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drxwsyni · 4 years ago

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doubts and desires︱albedo x f!reader

summary: letting go of the past is hard, but losing what you have now would be harder. leaving albedo is neither something you can do, or something you really want, it’s simply taken you a while to understand that. word count: 2k warnings: implied dubcon, stockholm syndrome, past kidnapping

Even with how Albedo had bundled you up in a hat, scarf, gloves, and coat―it still failed to ward off the chill that seemingly sucked the warmth right from your body. Yet you said nothing about it, the unwanted attention it would draw from him inevitable if you made your discomfort known. And, you were almost certain he would drag you back to the cabin if he knew how the cold was treating you.

You didn’t enjoy the biting temperatures, but you didn’t want leave. Not when it’s been so long since you descended the mountain, that you barely even remember the feeling of snowfall against your skin.

The whole situation he’s placed you in is really quite foreign―confusing.

In how he’s letting you accompany him in his research, not far from his―your home. A safe distance, so to speak. Or that’s what he said, at least.

You realized that the way he spoke of this outing, how it’d just be the two of you, and that you wouldn’t venture very far; they were words of comfort. Not said to reassure himself that things would go smoothly, but to calm the look of trepidation in your eyes from the mere suggestion of going outside.

Now, seeing Albedo’s nonchalant demeanour while he studies the petrification of a fallen tree, it puts your mind at ease. Sure, if you look closely you’ll be able to see the way his eyes flicker to your form every few seconds or so, making sure you were right where he left you, but generally the alchemist is calm.

It makes you calm, for a moment it feels like you’re able to settle down and appreciate the intricate beauty of the snow swept mountain you stand upon. Best to do so now, knowing it wouldn’t be long until he would lead you home, sheltered safely away from the danger of the mountain’s climate.

“Oh―I didn’t know you were to be researching today, Albedo sir.”

With your back turned to the newly appeared stranger behind you, the cold that had seeped into your bones no longer posed as the only thing holding you in place―it was also now an icy fear.

You watched unmoving from your spot as Albedo gave pause, a hint of contemplation flashing across his face before standing.

“Timaeus. I thought you were studying back in the city.”

The man, who you had yet to properly address, responded with a somewhat nervous laugh.

“Yes, well I was, but it led me to do my own research out in the field…”

Always in a strangely graceful manner, Albedo dusted off his pants and straightened his jacket. A look of unashamed disinterest painted his expression as Timaeus rambled on about his findings.

Truly, you don’t recall Albedo ever showing such emotions with you―a detail not necessarily heartwarming, but still reassuring in an indescribable way.

Perhaps it was due to you being so sure that he’d rid himself of you when you no longer proved useful. Which made the swirling of affection and enamour in his eyes when he gazed upon you settle your nerves, even in just the slightest.

“...which I unfortunately have yet to procure. But―ah, I’ve gotten ahead of myself again. My apologies, how is your research coming along. And...who might you be?”

If Albedo recognized the look of severe anxiety flashing across your face, he paid no mind. Instead giving you a small, somewhat warm smile. As if to say, “Go ahead.”

The few seconds that passed were done in silence, you desperately trying to read Albedo’s face for ulterior motives, and the man behind you shuffling awkwardly in place while he waited for a response.

By some miracle, your body moved on autopilot, turning around to finally acknowledge the cause of your newfound distress. Only, you couldn’t even look him in the face.

Your mouth was dry, mind foggy and unable to think of a response that was anywhere near being coherent.

“...I―uh…”

“This is my new assistant. Please do forgive her, she’s quite shy.”

A shaky breath escaped your rigid body at the sound of Albedo’s voice, and the feeling of his hand resting gently upon the small of your back.

The blatant lie that only you and him recognized echoed inside your head.

Timaeus had no clue who you were, or what you meant to Albedo. But if he did know, you wondered what he would do.

“...Ah, it’s strange we’ve never met before.”

You could tell without looking that Timaeus was studying your form. With the way his tone shifted to something a little more unsettled, a pit grew in your stomach knowing how he had picked up on your questionable nervousness.

The hand resting on your back felt a little more heavy.

Albedo showed no signs of botherment, “That’s likely because she’s not from here.”

For some ungodly reason, the less experienced alchemist took this as an opportunity. “Oh, if that’s the case then we should show her around. Sucrose could use someone like herself to―”

“Actually, we were just leaving. I’m afraid I’ve kept her out in the cold too long, and descending the mountain any further is quite a reckless task in this weather―” His head turned to look at you, no longer addressing his student, “―right?”

If Timaeus was told of what his teacher had done to you, would he help? Even if he looks up to Albedo, even if everyone does, surely they would step in.

Only, the issue remained that first you’d have to prove to them you were in danger.

...And really, you weren’t. Not anymore.

The tender bruises around your wrists and ankles had healed long ago. Your health was in near perfect condition, what with how Albedo saw to it that you never did anything to put it at risk. A single and quick glance would show that you were so pristinely taken care of, complexion shining now that you no longer spent nights sleepless from fear.

What were you to even say?

Moreso, it remained true that you didn’t quite want to say anything.

Timaeus wouldn’t believe your truth, and Albedo would likely spin the scenario so that your words weren’t reliable anyways.

It dawned on you that Albedo knew this fact well, why else would he bring you with him if he wouldn’t still be entirely in control of the situation?

A simple movement, his hand drifted to your hip and gripped it firmly, urging.

Your voice, barely a whisper met his ears.

“...Of course…”

That was all he needed, sending an impatient, yet still neutral glance towards Timaeus, the smallest hint of self-satisfaction lingering in it.

His student took the hint.

_____

“I have to say, bringing you with me was quite...productive.”

After dinner, Albedo has you keep him company in his study. You, occupied with a book in a chair across from his desk, while he goes over his findings from the day’s outing.

“Research wise, I was able to study you in a foreign situation.” He continued, conversation one-sided, “The results were to my liking…”

Although construed in his ever sophisticated manner, his words told you that you did something right. He was proud, and that notion made the swell of a strange warmth in your heart grow.

The alchemist’s gaze remained downcasted at the papers strewn about in front of him while he spoke. “...I suppose you should be rewarded for such good behaviour.”

Your eyes flitted up, the story on your lap abandoned completely.

Albedo has never spoken of such a thing, not once entertaining the idea of rewards when he saw no reason to ever extend such gratitude. Even after all this time.

He must be especially pleased, you thought.

Perhaps, enough to grant you back even a small semblance of independence...that would most certainly be your wish.

You’d long grown used to his suffocating personality, the intense interest he paid you often resulting in little to no alone time. Albedo made sure you stayed in eyeshot, and in those inevitable times he needed to leave, he made them quick, and you were to be safely tucked away in the bedroom, door locked from the outside. There wasn’t a single detail he missed, no stone left unturned when trying to improve your security.

Unfortunately for you, it left little autonomy.

Just the smallest taste of self-reliance would be fine. You’d love to cook a nice meal, like the ones you used to make. Or perhaps to pick your own outfit one morning, something more your style than the things he put together for you. Any break from his constant guidance, no matter what shape or form, you’d gladly take―

“Why don’t you go get cleaned up then, I’ll meet you upstairs soon.”

Albedo neglected to look up as he spoke, and so he missed how the glimmer of anticipation in your eyes faded away. The way your shoulders dropped slightly, the look of disappointment flashing across your features in understanding of his words.

What he had planned, it was a reward...of sorts.

An excuse, as far as you saw it.

Albedo was known for testing the limits of living beings after all, and in certain ways, such studies extended to how he treats you. It’s a win win for him―he thinks it’s a reward, since he knows he can make you feel good, and doing so just shows him all those little things he can’t learn through idle observation. What makes you squirm or shy away with innocent embarrassment―information just as important as everything else he knows about you.

It doesn’t dissuade Albedo when he finally glances up to see what his offer has done, though the sight does make him feel as though he’s deceived you.

Still, he remains unapologetic. “While you gave me some good insight on how far you’ve...adjusted, I still can’t completely trust you. This merely turned out to be a good opportunity for satisfying your other needs―nothing more.”

Flipping open a nearby textbook, Albedo conveys wordlessly, a difficult habit of his, that the conversation has ended.

You, however, have yet to heed his words. Still seated, the once flickering of hope subsiding with each passing second. Call it grief, but you were sincerely expecting a different outcome. Though, knowing Albedo, and his constant need to grow more knowledgeable, you should’ve seen this coming.

“...I’d rather not have to force your compliance tonight. So, please―” He gestured towards the door with a wave of his hand, focus trained and brows barely knitted while he skims over his readings on the desk.

Honestly speaking, you once thought Albedo was a deeply confusing man. So too was the life he’d meticulously prepared, and swiftly forced you into. Yet, looking back, things may have been more simple than you once perceived.

Your only real job is to exist and comply. And you both know you’re not going anywhere, not going to say no. Especially now, given how effortless it feels to fall into routine, going through the motions of his request and carrying yourself upstairs.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realize it’s too late for you, what feels like an eternity spent at Albedo’s side having just about rendered your fighting spirit useless. It’s been long since replaced with what you’re coming to know as a certain fondness. You want to see the compassion in his eyes that’s sparked by your willing compliance.

It was a single, tangible goal. Not complex and unobtainable like those tasks of your past life. Attempts at obtaining those desires are futile, when today's events proved you genuinely no longer want them anymore.

It’s much easier to make Albedo proud. You don’t realize that you do it everyday, and that he’s just poor at conveying his own emotions...

Drawing yourself a bath, you wash away past doubts, settling with what your life has turned into.

Distantly, you hear Albedo make his way up the stairs and towards your bedroom. You like knowing what’s to come, which is always something you’ll have with him. You can’t say the same if you leave, and so you finally resolve that you never will.

#yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere albedo #yandere albedo x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere x you #albedo x you #tw dubcon

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sineala · 3 years ago

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Tony Stark and Arthuriana

Coming to you by special request, a very long post about 616 Tony's interest in Arthuriana, with a focus on all of Tony's run-ins with Morgan le Fay!

I feel like I should disclaim the extent of my knowledge here, which is that I still haven't managed to read anywhere near every issue of Iron Man -- at least, not yet, anyway -- so I'm just going by the things I know I've read, and Morgan le Fay's Marvel wiki entry is frustratingly under-cited, so it's very possible I've missed something relevant, but I'm pretty sure I've got the big stuff down. My other disclaimer here is that I'm not as big an Arthurian nerd as Tony is, which is to say that most of my familiarity comes from modern retellings -- T. H. White's The Once and Future King, Marion Zimmer Bradley's The Mists of Avalon, Mary Stewart's The Crystal Cave, Rosemary Sutcliff's Sword at Sunset -- and not so much the usual classic sources on the Matter of Britain, though I've read bits and pieces of them.

(This is because I wanted to read versions of them that were as close to the original as possible but so far have not ended up finishing any of them because, well, that's hard. So I've never read the Mabinogion because I do not know Welsh. I've got the Norton Critical Edition of Malory's Le Morte d'Arthur, which is probably the best student edition if you're looking for something without modernized spellings, as I was. I've also got -- well, okay, it's my wife's but I'm borrowing it -- a relatively recent Boydell & Brewer edition (ed. Reeve, tr. Wright) of Geoffrey of Monmouth's Historia Regum Britanniae (History of the Kings of Britain), which is, you guessed it, in Latin with a facing English translation. I haven't gotten very far in it because, in case you didn't know this about Latin texts, the beginning is pretty much always the hardest, so I gave up and read some Plautus adaptations instead. Anyway, if for some reason you too want to read Geoffrey of Monmouth in the original Latin I'd recommend that one, but I can't recommend any particular English translations because I've never read one by itself. I bet you didn't think you'd be getting Latin prose recommendations in this post. I mean, maybe you did; it is me, after all.)

Okay. Right. King Arthur. Here we go.

We've got:

Flashbacks to Tony's childhood in late Iron Man volume 1

A brief discussion of Morgan's origin story and Avengers #187

Iron Man vol 1 #149-150: Doomquest

What If vol 1 #33: What if Iron Man was trapped in the time of King Arthur?

Iron Man vol 1 #249-250: Recurring Knightmare

Iron Man: Legacy of Doom #1-4

Avengers vol 3 #1-4: The Morgan Conquest

Civil War: The Confession

Mighty Avengers vol 1 #9-11: Time Is On No One's Side

In terms of universe-internal chronology, we know from Iron Man #287, from 1992, that Tony has been a fan of King Arthur since childhood. This is an issue of a fandom-favorite arc which features Tony having a lot of childhood flashbacks, including the famous "Stark men are made of iron" line (in #286) that for some reason MCU fandom decided it loved; I mean, seriously, I've seen that quoted in way more MCU fic than 616 fic. But slightly later, in #287, we get an entire page devoted to Tony's love of King Arthur.

The narration reads: "Over the next few years, I learned as my father intended. Discipline of body. Strength of character. But in what free time I was allowed, I worked my way through the school's library. At thirteen, I discovered Mallory [sic], who showed me a whole new world. A world of dedication to a cause greater than oneself. Of chivalry and honor. And the fantastic deeds -- of armored heroes."

The art shows Tony as a child sitting under a tree, reading a book labeled Mort D'Arthur by Mallory [sic] -- no, don't ask me why nobody at Marvel checked how to spell either the name of the book or its author -- and daydreaming of King Arthur, the Sword in the Stone, knights, et cetera. Just in case you somehow missed the extremely blatant hint that we are meant to understand that Tony's knight obsession heavily influenced him becoming Iron Man as an adult, we see one of his armors mixed in with all the drawings of knights. So, yes, canonically Tony is Iron Man at least partly because he's a giant King Arthur nerd, which I think is so very sweet. I love him. He's such a dork!

(This issue is currently in print in the Iron Man Epic Collection War Machine, should you need your own copy.)

This isn't actually the only reference to Tony as a King Arthur fanboy in this era of canon, either; a little later, in IM #298, we see that one of Tony's passwords is actually "Mallory." (Yeah, no, they still couldn't spell. But it's cute.)

But in terms of actual publication order, this is definitely not the first time we have seen in canon that Tony is into Arthuriana, as I'm sure you all know. I would assume, in fact, that giving Tony a childhood interest in Arthuriana is because Doomquest is one of the most beloved Iron Man story arcs of all time, and that all started at least a decade before IM #287 here was published.

The villain of Doomquest -- the one who isn't Doctor Doom, at least -- is Morgan le Fay. Yes, that Morgan le Fay. Yes, Arthur's evil half-sister Morgan le Fay. Yes, all of this King Arthur stuff is canonically real history on Earth-616. Morgan's first appearance in Marvel, per the wiki, was in Black Knight #1 (1955), which I have not read, and judging by the summary I feel like this is probably just supposed to be a straight-up comic retelling of Arthurian legends for kids; I don't think Marvel really had the whole Marvel Universe in mind as a concept in 1955, so I'm not sure this was meant to connect to anything else. I feel like this is another one of those instances of Marvel discovering that they can write comics about characters in the public domain for free -- like, I'm pretty sure that's how we also ended up with, like, Norse, Greek, and Roman mythology wedged into 616.

As far as I can tell from the wiki, the first time Morgan tangled with the Avengers (or indeed the larger 616 universe) in any way actually predated Doomquest -- it was in an early arc in Spider-Woman (#2-6) and then Avengers #187, which came out in 1979, actually right when Demon in a Bottle was happening over in Iron Man comics. If you read #187, Iron Man is not in it because he's off the team due to his drinking problem and also his accidentally murdering the Carnelian ambassador problem. So Wonder Man's filling in instead. This issue is part of Michelinie's rather sporadic Avengers run, which makes sense, I guess, considering where we see Morgan next.

Anyway, Avengers #187 is the classic issue where Wanda is possessed by Chthon, but what you may not remember from Chthon's backstory (I sure didn't!) is that he was summoned by Morgan le Fay because she was the first person who tried to wield the Darkhold to summon him. As you can imagine, this did not work out especially well for her and her followers and they had to seal Chthon away in Wundagore Mountain, which was where Wanda found him. (The Spider-Woman stuff is only slightly earlier and also appears to be about Morgan and the Darkhold; the Darkhold is not one of the areas of 616 canon I am especially conversant with, alas. It's on my to-read list.)

Doomquest, as you probably know, was a classic Iron Man two-parter in Layton & Michelinie's first Iron Man run that set up Tony and Doom as rivals; Doomquest itself was IM #149-150, in 1981, and then in their second IM run they came back and did a sequel in 1989, Recurring Knightmare (IM #249-250), and then the much later four-part sequel to that was the 2008 miniseries Iron Man: Legacy of Doom, which was also by Layton & Michelinie but generally does not seem to be as popular as the first two parts. They've all been reprinted, if you're looking for copies; I have a Doomquest hardcover that collects the first four issues and then a separate Legacy of Doom hardcover. Currently in the Iron Man Epic Collection line there's a volume called Doom, which confusingly only collects the 249-250 part of the storyline (as well as surrounding issues), because for some reason the first Layton & Michelinie run isn't in Epics yet but the second one is. So the beginning of Doomquest isn't currently in print, as far as I can tell. I'm sure you can find it anyway.

So what's Doomquest about? Okay, so you remember how Doctor Doom's mother's soul is stuck in hell for all eternity? Well, Doom's obviously interested in getting her back, and the strategy he has embarked on is to try to team up with other powerful magicians who can help him out, and he thinks Morgan le Fay would be a good choice, for, uh, his quest. Doom's quest. A Doomquest, if you will. (If you've ever read Doctor Strange & Doctor Doom: Triumph & Torment, you're familiar with the part where he later ends up waylaying Strange for this and they go to hell together. And if you haven't read Triumph & Torment, you really should, because it's amazing.)

So Doom is off to his time machine to go team up with Morgan le Fay and Tony thinks Doom is up to something -- Doom has been stealing components for his time machine from a lot of people, including Tony -- and he follows him and it turns out one of Doom's lackeys has a grudge and wants to trap Doom in the past forever, and Tony gets caught up in it. Now they're both in Camelot. Surprise! #149 is actually all setup; they don't get to Camelot until #150.

IM #150 begins with Doom and Tony thrown back into the past; there's a fandom-famous splash page of them locked in combat, only to realize that they have found themselves in Camelot.

They are then discovered by knights; Doom would very much like to attack them, but Tony, who naturally would be happy to LARP Camelot forever, persuades him to play nice. Also Doom thinks Iron Man is only Tony's bodyguard so he keeps referring to him as "lackey," much to Tony's annoyance. Somehow everyone thinks they're sorcerers. Can't imagine why. The knights take them to meet King Arthur himself, and Tony has clearly had his introduction all ready to go, as he introduces himself in a timeline-appropriate manner, says he's here to apprehend Doom, and demonstrates his "magic" by levitating Arthur's throne. Doom's response is essentially "I'm the king of Latveria," which is, y'know, also valid. So they're guests at Camelot for the night while Arthur figures out what to do with them.

We then have a page devoted to Tony alone in his room, musing sadly about how alien he feels, how he doesn't know if he'll ever get home, how he could never fit in here without his beloved technology. Then a Sexy Lady shows up to keep him company for the night, and he decides maybe it's not all bad. Thanks, Marvel. I guess they can't all be winners.

Doom is using his evening much more productively; he compels one of the servants to tell him where Morgan's castle is, because he's still interested in having that team-up. Then he jets off. Literally. He has a jetpack.

The next morning Arthur's like "one of you is still here and one of you has punched a hole through the castle wall and flown off to join Morgan so I guess I know which of you is more trustworthy." He then explains to Tony who Morgan is, because Tony professes ignorance, because clearly we had not yet retconned in Tony's love of Arthuriana. Tony offers to go fight Doom and Morgan with Arthur; meanwhile, Morgan and Doom have teamed up and Morgan has offered to help get Doom's mother out of hell if he commands her undead armies against Arthur because for Reasons she can't command them herself anymore. So that's a thing that happens.

So, yes, it's Tony and Arthur versus Doom and Morgan. Fight fight fight!

Tony tries Doom first but then decides to hunt Morgan down, and in the ensuing fight we get what I think is Tony's first ever "I hate magic," a complaint that we all know he still makes even to this day.

Anyway, Tony freezes a dragon with Freon (mmm, technology) and Morgan gets upset and disappears, so the battle comes to an end, and of course Doom is extremely mad at Tony because he blames Tony for Morgan not sticking around to save Doom's mom, because I guess Doom trusted her to keep her word? Weird. (Like I said, for the next chapter of Doom saving his mother, go read Triumph & Torment.)

Doom says if he and Tony work together, the components in both of their armors can send them both home. So Tony has to trust Doom. Which he does, because he really has no other choice. They build a time machine and Tony makes Doom agree to a 24-hour truce when they get back, so they can both get home. So it all works out okay, and they end up in the present, and Doom tells him, ominously, that they will meet again. Okay, then. That concludes the original Doomquest. It's fun! You can see why fandom likes it.

So that's all well and good, but you might have noticed that Tony's ability to get home hinged on Doom actually being trustworthy. And Doom was. But what if Doom hadn't been? What if he'd just stranded Tony in Camelot forever As you may have surmised from the form of that question, that is in fact a question Marvel asked themselves, because, yes, there's a What If about this! What If v1 #33 is "What if Iron Man was trapped in the time of King Arthur?"

The divergence point from canon, as you can probably guess, is the very end of Doomquest. Instead of Doom bringing Tony home, he deceives him and leaves him in Camelot. And since Tony cannibalized a lot of the tech from his armor to make the time machine, he doesn't have a way to go home.

This is not a story where Tony comes up with a way to go home after all. He really doesn't get to go home. But instead of drowning his sorrows in mead -- because, remember, Demon in a Bottle has already happened and Tony is sober now -- he decides he might as well just play the hand he's dealt. So with what's left of his armor, he defeats some enemies that Morgan rounds up to send against Camelot. And for his services, he's knighted. He is now Sir Anthony.

Tony acknowledges that he is both living the dream and would also like very, very much to go home.

He does end up having some fun in Camelot; it's not all miserable. But he obviously doesn't want to be there.

So if you're at all familiar with King Arthur, you know how this goes, right? Arthur fights Mordred and Mordred kills him. And that does happen in this version. Except Tony is right there, and with his dying words, Arthur asks Tony to rule Camelot... and Tony agrees.

So, yes, Tony Stark becomes king of the Britons after Arthur's death and he never goes home again. The end. Man, I love What Ifs.

Heading back to main 616 continuity, there is still more of this arc to go. The original Doomquest was only two issues, yes, but it was popular enough that Layton & Michelinie did a sequel a hundred issues later, in their second run of Iron Man, and that's Iron Man #249-250, Recurring Knightmare. (In the intervening issues were Denny O'Neil's IM run, specifically the second drinking arc (#160-200), and then Layton & Michelinie came back and most famously gave us Armor Wars (#225-232). I would have to say that Armor Wars is definitely the standout fandom-favorite arc of their second IM run; for their first one, I think a lot of people would have a hard time choosing between Doomquest and Demon.) But anyway, yes. Recurring Knightmare.

Recurring Knightmare is... well, the best way I can describe it is "a trip." It is definitely a sequel to Doomquest, and it is also definitely not a sequel you would ever have expected to see for Doomquest.

Much like #149, #249 is pretty much just setup. Fun setup, but the big action is in the next issue. We open with Doom in Latveria, on his throne, pondering which of his servants he should have disintegrated. Anyway, he's just hanging out there when a mysterious object appears. In California, Tony is suited up and entertaining the crowd at a mall opening when the same object also appears! He takes it to his lab. Please note that this is after the Kathy Dare incident, so Tony is still recovering and is walking with a cane. Doom sees on the news that Iron Man has found the same object, which cannot be carbon-dated, and he shows up at Tony's house. He criticizes Tony's taste in art.

Anyway, Doom basically orders Tony to work with him. Tony refuses, and then Doom sends some robots to attempt to steal Tony's version of the object because he thinks if he has them both he will be powerful. Doom manages to steal it, and when he puts the pieces together, both he and Tony disappear.

So where do they go, you might ask? Camelot?

Not exactly. The future! There is a great callback to the Doomquest splash page.

It turns out they are in London in 2093. Merlin brought them there. Tony still hates magic. And in the future, King Arthur is still there, except he is now a child, because he has been reborn. But he does remember Tony from Doomquest, at which point Tony kneels. Doom, of course, is not impressed. He asks why they have been brought to the future.

The answer is that things are going wrong in the future. If you do not personally remember United States politics in the 1980s, I need you to google the words "Strategic Defense Initiative" right now. I'll wait.

Back with me? Okay, so this is a future where Reagan's Star Wars program actually happened the way he wanted it to, and the satellites are still hanging around the Earth in the future and messing everything up, and Arthur and Merlin need Tony and Doom's help to stop them. Doom once again flies away with his jetpack, of course.

Tony is game to help, but he's not in an armor that can stay in space for long. This is when Merlin takes him and Arthur to the mall and Tony manages to get everything to upgrade his armor at Radio Shack. You see what I meant about this issue being weird.

Tony is out in space trying to disarm the SDI platform, which is where he runs into his future descendant, Andros Stark, who is in armor you will probably recognize from Iron Man 2020. He is referred to as "the resurrected spawn of Iron Man 2020" so I assume he's actually directly related to Arno rather than a direct descendant of Tony; Wiki confirms that Arno is his grandfather. This is all from way before Arno was contemporaneous with Tony in canon. Anyway, he's fighting Tony.

Oh, by the way, Future Doom exists. Future Doom would like to rule this future Earth and for some reason Andros would like to help him. Meanwhile, Present Doom finds out from Merlin that he can't leave except by magic and he can't leave without Tony, so he is reluctantly on Tony's side.

They need help from the Lady of the Lake, except the lake has been paved over and is now a parking lot. Merlin makes the lake come back and then of course they get Excalibur. Arthur is a kid, so he can't wield a longsword; Doom assumes he's going to take it because he is basically a king, and he's pretty grumpy when the sword picks Tony. Tony then uses Excalibur to destroy the space lasers, and I bet that is a sentence you never thought you would read. It's pretty cool. Tony concludes that magic has its good points. Tony stops Andros and Doom stops, uh, himself, and the world is saved and they get to go home. Also, Doom finds out Tony is Iron Man, but when Merlin sends them back he conveniently erases their memories, so neither of them remember anything about this and Tony's secret is still safe. And that's the sequel to Doomquest.

And if you think that's weird, wait until you see Legacy of Doom.

Iron Man: Legacy of Doom is a four-issue miniseries from 2008, also by Layton and Michelinie. Even though it's from 2008, it's set during a much more classic time in Iron Man, continuing on from where we left off in this Doomquest saga. We start with a framing story in 2008. Tony, who has Extremis now, is busy scrapping some of his older armors and reviewing his logs when he suddenly remembers that there was a whole thing with Doom that happened that he seems to have forgotten about until right now. So the whole thing is narrated by Tony in flashback.

Tony's in space fixing a satellite when a hologram of Doom shows up and summons him to Latveria. It's not really clear why Doom needs Tony's help in particular here, but Doom tells Tony that he's discovered that Mephisto would like to bring about the end of the world, which Doom finds, and I quote, "presumptive." So Doom has his Time Cube, and with it he takes Tony to hell.

(Yes, I promise this is relevant to Doomquest. There will be some Arthuriana shortly.)

Doom brings Tony to Mephisto, and it turns out it's a setup! Doom trades Tony for an item he wants from Mephisto, leaves, and Tony's going to be trapped in hell forever! Oh no! (I mean, he's not. But it's quite a cliffhanger.)

At the beginning of issue #2, we find out what the Arthurian connection is, which is that we learned that after the events of Doomquest, Morgan had been granted sanctuary by Mephisto in exchange for a shard of Excalibur that she had somehow stolen. Doom still wants Morgan's help with some magic -- he doesn't mention what it is here, but he says he needs someone of Pendragon blood, and that'd be her -- so he traded Tony to Mephisto in exchange for, I'm guessing, Morgan and the Excalibur shard.

I have probably mentioned this elsewhere, but Legacy of Doom #2 is one of my favorite issues of Iron Man ever, solely because of the next scene. We return to Tony in hell. Howard Stark is also in hell, and he is now a demon, and Tony has to fight him. Mephisto brings popcorn and watches. This is the one time in canon when Tony actually confronts his father, and okay, yes, it's a fistfight in hell and Howard is a demon, but that's comics for you. Howard spends several pages insulting Tony -- specifically insulting his masculinity, but that's a whole other essay -- until he finally insults Maria too, and that's when Tony fights back, because his mother taught him to be good. Honestly if you're a Tony fan I'd recommend this issue just for that scene.

Anyway, we go back to the Doom and Morgan plot, and Morgan casts the spell Doom wanted, which was fusing the Excalibur shard with Doom's armor. Then Doom sends her back to Camelot rather than hell, because he's still mad that she never helped him get his mom out of hell like she said she would.

Tony freezes Howard with Freon -- yes, the same trick he pulled on the dragon back in Doomquest -- and tells him, "You're no father of mine." It is immensely satisfying.

(I had been going to mention that I thought it was a shame that neither canon nor fandom seems to have really engaged with this confrontation, and I know canon never believes in narrative closure but fandom sure does -- and then, anyway, it occurred to me that since the framing story of Tony remembering this is set when Tony has Extremis, there's a very good chance that he no longer remembers remembering it. Goddammit, Marvel.)

(If I got to retcon one canon thing about Tony, I think "the entirety of World's Most Wanted" is up there. I mean, okay, a lot of things are up there, but WMW is definitely on the shortlist.)

Okay. Tony has now engineered his way out of hell, and he's back with Doom in Latveria. Doom has Excalibur. Doom would very much like to fight him. While wielding Excalibur. You get the sense that this is going to be bad. Another cliffhanger!

Legacy of Doom #3 opens with Tony destroying Doom's lab to buy time and running away from Doom and Excalibur. I should probably mention that Doom still doesn't know Tony is Iron Man (anymore), so he thinks he is dealing only with Iron Man, Tony Stark's lackey. Meanwhile, some scientists at SI think there's something weird going on with space. Meanwhile meanwhile, Tony is in a forest taking a breather when a mysterious old man walks up to him.

It's Merlin! Surprise! Merlin wants Tony's help to stop Doom from doing whatever he's doing with Excalibur. The sword makes you invincible and the scabbard makes you invulnerable, so Merlin sends Tony to Scotland on a fetch quest for the scabbard. Doom has now magically sent the sword in search of the scabbard, so the sword flies away to meet it and Doom follows. Turns out the thing that's wrong with space is a thing that's going to hit Earth at the exact place Tony and Doom are. What a coincidence! So Tony and Doom get trapped in a stone circle and fight some stone warriors and then Tony ends up with the scabbard. And by "ends up with," I mean it fuses to his armor. Next issue!

Legacy of Doom #4 is when things really, really get weird. A giant demon made of eyes (???) appears, and this demon is apparently what Doom had been preparing to fight (because it's mad that Doom stole one of its spellbooks), and now he can't, because the sword and the scabbard aren't together. Thanks, Shellhead.

That's when Merlin shows up and says all is not lost. They can defeat the demon... if they put the sword into the scabbard.

"But I'm the scabbard now!" Tony says, uncomprehending.

"Yes," Merlin says. "You are."

Then Tony gets it.

So, yes, Doom has to, um, penetrate Tony. With Excalibur. I love comics. I love comics so much.

So that's a thing that happens.

And then Tony flies off and, I guess, resolves to never, ever think about any of this again.

We head back to the framing story, in which Tony, now having remembered all of this, flies to Britain, buys the land the lake is on, and paves it over, presumably so it will be there for Merlin to bring back in Iron Man #250. The end.

Whew.

Okay, yeah, I know I didn't have to summarize the whole thing, but Legacy of Doom here really is one of my favorite Iron Man miniseries. And I just want to share the love. Please read it. It's great.

But the Arthuriana fun doesn't end there! In fact, now we get an Arthurian-themed arc that actually isn't in Iron Man comics. It's in Avengers! Iron Man is involved, though.

(There is also apparently a Morgan arc in Avengers #240. I actually haven't read it. It seems to be yet another Spider-Woman arc. I get the impression that this isn't really Arthuriana other than having Morgan in it fighting Jess, though, so it doesn't seem quite as relevant. Morgan also apparently has some appearances in FF, Journey into Mystery, and Marvel Team-Up, but those seem like more of just basic villainy. Also, probably not involving Tony.)

Kurt Busiek's 1998 Avengers run, volume 3, is in large part the kind of Avengers run that is a nostalgic love letter to older comics. Heroes are heroes and villains are villains and good triumphs over evil. The Avengers all live in the mansion and are BFFs. I love it. It does assume that you are already a fan of the Avengers, because it starts out by summoning pretty much everyone who has ever been an Avenger and is available to the mansion, and that is... a lot of people. Thirty-nine, by my count. Also, when the entire team is magically whisked away, we are treated to the following narration, as Steve disappears: "And Captain America's last thought, as the world goes white around him, and he with it -- is that Iron Man would hate this."

The narration doesn't tell you why Iron Man would hate this, or how Captain America would know that Iron Man hates this. This is not explained later on. But if you have read comics -- or if you have read the above summary of Doomquest -- you know that Tony is absolutely, one hundred percent, thinking, "I hate magic." And Steve knows it.

The reference is not relevant to the plot; if you don't get it, you'll be fine. But that's what I mean when I say this is a nostalgia run. There are definitely Easter eggs for people who have read a bunch of comics. Busiek does this a whole lot in his work -- there's a reason you can buy an annotated edition of Marvels -- and, yeah, it happens here too. Just know that there will be references you're not getting, if you're new to comics.

Anyway. So Busiek's run actually starts out with an Arthurian arc, #1-4, "The Morgan Conquest." The name is a dead giveaway. Yes, Morgan le Fay is back. Again. For once, Doom is not involved.

The Avengers are all back from their sojourn on Counter-Earth after fighting Onslaught -- don't worry about it -- and mysterious things are happening. There are a lot of monster attacks. So pretty much everyone who has ever been an Avenger is summoned to the mansion, at which point we learn from Thor about some mystical artifacts that are being stolen. (They are the Norn Stones and also the Twilight Sword. That sounds like something from a Zelda game, doesn't it?) The Avengers go to try to stop this, end up in Tintagel, and then they run into Mordred. He wants to capture Wanda, presumably for Magic Reasons. Morgan le Fay casts a spell on all of them, reshaping reality. Yes, all of them. Surprise!

So now all the Avengers are living in a medieval castle and/or town; Morgan is their queen, and thanks to the power of mind-control they are all basically living in Ye Olden Times. The Avengers are all some variety of knight, except for Wanda, who is chained up in the dungeon so Morgan can steal her magic and use it to fuel all this reality-warping.

Wanda calls for help, and that snaps Steve (Yeoman America!) out of the mind control (or altered reality or whatever you want to call it) pretty fast, because Steve's always been very good at resisting mind control, and then Steve promptly goes and snaps Clint out of it, because I guess Steve is also good at inspiring people to snap out of mind control. "Oh, man!" Clint says. "Not another alternate reality! Not again!" (I assume he's referring to Counter-Earth? Maybe?)

So Steve and Clint go around reassembling the Avengers and orienting them as to reality. They get Jan and Monica easily, but then Steve insists on trying to get Tony because, I guess, he likes Tony and would really like to hang around Tony, who is half-naked and asleep in his bedroom, and certainly I am reading nothing whatsoever into this. Clint tells Steve it's not going to work. Tony has historically been fairly susceptible to mind control; it was only pretty recently at this point that he'd been doing Kang's bidding in The Crossing. But the more serious impediment is that this is Tony Stark and he would obviously like to LARP being a knight forever and ever. Tony, therefore, does not believe Steve, and throws him and Clint out of his bedroom and into the barracks.

"Iron Man's a good guy, normally," Clint says. "But he's waaay too into his whole nobleman/lord of the manor trip. That spell musta hit him right where he lives!"

Clint speaks the truth, clearly.

Anyway, they go around and manage to make pretty much every Avenger in the room other than Tony snap out, and attempt to rebel against Morgan while Tony is stil fighting them because he is Still A Knight. There's a lot of punching, because some of the Avengers still aren't free; they weren't ones Steve found.

The day is saved when Wanda manages to channel Wonder Man and break free. This gives the Avengers a fighting chance against Morgan and the Avengers are all lending Wanda their power when Tony finally snaps out of it and is on the side of good.

Then they take Morgan down, go home, and attempt to figure out which of these thirty-nine people should be on the active Avengers team. Hooray.

But that's not the end of Morgan le Fay showing up to screw around with Tony's life! There's more to come! Not much, but there is one that I know of, and at least one more memorable reference.

(I haven't read all her appearances or anything, but one of them definitely involves Tony; I can't swear that he doesn't appear in any of the other books Morgan shows up in, but it'd be a cameo for him, because I only know of one more arc that she's in in a book that Tony stars in.)

In a few more years, we have now entered the part of Marvel Comics history where Brian Michael Bendis writes all the Avengers books at the same time for, like, seven years running. It was sure A Time. There were a lot of word bubbles.

And the thing about Bendis is, Bendis looooooves Doomquest. If you're familiar with the very end of his tenure at Marvel where he made Doom be Iron Man after Tony got knocked into a coma in Civil War II, you have probably figured out already that he likes Doom. But he also likes Doomquest, specifically.

I mean, if nothing else, the giant splash page in The Confession where Maleev redrew the climactic Doomquest fight while Bendis had Tony talk about how deeply meaningful to his understanding of the world this all was -- and how it allowed him to predict Civil War -- was probably a big clue, right?

As far as I am aware, Morgan le Fay makes exactly one more appearance in Tony's life. And that's in Mighty Avengers vol 1 #9-11. Only one of those issues is named, so I'm going to assume the arc is named after it: Time Is On No One's Side.

You remember Mighty Avengers, right? The deal with the Avengers books at the time was that after Bendis exploded the mansion and made the team disband in Avengers Disassembled, the main Avengers book was no longer called just Avengers. Instead, the main Avengers book was New Avengers, and that was the only Avengers book. Then Civil War happened, Steve got killed, and New Avengers became the book about what was left of the SHRA resistance (i.e., Steve's side) after the war. So about halfway through New Avengers, Mighty Avengers starts up, and Mighty Avengers is about an extremely fucked-up and grief-stricken Tony Stark trying to run the official government-sanctioned Avengers team, with Carol's help. This is the comic with the arc where Tony turned into naked girl Ultron. You remember.

So, anyway, there's this Mighty Avengers arc where Doom is Up To Something (there are symbiotes and a satellite involved) and somehow Tony and the Avengers end up in Latveria, punching Doom. Also, by the way, Doom is visiting Morgan in the past because he likes her. The Avengers attacking his castle made him have to come back to the present, so he's kind of cranky. And he fights Tony, and in the course of the fight, his time platform explodes and sends Doom and Tony and also the Sentry to... the past.

This is one of those times where you should definitely look up the comics if possible because the way the past is visually indicated here is that it's colored with halftone dots the way you would expect old comics to be colored, although they have modern shading and color palettes. It's very charmingly retro.

So the three of them are stuck in New York in the past, and naturally they would like to leave. There's one person in this time who has a time machine and it is, of course, Reed Richards. Doom and Tony have a lot of banter in this arc; I think it's entertaining.

Sentry has to be the one to break them all into the Baxter Building because of that power he has where no one will remember him. So they do that, travel forward in time, and end up in Latveria in the present again except Doom is gone and also things are currently exploding where they are.

Doom, of course, has made a side trip to visit Morgan again and he asks her to help him build an army, because I guess this is what their relationship is like. So the rest of the Avengers are captured by what look to me like Mindless Ones and are in a cave in magic bondage, because comics. Jess comments that at least they aren't naked, because she too is remembering that memorable New Avengers trip to the Savage Land. Doom threatens Carol in some creepy sexist ways and eventually it turns out that Tony and the Sentry are fine and everyone kicks Doom's ass. Business as usual.

And the last page of the arc is Morgan alone, wondering where Doom is. So technically Morgan and Tony don't come face to face here, but I think she counts as being at least partially responsible for ruining Tony's day here. And then Secret Invasion happens and Tony has a very, very bad day.

There are a few more Morgan appearances after this, but, as I said, I don't think any of them involve Tony. She shows up in Dark Avengers, apparently, which was one of the post-Civil War Avengers titles I didn't read, and I know that recently, on the X-Men side of things, she's been in Tini Howard's Excalibur one, which I have only read a little of. No Tony there. Just a lot of Morgan and Betsy Braddock and Brian Braddock and the Otherworld.

If you are interested in Morgan's other appearances, you might like this Marvel listicle that is Morgan le Fay's six most malicious acts. I pulled some of the Darkhold backstory from their discussion, but it's not really focused on Morgan and Tony.

So there you have it! That's everything I know about Tony's love for King Arthur and every run-in I know about that he's had with Morgan le Fay! One of two terrible people in Tony's life named Morgan! Actually, I don't think we've seen Morgan Stark in a while. I wonder if he's alive. There should be a Morgan & Morgan team-up. I should probably stop typing and post this.

The tl;dr point is that you should all read Doomquest and its sequels, especially Legacy of Doom. They're great!

#posts i actually wrote

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wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Rock ‘N’ Roll People In A Disco World

Part 2- Panic At The Disco

Intro: You head to the hospital as Paul’s life hangs in the balance and as you wait for news, you start to reflect on the early days of your relationship.

Pairing: Paul Diskant x Reader

Warnings: Bad language, Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader and any other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N: So, you migh recognise a few familiar names/faces in this as well- I can assure you this isn’t an Avengers/Diskant AU, just a way for me to pay tribute to a few of our faves…because, why not!

Rock ‘n’ Roll People Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Part 1

"All units, we have a possible 2-4-5 in progress at 4223 E Palm, South of Figueroa and 1st. Unit responding is requesting back up, 11-9-9, Code 3."

"Unit 613 responding, Code 3."

The call went out over dispatch and you felt a slight relief at the fact support was on its way. You took a deep breath, held firm, your weapon poised as your partner stood next to you.

"LAPD, drop the weapon and come out with your hands up. We will fire." Officer Barton, a long time veteran on beat called out. "Panny, hit the porch."

You nodded and walked the short steps, bracing yourself against the stucco near the jam.

"Come on Garcia, your old lady called it in, I have back up coming, bro. You don't want this to go down worse than it is," Barton shouted. "Don't make my Rookie work hard today, man."

Lights and sirens filled your ears and soon a second unit had arrived on scene. The suspect, now surrounded, soon surrendered, his weapon dropped to the ground as he came out of his home with his hands up.

The second unit to respond to the call was helping Barton with the arrest while you headed inside to check on the girlfriend who'd called it in. She was beat up and bloodied, a bullet graze across her upper left arm. Paramedics were treating her as you wrote down everything she could tell you for the report to be filed later.

You gave the woman’s hand a little squeeze as you promised her you’d be right back and headed outside where you saw Barton stood talking to one of the duty sergeants from the second unit and another officer who you hadn’t seen before.

"She's requesting an escort, both medics are male," You said to Barton.

“Okay.” Barton nodded. “You good to take it or do you want me to call back and request someone take over?”

You shook your head, “Nah, I’m good, I could use the overtime. It’s no problem.”

"Rookies, always looking for the pay out," Barton laughed at you and you snorted before you looked back at the house.

“Well, to be honest I wanna make sure she’s okay, she’s beat up pretty bad.”

"Yeah, well this isn't their first 240 but now, it's bumping to a 273D, if she keeps the chargers." Barton nodded. “Okay, go with her and I’ll file the initial report when I get back. You can add your details to it later.”

“See, we’re not always money grabbing assholes.” The officer you’d never met before turned his eyes to the sergeant who met his look with one of his own. “Some of us rookies are simply driven by our social conscience.”

As the two men looked at one another it was clear that the statement meant something, and you could probably take a good guess that the officer in question had also had his fair share of rookie jokes at his expense. It was part and parcel of being a newbie.

“Oooh I’m sensing a little bit of tension there, Barnes!” Barton looked at the sergeant who scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“He’s a wise guy, thinks he’s funny.”

“I don’t think it, I know it.” The buzz cut man shrugged. “Why else does everyone laugh at me when I walk into a room?”

At that you couldn’t help a little chuckle of laughter as your eyes looked over the hood of Sargent Barnes' black and white and caught the name plate of the wise ass, before your eyes flicked up to his face. A pair of shades were pushed up on top of his shorn light brown hair, revealing a pair of blue eyes which were twinkling slightly with good humour. He was clean shaven with a strong jawline, and a pretty handsome profile with high cheekbones and a smattering of freckles over his nose. Two strong arms folded over a broad chest, as he stood tall, a good inch or so above Sergeant Barnes and a fair few over you.

His eyes caught yours, a smirk curling in his lips as he clearly thought you’d been checking him out.

Which, to be fair, you had, and all in all, he was pretty damned hot.

"Don't I know you?" He asked, his hands unfolding from across his chest and coming to rest on his utility belt, either side of the buck.

“I don’t think so.” You shook your head.

“I’m sure I do. I never forget a pretty face.”

You laughed at the blatant pick up line and looked at Barton who was watching, his eyebrow raised. You shook your head and turned back to make some sly quip of your own before the medic interrupted the exchange, telling you they were ready for transport. You nodded before once more switching your attention back to the three men around you.

“It’s been a pleasure, gents.” You smiled, nodding to both Barton and Sergeant Barnes before you turned to look at the other man. "Diskant.”

He feigns a pain to his chest with a hard slap of his right hand over his heart. "Uh, you do know me! That hurts."

“Read your name tag.” You shrugged and with that you turned and left.

The red and blue lights of the black and white bouncing off the concrete exterior of UCLA Medical Centre as you arrived brought you out of your memory. Officer Weiss opened the door for you and escorted you inside where the waiting room had been cleared and you were met with the somber faces of not only Captain Biggs, but Paul's Captain, Sam Wilson. But what brought your world crashing down on you for the second time that night was seeing your own Captain, Steve Rogers, waiting for you. Wilson had to have called him in.

"Steve," your voice quivered as your Captain and friend wrapped an arm around you. Sam, too, pulling you close. "What...." you couldn't even get the words out, each syllable choked back by the closing of your throat, sobs threatening to escape.

"We don't know, not yet. The call came in as an officer down, unit in pursuit. Medics arrived and called in code blue, 10-45C GSW to the neck. As soon as they arrived he was wheeled into emergency surgery," Captain Biggs explained.

The air left your lungs at the news and you near hit the floor, both Rogers and Wilson catching an arm, and had you been more with it, you’d have clocked the worried look that your Captain shot Sam. He'd known you since your training at the academy, his eye on you for SWAT from the get go, and never had he seen your lose control in such a way. You hadn’t on the job, not once. It was something you prided yourself on.

Biggs grabbed a chair from the wall behind him, where a dozen lined the sterile white space, and allowed you to flop into it. Your hands were shaking, legs bouncing on the balls of your feet, the tore up converse you’d slipped on squeaking a little on the clinical floor. You’d dressed in such a haste, your skinny jeans being grabbed straight back off the top of the hamper for you to put on, one of Paul’s hoodies being pulled on over a tight camisole. Whilst you hadn’t given a single thought to what you were wearing, clearly your subconscious had wanted to be near him, and you were glad as you pulled the dark grey item round you tighter, breathing in his smell. And you were reminded of the first time you were able to really be close enough to smell his cologne or deodorant, a smell that was uniquely Paul Diskant.

It was Friday and your shift had just finished. It was the first time your rest days had fallen over a Saturday and Sunday, and you were making the most of it. A few from your team were heading to Jack's Bar for a few beers and, you suspected, a lot of shots and probably karaoke later, apparently that’s how your team nights went down.

You’d been there a few hours and your rounds had all gotten out of sync, as was always the case when everyone had had a few, so you stood up to head to the bar to get yourself a refill, cringing at the cat-screeching masquerading as singing which was ringing around the room. You found a space, placing your empty glass on the smooth wood of the bar and stood waiting for the bar tender. You hadn’t been there long when someone sidled in next to you, their elbow lightly brushing your arm and you glanced up to see the handsome, buzz-cut officer that had attended the 273D you’d dealt with in the week.

“Did you bring your cuffs?” He asked and you frowned, looking at him.

“What? Why?”

He jerked his head over his shoulder in the direction of the woman singing, “because she’s murdering Shania Twain and whilst she may feel like a woman, personally I feel that as police officers, it’s our duty to prevent crimes of this nature.”

You groaned out a laugh, “Jesus, you’re terrible”

“My name isn’t Jesus, but give me a chance and I’ll make you say ‘Oh God’,” he shot you a wink, “how’s that for terrible?”

You laughed and shook your head, cocking it slightly to one side as you studied him for a second. And then, you decided on a little joke of your own. “It’s Disco, right?”

He groaned, dropping his head in a dramatic sigh. “Diskant. Come on, you read my name tag, remember?”

"Diskant." You shrugged, "Close enough."

He chuckled, nodding to your drink that was down to the foam at the bottom of the glass, "what are you drinking?"

"Beer," you replied.

"Any beer? Or..."

"The Heff," you nod to the taps.

Diskant waved the bartender over, "Jack, can we get another round, one for me and one for Officer...."

"Y/L/N."

"Officer Y/L/N. Whatever she's drinking."

"It's Paul by the way," he smirked at you while dropping some cash on the bar top as Jack returned your beers.

"Thanks for the beer, Disco," You winked and walked off to join your partner and the rest of the shift team.

“Woah, it’s like that? I buy you a drink and you bail, without even telling me your name?” He scoffed and you turned to look at him over your shoulder, giving him a smirk.

“Yeah," you shrugged, and when you turned away you could feel his eyes burning into your back.

Later, you saw him laughing in a full body tilt, eyes crinkled and his smile exploding. His partner, whom you'd recognized again as Barnes, had said something ridiculous causing the table to erupt.

You headed to the bar and ordered a round of shots for your team and another beer to chase it. But sent one over Paul's way, with a note on the napkin.

When the waitress took the beer to him, she placed the napkin down first, making sure he saw the scribbled note.

'Now we're even. - Y/N'

You watched as he read the note, a huge smile breaking over his handsome face and he turned, bright eyes searching the bar. When they fell on you, he arched his brow and raised his beer in thanks. You gave a sharp jerk of your head to show you’d seen and turned back to your team.

From then on, he was a persistent little shit. He'd somehow figured out your shift patterns, catching you in and out of the doors to the station as you'd be coming off shift and he starting his. Barton liked to give you shit for it as he'd always walk with you out, calling Diskant "your lost, little puppy-dog" and the unit were quick to catch on. It was all in good fun, until one day, you'd worked a tough shift; chasing down a couple of suspects and catching yourself up on a fence, gashing your arm good. Medics treated you at the scene, but told you that it required stitches. You finished you shift anyway and like clockwork, there he was walking in as you were out.

"Hey Y/N, you okay?" He'd expressed concern as your face was blatantly displaying your discomfort and mood which wasn’t great.

You were tired, irritated and in pain, now that the day was over, you wanted to just go home, so you seemed to snap in reply, "What the hell is it gonna take for you to just go away?"

Your response took him back a bit as he raised his hands in defense."Whoa, relax," his voice was soft and careful.

You sighed and stepped out of the way of the different people coming in and out the doors. He followed. "I'm sorry, that was shitty. It's just been a really long day."

"It’s okay, I get it. Look, I'm off today, I was coming in to get some stuff I left in my locker. I'm sorry if I've crossed a line somehow."

You thought to yourself for a moment. He hadn't crossed any line, not one that made you uncomfortable. You had your own reservations about dating someone from work, but it wasn’t like no one else did it, hell, half the entire force seemed to be married to one another, and if you were honest, you were actually kind of attracted to him and you found his flirty way of things to be fun and you liked it.

“No, you didn’t, like I said, bad day.” You shook your head. “I gotta head to the clinic for some stitches, and if I’m honest, I’m not a huge fan of needles so...."

He frowned “you hurt yourself?”

"Got hung up on a chain link chasing a perp through an alley. Finished the shift with the bandages from the medics, now I gotta take care of it."

"Do you... errr...", he moved out of the way of someone leaving the building and scratched the back of his neck, "do you need a lift up there or something, I got nothing else on."

"I could use a ride, sure," you shrugged, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Okay, well gimme two minutes to grab something out of my locker and I’ll be with you in a second.”

You headed out of the way of the various traffic in and out of the station and perched on the low wall that surrounded the parking lot. True to his word, Diskant emerged a few minutes later, sliding his shades down from his head to his eyes, a bright pink gift bag in his hand and for some inexplicable reason, you felt your heart sink at the sight of the item in his hand, it was clearly for a woman.

“Who’s the lucky girl?” You asked, nodding to it as he stopped in front of you. A smirk crossed his face and a brow arched over the top of his wraparounds.

“Is that your way of asking me if I have a girlfriend?” He quipped and you hastily shook your head, lying through your teeth.

“No, I was just…making conversation. Besides, you might be gay for all I know.” You finished lamely and he snorted.

“Well, I’m not, and it’s for my Mom. It’s her birthday tomorrow and she’s a pain in the ass for finding her presents in my room or wherever I hide them. That and I actually only picked it up yesterday and forgot about it.”

"None of my business." You shrugged and at that he sighed, looking down before he glanced at you, chuckling.

"You asked, sweetheart."

The pet name had you feeling a little warm around your neck. Thankfully, Diskant then led you to his car, the conversation moving swiftly onwards as you explained in a little more detail how you’d gotten your injury. By the time you’d finished you were out of the parking lot and had joined the steady stream of traffic on the main road.

“You should count yourself lucky that it was only your arm.” Paul mused, his thumb tapping the steering wheel. “One of the first shifts I ever did ended with the guy I’d been partnered with straddling a piece of razor-wire.”

“Ouch.” You winced and Paul wrinkled his nose.

“Lot of blood and screaming.” He sniffed. “Mind you, every cloud and all that, he said it would save him and his wife a fortune on a vasectomy.”

You blinked before your mouth fell open in disbelief and you scoffed, shaking your head. “Bullshit.”

“I swear down…”

“Don’t believe you, Disco.”

“Well, I’m offended on two counts. First that you think I’m untrustworthy and second you know that’s not my name.” He shook his head, hanging a right.

You shrugged, “I like it, it suits you.”

“I used to get that all the time at school.” He shrugged, “fucking everyone used to sing that damned D-I-S-C-O song in the halls.”

“Okay, now that’s in my head.” You smirked, and you opened your mouth to sing but he cut you off.

“Just, no.”

You laughed and took a deep breath. “Well, if it makes you feel any better my team call me Panny, short for Panic. On account of the fact I never seem to.”

At that he snorted, “yeah, I’m not calling you that, that’s, fucking awful!”

You let out a low chuckle, “Y/N’s fine.”

“Mind you,” he stole a quick glance at you before his eyes went back to the road. “Panic at the Disco, not a bad band.”

You rolled your eyes and chuckled a little. The conversation flowed with little interruption or awkwardness and once you arrived, your time at the clinic seemed relatively fast. You'd figured he'd left as you'd said goodbye to one another when you'd entered the clinic but to your surprise, and catching you a bit off guard, he was still waiting.

"You didn't have to wait." You smiled at him and he shrugged.

“How else you gonna get back for your car?" His eyes flicked down, noting the clean wound and stitches in your forearm.

“Uber?” You shrugged and he paused, before he took a deep breath.

“Okay, you could have but my mom taught me never to leave a lady in need of help.”

"I was in there for an hour," You chuckled.

“Yeah, and now I’m kinda hungry, are you hungry?"

“Diskant…”

"There's a little place I know where we get some great quick food."

"And if I say no?"

"I'm a gentleman and no is no, I’ll take you back to the lot and you get in your car.” He paused, "and then I'll go home and weep into my pillow as I deal with your rejection."

You laugh loudly, genuinely amused, "fine, take me to dinner."

"Woah, I didn't say anything about dinner. I said food."

"Fine, food, let's get some food."

With a grin he gestured for you to lead the way and you headed out of the medical centre back to his car.

It turns out the place he’d been meaning was the Santa Monica Pier. And the food he had in mind was hot dogs and fries, which suited you absolutely fine.

"Alright, I gotta hand it to you, this is a pretty good hot dog and the beer isn't half bad," You tilted back the drink and smiled. "But, it doesn't beat Coney Island."

"Never been," he shrugged, "so I'll have to take you at your word."

"What else do you take me for? Obviously, you're swindling your way into something."

"I resent that accusation, Y/N."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you just suckered me into a date." You teased and he paused, turning to face you. “And, seeing as you said that was what it would take to get you to leave me alone…” “No, this is not a date.” He cut you off, shaking his head.

“Hmm, just the two of us, you bought me food, pretty sure it counts as a date.” You wrinkled your nose, your tone flirty and Paul shook his head once more.

“Nope. Absolutely not. There’s a vital element missing.”

“What?”

“I haven’t kissed you.” He signed dramatically. “So, I’m afraid that if you want me to count this as a date then you’re gonna have to lay one on me.”

“Oh my God-“ You burst out laughing, “You are-“

“Hey, I don’t make the rules, Y/N!”

“So, to be absolutely clear, if I kiss you this counts as a date?”

“Yes.” He nodded.

“Well,” You popped a shoulder, stepping a little closer to him, your eyes flicking from his to his lips, “what the hell.”

You brought your lips to his, a littler firmer than you'd thought but the feel of his mouth against yours was soft and in a way delicate and as you began to pull away, his arm looped around your rib cage and pulled you back in for a longer, deeper kiss that if you'd been honest with yourself, made your stomach tilt and your toes curl. The way his tongue dipped into your mouth was delightful, the salty hoppy taste of the beer and fries you were sharing still an essence in his mouth.

Breathless, you pulled away, “You gonna leave me alone now?”

“Not a chance.” He chuckled and leaned in again for a third kiss.

"Y/N..." the voice calling out to you was familiar but your head was pounding and nothing but a fog had filtered over you. Tearfully coming out of your memory, you looked up to see Dorothy, Paul's mom standing before you, her husband Jim in the background talking to Sam.

"Hi," you croaked and stood from your chair. She immediately wrapped her arms around you in a tight embrace. "I'm sorry... I didn't..."

"Its okay, Jimmy called us after Sam had called us both." She tearfully explained. "We came as soon we'd heard." She nodded to James Barnes, Paul's former beat partner who was talking with Jim, Sam and now Steve.

"Dotty, I... I'm scared." You cried and she took hold of you again. Together you cried until Jim came and hugged you both, his eyes tearful but his demeanour strong. As a force veteran himself, Big Jim Diskant knew all too well how these things could happen but never did he want to believe it'd be his own son wounded in the line of duty.

Barnes was quick to hand you a tissue and you accepted with a sad, soft smile in thanks. "He's gonna pull through, doll. Just you watch. You can't get rid of him that easy."

Your quivering lip turned to a wobble until you saw the doctor emerge from the double doors that led into the body of the hospital. His scrubs were bloodied and you feared the worst as he called out, "family of Paul Diskant."

The world around you felt like it was moving at a snail's pace, your stomach in your throat as you, Dotty, Jim and those there to comfort you all made their way to the doctor.

"We've moved him into the ICU. He's critical, however, I'm hard pressed to say stable. He's not out of the woods yet. The bullet hit his carotid artery which supplies the brain, face and neck and while we were able to remove it, he's lost a lot of blood and I feel it's best to keep him medically sedated until some real healing takes place. That's all up to him on how long that will take and how his body works. Unfortunately, until he wakes up, we won’t be able to determine if there will be any long lasting damage due to the loss of blood to the brain. You should know, we nearly lost him once during the procedure and I know he coded twice before arrival. He's a fighter, that's for sure. For now, he just needs time."

"Can we see him?" Dotty asked, the words not able to leave your lips.

"You can. One at a time," the doctor replied. "ICU rules. I can take the first of you up with me now."

Dotty very quickly turned to you, "go on." You looked at her like a deer in headlights. Jim nodded in agreement with his wife.

"Follow me," the doctor nodded to go with him and as he did, he handed you a small plastic bag. "We had to cut it off. I'm sorry."

He placed the bag containing Paul's St. Christopher medal in your hand. It was covered in blood, no doubt from what had happened and the weight of it felt heavier than it ever had before in your hand as you joined the good doctor on the lift up.

It had been a month into your relationship when your parents decided to head out for a week trip to New York, your dad making good on his promise to treat your mom for their anniversary. That meant that you and Paul were playing house for the week.

After seeing them off, you'd proudly tidied up and made sure you pampered yourself before your date night to kick the week off. Fridays post shift were usually spent at Jack's but, you were off and Paul and Barnes were already day shift, as if the stars had perfectly aligned for tonight. Your gut was telling you that after a month of heavy, very heavy petting, absolutely breath-taking make out sessions and a few down the pants moments, tonight just might be the night things would change for the two of you. And if not tonight, then hopefully while the two of you were shacked up for the next five days.

A few hours of primping, preening and a ridiculously relaxing bath, setting fire to that very diamonds and pearls side of you, you picked out your nicest lingerie, a little all black set of bra and panties that hid lines well in your selected sleek black dress. Paul had said the two of you were going for a nice dinner, and he promised it was truly a nice dinner, not like the last he'd said was nice and you two laughed your way through burgers at the Beach Hut. He was going to pick you up at five, and you needed to be ready.

Punctual as always, your doorbell rang and there he was, duffle in one hand, flowers for you in the other. He always brought you flowers on your dates and you loved the old fashioned in him that clearly was a product of his parents love story.

You smiled at him from behind red lips and smoky eyes, your hair down and straight. "Hey! Thank you!" You took the outstretched flowers and welcomed him in.

"Wow," he whispered, getting the full view of you as he stepped inside the doorway. "Sweetheart, you..., wow."

“You said nice... so if you’re taking me to some dive, Disco, when I’m dressed like this there’s gonna be trouble.”

"I promise, it's nice." Dropping his overnight bag next to the stairs, he followed you into the kitchen as you put the flowers in a vase. You turned from the island and his lips were on yours. "You do look beautiful, but if you want to get into trouble, I've got my cuffs in the car."

You didn't miss the fire in his eyes and the feeling between your legs. “I thought only bad girls get the cuffs?”

"Maybe we should see how bad you can get."

"You're gonna have to feed me first."

“Damn, you drive a hard bargain.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a deep kiss, fingers scratching at the nape of his neck, "You think that's hard, you should..."

His finger covered your lips, "don't, don't finish that sentence or we'll never make dinner. THAT I can promise."

You smirked and pulled away from him fully, grabbing your hand bag off the entry table, "I'm ready, let's go."

The meal was divine, expensive and rich in place and taste, you dined on steaks and lobsters, Paul pulling out all the stops for such a new relationship and start of a fun weekend. You didn't mind, but you also knew that you'd have been fine with something simple too.

"You know you didn’t have to spend so much, I’d have laid on my back for a sub," you sighed contently as he drove you two back to yours.

"Well, in that case, fuck it, next time it's Subway."

"Is that what this was? You buttering me up so I'd sleep with you, Disco?"

“No, that’s...” he stopped and shrugged, “did it work?”

All you did was smirk back at him. From then, until tires skidded into the driveway, Paul drove at lightspeed, making a snarky comment about needing a red light for the dash or wishing he was in his squad car because he couldn't get you home fast enough. You were barely in the door before he was all over you, hands tangled through your hair, you kicking your shoes off at the bottom of the stairs. His strong arms and big hands lifted you off your feet as you clawed at him, your legs wrapping around his slender waist while he carried you up the stairs. It was a mix of breathy sounds and lots of tongue until your back hit the lamp at the landing stair, causing it to tilt, and the bulb to break.

Shit," Paul cursed against your lips.

"I'll get that later," you replied, continuing to fight for dominance in your kiss.

He managed to get you to your room, but your pace slowed down as you entered, the heat lowering to a simmer unlike the two horny teenagers you’d both been in the stairs and hall. Your toes curled into your plush carpet as he set you down. Breathless and chests heaving, you kissed each other softly and slowly as your fingers unbuttoned his shirt, trying to hide your nerves. Your nails raked down the chest of his crisp white tee he wore underneath. You could feel his heart under your palm.

Your eyes looked into his and you saw deep and beautiful blue pools staring back at you, a soft twitch of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. He took a half breath and his lips covered yours, his tongue slowly rolling over your top lip to pull you in. It made your stomach drop in need, and you wrapped your arms around his neck to close the space between you.

His big hand splayed over your right ass cheek and held you there against him while the other hand cupped your face. If anyone were to walk in, they'd think you were one person, the two of you were so close to one another. Then you felt his hand trail over the curve of your backside, closer and closer to the start of your zipper. You felt your dress grow looser as he pulled the little metal piece over the teeth of its track.

His lips trailed over your skin, and you could feel his heart now racing through his pulse point in his neck. Your eyes met his as he pulled away a second, "me too," You whispered.

A breathy chuckle left his lips and you pulled your dress away from your body, allowing the fabric to hit the floor. You felt naked despite the bra and panty set, his gaze taking all of you in. By no means was this your first time with a man, but it was your first time with Paul, and so far, you'd never felt or experienced anything like this and he wasn't even inside you yet. It was like your skin was on fire from the inside out, all of your nerves firing at once, causing everything to tingle and your breath to catch as your heart threatened to leap from your chest.

His foot stepped between yours and he placed his hands on your hips, gently backing you into the bed, his lips sealing with yours, your hands holding his forearms to steady yourself. His hands cradled you as the two of you fell into the mattress, his body covering yours, his lips traveling down your neck and nipping at that sensitive spot that made your panties pool and your thighs clench. Your hands shoved the material of his button down over his shoulders and, as his lips carried on toward the swell of your breasts, he flung the shirt wherever it landed.

You smirked as he figured out the bra you had on was front closure and with a snap your breasts were freed.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he said with a tone you'd never heard from him before.

He had his mouth on you before you could reply, your skin flushing and that twist of stomach igniting with pleasure. His hot tongue lolled around your nipple before suckling it between his teeth and giving it a little pull. You moaned as he pulled away, your fingers scratching at his neck. He smirked against your other breast as you arched into him, his free hand running over your hip and behind you to palm your ass as your leg lifted and bent a knee at his hip.

"I....oh God," you purred as his tongue licked and his mouth sucked, alternating between your breasts. "Fuck, I... Paul, please."

He sat back and ripped his shirt over his head, adding it to the pile. You could see he was solid from your foreplay and you knew the size he was packing. Your stomach twisted in anticipation.

"Please... What?" He said softly as he left hot, wet kisses up the inside of your thigh. "You know, for a trained police officer I would expect you to have a little more self-control, Baby.”

"Shut up..."

He nipped at your thigh, and you moaned obscenely, your muscles twitching. "You gonna tell me what you want?" He nipped again, higher this time. "Or.."

"I need you."

“I asked what you want...”

"Fuck me."

Quickly he was standing, undoing his belt and pants while pulling a condom from his back pocket. You laid there amazed and in awe of the thick muscles of his entire body, the bare chest and tight abs he had on display. You'd seen his thick and full length before, hell, you'd even put your mouth around it but now, all you can think of is how it would feel deep inside you. Your eyes watched him with a hunger you could feel coursing all through you, the way he rolled the latex circle down his shaft and kneeled toward you on the bed.

He pulled at your panties, peeling them away from your body, your legs lifting to remove them fully. You were soaked as he tested your folds, slicking the head of his cock. It felt so good already, you were squirming by the time his head dipped inside you. He caged you in with his body as he pressed into you little by little until you were both moaning at the perfect fit as he became fully seated inside you. His St. Christopher medal dangled between the two of you as it ghosted across your chest.

Your hand gripped the medallion as you gave a gentle pull, his lips barely touching yours, "I said fuck me, Diskant." You sealed your words with a hard kiss, nothing but tongue inside his mouth and his hips snapped, again the two of you making lewd sounds as your bodies joined together.

He broke away from your kiss and thrust his hips forward again, slowly pulling out and snapping back in. It was blissful torture, your body experiencing each movement as if it were new. Your walls continuously contracted around him, giving him a pressure around his cock. It was a tight fit, but not painful, not uncomfortable in any way. Your eyes and his never broke away from each other, only lashes kissing cheeks as you would close your eyes for a kiss.

With a deep, intentional roll of his hips, his lips moved across your jaw and neck, settling near your ear. "I love you," he whispered.

You gasped as you felt your body react, "Oh fuck!" You moaned, your orgasm coming out of nowhere, tightening around him hard.

"Fucking hell," Paul moaned as his hips sped up, until he was spasming inside you, his seed filling the barrier.

He stilled while inside you, pulling out and slipping away with a soft kiss, only to come back cleaned up and pulling the sheet over the two of you. He curled his body around yours, your bare skin against his chest, his hand entwined with yours as his lips kissed your tousled head. "You're amazing."

You turned to look at him with your tired but happy eyes, "did you mean it?"

A soft smile splayed over his features as his eyes twinkled a bit, understanding exactly what you were referring to. "I was being ironic, as I was, literally loving you." He took a pause and leaned in for a sweet, all lip kiss. "But hypothetically... if I did mean it..."

You grinned, “then, hypothetically I’d say I love you to."

He chuckled and quickly pecked you again before settling in behind you for sleep. "Good to know."

The bell to the lift beeped and the doors loudly opened, bringing you to the present. It felt like everything took forever since you'd received Captain Biggs' call. You followed the doctor down the hall and after a sharp left, he showed you the doorway to Paul's room.

As you stepped inside, your heart shattered. The first thing you noticed was how small and pale he looked there in his bed. Paul wasn't a small guy, in fact he was six feet of thick muscle and hard strength. A built frame that loved to wrap itself around you any chance he could. Your firm and well taught body fitting like the perfect piece to him. You swallowed hard as you stepped forward, closer to the edge of his bed. There were so many wires, so many leads hooked up to the various machines that ensured he stayed in his medicinal sleep and keeping him alive. A tube for the ventilator was in his mouth and down his throat while monitoring equipment measured his vitals, IV lines and pumps full of medication surrounded him, a feeding tube was stuck in his nose, and not to mention the various drains and catheters. You found yourself cursing all the episodes of ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ the pair of you had watched as you weren't sure if you'd rather not fucking know what the hell they all were.

Despite the sick symphony of beeps and blips on the screens, the only sound you heard was the sound of his heart rate on its own monitor. A steady, morbid mantra reminding you that he was there but not really there with you.

Gone were those beautiful blue eyes you loved waking up to each morning or staring deeply into as his pupils, lust blown with deep passion, love and desire stared back you while you made love. Hiding behind an ugly plastic tube were those pearly whites you loved seeing when he smiled or laughed with his whole body, his cheeky grin missing. Silent was the voice that would make your heart skip its beats, your body ignite, that would meet your voice in reply, 'sugar'.

You held back the sob that was choking you breathless and you sat in the chair beside his bed, facing him. Your warm and soft hand took hold of his, and you were broken at how cold he felt.

As you looked up for some form of help to the heavens above, your eyes looked back at him and you gave a breathy, shaky sigh, "hey, Stud."

***** Part 3

#rock n roll people in a disco world #Paul Diskant #paul diskant x reader #paul diskant x you #street kings #street kings fan fic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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web-gott · 4 years ago

Text

another

carwood lipton x reader/david webster x reader

request : web, who you had a “thing” with, coming back, seeing you and one of the boys uh lipton? seem to have gotten rather close. with whatever ending you like!

love your playlists btw!!

this is long im so sorry, split into two parts. part two out soon !< 3

it was bitterly cold, not as cold as bastogne thank god but it was still cold enough to make your cheeks and the tip of your nose go red. lucky for you, you were positioned in a house for a bit alongside george and lipton.

lip was pretty sick, pneumonia, and you were protective of him. as you were to the majority of the men; if any of them got sick or hurt you just wanted to make them feel better and cheer them up anyway how but lip was extra special in your eyes. it was in bastogne where the two of you grew closer.

lip would often check up on you, more than he did with anyone else. he kept you company and vice versa. the conversation just was on a flow with him, and even the silences were welcoming and comforting with him. he was sweet and he was kind and you really started to admire him a lot more. you were friends beforehand but something about being alone with him in your foxhole in bastogne, you saw him in a different light.

especially on christmas eve when the two of you were huddled next to each other, shivering away. he really wanted to get you a christmas present, he really did but with the circumstances, obviously he couldn’t, the best he could do was a small bar of chocolate. it meant more to you than he thought. he couldn’t help but blush slightly as you whispered “merry christmas, lip” in his ear before kissing his cheek softly.

now you were in haguenau, helping george with some items whilst keeping an eye on lip. your eyes caught his and he gave you a small smile which you returned before he looked back down at the paper in his hands.

“hey look who it is” george called out, looking at the door way, “nice digs huh, lip?”

webster. david webster. there he was. your heart stopped for a second as the two of you made eye contact. you hadn't seen him in months; so much had changed.

web was a good friend of yours, all from day one of training. he was always looking out for you and always checked up on you; his eyes and smile were kind to you. when the two of you were stationed in england for a little while, the closeness between you two exceeded a little more.

the secret late night walks in the dark together, talking about anything really. the gentle brushes of each other's hands, both of you really wanting to hold the other. just like with lip, the conversation seemed to flow and even when neither of you were speaking, the silence was a pleasant one.

when he got shot you were instructed to go with him and help him get some aid. he wasn't dangerously injured but it was enough to get him out of the war for a little while. you pressed a small kiss to his cheek before he left, “ill write to you” you said in an effort to cheer him up, “i promise!” you added on afterwards to which he smiled (as best as he could in this situation) back to you.

you broke that promise. never did you write to him. as everything progressed in the war, something like that just slipped your mind and you simply just forgot to, until christmas in that foxhole is bastogne.

a lot of the guys had been given christmas letters and posts from family and friends. you weren’t expecting anything, so when you were tossed an envelope with your name written on as you sat in a hole in the ground on your own, it caught you by surprise. you couldn’t recognise the handwriting until you opened the letter and saw who it was from. it was from web himself.

there wasn’t a lot written. he wished you a merry christmas and that he was thinking of you and hoped everything was okay. the way he wrote was beautiful. and thats when it suddenly hit you that you were supposed to write to him a long while ago, you promised to and you never did.

tears brimmed in your eyes, threatening to spill as you finished the letter. the paper stayed in your hands as you stared at the words, your heart sinking as you read it again. a shaky sigh escaped your lips as you tucked the letter back in the envelope and shoved it in one of your pockets.

lip was on his daily check up on everyone when he came across your foxhole. he saw you sitting on your own, knees pulled up to your chest with your head resting atop. he spent the rest of the night next to you in that foxhole trying his very best to cheer you up. thats when you first kissed him on the cheek, wishing him a merry christmas.

“bet you're happy hes back, arent ya y/n?” george spoke up, taking you away from your thoughts.

“yeah” you replied with a small smile, the smile to no one in particular. you didn’t really want to face web right now nor lip , “i-uh, i gotta go give some things to winters ill be back in a bit”

it was a blatant lie, you had nothing to give to winters, you really just wanted to get away from the situation for a bit.

“Alright, be safe” george replied to you, cigarette hanging out his mouth.

“i will george” you spoke.

lip gave you a small smile as you walked past him, making eye contact with him quickly before leaving the room, although he was ill he was more concerned for you. the way you got quiet all of a sudden when web walked in, it was just unlike you completely. you didn't even say hi to web.

web on the other hand hadn’t seen you in months, he felt somewhat relived after seeing you but also was still hurt over the fact you hadn’t written. he really had feared the worst when you didnt write back but seeing you in person was a small relief, although you did look very different from when he last saw you. everyone did. bastogne changed everyone.

#band of brothers x reader #band of brothers #band of brothers imagines #easy company #david webster x reader #david webster #carwood lipton #carwood lipton x reader

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hmslusitania · 3 years ago

Note

I see we're going ape over buddie and Choices tonight so

Yknow in 2.07, when Shannon comes back and her and Eddie have their first scene together? The argument at the end, after Eddie says it wouldn't be a good idea for her to see Christopher bc she left them, she says she needed him, she needed a husband and a co-parent - and "I needed someone to have my back!"

To which EDDIE says, "I always had your back"

*insert Incredibles "coincidence? I think NOT" gif here*

(Also side note, I do like that the show doesn't try to sugarcoat what Shannon did being messed up, and that Eddie's own actions weren't really the right thing either[thinking about his conversation with Buck where he says he got to pretend he left for a noble cause even tho he was running], and that it was just a sticky situation that neither of them were equipped to handle in any way, and snowballed. I do kind of wish we could've gotten post-divorce Shannon and Eddie and Christopher interactions, figuring out how they fit together, if at all, bc I like those intricate and messy situations but I could see how that might get too close to retreading old ground re: Michael and Athena's divorce. But I do hate how ive seen the fandom like. Seem to oversimplify things with Shannon sometimes? And make her the ultimate villain, and Eddie Did Nothing Wrong, Ever)

Hi Anon!

The decision to have Buck and Eddie's first bonding moment end with "You can have my back any day" and "or, y'know, you could have mine" only to then six episodes later find out that at least a contributing factor to Eddie's marriage dissolving was that he "didn't have her back" is like. Such a galaxy brain chaos move for them to take, honestly. Like?? They could've had the phrasing be literally anything in 2x07 but instead they had it directly echo Buck and Eddie in 2x01. What was the reason? Why did they do this?

As for the rest of your ask:

(gosh this got long and, uh, opinionated. It is Not Pretty below the cut)

One of the things I really liked about Eddie Begins is that we did get to see him at the beginning of his journey in being Chris's dad because it gives us an opportunity to appreciate how amazingly he's grown as a father. Like, he didn't start out as a perfect dad and he was definitely kind of lost in the woods at the beginning there when it came to the whole "how do I parent" thing. And before Eddie Begins, we'd only ever seen the end result of the growth he's gone through, where he really is a fantastic dad whose son is basically his entire reason for being. Before Eddie Begins, we get to hear him say things like "I left first" and "I've failed that kid more times than I can count but I love him enough to never stop trying" but we kinda have to take that on faith? Because we hadn't actually seen him be anything besides a good dad until we saw his Begins episode. (And even then in his begins it's like "area man in his early 20s unsure how to care for small child while also coping with PTSD and a toxic support system" which like. yeah. no shit. there's one hell of a learning curve there)

The thing about Eddie and Shannon as a couple and as parents that always gets to me is that they were so fucking young. We don't know exactly how old Eddie is in the show, but we can guesstimate pretty safely that he's around the same age as Ryan which would make him between 23 and 24 when Chris was born, and it seems reasonable to believe Shannon was around the same age. It's also a pretty common reading in the fandom -- although I'm not sure how much canon support there is for it because we really, really don't know anything about their relationship pre-Christopher unless I'm forgetting something -- that they got married because Shannon got pregnant and that was the Done Thing. And when you're 23-24, baby on the way, freshly married, that is just like. So much. It sure as hell ruined my parents' relationship when they did that exact thing, and then they disliked each other until they were 27 and then they got divorced, and no one was happier than me about it, I have to tell you.

Back to the show, I can only give you my impressions, obviously, but the impression I have always gotten from the whole "I left too" conversation and the context that goes into it and the different behaviours we see exhibited by the characters is that Eddie "left" first and it comes across to me that he was basically an early twenty-something kid running scared from the abstract concept of being a father in general, and then when he was forced home by an honourable discharge, and was confronted with the reality of Christopher, he managed to step the fuck up and become Christopher's dad. It's there in 2x02, right? "Oh, you've got a kid? I love kids!" "I love this one." Eddie doesn't strike me as a Swiss Army Knife all-purpose Dad(tm) the way Bobby is. Eddie is Christopher's dad. (and like, of course, he's obviously moved by kids when he's on a call, we've seen that enough times to know that if there's a child who can even glancingly remind him of Christopher, Eddie's sense of self-preservation goes out the window, and I love that about him as heart-stopping as it can be in practice)

Shannon, on the other hand, didn't run from the idea of being a mother -- at first. When she left, it wasn't from the abstract. She left Chris (and "gave up" on Eddie, thanks Helena). She was not running from a concept, she was running from a reality. I think Shannon is a fascinating character to include in a television show as a side character, because she really isn't a one note character. Like, she was unarguably a bad mother, and from what we saw, she was a questionable romantic partner to have (but as you said, anon, Eddie was also not 100% the best romantic partner when he was with Shannon either; their entire relationship so far as I can tell was built on sexual chemistry which, uh, super does not sustain a relationship), but she also seems to have been a devoted daughter? I mean, yeah, it's entirely possible that her mom being sick was a convenient excuse to bail -- and obviously she didn't come back after her mom died, and didn't, y'know, contact her son or husband in the interim, so yes, I can see that being a valid way to read the situation. I don't think she's the Ultimate Evil, because she strikes me as a very human character in all the ways that people are more often than not really fucking flawed.

But then we get back to the actual break-up scene. The first time I watched it (and second, and third; then the fourth time the person I was watching with was like "I mean, sure, but it could also be read in this light") her "I'm just learning how to be someone's mother" speech really bothered me? Partly because it was the abstraction of it, right? Eddie doesn't like kids, he likes Christopher, and Shannon sort of had the inverse journey there, I guess, where it went from she didn't know how to be Christopher's mother, to she didn't know how to be a mother. And that speech bothered me because it always sounded to me like she was bailing again. She begged Eddie to let her back into Christopher's life (guilt? I guess?) and like, straight up bribed him with sex which was sure a choice, and then decides -- for a second time -- that she's out. It sounded, to me, she was handing Eddie papers and maybe, in a few years, possibly, once she'd had "time" to "figure out how to be someone's mother" she would try again. Just like she had in the interim between leaving when Christopher was little and the time of season 2.

And like, that could totally be a misunderstanding of the scene and what she was saying. It's what I took away from it, but that could very well be influenced by the fact I was raised by divorced parents and my dad had custody and if you count up all the time I spent with either parent when I was a minor, I was predominantly raised by my father and have had an especially tempestuous relationship with my mother that is mostly (sometimes) repaired now that I'm in my late twenties and have not lived with her since I was sixteen.

Back to the show, and to your comment that the fandom tends to treat Shannon like the Ultimate Evil and act like Eddie Did Nothing Wrong, I mean. Yeah. Fandom as a rule tends to shirk nuance. We're all fools here on the internet sitting in our blue industrial waste container crying about a wee woo show. I personally believe a more nuanced take on that might be that Eddie has shown a great capacity to learn from his mistakes (sometimes to make fun, shiny, new ones, but for the most part, just like ends up doing better the next time) and Shannon did not show that capacity in the time we knew her.

I think, depending on what they did with it, there was potential for an interesting storyline if they'd played through the divorce. I don't think it would've been rehashing ground covered by Michael and Athena's divorce because I can't see Eddie and Shannon having reached a point of amicability and friendship. The only thing we know they had in common was Christopher, and frankly, when you boil it down, the ways they engaged with Christopher as a person were so disparate that -- to me -- it really didn't seem like they had Christopher in common when you get right down to it. But I wouldn't have wanted to see Christopher and Eddie dragged through an ugly divorce process. They deserve better than that.

There's also a conversation to be had about Shannon's blatant ableism towards her own son, but that is extremely not my lane since I am not disabled myself. But even from an outside perspective, basically their entire parking lot conversation in Haunted, uh, haunts me with it's repugnance and the fact that instead of calling her on any of it, Eddie "Chronically touch starved" Diaz's response was to kiss her? Gosh golly do I wish that was one of the mistakes he learned from properly instead of finding a new, shiny version.

ANYWAY this got long, tl;dr (although if you clicked on the read more, you probably read it) version is No, Shannon is not the Ultimate Evil, she's a shitty mom not a demon in a skin suit and a pretty yellow sundress; and No, Eddie is not a flawless human who's never done wrong in his life but holy fuck is he trying and he'd be the first person to tell you he's made mistakes (and often has been); and no, sorry, I don't want to see the divorce storyline play out because we probably would've had to see either Eddie Bashing, Shannon Redemption, or Shannon turning up again like a cardboard cut out of a cartoon villain the way Eva did and I want to be witness to exactly zero of those things.

#the ghost ship answers questions #I...honestly don't know what to tag this as #I have thoughts about eddie and shannon's relationship #that are probably unpopular opinions #teal dear she's a shitty mom not a demon in a skin suit and a pretty yellow sundress #and I also don't like her for personal reasons #and eddie is not perfect but I wouldn't want him to be and like seeing him try to improve constantly #and also am personally predisposed to like single dads #also for personal reasons

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meltwonu · 4 years ago

Text

| 🍒 CH-CH-CHERRY BOMB! 🍒 | [CHAPTER 2]

pairing; dom!seungcheol x camgirl!reader

this chapter’s notes; cam show, masturbation, dirty talk, sir!kink, tiny jealous!seungcheol. Wow! Thank you all so much for your interest in Cherry Bomb and our very favorite simp! LMAO 😆 And thank you all for being so patient! I know one week drags on when ur waiting for content so thank you so so so so so much for your patience! 🥰🍒 also, some new characters in this, am sorry if ur not a fan but the rest of svt r also simps in this so we had to expand a bit 🤪 HAHAHA HAPPY BIRTHDAY SEUNGCHEOL!!!

chapters; 1 - 2 - ?

It’s 10:05AM when Seungcheol makes it to work, tossing his things in his employee locker before pocketing his phone and heading out to the floor for the day.

He’d gotten approximately 3 hours of sleep and the giddiness was still eating him up when he greets Jeongguk; the tall male that works at the concession stand at the roller rink.

“Hey Seungcheol-hyung! Whoa, you look like you didn’t get any sleep, what happened to you?” The two share a laugh; Seungcheol ruffling his own hair as he sighs. “I couldn’t sleep last night, I was just too… Uh, excited about w-work…” He stutters out, Jeongguk’s eyebrow raised almost immediately at the blatant lie.

“Hyung, we’ve been working here for months. No offense, but nobody gets excited about coming here. Yoongi-hyung is hiding in the restroom as we speak.” Jeongguk deadpans, eyes rolling as he passes Seungcheol a water bottle. “Did you get laid?”

Not really, but kinda? But no, Seungcheol thinks.

“Nah, I just, I got a new PC game and I stayed up all night playing. You know how it is!” Jeongguk nods in understanding.

Seungcheol checks his phone for the umpteenth time since he’d woken up and you still hadn’t texted him. Not that he entirely expected to be woken up to a text message from you, but he perhaps had dreamt of it; waking up and scrambling to find the device while he shook the sleep from his eyes.

Sighing, he pockets the device, swiping the water bottle off of the countertop before he shoots Jeongguk a fixed stare. “When does Namjoon-hyung get back from his vacation?” Namjoon was one of the managers who’d gone on an extended vacation recently which left Seungcheol picking up extra shifts.

On normal occasions, he would’ve politely declined but seeing as it meant extra cash, he practically begged to take them.

“Mmm, dunno. Maybe like a week?” Seungcheol mentally cheers; that meant one more week of extra pay even if he dragged his tired body home every night. He would finally be able to buy you that Sybian that he’d been saving up for. You never asked for one but Seungcheol liked to spoil you and quite frankly, he wanted to see you fall apart on it while you thought of him.

“Cool, well, I’ll be disinfecting the rollerskates. Tell Yoongi-hyung to come help me if he ever emerges from the restroom.”

“You got it, hyung!”

In the time between leaving Jeongguk at the concession stand and the fourth pair of skates he’s disinfected, a party of ten show up at the roller rink; loud and obnoxious as they set their things everywhere. He sighs, knowing exactly that he would be the one to clean up the mess afterwards.

Seungcheol watches the gaggle of teens fumble all over the rink, a sigh on his lips as he sanitizes another pair of skates. He contemplated every single day if it was worth working at the old and usually empty rollerskating rink, but he had to admit, it paid obscenely well. Nobody wanted to work there so his boss basically paid him double his old wage; silent screams running through his head as soon as he realized that meant he can afford to spoil you with more gifts. That had been hard when he was working at the diner down the street.

“Hey ‘Cheol, some kid broke the wheels off of his rental skates. D’you think you can go handle it?” Yoongi drawls, eyes glued to his phone as he waits for Seungcheol’s reply.

Goddamnit.

“Sure, let me just finish cleaning these.”

Yoongi nods, walking off. Seungcheol sets the old pair of skates down, dusting off his work pants as he stands up. He feels his phone vibrate in the pocket, fishing it out to check what it is.

[cherry_clouds has gone live!]

His vision goes red; pupils shaking when he sees it. You never went live this early in the day. He can feel his throat going dry, panicked screaming in his head when he realizes his break isn’t for another hour and a half and your shows usually lasted at least 45 minutes on a short day. But Seungcheol can’t miss this; not after the two of you had spoken last night.

Seungcheol’s teeth clench as he glances around the loud room, seeing his co-workers on the floor. He just needed to catch your show for at least 15 minutes and he swore he’d be fine.

“Fuck them kids.” He mutters under his breath, beelining for the employee restroom.

Seungcheol says a thankful prayer, locking the door behind him as he sits on the countertop. Just a few minutes; 20 tops. He lowers the volume so nobody can hear your voice except for him.

tangerine_kwan: whoa, a morning show?

alphagyu97: for once, i’m glad i wake up early

xcaliburDK: honestly, same

You giggle on screen, wiping the sleepiness from your eyes as you stretch out on your bedsheets. Seungcheol smiles appreciatively; you’d slept in the cute sheer lavender babydoll he’d sent you when you first hit 5k subs. “I know… it’s really rare, huh? I woke up and I felt so needy… I was so wet when I woke up…” He watches with bated breath as you tease yourself, running your hands from your torso down between your legs.

artist8hao: oh? what’s on your mind, doll?

universe_WZ: what did i miss

“I was just thinkin’, y’know? I couldn’t sleep last night after I finished all the important stuff I had to do~ ‘n you didn’t miss anything yet~” You tease, fingertips pressing into your soaking panties as you moan.

dom.cheol: i couldn’t sleep either… too busy thinkin’ about you ;)

Seungcheol feels the adrenaline pulsing through his veins, checking how much time has passed since he holed up in the restroom.

dom.cheol has donated $50

therealchan99 has donated $25

therealchan99: all the insomniacs are probably cryin rn

sleepy_wonu: speak for yourself, i’m deadass in the middle of my forensics lab with headphones on and the screen dimmed to hell

“Oho~ Is our sleepy_wonu trying to be a forensics scientist?” You giggle, biting your lip cutely as you stare into the camera lens.

sleepy_wonu: ya, maybe i can buy you gifts if i ever start getting paid big bucks

Seungcheol’s eyes narrow at the comments, jealousy bubbling up at one of your other regulars. He typically tried to keep his jealousy in check, knowing that just because he showered you with gifts didn’t mean the two of you were exclusive or that you owed him anything. And he especially knew you always liked to engage with your viewers and ask them about themselves.

“Hmm~ Our dom.cheol seems quiet this morning~ Everything okay, sir?” Seungcheol feels the arousal pouring over his body and he tries to will it away; after all, he still needed to get back to work once you were done.

dom.cheol: everything’s ok, sweetheart. you’re very cute in the morning

Your eyes pierce the camera and Seungcheol can momentarily feel his breath stop; fingertips clutching his phone for dear life.

“Mmm, I went to sleep last night dreamin’ of nice and strong hands pinning me down to my bed ‘n fuckin me into the sheets…” You pause, slipping the sheer babydoll over your head which left you only in your lace panties. “And there was a really really really dominating voice making me cum and tellin’ me to take all of his cock and oh~ god, it’s like I could feel it!” You finish, slipping your soaking panties off before you spread your legs wide for the camera.

You don’t waste any time, plunging two fingers deep into your pussy as you keen, toes curling against the sheets as you start fucking yourself.

“Ngh, fu--fuck, ‘n they made me cum over and, hah, o-over, fucking my pussy ‘n my ass… ‘n then cumming down my throat… Mmh and I still wanted more even when they filled me up with so much cum~”

Seungcheol’s throat is drier than a desert, almost dropping his phone as he listens to you. There was absolutely no way you weren’t talking about him.

tangerine_kwan: holy shit

dom.cheol: what else, baby

You curl your fingers, barely able to touch your g-spot and it makes you wonder for a second how well Seungcheol could finger you and how much of his cock you could take.

“A-ah, and--mmh, and I--I kept begging ‘Sir, p-please fuck me more!’ ‘n I felt so f-full… God, it felt so real~ I really needed to cum when I woke up so I turned on my cam~” You whine, thumb pressing down onto your clit. You hated to admit it but thinking of Seungcheol’s deep voice and obscenely handsome good looks was enough to make you cum once more before you even went to sleep and now even your subconscious seemed to crave the devilishly handsome male.

alphagyu97 has donated $75

dom.cheol has donated $250

artist8hao: those cute ‘lil fingers enough to satisfy your greedy pussy?

Mewling, you start rubbing circles on your clit, chasing the quickly growing urge to cum. The sound of donations flood your ears but all you can think of is Seungcheol’s deep voice groaning and growling into your ear. “No~ I want m-more but… but I came so much last night too! Maybe I am a ‘lil greedy, huh?” You tease, adding a third finger as you moan loudly. The stretch felt good; head imagining Seungcheol’s fingers as you fuck yourself faster.

dom.cheol: why don’t you cum? I can see you want to, sweetheart.

“Mmm, is it okay, sir? Can I cum already?” You ask shyly, batting your eyelashes at the camera as Seungcheol grits his teeth, cock throbbing in his work pants. He would definitely need to take care of this before he stepped back out onto the floor.

dom.cheol: cum, babygirl, you deserve it.

Your eyes snap shut right after you read Seungcheol’s comment, biting your lip as you race to your orgasm. The sound of your fingers fucking into your wet pussy and your moans are all Seungcheol can hear, pupils blown wide knowing you just came thinking about him, probably. Or so he hoped, at least.

You can feel your legs shaking, threatening to snap shut as your orgasm crests; the sound of rapid fire donations battering your ears as you cum hard on your own fingers. Choked sobs and cries are all you can muster, shapes dancing behind your eyelids the entire time the pleasure washes over you.

xcaliburDK: well goddamn, good morning to me

sleepy_wonu: fuck

universe_WZ: i… speechless

Seungcheol smiles smugly to himself, mentally patting himself on the back.

“Mm… ‘m so tired…” You murmur, slipping your wet fingers from inside your pussy as you moan at the emptiness. Seungcheol watches as you lick your fingers, cleaning them off before you lay on your side facing the camera.

universe_WZ: i think u deserve a nap

alphagyu97: yea, cuz holy shit fuck that was hot

therealchan99: god i love it when u dirty talk

j__min has donated $400

j__min: me too, dollface ;)

Confusion crosses Seungcheol’s face at the newcomer, blood draining from his body at how much they seemed to donate on the first go.

“Huh? Oh! Do we have a new regular?” You inquire, sleepiness lacing your voice. A nap was definitely needed after the last 24 hours of your life.

j__min: ur quite cute, might need to keep my eye on u princess ;)

dom.cheol has donated $450

That’ll show them, Seungcheol thinks. He didn’t often think of himself as competitive either, but goddamn, would he go the extra mile for you.

You giggle tiredly on camera and he can see the sleepiness in your eyes, watching with fondness as you answer a few more comments, yawning cutely as you stretch out on the bedsheets again. He mentally thanks you for not giving the newcomer any extra attention.

dom.cheol: take a nap, sweetheart.

Nodding, you yawn once more. “Okay, everyone~ I think I’m gonna take that nap you all seem to want me to take, hehe~ ‘n then I’ll probably wake up and get some food delivered ‘cause I’m still really tired after last night… But I just can’t help it, y’know? Sometimes I just wanna be fucked nice ‘n hard by a real cock~” Winking, you say your goodbyes, thanking them for their donations and support; blowing the camera a kiss before you end the stream.

Seungcheol lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, body slumping atop the counter. He had loads of questions now that you were off air. Firstly, were you thinking about him? Secondly, who the fuck was j__min?

Shaking the thoughts from his head, he checks the clock. 45 minutes. He groans. At least nobody had come looking for him.

Seungcheol places his phone down onto the counter, biting his lip and palming himself over his work pants before he thinks, screw it.

A satisfied groan spills from his lips as soon as he wraps a hand around his throbbing cock, not wasting another second before he starts a quick pace. He imagines your tight pussy and your face contorting in pleasure as he fucks you into your own bedsheets, thrusting up into his clenched fist as the images linger in his mind. Licking his lips, he thinks about your sweet moans as you beg him for more, stray tears slipping down your cheeks when you call him ‘sir’ through choked sobs.

And it doesn’t take long before Seungcheol is cumming, teeth biting into his bottom lip to keep his noises in as the euphoria washes over him.

He sighs, sated, as he slows down his strokes, thankful he didn’t get any cum on his work pants.

Seungcheol gives himself a second to catch his breath, shuffling off of the countertop to get cleaned up before he steps back out. He grimaces when he meets his own eyes in the dingy mirror; he’d just gotten off at work while you did an extremely rare morning show. Granted, it wasn’t the lowest he’d ever felt but definitely was a contender.

Shaking his head, he steps back out, the outdated pop music hitting his ears as soon as the roller rink comes back into view.

The gaggle of teens are still on the floor, Jeongguk looks unbothered and Yoongi sits by the skate rental booth; not a single one of them even noticing he was missing for the approximate hour he was in the restroom.

He really loved his job.

That night, Seungcheol trudges home more tired than he usually is.

You still hadn’t texted him, which was fine. But he had checked his phone every second he had free, zoning out when he saw no new notifications.

Seungcheol toes his shoes off once he crosses the threshold of his studio apartment, making his way to the sofa before he flops down onto it. He scrolls through a few apps, mindlessly reading a few things before his stomach growls.

“Guess I should eat…” He mumbles to himself, placing his phone onto his chest before he closes his eyes for a second. Sighing, he relaxes, almost falling asleep. It was generally really loud at work with the people and the music always blaring, so he liked to bask in the quietness whenever he had the chance to.

This time, however, the peace and quiet doesn’t last long when his phone vibrates on his chest, alerting him of a text message. He grabs his phone at lightning speed, eyes wide when he sees a text message from an unknown number. Quickly opening the notification, his pupils shake as he recognizes your typing style almost immediately.

Unknown Number: Cheollie~ ><;; ‘m sorry I didn’t text sooner… i was kinda shy… and i slept so much too hehe~ oops~ i hope i��m not bothering you? i didn’t know when it was a good time…

Seungcheol shakes his head at his phone, sitting up as the excitement blooms within him again. He take a moment to figure out the best response, typing and erasing the same sentence three times before he sends it.

‘Not at all, sweetheart. ;) How was your nap?’

#seungcheol smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #scoups smut #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol imagines #scoups imagines #scoups scenarios #svt imagines #svt scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #scoups #seungcheol #cherrybomb!cheol

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recurring-polynya · 4 years ago

Note

If you could rewrite the zanpakto arc of Bleach, and you didn’t have to make it fit into canon, what would it be like? Aside from having a lot of RenRuki pinning.

So I guess this is just a condensation of my complaining from when I was recapping that arc, but, uh, you asked for it. I know this is a lot of people’s favorite arc, and it really just wasn’t my jam, so please, don’t anyone get offended by this, it’s just, like, my opinions, man. Everyone knows my opinions are terrible, I love the Cap’n Amagai arc, for Pete’s sake.

0) The Zanpakutou Arc actually has a lot of good Renruki content, actually? So I probably wouldn’t change much about that. They fight back-to-back in one scene? They are very worried about Byakuya together? There’s a cute li’l scene where Renji lets Rukia into Byakuya’s office to rifle through his things and he says “Don’t work too hard”? And then in the companion Sword Beasts arc, there’s that bit where they are hanging out at B’s house together, eating dango.

1) To be honest, I just wouldn’t. Zanpakutou spirits manifesting is a prerequisite to bankai and I would like it to be treated as a serious part of the lore and the way this arc plays out is too silly for me. If they wanted to just do some goofy one-shots that very obviously exist in the same pseudo-canon as the Shinigami’s Cup, I’m fine with that. There are several very funny episodes in the follow-on Sword Beasts arc, I just don’t want it to be even remotely canon.

2) There were too many humanoid zanpakutou spirits. I am not here for it. First order of business, bring back Nue Zabimaru. Hozukimaru needs to be a big-ass sleepy dragon. Hyourinmaru should be a dragon most of the time, who occasionally turns into a dude, I can accept that. Kazeshini should just be a spooky voice in the darkness. Haineko should be a cat, not a catgirl, and get rid of those shorts. Tobiume: tree. Maybe sometimes a shrine maiden, but mostly a tree. On fire.

3) I am a character writer, first and foremost, and I would have focused this arc intently on building character by carefully curating the fundamental beef that each zanpakutou has with their wielder. For starters, I think that, for the most part, Muramasa should not have been able to seduce any of the zanpakutou spirits of the captains. Attaining bankai is supposed to be an intimate act of intense connection that some interloper shouldn’t be able to break. This was true of Byakuya and Senbonzakura in the actual arc, and I think it should also have been true of Kyouraku, Ukitake, Komamura, Yamamoto, and probably Unohana. (I am dying to know more about Unohana’s relationship with her zanpakutou, and I would probably hint at it without revealing too much). Soi Fon and Kurotsuchi treat their zanpakutou like shit, and I would dig into that. I think Hitsugaya’s arc was just about right-- Hyourinmaru wavered and was very confused, and ultimately came back to Hitsugaya without too much trouble. Hitsugaya is the youngest captain and his bankai is incomplete, and the vibe of it was that he does have a good rapport with his zanpakutou, especially given that his particular zanpakutou is ancient, venerable, and very, very powerful. Now, the place where the story really needs to be happening is at the vice-captain level, where everyone has all manner of intra-personal problems that Muramasa could tap into and amplify. Here are the conflicts I would zoom in on:

Sode no Shirayuki is McPissed that Rukia just... gave her to Ichigo and also almost let herself get executed

Zabimaru would be mad that Renji spent all that time training to defeat Byakuya and now what? He’s just, like, Byakuya’s li’l sidekick? Gross. In fact, if we keep the Byakuya-betrays-everyone aspect, I can see Zabimaru sticking with Renji (since he does have bankai) but wanting a piece of Byakuya and Senbonzakura and we could have a really cool confrontation at some point. Zabimaru should also be constantly trying to fight Zangetsu and trying to get Renji to fight Ichigo. Strike that-- Zabimaru should constantly be trying to get Renji to fight everybody.

Hozukimaru should be upset that Ikkaku hides the beautiful bankai that Hozukimaru gave him and also that he lost that pillar, wtf dude

I would have spent 96% of my animation budget making Ruri'iro Kujaku as beautiful and ethereal as possible and they (non-binary) should have just murdered Yumichika out of spite and fucked off to the Eternal Plane of the Extremely Beautiful

My Haineko would be raw as hell and would dig into Matsumoto for hiding behind alcohol and lightheartedness and I would have put some stuff in there about how maybe being the person your zanpakutou wants you to be is maybe not the same as being a good or emotional healthy person

I hated the idea that Tobiume criticized Momo for being weak after Momo said that her zanpakutou had really helped with her recovery. I would have gone way in the other direction, where Tobiume is extremely overprotective of Momo and wants to keep anything bad from happening to her

Hisagi something something I did not read CFYOW

4) I would not have been a huge coward with regard to Ise, Kotetsu, Iba, or Zaraki fuckin’ Kenpachi. We should have either gotten to see their zanpakutou or they should not have appeared. It would probably be really hard, but I would have done an off-putting, low-priority story thread of Yachiru having a lot of trouble concentrating, or, like, running off, and Zaraki has to go find her, that would hint at their ultimate relationship without being too blatant. Oh, Yoruichi, too, I just remembered Yoruichi was in this.

5) Look, if I were Ichigo and I had to go to Soul Society to save everyone from their own zanpakutou I WOULD BRING FUCKING ORIHIME AND CHAD!!! I wouldn’t being Ishida, but he would come anyway and be the most sanctimonious bastard about all that that you could possibly imagine. Anyway, then I would go in an absolutely wild direction and have Orihime and Chad and Uryuu find out that they do have Inner Worlds and embodiments of their powers and I would devote a lot of the arc to that.

6) Soujun should have been in the Kouga flashbacks, even if, only like, for a minute. Please let me see Byakuya’s dad in his infinite softness. I am begging.

7) I would get rid of Muramasa’s gross fingernails

#Zanpakutou Rebellion Arc #i am actually super down with zanpakutou spirits having multiple forms #i like to write sode no shirayuki as sometimes a yukionna but sometimes a bird or a fox or a bear #i probably came up with that headcanon because i hate their human forms so much #but it makes sense for them to have a form they can swordfight in #i recently found an old post where i declared that Iba's zanpakutou spirit should just be ray smuckles from Achewood #and I stand by that #IIIIIINNNNNBOXXXXXXX ZEEEEEERRRRROOOOO!!!

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vintagedolan · 4 years ago

Text

mixtape - track eleven

| masterlist | faceclaims | playlist |

I was hiding from myself too. I was hiding from the part of my brain that was like ‘what are you gonna do now?’. Like, there’s a part of your brain that does thrive off of feeling like shit.

The voice shifted, just for a moment.

Yea-

It was a tiny sound in the back, from behind the camera. It didn’t even form a full word before Ethan continued talking, but Indy flinched anyway. It was always worse when she was unprepared for it.

In her distraction, she’d streaked her concealer too far past her eye and sighed, using her finger to pat it in, ignoring the way it splotched. It probably wasn’t the right shade, and it was definitely expired, but it was enough for her to look like maybe she had slept in the last two weeks.

She hadn’t. Not really. Every time she closed her eyes, even to blink, he was there. Sometimes, she welcomed it. But in that moment, standing in her mirror in her scrubs, she didn’t want to see his face. She didn’t want to hear his voice. Because she had to keep it together for 16 hours. 12 hours at the hospital on the peds floor, and another 4 at her shift at Jet’s afterward. So she kept her eyes open, took a deep breath, and walked out of her bathroom.

On the other side of the country, Grayson’s eyes were closed.

He wasn’t sleeping. It was 4 in the afternoon, which was the earliest time he could consider himself done with work for the day and escape to his bedroom, closing the door behind him. It only got down to the high forties in LA, even in January, but he climbed under his comforter anyways, pulled his baby blanket up by his face.

Time seemed to crawl by while he lay there alone. He rolled to his side, pulling his pillow down to wrap his arms around it, and when he opened his eyes, he wished he hadn’t. On his nightstand, turned towards him, was the frame that Indy had gotten him for Christmas. He wished she hadn’t curled up so much when he’d taken it. He wished he could see her face more in the glossy material, wished she had given him a picture of just her instead. When he squeezed his eyes shut again he could see her face better, every feature committed to memory. So he looked. He focused on the different shades of blue in her eyes and pretended like she was in class, and that he was on her couch waiting for her to come home.

A knock sounded on his door, and his heart tightened.

Ethan stepped in the room with a bag of Monty’s and a hopeful smile.

Grayson didn’t move.

“I brought you dinner.”

Nothing.

Ethan sighed, dropping the act. He was giving up on it earlier and earlier these days.

“Bro, you’ve gotta eat. You didn’t eat lunch.”

“Not hungry.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m not.”

“Well, tough shit then, cause I’m not leaving you alone until you eat at least some of this.”

Grayson knew his brother, better than he knew himself sometimes, and he could tell by his tone that he was serious. He didn’t have the energy for a fight, and despite himself, his stomach growled at the smell of the fries in the bag, salty and warm. So he sat up begrudgingly and let Ethan pass him the bag, pretending not to see how his shoulders slumped in relief.

He didn’t have to ask why Ethan stayed. It was to make sure he didn’t sit the bag down as soon as he closed the door behind him. So he waited, and he watched his brother eat his burger slower than usual, fighting to chew it and force it down.

“Where’s yours?” He asked eventually - he knew better than to think that Ethan hadn’t gotten himself a burger.

“I uh… I ate with Eden.”

Grayson stopped chewing. His question was blatant in his eyes, and he waited for the answer.

“No, I didn’t fucking tell her,” Ethan grumbled, running his hand over his face. “But I don’t know how much longer I can do this, I feel like I’m fucking lying to her.”

“Did she ask about… her?” He caught himself. He hadn’t said her name since they left New York.

“Not yet. She knows something is up with you though, and if she starts asking questions I’m telling her.”

“No.” It wasn’t a plea. It was a demand.

“Grayson. She’s gonna find out eventually, I gotta tell her.”

“No. Twin code.”

“Don’t pull that shit man, c’mon, we aren’t six anymore. That’s my wife, and she’s gonna be pissed as fuck at me. If you don’t tell her, I’m gonna have to.”

Grayson stayed quiet and put the rest of his burger back in the bag, his small appetite fading to nausea at the thought of having to admit to anyone else what he had done. He hadn’t had to explain it yet - Ethan knew enough to put the pieces together, and he had enough heart to stay quiet on the plane, just passing over his napkin from his drink as an extra tissue while Grayson looked out the window and cried quietly. But he wasn’t going to tell Eden - he wasn’t ready for that.

Ethan sighed. “I’m just saying Gray, she’s gonna start asking me questions, and I’m not gonna lie to her, that’s not me. That’s not either of us.” He paused, hoping for a response he knew he wasn’t going to get. “Whatever. We have a meeting at 10 tomorrow.”

Ethan left the room in silence, and Grayson closed his eyes.

Indy’s struggled to keep hers open. It was almost 4 am the worst hours of her shift. She poured another cup of coffee from the nurses’ lounge, ignoring the fact that it was burnt as she sipped it down and willed herself to wake up. Part of her wished it was iced - warm drinks made her sleepy, and worse, reminded her of cold New Jersey mornings that she couldn’t afford to think of. Just the idea of reminiscing made her chest tighten enough for her to suck in a breath and start to search for a distraction. She read the schedule instead, checking to see what tech would replace her come 7 am. She still had two vital checks to do on each patient, opting to do them on the even hours. Her head tipped back as she drained the rest of her cup and tossed it in the trash, needing to keep her mind busy.

It wasn’t her job - only nurses could distribute meds, but she could prep the trays for the kids to make their lives easier. So she moved to the med cart and started to look through.

“Adams, Adrian, Bellon, Campbell, Cortez, Jenkins, Kimp, Lopez, Mullins, Norton.” Her fingers stopped for a moment as she traced down the last names on the cart, mumbling them out. No Newcomb. She double-checked. Nothing.

Bekah didn’t have a tray.

Indy’s heart sped up a bit, and she waited until she saw Ayria, one of the night shift nurses, coming out of a room.

“Hey, do you need me to get Newcomb a tray? Hers isn’t on here.” It felt weird to refer to Bekah by her last name, but she didn’t want to seem unprofessional.

Ayria frowned, coming to log into the computer on the med cart and check the charts.

“Oh yeah, everything she’s getting is IV right now, no pills.”

Indy took a breath and steadied herself, glad to see that the clock had turned and she was able to make her rounds. She’d become an expert at taking vitals without waking the kids up - even some of the more seasoned nurses were impressed.

But she could never get past Beks.

The first day, during Indy’s orientation, Bekah could tell something was wrong. It was only three days after Grayson had left after all. Indiana knew that the floor needed a tech, and she knew they’d take her as soon as she asked. She also knew that if she let herself stay at home that she’d never leave it again. So she went and bought the cheapest scrubs she could find and mustered up enough energy to show up.

She didn’t really need Ayria to show her around that day. She knew the unit inside and out from her time as a volunteer; she just needed the codes for the supply rooms and a list of her tasks for her 12-hour shift. But she was glad that they were together when they went into Bekah’s room because Bekah was kind enough not to say anything with someone else there. Now, she didn’t hold back.

“You look like shit,” she said as soon as Indy walked in.

“It’s 4 am, you should be asleep,” Indy countered with a smirk. The incident on Christmas was forgiven without a second thought, and she was relieved to be back to their normal banter as she put her blood pressure cuff on.

“You should be asleep. This is your last shift of the week though.”

“Says who?”

“You’ve been here three days already, that’s the max you can work without overtime.”

Indy kept quiet and wrote down her blood pressure in the chart.

“Are you okay?” Bekah asked quietly, and Indy sucked in a deep breath, trying to stop the tears flooding her eyes.

“I’m fine Beks. Promise.”

Bekah contemplated if she should say it.

“Is it Grayson?”

Indy’s breath caught in her throat. Her hands shook as she held up the thermometer, and she had to blink hard to be able to read the numbers and scribble them down.

Bekah took her silence as an answer.

“Sorry. I know it must be hard, having him so far away,” she murmured. Indy couldn’t find her voice to tell her that it was okay. She fiddled with her blankets, tucking her in nicely and dimming her lights down to give her time to clear the knot in her throat.

“Get some sleep Beks.”

She held it together until she got outside her room, and then the tears escaped. As quickly as she could, she ducked her head and beelined for the nurses’ desk, using her oldest trick of drinking water to keep herself from fully breaking down.

Valentina sat at her desk and watched with a frown, but she didn’t say anything.

Indy gave herself one minute, and then she took a deep breath and got back to work.

Time crawled, and she cursed herself for not leaving enough things to keep her busy for the rest of her shift. By 6 am, she’d resorted to cleaning the tables in the break room and reorganizing supplies in the supply closet to keep herself occupied. She knew the day shift nurses would appreciate the extra effort - they always sung her praises, thrilled to work a shift after her considering how well she set it up for them.

Valentina came into the supply closet at 6:30.

“You might just work our daytime tech out of a job,” she said, making Indy jump and drop the bandages she was restocking.

“You scared me,” she said, catching her breath. “Just restocking.”

“You work too hard,” Valentina shook her head, crossing her arms. “You’re gonna burn yourself out sweetheart, and we need you around here.”

“I’ll be alright.”

“You act like I don’t know you’re going to your other job right after this.”

“They give me good coffee there, what can I say,” Indy teased, but when she looked Valentina’s eyes were sad. “I like to keep busy.”

“Too busy,” she tsked. “You leave at 6:50 today.”

“Valentina-”

“Keep talking and I’ll make it 6:40,” she threatened. “And you get some sleep later, you hear me?”

“Yes ma’am,” Indy conceded, knowing it wasn’t an argument she could win. Nurses weren’t the type to lose an argument, and she’d never met a more nurse-y nurse than Valentina. She finished stocking quickly, gathering her bags and double-checking she’d finished everything before she headed out, waving goodbye to the nurses she saw.

She was distracted on her way out, and she didn’t think when she hit the button to get into the next hallway.

For two weeks, she prepped. Mentally paused and thought of all the things that could hit her out of the blue, make her come unraveled. She was ready, for the couples in the street holding hands, for the husbands coming to walk their wives home from work, the high schoolers on hot chocolate dates in the big city. But it was always the small things that got her.

She hadn’t prepared herself, and her eyes automatically went to the walls when she cleared the doors. The ocean mural. The jellyfish, the sea turtle on the wall that Grayson had said looked like Ethan once. It hit her like a ton of bricks, her chest so tight that she reached up to press on it as she heard his voice in her head. It made her feel pathetic, the way she had to stop and grab onto the rail in the hall and steady herself for a moment. She counted her breaths, trying her hardest to shut her mind off, staring at the blue of the walls as she willed herself to be okay, just for another day.

Grayson was staring at the water. Or at least, he was trying to. The moon wasn’t very bright, but it reflected enough off the ocean for him to get a sense of which way the sun would come up. The whole surface was washed black by the night sky, and it was peaceful. He wanted to swim in it. He wanted to sink beneath it and find that blissful quiet you could only find underwater.

He’d fallen asleep soon after Ethan had left him alone, which meant he found himself wide awake at 4 am, body tired of being asleep. Sitting in bed would only make things worse, so he sent Ethan a quick text and headed off in the Porsche towards the secret beach. There was no one else there so early in the morning, and he was grateful. It gave him the peace of mind to curl in on himself, let the tears flow freely as the waves lapped at the shore, returning over and over.

Time ran away from him in the dark. His tears ceased eventually, dried themselves out as he sat in his misery. He didn’t fight it. Instead, he let it wash over him, sink into every pore and weigh him down, wishing he could somehow disappear into the sand as the sun started to rise and wash the world in light orange. His phone buzzed, no doubt a text from his brother. He elected to ignore it, keeping his eyes on the water, counting the waves as they came in. It was admirable, the dedication they showed; returning every time they got sucked back out.

At some point, he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and he sighed, pulling his hood up over his head in a feeble attempt to hide himself from whoever was watching him. He stood up and brushed the sand off himself, ducking his head down and jogging straight back to his car, hoping whoever it was wasn’t trying to come up to him.

As soon as he ducked into his car and pulled the door shut, he sunk down, resting his forehead against his steering wheel.

“Fuck!” He yelled, smacking his dashboard. His radio turned on with a jolt, connected to his phone and automatically starting his playlist. Cudi blared through the speakers and he groaned, hitting all the wrong buttons in an attempt to get it to turn off.

“Stop, fucking stop!” In a last attempt he chucked his phone across the car, watched it ricochet off the dash and down into the floorboard. He threw his car into reverse with blurry eyes, desperate to get away from anyone who might have a camera. He was paranoid the whole drive home that someone was watching, eyes darting to the windows of any car he ended up next to at a stoplight. It wasn’t until he got the gate closed behind him and he was in the house that he felt like he could breathe again. With Ethan still asleep down the hall, he choked back his sobs as he sat down at the counter, face in his hands.

Indy was taking deep breaths behind the counter as the line started to pile up at Jet’s. She looked to her right, frowning at the stress on her new coworker, Mariposa’s, face as the cups continued to line up next to her.

“Hey Posie,” she called over between customers. “Do you wanna switch?”

“God yes,” she exclaimed, rushing to take Indy’s place at the register so she could move over to the bar.

Indiana preferred it that way. She didn’t have to smile for a latte, she just had to pour it and try not to burn her fingers and move on to the next. It had come back like second nature to her, and she liked the fast pace. It gave less time for her to think, and she welcomed the numbing repetition. She kept an ear piqued towards the register, listening to the orders coming in so she could get ahead. The next one came from a taller man, his face hidden behind a coat.

“Just give me the biggest cup of the strongest stuff you’ve got.”

Indy dropped her cup, a half poured latte splattering all over her hands first, down her apron, then the bottom of her jeans and onto her shoes. It only took one look over at the man to realize it wasn’t Grayson, and she deflated.

“Shit,” she hissed, flicking her hands in an attempt to chill the burn that was already searing on her skin. She side-stepped to the sink, flipping the cold water on and letting it flow over her hands. It stung even more, and she sighed at the bright red of her skin. She’d had enough burns from her time as a barista to know that it would blister.

“Indiana, you okay?” Patrick called from the ovens, moving a line of pastries in and out.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.”

He frowned, but kept quiet, letting her get back into the groove of making drinks. Indy could feel him watching her, the familiar weight of a protective eye over her shoulder. At least he was kind enough to wait until her shift was over before he tried to talk to her again.

“Hey, how’s your hand?”

Indy looked down and sighed at the sight of her red skin, resisting the urge to rub it. Instead, she moved to the first aid kit and grabbed a wrap bandage.

“It’s been better, but I’ll survive.”

“Why don’t you take the day off tomorrow,” Patrick suggested as casually as he could. “You know, to rest your hand.”

Indy scoffed.

“It’s not gonna fall off Patrick, I’m fine.”

He sighed. “Fine, if you’re gonna make me say it then I will. You’re a hard worker, one of the best we have, but you’re exhausted. We can all see it, and you don’t need to burn yourself out like this for a minimum wage job. So, you’re off tomorrow. No exceptions.”

“But-”

“No. Exceptions.”

Her anger bubbled up in her like the blister forming on her thumb, but she knew it wasn’t Patrick’s fault. He was right - she was just upset at the idea of having an entire day with nothing to distract her. An empty apartment had never seemed so daunting, and it was all she could think about as she clocked out, got her things together, and walked home.

It was quieter than she’d imagined when she got through the door, the click of the latch echoing through the still space. She thought of turning on music, but that only made her think of Grayson, singing off-key next to her in the truck. She could put on a movie, but it would make her think of cuddling with him on the couch. Her bed was where he had been so many nights. He’d cooked in her kitchen, he’d helped her move furniture in the guest room.

She couldn’t escape him, no matter where she went. And so, as pathetic as she felt doing it, she sunk down right there on the floor, and she let the misery have her. It came in broken sobs that caught on her throat on the way out, too loud even for her own ears as she tried to imagine a day where she didn’t feel like the world was crumbling around her.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there. But eventually, the things no one ever talked about started to happen. Her butt went numb, and her head started to hurt, and her lips got dry from the saltwater that ran over them. None of that mattered though. What finally got her up from the cold floor was the fact that she was sticky - remnants of the vanilla syrup in the latte that she’d dropped finally congealing and making her feel more disgusting than the tears. She peeled herself up off the floor and headed to her bathroom.

Grayson was in the shower, with his head down, water splashing over his back and bouncing off his shoulders - a statue in the rain. It was the best place to avoid getting on his phone, considering he couldn’t, and that was the only way he could trust himself to not get on twitter and see the aftermath of the morning.

He wondered for a moment what he looked like from outside the glass shower door, standing there with his razor up by his chest. The blades clogged with the long hairs he shaved from his chest, leaving him bare and smoother than he’d been in months. He sat the razor down and moved to pick up a clear bottle from the shelf. Polis was scribbled on it in sharpie in Ethan’s handwriting, remnants of a Wakeheart meeting. Grayson could remember how excited he was to pitch the idea, even if it was over zoom.

“I finally came up with the third body wash scent. Vanilla, with a hint of coffee and then a little bit of sandalwood to keep it professional and put together.”

He’d had to whisper it - Indy was asleep in her room, the product of a good post study-session back rub that had lulled her into a much-needed nap. The team loved it, thought it complimented the other two scents they’d been testing well. Ethan was hesitant, but he kept his mouth shut and brainstormed a backup if needed.

Grayson was thankful for the gesture, even when he’d told him that he’d started planning it as early as he had. But he wasn’t willing to give it up, and he made it very clear in their first meeting back that Polis was a permanent scent. It felt like a tiny piece of her that he could hold onto. Still, as he stood there and held the bottle up to his nose, it wasn’t the same. As pitiful as it made him feel, he tried closing his eyes, tried to imagine she was there with him, standing in front of him, giggling like she always did when they showered together.

He couldn’t do it justice. Couldn’t feel the warmth of her skin against his, couldn’t smell her shampoo or watch her try to bend over and shave her legs in her small apartment shower without bumping into him. He’d held her hips to help her keep her balance, listened to her laugh and talk about casual intimacy, heard the way it echoed off the tiles and became his favorite sound in the entire world.

His tears mixed with the water, his pain palpable as he started to quiver just barely, the memory enough to break down the paper thin wall he’d managed to drag back up to protect himself. When his knees shook he gave up and sunk to the ground, green tiles of the bench seat icy against his back as he buried his face in his hands. He’d never felt weaker in his life, and he wished he was ten again, so his dad could wrap his strong arm around his shoulder and tell him that everything would be alright.

He went for the next best thing once he managed to get enough energy to get up and turn the water off. A few swipes of his towel over his body and hair, then he pulled his boxers on and put on his robe, walking straight out of his room and down the hall.

Ethan’s door was open, but he wasn’t in his bed like Gray expected. He was at his desk instead, a look of stress on his face that Grayson was all too familiar with. A pang of guilt resonated in him when he realized what his brother was doing - picking up all the slack that he was leaving in his misery.

He hadn’t said a word about it though, and that made it worse.

It took Ethan a moment to realize his brother was there, but as soon as he did he turned his desk chair, giving him his full attention.

“Hey.”

Grayson didn’t answer.

“You okay?” Ethan tried again. Grayson’s throat burned, and he shook his head, sitting on the end of the bed. He’d never been able to hide from Ethan, and luckily, he never really had to. Because Ethan was the type of brother to act tough when he needed to, but soften up at the smallest things. Which was why Grayson wasn’t surprised to see his brother rise up out of his chair, coming to sit next to him. The bed sunk down a bit with his weight, and Grayson let himself press up against his brother. The air felt heavy while he waited.

“You’re good. Just let it out.” Ethan’s voice was quiet, and he leaned his cheek against his brother’s head and felt him go to pieces. It was the hardest Grayson had cried since the airport, and every sniffle made his head pound but he couldn’t pull himself together. Those were the kind of moments where he wondered how people survived without twin brothers. He felt safe there with Ethan - if everything else fell apart, at least he’d have him. There were a million things he could say, but he already knew what the answers would be. Ethan would tell him that he’d find someone else some day, and that Indy would heal and that he shouldn’t feel guilty for doing what he did. He also knew that Ethan would say all of it even if he didn’t believe it, because their pain was shared.

Grayson cried himself out again after an hour or so, his sinuses pounding behind his eyes as the headache settled in.

Ethan stayed still - he knew better than to leave him. It wasn’t until Grayson finally wiped at his eyes that his brother relaxed a bit, watched him stand up and run his hands over his face. It felt colder without Ethan right next to him, but he knew he needed to sleep.

“Try to get some sleep,” Ethan echoed his thoughts. “We need to record the pod tonight if you can.”

“Okay. I can help with the emails, I know we probably have a shit ton.”

Ethan was already shaking his head before he finished.

“Just get some sleep, okay?”

Grayson nodded and gave him the best smile he could manage before he went back into his room, climbing back into the safety of his covers with his phone in his hand, just in case she called.

Indy’s pillow was wet. It was mainly from her hair soaking into the pillowcase - she didn’t have the energy to dry it after her shower. But she’d also made a terrible mistake. One scroll through the app store and a quick log in and she was back onto instagram, ignoring the now thousands of follow requests she had in her notifications. It only took one click to her explore page and her tears were adding to the moisture below her cheek.

He had on his Cudi hoodie, the yellow one. She wished she’d been there to tell him not to wear it. It was too bright, a target for the cameras that seemed to find him. The first ones she saw stung. They were only of his back, taken from far enough away that she could pretend it was someone else. But she knew the way he sat, with his arms over his knees.

The next ones hurt, because she could see his face. He was walking, and she knew him well enough to know he’d realized what was happening and tried to leave, just from his posture, the way he slumped while walking. His eyes were red, those dark circles that she’d ran her fingers over so many times worse than she’d ever seen them. Ever since he’d left, she’d wanted to know how he felt. If he missed her at all, if he was as miserable as she seemed to be every minute of every day.

It hurt worse to get her answer than it did to wonder. She’d hoped he was upset, but suddenly all she wanted to do was hold him, tell him it was okay, that she was okay even though she wasn’t. It was impossible not to scroll, looking for anything new, any hints as to what he had been up to since he’d gotten off that plane.

She had never asked for a front row seat to his life, but she’d take it if it was the only glimpse of him that she could get. It made her feel pathetic, but she didn’t care enough to fight it.

Eventually, she found herself scrolling his page. She couldn’t tell how she got there, but she couldn’t seem to leave it either. So she just scrolled, averting her eyes from any comments, and pretending, just for a moment, that everything was back to the way it was. That he was just busy recording a podcast, or that he’d be sprawled out on her couch when she went out to the living room.

She held onto it until she walked out of her room, knowing she needed to eat even though she didn’t want to. She kept her eyes off the couch, moving to her cabinets that were barren apart from a few avocados that were rotten. With a sigh she threw them in the trash that was close to overflowing, opting instead for the last box of mac and cheese she had left.

Indy was thankful for muscle memory, her mind wandering off to better days where her kitchen wasn’t so quiet as she cooked the pasta she really didn’t want and took it back to her room, curling up under her covers as she ate.

Grayson had two empty boxes of vegan mac and cheese in front of him, one of which obviously had an ‘E’ scribbled on it that he’d ignored when he made them. He shoveled the noodles into his mouth, ignoring the way they burnt his tongue just barely. Ethan walked in and saw the boxes, opened his mouth and shut it again.

“S’pod setup?” Grayson said around a mouthful.

“Yeah, I set up the pod, we’re good whenever you’re ready.”

“Gimminute.”

Ethan just chuckled and shook his head, happy to at least see his brother eating even if he was shoveling it down like he hadn’t seen food before. He waited, seeing that Gray was done within the next two minutes, sitting his bowl in the sink and stretching his arms out. He looked tired, but Ethan hoped the pod camera was far enough away from them to make the dark circles subtle enough.

“Do you want some of my old concealer stuff? For under your eyes?”

Grayson hesitated for a moment, picking at his nails. “You still have it?”

“Yeah, hang on.” Ethan ran to his bathroom, snagged the compact from his bottom drawer and brought it to the kitchen. “Come over here, you’re supposed to do it in natural light.”

He held it out for Grayson, who just looked up at him.

“I don’t know how the fuck to do it, you do it.”

“Do I look like a makeup artist to you?” Ethan asked, and when Grayson stayed quiet, he sighed and flipped the compact open, swiping his finger through the semi-creamy substance and moving to pat it on his brother, frowning when it was more difficult than he thought it would be. “Look up you fuck, I gotta blend it.”

Grayson just rolled his eyes but did as he was told, sitting still until E said he was finished and led the way to the studio. They got settled in their chairs, double checking the camera angles. Ethan cleared his throat, waiting until his brother looked at him.

“Are we… do you want to mention anything about…”

Grayson waited. He wondered if his brother was really going to be dumb enough to ask.

“Are we talking about the pictures, yes or no.”

“What the fuck do you think the answer to that is,” Gray grumbled.

“I’m just saying, if you mention it you can say what you want about it, get your own voice out there. Whatever you say, I’ll go along with it.”

“Great.”

Grayson took a deep breath, gave Ethan a look that read as an apology, and clicked the button to start recording. He stayed fairly quiet the first few minutes of the recording, waiting to jump into a conversation that didn’t make his throat tight. The podcast was his favorite place, because he could let himself actually speak, say what he wanted to say without worrying.

It came back to bite him in the ass 45 minutes into the episode, when his guard was down and he had finally lost himself the way he did when he worked. They were talking about birds, and how they had a bad, unjustified rep.

“I mean, Gizmo can be an asshole sometimes, but she’s only an asshole when people are like, scared of her,” Ethan mused.

“Right! She gets all shy when I come home after a while, but when Dee came in the house the first time she was freaking out, just from hearing her and I swear, every time after that Giz just like, screamed every single time she was even in the house.”

“Gray-”

“No seriously! You remember how loud she got? Fuck, remember that time she went down to help mom with dessert and Giz was out and she cried?”

“Grayson.”

“What? Did I peak the mic?”

Ethan’s eyes were sad. “You… you said her name.”

“Huh?”

“Indiana. You said Dee, when you were telling that story.”

He swallowed hard. “Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He could see him spiraling, and he tried to reel him back in. “You’re okay. We can just cut it, and start again with a story about Gizmo.”

“Yeah uh… just give me a second.”

“Sure. Whatever you need.”

“Just, uh, say what you said again before,” Grayson murmured, shaking his head to try and clear it. But it was too late - he was so consumed by what his mind had brought back to the surface that he could barely hear Ethan repeat his words.

“Yeah-” Grayson came in a moment late. “Giz is a special one.”

Ethan waited for him to continue, but jumped in when he didn’t. “She gets shy when you haven’t been home in a while and you show up. That’s the thing about animals dude, like people think about cats and dogs and they can recognize their emotions, but with stuff like birds and cows and shit, people just don’t think about them that way, and it fucking sucks. They have feelings too! Gizmo’s fucking sassy bro, she will let you know how she’s feeling, especially if she’s pissed. Bro, we should have Giz on the pod, do you think she’d talk? She can whistle, we could show off her tricks.”

“You can’t put a bird on a plane,” Grayson mumbled. His eyes were fixed down on the blue center of the table, and he was fidgeting with his sleeves.

“Yeah, but we can put the mics in our suitcases and just record at home.”

Ethan realized it a moment too late. He wanted to snatch his words out of the air, scratch them from the tape when he saw the way Grayson’s eyes met his, saw the gloss near his waterline.

“Yeah - uh - um,” Grayson tried to save it, and then he covered his mouth, silencing the squeak that turned into a sob. He pretended it was a cough, bringing his hand up and running his fingers over his forehead, shielding his eyes from the camera.

“I uh, I miss home a lot more this time than I usually do,” he said, his voice froggy with the tightness of his throat. Ethan couldn’t say anything. There was nothing to say as he watched his brother fight and lose in his battle to keep his composure, covering his mouth as he cried, knuckles brushing up against the mic.

“Fuck, sorry, I’m sorry E.”

“It’s okay, hey, it’s okay.” Ethan was up so fast he forgot to take off his headphones. They fell back into the chair when they pulled off his ears as he moved to his brother, pulling him up into a hug. “We can finish it later, we’ll just cut to an ad or something. It’s okay.”

“Sorry.”

“Shh. It’s fine bro, it’s fine. C’mon, let’s go get some air.”

Air wasn’t what they found.

Instead, they found Eden, standing against the counter with her arms crossed in a way that had Ethan’s blood running cold. He thought the sight of Grayson practically curled in on himself might have softened her up, but she stood her ground until both of the twins were looking at her.

Grayson knew that she knew, and she only confirmed it when she spoke.

“What. The fuck. Is wrong with you.”

Back in New York, Indy’s phone was ringing. Or at least, she thought it was. But when she unlocked it and was blinded by the light, it was just her lockscreen, Grayson smiling at her with 3:04 written across the top. Judging by the darkness, she knew she hadn’t slept the afternoon away, but the buzzing continued until she finally climbed out of bed and realized it was the intercom system - the front desk calling her through the small phone on her wall that hardly ever rang. She pulled it off the receiver and held it up to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi Ms. Cross, there’s a gentleman here to see you.”

Her heart skipped, and she clutched the phone with both her hands.

“Who?”

There was a beat of silence, and Indy could vaguely hear her ask him for a name.

“His name is Devin.”

She sucked in a breath, letting her head and her hopes fall.

“Send him up.”

It took her a moment to process her grief before the panic set in. If Devin was showing up unannounced, something bad must have happened. She swung her door open, chewing on her nails as she stood in the doorway, waiting for him to appear. He came out of the elevator with a small duffle slung over his shoulder and a cautious smile that had her ready to cry.

“Dev, what the hell are you doing here? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said.

“Charlie?”

“Also fine. We’re fine.”

She caught her breath, and then she was frowning. “If everything is fine, why the fuck are you here at 3am?”

“Because you haven’t answered your sister’s calls in a week, and she’s worried sick about you.”

Guilt panged in her stomach - she hadn’t meant to ignore her. In all honesty, she’d ignored everyone without realizing it.

“I- sorry, I didn’t mean to. Just slipped my mind. Is she here too?”

“She’s got a wedding to shoot this weekend, and we only had one ticket anyways. Flight got delayed, tried to find a hotel for the night so I could wait until later this morning but I couldn’t find one so you’re stuck with me. Sorry,” he teased, reaching out to hold onto her shoulder. There was no malice in his voice, and Indy was grateful. “Let’s go inside.”

He didn’t ask for it, but she made him a coffee anyways alongside her own. She was tired, her eyes burning, but it wasn’t anything new from the last few weeks. She fought it, pulling one of the few sweatshirts Grayson had left at her place over her head before she sat on the couch, waiting.

Devin was quiet, tapping his fingers against his mug, out of his element.

“Dev.”

“Hmm?”

“You didn’t fly to New York to drink coffee with me. Talk.”

He sighed, sitting his mug down on the coffee table and turning towards her.

“Inds, we’re worried about you.”

Indy scoffed, a short, automatic sound.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you aren’t. You really, really aren’t. You’re running yourself into the ground for no good reason.”

“I’m trying to pay rent,” she countered, but even she knew it wasn’t true.

“Your hospital job pays more than rent. Jet’s is just because you’re scared to let your mind rest.”

Indy didn’t have an answer, so she sipped her coffee instead, cursing herself for telling Charlie everything in a moment of weakness. The silence was loud, and Devin sighed to break it after far too long.

“Have you talked to him? Since?”

Her throat was tight. “No.”

Devin wrung his hands together. “You do know it was fucked up what he did, right?”

“Dev-”

“I’m just making sure you know that. You can still make your own decision on however you wanna navigate it in the future, but you have to acknowledge that what he did was a new level of shitty. And he’s a good guy, I really do think he is, but he fucked you over, and you’re my family. And I protect my family. So I just need you to know that you didn’t deserve what he did to you, and he fucked up. Big time.”

“Right.”

“Okay, good.”

She let him believe it, though she’d only said it to appease him. She wondered if he would feel differently, if he had seen. If he had felt, the way that Grayson had shook in her arms, the way his sobs seemed to be ripping him apart every moment that he was hurting her. She wanted to pull up her phone, show him the pictures from the beach, show him that he was hurting too, that he didn’t want to hurt her. She wanted to prove it to him.

“When does your semester start?” He asked, pulling her mind off of it. She swallowed hard, then took another drink of coffee.

Indiana had spent three days in self pity when she got back from the airport. She let the misery have her fully - didn’t change her clothes, barely ate, hardly left her bedroom. And then, after that, she picked herself up and got to work. She applied for her tech job and called Patrick to see if she could get the schedules to align, and more importantly, she’d started to run numbers.

Medical school. Just the application fees alone were going to hit her budget hard, so much so that she reduced it down to two. JCU, and UCLA.

Her applications had gotten accepted three days prior, along with an email about a scholarship she was eligible for at UCLA that made it comparable to JCU’s tuition. But the money wasn’t the issue, and when it was time to accept, she knew that UCLA wouldn’t hold her spot forever.

She’d taken a deep breath, and emailed the registrar.

“I deferred.”

She was embarrassed to say it outloud, and for some reason it was the brick of the dam that fell, and her tears began to flow. She felt Devin’s hand on her shoulder before he spoke.

“Good.”

She hadn’t expected him to be mean - in fact, the meanest thing she’d ever heard him say was what he’d just said about Grayson. But it still shocked her enough to have her frowning.

“Good?”

“Indy. Do you realize how long you’ve been a student? Do you know who you are outside of being one?”

“I-”

“You’re the smartest person I know, and I love you, but I think you need to take a step back and really look at what you’re doing. Take a semester, fuck, take a year. Live. Breathe. You’re already ahead, and you’ll still be ahead.”

“I’m not worried about being ahead, Dev,” she whispered, running her hands over her face.

“Then what are you worried about?” There was a sincerness in his voice, and a gentleness in the way he held her hand that made her cry even harder.

“I just don’t know what the fuck to do anymore,” she blubbered, grateful when he pulled her over to his chest in a hug. He let her cry it out for a while, waiting until she was calm enough to hear him.

“I don’t have the answer to that, but I say, ask yourself what you really want the rest of your life to look like, and then do whatever you have to to get there. If it’s being a doctor, great. If it’s not, great. Just as long as it’s what you want.”

She took a shaky breath in, and blew it out through her lips, simply giving him a nod.

The problem was, she knew exactly what she wanted - and he was off in Los Angeles, cowering behind his brother.

“Baby, woah, hey, take it easy,” Ethan cautioned, side stepping into the war path she’d outlined, headed straight for Grayson. Her eyes were fire when she looked at her boyfriend and raised an eyebrow.

“He’s having a rough night, just take it easy,” he added.

He stoked the flames.

“You know who else is probably having a rough fucking night? Indiana. And we are gonna talk later-” she poked a finger into Ethan’s chest - “but right now, I’m not talking to you so I suggest you get out of my way.”

There was a bite in her tone that had Ethan rocking back on his heels, questioning just how far his duties as protective brother would go. He breathed out a sigh when he felt Grayson’s hand on his shoulder.

“It’s fine E.”

He’d never admit it, but Grayson had been waiting. Ever since he pulled away on New Year’s, he had waited for the punishment. The anger, the disbelief, the spite that he thought would arise in Indiana at the realization of what he’d done.

It wasn’t until he got off the plane and into his room that he realized his true punishment would be the guilt, and the grief, and the realization that he’d pushed away the only future he’d ever truly known he wanted.

The anger was a welcomed change.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? What the fuck, Grayson.”

“I know.”

“I don’t say a lot of shit about a lot of shit, but whoever you decide to be with could possibly end up as part of my family, forever, so fuck me if I’m invested, and I think I deserve an explanation on why I just got a call from Charlie to see if I’d talked to Indy, cause she’s ‘really going through it’.”

“I didn’t want to hurt her.” His eyes turned glossy, and Ethan stood up straighter.

“The fuck you didn’t,” she scoffed, running her hand through her hair to push her curls out of her face. “You realize how badly you fucked up, right? Right?”

“Yes.”

“And that you broke her heart right? Probably absolutely fucking destroyed her.”

“Eden-” Ethan spoke up.

“Yes,” Grayson answered, his chest tight. He wrapped his arms around himself, willed them to hold him together. It felt different, to have someone say it to him so directly, to confirm what he had done.

“Then why? Just… why?”

“Long distance wouldn’t have worked, and I didn’t want -”

“Oh bullshit. No one would have tried harder than Indiana to make that work, you fucking know that.”

“She shouldn’t have to deal with that, with me being so far away -”

“God you fucking self-sacrificial fuck!” She yelled. “She loved you, you moron, and when you love someone, you give! You hit a crossroads, you sit down and have a fucking conversation, and you fucking give! That’s what a fucking real relationship looks like, not you deciding that you don’t deserve to be loved and running in the other fucking direction!” Her face was red when she stopped to catch her breath. Ethan looked just as shocked at the outburst as his brother. Her mind seemed to catch up to her ears, and she backtracked.

“Sorry, fuck, that was -”

“No, you're right. You’re right. Everything you said was fucking right,” Grayson didn’t even try to hide his tears. He blubbered into his hands, ugly choking sobs that he wasn’t sure how he even produced. Ethan was at his side immediately, arm wrapped around his shoulders.

“What do I do?” He asked, voice muffled by his hands until he finally raised his head and looked at Eden with pleading eyes, waiting for an answer she was reluctant to give.

“You let her live. Don’t text her, don’t call her. If she calls, you don’t answer. When you go home, you don’t see her. You let her let go, and move on.”

All he could do was nod, and lean into his brother.

Indy leaned against the wall. It was cold and unrelenting against her shoulder, but it held her up better than her own legs would. She’d dropped Devin off at the airport that afternoon, and found herself back on the ped’s floor, waiting.

Valentina spotted her first from the nurses station, and the way she held her clipboard made it look like a weapon.

“My eyes better be deceiving me, cause’ I know that is not Indiana Cross standing in my hallway on her day off.”

Indy found it in her to laugh dryly. “Relax Val, I’m here to see Beks. Haven’t gotten to visit her off the clock for a while.”

Valentina still gave her signature disapproving stare, but she gave it up with a sigh. “Well, her family is visiting too. Mom and Dad, if you wanna say hi.”

It had been a long time since she’d seen Mr. and Mrs. Newcomb. They were lovely people, and they truly did come see her as often as they could. But they also worked two jobs a piece to try to foot the medical bills, which meant often was scarce.

Indy had never seen them in the same room before, and her stomach tightened. She was hesitant to go to Bekah’s room, scared to interrupt, but when she peaked her head around her doorway, she saw the couple sitting on the couch in the room quietly.

Mrs. Newcomb spotted her, eyes brightening as she waved her inside.

“Come in, come in!”

Indy was still hesitant as she walked inside, eyes darting over to a sleeping Bekah. She was curled up under her halloween blanket, brows furrowed down and skin pale.

“Hi Indiana, how are you sweet girl?” Mrs. Newcomb asked.

“I’m good, I’m sorry to interrupt, I just thought I might stop by and check on her but I don’t want to intrude.”

“No, no you’re fine! She was actually asking about you just before she went to sleep, you and Earring, whoever that is. Hang on.”

Indy watched as she moved over to the edge of her daughter’s bed, running her thumb along her cheek until she started to stir.

“Sweetheart, Indiana is here to see you. Can you open your eyes for me?”

Bekah whined, but pulled her eyes open, smiling slightly when Indiana moved into her view.

“Hey punk,” Indy said, crouching down so she could get to her level.

“Hey,” she whispered, voice hoarse. On instinct, Indy reached out to fix her head wrap, making Bekah’s mother smile. “What time is it?”

“6:55,” Indy answered.

“Mmm. Meds coming soon,” she mumbled. “Where’s Earrings? He doesn’t like needles, don’t let him see the needles.”

“No needles baby,” Mrs. Newcomb said. “Just some to make you feel better. You rest now.”

“Earrings,” she said again, and Indy could tell she was asking.

“He’ll be here to see you soon,” Indy lied, rubbing over her wrap like she would her hair if it was still there.

It didn’t click for Indiana until 7 rolled around, and Jennifer came in with a cup of pills instead of an IV pole.

Radiation and chemo don’t come in pills, Indy knew that much.

Mrs. Newcomb watched the realization come across her face, and she gave her a sympathetic smile.

“She’s… she didn’t get her meds.”

“Indiana baby, it’s what she wants. The new round didn’t work, the stem cells failed. It’s time to let her rest. We’ll keep her comfortable, the doctor says it’ll probably be a few weeks, maybe a month.”

Indy’s throat burned, and her breathing quickened, chest rising much too fast. She couldn’t say goodbye to anyone - it took all her focus to make it out of the building, running down the stairs and across the lobby before she was dry heaving in the bushes, the sight of Bekah’s frail body in her bed appearing every time she closed her eyes.

It wasn’t a conscious decision. More of an instinct, really, that drove her to pull her phone out of her pocket and pull him up and call.

In LA, Grayson’s phone buzzed against his nightstand. A new picture of Indiana popped up - her contact photo that he’d taken one day in Jersey. With a knot in his throat and Eden’s voice in his ears, he reached over and turned it off before rolling away and letting his tears soak into the pillowcase.

#mixtape #SO SORRY #im prepared for the yelling again #grayson dolan #grayson dolan fanfiction

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ao3theskyisblue · 4 years ago

Text

From the outside

Summary:

“You look like you could use a coffee.”

Kegan turned towards Officer Reyes, who was looking at him bemusedly, one arm leaning on the driver-side door and the other on the steering wheel, his fingers drumming on it rhythmically. He could also see the hint of concern in his gaze, no doubt seeing through his façade but also kindly didn’t ask questions Kegan wasn’t sure how to answer.

"Woke up late today."

Written for @911lonestarangstweek Day 2: Physical whump + “Does it hurt badly?”

Just a heads up it’s OC-centric (outsider’s POV)

Read on AO3

When Kegan woke up to complete silence, the light brighter than it should have been at 7am in the morning peeking in through the gap between his curtains, he should have known it was going to be a terrible day. There were no birds chirping, no neighbours yelling about broken lawn gnomes, nothing.

The quiet was always a cue for sudden disaster.

Fumbling for his phone on the bedside table, he lifted the screen only to fall off the bed with a loud thud and a string of curses at three realizations.

One: his snooze was a lie.

Two: he was going to be late on the last day of his trial week.

Three: he forgot to iron his uniform yesterday.

“Fuck me in the ear with a corn.” Kegan groaned, giving up on saving his duvet and instead shoving it in the general direction of the bed before sprinting to the bathroom. He shoved his toothbrush into his mouth, squeezing toothpaste on at the last second and hoping the brushes hopefully scraped across a few of his teeth.

He dampened his skin underneath a stream of cold water, but it wasn’t hardly enough for a towel to wipe off as he shimmied into his work clothes, slipping on his duty belt last. Grabbing a comb on his way out of the bathroom, he jumped the entirety of the stairs, miraculously without breaking a knee, and slid into the kitchen.

With his comb stuck in his curls.

His mother visibly startled, spinning around to look at him with eyes widened in shock, almost dropping the bowl of strawberries in her hand. Kegan snatched a few, ignoring his mother’s disapproving look before shoving them down his throat.

“Shove them any harder and you’ll choke.” His mother says drily, placing the bowl onto the counter and Kegan works to swallow the three he managed to stuff in his mouth. He can feel the lumps slowly moving down his esophagus, the slight pain of the movement a nice distraction as he thought of all the excuses he could for why he would be showing up late today to the precinct.

Unfortunately, he knew who he would be shadowing today and lying to this man in particular twisted more guilt in his stomach than anyone else in the police department.

“Not the worst thing I’ve choked on.” Kegan shrugged, smiling at his mother innocently when she scrunched up her nose.

“Sorry I didn’t wake you, I thought you’d already left.” Kegan stilled at that, the smile on his face now a mere gesture of courtesy rather than truth as he looked away.

They both knew why she didn’t bother waking him up. He didn’t need to be studying to become a police officer to hear the blatant lie through his mother’s voice, and that phone call he happened to overhear a few days ago suddenly rang loudly in his ears.

Kegan didn’t bother with a response, instead heading out of the kitchen and towards the entranceway, grabbing his keys from the bowl by the door. He didn’t look up to know his mother was watching him, eyes piercing him like a hawk as he stood in uniform.

“I don’t know why you’re trying so hard to prove a point.”

The words came out quiet, as if just an absent thought that was accidentally said out loud, but Kegan looked up this time, eyes blazing with a ferocity that had his mother stepping back in response.

“I’m not doing this to prove anybody a point,” Kegan says lowly, anger prickling along his spine and making the hairs on his arms stand on end. “I’m doing it for me. You don’t need to understand, or support me. But say it to my face next time instead of behind my back. Stabbing me would hurt less.”

Kegan didn’t wait for his mother’s reaction before pulling the front door open roughly and slamming it shut behind him. The bright sun seemed to be taunting him with its brilliant presence, as if shining any brighter would overcloud the dark shadow that seemed to never stop looming over him ever since they packed their bags and left Venice.

It was going to be a terrible day.

Two hours into his shift, and Kegan already wanted to drown himself in his bathtub while holding onto a plugged-in toaster.

Two fender benders that involved idiots and their screaming that probably left permanent scarring to his eardrums. A woman who thought her neighbours had gotten into a fight with all the banging on the walls until they arrived and saw things that almost made him grab the nearest bottle of sanitizer and scrub his eyes clean. Then there was the elderly man who thought someone was trying to break into his house only to find a woodpecker innocently drilling a hole on the side of his doorframe.

It couldn’t get any worse, could it?

“You look like you could use a coffee.”

“Woke up late today. Didn’t have time to grab anything before we were called in.” Kegan sighed, not bothering with keeping his guard up. He’s shadowed Officer Reyes a few times during the trial week, and he was one of the few officers in Austin PD that he actually liked. One thing he’s learned from the first time he shadowed him was that the man had no time for bullshit. Emotions, including ones that told him to just punch straight through walls were valid as long as he talked about it.

Open communication and all that.

They were doing a routine patrol, eyes peeled and other senses alert for any calls that could come through the radio. So far, the calls had been mostly in other districts that already had their own patrols answering, and the next light was the indication they successfully drove one full loop. So, when Officer Reyes suddenly turned right when they were supposed to go straight, Kegan frowned.

“Uh, were we supposed to make that turn just now?” Kegan peered back, not like that could have done anything to change the direction they were driving but Officer Reyes just shook his head.

“There’s a café nearby.” At his skeptical look, the officer rolled his eyes. “The city will be fine if we take a five-minute break.” Officer Reyes says, making Kegan raise an eyebrow. Of the limited time they’ve spent time together, he never pegged him to be a complete rule-sticker, but this unexpected gesture still caught him off guard.

They stopped next to a fairly busy café, the store sign making him snort in disbelief as he got out of the cruiser, shutting the door behind him.

“Definitely not ominous.” Kegan says wryly, looking up at the vibrant ‘The Hideout Café – Seek Out Your Poison!’ sign above his head. There was a quiet chuckle beside him, and he turned to see Officer Reyes sporting a wide smile, amusement dancing across his features. He looked around the area and frowned when he saw a red minivan travelling suspiciously towards them.

“Hey, isn’t that car driving too fast?” Kegan moved to get a better look, frowning when the vehicle not only didn’t slow down, but instead seemed to be deliberately heading towards them.

He turned towards Reyes, about to ask what they should do in this situation but frowned when his eyes widened in horror.

His hand was already on his radio, but nothing could have prepared him for a shout, a hard shove, and the equivalence of his soul being knocked out of him.

And just like the day the cops showed up to his doorstep with bulletproof vests and guns raised in search of his father, his world stopped.

The individual granules of sand in an hourglass.

He remembered staring at them when he was younger, fascinated as the particles slowly trickled down with time. It was hypnotizing, but he would glance up occasionally to gaze at the clock hanging above the piano, watching the minuscule tilt of the hour-hand each time the minute-hand made its rotation.

It was a weird sensation, the brief moment where your life flashes by in old film. But just as quick as they came, they’re abruptly cut off as if given to him at the wrong time.

There were thoughts sluggishly trying to make sense in his mind, and Kegan wondered if memories could transcend the living and stay with the dead.

He winced against the sun’s rays, the crick in his back making itself known before he was assaulted by a cacophony of sound.

“-okay? Someone call 911!”

“They literally are 911-”

“I don’t think the other officer’s breathing.”

Kegan sat up abruptly at that, testing his fingers and toes and letting out a breath of relief when he felt them both. He couldn’t help but notice the red minivan speeding off, his training kicking in and automatically memorizing the license plate before it disappeared in the crowd.

“Are you alright, officer?”

Kegan turned his head towards the voice, seeing a barista leaning over him slightly, eyes wide with shock and concern. He opened his mouth to reply, before the entirety of his memories kicked back in.

Where was Officer Reyes?

Kegan scrambled up, staggering and clutching onto the barista’s shoulder when he reached out to steady him. His eyes darted around the crowded street, ignoring the phones and insistent chatter and focused on something a little way away from him.

No.

Stumbling forward, he forced his legs to move towards the man sprawled down on the sidewalk, one hand leaning down to feel for a pulse and the other reaching for his radio.

“This is 363-H-20. I need medics at Congress and 7th, officer down! Send out an APB for a red minivan with Texas licence plates Alpha-Charlie-Foxtrot-3875.” Kegan didn’t know how he hadn’t stuttered when his heart was currently beating outside of his chest, barely clinging onto the last moments of clarity. He barely heard the affirmative through dispatch for both his requests, before leaning down to see if the man laying so still beneath him was still breathing.

He was, and his pulse was steady, but he wasn’t awake.

“Officer Reyes? Can you hear me?” Kegan pinched his earlobe, his instincts and training working on autopilot, and slapped the ground beside Officer Reyes’ ears a few times.

The man didn’t so much as stir.

Kegan made sure to consistently check his pulse and breathing, prodding his body gently for any injuries he might have missed, eyes flitting up every few seconds to watch for eye movement. He didn’t move the man, the paramedics would be the judge of that, and he couldn’t see anything else other than a nasty bruise starting to form just above his lower back.

“How is he?”

Kegan barely spared the barista, who was still crouching beside him for some reason, a look as he shook his head.

“I don’t-”

“Rossi?”

Kegan’s whirled his head, letting out a choked sound of relief when he saw Officer Reyes blinking blearily at him, looking beyond confused. There was a 7-second delay before he seemed to remember what had happened, and Kegan didn’t hesitate to hold him still when he tried to get up.

“Are you okay? Did you get hit?” Officer Reyes asked, and Kegan let out a sound of disbelief, hearing the barista beside him scoff incredulously. That sound almost validated everything he was thinking at the moment, and absently noted to buy the barista a drink for their service.

“Officer Reyes, was it? You were just thrown in the air like a sack of potatoes when that idiot driver decided the sidewalk would be the perfect place to take his new wheels for a spin,” The barista said, and Kegan glanced at the name card that read ‘Lawrence.’ Kegan startled when Lawrence turned towards him, a kind but worried smile still present on his lips. “If you hadn’t pushed this one out of the way and yelled that warning, things could have gone a lot worse.”

Kegan bit back a sharp retort on how it was already a worse case scenario because someone got hurt, but his mother had always told him to bite his tongue when emotions were running on fumes, and he knew nothing would come from yelling at a barista for something out of his control.

“Well, at least I can skip the paperwork.” Kegan narrowed his eyes, sending the other officer a dirty look.

“Oh, you’re doing all the paperwork. I’m even giving you mine, seeing as you just stripped at least five years off my lifespan.” Kegan glowered, and Reyes had the sheer audacity to laugh weakly. “Can you wiggle your toes?” He sighed in relief when he saw the slight movement, though still kept the officer as still as possible for the paramedics to confirm.

The sound of distant sirens grew closer, and Kegan immediately spun around from the noise when he heard the officer groan.

“What? What’s wrong? Where’s the pain?” Kegan asked, ready to dive in at a moment’s notice but Reyes was focused on something past him.

“I’m about the get the lecture of a lifetime. From all three of them.” The man muttered, and Kegan looked back to see the ambulance parked by the sidewalk, three figures hopping out. One of the female paramedics tossed something to the male, who caught it without even looking at her. They were making their way towards them, and Kegan frowned when the male paramedic suddenly froze, eyes widening at their figures on the ground. He could have sworn he didn’t blink, but one second the paramedic was by the ambulance, the next he was crouching down next to Officer Reyes, stethoscope ready and already checking ABCs.

“This isn’t your usual area.” Officer Reyes says in lieu of a greeting, and Kegan unconsciously stepped back to give them some space to work and to avoid the dark aura encircling the male paramedic who looked up, unimpressed.

“I could say the same for you.” There were some medical words exchanged then, and Kegan heard what he guessed to be the Captain spell out a series of tests they’ll do at the hospital. He couldn’t help but feel another wave of anxiety when the C collar got strapped on – that’s usually a bad thing, right? The male paramedic barely spared him a glance before shining a flashlight in Officer Reyes’ eyes.

“Name.”

“Really?”

“Answer the question.”

“Carlos Reyes.”

He stood to the side, watching as the Captain cautiously lifted Reyes’ uniform and frown at the bruising, prodding it skillfully and gauging the officer’s reaction. He could see the male paramedic flinch as if just the sight of the injury caused him insurmountable pain.

“D-does it, um, does it hurt badly?”

Four pairs of eyes turned to look at him, and Kegan really wished he had heeded his mother’s advice to just keep on sticking his foot in his mouth.

“No,” the male paramedic started sarcastically, a TK Strand that Kegan could make out now stitched on his uniform, “He’s just fine and dandy being run over by a four thousand pound moving brick. He can finally check it off his to-do list for the day.” TK scowled, his movements more aggressive than usual when swinging the stethoscope around his neck again, but Kegan could still see how the anger seemed to fade when he worked with the others to prod the officer for other injuries.

He heard a few snickers from the other two female paramedics that were quickly covered by badly hidden coughs, and really wished Mother Nature would offer him a hole to climb into.

Officer Reyes, who was still a little out of it but thankfully very much alive seemed to be on the verge of laughter himself. “TK, stop scaring him. I’m fine.”

Kegan winced, feeling the change in atmosphere before TK’s eyes even narrowed, and if he wasn’t quite frozen in place he would definitely have stumbled a few steps back from avoiding the icy chill that filled the air around them.

“You and I must have very different definitions of ‘fine.’” TK muttered. Kegan felt chills running down his spine at the deadly glint when those eyes passed over him for a millisecond.

It suddenly sent him back to when he was five years old, when he had brought a stray puppy home and learned how to fear a human being for the first time. His father had looked at the puppy like it was the worst thing created by mother nature, before taking it away and he never saw the little golden retriever again.

Now he knew why.

But he also attributed green eyes to his grandmother, who was an entire ball of warmth.

Who knew green eyes that had always felt so comforting whenever his grandmother smothered him with hugs and kisses when he was younger could feel like daggers that could skewer you alive on another person?

“I’m sorry we never got your coffee.” Kegan looked down at Officer Reyes, who was looking up at him apologetically, and Kegan didn’t know whether he should cry or punch something at how unreasonably nice he was being. They weren’t close, but Kegan respected him immensely, and he could tell from the way TK’s shoulders hadn’t relaxed from their tense position that he wasn’t out of the woods yet.

“I’ve already received the wake-up call of the century. Coffee’s on me next time.” Kegan says lightly, before his eyes widened in horror as TK turned his stormy gaze on him. “Not that I want you to get hit by another car! I’ll gladly take the coffee over any car. And I’ll stop talking. Like right now.”

Yeah, he really needed that bath with the toaster. Maybe he’ll even add in his mother’s hair straightener just to seal the deal.

“Why don’t you sit down?” The Captain, Vega, says kindly, eyes shining with exasperated amusement as she shoots TK a look, and Kegan looks at her, puzzled.

“Why?”

“We need to check you over, too.” The other female paramedic, Gillian, says. She’s looking at him kindly, but doesn’t leave TK’s side as they make sure Carlos is stable for transport.

“But I’m fine? He’s the one who lost consciousness for a few minutes.” Kegan frowns in confusion, and sees TK whirl his head back towards the officer, looking like he wanted to throttle the man.

“And you didn’t think that was vital information?”

“It wasn’t that long!”

“Any length of time being unwillingly unconscious is important, Carlos.”

There was a moment of unspoken words between them and an exchanged look with Captain Vega before Gillian started checking for head injuries. There weren’t any visual signs of trauma, but Kegan has seen enough medical dramas to always expect the impossible.

“And to add on to earlier, no one who gets manhandled by this guy ever ends up fine. The shock may be hiding injuries you can’t feel right now.” TK looked up at him, but not before giving Officer Reyes another glare when he makes a noise in protest.

“I’m not that bad!”

“Tell that to your kitchen counter. And the bedroom wall.” The smallest of smiles lights up TK’s face, and Kegan watches in awe as Officer Reyes grins unabashedly at that.

He didn’t even know the man had any other expressions other than polite smiles and stoic everythings.

“You were on scene for all of them, care to share the grievance?” The soft look they exchanged made something in Kegan’s brain click in place, and he felt himself smiling despite current events.

In the end, they had been lucky. Had Officer Reyes not pushed him away when he did, the accident would have ended up with a black bag and cops knocking on his mother’s doorstep, when the last thing he said to her wasn’t ‘I love you.’ He would be walking away with minor aches, and Officer Reyes-

Had closed his eyes.

He wasn’t the only one that noticed, judging by how TK’s face drained in colour, eyes wide as he tried to get Officer Reyes to open his eyes.

“Carlos? Hey, stay awake – Carlos?! Cap!!” TK immediately reached his fingers to check Carlos’ pulse, and Kegan watched with bated breath as medical jargon sprout out from all three of them, with Captain Vega swearing under her breath when Gillian mentioned something about chest movement.

“We need to get him to a hospital, now.” The other two paramedics immediately lifted Officer Reyes on the stretcher, running towards the ambulance and Kegan could only watch, horrified when TK yelled that they had lost a pulse.

He had been conscious earlier.

He had been talking.

And now he could be –

“Go.”

Kegan startled, turning his head to see Lawrence gently guiding him towards the ambulance.

“I’ll keep an eye on your police car. You’re in no state to drive, and I think you’ll feel better if you go with them.” Lawrence urged, and Kegan didn’t know what else to say but a quick ‘thank you,’ receiving a shoulder squeeze in response before jumping into the back of the ambulance, the paramedics not even batting an eye as they sped off.

They must have gotten Officer Reyes’ pulse back in the time between his hesitancy and the nudge from Lawrence, so Kegan tried his best to focus on the weak but steady rhythm of the heart monitor as TK and Captain Vega worked to make sure his heart kept on beating.

He’s never had a problem being a shadow on the sidelines, and ever since his father’s arrest he’s been walking on eggshells around everything and everyone. Which is why he sat, stock still, and didn’t say a word as Captain Vega quietly murmured how Carlos was stable for now, the words doing nothing to rid the fear still present in TK’s eyes.

He hadn’t taken his eyes off the officer laying on the stretcher before them, and Kegan wasn’t sure he had even blinked. Their hands were tightly linked together, and there was a wet shine in his eyes.

“Come back to me.” He heard him whisper, and his own heart bled with guilt and despair as TK bowed his head, seeing his frame shaking as he clung onto a hand that just wouldn’t squeeze back.

He should have been the one on the stretcher.

Why didn’t they take him instead?

It wasn’t fair.

“I’m sorry.”

The hospital waiting area was mostly empty, and he hadn’t allowed himself a moment to breathe until he heard the doctors give TK and the rest of the 126 who had all arrived one by one to make one big family the all clear. That had been minutes? hours? ago, and Kegan still couldn’t get past the roaring in his ears, the tightness of his chest as they all waited for the officer to wake up.

He was staying overnight for observation, and he faintly remembered being checked over himself in the blurred haze of everything. He couldn’t for the life of him remember who did it, or what questions he was asked, just that he would be walking away with minor bruising and some superficial scratches.

Officer Reyes on the other hand…

He had heard through the grapevine that they had caught the guy, and it was a brief moment of satisfaction that didn’t do much other than give him the relief that he was behind bars instead of behind another wheel of a car.

He looked up for the first time since entering those hospital doors. TK was staring at him with an unreadable expression in his gaze before Kegan could make out the small upward twitch of his lips.

“You’ve done nothing to apologize for,” TK says quietly, wincing a little. “In fact, I’m the one that’s sorry for my attitude back at the scene. I was a little – I was worried.” TK lifted a hand to run through his hair, before giving him a more genuine smile.

Ah, he was starting to see why Officer Reyes always seemed to melt underneath that gaze. The paramedic’s eyes were a couple degrees warmer than they had been earlier, the irises reflecting pools of green in the bright ceiling lights.

“He’s a good cop, and an even better person. He did what he thought was right, and it wasn’t your fault. You were just doing your job. And you were the reason they caught the guy, they found him not long after trying to cross state lines.” Kegan swallowed down the lump in his throat at that, the subtle acknowledgement warming him up inside.

Moving half-way across the globe to escape the scars his father left on their family was one thing, enrolling into the police academy and painstakingly working his ass off to show that he belonged was another. Ever since the arrest, being the son of a notorious serial killer had become his identity. Suddenly, his childhood dreams of becoming an officer of the law meant nothing – all washed down the drain by his father’s blood-soaked hands.

He would never understand why he deserved to live when the people his father killed did not. Years of pondering potential what if’s and self-loathing slowly ate him up inside, and he knew his mother only wanted what was best for him. He didn’t enroll in the police academy to prove anyone a point, to show that their family still had some sort of light worth saving but because he wanted to help. Because he wanted to be better, and he wanted to work for it.

But that didn’t mean the world wasn’t cruel in other ways.

Being labeled as the ‘grim-reaper’ certainly was one, where people assumed that anyone who came into contact with him were automatically doomed to die. It didn’t help that his own father had used it to his advantage, and it was something he would probably never forgive himself for.

And today was just shot to hell with the almost-death of his superior driving him over the edge. He had almost been indirectly responsible for another death of a good man, so when the doctors had given them good news, Kegan almost sobbed in relief. He’s been on the receiving end of looks of anguish, of dismay, of anger and frustration.

Seeing someone look at him with hope and reassurance was new, and hearing words that weren’t laced with malice and false approval made the heavy load of the day lighten a little.

It hadn’t been a good day. And tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed for anyone.

But as Kegan accepted the gentle pat on the shoulder and a friendly smile, he knew that through the dark times, he will find the light.

He wasn’t there yet, and he didn’t know if he would find it at all – but he would try.

And that would have to be enough.

He calls out to TK again, and watches as the man pauses in his steps, turning to look at him curiously.

“So, how long have you two been married?” He asks, a playful grin stretching across his lips, laughing when he sees the paramedic’s cheeks go through the different shades of red in a fascinating colour show. His eyes narrow, but his lips are twitching in amusement, and he waves for Kegan to follow him to Carlos’ recovery room. He’s about to protest, not wanting to intrude, but TK just rolls his eyes and grabs his arm gently to tug him along.

“So, you’re the cheeky new rookie Carlos mentioned,” TK muses, and Kegan raises an eyebrow.

“Didn’t know I was such a hot topic of conversation,” Kegan responds, not liking how TK’s grin suddenly turns wicked.

“Oh, he told me all about that time you knocked an entire crate of fresh tomatoes onto a perp who tried to escape. The street vendor wasn’t very happy, now was she?” TK winks, and Kegan feels the tables turn, his cheeks lighting on fire at the memory.

No, she certainly was not happy. Getting chased by an elderly woman who spent hours arranging her food stall while holding a broom above her head through the entire marketplace was not something he wanted to re-live. Ever.

“And, to answer your question, we’re not married,” TK continues, his smile turning a touch soft, and Kegan makes a sound of disbelief.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

He doesn’t dodge the shove he receives at that, and as they close the rest of the distance to Carlos’ room, Kegan smiles.

He could get used to Austin.

#Tarlos #Tarlos fic #Outsider POV #911lsangstweek

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where-dreamers-go · 4 years ago

Text

“Nothing More” Ben Solo x f!Reader

(A/N: Requested by @mykyloren-addiction. Thank you for the request!

So….including fluff was not specified and I went all out Star Wars brain. Also I tweaked it a little. More avoidance. Ben Solo is back and wants to reconcile with an old friend, Reader, but is Reader willing to even look at him?

Warnings: Angst.

Word Count: 2,870 words)

The roaring podracing engine rumbled loudly next door between the joined chatter of travelers. Sitting outside of Docking Bay 7 was never too quiet. Yet it was a doable tradeoff from your racing and invasive thoughts. You needed a few moments to rest your feet and not actively having to check over your shoulder for a patrolling stormtrooper. An old structure wall of sorts shielded your back and one side. Strong meaty scents came upon a breeze from the neighboring Ronto Roasters. It was a place to get away without completely leaving.

Black Spire Outpost had a little bit and a lot of everything. Busy storefronts, unique travelers, varying landscapes, and all sorts of possibilities. That was one reason the Resistance made camp on Batuu. Another reason was to rebuild the Resistance while the First Order was extremely close by. It was unnerving, however not the most surprising.

A little over a week ago, you had returned to camp one day to the buzzing of information revolving around Ben Solo and Rey. It was shocking when you stayed to hear more. Ben found Rey and through learning he left the Dark Side as well as The First Order, she let him join the Resistance. General Leia was reportedly happy, however not planetside. It was a load to grasp onto mentally. No sooner had you heard the news, you avoided the camp and in turn Ben as much as physically possible. Helping batuuans and helping to spread the Resistance’s purpose took up most of your day.

As it should, you thought.

Even as you ventured through the Outpost, Rey had lead the former Kylo Ren into the Resistance encampment. Tensions had been high for at least the first forty-eight hours. Having a former leader of The First Order so close did that.

Yet keeping busy and out of sight didn’t seem to do much good with Force sensitives around. You were surprised when Rey had approached you and asked if you’d speak with Ben. She had learned that yourself and Ben had known one another prior to him donning a new name. Something you weren’t too keen on thinking about.

Yet, here we go.

You let out a long heavy sigh. It had been a long while since you had really thought about your life prior to joining the fight to save the galaxy. You were not the first to do so, but you truly hoped you would be among the last.

You had family in the New Republic’s political system. Some of which were currently on the First Order’s radar. You and Ben had met in a senate building. Family busy with their job and duties. You remembered a time when you would jump at the opportunity to join whichever family member had a senatorial meeting. Back then, you had an entertaining friendship with the young Ben Solo. The two of you would share both bizarre and mundane stories from across the galaxy. Between visits, meetings, and comm conversations, the friendship had grown into something more. There were feelings that were blatant mutual, however never spoken.

Your feelings had changed. Time and experience made you stronger and more aware.

Things change. People change. Some more than others.

Back then, after hearing what happened to Ben—him actually contacting you and asking you to support The First Order—quickly lead into a heated conversation before you just shut off the call on him and threw yourself into fully supporting the Resistance by joining. There was such a heavy rock-feeling in your heart then. One you used to and turned into a fire to help the Resistance.

I don’t want to see his face, you thought. Sitting back on the bench, you stretched out your legs. Didn’t think I’d be disappointed or annoyed with seeing Rey though. Sometimes she’s too kind for her own good. But no. No. She’s not getting me to speak with…him. No. How many times do I have to tell her ‘no’? He can be here all he likes. I’m busy. The Resistance is busy. I don’t need to see him.

The usual stress of being a Resistance member had tripled on top of growing frustration. That was no way to live. You needed air. You needed space. And you needed to venture to other communities on Batuu. A perfect escape.

An escape?

Grumbling lowly, your eyes scanned over the populace. No sign of of Resistance members. Two stormtroopers on patrol, citizens walking between other citizens, and possibly a handful of scoundrels. A typical day.

. . .

Double checking you hadn’t forgotten your credits, you peeked out of your tent. Looking left, right, and back again—the area was free of Ben. As far as you were concerned, you didn’t need to speak to him. You didn’t really want to anyway.

Things to do, food to eat, people to help. Can’t spend my whole day like this. Again. No one’s up this early anyway.

. . .

“I don’t know about this.” Finn murmured to Poe as the two waited for Rey outside.

“I just want to see if (Y/N) uses a blaster on him.” Poe said as he crossed his arms and rose his eyebrows to his friend. “I really wouldn’t be surprised. But I’m hoping.”

“Hey. Rey really wants them to talk it out.”

“If she pushes (Y/N) any farther, there’s going to be a shoot out. Very little talking.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not? Let him try something.”

“He wouldn’t dare.” Finn crossed his arms as well.

The two Force sensitives came into view from behind a line of foliage and storage crates. One tall and confident, the other tall and guilty.

“Guess we’ll find out.” Poe leaned his weight to the side.

“Have you kept an eye on her?” Rey asked as she reached the pair.

“She left her tent about ten minutes ago.” Finn said calmly. The calm tone only a thin layer over his wariness. “She headed towards the ships about a minute ago.”

“Good. She couldn’t have gotten too far.” She smiled and turned to Ben. “You two will be able to talk this time. I know you will.”

Ben Solo simply nodded, but a small hint of a smile graced his features. Rey’s smiles were sometimes hard to not share. He hoped she was right.

“Yeah, no. Why don’t we—you two—leave (Y/N) alone. She doesn’t want to see him.” Poe gestured to Ben. “Don’t encourage this. Whatever the hell it is.”

“They were friends.” Rey said, standing firmly.

“Exactly. ‘Were friends’.”

“Why don’t we let (Y/N) decide.”

“Fine.”

Finn sighed quietly to himself. He had no idea how any of this was going to turn out. Holding out hope that everyone he cared about would keep their heads, he walked with the group towards the ships.

It didn’t take long for them to hear the familiar sound of a ship’s engine. The sound only fueled the group to rush over to an A-Wing still grounded. The pilot? You, of course.

Ben swallowed thickly as he made eye contact with you. The recognization in your face only resulted in a heavy curse word easily read on your lips. He could sense your distaste from where he stood. It only added to his vulnerability. He had not expected to be opening up to his past in this way. It frightened him. Would you still have any hidden feelings for him?

. . .

If you did not care or work on your ship, you would had hit a panel with your fist. Reluctantly, you left the sanctuary of your A-Wing and trudged your way across the sand to the group staring at you. There was no way you were going to risk Rey keeping your ship down using the Force when it would hopefully be easier to just get one conversation over with.

I hate this already.

You stopped about two paces from the group. There was no need to guess what they wanted. It was only a matter of time before they tried a different tactic to get you to talk with Ben.

“Hi.” You said flatly, arms crossed under your chest.

Poe and Finn stood off to the side, both pairs of eyes checking on Ben every few seconds.

“You were leaving?” Rey asked, eyebrows raised slightly. She stood next to Ben who still wore dark tones and a guarded expression.

“Yes.”

“Can you stay long enough to talk?”

“I have some time.”

Everyone stood rooted in their spot. The breeze coming through the trees gave noise to the break in conversation.

Here we go, I guess. Remain calm. There is nothing to get entirely aggravated about. Just breathe and listen.

Rey turned to Ben for a moment before saying, “Ben would like to talk with you.”

You nodded.

“It’s…uh…,” Ben began speaking to you. “It’s been a while. You look well.”

Your eyebrows rose on their own accord.

Wow.

Again, you nodded. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

From his side, Rey gave him an encouraging head gesture. Ben’s hands hung loosely at his sides.

“Look, I know that I’ve done terrible things, but I left all of it. I’m not a part of it any more. I want to help.” He said, his tone somewhere between calm and persuasive.

“So you joined the Resistance.” You added to whatever narrative he was saying.

“I did…and I didn’t know you had joined. If I’d had known that I…maybe things would be different.”

“I joined right after we last talked.” You pursed your lips and soon the words started tumbling out. “I’d think that me telling you that I wouldn’t join the First Order would had told you something.” Keeping your voice calm was all you needed to focus on.

Don’t let him get to you.

Ben’s frame deflated, shoulders falling.

“There’s a lot that’s changed over the years. No doubting that. Is there something….else that you wanted to talk about?” You asked. Being taken through memory lane with Ben Solo was not what you had in mind. Especially when those memories brought up were the last ones you had when he decided to join the First Order and he left his Jedi training up in flames.

“I want to be your friend again.”

“What?” The word slipped out from you before you could stop yourself.

“I miss you,” Ben’s voice lowered, almost hushed as the words seemed to tug their way out of him. “I want to be your friend again. I miss spending time with you.”

The kriff?

“I’m sorry for all of the terrible things that I’ve done. I can’t change the past. But I can do what I can now.”

You shook your head.

Dark eyebrows knitted together. It looked as if he had taken a hit to the gut.

“I—wow… Look, I can not promise that I’ll be your friend again. I’m just being realistic here. A true friend would not have done…would not have asked me what you did years ago. I don’t…,” you sighed and uncrossed your arms. “I don’t trust you.”

Ben’s mouth hung open as he stared at you. A strong amount of hurt and confusion colored on his fair face.

Keeping your ground was what you intended to do from the start and you would. There had been too many nights, too many days where his choices effected more than simply him. Forgiveness did not always have to be given. It had taken you so long to forgive yourself for things you never did, for feelings your had for him, and things you had considered doing. What Ben did, you were not obligated to forgive him in any amount.

“(Y/N).” Ben said quietly.

“No.”

No. Can’t do it. I’ve already been through this.

You looked away from him and to the other two men. Poe and Finn. Two people you did trust, especially at that moment. Neither one said a word in favor of either you nor Ben. In fact, Finn looked to be observing from a more calm stand point whereas Poe had his arms firmly crossed across his chest. If there was someone who truly did not like the conversation happening, other than you, it was Poe.

Are we finished now?

Boots shifted the sand as Ben took a more wide stance.

“I’m here now. I’m trying to help.” Ben urged. “If you’d just forgive me, we can start over. I didn’t do anything to you. I’ve said things and asked you to join the First Order when I had, but I never went after you. I would never do that.”

You squared your shoulders. There was only so much a person could take.

Calm. Calm, you thought as you breathed through your nose.

“You made a choice, Ben. You ran off to Snoke instead of your parents. To your mother who would protect you from anyone and anything. You chose The First Order instead of your own family. What the hell for? You are not and were not limited in your choices. You’ve done unspeakable things in The First Order. You hurt Poe, Finn, and Rey.” Your breath came out as hot air through your nose. “Did you really just ask me to forgive you?”

Ben’s throated bopped, “Yes.”

The kriffing hell. He just—

“I cannot pretend that you weren’t Kylo Ren. Words aren’t enough.”

“Ben is with us now.” Rey interjected. “He left The First Order.”

You returned your gaze to Ben’s dark brown eyes. “Did you do anything to help dismantle them? Sabotage their plans besides leaving?”

“(Y/N),” Rey said. “You’re asking too much of him. Give him a chance.”

“I did. Years ago before I dropped the call. The call where he asked me to join the kriffing First Order. No.”

Poe and Finn shifted uncomfortably.

“If what you all want is for me to give him a chance in the Resistance, fine. That’s technically not my call. It’s a group effort. But,” You looked Ben hard in the eyes. “If you’re asking more from me…don’t expect anything.”

His dark eyebrows curved up, a look of hurt returning twice over.

“Wait…,” Poe started to lean closer. “What more could he want?”

Your silent answer and unmasked facial expression gave cause to Poe’s reaction.

“Oh, come on…You can’t be serious.” The pilot groaned.

Ben sent a narrowed gaze to the other man.

“We’re not talking about what never happened.” You added more calmly.

“All in favor of ending this conversation?” Poe asked as he could no longer make eye contact with anyone around him. “Because it needs to.”

“(Y/N),” Ben took a step closer. “I’ll do all that I can to help stop the First Order.”

“That’s what we’re all here doing,” Poe added dryly.

“Finn. Poe.” Rey said in a direct and calm manner. “Let’s give them a moment.”

Both men looked over with incredulous looks.

“Come on,” she gestured with her head as she turned and started walking away.

Finn made eye contact with you and said, “Let us know if you need anything.”

You nodded.

Poe Dameron on the other hand cleared his throat and unmistakably patted the weapon in his holster. Thankfully his messages were never subtle.

The moment that the others were out of earshot, you turned your attention to Ben once more.

“Anything else you’d like to say?”

“Are any of my ‘sorry’s enough?”

“There needs to be action to match. Help us. Show that you changed.”

“My feelings haven’t changed.”

A heavy exhale left you.

“You don’t feel the same?” He asked.

“No. Not for a long time.”

It was easy to recognize the genuine hurt in Ben’s eyes. Yes, you felt empathy, however you no longer held romantic feelings for Ben Solo. There was nothing for you to do.

“I have to get back to work.” You said, giving a general gesture behind you. “We have a Resistance to rebuild.”

“I understand.”

“Best of luck, Ben.”

“…Thanks.”

Giving an awkward wave, you pivoted on the spot and headed back to your A-Wing. A weight was lifted from your shoulders and the need to check your surroundings in a safe area had drastically dwindled down. At least your mind would be in a better place while you went out to other communities.

There was limited choice in how you would be interacting near the newest Resistance member. You would learn to work alongside Ben because saving the galaxy from the overpowering use of the Dark Side did not stop for ruined relationships. One day he might even become a nice partner to have when having to go out in your ship. Ben was a great pilot. Yet, only time would tell. Only the Force knew about what was to come.

You would not stray to far from camp, however you would keep a firm eye on Ben to protect the ones you cared about. You did not have to forgive him and you did not think you ever would at that point. The First Order was still a threat and they were scrapping many corners of Batuu to find their base.

It was time to go to work.

~~~

Best wishes and happy reading.)

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful.

coffee

~~~~~

DreamerDragon Tags: @cubedtriangle

Star Wars: @darkenwolfy

**Let me know if you would like to be tagged in insert readers, either through replies, ask, or message.**

#Kylo Ren x Reader #Ben Solo x Reader #Ben Solo x f!Reader #Kylo Ren x f!Reader #Star Wars fanfiction #Star Wars imagines #where dreamers go #requested #Star Wars #Rey #Finn #Poe Dameron #Batuu #angst #Ben Solo

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magic-and-moonlit-wings · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 55: Movie Night

Lots of quotes from the movie Lilo & Stitch ahead! Fewer quotes, but some, from Trolls and Frozen.

Bold italics are trollish, ~tildes~ indicate goblin.

Content warnings for this chapter: Swearing. Here we reach the story's first F-bomb.

Also, there is some talk between characters about the harshness of life in the Darklands, how Changelings are treated by the Gumm-Gumms, and mentions of cannibalism.

This was supposed to be a light-happy chapter that got feels-y at the end, but then it went and got all dark on me.

Oh, also-also, (Not) Enrique finds out Claire flirted with Jim a while ago and misinterprets what exactly happened between them, but that gets cleared up fast.

Becoming The Mask

Once again, Javier and Ophelia Nuñez were out for the evening, leaving Claire in charge of Enrique. Claire had gotten permission to invite "some friends" over to watch movies. Jim and Toby arrived to find Mary and Darci already there – Jim suspected, like the time he'd 'babysat', that Claire had purposefully asked him to arrive after she knew her parents would be gone.

They set up piles of cushions and blankets on the floor between the couch and the TV. Jim propped the Amulet up on the coffee table they'd pushed to one side. Maybe some of the ghost Trollhunters would be interested in human movies.

"Finally get your fill of the touchy-feelies?" Enrique teased Jim, seeing how they were all seated separately. Jim snorted.

"Not hardly." He pulled the smaller Changeling in for a hug. "Humans just have different rules about casual touching, is all. Freezing to death's not really a concern in this climate."

"Wait, what?" said Toby, dropping the pillow he'd been holding. Jim looked up to see all the humans staring at him.

"Darklands thing," said Enrique easily. "Gets cold there."

"We'd sleep in piles," Jim explained. "I had a bit of a reputation for being … clingy."

"If you weren't good at finding food and soft stuff, we'd never've put up with ya." Enrique proved himself a liar by climbing onto Jim's shoulders instead of jumping back to the floor. He fluffed the hair on Jim's scalp. "Jimmy-boy got his first nickname for that."

"Shut up," said Jim playfully. "Anyway, humans get weird about touching around puberty. I can still hug Mom whenever I want, but Toby gets embarrassed if I hug him around other people, and Claire, Mary, and Darci haven't given me permission to touch them casually yet."

"… Did you … want permission?" asked Claire. "You, kinda, said you were uncomfortable with that, I thought."

"No, it was more wondering if you were flirting with me that felt weird," Jim assured her. "After that conversation I felt like it'd be awkward to bring up that I was open to hugging and such."

Jim thought he felt Enrique growl, to quietly to properly hear. His hand, still in Jim's hair, changed position so the tips of Enrique's claws were on Jim's scalp.

"When exactly did this happen?" Enrique asked.

"Claire kissed Jim on the cheek on his birthday and then Jim said he wasn't interested in dating her," said Mary.

"Also that I realized she might not have meant it in a flirty way and if I was misinterpreting things she could ignore what I was saying," Jim added. The claws retreated.

Claire looked away. "So what movie did we want to start with?"

"Lilo & Stitch!" exclaimed Darci, looking through the shelves. "I haven't watched this in forever!"

"That's a good one." Jim tilted his head to get Enrique back in his peripheral vision. "Enrique, have you seen it yet?"

"… Yeah."

"Isn't that the one that always makes you cry?" asked Toby.

"It's beautiful. Of course I cry."

Stitch was a constructed 'abomination', who shapeshifted to blend in, and his adopted family found out what he truly was and still wanted him. How could Jim be expected to keep his composure in the face of that?

"So, quick question," said Jim. "Is talking during the movie a crime, or is commentary what makes it a group activity?"

"Commentary," said all three girls together.

"Okay, good." Jim and Toby usually talked during movies, unless one or both of them were seeing it for the first time. Sometimes even then.

+=+

"Not guilty! My experiments are only theoretical, and completely within legal boundaries."

"We believe you actually created something."

"Created something? Ha! But that would be irresponsible, and, unethical. I would never, ever – make more than one."

"What is that monstrosity?"

"Monstrosity?! What you see before you is the first of a new species!"

"You have to wonder if she and Merlin ever had a talk like this," Enrique muttered in Jim's ear. Jim snickered.

"And as for that abomination … it is the flawed product of a deranged mind. It has no place among us."

Jim stopped laughing and cringed. He loved this movie a lot, but some of it stung.

+=+

"A quiet capture would require an understanding of 626 that we do not possess! Who, then, Mr Pleakley, would you send for his extraction?"

"… Does he have a brother? Close grandmother, perhaps?"

"Fun fact," said Darci, "in early drafts Stitch was a career criminal and Jumba was an old accomplice."

"Friendly cousin? Neighbour with a beard?"

+=+

"Surely the teacher won't notice I was late if he doesn't see me come in!" Claire narrated sarcastically.

+=+

"I'm sorry, Scrump!" Mary wailed, as Lilo ran back to retrieve the doll she'd angrily thrown aside.

+=+

"Let me illuminate to you the precarious situation in which you have found yourself. I am the one they call when things go wrong. And things have indeed gone wrong."

"As a cook, that kitchen horrifies me," said Jim.

+=+

"If you promise not to fight anymore, I promise not to yell at you – except on special occasions."

"Tuesdays and bank holidays would be good."

The entire group cracked up.

"How does kid Lilo's age even know what a bank holiday is?" said Claire. "I don't even know what a bank holiday is!"

"Maybe she saw it printed on a calendar?" said Toby.

+=+

A raindrop fell on Stitch's head. He fired his ray gun into the sky. It started raining, hard.

"Oh, no, I broke the sky!" Darci cried.

+=+

"Does it have to be this dog?"

"He survived getting hit by a truck, how much more sturdy and not-gonna-die do you want?" asked Jim.

"Yes. He's good. I can tell."

+=+

"I'm sorry I bit you. And pulled your hair. And punched you in the face."

Mary nudged Claire. "Remind you of anyone?"

Like sunflowers, everyone else popped up and turned towards them.

Claire blushed. "We got into a fight in first grade and for like two days we decided we didn't want to be friends anymore, then our moms made us say sorry."

"He will be irresistibly drawn to large cities, where he will back up sewers, reverse street signs, and steal everyone's left shoe."

"It's weird they get in trouble for everything but this," commented Enrique. "Human grown ups might not believe a dog stole a trike, but wouldn't they think Lilo did it? She's fought the other kid before."

"It's nice to live on an island with no large cities."

+=+

"It's not an angel, Lilo, I don't even think it's a dog!"

"Isn't that the rolling thing Draal can do?" said Toby.

"Yeah, more or less," said Jim. "I mean, I don't think Draal bites his feet – but maybe that's the trick."

"At least with those stick legs you've got," said Enrique. He curled into a ball and rolled in a circle around the group. "Face it, you're out of proportion for this move."

+=+

"626 was designed to be a monster. But now, there is nothing to destroy. You see, I never gave him a greater purpose. What must it be like, to have nothing? Not even memories to visit, in the middle of the night?"

"Now, this next bit I don't care for," said Jim. "The Ugly Duckling is a messed-up story."

"What've you got against The Ugly Duckling?" asked Mary.

"The blatant segregationist propaganda? 'A swan will never fit in with ducks and everyone is better off sticking with their own kind'. You don't even have to read it as a race metaphor. Between that and The Little Mermaid, I thought for while that Hans Christian Anderson was a Changeling writing cautionary tales about why we shouldn't get attached to humans."

"… Was he?" asked Claire.

"Probably not. I couldn't find any real evidence and the rest of his work doesn't match the pattern."

"Counterpoint," said Darci. "The Ugly Duckling is pro-integration. Everyone thought he was an ugly duckling because they didn't know what swans look like. If he'd grown up with ducks and swans around, they could've judged him for what he was instead of what he couldn't measure up to, and he might've had a happy childhood instead of only finding a community that accepted him as an adult."

Jim considered this, and nodded. "I guess I can see that, too."

+=+

"Heard you lost your job."

"Well, uh, actually, I just quit. That job. Because, you know, the hours are just not conducive to the challenges of raising a child –"

"Nani, no!" Jim begged. "I know almost nothing about Social Services but I'm pretty sure choosing to leave your only source of income looks worse to them than just losing it!"

"Thus far you have been adrift in the sheltered harbour of my patience; but I cannot ignore you being jobless. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly."

"And next time I see this dog, I expect it to be a model citizen. Capiche?"

"Uh … yes?"

"New job. Model citizen. Good day."

+=+

"So, we saw Cobra on the beach after all the tourists got scared off … D'you think he was just standing there watching them the whole time?" Mary wondered out loud after the surfing sequence.

+=+

"Until we meet again …"

Lilo was about to tell Stitch about her parents. Without thinking, Jim grabbed the remote – on the coffee table, next to the amulet – to fast forward.

"What are you doing?" Darci cried. "This is one of the big emotional turning points of the film!"

Jim paused it. "Sorry. Uh … Tobes and I usually skip this scene."

"I think I can handle it," Toby assured Jim. To the girls and Enrique, he explained, "My parents died in a storm when I was two. A cruise ship, not a car accident. I got kind of upset the first time we watched this as kids, and, we got in the habit fast forwarding this part. I think I'm okay with it now."

"You're sure?" asked Jim.

"I'm sure."

"Okay …" He rewound to the point where he'd started fast forwarding.

"That's us before. It was rainy, and they went for a drive. What happened to yours?"

Jim watched Toby more than the movie for the next few minutes.

"I'll remember you, though. I remember everyone that leaves."

"Do you remember them?" Claire asked quietly.

"Only the stuff Nana tells me." Toby shrugged, and readjusted the cushions he'd propped up his arms on. "I've seen lots of pictures. A couple home movies."

+=+

"Don't run. Don't make me shoot you. You were expensive. Yes, yes, that's it, come quietly."

"I'm … waiting."

"For what?"

"Family."

"Ah. You don't have one. I made you."

"Maybe … I could –"

"You were built to destroy. You can never belong."

Jim blinked fast to keep the tears back. He sniffed, and pulled the blankets more tightly around him.

+=+

"Okay, talk! I know you had something to do with this, now where's Lilo? Talk! I know you can."

"Claire?" said Mary. "You okay?"

Jim looked over. Claire's jaw was clenched, and her hands were tight on the blanket, and her eyes were huge and fixed on the screen, and she was shaking.

"Ah … maybe the little sib getting snatched by otherworldly forces wasn't the best movie choice," Enrique said. He reached out like he was about to go to Claire, then pulled back his hand and hunkered down where he was.

"LILO! She's a little girl this big, she has black hair and brown eyes, and she hangs around with that THING!"

"I'm. Fine," Claire insisted.

"You're sure?"

"We can just fast forward."

"I said I'm fine!"

"Okay …"

Mary and Darci each scooted their blanket and cushion piles closer to Claire's, bracketing her on either side. Jim tactfully retreated to the Nuñezes kitchen to microwave a few more bags of popcorn. Enrique went with him. They could still hear the TV.

"What? After all you put me through, you expect me to help you just like that? Just like that?!"

"Ih."

"Fine."

"Fine? You're doing what he says?"

"Ah, he is very persuasive."

"Is it normal to feel bad for her?" Enrique asked.

"I think so? It's an awkward situation for both of you." Jim selected the white cheddar flavour. "But it's not like there's an alternative. You're not a polymorph. And really, the only reason she's upset is because she found out."

The Nuñezes had the same microwave as the Lakes. Jim didn't find the popcorn setting especially useful for this brand of popcorn – it tended to burn a third of the kernels– so he used the timer instead.

"I never apologized to you for that, did I?" Jim asked.

"It wasn't all your fault."

"Still, I'm sorry for my part in getting you caught."

The Changelings got back to the living room in time to see the unfortunate tourist lose his ice cream for the third time.

+=+

"Does Stitch have to go in the ship?"

"Yes."

"Can Stitch say goodbye?"

"… Yes."

Like he always did during this scene, Jim cried. He let himself do it this time.

+=+

"Wait, how is Little Mermaid a cautionary tale?" asked Enrique during the credits. The camera panned over a photo of Stitch reading to a flock of ducklings. "For getting attached, I mean. I thought the moral of that one was to control yer temper and be careful who you made deals with?"

"Sure, the Disney version," said Jim. "They adapted it to make a more dramatic, less depressing story. And give the characters names. In the older version, the sea witch is actually a neutral character. The terms of the mermaid's transformation are that she's traded her tongue for legs, but walking on land hurts, and she'll become fully human if the prince marries her, but if he marries anybody else, she'll die."

"That doesn't sound neutral."

"Wait for it. The prince gets engaged to a human princess, so the mermaid's older sisters trade their hair to the sea witch for a magic knife and a loophole; if the little mermaid kills the prince before the wedding, she can turn back into a mermaid and survive."

"Kay, I see it now."

"Except she doesn't go through with the kill, so she dies, and because she wasn't really human, she doesn't have a proper soul, so her spirit's not allowed to go to Heaven."

"… Whoa."

"I know, right?"

"I mean," Mary commented, "not murdering somebody is kind of a low bar for moral decency. It's not as if the prince owed her anything just because she was attracted to him."

"No, no, whether the prince deserved to die or not is irrelevant," said Jim. "The point is that the mermaid had a chance to, objectively, trade one life for another, and because she was attached to the particular person she'd have to kill, she didn't prioritize her own survival, and therefore suffered."

"Wouldn't the guilt of murder have caused suffering anyway?" Toby pointed out.

"Not if she wasn't attached," Jim insisted. How were they not getting this? "If she could've just cut the throat of any random human, she'd've been fine. The moral of the story is that caring about people causes pain. That's what makes it depressing."

"Do you like any fairy tales?" asked Darci.

"Sure. Just not most of Anderson's work."

"What should we watch next?" said Claire hospitably. "If we're on a 'sister movies' theme, I've got Frozen."

"Isn't that one also based on an Anderson fairy tale?" said Mary.

"Not really," said Jim. "The Snow Queen was more 'inspiration' than 'source material'. Elsa never kidnaps anyone, and they left out the broken enchanted mirror. Plus it's fun to see all the different ways humans think trolls are like."

"We also have the Trolls movie," said Claire. "I haven't watched it yet. My dad got it for Mom's birthday because she used to collect the dolls."

"I haven't seen that one yet, either," Darci commented.

"Should we?" said Mary. "Any other votes?"

"I'm game for whatever," said Toby. "This one's a musical, right? Those are always fun."

Jim squirmed.

He hadn't watched this movie despite his curiosity, after an online clip of the opening had explained the premise. Getting eaten alive was his greatest fear. Did he want to watch a movie about trolls narrowly avoiding being eaten? Did he want to explain why he didn't want to watch it?

While he debated, the movie got put in.

"Once upon a time, in a happy forest, in the happiest tree, lived the happiest creatures the world has ever known: the trolls. They loved nothing more than to sing, and dance, and hug, and dance and hug and sing and dance and sing and hug –"

Enrique started laughing.

Oh, shit, Jim hadn't warned him.

"Uh, Enrique –"

"Ssh! This is ridiculous. I mean, the huggy bit's kind of like you, but the rest of it – ha!"

"But then one day, the trolls were discovered by – a Bergen!"

"The trolls are gonna –"

"Ji-im! Spoilers!" Toby hissed.

"They were the most miserable creatures in all the land."

Jim grabbed Enrique and covered his eyes. The smaller Changeling yelped and squirmed. Jim switched forms so his fingers wouldn't bleed from the clawing.

Enrique got his eyes uncovered just in time to see the Bergen flick a troll into its mouth.

The onscreen troll's exclamation of "Oh my god!" was drowned out by Enrique's much more lurid cursing.

"What the –?" The girls and Toby all turned to stare. Claire pointed at Enrique accusingly. "I knew that didn't mean 'I'm sorry'!"

"The hell kinda movie is this?! Why would you watch this?!" He twisted to look at Jim, who let go of him rather than risk yanking his scruff by accident. "You knew?!"

"I saw a bit of it on the internet when it first came out. That's why I froze up when Claire suggested it."

That … that was the wrong thing to say. Enrique rounded on Claire. A techno-rock cover of In The Hall Of The Mountain King boomed from the movie soundtrack.

"Why in FUCK'S NAME would you think we'd WANT to watch trolls get EATEN? Is this some kind of threat?"

"How the fuck would it be a threat?" Claire shot back, stealing some cushions from Mary to prop herself up taller without getting out of her blanket cocoon.

"Most Changelings –" Jim started to say.

"DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY TIMES I'VE ALMOST BEEN EATEN?" Enrique roared. "I DON'T! CAUSE IT'S A LOT!"

"We've all had close calls," Jim finished. "Nyarlagroths, Hellheetis, goblins if you catch them in the wrong mood, Gruesomes if you're already hurt, Stalklings, and it's a … popular threat from Gumm-Gumms."

"You forgot the sloorbeasts," said Enrique bitterly.

"Nobody's gotten lichen patches that bad." At least, they hadn't when Jim got out. "Have they?"

"Still counts."

"Uh, excuse me." Toby raised his hand. "I think I speak for us all when I say, what?"

"The Darklands are a hostile environment with predators and scavengers," explained Jim. "That's the other reason we slept in groups."

"Bigger targets, but we could have lookouts."

"Okay, that's its own kind of horrifying, but I was more reacting to the cannibalism?"

"Changelings don't count as real trolls," Enrique said sarcastically. "We're Impure."

He left out the part where they'd eaten their own dead. Jim didn't add it.

(It wasn't like they'd hunted each other for food. Sometimes a Changeling just died, somehow, in a way that didn't get them eaten by something else, and … well, food was scarce in the Darklands. They couldn't afford to be picky.

It also paid to keep watch over the sentry posts. Gunmar occasionally used the Decimaar Blade to post a sentry and then forgot to order them to rest and eat. Once they died, the average adult Gumm-Gumm was a meal for twenty Changelings, easily, if they could get to the body before the Gruesomes did.)

"Okay, we're switching to Frozen." Mary made the executive decision. "Wait," she said, while exchanging the disks. "If Changelings aren't trolls, how does Jim's adoption work?"

Because of course this was the perfect moment to tell Enrique about that, right in the middle of a squabble with his adopted sister.

"For one thing, most of Trollmarket still thinks I'm human." Jim switched back to human shape to illustrate the point.

"You got adopted?"

"AAARRRGGHH and Blinky thought I should have legal standing in Trollmarket outside of my job."

Enrique stared at him. Green diamond-shaped ears were pinned back. Buggy, slit-pupil eyes were wide and hurt.

"You get everything," he grumbled. "Two nicknames, and the goblins liked you, and you could always find food, and here you're the boss's favourite even when you're a traitor, and your human family still likes you, and now you get a troll family too? S'not fair."

"Hey, the goblins liked you, too." Jim was fully aware that wasn't much comfort compared to all the rest of it. "They gave you your nickname, remember?"

"They gave you one, too."

"Yeah, but you got yours first."

They probably weren't supposed to hear Darci when she muttered, "I feel like we're missing a lot of context."

"Shit," Claire muttered back. "Not Enrique told me a bit of the name part. They don't remember their names from before they were Changelings, and they don't get real names until they have Familiars, so they use nicknames instead. From each other or from goblins, he said."

"They don't get names?" Darci's voice went squeaky at the end of that.

"We're trying to come up with something other than 'Enrique' for him."

"You're trying," Enrique corrected. Darci squeaked again.

"Can we maybe circle back to the cannibalism thing?" said Toby. "That feels like the kind of trauma that should get unpacked at some point."

"I would rather leave it packed," said Jim.

"The way you blurted it out like that feels like you need to talk about it."

"Not all psychology is Freudian, Tobes."

"Do your parents still have baby name books from when they were picking Enrique's name?" Mary asked Claire. "Real Enrique, I mean."

"They didn't use one. He was named after our abuelo."

"Okay, so what about your other grandfather? What was his name?"

"Jose María." Defensively, "It's gender neutral in Spanish."

On the television screen, the movie menu finished another loop and started again.

"I tried spelling my name like it sounds, en are ee kay, but Claire said it spelled 'Nrek'. You get why I couldn't use that."

Jim laughed.

"What's funny?" asked Toby. "Is that an insult or something?"

"No, it's goblin, in English it means 'bottle'," Jim translated. "Or possibly 'container of food'." The only bottles he's seen them use held formula for the Familiars, and the word hadn't come up on the surface, so the distinction was unclear. "It's either a silly name or a really morbid one."

"Aaand we're back to the cannibalism."

"No we are not!"

"Na na na heyana, Hahiyaha naha …"

Either somebody had decided to start the movie, or the DVD had that feature where it automatically began playing if nothing was selected after a few loops of the menu.

The conversation went in circles a couple more times, then faded out.

+=+

"And who's the funky-looking donkey over there?"

"That's Sven."

"Uh-huh; and who's the reindeer?"

"… Sven."

"Oh, they're – ? Oh! Okay! Makes things easier for me."

"~Riot~," said Enrique.

"Huh?"

"My nickname. Before. It meant 'riot'."

What are you doing? Jim wanted to demand. Was Enrique just – just giving up on a real name?

"You can call me that for now. Till we work out a for-real one. Better than 'Not Enrique'."

Jim stuffed some burnt popcorn kernels into his mouth to keep from protesting. He couldn't undermine Enrique's – Riot's – chosen name, right in front of a bunch of humans, when he'd been arguing with them about how rude that was for weeks now.

"Oh. Okay." Claire half-smiled. "Riot."

Jim shut his eyes to hide the flaring glow.

+=+

Previous Chapter (Angor Rot gets treated much better, and more sensibly, than in canon, and is correspondingly less vengeful)

Table of Contents

Next Chapter (Featuring either Otto or Gatto)

A quick thank you to Taycin on AO3 for providing some name-gender context when this chapter first went up.

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let-the-dream-begin · 4 years ago

Text

In My Daughter’s Eyes Chapter 10: If Only My Dreams

Chapter 9

Read on AO3

December 22

Claire, Gillian, and Faith were on their way to the stables. Gillian had insisted on coming, wanting to “see Faith in action,” as she put it. She’d been spending quite a lot of time with her over the past week. Mrs. Lickett would come in the morning to give Faith her lessons and educational playtime, but then she’d leave around noon, so crafts, movies, and the like were all up to Gillian. Claire had left Faith in Gillian’s care all the time back in England, so she was quite confident they’d be just fine, and things had been going swimmingly all week. Faith was quite enjoying her time with her Auntie, and Claire dreaded the day she had to leave, and the meltdown that would probably follow.

But that was a problem for another day.

When they arrived at the stable, Faith insisted on holding both of their hands in the parking lot, giving Gillian the honor of holding Horsie.

“Don’t you let that thing out of your sight,” Claire warned. “If anything happens to it there’ll be hell to pay. And I don’t mean from me.” She eyed Faith, and Gillian nodded in understanding.

“He’s been left before, has he?”

“Indeed. Never making that mistake again.”

They shared a laugh, which intensified as Faith gave a strong yank on both of their hands to make them get inside faster.

“Eager, isn’t she?” Gillian said, smirking.

“She loves it here, you have no idea,” Claire said, her chest warming. “Just wait until you see her with the horse. It’ll make you cry.”

When they got inside, Faith was bouncing as usual, humming loudly.

“Really, I dinna think I’ve ever seen her this excited fer anything that isna Disney,” Gillian said.

“That’s exactly what I said,” Claire laughed.

“Beauchamp gals!” Toni called as they approached the desk. “And who’s this?”

“This is Faith’s godmother, my best friend from back home. Gillian Edgars.”

“Hi, I’m Toni. It’s great to meet you.” She gave Gillian her hand, then a firm shake. She was wearing an obscenely ugly Christmas sweater and a Santa hat. Erica was donning a Santa hat as well, but if she was wearing a sweater, it wasn’t visible under her coat.

“This is Erica,” Claire said. “One of the volunteers that helps Jamie with Faith.”

“Jamie’s the — ”

“Her main therapist, yes,” Claire interjected before Gillian could say anything bawdy. “Shall we?”

Erica nodded and led them outside, Faith holding dutifully onto both hands again.

“That one likes the lasses,” Gillian whispered to Claire once they were outside.

Claire gave her a confused look. “Erica?” she stammered, in shock that Gillian was speculating about a fifteen year old girl.

“No, ye numpty! Toni!”

“How on Earth can you tell?” Claire said.

“I’ve always had an eye fer those things, ye ken.” She winked. “Does this place only employ hot people?”

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ…” Claire rolled her eyes and swatted her arm.

When they arrived at the stable, Faith’s excitement went through the roof, as always, and Gillian started laughing.

“She’s just the cutest damn thing I’ve ever seen,” she chuckled as Erica opened the doors.

Waiting inside with Pippi was the six foot Scot, wearing an equally ridiculous Christmas sweater as Toni’s, also donning a Santa hat.

“Ah, there she is! The wee princess!” Jamie exclaimed. Faith giggled at being addressed as such, and she tugged ever harder on their hands.

“And who’s this, then?” Jamie looked to Gillian.

“This is my best friend from across the Atlantic, Gillian Edgars.”

“A fellow Scot,” Gillian said, shaking his hand.

“Ah! That’s braw!” Jamie beamed, then turned to Claire. “This is the godmother then?”

“Yes, this is Auntie Gi.”

“It’s very fine to finally meet ye, lass. Jamie Fraser.” He finally released her hand. “Claire goes on and on about ye.”

“Didna realize ye talked so much,” Gillian said, throwing Claire side-eye. “About me,” she added quickly.

Had Jamie not been standing right there, Claire would have swatted at her arm again.

“Aye. Well, Faith, d’ye want to show yer Auntie yer horse?” He crouched down to her, and she nodded, letting go of their hands. Faith’s muscle memory took over, and she tended to the creature just the way she’d been taught. “This is Pippi,” Jamie said. “Princess Faith’s noble steed.”

“Princess Faith, he says,” Gillian whispered dreamily, and Claire inconspicuously pinched her thigh.

“Are ye excited to show Auntie Gi how ye ride, lass?” Jamie said, and Faith nodded enthusiastically. “Right then, off we go.”

Jamie hung back with Claire and Gillian while Erica led Faith and Pippi. He and Gillian conversed rapidly in Gaelic, leaving Claire feeling rather stupid as she looked in awe between the two of them.

When they arrived at the riding hall, Gillian and Claire leaned against the fence, Gillian amazed how Faith handled the helmet.

“Oh, that was quite a struggle,” Claire said. “Got bit for that one, remember?”

“Right, ye called me that day,” Gillian said, nodding. “She’s so gentle wi’ the horse. Back there in the stable, ye were right, I almost cried like a bairn.”

“Wait until she gets on,” Claire said warmly. “It’s just incredible.”

“And he…is so good wi’ her,” Gillian said in disbelief. “Could God have created a more perfect specimen?”

That earned her another swat on the arm.

“Hi, Claire,” Mrs. Beardsley’s voice had Claire turning around.

“Oh, hello,” Claire said. “Gi, this is Fanny Beardsley.”

They reached over Claire to shake hands.

“This is your wife?” Fanny said, smiling sweetly.

This immediately had them both sputtering, struggling to not disturb the therapy by howling with laughter.

“She wishes!” Gillian exclaimed, earning yet another swat.

“No, no,” Claire said, wiping tears of laughter away. “This is Faith’s godmother. She’s just visiting for Christmas. We’ve been best friends since college.”

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry.” Fanny’s face was bright red.

“No, it’s alright, really,” Claire said, though she was still wheezing.

“It actually happens a lot,” Gillian said. “Lots of rumors back in college. Sadly, this one is straight as a pin.” Gillian patted her shoulder, and Claire rolled her eyes.

They passed the rest of the time watching Faith, Gillian whispering in awe and squealing in delight, clapping along with Claire and Erica when Faith earned celebration.

“She’s braw, Claire,” Gillian said, teary-eyed as Faith dismounted. “I’m really proud of her.”

They embraced each other around the shoulders, Claire resting her head on Gillian.

“Watch this,” Claire whispered. “She doesn’t do high-fives like a lot of the other kids, so Jamie does this with her instead.”

They watched the weekly ritual of Jamie giving his enthusiastic thumbs-up, his lopsided grin warming the chill in the air. Faith returned the thumbs up, bouncing and grinning.

“That is the cutest feckin’ thing.” Gillian shook her head in awe, eyes watering again.

They returned to the welcome center, three of them hand in hand, and Jamie leading the way walking backwards. Toni was ready with three candy canes to hand them when they arrived.

“Merry Christmas Beauchamps, and Auntie Gi.” Toni winked.

“Ah, before ye go,” Jamie said, reaching around the counter and producing a little gift bag. “Merry Christmas, Sassenach.” He handed Claire the bag, his cheeks flushing red. “From the stables,” he added quickly.

Claire’s brow furrowed, but she couldn’t help the tiny smile that graced her face. “Thank you. Merry Christmas, Jamie.”

She peered up at him through her lashes, and her smile disappeared at the sight of the look he was giving her. It was that same look that she’d caught him sporting time and time again, yet she still hadn’t gotten used to it.

What is it?

And why does it take my breath away…?

“Ready to go?” Gillian snapped Claire out of her reverie.

“Yes, yes let’s go,” Claire stammered, smiling perhaps a bit too brightly. “Merry Christmas Toni, Erica.”

“Merry Christmas!” they called in unison.

“Say bye-bye, Faith! Say Merry Christmas!” Faith smiled and waved, then pulled on her hand.

“Onto McDonald’s,” Claire said to Gillian.

“Aye, another delicacy,” she teased.

As they sat in the drive-thru, Gillian’s phone went off, and a sly grin spread across her face.

“What?” Claire asked.

“She texted me already,” Gillian said.

“Who did?”

Gillian turned around the phone to show Claire the screen:

Hi there! It’s Toni!

Claire’s jaw dropped, scandalized. “When did you give her your number?”

“When ye were busy making heart eyes at the Scot,” Gillian smirked and then quickly composed a response.

“I was not making heart eyes,” Claire said vehemently, inching the car forward and rolling down the window.

“Keep telling yerself that.”

——

McDonald’s eaten and milkshakes empty, the three of them were sitting under a blanket again watching Lilo and Stitch. They all brushed their teeth together, and Faith insisted on being tucked in by Gillian. Once that was all settled, Claire and Gillian sat on the couch again together, knowing they could stay up a bit later since Claire didn’t work tomorrow.

“Well? Ye havena opened it yet.” Gillian nudged her head toward the coffee table, where the little bag that Jamie had given Claire was still sitting.

“Oh. I’d forgotten about it,” Claire said, which was a blatant lie. She hadn’t stopped thinking about it since the moment he held it out to her. Truth be told, she was scared to open it. She hesitantly took it in her hands and opened the bag, removing layers of tissue paper.

She couldn’t help the stupid grin that spread wide across her entire face as she pulled out the contents. A bag of Lindt truffles, and a large back of sour patch kids. There was a festive post-it-note stuck to the truffles that said:

To make up for the candy corn. Merry Christmas, Sassenach.

Claire felt her entire face flush red, and her pulse began to race.

“Candy corn? What does that mean?” Gillian prodded.

“He, uh…he made me try candy corn, Halloween week,” Claire stammered. “I hated it, and he asked what kind of candy I do like.”

“Oh my God.” Gillian shoved her shoulder roughly. “Oh my God, Claire! Holy shite!”

“What…? What? Stop it!” Claire shoved her back and put the candy on the coffee table. “It’s just a joke. Relax.”

Gillian gaped at her in disbelief, then shook her head. “I was joking — well, half-joking — when I texted ye back in October, but God!”

“What?”

“How’s the sex?”

Claire’s eyes widened, and she leaned back in shock. “What sex?”

“With Fraser!”

“Jesus bloody Christ! There is no sex!” Claire’s face was hot as hell again, her mouth dry. “There’s no anything! He’s Faith’s therapist!”

“He’s givin’ ye sweets and gifts and ye’re no’ even putting out?” Gillian leaned back into the couch, crossing her arms. “Christ, he must really like you.”

“For fuck’s sake…” Claire scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You’re mad.”

Claire threw the bag on the coffee table, but it landed a little faster than an empty bag should have.

“Is there something still in there?” Gillian said, snatching it at once and plunging her hand inside.

“Gi, stop, stop it! Let me have it!”

Gillian pulled out a hair bow, and her eyes narrowed. “What the Devil?”

“Let me see.” Claire took it from her, and her jaw went slack with realization.

“What?”

“It’s tartan,” Claire said. “The tartan from the clan in Brave.”

“What would ye want wi’ that?” Gillian scoffed.

“It’s not for me…” Claire said, her voice breathy. “It’s for Faith.”

Realization hit Gillian like a bolt of lightning. “Halloween. He wore tartan, and she dressed up from…”

“From Brave,” Claire finished with her.

“Bloody hell…” Gillian said. “He really, really likes ye.”

Claire swallowed thickly against the dryness in her throat, vainly attempting to wet her lips. Her head was spinning, and she could hardly breathe.

“Claire?”

“Well,” Claire said, her voice sounding more strained than she would have liked it to. “As much as I love the Disney movies, how about you and I watch a big-girl movie, hm?” Claire smiled, getting off the couch and retrieving a bottle of wine from the kitchen. “With some big-girl juice?”

Gillian giggled, apparently deciding to not push the subject any further. “Alright. But I’m picking the movie.”

——

Their first Christmas in their new home was nothing short of perfect. Claire had only requested two specific days off for the entire year: Christmas Day, and Faith’s birthday.

Gillian’s present to Claire had already been opened the night before, after Claire had showered from her long shift at the hospital. It was a matching set of Christmas pajamas, with a card that said:

Take this as a promise that we’ll always be together for the holiday.

They cried on each other for a few minutes before donning the pajamas, taking several pictures together in Claire’s full length mirror in her bedroom.

They slept in them and kept them on for presents, just as festive as Faith in her Disney Christmas nightgown. Claire’s present to Gillian was a Long Island t-shirt. Gillian had made a hobby of collecting stupid tourist t-shirts wherever she visited, and Claire had spent plenty of time finding the most touristy Long Island shirt she could.

Faith was beyond thrilled with every single Christmas present she received: her first dollhouse (from Santa), little sets of furniture and little dolls for the dollhouse (from Mummy), and a Merida Barbie doll from Auntie Gi. Claire also decided to give Faith the tartan bow on Christmas morning, handing it to her, saying:

“Look, lovie, another Merida present. This one is from Mister Jamie.”

Never one to be patient, Faith demanded that Claire put the bow in her hair at once, as Auntie Gi was struggling to free the dollhouse from its packaging.

Once Faith was satisfied that every present had been opened and arranged to her heart’s content, they moved into the kitchen to devour the edible arrangement of fruit that Gillian had insisted on getting for Christmas breakfast. Back in the day, Frank made festive pancakes for Christmas morning, and Gillian was determined to start traditions of their own.

Fruit eaten, it was time to start on the Christmas cookies. Claire had purchased several Christmas themed cookie-cutters a few weeks ago, so the three of them made a wide assortment of characters across a wide spectrum of colors. Claire had also bought food dye to use in vanilla icing, so Faith was free to let her creativity run wild, as if she were making edible crafts. All the while, Christmas music played from Claire’s phone, and Faith was humming along and bouncing all day.

Gillian was a slightly better cook than Claire was, so they tag teamed getting the small ham cooked all the way through, along with the green bean casserole (which Faith would not touch with a ten foot pole; she was fine with just ham and applesauce, thank you very much).

Mrs. Lickett had the rest of the holiday week off until the day after New Year’s, and Faith was more than happy to spend the extra time with Gillian. Mary Hawkins had sent Claire a Facebook invitation for a New Year’s party a few weeks ago, and she’d only recently responded that she’d be going. She was uncertain of taking Faith somewhere so crowded, but Mary made it very clear in the description of the event that it would be sensory-friendly. Joe had asked her one day at work if she had any plans for the New Year, surely meaning to invite her over if she didn’t, and Claire felt a strange sense of teenage-like pride in informing him that she did.

Claire’s shift ended at eight, which was exactly when Mary’s party started, so they were only about thirty minutes late. Mary was delighted to have Gillian as well. Despite Mary’s emphasis on a sensory-friendly party, Claire brought Faith’s noise cancelling headphones just in case. Despite the lack of noisemakers, music, or loud television, the constant hum of several voices was making Faith a bit distraught, so Claire put the headphones on her, and after a few minutes of getting used to her silence, she was content again.

Claire was pleased to see a lot of moms she recognized, including Fanny, Kezzie and Josiah running about with Thomas. She was introduced to Mary’s husband, Alex, almost as young as she was. Apparently, Thomas had been a happy accident when they were both still teenagers, and they got married right then. They were quite a sweet couple.

When midnight came, hats and silent paper party-blowers were passed around. The tellie was kept low, and the countdown was done in hushed whispers. The only sound to be heard as the ball dropped was the crinkling of the party-blowers, a few scattered “Yay!”s, and jovial “Happy New Year!”s all around. Faith was quite content watching the paper curl in and out as she blew, giggling every time.

It wasn’t long after that when Faith started falling asleep, along with most of the other kids, all except Thomas. He was still bouncing off the walls somehow. Mary had given Claire a heartfelt thank you for coming, as did Alex. Claire felt as giddy and fulfilled as she had when they’d left the Abernathy home after Thanksgiving.

“That’s a great bunch,” Gillian said as they buckled themselves in.

“Yes…it really is.”

——

The following day while Claire was at work, Gillian had started to pack, being that her flight was on January second, but she didn’t get very far. Evidently, Faith immediately registered that packing meant that Auntie Gi would be leaving soon, and she was quite irritable and weepy for most of the day. She was inconsolable for the most part, only content when she was hanging onto Gillian or sitting in front of the tellie for a few moments of respite with a movie. She hardly touched her food that night, and when Claire had tried to get her to eat, she’d roughly shoved her plate across the table. Claire had permitted Gillian to be the one to give her a stern talking to; eventually she ate enough to satisfy Claire, and Gillian sat with her until she fell asleep.

Gillian returned to the living room to find Claire trying to rearrange her suitcase so it would actually close. She spent a few minutes trying to help, before they both ended up sitting on it in order to zipper it shut.

Gillian sighed. "Puir wee thing thinks she's miserable. I dinna want to leave either."

Claire draped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in until their heads were resting together, not wanting to speak how she felt, lest she burst into tears.

“Can I ask ye something, Claire? And can ye promise me ye’ll be honest?”

“Of course,” Claire said, releasing her so they could look at each other. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing wrong, or maybe there is. I don’t know.” She sighed. “Ye ken I’ve been seeing Toni, aye?”

Claire shook her head jerkily, blinking in shock. “Um, no, I don’t ken! When have you been doing that?”

“After you and Faith are asleep.” She shrugged, as if it were the most casual thing in the world. “I got an Uber and met her somewhere the first time, now she just picks me up and takes me right to her place. She’s actually quite — ”

“Please, spare me,” Claire interjected quickly. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for you, of course, but I have to see her interact with my child once a week for the rest of forever.”

“Alright, alright.” Gillian put her hands up in surrender, giggling. “That wasna the point anyway. We dinna just have sex, we talk as well.”

“Well, I should hope,” Claire said wryly. “Be rather awkward otherwise.”

“Och, enough, ye wee prude.” Gillian shoved her arm. “What I’m trying to get at is that you have come up in conversation.”

“Me? In what context?”

“In ‘the Scot has the hots’ context.”

“Oh, Christ, Gi, not this again…”

“I’m serious, Claire,” Gillian said, her eyes widening, no joking in her tone at all. “I brought it up as a joke, ye know me. But then she just rattled off all these things…I’m no’ the only one who sees it. That’s all.”

“Sees what?”

“Are ye daft, woman?” Gillian blinked in disbelief, and then sighed exasperatedly.

“You haven’t asked me a question yet, you know,” Claire said defensively, crossing her arms. “That’s how you opened this conversation.”

“Alright. Fine. Why did ye no’ tell me he was at yer bloody apartment?” Gillian said flatly.

Claire stammered for a moment. “It didn’t seem at all important! Toni told you about that as well?”

“Aye, she did. Didna mean anything by it, just came up in conversation.”

“Right, in conversation about me.”

“Dinna get all fiery on me, Claire. It wasna all about you. She talked as much about Jamie.”

Claire was about to fire back again, but she quickly realized that Gillian was right; she was getting overly defensive and angry, something Gillian was never shy about calling her out on.

“Really. Why didn’t ye tell me?” Gillian asked again, softly.

“It wasn’t conscious…it just didn’t come up.” Claire started picking at a cuticle, focusing her vision there instead of on Gillian.

“Because ye didna want it to come up. Right?”

“It seemed…private. I don’t know. It wasn’t…like you think. Or like she thinks.” Claire hissed in pain at what she was doing to her finger, and Gillian swatted at her hand to make her stop.

“Toni says he makes all these exceptions fer Faith, bendin’ over backwards to make her happy.”

Claire’s head started spinning. “He’s just…being kind.”

“Aye, Claire,” Gillian chuckled. “Because he likes you. A lot more than I even thought.”

“That’s…that’s ridiculous.” Claire shook her head. “My child is his client.”

“Toni says it’s no’ the same as a regular therapist — ”

“Gillian, please…” Claire interrupted, a bit more forcefully than she meant to. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do. Really, I do. You’re my best friend, I get it. And I love you for it. But this…” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her thighs. “I don’t need this. I don’t need you to play matchmaker like we did in college.”

“Claire…”

“It’s alright, Gi. I’m not angry, I promise. I just…” She sighed. “I don’t need…I don’t need to be rescued anymore. Do you know what I mean? These past few months, just me and Faith…god, I’ve never felt so good about myself. I mean, hell, I’ve had doubt upon doubt creep into my mind, and not every day is good. But she is thriving here, and so am I. I don’t have to explain myself or my parenting to anyone anymore. And…fuck, Gi, I love it. I finally feel like…like I’m doing right by her.” She was surprised to feel the tears in her eyes, and she swallowed to keep them at bay. “For four years of her life, I was this…shell of myself. And god damn it, I pulled myself out of that. I know I had your help, always, and now I have Mrs. Lickett, and the Abernathy’s, and the whole community at the stables…but I did this. For her…and now I realize it was for me, too.”

Gillian put a hand on Claire’s knee. “I understand, hen.”

Claire nodded. “Jamie is incredibly kind, and thoughtful, and he’s done a lot for us. But it’s not what you think, and I don’t need…what you think it is. Faith doesn’t need that. She needs me. I need me. Am I…making any sense?”

“Ye are. Ye dinna have to explain yerself to me, Claire. I’m sorry,” Gillian said sheepishly. “Ye know me. Canna keep my neb out of anyone’s business. Least of all yers.”

Claire offered a tiny smile, then laid her head onto her shoulder. “Will you be seeing your American lover for one final tryst before you depart?”

Gillian snorted. “Nae, we’ve already said our goodbyes. Keeping it casual, ye ken. She’s just out of a relationship and all that.”

“Right. Well I’m glad you had that, however brief. Been a while since you’ve been with a woman, hasn’t it?”

“Aye, ye’re right! I was feeling starved for female affection after years of male disappointment!”

Claire guffawed loudly, and they both dissolved into a fit of giggles that carried into the wee hours of the morning.

#outlander #outlander au #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #jamie fraser #claire fraser #claire beauchamp #faith fraser #geillis duncan #gillian edgars

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shyneanon · 4 years ago

Text

So I posted this earlier...

... And then I wrote it because of course I did.

My interpretation of MF Sans and Paps is based off of @improvidence318, who I tagged so you have an instant link to his VA stuff because his audios are hilarious and his MF Sans voice is super sexy. Sorry for the notification, improvidence, I just want ppl to hear your stuff >~< His audios were the first introduction I had to MF Sans and his interpretation is my favorite. (Although the guy does need to learn to not corner women in dark alleys in an attempt to bed them.)

Anyway yeah I thought the power dynamic would be less off if Reader was involved with the mob too. So.

---

When you arrived at the party, you put a smile on your face. It was as much an accessory as the necklace you were wearing. You weren’t even quite sure what the party was for. A successful business endeavor between multiple crime families, you knew that, but your father never really liked to tell you the details of said endeavors.

Your parents didn’t force you to stay at their side, so you allowed yourself to wander and pay attention to… anything but the people here. The art on the walls, the decor… Anything but them. You knew your parents were bringing you along to these parties to find a potential husband, but you couldn’t bring yourself to go start a conversation with anyone. You didn’t want anything to do with them. You hated the criminal lifestyle-- you wanted to marry out of it, not into it. So when you realized there was a large terrace, you gladly ran out, to get away from the stifling air of false smiles, veiled threats and blatant lies.

The air outside was much fresher and crisper, and the terrace gave you a nice view of the city. This was so much better. You even felt a smile creep onto your face as you removed your gloves.

Sometimes, when you watched movies or read books about young women your age, you wondered if their freedom was exaggerated. Or if the goodness of the men they met was exaggerated. Probably, to an extent. After all, nothing that makes money is entirely honest. You’d learned that very early on. But you always wondered what it felt like to go to a gathering of friends and not feel the underlying tension that you always felt. In your world, everyone looked out for themselves. You knew the people at this party would gladly blow each other’s brains out if they knew they could gain something from it. Sure, they had their ethics and their deals and their values, but those could easily be bent and twisted to justify almost anything they did.

You envied those girls. They didn’t have the money your family had, but they had real friends. Real loved ones. Real men who really cared about them.

You didn’t think of yourself as a romantic, but you knew you would have to get married eventually. If only you could find someone who would actually love you, even in this hellhole.

The doors to the terrace were thrown open behind you, but you didn’t so much as start. You were accustomed to loud noises.

“Fuckin’ need a smoke, this party is a buncha bullshit.”

Ugh. Great. This had been your one place of refuge and now some drunken idiot had stumbled into it. You looked over to see who exactly had barged in on your retreat.

You blinked when you realized how large he was, and again when you realized he wasn’t human. His hands were lighting a cigar, and you could tell that they were nothing but bone. A monster. You’d met monsters before, so you weren’t afraid (at least, not for that reason), but you had never seen a skeleton before. He didn’t even seem to realize you were here, since he had headed for the other end of the terrace. You were much smaller than him, so you were sure his eyes had looked you over easily. If he had eyes. You couldn’t quite see his face, the brim of his hat was hiding it.

He was still grumbling to himself as he tucked his lighter back into his pocket and placed his cigar between two sets of extremely sharp teeth. From the way the moonlight glinted off one tooth, you could tell it was made of metal. Probably gold. He didn’t have eyes, per se, but he had little lights in his eye sockets that glowed a crimson color.

You realized that those lights were now looking directly at you.

“Oh, shit, how long’ve you been here for?” asked the stranger. He had an extremely deep voice that almost seemed to roll through the air, like thunder.

Well, he wasn’t saying anything mean, but if he was at this party he was no good, so you started to put on your gloves again. “Longer than you.”

For some reason, he chuckled. “Woulda been out here sooner if I knew this terrace was here. This party’s the worst, right?”

You had been turning to go, but you stopped. He wasn’t supposed to say that-- that the party wasn’t fun. That would be rude. But he hadn’t cared. Maybe he had an unrefined reason for thinking it was unpleasant. Maybe he just wanted more booze, or wished there were strippers here... but whatever it was, he hadn’t given you some garbage excuse for being out here with you.

You decided to test the waters. “It’s… not fun.”

“Boy, you sure are polite about it.” He snorted (odd, considering he didn’t have lungs). “Everybody’s so goddamn fake ‘round here. Can’t have any real fun.” He smiled, raising a brow. “What’s yer name, dollface?”

You told him. You expected him to bring up your father, but he didn’t.

“Nice. Name’s Sans.”

Oh. You’d heard of him. “You have a brother,” you said, “right?”

“Yeah. Real buzzkill, though. He’s still inside, chattin’ people up.” His toothy grin widened. “Fancies himself a real ladykiller.”

“Literally or figuratively?” you asked with a small smile. Sans let out a laugh.

“Nah, figuratively. He’d never lay a hand on a lady. ‘N neither would I.”

They all say that.

“Unless… you want me to lay hands on ya.”

You blinked. His eyes were lidded. Did he not know who your father was? He could have him shot dead for talking to you like this. Then again, this man didn’t seem to have the highest IQ.

“You look real nice in that dress,” he said softly.

“Thanks,” you said curtly. You didn’t want to turn around and go back into the party-- you hated it there-- and you figured Sans wouldn’t let it escalate much further. He was a monster, not a human skeleton. He could still die if your father ordered it.

Wait, when had he gotten right in front of you?

“Y’know,” he said in his baritone voice, “nobody’s lookin’ for ya. Seems like we’ll be alone for a while.”

“Are you suggesting something?” you responded, trying to look unfazed. You were fazed, though. Most men were too scared to try anything like this on you. And for good reason. It could get them killed. And this man was just so… big. You had to crane your neck to meet his gaze.

“Maybe.”

He leaned close to you, and you frowned.

“Your breath smells like alcohol and cigar smoke,” you told him. Gross. Like you’d want to get intimate with him anyway, much less with his mouth smelling like that.

That didn’t deter him. “Yeah? Sorry about that.”

His head was practically in the crook of your neck now. He inhaled sharply.

“You smell good,” he growled, like a wolf smelling a helpless bunny.

You realized you were leaning against the railing of the terrace and that his hands were grabbing the railing on either side of you. This would absolutely horrify your parents.

Hmm.

It would horrify my parents.

Maybe… just to spite them…

You stepped a little closer to Sans, who immediately wrapped an arm around your waist. You resisted the slight urge to move away.

“Ah, dollface,” Sans purred. “You smell so good…. I could just eat ya….”

His sharp teeth started to trail along your neck. Was this a kiss? He didn’t have lips, so you weren’t sure.

“Maybe,” he said softly, “you an’ I could get away from this awful party… An’ I could show ya a good time elsewhere….”

He can’t be serious. You squinted. “Get away? We can’t just walk out the door.”

“Don’t have to,” he responded; he was so close your nose was brushing against his nasal bone. He smirked. “I can show ya how, if you want me to.”

You were curious… But unfortunately, you assumed that if you said yes, he would also take that as a yes to the sex he was obviously proposing. And you definitely didn’t want that. How would you even…? No, you didn’t even want to know.

He pressed his teeth right against the corner of your mouth. Definitely a kiss. You felt annoyed when your face got hot.

“C’mon, doll.” He already sounded excited. “I can show ya all kinds of new things--”

“SANS! WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU DOING?!”

He immediately backed away from you at the sound of the more shrill voice. You could feel that your face was on fire. Whoever it was probably thought you had been happily reciprocating….

You looked over to see a second skeleton, somehow taller than the first, but a lot thinner. He had some sort of scar across his left eye. Your cynicism returned (strange, it was like time-- and your brain-- had slowed down a few moments ago) and you had to wonder what sour business deal he’d gotten that mark from.

He was glowering at Sans. This had to be his brother. Papyrus was his name, right? Like the parchment the ancient Egyptians used to write on.

“Uh,” was all that came out of Sans’ mouth. So eloquent. You actually felt kind of ashamed you’d let someone with his low level of intelligence go as far as he had. And just to spite your parents? What were you, five?

“DO YOU KNOW WHOSE DAUGHTER SHE IS?”

Sans looked over at you. “I mean, no.” He grinned with those sharp teeth again. “I only care ‘bout who she calls Daddy.”

Your face got hot again... which embarrassed you… which only made your face hotter.

“THE POOR THING!” said Papyrus. “YOU’VE ABSOLUTELY TERRIFIED HER!”

“That’s embarrassment yer lookin’ at, Paps, not fear.” His tone darkened a little. “We’ve both seen fear.”

Nobody said things like that either. Not at a gathering like this, and definitely not in front of women. You were pretty sure his disregard for the etiquette of this society was just due to sheer stupidity, but it was refreshing. As thick as he was, he was at least honest.

Well, not really. Just more honest than everyone else here. Surely he had some skeletons in his closet as well.

Hah… skeletons in his closet. You tried to fight back a smile. Unfortunately, it was noticed by both brothers.

Sans sounded amused. “Whatcha laughin’ at, babe?”

“Nothing,” you said, but since you couldn’t bite your lip your smile was fully visible.

“Like hell. What’s so funny?”

“SANS!” said Papyrus. “LANGUAGE!”

You said, “It might offend you.” The last thing you wanted to do was offend a mobster of any sort. Even if you were basically untouchable.

“S’long as you ain’t callin’ me fat, we’re good.” He winked. “I ain’t fat, I’m just big-boned.”

Your smile widened, much to your chagrin.

“SANS!”

“What? She likes it. Now tell me your joke, honey.”

You still weren’t sure if this was a good idea, but he’d asked. “I was just thinking that you both have some… skeletons in your closet.” With an embarrassed smile-- Sans’ grin was contagious-- you softly tapped your fingers against the air and said, “Ba-dum tsssss.”

Papyrus looked aghast, but Sans beamed and started to laugh.

“God, sweetheart, yer the only person at this party who’s any real fun.” He put his hand on your shoulder, though it was in a friendly manner. “Everybody else here has a stick up their ass!”

Papyrus didn’t even yell for him to shut up. It was too late, Sans’ voice had a way of reverberating throughout the room and everyone had heard. They were all staring at the three of you. Everything was quiet. You realized that even you were horrified; your hands were over your mouth. Or maybe it was secondhand embarrassment.

For some reason, Sans didn’t quit laughing, even when there was no way he couldn’t have noticed everyone else watching. In fact… Was he laughing harder now that people were staring? Papyrus looked like he wanted to murder his brother right there on the spot, but he did his best to save face.

“I… I APOLOGIZE FOR MY BROTHER’S BEHAVIOR, HE IS VERY, VERY DRUNK.”

Yeah, right. Sans wasn’t even wobbling on his feet, at most he was a bit tipsy.

Papyrus put his hand on your shoulder, the one Sans hadn’t touched. “I’M SORRY IF HE BOTHERED YOU AT ALL.”

Sans was horrible, and a complete moron, but… you liked him? For some reason. So you said, “Oh no, he didn’t. He was a gentleman.”

Papyrus obviously didn’t believe it, but he looked relieved that you had said so. “WELL, GOOD! AT LEAST HE WAS TREATING YOU WELL! HE IS ALWAYS… SO NICE TO LADIES.”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing at Papyrus’ exasperation.

You felt a hand on your arm-- a human one-- and your mother pulled you back away from the brothers.

“You’re sure he was nice to you?” she asked.

Well, you were already lying-- and it was kind of funny-- so you decided you may as well commit. “He was really nice to me. He told me I looked beautiful and he lent me his jacket so that I could keep warm.” You stopped yourself there, before you went too far and made him out to be Prince Charming himself. You glanced over and saw that Papyrus had a brow raised in confusion, while Sans had a brow raised in interest.

“I should hope he did.”

That was your father. Oh boy. Even Papyrus looked nervous. Sans seemed to recognize that you were saving his ass, because while you suspected he didn’t care, he looked like he did.

“You have a wonderful daughter, sir.” He beamed. “Smart ‘n funny.”

He was lucky he’d appealed to your father correctly. He always told you that you were smart, so anyone who said the same thing immediately gained at least some respect from him.

“Very,” was all your father said in response.

Papyrus stammered, “I… I SHOULD TAKE MY BROTHER HOME, BEFORE HIS VERY INEBRIATED STATE DOES ANYONE ANY MORE HARM.”

“Good idea,” said Sans. “After one last drink.”

“NO!”

Papyrus grabbed Sans by the back of his shirt, like a mother cat picking up its kitten, and started to drag him off. Sans gave you one last smile.

“Nice meetin’ ya, sweetheart. Hope I see ya again.”

You waved a little, trying to look as innocent as possible with your parents there. You bit the insides of your cheeks to keep from smiling too wide.

“His poor brother,” said your mother. Well, at least she didn’t hate both of them. “I can’t imagine having to take care of a grown man.” A smile. “Oh, wait. I already do that.”

Your father snorted. “Ha, ha.” He smiled at you. “Sorry about that, Princess. When we said we wanted you to meet men we did not mean him.”

A small pang of worry came over you. “You’re… not going to hurt him, right? He was nice to me.” You’d lied for a reason. Sans was an idiot, but he seemed like a pretty harmless idiot in the end. Or, harmless for a mobster, anyway.

Right?

“You mean it?” said your father.

“Yes, absolutely.” He hadn’t been mean. Just… very forward.

“Alright. I won’t hurt him, then.”

Your mother gestured further inside. “Come with us. We met a very nice young man who thought you sounded wonderful.”

Immediately, you felt your mood sour again. “Right.”

As they led you across the room, you found yourself already wishing that the brothers were still here.

#he should also probably stop sniffing women too #sniffing is weird bro #mafiafell #mafiatale #mobfell #mobtale #mafia sans #mafia papyrus #MF sans #MF papyrus #fanfiction #x reader #self-insert #sans x reader

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