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mari-beau · 1 year ago

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When the Bough Breaks: Chapter Three

(A Brokenwood Mysteries fanfic)

FANDOM: The Brokenwood Mysteries PAIRING: Simmers (Kristin Sims/Daniel Chalmers) CHARACTERS: Mike Shepherd, Kristin Sims, Daniel Chalmers, Gina Kadinsky, Random OCs RATING: Teen+ (for now; later parts may become higher) WARNINGS: Dead bodies/death (and other such associated with Murder Mysteries) STORY SUMMARY: When a woman is found lying dead outside a treehouse motel, it hits close to home for one of the detectives. Meanwhile, Brokenwood is facing a spree of seemingly random petty crimes committed by random persons. And Kristin and Daniel's personal relationship faces challenges. CHAPTER SUMMARY: (Daniel POV) Brokenwood Police Station is astonishingly busy and Daniel's day seems destined to be a frustrating one (professionally and personally).

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READ CHAPTER ONE

READ CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

Daniel Chalmers turned around from the printer, fresh photos from the scene in hand and stopped short of running into Constable Arona. Pursing his lips and swallowing his growl of frustration, Daniel waited for the officer to pass through, guiding his arrest (still in handcuffs) by the arm.

The station was in absolute chaos.

And had been since apparently the previous night as calls and arrests racked up over vandalism, disorderly conduct, disturbance of the peace and other petty crimes. It was odd and rather alarming from his experience of Brokenwood, both growing up in the smallish town, and since his return to it.

He took a deep breath, navigated around two perps seated at a folding table while an officer filled out their paperwork, darted out of the way of another constable running for the door, and sighed when he finally made it back to his desk. He hazarded a look at Kristin sitting across from him, but she didn’t look up from her computer screen.

She seemed… more herself. And he didn’t dare ask her if she was okay for a third time that morning. There was a fine line between being attentive and caring, and being annoying and smothering with Kristin Sims. Daniel had learned it the hard way, well the only way to learn it, by trial and error. But he’d never seen her so upset at work before, to the point of losing her breakfast. So it was difficult to guess how much support she required, or how much would tick her off.

The boss’s door opened, and the desk sergeant walked out, picking up the same harried pace the rest of the department seemed to be operating under, leaving Mike standing in the doorway.

“Sims, Chalmers.” He gave them a nod, inviting them into his office. “Bring what you have on this morning’s suspicious death. Looks like we’ll need to use my office to set up.”

Chalmers gathered up the photos, evidence bag and his notebook, and put his computer to sleep. It was going to be tricky to work the case with the required level of discretion when the station was an absolute zoo. Crazy as!

He followed Kristin into Mike’s office, resisting the urge to place a hand on the small of her back. She would doubtless interpret it as an attempt to comfort her (unnecessarily in her opinion) and not for what it was, his own bloody reassurance. (It had unsettled him to see her so uncommonly upset.)

Mike closed the door behind them, and clasped his hands together.

“Uh, right.” He looked around the office, then turned to the cork board on the wall behind him. “This will have to do.”

He pulled the few bits of paper off -old reminders, a small calendar, and photo of his nephew- and set them on his desk. Then nodded at Daniel.

Daniel pinned up the forensic photo of Veronica, throwing a brief apologetic look at Kristin, who ignored his concern. (Yup, she was definitely overcompensating for what she probably perceived as showing weakness.)

“I couldn’t find an online presence for a Veronica Howell. At least, not this one.” He offered as explanation for the use of the photo of the corpse rather than one of the woman when she was alive.

“Hmm… Are we sure about the identification of the deceased?” Mike asked.

“That’s the name she used with me…” Kristin frowned. She seemed uncomfortable, but that was to be expected, right? “And others. And I know I haven’t mistaken her for someone else.” She pointed at the photo on the board. “That’s Veronica Howell.”

“And that’s the name she used on the motel registry,” Daniel said. “Mr. Cook said he verified it with her ID. But she paid with some business credit card. Zabix Incorporated.”

“And did the business have any contact information for Ms. Howell?”

“Zabix, Inc. didn’t even have any contact information for themselves.” The trend of zero custom support was getting really annoying in Daniel’s opinion. “Their website only has a ‘contact us’ form. I submitted a request for someone to reach out about usage of their corporate credit card.”

“So our next step will be to search the treehouse she was renting,” Mike said. “Hopefully we’ll find enough information to track down next of kin.”

“We’re considering the death accidental then?” Kristin asked. It did sound as if Mike was prioritizing identifying the deceased in order to notify the family.

“My instinct says to play it cautious and treat this as suspicious.” Mike looked from Kristin to Daniel, who nodded in agreement. “At least until we hear from Gina.”

“And speaking of suspicious…” Daniel juggled the pile in his hands, pulling out the evidence bag. “The motel owner was chasing off some tree-climbing trespassers when he literally tripped over the body. This-” He held up the bag with the wallet inside. “-was found in the vicinity where they were spotted by Mr. Cook.”

“Wow.” Kristin scoffed. “It takes some kind of genius to drop their wallet while trespassing.”

“Trespassing just to climb trees,” Daniel said, agreeing with her conclusion that these perps were morons.

“Or possibly they were doing more than playing George of the Jungle,” Mike said.

Kristin’s expression sobered.

“Well, should be easy enough to find out.” Daniel took out the enlarged image of the license found in the lost wallet. “I think we should pay Frank Beck a visit regarding his nocturnal activities.”

“Do you need back up?” Mike asked.

There was no judgment in the boss’s tone or expression. But the Brokenwood police force was obviously stretched thin. And Daniel didn’t anticipate any problems. His instincts told him the tree-climbers weren’t involved.

“Nah. I can handle it.”

“Alright. Kristin and I will search Ms. Howell’s treehouse then, while you follow up with Mr. Beck.”

“Um, actually…” Kristin was wearing her thoughtful face. But also, there was a hint of awkwardness and discomfort beneath her expression. “I might have an idea on how to confirm Veronica’s identity.”

Mike raised his eyebrows. “Care to elaborate?”

“Not at this juncture. But-” She glanced at her watch. “Now is the perfect time to pursue it.”

“Okay.” Mike clasped his hands together. “Looks like we’re going to divide-and-conquer on this one.”

Daniel nodded at Mike and headed for the door, but Kristin beat him to it, bolting out of the office ahead of him. He was desperately curious about what was going on with… well, his… girlfriend? That didn’t feel right. They’d only been together for five months but the connection, the affection he felt for her, was deep and intense.

He wished he could tell her.

But despite being outwardly tough, Kristin was emotionally delicate, kept herself carefully walled off as a defense mechanism. Which made her able to remain calm and detached in most every situation. But also made it difficult to get past her barriers. Daniel thought she was letting him in, little by little, a process which honestly started nearly three years ago, as they grew from colleagues to friends, and now romantic partners.

Some days, though, it seemed like she’d never truly let him into the deepest heart of her. And implying she might be having feelings she couldn’t suppress, by asking her if she was okay, if she wanted to talk about it, or showing her affection at work, well that was a sure-fire way to instigate some serious aggro.

So Daniel held his tongue and kept his hands to himself as she grabbed her jacket, bag and keys and prepared to leave. He did the same, trying to catch her eye as she passed his desk, but either she was too distracted by trying to navigate the crowded station or she was purposefully avoiding him. Either way, he was left worried and unsettled about his wahine as he tried to refocus on the job at hand: Solving the possible murder of a friend of Kristin’s he’d never heard of before.

#The Brokenwood Mysteries #fanfiction #Simmers #Kristin Sims #Daniel Chalmers #Mike Shepherd #Gina Kadinsky #casefic #Story: When the Bough Breaks

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bokunosimpfiction · 3 years ago

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Yandere!Karl Heisenberg x Reader

Synopsis: Heisenberg kidnaps the reader. And she’s pissed about it. And so is he. Turns out there’s a lot more to it than it seems, tw: kidnapping I’m not tagging for violence because it’s less graphic than even the mild stuff in canon. Like reader gets a concussion and a dislocated arm, that’s it.

A/N: first time ever writing for Resident Evil. I haven’t even played the games, only watched a play-through and immediately fell in love with this hobo. Honestly, there’s a lot of room to make a sequel or some more from this but I have commitment issues and it probably won’t happen.

Oh and one last thing! Do you think I should add resident evil: village to my fandoms I write for or no. Let me know please!

It’s dark in your small cottage, claustrophobic with the way you stumble to the front door as fast as you can. You try to take deep breaths, but you can’t, not with someone chasing you. You cut through the kitchen, and when he reaches out to grab you, you slam the door to a cabinet as hard as you can. You can hear his pained yell.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, (y/n),” he says.

“I’ll make it as hard as I damn please!” You put your hand on the handle to the front door, twist and right before you manage to open it, a body slams into yours and you hear your arm pop. Loudly. And it burns at the elbow like someone poured gasoline on it and set it on fire.

You can hear his heavy breathing and feel the warm air on the crown of your head. “You put up a good fight, I’ll give you that much.” He presses his body further into yours, and you feel everything. The toned muscle under a layer of fat, the harsh fabric of his shirt and jacket, and the bulge that presses into the small of your back.

“You’re so small,” he coos, like he’s talking to a dog, “I can’t wait to break you.”

You manage to wiggle one arm free and jab him in the side as hard as you can with your elbow. You hear him say oof under his breath, and you take this as the opportunity to press your foot into the door and push back into him as hard as you can, to at least get him to stumble back.

It doesn’t work, he just leans his whole-body weight on you and uses one hand to smash your head into the door. He could have done it harder, you reckon, but it still hurts like a mother fucker. “Shut the fuck up before I do something I regret.”

“Like you don’t already regret breaking into my house and trying to kidnap me? Like you don’t regret slamming me into my door and dislocating my elbow? What are you going to do to me that you’ll regret? Huh?”

He looks down at you through those yellow glasses of his, light from the glass peephole reflecting off of them but his hat shading the rest of his face. “I said shut the fuck up!” He presses your head even further into the door, and your temple digs into the frame. It hurts, and your eyes water from the pain.

“Who even are you?!” You end up shouting. His grip loosens a little bit, just enough for you to move your head off the door frame and onto the actual door. “I’ve never met you in my goddamn life and you break into my house, say you love me, and try to kidnap me!”

Something in him breaks, you can tell, the outline of his features look crestfallen. “You don’t know who I am?”

“No… I don’t. And here you are in my house, chasing me around like I’m some goddamn animal you’re hunting.” Your eyes water. “I know you don’t mean a damn word you said this entire time.”

“Shut your goddamn trap woman!” His grip on your hair tightens. “I love you and we both know it; I know everything about you.”

“So, you’re a stalker? Huh, didn’t think I was pretty enough to have one.”

“I knew you had a mouth on you, and it was attractive till it was pointed in my direction.” His voice is low and gravelly at this point, like a thin string that’s pulled taut and about to snap.

“Well get used to it you fu-” You don’t get to finish your sentence, because a piece of metal from his hammer slams you hard in the face, knocking you out cold.

When you wake up, it’s hard to open your eyes. It’s too bright and the room is spinning when you move your head up. That must be one hell of a bump on your forehead. You go to feel it, only to find you hands chained up to a metal pipe on the wall. Your feet are too, but that chain is a lot slacker.

You’re lying down on the floor, a cheap scratchy blanket separating you from rough, worn down cement. It’s still hard and cold, but it didn’t scratch up your skin, so that’s something to be grateful for. You look around the room, only to find an old tv, that’s on, and playing static. That’s what was so bright, you realize.

Suddenly the noise from the t.v. stops, and you hear a voice. It’s still sounds like static, but it’s audible enough to understand the words and recognize the voice. It’s the same guy who kidnapped you. You don’t really process what he’s saying, it’s just noise to you, and you close your eyes and curl up as best as you can. Maybe you’ll wake up, and everything will be okay.

“Quit ignoring me girlie.”

You snap out of your daydreaming. The days of that warm bed and leaky bathroom faucet are over, and this cruel situation is your reality for the time being.

“Okay. Okay. But just quiet down my head hurts.”

“I’d be sorry, but you brought that upon yourself,” he says.

You can’t help but be snarky, you’re tired and already sick of this shit. “I’m sorry you don’t have the self-control to not kidnap people and knock them unconscious via flying pieces of metal.”

“Touché.” You hear back.

“Can you at least get me some Tylenol for my head or something.”

“Why should I? After all the attitude you’ve given me, I should just leave you in there to starve.” Looks like he knows how to be snarky too.

“Because you were the one who hit me in the head and locked me in here?”

“Apologize and I’ll consider it.”

You go back to your curled up position. “I guess I’ll just starve down here then.”

The t.v. cuts off again, or you just tune him out, just run your hands along the chains to try and find a lock. You find the one attached to your left ankle and begin to plot your escape. Maybe you could pick the lock with a bobby pin? You run your hands through your hair, not only to find that it was down, but all of them were removed.

You run your hands down your pajama pants. Maybe you have something in your pockets? They also turn up empty.

“Are you looking for something to pick the lock with?” You hear from the t.v. You turn back to look at it, only to see his face. He’s not wearing his glasses, and he’s taken off his worn-out bucket hat, so you can see his untamed salt and pepper hair. “I took the liberty of searching your person while you were knocked out. I highly doubt you’ll find something to pick the lock with.”

“You’re an asshole, you know that.” You find yourself saying. To be fair, you probably shouldn’t, considering that he: is holding you hostage, threatening to leave you to starve, and is clearly a psychopath, despite his claims that he loves you.

“Calm down, you know it makes me upset to see you mad.”

You can’t help but raise your voice at him. “Quit fucking taunting me! You won this stupid ass game. You kidnapped me! You can come down here and kill me now!”

“You think I wanna kill you?” He asks, you can tell he’s just as furious as you are. He chuckles lightly. “You know I love you. I did this for your own good! There are people out there. People who want to taint you and your innocence! People who want to hurt you!”

“I can handle myself just fine! I had before your psycho ass came along and kidnapped me!” Your furious, desperately searching for a weak point on the pipe with your hands while you yell at the t.v.

“And what would have happened if I didn’t?” He asks you, “lady supersized bitch in the castle would have gotten to you first… I can’t have that.”

“I’m sorry who?” You ask. Suddenly things have gotten more confusing.

“I’m not the only one who’s after you,” he clarifies. “You think I’m the one who’s a psychopath, there’s a woman out there who wants to drink your blood and eat your flesh! And monster that wants to drown you and swallow you whole-”

“Slow down! I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about!”

“Don’t interrupt me! I want what’s best for you!” You can hear him take a deep breath. “I’m going to bring you upstairs and explain everything. And you’re going to behave, am I clear?”

You just nod your head.

“Good. Now stop trying to find a weak point on that pipe to get loose before I get down there. It has carbon monoxide in there, you’ll poison yourself before you get to that door.”

You immediately stop twisting the connector and drop your hands to your sides.

“Good girl…” His praise makes you want to vomit. “Now stay still while I come get you.”

When he comes down and opens that iron door and unceremoniously tosses you over his shoulder, you can’t help but comment on it. “Am I a bag of potatoes to you?”

“Don’t complain, I could be like that Dimitrescu bitch and turn you into wine.”

You shut up immediately and grasp the back of his coat for balance. You don’t know why, but his empty threats scare you immensely. You watch the hallways blur into one another, trying to see if you can find a window, or an escape rout of some sort, hell, even a vent he couldn’t fit in but you could would work well.

He smacks your thigh. Not hard, but enough for a slight sting and to get your attention. “We’re in the center of the factory, there’s no need for you to be tracking an escape route, especially because you won’t be leaving any time soon.”

Eventually, you end up in a small office like space, with a desk, a cork board with several pictures of people on it, and a large grate that leads to a tunnel downwards. He pulls the metal chair out of the corner with his powers and places you in the chair. “Stay.”

“So…�� He turns towards the cork board. “Since your out of town, I’ll explain the run-down-“

“I don’t really care for the details.” You stand up from the chair and go to walk towards him, but he crosses the room in a second and slams you back down.

“I told you to stay in that goddamn chair!” He opens his mouth to explain but a whirring noise starts out of nowhere. It’s loud, obnoxious, and coming from the vent. He opens it. “Shut your goddamn trap!”

“Anyhow, (Y/N),” he starts, “the other three lords decided that they’re interested in you, for whatever their reasons are. I’m assuming they want to kill you.”

“That’s a veeeeeery extreme assumption.” You roll your eyes, and prop your head on your hands.

“Well two of them are well know for turning people into dolls and drinking their blood,” he says casually, “it’s only a fair assumption they want to do the same with you.”

“I’m sorry they what?”

He turns to you, surprised for a moment that you don’t know what he’s talking about. “Super-sized bitch over here,” a sharp piece of metal lands on the photo of a pale, middle aged woman with bold red lipstick and a black hat, “is one of the other three lords, known for drinking the blood of girls like yourself. Wouldn’t suggest meeting her, she’s not that pleasant.”

“Known for?”

“Sort of, most of the towns people don’t know,” he turns to you and leans on the table by the cork board, “they’re too busy worshipping Mother Miranda.”

“I’ve heard her name before,” you say, “doesn’t she protect the town?”

You can sense the anger you caused before you can take it back.

“That Miranda bitch doesn’t protect anybody from shit. She’s the one causing all the issues, kidnapping people and mutating them, killing them and throwing their lives away like table scraps.” You slams his hand on the table and you visibly flinch. He quickly apologizes.

“You keep mentioning ‘the other three lords’ how many are there, and who’s the one your excluding in that statement?” You question as soon as you get the chance. He’s talking, loudly, quickly and it’s filling up the space in the room with an anxious sort of white noise.

“Pardon me,” he says, and waltzes over, almost over-dramatically. He brings your hand to his lips and places a light kiss. You can feel his stubble and chapped lips on the top of your hand. He desperately needs to use chap-stick. “I’m Heisenberg, one of the four lords, but you can call me Karl.”

“Okay… Karl.” You test the name out on your tongue. “What are you going to do with me, now that I’m here?”

He gets down on one knee in front of you, still holding your hand. “Oh (Y/N), I’m going to treat you how you deserve, like a princess.”

#resident evil #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #yandere karl heisenberg #yandere heisenberg #heisenberg x reader #yandere karl heisenberg x reader #tw: kidnapping

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dykeninthdoctor · 4 years ago

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“ironhusbands, pre relationship, focusing on them in their first year of college and being like rhodey really realizing how young tony is” and “sweater sharing”

“Have you heard–“

“Did you see–“

“He went to Rob’s party–“

The whispers are carried to him on the wind, full of rumors, sometimes lies, sometimes truths.

Jim doesn’t care. He knows Tony Stark–the heir to the Stark empire, son of the legend, Howard Stark–is on campus, but he doesn’t care.

There’s no reason for him to.

The kid is 16, apparently, a prodigy for his age, which Jim could’ve guessed, and he gives zero shits about his education.

Jim hasn’t heard anything about the kid going to classes; only about parties, and girls, and sometimes, the whispers mention boys, too. They call Stark a charmer, a slut, a flirt, and worse.

Maybe Jim cares a little bit.

Stark is 16, and he already has a reputation, one that scares Jim.

“Oh my God, did you see how much he drank last night?” a girl says, eyes wide in a mockery of surprise.

“He never seems like he’s drunk, though,” her friend says.

Jim frowns.

“Maybe it runs in the family,” the first girl teases, and then they’re both laughing, walking in the other direction.

Jim frowns harder.

He goes to a party the next chance he gets.

Stark is there, in the center of it all, holding court like a prince standing on the backs of his adoring subjects. He’s sprawled across a sofa, legs draped across the lap of a girl whose hand is resting on the inside of his thigh, head in the lap of another girl whose lips are staining marks of red across his jaw.

Stark’s eyes are glazed, the smile he wears is taped on, and Jim realizes with a sinking feeling that it’s all a mask. A mask hastily built, a mask with cracks that Stark uses alcohol to fill, so that no one can see the emotions behind it.

Jim doesn’t know how, or why, but he can.

“A toast,” Stark slurs, raising the plastic cup in his hand, “To dear ol’ dad, who sent me to this lovely institution.”

A cheer goes up around the room.

Stark drinks.

Jim’s moving before he realizes, shoving his way past people, fighting to get to Stark, snapping sharply, “C’mon, Tony, let’s go.”

To his surprise, and fear, Stark gets up and takes his hand without second thought. Jim tries not to think about why.

When he takes Stark outside, the kid–because God, he’s just a kid–looks up at him with a raised brow and a smirk made of plaster. “We’re gonna do it outside? You’re into exhibitionist shit, huh?”

And then he’s on his knees in front of Jim, and Jim’s trying not to throw up.

“No–shit, no, please stand up, Stark–“

“What?”

It’s the confusion in his voice that finally does it, and Jim’s retching into the bushes that line the house behind them, coughing up bile.

He hears the clumsy motions of Stark getting to his feet, feels a small but calloused hand on his back, sees Stark’s face–eyes wide, lips parted in a small o, the face of a kid–and then throws up more bile onto the leaves.

“I’m sorry?” Stark offers quietly, and it’s so different from the brassy, loud, slurred voice of the prince Jim saw only minutes ago.

“How old are you?” Jim asks. It’s not what he meant to say, but as Stark’s eyes go a little wider, he knows he needs to know the answer, because it’s not 16.

“I’m almost 15.”

Jim tries not to throw up again.

He takes Stark back to his dorm, with its single bed and tiny cork board with pictures of Momma Robbie and Jeanie tacked up, with the single poster of a galaxy taped to his wall and the precarious stack of textbooks on his desk.

Stark drowns in his clothes, the knitted sweatshirt hanging off his shoulder, revealing a collarbone littered with hickeys, the sweatpants hanging low on his hips, showing bruises the shape of fingers pressed into tan skin.

“Why?”

The question rings out in the silent room.

“Why what?”

“Why are you being…like this?”

“Because you need this,” Jim says.

Stark just looks at him, his chest rising and falling with exaggerated slow breaths, his eyes blinking slowly, his hands clenched in fists at his sides.

“C’mon, get in bed.”

When Stark doesn’t move, Jim freezes.

“No, Stark–not like that. I’m not gonna do anything with you–to you. We’re not doing anything. You deserve a safe place to sleep. I’m gonna do homework, okay?”

“Okay,” Stark says quietly.

When he falls asleep, curled around the only pillow in Jim’s bed, he looks even younger.

Jim makes himself a promise.

A promise to protect Stark.

The next day, when he wakes up with his face pressed to the pages of his physics textbook, and his bed rumpled but empty, he realizes protection is not what Stark wants.

Too bad, Jim thinks. Too fucking bad.

It’s harder than he thinks to find Stark; even if the kid doesn’t attend classes, there aren’t parties during the day.

The whispers don’t tell him anything, and today, they’re about him.

“He went home with him, just like that–“

“Have you see him around before?”

“Stark just listened to him–“

Jim ignores them.

He goes to his classes, he takes notes, he tries to focus.

He also thinks about where Stark might be hiding.

He doesn’t have to think too hard; Stark’s sitting in his dorm when he gets back after his 5:00 lecture.

The door was locked, but Stark didn’t seem to have any difficulty with that.

“Hi,” Stark says.

“What the fuck,” Jim says back.

Stark shrugs. “You were nice to me. What do you want for it? Money? A reputation boost? We can pretend to fuck, if you don’t want to for real, just so that people think you got some.”

“What do I want for it?” Jim repeats.

“Yeah, payment.”

“I don’t want anything.”

“C’mon, everyone wants something,” Stark says, and the way his eyes avoid Jim’s, despite his casual pose and even more casual tone, tells Jim that he’s scared.

“I don’t want anything, Stark.”

It’s a lie; he wants to know who hurt Stark, he wants to give Stark a hug, he wants to protect Stark.

He also wants Stark to let him out of choice, rather than obligation.

“Okay,” Stark says.

Okay, Jim thinks.

What he says is, “You can stay while I do my homework, if you want.”

“I talk a lot,” Stark tells him. “I’ll bother you.”

“I have a little sister, you can’t be worse than her.”

“Oh.”

So Stark stays.

“What’s your name?”

“Jim.”

“Oh, that won’t do at all. What’s the rest of it?”

“James Rupert Rhodes?”

“Rupert?”

“Don’t start with me, Stark–“

“Tony. My name’s Tony.”

“And my name’s Jim.”

“Not anymore, it’s not. You’re Rhodey now.”

“What are you doing?”

“Physics.”

“No shit, Sherlock, I meant the equation. You calculated wrong.”

“I did not.”

“Put it in the calculator, it’s not 6.78, it’s 6.57.”

“You did that in your head?”

“I’m not just a pretty face.”

“How old’s your sister?”

“She’s 10, but she’s 7 in that picture.”

“That’s your mom?”

“Yeah, I took that picture of them at the lake near our house.”

“She…she looks nice.”

“She’d like you.”

“What’s your major?”

“Aerospace Engineering, so yeah, I’m a rocket scientist.”

“Damn, how’d you know what I was gonna say?”

“You’re predictable, Tones.”

“Tones?”

“Well, if you’re allowed to give me a nickname, shouldn’t the favor be returned?”

“I…yeah.”

So Jim becomes Rhodey, and Stark becomes Tony, and sometimes Tones.

Rhodey realizes a few months in that Tony doesn’t need protection.

Tony knows how to protect himself, with a sharp quip or an even sharper smile.

What Tony needs is love.

So Rhodey makes a new promise.

After Rhodey has to drag Tony out of another party, after slurred words become quiet apologies, after Tony falls asleep in his bed again, Rhodey calls his momma.

She tells him to bring Tony home for Christmas break.

In Rhodey’s eyes, Tony’s never looked more alive than when Momma Robbie convinced him to play Scrabble with her and Jeanie.

“That boy needs love, James,” Momma Robbie tells him, a mug of tea cradled in her hands.

“I know, momma.”

“You gonna make sure he gets it?”

“Pretty sure I already am.”

When the clock strikes twelve on New Years, Tony tries to kiss him.

They’re on the roof, the stars above them reflecting in Tony’s eyes, and Tony tries to kiss him.

“No, Tones,” Rhodey says softly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I love you.”

“Just not like that?”

Tony’s voice is broken glass, slowly tearing Rhodey’s heart to pieces.

The lie is a knife to the chest.

“Just not like that.”

Tony nods quietly.

They don’t share a bed that night.

When they get back from break, after a silent car ride, Tony asks suddenly, “Wanna see my workshop?”

It would’ve been simpler to ask if Rhodey wanted to see his heart.

There’s no other to answer to give than yes.

It’s a beautiful mess of chaos, the only description befitting the place where Tony breathes life into wires and gears and lines of numbers.

Rhodey doesn’t know what to say other than, “Thank you, Tones.”

Tony hugs him for an hour, and then spends three more showing him each idea, and then uses another two to get lost in a new project.

Rhodey realizes that this is where Tony truly comes alive.

He’s a kid in a candy store, a bird taking flight, a genius at work.

And he’s beautiful.

The knife, the lie, digs harder into Rhodey’s chest.

Tony has bad weeks, and worse weeks, where Rhodey doesn’t see him for days, but it’s okay.

It’s okay, because Tony always comes back.

Rhodey learns about Howard during a bad week, and about Jarvis on a good one.

He learns about Maria on a good week, and about Ana on a bad one.

Tony brings him pieces, and Rhodey starts to build the puzzle.

Some pieces are missing, and will probably always be missing, but it’s okay.

Rhodey will love him no matter what.

And slowly, Tony is starting to believe that. Rhodey can see it in his eyes, in the way his mask comes off, in the way the cracks become windows for Rhodey to look through.

The summer is long. Tony calls him some weeks, emails other weeks, doesn’t talk at all for most of them.

The worst part is not knowing if he’s okay.

But Rhodey takes what he can get, and gives as much as Tony will take.

When they get back to school, there are fresh bruises on Tony’s arms. Rhodey gives him a new sweater from Momma Robbie and Tony wears it like its armor.

They get a dorm together, officially, and most nights, Tony ends up in Rhodey’s bed, in Rhodey’s arms.

Watching him wake up is the best part of Rhodey’s day.

It’s hard, to keep lying, but Tony’s still just a kid, and Rhodey won’t be another person to use him.

So he loves him in the ways he can, and it’s enough, because it has to be.

The whispers are constant, always talking about them, but this time, Rhodey truly doesn’t care.

He knows better than the lies they spread.

“Rhodey–Rhodey, wake up,” Tony whispers against his chest.

Rhodey grunts. “‘m sleeping.”

“It’s raining.”

“So?”

“I wanna go outside.”

It’s the look in his eyes that does it, the wonder. Rhodey’s on his feet before he even realizes it. “Okay, Tones.”

They dance in the rain on the roof, and Tony laughs, and Rhodey looks at him, and sees nothing but happiness, and feels nothing but love.

Rhodey kisses Tony on his 18th birthday.

Maybe it’s wrong, but the way Tony laughs against his lips and twines his arms around his neck is nothing but right.

“I thought–“

“I lied, genius, I had to,” Rhodey whispers, ready to let go, but Tony just holds him tighter.

“Thank you.”

“For lying?”

“For loving me the way I needed.”

#uhhhh yeah this was WAY longer than i expected but.#tony being so so so young and rhodey REALIZING that? yeah. i went fucking rabid with this prompt oops #anyway i'm pretty proud of this :D #tony stark #james rhodey rhodes #iron man #war machine #rhodeytony #ironhusbands #ironhusbands drabble #tony stark drabble #i hATE tagging #mcu #marvel #aven.writing

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lesducks · 4 years ago

Text

Britgate fic, innit?

Pls why has my life come to this

“C’mon bruv he won’t even know iss’us,” Reggie adjusted his hood so it covered his face and stuck his hands in his pockets.

The four boys were loitering in an alleyway, down the side of the train station, a crowd of kids bustling past the alley entrance.

“I dunno,” Luke looked around at the front of the corner shop, “Remember what ‘appened last time mate?”

“Yeh yeh, but that won’t happen this time,” Reggie assured him, “I bet he’s forgot by now, right. We’ll be fine, g, promise.”

“If we get chased down the high street again I’m blamin’ you lot,” Bobby grumbled, from where he was leaning against a half-destroyed brick wall.

“I just won’t come into the shop,” Alex said, “But you have fun, chaps!”

Alex made to leave when Luke grabbed him by the hood.

“We all go in or none of us go in,” Luke reminded him.

“God, fine, if you insist,” Alex sighed, “Reggie has to open the door though.”

“Oi!”

“Well, I’m not going first!”

“I’ll go first, alreyt?” Luke stepped in between them.

“Now, we gotta be quick before the school rush ends, lads,” Reggie said.

“We’ve wasted too much time jabberin’ on anyways,” Luke replied.

“Well less’go now then, bruv,” Reggie replied.

The boys huddled together, all wearing hoods pulled tight and obscuring their faces, and shuffled over to Covington’s corner shop.

It was well visited by kids after school, just before the train pulled in, but, unfortunately, the boys had been given a ‘permanent ban’. According to Caleb they were “unruly, disruptive thieves who brought chaos to his business”, whatever that meant.

As they slipped in through the door, the familiar beeping sounded from above them, and they flinched. Luckily, Caleb was distracted with some others at the counter, rustling through the register for coins.

“Aw, man, here it is,” Reggie murmured, reaching for a pack of Caleb’s original gum, flavours you couldn’t find anywhere else.

“Just slip it in ya pocket and leave,” Luke said.

“Is that it?” Bobby sniffed.

“You got a fuckin problem with it, mate?” Reggie gave Bobby a light shove on his shoulder, “This gum is absolutely bangin’.”

“I’m going to get a drink,” Alex sighed, moving past them to open the fridge of drinks.

“Yeh but be quick so we can do a runner, alright?”

“Yeah yeah,” Alex reached over a year seven to grab a coke from the shelves, then let the heavy door slam shut.

“Make sure you pay for that, boys.” A voice came from the counter immediately after the bang of the closing door, causing Alex to jump. The boys turned around and-

“Great,” Reggie muttered. Caleb Covington, owner of the shop, dressed head to toe in a sickening purple stood at the counter, eyeing the boys.

“‘He’s forgot by now’, my arse,” Bobby muttered.

Reggie elbowed him. “Shut up mate,” he hissed. “Luke, get out ya wallet.”

“Hey, I ‘aven’t even bought anything!” Luke protested.

“Well I didn’t bring any money!”

“Thas’ your own fault then innit?”

“I’ll give ya some of this gum if you pay.”

“What if we just run out the shop?” Bobby added in.

“He’s seen us now, let’s just pay,” Alex said, then walked up to the counter.

“Afternoon,” Alex said timidly, placing his bottle and two pounds on the counter.

Caleb raised an eyebrow. “No service,” he said pushing the coins back across to Alex with the tip of his finger.

“What?” Alex spluttered, “Why on earth-?”

Caleb said nothing but pointed to a pin board behind the counter. Plastered over the cork, the four boys’ faces were printed out in black and white onto paper. And underneath, in big, bulky, red font: BANNED

“Oh…” Alex said, his voice small, “Well that’s new, isn’t it?”

“Get. Out.” Caleb smiled threateningly wide, “And leave anything you picked up.”

Alex turned to his friends, Bobby putting his gum back onto the display. Reggie had his hands behind his back suspiciously. Alex lowered his eyebrows at Reggie, who shrugged, his eyes not meeting Alex’s.

“Go, now,” Caleb repeated. Before they could leave, he stopped Reggie with a cane - who has a bloody cane? - and wouldn’t let him pass until he fished the gum packet out of his pocket and put it back on the shelf. A group of year eight kids watching giggled.

“Alright, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Reggie said, walking out of the shop, “Ya bloody nonce,” he added, as soon as they were out of earshot.

“Well we’re screwed,” Bobby said as they stood around aimlessly in front of the shop, not ready to leave yet.

“Nah, we just gotta find someone else to go in for us, ya get me?” Reggie said.

“Who?” Alex asked, “If Caleb knows they know us he won’t let them in.”

“So it’s gotta be someone who knows us but Caleb doesn’t know they know us?”

“They have t’know us and know what t’get in tuh shop AND know Caleb can’t know that he doesn’t know they know us,” Luke said, as if that simplified anything.

“So they have to know that he knows-” Reggie started.

“Please stop,” Bobby cut him off. Reggie and Luke sniggered.

“I can’t believe that wanker got our faces up an’ everyfing,” Reggie said disbelievingly, “I mean, I know we’re well peng,” Reggie placed a hand over his heart dramatically, “But c’mon? I thought that permanent ban was a bloody exaggeration! He’s such a prick.”

“We did kinda ruin some of his stock though,” Luke reminded Reggie.

“Yeah and it was a fucking accident, wasn’it?”

“What was an accident?”

The boys jumped as a result of a sudden voice for the second time that day.

“Julie!” Luke exclaimed, breaking into a smile. Reggie rolled his eyes.

“Oh you guys got banned from Caleb’s shop, right?” Flynn asked, then laughed.

“Oi, it’s not funny bruv!” Reggie said, crossing his arms.

“It’s kinda funny,” Willie said apologetically.

“Speak fo’ yourself,” Luke muttered.

“Can’t you just go to another shop?” Flynn asked sceptically, “There’s one literally over there, right?”

“Yehyehyeh,” Reggie waved his hands as he tried to explain, “But Covingboy’s got this really good flavour gum, right? And ya can’t get it anywhere else…”

Julie sighed, guessing where Reggie was going with this. “Want us to go in and get it for you?”

“Would ya, luv?” Reggie answered.

“You gotta pay me back though,” Julie said.

“I’ll come too,” Willie added, “Get a drink or something.”

“Would you mind popping in and getting a drink for me, too?” Alex asked quickly.

“‘Course mate!” Willie replied. Alex smiled, adjusting his hands in his pockets awkwardly. The other three disappeared into the shop.

Apparently, it was not a good idea to discuss their top secret plan to get goods from Caleb in front of the window to the corner shop. Less than two minutes later, Julie, Flynn and Willie had been kicked out of the shop, looking thoroughly disgruntled.

“Well, we tried,” Willie shrugged. The boys groaned. “I also got told I have an extra shift at the pub this Friday night.”

“Oh right, he owns a pub too doesn’e?” Reggie asked, “Bloody rich dickhead.”

“So why’s ‘e so fussed about us?” Luke threw up his hands.

“We gotta get a backup,” Bobby said, “Really reach for someone nice enough to do this, but also someone we never ever talk to ever.”

“‘Ave you been to our school? Who the fuck’s nice enough to do anything for anyone?” Luke asked.

“Well that’s why I said to bloody think about it, innit?” Bobby shot back.

“Fine, fine,” Luke resigned, “We’ll reconvene at school tomorrow and fink of another way.”

“Can’t believe I’m having to go this long without some of that gum,” Reggie complained.

“You know you can just go to another shop,” Julie said.

“No!” The boys responded in unison.

“This is a fuckin personal attack, right?” Reggie said, “So we can’t give up cuz that’s bloody pathetic!”

“I…” Julie started, then gave up, “Y’know just, okay, if you guys are happy.”

“Jules, we’re gonna miss the train,” Flynn said, checking her phone.

“Right,” they left, Willie going with them, “See you guys tomorrow!”

“I should probably get my train too, lads,” Alex said, following after them. “Later!”

“Alex, wait up!” Luke half-jogged to catch up with him.

“You gettin’ a train too?” Reggie asked Bobby after a while.

“Nah, waiting for my sister to finish drama club and getting picked up.”

“A pick up? Alright you fancy sod,” Reggie smirked. He knew Bobby would get a ride in one of his dad’s pristine cars back to their bloody huge house.

“You got a ride home?” Bobby asked.

“Yeh, bus,” Reggie pointed over the road to the bus stop.

“Right.”

“Right!”

The boys stood in silence for a while. Reggie searched his brain for something to say but all it was coming up with was ‘Bobby looks well fit today’. Bloody useless.

“Well, keep thinking about possible candidates for master gum smuggler,” Reggie said after a while, giving Bobby a playful shove on his back.

“Will do, mate.” Bobby reached out his hand to shake Reggie’s, in a casual farewell. Reggie tried not to stare at where their hands touched, Bobby’s warm and comforting against his.

As he walked to the bus stop, he wondered how visible his blushing had been.

#PLEASE do not take this seriously #i cannotjdhdjdhdkddh #britgate #julie and the mandem #roadman reggie my beloved <3 I would hate you if i saw you in real life

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justthehiddleswrites · 4 years ago

Text

Rumour Has It | Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Summary: You are dating Tom Hiddleston but no one on set knows and you hope to keep it that way. When Tom’s big love scene comes up, your jealousy bubbles up and threatens to ruin the secret bliss you have created.

Warnings: jealousy, implied smut

“Someone will see us, Thomas.” you muttered as he pushed you against the door to his hotel room, his lips pressed against you.

“Let them see. I’m not ashamed of our relationship.” Tom pressed his hips into you. His hands raked down the sides of your body. “Unlike some people.”

You pushed Tom off of you and opened the door, slamming the door once you crossed the threshold.

You sighed. “It’s not shame and you know that. The rumour mill on set is bad enough under normal circumstances. I would rather not play out this relationship under the scrutiny of the cast and crew, thank you very much.” You slipped your shoes off and Tom did the same.

He sat on the edge of the bed to continue undressing. “You read too much into these things.” he smirked. “Everyone is too busy doing their job to pay attention.”

He beckoned you over as he tugged off his jeans. You slipped your panties off from under your dress and straddled his hips.

You cupped his face. “You are oblivious sometimes, aren’t you?” You kissed him, slipping your tongue into his mouth, hungry for more.

“I’m not oblivious to your effect on me.” Tom nipped at your neck.

You smirked as you wiggled in his lap. “And what effect is that?”

“Let me show you.” Tom pulled you tight against him.

You rode into the studio early that morning with Tom rather than waiting for your call time later in the day. Tom’s hand inched up your thigh in the back of the car.

“The driver will see.” you hissed, removing his hand, only for Tom to place it back on your knee immediately, squeezing.

“Frank is focused on the road.” Tom leaned over to nip behind your ear.

You shoved him back into his seat. “No!” you protested louder than you meant to.

“Everything alright back there, ma’am?” Frank called out, slowing down.

“Fine, Frank.” Tom responded. “She banged her knee against the console.”

You glared at Tom. “I’m about to bang something.” you whispered.

Tom leaned in close. “Save the dirty talk for later.” he teased.

You rolled your eyes before turning your attention to your phone for the rest of the ride. Once you arrived on set, Tom headed out to hair and makeup while you beelined for craft services. You skipped breakfast that morning for more “vigorous” activities.

“You’re here awfully early today.” a voice boomed behind you and you jumped, dropping your cup of tea.

You spun on your heels to punch Michael Sheen in the arm.

“Stop doing that! I dropped my tea.” You snatched a danish, reaching across Michael.

“If you’re so jumpy, perhaps more caffeine is not the answer.” Michael took a large bite of a cookie. “I would suggest decaf. And you still haven’t answer my question, why are you here?”

You took a long draw of coffee to avoid answer the question. Michael stared you down, tapping his foot in frustration.

“Can I help you?” you asked from behind your coffee mug and turned away from Michael to find a quiet place on set to watch Tom work.

“For heaven’s sake woman, it’s a simple question. It’s not like I’m accusing of having an illicit affair on set.” Michael blurted out.

You snorted coffee up your nose and started coughing, grateful you turned your back. Michael rushed to your side, pounded on your back.

“Breathe, darling. Breathe. So you have heard the rumours too?”

“I beg your pardon? What rumours?”

Michael grabbed you by the elbow and guided you behind a trailer. “There’s a bit of buzz of an on-set romance between our darling Thomas and someone.” he whispered conspiratorially.

You did your best to hide your shock. You did a poor job, but Michael took it as genuine surprise rather than embarrassment.

“Any idea who?” you choked out.

Michael glanced over his shoulder as though he was getting ready to spill State secrets, rather than flimsy gossip. “No idea. Which is why I would suggest keeping your eyes and ears open.”

A gaffer walked by and Michael leaned against the trailer looking like a cat who just ate the cream. He pointed his fingers at his eyes and then you as he strolled away.

“Eyes and ears open.” he hissed before ducking behind the trailer.

“Shit!” you muttered and stomped off to find Tom.

You never found Tom, chasing him throughout the production. By the time you caught up, he was prepping for a scene with the leading lady, Emma.

“What scene is this?” you asked a production assistant walking by. They shoved a script into your hand. You flipped to the tabbed page and read through the line.

“Fuck…”

“Precisely, my dear.” Michael sidled up to you again. “Do you think Mr. Hiddleston over there has a clause in his contracts, he must have a love scene in his films?”

You cleared your throat. “I wouldn’t know.”

“I know I would have a clause like that if I had an ass like that.” He sipped his tea.

“Michael!” You punched the man for the second time that day. Hardly a record for you.

“I’m just commenting. You can’t tell that is not a magnificent ass.” He grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you to the other side of the set before you could answer. “Let’s get a better view.”

Your stomach dropped as you saw Tom and Emma standing around in bathrobes. The director came to speak to the both of them and they nodded before slipping under the covers of the bed and handed their robes off. Tom whispered into Emma’s ear and she giggled. You seethed on the inside. Final light checks and the director strolled back to the camera.

“Action!”

Tom rolled on top of Emma and inhaled her before a moment before kissing her with a fervor. You overheard the smacking and dug your nails into the heels of your hands. Tom’s hips rolled underneath the covers and Emma moaned in response.

“I guess we know who the other half of the rumour is.” Michael hummed in your ear before sipping his tea.

You stormed off set leaving Michael in a daze. You ended up in Tom’s trailer, seething. You spied a picture of the two of you on a cork board by Tom’s bed. It was the two of you smiling out at a local pub. The entire cast and crew went out that night. And you and Tom stayed back after everyone else left. You sang off key karaoke and when Tom walked you back to your hotel room; he kissed you goodnight. The next morning you prepared yourself for him to shrugged it off as a drunken mistake when Tom showed up with coffee and croissants, but he asked you to dinner instead.

As tears fell onto your cheeks, the door opened to the trailer. Tom stepped in, back in his bathrobe. You wiped the tears from your face and put on a forced smile.

“Darling? Are you all right?” He grabbed your hands. “Michael said you stormed off set. You’re not sick are you?” His brow pinched in worry.

“Just a little sick to my stomach.” you snapped back.

“I’ll have someone bring you a ginger ale and some crac…” His voice trailed off as he caught your expression. “Oh. Are you mad about Emma?” He hooked his thumb towards the door.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Why would be mad at my boyfriend basically having sex with a gorgeous and talented actress?” You spat out the words like a foul taste in your mouth.

Tom smiled. “I didn’t hear you complaining last night.” His joke fell flat as you stared blankly back at him.

“Michael says there’s a rumour you are dating someone on set.”

“Well that’s more than a rumour and you know that.” He pulled you closer and wrapped his arms around your waist. You turned your head to avoid his kiss. “Are you jealous of Emma?” Tom smirked.

“No.” you lied.

“You are!” Tom’s eyes widened. “You’re jealous of Emma. It’s acting, darling. You should know that better than anyone, love scenes are part of this job. But it means nothing.”

Your lip trembled, and you sniffled. “It seems so real in the moment. The moans and the…” You broke down sobbing.

Tom hugged you tight against his chest. “Shhh, darling. You are the one I want to be with. And the rest is just bullshit and mirrors.” He cupped your face. “I love you.”

Tom leaned down and for a split second his mouth opened to inhale you before pressing his lips to yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck and yanked you both down to the bed. Tom settled between your legs, hips pressed against you.

“That’s the first time you have said that.” you panted when the two of you broke contact.

“It is. But I meant every word. I love you. Do you feel the same?” Tom’s eyes glistened as he searched your face for a sign.

“I do.” Your fingers ran along his cheekbones. “I love you too.”

Tom smiled before kissing you again. His tongue slipping into your mouth and you did the same. Your hands ran along his back and tugged at the tie on the bathrobe.

“Thomas, have you seen—” Michael stopped in his tracks at the sight of you and Tom entangled on his bed. “I see that you have. This explains so much.” Michael rocked back on his heels.

Tom turned to stare at Michael. “Not a word.”

Michael gestured, zipping his lips. “Not a peep.”

You sat up. “I mean it, Sheen. If I get wind of a single rumour. I’m coming for you.”

Michael nodded. “I am the soul of discretion.” He thumbed at the door. “I’ll see myself out.”

Once the door latched shut, you and Tom glanced and each other before bursting into laughter.

He pecked your lips before kissing your nose and then forehead. “I need to get back on set. Are we good?”

You nodded. “Yes. I need to get to hair and makeup myself.”

“You are beautiful without it.” Tom smiled back.

“Thank you. And I need to put the fear of God into Mr. Sheen.”

Tom lifted himself off of you, tightening his robe. “An excellent plan. That man is the worst gossip.”

You giggled and kissed Tom one more time. “Meet me here after work?” You teased his chest through the top of the robe.

Tom tugged at the bottom of your shirt. “Do you have any plans?” His lips twitched at the corners into a smile.

“Bring your script. You definitely need more rehearsal time for that love scene.”

“I’m willing to put in the hours if you are.” he teased.

“Well, it’s for the film.”

“Ever the professional.” Tom smirked before kissing you as you walked out the door to hunt down Michael.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston imagine

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themadauthorshatter · 3 years ago

Text

Just because Charles is home safe, doesn't mean this series is over😉😁

Super quick recap: While Galeforce's plan kicks into high gear, Henry further chips away at Charles, seemingly becoming succesful in coveting the pilot. Despite his efforts, Charles manages to escape, with help from Galeforce and a hair's width successful plan.

For much more context, and seeing that glorious action, escape scene that was so expertly written it deserved an Oscar (sarcasim), be sure the check the links provided:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4 & extention/revision

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

With all that said and done, let's go check on Charles!!

We find our friend sleeping on a really bed for the first time in forever, resting on his side, the one where he got grazed not the one with broken ribs and gash.

We can finally tell it's morning, too, because the sun is up, the birds are singing, and there's the rustling of trees outside as well.

Just as he starts to get a little fitful, hand reaches out to ruffle Charles's hair. He doesn't know who it is, exactly, but when he thinks he sees Henry, he wakes up INSTANTLY out of sheer panic, jolting off his side to sit up and back away as much as he can.

SYKE!

It's just Galeforce, who sits in a chair and holds up his hands. "Easy, son. Just me. You're alright."

Charles looks around and realizes where they are:

A log cabin in the woods(and not the murder-y kind either) that's cozy AF and is close to a river. There are glass windows, but they're not huge, everything has a very woods-punk to it, like antler lamps a few tapestries, and other stuff like that.

"Where are we?"

"Out of the city. It's better you stay low for a little while, until we know you're safe."

Charles relaxes and rubs his ear, which is bandaged; he has his ear muffs, but they're resting on the bedside table.

"How... How long was I out for?"

"Since we got you out. About two days. Here," Galeforce says as he passes a plate to Charles, as well as some ADD medicine(Turns out Galeforce is a good dad and stays up to date on what Charles needs.)"You look like you could use these."

Charles smiles and accepts his plate, eggs, sausage, and bacon(PROTEIN GAINS!!), and the medicine. "Thanks."

Charles indeed starts eating, and takes his meds, and it gives Galeforce a clear view of Charles's arms, wrists, and other injuries(he's wearing a thin-ish t-shirt), including some burns on his wrists from where he was electrocuted.

He also sees Charles tense up and freeze as he cuts up some eggs. It's only for a second, but Galeforce still catches it.

"Charelie, what'd they do to you?"

Charles is silent for a second before continuing to eat some breakfast. "A lot," he replies under his breath after eating.

"I'm sorry, General."

Galeforce gives Charles a confused look before Charles continues.

"He got the sapphire and the Captain got injured. And-"

Galeforce sets a hand on Charles's shoulder, now giving him a small smile.

"Canterbury's fine, just like everyone else. The sapphire's far away from here. Shipped it off a month ago. Trust me, Henry would have to be out of his mind to try getting it back."

Charles is so surprised to hear this, exhaling shakily, tears in his eyes.

Galeforce's smile remains as he pulls Charles close until the two are hugging, Charles semi-relaxing in the contact.

But there's still one thing on Charles's mind.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

The two pull away, that smile on Galeforce's face now replaced with confusion. "Tell you what?"

Charles has a quick moment of, 'Do I really wnat to do this?' before remembering Henry's smug face and clenching a fist.

"My parents. Why didn't you tell me about them?"

Galeforce pulls Charles close again, but they don't hug this time.

"They didn't get a chance to. Never said I could either," Galeforce explains. "Regardless, Charlie, they loved you more than they loved each other. Hell, they loved you more than me."

Charles stares at Galeforce with wide eyes, on the virge of tears.

"Trust me, son. I would've told you, even if they didn't want me to."

"When?"

Galeforce shrugs and gives a slight chuckle. "Whenever you asked. For the youngest pilot, you're a little..."

Galeforce trails off and gives a 50/50 sigm with his hand, which Charles straightens at.

"Hey!" Charles half-laughs.

Galefirce laughs with him before sighing. "Regardless, once all this is over, I'll tell you whatever you want to know, alright?"

The two hug again for real this time, Galeforce glad to have his son home and Charles glad to be home, relaxing fully now that he's back.

Well, at least until we cut to the orbital station.

Henry is still pissed at the fact that not only did they get duped, but now Charles is somewhere back on Earth.

He knows Charles probably isn't at his house, because Henry has the file that shows his address, at the base, or at The Wall, considering what happened at both locations.

He contemplates it all while holding the bottle of pills he'd taken from Charles so long ago before shouting and throwing the bottle at the cork board.

Oh, yeah, and the file was updated in 2017, and it's 2020 now, in our time-line.

So, yeah, Henry's a little pissed off at the moment, and the glass sapphire prank from the government did not make it any better.

Regardless, Henry groans and plops down in his chair, running a hand through his hair.

He reads through Charles's file again, this time looking for Charles's phone number again, trying to find a way to contact Charles again, find and bring him back by whatever means necessary.

Best way to do that is by going to Charles's home address, but that might be a trap, maybe go to the base, but, again, it might be a trap, so now Henry's caught in a spiral.

He rests his head against his arms, groaning again.

Doesn't know how(yet), but he's going to find Charles.

That's when he gets an idea and remembers a gold mine that just finished mining and putting away some gold.

BACK TO CHARLES!

It's been a couple days now and he's having a lovely time at the cabin, sitting on the porch, which has a top on it to block the sun, and drinking some tea, enjoying the wind, water, sun, and everything he's missed while captuve in the orbital station.

That's when he hears something and races inside, pulling his tea in, as well.

Charles ducks behind the island counter and grabs for a gun under the table, sneaking toward the door and hiding behind the wall.

The door opens and someone walks in, loudly, at first, before slowing down, creeping as well, with two other footsteps following.

Charles swings out, ready to shoot, but is glomped by Calvin and Konrad, who could not care less he was about to shoot them.

"Charles! You're back!"

"We thought you died!"

"He didn't die. Don't be stupid," Calvin snarks at Konrad.

"I know he didn't, but you never know!"

"Alright, you two," Rupert sighs. "Let him breathe for a second."

The twins reluctantly let Charles go and Charles sets his gun down as his gaze good to Rupert, who smirks and holds his arms open.

"What? Forgot your best friend?"

Charles gasps as his eyes widen.

From his perspective Rupert turns into Henry, who lowers his arms to extend a hand to Charles.

Charles backs away from him, muttering, "No. Not here. How did you get here?"

"Charles?"

Calvin puts a hand on Charles's shoulder and Charles jumps out of his skin, snapping back into reality.

Both twins look very confused, but Rupert's confusion turns into solemn understanding and then to barely contained anger.

"They really messed you up out there, didn't they?"

Charles tries to form words, stammering as he turns to the twins and Rupert, but Rupert holds his shoulders.

"Don't worry. You're staying on Earth, from now on."

Charles gulps and nods. "Yeah." That's when Charles takes a look at the twins and Rupert. "What... are you guys doing here, anyway?"

Calvin and Konrad exchange a small smile and pull Charles inside by the hand, not the wrist because Galeforce gave them a heads up.

"Day off! We're babysitting you, for a little while."

Before Charles can fully protest, Rupert cheekily ruffles his hair.

"General's orders, Charlie. Besides, you need to tell us how you got this place, because we got lost the times looking for it."

All three stop their toying around when Charles's shoulders start shaking and his breathing becomes uneven.

"Charles?"

Charles looks up at all three of them, smiling as he cries. "S-sorry. I guess... I really missed you guys."

The twins smile back and Rupert sl8ngs an arm over Charles's shoulders.

"Dammit, don't get me crying, too."

All four walk further inside, Charles going back to lock the door.

That's when he notices the pocket of his coat, the one he'd been captured in, and digs inside it, blood going frigid at what he finds.

There are a bunch of pictures held together by a paperclip, all that are from a security camera in Charles's cell, one of a few. There's a few of Charles sleeping in his restraints, some of him sitting on the floor and staring out the window, some of him right when he's been punched and kicked, electrocuted, wearing the suit from dinner, and, most horrifying, Henry holding and kissing him, even posing with Charles while he's asleep gagged with the duct tape.

Charles's hands tremble as he flips through them, completely unable to breathe.

When did he take these!?

"Yo! Charlie! You coming or what!?" Konrad calls.

Charles quickly hides the pictures away in his pants pocket and rejoins them, pale and trying to hold it together.

Thankfully, Rupert is the one who notices first.

"You alright? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Charles shakes his head and nods. "Yeah, I... I'm fine."

Silly, Charles. Rupert can tell when he's lying, but won't push him; goodness knows Eupert and the twins have done that enough.

"Relax," Calvin says. "They're not goning to come here. Heard there was a raid going on at some mine a state over."

"Yeah, and if we had a hard time coming here, the toppats might, too," Konrad says as he tries to figure out the coffee machine.

I can think of a few things, Charles thinks as he helps out Konrad.

Good thing Charles is this on edge because we cut to Charles's house as the door opens, the lock having been picked open.

Henry walks inside, alone, and quickly takes his shoes off to hide any evidence he was inside as he looks around.

He moves very carefully, noting how everything is decently organized, not meticulous, but everything is where it should be.

Henry smirks at all of it, but spots the plants Charles has around, both wire and real, said real ones being a little droopy and sad.

He quickly picks up a small pitcher and gives the plants a drink, because he's a nice friend(NOT!!!).

He then continues exploring, checking out the bathroom, the laundry room, and even Charles's room, which he's much more 'thorough' with.

And by thorough, I mean he inspects the bed, the closet and all that freaky stalker stuff that just screams, "WE'RE NOT DEALING WITH GOOD GUY HENRY! THAT'S FOR NEXT TIME!"

Regardless, Henry lies down on Charles's bed, enjoying the scent of Charles(because it's freaky) when a phone rings, one of those wall house phones that connects to everything amd Henry immediately gets up to check it out.

Turns out someone's calling to check on Charles, who is not home at the moment.

Thinking quickly, Henry pickup the phone and punches in a number.

We return to Charles as he sits carefully on the couch with Rupert and the twins as they watch a comedy.

The phone rings and Charles jumps to answer it. "Hello?"

When there's no response, Charles gulps.

"Who is this?"

"Nice to hear from you, Charles. Miss me?"

Charles is dead silent as his eyes go wide as saucers.

He's desperately hoping that what he's hearing is just his mind playing tricks on him, maybe just his mind attacking him while he's listening to someone else, but Henry clears that right up:

"Charles? Can you hear me? Did you gwt the pictures I sent you?"

Charles instantly hangs up the phone, turns it off, and backs away, falling down as it very quickly becomes hard to breathe and he starts hyperventilating.

Thank goodness the twins and Rupert hear this and rush over to him.

"Charles? Hey, take a breath. You're alright," Calvin tries not to yell.

Charles pushes them back and pushes himself against a cabinet that's close to the floor, curling into himself as he holds onto his hair.

"I can't. No. No, no, no, no, no, I can't! I can't go back there! I can't! I can't! I can't! I can't!"

"What do you mean?" Rupert asks. "What's wrong?"

Charles takes a breath and gulps before speaking again. "He knows. He-he knows I'm here! He's going to take me back! He-he'll bring me back, I know he will!" Charles holds his head against his knees and groans loudly. "Why didn't I just shoot him!? I should've shot him, then none of this would've happened! Why didn't I just-"

Rupert holds Charles's shoulders and lightly taps on his shoulders to get his attention. "Charles? Hey, come on, look at me."

Charles's breath hitches before he turns his gaze to Rupert, and gives him a clear view of just how messed up Charles really is after this whole ordeal.

Calvin and Konrad, however, figure out what's up.

"Henry's here? Like, on Earth? Right now?"

Charles nods.

"But isn't the clan heading for the gold mine? That's where... we're waiting for them."

Charles's eyes dart from the twins to Rupert.

"He knows," Charles murmurs to himself. "He knows where-"

"Easy," Rupert says. "You're not going to be alone this time."

Charles nods again and Rupert helps him to his feet.

Charles, however, is wearing his thinking cap.

If Henry wants Charles, so be it.

CUT TO THE MINE!

The Toppats are on their way to get themselves some gold, led by Ellie, but are ambushed by the Government, and a very proud Galeforce.

"Evening, Ellie."

Ellie groans and holds her hands up, gesturing for the rest to do the same.

"You've got us, General. Well done. You arrested a small group of the Toppat Clan."

There's something very off about Ellie's words, and Galeforce catches it instantly, even as Ellie is put in cuffs and pulled away.

"Funny how Henry isn't here. Wonder where he went?" Ellie calls as she's hauled away.

Galeforce watches the Toppat members get put in a truck that is going to be sent to The Wall.

That's when it clicks, and we cut back to Charles, who's tense and trying to sit still until he stands up.

"Where you going?" Rupert asks, ever the lovely best friend.

"Just getting some water, don't worry," Charles replies with a smile.

Rupert eyes him before turnung back to the movie they're watching.

Charles takes this opportunity to pick up his phone and walk outside, dialing the number Henry used to call him with; the creep is probably still at his house.

Good thing I bring up Henry, because he is indeed resting on the couch as the phone rings.

He gets up and answers the phone, smirking at seeing Charles's number.

"You called?"

Charles gulps and clears his throat.

"What... Where do you want to meet?"

Henry's smirk widens. "I knew you missed me."

#henry stickmin #henry stickmim collection #henry stickmin au #ellie rose #charles calvin #toppat!henry #creepy stuff tw #breaking and entering tw #ptsd tw #scars tw #panic attack tw

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arcanescholar · 4 years ago

Text

Hard To Find The Right Words

Omori Post True Good Ending Spoilers.

Aubrey having a tough time, etc etc. Enjoy maybe??? Might get more chapters later if I feel like it???????????? FUCK????????????

Ch 2

On the long, long list of “shit Aubrey’s had to put up with” for the past few days…

This special, insidious sort of dizziness has gotta be a new one. Seriously, give a girl a break right? Who the fuck is able to handle this many highs and lows at once? It’s enough to make her head spin, and the hospital taking her bat away wasn’t helping matters.

The words that tumbled from Sunny’s placid, stony expression, his singular eye barely betraying the shaky, unsteady difficulty in handling recounting the story, made her stomach turn.

Shit, what a time to be thinking about what she had for lunch. If it comes back up right now she might straight up die of embarrassment y’know?

She couldn’t even turn her attention to Kel or Hero but, with the way the younger had to take a step back and struggle to find any words, and how the elder seemed to freeze like a statue, she had a feeling they were in just as bad of a spot.

“… and, that’s what happened.”

Sunny finally finishes recounting his story, and before he can say another word, Hero is already lunging, Ken barely able to snag his less-in-shape brother before he gets the chance to do whatever he was about to.

Aubrey, though…?

Years of anger, years of hatred and fury and bottled up impatience, a near lifetime of bitterness bubbles in her gut and sends her vision swimming.

Huh.

She just remembered, it was pizza.

Weird, why is Sunny getting so much taller? Kel? Hero? How come her knees started hurting suddenly-

Oh.

Oh, her legs gave out. That makes sense. God, her hair’s getting in her eyes, was it already starting to lose its color? Why is it so hard to focus on anything right now? She should be pissed! She should be picking up hospital equipment and chucking it out a window right now! So why can’t she move?! Why?!

For once, Aubrey can’t summon up her anger. For the first time in who only knows how long, she feels like the scared little girl that had to hide away when holes got punched into walls, that covered her head in her room and squeezed herself into a corner with her rabbit when the arguing got too loud. Her breath catches in her throat and refuses to let up. Is she going to die?

She can’t handle this again. Not now. She’s not strong enough, she’s not tough enough to deal with this-

….

Pap

… A hand rests against her head. That brief touch is enough to peel back the veil and drag focus back kicking and screaming into reality. She almost reflexively goes to turn and smack the hand out of the way, only to realize part way through her turn that it was just Basil’s arm, flopping out from the mattress and accidentally brushing against her head for a moment. The boy was still asleep, still a mess of injuries that made her nearly throw up seeing him in that state.

She might have bullied him, fantasized about beating him to an inch of his life, thought about crushing that bat of hers against his skull more times than she could count. She might have turned that weapon on Kel and Sunny both at least once before, but…

Seeing him like this, seeing Sunny with that eye patch, having lost sight in one of his eyes for what might be the rest of his life?

…

She takes Basil’s hand in hers and carefully stands up. Hero and Kel had been shouting for at least a minute now, she’s not sure how long it’s been since they started processing what happened in their own way. A shove is all Hero needs to finally get out of Kel’s grip, giving him time to damn near sprint out of the room, tackling the door hard enough to almost knock it off of its hinges before dashing out of the room.

Almost without thinking, Kel dips out, rushing after his brother with words that only come across like muffled noises in Aubrey’s ears.

… … …

There was a time when she confided in Mari, a time when she spoke to her about what was happening back at home, she remembered the pain in the older girl’s face, and the words she told her as she let Aubrey rest her head in her lap one quiet afternoon, just between the two of them.

“It’s not my place to say, but… If I could, I’d adopt you right now and give you the biggest welcome to the family hug I could…! Family should never hurt family. No one should ever raise a hand to a loved one and mean it, and the fact that they’re scaring you like that just isn’t right…” The older sister murmured at the time. Aubrey remembers now, Mari brushed her fingers through her hair in a really specific and special way that she almost forgot about.

It was like tracing little circles into her skin with her fingers, like trying to massage the fear from her brain, reaching in deep and grasping the wellspring of her despair and coaxing it out to let her think clearly again…

“When you get older… When things seem tough and scary and you don’t know what to do, that you feel like you’ve got nowhere else you can turn to. You might want to get mad, you might get really furious at having to deal with so much as a kid, but… Promise me, you won’t turn that anger on your friends, okay? Take a breath-”

… Haaaaahhh…

“-center yourself-”

Aubrey gives Basil’s hand a light squeeze. She can hear the hum of medical equipment and the sound of Hero and Kel’s footsteps retreating again.

“-and remember all the precious people you have in your life.”

She wasn’t the sort to pay the most attention to school, but, in this moment, a line she read in a book she had to read a few weeks back crosses her mind again.

“They asked, ‘do you love her to death’? And I said ‘speak of her over my grave, and watch how she brings me back to life’.” (1)

Funny how things dredge up in your memory at the weirdest possible moments, she thinks. For the first time, she’s starting to understand at least some of what those words really mean.

…

After a moment, she carefully tucks Basil’s hand back into the bed, before letting loose a light huff through her nose. He’s still sleeping, if a bit more fitfully from all the noise.

“… Kh. Don’t gotta remind me like that y’know? Puts a bad taste in my mouth…” She nearly spits, trying to mask herself with bitterness.

It wouldn’t be long before hospital security came to drag Sunny back to his bed and cut this conversation short, she had to act fast.

She steps forward, and without hesitation, reaches up… and presses her hand on Sunny’s head, rubbing her fingers through his hair, tracing circles and massaging with a silent, stony expression that matches his own. She was still sick to her stomach, her balance was still terrifically uneasy, but…

“… I’ll come talk to you again later, okay?”

She pulls her hand back, and gives him a light punch to his shoulder before stepping out of the room.

“For what it’s worth…” She says, pausing in the door frame as she hears the sounds of shoes squeaking against tile flooring as the hospital staff finally approaches to do their damn jobs.

“I kinda get it. I understand it. I’ve been there. I’m not good at talking about this kind of thing, but, if you need to talk, I can give listening a try... this time.”

Sunny was going to leave after he recovered enough for the hospital to let him loose with his frankly fucking negligent mom. There was nothing she could do that would change that, but…

At least for now, at least while he was still recovering in the hospital, she could finally, actually speak to him.

“… Thanks for opening up Sunny. Give Hero a bit. That guy’s so strung up trying to be the best of us that I guess even he’s gotta snap at some point right?”

Says the girl trying to play mom-friend to the most broken-ass friend group in the tristate area. Christ, trying to be a decent person sucks. How the fuck did Hero pull it off for so damn long?

“Aubrey…”

“Yeah Sunny?”

“… thank you. I’m sorry.”

“Kh, fuck that, I almost drowned both you and Basil. If I started whining about accidents that happened in fits of rage I’d be the worst hypocrite in history, y’know?”

“…”

“Talk to Basil and let him know what happened if he wakes up before the staff drag you back to your room or something. I’ll let ‘em know you need a sec.”

With that, she carefully shuts the door.

What she says to the staff, what kind of look she gives them is growled with enough force and tinged with enough protective violence that it gives them just enough pause for the young boys to exchange an all too important smile of mutual understanding.

Even if Aubrey never saw it, that little moment of clarity between them saved both of their lives in a way she’d refuse to take credit for helping make happen, knowing her.

A busted, crappy, cracked-screen phone buzzes to life as she walks past the staff. God, she fucking hates it here. The way her shoes hit the tiles, the way the equipment sounds, the fact that every time she’s come here, she’s ended up crying for some reason or another-

Shit, here come the water works now. Damn it Aubrey, at least make it out the door first-

A trip and a tumble nearly sends her falling straight to the floor but, she snaps out her hand just in time to snatch onto a handrail on the side of one of the hallways, her head still spinning as she sags against the floor, her phone toppling out of her jacket’s pocket and landing on its back with a loud, spinning clatter, settling in upside down to her perspective. Tear drops spatter onto the screen, distorting the light and scattering rainbow patterns across its surface. Gah. Add that to the damage. This just isn’t her day.

Behind a call notification, her background shows the cork board in her room with the pictures she yanked out of Basil’s album after saving them from their near ruined state, mixed in with pictures of her and her other friends she made in the time that passed since. A little bubble on the screen bounces about, showing a picture of Kim flashing a peace sign with a bright eyed wink that reflects in Aubrey’s tired eyes, refracting as it passes underneath her teardrops. “… Hhfffhh…”

She eventually picks her phone up off the ground and answers it. A hospital staffer looks about ready to tell her off for using her phone in the hallway but, lets be honest.

The kind of glare Aubrey gives off as she very deliberately swipes her finger across the screen to accept the call is the sort that would give most adults pause.

“… Hey.”

“Aubrey!!!! You finally picked up!!!”

“…”

“I was so worried when I heard about what happened! Kh, stupid hospital not letting us in…!”

“…”

“… Aubrey? Are you there? I can kinda hear you breathing so you probably didn’t butt-accept the call or something!”

“Yeah. Yeah I’m here.”

“Jeez, how come you weren’t saying anything? Did those ner-”

An audible pause. Kim clears her throat after a second.

“Sorry, uh, did those guys get out of the woods okay…? I kinda only caught the cliffnotes of you going to the hospital from that text you sent me so…”

“They’re fine.”

Aubrey steps outside the hospital’s visiting center doors and finally breathes fresh air for the first time in what felt like days.

“Or… They’re as fine as they can be. Sort of. Kinda.” She continues, stepping over to one of the benches outside and taking a seat, drinking in the sounds of chirping birds, gentle breezes, swaying trees, and the sensation of warm sunlight… It was a beautiful day, and she didn’t feel nearly good enough to appreciate any of it.

“That’s good at least yeah? Uh… Hrmggh. I’m bad at this kinda thing but… Uh. If there’s anything you need to talk about, you can hit me and the others up at any time yeah?”

Kim’s voice was surprisingly tender, tender enough that it manages to draw a sniff out from Aubrey, forcing her to bring a hand up to her eyes and rub it across them to make sure she didn’t show any tears yet god damn it-

Ugh. Where’s Kel’s Taurine soaked brain anyway. He’s better about handling this kinda energy! Does- shit, does he even like energy drinks?

“Aubreeeeey, if you keep going silent I’m gonna think someone kidnapped you y’know. Gotta pull the whole gang together, beat up on the nearest creepos till we find you! The Maverick’s got a Style Meter App on his phone that does those shouts from that one game so we’ll even get t’ have our own hype-men-”

The thought of Michael in a parking lot with a buffer sword in one hand and a phone in the other trying to do combos for a video to put on his Way Too Many Social Media accounts hits Aubrey with a second hand cringe that nearly brings her to her knees.

“UGGGHHHH!” Aubrey finally cracks, a doofy grin hitting her lips despite her audible mental suffering, slumping back in the chair and nearly sliding out of it entirely, a few tears finally trickling down her eyes as her body releases its tension at last.

“I can’t believe that try hard seriously sprung for something like that. If he tries that shit in public in front of me I’m making’ his screen look like mine.” Aubrey finally grumbles, adjusting her bow. “… Right, I left my bat at home. Ugh.”

“There we go! Now you’re talking’ again. Jeez, way to make a girl worry… Charlene was getting ready to find some flowers to give to you too, the sweetheart.”

“She’s more of an angel than Angel is…”

“Right?! Maybe we should make Angel give up on his nickname-”

“Don’t bother, Charlene’d never let him do it.”

“You’re so right it’s actually kinda annoying.”

“She’s the best of us, y’know.”

“…”

“So, can you like, talk about what happened at all now or…?”

“… Hang out spot, by the lake, be there in 20.”

“Should I bring the rest of the group-”

“Not this time, Kim.”

The call ends without another word, another ping showing on her phone’s screen showing string of texts from Kel.

JrangeOoe: hey!!!!! ;v;

JrangeOoe: sorry i left you alone with sunny and basil there, hero was having a really bad freak out

JrangeOoe: mom and dad and i are workin with him now, gonna try to calm him down will be back at hospital to give basil and sunny another visit later

JrangeOoe: gonna be honest, this is giving me a little time to figure this stuff out too so, thanks hero for the panic i guess??????

JrangeOoe: ugh no that’s not fair

JrangeOoe: anyway, if you need to chill and get some ginos later i found 10 bucks in a visiting center couch and was trying to hide it but

JrangeOoe: today’s a “spread the wealth” sorta day

It took a couple of moments of hesitation, but…

headhooligan: dinner, maybe

headhooligan: fuck this whole dumbs week

headhooligan: i got some spare cash so i’ll chip in too to get hero something if it’ll help

headhooligan: also what the fuck how are you so calm about this are your parents not trying to work you through this too or something?!

JrangeOoe: uh

JrangeOoe: no but i think hero needs it more right now!!!

JrangeOoe: i dunno how i feel, i guess i’m just to worried about everyone else to think about it?

JrangeOoe: *too

JrangeOoe: i’ll catch you later for dinner tho, if i can get hero to calm down enough to feel safe leaving him be with mom and dad

JrangeOoe: get a feelings jam up in here

JrangeOoe: pizza and ice cream or whatever

JrangeOoe: not at your place tho tbh your mom kinda freaks me out like a lot

headhooligan: >:/

JrangeOoe: what? it’s the truth!

With a roll of her eyes, Aubrey stuffs her phone away, wrenching her bike out of its lock from the hospital’s parking lot bike rack and mounting up. She takes one, final, long look at the hospital’s monolithic facade, and thinks about just how high up that building goes before shaking her head, and pedaling off.

The whole ride home, all she can do is play back today’s events again, and again, and again. Hear the same story in Sunny’s stilted monotone, again, and again, and again.

Every instinct, every trained gut reaction, every beaten in urge and desire tells her she should hate him.

He stole her from everyone, he murdered her, broke her skull against the floor like some raging animal then strung her up like a horror show for everyone to see just to avoid consequences with Basil’s help-

… But…

That panic that gripped her chest when Basil fell in the water from her shove just a few days ago, the terror at taking not one life, but two when Sunny jumped in after him, still unable to swim.

“…”

Her pedaling gets harder, more forceful, making the aging, damaged frame of her hand me down, fourth hand bike creak and groan in protest, hair billowing behind her in a tangled mess of poorly kept locks…

What should be anger gives way to an oddly calm understanding, what should be hatred and fury and violence wraps itself so tightly in its own chaotic energy that all she can do is…

…

There’s not a cloud in the sky, but raindrops spatter on concrete and asphalt where she rides, leaving a trail of sorrow four years in the making, finally given “closure”, finally released.

—-

(1) Credit to Mahmoud Darwish for this legendary line.

#omori #omori aubrey #aubrey focused #spoilers #omori spoilers #omori good ending #omori good ending spoilers #hard to find the right words #chapter 1

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halothenthehorns · 3 years ago

Text

All in the Family

Chapter 135: Spinner's End

The whole room felt as large as Lily's entire house. She didn't even immediately see the other seven right away there was so much opulent space and grandeur to take in. The walls themselves seemed to ripple in an expansive opal dragon hide, the green snake banners hung all along the room wasn't exactly an identifying mark in her opinion, she would have one of each house in her room if she knew where to buy it, but she seemed to have landed right next to a cork board with scraps of papers and more importantly, photos that she would have to suss out as belonging to Draco Malfoy.

Lucius and Narcissa watching the five year old carefully but with pride as he laughed for the snow floating around him at some summer park in the heat, chasing ducks and occasionally stopping to lick an ice cream. One of him, Crabbe, and Goyle at sevenish playing some sort of game with apples, the little blonde's teeth oddly crooked, so she imagined it was some time at Halloween and done on purpose. He, Knott, and Blaise in their teens and in Quidditch robes throwing Quaffles around, he and Pansy in a booth at Madam Puddifoots.

Beneath all of these were dozens of rolls of parchment, some with the ink still wet of different music sheets with elaborate tunes and lyrics only half done in. She wasn't well versed enough to even guess at what instrument he could play, but judging by the few she spotted around the room that Frank was sheepishly repairing after crashing into them, the better question seemed what hadn't he been privileged in getting to learn at his leisure.

No one just looking at a glimpse of his obviously loved and carefree life would ever guess he was such an arse to her son, as well as Neville and likely many others. Her ears now rung with the foul word he so casually used that Severus now seemed to agree with.

There were a few daunting hints at such a thing, his picture of a very young Bellatrix Lestrange smiling as he prodded at the tattoo on her arm with childlike delight, he couldn't be more than two. The Sacred Twenty-Eight redone in his neat handwriting near the top corner with little scribbles and notes about each family.

Pettigrew was near the door trying to open it, to no success, the diamond handle in his palm glinting. Regulus Black was spinning a bust of a snake head with black stones in each eye that was likely a thousand galleons or some such, and cursed to boot, that Draco probably used as a paper weight. The lack of a house-elf hadn't much of an impact on their life it seemed, the wide open space felt empty to her in the organized place despite the many things available to look at. This boy had wanted for nothing, even a glance out the wide arched window showed glorious albino peacocks strutting along hedges and acres of pleasure beyond to explore, and yet he'd just as likely kill Hermione and her at the blink of an eye it seemed. He'd showed no remorse for his fathers actions trying to kill her son twice now.

Sirius Black had been offered the same and spurned it all away, Regulus had apparently started asking questions far too late for it to matter and died for it. Severus had been given nothing of the sort but turmoil, and he'd embraced the Death Eater lot, abandoning her and showing no clear signs of regretting it ever since.

She was sick of burying her head in the sand for his whys, it was time to start asking questions, but the problem was the one whom she still wanted to most was not available.

Alice was still crawling off the king sized bed, Potter was holding a signed Snitch with some look of awe on his face for whomever the signature was for, and there was a beautiful occamy skinned rug the length of the room Lupin was gazing sadly down at.

Sirius Black came stumbling out of a closet not too far behind her, enough she could peek inside and see the extravagant clothes inside that was more shaped to a normal bedroom, the teenager himself clutching his throat theatrically and miming gagging for all to see as he 'collapsed' to the ground still sputtering his disgust at getting a look at the underthings.

Regulus wasn't fighting off a laugh as he nudged his brother with his foot before promptly declaring him alive and walking off.

She watched the little one go with a heavy feeling of unease. He'd probably know Severus better than her at this rate, sharing a House and all. He didn't feel as unapproachable now after they'd spent some time together, but that didn't mean she wanted to walk over and just start talking about this.

She would though. She wasn't going to let awkwardness stop her now! She just decided to wait until a better opportunity as he instantly engaged with Pettigrew once more.

Alice had found the book somewhere in the gargantuan bed spread and was now finally plopped on the edge, reading Spinner's End with no idea why Lily would flinch so hard, but stopping all the same to look at her in concern when she noticed.

Frank stopped fidgeting with the instruments, ceasing the background noise and drawing all eyes to her.

She took a steady breath and squared her shoulders, may as well get out with it now. "That's Snape's address. I guess we get to find out what he's up to."

Potter's face was like stone, it was very obvious he hadn't believed a word of Dumbledore's explanation last year about none of the events being in some part Snape's fault, and she couldn't even blame him. She no more believed Severus had done all he could to help.

To her amazement though, he didn't start threatening to curse him, or much of anything. He just went over to the floor next to his best mate and sat beside him, prodding him in the ribs and teasing, "I'm not giving you a treat for playing dead."

"How else am I supposed to learn the good tricks from the bad ones?" He chuckled as he flopped onto his back.

Lupin went over with an indulgent smile for the pair, and the three stayed close to each other as the book started not with their school rival, but Sirius' would be murderer and her sister.

Sirius now looked murderous himself at the very mention of them, far more than ever before just the blood they shared could bring out. It was better than the nothingness he'd been trying so hard before, to pretend he cared nothing of it, but she also knew now it just wasn't in his nature to sit around when there was nothing to be done about them now.

He leapt to his feet with his usual energy and began sprinting around the youngest Malfoy's room, stopping every few feet to filch things into his pockets for no clear reason to her, or even his mates, though they watched in amusement for whatever he was doing.

He didn't stop when her prediction came true and the sisters were shown to be visiting Snape, though apparently it wasn't a mutual thing, Bellatrix was no happier to be around him than any of them right now, but it seemed Narcissa's idea and her elder sister was trying to stop her.

Sirius circled back to his friends and whispered something eagerly to them. Both looked a tad confused, but neither seemed to argue the point as he went back off towards where Peter and Regulus were.

He seemed to have minorly learned his lesson at least, performing a small miracle and not shouting his arrival but instead quivering in anticipation for the two to look at him before speaking. "Who wants to play a treasure hunt?"

"Why does your answer to everything involve some form of illicit activity?" Peter snickered. "This shit is not yours."

"And since when do we care about that?" He looked at him in concern. "Don't go soft on me now Wormy! Regulus can hide the stuff, Marauder swear I won't peek!" He handed all the items from his pocket to Regulus and mock whispered, "you can even stay here and keep an eye on me."

Pettigrew made a soft little noise that was maybe a laugh of annoyance, but Regulus took the stuff and wandered off at once when Peter Pettigrew of all people was apparently sharing a house space with Severus in the book, and all eight of them winced at that interaction! Sirius did have good timing occasionally it seemed as he got his alone moment with the friend he so needed to.

She had never considered herself a shy person, just quiet. She'd had the only friend she ever wanted before all this and so never actively sought out anyone else. So when Regulus came over near her and tried to hide a pair of cuffs with the Malfoy crest underneath some of the papers, she didn't hesitate to engage him now that she made her decision. "Can I talk to you?"

"I don't see why not," he agreed, now holding a gross looking shriveled up hand without concern and eyeing the dripping pearls of the chandelier above her. She waited until he'd levitated it up there and was now pacing the length of the room, eyeing the bed, rug, and shelves keenly as he passed a silver cross in his hands with emeralds the size of her fist back and forth in his hands while she followed his path and tried to convince herself she was being practical rather than pathetic asking someone else about this.

She'd have liked to talk to Frank and Alice, but they had zero experience in the matter, this seemed her only option.

"How well do you know Severus?" She asked uneasily, as the man himself gave a list of believable enough reasons to Lestrange about why he was apparently still in Voldemort's good graces, but then what were his answers to Dumbledore for still being a trusted member of the Order? Why couldn't they have heard about that conversation instead?

He didn't answer right away, visibly thinking hard about something with that tick they'd all noticed by now. When he did answer, there was no self-pity in his voice. "Look, I'm not a fool, I know Sirius sent me away on purpose, and I honestly don't mind, it's nicer than he ever was back in school. Kinder than outright telling me to piss off, right?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Snape and his friends do the same though, Mulciber and Avery you know, even one of my own friends in my dorm, Carrow, they'll set me up to go run errands for them."

They passed by Potter and Lupin having an uneasy whispered conversation watching their friends, whom were clearly at least talking about something. Neither Sirius or Pettigrew seemed angry, but they kept gesturing at Regulus and shaking their heads a lot. At least he really wasn't peeking though, he had his eyes closed the whole time, and she bit her lip to stop herself laughing at the sight.

"Like a test," obviously noticing the same and choosing to let them be too. "Weird shit each time to see my nerve I guess. Follow Macdonald around for an hour to see where she goes, sneak this into class under McGonagall's nose without getting caught." He paused with a look of maybe not guilt, but some regret for clearly never having it in him to ask before any why's.

"That instant Darkness powder-" she suddenly realized, far, far back in that ghastly chamber.

"Was supposed to be checking where Slughorn was and steal some special snake venom form him, ironically," he agreed with a twisted grin far more reminiscent of his brother than he'd ever admit. "Powder was in case he caught me."

He considered her for only another moment before continuing. "I don't know what exactly Snape gets up to, they haven't let me in on that, but I've got a feeling it's coming soon enough when I get back. If all this is supposed to happen when I'm sixteen, they won't wait much longer. Sorry if that's not much help to you," he finished genuinely. "I suppose they could be doing the same to him and I just don't know it."

"That's alright," she promised. "Thanks, it's more than I knew already." Was calling her that foul word a part of their tests? Or had the memory truly hinged on Potter's cruel actions in the crowd? They weren't following in his head to know just what the worst to him was.

Snape had answered for his crimes well enough to appease one of Voldemort's lieutenants, and Narcissa began baring her soul, pleading her case to help save her child. Lily froze over in shock when he agreed to such a thing.

Regulus stopped when she'd fallen out of step with him, now watching her with those liquid black eyes and still obviously ignoring the two idiots obviously having a conversation about him. He bent down and tucked the cross into the folds of the occamys wings and told her quietly, "maybe he'd do the same for another mother."

"I want to believe that," she admitted, rubbing her hand absently over her empty womb. "I just don't know how to ask, I'll probably sound insane."

"Probably," he agreed with a small smile, eyes roving around when Alice called the chapter was almost done, "but it never hurts to ask." He looked back at Sirius though and frowned, instantly regretting his poor choice of words. How many times had Sirius gotten in trouble for doing exactly that? He'd never wanted to endure the shouting matches that occurred when his brother refused to back down without an answer no matter what way mother and father told him to shut up, and he quickly left the room before he found out the answer, it never felt worth it in such loud anger. If he cared enough later about the initial question, he'd ask Kreacher, who was more than happy to answer in his level voice.

"Wait!" Sirius bellowed, eyes snapping open and instantly bolting to the bed to snatch the book away from her now, running around the room like his tail was on fire as he began looking about and haggling to all three of his friends to give him a hint.

His antics got a laugh out of all of them for one reason or another, filching shamelessly through Lupin's clothes like he really thought something would be hidden there, an awkward and poorly done handstand with his feet resting against the wall swearing it would activate some secret door, and finally trying to coarse Regulus himself to give the last up when he still didn't spot the grotesque hand hanging above.

Regulus just gave him an impish grin truly reminiscent of his brother and snatched the book back to finish the last sentence rather than answer.

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #HP #Draco Malfoy #Draco's Room #Marauders #wolfstar #Jilly #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Lily Evans #Sirius Black #Peter Pettigrew #Regulus Black #Frank Longbottom #Alice Smith #HBP

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thealphabetmurders · 4 years ago

Text

Champagne for My Real Friends, Real Pain for My Sham Friends

2.9k words | AO3 Link | warnings: hurt/comfort, alcohol, drink spiking (nothing bad, Remus wants to spike the punch at Prom), implied/referenced underage drinking, crying, self hatred, self-esteem issues, mentions of surgery.

Roman went to his senior prom by himself, depressed and lonely. Janus shows up and Roman is certainly is not going to leave alone.

(Roman wants people to love him, Janus comforts him and helps him realize there is only one person who he needs love from)

***

Roman tugged off his bowtie, hastily shoving it in his pocket and collapsed on the pavement next to his car, hitting his head against the metal as he fought back hot tears, still very aware that he was in public. He felt stupid, so incredibly stupid. Roman should have known that going to prom was a bad idea. Well, more like, going to Prom alone was a bad idea.

Roman went as a 7th wheel with a group of theater kids he didn’t know too well, it becoming increasingly more obvious that they wanted him there mainly to take pictures (partially out of pity too, he’s sure). He felt happy for his friends during pictures, he was okay with paying for himself for dinner, he had to get his own punch and cake but that’s okay, but when the slow songs started playing and people paired off, Roman just couldn’t do it. Watching idly by as the music slowed and the couples looked at each other with love in their eyes… God it sucks.

Clicking open his phone, wincing slightly at the bright screen, Roman estimated he had at least 15 minutes before he was found out and a member of his Prom group would attempt to come find him outside- outside alone.

He was a pretty good actor, he would simply act like nothing was wrong, and just went out to his car to put his suit jacket in the backseat because it was getting hot. Despite the venue in question being freezing, it is not as though anyone would question him. Why would they care? Roman came to Prom alone, and he expects anyone to care about his well being? This is supposed to be the best and most romantic night of his high school career. Roman should be happy for his friends that they are happy!... And yet, here he was.

The red jacket was tugged off and haphazardly thrown in the back seat of his car. He rolled up the sleeves of his black dress shirt, Roman was getting a bit warm in the spring weather. He sighed deeply, stretching his back and shoulders when he felt it: He touched his chest and saw 2 small black buttons had popped off of his shirt. Now, even if he wanted to put on his tie again, he couldn’t, and he didn’t have a sewing kit to put the buttons back on.

Roman looked on the ground near his shoe and saw the offending piece of plastic, picking it up with shaky hands. He looked at the object, ghosts of strings around the 4 holes and he felt the dam break.

Clutching the button so hard it hurt, he threw it across the parking lot, before collapsing on the trunk of his car, sobbing to himself. The warm metal felt nice against his bare forearms, though it was something he barely noticed, the tightness in his chest and throat being the only sensations he could focus on at the moment.

Roman’s headache from the dehydration and the string of evil thoughts only grew plaguing his mind. Horrible thoughts swirled his consciousness, whispers to himself about how he would never find love and everyone around him was simply pretending to like him. He would never be good enough for anyone. Not a romantic partner, not his family, not his friends, and certainly not himself.

After a good, long few minutes, the tears and sobs began to peter out. Though the corners of his eyes still felt moisture, no actual tears would fall. He stood up straight, rubbing his eyes and taking a couple calming breaths, hoping to turn his erratic breath back to normal.

Roman felt himself calm down, that was until a voice appeared behind him.

“I am guessing this is yours?” Roman nearly jumped out of his own skin, yelping, when he realised that there was someone standing behind him.

The older man was standing there, definitely not dressed for Senior Prom, holding a small black object between his fingers. Janus smiled and tossed the button over to an unprepared Roman, who barely caught the offending piece of plastic.

“H-how long have you been standing there?” Roman swallowed thickly.

Janus’s face shifted into something Roman could not decipher, his gaze shifting away, “What answer do you want me to give you?”

Roman inhaled deeply, biting his lip and feeling that tightness in his throat again, but refused to give in this time. “What are you doing here?” Opting to switch topics entirely rather than answer.

Janus sighed, reaching for the bag that was casually slung over his shoulder, “Your brother texted me, saying he wanted me to bring vodka,”

Roman frowned, “Remus? Remus told me he didn’t want to come,”

“That is what he told me he told you as well, yes, but in the last hour or so he changed his mind. He said he only wanted to go so he could spike the punch,” He lifted the alcohol so Roman could barely see it, “I was happy to take him up on that. I also brought some bubbly for myself,” Janus peeked out another bottle, this one a corked one of champagne.

Rolling his eyes, Roman gave Janus a pointed look, “Why exactly are you indulging Remus’ ideas?”

Janus shrugged, “It happened at my Prom,”

“By you?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

Janus smirked, chuckling slightly “I told my whole class that if they nominated me for Prom King that I would spike the punch. Guess who won and got wasted on Prom night?”

Roman shook his head, smiling slightly, “I am sure the transphobes loved that,”

Janus bit his lip, stifling a laugh that a part of Roman longed to hear, “Standing up on stage as the Prom King is almost on the same level as my top surgery in terms of absolute gender euphoria,”

Roman nodded, his mouth smiling but his chest and head still ached, the corner of his eyes still burning, “Well, you should go meet Remus, I am sure he is most likely waiting for you by now,”

Janus’ expression shifted from playful to concern and Roman cursed internally, “Roman, you are a fool if you believe I am just going to leave you out here alone,” Janus strode up to him and leaned against the car with him, arms and shoulders pressed up against one another, “You thinking I am going to simply ignore the fact that you were in hysterics not two minutes ago, makes me worry that you think I am an actual villain,”

Roman didn’t say anything, he just looked down at his shoes, then glancing again at his shirt with the two buttons missing. He pulled at the strings left behind, littering them onto the pavement.

“Look, you do not have to talk about it. But, I do believe it would be beneficial to air out your problems,” Janus spoke cooly, looking up at the stars in the night sky. Roman looked at him from the corner of his eyes. His eyes trailed over his black curls, passing his eyebrow scar, and down to his long legs, one kicked up against the car, “Again, say something or don’t, but this is the last time I am going to bring it up,”

Roman knew that if he simply said ‘Janus, I do not want to talk about this’, then the older man would drop it in an instant. However, he somehow couldn’t bring himself to lie in front of him, because he wanted nothing more than to spill his heart out to him. He never had anymore who seemed to care before. There was Remus, of course, but Roman always felt as though he had to protect his twin from himself, so he was the sounding board- he was the listener. Roman couldn’t have his own problems with Remus was already dealing with so much. Roman doesn’t have any friends he trusts to listen to his insecurities, even if he did, why would they care? He’s a bit lonely and doesn’t like the way he looks, so what? In the grand scheme of things, that doesn’t matter. When it comes to Roman, nothing matters.

“Okay, so you don’t want to talk, that’s fine, but-”

“I don’t think I am good enough,” Roman interrupted.

When Janus realised there was no follow up, he nodded, “Good enough at what?”

Roman chuckled weakly, “Where to start? I am not that good of a student, there are far superior singers than I, I don’t have the picture perfect blue eyed blonde hair appearance that everyone so classically loves, I do not exactly have any skills that no one can do better, and I also am loud and eccentric and awful. That is never going to change. No matter what I do, or who I pretend to be, everyone is always going to hate me and they are absolutely right to,”

Roman sniffled, and Janus noticed the way his voice got more choked up as he continued his tirade. There was only silence for a while, before Janus sighed, finally looking over at him. Roman made eye contact, feeling slightly dizzy and nervous looking into Janus’ deep brown eyes.

Janus looked down, a redness that was only noticeable thanks to the street lights covered his cheeks. He stayed silent for a few moments before speaking, “I am not going to stand here and tell you all the things that I like about you, and why everything you just said is untrue. I am sure that you would just think I am lying to you anyway,” Roman winced at the words and looked down, the rhythms of his breathing starting to eradicate, “Hey, stay with me,” Janus pleaded, grabbing Roman wrist, and he looked up again, “I am not going to pretend to know what everyone thinks of you. I am sure there are plenty of people who do hate, more than you think,”

Roman frowned, “Uh, than-”

“Do please continue to interrupt me Roman, I will definitely reach my point faster that way,” Janus shook his head, and continued, “I am sure there are plenty of people who dislike you. There are plenty of people who dislike me too. I have hurt and lied and manipulated people. I am better now, but it doesn’t change the fact that those people will never like me. Knowing that, let me ask you this: does having many people hate me make me any less worthy of the life I am living?”

Roman swallowed, “Well, no-”

“Does me making mistakes in my past negate any progress I make in the future?”

“No,”

“Do I deserve to die, or experience pain because there are people who exist that dislike me?”

“Obviously not, Janus, what-”

Janus cut him off once again, “So, tell me Roman, why are you the exception? What exactly makes you so special that you think you are the only one who deserves the pain they are getting because, what, idiots in your Tech Theater class don’t like you?”

Roman sighed, removing Janus’ grip of his wrist and running a hand through his hair, “I don’t think I deserve to get hurt or die because of that, it’s not that bad, I just…” Roman growled, frustrated, and hit the door of his car with the palm of his hand, “I have nothing to offer anyone!” He shouted, heartbroken, “Nothing to give. Anything I can do, I can think of 5 other people who could do it better. It’s not that I don’t deserve to live, it is just that I am unneeded and unwanted,”

Clawing at his face, Roman felt the tears creep up again and wanted to shout and wanted to run away. He was so angry at himself and at his friends at and stupid kind and beautiful Janus.

Roman turned away, still fighting off the tears, but Janus harshly grabbed his shoulder, turning him around, before using the collar of his shirt to pull him into a firm, comforting hug. Roman opened his mouth to speak, but Janus beat him to it, “I’m sorry. You don’t have to hide. I am here for you. I will stay out here as long as I have to. I am here for you,” He threaded his fingers through Roman’s hair, “I promise,”

Roman’s will broke as he gripped the back of Janus’ flannel, sobbing into his shoulder once again, holding onto Janus so tightly he was afraid he would break the other man. Janus said nothing, simply letting Roman cry, rubbing his thumb on his back with one hand and running his hands through the locks of the younger’s hair with the other.

“I apologise if what I said made things worse, that was not my intention in any way,” Janus said, guilt present in his voice.

Roman shook his head sniffling, his voice hoarse and broken, “I know, don’t apologise. What you said was right. I just wish I had a little more, y’know, worth to people,”

There was a beat, and Janus spoke up after a while, “Can I ask you something, Roman?”

The sobs had become less frequent, being replaced with silent tears and sniffles, “Okay,” He responded.

Janus pulled back from their embrace, but still holding onto Roman, arms around his waist, “Why do you feel the need to judge your self worth based upon your output to others?”

Frowning, Roman looked at Janus, “You sound like school, I don’t understand what you are saying,”

“You seem to judge yourself based upon what you can do for other people,” Janus said, stepping closer to Roman. Roman arms went around Janus’ shoulders, their chests almost flushed against one another, “You keep saying that ‘people can do things better than me’ and ‘no one needs me’ and that you’re unattractive, all untrue statements, for the record, what about the things you do for yourself?”

Roman swayed slightly, Janus following his movements, “I do not do anything for myself, I do not like myself enough to do so,”

Janus chuckled, now moving his feet to lead the two around, ever so slightly, “Oh? Well, I certainly believe you,”

“I don’t,”

Janus gave Roman a pointed look, “You don’t dress yourself the way you do for yourself? You don’t style your hair or use the nice smelling shampoo or body wash for yourself? The music that you listen to while you exercise or in the car alone, who is that for other than you?” Roman stayed silent, letting Janus lead him in their dance and conversation, “You eat the food you want for yourself. You watch the movies and shows you want for yourself. You picked a red suit for Prom because red is your favorite color, you did it all for you. You live so much of your life simply for you, so why do you believe that you need to perform for others to have self worth?”

Roman parted his lips slightly, looking at Janus. Janus let go of his waist, and then grabbed Roman’s hand to twirl him around, pulling him closer into his arms after the fact. The other man looked into Roman’s honey brown eyes, feeling very exposed, but also never more cared for, “You are going to spend your whole life with one person: yourself. In the end, it matters less what you can do for others, and more about what you should do for yourself. Roman, you need to fall in love with who you are, because there is so much about you to love,” Janus gently cupped his cheek, and Roman felt as though he could barely breathe.

A few minutes of silence went by, Roman resting his head on Janus’ shoulder as they slow danced in the parking lot. No people around to impress. No music to follow the beat. This is just for them. Janus spoke up after a while. “How are you feeling?”

Biting his lip, Roman sighed, and he couldn’t fight the small smile that was on his face, “You, uh, you’re really good at this Janus,”

Janus smiled softly, “It is unfortunately from experience, but I am getting better,” The older man took one of Roman’s hands and kissed his knuckles. Using that same hand, Janus pulled Roman in and softly kissed him on the cheek, the other almost melting under his touch.

“What do you say, my prince? Shall we go inside? Perhaps have a proper dance?” Janus smirked, but not letting go Roman hand.

“Are you even allowed inside? You graduated,”

Janus shrugged, “Probably not, I am also most likely not supposed to give your brother vodka so he can spike the punch, so,”

Roman couldn’t fight the smile and playful giggles that were now escaping his lips, “Self love is illegally sneaking in the former Prom King to your dance and spiking the punch for your awful classmate,”

Janus kissed Roman’s cheek once more, “Now you are getting it, my prince,”

The two walked hand and hand to meet up with Remus outside, his twin (also not dressed for Prom) wiggled his eyebrows and smirked, to which Roman put him in a headlock and tickled him till he couldn’t breathe.

Roman distracted the supervisor as they snuck in the alcohol and spiked the punch, giggling and laughing the whole time. He didn’t look for the group he came with, they didn’t seem too concerned about his whereabouts anyway. That’s fine, he liked hanging out with Remus and Janus better anyway, comforted with the knowledge that they love him for him. And when his favorite song played while the two were in the bathroom, well, he danced wildly in the middle of the stage by himself, not needing to impress anyone, and having fun on that night for no one else but himself.

#My writing #sanders sides #thomas sanders #roceit #roman sanders #janus sanders #deciet sanders #high school au #prom au #look at this #it is cute #it also has kind of a lesson or whatever #about self love #and the things we do for ourselves #nice #also I tried a new format for tumblr fics what do you think

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patchworkofstars · 5 years ago

Text

How (Not) to Meet Your Soulmate

Read on AO3

Relationships: Prinxiety and Logicality

Words: 4,082

Synopsis: It's moving-in day at college, and soulmates Logan and Patton are looking forward to finally meeting in person after years of writing each other messages on their skin. Their friends Roman and Virgil, however, just can't seem to do things the easy way!

** Thanks to: **

@lovelylogans for the Secret Santa wishes that inspired this fic in the first place

@metaphoricalpluto for helping me brainstorm ideas, listening to me rant, and generally being an awesome and supportive bean

@painfullybisexual for going above and beyond in helping me understand how US colleges work

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

“How”, complains Roman, “Is anyone meant to fit all their outfits into a shoebox like that?” He waves a frustrated arm at the tiny closet the college has provided, then glares at the three cases worth of clothes on his bed. The pile steadfastly fails to reduce.

“I managed it okay!” the room’s other occupant points out cheerfully, smiling over from where he’s pinning photographs of family, friends, and various cute animals haphazardly onto a cork notice board.

“I meant anyone fashionable", Roman amends, flashing his childhood friend and now roommate a grin to show he means no malice.

Patton giggles, reaching to pin another photo, then drops it with a sudden squeal. Grabbing a bright blue pen from his desk, he flings himself joyfully onto his bed, all else temporarily forgotten in favour of the neat indigo text rapidly appearing on his arm.

Roman rolls his eyes. “What time is your date with Logan?” he asks, once Patton has finished replying to his soulmate and flopped back onto his bed with a contented sigh.

“Four o’clock, at the fountain in the main quad”, Patton says, a dreamy look in his eyes. “I can’t believe I’m finally going to meet him face to face!”

“Yes...” Roman busies himself cramming yet more outfits onto the already overstuffed rail in his closet, while studiously avoiding looking at his own, conspicuously bare arm.

“Have you arranged when you’re gonna meet Virgil yet?” The question was inevitable; it’s not Patton’s fault that Roman was hoping not to hear it.

Roman pauses in the act of hanging up a prince costume he's sure he'll find an essential use for at some point. "We're thinking of meeting tomorrow instead", he replies, keeping his tone light. "Virgil's stressed about moving in and navigating the new place, even with Logan around, and we figured after all these years we can survive another day apart."

“You don’t mind waiting?” Patton sits up, frowning, and Roman tries not to squirm under his gaze.

He grimaces. “Well, okay, I'm not thrilled about it, but I want to do what’s best for Virgil. And besides, now we’re on the same campus, there’s a chance fate might intervene.” He presses his hands to his chest, his expression morphing into the smile of an incurable daydreamer. “An encounter of destiny, unplanned, between two souls bound to each other! Doesn’t that sound so much more exciting than something planned?”

“Well, as long as it’s what you guys both want!” Patton smiles, uncapping his pen once more and drawing a heart on his arm. As soon as Roman turns away to continue unpacking, he bites his lip. Beginning a new message to Logan, he thanks the universe, not for the first time, that his soulmate and Roman’s are best friends too.

~~*~~*~~*~~

Logan finished unpacking over an hour ago, taking pleasure in carefully organising his small selection of semi-formal clothes and his more extensive collection of books. Now, he sits relaxing at his desk, reading information about the college in between messages too and from Patton.

Reaching the end of a paragraph, he glances once more at his left arm and notices a new stretch of blue ink dancing its way into being across the skin. He frowns thoughtfully as he reads the words. Hmm…

He looks over to where Virgil is lying back on his bed, surrounded by messy heaps of his unpacked belongings. His eyes are closed and he's listening to music on his headphones, shutting out the chaos and unfamiliarity of his surroundings. Still, Logan knows that exclusion doesn't extend to himself. They've been friends since middle school, and the neurodiversity that brought them together has given them a shared need for space and stability. Virgil finds organising his room a trial, so, on Logan's advice, he's pacing himself. First, he unpacked by dumping everything out of his bags, and now he's taking a break before tackling the more substantial chore of organising it all for the year ahead.

Watching Virgil twitch slightly to the beat of the music, Logan considers. Patton's concern is a reasonable one. Logan was surprised himself by Virgil's reluctance to meet Roman, and while he didn't press the issue at the time, his soulmate has offered a different perspective. Perhaps some subtle investigating is in order after all.

“Virgil”, he begins, to get his roommate’s attention, “Why are you delaying meeting Roman? I realise you find the prospect of meeting new people a stressful one, but surely you cannot consider Roman a stranger after so many years of communication with him?”

Virgil grimaces, opening his eyes and rolling over to face Logan. “Take a wild guess”, he grunts. “I’m putting it off because I know he’s gonna be disappointed. I’ve been able to make him think I’m cool and edgy in writing, but that won’t last two minutes in person when I don’t have all that extra time to think about what to say.”

Logan frowns. “I have never read any reputable reports of people being disappointed when meeting their soulmates. On the contrary, most studies have found a remarkable degree of compatibility between even those with markedly different personalities.”

“Tell that to my anxiety, L.” Virgil sighs, propping himself up onto an elbow. “It’s just a massive step, you know? Feels like too much to handle on the same day as moving in here.”

“Entirely reasonable.” Logan gives what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “It was not my intention to pressure you into meeting sooner. Still, I want you to know I am confident that when you do meet Roman, you will find him happy to accept every side of you, even the ones you struggle to accept yourself.”

“Maybe.” Virgil clearly isn’t convinced, but Logan decides to drop the topic for now. If he’s still refusing to meet Roman tomorrow, they can discuss the issue further then.

He glances at his watch. "I need to leave soon for my planned meeting with Patton. Will you be okay without me?"

“Already?” Virgil groans, flopping onto his back once more.

“We arranged to meet an hour before the new students' assembly to give us ample time for conversation." He hesitates, trying not to sound reluctant as he adds, "If you need to come with me, I am sure Patton will understand."

Virgil shudders. “Hell no, I don’t wanna watch you being sappy and weird. I’ll be okay. Probably turn my music up and kill time by organising some of my stuff.”

Logan nods. “A sensible idea.” Picking up his bag, he checks he has everything he wants to take with him, then takes a deep breath. “I will see you later. Please send me a text if you need me. I may not see it immediately, but I will be sure to check periodically in case.”

Hand on the door handle, he freezes abruptly as an unexpected wave of nervous adrenaline hits him. Distantly, he’s aware of Virgil asking if he’s okay, and he nods despite the way his heart is hammering in his chest. “Text me if you need me”, he repeats, the words a mantra of friendship. Then the handle turns, and he is on his way.

~~*~~*~~*~~

It’s 3:55 when Logan arrives at the fountain, his usual precise punctuality waved in the hope of seeing Patton's. He sits down on the curved stone seat, hands gripping the concrete to still their shaking as he scans the crowds moving around him. The walk across campus has helped to clear the nervous fog from his mind, but the way his heart is pounding, a less scientific thinker would say it was trying to escape his chest.

Wrapped up in these thoughts, he doesn’t notice Patton until the man is six yards away, his long stride rapidly closing that distance. Logan freezes, his heart continuing its thudding beat but somehow doubling the rate, and he has to force himself to breathe. He stands on shaking legs, his eyes fixed irresistibly on the figure now standing before him.

Patton beams down, all tan skin and cotton candy sweater. “Logan?” he asks breathlessly, and Logan’s head nods mechanically as he stares.

Patton's smile somehow widens even further, and he shakes his hands at his sides as if needing to expend some of his boundless excited energy. "I'm so happy to finally meet you! Face to face, I mean! Is it okay if I shake your hand? It sounds silly, but I kinda need to touch you so that I'll know you're really real!"

Something in Logan’s chest relaxes, letting him breathe more easily at last. “I assure you I am no illusion”, he says, smiling as he holds out his left hand.

Patton stares at it, then giggles, and Logan suddenly understands the metaphor of being hit by Cupid’s arrow.

“I forgot we’re opposite-handed!" Patton explains, holding out his own left hand to shake Logan’s eagerly. “I mean, I knew, obviously, but it’s somehow different seeing it in person. Like, now I really know, you know?”

"Indeed, observing for oneself is generally more impactful than hearing information secondhand.” Logan smiles up at him. “You are taller than I expected. For some reason, I assumed you would be approximately my height or shorter, although I now realise that was irrational of me."

Does he sound silly? Perhaps, but he’s unexpectedly overwhelmed by the feelings Patton is eliciting in him. They’ve been having written conversations ever since their soul connection formed, and over time a friendly intimacy has developed between them. Several years have passed since he became aware of the warm sensation thoughts of Patton bring to his chest.

But now, having the man standing before him, seeing his brown eyes sparkling with joy and excitement and the affection in his smile... Hearing his voice and the soft lilt of his accent... Logan has never felt so much all at once before, and it's sending his usually tidy thoughts swirling and scattering like papers in a sudden breeze.

Patton laughs, and the sound shoots another arrow of giddy heat into Logan's chest. "Guess we never thought to tell each other our heights, huh? I'm kinda glad I'm taller than you, though, wanna know why?"

“Why is that?” Logan asks, dazed.

Patton beams at him. "'Cause it means I can wrap you up in a great big hug like I've always wanted to! If you're okay with it, that is?"

Logan nods emphatically, finding his expansive vocabulary buried beneath the sudden lump in his throat. As Patton wraps strong arms around him and rests a warm cheek on his hair, his eyes prickle with what he’s confused to realise are tears. The sensation is so rare, it takes a moment for him to connect them to the glow of happiness spreading through him. With a contented sigh, he raises his own arms to hug Patton back, settling comfortably into his embrace.

~~*~~*~~*~~

Virgil sits on the edge of his bed, frantically bouncing one knee as he wonders if he should set out alone to the assembly. Deep in his spiralling thoughts, he startles hard when his phone buzzes with a text from Logan.

“Salutations,

Would it be possible for you to make your way to the event without me? I realise it may be selfish, but I am keen to spend as much time as possible getting to know Patton better. You are welcome to sit with us if we encounter you when we get there.

- Logan”.

Dammit. It’s what Virgil was expecting, but that doesn’t mean he’s happy about it. He hates both crowds and formal events, and the thought of walking into this combination alone causes bitter dread to pool in the pit of his stomach. Plus, going without Logan means he’s almost guaranteed to end up sitting next to total strangers. He shudders.

Still, he refuses to make Logan worry. Firing back a quick “I’ll be okay”, he puts his earphones in and tries to lose himself in the music as he makes his way across campus to the venue.

Head down, eyes fixed on the ground a foot ahead of him, he tries to forget just how many people are heading the same way he is. As he approaches the hall, he becomes vaguely aware of a loud voice talking nearby. The small part of his mind paying attention concludes it's a telephone conversation, since only one side can be heard.

“But you can’t just abandon me to sit on my own!” the voice wails. “What will people think?! Yes, I’m sure he is handsome and smart and wonderful, but bros before souls, that’s what I always say. Well, okay, maybe I’ve never said it before, but I’m saying it now! Yes, I know, I can hear him. You're right, his accent is cute. I can’t wait to hear my soulmate's- OUCH!!"

A flailing arm thuds into Virgil, who is nearly thrown off balance by the shock of the impact. He looks up, glaring daggers, to find the loudmouth scowling back with equal fury.

“Watch where you’re going, clod!” the overdressed stranger rants.

“Same to you, watch where you’re flinging your arms!”

"I'm having an important conversation-"

“What’s the point in waving your arms around when the person on the phone can’t even-”

They're interrupted by an official-sounding voice ringing out over a tannoy, reminding everyone that the assembly will begin soon and they should hurry inside and find seats.

The disparate parts of the crowd begin to converge, pushing into the hall, and Virgil and the loud stranger are carried along side by side in the flow. They find themselves pushed together to sit on the end of a row of chairs, and although Virgil is still annoyed, he takes some relief at having the aisle seat.

“How did I get stuck next to the emo nightmare?" he hears his neighbour grumble under his breath.

“Karma for being a nightmare yourself”, Virgil mutters, and the stranger at least has the decency to blush.

Their bickering might have continued indefinitely, but at that moment the MC steps up to the microphone to begin their welcome, and an unspoken truce descends.

*****

When at last it's over, Virgil sits back in his chair and sighs wearily. "That was even more boring than I thought it would be", he remarks to no one in particular.

Of course, the stranger beside him responds as though it were directed at him. “I’m surprised you heard any of it with your earphones in the whole time. I could hear your music all the way through!”

Virgil turns and raises an eyebrow. "Yeah? Well, maybe you wouldn't have if you hadn't been leaning over so close to me. You were practically on my lap!"

The stranger huffs, glaring back at him. “It’s not like I had a choice! It was the only way I could see past that mountain of a guy in front of me!”

“Well, sorry I didn’t realise you were so keen for a good view of some guy standing talking.” Virgil scowls. “So you could hear my music, huh? Is that why you kept tapping your fingers on your knee? Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

“I didn’t realise you were paying so much attention to my legs! And besides, I defy anyone not to tap their fingers along to Panic! At The Disco!”

“Wait, you recognised it?” Virgil frowns at the thoroughly preppy-looking guy next to him. “I wasn’t exactly the mainstream stuff. I didn’t take you for an emo.”

“If you must know, my soulmate's an emo, and he introduced me to them. I might not share all his tastes, but as a theatre kid, I always appreciate theatrical flair."

Oh right, soulmates are a thing. Virgil gives a grunt that could mean anything, turning his attention away from the stranger's continued rambling. He watches as more and more individuals and groups make their way to the exits. All the freshmen are meant to be here, which means Roman must be somewhere amongst them. For the first time, he almost regrets never asking for a photograph or more detailed physical description. But he always feared Roman would expect the same from him in return, and then be disappointed or put off by his ever-present hoodie and black eye shadow.

It doesn’t help that the vague description he’s been given of “Tall, with brown hair and blue eyes”, could fit far too many of the students here, including the one tapping a foot and making impatient noises beside him.

With a sigh, Virgil stands up, switching his music back on and turning up the volume as he waits for a gap in the flow of bodies. As soon as one appears, he steps into it, letting himself be absorbed and carried away towards the door. As he moves away, he’s distantly aware of his former seat-mate speaking, but he’s too stressed, too busy trying to blot out the strangers surrounding him to think of looking back.

~~*~~*~~*~~

Roman sighs, flopping dramatically backwards onto his bed. It's been a long day, and he wants to relax, but his mind buzzes restlessly with frustration.

Patton sent a text to say he’ll be getting dinner at the dining hall with Logan, and while he did say Roman was welcome to join them, Roman has no desire to play third wheel, thank you very much. Besides which, he can't shake the petty resentment that his hopes of a destiny-driven encounter with Virgil have apparently been dashed. Instead, he got stuck with some other emo, who, while admittedly very cute, had the cheek, the absolute bare-faced audacity to zone out while Roman was speaking to him and then walk away without even a goodbye!

With a huff, Roman rolls over and glares at the time. It’s 7:15 pm, earlier than his and Virgil’s usual chat time, but he needs to feel connected to his soulmate right now. With a surge of misery, he realises he’s lonely, as well as more envious of Patton and Logan than he’d like to admit.

Fumbling in a pocket, he pulls out the red glitter gel pen he reserves for soul-to-soul talks, and writes “Hey, stormcloud, are you free?” on his left arm.

After a few moments, a spidery dark purple reply writes itself onto his right arm. “Yeah, wanna talk now?”

"Patton's off with Logan, and I need to vent!" He underlines "vent" three times, as emphatic in writing as he would be out loud.

“Is that all I am to you? A listening arm?” It’s followed by their own version of a “:P”, to show that Virgil is joking.

“Of course not, my shadowling! But I’ve had the most boring day, and I'm lonely~".

“Yeah yeah, Logan’s ditched me too, remember? Did you make it to the assembly? I looked for you”.

Roman groans, then does his best to reproduce the sound in writing. “Uggghhh, I did, and I got stuck next to the most annoying guy ever!”

“Hah! Can’t have, because the most annoying guy was sitting next to me. He kept fidgeting and getting in my space through the whole thing”.

Roman grins, standing up and moving to the sink, where he rinses the red ink from his arm to make space for more, Virgil must have the same idea, because a moment later the purple text begins erasing itself too.

“I wish I could’ve sat with you”, he writes, as soon as his arm is dry.

“Same”. There’s a pause, and then, “Kinda regret not meeting you today”.

Roman stares at the words, running his left hand unconsciously through his hair. Destiny might have denied him a chance first meeting, but if Virgil has changed his mind, there’s no reason for them to hold back any longer. Decision made, he uncaps his pen and writes “Want to meet now?” before he can lose his nerve.

The seconds tick by with no response, not a drop of purple ink appearing, and he begins to worry he’s misjudged Virgil’s feelings. Then, at last, three letters appear, small but undeniable:

“Yes”.

“Yes!!” Roman echoes in a yell to the empty room, leaping up and grabbing his jacket from the back of his desk chair. Then he hesitates, sitting back down on the edge of the bed as he realises he doesn’t know where Virgil’s room is. Or even if he’s there, for that matter.

Besides which, while Virgil did accept the offer, his reply wasn’t exactly enthusiastic. Best to make certain he really wants to do this first.

“Are you sure? I don’t mind waiting”, Roman writes, adding a smiley face for good measure.

This time there is only a short pause before the words appear. “Yeah, the whole assembly thing made me wanna see you properly”.

Roman takes a deep breath, trying to still the tremor of excitement rushing through him. “Okay!” he writes back. “Want me to bring anything? I have a popcorn maker and every single Disney movie!”

“Seriously? You brought a freaking popcorn maker to college?”

“We always said we’d have movie nights when we finally met up, eating popcorn and talking all through the films!”

“You are so unbelievably extra”.

“You love it!”

“Yeah, I’m weird like that.”

“So, no popcorn?” Roman asks.

“Are you kidding? Of course bring popcorn!”

Roman grins.

*****

He takes his time making the popcorn, giving Virgil space to adjust to the change in plans. As he does, his thoughts drift to his grumpy seat-mate from earlier, and he remembers wincing as the guy picked at his chipped black nail polish during the endless speeches.

That gives him an idea…

“How about we paint our nails while we talk?” he suggests. “It’s relaxing and we’ll look good!”

“Sure”, appears on his arm. “I’ve only got black and purple though.”

“Fear not, my dark and stormy knight, I have every colour of the rainbow!” Roman grabs his makeup pouch and empties it onto his desk, separating out a selection of his favourites. These he puts back in the pouch, then it goes into his bag with the tub of popcorn.

“I’m ready to head out!” he writes on his arm. “Where’s your room?”

There’s a pause, then the address appears. But before Roman can lower his arm, Virgil adds, “Brace yourself for disappointment”.

“Why?” he writes back, frowning.

“I’m just… probably not gonna be as cool as you expect”.

“Don’t worry, I know you’re not as cool as me!” He replies immediately, then hesitates. Virgil has been vulnerable with him, and he should repay the honesty.

“I’m nervous too”, he admits, “But this is us, remember? We’ve spoken every day since we turned ten and our soul bond formed. We’ve listened to each others’ favourite music, watched each others’ favourite movies, and stayed up all night talking. We’ve shared our hopes, our fears, and our dreams. Even if we weren’t soulmates, you're my best friend, and I love you. Nothing's going to change that.

*****

It's a short walk across campus to Virgil's dorm, and nervous energy quickens Roman's strides. At last, he finds the right number door and gives a firm knock. Slowly, cautiously, it opens to reveal...

“You?!” Roman practically screeches.

“Seriously?!”

“I cannot believe this! Are you actually telling me you’re Virgil?”

“How many ginger-haired emos from Milwaukee do you think there are on campus?!”

“You’re Virgil...” There’s a pause as Roman’s expression visibly cycles from indignant, through dawning realisation, to settle on contrite. “Sorry about, you know...” He waves his arm, and Virgil raises an eyebrow.

“Sorry you clobbered me with your arm?”

“Well, yes… I was talking to Patton and didn’t notice you.”

“Yeah, I got that. Sorry I wasn’t, you know, watching where I was going.” Virgil looks down, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “Look, I know I’m annoying. If you’re gonna leave, just go.”

Roman frowns. “Don’t be ridiculous. You might be annoying, but you’re my best friend! I came here to eat popcorn, riff on Disney movies, and hug you, and I’m not leaving until I’ve done all three!”

Virgil looks up, finally managing a lopsided smile. “You sure?”

“Of course! And besides, I bet I can be twice as annoying as you.”

With a snort, Virgil steps back, opening the door further to let Roman in. “Good to know fate made the two most annoying guys in the world soulmates.”

Roman grins. “Soulmates about to have the best evening ever!” he replies.

~~*~~*~~*~~ *~~

@creativity-killed-thekitten @the-prince-and-the-emo @shesavampirequeen @patton-in-name @pearls-of-patton @xxladystarlightxx @suyun-doo @softestlittlepuffball @evilmuffin @milomeepit @musikasworld @holy-anxiety-batman @quoth-the-sparrow @daring-elm @sandersfanders

#prinxiety #logicality #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #sanders sides #soulmate au #patchwork fic

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tirednotflirting · 4 years ago

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you're the one to help me get to sleep // maybe i fell in love when you woke me up

oh boy that title looks a lot longer on tumblr than it did on ao3. anyway.

i got stressed out yesterday and finished some fluff bc that’s what we do here at tirednotflirting. forgot to post it here yesterday though so i am doing that Now post-first cup of coffee of the day and halfway through the french toast i made.

random side not but i’ve been listening to my time capsule playlist on spotify and i highly rec checking yours out bc this is So Fun.

here is this on ao3 if you wanna read there.

The sun is just beginning to set over LA and Alex is in love.

The day had been long but good. One of those California summer days that stretched on long enough that it made him wonder if the sun would ever start heading toward its resting place below the horizon. Warm but not hot, the slight breeze allowing them to spend the afternoon writing outside instead of stuck up in the studio.

He’s out on the balcony now, already changed into pajama pants since they decided they would stay in for the night, and a glass of wine dangles between his fingers in between sips. The city is somehow quiet from his spot above it though he can tell it must be loud from all the activity he can see on the street. It’s nice, Alex thinks, to find peace among the blaring white noise of Los Angeles. Today had been his last full day in the city, his flight back to the farm and his furry friends sometime in the early afternoon. He has his boarding pass loaded onto his phone and could easily wander back inside to find his phone and triple check the time so he could make note of when they need to be up in the morning but he’s not quite ready to start thinking about how he has to leave again yet.

Jack would also just immediately kick him back out to his current spot if he tried heading inside right now anyway. Over coffee that morning Jack had declared he would be making dinner for Alex’s last night (It’s romantic, Al, and I only have one more night to romance the fuck out of you). At the time Alex had assumed it was the still half-asleep side of Jack speaking but when Alex arrived back at the apartment after spending part of the afternoon writing, he’d been handed the glass of wine currently resting in his hand and ushered to the balcony door by an apron-clad Jack.

It was rare for Alex to feel this much peace on his last day of a trip to see Jack. Usually there was some element of sadness or anxiety over the impending time apart until more band things or another trip to either coast. But as he tips back the last of his wine and stares back out toward the last bits of light in the city sky, all Alex can feel is a fullness in his chest.

He decides he’s going to want more wine with dinner and given the time, he figures Jack must be close to finishing things up. Alex pulls himself up and pushes the sliding door open to call out toward the kitchen.

“Jack, babe, am I allowed into the kitchen for more wine?”

Jack’s head pokes out from the kitchen with a pout on his lips. “Five more minutes, Alex. You have to give a chef space to work.”

“Bring me the bottle then, please,” Alex says in his sweetest voice, his lashes fluttering. He can see Jack’s dramatic eye roll from where he leans against the door frame before he steps back into the kitchen, emerging a few seconds later with the bottle of white he had poured for Alex earlier.

“Here you go, you lush,” Jack says while passing over the bottle once he’s close enough. Before he has a chance to step away, Alex pulls at the front of his apron to briefly press their lips together. Jack drops a hand to the bottom of Alex’s back to hold him close, his fingers pressing into his skin through his t-shirt.

“I like the apron. It’s cute.” Alex compliments as he smoothes out the wrinkles in the fabric.

Jack’s hand runs up and down Alex’s spine as he hums. It’s an action that mimics the way Jack had been waking him up most days, and a lazy smile pulls at Alex’s lips at the memory of the fond moment. “Thank you,” Jack muses. “I only wore it because I figured you would think that, so it’s nice to know I was right.”

Alex laughs. “You wore something just because you thought I might find it cute?”

“I like being told I’m a cute boy. Sue me,” Jack says, his hand wrapping more securely around Alex’s waist. “Now go back out. I’m just putting things into bowls, I’ll be out in a second, handsome.”

Alex feels himself blush as Jack leans forward to press his lips to Alex’s temple before spinning on his heel and heading back toward the kitchen. As he steps back outside, Alex can’t help but hope that they never leave this phase of their relationship. This not quite honeymoon but not quite settled phase, where they’re so damn comfortable being with each other (in a way Alex used to spend hours awake at night worrying they would never find the path to) but compliments like the one Jack’s just thrown his way still make him blush. It’s a nice spot to be in for now, he thinks.

He pulls the cork from the wine and gives himself another generous pour before leaving the bottle in the middle of the table they’re meant to be eating at. The sky is just fading into dusk, the city draped in a blanket of purples and blues when the light above him clicks on. Alex turns from his spot to find Jack sliding the door open mostly with his foot, two bowls somewhat precariously balanced in each of his hands. Alex jumps up and ignores Jack’s whines as he takes the bowls from him and wanders back to set them on the table while Jack jogs back through the apartment to return with plates and silverware and another wine glass.

“Alright so if this sucks, we’re blaming my mom because she basically walked me through the whole thing step by step,” Jack says once they’re back at the table while he pours wine into his own glass. “Also the caprese salad was her idea since I wasn’t feeling leafy but I feel like romantic dinner date is incomplete without salad.”

“You called your mom to have her walk you through a recipe?” Alex smiles as he lets his head drop to rest in the palm of his hand while he watches Jack spoon some kind of pasta onto the two plates.

“Listen, you know I’m helpless in a kitchen,” Jack says while pushing one of the plates in Alex’s direction. “And it’s your last night here and I wanted to do something nice for you, damn it.”

“That’s very cute,” Alex replies before taking another sip from his wine glass. “You’re very cute.”

“You already told me I was cute. You gotta get more creative with your adjectives, Mr Songwriter.”

Alex shakes his head in mock protest. “I said the apron was cute before, not you.” Jack scowls at him while gently kicking his ankle. “Hush, I knew what you meant.” A smile pulls at Alex’s lips when he notices how Jack leaves their feet all tangled up together under the table after the kick. It’s silly, he knows, to get all blushy over such a simple, nonchalant action but he can’t help it.

Jack points his fork across the table at Alex after taking a bite. “Also my mom said to call her when you get back. She wants to catch up and probably bug you again about when you’re going to propose.”

Alex laughs brightly. “Well my mom was asking that I get you to Facetime her when you’ve got some free time likely for the exact same conversation.” He gestures down to his plate with a nod. “This really does not suck, by the way.”

“Our mothers really ought to be more strategic in their approach on this,” Jack says while shaking his head. “I mean it’s completely impractical that we both propose. And thank you, I try.”

“I think they figure if they double the effort they have a greater chance of success or something.”

“Fair enough, I suppose.”

The banter back and forth over their meal continues well into the night. After a while, Alex insists on clearing the table and taking things inside. He quickly cleans the dishes before grabbing another bottle of wine from the fridge and clean glasses and heading back out. Jack has moved over to the couch he keeps out there and has a blanket pulled over his bare legs, the nighttime breeze dropping the temperature enough to call it a cool night. Alex fills their glasses and leaves the bottle on the table before wandering over to where Jack has decided to lounge.

“For you, sir,” Alex announces while handing over one of the glasses. He takes a seat next Jack, scooting closer to his side to steal some of the blanket and drops his head to rest against Jack’s chest.

Jack hums his thanks as he takes a sip and wraps an arm around Alex’s shoulders. His fingers immediately move to play with the sleeve of his t-shirt as he sighs. “Is it selfish to ask you to cancel your flight and stay longer?”

“Not selfish but also not really a possibility, my love,” Alex says while tilting his head up to press his lips to Jack’s jaw. “I’ve got animal friends to attend to and you’ve got that trip out to see Zack to pack for.”

“Mmm, yeah you’re right,” Jack says while swirling the wine in his glass. “The goats and Zack need cuddles too, I guess.”

“Exactly.” Alex sighs as he lifts his shoulder, asking Jack a silent question that he thankfully knows the answer to. Jack drops his hand to rest in his lap and Alex reaches over for it, his fingers slipping into the spaces between Jack’s and squeezing to press their palms together. He smiles lazily at the action. It’s the little things about time with Jack that stick in his brain when they’re apart. The weight of Jack’s hand in his own, the steady sound of his heartbeat below Alex’s ear, the tapping of Jack’s foot against the ground since even in the quiet, still moments Jack has to find a way to expel the extra energy he always seems to possess. It’s all so familiar and warm. Alex isn’t sure what life would be like without the small details that make up them.

He isn’t sure how long they sit there, sipping and resting against each other while staring out at the light polluted LA night sky. Long enough that Jack eventually lets out a yawn that breaks Alex out of the daze he’d fallen into, the gentle rising and falling of Jack’s chest beneath his head acting as a lullaby of sorts.

“Bedtime?” Alex asks with a gentle laugh. He lets their hands fall apart in favor of moving to cup Jack’s jaw. His thumb runs across the top of his cheek, just below his sleepy eyes.

“Think so, yeah,” Jack slurs his words slightly as he leans into Alex’s touch. “Don’t you need to pack? We’ll probably need to head out at like eleven since your flight is at one.”

And of course Jack remembers what time his flight is at when Alex hasn’t bothered to check all night. He’s always taking care of him in the little ways. In the ways that Alex didn’t realize he needed taking care of, really.

Alex moves to stand and smiles at Jack’s pout when he reaches to pull him up with him. “I can pack in the morning. Right now I just want to cuddle my boy.”

Jack grins at his words and rises without any more protest. They gather the glasses and shuffle back inside. Jack steals them away from Alex once they reach the stairs and gestures for him to head upstairs while he goes in the direction of the kitchen. Alex pouts at the action and leans against the railing to wait for Jack to round the corner again.

Jack jumps a bit when he finds Alex in the same spot he left him. “And you thought I was a sleepy boy?” Jack laughs, something warm and soft behind his gaze. Jack takes a couple steps up, his hand reaching back to loosely link with Alex’s to guide them upstairs.

They get ready for bed quickly despite the half asleep state they both drifted into and soon enough Alex is crawling beneath wrinkled sheets. He’s just barely plugged his phone into the charger when a pair of arms pull him toward the center of the bed.

“How are you always so warm?” Jack mumbles into the back of Alex’s hair as his arms wrap more fully around Alex’s middle. He turns in his arms and Jack settles against his chest. “Not that I’m complaining since it’s freezing in here. But still.”

Alex laughs as he tries to keep his eyes open while Jack nuzzles his cool nose against his collarbone. He reaches a hand up to thread into the hair at the back of Jack’s neck. “Somebody’s got to keep you warm.”

“I’m glad it’s you,” Jack mumbles almost incoherently. Alex waits for him to say more as he continues drawing short patterns through Jack’s hair but he only softly hums and nestles further against his chest.

Alex is moments away from falling falling falling to a peaceful rest when Jack’s hand settles against the bottom of his back beneath the sweatshirt he stole from his closet, the extra layer of Jack’s familiar scent providing some additional security on his last night in this bed. Alex feels Jack’s sleep steady breath puff against his neck and in his final moments of consciousness, all he can think is Jack Jack Jack. His gentle laugh and warm gaze fills Alex’s mind as he lets his eyes finally flutter shut.

And maybe that’s what love is, falling asleep already in a dream.

It’s pouring down rain in Maryland and Jack is in love.

He’s only just woken up, his mind still cloudy from sleep and his eyes still locked shut. Jack isn’t sure what time it is but given that he’s rising naturally and not from an alarm or kisses being pressed against his cheeks, he assumes it must be pretty late into the morning hours.

It’s his first morning on this visit out to the farm. His flight the previous night had gotten in before dinner so Alex had declared it date night (Is every night we’re together not date night, Alex? Romance mode 24/7, baby.) and insisted they stop at the store for ingredients before heading back to the house. Once they were at the farm, they tended to the animals (or Alex did while Jack sat on the floor and let the goats chew on his hoodie strings) before heading back inside where Jack sat at the counter and told Alex stories about his airport adventures while watching him cook. They had tried to start a movie after food but Jack kept falling asleep every few minutes with his head in Alex’s lap so it wasn’t long before he was being pulled in the direction of the bedroom.

He sighs as the last moments of sleep drift off and he settles back into the land of the living. He’s yet to open his eyes in case the sun is peeking in anywhere in the room since he knows he’s not yet awake enough for true daylight. Two thoughts enter his mind almost immediately though: it’s cold as hell and there’s coffee brewing in the kitchen. Both of these things are a result of a third thing that Jack notices and it’s that Alex has left him alone in bed.

Jack would get whiny about the third thing but he knows that given where they are it would be pretty selfish of him. Mornings at the farm are loaded with more responsibilities than mornings in LA, and Jack knows the animal friends deserve breakfast and Alex’s bright, sleepy smile just as much as he does. Plus, his boy did make him coffee.

Jack takes a deep breath and catches the scent of dark roast mixed in with the scent of Alex (his cologne and the same laundry detergent he’s used since his mom would pack it for him on their early tours) before finally pushing himself up from the mattress and opening his eyes. The room is thankfully still dark since Alex left the curtains closed for him but he can hear the rain beating down against the windows even through the heavy fabric. Jack pouts then, suddenly worried about Alex having to wander around out in the January rain by himself.

He finds a hoodie and the slippers his mom gifted him for Christmas a few weeks earlier on the floor beside the bed and pulls both on before shuffling from the bedroom. Jack immediately pulls at the sleeves to cover his hands and considers going back to the bedroom to steal a shirt to throw on underneath the hoodie but the coffee hits his nose again and he continues in the direction of the kitchen.

The only light on in the room is the one over the sink and because of the rain, the kitchen remains pretty dark despite the clock on the microwave reading that it’s a little bit past ten. Jack wanders through the room to the drying rack by the sink to get his mug (the one he found in some little thrift store somewhere in Texas with the painted butterflies) before turning back to the island. He fills the mug from the mostly full French press that must have been made pretty recently, Jack thinks, as he burns his tongue a little on his first sip. Fresh coffee means that Alex has already been out to the stalls for the morning so Jack turns then, having a good feeling about where Alex may have wandered off to, and lets his hip rest against the edge of the counter.

From where he stands leaning against the kitchen island, Jack can see Alex’s head poking out from the back of the couch out on the front porch. He’s got a blue beanie pulled over his head and Jack can see his hands cupped around a mug and he can see the steam rising against Alex’s face. He pulls his phone from his pocket to check the temperature and rolls his eyes at the number shown on the screen but it doesn’t stop him from lifting his own mug to head in the direction of the front door.

Alex looks over in his direction as Jack pushes the door closed behind him to join Alex out in the cold morning air. The rain had settled mostly and a thick fog blankets over the property, the trees at the end of the road and pasture just barely visible. A soft smile pulls at Alex’s lips as he pats the cushion beside him. Jack returns the grin as he takes in the crinkles beside his boy’s tired eyes. Sometimes Jack forgets they’re getting older but then notices a gray hair when he’s looking in the mirror while brushing his teeth or notices Alex’s laughter lines deepening ever so slightly and it reminds him just how long they’ve been on these wild adventures together.

He takes the spot beside Alex and pulls the blanket he’s got covering his lap over his own before letting his head drop to rest against Alex’s shoulder. Jack turns to press his cold nose against Alex’s neck and smiles when he hears a soft whine in response to the action.

“Why are we having our coffee outside when it’s nearly freezing out?” Jack mumbles against Alex’s skin. He feels a hand reach up to card through his bed head and smiles at the feeling.

“You’ve been in California too long,” Alex teases. “We would have been calling this a warm morning back in the day.”

“Jesus, are we really old enough for things to be back in the day now?”

“We’re definitely getting there, love.” Alex laughs before pausing to take a sip from his mug. “Anyway, I finished up feeding everybody and wanted to keep listening to the rain.”

Jack figures that’s a fair enough answer (at least coming from Alex) so they sit in silence for a little while. They sip from their respective mugs and Jack cuddles impossibly closer to Alex for warmth as he searches for patterns in the sound of the rain against the roof. Jack notices the shapes Alex has been drawing through his hair change suddenly and he sits up a bit to see his face and pouts at the expression he’s met with.

“What are you thinking so hard about, huh?” Jack asks as he reaches a hand up to rub away the lines across Alex’s forehead. “Is everything okay?”

“Do you want to move in together?” Alex asks in a somewhat rushed voice while his hands pull at the ends of his sleeves. “Like here? On the farm?”

Jack’s hand falls from Alex’s forehead to cup his cheek. “What?”

“I mean, you should probably keep the place in LA since we’re over there enough for work stuff. And I’ve just been thinking that this feels like a good place to settle down and,” he pauses to take a breath and looks up to meet Jack’s gaze. “And I don’t know if I’m moving too fast but I want to settle down with you.”

“Al, I’ve known you for like, half my life. We’re not exactly operating on a normal relationship timeline here. I’d love to move in,” Jack says into the space between them and he can’t help but lean forward to brush their lips together when Alex’s eyes widen. “Though you’re going to have to teach me how to actually be helpful around this place rather than just sit and look cute while petting the goats.”

“Having someone to sit and look cute with the goats is an essential part of farm maintenance, Jack. Don’t sell yourself short,” Alex says while reaching to cover the hand Jack still has against his cheek. “But don’t worry. We’ll teach you to be a proper farm boy. Get you some boots and everything.”

“I want a cowboy hat, too. But sounds perfect.” Jack says before leaning in to press their lips together again. Alex pulls him closer and Jack feels himself smile into the kiss. Alex’s warmth almost makes him forget about the cold winter air surrounding them and his mind is flooded with the thought of a future where everyday is spent with the eternal summer’s day that is Alex Gaskarth.

Alex pulls away first and a giggle leaves his lips as Jack whines at him. “Guess we should go ahead and actually get the day started then?”

“Has to happen eventually, I suppose.” Jack sighs as he sinks further into the couch.

Alex laughs as he stands up, his hand reaching down to link their hands together. “Come on. We’ve got brunch with the mothers in an hour and now we’ve got good news to share with them. Moms love good news.”

Jack allows himself to be pulled up from the couch and in the direction of the front door. He leans against the wood once they’re back inside and pulls Alex into his hold while his arms move to hang over his shoulders. “We smell like farm and wet dog. And since we’re going to be sharing a home now, I think it only makes sense that we try to conserve resources. What do you think?”

Alex rolls his eyes and slides his hands up to rest against Jack’s chest. “Thank you for the invitation but I figured I would make up another pot of coffee for us while you go get ready?”

“What did I do to deserve you?”

“I keep asking myself the same thing.”

With a final press of his lips to Jack’s cheek, Alex heads off to make the promised coffee. Jack watches him head into the kitchen from where he stands in the front hall. He sees Alex leave the mugs on the island in favor of pulling his phone out to connect to the speaker next to the sink and a second later a song starts playing that immediately has him bouncing on his toes as he fills the kettle from the sink. Jack smiles as he leans against the frame into the dining room while he watches Alex dance around and softly sing while scooping new coffee grounds. He turns then and Jack is caught as Alex smiles and winks in his direction, a mouthed Go while pointing in the direction of the bedroom being his parting gift.

Jack blows a kiss and starts making his way down the front hall to the stairs. He pauses for a moment at the table where Alex had left a mess of different holiday cards he’d received throughout the season. Bright colors and happy smiles meet Jack’s eyes as he spots friends and their families and pets. He sighs and continues down the hall after a moment, wondering if maybe they could get the goats to sit still long enough for a holiday card sometime next fall. It’s a swirling, dreamy thought, but he spends the rest of the morning stuck on the idea of seeing their smiling faces and well wishes mixed into their loved ones’ piles of cards.

And maybe that’s what love is, waking up to the beginning of another dream.

#jalex #jalex fic #i said this on ao3 but i sent the first half of this to bella but not the second half so ignore that the grammar is probably better in the #first half bc of that #this was the first piece i've written in probably several months that's longer than 2k so that's kinda cool #probably bc it could have been split in half but shhhhhh

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jacksjoke · 4 years ago

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Title: pull my head out of the sand

Pairing: Wave/Pang

Ao3 link

Wave would like nothing more than to disappear beneath his blankets and never resurface. They’ve had setbacks before, but this afternoon was a setback like none they’d ever faced. The skin of his palms stings from how long he’d kept his fingernails dug in there, his helplessness toward the situation manifesting in impossibly tight fists and a stone lodged in his throat that he can hardly breathe around. It’s like as soon as they allow themselves a brief moment to believe things are looking up, this happens.

He doesn’t lock the door to his dorm-room anymore. He has microscopic cameras enabled all over the place, so it isn’t like anyone could waltz in and steal his belongings without his knowledge, and no one would have the nerve anyway. He keeps the door open because he has one visitor who is more like a roommate at this point in their third year, and he wouldn’t dream of locking him out.

Pang is crunched into the space beside Wave’s desk, his arms wrapping his knees into a bundle against his chest. It’s like he’s trying not to be seen, as if Wave could possibly miss him even with the only source of illumination being the desk-lamp. Wave doesn’t know what to say, and knows that there’s nothing much he could say that would make any of this alright.

He settles the bag of food onto his desk. He’d gone to the place down the road despite the awareness that Pang likely won’t eat for the rest of the night.

“Ohm snuck in to see what the deal was,” Wave says. “She’s… she’s doing okay. He thinks he heard the nurses say she’ll need surgery because her heart…” Wave can’t bring himself to look at Pang, so he instead looks at the wall in front of him where he’d put up a bulletin board.

More accurately, Pang had put it up. He’d asserted months ago that Wave’s dorm was depressing and gave no signs of his personality, which had never bothered Wave any. But Pang was relentless, as usual, and positioned a board right above Wave’s desk for random notes and photos in the hopes they’d add a bit of life to the room. In the weeks since and as Pang wanted, the board’s been covered in developed photos (courtesy of Korn) and stupidly endearing, funny notes (courtesy of Pang himself).

“She’ll likely have to go overseas,” Wave concludes, and lets the news hang in the air.

“If I’d been faster…” Pang begins, his voice hoarse, but he doesn’t go on.

“Then you’d both be in the hospital.”

“I should be,” Pang says. “I’m supposed to lead. I should’ve been the one in that conference room, not Namtaan.”

Wave shakes his head. “I thought what happened last year taught you not to play the hero.”

“That isn’t what I’m doing,” Pang insists. “I should’ve stopped the bomb when I knew what was going on. Instead I let Namtaan take a bullet she had no reason to take.”

“She isn’t dead, Pang. And she knew the risk she was taking; we all know the risks,” Wave says. “Every one of us is here despite them because what’s at stake is worth more in the long-run than ourselves.”

Pang doesn’t lift his gaze from the floor. He stares in silence, burning a hole into the carpet, and Wave leans back in his chair. He removes his glasses so that he can rub the bridge of his nose where he can feel his hours-old migraine still aching.

“I didn’t want her to get hurt either,” Wave says, because it’s the truth and he has a fear that Pang might believe otherwise. “I didn’t wake up this morning thinking that this was how today was going to go; I don’t think any of us could’ve known. But that’s all it is. We didn’t know. It’s the Anti-Gifted—”

“And who brought them in?” Pang asks. “If it hadn’t been for my stupid idea to include them, they wouldn’t even know about the Gifted.”

“Pang—”

“And if I hadn’t been too weak to just force them to not act, Namtaan wouldn’t have had to face a bomb on her own, no one would be hurt.”

“Are you done feeling sorry for yourself?” Wave asks, voice cold, and Pang looks at him then.

“What?”

“You aren’t the only one whose friend was hurt. Everyone’s a mess because of this, not just you. Namtaan was the first person in the Gifted who didn’t treat me like an outsider; after five years of putting on my own plasters, she was the one who insisted that I could accept help. And to thank her, I sent her to face a bomb alone because it seemed easier.”

“Easier? Easier than what?”

“Admitting that I didn’t want you to go,” Wave snaps. “Why do you think I didn’t message you to just go to the conference room?” Wave shakes his head again. “I knew you’d want to stop the bomb so before I even realised it I convinced myself it made sense for you to come to storage instead. No one should’ve been hurt. If you’d gone right away, no one… Namtaan wouldn’t be in the hospital, the teachers would be okay, and none of this would be happening.”

“Now who’s making it about himself?” Pang murmurs after a moment, and Wave is so taken aback that he actually snorts. Pang presses his hands against his eyes as he takes a breath. “We… can’t guess what we’re going to do under pressure,” he says eventually. “It isn’t on us what happened; there’s a million reasons and if we try to blame ourselves for all of them, we’d be here all night.”

“That sounds more like the leader I know,” Wave says, slightly teasing, and Pang shrugs.

“It’s just the truth,” Pang says, tired. “I won’t be over what happened today anytime soon, but what we can do with that is try to prevent anything like this from happening again. So none of us have to follow in Namtaan’s footsteps.” Pang looks down at his lap. “She was always the bravest of us.”

“Reckless, like you,” Wave suggests.

Pang huffs a laugh and Wave knows that he’s thinking about the several occasions Namtaan threw herself into the action at the expense of herself. Today hadn’t been an anomaly by any means.

“For the record,” Pang says after a moment, “if it had been me in your place, I wouldn’t have wanted to send you either. It’s a stupid what-if but I… I’d’ve been scared too. To let you go when I knew you could be hurt, or worse.”

Wave looks again at the mini cork-board on his wall, specifically at a note that Pang had pinned up himself (as is the case with most of the stuff on there). All it requests in Pang’s ridiculous scribbles is that Wave not forget to call him, months old and pointless by now because of course Wave didn’t forget, but he keeps the Post-It because he likes the reminder that he has someone to call.

It’s stupid, but he’s never had that before; anyone who cares whether Wave stays in contact. But Pang cares, so much, about everything. It’s something Wave used to find exasperating that he now… Okay, so he still finds it exasperating, but it’s endearing too.

And Pang and his gaggle of buddies—their buddies, Pang corrects in his head—have rubbed off on Wave; he cares too these days, because he has people and things to care for. But he has to admit that the person who had instigated the change in Wave is mostly Pang. That oaf had snaked his way into Wave’s center of being and it’s to the point where he doesn’t want to imagine any other way. That’s why this afternoon had been such a nightmare. Wave had subconsciously been made to choose between a good friend and the boy he… Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it?

Wave takes a breath and moves from his chair down to the floor to settle in beside Pang. Their arms press together and usually Wave would try to put distance to avoid that, but right now, in the hours following an explosion at their school and their friend was hospitalized, he’d rather not put on the cold front. He’s just too worn out to try.

“I’m sorry,” Pang says. Wave glances at him, questioning, and Pang clarifies, “I haven’t even asked… After everything, I shut down and didn’t even bother asking if you’re alright. Like you said, she’s your friend too.”

“I’m fine,” Wave affirms. “Sort of wish it’d been me though.”

“Wave.”

“It’s true. Namtaan already wasn’t in the greatest health and now… She doesn’t deserve this.”

“She doesn’t,” Pang agrees easily, “but neither do you.”

Pang’s words are as sincere as they always are, and Wave doesn’t know how to respond. Sometimes he thinks that he’s getting better at understanding whatever it is that’s going on between him and Pang, but more often than not Wave is left confused. How is he supposed to know what’s just in his head, wishful thinking about the boy Wave’s been unable to look away from since the moment he bumped into him at the canteen?

But the only thing Wave has ever been afraid to lose since junior high is right next to him, and it very well might be the after-effects of being involved in an explosion, but why in the hell is he letting days go by without doing something about how he feels? It could have been Pang in that conference room, it could have been Wave, and who knows where they’d be right now. If anything had happened to Pang without Wave having told him the truth, it would’ve killed him too, he’s sure.

“I think I… might head back to my room,” Pang says. “Put the food in your fridge and we can have it in the morning, okay?” He goes to push up off the floor but Wave’s hand on his wrist stops him. “What’s up?”

“I like you,” Wave says without preamble, and Pang blinks at him. “Don’t tell me you didn’t hear that. Pang, I—”

Pang brings Wave in by the shoulder so that their faces aren’t so far apart. He looks like he’s trying not to smile too widely, but his dimples are making an appearance regardless. “I heard you,” Pang says. He looks over Wave’s features, his grin widening further as he does, and then he wraps Wave into a hug.

Wave doesn’t cry. He hasn’t cried since his parents’ funeral and he’d been rather proud of himself for holding it together after Namtaan’s accident. But with Pang’s arms around him, he can’t help it. He cries for Namtaan and his role in her injuries, for who he became after his parents’ deaths, for who he was even only last year before letting himself feel again, and Pang just holds his head and lets the minutes go by.

Wave has wanted so many things with Pang, and only until recently has he allowed his mind to wander into the chance that Pang may feel the same. But what if he doesn’t? What if this is a result of today’s disaster and he’s just—

“Hey,” Wave says, pushing against Pang’s arm. “Say it back.” Pang raises his eyebrows and Wave gives him a look, making Pang smile again.

“I like you,” he promises, and he sounds so sure about his words that it’s almost terrifying to Wave. Pang’s hold on Wave’s waist loosens only momentarily so that he can drop his head to rest against Wave’s chest.

Being this close, Wave can feel that Pang is trying to slow his own breathing in order to calm Wave in the quiet of the room, and he closes his eyes to let himself enjoy the feeling of Pang warming him from the inside out. If Wave is lucky, right now won’t be the only occasion like this that they get to have.

He thinks of the bomb, and of Namtaan, and his arms grip tighter around Pang’s shoulders. He focuses on matching his breaths with Pang’s, hoping that the expelled air will dissipate the anxiety and fear of the day as well. They’re still here. He runs tentative fingers through Pang’s hair and keeps breathing. As long as they’re together, it’ll be okay, right?

“Let’s go to bed,” Pang says, getting tiredly to his feet and pulling Wave up with him. Wave can do nothing but agree. He puts the food away and returns to find Pang fast asleep under Wave’s blankets, a sight that makes his cheeks burn ridiculously. He climbs in next to Pang as quietly as he can, but Pang mustn’t mind because he just latches on to Wave’s arm and keeps dreaming.

Wave steals a glance at Pang by his side and can’t help frowning at the exhaustion that is so evident on his face. Wave covers the hand Pang’s got on his arm with his own, because he can allow himself that much now, and hopes for Pang to rest well tonight.

Wave falls asleep, and wakes up to sunlight and Pang on his chest.

His heart feels five sizes too big for his ribcage but he wouldn’t move from this spot for anything. When there’s nothing else, there will still be them. It’ll be okay.

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falseroar · 4 years ago

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Dog Days Part 4: Information Exchange

((Abe returns to his office to find a shady potential client waiting with an offer he can’t refuse.

Link to the previous part, Part 3: Slow Recovery.))

Abe made a detour by the parking lot to grab his bag out of the back of the beat-up car he called his own before walking into the office building, where there was no one waiting at the front desk. Come to think of it, he wasn’t sure he had ever seen anyone behind the glass since he signed his lease, but that just meant fewer questions whenever he was back in town. Instead, he took the stairs up to his floor, only to stop when he spotted the man standing in the middle of the hallway.

Right next to the door to his office/as close as he got to home these days.

He played with the idea of turning around and just going back to his car, but there was always the chance he would just run into the guy on his way out. Abe took another long sip of his coffee before stepping out of the stairwell and walking straight toward the door, hoping that maybe the man was just hanging out and waiting for someone else.

A hope that quickly died when the man turned with a slightly off movement, his head turning and his body following with a slight delay to fix Abe with a cold stare behind black square frame glasses.

“Abe Lincoln,” the man said, more a declaration than a question.

“That’s what they call me,” Abe said. His keys were already in his free hand, but he found himself slowing as he approached. A voice in the back of his mind screamed that there was something off about the man, more than just his odd movements and smile that failed to match his eyes. While he couldn’t point out what it was immediately, Abe knew enough to trust his instincts and keep his distance. “And I’m not taking clients at the moment. I left a sign on the door, didn’t you see it?”

“This just says ‘Be back sooner or later.’”

Oh. In hind sight, he probably should have double checked which sign he put up before he left three months ago.

“Well, point is I’m still not here to take another case, if that’s what you’re looking for,” Abe said. “Maybe call ahead next time, make an appointment with my secretary if I ever get one. And if you’re here looking for money, then you can just get in line behind everyone else.”

The man turned in place to watch as Abe circled around him to get to the door, the hunter just as careful not to take his eyes off of the visitor. Abe was already weighing his options, considering whether a punch with the keys in his fist or a splash from what was left of his coffee would be enough to distract the stranger if push came to shove. He had more options stowed on his person and in his coat, but this close there wasn’t a lot of room for trial and error if he didn’t know what he was dealing with.

“While I am capable of waiting out here as long as necessary, perhaps the hunter might be willing to hear my employer’s offer first. He is willing to offer you far more than your usual rate, in return for your assistance in looking into a particular person of interest.”

“Don’t see why he would need a hunter for that,” Abe said, making a show of unlocking his door. This close, he realized that it wasn’t just the stilted way the man talked, the emphasis not quite falling on the right words. Watching him out of the corner of his eye, he realized that the man’s chest wasn’t moving, just as there was no sign of movement around his nose or mouth when he wasn’t actually speaking.

The stranger wasn’t breathing.

“Just who is your employer?” Abe asked, trying to sound casual as he pulled his bag off his shoulder and tossed it down just inside the office door, on top of the pile of late notices covering the floor. Leaning against the frame left the hand not holding the coffee cup out of sight and free to reach for the handle of his revolver. Bullets didn’t work against everything, but they sure helped slow down most things.

“He would prefer to remain anonymous in this situation—”

“Nope,” Abe said, already reaching for the door.

“Wait!” The stranger reached out to stop the door from shutting only for his whole body to stutter the second his hand tried to cross the threshold. Sparks arced between his fingers and raced up his arm before he yanked himself backwards. His whole head twitched to the side before he returned to his far too straight stance, and Abe was quick to notice the red light in the man’s brown eyes before it disappeared, although his scowl remained. “You have anti-magic wards.”

“Of course I do, what hunter worth his salt wouldn’t think of something that basic?” Abe scoffed. And those were far from the only protections he had in place, although he was pretty sure the handy sigils he carved into the interior of the door frame probably meant he wouldn’t be getting his deposit back on this place. Landlords generally didn’t recognize a good thing when they had it.

Magic, but the ward hadn’t stopped some kind of spell or curse, it had reacted like he was the magic. Not fae, the eyes would give it away. Maybe an inanimate object powered by magic? One shaped like a human, or else Abe would have seen through it when he tried to break the ward, but that didn’t explain the sparks. He could probably figure it out with a few more clues, or…

Screw it, Abe thought.

“What are you?”

The man paused before he answered, his words falling out quickly as though he couldn’t help answering, “I am a Google unit, a blend of technology and magic created to provide information and services to my employer. Among other things.”

Magitek? Abe had heard of it, but never anything like this. This Google thing looked human, or human enough if you could ignore the slightly stilted mannerisms and the whole not blinking once while they had been having this conversation thing.

“Guess that explain the ‘G’,” Abe muttered, gesturing to the vivid white letter on the unit’s red shirt. “Well you can provide your employer with the information that I said ‘no.’ Hell no, if you feel like it.”

“While it is typical of humans to be reluctant to deal with superior beings—”

“Okay, I’m going to stop you right there. I seriously doubt the ‘superior’ thing, but I don’t care what you are. The point is, I don’t take work from anyone who won’t meet me in person, much less refuses to even give me a name. Believe it or not, I do have standards.”

The Google unit’s eyes moved from Abe’s face to stare pointedly at the darkened office behind him, the floor covered in late notices and clothes that didn’t make the cut to come along on his latest trip, filing cabinets crowded up against the paper-covered desk, and the multiple cork boards full of papers and photographs pinned and connected to each other by lengths of string, and that was just what could be seen from the office door.

“Clearly. That is why my employer requested that I bring this to you, hunter. He believes that this person may be involved in certain activities that could be a danger to others, including to someone of value to significant persons within the city. If he were to take these suspicions through official channels, there might be enough bias against the person of interest to prevent a real investigation from taking place.”

Abe had to take a second to work that out, but considering they were coming to him he thought he could take a guess. “This person you want me to look into isn’t human, and if enough rumors float around they could be in trouble whether it’s true or not.”

“Correct.”

Abe hesitated. He had taken enough cases like this before, but never one that sent up this many red flags at one time. There was clearly something shady going on here, and the last thing he needed was to get dragged into someone else’s mess when he had enough of his own to deal with.

As if sensing something else was needed, the Google unit added, “I have been given permission to tell you that an exchange of information is also on the table, should you choose to take this case.”

“What kind of information?”

“Information regarding one Wilford Warfstache, the most recent alias of the man formerly known as William J. Barnum.”

The floor could have opened out underneath Abe at that moment and he didn’t think he would have noticed the difference. Without realizing it, he had stepped back out into the hall, his hand wrapped tight in the collar of the unit’s red shirt as he pulled him closer.

“What do you know about him?” he growled, but the automaton’s expression did not change.

“All information about this person is stored in a file that I cannot access until given permission by my employer, which will not be granted until you provide your own information about our person of interest.” Google did not blink, and there was no trace of concern in his voice as he added, “If you attempt to damage this unit, the information can and will be deleted.”

Abe forced himself to let go of the unit’s shirt, but his hand just as quickly closed into a fist. “Why should I believe you know anything about him that I don’t?”

“I cannot provide that information until permission is granted. However, my employer thought you might be interested to learn that last night at approximately 12:37 AM, the local police received a report of strange lights and noises at the house formerly known as Markiplier Manor. By the time they arrived, there was no sign of any persons in the area,” Google answered, his gaze taking on the faraway stare that Abe was beginning to recognize as him recalling something from his memory.

Abe made a conscious effort to control his reaction to those words, to keep his breathing steady and his eyes as clear as he could, to not give in to the shudder that raced down his spine to meet the pit opening in his stomach.

“That could be anything,” he said. “Some kids messing around, frisky raccoons, you name it. Doesn’t mean it’s related to—to him.”

“I am also allowed to say that we have reason to believe that Wilford Warfstache has returned to the city,” Google said. “But as I cannot provide anything to verify this information until after you provide something in return, and you are clearly not interested—”

“Wait.”

Abe hated this, he hated not knowing what he was getting himself into, he hated not knowing who was behind this, hated that whoever it was clearly knew enough to get his interest and press his buttons, but more than anything he hated the idea of missing his chance to finally get his hands on the one monster that had evaded him all these years. If there was even a chance this thing could lead him to the Colonel, or whatever he was calling himself these days…

“Who does your employer want me to look into this bad?” Abe asked.

“Does this mean you’re taking the case?” Google asked in turn.

Just because he agreed, it didn’t mean he couldn’t do his own investigating on the side. And if this guy was as dangerous or as in danger as robot boy here claimed, then maybe it wouldn’t hurt Abe to look into him.

“Yeah, I’ll find out what you need to know. Just give me a name.”

The Google unit pulled an envelope out of his pocket and presented it to Abe, inside of which he found a downtown address, a photograph of the man in question, and a copy of a certificate verifying the person in question was registered with the city and the Bronson Institute.

“My employer wants you to obtain as much information as possible about any suspicious activities or relationships involving the vampire, Dr. Henrik von Schneeplestein.”

((End of Part 4. Thanks for reading!

Link to Part 5: Second Opinion.

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate @missksketch ))

#markiplier #fanfiction #monster hunter au #wkm au #abe the detective #googleplier #traces of silver #poor abe #can't even get a break

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i-am-a-bad-influence-writes · 4 years ago

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Hayloft - Part 2

Series Masterlist - Bucky Masterlist - Full Masterlist

Summary: A young girl finds a soldier hiding in the hayloft on her father’s farm. Intrigued, she visits him more and more until her father finds out and puts him to work. As they grow closer, something else grows too.

Pairing: James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes x OC Jenny Richelle “Ricky” Hill

Warning: Strong language, inaccurate war description

Author’s note: Based on the song Hayloft by Mother Mother and the lovestory of my grandparents. I am Dutch and the war was a bit different here, so I will be basing this on the stories I’ve heard about my grandparents.

Word count: 2433

‘What are you reading Jenny?‘ ‘What’s it to you James?‘ ‘Just curious, that’s all.‘ He watches as a smile starts tugging on the corners of her lips. She tries to surppres it, but the sparkle in her eyes is clear as day. ‘Of sons and lovers,‘ she hums, showing him the front, ‘do you know it?‘ ‘Heard of it, haven’t had the chance to read it,‘ he answers, ‘will you read it to me?‘

From that moment on, she’d read to him every Friday and Sunday. Sometimes on Wednesdays if he’d look at her nicely. Though Jenny’s father would rather have her spend time with other lads who are a little more wealthy, he didn’t mind for the time being. After all, the two seemed to be great friends. Meanwhile, Jenny was falling hard and fast. She hadn’t known this feeling before. The butterflies in her stomach when he’d wink at her, the racing of her heart when he’d touch her skin, the way she got light headed when he’d tease her. She could deal with Michelle, the pictures, and the fear of being caught if she knew she could come home to James. The pictures on the cork board at her work kept changing. Eventually, Timothy’s picture disappeared as he lived a town over and couldn’t possibly still be here. James and Johnny’s pictures were moved up to make them more prominent, but with their messy stubble, weathered faces, and much longer locks they were barely recognizable from them. Jenny continuously send secret letters to James and Johnny’s relatives and friends under her own name. When anyone asked about it, she just said she was catching up with pen pals. Then one day a strange letter arrived. Jenny hadn’t seen the handwriting before. As usual, she gathered the men in the living room to read them their letters and burn them right after. They weren’t allowed to keep them in fear they would be found if they were searched. And so she got to the strange letter. It read.

“Dear Jenny,

Thank you for your wonderful letter. I am grateful to hear you are safe and sound. It has been a while. Please say hi to him for me and tell me that I miss him. Tell him I’m not angry anymore and I understand why he left us when he did. There’s no shame in it, I just wish I could visit to see his face again. Tell him I got into the army. It’s not the position I wanted, but I get to represent my country. Please don’t laugh at me when you see my face.

I hope to hear from you soon,

Yours sincerely,

Steve Rogers“

‘Who is Steve Rogers,‘ Jenny asks James, but when she looks up from the letter she can see the tears in his eyes. ‘Are you okay James?‘ ‘He’s my best friend,‘ James sniffles with a smile, ‘I used to be better at everything, but now he’s finally outdone me.‘ He looks proud and nostalgic as he swallows his tears away. ‘You know, I haven’t heard people call me James in such a long time because he always used to call me Bucky.‘ ‘That’s a nice nickname,‘ Jenny smiles and takes a seat next to him on the couch while the others leave, having thrown their letters in the fire. She hands James his. He laughs when he reads it again. ‘He probably spend hours on this,‘ he chuckles, ‘he never knew how to use his words. I always had to help him find friends or a date. Last time I saw him we went to a fair and I was supposed to leave for the war the next day. He wanted to fight so bad, but he’s build like a toothpick and there’s no way they’re letting someone like that in.‘ Jenny hands him a piece of paper. ‘I wrote down the return address for you, might you ever want to write him again,‘ she tells him. James looks at her in disbelieve. ‘You are a goddamn angel,‘ he smiles and throws his arms around her, engulfing her in a tight hug, ‘you are the best thing that could’ve happened to me.‘ She laughs and pushes him off a little. ‘You’re crushing me,‘ she chuckles when he lets go of her. Alpine wanders into the living room and jumps onto James’ lap. Jenny scratches her behind her ear with a smile while James admired her. ‘I like Bucky. It’s a nice nickname. Fits you way better than James.‘ ‘How come?‘ ‘James is way too smooth,‘ she eyebrows knit together a little while she tries to explain it, ‘it’s what most of those soldiers walking around town look like. Bucky is a bit more rugged and strong. It’s a handsome name.‘ He watches her face change to a bit of mischief. ‘You’re going to be the death of me,‘ he chuckles. ‘I thought I was an angel,‘ she bats her eyes innocently, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. ‘Don’t forget to burn that letter. I’m going to help mother out with dinner.‘ And she’s gone while James feels his cheeks heat up. Alpine looks up at him with a judgmental look. ‘Don’t say it, I know,‘ he sighs, talking to the cat, ‘this isn’t going to end well.‘

‘Good morning gents,‘ Jenny chirps, opening the door to the shed to bring their breakfast, ‘I got some jam for you today.‘ Johnny almost jumps out of his bed. ‘Good morning Jenny, how does it feel to be old,‘ he teases her, poking at her side. ‘Ah, stop it,‘ she laughs at the tickling, ‘I’m not old. Call James old!‘ ‘I’m 23, not a fossil,‘ he chuckles in a rough morning voice. ‘Is it your birthday,‘ Timothy asks, peeking from under his covers. ‘Yeah, I’m 22 today,‘ she smiles, pushing Johnny’s face away, ‘so my father bought jam from the neighbors and my mom is making a cake.‘ ‘Cake,‘ James asks in disbelieve. It had been ages since he had eaten cake. Most people don’t have money to acquire the ingredients. ‘Don’t expect too much from it,‘ she smiles, ‘it’s just custard and rusk.‘ ‘Honestly, that’s better than I expected,‘ he smiles, ‘I’ve heard people make fig cakes these days.‘ ‘Oh, I’ve heard of those,‘ Johnny laughs, ‘heard they’re hard enough to bash someone’s head in.‘ James watches Jenny’s smile a she talks to Johnny before her shift. She looks so good in her navy, knee-length skirt; navy, fitted waistcoat; and ivory blouse. As for today she’s holding a jacket in the same navy color over her arm. The nights had become colder and longer. Winter is coming and they all know it. The shed will be a lot colder in the following months. ‘I’ll be back earlier today, I only have a half shift,‘ Jenny tells them with a smile, ‘enjoy the jam.‘ ‘Thank you.‘

Though the days might be colder as winter approaches, the work has gotten harder. It’s harvest time and the boys are busy beyond compare. They work until they’re covered in sweat and only stop when misses Hill comes outside to give them water. The two younger boys in the family help them with some smaller tasks while Penny, the other daughter, sits by the tree behind the farmhouse and knits. Around twelve, misses Hill comes outside with lunch and sets it down by Penny. They boys sit in a circle with her while she continues to knit. James watches what she’s doing and notices the small mountain of knitted materials next to her. ‘Say Penny, what are you making?‘ She looks up from her work. ‘Oh, mother told me to knit some sweaters because the weather is getting colder,‘ she tells him, ‘mother normally does it, but she’s busy sewing jackets.‘ ‘Sewing jackets?‘ ‘Yeah, you don’t think we’re going to let you guys freeze to death do you,‘ she grins and hands him one of the sweaters to show him, ‘you should be happy Jenny has a job. She’s terrible at knitting and sewing.‘ James takes a look at the sweater. They’re just simple, white sweaters. Probably made from the wool of the sheep that stand in the stables. ‘We’re going to dye them once they’re done so you all have your own,‘ she hums, continuing with her work. ‘How wil you dye them? Isn’t that terribly expensive these days,‘ Timothy asks her a bit concerned. ‘It’s fine. We’re going to use wild berries and some other things like coffee grounds,‘ she explains to him, ‘we’re not exactly short on money, but it’s good to be creative in these times.‘ ‘How’d you guys end up hiding stowaways,‘ James ask, taking a big bite out of his sandwich. ‘Well, Johnny was here with Jenny when we heard soldiers were going to check every house for young gents who didn’t join the army,‘ she says, giving Johnny a small smile, ‘so we made him hide in the crawl space under the house until things calmed down, but it turns out they weren’t going to check us because we need the help on the farm so the men that were here would be safe. Besides, they already took our brother away.‘ She doesn’t look far as sad as Jenny does when talking about him. ‘So who wants what color? I’ll be able to make brown, blue, and red.‘ ‘I’d like brown,‘ Timothy mumbles. ‘I’ll take blue,‘ Johnny grins. ‘I guess that leaves red for me,‘ James smiles at her, eating the last few bites of his sandwich before getting up again. ‘Let’s get back to work.‘ Johnny sighs loudly. ‘No fun that one,‘ he jokes to Penny. They hear something on the gravel and Wesley and Nathan jump up. The group sees Jenny stepping off her bike and putting it against the fence like she does every day. James looks at her like the world just got a little brighter. The sunshine in his life returned and seems to just look at him. ‘Ah, did I miss lunch,‘ she laughs as her brothers pull her towards the group, ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier.‘ She presses a kiss to everyone’s cheek, but stops for a second after kissing James’ cheek and smiles. She starts rubbing his cheek with her thumb and he can only think of what her lipstick stain on his cheek might look like. ‘It’s fine,‘ he grumbles, ‘how was your day?‘ Without realizing it, he puts an arm around her waist while she keeps scrubbing at his cheek. ‘Gosh, terrible,‘ she grins, ‘they took half the pictures off the cork-board. It’s horrific to see them take them off and see the poor lads being dragged down the street. Don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.‘ She looks satisfied at his cheek and takes a step back, realizing they all have stains on their cheeks. ‘You guys should wash up.‘ ‘Why don’t we get the same treatment as James,‘ Johnny whines. She steps over to him, grabs his jaw, and violently scrubs his face. ‘Wait, no, I surrender. Stop!‘ The group laughs for a second. ‘Oi, back to work lads,‘ mister Hill calls as he steps out of the house.

After dinner it’s time for the improvised cake. Jenny turns an, to James adorable, shade of red when they start singing Happy Birthday to her. She looks with bright eyes at the candles on top of the cake and closes her eyes with her hands folded together before blowing them out. James can’t take his eyes off of her. Misses Hill divides the cake evenly between the nine of them and everyone is quiet at the sweet taste. ‘It’s great mom,‘ Jenny smiles at her mother, ‘perfect birthday.‘ Misses Hill walks over to her daughter and hands her a small, wrapped package. ‘Your grandmother send this over.‘ Jenny’s eyes shine as she opens the package. Everyone looks curiously at the small box as she opens it. Inside is a dainty, golden necklace with a golden coin on it. Jenny flips it over to see the back of it and smiles. ‘She got it engraved,‘ she smiles, tears of joy poking her eyes as she shows her mother. ‘That’s wonderful sweetheart,‘ her mother answers, ‘shall I put it on for you?‘ Jenny nods and hands the necklace to her mother who helps her put it on while she holds up her hair. The whole scene looks enchanting to James. In fact, it looks enchanting to all of them. She lets her hair fall down and shows her sister the coin. ‘Look, its an angel riding a Pegasus,‘ she smiles. Penny gives it a small glance and shrugs. It’s not special to her, but it means the world to Jenny.

The dinner comes to an end and James and Jenny end up reading on the couch as they often do these days. Alpine is curled up between them and comfortably purrs as both James and Jenny pet her gently. But is James actually reading? He seems to be awing at Jenny’s foccussed face. Heart shaped eyes almost pop out of his skull. ‘Stop looking at me,‘ Jenny whispers at him. He closes his book and pretends to be offended. ‘I was not looking at you.‘ ‘Oh please, you’re a terrible liar,‘ Jenny says as she puts her book down as well. ‘Do you want to go look at the stars from the hayloft?‘ She sighs and puts her book on the coffee table. ‘Fine, but bring a blanket this time. I found hay everywhere last time,‘ she sighs. Alpine follows as the two make their way to the hayloft and open the small window to look outside at she night sky while laying on the hay. James puts the blanket over the hay and arranges it so they can sit comfortably. He sits down first and takes her hand to pull her onto his chest. She turns a bright shade of red when she lands and looks up at his face. ‘You’re adorable,‘ he smiles, feeling tingles going through his whole body. ‘S-stop that,‘ she mumbles, trying to push herself away but his arm has her captured. ‘Hey, where’d my confident Jenny go,‘ he teases. ‘Oh go fuck yourself,‘ she grins. ‘Gladly, through I’d rather fuck you.‘ She stares with wide eyes into his as a smug smirk plays on his lips. ‘Fuck it,‘ she mumbles and straddles him, dipping down to connect his lips with hers. ‘My dad is going to shoot you.‘ ‘Angel, that only makes it more exciting.‘

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