#and the government texts were like ‘oh it can be difficult to know when you’re ovulating’
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gaygay--astronaut · 30 days ago
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shanastoryteller · 10 months ago
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Happy birthday!!!! More FMA!
He’s fucking tired.
In Xerxes, he’s Van Edris. In Xerxes, he’s the son of a former slave, having narrowly escaped being born into his father’s fate by virtue of him being awarded freedom by the time of his birth. In Xerxes, he’s an uncommon commodity, an alchemist with a skill that hasn’t been seen since his father fucked off to who knows where.
In Amestris, he’s Edward Elric. In Amestris, he’s the son of Trisha Elric who was born free and died free because while there are lots of different forms of freedom, in Amestris there’s one that everyone shares. In Amestris, he’s unknown and unremarkable and no one gives a fuck about what he does.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he says flatly.
This is what he gets for visiting his father’s country. It’s just fucking unfortunate that the really good alchemical texts are here.
He should have let Al (Van Altun, as they know him, even though the two of them having been using their Amestrian names almost their whole lives, regardless of what country they were in) do it. They’re not nearly as weird about him.
Pakor is alright, as far as kings go. He’s freed a lot of people, is poking at the laws of ownership that has governed his country for centuries to see if he can do anything about them without getting beheaded for it. He’s also known Ed since he was a barely able to walk, back when his father still made court appearances and brought the family along with him. Former slave against most talented alchemist in the country, and people tended to politely ignore the former. Hell, Ed’s been counting on the same thing since he was twelve.
Of course, now it’s coming back to bite him. People say he’s a genius, but if he was really smart he would have stayed far, far away from court. Like in Amestris, perhaps.
“You’re fluent in both languages,” Pakor says, coaxing.
“So are you,” he says accusingly. “We’re speaking Amestrian right now!”
Pakor sighs and switches to Xerxian. “You also speak Xingese and Drachman. You’re a difficult man to keep secrets from.”
“I’m also Amestrian!” he shouts. “And free, might I add! You can’t sell me off to slavery just to get some intel!”
“It’s not like we’ll brand you,” he says, affronted, and Ed is reminded that alright for a king is still pretty shitty. “We just need someone to do a little – double checking. To ensure the situation in Amestris is as it’s advertised.”
“You want to gift me to the Fuhrer to spy on him and you’re, what, just hoping he doesn’t notice that I understand everything and know everything and am, oh yeah, one of his citizens? I’ve been to Central before! With my luck, I’ll get recognized the first day here and then run out of Amestris! And, again, Amestris doesn’t have slaves! The leader of the country really can’t have one.”
Pakor sighs. “You’re very dramatic, Edris. It won’t be so bad. Here, I’ll say you’re my personal slave and that you’re on loan. It’ll be for cultural exchange purposes. He speaks Xingese, so you can communicate in that language without letting on you know Amestrian.”
Ed pinches the bridge of his nose. “This is a stupid fucking idea.”
“If you do this,” Pakor says, “I’ll give you the key to the royal library.”
Ed slowly lowers his hand, eyes narrowing. “I’ve been asking you to let me in there for years.”
“I figured I’d need to bargain it away eventually,” he says. “I was hoping you’d marry one of my daughters for it.” Having even light court obligations is bad enough, he’s in no way stupid enough to marry in. “You’re very difficult, you know. I’m your king. I shouldn’t have to bargain with you.”
“Tough shit,” Ed says, because Pakor may have known him for nearly twenty years, but that knowing goes both ways. Besides, he can’t piss him off because then he and Al will stop reparing all their shit bridges and infrastructure. “Fine. But if I lose my Amestrian citizenship over this, I’m going to be pissed.”
“Noted,” Pakor says brightly.
Uhg.
It doesn’t help that everything he’s heard about Fuhrer Mustang makes the man sound insufferable.
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rapz-rites · 2 years ago
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Oh Baby
Damian Wayne x Reader established relationship
Jon Kent x Reader (Platonic)
You’re not telling Damian something, and he thinks it’s that you're cheating
A/N: A lovely anon requested this. I hope you like it and feel free to send more requests or even message me.
Word Count: 2k+
Warnings: misunderstandings, pregnancy, secrets 
You and Damian met sophomore year at Gotham Academy. You were in most of his classes. But he never truly paid any mind to you until your government class. It was a small class of 15 students. 
Your government teacher was holding a class mock debate. 3 students would ask questions as there were 3 topics of discussion. The rest of the students would pair off into 2s and prepare on all the 3 topics as it would be random and no one would know which topic they might get. 
“The three topics of debate will be abortion, racial discrimination, and immigration. And the 3 question leads will be Marcus, Catelyn, and Luca. Everyone else, pair up.”
Girls immediately started surrounding Damian and the boys with you. Damian saw how uncomfortable you were with the boys' awful advances at you. He continued to ignore the girls and walked to you. 
“You can leave. I’m partnered with Y/N.”
Everyone was confused. Even the teacher. Damian never willingly chose to work with anyone. But you decided to take advantage of the opportunity before it went away. 
“Yup. It’s true. So all can go now.” With that, you waved them off and Damian took a seat next to you. 
Everyone else paired off and the teacher started talking. She explained the instructions for the debate and the rubric as it would be graded. 
“There are 15 minutes left of class. You have this time to yourselves, use it wisely.”
You turned to Damian.
“When do you want to start working on the project? I'm available after school today to work in the library.”
“I can't today. I am tomorrow though. Let's exchange numbers.”
And that's how it started. The next day, you and Damian started going to the library after school and texted about the assignment. Even after the in class debate you two would talk. 
Damian found you more tolerable than the rest of the kids at Gotham, and much smarter. He started hanging out with you more and more. In and out of school, obviously without his brothers knowing. 
Eventually, he asked you out, you said yes, and both of you started dating. It’s been over 2 years since. You both have a lot into the relationship. You and Damian opened up to each other. He gave you his trust, which is difficult for him, and you gave him your virginity. 
Though Damian wasn’t your first boyfriend or kiss, he was your first time. And you were happy about it. Even though it was a bit awkward, especially at the beginning, he made it special for you. He would ask if you were ok with something, how you felt, and he just took care of you. Something you never truly had with past boyfriends. 
“Oh my gosh!”
You and Damian only had sex 2 times, both in the past 6 months. Damian took care of you after and you peed.  You were both safe and used protection. That's why you couldn't understand the 3 positive pregnancy tests. 
“No. It can't be.”
You suddenly started crying, collapsing on the bathroom floor of your one-bedroom apartment. 
Since then you haven't been the same. After a few days of thinking, you decided that you would keep the baby. You lost your parents at 15, in an accident. They were wealthy. They had a mansion on the outskirts of Gotham, just like all the other socialites, and a condo near your school. In their passing your parents left everything in your name. You refused to go in the system. You were able to convince your old nanny to become your legal guardian, at least until you could get emancipated. You’ve always wanted a family anyways
You had to tell Damian. Your mind had been running through any possible reactions you'd get from Damian once you told him. Best case scenario he accepts it and decides to stay with you and be a father to the baby. Worst case, he leaves you and you have to raise the baby all by yourself. 
Damian noticed your odd behavior. You were secretive, jittery and would always make excuses not to hang out with him. 
“Sorry, I have a test coming up and need to study. I'll text you” you would say. But you never texted. 
“I'm volunteering this afternoon. I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you.” You kissed him goodbye on his cheek and walked away
You did the same to your friends. He didn't understand why. Did he do something wrong?
Keeping your pregnancy a secret was eating you alone. You had to tell someone. So you texted someone you could trust. 
You: Hey. Are you busy? I really need someone right now. 
Suddenly there was a gust of wind in your condo. Before you stood Jon Kent. Before you could even speak, that’s when he heard it. Not one, but 2 heart beats. Before you can even process him getting into your place, he hugs and spins you. 
“Oh my gosh! Congratulations!” He smiles from ear to ear. “Wait. I probably should be spinning you.”
Once he put you down he started looking around. Where’s Damian? How come he isn’t here telling me with you? That’s when you started to break down crying. 
“He doesn’t know. And I don’t know how to tell him.” You say hiccupping. Jon just comforted you until you stopped crying. You explained everything to him. 
“You have to tell him at some point. He probably thinks that you're avoiding him because he did something wrong. But I'm here for you.” You hugged him crying. 
“Sorry, it's the hormones.”
For the next 2 weeks, Jon comes to visit you whenever he gets the chance. No one knew.
Clark and Bruce had to collaborate on some League business. So, he and Jon would be staying in Gotham for a few days. 
Jon was heading out when he passed the kitchen 
“Hey Jon” said Dick. 
Damian was paying no mind to them. He was testing you, hoping he could see you today. 
D💚: Hello Beloved
Beloved💜: Hiii Dami
D💚: Are you available today?
Beloved💜: I’m sorry I can’t 😕
                     I promised Layla we could hang out today
                     We can hang out tomorrow tho
                     Pinkie Promise 🤞
D💚: Okay 🤞
         Have fun and be safe
Beloved💜: I will try
                    Won’t be much fun without you 😚
Once, at school you were texting Jon. You were stressing over telling Damian for the 4th time that day… It was only 11 am. And you were spamming him phone
Jon 🦸🏻: OMG
            We’re both at school go learn or something
            My parents are going on a date tonight so I’ll try to swing by
Y/N🤞🏾: ok ok
           See you tonight
“Hey Beloved. Who were you texting?” Damian came up to you. You quickly closed messages and put your phone in your pocket. 
“Hey Damian. It was Layla.” You responded hesitantly. “It’s nothing really but I have to go. I have to study before my test next period” You kissed him goodbye on his cheek and rushed off. 
He knew you weren’t texting Layla, he just saw her a few moments ago when he was looking for you. She told him that you were probably at your locker. Before he went to look for you she told him to tell you that her phone died last period. 
Why were you lying and hiding stuff from him? Damian didn’t want to think it, but were you cheating on him?
Damian looked up from his phone to notice Jon wasn’t there anymore. 
“Where did Jon go?” Damian asked. 
“He said he was going to meet up with ‘a friend’, but it’s obvious he’s meeting with a girl/boy the way he was nervous.” Dick responded
“We should follow him,” Jason spoke up. Damian didn’t know why he was here. Jason wasn’t too fond of staying at the manor. Usually, he would do whatever business he had, get food from Alfred then leave. 
“Sure. Why not” said Tim. Damian forgot he was here. But they all agreed. 
You hated lying to Damian. You decided that when you were going to see him tomorrow, you were going to tell him the truth, everything. You were meeting with Jon to get everything ready to tell Damian everything tomorrow.
Incoming Call: Jon 🦸🏻
You immediately picked up. You were sitting in a booth at yours and damian fav coffee shop. Damian thought that they had these great muffins that tasted even better the day after, so you were going to get him some.
You told Layla about your pregnancy after you told Jon. She was very upset with you. That you didn’t tell her first. 
“I can’t believe it. I mean I can because between both of us, you would have kids and I would be the hot, rich aunt that they love.”
You laughed at her little rant on how your kid would call her “Auntie Lay” and she would bring gifts every time she saw them. How she would have a room for them to crash at her place for when they're a teen and they get mad at you, or they just want to spend time with their auntie. 
“Thank you,” you said as you got up and hugged her “for being here for me. I don't know what I would do without you and Jon”
You were so glad that you had Jon and Layla. 
Jon was walking up to the coffee shop when he saw your call.
“Hey Jon. Layla and I are at the shop, where are you?”
“I’m across the street I’m heading in now.”
Jon didn’t realize the boys were following him. They were confused as to why Jon was at this coffee shop. He had never been there before. 
The boys watched Jon walk in and waited. Eventually, he would come out with whoever he's been secretly meeting up with for weeks. 
Being the type they are, they didn't notice Layla coming out of the shop and getting into her car. She was waiting for you and Jon to go back to your place. 
“He's coming out now,” Dick said excitedly. They all froze in anticipation. What they didn’t expect was to see you walking out after him. 
Damian's heart was breaking. You were secretly meeting up with Jon and cheating on him behind his back. How could you? He kept watch in hopes he was wrong. 
You walked out with a light brown paper bag in hand. You were struggling to seal it without dropping it. That’s when Jon took it from you and sealed it himself. They didn’t have audio but they had visuals. They could say thank you to him.
“Thank you my hero,” you said with a small giggle. Suddenly your face was serious. 
“What if- What if even if Damian accepts this, he won’t regret it later? He won’t think we ruined his life?” 
You started tearing up. From the angle the boys were at they couldn’t see your face. Jon hugged you. 
“Shhh it’s going to be fine.”
“What if he thinks I’m trying to baby trap him and he'll end up hating me?”
You were about to cry when Jon took your face into his hands. You were like the sister he never had. He hated to see you cry. 
“Listen to me. Damian could never hate you. He loves you.”
You nodded and hugged him again. That’s when Damian’s heart truly shattered. 
“I can’t read lips that well but I saw something along the lines of ‘I love you’” Dick said. Damian took off is “disguise”, it was just a hat and sunglasses.
“So she's cheating on me?” Anyone could hear the pain in his voice, even Jon did. 
Jon suddenly let go of you, and turned to look at Damian. He could see the pain written all over his face. Even though mind reading wasn’t a Kryptonian power, he knew what he was thinking: that you were cheating on him with him. 
You were confused. You moved over to see what Jon was looking at. That's when you saw Damian with his brothers. Now he was looking at you.
“Oh no.”
Part 2
So… what do y’all think??? Please let me know.
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starglow-xx · 4 years ago
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owning a bakery and being discovered by the ada and the port mafia (part 4)
platonic! mori ougai x f!reader
type of writing: head canons !!
this is part of my head canon series, flour & fluff !!
tag list is open !! go to this google form and fill it out to sign up!
series synopsis: owning a bakery at 20 is tough; even more so when you have to handle members of two opposing organizations! this is your journey to meeting those fools and creating an unlikely bond with each of them. but only at the cost of your peace and sanity.
fandom: bungou stray dogs
content: fluff & platonic stuff
previous: the doctor is in the house (quite literally)
author’s note: it’s port mafia time! ages are still one year younger than canon
also!! my 100 followers event still has 7 5 4 3  2  1 spot open for requests!! go check out this post for more info!! i’d like to get the whole prompt list done early so i have time to write them! (event is now closed as of feb. 10, 2021)
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another doctor? oh wait, another doctor and his daughter
as you expected, ranpo and fukuzawa have not let you go easy after what had happened a couple days prior (3 days ago to be exact)
one of them, or more often than not, the two of them would go visit the bakery at least twice a day
once in the morning right before opening, and the second time right before closing
if they could, they would visit around lunch time, but that was usually yosano
tbh you were thankful that yosano hasn’t been as overbearing as the other two but you knew she probably wanted to give you a break because holy shit are they extremely over protective
currently, it was the fourth day of being watched by the two eldest ada members, but there were no said ada members with you at the moment
and boy were you overjoyed
turns out, the ada has an important escort job for a government official or smth, and on top of that, fukuzawa has a bunch of meetings to attend
even ranpo has his hands full with a couple of difficult murder cases across the country
you’re lowkey, no highkey, worried bc you learned literally 3 days ago that ranpo doesn’t know how to ride the train 😀😀
you were worried abt them, there’s no question, but on the inside you were a bit relieved to which ranpo called you out on it immediately 
that led to the two of you going at each other’s throats for nearly half an hour
let’s just say fukuzawa scolded the two fo you for a while
going back to the present, it was around one pm and you had just finished sending a text message to both fukuzawa and ranpo (cause they insisted) when a little blonde girl with blue eyes wearing a red dress matching with a red bow in her hair and red shoes walked in
she immediately went to the glass case to look at the desserts displayed
as she looked around, you watched her at the corner of your eyes and a with a smile as you wiped down one of the tables
after wiping down the table, you quickly went to go wash your hands and you walked over and stood next to her
you bent slightly and smiled bigger as she stared at one of the treats in the glass
“is that the one you want?”
she nodded without looking away from the glass
you giggled before going to the back and placing the one she wanted on the plate and held it out to her
the blonde was honestly so confused bc one, no adult supervision, and two, there was no tell tale way to know that she had money
to you, she was an open book so when she looked at you, her face immediately read “but i have no money, or a parent...??”
you simply patted her head and pushed along to one of the nearby tables and pulled a chair for her
you did not regret anything when you saw the look on her face when you told her that it was on the house
“name’s elise!” “i’m (y/n)!”
:D
you sat with her for a while continuing to give her sweets she reminded you of ranpo in all honestly and talking abt random things
she mostly complained abt a “rintarou” though
speaking of which, when a man in a doctor’s coat came through the door near screaming “elise-chan! elise-chan!” you figured that was probably the rintarou she was complaining abt
you smiled as you watched the two interact
“elise-chan why would just disappear like that?!”
“i wanted to see rintarou cry”
“so mean!”
...their behavior was questionable but endearing ig
“rintarou” suddenly turned to you, thanking you for “taking care of his daughter bc she’s always getting into trouble”
*cue angry noises and face from elise*
he introduced himself as a “local neighborhood doctor”
you smelled bullshit but didn’t say anything bc he has been kind to you so far
he asked you how he could repay you and you were thinking that you can actually win something bc you’re not refusing an ada member oh you poor oblivious child but you were appalled when elise answered for you
it went like this
“is there anything i can repay you with for taking care of my dear elise-chan? perhaps paying for all the sweets she has eaten?”
“oh no! don’t worry abt that, it’s nothing! it was a pleasure getting to know—”
“let’s buy out all of her food!”
h u h
you knew she enjoyed your pastries and stuff but like w h a t
you inwardly sigh in relief when the doctor agreed with you that “that’s a bit much elise-chan” and you were thanking every deity out there when suddenly
she threw a temper tantrum
you watched in confusion and slight horror at the 180 of the sweet little girl you were talking to like 10 minutes ago
her guardian panicked slightly and tried to get her to calm down but ahaha no that didn’t happen
“WAHH rintarou!! but i want it!! (y/n)’s food is the best i’ve ever had!!”
“b-but elise-chan, we can’t just buy—”
“i’ll wear all the dresses i’ve ever rejected and more if we buy it out right now and keep buying sweets here forever”
“...deal”
your eyes twitch at the “innocent” smiles the two gave you after their “talk”
fast forward literally 5 minutes and you’ve already flipped the close sign on your door with note (saying you’re sold out) and you’re all over the place running around behind the counter trying to fit everything into boxes as the two are sitting on a nearby table lightly chatting
about 20-25, nearly 30 minutes later you finishing packing everything in the glass case
it was a lot
we’re literally talking about tiered cakes and dozens of batches of cookies, cupcakes, literally everything and anything
when the two notice you’re done they get up meet you by the register
“a-ano, you really don’t have to buy all of this...the total is going to be quite large...”
“no worries!”
honestly at this point, you kind of missed the chaotic calls from ranpo that happened like every half hour
you thought you were done being surprised for the day but next thing you know men in suits come into Sakura’s and begin to load the boxes into a black car
dealing with the detectives was already starting to be a handful and now you have to deal whoever the hell these two people where
quite frankly, you were having trouble wrapping your head around all of this
like-
who buys out a whole bakery?!
and who has the money to buy out a whole bakery?!
what kind of job could you possibly have?!
was this guy really just a doctor?!
right before the two leave you call out to them
“a-ah wait! i don’t think i ever caught your name!”
the two blink at you before eyeing each other
“mori ougai” 😄😄
you started smelling bad shits again 
>:/
it was a weird feeling
you felt something off but at the same time, you weren’t really afraid 
and with that the two left
you were already tired from this whole thing but you now get the rest of the day off
so i guess something worked out in your favor
until the next fricking day
again, ranpo and fukuzawa canceled out on you
you weren’t sure if you were relieved or not
and as soon as you thought you were going to have a normal business day, guess who walked through the doors
yeah that’s right
“the local neighborhood doctor” and his daughter
you froze before eyeing them with suspicion
if mori was amused, he didn’t show it, only giving you a smile
elise immediately left his side and practically leaped onto you making you cut yourself with the knife you were holding
well shit now you’re bleeding
it was only 7:15 in the morning; you had literally just opened
you were cursing every deity out there
you quickly grab a nearby and press it against your wound and scrambled around looking for the first aid kit you had nearby
“oh? (y/n)-kun are you bleeding?”
“(y/n) i’m sorry!”
“a-ah, no worries elise-chan”
you really need to stop spacing out bc next thing you know, the sign on your door is flipped to close again (along with the same note from yesterday explaining you’re sold out taped on the door) and you’re sitting at a table with elise in your lap and mori wrapping your hand in a bandage
“tsk tsk (y/n)-kun you need to be more careful...but it is elise-chan’s fault”
“die rintarou!”
“but no worries! it’s not that deep so you don’t need stitches”
“thank you, mori-san, but can i ask why you and elise-chan are here again? not that i mind...”
whether or not you were lying is up to you
“oh we’re here to buy out your stock again!”
“wait what-”
the fuck???
did they not just buy everything yesterday???
frozen, you stare at the man in front if you with said man giving you another “innocent” smile
this little shit
wait till you meet dazai
but i guess that’s why the sign on the door is flipped to close bc you don’t even remember flipping it yourself or taping the note from yesterday to the door
you spent the next half hour trying to convince the two over some tea (your signature one of course) that “no you don’t need to or should buy everything i have, you’re going to deprive the rest of my customers”
cough cough ranpo
like the day before, you were losing this argument
can you just never win?
as you were losing the argument (obviously) you realized that you don’t even know why they want to buy everything again
“mori-san, why do the two of you even want to buy everything in the first place?”
“ah it was elise-chan’s request of course! but i do admit, after trying some of your sweets myself, i grew quite attached! so did the rest of my subordinates after my precious elise-chan made them try it, not like they could refuse her or me; i am their boss after all (y/n)-kun.”
*cue confusion*
“subordinates? wait are those the guys from yesterday?? aren’t you a doctor...?”
“ah ex-doctor actually, i’m the leader of the port mafia”
...
“ah (y/n)-kun that’s quite the coughing fit you have going on, do you need water?”
if it wasn’t obvious, you choked on your tea and had quite the coughing fit; you were wheezing and everything making elise leave you lap and settling for dangling over mori’s shoulders
“...you’re kidding”
“im afraid im not”
this man confuses the hell out of you??
like-
w h y would he just say that, to you of all people
but it explains the bad shits you were smelling/feeling yesterday
“are you afraid?”
“being completely honest with you, mori-san, not really”
“and why is that?”
you simply shrug not really knowing the answer
you aren’t lying, you just aren’t
maybe bc yesterday, he seemed more like a doting parent than the boss of the most criminal organization of yokohama
yes, you’ve heard the rumors, obviously, but just saying, if the port mafia wanted to hurt you, you’d probably be dead in a ditch by now
and they haven’t really been a bother to you, they were more like background characters in your life
well
until yesterday of course
mori simply raises an eyebrow and a smile seemingly okay with your very vague answer
“why did you tell me that mori-san?”
the man only smiles a bit wider at you and this time, you’re the one raising an eyebrow
“just a feeling” 
yeah you were starting to smell bad shits again
“and besides! elise-chan seems quite fond of you (y/n)-kun! i wasn’t planning on doing anything to you in the first place, but even if i wanted to, i don’t think i could! i wouldn’t want to upset my dearest cute elise-chan”
“die rintarou!”
“that’s mean elise-chan!”
your eyes began to twitch in slight annoyance
cause istg the duality of this man—
this strange strange man
oh dearest you haven’t even met dazai yet
after that has been said and done, somehow you found yourself in front of stores being dragged by elise
how did you end up there you ask? i don’t know either so there’s nothing we can do abt that
eventually, you found yourself holding a bunch of shopping bags full of dresses and clothes of the sort
some of it your size and the others elise’s
...
“mori-san?”
“yes (y/n)-kun?”
“why do i have bags of clothing that are fit for me rather than elise?”
“oh that’s because elise refused to go without you and if you didn’t get anything!”
yeah
that makes perfect sense, of course
you could see why elise kept on complaining abt this guy
the two of you actually bonded over making fun of him
you have n o fear
actually, maybe just a little
the three of you were out for basically the entire day and you were exhausted
cause holy shit there was a lot of money wasted, shopping bags obtained, and walking involved
it was around 5 pm when the three of you were making it back to Sakura’s
along the way you found yourself having a pleasant conversation with mori
even if he was a questionable person to be having a pleasant conversation with, you enjoyed it nonetheless
you hoped that it makes it harder to get rid of you if he ever changed his mind but we don’t talk abt that
anywho
when the three of you arrived, you immediately dumped all the bags you were holding and went straight to work packaging everything for “the local neighborhood doctor”
before they left, mori agreed to not buy out all of your stock except for some occasions but instead settled ordering massive batches of a little bit of everything every few days
how that’s not the same as buying everything you won’t ever know
you were standing outside Sakura’s watching the two get into the car that had arrived when suddenly, mori turned to you
“ah (y/n)-kun, i know that you wouldn’t tell anyone about this, it wouldn’t be like you to, but just a reminder, it would probably be in your best interest not to let anything slip to anyone okay? we wouldn’t want any enemies using you against the port mafia. so take care of yourself hm? see you next time”
and bippity boppity boo just like that, they were gone
how that man managed to get your personality down in just like 10 hours you don’t want to know
and that’s basically the story of how you started making more food/bake goods to sell
true to his word, every few days, or sometimes consecutive days, mori called you and made a large order
and i mean large
on those days, someone from the port mafia would pick it up and then you get paid
thankfully, by increasing the amount of food you made, you always had enough to put out on display and to sell even after the large order
before doing that, on those days you didn’t have a large stock, someone by the name of edogawa ranpo would weep at your feet
he will deny this; after all, great detectives don’t do weeping
or so he says
and speaking of the detective, you never did tell him what had transpired the two days he and fukuzawa were absent on checking on you
but tbh, i even think ranpo could’ve deduct this one
you didn’t tell him bc you were afraid, no of course not that’s ridiculous mori, in elise’s words, was a loser
you didn’t tell him bc you knew he and fukuzawa would flip the fuck out
and that would be a major inconvenience to you
you didn’t see the point in telling them anyway
so whatever, it’s like it’ll be important
and if ranpo and fukuzawa noticed the abundant of bags near the door leading up to the staircase when they visited you at the end of the day they didn’t say anything
jk
of course one of them said smth
“ne (n/n)-chan since when did you like to buy a bunch of things; waste of money if you could just be using that money to make more food so you wouldn’t sell out right away and have food to feed me”
your eyes twitched
he could’ve worded that a little better but whatever
it is ranpo-san after all
“i just got carried away since i closed up early; you know it isn’t often i get to go shopping”
and if he smelled your bullshit he didn’t say anything
for real this time
that slightly concerns you ngl
anyways
let’s just say quite a few heads were turned when they saw their boss leading a bunch of lower level subordinates carrying many light pink boxes of different sizes to his office for the second time
oh and just another thing
*whispers* he was lying when elise made his other subordinates eat your food; they kept it all to themselves”
was that a ruse to help lead the revelation of his real occupation who knows
“(y/n)-kun is a very interesting person don’t you think so elise-chan?”
“quiet. i’m eating cake.”
“that’s so mean elise-chan!”
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purebarnes · 4 years ago
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courage to change—
ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ ➢ when one man gets a chance to go out and date but something is stoping him, wether it’s his guilt taunting him or the girl he was meant to be with.
ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ➢ 1.8k
ᴅɪꜱᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀꜱ ➢ angst, mention of death, therapy sessions.
ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ ꜱᴘᴇᴀᴋꜱ ! ➢ just enjoy.
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all on his mind was his nightmares, he would constantly have them and when he had them, he wouldn’t tell anyone about them. especially his therapist, dr. raynor even though she needs to know so that she could help him. after he was brainwashed and turned into a assassin that all he thought himself as. she was on his mind constantly and nothing could change that—she was the girl for him.
probably the most bizarre combination of people to ever get together but if it was meant to be then that’s all that mattered. bucky always wanted to be with y/n but after her dad passing then he couldn’t bare to see her again. no calls, no notes, nothing which was common for someone like james. he would go to his court-appointed therapy sessions to get help so that he could be free. it was the usual, he wouldn’t talk to her and she would have to take down notes.
most people would cooperate but when you’re in his situation then it would be extremely difficult for you as well. he would sit across of dr. raynor just staring, “did you call her?” she asked and he tensed up staring at the ground intensity spreading throughout the whole room. she shook her head as she new the answer but she need something. he would constantly bring up sam and y/n but mostly her and it was like he couldn’t forget all the passion they had. “james. have you called her?” dr asked once more getting no answer from the man, this time he shook his head at her meeting her eyes. he wanted to call or do something to make sure she knew that he still cared about her. “i can’t call her—why not?” she interrupted him and honestly he didn’t have a answer on why he could talk to her.
she moved passed the topic of y/n and went to go to tell her about the nightmare that he indeed had last night as she knew that he had one. he would do the same, not say anything but this one was easier to dodge. “are you still having nightmares?—no.” he told her while he knew that he was and it would taunt him ever night. “well, you seem a little off today. i don’t want to mention her but—it’s not about y/n.” he tried to tell her, “did something happen recently?” she asked bucky getting another no from his lips trailing off like it was smooth.
bucky hated constantly saying no and lying about everything that was bothering him, “you’re a civilian now. with your history, the government needs to know that you’re not gonna...” the dr said putting up her first to show that he wouldn’t hurt anyone. he stifled a smile while she continued, “so, tell me about your most recent nightmare—i didn’t have a nightmare.” dr. raynor sighed deeply before clicking her pen to write into her notebook, bucky groaned. “oh, come on. really? you’re gonna do the notebook thing? why? it’s passive aggressive.” he mumbled.
“you don’t talk. i write—okay. okay, i thought about her but every time i see anything there she is. everywhere i go she doesn’t disappear.” he told the therapist slightly telling the truth and he never told her about the nightmare he had. “but like i said, i didn’t have a nightmare—look.... one day, you’re gonna have to open up and understand that some people really do want to help you and that they can be trusted.” she told him.
she wanted bucky to open and finally figure out that he needed to be able to trust. “i trust people—yeah? give me your phone.” bucky groaned reaching his back pocket to reach for his phone to pass it across. she went to check the contacts he had, “you don’t have ten numbers on this thing. oh, and you’ve been ignoring the texts from sam and still nothing to y/n. look, you’ve gotta nurture friendships. i am the only person you have called all week. that is so sad.” she passed the phone back to him as he caught it waiting for her to continue. “you’re alone. you’re a hundred years old. you have no history, no family, no girl—are you lashing out at me, doc? because that’s really unprofessional, you know? i mean, when did that start? yelling at your clients? the notebook. that’s great.” he sighed when he saw her pull out the notebook into her lap to write a few things.
“all right, give me a break. i’m trying, okay? this isn’t... this is new for me. i didn’t have a moment to deal with anything, you know? i had a little... calm in wakanda. i had her and i just lost her.” he explained to the doctor sighing at the thought of bringing her up again, he wanted to be able to just forget her but nothing could do that for him. he lied, he wanted her back and he wanted to feel her but he couldn’t do anything. he thought it was too late, “and other than that, i just went down one fight to another for 90 years.” she knew he had gone through a lot, it was a lot and she wanted to help and asked him what he wanted. “peace—that is utter bullshit.” she spat out honestly, “you’re a terrible shrink—i was an excellent soldier, so i saw a lot of dead bodies, and i know how that can shut you down. and if you are alone, that is the quietest, most personal hell. and, james, it is very hard to escape.”
if he knew what he wanted, he could of done something to make it all happen. bucky was a man of trauma and he wasn’t going to get better by not helping himself. “you have your mind back, you are being pardoned. i mean these are good things. you’re free.”
wednesday’s were the days that bucky and mr. nakajima would go out and eat lunch at izzy, a little bar that they would love to go and eat at. it was a couple times that he loved to go out and eat with the older, younger than him man. as they talked, yori suggested to ask out the lady in front of him. “you should ask her out—i can’t.” he knew he wasn’t ready to go back and date some girl that wasn’t y/n, sure he thought she was pretty but he wanted an excuse to not date her. it wasn’t that he didn’t like her, “He would like to take you out on a date.” he told the young lady as she looked up and bucky shook his head, not understanding why he would do that. “I’m really sorry about him—why are you sorry? i’m game.” he was taken back and he clicked his tongue while being intrigued, “tomorrow night then?”mr. nakajima said as she agreed on going he sighed, knowing that it might be time to move on.
maybe not move on entirely but to see what would happen in the date that he would go on. he turned back to mr. nakajima, “i can’t believe you did that. it’s a dance to these things. you gotta warm up and i haven’t danced since...” he said then automatically thinking about y/n and all the times she would laugh with him or giggle at him. he froze then looked back at him. it didn’t hurt if he would just go on one date and for her to never find out even though they would probably never be together again.
it was around ten o’clock and the gentle men brought flowers for his date tonight thinking it would be a nice gesture thing to do. they met back into the bar where they were talking and laughing like they would have known each other for a long time. it was almost like he has been there before—she brought up dating and asked if he had dated before and he couldn’t just not tell her anything. when he didn’t say anything, she kept staring until he spoke up drink his drink. “what’re you doing—what’s her name?” he looked started on what she meant, “was she special?” she asked another question. this time he understood what he was talking about, “y/n.” he just said not trying to make anything awkward by talking about his ex lover to the girl he was on a date with.
he was unsure on how she knew that he was thinking about her on their date, “she must be special if you’re thinking about her right now.” she joked chuckling but bucky stayed quiet finally understanding how he felt. he wasn’t ready to be with someone else and it don’t make it easy when she would be in his head everywhere. bucky looked at the wall zoning out to anything at that moment, the girl tried to snap him out of it but nothing worked. she told him that he would bring games so that they could play to pass the time. he went back in that zone.
she was dressed in a black t-shirt and a pair of shorts that showed of her curves easily to distract bucky. she didn’t mean for him to feel this way between her but he could help it. she would go over to her bathroom and starting putting away her essentials until she felt a vibranium metal arm. the coldness hit her shown skin as she shuddered as he went to wrap his arms around her waist. y/n looked up from her position and met his eyes through the mirror and smiled widely, he went to place small kisses on her shoulder—she groaned at him.
she turned around with his arms still placed on her waist, he moved his arm up to meet her back. she pulled up her arms and wrapped them gently around his neck, “stop staring like that.” she said looking into his blue eyes falling in love even more. he chuckled slightly caressing her check with his hand running it back and forth with his thumb. he couldn’t help but pull her in for a kiss which she accepted kissing him back. he let go of her then placing his head on top of hers telling her to go to bed. “let’s go to bed doll.”
he grabbed her hand leading them to the bed and getting ready to sleep with each other, in their arms. y/n unfolded her sheets jumping on the bed with bucky on the other side, she turned off her table light and turned to get closer to bucky while she moved to lay her head on his chest. she chuckle making bucky look down on her, “i love you.” bucky told her then falling asleep together.
the man looked to see the girl from the bar and he stuttered looking at her, “i, uh, i... i gotta go.” bucky got up from his stool and went to go straight the door before heading towards his own apartment. he went to open up his phone and he thought he would go and text her asking her how she was or that he even missed her. he wrote down a message but nothing came out, he would just fail to express how he felt.
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7wanderingpaws · 4 years ago
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Always, Yours (1)
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(gif not mine) - fluff Baek ㅠ
Pairing: Baekhyun x reader
AU: professor Baekhyun, domestic AU, family AU, triplet craze AU
Genre: FLUFF
Warnings: none
This is a sequel to Simply, Yours! You do not need to read it first, but it will give you better understanding of the situation in the story.
Enjoy!
Masterlist / story masterlist
Next -->
<3 <3 <3
“Ta-da!” Sukyeong held out two coupons in front of your face, her excited smile not dazzling enough for you to mimic it. “Let's start working out!”
You were unsure right away for many reasons. First one was the squirming infants on you and on her. Juna was the eldest triplet but she had nothing on the middle one, Junhee, who was currently tapping away on the play mat made out of pastel coloured puzzles in front of the big couch in the spacious living room. Jun was the only boy triplet and the youngest. He was peacefully sitting on your lap, your palms flat on his cute baby tummy while he was looking up at Sukyeong with huge eyes that, the more he grew, the more they resembled his father's. The issue was, where would you put your munchkins while you'd be working out?
Second one was more personal and one that you felt guilty for thinking about, but you couldn't help it. Would you have enough energy to go through sixty minutes of work-out? You were still breastfeeding and pumping, by now completely accustomed to it. It made up a huge part of your day; if you didn't have the infants pressed to your breast, it was the pump attached to you, hidden under your shirt while you were running around the house, trying to get chores done while the babies would nap. Being exhausted was a given, but squeezing in more exhaustion? Doubtful.
Third one was the one that always gave you a slight headache. Travelling through busy Seoul was difficult to do by yourself with triplets. Despite living in a very good apartment at the moment, which was a kind present from the government as a thank you gift for bringing triplets to the aging society, it didn't mean your financial issues disappeared with it. Keeping up the apartment was a huge responsibility; the energies, the water, the common fees, lots of management with the apartments' committee that your husband became part of - it all required money and the lottery ticket you received and made you a billionaire quickly dispersed in your bank account. Another issue were the triplets themselves. Keeping up with them, buying diapers, clothes that they seemed to outgrow in a speed of light - it all required lots of income but there was only one source - Baekhyun, your husband.
As much as you always told him you would find a job to keep the financial stability, you could hardly find a time to sit down and go through job offers, let alone actually prepare for an interview. You knew many companies would refuse you if you as much as mentioned you were a mother.
“Oh, no, I can practically see the turning gears in your brain, mumma friend,” groaned Sukyeong and leaned in to press a loud kiss to Jun's face which in turn made him surprised. That surprise quickly morphed into a huge, toothless grin and you were fast to follow him, too. Jun was the weakest of the triplets and was prone to get more sick. He had a terrible season of harsh refluxes which made you and Baekhyun extremely worried and unhappy. Jun wouldn't be able to accept your milk, vomiting it out right after swallowing. His smiling face meant more to you than anything else in that moment.
“Auntie Sukyeong is being silly, hmm,” you cooed lovingly and you also leaned down to press a kiss to the top of his head. He had dark baby hair growing, and it always made you realize just how fragile these babies were. “I don't know Sukyeong,” you finally answered her. “I would love to work on my body and gain back my old one but I just can't see it happening.”
She quickly held up her hand. “Before you get into all the details - they have a little baby corner where you can leave the munchkins while we work out! And-and I would come with you! We have a car with Chen, so I'd pick you up and then we don't have to worry about travelling in an over-packed bus.”
You pursed your lips, thinking. “What time is the training?”
“I think it starts at seven in the evening!” she exclaimed and quickly took out her phone to search. “It's lots of cardio and core strengthening so it's very beneficial for you!”
“Hmm, I would have to discuss with Baekhyun,” you murmured. “He comes home late these days but I just want to know his opinion.”
“Make sure you don't get squeezed down by your hubby,” Sukyeong noted and leaned down again to look at Jun. “I know you guys are basically inseparable but he's been working so much since he became a professor. Make sure you don't become second to him over his work.”
“Well, he is the youngest ever, so I understand he wants to try his best.” You wanted to question her words - Baekhyun never prioritized his work over you or your children. He was just about to be thirty and you were just in the middle of your twenties, you didn't think you would reach that kind of crisis in your relationship yet.
“Yeah, but he doesn't have to do the hapkido training in the evening, yet he decided to do it,” she reminded gently, and touched Jun's cheek, “so you can do just the same, right? You are always with the babies and spend lots of time by yourself. You deserve to have a little time dedicated to you and, of course, me!”
You smiled but it didn't quite reach your eyes. Sukyeong wasn't wrong but you knew Baekhyun was only trying to start off his professor career as good as he could. He upped his game as a cool professor by always wearing outstanding suits - dark red, striped, the list went on. He looked very, very handsome and it sometimes even pained you to let him go to school like that. He told you it was to make sure people remembered him in the department and for his students to think he was cool; a trust-worthy professor to whom they could always turn to; a cool professor with whom they could have a good workout session in the evening and try to defeat him in hapkido. It was all great, but his work brought you back a tired husband.
“Maybe you're right. I will talk to him tonight. When do the classes start?”
“Next week! Tuesday and Thursday! I think it's the perfect timing!”
“Okay, okay,” you laughed. Your best friend could always make you giggle when you needed it. “I'll talk to him and let you know, hm?” Just as you finished the sentence, you jumped to your feet, trying to prevent Junhee from climbing over the small coffee table. “Aren't you a little wild girl? You must be after your father,” you breathed and Sukyeong laughed.
<3
Baekhyun returned to a quiet apartment that evening. It was past eight and it meant triplets must have been asleep by then. He felt guilty right away, because he missed their bedtime. It wasn't like it was set - they woke up enough times during the night for Baekhyun to be by their side, but he still wanted to be part of the evening routine like bathing them, being next to you when you fed them, changing their nappies and their clothes. It was all the little things, but he was missing out on them.
You were lying on the couch, your eyes closed, your arm over your eyes to block the light out.
He crouched next to you, taking your hand in his. “Honey, I'm home,” he murmured gently, watching you remove your arm and smiling down at him tiredly.
“Hey, baby. Let me heat up the dinner,” you said, sitting up right away, but Baekhyun stopped you from standing up.
“Sorry I came home late again,” he said guiltitly. He brought your hand to his lips, kissing it a few times while looking intently into your eyes.
“It's fine,” you sighed and cradled his cheek. He leaned into the touch and eventually pulled on your hand to move closer to him, which you did. He met you half-way, pressing his lips to yours. He prolonged the kiss by puckering his lips several times, making little kissy noises that made you pull away and smile widely. Baekhyun immediately grinned.
“How was your day, princess? You look very tired,” he noted, slight worry etched in his features.
You shook your head and pressed another kiss to his lips. “The usual, you know it. Sukyeong was over and we talked,” you told him, and you wanted to bring up the topic of you attending workout classes when he said:
“Good, good, I’m glad she kept you company. I am in charge of some doctoral students now, so I need to lecture them over the summer break, but otherwise I made it clear that I want a full summer holiday so I can be with you more,” he informed you and nuzzled your nose.
You sighed in content. “Do whatever you think is the best, Baekhyun,” you whispered, your breath hitting his lips. Your hand reached out and tucked on his tie. “I just want you to enjoy your work.”
“I know you do but you and the babies always come first. Always,” he emphasized and this time brought both of his hands up to your cheeks and kissed you again, more eagerly. “I missed you,” he murmured and dived back in, nibbling on your bottom lip.
Humming in pleasure, you shimmied yourself closer to the edge of the sofa so that Baekhyun was crouching between your legs, your hand untying his tie. “I always miss you,” you murmured between the kisses.
He kissed you one last time and smiled. “I don’t want dinner. Let’s just cuddle, hm?” He flickered his eyes up to yours, his thumb running over your cheek. “I had a light dinner in school anyway.”
You nodded. You felt like your body weighed another twenty kilograms so you didn’t take much to convince.
After all, finishing the day a little earlier with Baekhyun by your side in the bed was always the best way to wind off. You found yourself in his embrace under the sheets, his black shirt hiked up as your arm rested around his middle.
He smooched your temple. “Was Jun okay today?” he asked quietly into the darkness of the room.
Baekhyun had texted you many times during the day to double check on his son but he still had to ask to make sure nothing happened in the short time he wasn't in touch with you.
You looked up at him. “He was okay, thank god. I hope that reflux is finally over.”
“I hope so too,” he sighed and kissed you again. “It’s so heartbreaking to know he is struggling to receive food.”
Hiding your face in his neck, you pouted against it. Everything about babies was scary. Both of you got used to them and to the crazy lifestyle but anything that would go wrong would throw you off the boat. Jun always needed special attention. “It will be all fine, right?” you murmured against his skin and as a reply, he tightened his embrace around you.
“It must be. Jun is a healthy and sturdy boy just like me, hm?” he joked.
You breathed a small laugh. “Yes, you're absolutely right.” Pushing yourself up, Baekhyun's arm loosened and he looked at you with questioning eyes when you faced him. “Actually, I wanted to ask you - Sukyeong has a coupon for these workout classes. They start next week at 7pm. I'd be away on Tuesday and Thursday for a couple of hours. Would you mind if I go for it with her?”
Baekhyun's eyes kept flickering to your lips as you spoke and you felt your heart swell whenever he looked at you like that. He finally met your eyes and brought his hand up to brush your hair out of your face. “You should totally do it if you feel like it, sweetheart. It's your body and I know you don't get to move around much when you're at home a lot. What kind of workout is it?”
You pulled a thinking face. “She mentioned core strengthening and cardio.”
“That's very good. You should definitely work on those to keep your body strong,” he advised in a gentle tone. “But just know that if it will be too hard, you don't have to keep doing it, alright? Your body is perfect and as long as you're healthy, nothing else matters.”
Baekhyun always made sure to provide reassurance even when you didn't ask for it. You smiled widely and leaned in, hugging him. You were literally splattered all over him and he brought his leg over yours to accomodate you better. “Thank you.”
He hummed and kept playing with your hair that managed to grow quite a lot in the meantime. Even though it was falling out like crazy after giving birth and your hair brush gave you a heart attack whenever you made a single swipe with it, you didn't pay it much attention. Being so busy with the kids, you hardly took notice of how you actually looked.
“What about the munchkins? I'll try to make sure I'll be home early but if I can't make it where will you put them?” he asked again.
“Sukyeong said there is a baby corner where mothers can put their kids for the time being.”
“Is it three-month-old-baby safe though?”
“I will try to contact them to double-check, alright?”
He hummed again in reply.
“You trust me with them, right?”
His hand stopped brushing your hair. “What kind of question is that? Of course I trust you with them, baby,” he replied quickly. “You're their mother. If there is anyone who knows them well, it's you.” He paused and you snuggled yourself even closer, making Baekhyun chuckle. “But you know what?” He leaned into your ear. “You'll always be my baby. My little lady.”
His breath tickled you on the ear and you laughed, even his words tickling your heart. He laughed along and he rolled you over so that he was on top. He started dropping sweet butterfly kisses all over your face and you scrunched your eyes close, emotions of love, joy, contentment making you feel like a millionaire thanks to your husband.
“You don't have anything to reply to oppa?” teased Baekhyun and smooched you under your ear. “Tell oppa you love him.” Another kiss on your neck. “Tell oppa he is the best.”
You kept giggling. “Baekhyun c'mon! Stop!”
“Not until you say what I want to hear,” he refused with a cheeky smile, kissing your lips loudly.
You gasped when you felt his hand under your shirt, tickling you on your side. You squirmed under him, trying to suppress the laughter that was making your muscles hurt. He was being a big tease and you knew he wouldn't stop until he had it his way.
“Oppa, I love you,” you told him through laughter and he stopped tickling you right away, suddenly very attentive to your words, “oppa, you are the best,” you said breathlessly, reciprocating the eye contact. “I'm oppa's baby,” you added and felt your cheeks heat up.
Baekhyun observed you with a smile. “That's right,” he murmured eventually and leaned in, kissing you on the lips. “You're oppa's baby girl,” he said in a low tone, his lips moving against yours. He captured your lower lip in a slow, sensual manner that had your insides ignite with passion. You closed your eyes and followed his lead, his kiss purely there for the sake of showing you love rather than leading to something more.
It was only nine in the evening, but it was by far the nicest time you had in a while; your triplets sleeping, your husband home and only yours until work would steal him away from you, and he did his best to make you feel loved, appreciated, beautiful and wanted.
<3
Morning came much earlier for you. Junhee was up at three which you found quite good since they slept ever since you put them to sleep the night before and therefore enabling you and Baekyhun to have some alone time. 
Quickly grabbing the intercom so that Baekhyun wouldn't wake, you went to their room, the three baby cribs and a small dimmed light welcoming you. Junhee was crying, rolling in her place which was her new favourite pastime to do since she learned how to keep her back up and straight.
“Shh, shh, sweetie, don't cry.” You took her in your hands and rocked her in your arms while you checked the remaining two infants. Jun was wide awake, his eyes looking back at you with interest which you found funny, because he didn't make a single peep, while Juna was about to follow her younger sister, her small face already scrunching up at the sight of you.
Just when you were about to reach for her while you were balancing Junhee in your other arm, you felt a pair of familiar ones on your waist, stopping you. “Let me,” Baekhyun rasped into your ear, sleepily kissing your cheek. He walked up to Juna and brought her out of her crib, the baby looking tiny on his broad chest. She started to wail just in time, and you and Baekhyun exchanged looks that spoke volumes - you would be up for a while.
There was a small corner in their room with two rocking chairs that Baekhyun insisted on buying for feeding time. While you sat down in one, Baekhyun went out to heat up some breast milk you pumped earlier, so that Juna could feed.
You adjusted your shirt and within seconds Junhee attached her tiny mouth to your breast, her eyes closing in delight as she sucked on your milk. Smiling, you made yourself comfortable and closed your eyes too, sleep quickly chasing you down.
Baekhyun appeared next to you with a bottle that contained the heated up milk and had Juna eat. Just like Junhee, Juna closed her eyes as she diligently drank, making Baekhyun's features soften with affection. He had her lying on his thighs, her tiny feet resting against his stomach while he held up the bottle for her. Occasionally, her small hand would tap against Baekhyun's long fingers which you found endearing. His index finger was bigger than her whole hand. “Jun doesn't seem to be hungry,” he commented quietly as he looked at Junhee in your arms. “Did he eat last night?”
“Yeah, he ate well,” you replied in a low voice. “I think he just isn't a crybaby,” you said with a chuckle. “These two sisters keep pushing him aside all the time.”
Baekhyun looked down at Juna. “Well, they better not. You will have to take care of your younger siblings, miss Byun Juna,” he told his daughter in a cooing voice. “So you better be a good older sister.”
You shook your head at his words and he laughed, sending you a wink. “You should go and rest, babe,” you told him after a while, “you have to get up early.”
“I'm not leaving all the work to you. We are in this together, right?” he said just as he always did. That was his iconic sentence that always made you effectively shut up. He was right, and you shouldn't have been taking away his father duties, but you knew he had a lot of work. Eventually, he would be nearing his limit and you didn't want that.
“That's more like it,” Baekhyun commented when you didn't reply.
You only managed to smile, closing your eyes again. Despite getting used to this lifestyle, it still made you feel uncomfortable how the babies would bite down on your nipple or the small cramps you'd get in your abdomen while feeding. Also-
Wetness was what made you open your eyes to look at the unoccupied breast. Before you could say something, Baekhyun spoke up: “Should I bring Jun? Or the pump?” His worried eyes were looking at the leaking milk, your shirt quickly becoming drenched.
You sighed, feeling helpless. If some mothers weren't able to produce milk, you were the exact opposite. There were times where you had to let out milk even though you already fed, even though you already had enough milk in storage for later. It kept pouring out of you and you didn't have other choice but to release it. The entire family could easily feed off of you at that rate. 
It would have been okay, but the pain of dried up milk in your breasts was something you were scared of, so making sure you could let the milk flow was important.
“Can you please bring me the pump?” you told your husband absent-mindedly and Baekhyun was fast to cooperate while keeping Juna in his arms so she wouldn't be disturbed.
And just like that, you stayed up till early morning until the triplets fell back asleep - you waited for Jun to be hungry, and finally lied down when Baekhyun was getting ready for work. He even made sure the babies' nappies were fresh.
With swollen eyes, you watched as he dressed into one of his striped suits, looking like a Burberry model. He turned to look at you as he buttoned up his white shirt, his hair smoothed back, revealing his forehead. “How are you feeling?” he asked you gently, walking over to your side.
You smiled. “I'm good, don't worry, babe. Your lunch box is in the fridge, don't forget it.”
“You didn't have to prepare it,” he clicked his tongue, “just make sure you eat your food, alright, sweetheart?”
Nodding, you sighed and Baekhyun turned to put on his cardigan. “I'll be off. I'll try to come home early, hm?”
“Okay,” you mumbled, bewitched at the sight of him. “Kiss me before you go, handsome professor Byun.”
He gave a half-smile and walked over to you, leaning down so his face was hovering above yours. “Of course I would kiss you before I go. I can't leave my precious princess without a kiss,” he whispered, making you smile amorously. He pressed a sweet kiss to your puckered lips, making sure to prolong it. “Rest, okay?”
You nodded. “Another one,” you demanded and Baekhyun laughed, though complied. “Mm, I'll miss you.”
“I'll miss you too,” he sighed and pecked your forehead as a final kiss. “Text me, hm? I'll go say bye to the munchkins, too. Gotta go now,” he straightened up and gave you a smile before turning and leaving the bedroom.
You heard him shuffle around the apartment before he left for his long day at work.
Deciding to sleep until the babies would need you, you turned around and nuzzled your face into Baekhyun’s pillow, his gentle scent mixed with faint baby detergent pulling you into a fluffy cloud of dreams. That was Baekhyun to you.
<3
A/N: Hi, welcome back to the first chapter. It will slowly all start to roll, but if you read Simply Yours, it is anything but drama after drama. Expect a similar concept too, hope you enjoyed the FAMILY in this chapter!
Thanks for reading!
Please try to comment! I appreacite likes, but a word or two never hurt! ^^
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forasecondtherewedwon · 4 years ago
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3 Simple Rules for Dating a Centenarian
Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes Rating: T Word Count: 2374
Summary: After seeing Steve's shield handed over to some stranger, Sam calls up Bucky, certain he's the one person who can properly commiserate. He doesn't really expect Bucky to answer though (the guy's become a bit of a recluse), or to hear the hints that he might be missing Sam as much as Sam's been missing him. Not that he'd ever say it straight out.
Sam is almost completely still as the feelings rattle through him like a roller coaster’s last run on a derelict track. He only lets it out—the blend of frustration, betrayal, and regret—in the way his fingers squeeze his knee through his jeans, skin damp against the denim. Keeping his hands clasped, and watching those clasped hands, was more grounding, but he needs one of his hands to hold the phone to his ear, and that activity is getting pretty damn tired.
Bucky’s voicemail clicks on for the third time in a row.
“Bucky,” Sam says, “I know you prefer calls to texting, so what are you doing ignoring me, man? Haven’t used your cell in so long that you’ve forgotten how to hit the answer button? At least it rang. That’s something, I guess.”
He sighs away from the speaker where it won’t be recorded for Bucky to hear later. Maybe he did divert his message from the snarky sarcasm he was planning to leave the guy, but Bucky doesn’t need to hear him sigh on top of that.
For a few moments, Sam taps his foot along with the muffled music of his nephews’ video game coming through the closed door. He knows the boys’ routine (and if he ever forgets, he sees the copy Sarah has on the fridge door) and that this isn’t their usual scheduled time for whatever they’re playing out there. Best guess: Sarah wants them hogging the TV so she won’t be tempted to peek at that government-sanctioned shitshow. Sam can’t blame her. Actually, he wonders if she blames him. The disappointment was so clear in her eyes before he stopped making himself meet them. He thought he was doing the right thing when he handed the shield over. Are there people out there who think he’s let them down, or just his sister? Just himself?
He can’t talk to Sarah right now and he’s thankful that she’s giving him some time to himself, but as soon as he got it, he realized he didn’t know what to do with it. Just like that shield. Dialing Bucky over and over—tapping in every number every time because that appears to be part of this pity ritual he’s performing—seemed like the thing he should do. Probably won’t answer. That asshole is terrible at staying in touch. Still, Sam’s heart feels a little heavier with every word closer he gets to the end of this message. Feels like he’s trying to keep the thing afloat in his chest, like his parents’ boat down at the dock. This is what he knows he should do when everything in him wants to sink—reach out, talk to people. Kinda self-sabotage when he picks the one person almost guaranteed not to answer.
Oh, he’ll hear back from Bucky eventually, probably a handful of choppy texts sent in the middle of the night two weeks from now. Sam knows his pattern; Bucky’s chattiest between 3am and 4am, so chatty that what are likely intended as longer blocks of text arrive in broken fragments because he wants to make everything into neat paragraphs, like he’s writing a damn letter, instead of just getting to the point, but he hits send too soon. Sam would teach him—with plenty of mocking and name-calling, but he would teach him—only while he’s been running ops all over the planet, Bucky’s shrunk his own world way down. He’s gone local to the extreme and it aggravates Sam, even though Bucky isn’t his responsibility, isn’t his other inheritance from Steve. It’s sorta just easier to feel like Bucky is a misplaced bequest than to acknowledge that maybe he misses the guy and his sharp-shooter’s eye and his caveman hair. He can’t keep calling him.
“Thought I’d give you a heads-up,” Sam says, voice weary with this half-true excuse. “Maybe you already saw.” He clears his throat and says quickly, “Anyway, guess I’ll hear from you when I hear from you.”
He’s pulling the phone away from his head and has barely ended the call when it’s ringing in his hand. He answers and catches Bucky’s voice saying his name before it’s even back up to his ear.
“Bucky?” Sam says. “You have a senior’s moment and forget where you left your phone?”
“Nah,” Bucky says. “I saw it was you and decided to ignore it.”
“But you called back.”
“You wouldn’t quit calling. Seemed like you needed me to tell you directly to knock it off.”
“Jackass.” Sam’s gaze darts to the door, but it’s still shut. No chance Sarah saw him grinning over this easy banter. Always the banter with this idiot. Always easy. He sniffs and turns his chair away from the black TV screen. “Did you see that joker on the news?”
Bucky’s either less self-conscious or more inept because he sighs right into the mouthpiece, an exhausted breath in Sam’s ear that has his fingers fleetingly digging into his knee.
“Couldn’t believe that shit,” Bucky tells him in a rough voice. He’s clearly holding back his own feelings about today’s events and, from the sounds of it, they’re more along the lines of anger, hurt, and a simmering desire to wrench the shield from the arm of the new Captain America. “You know that thing’s supposed to be yours.”
“You saying I should’ve done something to stop it?” Sam demands.
“Coulda.”
Sam forces his shoulders to drop, draws a slow breath in and pushes it back out.
“It wasn’t mine anymore, if it ever was. I gave it to the Smithsonian. They sealed it in this glass case and added it to the exhibit.”
“Not a very tight seal.”
“Guess not,” Sam agrees.
“You shouldn’t have turned it over,” Bucky says. Sam’s silent, frowning, and Bucky goes on. “Forget about the shield being given to somebody else—it shouldn’t have even been in a glass case. Doesn’t belong there.”
“I do just fine without it,” Sam assures him. The practicalities of carrying that shield around are more straightforward to discuss than his yawning uncertainty in the face of Steve’s legacy and his place relative to it. “The shield would only get in the way of the wings.”
“You and those wings.”
“Hey, they carried me over Tunisia recently. Show some respect.”
“Didn’t hear about that,” Bucky says in a tone that’s difficult to interpret, though Sam squints thoughtfully as he listens.
“Yeah, well, I shouldn’t even be telling the likes of you, but it was discrete. As far as the major players are concerned, I was never there.”
“So it was illegal?”
Sam’s head tips back as he laughs hard.
“Why, you wanna turn me in?” he jokes. “Working on the government’s trust? What’s the next level up from a pardon? Knighthood?”
“You are such a pain in the ass,” Bucky groans, which really does make Sam smile.
“I’m sure it would’ve been illegal if you were there,” he says automatically. Too fast, his imagination fills it in, a fictional alternative materializing in his mind. Him and Bucky, cocky in reckless freefall. Him and Bucky, fighting back-to-back in a plummeting aircraft. Sam screening Bucky from enemy fire with his wings. Bucky deflecting a stray bullet with his arm before it could hit Sam.
“Nah, I can’t do that no more.”
“Uh huh. I’m sure you’re an angel.”
“Anybody get hurt?” Bucky asks.
Sam glances through the window at the blue sky, the truck rolling unhurriedly past with the driver’s arm hanging out to catch the sun. Beautiful day. He remembers a kick that sent a guy through the door of the plane, sucked out into the sky, another guy tossed aside who tried to fight him in midair, and a helicopter aflame as it went down. He shrugs and figures Bucky’ll hear the gesture in his voice.
“Nobody who didn’t know the risks.”
“Of going up against Captain America?” Bucky probes. Sam rolls his eyes.
“You know, that would almost be a compliment if you got my name right.”
“Don’t tell me you’re not using the name just to avoid compliments from me.”
“I honestly can’t say which one would feel more wrong,” Sam says, passing a hand over his head as he leans back in his chair, “calling myself Captain America or hearing a little overdue praise from you.”
“I’m not really a words guy. Ask my therapist.”
Sam sits with that for a second. He’s happy that Bucky’s talking to someone. He needs it, badly, after decades of violence and being belted into the passenger seat of his own brain. It’s more than Bucky’s ever admitted to him before, but Sam would bet—and bet big—that seeing some stranger named as Steve’s successor today has gotten to Bucky as much as it’s gotten to him. Something like that is bound to open Bucky up a little. He’s the only other person Sam can imagine the news having such a monumental impact on.
“You could try words,” he goads, not wanting to leave Bucky hanging more than a few seconds after his admission. “What else do you have if you don’t feel like being a human action figure?”
“I have my system. My rules.”
“Oh yeah? What rules?”
“Three of ’em,” Bucky informs him. “Nothing illegal. Nobody gets hurt. Making amends for the actions of the Winter Solider.”
“You don’t have to make amends for something you—”
“Don’t. It… helps.”
And who is Sam to question what’s helping Bucky? After the multiple-lifetimes’ worth of hell the guy’s been through?
“Good for you, man,” Sam offers softly.
“Save it, Sam.” The words are clipped but light. Sam grins.
“No words for me either? You more comfortable with me sticking to actions? How are we supposed to talk to each other when you don’t come to Tunisia with me?”
“Wasn’t invited,” Bucky quips back.
“You mighta been if you answered your phone more often. I’m not gonna send you the details to a covert operation in a text.”
“You wanted me in Tunisia?”
“You get shit done,” Sam acknowledges simply. You wanted me in Tunisia? echoes in his head. His heart’s bobbing like a buoy now. You wanted me in Tunisia? You wanted me?
“Not like that.”
“‘Not illegal,’” Sam repeats. “‘Nobody gets hurt. Making amends.’”
“Right. Can’t do any of that.”
“Well, I’m glad this regime’s working for you, but you have to admit it’s weird that I saw more of you when we were fighting alien hordes.”
“What can I say?” Bucky asks in a tone that seems to consciously flatten the charm out of it. “I’m old-fashioned now.”
Sam snorts.
“You were old-fashioned then.”
“I assume you had a team on the ground.”
“I had to,” Sam says over the sound of a squabble in the other room. Immediately, he can hear Sarah’s voice rising slightly above, breaking it up. Just like that, there’s the looping music of the video game again. She’s raised those boys well. “Couldn’t wait around for you.”
“I might show up if you asked me on better dates.”
“It wasn’t a date, it was a goddamn op.”
It’s startling to hear the sound of laughter. Not hearty, deep, rich, or loud, but definitely laughter. Bucky laughs? Sam backtracks a minute. Bucky makes jokes? About dating? About the two of them dating? Evidently, that is something he’s capable of, along with returning calls during daylight hours.
Sam shifts in his seat.
“You could come around sometime,” he suggests, nervously rubbing a hand up and down his thigh. “If you like fish and you’re ever in Louisiana.”
“I do like fish,” Bucky says. “I’ve been going to this sushi place a lot lately.”
It’s not his taste that surprises Sam—it’s the readiness with which he responds to the invitation. He would’ve sooner guessed that Bucky would tell him to shove it up his ass. In a joking way, but still.
“On dates?” Sam asks, telling himself he’s providing some good-natured hassling and that it has nothing to do with the odd feeling he got when Bucky’s joke about them dating caught up with him.
“One. Mostly, I go with Mr. Nakajima.”
“And that’s not a date?”
Sam laughs and wishes he could shut his own mouth as firmly as he’s (many times) told Bucky to shut his.
“I’m pretty sure he’s in his eighties, so he’s more age-appropriate for me than most people, but I murdered his son,” Bucky says grimly.
“Amends?” Sam guesses, adjusting his tone to cope with Bucky’s emotional switchback.
“I haven’t told him yet, but, yeah, I’m working on that.”
They’re both working on something, Sam thinks. Both confronting something that feels too big to tackle—the decision not to announce himself as the new Captain America, guilt for assassinations Bucky had no control over but which span the better part of a century. Sometimes it seems to Sam that they go up against the easiest situations as a team and face the hardest stuff alone. But he called Bucky, and Bucky called back.
“You could bring some of those amends down here and trade them for a snapper dinner,” Sam proposes, aiming for irritatingly cheerful to pull Bucky back out of the dark.
“What do I have to make amends to you for?”
“Being a dick. I’ll text you my sister’s address.”
Sam swiftly ends the call. There are two possible sources to which he can attribute the small surge of adrenaline he feels: hanging up on Bucky and the fact that he might’ve just asked him on a date. When Sam dialed, he knew it was because he didn’t want to do this alone, but he thought that meant watching the appointment of an upstart Captain America. Although he believed he could count on Bucky’s understanding today and for the near future, asking him down to have dinner with Sarah and the boys (or tricking him into it, since he didn’t exactly say it’d be a thing with the whole family) lengthens the timeline. Near future? Inviting Bucky to meet his family and see where he grew up means recognizing that he’ll be in his life a little longer. Alone? Sam might forget the meaning of the word.
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deliquescentnightmare · 3 years ago
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Easy Come, Easy Go- CH 3
~Coffee, guns, and disappearing doctors~
“So you’re Lestrade’s daughter then?” John asked as the two walked side-by side towards the main road.
“I am indeed. Have been since my birth- an impressive career of nearly 25 years,” She smiled, pulling her hair down to cover her ears- attempting to combat the cold England winter.
“You’re only 24? And have a PhD?” her companion seemed borderline incredulous, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was saying.
“Yes, I finished high school early, and got my bachelors within a year after that,”
“You’re awfully clever, then,”
“That stands to be seen. I still struggle to spell the word necessary,” she joked and they both laughed, “So you’re a doctor too then?”
“Yes, military actually,”
“Oh, well I don’t know how things works here in the land of cool accents, driving on the wrong side of the road, and the queen, but in America we thank Armed service members for their service,” She smiled, “So thank you for your service,”
“Oh- I’m- Uh, thank you,” John replied, stumbling slightly over his words as they came to the main road. A telephone booth near them began to ring and Delila gave it an odd look.
“Do- telephone booths normally do that?”
“Ring?”
“Yeah-”
“No, not normally,”
“Huh, alright,” Delila replied, startling slightly as her pocket began to vibrate and a tune could be heard from it., "Guess ringing phones just like us," she joked and he smiled a little. She pulled it out and hissed a curse, “Do you mind if I just step away to take this real quick? I won’t be long,”
“Go ahead, take your time. I’ll try and flag us down a cab,”
“Perfect, thank you,” Delila stepped away, ducking into a quiet alley, and answered the phone.
“Hello?” a voice crackled on the other end.
“Mom.. how- uhm- How nice of you to call..?”
“I heard you’re visiting your father,”
“I am indeed doing that,” she replied
“Well I just wanted to call to check in on you,”
“Well… that’s nice of you.”
“Have you talked to Jameson lately? He’s always been too busy to talk to me, but he likes talking to you,"
“Is that what you really called me for?”
“I was just wondering! No need to get so defensive,”
“No mom, I haven’t talked to him lately. Have you at least talked to Theo then?”
“Yes, actually. He mentioned something interesting,”
“And that is?”
“You are considering moving to London?”
“I’m considering it. Nothing is set in stone,”
“Listen, Delila. I know it’s been very difficult for you considering your previous situation, but I don’t think up and moving to another country is going to help much,”
“Mom, I know you’ve had it great and all, and you care about my well-being, but I don’t know how much of a say you really have in this,”
“Delila, I am much older than you- I’ve lived double your lifetime,”
“Please don’t pull the seniority card again mom. You don’t realise how stressful dealing with this has been,”
“You’re right, Delila. Just- don’t forget to come back to visit, okay?”
“Mom it’s really late there, you should get some sleep,”
“Oh don’t worry about me, I’m about to go out with some of the girls from work,”
“Mom, you mean the girls who are about 30 years younger than you?”
“Yes, actually! Oh- that must be them! I’ll call you back later, Delila!”
“I- ugh, stay safe please,”
“No promises!” her mother laughed and hung up. Delila sighed and stared at the contact photo for her mother for a moment as if it would tell her how to deal with her. After a silent moment, she shoved her phone into her purse and returned to the street, where John was no longer standing. She looked around in confusion, but didn’t see any signs of the doctor.
“Looking for someone?” Delila turned to see a woman in her late 20’s, with kind, dark almond shaped eyes and dark hair cut in a pixie cut.
“Yeah I was, actually,” Delila furrowed her brow, “I just stepped away for a moment to take a call and he’s gone…”
“What did he look like?”
“About yeigh tall, blonde, cable knit sweater, black jacket, cane,”
“Walked with a pronounced limp and looked like he was under too-much stress all the time?”
“Sounds like him, yeah”
“He stepped into the telephone booth, looked around a bit, hung up and got into an expensive looking car as it pulled up,” the woman said, looking down the street, “Odd fellow, your friend,”
“Yeah…”
“I’m guessing that wasn’t a part of your plans then?”
“Not really,”
“Do you think he’ll be comin’ back?”
“No, honestly I don’t know. I just met him today,”
“Well that’s a shoddy friend if you ask me,”
“I guess so. Would you know where I could go for a cup of coffee or tea?”
“They make a good cuppa at the cafe two stores down,” The woman explained, “Could I treat you to one? My treat,”
“That would be nice, actually,” Delila said and the duo walked to the coffeeshop. Li held open the door and Delila thanked her, grateful to be out of the cold.\
“Of course,” The woman smiled, “I never actually caught your name,”
“Oh, Lestrade, Delila Lestrade,” Delila stuck her hand out as they seated themselves at a booth.
“Ji-Li Hart, but you can call me Li,” The woman shook Delila’s hand, “So you’re American?”
“Yeah... well, my dad is from London,”
“Wait, is he the suicide-gating bloke from the papers?”
“I’m sorry what?”
“You haven’t heard? He did this interview about these serial suicides- three of ‘em so far- and when he was asked what people should do to keep themselves safe he said ‘don’t commit suicide’. Caused quite the uproar, it did,”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Delila sighed and buried her face in her hands, “I love my dad but he’s not the most soft-spoken or sensitive person,” She let out a small laugh, “At least he tried,”
“That’s one way to look at it,” Li laughed as well. Delila wasn’t quite sure how much time passed after that. A cup of coffee later, she was laughing along with Li to a story when her phone buzzed. It was an unfamiliar number and her heart stopped as she raised the device to look at the message.
Tell John to check his phone as soon as possible.
-SH
“Everything alright?” Li asked as Delila struggled to register the message. After a moment, however, the words sunk kin and she let out a breath, shaking her head slightly as if dispelling the panic that she unknowingly wore clear as day.
“Yes- I just-” Delila stared at her phone, “just seeing ghosts I guess,” she chuckled drily.
“What do you mean? If you don’t mind me asking,”
“A new acquaintance of mine spooked me by texting me out of the blue,” she shook her head and smiled but it didn’t quite reach her eyes, “guess he didn’t know I don’t have his number yet,” Her hands shook slightly as she clicked the power button to darken the screen and she slipped it into her pocket. Time felt like a train that had slammed on the breaks, and she struggled to keep the panic from rising as a blush into her pale cheeks.
“Ah, I see,” Li said, gaze dancing across Delila’s face, “well I’m sorry he worried you,”
“It’s nothing big, it’s just something an old… friend… of mine used to do,” Time seemed to jerk to a start as she heard a familiar voice.
“Delila?” Her head snapped up and her face broke out into a bright smile of relief. She pulled herself out of the booth and nearly crushed him in a hug.
“John! There you are! Where were you?”
“It’s a long story that I don’t think I can tell you right this moment,” John explained, “listen. I can’t stay. Sherlock texted me and he said it might be dangerous and I-”
“Was wondering if I’d come along?”
“Well erm-”
“Are you kidding? Of course I’ll come. You owe me a cup of coffee though,” She smiled before glancing back at Li, “I’ve gotta blast, but I can call you later?”
“Sure! Here’s my card, just text me whenever!” Li passed Delila a crisp black business card, and in one fluid motion, the orange haired young woman had slipped into her jacket and shoved the card into her pocket. With a wave, she and John had left the cafe.
“There’s a lot to tell you, but I can’t really until we get to somewhere safer,” John started to explain as he held the door open for her.
“I’m going to guess it starts with ‘That sketchy black government-looking vehicle is our transportation’?” Delila cracked, running her fingers through her curly hair and pulling it up into a ponytail as they approached said car.
“Well, yes, but,” John sighed, “I’ll tell you when we get to Baker Street,”
“Sounds like a plan,” Delila thanked the chauffeur and slipped into the car, startling slightly at the woman already inside.
“Hello again,” John said as the door closed behind him, “This is my friend, Delila,”
“I know,”
“Oh um- hi?” Delila waved awkwardly, “And your name is?”
“Hello Dr Lestrade,” The woman remarked, ignoring the second half of the young woman’s statement, “We should be at baker street shortly,”
“Okie dokie, well then,” she turned to John, “this is a fancy car. Do you always travel like this?”
“Not usually,” John replied, “This is actually a first for me,”
“Friend of yours?” Delila asked, gesturing to the woman.
“Not particularly,”
“Any use in asking who this car belongs to?”
“A friend of your friend,” the brunette supplied and Delila furrowed her brows. John shook his head as if to say not me, and she let out a frustrated huff. The rest of the ride was completed in silence, and as soon as they came to a stop, she nearly scrambled out of the car, unable to shake the feeling of unease that had settled on her skin like summer heat. She approached the door, and then halted as she realised her companion had stopped to talk with the woman in the car. After a moment, he sighed and shut the door, limping over to where Delila stood. He reached for the door but her hand reached out to stop him; she stayed silent as she watched the car pull away from the curb and into the flow of traffic before she reached under her coat and behind her to retrieve the gun she’d holstered there.
“What are you doing?”
“He said danger, right?”
“Yes?”
“So we’re going in prepared. Have you ever cleared a building?”
“Not in the middle of London in the dead of night,”
“Well there’s a first time for everything I guess,” Delila smiled, checking the gun magazine before clicking it into place, “Now stay behind me and don’t move until I give the signal. Unless you know something I don’t, there’s no telling what we’re heading into,”
“You know everything I know,”
“Where’s the main apartment entrance?”
“Second floor, first door you see when you reach the top of the staircase,”
“Right. Okay, follow behind me,” Delila instructed, opening the door of 221B before clicking the safety off. She moved quietly and cautiously, but with an air of confidence and trained precision; she knew what she was doing and she knew she was good at it. Moving up the stairs with a look of steely determination, she gestured with her head for John to follow and he did so as quietly as he could, shutting the front door tightly and silently behind him. Finally, his companion reached the door to their flat, which was wide open, he took a deep breath. She swung into the doorway, gun trained on whatever awaited out of his sight.
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prettybiching · 4 years ago
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jon ossoff + celebratory sex after he's sworn in?
Home To You
Pairing: Jon Ossoff x Senator!fem!reader
Read Part One HERE 
Warning: 18+ mature scenes, oral (male receiving), unprotected sex, swallowing cum, slight rough sex, angst, mentions of death, insurrection and angry mob. Let Me know if I missed something!
Word Count: 4,325 words
Note: There’s probably so many typos in this because I wrote this on a shitty laptop, sorry about that. Hope you guys enjoy teehee xoxo.
It's strange how quickly life moves. One moment you were in bed, with a man you were head over heels infatuated with, tucked in safely beneath his arms and the next, you were running for your life, ducking behind pillars, holding onto your breathe inside the United States Capitol. 
Jon had almost begged to take an earlier flight out to DC to be there with you as you tried to process the horrors of the day you had experienced. You, however, insisted he stayed back and continue with his original schedule.
Yes, you did want him beside you during these difficult times. When you'd wake up in the middle of the night in cold sweat because your mind had replayed the events of the insurrection, the gunshot you'd heard, a narrow miss from the mob, all the moments that would be embedded in you forever. You wanted nothing more than to be in his arms, safe and secure, far away from the horrors of what you had experienced. You craved to tell him just about everything you had come to realise while in your moment of terror. 
You knew Jon would not hesitate to fly down to DC for you, but you knew you couldn't be selfish, not when the country's government was already in a fragile state, divided to its core. Jon already had a storm waiting for him when he'd take office, and you weren't about to give the Republicans any more ammunition. You weren't going to allow Jon to suffer as you had done when you came into office.
The two of you remained in close contact throughout Jon's transition period, mostly because the insurrection had invoked a new burning flame for the both of you. 
Jon had grown worried sick, knowing that you were inside the building, knowing that the violent mob wanted to kill you and they wouldn't hesitate if they spotted you. Every time the media reported an injury, a gunshot, he held onto his breath, praying it wasn't you. Unlike other lawmakers who were able to stay in contact with their families throughout the lockdown, your phone had died, merely minutes after you texted Jon and your family.
In case I don't make it, I need you to know you've meant the world to me.
You hadn't told him, so as not to encourage his bid to fly out to you but you'd thought about Jon, for so long when a Capitol police officer escorted you and Senator Booker to the safety bunker. When your brain had finally received enough oxygen to think, your mind could only form images of the moments you had spent with Jon. 
Never in a million years had you expected to be so infatuated with him when you flew down to Georgia for the runoff elections. You'd told yourself not to bat an eye every time he smiled at you, made a charming comment or made you laugh. However, he had a way of making everyone fall in love with him. You were no exception.
Your heart clenched at the thought of never seeing him ever again. What if you died before telling him just how much he meant to you? You had to, at the least, tell him how proud you were of him and how bright the future ahead of him was. 
Life seemed so vulnerable at that moment. You wished you had hugged Jon a little longer, memorised his face a little closer, savoured the taste of his lips a bit more. You shouldn't have taken so long to act on your feelings. If you were to die today, the only memory you'd have would be of the night before.
Jon, he was all you could think about, his name calming your frantic heart just a little. God, you wanted to hear his voice, you wanted to hear him say your name, reassure you that you'd meet him once again that you'd get to love him just a little longer. 
As much as you wanted to spill your heart out to him, you knew you couldn't and would never do it over the phone. You needed him to be in front of you, free to feel and touch when you told him just how much you loved him. 
When Jon arrived in DC, the night before his swearing-in and the inauguration of Joe Biden, he knew it would be impossible for the two of you to meet as you both had crucial tasks at hand. You two would see one another in the Capitol on the morning of the inauguration. 
You felt jittery as you walked down the halls of the Capitol once again. The sound of your heels hitting the tiles echoed throughout the empty floor, your eyes were focused on the plaques hanging on the walls, carefully scanning them to find the name you were searching for. A proud smile tugged onto your lips as you spotted the shiny new golden plaque hanging by the mahogany door.
Your heart began to hammer against your ribcage as you racked your knuckles against the hardwood door. When the door was opened, you were met with Jon's astonished face, his brows at first knitting together in confusion before his eyes grew wide, his mouth hanging wide open.
You are unable to get a word out before he's pulling you into a bone-crushing hug, his hands wrapped tightly around your waist as if scared that you'd fade away from existence. A giggle escapes your lips as sink into his embrace. You couldn't help but nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, taking in the scent of his aftershave, enjoying the feeling of the short curly strands above his neck and the way he held onto you.
You swore you could've cried then and there.
"Jon?" you called out after a few moments, your voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt. He hums, making not attempt of pulling away. "I think we should move."
You don't mean to laugh,  but you do as he makes a noise of protest, only to tighten his arms around you, swaying your conjoined bodies sideways. You don't want to let go either, but there are so many other things you wanted to be doing with him as well. Not to forget his limited number of staffers were also inside his office, undoubtedly staring at the two of you in bewilderment.
"Okay..." you lift your head from his neck, tapping your hands on his back to make him move as well. "Jon?" you poked, the movements of your hands getting more frantic. "Jon, Jon, Jon, Jon, Jon, Jonnnnnnn----"
"Okay, okay, I'm pulling away," he finally lets go of your waist, the action instantly filling you with coldness from the removal of his body heat. He feigns annoyance towards you, and you can't help but giggle. You'd missed his silly antics, but more importantly, you'd missed him.
You don't waste another second, grasping onto his freshly pressed baby blue shirt and pulling him down into a tender kiss. He's quick to respond, his hands finding their way to your cheeks, holding you in place as he moved his lips against you with fervour. You could feel the desperation in his movements. What had started as an innocent longing kiss was turning into a heated reminder of the two of you had been missing. 
You part your lips for a second, long enough for him to push his tongue into your mouth, eliciting a moan from you. 
As if a bell had rung in your head, you instantly pull away, your cheeks feeling as if they were on fire, your eyes blown as you attempted to catch your breath.
"Did-did I do something wrong?" he tilts his head in confusion, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip. He's looking at you with those puppy eyes that you'd come to adore and you swear you're about to faint. 
"No!" you're quick to retort, extending both of your hands in front of you, shaking your head frantically. "We just--your staff is right there," you point inside the office where his young staffers pretended as if they weren't there. 
"Oh," is all he says, rubbing the back of his neck in realisation, his head hanging low, his cheeks flushing bright red. "Right."
Your lips split into a toothy grin, enjoying his flustered state. You want to continue this, but you know the two of you don't have much time. You would be required on the Capitol Hill balcony for the inauguration, and there you would have to act as if you aren't head over heels in love with Senator-elect of Georgia.
"What? You're not going to introduce me to your team?" you tease, poking his side. When he finally looks up, he's still blushing deep red, and the sight makes your heart flutter just a little more, to see the effect you have on him.
"Right, come on in."
You greeted the young staffers, some only a few years younger than you with a smile on your face, hoping to encourage them in their new venture. These people would help shape policies and pieces of legislation that would go on to shape the future of your nation. 
They took notice of the thick atmosphere, having witnessed you and Jon cross the boundary of being just colleagues. They were quick to move out of your way, leaving you both alone in his office. 
Wordlessly, you strolled through the room, running a hand along with his desk, taking in your surrounding. His office was structured almost identical to yours and the only thing making it seem different was the interior. "Nice office you got here," you smirked, tilting your head towards Jon who watched you with his hands stuffed inside his pockets.
"Thanks, I got it with the job," he laughed, taking a seat behind the desk. His suit jacket was left hanging on the coat stand by the door, and your eyes caught the navy blue patterned tie he was wearing.
You strut towards him, towering over his figure and instinctively his hands reached forward to thread his fingers onto yours. "I like your tie."
"What can I say? My girlfriend has good taste," he shrugs, pretending as if his words didn't just ignite a fire in you.
"Since when did I become your girlfriend?" you laugh, a stark contrast to the frantic beating of your heart. He squeezed your hands, and you liked how easily his palm fitted against yours. 
"W-would you like to be?" you have to bit your bottom lip to keep yourself from smiling, he looked at you with those big puppy eyes, a hint of nervousness underlying beneath. 
Untangling your hands, you lowered yourself onto his lap, careful not to crease your pantsuit and overcoat too much. His hands settled on your hips, holding you in place. You lean forward until both of your foreheads are touching, his warm breath fanning over your face, your eyes fluttering shut.'
"It's going to be very complicated," you murmured after a few seconds, your eyes still closed. 
"I'm willing to work for it."
You have no doubt about that. You'd walk through hell and back to experience your future with him, just like envisioned it during the insurrection. However, things weren't as straightforward.
"It could sabotage both of our careers," you retorted, lifting your head just slightly to meet his eyes. His eyes were looking at you with such delicacy, you didn't want to talk--talk about the consequences of your actions but just kiss him and keep kissing him until the world around you both disappeared.
"It won't," he answered firmly, squeezing your hips, your hands caressed his jawline, brows knitting together. "We will be okay. We can make it work--"
"We can't be selfish, Jon," you said, no matter how painful it was to say it. "We have a duty to our people, and if we do this we'll have to hide our relationship from the world, we would have to lie---"
"Do you want this?" He cut off your rambling with a simple question that had the gears in your mind turning. 
You did, of course, you did. You wanted nothing more than to be with Jon.  He was all you could think about when you thought you were going to die, when you heard those gunshots and when you were stuck in that bunker with all those Republicans. 
"Yes, yes I do," you answered firmly.
"Then let's just do this, for us. Forget about everyone else for now. It's only you and me. Okay?"
"Okay."
Then he's smiling at you in a way he had never done before, so bright, he could blind the sun itself, and it makes you giggle. You liked seeing him in this way, so unlike the public political demeanour, he carried with himself all the time. This Jon was reserved only for you. 
He leans forward, closing the short gap between the two of you, pulling you into a kiss. 
That spell is broken when your phone begins to ring in the pocket of your coat, making you pull away from him, both of you breathless and panting.
"Yeah, okay, I'll be out in a second."
"It's time to go," you tell Jon, helping yourself out of his lap before he pushes himself off his chair.
The two of you don't have time to utter another word as Beverly is waiting outside the door with two security agents. You're about to go your way when Jon calls out your name, making you turn towards him.
"I never got to tell you just how gorgeous you look today."
With that, he turns away, leaving you in a puddle. 
You enter the balcony first, with Beverly right behind you. Ignoring the cameras panning on you, you scan the area for some of your more favourable colleagues. You meet the eyes of Elizabeth Warren who beckons you towards her and just as you're about to move, you feel a hand slip into yours. 
You knew just who it was by the way his hands fit into yours, his touch so familiar. 
Your head snaps to the side, staring at Jon in bewilderment. Did he really just out the both of you in front of everyone. He's not even sworn in yet, and he's already gone crazy, you think.
"What the fuck?"
Jon dares to wink at you, walking alongside you with a smugness that you had come to familiarise yourself with over the past few months. "How can I not tell the world that I'm lucky enough to be with you?"
If it were any other time, you would've found yourself flustered at his comment, but now, you could only roll your eyes. He could really be one cocky motherfucker when he wants to be.
He takes note of your tensed shoulders and squeezes your hand, reassuring you. "Just relax. It's only you and me, remember?"
Sucking in a deep breath, you nod in agreement. At least there is one less thing to worry about now.
-----
With your relationship now out in the open, there was no reason for you miss his swearing-in ceremony. You joined your dear friend and colleague, Cory Booker as he escorted Jon into the Senate Chamber with Reverend Raphael Warnock and Alex Padilla beside him. 
"I can't believe you didn't tell me about Ossoff, Y/L/N," Cory said in disbelief. "I mean yeah, you two looked adorable during his campaign, but damn, I thought we were friends."
You roll your eyes, knowing he was going to bring it up every chance he got from now on. "It kind of just happened."
"Hmm. You're still not forgiven."
You're by the gallery with the two other spouses, a proud beaming smile on your lips---hidden by the mask. You have to stop the joyful tears from spilling, but you're just so goddamn happy as he's called in by Vice President Harris. 
He catches your eye as he's walking towards the podium, sending a wink at your way, making you erupt into giggles. He knew you were a blubbering mess underneath and he was going to make the most out of your reaction later on. 
You have to stop yourself from jumping on your feet when he's done taking his oath, and Kamala Harris congratulating him.
You run down from the gallery as fast as your heels allow you to move and you leap into Jon, him catching you in his arms with ease. He's laughing against you, his laugh resonating through his chest.
You pull back slightly, bringing your mouth near his ear and in a low, sultry tone you whisper, "Congratulations, Senator."
His grip around your waist tightens, squeezing your side as if warning you to behave. Ignoring him, you pull down your mask to plant a kiss on his cheek.
"Just wait till I get you alone."
Oh, but you can't wait.
-------  
Despite Jon telling you to be on your best behaviour, he's the first one to break. As soon as the two of you are out of the public eye, his hands are all over you, his mouth trailing sloppy kisses onto your neck, attempting to push down the fabric of your crisp white shirt beneath.
"Have I told you just how sexy you look when you're acting all bossy and shit?" he murmurs between kisses, a slight moan escaping your lips. Your fingers tangle themselves into his hair, ruffling his styled locks back to its original form, just the way you liked them.
"Mhmm," your eyes are fluttered shit, your body supported only by Jon's hold on you. If he were to remove his arms, you'd drop down onto the floor in no time. 
"You better get used to it," you manage to word out, overwhelmed by the feeling of his lips all over you. He moves his mouth from your neck, up your throat, feeling your pulse against his lips. You notice as he places on longing kiss over that spot.
"I can't wait."
The two of you were in the lobby of your apartment complex, your humble abode just a few doors away. If anyone was to walk out of one of those doors, the sight greeting them would be anything but appropriate. You knew the right thing to do would be to pull away from Jon and wait until both of you are inside before continuing with your rendezvous. 
But he is insatiable, the spell he has you under in unbreakable, and the last thing you want is to be away from his touch, not when you'd thought you could never experience it again.
Your mind is foggy, his mouth still exploring every inch of your skin he's able to find when you're trying to unlock the door to your apartment. "God fucking damn it," you mutter in frustrating, making Jon chuckle against your skin.
As soon as you get the door open, presses you against the door, your head hitting the doorframe with a soft thud. His head falls back to your neck, planting sloppy wet kisses, between small bites. Meanwhile, your hands grip onto his suit jacket, attempting to pull it off of him.
"Take it off," you order as he kisses his way up your neck. 
He detaches himself for a second, following your command. You take the time to rid yourself of your overcoat, throwing it across the room. 
When the two of you meet once again, he finds your lips, pushing his tongue in your mouth, groaning your name. When he pulls back for air, your lipstick is smudged, staining his mouth and both of your lips swollen. His eyes are darkened with lust, the view giving you an idea.
In a fluid motion, you drop down onto your knees, your eyes landing on his hardened bulge restrained by his pants.
You bit your lips, your mouth water and you look up at him with big doe eyes. "You deserve a congratulatory gift."
His hands find themselves into your hair, gripping onto your locks enough to guide your movements. "I'm all yours, sweetheart."
With that, your hands dart to the zipper, undoing it in one swift motion,  pulling his pants down along with his boxers. 
Your hands wrap themselves around his shaft, you dip your head down, licking off his precum with kitten licks while looking at him through hooded eyes. 
He lets out a groan, throwing his head back the moment your tongue met his tip, sending a shiver down his spine. "God...you know just how to work your mouth don't you?"
He reaches his hands forward to cup your jaw as you wrap your lips around his head, his thumb caressing your cheeks while you sucked swirled your tongue around his shaft. 
Your mouth left his cock, your hands still pumping and twisting him, keeping him in a state of euphoria while you turned your head to the side, kissing the palm of his hand. 
"Did you miss me, did you think about my hands wrapped around your cock like this?" he moaned at your words, watching you intensely, his lustful eyes worshipping you as you licked up his pointer and index finger before sliding them into your mouth. You sucked on his fingers, tongue licking the pads of his fingertips before swallowing his digits until your lips grazed his knuckles.
Jon watched intently, his fingers going in and out between your lips and glistening with your saliva. He could feel the blood rushing downwards, making his cock twitch as if he wasn't already aroused. 
You felt him shift against you, making you smirk. You let go of his fingers with a sloppy pop and dive your mouth back onto his swollen length. You sucked and slurped around his girth with quick bobs of your head, hand stroking and twisting the rest, matching the rhythm. 
"Fuck...don't stop," he groans, the grip of his hands on your hair tightening, giving you light pushes down onto his cock. 
You moaned, swallowing him deeper with each push, letting his tip kiss the back of your throat repeatedly, going in deeper and deeper until your gag reflex kicked in and pushed him out. 
With your hand still rubbing and squeezing him up and down, you take a deep breath when you have the chance, gulping and swallowing the mixture of your drool and his salty precum all the while staring at him with large innocent eyes. He lets out a growl at the sight of your swollen lips.
Lewd sounds filled the room as you squeeze and jerk his wet length tighter with each pump.  He bucked his hips towards your face, you could feel his muscles tense up as he was getting closer to his release. His hand held you in place while he fucked you into his mouth with erratic thrusts. 
He lets out a groan before hissing at the feel of your mouth, "Open up for me, sweetheart---oh, fuck."
Pulling out a couple seconds before he cums, he pumps himself his tip on your tongue, his body shivering and twitching slightly as he shot his load into your mouth.  
His chest heaved as he watched you stand back on your heels while playing with cum on your tongue and lips.
"God, you're just perfect, aren't you?" he lets out a breath, staring at you with adoration. 
Swallowing everything in your mouth, you smirk, leaning forward to wrap your arms around his neck, planting a chaste kiss on his Adam's apple.
"Fuck me, Ossoff."
He doesn't need another word before he lifts you from the ground, carrying you to your bedroom and almost throwing you onto the bed.
He kneels in front of you as you unbutton your pants and he pulls them down, leaving you only in your white shirt. He parts your legs open, finding your soaking wet panties. In a swift motion, he rips them of you, making you gasp.
He slides his fingers over your clit a few times, spreading the wetness before he lays above you before holding his growing erection near your entrance. Without a warning, he shoves himself in, feeling your warm and wet walls clenching around him immediately. Your fingernails dig into the fabric of his shirt as he entered you.
"Fuck, sweetheart, you're so tight..."
He doesn't give you much time to adjust, ramming his cock deep into you while holding you down on the mattress at your shoulders. With each quick, rhythmic thrust, a loud moan escapes your mouth.
"You like this, huh? you like the feeling of me deep inside of you?"
"Yesss, oh my god, yes," you whimper, your pelvic muscles tightening, making him groan animalistically.
"Turn around on all fours."
You turned around, crawling on all fours. Jon plunged back into you from behind, grabbing your hips against him, hitting your cervix. You keep on chanting his name in gasps. Meanwhile, his eyes never looked away from where the two of you met. The noise of your moans, the clapping of flesh and wet folds filled the silence.
He pounds into you, his movements sloppy as you feel his cock pulsate. The two of you are moaning loudly, your breaths coming out ragged and the coil tightened in your stomach, ready to snap any time.
'Fuck--Jon. I'm-I'm gonna cum," you cried out in pleasure.
Jon began playing with your clit, rubbing quick circles and that additional action along with his rough thrusts was enough for you to reach your climax. You screamed into the mattress tightening around his cock, while he still pushed in and out of you, only to spill himself inside you a few moments later. 
A few hours later when the two of you are tangled between the bedsheets, free of any clothing, you trace patterns onto his cheeks, a warm smile tugged on your lips as he watched you with endearing eyes.
"What's that smile for?"
You shook your head, your grin growing wider. "I'm just happy to be home to you."
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kiranxrys · 5 years ago
Text
Alone Together Episode 1 Transcript - Alexander Siddig & Andrew Robinson
I hadn’t seen a transcript for this episode going around on Tumblr yet and I thought I would quickly make one to share with anyone who would prefer to read or wants to read along/revisit the first episode in text form (and the YouTube subtitles are mostly useless, annoyingly). Please let me know if you think I’ve made an error anywhere and I’ll amend it!
watch: one | two | three | four
read: two | three | four
ANNOUNCER (ON-SCREEN): ‘Alone Together’ - a DS9 companion, Episode 1 - ‘These Days’. It has been about 25 years since the Dominion War ended. The Federation isn’t quite the same. Starfleet is much more consistently militarized these days. Earth may be paradise, but humanity is less ideologically empathetic. Since the recent Romulan attempts to extinguish synthetic life by infiltrating Starfleet Command, benevolence is taking a backseat to security these days. 
Elim Garak has been Castellan of the Cardassian Assembly since the new order was established following the Dominion War. Garak, of course, also has direct control over a newly resurrected Obsidian Order, though not by title. 
Julian Bashir is still a doctor on Deep Space 9 but is also coordinating the activities of Section 31. What we’ve learned is that upon sharing a consciousness with Luther Sloane using stolen Romulan technology, his genetically enhanced brain committed much of what he learned to his eidetic memory. That information had to be contained but could be put to good use. He was given little choice in the matter. Maintaining his cover as a Chief Medical Officer in the Bajoran sector met his needs, and he saw no reason to change.
[fade to black]
JULIAN BASHIR (VOICE ONLY): Mission log, stardate 737114. I’m approaching Cardassia Prime in response to a rather enigmatic request for medical aid from Castellan Garak, the leader of the Cardassian government. Though it’s hardly surprising that Garak might be withholding information, it seems that a reunion of sorts will be forthcoming. I’ve left the Infirmary in the capable hands of Doctor Jabara while I’m off the station. I must admit, I’m not entirely sure what to expect. 
JULIAN (ON-SCREEN): Bashir to Central Command, I’ve just entered orbit of Cardassia Prime, requesting approval to transport to Cardassia.
ELIM GARAK (VOICE ONLY): Stand by, Doctor. Don’t be in such a hurry.
JULIAN: Garak. I didn’t expect you to be at the Central Command, it’s good to hear your voice.
GARAK: My dear doctor, are we starting the lies already?
JULIAN (LAUGHING): It’s true, Garak. It’s good to hear your voice! That’s not a- Look, more importantly, if you’ll grant approval I can beam to your current location.
GARAK: Doctor, I’m not at Central Command. I’ve merely intercepted your subspace communications link. Unfortunately, Doctor, the Federation will not be setting foot on Cardassia today, and, to be quite honest, you don’t want to be here.
JULIAN: Garak, your message suggested some urgency in my arrival. Quite frankly, what the hell am I doing here if I can’t beam down?
GARAK: Would you uh- [laughs] believe pure, unadulterated nostalgia?
JULIAN: Would you?
GARAK (ON-SCREEN): [laughs] I missed you too Doctor. So, how is life on the station?
JULIAN: Well, Bajoran fashions just aren’t the same since you left.
GARAK: I’m sure.
JULIAN: But much of life has returned to what it once was, as much as it ever could, I suppose. Now-
GARAK: I was sorry to hear about Dax.
JULIAN: Thank you. I um… I miss Ezri every day. Ten years. I, well, that is- we, Dax and I, we tried to make it work. I- I was so happy Dax made it back to Trill on time. Cairn and I, we were very different people. He’s a botanist – can you imagine? Dax as a botanist. I suppose it’s why Keiko didn’t seem to mind my business as much. She and Dax had so much to talk about but, well, once the Symbiosis Commission discovered our continued relationship, well, we just uh- we couldn’t-
GARAK: Doctor, there’s no need to explain.
JULIAN: No. Dax always encouraged me to talk about my feelings, though there’s not much else to say, really. I had never really considered being in love with another man, but it was Dax. Ezri, Jadzia, even Cairn, it was Dax, is Dax. But we- we just couldn’t- I didn’t-
GARAK: It is difficult to find a good counselor to sort out our deepest sorrows these days.
JULIAN: I suppose it is.
GARAK: You’re an honourable man, Doctor. You loved Dax, you could do nothing less than your heart demanded. I know the pain of love all too well, especially a love that has everything working against it.
JULIAN: Ziyal.
GARAK: Ziyal, yes. Yes, even exiles have hearts, Doctor. Even [laughs] Elim Garak. When it comes right down to it, he has a heart as well. In fact, my heart is partially the reason why I’m here.
JULIAN: So, this is a house call? Damn it, Garak, why didn’t you tell me on subspace? What- what are your symptoms? Why don’t you want me to beam down?
GARAK: Well, so many questions, one hardly knows which to answer first.
JULIAN: Your symptoms, Garak. What is wrong with your heart?
GARAK: Well, it’s not just my heart, Doctor. Actually the most concerning symptom seems to be a degenerative condition that causes the ill to be especially susceptible to suggestion. Luckily my infection is relatively new, and rather unexplained as my exposure to the public tends to be limited to state functions and the like, you know, the life of a politician.
JULIAN: The ill? Garak, what are you saying?
GARAK: A virus, Doctor. Cardassia appears to be facing a- a minor health issue. We’re trying to contain the infection to one region, but we may have moved… far too late.
JULIAN: A minor health issue? You are a champion of understatement! ‘The ill’ suggests that this isn’t just about you but your ability to hide the facts seems to have been tainted over the years.
GARAK: Doctor?
JULIAN: Since your speech at the Lakarian City memorial, the ridges on your neck have grown paler and your breathing rate has increased.
GARAK: You liked my speech?
JULIAN: Damn it, Garak, you contacted me! How is this the first time that I’m hearing about this? Why is the planet not being quarantined? Your message said ‘medical aid’ – I assumed that I was just coming here as a preliminary consultation having something to do with one of your colonies. Now it sounds like an outbreak that needs to be contained.
GARAK: Doctor, quarantine means announcing the problem to the galaxy. This is an internal matter. You obviously don’t appreciate the severity of this virus, but you needn’t worry – no one is allowed to leave Cardassia, no one is currently being permitted to enter the atmosphere.
JULIAN: I cannot imagine you can contain the population without a reason. Just how bad is it?
GARAK: Oh, I’ve given them a reason, Doctor, but you shouldn’t worry about that. There are more important things requiring your focus right now.
JULIAN: Of course. How much- how many are infected?
GARAK: At last count, the virus had been contained to three continents. Nearly 68% of the population in those regions has been infected.
JULIAN: And you call it a ‘minor issue’ Garak?! That’s a pandemic!
GARAK: Doctor, when I say that the ill have developed a degenerative condition, I speak specifically of their thought processes. It is true that we have determined that it is a virus – a biological contaminant of sorts – but the Central Command is hardly a healthcare organization and while the degeneration is affecting the cardiopulmonary system as well, all of the symptoms seem to be driven by misfiring neurons, and therein lies the problem.
JULIAN: A virus that affects the brain is no small problem. The fact that early infections are showing in terms of dysfunction relatively mild systems doesn’t mean people won’t start to die.
GARAK: Yes, Doctor. And I haven’t.
JULIAN: My God, Garak. You’re infected.
GARAK: Why do you think I contacted you? I want the best.
JULIAN: And hoping that my genetic enhancements will allow me to diagnose your symptoms without scanning equipment?  
GARAK: I really have missed your mistrust, Doctor. The physicians here have the tendency to avoid the necessary dispassion for harder truths. You, however, have a refreshingly forthright bedside manner.
JULIAN: Wow, a compliment. You must be neurologically compromised. Well of course, of course I’ll do everything that I can. Do you know anything more about the virus? How is it passed on? How does it proliferate in the body? Have your doctors attempted any therapies that show any promise?
GARAK: Well, it seems to take several days to propagate in the carrier. During that time, sufferers develop a rather serious cough... [inaudible] …the dispatcher reaches the brain so our assumption it that it is spread through the air. Most hospitals have been closed to all but the infected to try and control the outbreak. As a result, our doctors are learning from their patients as they are treating them. As it stands now, they can only treat symptoms. Medical staff is reporting to external bodies to ensure that anyone studying the infection isn’t also battling a neurological disease. Progress is limited and all too slow.
JULIAN: Garak, I’m not sure how I can help you if I can’t examine you or access your data.
GARAK: Doctor, I’m afraid I can’t allow you to put yourself at risk. After all, I’m counting on you to save us all. And I believe that an outside perspective may be exactly what we need.
JULIAN: So no pressure?
GARAK: You’re a bright man, Doctor – put that genetically-enhanced brain of yours to work.
JULIAN: Well, I can’t examine you from orbit. My shuttlecraft sensors may be able to me that you’re alive, they can isolate you for transport, but they can hardly determine more than the most modest of life signs, and while I can see outward symptoms, Garak, I can’t for the life of me figure out how to see through your skull. I suppose I could transport a tricorder down there for a preliminary scan.
GARAK: I’m afraid I can’t allow that, Doctor.
JULIAN: Oh, of course you can’t. Can you send me your most recent medical scans?
GARAK: Unfortunately, no.
JULIAN: And why not?
GARAK: All of my genuine medical records are routinely deleted and replaced with falsified data. All data rods in which those records once existed have been destroyed, all computers in which the data rods were placed have been vaporized. My dear doctor, I’m the leader of the Cardassian people! Especially now, I can’t afford to broadcast my weaknesses to all, to anyone who feels they could exploit them.
JULIAN: The more things change, the more they remain the same.
GARAK: Meaning?
JULIAN: A presumption of godliness, most certainly a great paranoia. You haven’t managed to find yourself a staff that you trust to protect your life. To be quite honest, I’m surprised your staff doesn’t have implants that allow you to control them.
GARAK: Oh, Doctor, your assumptions hurt me deeply! Of course they do. If news of this infection gets out, and I can’t be clearer than this, Cardassia will be devastated. And we won’t be the only world that will fall.
JULIAN: Garak, you seem to believe that I can cure this virus from orbit, without any information.
GARAK: Well, Doctor, this virus doesn’t only infect the average citizen. Everyone is at risk. Everyone – the government, the military. Imagine if only a few of their people were infected. They find it difficult to concentrate. They’re finding themselves susceptible to suggestion. And what if intelligence agents of foreign governments found their way to Cardassia during this crisis?
JULIAN: It could destroy the Cardassia you’ve been rebuilding for over two decades.
GARAK: Yes.
JULIAN: But quarantine would keep foreign nationals off-planet and keep the rest of us safe from infection, assuming it can even infect off-worlders.
GARAK: Again, Doctor, it would announce the problem before we have a solution.
JULIAN: But it could help produce the solution you so desperately need!
GARAK: The risk is too great, Doctor.
JULIAN: Garak! Lives are at stake!
GARAK: Hundreds, perhaps thousands, to save billions. Doctor – will. You. Help. Me?
JULIAN: First and foremost, I’m a doctor, Garak. And I’m your friend.
GARAK: Yes. One more thing we should keep to ourselves.
JULIAN: You know Garak… you are being more paranoid than usual. You remind me of the exiled tailor I met so many years ago.
GARAK: Ah, but as you said yourself Doctor, the more things change-
JULIAN: The more they stay the same. But Garak, so much has changed. You’re the leader of your people.
GARAK: Julian… let’s drop the pretensions, shall we?
JULIAN: Whatever do you mean?
GARAK: You know that I have rebuilt the Obsidian Order, and the reason that I know that you know is because I know that you are working for Starfleet Intelligence. Your posting at Deep Space 9 is merely your cover. Why would a religious sanctuary like Deep Space 9 need a doctor of your capability, with such a limited Starfleet presence? I must admit, you have done an excellent job of obscuring your intelligence role.
JULIAN: Dear, dear Garak. Have you been keeping tabs on me? I suppose of all people you would be the only person I might be able to trust with such information. Assuming any of your conclusions are true. But Starfleet still has a presence and Deep Space 9 is still a major way station for commerce and diplomacy in the Bajoran sector.
GARAK: Of course you can trust me with sensitive information Julian-
JULIAN: [chuckles]
GARAK: -at least until there’s a reason you can’t. Oh, but let’s hope it never comes to that. I do like you; I did from the very beginning. You may be my only true friend. Since Mila’s passing, our all too infrequent exchanges have been my only respite from a world without trust. The political world on Cardassia deplores a vacuum and the old ways are clung to, even after the war. It took me years to bring Cardassians around to another way of thinking. The arts are celebrated, the people are fed. Life is no longer a struggle, but… paranoia is rampant once more.
JULIAN: Then I suppose you’ve been the ideal leader.
GARAK: Well, I do appear to have the appropriate skill set and experience, yes.
JULIAN: You could always go back to being a plain, simple tailor.
GARAK (LAUGHING): You would be surprised by how many of my old vocations I still dabble in. I’ve even taken up taxidermy! Yes, it’s true! But stuffing a tribble isn’t as challenging as perhaps a six-legged [uncertain] marsupial, but it passes the time. And so many wonderful things fit inside an animal that need only trill to appear alive.
JULIAN: [laughs]
GARAK: But as you said Julian, you are my friend, and one of the things I learned from working in the Obsidian Order under Enabran Tain, was that friends are a liability. Enemies are easy. Friends… friends are the challenge. When I was his protégé I had a job to do, relationships were tools to achieve my objectives. I don’t have time for friends, I don’t have room for emotional attachments.
JULIAN: And then you were exiled.
GARAK: And then… I was exiled.
JULIAN: I had no idea.
GARAK: About what?
JULIAN: Am I your only friend?
GARAK: Well… the only one living.
JULIAN: You said that your cardiopulmonary system seems to be demonstrating symptoms consistent with this neurolytic virus.
GARAK: Mm-hmm.
JULIAN: I need to at least access the database being used by the off-site researchers working on a cure.
GARAK: I’m sorry to disappoint you, Doctor – I’ve never been an ideal patient, as you well know. But while I trust you, I cannot risk any access that Starfleet Intelligence might have built into your shuttle.
JULIAN: Garak, you’re tying my hands. Do you have access to a medical scanner? Can you scan yourself?
GARAK: I’ve been a tailor, a gardener, a spy, who’s to say I’m not a doctor as well?
JULIAN: I suppose stranger things have happened.
GARAK: Oh, a shapeshifter saved the galaxy by going for a swim, a Starfleet captain turned out to be a god, a Cardassian legate turned out to be the devil, you were married to a woman three centuries your senior – stranger things, my dear doctor, happen all the time.
JULIAN: You may have a point. Although to be fair, Dax is three hundred years older, not Ezri. Ezri was several years younger than me.
GARAK: Semantics, Doctor.
JULIAN: Ah, here we are.
GARAK: I’m sorry?
JULIAN: I’ve created an encrypted backdoor to your central database.
GARAK: Ooh, of course you did. Yes, but it won’t help you. Our researches are working in a closed system, it is impossible to access their research through the central network.
JULIAN: Damn it, Garak, I’m trying to help you! I encrypted the access, there was no danger to you or you people! I used a fractal regression to develop access points at either end.
GARAK: And I sincerely appreciate your efforts, Julian. That’s why you’re here. And of course that is why I am convinced no one else will be able to save us.
JULIAN: I cannot do this without any information about the pathogen. And even the smartest person in the galaxy would be hard-pressed to develop a cure to an unknown virus quickly enough to prevent its spread or knowledge of its existence to the outside world.
GARAK: I have faith in you, Doctor. And to put your mind at ease, you should know that very few citizens on Cardassia are even aware that they are infected. And I’ve committed the Order to a substantial misinformation campaign to keep it that way.
JULIAN: How long do you expect that to last? The longer the infected believe that they’re free to live their normal lives or even to travel to and from health centers for treatment for whatever malady they believe they have, the faster the real virus will spread.
GARAK: Well, it seems its symptoms vary in their intensity. The cough can be persistent or periodic. And when that initial symptom passes, the neurological symptoms cause sufferers to present a variety of ailments. It is only those doctors who discovered the virus and were subsequently visited by some associates that are aware of the larger problem. And they are the very physicians currently researching the virus on my behalf.
JULIAN: If you are able to contact them then there’s no reason that I can’t access their data!
GARAK: Doctor, we’ve been through this.
JULIAN: Garak, we’ve been through a lot of things!
GARAK (LAUGHING): Yes.
JULIAN: You didn’t call me here to explain Cardassia’s post-war isolationist bureaucracy!
GARAK: [laughs]
JULIAN: I came because a friend in need asked me!
GARAK: You didn’t know why I called you, Doctor. So please, don’t offer me your selfless pretense.
JULIAN: Pretense?! You think after all this time your lives and deceptions would keep me from helping you? I can tell when you’re lying Garak, and you know when I’m telling the truth. I promise you that no one will ever know about your role in the cover-up of the virus, at least not from me.
GARAK: I… I want you to set course for the southern polar region of Cardassia Prime. The magnetic interference will make it more difficult for prying eyes to access your subspace signal. You’ll find that my alleged paranoia has a purpose. 
JULIAN: Computer, set course 118 mark 72.
COMPUTER: [chimes] Acknowledged.
JULIAN: Engage at one-quarter impulse.
COMPUTER: Course laid in. [chimes]
JULIAN: My signal was encrypted from the very beginning. I assume the same is true of the signal you used to isolate and redirect my subspace carrier wave. Isn’t it a little bit late to begin worrying now, Garak?
GARAK: Our signal may be secure between one another, but any system can be breached given enough time and expertise. And what I have to tell you…
JULIAN: Just tell me, Garak. I’m over the polar region as you asked.
GARAK: Yes, so you are, so you are. Now, good, wait- wait… Good. Now that we’re comfortably alone, let me ask you this: do viruses normally pop up undetected in a population with little to no prior warning? And how many unknown pathogens exist in a planetary ecosystem with our level of technological development?
JULIAN: Well, to be quite honest, pathogens can unexpectedly adapt or cross species barriers. Centuries ago on Earth, industrial pollution led to a climate change which in turn caused previously isolated microorganisms to be released into the biosphere.
GARAK: Yes, you truly have an answer for everything.
JULIAN: It comes in handy. But I suspect you’re going somewhere with this so please, continue.
GARAK: Our research has found some… peculiarities in the viral RNA, and admittedly I don’t understand all of the specifics, but, to put it bluntly, the virus has been engineered. I’m sending you two images of the viral RNA we’ve discovered. The images are all that I can risk sending you now. If you can find the source, you may find a cure. Alternatively, if a cure was not developed… you can avenge my death.
JULIAN: Not currently one of my skill sets, Garak. But why the pretense? You could’ve told me this immediately- actually, don’t answer that. I’ll need some time to do an analysis of this to determine what might work to counteract the viral infection. Annoyingly, there is no systemic treatment that I can even begin to research without knowing the underlying cause. But over the last twenty-five years, you must’ve made all sorts of new enemies. According to the latest intelligence, the only dangerous political intrigue is coming out of the Romulan Empire these days.
GARAK: Yes, well, leading a government comes with its own risks, to be sure, Doctor. But why do they have to be new enemies? Of course the Romulans have never been great fans of mine – I mean I left their embassy’s grounds-keeping staff so many years ago. Oh, those poor orchids, they’ll never be the same. And there’s always Kai.
JULIAN: The Kai.
GARAK: Ah, Kira- Kira, dear Kira’s never been a fan of mine.
JULIAN: We both know that Nerys would have never worked this slowly if she wanted to kill you.
GARAK: [laughs]
JULIAN: And she would only kill you. But Nerys is hardly the same person since she left the militia to join the Vedek Assembly, and now that she’s the Kai, this level of genetic manipulation would have to accomplished by someone with intimate knowledge of the Cardassian physiology as well as the capacity to evade security of your medical system.
GARAK: Yes, although like I said, it is an internal Cardassian matter. I’m sure there are plenty of elder Cardassians who would enjoy watching my life come to an end from torture. Dukat’s father- I mean, uh… [laughs] to one kanar-induced tryst with the man himself, to finally becoming involved with Ziyal, and whatever else-
JULIAN: Wait- wait, wait, wait you- hang on, you- you and Dukat?
GARAK: Ooh, yes. Surprising, isn’t it? Yes, two nights, maybe, before my exile, I’d been feeling quite powerful. I wouldn’t have normally lowered my guard even among my fellow Cardassians. Dukat was enjoying his second bottle of kanar, was looking for someone to blame for his most recent failures to overcome the Bajoran resistance, and there I was. He promised my death from across Quark’s bar. Later that evening he found his way back to my table to apologize – uncharacteristic, absolutely, to be sure. But kanar can do that to a man. We stole away to a quiet corner on the second level to talk, and then we found our way to an unoccupied holosuite.
JULIAN: I don’t know what to say.
GARAK: Well, I don’t need to tell you, Doctor – it was an unplanned direction for my evening to take. And suffice to say it didn’t soften Dukat’s general opinion of me. [laughs] He did keep his distance for a long time afterward.
JULIAN: So, that story had a happy ending, if you’ll pardon the pun.
GARAK: Pun?
JULIAN: Uh, it- it’d be funny on Earth. Though tragic, too – sort of like a sad clown, really. Miles will love it.
GARAK: Doctor, could we perhaps find out what is slowly eating away at me before revealing my darkest secrets to Professor O’Brien over an ale.
JULIAN: Of course, of course. I think the first step is to cross-reference known immunogenic agents that could have been introduced into your system. Even if the virus is a new pathogen, its mode of infection could be a million different things. You should review your schedule and try and determine an environment over which your control was limited, a place where the food and drink could’ve been tampered with or perhaps a place where you could have been unexpectedly exposed to an air assault. But… about this dalliance with Dukat-
GARAK: Oh Doctor, please. Provincial human attitudes aside-
JULIAN: Of course.
GARAK: -your species didn’t always have synthehol, and every species seems to go through a period of poor choices. Believe it or not, Cardassians are a passionate people, a people who yearn to find joy wherever it may lie. And remember, that we were in the midst of a Bajoran occupation and there wasn’t much joy to be had for those of us assigned to Terok Nor. Decades later, my reforms are helping to shape a modern Cardassia.
JULIAN: Understood. Though I take exception to the word ‘provincial’.
GARAK: Oh, of course you do. Now, let me take a look at my agenda… According to my doctors, I could have been exposed more than a month ago.
JULIAN: A month? Well, you certainly waited long enough to contact me.
GARAK: Well, well we do have doctors on Cardassia, and I wouldn’t be much of a leader if I didn’t look to my own people before seeking outside assistance. However, I’m not naïve enough to trust them completely. And what kind of leader would I be if I did?
JULIAN: Fair enough. I need to get some biometric information, please, from you if I’m even to begin researching cures. Can you transport yourself to a hospital with proper scanning equipment that I can access?
GARAK: Oh dear, I- I- I can do better than that, Doctor. I can do better than that. My residence is equipped with some of the best holographic technology in the quadrant – what type of equipment do we need?
JULIAN: I didn’t realize Cardassia had made such strides in holography.
GARAK: Oh, the technology is Federation, actually. Cardassian engineers build wonderful ships, but their work with artificial intelligence isn’t what it should be. Political life has its perks – I even have an EMH.
JULIAN: Well can I talk to him?
GARAK: Doctor, he’s obviously offline during this crisis. We’re wasting time better spent on the issue at hand! Now shall we begin?
JULIAN: Alright. Well the first thing we’ll need is a standard biobed with-
GARAK: Doctor, doctor, wait- I’m detecting a coherent signal directed at your shuttle. Yes, the magnetic currents over the poles should’ve obscured your presence. We may have a problem.
JULIAN: Hang on, it looks like an encrypted subspace signal… but I can’t determine the origin. Stand by, I’m trying- it’s… it’s from Earth. Well, I think I’ve got it. One moment… Jake?
[fade to black]
[CREDITS]
366 notes · View notes
spectrumed · 3 years ago
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10. contact
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The key to success is networking. Oh, God, how am I ever going to succeed? Networking? Talking to other people? Making friends? That’s not me, that’s not me at all. I don’t want to make superficial connections with other people just so that I can one day use my connections to get ahead in life. I don’t want to force myself on others, trying to convince them that I am some decent guy that’s totally worth getting to know and be friends with. I don’t know if you’re going to like me or not. I imagine some people would like to be my friend, and I imagine some people would hate to be my friend. I’d rather just forget about the latter group, and not torture myself trying to make friends with people who are fundamentally at odds who I am as a person. I’d rather have a small circle of close friends than a thousand acquaintances. But the key to success is networking.
I’ll never be an insider. This is not me just doubting myself, not some decision to undermine myself. I know that making statements about things that are impossible for you to achieve comes across as very self-defeating, but I know that I will never be an insider. I will never fit into a social clique. I am not going to be part of the boys’ club, yucking it up with my mates. I’m not going to be in any gangs, no bands, most certainly no crews. I am a solo-player. I prefer to work on my own. All my life, I’ve kept to myself, one way or another. I don’t ask for help. Growing up, my sister used to get a lot of help from my mother with school assignments, because she wanted it and she asked for it. My sister and my mother would spend a lot of time together making sure that my sister’s schoolwork turned out well. Looking over spelling, fixing grammatical errors, making sure that the text was easy to read and had a flow to it. Normal parental stuff, really. Kids are supposed to get help from their parents, it’s part of the learning process, no-one gets by all on their own. Well, except for me. I never asked for help.
I actually found it really unbearable to have my mother look over my schoolwork to see if I made any errors. Not because I am such a horrid narcissist that I refuse to admit that there were any errors, but rather because… well, it felt invasive. Like as if you spot someone spying on you through your window. It made me feel very self-conscious, in a way that I realise now is similar to how I feel when I make eye contact. Yes, I am bad at making eye contact, especially when I am speaking at the same time. I don’t mind making eye contact when you are speaking, but I don’t want to make eye contact with you when I am speaking. Is that funny? Is that odd? Well, the way I feel about it is that eye contact is intimate, it’s almost like touching. It’s mental touching. If you share eye contact with somebody you are sharing a connection. You are mind-touching each other. Oh, well… I guess that maybe it’s not quite like that, but I still don’t find it easy.
At times, I find much of the discussions about neurodiversity online somewhat off-putting. Especially when it comes to those people who are really keen on being all out positive, all the time. Those people who see any shade of negativity as outright hazardous. Don’t bring up the fact that being neurodivergent can be difficult, don’t mention the difficulties that come with being on the autism spectrum. Engage with self-empowerment! Celebrate what makes you different! Go out there and be proud of yourself, be happy about your autism, it is cool to be autistic! And, sure, I understand the importance of injecting optimism into the neurodivergent community. We need optimism, we need to profess our desire to be happy, to show the world that you don’t need to be neurotypical to be content with your life. No-one wants to be around a sourpuss just wallowing in their discontentment. But, sometimes things just suck, okay? Having a positive attitude may project confidence, may make others think you’ve got it together, but be wary when that positive attitude just becomes a mask you hide behind.
Look, we live in a society. Whether you like it or not, you live in a society. We need to rage against this society, because this society is no good. Things may look good to some people, but those people are wrong, and I am right. I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore! Let’s have ourselves a little revolution and see if we can piece a new society together, one that doesn’t commit to the same mistakes as the last one. Oh, wait, how do we do that? And how do we make sure that we win the revolution, we could easily lose, and that might actually just make things worse for us. What if this society we live in got even worse? Yikes, that’s a thought too scary to even really consider. Can things get worse? I don’t want things to get worse. Maybe I just shouldn’t rock the boat. Let’s calm down, and let’s not make any rash decisions here. We can overthrow society at some other point. For now, let’s just have some tea.
Yes, society stinks, but what can you do about it? It is absolutely the case that neurotypical people have it easier navigating modern society than neurodivergent people. Others expect you to function just like they function. If you wish to fit in, you are required to act more neurotypical. People expect that from you. Learn to adapt, to hide amongst them. Trick them. Make them think you are one of them. Be the wolf in sheep’s clothing. They’ll never know the truth of who you are. An outsider that managed to get on the inside. You stand by the watercooler, and by gosh, you make yourself laugh at their jokes even though you’d rather not be there at all. You partake in the small talk, talking about the weather, feigning interest in the footballs, and pretending to be an all-around wholesome compatriot. You’re not at all secretly some kind of anti-social misfit, who’d rather stay at home sitting behind a monitor and playing strategy games on your own. Do you want to come and join your workmates for a drink or two later? Oh, yes, of course you’d like that, but you might need to limit your alcohol intake so that you don’t get too drunk and begin to let the mask slip. It’s too easy getting into hyper-specific rants about obscure topics no normal person would care about when you’re inebriated, so let’s not risk that.
“Be yourself.” Pfth, bah, humbug. Neurotypicals love to state empty platitudes. You don’t want me to be myself. You’ve made it very clear that you don’t want me to be myself. Call me a cynic all you want, but you can’t get nowhere in life simply by being yourself. For better or worse, authenticity is nowhere near as desired as some people make it out to be. Name a single really successful person who is truly themselves. Fake-authenticity does better than the real deal. True sincerity, of the kind that’s naked, shameless, ugly, and challenging, it is difficult to love. And that’s not all bad, it’s just a fact of life. We all need to cover some things about ourselves up, and need to keep some secrets, because that is what is expected from us. Just as we wear clothes to cover up our naked bodies. No shame on the nudists, they’re free to embrace whatever alternative lifestyle they want, but I don’t want to see your naked body. Don’t get nude in front of me. I already struggle with eye contact, I sure wouldn’t struggle less if you stood in front of me nude as well.
Actually, to a certain extent, these social rules we all conform to can actually be quite appreciated by those of us who are on the spectrum. It is easier to know what you must do in a formal social situation than in a casual social situation. Casual people, they’re just so… unpredictable. Sticking their casual bits everywhere, acting like guests at your house who don’t seem to understand that your home is not their home. Even as a kid I hated having friends of mine over at my place. They’d play with my toys, place my toys where they don’t belong, or even worse, they may break some of my toys. Don’t touch that, it’s mine. Don’t put your icky hands on my bed, I sleep there. Don’t rip pages out of that book, it’s my favourite book. Don’t breathe in my room, I breathe in my room. I just can’t handle you coming here and disturbing the peace. I had it all ordered, I knew where everything was, and I liked it. Now you brought with you the forces of chaos, and dealing with that is just now what I had in mind for today.
I could never be a freemason. Sure, I have some good ideas for how to secretly rule the world, but if you’re a freemason, you’re expected to be part of the team. There’s no “I” in freemasonry. The secret cabal that controls all of the world’s governments, they don’t want independent folks like me to show up thinking that I can do my work assignments on my own. The Illuminati is run by a committee. You don’t get far in that world by being some freewheeling bohemian incapable of getting along with others. You don’t establish a New World Order by promoting self-reliance. Institutions are great for those who like to get chummy with their pals, the gregarious sorts who know exactly who to talk to in order to advance in the ranks. You scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours. Favours for favours. One of the reasons why I inherently distrust many institutions is because they are rife with nepotism. You know that whoever gets to sit on the high council of the Illuminati didn’t get there via competency alone. No, they knew a guy, who was cousins with this other guy, who used to work for this guy, and y’know, you pull one string and suddenly there you are on top of the social hierarchy. Most often people get promoted, not because they do good work, but because they happen to know the right people. But again, maybe I’m just being cynical.
I’ve had a recurring fantasy, in the past, of being a lighthouse keeper. Living out somewhere all on my own, not having to deal with any human relationships. Maybe I could befriend a seagull, but even that seems a little too much. Seagulls can be very needy. No, I’d just get on with whatever I’d most like to be doing, writing or making art, just enjoying my solitude. I imagine that the toughest thing about being a lighthouse keeper is the loneliness, but the loneliness is only a plus for me. I’ve long ago decided to like being lonely. I don’t want to face the fact that I too yearn for company, I like to pretend as if I am fine with being alone. So the fantasy of being a lighthouse keeper is perfect for me, I could get far away from society and I could earn a living not having to give a fuck about what others think about me. I could allow myself to get as weird as I would want to get, not having to wash my image, acting like I’m all rational and well-adjusted. It would just be me and my seagull. How simple life would be. Too bad I think most lighthouses are automated, these days.
Maybe being the perpetual malcontent cynic incapable of fitting with mainstream society isn’t all so bad. In some regards, I have made that my brand. Generally, I like to think that I don’t take myself too seriously, but like a lot of people, I’ve turned those edgier parts of my personality into armour that I wear to protect myself from the scorn of others. You can’t accuse me of being a miserable piece of shit when I’ve decided to make being a miserable piece of shit my thing. It’s what I am, and I am not going to change. I’m not really all that mean, or nasty. I am fairly cynical, but I don’t act like some asshole. I don’t think anyone is upset with me for how I act. I’ve only occasionally gotten told off for being too gloomy. But the problem here does not lie with how I end up treating others, but rather how I end up treating myself. I don’t want to make cynicism part of my sense of self. I don’t want to be this person, this misanthrope who only sees problems, and never celebrates the good things in life. I should engage with self-empowerment. I should be happy.
It’s okay being neurodivergent! Sure, you may find other people strange or foreign, with their yapping mouths and their over-eager desire to look you directly in the eyes, but just ignore them! Neurotypicals are just so last century, the future is all neurodivergent! You’re on the right side of history, bud! You’re cool, and radical, and you’re absolutely a sexy little cupcake. You either learn to love yourself, or you lose yourself. Make funny memes, find some online community to be a part of. You can absolutely be a freemason if you want to be a freemason. Don’t let your diagnosis get in your way, so long as you’ve got that inner fire driving you, you can be anything you want to be. Go ahead and rule the world, babe. Remember, what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger, and right now, it’s good vibes only.
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justnerdthings · 4 years ago
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Just a collection of Alex, Echo, and Jo incorrect quotes from a generator.
Jo: Some people are like slinkies. Echo: What? Jo: Not really good for much but bring a smile to your face when you push them down the stairs. Echo: Echo: Please don't push Alex down the stairs. Jo, pushing Alex down the stairs: Too late.
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Alex: A party is a celebration of a life, bringing people together to let the guest of honor know how much they’re loved. Echo has done so much for us. This is our chance to do something for them. Jo: By forcing them to have fun at a party that they don’t want to be at? Alex: I knew you’d understand.
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Alex: We're having a baby. Echo: Oh, congradu- Jo, slamming adoption papers onto the table: It's you, sign here.
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Echo: It’s impossible to make a sentence without using the letter a. Jo: Despite your thinking, it is quite possible, yet difficult, to form one without the specific letter. Here’s one more to further disprove your theory. Alex: Fuck you.
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Echo: *gets a text* Oh! It’s Alex. Jo, excitedly: Did they get me the stuff? Echo: Yeah, they say they got you the clown costume, the power drill, and 12 gallons of blood. Jo: Wow! Where’d they find 12 gallons of fake blood? Echo: You wanted fake blood? Jo: Echo: I’ll go call Alex.
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Alex: Nice rock. Jo: Thanks, Echo gave it to me. Echo: I threw it at you! Jo: Aren't they the sweetest?
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Alex: Who wants to make fifty bucks? Jo: How? Alex: I need someone to take the fall. Jo: What did you do? Alex: I can't tell you. Yes or no, no questions asked. Echo, from the other room: Oh my god. Alex: ... Echo: OH MY GOD! Jo: Make it a hundred. Alex: Deal.
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Echo: So, what is Jo to you? Alex: The reason I wake up every morning. Echo: ...That’s adorable. Jo earlier that morning, barging into Alex′s room, smacking pans together: WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP!!!
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Alex: I mean. Echo's just standing there now. Alex: Waiting for me, I guess. Alex: But it's okay, I think they've pretty much settled down. Jo: Settled down? Alex: Well, they only stabbed me once.
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Jo: Can we go out to get icecream? Alex: Did you ask Echo? Jo: They said no. Alex: Then why did you ask me? Jo: They're not the boss of you. Alex, internally: It's a trap, it's a trap, it's a trap.
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Echo: Would you slap Alex- Jo: Yes. Echo: I didn't even finish! Jo: Sorry, continue. Echo: Would you slap Alex for 10 dollars? Jo: I would do it for free. Alex: Rude...
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Echo: Is this your plan B? Alex: Technically, this is plan P. Echo: Plan P? Is there a plan M? Alex: Yes, but I marry Jo in plan M. Jo: I like plan M.
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Echo: The moon looks beautiful, doesn’t it? Alex, looking at Echo: Yeah… but do you know what’s more beautiful? Echo and Alex in unison: *sighs* Jo
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Alex: So are you gonna explain how the hell you crashed my car? Jo: Well we were driving and there was a deer in the road, so I said "Echo, deer!" Alex: ...And what did Echo do? Jo: ...They said "Yes, Honey?"
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Echo: Did Jo just tell me they loved me for the first time? Alex: Yeah, they did. Echo: And did I just do finger guns back? Alex: Yeah, you did.
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Echo, at Jo: Would you like to stay for dinner? Alex, from the kitchen: Would you like to stay forever!?!
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Echo talking at Alex’s funeral: You do know we’re burying a great person today! Jo, shocked: Did someone else die?
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Echo: Hey I just got a pet snake. What should I name him? Alex: A pet WHAT?! Jo: William Snakespeare.
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Alex: Jo has no survival skills, their need to win has replaced them. Echo: That can't be true! Alex: Watch this. Alex: Hey Jo, race you to the bottom of the stairs! Jo: *Throws themself out a window*
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Alex: What are you guys doing? Echo: Like in life in general or- Jo: Not much. Why, what's up? Alex: I dunno, I’m bored playing AC. Jo: Assassins Creed? Alex: Animals Creed. Echo: Assassins Crossing.
-------------------
Echo: How are we supposed to put a tracker the size of a penny on Alex without them noticing? Jo: Hey, Alex, I bet you 5 bucks that you can't swallow this penny. Alex: *takes and swallows tracker* Pay up, loser. Echo: ...
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Alex: Why is everyone so obsessed with top or bottom? Honestly, I’d just be excited to have a bunk bed. Echo: Echo: I'm gonna tell them. Jo: Don't you dare.
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Echo: What time is it? Jo: I don’t know, pass me that saxaphone and we’ll find out Jo: *BLASTS the saxaphone* Alex: WHO THE FUCK IS PLAYING THE SAXAPHONE AT TWO IN THE FUCKING MORNING Jo: It’s 2 am
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Alex: Would you take a bullet for me? Echo: ...yes? *Jo angrily burst into the room* Alex: *running away* Great, thanks!
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Jo: What makes you think it's okay to watch Hannibal given its subject matter? Echo: Sometimes, I watch television shows for entertainment purposes. Alex: Because I condone murder and cannibalism.
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Alex: Welcome to Fucking Applebees, do you want apples or bees? Echo: Bees? Alex: THEY HAVE SELECTED THE BEES! Echo: Wait- *Jo approaches, shaking a jar of bees menacingly*
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Echo: Jo and I were crossing the street, and this man drove by and honked at us. Alex: What did you do? Echo: Jo chased him to the next red light, and reached into his window, and- Jo: *walking in* Who wants a steering wheel?
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Jo: I lost Echo. Alex: How did you LOSE Echo?! Jo: To be fair, they are very small.
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Echo: Who do we know that has handcuffs? Alex: Well Jo and I- Jo: *elbows Alex* Alex: ...wouldn't know.
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Jo: What’s it like being tall? Jo: Is it nice? Jo: Can you reach comfortably for the cupboards? Alex: We live in constant fear of the short ones who, in my experience, will climb 4 chairs, 2 boxes, a small coffee table and 6 oddly placed stools to get what they want. Echo: It was one time!
-------------------
Jo: I told Alex that their ears turn red when they lie. Echo: Do they? Jo: No. Echo: Then why did you tell them that? Jo: Because I can do this. Jo: Hey Alex! Do you love us? Alex, with their hands over their ears: No.
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Jo: Is Alex always like this when they lose? Echo: Oh, yes. You should've been there for the Great Jenga Tantrum of 2015. Alex: You bumped that table and you know it!
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Alex: Goddamn it, the printer broke while printing out Echo's birthday invitations. Jo: Well, what are they supposed to say? Alex: "Echo's birthday". Jo: So, what do they say instead? Alex: "Echo’s bi". Jo: Jo: Works out either way.
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Echo: Alex got into a fight. Jo: That’s bad. Jo: Jo: Did they win?
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Echo: I’ve never asked someone out. How do you even do it? Jo: Oh, what I do is, I look them up and down and I say: “Hey… how you doin’?” Alex, scoffing: Oh, please. Jo, to Alex: Hey, how you doin’? Alex: Alex: *giggles and blushes*
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Echo: That shirt looks great, Alex. Alex: Thanks. Echo: But I bet it would look even better on Jo's floor. Jo: Are you hitting on Alex... for me?
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Echo: Hey, do you know the password to Alex’s computer? Jo: Fuck you, Echo. Echo: Hey!! Jo: No, you misunderstood, the password is "fuckyouEcho". Echo: Oh, no numbers? Not very safe.
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Jo: Hi, sorry I’m late. I was doing a couple of things and got distracted. Alex: I’m “a couple of things”. Echo: I’m “got distracted”.
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*playing twister* Echo: Right hand red. Jo: *ends up on top of Alex* Alex: You're doing this on purpose, aren't you? Echo: I stopped spinning like 15 minutes ago. Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't notice.
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Jo: Where are my fucking keys? Alex: Jo, Echo is around, can you say it a little nicer? Jo: May I ascertain the whereabouts of my FUCKING KEYS?!
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Alex: A sprite is anything not static. Echo: A sprite is a variable object, be it 2d or 3d. Jo: A sprite is a fucking soda. Jo: You god damn geekass bastards.
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Jo: Echo! What did I tell you about lying? Echo, looking down: ...That it only works on Alex.
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Echo: What are you writing? Alex: The government wants to know what kind of weapons we have in the house. I'm letting them know it's private information. Jo, looking over Alex's shoulder: This just says 'fuck around and find out' in calligraphy.
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Echo: Why would you think any of this was a good idea?! Alex: Probably because I’m a dangerous sociopath with a long line of violence. Echo: Oh... Jo, from across the room: I don’t understand how you keep forgetting that.
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Alex: If you get in trouble, I'm gonna be like... a lawyer to you. Ok? Echo: Okay. *later* Jo: Echo! Sit down on the chair, you're in trouble. Alex, whispering: Deny everything. Echo, loudly: That isn't a chair.
------------------
Jo: Why do you let me win when we race up the stairs? You’re the faster one. Alex: Erm... it’s nice see your smile when you win! *later* Jo: They're probably just staring at my ass, aren't they. Echo: Yeah, probably.
-------------------
Echo: *speaking Spanish* Jo: I know, I know. Alex: You speak Spanish? Jo: No. I just know the phrase, 'this is all your fault' in every language Echo speaks.
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Jo: Alex, what are you doing? Alex: Making chocolate pudding. Jo: It's four in the morning, why are you making chocolate pudding? Alex: Because I've lost control of my life. Alex: Here's your pudding, Echo. Echo: Oh that's okay, I'm not hungry anymore.
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Alex: I know you love them. Echo: I am not in love with Jo! Alex, staring at Echo: I never said who... Echo: *realizes* Echo: Shit. Well, anyways-
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Echo: Coca Cola can remove rust from metal, imagine what it’s doing to your body. Jo: Pfff, getting rid of the rust, idiot. Echo: THAT'S NOT HOW IT WORKS! Alex: Hmm... I've been drinking soda and my body's rust free... not sure where you're getting your facts from...
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Jo: Yo dumbass, get over here. Echo: Okay- Alex: *gleefully runs past* I’m coming! Echo, sadly: I thought... I was dumbass...
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Jo: But what about Alex? Echo: Don't worry about them. Echo: I once watched them fall down 5 flights of stairs, stand up, and keep eating their hotdog like nothing happened.
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Echo: I hope you have an explanation for this. Alex: We have three actually- Jo: Pick your favorite.
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Alex, to Echo: You know, Jo can be really aggressive, so it's important to take all the necessary precautions when approaching. Alex: *blows airhorn at Jo* GET FUCKED!
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Echo & Alex: *accidentally set the kitchen on fire* Echo: We need an adult! Alex: Echo, you are an adult! Echo: We need an adultier adult! Get Jo!
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Jo: Are you a painting? Alex: What-? Jo: Because I want to pin you to a wall. Echo: OH GOD I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO SAY YOU WANTED TO HANG THEM OR SOMETHING-
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Alex, bursting into the room: You two are having sex! Jo, not looking up from their book: Really? Echo, why didn’t you tell me? I would have put my book down.
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Alex, excitedly: Heeyy!! Echo: Hey, someone's excited. Jo, deadpan: Yeah, and it's making me sick.
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Echo: When Alex has daiquiris they get really into how beautiful they are. Alex: Hey, I dare you guys to dare us to make out. Jo: Hey Alex, you know that’s a mirror, right?
-------------------
@chadillacboseman @roofgeese
12 notes · View notes
fallingstarnovel · 4 years ago
Text
Chapter Three
That Monday, when he got to the lecture hall, he glared at Aliya for the entire time. She was visibly avoiding his gaze, tugging down her hair so she wouldn't make eye contact with him.
After it ended, he quickly walked over to her, coughing loudly from behind his fist.
"So. Judas comes to face his crimes."
Aliya turned and gave him a pitying look. "I'm really sorry! I completely forgot I had a revision session in the morning and I had to prepare for it. I felt so guilty."
Evan glared at her for another second – before rolling his eyes with a smile. He was a benevolent kind of person when he wanted to be. "It's fine."
"You sounded like you had a good time," Aliya teased him. “Your texts were indecipherable.”
"Uh. I think I did." He pulled a face as he failed to remember literally anything about how he got home. "It’s all kind of a blur. There was this girl..."
Aliya's eyes went wide. "There was?"
"Ah, shut up, she just said a bunch of stuff at me and then... Hm. I don't remember much after that, but clearly nothing weird happened since I got home safe and fully dressed."
Aliya tutted. "This is why I don't drink. Sounds kind of scary."
Evan opened his mouth to say something like "you get used to it", but then he remembered that he was trying to be normal and closed his mouth again. "Yeah. Haha, a little. I'm not sure you would have enjoyed the party. It was loud and everyone was off their faces."
"Maybe. I'm glad you were okay, though. And you got home safe."
Evan smiled. By now, they were long outside the lecture hall and were walking through campus. Students were rushing from building to building, or walking in groups and chattering away together. So many people who were meant to be here. They all looked like they were right at home.
There was a flash of black in the corner of his vision. Evan turned his head automatically, only to see the black cat from a few days ago sprawled across a wall. It was staring at him with green eyes, unblinking and imperious.
"Oh, it's the university cat," he said to Aliya. "Look."
"Aww. I'm more of a dog person," she said bluntly.
The cat's eyes narrowed in disgust.
Evan was about to go over and pet it when he heard someone say his name over his shoulder. He looked behind him, only to see a boy with curly blond hair and an angelic smile. He was looking at the cat with a strangely intense gaz, before snapping back to smile at Evan.
"Ruth!" he said. "Hey!"
Ruth waved. "Hello again. You look like you've recovered from Friday night."
Wait. Wait a minute... Evan squinted at him, before feeling his face flush red. Was Ruth there as well?! He didn’t remember seeing him at all!! He laughed awkwardly. "I am. So sorry. I don't remember a lot. I was... very drunk."
Ruth nodded. "I was. I thought you might have difficulty remembering."
Aliya's eyebrows inched up her forehead, right into her hijab. Evan realised that he had been quite rude, and quickly introduced her. "This is my terrible friend from Astro. She invited me to the party and then left me to die."
"I'm Aliya," she said, elbowing him in the stomach subtly.
Ruth gave her a polite nod, before turning his attention back to Evan. "I hope you don't mind that I let myself into your house. You seemed very worried that I was going to harvest your organs."
"You were the one who took me home?!” Evan yelped, feeling the blood rush all the way to the tips of his ears. “Oh, haha, what? Haha, so weird," Evan said, feeling himself dying of mortification again. "Thank you so much. I don't mind at all. That was really nice of you. Usually I just stumble home by myself, you know? God, sorry, I must have been so annoying to handle."
Ruth shook his head, his hair tumbling around his ears. "You weren't annoying at all. You were very sweet, like a well behaved child."
Evan wanted the ground to swallow him whole. "Haha, that's good. Still, I'm so sorry. Thank you. Augh."
How was he so bad at this?
An idea occurred to him. He quickly started rummaging in his pockets. "Wait, wait, I think I owe you a coffee for saving my life twice now. I don't have a lecture for a while, so..."
Ruth looked at him in surprise. There was a yawning moment of silence in which Evan questioned everything that made him ask that question and wondered if it was too late to change his name and move to Mexico.
But then Ruth smiled. "I think I owe you one instead. You spilled yours last time."
"In that case, I'll pay for yours and you pay for mine, and we can call that even," Evan laughed, feeling relief flood through him.
There was a polite cough from behind him. "Well, I have a study group to get to, so," Aliya said, shooting Evan a knowing smile. "I'll let you two go have fun. See you, Evan."
Evan felt a little bit guilty at accidentally muscling Aliya out of the conversation. He waved her goodbye and turned back to Ruth, and all his guilt was forgotten. Ruth's smile was blinding. There were two little dimples in his cheeks. Wow, he didn’t know anyone in real life with dimples.
"Let's go," he said, inclining his head in the direction of the coffee shop, and off they went.
Evan watched Ruth over his coffee while trying to look like he was doing no such thing.
Ruth was fascinating. He had a very handsome face, with eyes that could have been carved into one of those old statues they kept in the museums of Rome. His movements were all graceful and deliberate, from the way he stirred his coffee to the way he unwrapped his blue scarf from around his neck.
He was also tall. Evan wasn't short – okay, he was kind of short – but Ruth made him feel like a god damn manlet.
"So," he said, because he felt the need to fill the silence with something, "what course are you on?"
"Actually, I'm a part time student."
"Eh, no way. I didn't know you could do an undergrad part time!"
Ruth smiled and shrugged. "I have a job on the side. It takes up a lot of my time. I suppose the university understood I had other commitments."
Evan blinked. "Wow. Must be an intense job."
"You have no idea," Ruth said, something steely glinting in his grey eyes. "But it's rewarding."
"Is it why you skip so many lectures?"
Ruth nodded. Evan couldn't hold back his curiosity.
"Then what is it?"
Supermodel? Secret agent? Government official? What was important enough that the university would let him mess around with the schedule like this?
Ruth just winked at him, and Evan immediately upgraded all his guesses. Eldest son of a mob boss. Heir to the CEO of a huge corporation. A superhero in disguise as a student.
"That's fine. I didn't want to know anyway," Evan lied. "I bet it's something boring like business management."
Ruth ran his finger along his cup, his eyes flickering down to the table. "In a way, I suppose you're not far off."
"So... why astrophysics?"
"No reason, really. I just felt something pulling me here. That's all."
Wow! Such a free spirit! This guy was definitely some kind of billionaire. Only a rich person could afford to come to university on a whim and then spend half his time doing something else instead. Evan, who thought coffee was a fancy treat, tried to contain his jealousy and failed.
They drank their drinks in companionable silence. Evan was full of questions, but he didn’t want it to seem like he was interrogating his new friend. He was just curious!
“Do you... go to a lot of student parties?”
Ruth shrugged. “Not generally.”
“Oh. Aside from last night, I guess. Um... actually, about last night... I was wondering about what exactly happened.”
Ruth went still. “Yes?”
“Was I... alright? When did I go home?”
“I found you upstairs in someone’s bedroom with a few people. It looked like you were playing some kind of game that involved kissing,” Ruth replied. “You seemed very uncomfortable with the situation. Did I misread that?”
A kissing game. What the hell. Evan hadn’t played one of those for years. He wondered who he was smooching when Ruth discovered him. So deeply, horrifically embarrassing.
“I have no idea,” Evan replied with a shrug. “I don’t really remember if I was comfortable or not.”
There was a faint frown colouring Ruth’s pleasant smile. “Then I’m glad I was there regardless. There should be no room for doubt with things like this.”
“Hah, in an ideal world. In my experience, there’s always doubt. You just kind of have to move on afterwards.”
Ruth’s throat bobbed, but he didn’t say anything else. His coffee was steaming so much that it fogged up Evan’s glasses, and he took them off with a chuckle to clean them. “Wow, look at that,” he said, desperate to change the subject. “It’s that time of the year where I go blind every time I enter a warm room. You don’t wear contacts, right?”
Ruth, still speechless, shook his head. Oh, this was awkward. Evan got the horrible feeling that he had messed up somewhere.
“So lucky. Well, hah, look at the time. I should start heading to my next lecture.”
He didn’t have a next lecture. That was a lie. But he really didn’t want to hurt the poor guy’s feelings. He started gathering his stuff slowly, trying not to look like he was rushing out of there. Ruth let out a deep breath, before reaching across to lightly touch Evan’s wrist. His skin was very hot from where it had been holding his coffee cup.
“The next time you go to a party,” he said quietly, “take me with you.”
“Sorry?” Evan said, certain that he misheard.
“Take me too. I, ah.. I’m actually quite nervous around people. And I find it difficult to go alone. It would be... nice to have a friend to go with.”
“Oh, dude, me too,” Evan said, giving him a reassuring smile. “I have mad social anxiety. I actually don’t get invited to a lot of things like that anymore, but if I do, I guess I’ll text you and see if you’re free?”
Ruth nodded, his hand slipping off Evan’s wrist.
“Thanks.”
“It’s no worries. We can be anxious buds together.”
With a slow incline of his head, Ruth signalled that he would like that, and Evan felt some of his nervousness settle somehow. It was a surprisingly soothing gesture.
“Well. See you at the next one.”
“See you then.”
And then Evan rushed off to hide in the library for a couple of hours so Ruth wouldn’t see him walking around campus when he was supposed to be in a fake lecture instead.
Evan was getting out of the shower when he noticed something black flash in the corner of his vision. He whirled around, rubbing shampoo out of his eyes, visions of getting murdered by some opportunistic shower murderer running through his brain.
However, when he looked around, there was nothing there. He swore he saw something, though. Something in the reflection of the bathroom tiles near his back.
When he was done, he stopped by the mirror in the hallway and checked his body just in case the black thing had been a huge house spider or something. It wouldn’t be the first time that he had a spider fall on him in the shower. Usually they washed down the sinkhole, leaving Evan shivering and feeling strangely violated, but what if this one managed to cling onto his naked skin?
There was no spider. Instead, sprawling across Evan’s lower back like a trampstamp was a sprawling, intricate black tattoo, formed from archaic lettering and symbolism that he couldn’t read.
“Hey, what the fuck,” he said into the empty house.
Having no housemates meant that he couldn’t run into anybody’s room and ask them to read whatever the hell it now said on his back. He tried rubbing at it, but nothing happened. It didn’t even feel weird or raised. It just felt like skin, and it didn’t budge.
Not even soap or nail polish remover got it off his back. It was like ink had sunk into his skin and stuck there overnight.
Evan was, understandably, more than a little freaked out.
> HEY UHHH SO > sent: image_5473843.jpg > ???
wow, that’s a really interesting tattoo!! when did you get it? <
> well you see that’s the thing aliya. i didn’t. > i do not know where this tattoo came from. ummm > i am freaking out a little!!
wh??! < you mean it just....??? appeared?? <
> yeah?? i literally do not remember getting any tattoo there??! ever?
you do have a lot of tattoos... are you sure you didn’t forget about one of them? <
> you don’t just forget about a tattoo!! > okay actually. sometimes you do. BUT NOT THIS BIG. THIS IS A TRAMP STAMP > I WOULD NEVER GET A TRAMP STAMP > oh god what if this happened while i was drunk at that party
ok calm down do you want me to come over and look at it? <
> no, it’s fine. i’ll just. ???? hhhhhhhhh > wait, there is something you can do! can you get me the numbers of uhh. fuck what was their name uhhh Tree. Branch > ROCK > and there was this girl who dressed like a goth, they were both at the party, can you ask your netball friends if they have their numbers? they might know what happened?? i guess? help?
i’ll ask around babe x sorry about this maybe go to the police? <
> they’ll just say i was drunk and there was nothing they could do. but thank you anyway i really appreciate this. sorry for bothering you
no need to apologise at all xx hoping you’re okay xx message me whenever you like <
Evan examined the tattoo in the mirror again. Now that the shock had worn off... well. Aliya was right. He already had so many tattoos. Most of them were already stupid ones he got on a whim. So even if he didn’t ask for this one... it was okay, right? It wasn’t so bad.
It was even kind of cool, in an old-school, mall goth kind of way. Spidery webbing and dots of red ink in what he thought might have been flowers of some kind. He tried to take a photo with his phone, but his hands kept shaking, so he just kept getting blurry pictures of his ass. Not ideal, honestly.
With a sigh, he stretched out on his bed and examined his older tattoos. His favourite one was still the navy outline of a falling star stretching down his inner arm towards his hand. It was his first proper one that he got done at a real tattoo parlour. A lot of the earlier ones were... well, the less said about how close he got to a skin infection, the better.
With a sigh, he tugged on a long sleeved shirt from his closet. Until he could work out why he suddenly had that black monstrosity on the back of his hips, he wasn’t sure he wanted to accidentally keep catching glimpses of it in every reflective surface.
Wait a minute. There was someone else there at the party. Someone who might have seen something that could help.
He opened up the messages from the unknown number and prayed that it was who he hoped it was.
> heyyy ruth i hope this is you!! haha hi
The reply came back about half an hour later, which was just long enough for Evan to overthink everything that had ever happened to him.
It’s me. Rest assured. :) <
Oh god. How to word this?
> well i’m doing good actually i’m you know. chilling! > actually there was something i wanted to ask you > please excuse the ass in this photo!!!!!
The what. <
> sent: image_5473843.jpg
Who did this. <
> funny question! i don’t know > i was hoping you could help???
I’m coming over. <
> no, i meant like do you remember seeing anyone at the party with a tattoo gun or a stick and poke or something?? you don’t have to come over sorry i don’t want to be a bother
You’re not a bother. I’m coming over. <
Well. Fuck. Evan panicked and threw on a pair of sweats and a hoodie, and then felt stupid, because presumably Ruth was going to come and look at the tattoo. Maybe he should wear nicer clothes? Did he have time to tidy his room?
> are you sure haha i don’t want to inconvenience you!!!
I was in the area anyway. It’s okay if you don’t want me to come over. But I have an idea about what happened. < Sorry. I know this must be alarming. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. <
Evan thought about it. Well. It was the only lead he had.
> sure why not come on over
I’m outside. <
The doorbell rang.
***
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13 notes · View notes
chubbyreaderwriter · 5 years ago
Text
Matchmaker
Mycroft Holmes x Chubby/Plus Size Reader
Prompt:  Could you write a one-shot where the reader is a dectective in Scotland yard, who met sherlock for the first time recently and sherlock still knowing that his brother is lonely decides that she would be a perfect fit for him and tries to set her and mycroft up... Basically I'm looking for a sherlock plays matchmaker.
Word Count: 2.6k
Warnings: none? 
Masterlist 
Tumblr media
“So dead man on the floor, house ransacked, what do you think?...Sherlock? Sherlock!” Said man jumped out of his trance and turned to face Lestrade who was looking at him with frustration, “Well?” Sherlock rolled his eyes, “Come on Garret, this is easy even for you, wedding ring missing from the finger, seemingly half the possessions gone, absence of any pictures. It was the wife if you couldn’t see that already. Now enough about that, who’s she?” Greg sighed and rubbed his face with his hand before looking over to where Sherlock was facing, “Detective (L/N)? What about her?” 
Sherlock said nothing, just observed you and Greg looked at John next to him. The former soldier just shrugged, “I don’t question it anymore Greg, I’m sorry.” Greg looked at Sherlock, then you, then back to Sherlock, “You like her or summit?” Sherlock hummed in approval, “Not for me.” John chuckled from how confusing his friend was being but like he said, he didn’t question it. 
Without a word of warning, Sherlock made his way over to you, “Hi, I have a proposition for you which I have no doubt you’d be interested in. I would like to have you accompany a friend of mine to an evening meal. Judging by the past few failed relationships, you don’t like being lonely, even if you know you’re not compatible. But you’ve been making more of an effort in your appearance lately which can only mean you’re looking for another relationship.” You chuckled to yourself, “And you must be Sherlock. Given what people say about you, the last thing I expected you to be doing was setting me up on a date.” 
Sherlock huffed impatiently, “Yes yes, now will you go on the date or not?” He clasped his hands together, a silent plead for you to accept. You thought it over for a few moments, could it really hurt to try it out? And you doubted someone who called themselves a detective would actively put you in danger so what was the harm? Nodding your head, “Okay fine, but you owe me.” Sherlock scoffed but shook your hand, “Deal, here’s your phone back, I’ll text you with the details.” You were shocked but mostly confused when Sherlock gave you your phone back, when did he take it from you? You weren’t really mad at him though, he had given you something to be excited about. 
It had been a while since you had any excuse to dress up for an occasion and Sherlock had just presented it to you on a silver platter. Normally, you wouldn’t agree to this kind of thing but it had been difficult to date because of your new job now, being a detective was a turn off for most men, it seemed like. 
. . .
“A what?” Sherlock rolled his eyes at his older brother, “A date, I know it’s been a while but you must remember what a date is.” Mycroft let out a sigh of frustration, “And what makes you think you can meddle with my love life like this?” Sherlock looked at Mycroft, “Oh get over yourself, you’re lonely and you know it, I’m just trying to help. Maybe then you won’t be so...you.” Mycroft glared at Sherlock, “Listen brother mine, how many times do I have to tell you that I am not lonely. I do not need you to be playing matchmaker for me, if I wanted to be in a relationship, I could easily go out and find myself one.” 
Sherlock accidentally snorted from holding back a laugh, “You really think so?” At the sight of his brother’s anger, Sherlock calmed down, “Just go on the date, you’ll thank me later, she’s lovely.” Mycroft gritted his teeth, “Who is ‘she’?” Sherlock texted his brother a picture of you that he had taken from your Facebook profile, “Her name is (Y/N) (L/N) and she works with Graham.” Mycroft frowned, “Who is Graham?” Sherlock looked down at his phone as he started flicking through twitter, “Oh you know Graham, Scotland Yard, grey hair, could stand to lose a few pounds.” Mycroft leaned back in his chair, “You mean Greg Lestrade.” Sherlock nodded, “That’s what I said.” 
Sherlock turned and left his brother’s office, but Mycroft shouted after him, “Where am I supposed to be going?!” He didn’t hear a response but his phone vibrated to show a text from Sherlock with the time and address. He sighed as he rubbed his face with his hand, why did he have a feeling he was going to regret this? Mycroft was tempted to just refuse to go on the date to annoy his brother but as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was lonely and a little companionship might be nice for once. Spending each night alone in his large, empty house was getting rather tiring over time. 
. . . 
You had been told to dress ‘fancy’ so you had worn your best dress in your closet, a long sleeved, off the shoulder light pink knee length dress that flattered your body by making your waist seem smaller to give you more of an hourglass shape. You had your hair styled just how you liked it and you had decided to wear heels for this date because you didn’t want to risk seeming under-dressed and you didn’t have any flats that would match the dress. You had a small clutch that had your purse, some makeup and perfume in, as well as your keys. 
You had taken a taxi to the address Sherlock had given and you were not surprised to see a very fancy restaurant, one that looked more intimidating than anything else. You weren’t sure what to do but luckily as you were stood staring at the building, you heard someone clear their throat next to you. You turned to see a man dressed in a suit and had an umbrella with them? It hadn’t been raining but you decided not to question it. You smiled at them, “Hello,” 
Mycroft had been a little taken aback when he saw you, you almost seemed too good to be true. He was never someone who had much preference for looks, but you were just so beautiful. He could tell by the look on your face that you had never been here before and were nervous, symptoms of a blind date he presumed. He walked over to you and cleared his throat to get your attention and when you smiled at him, he almost forgot what to say, you had such a captivating smile. When you started to look weary of him, he realised he actually had to say something to you, “My apologies, I don’t suppose you’re here because of Sherlock?” Your shoulders dropped slightly in relief, “Yes I am, are you my date for this evening?” 
Mycroft nodded in agreement and held out his arm for you to take. While the date wasn’t his idea, he was still going to be a gentleman. Your nerves started again when you walked inside the building, it was all so elegant and posh and you felt really out of place in here. You bit your bottom lip as you looked around, half listening to your date talk to the hostess. It was then that you realised you didn’t know his name yet. When the two of you were taken to a table, you cleared your throat, “I’m (Y/N) by the way, it’s nice to meet you,” Mycroft hummed, “Likewise, I’m Mycroft.” Your eyes widened a little, “Mycroft? That’s an unusual name isn’t it? I like it though.” 
Mycroft studied over you, trying to pick up on all the deductions he could about you but he seemed to have a little trouble concentrating and everything was a bit of a blur. You leaned forward a little, “So how do you know Sherlock?” Mycroft straightened in his seat, “He’s my little brother?” Mycroft could see the amusement in your face, “Really? What’s it like having a genius for a brother?” Mycroft scoffed, “I wouldn’t say he’s a genius, I’ve always considered myself the smartest between us.” You could help but chuckle a little to yourself and when you saw Mycroft’s confused and partially offended expression, you explained yourself, “If you were really that smart, you would’ve noticed that I’d rather have this date anywhere but here. I’m not made for fine dining.” 
Normally, this would have annoyed Mycroft, not being able to see something as obvious as this. But you intrigued him so he was more focused on learning more about you. He waited until there was the least amount of people watching and then grabbed your hand, leading you outside of the restaurant, “Where do you propose we go now?” You turned to him and looked at him with a curious expression, “You want to go watch a movie together?” Mycroft hummed, “It depends on the types of movies you prefer.” You smiled, “I like old movies.” “Hm, then I believe I have something to show you.” And that was how you found yourself being driven to Mycroft’s house.
It was weird that you didn’t feel uncomfortable around him, you didn’t feel scared of him or felt any bad vibes from him. He was surprised to feel oddly at ease with you as well, he felt like he could tell you anything despite having known each other for a very limited time. When you arrived at Mycroft’s house, you were taken back by the size of it, “My god, are you some kind of secret billionaire? Where do you work?” You giggled to yourself as you looked around the walls and ceilings, taking it all in. Mycroft had disappeared into the kitchen for a small while but could hear you talking as he came back with wine and two glasses, “I work for the British government.” 
You stopped in your awe, “Are you serious? That’s pretty cool.” Mycroft felt a sudden burst of pride at how easily you were impressed with him. He smirked to himself, “I suppose so, may I ask you a question?” You gladly took the glass of wine from his hand and took a drink, “Go ahead,” “What were your first impressions of me?” You walked closer to Mycroft, “Well, I thought you looked a little fancy and uptight and I still do, but you looked like a man who was lonely in my opinion. Very cute though.” You winked at him over the rim of your glass as you took another drink and Mycroft for once, didn’t have anything to say. 
You smiled at him, “Go on then, what did you think of me?” Mycroft cleared his throat and looked down at his own glass of wine, “I thought you looked beautiful, a little intimidated but someone who wasn’t afraid.” You blushed from his words and the two of you were lost in a moment between the two of you just looking into each other’s eyes. You hadn’t realised the two of you started to get closer until he was almost touching you. You cleared your throat, “So what was it you wanted to show me?” 
It was like the two of you were pulled out of a trance as Mycroft blinked and moved back one step to create some distance between the two of you. He walked down the corridor to lead you into his ‘theater room’ which looked like a small cinema in your opinion. You were in total awe of this man and his house, it was so big and fancy you were almost scared. Mycroft had you sit in a seat next to him when your eyes caught the projector, “I haven’t seen one of those in absolutely ages, my parents used to have one when I was a kid.” Mycroft smiled briefly at you as he set it up, your attention being directed in front of you when the light flashed on, illuminating the dark room. 
You had been excited to watch the movie and you had to stop yourself from laughing when you saw Mycroft mouthing the words along with the actors out of the corner of your eye. You were having such a good time, you almost didn’t want it to end. It was halfway through the movie that ,Mycroft put his hand up on the chair arm and didn’t realise your hand was already there until he felt it underneath his own. He was a little embarrassed about it and wasn’t sure what to do, should he keep it there? Should he take it away? Just as he was about to pull his hand away, he felt your fingers slowly wrap around his own, holding his hand. Mycroft felt his heart beat rising as he in turn held your hand and you smiled to yourself, only half focusing on the movie now. 
It was disappointing when the projector stopped as the movie was over, that meant you had to let go of Mycroft’s hand while he got up to turn off the device. You stood up and stretched, the chair had been comfy but it was awkward to sit in the same position for a long time. You smiled at Mycroft after you checked your phone to see the time, “It’s getting late, I suppose I should head home.” Mycroft was unable to hide his disappointment in your words, but it was going to happen sooner or later. He was surprised to see how close he felt with you after knowing you for so little time. 
Mycroft called his driver to take you home, wanting to ensure that you got home safely. “Are you sure? I can just get a cab, it’s not too much trouble.” “Please, I insist on it,” You had begrudgingly accepted his offer and the two of you waited at his front door until the car pulled up. You turned to face Mycroft, “I had a wonderful time you know.” Mycroft nodded, “As did I,” You opened your mouth to say something the same time as Mycroft and you lightly chuckled, “Oh sorry, you first,” “No, please, I’d hate to interrupt.” You bit your lip before you asked, “Would you perhaps like to do this again sometime?” Mycroft had been hoping that’s what you were going to say, “It would be my pleasure.” 
You blushed a little and looked at him for a moment before standing up on the tips of your toes to kiss him on the cheek, he was a lot taller than you. Quickly, you turned around and walked over to get into the car, not looking at him until you were inside so he couldn’t see you through the tinted windows. You relaxed against the leather seats, letting out a deep breath. Your head had just touched the back of the seat when your phone buzzed. Curious to see who was texting you, you pulled it out of your clutch and read the notification on the lock screen. It simply read, “Had a nice date? - SH” You shook your head but grinned at the message before turning your phone off again, putting it back in your bag. What a weird day. 
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auncyen · 4 years ago
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started writing Maruki/Rumi for V-Day, stalled slightly on how to progress the not-quite-date (Shibusawa third-wheeling lol) but I’ve gotten far enough (2k!) that I want to share what I did get down.
half-cute half-angsty half-devoted to dragging Maruki because he’s sweet but he’s a mess lol
-
Maruki pulled into the Shibuya scramble with his eyes wide open for Amamiya-kun and the other Phantom Thieves.  He'd gotten a text from Amamiya-kun that he wanted one last meeting before he left Tokyo, and if that were the case, Maruki couldn't refuse.  Nor did he want to.  He'd stayed away, aware that Amamiya-kun had enough reason to want no further contact, but on his own side...Maruki had nothing but respect and admiration for the teenager who had used his year of probation from an unjust arrest to right so many other injustices in Japan.  Even if it turned out Amamiya-kun wanted nothing more than to receive an apology in-person, Maruki would happily give it so that he could move on.
As it turned out when the former counselor spotted the group, it seemed Amamiya-kun might want something more practical.  The kids had borrowed a white van that was currently stopped on the side of the road.  Most of them were still in the car, Niijima-san in the driver's seat, but Amamiya-kun, Morgana-kun, and Sakamoto-kun were gathered in front of the vehicle's open hood.  Engine trouble?  And other trouble as well, it seemed, when Maruki took note of a worried look from Takamaki-san in a completely different direction.  He followed her gaze and spotted a dark car parked farther off, occupied by two men in suits.  Were they being followed?  The Phantom Thieves were still notorious, apparently...
Making up his mind, Maruki slipped through the traffic in the scramble to pull up closer to them.  "Need a hand?" he called, pressing a button to neatly pop open the back door of the taxi on Amamiya-kun's side.  Hm...strange.  Morgana-kun was no longer perched on Amamiya-kun's shoulder--had he just dropped down to the street, below sightline, or had he decided to get back in the van?  Maruki had assumed that Morgana-kun would accompany Amamiya-kun back to his hometown, given their inseparability during the school year, but now he wondered if he would have two passengers or only one.
Or none at all.  Amamiya-kun approached the taxi, but simply pushed the door closed again.  "Thanks," he said as Maruki rolled down the window, "but we've got things handled."
"You're sure?  Even with..."  Maruki glanced in the direction of the dark car and the presumed government agents.  But perhaps the Phantom Thieves had a contact whose help they preferred--Sakura-san had glanced at him once, but her attention now seemed devoted to her phone, on which she was rapidly texting.
"Positive," Amamiya-kun said.  "Besides, I think you'll have another passenger soon."
Maruki laughed, a bit uncertain.  "I'm not on the clock," he told Amamiya-kun.  "Well, I was, but I'm taking a break."
"You don't want to miss this fare."
The confidence in Amamiya-kun's voice got Maruki to glance to his other side, wondering if someone was trying to hail him, but no one stood out--and who would be more important than Amamiya-kun, at the moment?  He'd promised him a meeting.  "...You've lost me.  But if I'm in the way, I'll--"
"Dr. Maruki.  You might need to update your glasses if you're driving for a living.  Look again, please."
Amamiya-kun smirked as he spun his pointer finger in a lazy circle, prompting Maruki to once again look away from him, out the driver's side.  He scanned farther now, now sure he was meant to spot someone...oh.  His friend Shibusawa was still at a distance, but crossing the scramble toward him, strolling alongside a woman who--
Maruki's breath hitched.  Her outfit was new, and her hair had grown out a little, soft choppy waves nearly touching her shoulders, but its shade of dark red was instantly recognizable, as was the face it framed.  He blinked quickly, sure he was seeing wrong, but he couldn't stop himself from murmuring: "Ru..."
She looked well.  Alert, aware of the world around her.  She was looking around the scramble herself, and pulled up short when she caught sight of him, prompting a laugh from Shibusawa as he urged her along.
Wait...wait.  Why would she react like that?  He was a taxi driver with ordinary looks.  Why should seeing him surprise her?  Their conversation at the hospital had been so long ago, and he doubted his stilted bumbling would have made a favorable impression, let alone a memorable one.  So why...why was she straying from scramble's crosswalk, closely followed by Shibusawa, coming straight toward him?
Dumbly, Maruki thought: ‘she's coming toward the taxi, not you.  Amamiya-kun mentioned a fare.  She needs a ride.’  He knew that didn't add up, was far too coincidental, but he couldn't get his mind wrapped around the sight of Rumi actually in front of him, looking uncertain, which made his heart hurt, but also looking at him like she wanted to talk to him, like she knew him, which had him ready to pull out his heart and back out over it the minute she asked if he could take her somewhere and reminded him he was just a stranger, just a strange taxi driver who'd been staring far too long--
"She remembers," a voice said quietly.  Amamiya-kun seemed to be taking pity on him.  "At least, enough that she wanted to meet you again.  That's one desire I think you should grant."
"Mren!  Gah th' plug!" a higher-pitched, strangely muffled voice said.  Maruki heard something being spat out, and then Morgana-kun's voice became clearer: "Ohhh, there's Rumi!  She really is pretty!  Cognition tends to embellish, you know."
If any part of Maruki had been able to think clearly past the question of "how could Rumi remember?", it was instantly demolished by the reminder that all of the teenagers currently watching him had been inside his mind and yes, must have seen quite a bit of Rumi.
(There had been statues.  She deserved them, yes, but that didn't keep his face from heating up.)
Shibusawa called out and waved, and Rumi waved as well, if more shyly, still with uncertainty, and Maruki heard a reprimand along the lines of "that is your lady love, how can you sit there like a lump?" interrupted by "no pressure, Dr. Maruki.  Morgana, let them figure it out" and then he fully appreciated that Morgana-kun had a point.  He was just sitting like a lump, and he scrambled to open the door and stand to meet Rumi, except he'd forgotten to take his seatbelt off, and while he fumbled with the button to get free he heard a boy guffaw before making a half-hearted attempt to stifle the laughter--Sakamoto-kun.
At least Maruki's brief stint at Shujin had gotten him used to embarrassing himself in front of teenagers.  When he was at last unbelted and out of the car, even Shibusawa looked faintly amused, but Rumi...
Rumi's smile was so warm, and some of the nervousness had left her face, leaving a fondness that Maruki nearly found overwhelming.  He didn't deserve it.  Still, he found his tongue so that he could at least greet her.  "Hello, Rumi.  It's been a while," he said, and maybe he shouldn't have said that, because her expression flickered, becoming a little quieter.  He tried to move on quickly, though it was difficult to know what to talk about when he still didn't understand how she was even here.  "Have you been well?"
"I'm fine, Takuto," she answered.  "What about you?  You're a taxi driver now?  How did that happen?"
Her tone was polite, but Maruki was sure there was a plethora of questions behind it.  Rumi knew--or at least she had known, and she seemed to remember now--how dedicated he'd been to cognitive psience and his research, wanting to find ways to help victims of trauma.  She must be wondering what had pushed him to leave the field, and that was a heavy subject, especially since it started with what he'd done to her. He'd tell her, of course.  It was just a matter of figuring out how, and the appropriate time, which wasn't in the middle of the scramble.  "Ah, well," Maruki said.  "You know how it can be in academia--sometimes the funding just isn't there."  Half-truth for now; it was, at least, what had pushed him out of research and into counseling.
But it wasn't enough.  He needed to tell her what he'd done, if she hadn't already figured it out, and apologize.
Shibusawa had been watching the two of them, but he glanced up as the Phantom Thieves' van rumbled to life.  Maruki let himself look as well.  "Nice job!  On the first try!" Niijima-san was praising someone.  Most of the teenagers seemed to have lost interest in the adult drama unfolding nearby (Maruki was unsurprised to see Kitagawa-kun being the exception, staring quite intently and meeting his gaze without shame), but as the car started to pull away, Sakura-san stopped texting and Amamiya-kun glanced to Maruki and then Shibusawa, who was checking his phone.
...Of course this had been coordinated.  But how much did Shibusawa know?
Enough, at least, that he seemed understanding of how awkward the situation was, offering both Rumi and Maruki a smile as he rubbed the back of his neck.  "Rumi, you had a long train ride here, didn't you?  Let's grab a bite to eat.  You don't mind driving, do you, Takuto?"
"Oh--oh, no," Maruki said quickly, "Hop in, both of you.  No charge."
Shibusawa frowned.  "You know I'm inviting you too, right?"
"Er, right!  Of course."  It hadn't completely registered that the invitation was also for him, no.
"If," Rumi spoke up, one hand clutching the strap of her purse.  Maruki dimly registered the silver chain bracelet on her wrist; he'd bought it for her their first White Day.  Did she remember?  "If I'm making you uncomfortable--"
"No!  Rumi, it's nothing like that."  God, he was screwing this completely.  "It's just...after everything that happened, I...I didn't think we'd be able to talk again.  Not like this."  He leaned over the open car door, quickly popping over the back door for passengers again.  "Let's go eat somewhere.  What do you feel like?"
-
They decided on an okonomiyaki restaurant.  Shibusawa knew a good one in the area and gave directions from the back.  In between turns, the conversation stayed safe, neutral.  Rumi was still living with her grandparents.  She was working as a financial counselor again, though at a different bank than before.  She got along with her coworkers, and her boss was the genial sort, if a bit over-talkative at times.
She'd been seeing someone for a couple months, but they'd broken up in January.  She offered the information haltingly, and Maruki quickly flashed her a smile in the rearview mirror to show he wasn't hurt by it.  He wasn't her fiancé anymore, after all.
Of course, it also helped that he'd already known about most of that, having checked on her in January to make sure she was happy in the world he was creating for her sake.  The only thing he hadn't known about was the breakup.  "His loss," he said lightheartedly, even if he found it puzzling.  When he'd checked in January, they'd both seemed content in the relationship, and he'd done nothing to alter that part of Rumi's life, all too aware his feelings might cloud his judgment.  He remembered easing her grandfather's back pain, making two coworkers happier, and reopening her favorite store that had closed in October.  Nothing with the boyfriend.  He couldn't even remember the guy's name now, just that he'd had a job that paid well.  Maruki probably wouldn't even remember that, except that at the time it had caused an odd stab of jealousy and remorse that Rumi's parents would most certainly have approved of this man, someone well-suited to take care of their daughter.  An irrational feeling, despicably petty.  He'd known to stay well away from touching Rumi's relationship when it was already happy.  So how was it that they'd broken up in the same timeframe in this reality, yet been so happy in his, even though Maruki hadn't changed anything?  But it wasn't any of his business.  "You're wonderful, Rumi.  I'm sure you'll find someone who knows to treasure you."
"Takuto..."  Rumi sounded happy, but also hesitant, and Maruki glanced up to see that she was blushing while looking out the passenger window.  "Thank you."
Shibusawa, seated next to her, was staring at Maruki the same way he had that time in college when Maruki had called him in a drunken panic about being locked out of his apartment at 2 a.m., only for his hand to finally land on the key in his jacket's pocket the second his friend had shown up to help him.
The trio got to the restaurant, got themselves a table, and started grilling okonomiyaki once the ingredients were ready.  They kept up small talk, Maruki filling in the gaping pauses that opened up at questions like "how are you doing?" and "are you seeing anyone?" with stories about Shujin's faculty and student body and the more colorful customers he'd already met as a taxi driver.  He thought they did a good job of covering up how empty his life had been.  He didn't want to cause Rumi any concern, not when she could be laughing and smiling and he could actually witness it, bask in her delight.
Shibusawa seemed amused too at first, smiling a little, but he became more serious when Rumi excused herself to the restroom.  "Hey, man.  I know I'm in the dark about what happened between you and Rumi before.  All I know is that it was terrible for both of you.  If you're not interested, I get that.  But...you do realize she is, don't you?"
"She's not," Maruki said automatically, because it just wasn't realistic. She shouldn't even remember him.  Not knowing what had changed her cognition, he couldn't even be sure it wouldn't revert at any moment.  She might come back to their table and ask who he was.  She might walk past them and simply leave the restaurant.  He'd already let her go once--he couldn't get attached again.
Even if it was already a bit late for that.
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cunningambitousdetermined · 4 years ago
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hello @iamninaanna and @voidmalfoy: so i really loved the whole incorrect quote generator so i went back and did it again with us three NATURALLY and a few other people who i wanted to show some love too (@pad-foots and @le-weasley-simp) credit to @herondalesunsetcurve for tagging me originally!!
Taja: Hold on! I’m having one of those things... a headache with pictures. Tara: What the fuck? Danae: They’re having an idea.
Taja: Sometimes I like to place my hands on someone’s cheeks, look into their eyes... Taja: ...And violently jerk their head until it snaps. Danae: ...That took an unexpected turn. Tara: So did their neck.
Tara: Yo dumbass, get over here. Taja: Okay- Danae: *gleefully runs past* I’m coming! Taja, sadly: I thought... I was dumbass...
Tara: What are you writing? Taja: The government wants to know what kind of weapons we have in the house. I'm letting them know it's private information. Danae, looking over Taja's shoulder: This just says 'fuck around and find out' in calligraphy
Taja: There are three ways to handle a difficult situation. The right way, the wrong way, and the Tara way. Danae: Isn't that the wrong way? Taja: Yes, but it's faster.
Tara: Five little monkeys jumping on the bed. One fell off and… Danae: Was diagnosed with mesothelioma. Tara: Mamma called the doctor and the doctor said… Taja: You might be entitled to financial compensation if he or a loved one dies.
Danae: Taja- Taja: *sighs* Tara used to call me Taja... Danae: ...Because it's your fucking name
Danae: Tara, gather the others. We need to have another Taja-is-doing-something-stupid-again-and-we-have-to-stop-them-before-they-hurt-someone convention.
Danae: *sneaking in through their window* Tara: *turning in their chair and flicking the light one* You want to tell me where you've been all night? Danae: I was with Taja? Taja: *turning in their chair* Wanna try again?
Tara: When I was a kid, Danae told me that the paper strip that’s in the chocolate kisses were edible and I ate them with the chocolate for a year. Taja: They are! Tara: FOR REAL? Taja: No! Why did you fall for it again?
this has now become an official petition for me, taja and danae to live together bc it just needs to happen
no yall im not joking, this is a petition, can someone who is a higher being than me and has more power please make this happen? pretty please?
ok on to @pad-foots and @le-weasley-simp bc i love them so i wanted to do some with them :)
Kas: Trouble at 2 o'clock! Tara : *looks down at their watch* Tara : Now, how do you know that?
Kas, texting Tara : *sends a voice message* Tara , texting back: I’m a little busy, is it urgent? Kas: No, don’t worry, just listen later. *later* Tara : *presses play* Kas's voice message: THERE’S A FIRE-
Kas: Okay, two person huddle. Tara : You can't huddle with two people. This is just a hug.
OKAY now kenny’s turn
Tara : Swear words are illegal now. If you say one you'll be fined. Kenny: Heck. Tara : You're on thin fucking ice. Tara : Oh no-
Tara : And what do I get out of this? Kenny: I will give you a dollar. Tara :: What do you think I am? A chump? I would never do it for a dollar! Kenny: How bout two dollars? Tara : You got yourself a deal.
Tara : There's something I have to ask about you-know-who. Kenny: Voldemort? Tara : No. Kenny: Is it Voldemort? Tara : It's not Voldemort. Kenny: You haven’t mentioned wizards once this conversation, so I’m gonna have to assume it’s Voldemort.
make some for yourself
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