. It was so dark and cold and...and you weren’t there, and…” her lip quivers and she clutches at the cuffs of the hoodie. “I was scared…”

Liv swallows around the lump in her throat, feeling her eyes burn. Those fucking bastards. “I thought they took you away too, at first. Finding you was...kind of by accident. But now that I have...” she steels herself, knowing once she says this, there’s no going back. “...I’m getting you out of here.”

Emmeline looks to her, eyes wide and tentatively hopeful. “You are?”

Liv chews her bottom lip and nods. “I have a plan. I just need you to hang in there a little longer…”

“I can do that,” Emmeline replies, voice wavering. “Please just be careful…”

“I will.”

Emmeline looks half about to cry, half about to pass out. Liv gently nudges at her shoulders, easing her back down into the crate.

“Please don’t take the shirt,” Emmeline whispers as her eyes close.

“I won’t,” Liv promises. “It’s yours now.”

“Thank you…”

A tear slips down her cheek and Liv brushes it away with her thumb. She leaves her hand there a moment for Emmeline to lean into, seeking out every small bit of comfort she can get. Liv wants to give her more, so much more, but she can’t. Not here. Not yet.

“I’ll be back,” she promises as she reaches for the lid. “Just hang on a little longer,” she adds as she lowers it, cloaking Emmeline’s sleeping form in darkness once more.

#immortal whump #lady whump #female whumpee #lab whump #lab experiment #captivity #dehydration #starvation #exhaustion #temporary character death #emotional whump #angst #comfort #whump #whump writing #my writing #my ocs #emmeline #liv

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janekfan · 4 years ago

Note

ive been Searching and Craving for any scenario/canon divergent au where jon and tim make up because jon shows tim thats hes just as much a victim as anyone else and tim is just like... ah. so we're both assholes. and jon insists that tim didnt do anything wrong (and obviously its all very whumpy and hurt/comforty). basically just... tim and jon making up because tim wants to after jon tugs at his heartstrings enough (because im a sucker for the whole "whatve i done" bit)

Here we go!! Sorry these are taking so long but I’m still working on prompts!!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26972698/chapters/67878991#workskin

Too Much Chapter 2!

Watching Martin remove the evidence of panic by carefully, slowly, swiping a damp flannel over Jon’s skin, Tim continued holding the cold pack in place. The man between them made a sound, nondescript, shifting enough that his lips parted with a soft sigh as he settled.

“He’s made a right mess of these.” Martin lamented, gingerly lifting one hand to examine the heavy bandages, soiled with fresh blood and coming undone. Not altogether certain he wanted to know what was hidden away beneath, Tim stayed silent. “Would you mind fetching the first aid kit while I get rid of these?” He used the time away to take a deep breath, attempting to gather his rampant thoughts now that he was roped into fixing up their boss. There was always the possibility of giving him the kit and hightailing it out of that place and never setting foot near document storage again but before he realized what he’d done he’d accumulated other supplies he figured they might need and the relief in Martin’s eyes when he slipped back into the room was palpable. Jon’s hands were bare, blisters laid over blisters, broken and bleeding sluggishly from torn welts, one palm layered over with a nasty burn. Tim couldn’t help the noise torn from his throat in sympathy as the walls he’d built around himself began to crumble under the weight of Jon’s wounds--and he wasn’t even the one to bear them! Jon had acquired more scars, more shadows in the gaunt hollows carved into his body by his bones since Prentiss. It was like laying eyes on a stranger, or opening his own and finally seeing what his negligent ignorance had truly cost.

Were these marks, this pain, not proof that Jon had every right to be scared? Paranoid? To suspect them? When it was his own “friends” raising hands violently against him?

“What. Martin, what happened?” He accepted the water, easing Jon’s arm over the edge of the bed and doing Tim the kindness of not reminding him that he’d never cared to know before.

“I couldn’t tell you what caused most of this, but you know. Daisy.” He swallowed, eyes narrowing as he dabbed away the worst of the scarlet slicking his skin and Tim saw red at the reminder. How dare she touch him. “Hush now, you’re alright.” Jon’s arm twitched, an aborted attempt to tug his hand away from Martin’s surely painful ministrations. “Just cleaning these up.”

“Hnn…” Saltwater-soaked lashes fluttered and damn his body’s reactions but Tim was at his side on the cot before he could blink and wholly unsure of what to do now that he was there, settling on running fingers through tangled curls, teasing out the knots as Martin worked. Clouded and slightly crossed, Jon’s glazed brown eyes peered up at him, through him, blinking slow, and Tim could feel the heat of his fever under his palms.

“Hey, bud.” Surprising himself with his own softness, Tim continued combing through his hair. “Close your eyes, boss. Marto’s fixing you right up.”

“Hur’s.” Badly slurred and tinged with vulnerability he wasn’t used to anymore, Jon’s voice sent a chill racing up Tim’s spine.

“I know.” He said anyway. “It won’t soon.” Trust and exhaustion won out, dragging bruised lids closed. “Martin.” Tim didn’t look up, tracing silver strands, so many, with the fingertips. “I would like to know. Please.”

Martin hummed, finished up the first hand, the worst hand, and cradled it over Jon’s stomach in a poor attempt at elevation before starting on the next one.

“I haven’t gotten much out of Jon--not because he won’t tell me!” He amended, remembering the promise Jon had made to be honest with them and clearly worried it would make Tim angry again if he thought he was keeping secrets. “He’s just. I mean.”

“I understand.” After leaving Elias’ office, whatever tenacity and fortitude Jon managed to scrape together after his ordeal with Daisy and Basira had faded quickly. Even Tim wasn’t able to ignore how bad off he was, more along the lines of being unable to explain than lacking any desire.

“I know she, she hit him. He’s bruised all over. Clocked him with her gun I assume, to leave him concussed--I still can’t believe I didn’t notice sooner.”

“It’s alright. We’ve all been. Preoccupied.” Some of them only with themselves.

“He was filthy, covered in dirt and I think bl’blood? Not his. Or, not all of it I think.” Martin rubbed his own neck thoughtfully, tracing a path that mirrored the red grin carving up Jon’s throat. “I think.” He looked into Tim’s eyes, haunted. “I, I overheard them saying he’d been made to d’dig a grave.”

“His grave.” There was no real proof, not yet. But it felt right. And Tim felt sick. “His hands.”

“The burn is bad, I don’t know how he got it.” A crease formed between Martin’s knit brows. “I. Tim.” He sighed. “You’ve been so furious with him.” He dragged both hands down his face. “Jon’s doing his best. Please, you have to believe that.”

“I think I’m beginning to.” He’d yet to stop his detangling. Jon liked when people he trusted played with his hair, especially when he wasn’t feeling well. Unbidden and effervescent, memories rose to the surface of Tim’s mind, each a different moment, beads of time strung on delicate silk strands. Sasha. Sasha, whose true face, true voice, had been written over and worn, her hands on Jon’s shoulders, working out the tension he carried there despite his complaints. Tim himself draping a cardigan over him where he slumped forward on his desk in Research when he succumbed to sleep. A rare moment at someone’s apartment, Jon three drinks in, flushed bright red and ridiculous, throwing himself into Tim’s lap and nuzzling his stomach until he got what he wanted; hands in his hair, on his back, honest to god cuddles. The embarrassment in the morning would paint him vivid with blush and he would accept the painkillers and tea with a shy grin.

That Jon was still in there.

Right?

For the first time in his career Tim chose to come into work early, heading immediately to doc storage to find Jon curled up against Martin, ruddy face squished against his chest and arm slung over his waist as though he’d recently been clinging there.

And if this had been another time, another universe, he would have teased them both, but the shadows under their eyes were beginning to match.

“We had a hard night.” Martin yawned hugely and Tim caught a quick glimpse of glassy brown at the movement but Jon passed out again in the next second. “Nightmares. You remember Crew?” Tim nodded. “Explains the vertigo. He’s going to want to work.” Martin’s palm found its way to the back of Jon’s head, tucked him under his chin as he exhaled, slow and measured.

“And you want him to rest.”

“He won’t.”

He didn’t.

But the dizziness kept him in his office for the most part and Tim helped keep an eye on him, checking up regularly, awkwardly. It was almost like old times. Except Jon was careful not to speak. Not now that he might force answers out of someone. Not now that he might be hurt because of it. Jon was smart. He tried to remember the things he learned because he only seemed to learn the hard way and right now he was trying to figure out Tim while Tim was trying to figure out himself, wary of the change towards him, confused when instead of lashing out, he asked if he needed anything.

“N’no, thank you, Tim.”

“It’s no trouble.” But it was physically painful to watch the gears turn as Jon balanced the possibility of pissing him off with how uncomfortable he was in this situation. “I’ll check back later, yeah?”

“Uh. Y’yeah. Yes. I mean, yes.” Nervously, he shifted between folders. “Of c’course.”

The day dragged and Jon’s fever and groggy exhaustion lingered, kept barely in check by Martin plying him with the painkillers and fever reducers because he refused A&E. It was frustrating, even if he was looking somewhat improved. When they caught him asleep it was often in the throes of a taxing nightmare. He was a shadow in his attempts to avoid them all, to focus on work, and now that Tim was paying attention he didn’t like how Basira was so cold, how Daisy made Jon flinch on purpose, how Melanie went out of her way to collide with him in the narrow hallways. How he was slight enough, unsteady enough that it sent him into the wall.

How he did nothing about it except murmur apologies and move past them as quick as he could.

Jon was back to pushing himself too hard, not bothering to ask for help because he’d never gotten any before so it wasn’t worth bothering with it now. He was alone. Deserted by everyone except for Martin--and oh the way his expression lit up at the sight of him. How soft his voice became when he thanked him for the tea. Tim knew Martin couldn’t see it yet, or wouldn’t let himself realize, but Jon was taken with him. Smitten. And already believed beyond a doubt that he had no worth. As prickly as Jon could be there was so much love in him just vying for a way out.

How could Tim have forgotten that?

Tim paced the length of the archives three times before heading back to check on Jon, alarmed when the office was empty. Worry, both familiar and unfamiliar, twined its way around his heart. He'd watched as the afternoon hours slipped by and Jon became worse and Tim didn’t bother asking anyone he came across; they didn’t care, he wasn’t supposed to care. But there weren’t many places Jon would go and Tim found him in the breakroom stabilizing himself on the sink. He didn’t react, didn’t turn, didn’t seem to know anyone was behind him, and Tim could make out shivery, deliberate breaths. Jon let go, lifting a hand dazedly to his forehead and staggering backwards such that Tim had to steady him.

“Whoa there, Boss.” Softly, quietly, Tim knew his head was still pounding more often than not no matter how adamant his denial. It didn’t stop Jon from flinching like he’d been struck or attempting to whirl around and only making it all that much worse as eyes filled with fear rolled back into his head and Tim had to catch him outright, lowering him to the floor and pillowing his shoulders in his lap. Unconsciously, he laid a palm over his overwarm forehead, dragging fingers back through damp strands rhythmically and wondering how he’d react to waking up with Tim staring down at him. They were dancing around each other, or at least Tim was. Jon couldn’t do much more than sit at his desk in what amounted to pyjamas and pretend to work in an attempt to wedge some normalcy back into his life.

“What happened?” At least now Martin’s inquiry wasn’t accusatory as he knelt beside them and checked over Jon himself. “How long?”

“Minute. Maybe two? He, uh. I surprised him and when he turned…” he trailed off, gesturing with a sigh.

“Ma’tin…” nothing more than a small breath of awareness in recognition of his voice, eyes still closed.

“You should be at your desk.” Lightly scolding.

“Nn...was col’...tea…” Tim met Martin’s eyes with worry at the barely coherent jumble of syllables caught on his sluggish tongue and he held up a hand, signaling him to wait.

“What’re we going to do with you, hm?”

“...Dunno…” He’d failed to understand the gentle ribbing for what it was, instead answering honestly, tearfully, and it tugged on Tim’s heartstrings. Martin chuckled kindly to ease the sting, moving forward to lift his weight off from Tim and standing still to let Jon wind a hand loosely into his jumper, hanging on for dear life with a gasp.

“You sound tired.”

“Mmyeah...tire’...” And that discordant admission alone was enough to cause alarm, doubly so when his body lost all rigidity in Martin’s hold.

“Martin--”

“Shh, Tim. He’s alright.” Protectiveness urged Tim to follow them back to document storage. Concern made him sit down before Martin asked. “Stay with him? I don’t want him to forget and wander off again. I’m gonna get that tea and something for the fever.” Tim supported his chin with a hand, elbow digging sharply into the top of his knee, and watched Jon sleep. With his eyes, he traced invisible constellations over the worm scars dotting his skin and connected their lines to the ink dark splash of lashes twitching as he dreamed. “What’re you thinking about?”

“How much running I’ve been doing.”

“Mm.”

“How much easier it was to ignore all this if I just hated Jon instead. Blamed him for it.” He lifted his fingers in a bitter and general indication of their unreasonably bad situation. “He’s made mistakes. We all have. And his are the only ones I’m not willing to forgive.” Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes, stung. “Why is that?” His skin blushed with heat when his voice broke on a sob and before Martin could speak they were interrupted.

“Head’spounding…” He could barely keep his eyes open.

“Ah, I’m sorry, love, I know, here,” he was like a rag doll when Martin lifted him. “This’ll help.” Tim watched the ease with which Martin navigated Jon. All sweet and kind, steadying his hands when they proved too shaky to hold the cup, testing his temperature with the inside of his wrist when Jon was distracted with swallowing down the medicine.

“Shouldn’t do this.” Whispered, lost and undone, as Martin tucked him in, gripping back tightly when Jon grew dizzy with the change. “M’sorry.”

“You say that too often, Boss.”

“Hush, both of you.” To Jon, “we can all talk later, when you’re feeling better. It’s okay to need help. It’s okay to rest.” And while he didn’t look convinced, he was helpless against the drag of that heavy, insistent tide of exhaustion.

“Never liked to owe people, our Jon.” Martin sighed, frustrated.

“It’s not a transaction. I wish he’d trust that I only want to help.” Tim snickered ruefully as Martin tucked stray salt and pepper strands behind Jon’s ears.

“He’s always been suspicious of decency.”

“That’s not right.” There was a lot wrong with it, and far too much to solve at this moment.

“You look knackered, Martin. Go home.” He needed caring for after keeping them all together like he’d done. “I’ve got it from here.”

“I don’t want to ask that of you.”

“You’re not asking, Marto.”

“Tim--”

“I need to. I. I need to do this.”

Tim was worried that the only reason Martin left him here alone was because he was too tired to spend another night here keeping an eye on the both of them. He only had himself to blame when it came to the loss of trust.

It was no secret his dislike of Jon.

He hadn’t forgotten his treatment of him just the other day. Yanking him up off the ground and shouting at him, blaming him for his confusion and unsteadiness, for worrying Martin while he’d been the one ill and frightened and unmoored on the dusty floor. A mournful cry jolted him out of his musings, and the nightmare didn’t sound kind, wrenching Jon awake and leaving him panting, narrow chest heaving, eyes wide and unfocused in the dim.

“Hey.” Soft and quiet, it didn’t stop Jon from jumping in surprise, nearly swooning when he jerked his head in the direction of his voice. “Back with me?”

“Tim.” Real surprise, he blinked hard, trying to clear his bleary vision. “Yeah. S’sorry.” Jon offered him a sheepish quirk of his lips.

“I’m the one who needs to apologize, Jon.” He swallowed thickly and Tim could hear the click in his throat, somewhere behind the bandage hiding that yawning red grin from sight.

“Wh’what?”

“I’ve treated you unfairly.”

“No, no, Tim. You. You had every right! I was out of line and suspected the worst with no proof and didn’t trust yo--” Jon was trying to get up, ignoring how it had to hurt, and when Tim made to stop him, he flinched in real fear and backed himself into the corner. “S’sorry. I. It’s, it isn’t you, I swear.” Guilt wrapped around Tim’s heart like a thorny vine at his stammering apologies, at the way Jon laughed at himself and scrubbed his face with the back of a bandaged hand, staring up at the ceiling as new tears pooled in his eyes. “A lot’s h’happened.” When he closed them, the damp rolled down his cheeks into the grey at his temple. “I,I,I know you don’t w’want to hear it. But I, I don’t have anything else left t’to offer and I’m so s’sorry.” Jon tucked up his knees and buried his tear-stained face in the blankets he pulled around himself. Scared and small and awaiting derision. Tim edged closer.

"Jon.” He reached out to touch and thought better of it. “I think. I think I'm ready to hear it now." Consumed by constant fear and torment, run ragged for months and months, when Jon risked glancing up at him Tim could finally look past his anger and see him. Flushed with fever, thin and drawn, bruised and beaten and burned.

But still Jon.

Still Jon, terrified of the kind of help he'd been taught by experience not to ask for. Not to accept. Not to trust. Not to need.

“No, n’no, Tim. It’s.” He sniffed, tried to offer Tim a watery smile. “M’not feeling w’well, heh. You know how I, how I am.”

“I know you don’t take care of yourself.” He continued before Jon could interrupt. “I know I’ve left you to deal with this alone.” Indeed, at the very first sign of trouble, Tim abandoned him to his own devices. “I understand why it’s been difficult to trust me.”

“Not just you.” Tim had to strain to hear him, voice tiny, wavering with misery. “It’s so hard to trust, I have to, to think about it, choose it, don’t I. Talk myself out of how a’afraid I am all the t’time. I can’t even trust myself, my words. I. They. It’s easier to not speak at all, if it can be helped. And I try. But. Tim.” Fraught, brown irises nearly swallowed by black pupil bored into him, begged him to listen, to see. “I’m a monster.”

“Jon--” He tugged at messy curls, ignoring the pain it had to cause, the spots of blood, and if Jon would let him, he would need to fix the wrappings after this. He’d folded into himself even tighter, rocking himself just slightly in an attempt at comfort.

“If everyone is saying it, it must be true. But I’m trying. I promise, Tim, I promise. I was hoping it counted for something, anything. I can’t. I.” He broke off, attempting to pull himself together, face contorted and when he noticed Tim’s stricken expression, stumbled on with half-thought out reassurances. “I, I won’t stop! T’trying, that is. I, I, I want to, to be better. I don’t want to hurt anyone. It’s not about counting, it’s about doing the right thing. Or something close to--it never seems to work out, I’m not. I keep doing the wrong things so I know--but I p’promise--and besides, D’Daisy’s watching, if you’re worried, heh.” He laughed, a little broken thing, tears glittering in his eyes. “She’ll put me d’down. If that makes you feel any better.”

And god how could he think Tim wanted that? Jon, living with the knowledge that any mistakes he made could lead to--

Hanging over his head. Just awaiting collapse.

“That’s. Jon, I don’t want her to do that.”

“Oh. Did.” Tim realized the pause was an attempt at managing his powers of compulsion. “Did you want to? Instead I mean?” Tim recoiled in horror at the genuine curiosity, the dull acceptance that they all might be waiting for their chance. Numbness flooded his fingers. And even though Tim knew Jon was trying to use the right words, the ones that would make him feel better, he was furious.

“How could you think that?!” Jon held up his raggedly bandaged hands, the blisters from digging his own grave and who knows what else hidden from view.

“I, I’m sorry, I. You’re right, that was stupid of me. I’m sorry, Tim, I’m sorry, I--” Tim cut him off by sweeping him into an embrace, pressing his face into his shoulder. He was little more than bones rattling around in a scarred and ruined skin, shaking in his arms, his own held away, stiff. Dear lord, what had he done? “T’Tim? I, I’m sorry I’ve upset you.”

“Stop it, Jon.” And he collapsed, spent from his outpouring, breath loud in Tim’s ear. “Just stop.” Tentative, Jon wrapped him up in return. “I’m going to do better.”

“You don’t--”

“I do. And I am.” Damp soaked into his sleeve despite the silence with which Jon sobbed, little more than uneven, ardent gasping as they clung to each other.

“B’but.” He pressed closer, starved for it. “I.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’ve been so afraid.” Murmured against his shirt, Tim could feel the shapes of his words, the trembling of his lips.

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you. You mean. If, if you--I couldn’t stand it. If it wasn’t real.” Desperately, he whispered, thick with tears. “Don’t think I’d survive losing you again.” Too much loss. Too much all around and not one time had Tim thought about who he still had.

“I’m going to help you.” Tim realized then he’d been crying as well. “Like I should have from the start of this mess.” Gently, he pulled him away, took his damaged hands. “Let me get these fixed up. If Martin sees them, he’ll have both our heads on pikes.” For a moment, Tim was worried it was too soon, that Jon would need to hide this vulnerability from him, and he held his breath, until he nodded, just once.

It would take time, but they’d made a start.

#TMA #the magnus archives #tim stoker #jon sims #martin blackwood #pining #mending fences #sick #fever #injuries #fears #blood

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creative-type · 4 years ago

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wake from death (and return to life) ix

AO3 first summary: Zoro had always been told Kuina died falling down a flight of stairs. But she didn’t fall, and she wasn’t dead.

It took Kuina almost five minutes of dangling over the rails of the ship to realize there was no wind. She was punch-drunk and giddy, the weight of uncertainty rolled off of her shoulders now that she had a clear path forward. She was a Revolutionary. She was going to be the greatest swordsman in the world.

Kuina allowed herself those five minutes. With everything she’d gone through in the last week and a half she’d more than earned them, and it had been so long since she’d felt any real excitement for her future. But no swordsman worth their blade would let themselves get lost in childish emotionalism. Kuina steadied herself with a few deep breaths, mentally drawing in the flights of fancy that had momentarily escaped from her imagination—daydreams of facing Dracule Mihawk at the behest of the Revolution, of proving once and for all that she could do what so many thought impossible, of reuniting with her father and Zoro proudly bearing the title Greatest.

It was like trying to wrangle a gaggle of unruly children. The more Kuina struggled to contain herself the more her imagination tried to run free, but she managed to settle back into the state of tranquil serenity that was more befitting of her training. The practical side of her, the part that quietly disapproved of this most recent turn of events, knew that now that she’d painted the broad strokes of her future it was high time to figure out what the hell Aria de Gris was doing now. It was then, and only then, that she noticed that the air was unnaturally still.

The sailors around her were not perturbed even as the Valor’s sails hung limp from their moorings. Kuina could feel that they were moving on the clear, mirror-flat sea. Slowly, but that was better than being dead in the water. Kuina wandered to the ship’s bow, noting that the Valor was sailing almost due south. If the Revolution had followed the same heading since leaving Tolouse, and Kuina had been unconscious for two full days, that meant…

“Don’t worry, we should be out of the Calm Belt by the end of the week.”

Kuina flinched, sword half-drawn before realizing it was only Dara using what had to be the most annoying Devil Fruit ability in the history of the world. Dara laughed as she popped out of the deck, hooking her thumbs in her pockets as Kuina shot her a glare.

But most of Kuina’s irritation was at herself for letting herself be caught by surprise, and she returned her attention back to the water. It was impossible to sail through the Calm Belt without some sort of engine, which the Valor lacked, to say nothing of the danger presented by the innumerable nests of sea kings that buffeted the Grand Line from the Four Blues.

Even as Kuina tried to wrap her mind around it, a dark shadow emerged from the depths directly in front of the ship. A high-pitched, eerie wail, almost like a siren’s song, reverberated through the air and deep into Kuina’s chest.

A monstrous head breached the surface so close to the Valor it sent rippling waves across its hull. Sprays of water jettisoned thirty feet into the air, exposing only part of a stripped, misshapen body before submerging once more. Great flukes, as large as a whale, but covered with algae-like strands of hair, slapped against the surface of the sea and sent sprays of salty water against the deck. Someone in the crow’s nest above whooped out a cry of encouragement.

Thoroughly confused, Kuina looked at Dara, whose grin only widened as she pointed to a tiny speck bobbing to the space recently vacated by the leviathan. “Oh look, there’s Cam. Someone should send a boat after her.”

“As if she’d take it!” a Revolutionary Kuina didn’t recognize shouted from across the deck.

“True,” Dara said contemplatively. Beckoning Kuina to follow, she meandered to the starboard side of the deck and loosened a rope ladder into the sea. “It’s probably faster to just let her swim.”

If Kuina hadn’t been so amazed by the fact Camille hadn’t gotten herself eaten, she would have marveled at the speed with which she cut through the unnaturally-still sea. Kuina considered herself a good enough swimmer, but Camille looked like she’d been born for the water. She moved like she was part fish, each stroke strong and graceful, returning to the Valor in moments. When she climbed back onto the decks she seemed sad to be there, looking back longingly at the water.

“So, how’s Fin?” Dara asked.

“Good, good. I adjusted the harness to fit more comfortably.” Camille arched an eyebrow at her friend while adjusting a leather thong around her neck, from which hung the biggest tooth Kuina had ever seen. “And his name isn’t Fin.”

“Well since you haven’t said what his name is, you’ve left me no choice but to improvise,” Dara retorted. She nudged Kuina in the ribs. “Can you believe she went through the effort of taming a sea king and then didn’t name it? ”

“You tamed a sea king?” Kuina said. “ How? ”

Camille rolled her eyes. “I didn’t tame anything. We’ve just...reached an understanding.” She gave Kuina an appraising look. “I’m surprised the doctor let you out of her grasp so soon.”

“She almost didn’t,” Kuina admitted.

Dara wrapped an arm around Kuina’s neck, ignoring the choked yelp of alarm and Kuina’s efforts to squirm free. “Forget about that! Did you hear, Kuina joined up. She’s officially one of the team!”

“I thought that was a given.” Camille said, utterly disinterested as she wrung the excess water from her shirt.

“When did you hear that?” Kuina said at the same time.

“Pfft, Dara knows pretty much everything on this ship,” Camille said. “You get used to it.”

Kuina frowned. She didn’t like the idea of someone with Dara’s ability nosing her way into business that wasn’t her own. If there was anything she’d learned since sailing with the Revolution, it was that there was very little in the way of privacy while at sea. Ships crowded everyone together, crewmates eating, sleeping, and working in close proximity. While the forced closeness had its advantages, Kuina was used to spending great blocks of time alone. It was something to get used to, and to be wary of.

“Don’t worry, your secrets are safe with me,” Dara said, tweaking the end of Kuina’s nose. “You saved me from losing five hundred berries, and to Lizard of all people. I am at your service.”

It took Kuina a moment to remember Dara’s ill-thought wager with Elizabeth, and before she could voice her protest Dara had taken her by the arm to make official introductions to the crew, Camille laughing a half-step behind.

There was John the cooper, and James the blacksmith. Among the deckhands Kuina was introduced to rapid-fire were Kojo, Zhao, Lin, Char, Sean, Jen, and Tiva, and by the end of it she had gotten them so thoroughly confused with one another she had no idea which one was which. Others were working belowdecks, or off-shift and resting.

Elizabeth was still regretfully in charge of cooking duties, while Lyudmila was the ship’s quartermaster and second in command. Kuina was surprised to hear that in addition to taming sea kings in her spare time, Camille was the crew’s navigator.

“And what is it you do?” Kuina asked as Dara dragged her back below decks for the grand tour.

“Get newbs like you up to speed. Now here’s Trini’s room—try not to get stuck in here unless you want to spend the afternoon feeding lettuce to snails.”

Kuina blinked in amazement. The communications room was packed full of terrariums housing snail phones of every size and color. At its center was an enormous machine that looked vaguely like what the marines used to send their faxes, with thin cords attached to half a dozen den den mushi. Behind the machine sat Trini wearing an oversized pair of headphones, deep in concentration.

“She’s scanning the airwaves,” Dara said in an exaggerated whisper, carefully closing the door once more. “Not that there’s much to intercept in the Calm Belt, but you never know with the marines these days.”

“The marines can cross the Calm Belt?” Kuina said. “I can barely believe we’re crossing the Calm Belt!”

“It’s all thanks to Fin. Sea king bulls don’t typically fight with one another unless it’s mating season, so even if he’s pulling along a tasty treat we should be all right. I think his song has something to do with it, too.” She made an exaggerated gesture. “As for the marines, I have no freaking clue, but it must be a pretty new development since Boss doesn’t know about it, and the Valor isn’t sea-king proofed either.”

“That’s right, this was a marine ship,” Kuina murmured, looking up at the planks with fresh eyes. It was funny, without the marine’s distinctive painted hulls, she’d never would have been able to tell the difference.

“Oh, yeah. Came with all the amenities, which is how Trini got her state of the art snail room.”

“So if you guys had a sea king snuck up your sleeve this whole time, why didn’t you use it during the battle?” Kuina asked. “A monster that size would have been useful on Tolouse.”

“Ach, must everything be about fighting with you?” Dara said. “You must never have seen a real sea king, but Fin’s practically a baby, not even half-grown. And it’s surprisingly smart—for all my teasing, Cam was right. The thing has a mind of its own and acknowledges no master. I don’t think we could get him to attack a ship if we wanted to.”

“But he’ll pull a ship through the Calm Belt?” Kuina said.

“It’s better than going the long way around, eh?” Dara said with a shrug. “Come on, I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping.”

At the barracks, Kuina had her choice of seven open bunks. One, which happened to be closest to the door, had a small crate propped on top of the thin mattress. Inside was stuffed with clothes and basic belongings. When Kuina looked askance at Dara the light in her eyes dimmed.

“That’s Danny’s stuff,” Dara said. “The rest who died already have their things stowed for when we get back to base, but as far as any of us know she doesn’t have any family so we’re not really sure what to do with hers. I’d say for you to take the clothes since you don’t have any, but I don’t think they’d fit.”

Kuina drew her fingers over the box, trying to think if she’d said anything about any family in their short time together, but all she remembered her mentioning was an apprenticeship under a cruel master. Kuina’s throat tightened as the memory of Danny screaming hysterically echoed in her mind unbidden.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Dara rubbed her neck uncomfortably. “It happens. I already told Boss when I bite it to sell all my stuff and use the money to have a party. If you all can’t be happy, at least you’ll be drunk.”

“I don’t drink,” Kuina said.

“Then you and Mila can be mopey together,” Dara said with determined cheerfulness. “It won’t matter to me, I’ll be dead. Now, where do you want to be? I’d be careful about that middle one there, it’s next to Lizard, and she snores terribly. ”

Kuina took the hint, and changed the subject, trying not to wonder how many of the bunks available to her had only emptied after the battle of Tolouse.

After the tour came lunch, and with two solid, if not especially tasty, meals under her belt, Kuina was beginning to feel more like herself again. The itch to train was back, and Kuina wanted nothing more to test the limits she’d recently expanded and chase after the high of battle, but much like her time on Belo Betty’s ship she was first subjected to the humiliation of being the newest and lowest-ranking sailor on a large and understaffed warship.

“You’re kind of shit at this, aren’t you?” Camille observed from her perch at the ship’s bow, watching as Kuina ran her mop over the deck for what felt like the hundredth time.

“You could help,” Kuina said.

“And deprive you of the opportunity to learn? Never.” She gave a long, catlike stretch. “By the way, you missed a spot.”

Kuina muttered an oath as she stabbed the mop into the bucket. “It isn’t as if it’s dirty.”

“Water expands and seals the wood, salt protects against rot.” Camille yawned, as if bored by the conversation, and wandered back to their useless rudder. As she passed Kuina, she said, “If you want to live in a drippy, softwooded ship, be my guest. As for me, I’d prefer not to die the first time a Grand Line squall hits.”

She left Kuina with her head bowed and cheeks burning. But the words had their intended effect and Kuina redoubled her efforts, determined from that point on that no one could in good conscience reprimand her sailcraft ever again.

It was nearing dark when de Gris and Lyudmila emerged from the captain’s quarters to call a meeting with the crew. After a long day of labor, Kuina’s muscles ached and she yearned for the sweet respite of bed. And it wasn’t as if the work had been taxing, especially after Clara Cross emerged from the infirmary like an avenging angel to tell off the entire crew, but especially Kuina, for overexerting herself.

There were some things not even Devil Fruit magic couldn’t sweep under the rug, and apparently the exhaustion of a near-death experience was one of them.

“All right everyone, gather round!” de Gris yelled. “Watchmen too! There aren’t any ships out here, and if the sea kings come after us we’re fucked anyway. I want everyone to hear this. Where’s Trini? She can leave the damn snails for ten minutes.”

The crew scrambled to obey the order. Kojo (or maybe Sean) went to gather those who were still belowdecks. Minutes later everyone was assembled in a loose circle around the main mast, with de Gris at the center. She paused a moment to ensure everyone was paying close attention, and under her stern gaze the idle chatter vanished into deathly silence.

Rays of dying light cast against de Gris’s back and framed her face in deep shadow. “I know you all have been wondering lately why the hell we were called to the East Blue so suddenly, and why we’re leaving just as quickly. I’ve heard you lot asking where our next destination was and wonder why I’ve not said where we’re going once we hit the Grand Line. Well, the answer’s simple. Until today, I didn’t know.”

From the folds of her coat, she pulled out an old and crumpled sheet of paper. Kuina squinted her eyes and was just able to make out the blurry picture of a masked figure. The bounty underneath, however, was clear as the sky above. Master-at-Arms Gemini, Wanted Dead or Alive. Bounty: B48,000,000.

Beside her, Dara snorted. “Oh, I bet the marine who thought up that name thought he was very clever.”

It was difficult to tell much from the photograph, but the one detail that was absolutely clear was Gemini’s strange, double-segmented arms, too long for an ordinary human and vaguely insectile. Kuina, who’d never seen anything like it before in her life, wondered what it would be like to fight someone who essentially had two elbows.

She brushed the thought away and turned to Gemini’s face. Their mask, fittingly enough, was divided vertically into halves, one dark and one light. The side that was dark was completely bereft of ornamentation; Kuina couldn’t even make out an eyehole to see out of. The side that was light, however, was painted with a garish grin. A shock of wiry black hair fell past their shoulders, but beyond that it was impossible to discern any identifying features. Baggy clothing and the poor quality of the photograph obscured anything else, even gender, and after spending this much time under de Gris's command, Kuina knew better than to assume.

��Gemini is a prominent figure in the criminal underground,” de Gris continued. “Arms dealing, drug trade, slavery, the whole lot. Removing them from the equation will make the world a safer place.”

“What’s an arms dealer got to do with the Revolution?” someone to Kuina’s right called. “And what have they got to do with the East Blue?” A murmur of agreement rippled through the crew.

“Enough!” de Gris bellowed, silencing them once more. “Tolouse's government were slavers, that much is now clear. They called it political exile to a labor camp, but the end result is the same—the World Government gave the king kickbacks for human chattel, using the Callihan Trading Company as a middleman. And we now now that the CTC was taking orders from Gemini. If Gemini is willing to go through so much effort to set up a scheme in some East Blue backwater, who knows what other fingers they have stuck into various pies around the world.”

“So we’re going after them,” Camille said, crossing her arms across her chest.

“That's right. So far Gemini has been able to stay one step ahead of us, but with the intel gathered on Tolouse we have the upper hand.” De Gris marched to the mast. In one smooth motion she drew a dagger hidden in her boot, and stabbed the bounty deep into the wood.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re going to Kyuka Island. In the days ahead I’ll be divvying out assignments. Any questions are to be directed toward Lyudmila or myself—out of an abundance of caution, you’re not to discuss your orders with anyone else on this ship. I’ll keelhaul anyone who tries.” At this her gaze went directly to Kuina, who got the impression these instructions were given strictly for her benefit. "Kyuka is marine territory through and through. I pray none of us fall into Government hands, but if we do, it's safest for the Revolution that each individual knows as little as possible about our plans."

After a pause, and hearing no objections, de Gris lit a cigarette for herself. “I’ll pay anyone who finds any intelligence on Gemini that leads to their capture or death the full value of their bounty. I’ll pay double to anyone who brings me their head. This chase has gone on long enough, I want this bastard dead. ” She flicked a bit of ash off the end of her cigarette and added, almost as an afterthought, “Dismissed.”

A gap in the circle opened to let de Gris through. As she passed, she grabbed Kuina by the shoulder. “Come on, greenhorn. It’s time we sort out your position on this ship.”

For the second time that day Kuina was led to the captain’s quarters. De Gris’s desk had been cleared away, the sea charts rolled back into their proper places and ashtrays emptied. Kuina slid back into a chair that smelled like tobacco. “What is it? Does the Revolution have Articles of Enlistment for me to sign? Is there a manifesto I’m supposed to study?”

“Don’t be stupid.” The sun had almost dipped below the horizon, and de Gris found a box of matches to light a kerosene lamp. The orange flame danced on its wick and flickered with the natural roll of the ship. “I’m told Dara gave you the runaround today.”

Kuina nodded.

“Clara never came screaming at me, so I have to assume you’re not feeling too poorly,” she mused, taking the time to light another cigarette.

“I’m fine,” Kuina said, rolling back her shoulders so de Gris couldn’t see the weariness in them.

“And have you taken that sword out of its sheath even once today?”

“Uh...no?” Kuina said.

“Unacceptable.” De Gris leaned back in her chair and let out a long stream of smoke. “You’re not some swabby or rigging monkey, you’re here because of your blade.” She looked at Kuina as if she were an idiot for not realizing this sooner.

“I’m willing to work just as hard as anyone else on this ship,” Kuina said stiffly.

“And you will. Harder, even, since you’re so far behind. But a ship is like…” She gesticulated, trying to find the right word. “It’s like a person. A crew is its own organism, and every one of us has to fit into their part. You don’t expect a heart to do the same work as a kidney, and no matter how hard you try, you’re not going to be half the sailor as the people who’ve spent their whole lives on the water. It’s ridiculous to think otherwise.”

Kuina nodded. What she said made sense, and in many ways Kuina agreed with her. But there was something about agreeing with Aria de Gris that didn’t sit right with her, so she said, “I have to learn sometime.”

“Obviously. I’m not about to let you be a liability once we hit the Grand Line, but there has to be balance. You’re no good to me if you get yourself killed because you spent too much time studying the different types of sails instead of your swordsmanship.” De Gris was pensive for a moment. “I’ll have Mila set up a schedule for you in the morning. Half the day working chores, the rest training. A few of my men use katana, but you’re better than all of them. Most of what you’ll do will have to be self study.”

“That’s fine. I haven’t had a master in years.”

De Gris looked surprised to hear this, but didn’t comment. “We have regular sparing times as well, to help our less practiced fighters build their skill, and to give the mainliners a chance to get used to each other's styles. Depending on how this all shakes out, you might be pairing with Dara or Camille for the upcoming mission. Do you know how to use a gun?”

“Of course not,” Kuina said, caught off-guard by the question.

“Then you’ll learn.” De Gris cut off Kuina’s protests before they could begin. “Can you kill someone at twenty yards with your sword?”

“No,” Kuina said mulishly.

“Then you need to know how to fire a gun, and probably keep one on you as a backup weapon. I have no use for senseless pride on this ship, girl,” she said as Kuina scrunched her nose in distaste. It’s your job to listen to what I say, and it’s my job to try and put you in a position to not die. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Kuina said, still unhappy at the prospect of sullying her hands with a firearm.

Without warning, de Gris pounded her fist on her desk. The kerosine lamp tottered and threatened to fall, but her eyes never left Kuina’s, the scar on her cheek pulled taunt with her scowl.

“I said. Do. You. Understand ?”

“And I said yes, ” Kuina snapped. “I’ll learn to use you’re stupid gun, and when I figure out how to kill someone at fifty yards with my sword I’ll drop kick it into the ocean where it belongs." She crossed her arms across her chest. "I already told you I’ll do what you say so long as you don’t interfere with my ambition, so there’s no need to treat me like a child.”

They glared at one another for a long while, hackles raised, but this time Kuina refused to let herself be intimidated into backing down. Slowly, still without breaking eye contact, de Gris eased back into her chair and doused her cigarette. “I have put too many people’s belongings into boxes because they wouldn’t listen. For your own sake, I hope you’re not one of them.”

For the second time that day, memory of Danny's last words echoed in her mind. “You’re in luck, because right now I don’t own enough stuff to fit into a box, let alone anyone to send it to.”

“No one at all?” de Gris said, eyebrows raising.

Kuina’s breath hitched as she thought of her father back at Shimotsuki village. Would the Revolutionary Army be able to return her meager belongings home without the marines knowing? Would he be able to stand knowing she’d joined Dragon’s cause despite all his warnings? What about Ipponmatsu? He at least wasn’t under suspicion by the World Government...Or was he, now that she’d attacked Tashigi?

Of everyone she knew, it was probably safest to give her belongings to Zoro , but gods only knew what part of the Grand Line he’d found himself in. She almost laughed at the thought of him using two of her swords for himself.

“No one,” Kuina said. Her hands clenched into fists, nails digging crescent moons into her palms, but she kept her voice calm and her tone even.

After another heartbeat of painful silence, de Gris said, “Well, you’re not the only one." The words were probably meant to be reassuring, but Kuina felt they were anything but. “If you think of anybody, make sure someone knows.”

“I don’t plan on dying,” Kuina said.

De Gris snorted and lit another cigarette. “None of us do. Now get some grub and get to bed. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow.”

Kuina rose to her feet. After a moment’s hesitation, she bowed slightly. “Thank you...Captain.”

De Gris waved her away with a dismissive flick of the wrist. “You don’t have to break your teeth saying it. I don’t give a damn what you call me so long as you follow orders. Just know I take discipline on this ship very seriously. Cross me, and keelhauling is the least you’ll have to worry about.”

Kuina didn’t doubt it for a second. Murmuring her goodbyes, she left de Gris to her cigarettes and her musings, grateful to be able to swallow the clean sea air once more.

#wake from death (and return to life)#creative-type writes #holy crap it's been forever since I updated this #I think I missed several chapters on tumblr #I apologize in advance for being bad at promoting my own work #one piece #kuina #One Piece Fanfiction

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sweetangelfart · 4 years ago

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You know that scene in endgame where after tony snaps everything back ...and he just collapses to the ground

I was watching that scene again cause yknow I enjoy the pain it givse me and I noticed the 3 people who get to see him in his final moments

Rhodey

Peter

And finally, Pepper

Rhodey is the first to reach him, his best friend,his partner, the person whose been through so much with him, seen him at his best his worst and everything in between, seen him destroy himself and yet never lose his moral compass knows that his heart is always in the right place......its the familiarity

The same face tony saw after a night of crazy parties and too much booze and drugs, the same face who would tell him to sleep in his bed instead of passing out on the desk while he was working on something,the same face that would roll his eyes ,shake his head then ruffle his hair and just mutter without seriousness "what the hell tony" and then help him clean up

So that's what he does, he gives tony a ruffle to show him, no worries I'll clean after you, ya lazy butt

Then we have peter,sweet,young, innocent yet resilient and strong "neighborhood superhero" peter parker who just wants to do everything in his power to make sure that his idol is proud of him, to make sure that the little boy from queens iron man saved was worth it, that he would be just like iron man even though tony tells him that shouldnt be his standards to follow

To see the man hes looks up to make the ultimate sacrifice he could possibly think of and to have him slipping away right in front of him, peter wants to remind him that he actually succeeded in what he wanted to do and he did it in his own way

So he sinks to his knees and timidly asks him " it's me,its Peter" remember that kid you indirectly adopted that kid you gave a lecture after fishing him out of a lake,the one who didnt leave the goddamed space donut like you asked him to ,the one who turned into ash and smoke in you arms , "its me,its peter" it's the kid you grounded and then proceeded to make a suit for, that would counter any threat that you could possibly think of, the kid who bravely told you that he wanted to protect his neighborhood and stay on the ground,the kid who would follow you around like a puppy and the one you basically adopted just without the official contact being written up,the one you were so torn up when you lost him

'It me, and I'm telling you that you did it sir, we won and we won because of you', Tony is everything to this kid,his idol,his boss,his mentor,his father figure and he's tell you that you did it, its comfort

Then at last,it pepper

The fiery red head who never back away from telling you shit to the face, the ferociously good hardworking confident woman who would put you in your place regardless of you being her boss,the woman you trusted everything with knowing that if anything were to happen to you, shed never let anything happen to what you had build not just cause it was her job, she knew how much it meant to you, the woman you almost lost, the woman who chose you and you chose her back time and again,the woman who truly saw you for who you are underneath all the barbs you put up to save yourself from more hurt and neglect

She sees the sweet,brave,snarky man who despite not even possessing an actual heart would give it away for to anyone in need,shes sees the man whose just given and given his entire life,whose looked out for everyone, whose taken care of everyone,whose guilty conscience EATS him alive every single day,the kind of man would rather show you that he loves you than tell you,the person who would drop everything if you asked him to, the person who has just wanted to be there and tell everyone looking up at him that "it's fine,I got this" and she tells him "we're gonna be okay, you can rest now" every person you saved, everyone you brought back to life everyone you gave another chance at life, they're gonna be okay now

You can take this burden off your shoulders,you don't have to wear a mask or an iron suit to prove that you're brave,you dont need to build up more walls to stop people hurting you even though you would help them in the blink of an eye,you can breathe easy,you can stretch you limbs and put your feet up on the table and say its a job well done...

To tell him that hes leaving a world behind he's wanted to take of all his life, hes leaving it all behind after being told hes done good that its gonna be fine that hes done it and he can finally rest knowing that hes taken care of his own,that's reassurance

...... I want to continue but I'm currently drowning in an ocean of my tears, but

That's what tony needed, that what he needed to have said to him from pepper

ALL HE EVER WANTED WAS A PAT ON THE BACK SAYING "GOOD JOB" THATS ALL THATS ALL HE EVER WANTED

#i am ironman #just randomly felt like stabbing everyone's feelings #fuck the russo brothers #he deserves to be happy #he should have warched morgan grow up and attend Peter's high school graduation and watch harley get that MIT degree #shut up shut up shut up #marvel #rdj is tony stark #tony stark #avengers endgame #peter parker #tom Holland #iron man #rdj stan #rdj

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maybankiara · 5 years ago

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BAD BUSINESS

3: NOW IT’S TIME FOR ME TO GO

pairing: Rafe Cameron x John B’s Girlfriend!Reader

summary: Breakups are never an easy thing, and this one is no different. The only thing that makes it worse is that when you finally think you’re done with the situation, Rafe sends you a text.

word count: 5k

warnings: mild cursing, cheating

additional: it’s a big one, it features two original characters, and some very tense car situation (like, angst tense).

masterlist | tag list

previous part | next part

Shelley is a good friend.

Well, mostly.

Upon hearing that not only did you sleep with Rafe, but he also gave you food and drove you to her place in the morning, she started to laugh. She called it absurd, and you had to agree. It is absurd. But it’s the truth, anyway, so you told her you needed her help on figuring out what the fuck to do.

That’s when she asked the question: ‘What about John B?’

And this is how, a couple of hours later, you find yourself walking to the Chateau, with no idea what you’re going to say.

Shelley tried to tell you that you needed a plan to do this whole thing, but you’ve fucked up enough already – you didn’t want John B to think you rehearsed telling him how you fucked someone the night before breaking up with him. You’re going to tell the truth, because John B deserves to know it, and it’ll come out one way or another.

It’s not like you trust Rafe to keep it secret, really. A boy like him has got to spread the news of his achievements, and you’d rather it comes from you than some rando.

Then again, maybe you should’ve thought this through, you realise as the road you’re walking on takes a turn and the Chateau peaks from the abundance of trees. The sole sight of the place where you slept with John B so many times makes you squirm.

am i a monster?

Your thoughts travel back to the morning, and your and Shelley’s conversation replays in your mind. Once Shelley recovered from her initial shock of you having slept with none other than Rafe Cameron, she asked you tons of questions, most of which you didn’t have an answer to.

John B was never going to be the one for you and yes, deep down, you’ve known it from the very start. No, you didn’t go there intending on sleeping with Rafe, but it certainly set in stone any doubts you had about breaking up with your boyfriend. You didn’t know if Rafe had intended it happening any more than you did; you didn’t know what that meant for the two of you; you didn’t know what that meant for the half of your time that you spend not only on the Cut, but with John B’s friends, too.

But one thing Shelley never said is that she was surprised with the events. Not with you wanting to break up with John B—a blind man could’ve seen it coming—but not you ending up with Rafe, either.

Not even with you not having any regrets.

‘Does that make me a monster?’ you voiced your concerns to your best friend, your legs draped over her sofa.

‘A little bit.’ Shelley had never been the one to hold back; it stung a little. ‘But you weren’t happy with John B. Rafe was there. You got your frustrations out. You were going to break up with him anyway.’ She slung her legs over yours and sipped her mojito. ‘I’d say it was worth it.’

You frowned at her words, unable to understand how you truly felt about the whole situation. ‘I know I should feel guilty. I feel guilty for not feeling guilty.’

Shelley shrugged with such ease you would’ve thought the two of you were talking about picking one dress over the other. ‘It happened. Mulling over it won’t help. Besides, hooking up with Rafe Cameron on a whim is more like you than being serious with John B.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘It’s not a coincidence that the moment you stop thinking about John B and his shitty friends, you do whatever the fuck you want.’

It was one of those things that Shelley says that sound smart, but she kept sipping on her mojito at eleven in the morning in her mini-mansion, looking like the basic girl who had too much money and too little attention. You couldn’t take her seriously, even if you somehow understood exactly what she meant.

Not enough to be able to decipher it, but enough for it to hit something in your conscience – the same part that told you whatever happened last night, was okay.

John B deserves to know, and whatever comes of it, you deserve it.

The Chateau appears ominous as you approach it. It’s a simple house, built the way all beach houses on the Cut were, and there’s more than a fair share of memories tying you to it.

Your steps are heavy.

This is a moment you’ve thought about more than once, yet it feels as if nothing could’ve prepared you for the unsettling feeling in your gut. It’s like an open, never-ending hole that’s gaping wide open with its own gravity, suck in everything that gives you courage. To say you feel sick would be an understatement, but you push one leg in front of the other, until your knuckles are tapping against the door.

‘Get out and be a boss bitch,’ Shelley told you.

‘Easier said than done,’ you retorted, and now the words ring truer than ever.

John B opens the door with a smile on his face. His hair is shaggy and chin-length, a lighter shade of brown this time of the year, with more texture to it from the sea salt. He’s got the smile that makes him seem reliable and kind, and the dimples and the curve of his Cupid’s bow have always been what made your knees go weak.

Now, your knees go weak for a different reason.

He goes in for a hug and a kiss, but you turn your head and he kisses your cheek, instead.

‘Hi,’ you say.

‘Hey.’ John B’s hands are still on your shoulders, even when he pulls back with a little wrinkle between his eyebrows. ‘Everything okay?’

You nod. Over his shoulder, the Chateau appears to be empty. ‘Is anyone else here?’

‘Not yet. They’re supposed to come over in an hour or so, I think.’

‘Okay.’ You pull your lips in your mouth, scratching your neck. ‘Can I come in?’

John B tells you ‘of course,’ then steps aside as he lets you into the house. As you pass him, you’re overflown by his scent – sweat and salt and sandalwood, hastily buried under a cheap cologne.

The pullout couch, the floor in front of it, the kitchen counters, the bench on the porch, the hammocks, the beds – John B and you have marked each of these spots. A dozen memories rush to your mind, each more painful than the last.

As you take a seat on the couch, you try not to think of the last time you were here. But John B sits down next to you, close enough for your knees to be touching, and the memory is all you can see.

It was the whole group, that night. It must’ve been a Tuesday, because Kiara was off her shift and so was Pope, and JJ was nearly always here, anyway. The five of you had leftovers from the Wreck, each of you chipping in a small amount of money for Kiara’s dad. John B’s arm was slung over your shoulders and your back was against his chest.

JJ cracked jokes as you stuffed your mouth with fries. Pope kept commenting on the jokes, getting JJ all worked up, which made Kiara laugh to the point where she would snort every so often.

It was a good time. You like the Pogues, even if you don’t have much in common with them. You might be from the Cut, officially, but your area is somewhere in the middle, close enough to Kooklandia that your family’s financial situation is more similar to Kiara’s than any of the boys’. And you aren’t like Kiara – you aren’t a Pogue at heart.

Later that night, John B and you had another fight. It was about something you can’t even recall – maybe about how you were too snappy with his friends, or maybe how Kiara’s gaze lingers on him and he’s not exactly opposed. It could be anything; you’ve had enough arguments for them all to blend into one another. They always end the same, anyway – with both of you at least partly naked, panting, and not having resolved anything.

This one was no different. In the morning, you left the Chateau without really acknowledging the boy asleep at your side.

Come think of it, you can’t remember the last time you even spoke to him in the mornings, let alone kissed him, or cuddled up to him.

You cover your eyes with a hand, running it over your face. ‘I’m sorry. I’m not really having a good day.’

John B takes this as his cue to put a hand on your back, rubbing what are probably supposed to be soothing circles into it. ‘I can tell you’re hungover. How was the party?’

‘It was okay.’

i need to tell him.

The memory of John B at the other side of bed blends with the one from this morning, of Rafe, and a shudder runs through you. You lean forward, resting your elbows on your knees, and your boyfriend’s hand disappears.

‘Hey,’ you hear him say. ‘It’s okay. You can talk to me.’

The truth behind his words might be the worst part.

‘I’m fine.’

You lean back against the couch. A moment later, you pull your legs up instead, cross them, and lean against the armrest, instead.

John B is looking at you the way he looks at everyone else. Innocent eyes, gullible face, and a kind smile. It’s the kind of face that you used to think could give you the safety and comfort you thought you needed.

The face blends with another, blonde hair slick with sheen sweat; eyes full of mischief, lips crooked with bad intentions, and bone structure made for boarding school posters.

You blink it away.

‘You’re a great guy, John B.’ Your voice is dry and empty, and somehow that is even worse than if it were laced with emotion. ‘I’m pretty sure you’re, like, an angel or some shit. It’s not even fair.’

He chuckles, shaking his head. It’s because of the odd smile on your face that he seems a little unsure of what to do with himself – his hand twitches as if it’s about to rest on your knee, but he puts it in his lap, instead.

He doesn’t know where this is going, you realise. Or maybe he does – but he’s not letting himself believe it.

It makes you sigh, because it makes you feel all the worse.

just fucking say it

You gaze straight into your eyes, despite the heaviness in the pit of your stomach, despite your heart racing inside your ribcage, despite the room starting to spin a little. You’re going to be honest because John Booker Routledge does not deserve to be lied to.

You may not love him the way you’re supposed to, but your respect and admiration for him are endless.

So you begin. ‘Last night, I…’

It’s supposed to be easy, because you know what you need to say, but your brain freezes and the words drift from your tongue, your lips tremble and your eyes can’t detach from John B’s. They’re kind, and caring, and even though he’s probably starting to catch on to what’s happening, he still looks at you as if you matter – as if he’s saying it’s okay, i’m here for you. The corners of his lips tug to the side and you see the earnesty in their curve, and the dimple in his cheek reminds you of all the times he stood by your side when you needed him, when he lent his shoulder for you to cry on, and the softness of his hand that’s now on your knee reminds you of how innocent and gullible he is and you can’t ruin it.

Maybe John B was the person you needed at the time because he’s all these things, and maybe you’ve been drifting away from each other for a while, but he doesn’t deserve what you’ve done to him. You see trust in his eyes, despite everything, and in that moment, you hate yourself.

You don’t have the right to kill that innocence.

So you put his hand away from your knee as softly as you can, and clear your throat. ‘Last night I was thinking about us. I don’t think we’re happy anymore. Not together, at least.’

The wrinkle between his eyebrows is back. ‘Are you— What are you trying to say?’

His name is soft on your lips, your head tilted to the side. ‘You know what I’m trying to say.’

He takes a moment and you give it to him.

‘Is it because you don’t trust me?’

‘No,’ you tell him honestly. ‘I just don’t think this is working. I don’t really belong with your friends and you don’t belong with mine.’ You don’t acknowledge you’re the one who doesn’t deserve trust. ‘All we do is argue.’

‘We have good times.’

‘We have good times, but it’s not enough to just have them. Spending time shouldn’t be something we both feel like it’s required of us – stop, you know it’s true. Look, you’re honestly a great guy and I wish it could’ve worked out, but it hasn’t and it won’t.’

You breathe out, for the first time in what feels like forever. The corners of John B’s lips fall as he turns his head away; you watch his Adam’s apple bobble, hear him quietly sigh. His skin is flushed and lips shaking, but he doesn’t look too rattled. You’ve seen him rattled when his dad went missing for a few days – this isn’t it.

All it looks like is John B taking a moment for your words to sink in, is all.

At last he nods. He glances at you and his face is still flushed, but his eyes are dry. ‘You’re right. This has been a long time coming, hasn’t it?’

‘Yeah, it has.’

It’s quiet, but it’s comfortable, too. The tension that’s been between you two for a while has been lifted.

You want to pull him into a hug, but it’s selfish – he’s not the one who needs it, and he’s not the one who should give it to you.

‘Friends?’

John B looks hopeful when he asks the question.

It’s something you’ve thought about before, and maybe if you hadn’t fucked shit up last night, it could’ve been a possibility. Now, you just give him a shake of head and a smile that you hope is soft enough. ‘I don’t think we can go back there again.’

He understands. Of course he would – he’s John fucking B.

You’re out of the Chateau five minutes later, for good. Some part of you wants to bid goodbyes to the Pogues, too, except you know that’s the part of you that made itself believe that you’re one of them. A clean slate is better.

The walk home takes you through the woods around the Chateau and you walk next to the beach a little, opting for a detour. The combinated scent of fresh air, trees, and the sea has always had the ability to calm you down – one of the reasons why being around John B used to feel good. Sand glides underneath your feet and you glance at the kids playing in it a few feet away, not a care in the world.

It’s not that you’re dishevelled or rattled or upset. Okay, upset might be applicable, but overall you’re fine. Like the two of you agreed, the breakup has been a long time coming.

the only problem, you think as you kick a red solo cup that’s on the sand, is last night’s fuckup.

With John B out of the way, the only thing left to think about is what the fuck am i going to do with rafe? It’s not like you see the guy often, but the idea that he’ll spread rumours about you makes your skin shiver.

You fumble with your purse and finally text Shelley it’s been done. She wants to call, naturally, but you make a promise you’d call once you’ve taken a shower, had some time to think, and stuffed some food into your mouth.

Miss Dollinger [7:32pm]: fine bitch hmu once you’ve got your priorities sorted

That’s as sweet as Shelley is going to get.

The same solitude offered by the beach that usually calms you, is daunting now. Your home is a little over an hour’s walk from where you are right now, and it’s an hour during which you plan to deafen your thoughts by listening to music, or a podcast, or anything.

Like always, the plan is to leave the thinking to tomorrow.

It’s about half an hour later that your earbuds are blasting an old Bon Jovi album and you almost miss the vibration from your phone. You take it out of your pocket, click the unlock button, and glance over the text message.

Unknown Number [7:59pm]: one of your friends left her phone at Coopers. text me your location and I’ll come give it to you. Rafe

Moments later, you get another message: a picture of a phone screen with you, Shelley, and your other Kook friend Siobhan on it. Some random guy took this at a party a few months back, during spring break, and you didn’t even know that’s Siobhan’s screen saver. It has to be, though – both Shelley and you have your phones.

You sigh, because as much as you don’t want to deal with Rafe anymore, it is important.

Throwing a quick glance at your surroundings, you realise you’re almost halfway to your home, currently in the very middle of the Cut. It’s the place with tiny streets, small houses that are all in different stages of falling apart, and a few small local shops that somehow sell the best things you could ever find.

Me [8:02pm]: Lincoln St., Danny’s Bakery. Be quick.

It’s a little past eight and you’ve been to Danny’s enough times to know that he both is open till eight thirty, and sells something you’d manage to find money for in your purse.

Rafe texts you that he’ll meet you in fifteen, so you kill time by eating what could easily be one of the best croissants you’ve ever had. It might have something to do with the atmosphere, too – you’re hungover, just back on the singles market, having managed to do a really bad thing the night before, and are currently waiting for the said bad thing to come meet you.

this croissant really is the highlight of my last twenty-four hours.

You’ve got music in your ears loud enough to drown out both the sound of people and whatever thoughts might want to be running through your head, so it’s not a surprise it takes you a while to notice your name being called. It’s accompanied with a hand hitting the car door with an open palm, accidentally—or on purpose—to the beat of Jon Bon Jovi singing ‘i never knew i had a dream/ until that dream was you’.

The moment you glance to the right, you grunt.

‘Y/N,’ the blond says instead of a greeting.

One earbud pops out of your ear. ‘Rafe.’

The car that’s parked so close it’s almost behind you is an older Ford pickup truck, black and a little beat-up. In the driver’s seat, a little too close for your liking, is Rafe Cameron, with one of his hands hanging out of the window, definitely tapping along to the beat.

‘You’ve got a good taste,’ he tells you. ‘But you should probably turn that down if you want to be able to hear in ten years’ time.’

It’s not something you dignify with a response, but you do turn the volume down quite a bit. You look around, and people are giving the two of you odd looks – you don’t know whether it’s because of the fact that you’re sitting and talking to a guy in a car next to you, or because the car is very prominently not owned by someone from the Cut.

‘You shouldn’t have come in that,’ you say, only for him to hear. ‘You stick out. People are noticing.’

‘I don’t mind.’

‘I do. Just give me the damn phone, Rafe.’

He presses his lips together, sighing as he reaches into the car. He hands you the phone and you confirm it’s Siobhan’s, as her password is the same one she’s had for years now.

‘Thanks.’

It’s getting quite late and walking to Siobhan’s would be quite a trek. The girl lives even deeper within Figure Eight than Shelley does, so you decide you’ll just give it to her tomorrow morning. She’s got a backup phone, anyway.

You notice Rafe’s still parked next to you. He’s still tapping, out of beat now that he can’t hear it anymore. He looks different than he did in the morning – his hair is slicked back the way he usually styles it, the polo shirt he’s now wearing is baby blue, and he looks fresh, somehow.

He isn’t looking at you, but it doesn’t seem like he’s planning to leave anytime soon, so you get up from the bench you’ve been sitting on for the past ten minutes and start walking.

Rafe catches up with you almost immediately, driving his car at the speed of your walking.

‘Are you walking home?’ he asks. His tone is a little shaky and he sounds a little uncertain, which you find ridiculous.

It doesn’t make you slow down. ‘Why does it matter? You’ve given me the phone, you can go now.’

‘Let me give you a ride.’

‘Again?’ you scoff. ‘I’m not your charity case, Cameron.’

‘I know, Y/L/N. You’re on my way home, anyway. Don’t be difficult about this.’

‘Go away.’

You speed up a little, fumbling with the earphones’ wire. Rafe speeds up, too, but he’s adamant at staying at your pace, even if his car makes it difficult. At this point, it’s a given people are staring. It’s the Cut – everybody’s up in everybody’s business if it’s out in the open for everybody to see.

It’s what Rafe doesn’t understand.

‘Shit,’ you mumble, because the earphones won’t untangle, and your hands are starting to shake.

‘It would be ridiculous if I let you walk all the way home when I can give you a lift.’

You don’t see it, but you know the Cut well enough to be able to tell that the eyes you feel watching you aren’t just a figment of your imagination. ‘People are staring.’

Rafe sighs. ‘Then get in the car.’

You’re in the middle of the street, but you stop in place anyway and turn to him, hands balled in fists. ‘Why do you give a damn?’

To give him credit, it’s enough to make him hesitate. Both of his hands are resting on the wheel and the whole situation must appear so absurd that you can’t even piece together how the last twenty-four hours even happened.

When Rafe finally looks at you, his face is indecipherable. When he speaks, he doesn’t tell you why he gives a damn. ‘Please, Y/N. I don’t know what’s going on, but at least just let me give you a lift. Please.’

fine, you think. i’ll be your charity case. ‘Will you stop bothering me, then?’

He hesitates again and you see his Adam’s apple bobble. ‘If that’s what you want.’

‘It is.’

You march over to the other side of the car, agonizingly aware of all the people treating this as their daily dose of Drama From the Cut. True to his words, Rafe is quiet when you enter. He drives slowly, glancing at you ever so often, finding his way around the Cut even if you still haven’t told him where to drive you to.

‘Are you trying to be my chauffeur?’

A half-smile for a half-joke; Rafe knows he’s threading on thin ice. ‘I’ve got nothing better to do.’

With resignation, you give him Siobhan’s address. He puts it in the GPS on his phone and places it on the holder propped up on the dashboard.

This time, being in a car with him feels different. You’re more sober and more present, and so is he – the tension between you two is palpable, even though he doesn’t glance at you once. His sole focus is the road in front of him, and you hate the fact that yours isn’t.

It’s this car that makes Rafe not resemble the Rafe Cameron that’s the prince of Figure Eight. It’s not the newest brand—he has to connect his phone to it with an AUX cord—and it’s not the sleek, shiny, sports car or something like a Range Rover that you see most boys of his calibre drive. It’s big, yes, nothing you’d see around the Cut, but there’s something about seeing Rafe so relaxed behind its wheel that looks beaten up; depressing, almost.

There’s no question about this being his car. In the holder, there’s the sunglasses you’ve seen him wear, a bottle of water, some receipts, and loads of empty candy wrappers. Even the music that’s playing is old rock, not songs like rap or whatever it is that rich boys listen to.

He begins humming along to the song that’s playing (you’re not sure, but it could be Led Zeppelin). It’s the first sound he’s made since you left Lincoln St. behind.

why are you doing this?

Looking at him doesn’t give you an answer, only more questions. His left arm is resting on the plastic part of the door beneath the window, supporting his head leaning against it. His fingers are tapping along to the beat of the song, light but confident in the way they hold the wheel.

You have to look away.

Fifteen minutes later, you place the phone in Siohan’s hands. She thanks you for getting it to her and asks a few questions about last night, most of which you don’t answer. She asks if you walked all the way here, but doesn’t inquire when you say a friend gave you a ride.

Calling Rafe a friend is more of a way to prevent Siobhan from raising any suspicions, because Siobhan doesn’t really care about your friends that aren’t hers, too.

Damage prevention that’s damage control, really.

When you enter Rafe’s car again, he’s looking at you with a calm face, waiting for you to say something.

Another old rock song plays from his phone. You’re starting to think that might actually be the music he likes, and that doesn’t sit well with the image of him you have in your head. Nothing he’s done today does.

You lock in your seatbelt, glancing at him. ‘I’m guessing you’re going to insist on giving me a ride home, still, so I’m sparing us both from the argument.’

Rafe turns the key and starts the engine, pulling out of Siobhan’s driveway. It seems as if he’s trying to hide it, but you can see the corners of his lips twitching into a smile. ‘I was going to make sure you’d get home safe.’

‘I would’ve been fine.’

‘It’s the Cut,’ he counters. ‘Not the safest place.’

‘I live there.’

At this point, you’re tired of arguing. It’s whatever. You’re in the same position that Rafe’s still in, only you’re looking out of the window, watching the Figure Eight pass by.

He must notice something’s up, because he lowers the music. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

‘The Cut?’

‘If it’s the Cut that’s bothering you.’ The car takes a turn, onto the main road. Rafe glances at you. ‘It’ll be easier to get it off your chest than keep it in. I’m going back to college in three days, anyway, so you don’t need to worry about me spilling the beans.’

You sigh and, for a moment, wonder if trying to understand his motivation is worth it. The concern on his face seems as genuine as you’d get from a person you kinda know.

Besides, he’s kind of got a point.

You look into your lap, feeling your shoulders hunch as you finally admit what’s happened aloud. ‘I broke up with my boyfriend today.’

Rafe doesn’t acknowledge your words. His face is distorted in a frown and his shoulder high and tense. ‘Is it because of last—’

‘No. I was going to end it anyway.’

He nods, still unable to look at you. ‘Okay.’

‘It doesn’t— It doesn’t make what we did okay,’ you say. It’s the first time it feels as if you’re truly acknowledging that you slept together. You feel the breeze on your face, already starting to feel like summer’s warm air, and it makes you feel uneasy. ‘It wasn’t okay.’

‘I know,’ says Rafe quietly.

When you turn into your street, five minutes later, he still doesn’t look at you. The ease is gone from his face and you’re glad you’ve arrived – the tension is starting to become unbearable.

He pulls up at the beginning of the street. ‘Which one’s yours?’

‘I’m getting off here.’ You click the seatbelt and it snaps off loudly, plastic against plastic. The music is still too quiet.

‘Okay.’

You expect him to insist on driving you straight in front of your driveway, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t take his eyes off the road.

It’s something you should be grateful for, because you can only imagine what these houses must look like in his eyes, now that he’s been to two of your friends’ houses. Yours is modest, even if on the high end of the Cut design and architecture.

This is the part of you that doesn’t come along with you to parties.

‘Well, um. Thanks,’ you say; you don’t even know what you’re thanking him for.

‘Yeah.’

You get out of the car without another word. When he drives away, and when you finally arrive at your front porch, all you can think about is his face when you told him you’d broken up with John B.

★

tagging. @jjtheangel @teenwaywardasgardian @thelocalpogue @jjmaybanky @sacredto @chasefreakinstokes @drewstarkey @thatsme-johnbookerroutledge @margaritatimebaybee @outrbank @yourlocalauthor @justawilddreamerchild @snkkat @mynamewontwork13 @sunwardsss @storiesbymads @koufaxx @drewstarkeyobx @ilovejjmaybank @jjmaybanksbaby @mahleeyuh @starkeymarkey @nicolewithasoul @kiarawilliams127 @starlightstarkey @copper-boom @downbytheouterbanks @julialucena5 @country-club

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #obx fic #outer banks fic #rafe cameron fic #my fic #my imagine #f: obx #c: rafe #ff: bad business

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project-rosewood-476 · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 2 part 1 Of Every Rose Has Its Thorns is out now! the AU and some of the ideas and characters belong to @creepypasta-shtick and Maplehood Creek, Rosewood, and Tabby Anderson belong to me.

TW: character death, mentions of blood and gore

Tabby was always an early bird due to her stepdad getting her up at 5 in the morning. Also with Rosewood starting at 7:45 am. But she slept through until 7-8 in the morning. Tabby woke up and stretched and winced at her bruises. She slowly sat up and rubbed her eyes confused. This wasn't her house. This wasn't her room...then last nights events came rushing back to her

"So it wasn't a dream after all... and I'm alive...I survived my first night in this strange new world. One day down and another one to go" she said in thought. she grinned as the new reality set in.

"I'm free...of my stepdad, Rosewood, and Horacio!" She said in thought also she let out a quiet giggle to herself.

She got out of the bed and put her knives on the nightstand for now. She took a good look at herself in the mirror. Her red-brown hair turned into a messy low ponytail with a couple of wavy strands that were out. That was due to the tossing and turning in her sleep. She still had dark circles under her eyes and they still appeared to be sunken back slightly. But they had that spark of life back in them again. But you can never catch up on lost sleep. She fell asleep in her clothes from yesterday but she'll change today. She really had no use for PJs she only used them on occasion. Her older bruises were almost completely faded away and her new ones started the healing process. Pretty soon all there would be was the scars from her old life and new bruises and cuts from training and missions and stuff. Hopefully less than what she has now.

She quickly got dressed in a long-sleeved white shirt and blue jeans to cover up the scars and bruises. She was more clear-minded than she was last night. No one else needed to see her bruises and scars and think that she's weak and sickly. She put on her shoes and went out of her bedroom and into the kitchen.

Toby has done a lot for her in one night. It was only fair to return the favor. The least she could do is cook him breakfast. She looked in the fridge and saw some eggs. She took out the carton and put it on the counter. She saw some bread laying about too and saw a toaster.

"Perfect!" She thought to herself.

She looked around for a frying pan, plates, and utensils. It took her a while to find the stuff in the kitchen but she made her way around and made very little noise as possible. And was humming a song that she knew to herself. She put the two pieces of bread in the toaster and started making the eggs for herself first.

Toby was still kind of groggy but he pulled himself up and yawned. It took him a little while to get used to being awake so he waited for a bit before turning off his radio. He went up to go to the bathroom. He had several wounds he needed to make sure stayed clean after all. After cleaning himself up, he figured he should go out and get the newspaper or something. He knew that after a couple of weeks he would have a huge mission that would involve putting on a fake identity and infiltrating a school, which he was not looking forward to. He was incredibly anxious about it. From the bathroom, he could hear a knock on the front door. Oh right. He had locked it. It was probably Jane and she had probably finished Tabby's mask that night.

Tabby put her eggs and toast on a plate and went to answer the front door. She unlocked it and opened the door a little bit. warily and cautiously.

Jane had left the box on the front door. It was a nice-looking box. It could be easily opened. She had stayed up all night doing the mask.

Tabby opened the door wider and cautiously picked up the box. She eyed it suspiciously. She decided to leave it on the table and decided to wait for Toby to come out so she wouldn't be alone while opening it just in case it could be a trap.

Tabby began to eat her breakfast. She kept eyeing the box in a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. She wanted to open it badly but decided that she knew better than to open it by herself as Jane's words echoed through her head from last night.

'Don't trust gifts that are given to you even if they're given by people you know, there are a lot of backstabbers here'.

She continued to wait patiently.

Toby came outside the bathroom and headed towards the kitchen. He saw Tabby and the box.

"Oh. That looks like the box Jane uses to deliver masks." He stared plainly.

He went to the fridge and began rifling through it. Jane's boxes always looked distinct to show that they carried masks that she had made her own.

"Oh you don't have to rummage through the fridge," she said in between bites "I was going to make you some eggs as a sort of a thank you. But then I realized that I don't know how you like your eggs...or even if you like eggs...I also didn't know if you were like me in needing to watch your food being made to make sure it's not poisoned. So I waited before I did anything."

"But if you do like eggs how do you like them? I could make you some..." she said a little shyly as she looked down and went to open the box.

She opened the box slowly and warily. She took out the mask and inspected it. It was a pretty teal with golden spirals branching out from one another and at some angles, the gold glittered in the light. She checked the inside of the mask and smiled to herself when she saw the names of the people she lost engraved inside. She put it on and looked at Toby.

"Oh, it's okay. I'm the type of person who likes taking care of myself." Toby explained.

He had needed to make his own breakfast since he was 8, and a change from routine would just feel somewhat alien. He thanked her for her offer though. He turned when he felt the air somewhat shift and saw that she had put on her mask.

"Oh, that looks great. Does it feel okay? Natural?" He asked. He got out some leftover breakfast from the day before and went to heat it up.

"Fair enough," she said.

She understood not wanting to rely on others since she has been neglected since she was 4 so she had to learn how to do the basics of taking care of herself.

"It feels weird at first but I'll get used to it" she put the mask in her box and went to pick up the eggs and put them back in the fridge.

She finished up the last bit of her egg sandwich that she made and went to do up her little bit of dishes. She unwrapped her left hand so the bandages can stay clean and dry. You could see the surgical incisions that were made to get the glass out. The scars were in that in-between stage of old and fresh. Her hand was healed but you can tell that the doctors didn't set it right as it looked out of place.

Toby nodded.

"It will feel weird at first but soon you'll freak out seeing yourself without it."

He wanted to make the transition into this new life as painless as possible. He remembered being incredibly freaked out at the beginning. He noticed her hand. Oh, man. EJ would lose his shit 'seeing' the work done on that hand. Toby thanked her for doing her dishes.

"By the way, you said you wanted to go to the library today?" Toby said. "While we're out, I could sort of show you around if you want. A lot of your first missions will be fetch and deliver, so it's nice to know where to go." He was finishing up his breakfast.

"Yeah I did say that and it would be nice to know my way around. I mean I'm going to be on my own at some point so yeah"

She dried off her hands and notice that he was looking at her damaged hand.

"Yeah I know it's not a pretty picture. Reason number 1025 of why I hate and don't trust doctors. They can't do their damn jobs right" she gave him a bitter smile.

"So your mission was fairly riskless huh?" She raised an eyebrow as she nodded towards his injuries "I do hope you took care of them properly" she gently re-wrapped her hand in the bandages.

Toby nodded.

"Yeah, you will be. Once you finish training, the boss will give you a new place." He said. "I'll show you around, introduce you to a few people." He said.

"I understand the sentiment about doctors though, but for me it's therapists. My therapist knew I was abused and, as a mandated reporter, didn't call CPS for me." He said.

He knew there were competent doctors and therapists, but that didn't change his experiences.

At her comment, he nodded. "They're just small cuts and bruises. Come from running through the woods." He said.

"Same. I hated therapists too. I've been through 7 psychiatrists. My parents believed that I was delusional and paranoid because they didn't believe me about my horror stories at Rosewood. My therapists didn't believe anything I said about Rosewood or about how my stepdad abused me but left the rest of my family out of it" she gave him the finger guns and another bitter smile but she looked like she just wanted to die.

Toby nodded. "I got a therapist after my sister died. I still remember her. She was this older woman, about the same age as my mom and she always had this fake, vacant smile. It used to piss me off." He said.

He understood.

"They used my mental illness to totally discredit what I saw and what I said happened to me. She tried to have me involuntarily committed."

Toby shrugged a bit while clearing his dishes.

"I've thought about killing her, honestly, but I figured it wasn't really worth it." He said, starting the water

"But they did manage to diagnose me correctly on OCD, Anxiety, PTSD, and Paranoia which all had to do with Rosewood and my stepdad but not for the reasons that they thought. We're probably missing a few others since they can't diagnose me fully correctly", stated Tabby.

"I understand," Toby said.

He finished cleaning up his dishes. He already was dressed for the day and was still wearing his mouth guard and goggles. He put on his gloves.

"You ready to go in a bit?" He asked.

"Honestly they're just doing it to get paid and not caring how they do it" "I've thought about killing my stepdad and I would have if it was just my mom and not...someone else involved...", she trailed off and looked away.

"Well, I killed my dad," Toby said with a shrug.

"And I let my mom find the body." He put his dishes away.

"I feel like my life would be so much different if I had actually had a decent therapist. I know they're out there and I'm just so pissed that I got a shitty one. If I had one that actually cared, I probably would still be human."

"Lucky you. I would have done the same but I never had the luxury to be selfish. This is the first time I actually put myself first"

She knew that wasn't entirely true either. She would have gladly let masky and hoodie kill her. She wouldn't even have had to put up a fight. But toby was the one who spared her life and he did it for a reason. She promised herself that she would stay alive for him so his efforts wouldn't go in vain. It wouldn't be fair to him if she died. On top of her promises to kill Horacio and avenge her friends. But he doesn't need to know that.

"Yeah I'll be ready to go in a few minutes I just need to brush my hair and teeth real quick." She said not ignoring his previous statement.

Tabby went to her room to get her things and went into the bathroom to do her thing. She came out with a neater-looking ponytail. She grabbed the box and headed back to her room to put her things away. She then came back out wearing her thick red plaid jacket that she always wore with her gray hood up and put her new mask on.

"I'm ready to go"

Toby nodded. "Alright. Let's go." He said. He was in his usual attire. It was worn, but clean.

"Do you want to go to the library first, or would you like me to show you around first?"

"I would like to go to the library first please if that's okay. Afterward, it will give us time for you to show me around and meet a few people", said Tabby.

"Okay, that works. There are some things that you'll want to know about the library through." Toby explained.

Tabby paused for a minute "Which are?" She trailed off.

"Well, the librarians are all disgraced proxies and monsters as well as retired proxies," Toby said.

"And usually you're not supposed to talk to the librarians unless it's for something strictly about the library. However, the librarians are very smart and have very large comprehensive knowledge over things."

Tabby nodded slowly in understanding "okay I got it. I don't usually talk to anyone in general"

"If you get on their good side, they'll defend you though," Toby said. "A lot of stuff can go down at the library."

She snorted "doesn't surprise me"

She had a mini flashback to the library at Rosewood. She was a bookworm and the library was the least sinister place in the school. Even though it too carried its own dark secrets of Rosewood. Libraries were considered sacred and neutral ground at Rosewood.

Toby knew of a proxy who had gotten beaten to death in the library. The library was usually quiet but sometimes could get very messy. He held the door for her. It was good practice to say goodbye to the desk lady before they left.

"Is that all?" She asked.

"Yeah, pretty much. Would you like me to stay there with you?", he asked.

"Yes, please. Two is better than one right?"

She mentally cursed herself for saying yes. She had to prove to him at some point that she could take care of herself and hold her own. But she didn't want to be left in this strange new world that was day 2 for her. Especially around strangers who wouldn't hesitate to kill her if given the chance. If she had someone with her the chances of that happening would be slim to none. And she was taught from a young age that you never go anywhere alone. Especially in Maplehood unless you had to.

"Survival reasons", she told him to justify herself, "I'm fresh meat as it is and curiosity about the new girl is inevitable. I'm crippled and small and I would be alone which means it would be easy for someone to kill me without a second thought. I'm young, not stupid so it's better to go with someone and only go alone if I absolutely have to".

She babbled on her reasoning to him and she was getting defensive about it because she didn't want him to think that she was a little bitch that can't take care of herself.

Toby understood. She didn't need to justify herself to him, he understood.

"Hey, it really is okay. I'll just sit nearby and maybe chat to a few people." Toby was decently popular.

"Okay… can we go now?" She asked.

"Yeah," Toby said. He moved to let her out of the apartment.

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