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talesofstyles · 4 years ago

Text

Drs Styles

paediatric heart surgeon harry, husband harry and dad harry. honestly the holy trinity.

warning: they did it in the car. bloody animals.

Harry

“Move your car, please!”

“What are you going to do? Write me a ticket?”

“This is in the interests of safety for the children!”

I look at the time in the car. I’ve still got about twenty to twenty-five minutes to watch this drama unfold at the school gate. I just wish we had popcorn because drop-off and parking situations at the school gates are always more entertaining than Good Morning Britain.

The school gate is a strange social scene, and honestly, I don’t blame my wife for trying to avoid it like a plague. Sometimes, you don’t even have to talk to these people to know everything about their lives and more. I swear there are more gossips in the class WhatsApp group and daily playground chattering than in the copies of The Sun and Daily Mail combined. You know who’s married, who’s getting a divorce, whose husband shagged the au pair again, whose party you haven’t been invited to, even who’s looking for a builder.

I see the school caretaker chuckling to himself as he sweeps the autumn leaves off the pathway, no doubt also enjoying our morning entertainment.

“Why is Mrs Chambers screaming like that?” Alma, our eldest daughter, asks from the back of the car.

“Because that man parks his car in a drop-off zone,” I reply, still watching him as he removes a child from his car seat. “Do you know who that is?”

“I think the boy is your classmate,” Alma turns to her sister.

Fiona, our youngest, peers over to inspect. “Oh yeah, that’s Rufus and his dad.”

“Do we like Rufus?”

“Not unless we like boys who pee down the slides,” Fiona scrunches her nose up. “He stood at the top and peed down like a waterfall. I haven’t gone down the slide ever since.”

I shake my head and let out a chuckle. “M’sure they’ve cleaned it up since, button.”

Did you know that choosing a school for your child after nursery can be a head-throbbing, stomach-twisting, heart-pounding experience? Well, it can. How is one supposed to choose a school anyway? According to the proximity? Leavers Results? Adorable uniforms? Parents’ agendas?

After many, many discussions and visits through more schools than I can count, we ended up with Thomas’s Kensington. It’s a great school, and only ten minutes away from our home, making school runs easier. The downside of this school is the fact that it costs us an arm and a leg and that they’re always trying to rip us off any chance they get. Also, they only take the kids until 11, so after that, we’ll have to look for other schools again. But since our girls are only seven and five, we can worry about that later.

There’s a strange mix of parents at this place. I went to school up in the North and the school gate scene is nothing like this. Here there are more au pairs, fancy cars, nicer clothes and people coming with impressive tans from their last weekend break in Antibes. The kids here are suited up too: the PE kit is the size of a small weekender bag, and we put them in uniforms that make them look smart, hoping that will increase the size of their brains. A child walks past our car with a cello case, another with a hockey stick. It’s a different land here. One that my socialist in-laws constantly tease us about and one which my mum was hysterical about because she was scared her grandbabies would be little Tories. I promised her I’d keep them grounded by only giving them plain hobnobs. None of those luxury chocolate covered ones.

Jokes aside, my girls are happy here. They’re thriving. They learn French and Spanish and Mandarin, even if they share a class with kids who have ridiculous names like Kitty and Archibald.

A knock at my window calls me to attention. I wind it down.

“Are you Fiona’s dad?” A mum asks me.

“I am.”

“It’s about Ophelia’s riding party this Saturday at the riding stables.”

Like I said, it’s a different land here.

“I thought we RSVPed to that?” I look at her in confusion.

“Yes, you did, but we have to change the food options as one of the partygoers is allergic to nuts. I’m making everyone aware and we need to let the guests know that they can’t bring any nuts on the day.”

A dirty joke is right there on the tip of my tongue and I’m trying my hardest to keep it in. My wife would definitely find it funny though, I’ve got to remember this and tell her later.

“Noted,” I mean, I wasn’t going to send my daughter to a party with a packet of cashews anyway but I nod politely.

“And just gift vouchers for gifts please. Smiggle, if you can.”

Again, I nod, biting my tongue at the presumptuousness. But then I suddenly panic, because we haven’t entered the realms of pony riding just yet. Do I have to buy jods and boots? If I don’t, will my daughter be the odd one out? But Ophelia’s mum saunters off before I’ve got the chance to ask.

“Do I have to go to that party, daddy?” Fiona asks.

“Well, we’ve already replied, poppet,” I tell her. “Did you not want to go?”

“I’ll go if I have to.”

I don’t answer because I get distracted by a vacant space. I edge the car forward so my girls can hop off.

“I love you both. Have a good day, make good choices.”

“Bye daddy! We’ll see you after work!”

***

Evelina London Children’s Hospital is our second home. Of course, as a children’s hospital, we try to make the place as fun as possible as not to freak those little patients out at being ill. It is bright and primary coloured, and each ward is decorated according to its own theme with different colours and lovely artworks. There are televisions and toys almost in every corner. We have a giant slide on the ground floor, and even the bins are shaped like red London buses. The aim was to help the children to forget that they’re in a hospital and take their minds off their sickness.

Since my wife and I are in the same department, our offices are next to each other, both overlooking the Thames. It’s nice up here. Would’ve been nicer if we could sneak in a quickie, but that’s practically impossible with our shared secretary’s desk sitting literally in front of our doors.

Speak of the devil.

“Good morning. Here’s your tea,” my secretary follows me into my office with a cup of tea and a tiny plate with a couple of rich tea fingers. “Clinic until 3 pm, scheduled PDA ligation in the laboratory for 4 pm and then evening rounds on the wards.”

“Mornin’ Rhonda, you look lovely today,” I greet her cheerily. She’s a stern-looking woman who definitely likes her tea as strong as tits and who has probably never cried in her life. With such severity, she runs a tight ship, but she secretly has this affectionate side in her too. Not only is she a great secretary, but she also takes care of us in a way as a grandma does. She makes us tea, feeds us in between surgeries with biscuits or nice baby cheeses and crackers just so we wouldn’t starve.

See that sofa over there in the corner of my office? Rhonda got me that. It was around the time when I had just become a new father with the sweetest, most gorgeous little baby who did not sleep. Alma wasn’t a fussy baby though. For some reason, she just wouldn’t go back to sleep after her midnight feed for months. Believe me, I tried everything. I changed her nappy, I swayed and jiggled and rocked and sung her to sleep. Odd nonsensical songs like, ‘Alma darling go to sleeep. Sleepy sleep sleep. Pleeeeease. I’m so tirrrred. My eyeballs may actually exploooode. I don’t want you to see thaaat.’ And she would just look at me all wide-eyed like I’d lost the plot. Those were song lyrics? That was rubbish. Please don’t give up your day job. Also, it’s not sleeping time. I’m awake. I’m ready for life. Come on, entertain me, old man. Isn’t this nice, just you and me? Tell me everything you know. EVERYTHING.

Except of course she didn’t say all that. She would just stare at me and I had no idea what was going on in her little head.

I took over my wife’s patients at the hospital during her maternity leave, so I had longer hours at the hospital. One day Rhonda found me napping on the floor between surgeries, so she sweet-talked some porters into looking for any old sofas on the go and paid to have this one reupholstered. She even bought me a fleece throw for it too. We really don’t deserve her.

“You hittin’ on me?” She deadpans. “Yer wife not doing it for you these days?”

“It’s the blazer. I’m a sucker for a blazer.”

“If I’d known, I would’ve worn it more often,” she replies. “Did my nice dress yesterday not give you the fanny flutters?”

“It’s schlong shiver for me,” I roar with laughter. “And it’s the tartan, makes you look well old.”

“YN, yer husband’s a bloody git, did I ever tell you that?” Rhonda says loud enough for my wife to hear, and I can hear my wife’s laughter from her office next door. “Drink your tea. Your first clinic appointment is in twenty.”

“Yes ma’am,” I salute her.

***

The Arctic ward in the Evelina is home to many of our imaging, heart and kidney services. The name is probably giving it away, but everything is decorated in blue and white to go with the theme. We have several zones, and since paediatric cardiology clinics are held in the Walrus zone, I spend a great deal of time each day looking at walrus and snowflake decals.

“Doctor Styles!” I hear a little voice shouts in excitement as I walk towards the waiting room in the outpatient ward. I smile, because I recognise that voice even before I see the little person.

The waiting room is very open here compared to other hospitals. There’s a sea of noise, snacks, tiny juice boxes and colouring pages. There’s also always a look of expectation, judgement on the faces of parents and guardians every time I walk in. They want to see if their doctor is old or qualified enough to see their children. There’s always one child who has the whole gang with them; parents, two sets of grandparents and even several aunts and uncles, and there’s also at least one child running around in circles out of boredom.

This little lad bounces off his chair and hurls himself at me in a way like a little puppy would when its owner comes home from work. I put an arm out, hoping that he’ll apply the brakes but no such luck and he bundles himself into my arms. “Nice to see you, mate.”

His parents smile as they watch their son’s antics, who then runs off as I shake their hands. I turn around to see what caught his attention, and I can’t help but chuckle when I realise it’s my wife.

“Doctor pretty Styles!” He exclaims excitedly as he bundles himself into her arms. She gets a mouthful of curls in the process.

“Hi Rory,” she greets him as she runs her fingers through his curly mop.

“Oi,” I pout as I walk towards them. “You don’t think I’m pretty?”

“Your wife is prettier,” he says with a shrug, his tone matter-of-fact.

She laughs and gives him a high-five. “Rory, you are officially my favourite patient.”

She is right. Rory is one of our special patients for sure. We’ve both known him for about six years now, ever since Rory’s mum gave birth to this tiny human next door at St Thomas and his heart was literally broken. I remember watching proudly from the theatre when my wife replaced two of his valves when he was born. It was in our early years of training. Long time patients like Rory almost always feel like family. We’ve seen all their parents’ tears and watched over their children throughout the years. They send us cards and wine every Christmas and despite all attempts to keep a professional distance, their kids do feel like our own.

Rory shrugs off his dinosaur rucksack and unzips it, pulling out a drawing of a blue whale and an opened packet of KitKat. I like that the whale wears a top hat and appears to also don a moustache.

“I drew you both a picture. Only one though, because I figure you can share,” he says with a big toothy grin and hands the packet of KitKat to my wife. “And I’ve got half a KitKat here. Do you want it?”

“I’m good for now. Keep that KitKat for later on the tube,” she smiles and waves at Rory as she begins to walk away towards the fetal cardiology ward just down the hall. “Bye Rory, thanks for the picture.”

“Bye doctor pretty Styles,” Rory replies, making my wife laugh as she walks away. I give her a wave and a wink.

“Hey Rory, did you know a blue whale has a heart the size of a small car?” I ask him and his eyes widen.

“No way! That’s mega!” He exclaims. “Do you think you could operate on a whale heart?”

“I would need a very big ladder,” I tell him. “And a wetsuit. I’d give it a go though.”

A senior nurse from the outpatient ward, Florence approaches us with a junior nurse trailing behind her. “Dr Styles, always a pleasure.”

I smile at her. “Florence. How are we today?”

“Busy as usual,” she replies. “We’re about twenty minutes behind I’m afraid. We had Dr Goodridge in this morning and you know he likes to talk.”

“He always runs over,” I chuckle. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll skip lunch and get us back up to speed.”

“I’ll make sure to send some snacks for you. Here’s your chart, your files are already in your office. And this is Alice, your nurse today. She’s newly qualified so might need some instructions.”

The new nurse looks terrified so I smile at her to try and calm her fears. I totally get that. When you work in medicine, unfortunately, you’ll realise that there are a lot of rude self-important wankers.

I look down at my chart and find Rory’s name on the top of the list. “Well, look who’s coming with me to the exam room.”

Rory reaches out to hold my hand and we walk towards the examination room. His parents follow us closely, carrying the usual coats and devices that people do when they know they’re bound for a hospital waiting room. I see them inside and sit behind the desk.

“So, young man, I hear we’ve had a touch of drama with you. Can you tell me what happened?”

I’ve actually already got the information in the file, but I like the way this kid tells a story. He reminds me of my youngest.

“So… I was at school and we were doing PE and I wasn’t really feeling it because it was cold and really we should have been inside but Mr Witter makes us go outside because he used to be in the Army apparently and he says we should get used to the cold but that’s what they do in prisons.”

I smile. “Go on.”

“And then my heart started running.”

“You mean racing?”

He nods firmly. Racing isn’t even the word. It sprinted to the finish like Bolt at 252 beats per minute, three times the speed it should.

“It felt like bubbles in my chest and then the school went crazy panicky and they called the ambulance and they brought me to the hospital but not this one, it was another one and it wasn’t as good because you weren’t there and they had really bad biscuit.”

His mum adds. “And they gave him some drugs to bring it back to a steady rhythm; they were close to shocking him.” Her voice trails off and both parents’ faces look drawn and pale remembering the incident.

Rory looks absolutely unbothered by this. To be fair, we have put this little man through everything. We’ve cut his chest open more times than is necessary for someone so small, we hook him up to machines and put him on treadmills. His resilience and character amaze me, and I really can’t imagine what it feels like to see your child so vulnerable and helpless, to be paralysed and weighed down with such worry.

“Alright then, little man, we need to make sure that your heart is working as it should. This is Alice, and she is going to take you over for an ECG and we just need to make sure your tick-tock is in good shape.”

Rory nods and jumps off the chair. His dad offers him a piggyback, and his mum smiles at them. I can hear Rory offering that half KitKat to Alice as they leave the room.

His mother turns to me as the door is closed, her shoulders relaxing, allowing herself to breathe. “And how are you?” I ask her.

“You just think it’s done and then something like that comes along to scare you,” she says with a sigh.

“Let’s have these tests and then see if it’s anything major to worry about,” I try to calm her. “Episodes of rapid heartbeat is quite common in Rory’s case, and we can look into drugs to remedy that if necessary.”

She smiles, nodding.

“Did you have any other questions for me?”

She studies my face for a moment too long. “I… well, it will show up in Rory’s records soon, but my husband I are… I mean we’re getting a divorce.”

I pause for a moment. Of course, I know these things happen in life, but I’ve known this couple for years. I’ve seen them at their lowest ebb, bound by friendship and their love for that boy. I really do feel sorry for them.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I mumble.

“We just… we’re terrified about telling Rory.”

“He doesn’t know?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “We’re scared of breaking him. I mean, look at him. All of this stuff he’s been through and he carries on like nothing has happened. We don’t want to upset him.”

“It took a team of us the best part of six years to build Rory’s heart. There's a warranty on that workmanship,” I reassure her. “Have that chat with him. He’ll be fine.”

***

“Have we got time for dinner first?” I turn to my wife as we walk out of the hospital. We don’t normally have the luxury of ending our shift at the same time, but today is exceptional. We have parents’ evening at the girls’ school so Rhonda made sure to clear up our schedule after our evening rounds at the ward.

“No, but we can raid M&S and eat in the car?”

I’m starving and I almost cry with relief at the suggestion. “Always knew I married the right woman.”

She chuckles. “Damn right you did.”

We leave the car at the hospital and she drags me along the walkways to Waterloo, the breeze biting at our cheeks. I pull her into M&S, dodging the marching commuters and grab a basket.

“I’ll look for some wine,” she says before she saunters off. “Oh and I want sushi. None of that crap with the mayonnaise please.”

“Alright.”

I skipped lunch today so the whole place calls to me. I start taking very random things off the shelves: a packet of raspberry iced buns. That’ll do. I also take some hummus for my wife because she bloody loves hummus. I’m not even joking, I’ve seen her down a whole pot of it. Then I take some sushi as requested, some coleslaw, a family bag of mature cheddar and red onion crisps and a trifle. I hope I don’t bump into Rhonda. Next are cheese twists, noodle salad and cocktail sausages.

It takes me a while to notice that there is a man right next to me with a roll of yellow stickers in their back pocket. Hello there, you are one of my favourite people tonight. Have I managed to find that sacred hour when all the food is being marked down? He labels some prawns with dip and even though I get a little squeamish about eating fish near its expiry date, I put it in my basket. I then follow him around the corner. Now, this is dinner. I put all sorts of random food in my basket and smile at the thought.

Ooh, knockdown pizzas. I should get a pizza. That’s tomorrow’s tea sorted, the girls will love it. Although I can’t help but wonder, what’s the limit for us to feed our daughters frozen pizza in a week before they get taken away from us? But eh, we might be able to get away with it if we give them frozen peas on the side.

“Look at you,” says my wife, depositing two bottles of red in the basket.

“Yes, it’s me. I’m the yellow sticker bitch.”

She snickers as we turn to head for the tills. “Excellent work.”

***

“Mr and Mrs Styles, welcome.”

“Mrs Ebner, always a pleasure,” I shake the headmistress’ hand who’s standing at the door.

“Busy evening?” My wife asks her as she shakes her hand next.

“Always,” the headmistress replies with a smile, then proceeds to speak like she’s reading out of brochures. “But such a wonderful opportunity to connect with our parents and build on the special relationships we have with our school community.”

Two uniformed minions appear.

“Lewis, Maggie, could you please show Mr and Mrs Styles through to the drinks reception?”

They both nod in unison. The boy holds his arms out like a waiter showing us to our table. We follow them through the school’s grand corridors to the main hall. It’s the one thing I like about this place. It’s very Hogwarts-like with hefty engraved name boards and sepia photos of successful sports teams. In the hall, a throng of parents mill around waiting to see respective teachers. It’s the same every year. We all dodge the people from the PTA trying to sell us quiz tickets, and the bowls of crisps out of hygiene concerns.

“Red or white?” Asks a lady in an apron.

This right here is the very reason we get through parents’ evening. From the look of the bottle, it’s decent wine too. I think that’s where a good proportion of our fees is going.

“Red, please.”

We both take our glasses and walk to the corner of the hall. It’s essentially a holding area without the background music. The idea is that all the parents will get on and create a party vibe but it just becomes a strange family gathering. As terrible as it sounds, it’s sorted into cliques: parents who know each other via NCT groups, the international expat brigades who keep to themselves, the parents who’ve ostracised themselves by gossip, the ones who you know regularly brunch and ski together.

The boy from earlier suddenly appears in front of us. “Mrs Hughes is ready for you.”

I put my hand on the small of my wife’s back as we walk towards the classroom. Fiona’s teacher first and then Alma’s straight after. Right, we can do this.

“Mrs Hughes, we meet again,” I shake her hand. I’ve got no qualms about Mrs Hughes. She’s a seasoned teacher who likes a slack and sensible moccasin and we’re familiar with her since she taught Alma two years previously. When we enter the classroom, Lewis bows in reverence, taking his leave and I wonder whether to tip him.

“It’s always lovely to have another Styles girl in my classroom. Fiona is a particular delight.”

My wife and I smile proudly. I’m sure Mrs Hughes says this to every parent here about their child, but that’s always nice to hear.

“She talks a lot about you,” my wife says. “She seems to have settled in well.”

Mrs Hughes opens up a couple of books and it’s classic Fiona. Alma is ordered and neat—if she makes a mistake then she erases it completely and she underlines things with a ruler and listens to instruction carefully. She gets that from her mum. Fiona though, on the other hand, she’s all me. She has more wild abandon about her; no rulers, no rubbers. She puts giant crosses through things that don’t work and likes her bubble writing decorated with doodles of many, many cats.

I glance around the classroom as Mrs Hughes talks to us about standardised scores. The theme of the school is to show you how smart and educated these children are. Look at the copperplate handwriting, their reproductions of Van Gogh and our languages corner where they’ve all had a go at telling us what they like in French. I spy a contribution from my girl. J’adore les chats et le gâteau au chocolat.

I’ve lost track of the conversation so I try to catch up.

“So to push Fiona into those top scores, perhaps we can look into tutoring? For maths, in particular, so she can grasp some of the concepts a little more tightly,” says Mrs Hughes.

My wife and I look at each other confused. “Uh, I don’t think there’s a need, right? She’s only five.”

“It’s never too early,” replies Mrs Hughes. “We run an after-school tutoring club on Tuesdays that would help.”

Back when I was a youngster, clubs were fun endeavours that involved matching baseballs caps or were a chocolate biscuit that you had in your lunchbox. Maths tutoring session was not a club.

I ask her. “Is it free?”

“It’s fifteen pounds per session.”

See? My point being this should be a parents’ evening, not a sales session.

“Well, then it’s something to think about,” says my wife. “It could be that Fiona catches up with people throughout the year.”

“Possibly,” Mrs Hughes nods. Still, though, she proceeds to go into her folder and passes me a form. Sneaky. “Fiona has also shown great interest in languages and art. Her pictures have been a joy.”

Mrs Hughes goes to a file and pulls one of Fiona’s drawings. I glance down at it. It’s a standard child piece of art. The grass and sky are strips of colour to the top and bottom. It’s a family portrait, and we are as tall as the broccoli style trees. Wait, hang on a second. I count the number of people in the picture again. Is that-

“And Mrs Styles, I gather congratulations are in order,” she says with a smile. “Such lovely news.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Fiona told me it’s a boy,” she adds, and the sheer terror on my wife’s face at the realisation is priceless. “You must be very thrilled.”

I study the picture. There’s a house in the middle, and standing in a line in front of the house is our family. The one slightly taller than the broccoli tree is me. I’ve got my white lab coat, and I look like a serial killer because I’m holding a scalpel with the size of a butcher’s knife. Next to me is my wife, also with a white lab coat, but instead of a scalpel, she’s holding a very chunky baby who rather looks like a basketball with a head.

“Oh dear,” I chuckle. “Guess now we know what she’ll ask for Christmas.”

“Yeah,” my wife shakes her head. “We’re not expecting.”

“Oh, I apologise,” Mrs Hughes says with a sheepish smile.

“No worries, Mrs Hughes,” I tell her. “So, what else has our girl been up to here? Besides gossiping of course.”

Mrs Hughes laughs under her breath. “Well, in class, Fiona is attentive, bright and very helpful. She is a credit to you both.”

***

“I swear your daughter, Styles.”

We’re sitting in the car now. Finally done with parents’ evening, still laughing at the slightly creepy, chunky basketball baby in Fiona’s picture and the fact that three people, including Mrs Hughes, have congratulated us for the ‘baby’.

“You haven’t called me Styles in years,“ I turn to her with a grin. “Not since medical school.”

I can’t help but flashback to the good ol’ days when we had matching university hoodies and we’d test each other on the parts of a kidney whilst walking into lectures, sitting next to each other, sharing pens and cans of Lilt.

“Well, after that I became a Styles too,” she chuckles. “Would be confusing then, wouldn’t it?”

“True,” I laugh under my breath, then I grab her hand and pull it to my mouth so I can kiss her knuckles. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For being a Styles.”

“Aw, aren’t we soppy tonight?” She smirks. “Alright, stop the car.”

“What?”

“There,” she points to a dark empty spot and I oblige.

Then, before I can even ask her why, she reaches over and grabs me by the collar. Pulling me close to her and gives me a kiss. I kiss her back, and I smile when she bites gently on my bottom lip.

“Oi, oi. Something’s got you randy.”

The next thing I know, she undoes her seatbelt and then rolls her trousers down her legs along with her knickers, fumbling and giggling at the awkward movement. I push my seat back and pull my trousers down.

“Don’t fall on gearstick now,” I joke as she climbs over to straddle me. “Well, unless you want to, of course…”

She laughs as she lowers herself over my lap. I really can’t believe what’s happening here.

“Mrs Styles, we’re about to have sex in a car. Around the corner from our daughters’ school.”

“I know,” she says with a smile before she runs her tongue along my neck. “Not our first rodeo though.”

“Oh right, we did it in our Volvo years ago, didn’t we? Thought the suspension couldn’t take it.”

“And it turned out fine. Told you that you needed to have more faith in the Swedes, they’re a reliable breed.”

“I love it when you talk about Sweden.”

“Ikea.”

“Fuck.”

“Meatballs.”

“Billy Bookcase.”

She throws her head back in laughter and I take this as an opportunity to run my tongue along her collar bone. She gasps. I reach down to lift her before I slowly lower her over my cock. We both sigh as I enter her, a long exhalation with our lips barely touching.

“Viggo Mortensen.”

“Isn’t he Danish?”

“Tomato, Tomahto.”

I smile at my wife and push my hips up, silently telling her that we don’t need to talk about Swedish people anymore. She grabs onto the car seat and levers herself up and down. I look at her in the eye, a goofy smile still plastered across my face.

But then I squint. Light. Bollocks, what’s that? Where’s that light coming from? Crap, that’s bright. Shit. I see the flash of a hi-vis jacket, a knock at the window and someone shaking their head.

Oh sodding fucking bollocking shit wank.

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1K notes · View notes

cherryyharryy · 4 years ago

Note

please write something about Harry overhearing the reader’s friend tell her that Harry doesn’t spend time with her that she deserves someone better they hang up b4 the reader can say anything like angst to fluff

Thank you for requesting!

This is 80's harry lol

WC: 2.4K

Harry pauses the music on his Walkman, slipping the headphones off his ears to rest around his neck while he fiddles with the key to his apartment.

She had spent the night—his angel. It had been quite the set up, since she still lives at home with her parents while finishing college, a little white lie was passed around to cover her absence. Harry wasn’t a secret by any means, but her parents weren’t the most open minded, and a small fib was easier to handle than trying to rehash the same discussion of y/n being a grown woman. It was hard enough for her to get their approval for college...one mountain at a time.

Harry’s ears burn as he sets the groceries down in the kitchen, the thought of her still tangled up in his sheets beckoning him back to his room, is enough to drive him wild. He doesn’t catch himself zoning out until the phone rings. He untangles his music off his shoulders and yanks the phone off the wall, but y/n has beat him to it, her soft morning voice greeting Caroline before Harry can utter a word.

His brain is too slow in making the connection that he should hang up. That he shouldn’t eavesdrop on his girlfriend’s private conversation. That he owes her the respect that her parents never give her. But he hears his name, specifically, he hears Caroline ask y/n how last night was, so the phone stays glued to his ear.

“Amazing,” she purrs, and Harry’s stomach flips. “We did it like, three times.”

The girls giggle, and Harry shuffles on his feet with a veiny blush spreading all over his body. He can imagine y/n draped in his sheets, phone cord wrapped around her fingers, just a few steps away from him

“Better be nothing short of amazing,” Caroline says, “with what little time he gives you anyway. Ugh, if Tony ever left me hanging as often as Harry, I’d dump him so fast.” She smacks her gum into the phone and Harry flinches. “He tried to ditch me one time to go see Scarface with Rob, and I was like, hell no, you’re taking me skating like you promised. Honestly y/n, you can do better. You’re surrounded by college boys, go find a future doctor.”

The phone almost slips from Harry’s hand, but he catches it and hangs it back on the wall, just in time for his entire world to start crumbling to his feet.

Did he really not spend enough time with y/n?

How long has this been a topic shared between them?

And why hasn’t she said anything before?

Harry stands in the middle of his kitchen, immobilized. He can’t lose her, especially not to something he can fix. She’s been his girl since they were sixteen, there’s too much history between them, or so he thought.

He files through the memories he has of them together, trying to quantify them, trying to see where he started slipping.

Maybe it’s when he took over his dad’s business? But she knew how demanding it would be, and always supported him. Or maybe it’s because they don’t go out as much? Between him managing an appliance store, and her working towards a bachelors, they often opt for nights on the couch watching SNL reruns.

His mind is foggy, and he doesn’t catch his bedroom door creaking open.

“H?”

Harry startles back to present, gripping the counter as y/n emerges from his room wearing nothing but his t-shirt.

“You okay? Look like a deer caught in headlights.”

“Mm, no, fine.”

“I heard you come in a bit ago.” She flicks her eyes over his kitchen, looking for the breakfast he had promised to make almost an hour ago.

“Didn’t want to be too loud.”

“Oh, alright.” She smiles, attempting to diffuse whatever awkward tension has settled in his home. “Well, cook away! I can help too.”

He grabs her wrist before she reaches the fridge. “No, I’ll make it for you. Go back to bed.”

“You sure?”

He nods, forcing a smile.

She peers back over her shoulder twice on her walk back to his room, hoping to figure out what’s going on, but learns nothing.

As soon as his door shuts, Harry flies around his kitchen, grabbing what he needs to make the fastest breakfast in the world.

He’s going to spend every free second he has with her, and doesn’t want to waste any if he doesn’t have to.

***

Harry knows he’s borderline annoying. And he knows his actions are beginning to appear creepy, if not bizarre. He tags along with y/n everywhere she goes now, even at the doctor where he almost followed her back to her exam. She gently placed her hands on his chest and told him that she would rather the doctor do the job, promising she’d be out in no time.

She’s been tiptoeing around him too, not sure what to make of his new routine of gluing himself to her side, hoping it will wear off and things will go back to normal.

But she waits and she waits, and normal never resurfaces.

“H, baby, I can’t concentrate with you so close to me.”

Harry looks offended, slipping his reading glasses off his nose and closing the book he was halfway through, giving her his full attention when he asks what she means.

Y/n peers around the library, not wanting to have this discussion so publicly, but too keyed up to wait any longer. “I’ve just noticed that you’ve...been a little clingy lately? More like a lot.”

“I just wanted to spend more time with you.”

“You’re picking me up, and walking me to my classes—”

“Thought that was nice?”

“You don’t even go to this school. Listen, the sentiment is nice, but I’m starting to feel a little suffocated.”

Harry bites his cheek so hard he draws blood. “And what did Caroline have to say about that?”

“What?”

“I’m sure that nosy friend of yours had a lot to say about me when you brought this up.”

“Excuse me!”

“Quiet, please,” one of the staff members shushes y/n, “Or I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

Y/n ignores the snickers from a table of girls nearby, recoiling her embarrassment and turning it to anger. Her voice, although lowered, now drags out of her mouth in sharp tones. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I heard everything, that morning Caroline called my phone to talk to you about how crummy of a boyfriend I am.”

That morning, now a month ago, is hardly a memory in y/n’s head. She fights around for details of the conversation, but comes up empty handed. “I still don’t know what you’re talking about, and frankly, I don’t care.” She starts closing all her books and gathering her school work to shove into her bag.

“Where are you going?”

“Home.”

Harry blinks, fumbling for his next question as y/n hurries across the library. He’s quick to catch up with her, waiting until they’re outside where they don’t have to whisper. “Don’t walk, I have my car.”

He reaches for her shoulder but she shrugs it off. “I’m going home. My home, not yours.”

Harry freezes on the sidewalk. She continues on her way until she disappears around the building. A few students yell out at Harry, making fun of the guy who, from a distance, just got rejected. He flips them off and heads to his car, beating the steering wheel all the way back to his apartment.

***

“You’ve been studying an awful lot lately,” y/n’s dad comments from across the dinner table. “Do you have a big test coming up?”

“Hm?”

“You spend the night with Rayna almost every weekend.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. We have a lot of tests.” Y/n spoons a bite of mashed potatoes into her mouth, thankful neither of her parents went to college. It’s allowed for more stretched lies when she sleeps over at Harry’s. “Like a lot. Every week.”

Her mother hums from her seat, nodding to save her spot in the conversation while she finishes chewing. “We told you how hard it would be. But you wouldn’t listen.”

“That’s not—” “Shelly’s daughter just got a job as a receptionist, over at that dental office by the mattress store.” Her dad points at y/n with his fork. “You could ask her if she knows of any other places looking for a girl.”

“I’m not going to have a job where the requirement is girl.”

“You’re taking this too liberally, dear. Oh Lord, John, that school did just what you said.”

“No—”

“That’s what happens, girls go off to try and get a degree...and what for? What are you going to do when you get married and have kids?”

“Kids!?”

Her mom scoffs. “Well you’re not going to be able to raise children and work.”

“Are you two serious right now? It’s 1985, not fifty-five! Women go to college, they work, some of them don’t even get married! Or have kids!”

“When you were little you couldn’t wait to be a mom. Now all of a sudden you’ve changed your mind. That never would have happened if we hadn’t let you go off to that damn school.”

“Yes I’ve changed my mind! If it hadn’t been for that school, I never would have realized that it’s my own mind to change. It’s my own life to do whatever I want with, not yours.”

“Well I am—” Her dad is interrupted by the door bell echoing outside the kitchen. “One minute. We’re not done with this yet.”

Muffled voices stagger from the front door while y/n pushes the food around her plate. She hopes that whoever is at the door keeps her dad busy for a while. She knows her mom won’t have these types of conversations without him, which just showcases the lifestyle she is adamantly trying to avoid. One that was passed down to her parents, but y/n is determined to squeeze herself out of that narrative no matter what.

“Y/n!” her dad calls, “you have a visitor.”

Y/n peers up at her mom, both women exchanging confused glances before they go see who had arrived.

“Oh,” y/n says dully, “It’s you.”

Harry stands with his hands shoved into jacket pockets, peering at each family member before speaking. “Hey, uh, I was hoping we could talk. Privately.”

Y/n nods, and leads the way back through the kitchen to the back porch. She’s not really in the mood to be talking to him, or having this conversation, but right now he’s a free ticket away from her parents, so she accepts.

They sit halfway down the steps, just like they’ve done a thousand times before. Her on the right, him on the left. Usually his arm is thrown over her shoulder, and their knees bump together until Harry pulls her in so close that not even a breeze could fit between them, but now they’re both collected on their respective sides of the wooden step.

“Heard the new Prince song?”

Y/n rolls her eyes. “It’s been a week.”

“Exactly, a lot’s happened in a week. Prince came out with a new song, Michael Jordan’s rookie of the year, and there’s gonna be a Rocky four.”

“Did you come over to talk about everyone else’s good news?”

Harry sighs. “We’ve never gone a week without talking. Ever.”

“Well you really hurt my feelings.” She turns to look at him, tears welling up in her eyes. “I mean, you don’t even trust me, so you listen in on my phone calls—”

“That’s not—no. I picked up when you did.”

“But you still listened.”

“Okay yeah, but only because I heard my name.” He shrugs, a timid smile playing on his lips. “Wanted to hear what you thought about me.”

“I tell you what I think all the time. I’ve never kept my feelings secret from you.”

“It’s different.” He pulls his hands from his pockets and runs them through his hair, tugging on fistfuls of curls out of frustration. “But then when Caroline said all that, ‘bout me not spending enough time with you, it killed me.”

“That’s what this is about,” she sighs, more to herself than to Harry as the memory of that morning resurfaces in her mind. “You dork, what about what I said back?”

“I hung up. Didn’t wanna hear anything else after that.”

“I told her how wrong she was. How we spend lots of time together.”

“You did?”

“Mhm. She’s always bragging about her and Tony, like they’re the first two people to date ever. I totally rubbed our relationship in her face.”

Harry’s surprised by the gleam on his girlfriend’s face, and tries not to laugh. “What else did you tell her?”

“I dunno.” She shrugs, suddenly shy. “Can’t remember.”

“How convenient.” He nudges her knee with his, and she bumps him back.

Y/n exhales, dipping her head back to squint at the stars peeking out from a cloudy night. “My parents are driving me crazy.”

“They always drive you crazy.”

“Yeah but, more than usual. I got spoiled staying with you on the weekends.”

Harry hums, reaching his arm over to pull her into his side. “Maybe it shouldn’t just be weekends…”

“They would know something’s up if I stayed over on weeknights.”

“No, baby, I mean permanently.”

“Like moving in together?”

“Why not?”

She chews on her lip, trying to keep her smile hidden. “I don’t know...that’s a big deal. It’s a big step.”

“We can think about it. No rush.”

“It would be nice. To see each other whenever we wanted.”

Harry tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Wouldn’t have to ask your parents permission for anything.”

“Yeah…”

“Just me.”

“Hey!”

“I’m kidding, angel.” He kisses her forehead and takes her hand, helping her up.

Y/n’s parents are in the living room when the two are back in the house, and just the thought of continuing her evening here lights a fire under y/n.

“I’m going over to Harry’s,” she announces.

Harry drops her hand, just as surprised as her parents.

“Excuse me?” Her father turns the t.v. off and straightens in his chair. “I don’t think so.”

“Well I think so,” y/n defends. “Come on, Harry.” She takes his hand and tugs him towards the door.

“Harry!” Her mother protests.

He looks over his shoulder just as he’s being led out the door. “Oh, you can call me Rayna.”

#Harry styles requested #Harry styles requests #requests #request #harry styles fic #cherryyharryy #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst to fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff

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timextoxhajima · 3 years ago

Text

Not For Sale: Week 14

NOT FOR SALE CHAPTER NAVIGATION

Member: Heeseung + Jay [ft. Sunghoon and Jake]

Pairings: [fem] uni exchange student! reader x uni student! HS x uni student! Jay

Warnings: scenes in the hospital

Word Count: 3k

Synopsis/Quote: In which your oblivious ass cannot tell that a popular boy in your class has a big, fat crush on you | “It seems like the one who was ruined was me.”

Taglist: @hyunjaethereal @seasideheeseung @wooya1224 @gratefulmaria @sunshineshouchan @youreverydayzebra @fayqj @witheeseung @haechanhues @w-o-o-y-a-a @miingxuxi @reallysmolrenjun @hrrhmay-primaryblog @rosie112703 @ac-ewow @liliansun [drop me a dm/ask/comment to be added!]

You’re staring at the project document blankly, the pages filled with words and tables of the work you’ve done with Heeseung in the last few weeks or so. The weekend felt like three weeks, even when it was just three days - simply because you were in the hospital watching Jay flit in and out of consciousness and Heeseung’s still in a comatose state.

The seat next to you is empty and there is no other word to describe being alone on your last week of school than ‘sad’.

The Uber that picked Jay and Heeseung up had just been in school compounds and the police had found a rig in the brakes - the Uber had been stopped by another car driving straight into it.

Heeseung was on the side the car was rammed into. It’s a miracle he’s even still alive.

“y/n?”

The call jolts you out of your dissociation.

“Hey,” The professor walks up the stairs, and only now do you realise everybody else had left the lecture hall besides you. “I had the others hand up their projects but I saw you zoning out and I couldn’t do it.”

“Sorry,” Mumbling under your breath, you give the folder a quick flip-through before handing him the document. “Here.”

With pursed lips, he takes the folder and glances through it, skimming through the contents and pausing on the last page where you and Heeseung had signed off on.

“I’m sorry it happened.”

“I’m sorry the school had to go through so much to catch the idiot,” Through gritted teeth, you offer him a small wince.

“Well, yeah, that too,” The professor pulls up the lecture table from the seat next to you and sits himself in the plastic grove. “But it’s not important now. He’s going to be charged for God knows how many felonies, but I just- I wanted to know how you’re holding up.”

The concerned question thrums chills through you. Heeseung would’ve asked that. Jay would’ve too.

Jake and Sunghoon have probably tried, but you’re too busy crying or zoning out at the hospital to process anything else even if they did try.

“I’m fine,” You shake your head and stuff your iPad into your bag. “There’s nothing anybody can do to make him wake up faster.”

“I know that. It’s just... I don’t want a student ending her semester like this.”

The grumble of the zip as you close your bag is disgustingly loud in the empty lecture hall. You hug your bag, slowly looping your arm through one of the holes as you push the lecture table away.

“I’ll be fine. I’m leaving next week anyway and Heeseung’s not dead, so.”

The professor goes quiet upon the declaration.

“Thanks for the fun sem, Prof,” You give him a tiny, wretched smile that’s not genuine at all, lifting a leg over the backrest of the seat in front of you. “I’ll tell my dad to say hi to you every now and then.”

Finally on both your feet one row before him, he looks at you with sad, tired eyes.

“It’s been a pleasure having you and Heeseung as students, y/n. Do come back to visit when you come visit your father.”

A bare nod shakes your head.

“Bye prof.”

The ceiling looks the same. The light dangling from the beige, crusty roof looks dusty.

The room looks the same - except the fact that 80% of it were in boxes now. The clock hung on the wall has the loudest ticking you’ve ever heard - had it been this loud since the start?

Bzzzzt. Bzzzzzzzt. Bzzz-

“Hello.”

“Jesus Christ, how many times do you want me to call you before you’d pick up?”

Maybe until Heeseung wakes up.

“You know what? Don’t answer that.”

A pause.

“How are you holding up?”

“Great. I mean the sem’s over. I’ve handed up almost every project I need to submit.”

“Fuck you, you know I don’t mean that.”

“What am I supposed to tell you? I’m great, while I wait for my two friends to recover in the hospital? One of them’s not even awake.”

“I don’t want to be that person but no matter how much you cry or pray that he wakes up, it’s going to take time, okay? Let him rest and recuperate and he’ll spring back to life like he wasn’t just in an accident.”

“I shouldn’t have let them take the Uber.”

“For crying out loud, it is not your fault. You told them your dad was coming to get you and Jay didn’t want to cancel it for the fee. It’s a normal reaction. Who was supposed to know the Uber was rigged?”

You blink.

“Have you packed?”

You count the boxes in your room. “Mostly.”

“I’ll be at your place when you come home. We can bake cupcakes and cookies and you can tell me about the school there.”

Your ears are taking in her words but your eyes are on the paper bag on your desk. It’s the tumbler that Jay got you.

“Hello? You there?”

“Byeol, what if they don’t wake up before I leave? I have 8 days.”

“Have some faith in them, would you? Jay’s already awake right? He’s just flitting in and out of consciousness and Heeseung... They haven’t said he’s in critical condition, right?”

“But he’s been in the ER and it’s been three days.”

“Sis, I could sleep for three days. He’ll be awake before you leave.”

“Hope so.”

“Not going to the hospital?”

“Nah,” You roll over onto your side and stare at yourself in the mirror on your wardrobe doors. “Their friends are swarming the wards. It’s fine, Jake and Hoon got me onto the special visitors’ list.”

“There’s a special visitors’ list?”

“It’s Jay and it’s an expensive hospital with classier management. So yeah, pretty much.”

“That’s nice.”

Silence - except the occasional crackling of the static on the phone.

“They’ll do fine, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I have to go now. I’ll call you tonight or tomorrow, I’ll text you?”

“Sure.”

“Okay. Bye.”

“Bye bye.”

The car ride with your father is quiet, the gentle music from the stereo playing and you’re thinking about how your mother is back at home. She is a busy woman back home too so you hadn’t really had the time to call or text her.

For the first time in a long time, your father knows more about your life than she does.

“I know you’re probably not in the mood to answer this but...” The car slows at a red light. “Have you started packing?”

You don’t turn. The trees outside are swaying gently in the light breeze on this sunny day. It reminds you of the day Heeseung brought you out to the beach for your picnic.

“I’m about 80% done. The stuff left’s like my laptop and iPad and daily appliances.”

“That’s good,” You see him nod in the window’s reflection and glance at you. “Well, I’ll come by and hand you the documents for credit transfer later this week and I’ll send you to the bus terminal next Wednesday too, yeah?”

“Mhm,” Humming to yourself, the refracted red light turns green. “Sure.”

The car starts again. “Hun, I... I just wanted you to know that I know this sem has been difficult for you. I’m- I’m sorry that I suggested you come. Had I known that there was going to be a lunatic running on the loose, I would’ve stopped you from coming.”

“You wouldn’t have known,” You mumble, but still loud enough for him to hear. “It’s fine, it’s over.”

“And with what happened with Jay and Heeseung... I’m sorry. I really am.”

“They would’ve gotten caught up in this crazy shitfest with the psycho anyway, regardless of my presence,” Finally turning to look at your father, he side-eyes you while keeping his hands on the steering wheel. “It’s not anybody’s fault except that psycho’s that this happened.”

Your father remains quiet, unable to respond. The car drives into the sheltered drop-off point at the hospital and he watches you unbuckle the seat belt to let yourself out the car.

“Hey.”

You sling your bag over your shoulder and rest a hand on the car door.

“They’ll be okay.”

A weak smile pulls your lips up your cheeks.

“I hope so.”

By the time you’ve reached the floor where the wads were, you’ve run into a good number of their friends. Of course, there were one or two bad apples among the bunch, but most of them knew you were on a special visitors’ list and that’s why you came so late.

It never gets easier though, the look on their faces when you know they want to tell you that they’ll be okay, but promises should not be made if they cannot be kept.

Walking into Jay’s ward, you see his mother helping to sponge his face while Jake and Sunghoon speak to a friend on the other side of the bed.

You catch the room’s attention when you pull the plastic bag out from your bag and let the door shut behind you, Jay’s mother looking up and offering you a tired smile.

“Oh, hey,” Jake grins and beckons you over.

“Hi Mrs Park,” You gesture to Jake to wait before holding out the plastic bag to Jay’s mother. “It’s a box of tonic for you and Mr Park. Thought of getting fruits but I don’t think Jay can have them yet.”

“Gosh, you really didn’t have to,” She shakes her head and sets the cloth down by the bed. “Thank you. Are you sure you’re okay, coming to visit so often? You’re here everyday, aren’t you?”

You return her a tight, pursed smile. “Yeah, but it’s fine. I’m leaving to go home next week so I don’t have much time left to spend with them. I don’t mind.”

“Oh, honey,” She stands and takes the box from you, turning to set it down on the table behind her before returning you her attention. “I... I don’t know what to say. This must be all a lot for you.”

You break the eye contact first, knowing that you were probably going to cry if you hadn’t stopped looking at her.

“No, it’s fine,” You raise a palm and rub her upper arm. “All I want is to have a decent conversation with Jay before I leave, and I’ll be more than satisfied.”

“Oh!” She exclaims, nose crunching into a threatened crying mess. She holds her arms open and coerces you into her arms, patting the back of your head. “Of course. Of course, Jay will be fine by the time you need to go home. I promise.”

“I really do hope so,” You pull away first and smile weakly at her.

“By the way, Mr and Mrs Lee are with Heeseung in the ward next door,” She sniffles, anxiously rubbing her palms together.

“Oh, right- Do they know I’m on the-”

“Yes, of course they do, sweet heart,” She quickly rubs your arm to comfort you, then slides her hands down to yours to keep them in her palms. “Their parents are the sweetest couple ever and they’d be so grateful that Heeseung has a friend like you. How about I have Jake or Sunghoon bring you over to meet them?”

“Oh,” You watch as she waves to get one of the boys’ attention, Sunghoon quickly pulling away from the crowd to attend to you.

“Would you do me a favour and bring her over to Heeseung’s ward? Introduce her to his parents.”

“Of course,” Sunghoon hurriedly nods and lowers his head out of respect. “Come on.”

“Thanks, Mrs Park,” You turn your feet to follow Sunghoon, but your hands are reluctant to leave hers. “I’ll come back later.”

“No, take your time, sweet.”

With a slight nod, you pull away and trail after Sunghoon out of the ward after leaving your bag with Jake.

The ward door closes with a soft hiss, then Sunghoon pauses right before you can come into view of Heeseung’s ward door, turning over his shoulder to look down at you.

“I don’t mean to bring this up at a bad time but...”

“I know,” You nod. “I know I’ve been an ass the last few weeks. Honestly, I... I didn’t know who I wanted to be endgame either.”

Sunghoon gives your word one more second of thought before he turns around to face you.

“It’s not my business but are you going to choose? Or... just go home next week?”

You frown and look down at your hands, reminiscing the warmth from Jay’s mother.

“I don’t know,” Your voice cracks. “I don’t think I can choose. Even if I do, I have 8 days, and neither of them are awake yet. I don’t... I don’t want to do that to them.”

He takes a deep breath and looks away, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“It’s Heeseung. Choose Heeseung,” He says without looking at you. “The night they got into a crash, Jay texted Jake to tell us that Heeseung kissed you, and that was the moment he decided he would give up.”

The statement tears you apart on the inside.

“Jay’s a tough guy to hurt and he plays his cards fairly and maturely,” Sunghoon nods and finally looks at you. “Don’t feel bad you’re choosing Heeseung over him. He had a truce with Heeseung. About you. And he knows he lost fair and square, so don’t feel upset. Just pour your heart and soul into Heeseung for the rest of the time you’re here, and worry about committing anything else after you’ve gone home.”

You part your lips to breathe, as if it would help you understand any faster or better.

“Anyway, both Heeseung’s parents are in there and they already have an idea who you are so... Just be nice.”

He watches you nod, slightly zoned-out, then pushes the door open.

His parents can tell you’re more preoccupied with the limp, breathing body on the bed than their presence, but they still take it with grace and greet you like they’ve known you your entire life.

The sight of Heeseung being bandaged up with a leg hanging in the air makes you feel like shit.

Who wouldn’t?

Later in the night, after Heeseung’s mother had gone home and his father had left to get coffee, you’re left alone with him and the occasional beeping from the Holter monitor.

There was a bruise and scratch on his left cheek, and his neck, arms and right leg were in a cast. You think about how much he was going to miss dancing when he gets told he’ll need to be on a 6-month break from anything strenuous.

Tired, you pull your earpieces out and plug it into your phone, laying it on the bed while you hover over him to fit the earbuds into his ears. Then you sit back down and scroll through your playlist, playing with the volume buttons to make sure it was softer than the volume you’d normally listen to your music at.

You make your selection, then quietly lay on the mattress with the faint music drizzling the atmosphere’s noise. That’s how quiet the room was.

His fingers were sticking out of his cast, so you play with them. His hair was in his shut eyes, so you gently push them out in case he were to open them.

“One more time, Heeseung. Just one more time before I leave.”

Jay’s mother was sleeping by his bed when you walk in to check on them, bag hanging from your right shoulder and lids heavy from the terrible sleep schedule the past few days.

“Hi.”

And a smile stretches your lips out when you can see him blink, offer you his bright grin, apart from the cut on his eyebrow.

“Hey,” You whisper, walking towards him on the other side of the bed. “How are you feeling?”

Jay clears his throat and blinks. “Had better days, but at least I’m alive.”

A snigger threatens to wake his mother up. “Good. Do you want me to wake your mom up? Maybe get a doctor in to give you a check up or something.”

He shakes his head, even managing a small wave in his fingers laying by his hip. “No, I’m good. I’m going back to sleep soon anyway.”

You lean over and adjust his pillow. “Well, then I shan’t disturb you. I’ll come by again tomorrow.”

“Sure,” He looks up at you and nods. Your gazes meet, for a split second, he can kind of know what you’re thinking of, and you know what he was.

“Thank you for this sem, Jay. I really am.”

He shakes his head. “No, thank you. It was a fun sem because of you.”

“You call being in a hospital ward fun?”

Chuckling, he turns back to look at the ceiling for a second. “You will come back to visit us, won’t you? Zoom call us or something.”

“Of course. We could meet up during the summer break if anything.”

Satisfied, he nods again. “Good.”

“Get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow,” You shove your hands into your pockets.

“Okay,” He quietly responds, watching you turn on your heels. “Oh, y/n.”

You turn and raise a brow.

“Heeseung. He’s the one for you, and... he’ll wake up for you. I know he will.”

With a slightly ached grin, you nod and look down at your feet.

“Bye Jay.”

“Bye.”

#enhypennetwork #heeseung scenarios #heeseung imagines #heeseung angst #heeseung x reader #jay scenarios #jay imagines #jay angst #jay x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen angst #enhypen x reader #enhypen fanfic #enhypen series #heeseung series #jay series

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kyun-toast · 4 years ago

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[ATEEZ] Mafia!Hongjoong - Fateful

word count: 2.2k warnings: explicit language, gun use, death, mentions of alcohol summary: a feisty baby for a feisty scorpio a/n: I started writing this so loyal to mafia!ateez but now that I’ve watched kingdom, I’ve changed my mind - I wanna be a pirate hoe.

“You forgot your toothbrush.” You said, sat by the desk, arms crossed. “Good thing I didn’t finish unpacking right, you can take your shit just the way it came in the boxes, hmm?” You didn’t get angry very often due to the pure fact that your expectations for your boyfriend were so low at this point. The way that your words, let alone your face, held no emotion terrified the boy. He shuffled around your apartment, gathering his things with eyes to the ground in guilt.

“Can you hurry up? I have places to be.” You said, fingers massaging your temple.

Stopping in his tracks, the boy turned to you with pleading eyes for the nth time today, “Baby, I’m so sorry, please, I didn’t mean to hurt you like tha-”

“I’m sorry, what? You disrespected me, not hurt me, there’s a difference-”

“Why are you doing this to me? You know I love you.” He pleaded.

“Is that a serious question right now? You cheated with my assistant in your first week as intern at my firm, then tried and miserably failed to gaslight and manipulate me into believing your lies which I find pretty bold considering that I’m literally a lawyer. I respect the attempt though.”

“Baby, it was an acci-”

“No, shut up, I’m not done speaking. And you did this while I bought out this apartment for you because I felt bad for your sorry ass having to live with your dumb friends. I had to spoon feed you through law school and now through life too? You should be grateful that I’m letting you leave with all your things considering I bought them all too.”

He stood there with his hands gathered, staring back at the floor again.

“What. You got nothing to say? I thought so. You gonna leave now or what?” You questioned. He took his boxes, feet dragging across the floor to the door. You rolled your eyes as you closed the door on him. Before needing to look for a new intern and a new assistant, you needed a drink more than anything.

It was a regular Friday evening at the bar for Hongjoong and the boys. In celebration of Ateez’s successful expansion of their ‘business ventures’, Hongjoong had decided to spend the rest of the day at their usual spot. Despite having been set up for the sole purpose of laundering their dirty money, Bar 1117 was doing ironically well. Due to the nightlife business booming, Hongjoong had gained another alibi to keep him under the radar and he couldn’t be more comfortable with where his life was at.

“No, I reckon it’s Yeosang” San said, bringing the glass of whisky to his lips.

“I back that, he’s not got the emotional capacity for it.” Woo agreed, laughing.

“Yeah, just because I don’t take any of your shit doesn’t mean I’ll do the same to my wife. I bet Mingi. He’s definitely getting married last.” Yeo rebutted.

“What wh-”

Before Mingi could finish, Seonghwa cut through, “Considering our line of work, no one’s gonna be getting married any time soon. Right Joong?”

Turning to the leader of the boys, Seonghwa saw that Hongjoong had his head turned away from the conversation, eyes scanning up and down a figure at the bar. Hongjoong was never a man to be distracted by anything or anyone, always focused on his business so it was a rare occurrence for him to be looking so intently at a person. The boys catching onto this, they followed his gaze to a man sat so close to the lucky person’s face, his facial expressions showing his desperation for a way to break down their walls.

“This might be interesting…” Wooyoung smirked.

“I genuinely couldn’t care less.” You said, head cocked to the side in your hand, staring dead straight into the man’s eyes. However, the man had no intention of ever stopping his speech as he sat next to you at the bar.

“Come on, you really don’t know my father? He was in today’s paper?” He carried on as you zoned out of the conversation and occasionally cringed at the man’s stale breath, wondering how many more men were going to be responsible for the deepening wrinkles between your brows. As you took a sip from your drink, you locked eyes with a blonde-haired man across the room. His features were delicate yet sharp like the thorn of a rose, or a shard of glass, eyes twinkling with mischief. He raised his glass at you and smirked, amused by the situation that you were in.

“Listen here, bitch-” The man grabbed your wrist, forcing your attention back to him, “You’re gonna take the drinks I buy you, listen when I speak and sit pretty like a woman is supposed to.” He spat.

“Grrrr, scary.” You crudely imitated the growl in the man’s voice, still uninterested, “What a man your mother raised. I bet she’s proud, hmm?”

Anger radiating from the man’s body, he grabbed the glass out of your hand and threw it at the wall behind you, missing your face by inches.

“Oh, so now you’re going to scare me into sleeping with you? You need to brush up on some people skills.” You laughed, throwing you head back. You only composed yourself to grab the man’s collar, causing him to stumble off his stool. “You want to throw another glass at me? Try it.”

You hadn’t noticed the blonde-haired man stroll up to your table seeing that you were so caught up in the situation.

“Hi, I’m Hongjoong. How’s your night going? Anything I can help you with?” He asked, rubbing his hands together, surprisingly composed despite the mess. You let go of the man as the name triggered something in your head, remembering it being mentioned a few times behind closed-door meetings with your father.

“Are all the whores around here like this? I came here for some fun and this is how I’m treated? Fuck this place and every one of you here.” The man started at Hongjoong. You sat there, curling your fists ready to punch the man this time but Hongjoong noticed and interjected.

He placed his hands on the ledge of the table, leaning forward to obstruct the space between you and the man. As he did, you noticed the glimpse of a gun hanging from inside his fitted jacket, the slick shine of the metal winking at you in the light.

“I’d rather die than come to this shithole again.” The man carried on and you noticed the mischievous glint that was once in Hongjoong’s eyes finally fade to black.

“Oh, sure thing, I don’t think I want to see you here again anyway.” Hongjoong muttered and what happened in the next few seconds flew by so fast it barely registered in your brain.

The blonde-haired man reached into his jacket to pull the handgun out and shoot the man clean between the brows. At the same time, you pointed the small pistol you always kept concealed on your body at Hongjoong in reflex, having been taught to react to the sound of gunmetal in this way since you were a child.

Once you realised that the bullet wasn’t intended for you, you sensed seven pairs of eyes trained on you. Out of the corner of your vision, you saw that the boys once sat at Hongjoong’s table were all stood up, half of their guns out pointed to the man, and the other half at you, the next possible threat to their leader.

It was then that you realised that this man was the leader of Ateez, Seoul’s biggest underground organization responsible for the running of the city. It may have been politicians and businessmen in the spotlight, but behind the curtains, it was Ateez pulling at their puppet strings.

“Easy with that, angel.” Hongjoong turned to you smiling and raised a hand at the boys to lower their weapons. He continued chuckling, “I felt like you might have an attitude, but I didn’t expect this from you.”

As if it were a regular occurrence, two barmen came round to dispose of the body and your eyes followed, gun still pointing at the blonde man. Using the tip of his fingers, he gently lowered your gun to point at the floor.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” he said, “I know some people that can sort that out.”

“Yeah those people are my paralegals paying off police in their missing persons hunts and forging their death certificates.”

Everything had fallen into place for you in that brief encounter. You knew that your father and his firm were involved in some dark business, but you never questioned it. Respecting your father’s wishes in telling you that keeping you in the dark was keeping you safe, you let it go.

However, it was only a few years ago that he had begun to tell you about his private dealings as consigliere to the organisation Ateez. That recently, his age-old friend had stepped down as mob boss and handed everything down to his son. Chuckling at how much he saw the image of his friend in the young blood, he mentioned that you would be in a similar position, that you too would be handed the law firm and become consigliere by tradition.

You had always expected to take up this mantle since you were young, as you figured that the men coming to your house for private meetings while you played in the garden did not treat you with unparalleled respect for no reason. You just didn’t realise that it would mean for you to be so heavily tied with the illicit world of the mafia then.

From then on, you trained close by your father’s side, learning the ins and outs of the world of jurisdiction, though you were never exposed directly to the ongoings with the mafia as your father had said, “the time will come when it needs to.”

“Then I guess today is the day.” You whispered to yourself smiling, you held your hand out to Hongjoong. “I’m Y/N L/N, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you, my father has always spoken very highly of you.”

Confused at first, a spark was ignited in Hongjoong as the shine returned to his eyes, and the amused smirk to his lips, your name triggering something in him. Realising that you were the daughter to one of the men he most respected in his life, he took your hand and brought it to his face to kiss gently, “And it’s a pleasure to meet you too, I’ve heard a great deal about you as well, but who knew my future right-hand man would be so hot.” He said as he flashed a sly smile.

The more he observed, the flames within Hongjoong only grew as he could sense the fire in you too. The most beautiful person he had ever set eyes on was to be his consigliere? Couldn’t be any more perfect. He wondered what more you could achieve together and pictured only pure wildfire.

“You better watch your mouth Mr. Kim, unless you want to start a war between the family before I even take up my position.”

“Of course, I have nothing but respect for you and your father. I was told that I wouldn’t be meeting you until he was to step down from his position, but I guess my lucky stars have aligned perfectly tonight.”

“Also, I’m more than capable of dealing with these things myself, there was no need for you to play knight in shining armour.”

“Sure, holed up in your guarded palace of a law firm, you’ve never had experience in the real world. Things are different here and what happened at this bar is just the cusp of it, princess.” He rebutted voice dripping honey, flirting his way through the conversation.

“But who is it advising your every action and saving your asses in the courtrooms, hmm?”

You and Hongjoong continued to jab at each other while the boys sat back in disbelief at the situation. Common people would have run the other way as soon as a gun was shot in their vicinity. So for you to have pulled one out in retaliation and furthering that, started arguing with their Captain, it was a sight to see.

“Bets on who’s going to win this one?” Yunho broke the silence.

“I’m betting tonight’s drinks on the lady.” Mingi said, throwing his black card onto the table.

“Me too, Hongjoong hyung looks too smitten for pride games right now.” Jongho agreed.

“Looks like we’ve got our first to tie the knot then.” San chuckled, nudging at Wooyoung who replied, “Hmmm, she doesn’t look like the typical housewife type though.” Analysing the unmatched confidence exuding from your body language.

Soon after, Hongjoong led you to the table of boys, pulling a chair out for you.

“Guys, this is Y/N L/N, future consigliere to Ateez, and not to mention, my future wife.” He smirked, eyes glowing.

“Carry on and I’ll be future Captain by regicide, Hongjoong,” you shot him a glare as you took your seat, “considering our fateful encounter, it looks like I’ll be seeing you more often with my father now, I hope we can get along.”

You poured yourself a glass of whisky and smiled while Hongjoong could already sense the eventful days ahead with none other than you by his side. -

Mafia AU Masterlist

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sapnxps · 4 years ago

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(WTL) Chapter One: Greg the Neighbor- Georgenotfound x Reader

If I knew that when I moved to London, I'd have two weird neighbors, I'd laugh in your face. Now I'm friends with an old cat lady. Now I'm enemies with my cute neighbor that's definitely not single, who also screams too much.

Even though he's a dick, why can't I stop thinking about him?

My parents told me I’d regret moving to London from the state before I left because I’d miss them and the US too much.

They were half right.

I’m sitting on a box messily labeled ‘kitchen’ in the hallway of my new apartment complex. I huff, wiping the sticky sweat from my forehead. The moving bill is almost 4 thousand dollars. If I knew moving would be this expensive, I wouldn’t have moved out from my parent’s house until I was 40. Sure, I moved a lot of my belongings across the Atlantic ocean, but 4 thousand dollars? Who do I look like, Jeff Bezos?

Today has been hectic, to say the least. Three of my boxes somehow drifted away to Spain. Don’t ask me how that happened, I don’t even know. I’ve been unpacking by myself all day. A box of my kitchenware got shattered upon arrival. I should’ve listened to my Mom on that one, she told me to just buy plates and glasses here instead of shipping them here. Big mistake I’m never making again. Finally, the biggest chunk of my problems: My apartment is full of boxes and I don’t feel like unpacking. Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve been sleeping on an air mattress for two days, maybe not, but I woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. If one more thing goes wrong, I think I might lose it.

Begrudgingly, I lift myself up from the box I was sitting on. It’s a bit dented now, but the way it felt on my ass, it’s just pots and pans. I open the door, pulling this box into my apartment. I weakly push it into the kitchen. It collides with one of the boxes filled with shattered plates. The sound of the broken glass sliding across the box sounded like nails on a chalkboard. I need to make a note to properly dispose of that. Turning my head to look around my new home, I feel my brain's short circuit. All these boxes unpacked, I’ve barely made a dent. This is going to take for-fucking-ever. Moving is modern-day torture. Oh, that’s funny. Remember to tweet that later.

The next three hours of my life are taken up by filling up my kitchen cabinets and drawers with cutlery and various kitchen utensils. The counter was now less bare, housing my toaster and breadbox. My Tupperware containers sat in a special place in the far-right cabinet by the sink. It looked like this home was lived in, as long as you didn’t glance anywhere else besides the kitchen.

I soon after tackled the bathroom, which was the less intimidating room compared to the living room and bedroom. I got the shower curtain hung up, which made it look nice. The rug found its way to the floor, protecting my feet from the cold, cream tile. The shelves were now stocked with a few fluffy peach towels and soaps. Underneath the sink had cleaning supplies as well as spare toilet paper. Living alone meant having nobody to give you another roll if you finish the other one. Kinda sucks. I had a boyfriend during high school, and two years into college. I dreamed of living with him, we planned it all out. I’d finish college, we’d move to a city and rent out the tiniest apartment we could find. We’d live it out until eventually we made ends meet and the rest would be. Dreams cut short though, he cheated. It’s part of why I left in the first place. Needed a change of scenery, new people.

That’s where I am now. New people. Stuck on that part. Haven’t gotten a chance to meet any, which is oh so tragic. I can’t decide if I want to introduce myself to the neighbors or let them come to me? I’m stuck pondering on the thought until I hear a knock at the door. I wonder if my lost boxes have mysteriously arrived.

Opening the door, I’m greeted with an older woman, holding out a small cake into my space.

“Hi dear, I’m your neighbor to the right. Heard all the commotion, saw all the boxes. I had to see for myself the fresh meat in the complex,” She paused before lightly tapping my arm with her free hand. “Just teasing! It’s great to have another lady on this level. The young man to your left, handsome fella, never comes out much though. Hopefully, we can have a girl posse or something,” Her posh accent made her much different than me. Is it wrong to already feel isolated?

I grin at her, moving out of the way to invite her in. “Nice to meet you, feel free to come in. I apologize for all the boxes scattered around, moving has been proven to not be quite my talent,”

The woman smiles brightly at me, shock plastered on her face. “You’re American!”

“That I am,” I chuckle. She hands me the cake, which I gladly accept. My diet has consisted of soggy hash browns from the complex lobby. She makes her way to what is settled in the living room, politely setting herself on my suede blue couch across from the large wall in the room. I place the cake on my counter by the stove, making a mental note to grab a slice once the woman leaves.

The shock never leaves her aged face, “Oh goodness! How amazing. I have a foreigner as my neighbor. You’ll find London quite lovely. I know how it feels to be isolated and removed from what you’re used to, but I promise you’ll fit right in,” She says as I settle myself on the loveseat a bit away from the couch.

“Where are you from?” I ask. She obviously isn’t American.

She smiles, “Just a bit east of Surrey. South of London. Beautiful area, grew up on a small cottage,” The woman was glowing as she spoke of her hometown. She was obviously proud of where she grew up. Compared to my southern Arizona town, this place seemed like heaven. A cottage? Sign me up.

“Sounds lovely,” I speak truthfully.

“Welp,” The woman slaps her laps, a way of signaling it’s time to end the conversation. Despite only speaking for a small amount of time, she seems like someone I can come to if I ever have questions about London or the terminology that I hear around the city. I’ll need to remember that she’s the neighbor to the right. As she began to see herself out, I remembered the other neighbor she mentioned. The young man to the left. I believe she used the term ‘handsome fella’ to describe him. Once she was out in the hall, I felt the need to find out more information.

“Oh!” I shout, hanging myself out into the hallway. She pauses her steps, turning back to me. “By the way, who’s my other neighbor? The guy you were telling me about. Does he have a name?” I ask.

“Greg,” She nods, resuming her short walk back to her apartment.

Greg. Ugly name.

I completely forgot about the conversation by dinner time. As I was munching down on my cake, delicious by the way, I heard loud yelling from my right side. I wouldn’t even call it yelling, more like high-pitched screaming. Who was my neighbor over there again? Greg? Greg. He was causing a ruckus and a mere heart attack at that. He was screaming so loud I nearly jumped out of my skin the first time I heard it. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he’s facing a very, very gruesome murder right now. Well, I guess I don’t know any better. I’m just wishing for the very best.

Another hour passes. The yelling never stops. It’s only 8, but my body is as awake as ever. I still have yet to get used to the new time zone. At times it was difficult, but I’m using it to my advantage now. I have some extra time to unpack and get my actual bed ready. My bed frame was put together professionally during lunch, so that was one thing checked off my list. The mattress I ordered was delivered yesterday. Now it was just the matter of putting the sheets on and preparing my duvet.

Fitted sheets fucking suck to put on a bed. I was currently struggling to put it on my nice mattress. It was edging close to 10 pm. The sky was dark, and I was stuck in some odd mixture of a starfish and the downward dog position. If this moment was a picture, it could be used for blackmail. The closer I got to finally getting the top right corner on my bed, the more stretched out I became. I was like one of those sticky hands you’d get in those toy dispensers at the grocery store. I was just about to get it, when another loud shriek could be heard. In shock, I slammed my head on the bed frame and lost grip of all four corners of the sheet.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I mumbled underneath my breath.

Whatever. He probably has a greater reason to be screaming like this, right? Justified shouting, whatever you want to call it. My bedroom is closer to his apartment than the kitchen was. Is it nosey to try to figure out what he’s saying? I don’t want to be that type of neighbor. I’ll continue minding my business because I don’t want to find out some weird shit about Greg that I don’t want to know.

The screaming never stopped.

In fact, if anything, it got louder. And louder. And louder. Is it okay to call the cops here?

It’s midnight now. The next fucking day. And Greg is still screaming at the top of his lungs as if everyone else isn’t asleep. If I saw some normal citizen just trying to get some rest, I’d be fed up. Well, I’m still fed up. I’m also running on a messed-up sleep schedule, so it’s not like I was trying to sleep anyways. My bed is made now, and comfy as hell. I built a shelf to house some of my small decorations, with the entertainment of my noisy neighbor’s yells to accompany me. For some odd reason, it made me feel less lonely.

At about 2, I began to reject the company. I felt irritation grow in my chest as I heard the same high-pitched shrieks that I heard at 8. The annoyance that bubbled in me overtook my politeness. Before I knew it, I was up and in the hallway banging on his door. I didn’t have the time to care about my Daffy Duck pajamas sticking to my legs due to the heatwave hitting England right now. Before I even realize it, my fist is slamming on his door. I never knew I had the power to knock that hard, but my anger and blossoming resentment overpowered me. I continued banging until the door pulled away from its frame. Now I’m face to face with Greg.

Boy was he handsome.

I was met with a man, about 5 foot 9. His dark brown hair was disheveled. Strands of hair laid across his forehead messily. If he wasn’t screaming, I would’ve thought he was sleeping. He was wearing a fluorescent green hoodie with an odd smile plastered on the front. It was a bit large for his skinny frame, that’s unimportant though. His grey sweatpants were twisted on his legs. What the fuck was he doing? His face was delicately shaped. This jawline looks sharp yet fragile like it was constructed of the most fragile rose crystal I’d ever seen. His brown eyes reminded me of caramel, thick and way too easy to get lost in.

“Hi, uh Greg-” I start. I’m just realizing now how close I am to him. The scent of his spearmint gum floods my nostrils. It’s a bit powerful, crinkling my nose at the smell. It wasn’t gross, just very shocking.

“George,” He spat. That’s fucking embarrassing. I’m meeting him for the first time and I got his name wrong. I’m not taken aback for long though, because his attitude oozing from his simple correction was enough to disgust me. I’ve done nothing wrong to him, except maybe get his name wrong. Was my moving too much of a nuisance to him? Poor little British thing, he can deal with it.

I cringe, “Oh, um, sorry.”

He leans into the door frame, sweatshirt adjusting to the movement. Forget a tiny bit large, he was swimming in this thing. “Yeah, no problem. Can I help you or are you selling girl scout cookies at,” George checks his watch. “2 in the morning. If you are, I’m not interested, sorry ‘bout that,” His outfit makes me feel a lot less aware of mine. Despite his face being rather attractive, the outfit makes him look like he just rolled out of bed.

“Oh, yeah. I was wondering if you could lower the volume a bit, please. Or just stop screaming entirely, if possible. I don’t know if you have some weird shouting fetish, but I certainly don’t,” I chuckle. George, however, doesn’t chuckle. Actually, he looks rather unamused. If a human was an art museum, it would be George. Curling into a ball and falling into an endless void doesn’t sound too awful right now. I think I’ll add that to my itinerary. I’ll do it in my bed so I’m at least comfortable while I’m drowning in my own self-pity.

He grimaces, “Yeah. Sure.”

He’s blunt. Got it.

The second I turn my back to the door, it slams. Wow. What a cunt. Shaking the interaction off, I begin to feel the wear and tear of the day beginning to hit me. Moving all those boxes made my muscles ache. The solution to all my problems today seems to be going to bed. Not that I’m not okay with that, just funny. The day before I left for London, you’d think I was shocked by lightning. The electricity that was running through my veins was no match for any ADHD medicine the FDA had ever approved. Now, my body is beginning to fall victim to the earlier time zone. Not that it was a big deal, it was going to happen eventually. These next few days would just entail a difficult sleeping schedule. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.

I quickly find my way back to my own bedroom. The yelling was quieter, but I could still hear George through the thin walls. He was murmuring to someone softly. This apartment complex was all 1 bedroom apartments. He didn’t live alone. How lovely! I made a fool of myself to him, and he was most definitely telling his partner right now. Talk about dignity, am I right?

I scrolled through my phone for an hour, before the screaming returned to its original volume. Would it be overdramatic to say I felt my face go red with anger? I don’t think so. I think I handled the situation as politely as I could. Hell, I even cracked a joke so he could know I wasn’t that upset over the situation! If I knew he was going to resume his disruptive noises, I wouldn’t have been so nice or absolutely hilarious. Nobody that douchey gets my amazing humor. He didn’t even laugh! I hear another shout followed by a slam to a desk. What the fuck is wrong with this guy?

Welp. Welcome to London!

#georgenotfound x reader #georgenotfound #gnf x reader #dream smp #fanfiction #enemies to lovers #enemies to friends to lovers #mcyt #mcyt fanfic #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #minecraft #smp #minecraft fanfiction

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comfyswitcherblanketfort · 4 years ago

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Wash Day

Yall I just really want Trisskel to be a solid couple from like, day one and be happy and in love and hhhnnngggg. I have feelings. (specifically Netflix Triss and Game Eskel)

Summary: Modern AU Eskel helps Triss with wash day when she cant use her arms.

Warnings: Mentions of burn injuries and burns in healing process, nothing gorey, just the mention of scabs, temporary dependency, dealing with the shitty mental part of recovering from major injuries/surgeries - not fucking bathing, eskel is not flexible and tries so hard to do things right. bless, lol swearing as is usual

I’d like to put a little disclaimer that I did a bunch of natural hair care research for this but I have no experience save from helping my friend diffuse her hair before class.

________________

Triss groaned and tossed her phone to the other end of the couch she was perched on, wiping her one good hand over her face. Her burns over her chest still weren’t allowing her much range of motion with her right arm and her hair was starting to drive her absolutely insane. Yennefer was going to come over and help with wash day, but Ciri got in a fight at school, leaving Triss to sit with an itchy, ratted, and, frankly, horrendous head of hair.

She leaned her head back against the arm of the couch and sighed, not even able to adjust the bun Eskel had helped her with that morning.

Speaking of…

She scooted over the couch to pick up her phone, tapping the little call icon under his nickname, “Hey, Yen can’t come over tonight. No need to pick up the wine,” she sighed.

“Are you sure? Nothing wrong with a little treat, babe.”

“I’m sure. It was more for her efforts than my treat anyway.”

“If you say so… How are you feeling?”

“Less shit than this morning. I’m just tired,” she didn’t add the feeling of hopelessness that went along with not even being able to bathe on her own. He worried enough for the both of them and then some.

“I’m picking up the good wine. I’ve got one more client then I’m done. Maybe take a nap?”

“Skel…”

“I will spoil you if I want to. Oh! Look! There’s my 3:30! Bye Bug! Love you!” he hung up on her before she could protest.

She rolled her eyes as she lowered the phone into her lap, smiling a little despite her annoyance.

Gingerly, she made her way to their bedroom and laid down, running the risk of taking out the bun to lay comfortably. She turned on a podcast she told Jask she’d listen to and hoped to zone out at the least, if not actually sleep.

Triss was woken by Eskel stomping in their front door and dropping his gym bag with a dramatic thud. A few moments later she could hear grocery bags settling on the kitchen counter, the distinct sound of wine bottles bumping together reminding her what he probably had planned.

She ever so slowly tipped over and pushed herself up with her left hand, catching a horrifying full-body reflection in the mirrored closet doors.

The scabs and little spots that were still bandaged she was starting to get used to, but the rest of her? Looking at herself in sweats that hadn’t been changed in two days, a summer tank top with no bra and coffee stains, and mismatching fuzzy christmas socks was… difficult. Her hair was wild, all the curls stretched out and sticking together in big frizzy clumps that stuck out at odd angles.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It had only been four weeks. No one was going to be back to normal after four weeks. Her body was using all its energy to heal, not look put together.

Regardless of her efforts she felt the tears well up in her eyes and her breath hitch with the effort of holding them back.

It still fucking sucked.

Eskel’s soft touch on her thigh made her jump, “Is it hurting again?”

She shook her head, opening her eyes to see him knelt in front of her with his eyebrows drawn up in worry, “No. I’m okay,” she whispered, pulling herself together and resting her hand over his.

Eskel tilted his head, “Then what’s wrong?”

“I… I look like I fell down the garbage chute,” she laughed. It wasn’t her usual, musical laugh, though. She laughed because she knew, in the grand scheme of things, it was ridiculous. It felt stupid to be worried about how she looked when she’d lived and, well, laughing was better than more tears.

“You’re always lovely to me,” Eskel hummed, brushing her tears away with the back of his knuckles.

She leaned into his touch and took a steadying breath, “I just don’t feel like me.”

He stretched up to kiss her forehead, “I’m sorry, Bug.”

She just shrugged and squeezed his hand.

“Yen called. I got a very long lecture on wash day and firm orders to help you wash and deep condition your hair. If you’re feeling up to it,” Eskel flashed that crooked grin she could never resist and she shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“Are you prepared to follow instructions?” she teased.

“Babe,” he raised one eyebrow, “the only instructions I don’t follow are on Top Ramen packs.”

Eskel seemed to have confused ‘instruction’ with ‘directions’.

“I swear to God, Eskel. You don’t have to read the ‘how to use’ blurb,” Triss groaned, sitting on a kitchen chair they’d moved into the bathroom with dripping wet hair, “Just section off my hair and do what I tell you.”

“But I don’t want to use too much,” he protested, “This says to use one tablespoon!”

“Yeah! For natural blondes! I have completely different hair and know what I’m doing. Use half the bottle! I don’t care! Just get it fucking clean!”

Eskel rested his hand on her good shoulder and gave her an apologetic look in the mirror, “I’m sorry. How many sections do you want?”

“I- it’s not a number. You just- kneel down for me I’ll show you,” she pointed at the floor next to her and sighed, missing Yen more than ever. She drew little lines with her nails through Eskel’s hair as she explained just how to scrub while making the least amount of tangles possible. He watched her in the mirror and pointed to the points on her scalp she was talking about with a look of serious concentration.

It was cute. Even if he was a little inflexible he really did want to do a good job.

Conditioner was easier, even combing out the tangles went fairly smooth. They took a break and made dinner, breaking open the good wine.

Just having her hair down and somewhat bouncy again made Triss feel a million times better. The sweats were exchanged for yoga pants and the tank top for one of Eskel’s sweaters too. It almost felt normal.

They ate ice cream while he worked the deep conditioning mask through her hair.

“You sure I’m not using too much?” he asked, leaning over her shoulder to take the bite she held up for him, nice and small so he didn’t get a brain freeze.

“Fbe moreb fbe bedder,” she tried speaking around a giant bite of ice cream, giggling at the face of confusion he made with the spoon still sticking out of his mouth.

She swallowed and scrunched her nose at the light brain freeze, “The more, the better. We’ll rinse it out in the morning and I don’t want any dry spots.”

He nodded and waited for her to take the spoon back before getting back to work, “Yes ma’am.”

“Mmm, I like that.”

Eskel rolled his eyes as she let down a new section, “Oh do you, now? I had no idea.”

“Mhm!” she nodded with a proud smile, taking another bite of ice cream and earning a chuckle from him.

She walked him through a couple rough twists and adjusting the plastic soaking cap before attempting to explain how to tie a headscarf. He was… truly awful. Somehow she ended up almost blindfolded before she just gave up and found him a video to follow. It took him a few tries, but eventually he got it the right level of snug. I

She tried to tilt her head back to look at him but that pulled at some of her new scar tissue, so she tried another angle and another before she huffed and resorted to standing up to look at him, “Thank you Skel.”

“No problem, Bug,” he hummed, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her nose.

Triss laid her head on his chest, the perfect height for him to rest his chin on top of her head, “No, I mean it. It… helps. A lot.”

He rubbed soothing circles over her back, swaying them slightly, “I’m just glad I could do something…” he took a breath like he wanted to say something more but settled for pressing a kiss to the sloppily tied scarf. She hummed and leaned into him, snaking her hands around his hips and up under his shirt to rest over his back dimples.

Triss could have stayed there forever.

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ace-in-a-shopping-cart · 4 years ago

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Day 12

Prompt: You meet your soulmate in your dreams every night.

Word Count: 3,321

Main Taglist: (Send an ask to be added or removed!) @starlocked01, @spoopy-turtle, @lizluvscupcakes, @more-fandon-than-friends, @i-cant-find-a-good-username, @vindicatedvirgil, @star-crossed-shipper, @justaqueercactus, @gayboopnoodle, @sanderssidesweirdo, @the-sympathetic-villain, @8-writes, @lizzy-lineart, @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun Soulmate taglist:(Send an ask to be added or removed!) @elizabutgayer, @melodiread, @tsshipmonth2020, @mikalya12, @8-writes, @lizzy-lineart

Logan drifted off with a smile on his face. Soon, he was met with a large room that took up two stories, a bay window that had a lovely area to curl up in, and more bookshelves than anyone could ask for filled to the brim with books on any subject he’d ever learned. Looking out the window would reveal that it was constantly pouring, a gentle rain that released a calm into the air. Upon the seat at the window was a figure in a hoodie, the hood pulled up over his head. His feet were curled beneath him as he sat back against the padded wall. He was deep in a book, lost to the world around him.

Logan smiled at the sight of his soulmate, walking over to the window seat and the figure curled up on it. “How are you tonight?” His voice was soft, speaking before he approached.

Virgil looked up, eyes bleary from being dragged out of the story. “Hmm?”

Logan couldn't help but laugh as he sat down next to his soulmate. He knew he wasn’t really his soulmate, just his mind's recreation of him. But he’d been assured that his soulmate acted just like his mind thought he did. Logan didn’t know the science behind it but assumed it was a defense against differences in time zones and sleeping habits or a way of letting soulmates meet, even if one has died.

“Oh, I’m doing fine.” Virgil‘s voice drew him out of his thoughts.

Logan smiled, shifting so he was sitting with a pillow in his lap and his legs drawn up beside him. He gently patted the pillow, inviting Virgil to lay his head on it. When he did so, Logan began to run his fingers through his hair, having been told that it calms Virgil’s anxiety as it lets him know Logan is there and it feels nice. “Do you have a topic in mind for our talk tonight?” Logan asked absentmindedly.

Virgil shrugged. “I mean, I could always just read to you.”

Logan shook his head, pausing to gently scratch his nails against Virgil’s scalp. “No, I don’t think I’m in the mood for that. Are you?”

“I was simply offering it. If you want to talk about the latest episode of the paranormal podcast I’ve listened to, that’s up to you.”

Logan smiled. “Sure, tell me about that.” And thus, another quiet night was spent with his soulmate in his arms.

The next morning, Logan woke to an empty bed, an empty room, an empty apartment. He got dressed, ate his breakfast, and left for work. That was the thing about seeing his soulmate in his dreams; he got used to it. He got used to seeing him on a regular basis, got used to living with him in his mind. He got used to having Virgil there. It was hard to wake up sometimes, knowing all he had to do was drift off to see him.

He shook himself out of his thoughts when he got to work, his mind switching gears to focus on the lecture of the day. He went about the morning classes productively, until he got to office hours. He’d just sat down at his desk, his door open for students, when a knock sounded.

“Come in!” He called without looking up.

Footsteps sounded before a voice he would recognize anywhere spoke. “I seem to have gotten a bit turned around. Could you help me find Professor Engel’’s office?”

He raised his head, eyes coming to rest on a face he’d only ever seen in his dreams. He smiled. “Are you her new TA, Virgil?”

The man startled. “Have we met before?”

Logan decided to just be cheesy, knowing Virgil loved Disney and secretly loved cheesy things. “Once upon a dream.”

He relaxed, sagging against the door frame. “Great, I just found my soulmate.” He muttered beneath his breath.

Logan chuckled. “Sorry, did I startle you?” He decided to forgo the question of why Virgil didn’t recognize him as he could already see the eye bags that signaled he was not one to sleep often.

His soulmate shrugged. “Just a little. Seriously, though,” he glanced at the nameplate on the door, “Logan, I really need to know where her office is.”

Logan nodded. “Of course. Take a left at the end of this hall and a right at the end of that one. Her office should be the third door on the right.”

Virgil smiled. “Thanks.” There was a pause as he stood there for a few more seconds. “Should I come back later to discuss the soulmate thing?”

“I’m just doing office hours right now so as long as a student isn’t in here, you’re free to do so.”

Virgil left, coming back in half an hour. In that time, only one student had briefly dropped by in between classes to ask him to clarify something from the syllabus. He made a note to change that to be clearer if he reused that particular syllabus. “Hey, you still open?”

Logan looked up briefly. “I just have to finish this note and then I’m free to talk.”

Virgil took a seat and waited, his fingers fiddling with the lid of the thermos he carried. Logan jotted down the correction on a sticky note before spinning around to stick it to the wall. He let the momentum carry him around a full rotation, coming back around to face Virgil, who was smiling at his antics.

“So, what did you want to talk about?”

Virgil sighed, his fingers stilling. “How about that stupid law that says that once you meet your soulmate you have to move in with them as soon as possible?”

“Yeah, there’s that. How is your living situation?”

Virgil shrugged. “I’ve just got a small apartment. No pets, no roommates.”

Logan pulled out a notepad and began to jot things down. “How many bedrooms does it have?”

Virgil’s brow furrowed as he frowned. “Why does that matter?” His voice was defensive.

Logan looked up at him. “It matters because I’d prefer to sleep in two separate rooms as we are still practically strangers. This way, we’d be closer to roommates than soulmates and would feel no need to form a romantic relationship if we don’t desire one.” He paused, ignoring the fact that he knew he was already in love with Virgil. “Would you be more comfortable sleeping in the same bed?”

Virgil shook his head almost too quickly. “No, two bedrooms is ideal. My current apartment only has one.”

Logan made another note. “My apartment has two bedrooms. Is yours close to anything you like, such as a favorite store, park, movie theatre, or even the school?”

Virgil bobbled his head as he thought. “Not really.”

“Mine is only a fifteen minutes drive from most things.” Logan paused as a thought hit him. “Even though my apartment sounds like the obvious choice, would you prefer to find a completely new apartment? It might feel better for both of us to move into something instead of one person moving into the other’s space.”

Virgil smiled. “Yeah, a new apartment sounds nice. You know, this is almost providence as the lease of my current apartment is almost up anyways.”

Logan wrote that down as well. “Do you have anything you are allergic to? Food, creatures, medicine?”

“I can’t have most seafood due to iodine. I’m also allergic to red fire ants. You?”

“I’m allergic to peanuts but you are welcome to have them in the house in any form as long as you make sure to label them and clean up after the mess as even just a bit of the oil on my skin can be dangerous. Other than that, I don’t think so.”

Logan searched through his drawers, pulling out a calendar. He flipped it open to the current month. “Do you have any time that’s good for apartment hunting?”

Virgil pulled his phone out of his hoodie pocket and Logan couldn’t help but notice the Nightmare Before Christmas case he had on it. “Uhh, I’m free on the weekend or any time after three in the afternoon.”

They planned for the next few minutes of where they preferred the apartment to be and what times worked best for them. A few days later, they were out apartment hunting together. They found the one they wanted and applied, managing to get it on the first try. Both of their names were on the lease and they were moving in the next weekend. Logan had his friend Roman come and help while Virgil roped his brother Patton into doing so, finding out the pair were soulmates in the process.

Logan had loved Virgil for about three years now but it was quite clear that Virgil hadn’t been aware of Logan’s existence until they’d met. So, while they were sitting on the floor of their shared apartment and eating a dinner of pizza, Logan decided to ask about it. “Virgil, may I ask about your sleeping habits?”

Virgil put down the slice of pizza he’d been raising to his mouth. “Sure, I don’t see why not.”

“I’m sure you know of seeing your soulmate in your dreams so by all means you should have recognized me on sight, just as I did you. Have you . . . never seen me at all?” Logan was scared. He was scared to think that Virgil had never seen him but was more scared to think that Virgil had chosen to forget about him, chosen to not acknowledge his existence within him.

Virgil shrugged, a small almost apologetic smile gracing his face. “I don’t sleep.”

Logan’s brow furrowed as a million questions jumped into his brain. “How is that possible? You’d have to sleep eventually.”

“I have pretty bad insomnia. Only one thing seems to have helped but I haven’t been able to do that since I was small. So, I deal with it. I plan around it, drinking energy drinks and caffeine, waiting for the inevitable collapse that comes where I basically just pass out for a few hours. As I’m unconscious, I don’t dream. Thus, I’ve never met my soulmate until you recognized me.”

Logan nodded, wiping his hands on a napkin. “Is there any way I can help? You mentioned something you could do to help it?”

“No, there’s nothing you can do to help although I appreciate the offer.”

With that, the conversation changed to a different topic while Logan’s mind wandered. He wondered if there was anything he could do to help. Determined, he silently promised to be the best housemate anyone could ever ask for. He was going to be quiet whenever possible and make sure to stay out of Virgil’s way. He’d pretend to not even be there for much of the time.

That lasted a week before the system broke down. Logan had been sitting on the couch doing some work when Virgil came home, looking even more exhausted than usual. Logan began to gather his things, meaning to move to his room to give Virgil space. As he did so, he glanced up at his roommate, who looked close to tears.

Logan instantly dropped everything he had, not caring about the scattering of his neat piles, to move over to Virgil, hands hovering. “Is something wrong? Did something bad happen?”

Virgil dropped his bag. “Do you really hate me that much?” His voice was watery and he looked even closer to tears now.

Logan paused, confusion plain on his face. “What do you mean? Why would I hate you?” His voice was as soft as he could make it, trying to be gentle with his sleep deprived soulmate.

“You always leave the room as soon as I walk in, you only talk to me when I speak first. Do you really hate me already?”

Logan shook his head. “No! I don’t hate you, quite the opposite in fact.”

Virgil sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “Then why do you avoid me so much?”

“I don’t mean to avoid you. My intention was to give you space so you don’t feel like I forced you to move in with me.” Logan had no idea what to do about the sleep deprived TA in front of him so he was as sincere as possible.

Virgil nodded before shuffling over to the couch and dropping onto it. “Don’t. Just stay.”

Logan got the hint and sat back down, beginning to fix his piles. He glanced over at Virgil every once in a while, seeing he was in the same position of sitting with his head thrown back and eyes closed. He eventually sat back as he set up his computer on his lap. It was then that Virgil tilted to the side, his head ending up on Logan’s shoulder. Logan froze, waiting for Virgil to move or say something. Instead, his roommate and soulmate just snored.

Logan smiled, taking the opportunity to kiss the top of his head and whisper, “Sleep well,” before going back to his work.

When he woke, Virgil stirred and Logan’s hand came up to cradle Virgil’s head, quietly shushing him. Virgil pulled away entirely but still sat close. Logan put down his book and looked over at him. “Did you have a nice nap? I tried to be quiet so as to not interrupt it.”

Virgil smiled. “I dreamt for the first time in ten years.”

Logan was surprised but happy. “Oh, that’s nice. Did you enjoy the experience? I find it rather calming myself.”

Virgil nodded. “I did. Although, I do have a few questions for you.”

“I’ll answer them as best I can.”

“Did our conversation before I fell asleep actually happen or was that part of the dream?”

“You came home and got upset when you saw me begin moving back to my room. You expressed a feeling of inadequacy that I corrected as best I could. Is that the conversation you were thinking of?”

Virgil nodded. “Okay, so, how do you feel about me?”

Logan reached out, as if he wanted to cradle Virgil’s face. “I don’t want to tell you the extent of my emotions as I’m not sure you’re ready for them. I can say that I don’t hate you in the slightest.” He hesitated. “Do you hate me?”

Virgil was quick to shake his head, hand reaching out to rest on Logan's arm. “I may not have had enough time yet to accurately gauge your personality but I like what I’ve seen so far.”

Logan nodded and he felt like there was a weight lifted from his shoulders. “Okay. In that case, I think we need to establish some house rules.”

They discussed at length such things as shared spaces and personal ones, communication of needs, and communication in general. Then, as it was already getting to their usual eating time, they both made their way to the kitchen. Logan started looking through the fridge. “Hey, how was the latest episode of your paranormal podcast?” He popped his head out of the fridge to look at Virgil. “Sorry, I just realized how creepy that could sound.”

Virgil just shrugged, settling onto a clean and out of the way part of the counter. “It’s fine. I’m always willing to talk about that thing as no one else seems to care.”

Logan pulled out ingredients for pancakes before closing the door. “Well, I enjoy hearing about it and find it a calming part of my routine.” He didn’t mention that he found Virgil looked his best when he was animated and talking about a topic he enjoyed. He didn’t mention that he could watch and listen to him for hours, never getting bored of him. He didn’t say it, knowing that it’s too soon and it would freak him out. So, instead, he listened to him ramble with a smile on his face, occasionally making comments to spur him down a different rabbit hole.

The rest of the month went smoothly. They got to know each other over that time, Logan learning the small things that showed that Virgil was alive and not just his imagination and Virgil learning everything there was to know about Logan. Logan made sure to answer any question he had and gave him as much information as he could while doing so.

It was toward the end of the month when it happened. Logan had just been drifting off when he heard a soft knock at his door. Sitting up, he fumbled for his glasses case and the lamp switch. “Virgil? Is that you?” He called quietly.

The door opened with a barely audible click, Virgil coming to stand in the doorway. Logan finally got his glasses on to see Virgil in his nightclothes, fingers playing with the ends of his too long sleeves. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” His voice sounded different, softer and more scared than Logan had ever heard from him.

Logan smiled, gesturing for him to come in. “It’s alright. Is there something I can help with?”

“I can’t sleep.” It almost sounded like an apology.

Logan nodded, sitting up fully and crossing his legs beneath his weighted blanket. “Okay. Do you want me to talk with you for a bit?”’

“I was actually hoping you could . . . Nevermind, this was stupid.” He turned to go.

Logan stood, reaching Virgil in a few strides. He didn’t try to stop him, but did put a gentle hand on his arm. “Hey, no. Your needs and wants are valid. Talk to me, please.”

Virgil shrugged. “I fell asleep on your shoulder a month ago and dreamt for the first time in ten years. I don’t know, I guess I was just wondering if I could try that again.”

Logan smiled. “You want to try to sleep with physical contact?”

“Yeah, that.” Virgil sounded relieved that he didn't have to explain himself further.

“Okay. Come on in and make yourself comfortable.”

In a few minutes, they were curled up together in bed. Virgil was on his stomach, head on Logan's chest, while Logan had his arms wrapped around his roommate. The lamp had been turned off and Logan’s glasses had been safely returned to their case. After being in a similar position with his imagination’s fabrication of Virgil, Logan raised a hand to card through Virgil’s hair. He realized what he was doing and stopped, putting the hand flat on the mattress.

Virgil tilted his head to look at Logan. “You don’t have to stop. That felt kind of nice, actually.”

Logan smiled, his hand going back to the familiar rhythm that calmed him even after years of doing it. They both soon drifted off like that, held in each other’s arms and perfectly content. In the morning, Virgil told Logan he’d dreamt again and they celebrated a little before they had to get to work.

Soon, that became a recurring event. Sometimes, it was three nights a week that Logan would find Virgil curled up beside him, sometimes it was less or more. After the third week in a row of this behavior, Logan had to sit down and talk with Virgil about it. They worked out that having physical contact with another human helped Virgil sleep, something about his anxiety calming when he felt protected.

One night, Virgil was curled against Logan, who was reading aloud in an attempt to lull Virgil to sleep. Virgil reached up, his hand coming to curve around Logan’s jaw and pause his reading. Leaning closer, Virgil softly planted a kiss on Logan’s cheek and muttered, “I love you, soulmate.”

Logan turned, kissing Virgil’s palm. “I love you too, soulmate.” He closed the book and set it aside, turning off the lamp before sliding deeper into the bed and curling around Virgil. They both fell asleep, comfortable, protected, and loved.

#tsshipmonth2020 #analogical #virgil sanders #logan sanders #soulmate au #food mention #ace writes

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yellowocaballero · 4 years ago

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Not Your Queer-Coded Disney Villain: Annabelle & Web!Jon Ficlet

Got bored again today and forced myself to write something that wasn’t gratuitously long. Set in the same universe (or, one of the universes) as The Convention on Chronographer Lane, but it’s completely unnecessary to have read that one before this.

Content warning for (apparent and fake) predation of a student by a teacher, body horror, and spiders. REVERSE content warning for A PSYCH 101 LECTURE WRITTEN BY SOMEONE WHO WAS A TA FOR PSYCH 101. ACCURATE SCIENCE, BITCHES.

“What am I turning into?” Annabelle asked, after a half-second of rapid thought. “Who are you? And what do spiders have to do with any of this?”

Jon smiled again broadly, grey eyes dancing with a barely hidden delight. “You’re fully aware that these are all the same question.”

“Then answer them. You said you’re here to help me. Then help me.” Annabelle narrowed her eyes. “We’ll negotiate a price later.”

“This one is a freebie,” Jon said. He leaned back, face fading into the shadow of the dim yellow light of the hanging light. “You’re turning into something much akin to myself.”

In the darkness, Annabelle saw Jon open his eyes. And his eyes. And his eyes. And his eyes…

Annabelle was sleeping through Psych again.

In her defense, she was really tired. The nightmares had been getting worse every day, and yesterday she hadn’t gotten more than forty minutes of sleep without jolting up in the middle of the night. She had flipped on the light five times during the night, hysterically convinced that bugs were crawling over her and earning the eternal ire of her roommate. Whatever - Irene would forgive her once she bought her an iced coffee from that campus shop she liked. If Annabelle gave it to her later at night, she’d stay up later and would be less likely to bitch when Annabelle inevitably made a stink at three am again.

It didn’t matter. Psych was tediously easy anyway. Not that everything wasn’t tedious, but there were few things more boring than listening to the drone of Mr. Sims’ voice. She had no idea how that guy had a fanclub. Emmanuela Odugawa had asked her if she thought that he recited Piaget’s developmental stages in bed. Barf.

Thankfully, Annabelle had mastered the art of sleeping with her eyes open in class and barely aware enough to recognize when somebody called her name a decade ago, and she ruthlessly used this skill now. She dropped into a half-doze, and was only startled into awareness when she heard the word that had been running in a nonstop track loop through her mind for the past month.

“Phobia: an extreme or irrational fear or aversion to something.” Mr. Sims adjusted his glasses, pressing a button on his laptop that advanced the slides. “It’s an interesting definition, in my opinion. Like many things in Psychology, it is almost infuriatingly vague. How do you define ‘extreme’? How do you define ‘irrational’? Oftentimes, that label is determined by society, science, and our therapists. However, I believe you can argue that phobias are the most rational thing of all.”

Annabelle rubbed her arms, suddenly cold. These auditorium classrooms were always freezing.

“The concept of aversion is heavily rooted in evolution and biology. Anyone here ever eat any bad shrimp?” He didn’t wait for a response. “The smell of seafood probably made you sick for weeks afterwards. Our bodies are primed to detect poison, just as they are to detect danger. Phobias rooted in modern, abstract concepts - clowns, elevators, airplanes - are easy to extinguish. But phobias rooted in real, present, perpetual dangers, the sort of dangers that threatened the lives of cavemen, are far more difficult to ignore.”

Despite herself, Annabelle found herself awake. She found herself listening.

“Snakes. Heights. The Dark. Dogs, bears, large animals. Storms, driving, insects.” Mr. Sims’ looked up at the auditorium, and Annabelle could have sworn that he was looking right at her, he was looking at her. Annabelle’s breath caught, her heart thumping in her chest - a little differently than it used to. “Spiders.”

A horrible clicking echoed in Annabell’s ears. She was afraid that it was her.

Then he looked away, and the spell was broken. “Phobias are one of the most powerful and motivational forces in human evolution. Like mental illnesses, pack bonds, and emotional needs, the perceived weaknesses of the human mind can frequently be some of the most powerful forces that allow the survival of the human species. It isn’t a bug, it’s a feature. I find that a useful way to think of humanity, and of ourselves: that our weaknesses can make us very strong indeed. Next slide…”

If Mr. Sims said anything after that, Annabelle didn’t hear it.

She didn’t pay any attention to anything he said until the end of class, when she shrugged on her cute little silver backpack and merged into the stream of students filtering out of the classroom. A few students had stayed behind to talk to Mr. Sims, and he appeared wrapped in conversation with the giggling girls, but somehow he picked her out of the thick crowd.

“Annabelle?” Mr. Sims asked. “Stay after, please.”

So she leaned against the long sweep of desks, left with nothing to do but squint at Mr. Sims as he spoke with another student about the requirements for the upcoming paper, wondering why he looked so familiar.

All of the other students had assumed he was in his late twenties - “total DILF”, they all inanely assured her - but Annabelle wasn’t so sure. Despite the already graying hair, small glasses, and severe expression, she really wouldn’t put him any older than 23.

Maybe his greying temples were hair dye. Or stress did that to you, right? Annabelle squinted. But when Annabelle looked closer, if she really focused, then she really wasn’t sure it was his hair color at all.

So she looked closer. Her eyes had been itching for the past week. She had caught her skin flaking and peeling, and instead of pink raw skin underneath there was hard and scratchy black necrosis. Her eyes itched now, as if they were striving to split apart, and if Annabelle only let them then they would burst. And as her eyes itched in a horrible, visceral pain, she thought that maybe the white at Mr. Sims’ temples was the thin, sticky webs of spider-silk.

“Annabelle? Are you alright?”

She snapped back to attention, fairly embarrassed. She had been zoning out more in the past month than she had her entire life. Her older siblings had said that college would be rough, but she hadn’t known it would be this rough. This wasn’t like her. None of this was like her.

“I’m great,” Annabelle said reflexively. All of the other students were gone, and Mr. Sims was staring at her over his glasses. “Sorry. Is this about my test…?”

“No. You did quite well on your test. Best in the class, actually.” Mr. Sims smiled at her, as if this was a compliment or important. “Is that why you’ve been so bored in class?”

Ah. Busted. A rare thing for Annabelle. She affected a faux-abashed posture and expression. “Sorry, Mr. Sims. I’ve been staying up ‘til two every morning trying to get my homework done on time. If I’m ever going to go to med school…”

“I thought you were a poli sci major,” Mr. Sims said cheerfully. Annabelle fought a shudder - how did he know so much about her? This class had 200 students.

“Double major,” Annabelle said blithely. “I’m sorry about sleeping in class, I’ll manage my time better. It won’t happen again.”

“Yes, yes.” Mr. Sims waved her apology away, as if that wasn’t what he had been looking for. Then what had he been looking for? “I’m afraid I had somewhat of an ulterior motive for speaking to you today.” He leaned in a little, pulling his glasses down, and his foggy grey eyes - same color as the grey at his temples - focused solely on her. Annabelle made her eyes bigger, and she leaned in too, adjusting her posture so she looked smaller. “You’ve been doing very well in class. I actually wanted to invite you to a meeting. About...oh, your potential for med school. I’m excited to see you succeed. I think you could do quite well in whatever field you choose, and I’d like to help. It would be just us, of course.”

Ding ding ding. Annabelle affected a giggle. “I could totally use the help! Like, in your office? Or, like...lunch, or…?”

“I was thinking dinner, actually,” Mr. Sims smiled. “How’s Bombay Bicycle Club?”

Restaurant and bar, with a casual yet dignified atmosphere. Not formal enough to put up anybody’s guard, but nice enough that a freshman girl could feel treated and be impressed. Most importantly, it was popular among the businessman crowd and almost nobody on campus visited it. Annabelle used it herself to meet up with her sugar daddies all the time.

For a brief, strange moment, Annabelle felt as if he did - but of course he didn’t. But it wasn’t impossible. But if he knew, then why wasn’t he blackmailing her? Was the blackmail for later, once he got her alone? This was probably a power play, getting her off balance by insinuating that he knows but not being explicit about it. He’d probably pull out the blackmail, ‘I’ll ruin your reputation you slut etc’, once they actually got there. Not that he could - Annabelle had contingency plans - but she would have to be careful to actually record him propositioning her anyway. Worst case scenario they had a MAD situation, best case she could squeeze him. Probably not for very much money, since grad students were poor as dirt, and she didn’t exactly need him to boost her grades...get him to slip her the test key and sell the test key? That could work. She could probably get him to strategically cut grades, which was a service that Annabelle could probably sell to students with a grudge…

But then Mr. Sims smiled at her, as if he knew what she was thinking, and Annabelle realized that she had been silent too long. She wanted to come off as panicked, maybe desperate, definitely flattered.

“Sure!” Annabelle said, barely having to feign the anxious creak in her voice. “What time? I have night classes, so…”

“Next Friday at six,” Mr. Sims said instantly. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too.” Annabelle affected Smile #35 - shy virgin. Mr. Sims’ grin widened. Annabelle silently put aside the ‘Catholic schoolgirl’ outfit for Friday. “See you then!”

She turned around, gave him a shy smile, and bounced off. She had just opened the heavy door out of the room when she heard him speak again, freezing her in her tracks.

“Oh, Annabelle - how is the study with Dr. Bates going?”

And his question panicked her so much, made her heart change rhythm and made her skin itch as if something was straining to come out of it, made her eyes itch and crawl and burst, that every calculated move went out the window. She didn’t answer his question, didn’t even give an excuse - she just ran out the door, bright purple vintage boots thumping against the linoleum, breath catching in a chest where she was no longer sure she even had ribs.

Most of her was already calculating. She was already two months into uni, she had to start establishing her power base. The minute her sorority accepted her she’d have greater access to money, popularity, and influence, but she needed reach with the administration too. Mr. Sims was her in. This was a good thing.

But part of her was disappointed, because she had liked him, and she felt a little used. Feelings of disgust, as strong and vivid as in her nightmares, rose in her chest. She squished far down in her chest, familiar with the feeling and effortlessly repressing it.

Annabelle was good with disgusting things.

She had another session with the Arachnophobia study on Monday. Which went fine. It was fine! She didn’t wake up that morning so sick with nerves that she almost threw up. She didn’t stare at her email inbox for thirty minutes, begging herself to cancel and drop out of the study. Nope.

She distracted herself by befriending all of her roommate’s friends and dropping faux-concerned gossip about how cranky and anxious Irene’s been lately, have you noticed she’s been blaming me for how badly she’s sleeping? It was really super sad, frowny face, how do you think I can help, frowny face frowny face frowny face?

So Annabelle went to the Arachnophobia study (it was fine), had increasingly realistic and vivid nightmares about her chest caving in and a nest of spiders crawling out of her chest and eating her eyes, and slept through class. It was all fine.

She should have gone to Oxford. It still made her a little bitter. She had been smart enough to get in, but she hadn’t been smart enough to get the full scholarship. She couldn’t afford it, so instead she was stuck in University of Surrey, where dreams went to die. Future politicians should go to Oxford. Yeah, Surrey had some peers and Parliament members, whatever. She needed better, Oxford and awards and money. From there, from some swotty school or another, it was easy street. Annabelle deserved easy street, and she deserved Oxford, and it just wasn’t fair -

After another three am nightmare, Annabelle blearily scrolled through her sibling groupchat. Barney was doing great in med school. Tricia had posted her maternity photos. Wow, look at that, Robin had gotten a commendation at his law firm. Whatever.

No hope of distinguishing herself in the world. No hope of distinguishing herself in her stupid family. She was smarter than any of her siblings, brighter and better than those doctors and lawyers and accountants, but nobody cared. Mum and Dad were living their retirement in comfort and cooing over their grandchildren, finally rewarded in old age for all their hard work.

If Annabelle dropped off the face of the earth, nobody would even notice.

It should have been a depressing thought. The idea that nobody cared about her, not really, that nobody knew the real her. But somehow it just made her heart beat faster in excitement.

The idea of disappearing from all of this, of cutting herself free from a thousand threads that brought her plummeting down to earth...in the cold hours of that dark morning, to an eighteen year old terrified and alone in uni, it was a siren song.

It was a siren song that sounded, oddly, like the chittering and scuttling of a thousand tiny bodies, but Annabelle was learning to look beyond that.

By the time next Friday rolled around, Annabelle was considering breaking her self-imposed rule against drugs and popping a Xanax. But that wouldn’t help her exhaustion, the persistent bone-deep frazzled sensation of going a week on almost no sleep whatsoever, so she settled for an espresso as she wriggled herself into a tight, slinky plaid dress paired with a puffy olive green windbreaker. She wasn’t sure if she owned any clothing that was made after 1990 - a habit born from a childhood of shopping from thirst stores, and continued voluntarily into high school when she started making her own money online fleecing suckers. It was her, so much as anything was.

“Hot date?” Irene asked, bending over her Physics textbook without looking up. She glanced at her vibrating phone, scowling. Poor baby - her friends were staging an intervention. “New guy or old guy?”

“New guy,” Annabelle said vaguely, carefully picking out a bold red lipstick - or did that seem too forward? Should she go for a natural look? “If I’m not back by midnight call the police. I’ll text you a picture of his car.”

“Roger.” Irene flipped a page of her textbook, oblivious to the fact that she was one of the few people Annabelle genuinely liked. Not enough not to screw with her, but she liked her. “He’s not good enough for you, something something.”

“Darling,” Annabelle said, winking into the mirror, “nobody is.”

She hoped Irene believed it. She didn’t.

It wasn’t a frequent occurrence that Annabelle wished she was stupid, but today she wished she was stupid enough to take a power nap during her ten minute Uber ride. Her mind felt frazzled and frayed, as if it had been taken out of her scalp and spread out with a rolling pin onto a floured countertop. She felt as if she was melting, her vision spiralling into fractals or blurring out. She wanted to sleep. God, she’d do anything for some sleep -

So she blared Bad Romance in her frayed earbuds instead, clutching her iPod Touch tightly, pulling herself together. Gaga, give her strength.

By the time that she tipped her driver, effortlessly found Mr. Sims’ car in the parking lot of Bombay Bicycle Club and texted Irene the license plate (Volkswagen, obviously), she had dragged herself into focus. She stapled on her confident posture and walk - no, we’re going with ingenue today, make it shy and hesitant - and slipped inside the restaurant, making a show of holding her clutch tight to her chest and looking around with big eyes.

She saw him instantly. He was sitting in a corner booth, head down and texting on his phone with a half-smile. The corner booth was poorly lit, light dampened by the wood panelling and soft leather seats, and half of his face was draped in shadow.

Great. She had even arrived ten minutes early just so she could pick a brightly lit, intimate little table in the center of the room. This guy - he was almost like her. He was almost like her, but he was better.

Annabelle fought the urge to grind her teeth. She smiled instead, waving cheerfully until he raised his head. He smiled back at her, wriggling his fingers, and Annabelle wove around the tables until she could slide into the seat across from him.

“This is cozy!” She said brightly. “Thank you so much for inviting me out, Mr. Sims. It’s been ages since I got away from my books -”

“Oh, cut that shit out,” Mr. Sims said, bored. “I’m not going to sleep with you.”

Annabelle’s mind shut down. Error 404, blue screen of death.

“I’m sorry,” she said pleasantly, smile frozen on her face. “What?”

But Mr. Sims just shrugged listlessly, slumping against the cushioned wall. His expression was no longer fond, indulgent, haughty. He just looked bored now, as if he was too tired and underpaid to deal with eighteen year olds. “I don’t want to sit through this entire dinner fending off flirting. We have actual business to talk about, and I am uninterested in beating around the bush when there’s no point. You aren’t even subtle.”

“Excuse me -” Annabelle started, enraged, but Mr. Sims put up a hand and cut her off.

The change was instant. On a dime, Mr. Sims straightened his posture, swept a finger through his hair to transform it from slicked back professor type to windswept, adopted a friendly and casual expression, and leaned in as if he was happy and excited to be sitting with Annabelle. In a moment he dropped ten years. Barely a second after his transformation the waiter approached them, holding a notepad, and Annabelle realized with a start that he had noticed the waiter coming before she did.

“How are you two doing tonight?” the waiter asked politely, smiling at the both of them in a rote routine that Annabelle remembered from her own days waitressing.

“Doing great!” Mr. Sims said, and even his accent was different, closely matching her own. He glanced back at Annabelle, nothing but open and friendly. “Mum says get whatever you want, dork. It’s on her bill, so let’s run her out of house and home.”

Instinctually, Annabelle shot back, “Aren’t you old enough to take me out to eat with your own money, loser?”

“Not with your stomach!” Mr. Sims laughed, and the waiter chuckled along too. Mr. Sims effortlessly rapped out an order for the waiter, before Annabelle even got a chance to look at the menu, and when she floundered Mr. Sims just rolled his eyes and ordered for her too. It was, somehow, her favorite food.

He waited for the waiter to move onto the next table, eyeing him carefully, before he let the persona drop. Mr. Sims sagged again, dropping the friendly act, sizing her up from half-lidded eyes.

“How did he even believe that,” Annabelle said flatly. “We don’t look anything alike.”

“White people will believe anything,” Mr. Sims said, rolling his eyes. “I have the Belgian government convinced I’m an Iraqi scientist and most high profile Australian celebrities think I’m Egyptian royalty.”

“...does Egypt have -”

“Nope.”

Annabelle was beginning to feel a little like the star actress in the school play who got upstaged in every way by the villain’s performance. Nobody did what she did. Nobody did what she did, but better.

“Don’t feel insecure,” Mr. Sims said, as if he could read her mind. “I’m a good actor, and I’m excellent at reading people. But I can’t plan or plot like you do. I’m shit at thinking three steps ahead, much less thirty. You can keep plots and schemes going for years - decades, even, if I were to guess. I’m not sure how someone as competent as you can have self-esteem issues.”

Annabelle bristled. “You try having nobody care about you for - how do you even know that shit about me?” Something terrible occurred to her. “Are you some kind of stalker, Mr. Sims?”

Mr. Sims shuddered in real disgust. “It’s Jon. And no, of course not. You just aren’t as subtle as you think you are.”

Yes, she was. She was subtle to everyone on the planet - everyone save, maybe, Jon. Annabelle narrowed her eyes. “What do you want?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Jon said immediately.

“Liar. Everybody wants something.”

“I’m here altruistically,” Jon said, the perfect picture of innocence. “Really. I’m here to help you, Annabelle.”

“You are stalking me.” Annabelle leaned forward, but Sims didn’t move. “Are you even a real graduate student?”

“Absolutely not. I’m twenty three, I got my Psych degree last year and I’ve been bouncing odd jobs since.” Jon shrugged, as Annabelle felt silently vindicated. Nothing about this man acted like a twenty three year old - she remembered her siblings at twenty-three, there was nothing adult about them - but it was probably just another persona. She wondered how far she’d have to scratch to get to the real Jon Sims.

“So you were just at Surrey to spy on me,” Annabelle said slowly. “I don’t know what country you’re from, but in England that’s definitely stalking.”

“I’d call it scouting,” Jon said. The waiter dropped by to place their drinks on the table - Jon had gotten a mule for himself, and he had ordered water for Annabelle in a move uncharacteristic for a sketchy guy. He waited until the waiter left to continue. “Call me a recruiter.”

“For who? What kind of job recruiter teaches a class for two months just to get to me?”

“How’s your study with Dr. Blake going, Annabelle?” Jon said, almost randomly, and Annabelle shut up. He must have seen something in her eyes, because a sharp little grin stretched in the corner of his narrow and sharp face. “Thought so. What do you dream of, Annabelle? In the cold corners of night, what fears come to life in the dark recesses of your mind?”

Maybe, Annabelle thought inanely, this was a dream too. Just an extended nightmare, one she hadn’t woken up from. It felt like that: distant and strange, hyper-real and unreal. This strange man sitting in front of her, who swapped faces so easily even Annabelle couldn’t keep up, was far too out of place to truly exist.

Or maybe he was the first real person she had met in a very long time.

Jon continued talking, as if she had responded. Maybe she had. “I am not a hero in this story. If I was, I would have come earlier. I would have deleted your name from the pool of subjects, and I would have made it so that you never got that call.” Jon looked away from her for the first time, letting a little sadness show on his face. “I couldn’t. No - no, I could have, I simply chose not to. You’re important, Annabelle. And I didn’t want to rob you of something that you may grow to treasure. I’m afraid that the choice you make now may not be much of a choice at all - but, perhaps, there is still a chance. At the very least, I would like to make this transition a little easier for you. It is a terrible thing, to have to do it alone.”

That…

“That was so vague it was completely meaningless.”

Jon barked a laugh, strangely delighted. “It’s not fair to speak in circles to somebody who’s gone a week without sleep!”

“But you’re doing it on purpose,” Annabelle said, too dead inside to feel mad.

“Oh, absolutely. I am not taking the risk of taking you on at full power.” Jon smiled at her, as if they were friends sharing a joke. “I saw what you did to that Walker boy in secondary.”

Despite herself, Annabelle smiled. “Hear he gets out on parole in five.” Something else occurred to her, a bit belatedly. “You are stalking me!”

“Does a spider stalk the fly that strikes a string on its web?” Jon asked cheerfully. “Or is it simply investigating an encroachment into its territory?”

“Does that mean that you’re going to eat me?” Annabelle said archly. “Thought you said you didn’t want to fuck me. Rude, by the way.”

Almost hilariously, Jon wrinkled his nose. “Sex is a waste of time, resources, and my attention. Can’t imagine why people are so obsessed.”

“I know, right!” Annabelle burst out, before she could help herself. “Do you have any idea how much money I get a month from guys just to talk to me? It’s like they’re aliens! Why do people fuck or date if it’s not to manipulate someone?”

“Right! It’s ridiculous.”

It was the first time anybody had ever agreed with her on that. It was the first time she had even told anybody she felt that way. For a brief second, Annabelle felt connected to Jon. It was the first time that happened in...a very long time.

Jon was the first person Annabelle had ever met who was like her. Everybody in Annabelle’s life had always been either useful or useless. Jon seemed above that, somehow. To be beyond utility, to exist on your own power...what did that look like? To be the powerful, instead of the powerless?

No matter how hard she tried, no matter how many puppet strings Annabelle tied around her fingers, she was never powerful. Not really. She was eighteen, from a nothing family, and no matter how many molehills she made herself queen of she would never rule the mountain. She couldn’t get as far as she wanted with what she had. The only reason she had even volunteered for the stupid Arachnophobia experiment was because she needed to crush out weakness in herself, erase the hidden flaws in her mind.

But Jon said her flaws were strengths. What made her weak could be turned into power.

Annabelle needed more, more, more. She needed everything, if she was to have anything. She needed what Jon had.

Everything Annabelle said had a purpose. Every word she used was chosen carefully, every little gesture or body language was calculated. She said nothing without thinking, and she could do it so quickly nobody even noticed. Jon would notice, a con man as perfect as she was.

Let him. Give her two straight days to sleep, and they’d have a real battle of wits. In the meantime, she just had to pick her questions strategically.

“What am I turning into?” Annabelle asked, after a half-second of rapid thought. “Who are you? And what do spiders have to do with any of this?”

Jon smiled again broadly, grey eyes dancing with a barely hidden delight. “You’re fully aware that these are all the same question.”

“Then answer them. You said you’re here to help me. Then help me.” Annabelle narrowed her eyes. “We’ll negotiate a price later.”

“This one is a freebie,” Jon said. He leaned back, face fading into the shadow of the dim yellow light of the hanging light. “You’re turning into something much akin to myself.”

In the darkness, Annabelle saw Jon open his eyes. And his eyes. And his eyes…

All eight of Jon’s glittering black eyes shone in the darkness, straining her own and making her head thump. It was wrong, outside of humanity or reality, and it felt as if the very sight was straining the fabric of her delicately maintained life so tight it would tear. It felt as if it was tearing her, right in two, ruining her forever. Her eyes felt like they were going to burst out of her head.

She didn’t want to know what would replace them. But she had the feeling that she already did.

“Then what,” Annabelle gritted out, “are you?”

“I am the eldest and most treasured Son of the Mother of Spiders,” Jon said. He smiled at her, just a little, almost apologetic. “Sorry about that. I know you’ve always wanted to be an only child.”

Ah. Duh. Obviously. She should have known.

“...do I want to know who the Mother of Spiders is?”

“Your mother, should you choose to accept her,” Jon said cheerfully, leaning back into the light, and his face was normal again. Human as ever. Strange and foreign as ever - possibly everything, possibly nothing. “I know you aren’t strictly in the market for adoption, but you may not have much of a choice. You’ve felt her scratching beneath her skin. She’s going to tear out of you, and soon. Did you know some species of wasp lay their eggs in the body of spiders to provide food for the grubs?”

“During the next experiment,” Annabelle said dully, already filtering out Jon’s useless tidbits of information. That was a guy who spoke for the sake of hearing himself talk. “That’s when it’s happening. When I’ll...change.”

“Yes. It’s a painful process,” Jon said, and it was almost apologetic. “My own happened when I was fifteen - quite young, all things considered. I still remember the sound of my bones snapping as -”

“Don’t.”

“Of course! Anyway, I thought I’d make sure you had...to use the psych term, informed consent, before you entered the crucible. Our - my, sorry - Mother often foregoes true consent in our operations. The beauty of nature!” Jon laughed, as Annabelle felt sick. “Agnes wanted to put together a pamphlet, but then we let Gerry go wild on the clipart and...well, it’s better if I just explain. I can’t give you the full story now, but I’ll tell you as much as your mind can comprehend.”

Annabelle wasn’t sure she could even comprehend this. It was so much, and she was so tired. She had just heard that her body was going to rupture like a cocoon and give birth to a giant spider that may or may not also be her, and all she could think about was the fact that she wanted to go back to bed. Somehow, all she could ask was -

“Why?” She asked, so stupid and pointless, as if she was stupid, as if she wasn’t her at all. “Why are you doing this?”

“It’s like I said.” In the dim yellow lighting, Jon’s eyes glittered pure black, and in that brief and stupid second Annabelle felt as if they were the same in that way. “Nobody should have to go through this alone and ignorant.” Then the moment was over, and his eyes were a human grey again, just left of normal. “Besides. Siblings stick together, right?”

“I hardly need more siblings,” Annabelle snapped.

“You’re about to lose seven of them real soon,” Jon promised, extremely worryingly, “so I’d take what you can get right now, Annabelle.”

“Are you going to kill -”

“Unfortunately, you may have to fake your own death!”

Then their food came, and Annabelle received her first lesson in the class of hard knocks.

They talked for hours. It took hours, to even just get a picture of the story. Jon was patient, answering every question, and Annabelle strained so hard trying to fight through her exhaustion, trying to understand the answer, Jon’s motivation in answering it or what he could be leaving out, that by the end of it she felt as if she had run a marathon. She had never felt so tired in her life, in the most dangerous situation in her life, with the most dangerous person she had ever met.

By the end of it, Irene was texting her to ask if she was dead, and Annabelle was falling asleep at her chair. Jon cut an end to their conversation when he slid out his wallet, covered the bill with a black Amex card, and slid a business card against the table. Annabelle squinted down at it.

The text in the center just said [FREELANCERS]. That was it. She stared at it.

Underneath the vague word, she saw a phone number [555-555] and an email [[email protected]]. Annabelle looked up to stare at Jon. “Are you for real?”

“Almost never,” Jon said cheerfully, “but the card will make sense when it needs to. Let me take you back to your dorm, alright? You can get some sleep in the car.”

If he was a creep, she was dead anyway. Annabelle didn’t bother arguing. She grabbed her jacket and got in the passenger seat of his car, and true to his word Annabelle drifted asleep almost immediately. She even felt as if the ride took longer than ten minutes, as if he drove in circles just waiting for her.

For the first time in a week, Annabelle slept uninterrupted, and had no dreams.

Annabelle wanted what Jon had.

And a week later, she took it.

Shivering in an alley, clothing ripped to shreds, her own skin hanging off her triple jointed limbs, she dug out a creased and torn business card. She had been worrying at it intensely over the weekend, staring and it and clenching it tightly as if it was her only lifeline. It was, of course. But Jon had known that.

The card looked different now. The text now looked handwritten, but with a beautiful and old-timey slanted handwriting. It now just read:

‘To Annabelle, with love. From your new friends Gerry, Jon, and Agnes’. There was a number underneath, and Annabelle frantically dug in her tattered leather jacket pocket to draw out her cracked phone.

Annabelle hated taking favors from people. Everything she had, she had fought for herself. She would scrape, borrow, beg, and steal whatever she had to. But, when it came to siblings...maybe, then, it was okay.

Dizzily, as Annabelle let the phone ring, she thought: this is my supervillain origin story.

The thought sent a slow smile crawling across her inhuman and warped face.

Sounds like fun.

#AROACE ANNABELLE RIGHTS #tma #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #the magnus archives fanfiction #annabelle cane #jonathan sims #web!jon #realized while writing evilcon that annabelle was seven while jon was twelve #and that their sibling relationship must be a NIGHTMARE #anyway i'm trying to convince myself not to write a web!jon agnes and gerry fic where its basically a leverage au #and i am failing miserably #so i wrote this instead of that #GRIFTER!JON AND IN THIS ESSAY I WILL #my writing

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hailhydra920 · 4 years ago

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A Chance Protector Pt.5

Pairing: Lumberjack!Steve x Reader

Summary: Steve has a long day

Warnings: None

Steve woke up to the sound of pounding. Groaning, he rubbed his tired eyes and stumbled out of bed. He ambled to the door, his eyes still blurry with sleep, and he swung it open. Bucky was standing there, a plate of bacon in his hands, and a smile on his face.

“Did you forget, pal? I don’t smell pancakes, and your hair looks like two rats just got done mating.” Bucky chuckled.

Steve was too tired to respond and just grunted, opening the door wider so Bucky could step inside. He ruffled Steve’s hair, and walked into the kitchen. Bucky stared at Steve’s tired state and crossed his arms.

“Okay. Tell me what’s wrong. You never sleep in, and you never forget about our occasional breakfast together. Spill, now.”

Steve sighed, running his hand through his hair before speaking. “I just got lost in my thoughts last night, and I couldn’t sleep. It’s no big deal.”

Bucky raised a quizzical eyebrow, but just turned toward the cupboard. He took out the ingredients for pancakes and began mixing them together. Steve sat on a stool, watching Bucky prepare breakfast.

“Was it about Peggy?”

Steve stared at his friend, his blue eyes darting to the floor. “A little. I was also thinking about Y/n.”

Bucky chuckled. “Ooh, girl trouble.”

“It’s not like that.” Steve sighed. “I’m just curious about her personal life. And I don’t want to come off as creepy or anything.”

“Well, you could take her out on a couple dates.” Bucky shrugged as he poured some batter onto the pan. “You could put yourself out there again. You can take some more steps in the healing process.”

“I don’t think she’d be up for that.”

“Why not?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “She’s got ex troubles. And from the brief conversation we had on the subject, I think she doesn’t want anything to resurface.”

“Then don’t make it a date. Just ask her if she wants to go to a get-to-know-you dinner.”

“That’s a date.” Steve scoffed as he grabbed some bacon.

“No, it’s not.” Bucky retaliated putting some pancakes on Steve’s plate. “Eat up, because we have a long day at the school.”

Steve groaned. “Do I have to go?”

“Yes. And bring a chainsaw! Kids kill for chainsaws! Actually, they kill with chainsaws. Maybe you shouldn’t bring a chainsaw. Don’t bring a chainsaw!”

“I won’t. But I highly doubt anyone will come to my table anyway.”

~~~~~~~

“Do you pull huge trees from their roots and split wood with your hands?” One little boy asked with wide eyes.

Steve nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “Not exactly. I cut the tree with a chainsaw and I split the wood with my axe.”

“A real axe?! Do you ever chop people’s heads off?”

“N-no, I only chop wood with it. An axe is nothing to play with. Neither is a chainsaw. Never play with those things.” Steve sighed as the kid walked away.

“Hi, Mr. Rogers!” Ronin called with a grin.

“Hey, Ronin. Whatcha doing?”

Ronin fiddled with the pencils on Steve’s table and rubbed one, causing the blue to turn to green. He smiled. “I came to your table to learn about what a LumberSteve does, and you have cool pencils. All the other tables have lame stuff, but you have color changing pencils and cool stickers.”

Steve smiled fondly at Ronin, watching as he messed with the pencils and sifted through the stickers. He was glad someone thought the stuff at his table was cool, he wasn’t exactly sure what kids liked so he found some old supplies that he had in his basement.

“Well, we’re actually called Lumberjacks.”

Ronin looked at Steve in disbelief. “Really?! But your name isn’t Jack.”

Steve laughed. “Yup, it’s crazy. We’re just called lumberjacks. We cut huge trees and chop them up into pieces that people can use for their stove.”

“Wow,” Ronin breathed. “You must be super strong!”

“It does take a lot of strength. What do you want to be when you grow up?” Steve asked the energetic boy.

“Well…” Ronin looked at the pencil in his hands. “I wanted to be a boxer like my daddy, but…he’s not a very nice guy anymore. So maybe I can be a lumberjack like you! All the lumberjacks I’ve met are nice.”

Ruffling Ronin’s hair, Steve let out a small laugh. “And how many lumberjacks have you met?”

“Just you, but you’re really awesome. Do you think you could come over for dinner? That would be nice.”

That was one thing about kids that always surprised Steve, they were so frank with everyone. He did want to have dinner with you, but it would probably make you uncomfortable, and that would make him feel awkward, and then the whole thing would be a disaster. Steve stared at the little boy’s expectant eyes, and he sighed.

“I don’t know. You’d have to ask your mother. I wouldn’t want to intrude or anything.”

Ronin jumped with joy. “Yay! It can be like a family dinner!”

Steve swallowed back a lump in his throat. “I wouldn’t go that far buddy. Let’s just take things one step at a time”

“Okay. Bye, Mr. Rogers!” Ronin said walking away.

“Bye.” Steve said with a small wave.

Bucky had been watching Steve, a smirk on his lips the entire time. Strolling over to his table, Bucky clapped Steve on the back.

“What was all that about?”

“Just telling a kid about being a lumberjack.”

“Riiiight.” Bucky chuckled. “Tell me how family dinner goes.”

“Ugh, it’s not a family dinner! And it’s probably not even going to happen. Go back to your table ya grease monkey!” Steve groaned pushing Bucky away.

~~~~~~~

You were scribbling down whatever came to your mind, the pieces of your novel coming together in perfect harmony. It was one of those writing streaks and you just had to write it all down before you forgot it. The pencil was moving in record time, your thoughts becoming more real by the second. You were completely in the zone.

“Mommy! We’re home!”

And now that zone was gone.

“Mommy! Mr. Rogers is coming over for dinner!” Ronin shouted with glee.

You’d never lifted your head so quickly. “He’s what?”

“I invited Mr. Rogers over for dinner. He said to ask you, but I knew you’d say yes.” Ronin said hanging up his backpack.

Dawn hung up her backpack beside Ronin’s and smiled at you. “Mr. Rogers is coming over for dinner?”

You sighed and rubbed you hand across your face, and your eyes landed on the slip of paper by the lamp. Steve’s number was nicely written on it, he had said to give him a call if you needed anything. Thoughts bounced around in your head, trying to determine to if you wanted to call him or not. You slowly picked up your phone and typed in his number. Your finger hovered over the call button. Closing your eyes, you pressed the call button.

Perm Tags: @sleep-i-ness @thefridgeismybestie

A Chance Protector Tags: @fukyouthink

#steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #Steve Rogers #lumberjack steve #lumberjack au #marvel fanfiction #Chris Evans

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goldenchan-fx2thepeacock · 4 years ago

Text

Don’t Go Running Off Into Danger, Even If I Do pt 3

Hek. I woke up today and found that my FNP phic has 41 notes and my DGROIDEIID phic is gaining attention and reblogs; holy shit. And I woke up at noon. It’s Saturday. I sleep in on such days. Anyways. Last I checked, Val and Danny were gonna go get Dani, but we need some Dip and Mabs action cause I forgot last night. I will probably develop an uploading schedule later. For now, just have random updates. I might even make a side blog for this shit.

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Chapter 3

Dipper stood off in the background as Danny got into an argument with a dracula ghost. By the amount of times he heard Plasmius, this must’ve been Vlad. Danny looked pissed when he finished. He still took Dipper and Mabel to their classes, but when they tried to find him at lunch, he was absent. “I wonder where he is?” Mabel pondered. “I’m sure he just had something to do,” Dipper replied. Some guy walked up to their table. “Hey, you’re the kids Fenton is touring. Listen, he’s Phantom and I have proof!” “And you are?” Mabel said patiently. “Wes Weston. Listen, you gotta believe me!” “We legit just moved here, we have no clue what you’re talking about. Leave us alone,” Dipper said. Wes looked taken aback. “Fine! Fenton better worry. I will expose him. I just need more proof,” Wes stalked off. Dipper and Mabel exchanged a look. “Should we be worried?” He asked Mabel. “He seems to have it under control,”

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Danny stared off into the daylight as they flew. Val set down. “Come on. She’s fine. Why are you losing it?” “Just a certain Wisconsin Ghost told me about you keeping her,” “Vlad?” “Wait, you know?” “I’ve known since I met Dani,” “Jeez. I’ve known since I met the guy during my parents college reunion. I’m still pissed at him for that whole invisble wall fiasco,” “That was him?” “Yeah. I mean, I started it, but he kept trying to get in my mom’s pants. I needed to put him down a peg,” “You made his wall invisble!?” “Yeah. But it’s not like being naked on camera is going to tell the public any secrets,” “I’m confused. Why do care so much?” “It’s nothing,” Danny grunted. They were headed to the basement. “It seems to be something,” “I have things I’d prefer not to reveal to the entire school,” “No one saw your dick. You managed to catch it in time,” Val was confused. Danny laughed. “Hey Val. Why would a guy have a female clone? Oh right. I forgot to tell you. Dani is more or less my clone because Vlad was being extra creepy,” “Weird. So she isn’t your cousin. Wait. OH MY GOD! Danny, I understand completely. If Dash knew, you’d be dead meat,” Val caught on quickly. Danny couldn’t but laugh at the dead meat. “Hey! What’s funny?” “I am dead meat Val!” “I’m an idiot. Anyways, we’re here,” She opened the basement door. Dani was sitting on the couch. “Danny? Val? What’re you guys doing here. Shit, sorry Danny,” “It’s fine. She knows,” “Who else knows anyways?” Val said. “You, Jazz, Tucker, Sam and literally all the ghosts,” “Vlad included?” “Vlad included,” “And Amity Park can’t connect the dots?” “No one knows Danny Phantom has a human life. I’d be seriously pissed if someone told the general public,” “That’s fair. Anyways. We’re here because a certain Dracula cosplayer told Danny you were in danger,” Val said. Danny snorted. “Dracula cosplayer? I have to use that on him,” “Why would anyone think that’s a good look?” “My ‘dad’,” Dani said. Thus causing both her and Danny to break out in laughter. “Where does the whole cousin thing come in?” Val asked. “My ‘Unkie Vlad’. It’s his way of making me family,” “Unkie?” Val looked lost. “I like being a little bitch to him,” “He deserves it! You should expose him,” “If I expose Plasmius, Masters exposes Phantom,” “Oh jeez,” “And there is a very good reason not to expose Phantom. And they wear way too much white,” Dani said quietly. “I’d prefer not to get dissected,” Danny said haughtily. “They already want to,” Val made a noise of disgust. “How could anyone with a set of morals do that?” “Heh. I’m a ghost. Not really real to most of the world. I don’t have feelings. Don’t feel pain,” Danny repeated what the ghost hunters had told him way too many times. “That sounds awful, but we should get back to school. Cya Dani!” Val waved and put on her helmet. “Hey, wanna leave the quick way?” “What do you mea- AAAAAAAH!” Val screamed as Danny made them both go intangible and up through the roof. “Never. Do that again,” “Hey, at least you didn’t end up going through the table and random floors and get banned from handling anything fragile,” “I’m confused,” “When these powers first came in, I was stuck dropping everything. From my pants to beakers,” “Oh jeez. So, why aren’t nerd and nerdette with you?” “Tucker had to go see a doctor out of town and Sam’s mom took her to this convention thing. They’ll be back tomorrow,” “No comment on the nicknames?” “They’ve been called worse,” Danny shrugged. “And I’ve been shoved in way too many lockers to care,” “I have one last question. Why on earth would you try to date me when I was trying to kill you? And why did you destroy the suit when I could’ve been inside?” “That’s two questions. But Fenton and Phantom needed a distinction, and I knew you weren’t inside. Technus was controlling the suit,” “You are a mystery,” “I’d like to keep it that way,” “You won’t tell anyone my secret if I don’t tell anyone both of yours?” “That makes it sound like you’re going to tell one of them,” “That’s not what I meant,” “We need to come up with an excuse as to why The Red Huntress suddenly has a truce with Phantom,” “Later. I need coffee,” “I couldn’t agree more,” The plume of blue air showed up. “OH COME ON!” “What,” “I have to deal with something,” Danny sped off.

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Dipper and Mabel looked at the chaos in the caf. “Students! Hide under tables! Ghost Hunters and/or Phantom will be here soon,” Mr Lancer yelled into a megaphone. “Already here!” Someone yelled. A flash of white said Phantom. There was blue ghost throwing boxes around. “I am the BOX GHOST!” It yelled. “Yeah, we know. Just say it already,” “I will win this fight with boxes of... spoons! BEWARE!” “Don’t you know not to bring a spoon to a knife fight?” “You do not have a knife!” “No, but I do have a thermos!” Phantom pulled out a green and grey thermos and flipped the lid. “I will not stay in your cylindrical object!” “Looks like you’re gonna have to,” Phantom pressed a button and a beam of light came out of the thermos and sucked the Box Ghost inside. “Is everyone okay?” Kids pushed out from under the tables. “Phantom! Will you sign my book?” Dash said. This must be a cruel joke. “Ghost boy! The Fenton Peeler is back in action,” “Whoops, gotta go!” Phantom dashed off as Jack and Maddie Fenton came rushing in. “Darn it. Missed him again,” They ran off. Danny walked into the caf and ran over to them. “You guys are lucky that your first ghost attack was the Box Ghost. Harmless,” “Doesn’t look very harmless to me! That’s gotta’ve been at least a level 5,” Dipper opened the journal. “Nah. Box is a solid 2. Hardly a step up from an ectopus. Might get concerned if Desiree shows up. She’s a level 5,” “What’re you?” “We more or less tested it. Pretty sure I’m a 7,” “That means they aren’t a big concern to you most days,” “Mmm. King Pariah was a level 10. That was terrifying. Vlad’s an 8. Convinced he’s a 9,” “Okay,” “Skulker gets to be a 6 on a technicality. Without the suit, he’s a 1. He can be an 8 on a bad day. I think Frostbite is a 9. He won’t bother you guys though. Dan must’ve been a 9, but I’m not going into that. Technus is an 8, but can be a 10 if he gets his hands on the right tech. Clockwork is an 11, which technically doesn’t exsist, but Clockwork breaks the mold. He won’t bother you unless you end up destroying the world in the future,” Danny shivered. “Who’s Dan?” Mabel looked confused. “Nobody. Just a horrible way to learn not to cheat on tests,” Danny shivered again. “But that’s not important. I didn’t cheat on the CAT,” “Your life seems more hectic than Gravity Falls sometimes,” Dipper said. “Where is that? I’ve never heard of it,” “Oregan. Never Mind All That,” He knew the rules. “You know, the way you say that is kinda creepy,” “We’d be breaking the law if we told you why,” “Jesus. Well, it’s not like we’ll get another Pariah unless an idiot thinks it’s a good idea. He’ll never get his hands on the crown of Fire,” “Time Out,” Dipper and Mabel looked around. “Umm, CW, why aren’t they out with everyone else?” “They’ve met Cipher. At this point, I cannot pause time for them,” “Eh, whatever. Mason, Mabel, this is Clockwork. What’d you need?” “I actually came to speak to you about the Crown of Fire. In defeating Pariah, you gained ownership,” “I, uh, did what now?” “Gained ownership of the Crown. Though in your case, it would be the Crown of Ice,” Clockwork repeated. Danny looked lost. “I don’t need to be the King of the Ghost Zone,” “Someone must take the place. It’s your duty,” Danny looked like he was about to have a full on panic attack. “Can it wait?” “Two years is a long wait as is,” “B-but it went thousands of years before!” “Because they failed to remove the crown and it wasn’t a singular person,” “What’s two years in the Ghost Zone? As far as I’m concerned, that doesn’t seem like a long time. Walker was gonna give me a thousand year prison sentence,” “You get some time, but I’ll tell you, if you take the crown, the Ghost Zone enters an era of peace unprecedented,” “Danny, what’s happening,” Mabel asked. Danny snapped and started hyperventilating. “I can’t. No. Why? I just wanted to keep the world safe! Is that too much to ask?” “Daniel, you do get time to think about it. Just remember, time can pass however fast or slow I want it too,” “Right, of course. Cya CW,” “Time In,”

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Danny trudged home. Exhaustion and anxiety gripped him. Mason and Mabel had been concerned, but he wasn’t about to explain everything. He’d talk to Sam and Tucker tomorrow. It didn’t help that he’d had gym after lunch. At least there wasn’t any more disappearing walls. “Danny! How was school?” Mom asked as he walked in the door. “Great!” Danny said and rushed upstairs. He’d deal with The Box Ghost in a minute. Jazz stood in his doorway. She didn’t know about Dan, but she did know about Pariah. “Danny, is everything okay?” “No, everything is not okay!” “What happened? Is it Dash again? We should report him,” “It’s not just that. You remember the Pariah incident?” “Yeah, you don’t just forget that,” “Well, turns out that by beating him, I ‘gained ownership’ to the crown,” “That doesn’t sound bad exactly,” “It’s horrible!” “How?” “I just wanna be a kid, ya know? It’s hard enough living a double life, but ruling the Ghost Zone? I’d have no chance to do anything remotely useful in the human world,” “You wouldn’t need to. If you ruled the Ghost Zone, ghosts wouldn’t come here anymore,” “The King can’t enforce rules in the Human World. It’s just scary,”

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Aight, that’s a chapter, I guess. The ideas tend to come from random places, and my brain is running out of ideas. I need to do another “planning session” which is coming up with scenarios in my head to make sure they make sense.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #jazz fenton #maddie fenton #jack fenton #dipper pines #mabel pines #clockwork #crown of fire #gravity falls #crossover #trans!danny #trans!dipper #dash baxter #valerie gray #danielle (dani) phantom #bill cipher (mentioned)

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suituuup · 4 years ago

Text

unspoken 4/4

On the second day of her fourth and last year at Barden, Chloe meets an oddly quiet girl and finds herself drawn to her despite her silence. Asperger’s Beca.

rating: T

word count: 3,600

ao3 link

Cries crackle through the babyphone, cutting through Beca’s dream. Her eyes blink open and she feels her wife shift beside her, a soft sigh carrying above the cries.

“I’ll get her,” Beca murmurs, dropping a kiss to Chloe’s shoulder before slipping out of bed.

“Thanks, babe,” Chloe calls after her as Beca sleep-laden limbs drag her across the hall.

Despite the ungodly hour and how exhausted Beca feels, a soft smile pulls at her lips as she bends over the railing and gently plucks her daughter from the crib.

“It’s okay Peanut,” she whispers, brushing a kiss behind her ear. She carries her to the bedroom just as Chloe sits up, transferring her into Chloe’s arms. Spencer latches onto Chloe’s boob right away, her cries quieting down to soft, content coos.

The baby wraps her tiny hand around Beca’s pointer finger as she feeds, and Beca isn’t sure how much more cuteness her heart can take before it bursts.

It had never crossed Beca’s mind before she and Chloe’s relationship got serious that she would ever become a mom. Beca had lived in her own bubble until then, spending most of her life alone. Not being able to really speak from age 5 to 18 prevented her from bonding with anyone, and she’d never imagined she would fall in love, let alone make someone fall in love with her.

But Chloe… she wasn’t just someone. She managed to see past Beca’s social challenges and accepted Beca’s unconventional comfort zone instead of coaxing her out of it like people had tried to in the past, starting with her dad, who never attempted to understand her.

Beca trusts her wife with everything she has, so when Chloe told her she was convinced Beca would be an amazing mom despite her autism, Beca believed her.

Over the course of Chloe’s pregnancy, Beca became hyper-focused on everything she could learn about babies and motherhood. Some things could naturally only be learned through practice, but knowledge has always been her way to keep her fears to a minimum.

And when Spencer came into the world, Beca learned another way to love that is beyond what she’d ever felt before. For someone who had spent most of her life being told she didn’t feel like others typically do, Beca was terrified she wouldn’t be able to love her own child the way she was supposed to.

But as soon as she held her daughter in her arms that day, it was instant and overwhelming, and to this day the best thing Beca’s ever experienced.

As they’re taking interview after interview to find a nanny for Spencer before Chloe’s maternity leave is over, Beca brings up her desire to start working from home, and take care of Spencer while Chloe’s at work.

Chloe’s favorite part of the day is whenever she gets to come home to her family. Beca is usually cooking dinner while Spencer does what fifteen-month-olds usually get up to, like playing with her cubes, crawling at full speed to stuff she’s not supposed to get into (ie: Chloe’s make-up bag) and making cooking anything a challenging affair, or chatting to herself.

Tonight, Fleetwood Mac’s Everywhere is playing throughout the house from their expensive wireless speaker (Beca doesn’t kid about music-related stuff so the sound is incredible) and Chloe toes off her shoes before padding to the kitchen. She stops around the corner, a wide grin breaking across her face when she sees Spencer dancing in the middle of the room in nothing but her diaper, while her wife sings along to the lyrics with a spatula as her pretend-microphone.

Chloe’s caught filming half a minute later, flush rushing to meet Beca’s cheeks when she sees they have an audience. Chloe laughs and pockets her phone (that video is definitely going up on social media later) just as Spencer whirls around when she realizes her mama’s attention shifted to something else.

“Mamamamama,” Spencer babbles, toddling over and extending her arms up towards Chloe. They’re both mama for now, and are not pushing Spencer to call one of them mommy, figuring she’ll decide on her own later on.

“Hello my sweet girl,” Chloe gushes, blowing a raspberry into Spencer’s neck and drawing a giggle from her daughter. “I’ve missed you.”

“Mama dance,” Spencer requests, and Chloe can’t say no to those sparkling blue eyes. Not that she’ll ever say no to dancing, anyway.

She takes Spencer’s left hand and starts to sway to the music, her daughter’s delighted laughter filling the kitchen. Chloe stops once she’s standing near her wife, leaning over to press a kiss to her lips. “Hello.”

“Hey you,” Beca greets with a grin. “Good day?”

“Mhm. Glad to be home.”

As Chloe suspected, Beca is an amazing mom, if not a little bit overbearing sometimes. She shields Spencer a bit too much, while Chloe is the type of parent who lets her kid fall down or take a tumble whilst discovering new things.

So when Spencer trips at the park under Beca’s supervision a few months later, resulting in a trip to the ER, Beca is a mess. Upon getting to the hospital with Aubrey, Chloe is told they had to restrain and tranquilize her wife as she had started hitting herself and spiraling.

“Restrained?” Chloe echoes in shock.

“The psychiatrist on call has been paged, ma’am.”

Anger bubbles up Chloe’s frame. “She doesn’t need a freakin’ psychiatrist, she has autism!” She pinches the bridge of her nose, blowing out a breath. “Can you just… take me to her?”

While Aubrey stays with Spencer, Chloe is taken to the room her wife’s kept in. She strides over to the bed, laying a hand over Beca’s. “Oh my god, baby…”

It hasn’t happened often in the decade Chloe’s known Beca, but she knows from Beca’s blank look that she has shut down.

“Can you please untie her?” She asks the nurse, tears rising to her eyes. “It’s only making it worse. I promise she won’t hit herself while I’m here.”

“Ma’am…”

“I’m--I’m not a f-freak,” Beca’s voice trembles, barely audible.

The words break Chloe’s heart into a hundred little pieces. She hastily sits down on the edge of the bed before her legs give out on her, sliding her hand into Beca’s. “Of course not, my love. Nobody thinks that, I promise.”

“Chlo,” she croaks out, panicky eyes fleeting from Chloe to her hands. “I want out.”

Ignoring the nurse’s protests about calling security, Chloe quickly unfastens the soft restraints and climbs onto the bed, pulling Beca into her arms and brushing a kiss to her forehead. “You’re okay, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

It’s a long while before Beca is able to talk. “Is Spence okay?”

“She’s fine, Aubrey’s with her.”

“I-I looked away for a s-second.”

“I know, babe. You didn’t do anything wrong, okay?”

“O-okay. Can we go home?” She croaks out. “I just wanna go h-home.”

“Yeah, we can go home.”

Spencer conks out on the ride home. After putting her to bed for a pre-dinner nap, Chloe heads to the master bedroom to find Beca lying on her side with her back to the door. She crawls across the mattress and spoons her from behind, pressing a kiss to her covered shoulder.

“She’ll fall and hurt herself many more times, without it necessarily being our fault, babe,” she murmurs. “It’s what kids do, and you have nothing to blame yourself for.”

Beca sucks in a sharp breath. “When it happened-- I completely lost my footing. I panicked. Another mom had to call a cab for me b-because I-I couldn’t. Everyone was looking-- judging.”

“I’m so sorry,” Chloe whispers, squeezing Beca’s waist. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re an amazing mom and you do so much for Spencer, even things that are extremely difficult for you, like going to sensory overload places like the playground. I’m in awe of you every single day, Bec.”

The door creaks open before Beca can reply, and Chloe glances over her shoulder to see Spencer toddling in.

“Hey munchkin,” she greets softly, rolling onto her back as Spencer climbs onto the bed with some difficulty.

She’s sporting a large band aid across her forehead. “Mama okay?”

Beca smiles. “Mama’s fine, Peanut. C’mere.”

Spencer snuggles into her side, unknowingly stitching the cracks in Beca’s heart back up through her affection and unspoken love.

“We’ll be back at three, alright?” Beca says, smoothing her palms over the lapels of Spencer’s coat.

“Yes, Mama.”

Beca musters a smile, even though her heart feels extremely heavy this morning. It’s Spencer’s first day of school, which means she won’t be spending the day at home, and Beca is already experiencing separation anxiety.

She’s also scared Spencer might have a hard time at school, just like she did. The fear is most likely triggered by her own PTSD because there’s no reason her bright and socially able daughter doesn’t make friends.

“I gotta go,” the four-year-old announces, glancing over her shoulder as her classmates enter the building.

“I know, I know.” Beca swallows the lump in her throat and hugs Spencer tight. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.” She hugs Chloe next, whispering the same before happily bouncing to the entrance.

“She’ll be fine,” Chloe murmurs, her hand sliding inside Beca’s as soon as she pushes to her feet.

“I know. I just--” Beca sighs. “I’m gonna miss her.”

“I know.” Chloe presses a kiss to her cheek. “Let’s go home. I’m sure I can come up with a few ways to distract you until three.”

Beca flushes hard at the innuendo, breaking eye-contact while Chloe simply cackles.

“What do you say, Spence?”

Sheepish blue eyes flick up to meet Chloe’s, before they move back to Andrew. “Thank you!” She pads to her pile of gifts and sets the newest wrapped present on the table, standing on the tip of her toes to reach.

“Wow, you and Beca sure know how to throw an awesome party,” Andrew’s mom comments with an impressed sort of nod as Spencer and her son hurry to meet the other kids inside the blow-up T-Rex taking a third of their backyard.

Spencer has been obsessed with dinosaurs for the past year, so it was only natural she’d want that theme for her birthday party. It became Beca’s near sole-focus for the last four months, as she wanted to make sure everything was perfect. To her credit, it really was.

“Yeah, my wife really outdid herself,” Chloe says with a smile, her eyes doing a quick sweep of the small crowd to track down Beca even though she knows Beca is probably in the backstage section of the event. “I’m going to see if she needs a hand. Help yourself to drinks and food, Caroline.”

Chloe heads back inside the house and rounds the corner to the kitchen to find Beca staring at the cake with a frown on her face.

“Everything okay, babe?”

“I forgot to buy candles,” Beca mutters.

“Oh, well I think we have some over here,” Chloe says, stepping further inside the kitchen and standing on the tip of her toes to reach the top cupboard. “Ah-ha, here you go.”

Beca wrinkles her nose as she takes them, then shakes her head faintly, and it’s like Chloe can read her thoughts. There’s something that doesn’t sit right with those specific ones, but Beca will use them anyway because she feels ridiculous about being so picky.

After eleven years together, Chloe knows what can trigger Beca’s Aspie side, and one look at the cake tells her what’s wrong.

“Aubrey isn’t here yet, I’ll tell her to stop on the way to buy green candles, ‘K?”

Green so they can match the dinosaur on the cake and not pink like the only ones they have.

“N-no, it’s not--it’s not--” Beca lets out a frustrated sigh, her nails digging into her palms. It seems to take a lot of internal debating until she can finally utter out, “It’s not a big deal.”

“Neither is Aubrey stopping on the way to buy candles, I promise,” Chloe assures Beca, stepping closer to rest a hand on her lower back. Chloe’s touch has always been one of the things that ground Beca, and her shoulders slump as she puffs out a breath.

“Okay. Thank you.”

Chloe smiles. “Spence is having so much fun. You really threw an amazing party.” She leans in to kiss Beca’s cheek, rubbing her back. “Wanna join us outside?”

She feels Beca’s muscles tense under her palm as Beca purses her lips, eyes flicking towards the window. No matter how much social progress she’s made since Chloe walked into her life, she’s still shy around near-strangers and sensory sensitive. A bunch of loud and hyperactive children can be a meltdown trigger. “Um, maybe in a little bit.”

“Okay. No pressure.”

Beca only comes outside when it’s time for the cake, retreating inside after Spencer blows her candles. Chloe didn’t think until now that Spencer really notices Beca doesn’t act like her friends’ parents, but she’s proven wrong later that day as she helps her daughter carry her presents to her bedroom.

“Mommy, why is Mama different?”

Chloe pauses, setting the pile of boxes on the floor and joining Spencer at the foot of the bed.

“Mama has something called autism, baby. It means that her brain interprets things differently than you and it can make it hard for her to talk, listen, understand, play, and learn. That’s why she’s sometimes in her own world, or why she doesn’t like to interact with people.”

“Oh,” Spencer lets out, clearly mulling it over. She eventually looks to Chloe and asks, “Is it dangerous? Like cancer?”

“No, absolutely not. Mama is very healthy.”

Spencer’s shoulders slump, and she musters a smile, nodding. “Okay.”

Smiling as well, Chloe pushes Spencer’s hair back from her forehead. “She loves you so much, sweetheart.”

“I know. I don’t care that she’s different, I was just wondering why.”

After tucking her daughter in, Chloe pads downstairs and into the living-room, where Beca is reading on the couch. She hums when Chloe curls up into her side, freeing her arm to wrap it around Chloe’s back. “All good?”

“Mhm, yeah. She had fun today. You threw an amazing party.” Chloe lifts her head from Beca’s shoulder. “You okay?”

Beca nods. “Sorry I didn’t socialize much, I-- It was a lot.”

“That’s okay. There’s nothing to apologize for.” She nuzzles Beca’s cheek. “You know I don’t mind entertaining people.”

Beca chuckles. “Oh, I know. Sometimes I wonder how someone as talkative as you fell for a girl who could barely put a sentence together.”

“Opposites attract, I guess?”

Beca simply hums, feathering the tips of her fingers up and down Chloe’s arm. Chloe decides to keep Spencer’s question for herself, knowing Beca might feel self-conscious about their daughter noticing her unusual personality.

Beca is the one to break the silence. “Do you ever think about having another kid?”

Her question makes Chloe’s thud harder, and she lifts her head from Beca’s shoulder to look at her. “Do you?”

Beca snickers. “I asked first.”

“Yeah, I do,” Chloe replies with a smile. “I’ve actually been experiencing quite the baby fever ever since Samuel was born.” Her godson, Aubrey’s four months old baby boy. “We still have three vials from Spencer’s sperm donor.”

Beca looks at her with sparkling eyes. “Are you okay with carrying again?”

“I am, but are you sure you don’t want to?” She knows Beca is sceptical, concerned about giving their baby autism even though Chloe has assured her many times it wouldn’t be a problem if that were the case.

“Yes. I’ve given it some thought and-- I just don’t see myself being pregnant.”

“Okay,” Chloe agrees quietly, reaching up to cradle Beca’s cheek. She kisses her softly, grinning. “I’m really excited.”

“Me, too.”

Chloe’s been acting weird ever since they left Beca’s work Christmas party.

She doesn’t say anything on the cab ride back, and heads directly to their bedroom when they reach home. Beca pays the sitter and goes to check on Spencer to make sure she’s still asleep.

“Chlo?” She calls out softly as she lingers in the bedroom doorway, watching for a moment as Chloe takes off her earrings and her watch. Her confusion only enhances when Chloe doesn’t answer, triggering a wave of anxiety. She’s never been good at picking up on other people’s emotions, but after living over a decade with Chloe, she can tell when something is off. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Chloe mutters. She reaches behind her to undo her zipper, but can’t quite reach. “Can you give me a hand?”

Beca crosses the room to step behind her, dragging the zipper down. She searches Chloe’s eyes in the mirror, bracing her hands over Chloe’s upper arms. “Talk to me? Please?”

“She likes you,” Chloe eventually provides, turning around and sitting on the edge of her vanity. “It’s pretty obvious to anyone watching.”

“W-who does?”

“Amanda,” Chloe says. Beca’s new assistant at the label. “She was flirting with you all night.”

“I…” Beca’s eyebrows knit together as she thinks back to the party. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure, yeah.” She sighs, her eyes softening as she slides her hands into Beca’s. “And I don’t want to be jealous, because I know you’re just oblivious when it comes to that sort of stuff, but it’s not… exactly easy to watch someone so attractive flirt so openly with your wife.”

Guilt coils in Beca’s belly. “I’m sorry, I-I had no idea.”

“I know that, and I don’t want you to beat yourself up for it, alright? I’m sorry I gave you the cold shoulder instead of telling you right away. I think my pregnancy hormones are just making me more possessive than usual.” She scrunches up her nose. “I was ready to pounce on the woman.”

Beca giggles at the imagery, leaning forward and burying her face into Chloe’s neck. Her arms wrap loosely around her wife’s waist as she remains close for a few beats, basking in her proximity.

“I’ll talk to her,” she murmurs. “Let her know I’m definitely not interested.”

“Are you sure you’re comfortable to do that?”

Beca lifts her head, grimacing. “Can’t I write her a card?”

Chloe’s laughter chases away that guilt and Beca finally relaxes. “Sure.”

Beca’s hand curves around the gentle swell of Chloe’s belly. “You said Amanda was attractive but I frankly have no clue what she was even wearing because I was too obsessed with how beautiful you looked tonight. I honestly don’t even remember what she and I talked about.” She kisses Chloe gently, resting her forehead against hers. “I love you. Every time I think about you throughout the day, which happens a lot by the way, I feel like I need to pinch myself. Sometimes I think about seventeen-year-old me watching people date in high-school and feeling sad that she’d never get to know that. I wish I could go back to tell her that it’s all going to be okay, that somewhere down the line, she’ll meet this incredible human being who won’t make fun of her for not being able to talk, someone who will be amazingly patient and understanding with her aspie side and who will love her with her whole heart.”

Beca sometimes has trouble finding the right words, but not tonight. They just pour out of her heart, like they often do when it comes to Chloe.

“Bec,” Chloe croaks out, reaching up to cradle her jaw. Her eyes are misty with unshed tears and she puffs out a breath. “You suck for making me cry.”

Beca laughs, pressing a few kisses to Chloe’s exposed collarbone as she hugs her. “Let’s go to bed, wife.”

Chloe is completely and utterly exhausted, but the happiness radiating through her whole body makes it totally worth it.

She glances down to Elliot, rubbing her palm over his stomach. “Are you ready to meet your big sister?”

The door opens a couple minutes later, Beca walking in with Spencer. The six-year-old gasps softly, her eyes alight with wonder as Beca picks her up so she can take her first look at her baby brother.

“He’s got the same hair as me,” she observes with a smile. Chocolate hair, like Beca. Spencer had Chloe’s eyes, and Chloe was looking forward to finding out which shade their little boy would end up sporting. “He’s so little, Mommy.”

“He is,” Chloe murmurs. “Do you wanna hold him?” Spencer’s head bobs up and down in an excited nod. “Alright, go sit in the chair over there.”

Beca sets her down and grabs the nursing pillow off the foot of Chloe’s bed, setting it on Spencer’s lap once she’s all settled. She carefully plucks the newborn from Chloe’s arms and sets him down on the pillow, crouching in front of the chair as she keeps her hand under his head to support it. “What do you think, Spence?”

“He’s so cute,” Spencer gushes, her reaction bringing fresh tears to Chloe’s eyes. She grabs her phone off the table and snaps a few pictures of her family, smiling widely. “When’s he coming home?”

“In a couple days,” Beca says. “We might need your help to read him stories or sing him to sleep.”

Spencer nods dutifully. “K.”

Compared to Spencer, Elliot is a heavy sleeper so far, which is pretty great because Chloe feels like she could sleep for days. She wakes up bleary eyed one afternoon after a nap, her son or wife nowhere in sight.

Following the soft voices and coos carrying from the living room, Chloe ventures down the hall, stopping in the doorway as a soft smile slips on her lips.

Elliot is chilling on his playmat while Beca and Spencer color on the floor next to him, oblivious to Chloe’s presence.

Chloe observes them for a moment, her heart fit to burst as she realizes how perfect her little family is, and how far Beca has come.

#bechloe #bechloe fic #beca mitchell #chloe beale

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calypsoff2 · 3 years ago

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One. Part 4

I get Chris being upset with me but he could have waited to be like this, he didn’t need to tell me I am being a bad parent at my own event “you’re upset and I get it but I just needed you to know how you making Tianna feel, I get that we agreed on what we did but how is it you didn’t send her anything? She was that upset she didn’t want anything, like I am speaking nothing. I had to make the effort and go to her school and do a little thing, this is all because her mother isn’t there for her. Like it’s not good, I hope you can put it straight. A whole month” he shook his head “I get what you’re saying Chris; I do, I agree and honestly you’re making me feel even worse right now, I know what I have done. I will fix it but just let me have some happiness” downing my wine contents “and you have been for a whole month, I have been cleaning, supporting and helping those girls and they still ask about you, if I was them I wouldn’t. You don’t deserve it” he said, pointing at him “stop, right there” I said to him, before it becomes a bigger issue “I am just saying, ok?” He defended himself “so am I, now be quiet” Chris moved away a little “I know you must be so happy for the girls to be here” looking at my mother “over the moon mom, I just want things to get back to how they are. You know” I am just needing to get back to regular schedule with everything, crossing my arms across my chest. My mother knows this is awkward “you need to rest now, Rajad has been speaking on how hard you have been working. Tell her Chris, she needs to rest now” if Chris opens his mouth and speaks on this sideways I will go crazy but he just nodded his head “of course momma, I’m sure she will rest up now” My mother smiled at him, she knows something is off but she came up to us at the wrong time, we was in the middle of that “dad, Imani is taking her shoes off” Tianna grabbed Chris’ hand “oh god, she is a terror” Chris walked off to her “I hope you have been there for the girls too, and you have flew back and forth” looking at my mother and smiled at her, I haven’t done that at all but I can’t say.

Chris and the kids went back to the house, the house I left a mess. I know it’s a mess because I left it like that rushing here, I am so happy by how everything went. Things were declining from the start of the week, I have never so stressed “Tina, be truthful with me. Did I ever mention to you to send Tianna a gift?” I am sure I did, I don’t know anymore “you did but then when I asked for what you want me to send the next day but you said you will get back to me, but things got so busy, why?” Shaking my head my head “are we going now?” Mel asked, I guess I can go home now. I have stayed long enough, my feet hurt too “Dennis, you done with the pictures” he ran over to me, he has been blinding me all day with that flash “so Chris and the girls walked the carpet, I got some images” he turned the camera “he just stood to the side as the girls stood there and the paparazzi took pictures of them, I just think this is the cutest. He looks so proud of them and then” he started skipping through the images “Imani got all scared and ran at him” I am missing from this; I don’t know why but now I am emotional. Just I am not there, I am missing from their lives “I am sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you” waving him off and walked around him, now I am crying. I have suffered too; this is something I’ve always wanted too, and I did it and I wanted my daughters with me. I wanted to take them, but I just missed them so much, I just feel I missed out and now I’m not there. Am I a bad mother, I can’t even take this. Mel placed her arm around me “it’s going to be ok” she said, she says that, but I am heartbroken by this.

In the car going back to the house, I’m sad. I am sad by how everything has happened, I didn’t intentionally go out of my way to upset my own daughter, I wouldn’t do that to any of my kids. Just everything got to me, and it all went to shit for me “you sly bitch, how did you know he was coming?” I never got to ask that to her “oh when they was trying to contact you, he mentioned it and I said to him to keep in contact with me so I can meet him but like I said to him he shouldn’t have come like that on his own, also no security and on top of that they flew on the plane, like there isn’t a jet but I think he was being stubborn with everything I guess but you both need to plan around the kids you know, maybe it’s time for a nanny because Jen did complain” nodding my head “yep” I agreed “really?” Jah said shocked “saying that Chris doesn’t pull his weight and then I said no it’s not his fault, it’s on me. He has to stay at home, but we may need to look to that, but for now we move forward wiFenty will be released, the catwalk went great. I now need to take care of mines now, a little break from business” I need to step back, I will be at home and Chris can handle the rest. He has to go New York and do his thing; I will stay at home and spend time with my princesses. Catch up with home life, I need it “Rylee is such a diva, she said to me I don��t like your shoes. I goes these are more expensive than your outfit, she said “and they are still ugly” Jah gasped “I was like girl, try me. She is you” I chuckled “she is a handful, I know” shaking my head “you know what, Rylee is you. Like the confident you when you’re in your zone, Tianna is Robyn. Rylee is Rihanna and Tianna is Robyn but Imani, she is in her league of her own, Chris is constantly staring at her like Imani, no? What are you doing, chasing her too” I laughed shaking my head “that is my pumpkin, she is just a chubby faced Chris and I adore her so much” I cooed out, I love her.

I huffed out “home sweet home” I said out loud, the home is quiet but a damn mess “y’all cleaning this shit” turning to the stairs “bitch no, you are. Go on, go upstairs” I pouted my lips, I can’t even climb up these steps, I am so fucking tired right now “carry me” turning to Jah “girl, I can barely hold my own weight. You got the after baby weight, I can’t” hitting his arm, dragging my legs up the steps. I am going to sleep like a baby, I mean it I am going too. I have had sleepless nights for this, I am just glad it’s over with because I want to get back to normal. Reaching the top of the steps “I will see you tomorrow, good night” turning to Jah, hugging him “thank you for everything, you have been my rock” he has been the best “likewise, got to sleep” turning away from Jah and making my way to the bedroom, I just want to crawl into bed but then I know Chris will be in the bed so he will take space from me as he would. Trying to open the door but it’s locked “huh” I said confused, jiggling the door “oh, I told Chris to lock the door because he was concerned that Imani will run out” turning to Mel “my stuff is in there!?” I said all wide eyed “well I am fucking sleeping with you then” storming towards her, Mel cackled like a dumb bitch. Only she would get me locked out of my own room, now she can deal with me tonight.

Stifling out a yawn watching my daughters eat, Imani wants to be grown like her sisters, but she is making the most mess “I don’t understand why he can’t make us pancakes, he is being very lazy” Rylee said to Tianna “I think so too, he keeps yawning and ignoring us” I am just watching these two talk about me, are they being real right now “what we said about being judgemental?” they are really judging me because I gave them cereal, what the hell else do they want “nothing dad, I was just pointing out” shaking my head “Imani, why is your spoon like that?” she looked up at me and the next the bowl is on her “uh oh” I sighed out “uh oh she says, uh oh!” I repeated walking into the kitchen to get paper towels “dad, Imani made a mess” rolling my eyes “I can see she has” where the hell are the paper towels “she is eating the cereal still though” of course she is “oh wow, you’re a mess girl” Jah is awake “Imani!” Monica is awake, this means she can take care of them. Grabbing the paper towels “who made the mess baby?” Monica asked “daddy” now she is just lying “daddy, my god. Chris let me clean it, milk needs to be done properly. You go” Monica grabbed the paper towels “oh ok, I will see to Robyn. You know where she is?” I asked Jah “erm, Mel’ room” nodding my head, let me see if they are awake.

Knocking on the bedroom door lightly, I have knocked on every other bedroom door besides this one, this has to be the bedroom. Rubbing the top of my head as I stepped back from the door, they are probably not awake or something. The door opened finally “is she awake?” I asked Mel, she is half asleep with her robe wrapped around her “yeah, I think” she looked back in the room “you awake?” she asked “kind of, go in. I will be back later” Mel walked out of the bedroom so I could go inside “cool” slowly walking into the bedroom, I have really missed Robyn a lot. I miss having Robyn in bed with me, licking my lips staring at Robyn. She is staring at me still half asleep “can I come in?” I asked, she looks rough “you’re already in” her rough ass just being all grumpy with me because she has just woke up “so is that a yes or what?” closing the bedroom door “why are you being annoying, I have a headache” now she said that I banged the door shut “see, this is why I can’t stand you” she laid onto her back “you say that but you good anyways?” watching her rub her eyes “I suppose, besides the fact I was locked of out of my bedroom” sitting on the edge of the bed and then laid back, resting my head atop of Robyn’ legs under the covers “well I didn’t trust Imani, she could have ran out and then there is no baby gates so that is why. Sorry if you felt I was being harsh with you, but when I was seeing Rylee so hurt and upset by it and her saying she doesn’t want to do anything because you weren’t there, it upset me. As a father I couldn’t make her happy so yeah, I was just annoyed” I thought I would apologise, I don’t want to fall out with my wife now “just felt you could have waited to say it, right in the middle of the event was a little harsh and it did upset me, but it happened. I wish that you could have waited to say it, that is all. I don’t blame you for being upset because I would do the same with you, I would be angry with you about it so it’s only right you made your feelings known” I am glad Robyn understands why I felt that way “I am sorry I came at you too, I just want to clear the air because I missed you so much. I really did, I just want you home. As much as the kids missed you, I did too. It’s lonely and also it’s hard work too” Robyn cooed out “you’re a good man Chris, but we move forward, I am glad you came to me” looking to the side to see Robyn’ face “you sound like the therapist” we both laughed “well the worst thing we can do is not speak on it, I want that. We have been better then ever” she is right we have.

I am so happy to be back with Robyn, to be by her side again. Like we are just in silence, and it’s comfortable for us both. I am tired to say the least, I think taking care of the kids can take it out of you and with them waking up early just sucks “I love you so much Chris” Robyn said out of nowhere, breaking the silence between us “I love you more, I am tired sorry” stifling out a yawn “I can tell, I just want to go back to sleep but I am awake, how is it been then since I left with the kids” she asked, rubbing my chest as I opened my eyes “ok, the kids were trying to play a game on me and like not do their homework, for a full week this went on and then Rylee’ teacher goes to me that Rylee hasn’t been paying attention in class and homework has been missing for two weeks, I said how? Robyn just left? So he said she needed to have done this homework a while ago, then I realised it was those times where we were really busy, so she got told off, then I realised I had to make time for homework so when they came home we did homework, then they chilled while I made food, then Tianna had a party, a kid’s party so I sat there like a dumbass getting harassed with kids. Imani, she played hell. Robyn that is not my child. Ever since we got her ears pierced she has been hell, she bit me too and laughed. She has been sleeping in our bed, she won’t sleep in her own either, which when you’re here she does. She has been getting naked too, she has been beating Tianna, she climbed over the baby gate and fell and didn’t cry either, I don’t know what crack she is on, but she is. She keeps taking her pulls ups off, I am sick of her peeing on the floor” Robyn laughed out “oh my god, Chris she is your child. When I see her I am like Chris? I swear I thought she was going to be a boy, I really did. But she is my favourite Chris, I can’t help it but I will be back don’t worry, I will be setting rules again” I chuckled “she is a terror, but yeah I adore her. Man, she be jumping from the couch constantly, oh yeah god. She was unoccupied and was going to jump in the pool, so with Imani I had to always watch her, constantly. Rylee has been playing mother to Tianna. That is me” sounds eventful that “you know what, I wish I was home. I had a feeling the girls would have played up somehow, you have done so well Chris. You’re a good dad to them girls, they will appreciate what they got with you” I smiled lightly.

Sitting up on the edge of the bed, turning to Robyn in bed “you still look so tired, oh yeah Imani dropped milk on herself and then your mother walked in, and she was not best pleased but then told me she would take over” Robyn rolled her eyes “that girl, why did she do that though? You should feed her Chris, don’t trust her to be grown, especially when we are not home” licking my lips laughing “you spoil her but anyways I think we should do something with Tianna” tilting my head to the side “we!?” I spat “you’re the one in the doghouse now” she is cheeky “but we are both her parents” she ain’t shit “and!? This is on you” Robyn poked her lips out “Chris” she dragged out “Robyn” I retorted “what are you wearing under this bed?” she dragged the covers up “clothes, you not seeing shit, you are being unhelpful” I chuckled “show me” she is just playing now “nope!” she spat, I groaned out and getting up from the bed and crawling over her “show me?” I said, she smirked shaking her head “no” she said again, leaning my head down “you showing me love now?” nuzzling the side of her face “I love you and your morning breath, stank” Robyn wrapped her arms around me and dragged me down to her “I missed you so so so so much” she attacked me so many kisses and made me laugh as she did, moving my head back with her hands still clinging to my face “what are you wearing though?” I want to know “bras and panties, what else. I had nothing else” I missed her so much, letting my weight go from my hands as I wrapped my arms around her “Mel will kill us! Don’t bother” I don’t care what Mel says.

I obeyed Robyn, I am going to have to wait it out for sex clearly, but I have patience, since having three daughters I have that now “I hope no nasty deeds were done on that bed” Mel asked, I sniggered letting Mel go ahead of me to the living room. As soon as I did the first thing I see is Imani slapping Jah’ bald head, I busted out laughing “eh, excuse me. That is mean” Jah moved her away “Imani, even though that is funny you be nice now. Say sorry to Jah” I said, I have too “mommy! Mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy” Imani shouted jumping up and down on the couch, I didn’t even know Robyn was behind me. Moving out of the way, Imani is so excited and overly emotional to see Robyn “awww she missed you” Monica said, “I am here pumpkin, it’s ok” Rylee came rushing in from outside “mom, you’re awake!” I smiled seeing my daughters happy to see their mother “Rylee, why you go?” Tianna walked in but then saw Robyn “dad! Come” Tianna waved me over “but baby I want to sit down” she came in “please” I groaned out “fine” I guess I can’t say no to that now, I hope we are sitting down.

My daughter deadass just made me come outside to watch her do cartwheels, is she on crack “ma’am, you made me come outside for this? Don’t annoy me” Tianna laughed out “but dad, I couldn’t do it, I can now” I will give her praise “ok, good girl. I am proud of you, why ain’t you all over mom? I mean you haven’t seen her in so long” she shrugged “mom doesn’t care for me, I don’t want to be there” my eyes widened “woah” that is some harsh words now, I didn’t think she would be saying that “Tianna baby, come here” crouching down “I just want to spend time with you dad, just me and you” Tianna made her way over to me, she stood in front of me “Tianna, your mother loves you so so much! Don’t ever think that we both love you” she shook her head “mom doesn’t talk to me, it’s Rylee or Imani. Nobody say I look like mom, it’s Rylee oh you look just like your mom and then I am nothing, Imani gets oh you look just like your daddy and then I get ignored. I be with my sister, and they all say oh you look like your mom, oh your mom twin and then she gets these things and is the person that had pictures with mom, but I get nothing so that is why I got nothing for my birthday, I don’t want to speak to mom. I am not Rylee, and I don’t want to stay in the bedroom with Rylee anymore either, I don’t like it. It’s never Rylee and Tianna. I am not wanted daddy” I am literally so teary eyed, she sobbed out “I don’t like it” wiping the tear that fell “oh my god Tianna, you are my most loved daughter” hugging her close “you’re the most caring and loving girl” I really can’t believe I am hearing this.

Tianna got me crying “why didn’t you speak to me before? I am always here for you Tianna; you are so loved. You keep saying you’re not, but you are. Rylee adores you; you know she hates it when you’re sad. I have seen her console you and mom, she knows she has done wrong. Don’t ever think you’re not wanted by us, you are. You complete us Tianna” she wiped her eyes as she hiccupped, my poor daughter “the kids at school all want to be friends with Rylee, they all call her Rihanna. I see it dad, I see pictures on the phone” knitting my eyebrows together “this is why I don’t like you having a phone, you need to ignore social media. You look like the Barbadian family, trust me. I am sorry baby, you have got my nose” I laughed “you ended up look like my side of the family but trust me Tianna we all adore you, you really breaking my heart” I hate this for her “I don’t want to speak to mom, please don’t tell her. Can I stay with you?” licking my top lip “you got to speak to her” she shook her head “she doesn’t want me” she really got this in her head right now, she needs to stop “ok, that is fine. Just please stop crying” I am at a loss, like she has made me speechless about all of this and I just want to hold her until she feels love because she is loved.

Tianna’ arms wrapped around my neck and her head on my shoulder as I made my way back inside, Rylee and Imani are both climbing over Robyn, I am just thinking how to shake Tianna off to speak to Robyn “my niece giving you hugs! Where my hugs” this is hard to eyeball Rorrey to take Tianna, he is so confused “oh uncle Rorrey wants to take you to McDonalds?” Rorrey’ face dropped “what, really” Tianna said, I knew that would get her “yeah, Rorrey. Tianna” putting her down on the floor “go upstairs and get your shoes on” Rorrey is so confused, and he didn’t sign up for this, Tianna ran off “what you doing nigga?” I knew Rylee was going to also go and I caught her “I said Tianna only Rylee, Rorrey bro. I need you do this favour for me, please. I will explain just make sure she is smiling for me” Rylee is not amused “mom! Dad is being mean, why can’t I go?” shaking my head “no, just Tianna. You can cry all you want; you are staying here” I know Rylee is offended but I can’t, I want this to be just her “you owe me big, now I got to leave the home” dapping him as he got up from the couch, least this gives me the chance.

Tianna is gone with Rorrey “Robyn, I need to speak to you now” I know the whole living room is thinking what the fuck is going on “uh yeah sure” Robyn placed Imani down as she got up “can you just watch the kids, I need to speak to Robyn please” Robyn is confused, I mean the whole room is but I need to speak to my wife. Walking off and making my way to the second living room “Jah, I know you are doing some design thing, but can I use this room” Jah groaned out “sure, ten minutes because I need this room” nodding my head as I turned around, Jah made his way out and Robyn came in “what is happening?” Robyn asked all shook “close the door” placing my hands on my hips “I am actually feeling very nervous” Robyn said as she closed the door, she turned to me “we have a problem, a major one. Like Tianna got me crying” my lower lip going but I composed myself “so Tianna and I went outside, you saw that. She was being odd, like showing me shit for nothing. So I said why ain’t you inside all over mom, she goes mom doesn’t love me” Robyn’ face softened “what!?” She spat “oh there is more, so she started crying and said that Rylee gets called Rihanna and that she is her twin and I get nothing, I look like nobody. Nobody cares for me; mom doesn’t love me. Rylee gets stuff with her, and I think she saw things on social media. I said about them having a phone, she is hurting so much. She doesn’t want to speak to you or for you to know” Robyn is in shock, teary eyed like me “we need to fix this quick. I get Rylee gets that, but she is growing up and she is seeing it and understanding it. She doesn’t want to speak to you for some reason, I had to get her out of here so I could tell you this, I am just so shocked” Robyn started to cry, I knew she would because she adores her kids.

Rubbing Robyn’ back as I moved back from her “I am hurting, how can my daughter feel like that. I am just a shit person, I didn’t mean to forget her day” she said through her sobs “I think it’s a bigger issue then that Robyn, like that just added to it. We need to majorly just spend time with her, Rylee adores Tianna, I know she does but she takes over. She is the leader and I see it; I see people saying that’s your mini you but Tianna also wants to hear that, she cried so much but we need to act on this” Robyn moved back from me “my own daughter, what do I do Chris?” she is asking me “she wants to go shopping with me, maybe you come with me. We have to act on this together” I feel even more stressed then I usually do, that is my daughter feeling like this “she wants to be also called a mini you and I don’t blame her for that, you’re beautiful and talented. It’s sad she is feeling this” I am hurting for my daughter.

#Chrianna #Chrianna FF #Chrianna Fanfic #Chrianna Fanfiction #Fanfic #Fanfiction

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flutteringdreams-matw · 3 years ago

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Out of Time 2/?

Sam closed her locker forcefully, spooking the poor freshman down the hall. Her parents had tried, again, to put her in some stupid beauty contest with a ridiculous amount of pink on the poster. Apparently, entering a beauty contest (even if it was to make a statement) and then winning meant more exposure for 'someone in her social standard.' She tried to argue her case, but apart from telling them it was all a ploy cooked up by an evil ghost trying to find a wife (which she couldn't do), she had to promise to at least consider it. Besides, it did have a decent scholarship that she could donate to Jazz if she managed to win (rather…. participate). Some good had to come out of her wearing that unholy colour. One thing was for certain… if this happened… the secret was going to her grave.

"What's got you in a mood?" Tucker joked as he walked toward her. A lot had changed for the trio in the past year; Tucker now stood a good few inches taller than her, but still quite lanky. His love of technology had evolved into more than just hacking, even creating a few hologram machines and working directly with the Fentons on new technology. She herself was a little taller, still very much interested in black apparel, but did try to change her wardrobe up a bit. It did irk her a bit that the boys now towered over her; she had to go to more extravagant lengths to mess with them. Tucker leaned against the lockers smirking, waiting for the Goth girl in front of him to answer.

"Parents," she said, shrugging. "Finish the homework for Lancer?"

"Which one?" Tucker asked drily. "History, English or Science?"

Sam scoffed. "Still can't believe Lancer is teaching 3 out of 4 courses this semester. Let alone having him last semester and most of last year."

Tucker sighed dramatically. "Well Sam, when you live in the most haunted city in America, people tend to pack up and leave. I still can't believe Ishiyama is teaching the Juniors now that most of the teachers quit."

Sam hummed in agreement as she looked down the hall. "Any sign of the clueless one?"

"Why, anything important to confess?" Tucker asked suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows at Sam. She frowned as she pushed the teen into a set of lockers, looking slightly red. "Geez Sam, I'm only kidding. He texted saying he'll be here soon – something about emptying the thermos." Sam nodded absently as they moved down the hallway. Tucker followed her with a frown. "You know I'm not pushing you to do anything right?" he asked, uncharacteristically genuine in his teasing. "Tell Danny whenever you want, but you can't just repress your feelings forever, no matter how Goth you think it is. I just want you guys to be happy."

Sam smiled gratefully at her friend. "Thanks Tuck." They walked in silence, observing Dash and his football cronies tag team putting a couple freshmen into lockers.

Tucker rolled his eyes as he adjusted his beret. "I definitely don't miss that," he said.

"Shame, I'm sure it would be a fun experiment to see if you still fit into one of these little metal boxes," Sam joked darkly. Tucker elbowed her.

"Hey! I'm just glad Danny's ghost fighting muscles made Dash wary about picking on us. I mean, it still sucks for them but I'm glad I only have to worry about ghosts beating us up now."

Sam rolled her eyes at that. "Your priorities astound me," she said sarcastically.

"Sam! Tuck!"

Both teens whirled around to see Danny bounding down the hallway, backpack half open as he ducked past some students. They watched, half amused, as he tripped slightly, regaining his balance and came to a stop in front of them, breathing heavily.

"Morning," Tucker said flippantly. "Good to see you made it before the bell. Long night?"

Danny smiled wryly. Standing to his full height (which Sam only vaguely noticed was almost the same height as Tucker's), he grabbed his backpack and brought it forward, zipping it closed. "Yeah, I overslept and needed to empty the Box Ghost and Skulker into the zone. I can't believe I made it in on time!"

"I'm sure Lancer will say the same thing," Tucker quipped.

"I resent that!" Danny retorted. "I've been on time 4 out of 5 times a week this school year. Gonna end the year on a high." Danny had been grateful to his parents on taking most of the ghosts during the day while he was at school to avoid the amount of absences he racked up. He still handled most of the big ghosts or attacks nearby, but it was nice to have a backup that didn't involve someone trying to waste him.

"So why'd you oversleep anyway – ghost trouble?" Sam asked. The trio used their lack of popularity to speak openly enough in the halls.

Danny shrugged, not quite meeting her eye. "Just a nightmare," he said as they started to head for homeroom. "Didn't get back to sleep for a while so I did Lancer's homework instead."

Sam and Tucker both frowned worriedly. "Another one?" Tucker asked.

"Yeah," Danny said. Sam noticed that he was trying to push through the topic; her brow furrowed as she recognized his tell. "I remember bits and pieces mostly, but nothing concrete." Out of nowhere, Sam grabbed him by the collar and put him up against the lockers. Bewildered, Danny looked down into the accusing violet eyes of his best friend. "Sam!? Wha-"

"Liar," she accused, pointing her finger threateningly. "Was it like the others?" Danny started to make excuses, but she moved her finger in front of his nose and poked him. "Don't play hero right now. Was it like the other dreams?" Some passers-by stopped to watch the commotion, but once seeing it was Sam and Danny, they shrugged and walked by.

Danny looked at Tucker for assistance, but found that he got no sympathy from his best friend. Tucker was also watching him carefully, concerned but fully supportive of Sam's current interrogation technique. Tucker tilted his head, silently repeating the question.

Danny sighed heavily, making Sam release the boy from her vice grip. "Different images this time," Danny admitted, "Felt the same when I woke. Didn't feel like a dream."

"Dude, you need to tell Ethelwulf," Tucker told him.

Danny shook his head. "Not yet," he said, confusing his friends. "It was definitely just a dream. I'm just thinking about it too much and it's making it worse. I'll tell him eventually."

"Once is a dream. Three times is a coincidence."

Sam looked at him worriedly, before sighing in defeat. "If this happens again, I'm telling Ethelwulf myself," she said, walking into Lancer's English class in a huff.

Danny frowned at her demeanour as he watched her go. He glanced at Tucker who shrugged in response. "She's just worried," Tucker told him. "We both are. The last time you thought you were facing him, you almost exploded with power- literally. These dreams- it's starting to be a pattern Danny. It isn't like you've had dreams that predicted battles before."

"Yeah, but that was planted by Fear," Danny said frowning. Tucker gave him a pointed look. "Okay, I see your point. If it gets worse, I'll let him know."

Tucker smiled. "It's all we ask," he replied. Both boys walked into the classroom and headed to the back of the class where Sam was sitting with crossed arms. "Besides, best not to worry Sam. Her fury is enough to give us nightmares for eternity."

Sam's eyes narrowed darkly, but held a bit of humour to them. "And don't you boys forget it," she said menacingly.

:-=-:

Danny floated in front of a darker part of the Ghost Zone, frowning. He was sure this was the way to Clockwork's tower – now, however, it seemed to have distorted, not having a clear sense of direction. "Weird," Danny muttered to himself. He looked down at the map he was currently holding, trying to regain his place. "I'm definitely in the right area." He floated down closer to the Far Frozen, staring at the large swirling vortex in front of him. It shifted again, showing part of Pariah's Keep and Walker's prison instead of the Observant's Headquarters.

Crossing his arms, Danny sighed. He didn't want to admit how much his dreams were bugging him, but Tucker was right. He couldn't ignore them anymore, and if he was worried about his future self escaping, there was really one ghost to ask before he talked to Ethelwulf. Rather… attempt to ask – Clockwork was never one to come out and say anything directly.

"Great One?"

Danny turned at the voice. Frostbite was floating behind him, worry etched in his features. In his thoughts, Danny had floated close to the edge of the Far Frozen's mountainside, where the yeti leader could easily see him from the main gates. "Hey Frostbite," Danny said in greeting, floating towards him.

"I sensed your core as you approached," Frostbite told him, "You've been floating here for a while."

"I had hoped to visit Clockwork," Danny said, looking back at the darker part of the Zone. "Do you know why that area keeps changing?"

Frostbite frowned, looking to the area that Danny was indicating to. "I see you've noticed," Frostbite said seriously. "While the Ghost Zone is constantly shifting, Clockwork's realm shifts more frequently. It's to ward off any unwanted guests."

"But it's always shown the same path for me," Danny argued. He showed Frostbite his map and pointed to where they were. "Past the Observant's Headquarters, through the valley of gears and then his lair."

Frostbite frowned, looking at the map before turning his attention to the young ghost. "Then perhaps the Time Guardian does not wish to see you, Great One."

Danny frowned at that. Clockwork never prevented him from visiting. Annoyingly refuse him help, sure. Perhaps there was something more going on.

"You seem uneasy, Danny," Frostbite probed. Danny looked at him quizzically, recognizing his name rather than the titles Frostbite usually called him. "Our cores are kin; born of a frigid cold that generates from our birth. I'm able to tell when something is bothering you."

"Is it that obvious?" Danny asked drily. They floated for a moment, staring out into the Ghost Zone in silence. "I've been having dreams," Danny admitted. Frostbite said nothing, giving Danny the invitation to continue. "I faced this ghost – an alternate version of me – who was by far the worst ghost I've ever fought. Worse than Pariah Dark even. For a long time, I was afraid of… well… a lot. Facing him. Becoming him. Sometimes, I catch myself checking if I look like him as I get older."

"These dreams you speak of… do you dream of becoming him?" Frostbite asked.

Danny shook his head. "They don't feel like dreams," he said softly, before he could stop himself. "They feel like glimpses of the future."

Frostbite was quiet for a long time before responding. "What do you see Great One?" he asked.

"Battles mostly; at least three different ones. But last night, I saw him. Or I was him? Either way, he was escaping." Frostbite nodded. Danny shifted in his stance, waiting for Frostbite to say something. "It's probably nothing," he added half-heartedly, not wanting to worry his friend. "The last time I really gave him any thought was over a year ago. I'm probably just stressed or worried or something and it's bringing this back up."

"Perhaps," Frostbite mused, still looking out into the Zone. The larger ghost turned to the teen beside him. "Do you remember what I said to you when you were worried about facing Undergrowth?"

Danny nodded. "Fear is natural and charging into battle despite it is what makes you a hero," he summarized.

"It's alright to fear your dreams," Frostbite continued, "But you should not let it consume you Great One. Dwelling on the unknown has caused many a ghost to fall."

"So, you think I'm overreacting?" Danny asked, a tad hopeful.

"It doesn't matter what I think," Frostbite responded quickly. Danny looked down, crestfallen. "It matters what you think. You're discovering new powers daily, focus on the here and now, not the could haves or what will be. Charge into these battles – these dreams – and see what you find. The answer lies with you."

Danny sighed, frowning. "And if they turn out to be just nightmares?"

Frostbite chuckled. "Then you have your answer." Frostbite's small smile fell as he observed the boy in front of him. "Though, I have a feeling you already know the answer."

Danny at looked at him, confused. "What makes you say that?"

"Would you be looking for Clockwork if you truly believed they were only dreams?"

:-=-:

Papers scattered across the Fenton's kitchen table, making Jazz frown in thought. She only had a few more weeks before the deadlines to accept and she still had no clue where she wanted to go to college in the fall. She had no idea how popular her ghost envy paper would be when she wrote it, but to get accepted to all the schools she applied to? She couldn't believe it. Then again, with the appearance of ghosts in the last year and a half, she assumed there were a lack of applicants in the field. Add her last name into it? Yale, Wisconsin, Cincinnati, Fort Eerie, Harvard came knocking at her door.

Jazz turned her attention to the one in her hand, the modest logo of Amity University staring back in the top left hand corner. It was the obvious choice – close to home, she could help out with the ghost fights, study with two pretty amazing scientists and would probably learn more about a ghost's psyche through her brother and his friends than any professor.

"Make a decision yet?" Jazz turned at her mother's voice. Maddie watched her daughter proudly from the top of the basement steps, a small smile on her face.

"No," Jazz whined, shaking her head. "I thought it would be easy to have all the choices laid out in front of me. It's pretty overwhelming."

Maddie nodded knowingly as she walked to the table to join her. "I remember that feeling. You know Jazz, there's not a wrong choice here. Each one of these schools will give you a top notch education. The question you should ask yourself is if you're really choosing the school that's best for you."

Jazz frowned. "Of course I'm picking the best school for me. I'm the one choosing!"

Maddie raised an eyebrow at her daughter. "Then why do you have all these letters on the table, but one in your hand?" Jazz looked down at the letter in her hand with wide eyes. "Sweetheart," Maddie said gently, "While I'd love for you to stay here with us, you need to do what's best for you. You're smart, capable and all of these institutions want your brilliance. Don't choose what you think is best for us. We want you to be happy. Danny included."

Jazz sighed. "I know," she said softly. "Danny's said the same thing. I just… I don't want to miss anything. I worry."

"Didn't you argue that your brother is more capable than we give him credit for?" Maddie asked skeptically.

"Well… yes," Jazz agreed.

"And wasn't a large reason you didn't want to leave was cause you were worried about Danny not confiding in us readily?"

"Yeah, I mean, he usually keeps things close to the vest-"

"And that you're just making all these excuses because you're trying to avoid how scared you are to leave?"

Jazz sighed. She looked at the letter to Yale and then back to Amity University, conflicted. "What if I deferred a year? Learned a bit more about the family business?"

Maddie sighed, then smiled gently at her daughter. "Choose your own path Jazz; we'll support you no matter what." Jazz smiled back and engulfed her mother in a hug.

They broke apart as Danny flew through the floor and landed on the kitchen floor with a soft thud. "Again?" Danny joked, looking at the table full of acceptance letters and mirroring the tone she had used the day before.

"Ha ha, you're hilarious," Jazz said deadpanned. Danny transformed into his human self and walked over to the table, looking over his sister's and mother's shoulders. "Where were you anyway?"

Danny shrugged, eyes darting across the table. "Fort Eerie too? Wow Jazz, that's amazing!" he congratulated. Jazz beamed at her brother. "I was in the Ghost Zone."

That got the attention of both Fenton women. "I didn't know you were going there today?" Jazz said.

"Did something happen?" Maddie asked, confused. "Your next training session with Ethelwulf is next week isn't it?"

Danny shook his head. "Nothing's wrong," he assured with a smile. "Went to visit a friend, but he wasn't home. Stopped to chat with Frostbite instead."

"How is Frostbite?" Maddie asked. She had only met the yeti ghost once, after Jack insisted on doing an ice training session in the basement. It took a week for everything to defrost.

"He's good, didn't chat much about him though," Danny said, frowning slightly in anticipation. "I mentioned the dreams to him. Wasn't much help but he gave me something to think about."

Jazz turned to him expectantly. "Which was?"

"Just to trust my instincts," he told them. "Said it wasn't good to dwell on what could have been or what will be and just trust myself. Gonna mention them to Ethelwulf next week if I can't see Clockwork." He turned back to the table full of paper. "Speaking of could haves, have you picked one yet? The suspense is killing me."

Jazz simply glared at her little brother. "No," she retorted, choosing to ignore his pun. "But I love the pressure you're putting on me. A real motivational speech."

Danny picked up the letter from Yale and handed it to his sister with a sigh. "I would have thought it was a no brainer," he said, giving her the piece of paper. "It's always been your dream to go to Yale. There's nothing stopping you! Just say yes."

Jazz smiled softly at her brother as she locked eyes with Maddie. Their mother nodded encouragingly at her as she looked at the two sheets of paper in front of her. "Thanks," she said to both of them.

Danny hugged his sister tightly before transforming back to his ghost half. "I promised Sam and Tuck I'd meet them after I visited Frostbite – you mind if I miss dinner Mom?"

"Just don't be out too late Danny," Maddie reminded him. With a small wave indicated he heard her, he went intangible, flew up and out of the house. Maddie chuckled softly and shook her head. "That boy never sits still."

Jazz watched her brother go with a smile, before looking down at her hands once more. She was ready to make the decision. She looked back to the table and sighed as she glanced at her choices again. Maybe.

:-=-:

He couldn't remember what he was dreaming about – it was lovely and warm - but he was very aware when it shifted. Danny fell with a thud, ungracefully hitting the ground face first. Groaning, Danny looked around in the darkness around him. "Ow," he muttered, picking himself up from the ground. It was pitch black…the only other light source coming from…

"Phantom?" Danny asked, spotting his ghost half sprawled out in front of him. The ghost in front of him opened his green eyes quickly and scrambled upright, staring back into the blue eyes of Danny Fenton.

"Fenton?"

"What are you doing here?!" they asked at the same time. Phantom groaned in annoyance.

"Here we go again. Mindscape?" he asked, looking around.

"Looks like it," Danny agreed. "But why now? Last thing I remember, I was very much asleep."

Phantom nodded. "Could be a dream?" he speculated.

Danny shook his head. "Doubtful, I definitely feel awake. So why are we here?" Fenton waited expectantly as Phantom looked around. The white haired ghost sighed exasperatedly as he crossed his arms.

"No idea."

"Great," Danny replied drily. "Just what I need; you annoying me while I'm awake and while asleep."

Phantom scoffed. "Like we have any time for that," he said with a frown. Phantom lit up a hand with green ecto-energy, trying to illuminate their surroundings a little more. There was nothing else there. "Our core must have split us for a reason," he said. "The last time we were here, we were using too much raw energy on the shields."

Danny frowned. "But we aren't using any energy now," he said. "Raw or otherwise. We're asleep. We're not using-" Danny trailed off, realizing what he was saying. He turned to Phantom, deadpanned. "Oh hell."

"What?" Phantom asked. It took him a second before he realized it too. "Damn," he swore. "I guess Frostbite was right."

The world lit up around them, various images and battles swirling around as if they were in the eye of the hurricane. When the images settled, both teens found themselves in a large tower, with many clocks and gears hanging from the green castles. Viewing screens with similar images of the battles they had just witnessed danced across it, giving a more ominous presence to their new setting. The sounds of many ticking clocks worked overhead.

"Clockwork's tower?" Danny questioned, looking around the room. Phantom walked around, observing their surroundings. Danny followed suit, exploring what he remembered from the last time here was here. The walls were bare; where many time medallions hung now was empty at the top of the tower. "The medallions are gone."

"No sign of Clockwork either," Phantom called back. "Wonder where he-" Phantom cut himself off, gasping. "Fenton, back up. Slowly."

Noticing the quick change in tone, Danny turned to Phantom in confusion. The ghost was staring at something in his direction with a hard glare. His body was ridged, almost on edge; Danny could feel the anxiety building up within him. Turning back, he gasped as he saw it; the old thermos, battered, dented and most noticeably - cracked.

Danny took a couple steps backward to be side by side with his ghost half. "This can't be real," he whispered in horror.

"Can't it?" Phantom quipped back. "We knew Clockwork had the thermos; Clockwork never told us what he did with it."

"But he just left it there. All this time?"

The thermos rattled, making both boys jump in response. Another crack appeared, this time going down the centre of the thermos. It hissed as a blue light shone from within.

"No," Phantom whispered in dread.

"We gotta go," Danny said, worriedly. "Dream or not, this isn't going to end well if we start fighting."

"We need to know," Phantom argued back. "Frostbite said to trust our powers; we need to know if this is real." Danny felt the onslaught of emotions coming from his ghost half and realized that he was right; if this was a new power, they needed to know if they could trust it.

Danny swallowed as the thermos crackled this time. After a few tense moments, the thermos exploded in a whirl of white and green flames. Phantom quickly put a shield around the two teens, still waiting in anticipation for what was to come.

Danny?

The light from the explosion was blinding even through the shield. By the time it died down, Danny blinked back stars to see the figure in front of him.

Danny!

His white and black cape billowed around the flames as white boots touched the ground. Flaming white hair ignited menacingly as Dan Phantom walked out of the flames, laughing. His red eyes turned to the two wide eyed teens under the shield, a sadistic grin plastered across his face.

Danny, wake up!

"Hello Danny," Dan drawled, raising his hand toward the shield, lighting it with green ecto-energy. "And goodbye." The ectoblast hit the shield and the world exploded with pain. A scream… or was that his scream? The pain was getting almost unbearable. It was almost as if his core was imploding…

They were fighting now, the wails colliding bouncing off each other as they were locked in combat. He felt himself fading but there was no way of knowing for sure…

Son! You need to wake up!

He was tired… run ragged from the battles before. Whatever he managed to heal was definitely not healed anymore. The raw energy in front of him flowed through his veins as it battled against the dark red eyes of his worst enemy. It intensified now, all consuming. He couldn't take it….

:-=-:

Danny sprung upright, eyes shooting open and gasping for air. He's out. He's back. There was a loud clattering noise around him and jumped, hitting whoever was shaking his shoulders in the chest. They put the arms around him tighter. Thinking he was still in danger, Danny tried to transform, but nothing happened, his panicked breathing getting quicker.

"Danny it's me," his father whisper shouted, trying to get Danny to look at him. "It's okay, it's just me."

Above the sound of his breathing, Danny relaxed slightly as he heard his father's voice. Jack breathed with him, trying to get him to calm down. They sat there for a few minutes before Jack spoke again.

"I came to check on you," Jack said quietly, watching Danny apprehensively as he continued to stare wide eyes at the wall gasping for air. "You were making things float around the room, kiddo. It took me a while to wake you. Must have been some dream."

Danny shook his head and swallowed. "That," he said breathlessly, "Was no dream." He pushed away from his dad's grasp as he got out of bed. He was halfway across the room when he tried to transform again. It failed again, this time sending a series of white sparks through his form, causing the boy to fall with a shout.

"Danny!" Jack yelled running to his side. "What's wrong?"

Danny shook his head again. Gritting his teeth, he focused his energy and finally transformed through the sparks into his ghost half. He heard his father yell for Maddie and Jazz, but Danny could only focus on one thing. He's back. Protect the town. He flew up to the Ops Center, ignoring the cries from his father as he left. Protect your home.

Standing at the edge of the Ops Center, Danny stood firmly in place, ignoring the sparks coming from his core. Protect the town. Focusing on the energy within him, his right eye turned blue as an emblem of light appeared at his feet, his logo shining brightly beneath him. The light turned green as energy shot out from the circle. His body glowed as energy flew straight up out into the air. Hitting its mark in the sky, the energy started to encase the town, creating a large dome overtop. The dome continued, widening to the limits of the town. The circle at his feet connected with the dome overhead, trapping the town inside. Danny continued to pour as much energy as he could into the shield, until finally he faltered backwards and collapsed onto his knees, panting from the effort.

He's back. Dannyheard his family shouting for him as they reached the top of the Ops Center. Stamina finally giving in, Danny reverted back to his human self as they came around him.

His father came in front of him, kneeling down and locking eyes with him. "Danny," he said with concern. "What is it? What did you see?"

Still panting, Danny turned to his sister, who looked at him with fearful eyes. "He's out," he whispered hoarsely; dread pooling in the bottom of his stomach as the reality of his words finally sank in.

Jazz gasped, their parents looking at their children in alarm and concern.

"Who's out?" Maddie demanded. "Danny what are you talking about!?"

"Danny, are you sure?" Jazz asked worriedly. "Couldn't this all be a-"

"No," he grunted. White sparks again awakened at his chest. He closed his eyes tightly as he tried to weather the overuse of his powers to explain. They were all in danger. "He's back Jazz. He's coming." More sparks went through the boy's frame making Danny groan in pain. He tried to battle through it, but eventually Danny pitched forward into Jack's arms, unconscious.

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#cartoons #danny phantom #fanfiction #danny fenton #split!danny #Fenton bonding #action #adventure #cross posted on ao3 #friendship #no phantom planet #But his parents know #Updates on Sunday and sometimes Wednesday

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cherripeach · 4 years ago

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Chapter 4

Little Match Maker

Summary: Your life motto is “I have the power of god and anime on my side, don’t mess with me,” and you stand by that with your life. No human, magician, or random creature could ever stop your firm belief in it.

However, getting transported to this world that seemed to turn your already bad luck worse was not what you wanted to be in your life story, but you made the most of it.Making friends, enemies, and disasters, you were in your prime in this world, and so you decided to help as many people as you could flourish, at least what you believed to be.

Prologue 8-10: hurricane katrina more like hurricane tortilla

Chapter Summary: Everyone in this school needs their hearing checked.

Warning: Curse words, jokes about death, slight violence, fire,

Words: 4.3k

Relationships: developing but future twstxreader

While you normally say “Sleep is for the weak,” this is not what you meant. And honestly you want to be weak compared to the literal 7 minutes of sleep you got. Everything felt off, and it wasn’t like your regular sleep schedule was great anyway. All you did the entire night was make up scenarios in your head and contemplate both life and exploring the campus more. However, by the time you decided to go find the tallest tower (just to see it dude), all three ghosts were floating above you close to your ceiling.

You whispered as to not wake up the sleeping cat that needs to stop taking up the bed, “Yo, not cool dude.”

The ghosts just winked at you and proceeded to try and scare the cat out of his slumber by reminding him about cleaning the school, but Grim seemed more like a teenager than you when he responded with a wish of “five more minutes.”

The ghosts did not find this at all amusing, so they continued and even tried to make a morbid joke:

“Laze about too long and you’ll never wake up!” The smaller one started the joke.

“Just like us!” And the largest one ended it.

The ghost's appearance frightened the cat causing the little demon to spring from under the covers and frantically run around the room basically accomplishing nothing. The ghosts, however, did not find this appealing and turned to you.

The tallest one spoke to you, “Are you all going to be living here? You’re gonna get pranked.”

Nodding your head, you agreed to the wonderful idea, but with a twist, “See dude I know you wanna prank us, but I would love to help all of you prank others.” You paused for a second and put your hand on your chin. “I’ve never had ghost friends and I really wanna know what you guys can do..”

Grim was the exact opposite and continued to scream at the ghosts, but you just nodded your head at your brilliant idea and thought of all of your plans that you could get away with ghost friends.

Right at this moment, the oh so gracious headmaster appeared out of thin air and greeted you, “Good morning, you two. Did you sleep well?”

Grim apparently did not, which peeved you off because you were the one up all night, so you just responded with, “Yeah the best sleep I’ve had since I was conceived…”

You knew the headmaster would not understand sarcasm, but honestly why is he even in your room in the early morning without knocking? The world will never know. And with a small world from him you zoned him out. At least until he mentioned cleaning the Main Street of the Campus. Once he stopped his speech his eyes flew to yours to wait for an answer.

“Sure, headmaster, but what am I supposed to use and where is this “Main Street”??” He never explained anything to you. I mean even if you listen when you try, the man tells you nothing.

Here he goes trying to not explain anything to you, “I'm counting on you. You have permission to have lunch in the school cafeteria. Take care of your work enthusiastically.” He yeeted out of here just like your world did to you.

“Ughhh, at least we get lunch…” You sighed into the unknown hoping someone would save you from this.

“Tsk... No way I'm doing any cleaning. I wanna go to class, and bang! Boom boom boom! Use a bunch of awesome magic.” There was no use speaking to either of the two children of the school.

“Dude, please, let’s just go and get this over with. Got it?” The cat just muttered in response to your reasoning, and you took that as a sign that he listened and that was the best you were ever gonna get from him.

You got yourself together and decided that since nothing was gonna go your way, why act like it was. Your ideal belief made you not even look at yourself in a mirror, but just pull up the hood you had on from yesterday and grab some of the cleaning supplies that you found in the dorm.

You and Grim headed out, and you waved a goodbye at the ghosts and blew a kiss at them because it is for the homies.

Grim did end up abandoning you for a while to go find some “great tuna” for him to snack on.

While walking out of the dorm and into the normal path of the school you encountered some odd people, and you actually considered yourself to be odd so these people were like the weirdest of the weirdos. One was a really jacked up on steroids furry, another was this pair of twins who everyone was avoiding and had weird anime twin hair which was the same hairstyle but parted differently or something, and you even saw an adorable boy, which is not considered weird, but he looked incredibly peeved at the rocks that he was kicking. Their outfits were all similar, but you did notice that there was a slight color difference between all the different people.

Since life is not going your way and probably never will, you decided that the next person who you saw that you did not already see before you would ask directions from. The one problem with that is that the dude had a very sus vibe. He had on like a hat that was from like the 1800’s, but he did not have any other terrible features. He was rather breathtaking if you thought about it, but his eyes moved all around the crowd walking to get somewhere, and that gave you enough stalker vibes. His blonde hair in the bob was very cute, and maybe a little bit attractive, but his fashion sense was eccentric. Honestly, he was just eccentric. However, weighing your options, he is mostly approachable, and besides who isn't afraid of everyone they meet.

You strided up to the man with as much confidence as a supermodel has. The male’s eyes swiftly darted to your form once you changed directions just making everything more awkward. Confusion spread through his face, but you kept on walking and stumbling and even lifted your hand for a small wave to him. The male did observe you just like you did him and found that you would not be a threat at least not that much and allowed your approach.

Once you were within a distance where both of you could hear one another, he spoke, “Well, well, well, is there anyway I can help you, canard?” The man gently smiled at you, and damn you were hooked, but the man totally watched you stumble around wondering who to turn to, so this was just a cute situation.

“Um, you see, I don’t know where the main street is..Could you help me?” This man was actually making you nervous, but you put it all to how charming he was.

“Oui, who would I be to not help un petit canard.” His hand went to his chest, and while with the headmaster and most of the others on this campus would piss you off if they did it, the male in front of you actually made you feel a little reassured.

Your mind paused for a second to finally realize, ‘It’s been five minutes and I already have a slight crush… wow.’

The male waved his hand to motion for you to follow him as his grin just grew and he turned around, and you in your confused glory stumbled after him. He slowed his footsteps to allow you to both match him and keep up with him in the long run, and he began to make conversation with you.

“You must be the magicless student, oui?” As gentle as he looked when he lightly smiled and closed his eyes, he also had an air of danger floating around him. You wanted to trust him but also didn’t.

“Yeah, dude...don’t know why I’m here either, and I can’t leave. Nothing seems to be going my way.” You shook your head and sighed deeply, but you were just happy that someone would listen.

“Poor petit canard, it would be my honor to help you with any of your problems,” he’s really good. He’s probably the best person you have met since the sun because he actually seems a little nice.

“Thanks a lot. With all of the assholes and weirdos here, I didn’t exactly expect someone who would care about me.” You placed your gaze on the ground where you watched your feet and his walk while your lips turned up slightly, but you did think that this guy was weird enough for making you feel embarrassed and his whole odd vibe.

“It is no problem, petit canard, but I would recommend giving a chance to the people here,” he halted his speech and steps for a second just to land in front of you and to turn around causing his gaze to meet yours while you slowly looked up at him, “No one is like they seem.” His eyes did those weird anime think where a light shines over them for a second.

“What?” Your mouth gaped open in visible shock at the man before you.

At least until he twisted back around with the wind giving his jacket a flutter, “We have arrived, canard. Do have a nice day, oui?” With a bow of his hat, the blonde hair man was out.

“You know what, that is probably gonna be the most normal person I will meet at this school,” you thought for a second recognizing that you forgot about the dude from last night, “either him or the silver haired sleeping beauty.” You chuckled to yourself.

You began to scan your surroundings which consisted of seven different statues and a long path leading up to the school one way and out the gate another. Many trees also decorated the area outside the path.

And from this you determined that you would need the broom and washcloth you brought, but a rake would be appreciated.

You groaned out to announce your displeasure and got started on cleaning up the place, and that is when Grim showed up to begin complaining that he had to pay for the tuna and that no one would give it to him for free. He even said that someone even threatened to kick him out of the school, but that did not surprise you. You just threw a cloth at him and told him to go scrub the statues.

He did his job for a good ten minutes without mouthing off at any of the students walking on the street getting ready to start school, but he did turn to you while washing the statue of the Queen of Hearts from the Disney movie Alice in Wonderland.

“Hey, servant,” the cat peered up at you with big doe eyes, “What’s with all these statues? All seven of them look pretty scary,” the cat gazed up at the statue he was cleaning again, “This granny looks especially snobby.”

You just giggled at his statement, but a male with red orange hair and a red heart on his face came up to you too, and he was puzzled, “You don’t know about the Queen of Hearts?”

Grim gawked back at the male, “Queen of Hearts? Is she important?”

“Grim, no one is important unless someone makes them important, so logically speaking no.” You just had to cut in with an idea about society that you just thought about.

The male with the heart on his cheek had something to say and started going on and on about how amazing she was as a queen. You just ignored him and went to work because you have heard of her and all that she was before, but Grim was captivated and started basically worshiping the words that came out of the male’s mouth. Grim even added in comments about the Queen here and there, but then Grim asked, “By the way, who are you?” and that caught your attention from cleaning.

“I’m Ace, a fresh-faced first year. Nice to meetcha~” Ace winked at the two of you.

But you had to open your mouth, “Who calls themselves a fresh-faced first year. That’s basically saying you're fresh meat.” You raised an eyebrow while asserting your belief.

However, neither of the boys listened to you.

“I’m Grim, a genius who’ll become the greatest magician.” Grim just had to introduce himself; he even introduced you and called you both a dimwit and a servant which did not surprise you.

Ace turned to you and in your eyes tried to compliment you, “You’ve got an odd sounding name.”

“Thanks I guess, dude, but why are you here?” He had to be leaving for class soon, but he was just sticking to you two. His introduction confused you about his personality because after all the people you have met only three of them had been slightly nice and even then, all of them were odd. This guy had to be hiding something, and you think it might be something to do about his personality.

“What are you talking about? I’m just here to help you two. I don’t mean to cause any trouble.” Ace responded.

‘So he wanted to cause trouble,’ was your immediate reaction.

Ace then turned back to Grim who started a conversation about Scar from Lion King. All that was in your head was “Be Prepared” the villain song in the movie while you watched the two discuss who Scar was and what happened in the movie. But Ace never mentions his death or how he betrayed those who helped him. From your understanding, there was a serious misconception about villains at this school. Now that you thought about it they must clearly respect and reverence them because they had statues of some of the worst Disney villains. And throughout your debate, those two started to talk about Ursula from The Little Mermaid, but Ace referred to her as “The Sea Witch.” Nothing was similar really from the interpretations of the story in your world or this other world’s interpretations.

While you will admit that some of the villains were not as bad as they could have been and that they were not total villains because most times the main characters and heroes of the stories were total pretentious assholes who knew nothing of ruling a kingdom or anything, romanticizing villains is a little wrong. Moana, though, an absolute queen. Cinderella also deserved better.

The two visited every statue from Jafar from Aladdin to the ‘Evil Queen’ which they called the ‘Beautiful Queen’ from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs to Hades from Hercules but the entire storyline was off because in greek mythology Hades wasn’t even the villain behind the story but whatever. The two finally gathered their stuff next to Maleficent from Sleeping Beauty, so you followed the two along because this was the last one and you needed to observe Ace, “the fresh meat,” more.

Grim asked the question about the statue, “And the last one, with the horns?”

Ace went on about her too, “That is the Witch of Thorns from the Magic Mountains. Noble and elegant, even within the Seven, she is top class in magic and curses! She can summon lightning and storms, cover an entire country in thorns, her magic is on a whole other level. There was even a time she transformed into a huge dragon!” You just nodded along at his speech.

Grim even contributed again, “Ooh! A dragon! All monsters look up to them!” Grim looked so overjoyed for having someone to tell him about the villains; he’s just your idiotic cat sibling.

“They’re all so cool!” There had to be a moment where Ace showed his true self but he hasn’t done it, “Unlike a certain raccoon.” And there it is!!

Grim backed up in alarm from the kid and switched his gaze quickly to you in panic. He was an incredibly trusting cat which made you feel pretty bad for him.

Ace ignored the communication between you and Grim and like a proper villain presented his monologue to you two, “Pfft... Ahaha! I can't bear it anymore! Ahahahaha! Aren't you the guys who went crazy at the entrance ceremony? You were summoned by the Dark Mirror even though you can't use magic, and you, a monster, weren't called but still trespassed. Yeahhh, it took everything I had not to lose it at the ceremony.” His laugh sounded like a fart trying to come out but was halted by the butt cheek and the fabric of the pants so really not cute.

Grim shifted his attention back to “fresh meat” and gawked at him, “Whaaa!? You're a rude one!”

Since you wanted to find more about this kid before you beat him up, you gave him a second to explain himself.

“And now you aren't allowed in and got regulated to be a janitor? Haha, how lame.” Is this kid kidding? Grim even agrees with you after his noises of distress and disagreement with the kid, but the kid kept going, “On top of that, you don't even know about the Great Seven. How ignorant can you be? As I recommend you go back to kindergarten before coming to Night Raven College.”

You just shook your head at the boy ready to step in once he finished his little speech.

“I thought I'd just mess with you a bit, but you really blew my expectations away. Unlike you two, I actually have classes to attend. Keep this school squeaky clean, you two~” The boy whistled at you two and waved at you and walked away.

At least he tried to before his collar was in your hands and your eyes were right in front of yours.

“Y’know I’ll give you some praise because you are the most pretentious fuck I have met at this school,” You let go of his collar and knocked his feet a little to make sure he would fall to the ground, “ And what are you like five. All of your jabs at us are literally terrible, but that’s not even the worst of it. You must be so bored of your life or have such a small dick that making fun of people supposedly weaker than you, just gets you off. I never get people like you who belittle and tease others. Is it fun kid, huh, to make jokes to basically another kid when you just know how they are gonna react? ”

Ace sat on the ground stunned by your comments acting like a helpless child who just got yelled at with his red flushed cheeks and his balled up hands by his side. At that point, you realized that there was a crowd gathering around your little spat, and Ace’s cheeks and embarrassment was probably due to getting yelled at by the magicless student who became the janitor.

However, Grim did not process that you were already lecturing the kid before he blew flames at the two of you.

“Are you kidding me GriM? I’m right here!” Normally fight or flight would respond to his action, but yours was not working causing you to stay in the same spot while some of the flames got closer.

The kid was running away screaming stuff like “Nope not today” and “why,” but after he stood all the way up and walked a couple footsteps his collar was in your hand again.

“Not happening, pipsqueak. You’re gonna pay for your actions.” You pulled him around to make sure he could hear you and see the mess of people running around behind you and the cat still trying to blow fire at the two of you.

Grim even started yelling, only making the flames worse and more rowdy, “It's what you get for making fun of me! I'm gonna light up that fire-head of yours!” Grim even smirked to make his point and pointed at the boy still in your hold.

This immature boy was not able to read the atmosphere and stood up to the fire breathing cat, “Fire-head, huh?Heeeeee. You've really got guts picking a fight with me. You too. I'll turn you into a puffy, little toy-poodle!”

You slapped him on the back of the head for that causing his head to go forward and his hand to grab where you slapped. But Grim kept on shooting fire.

At least until Ace managed to get out of your hold by twisting and wiggling so much. Once he left he ran over to join in Grim and have a fight, and it just seemed like these past couple of days nothing would go your way.

Ace took out the pen thing you saw yesterday and pointed in directly with a light coming out of it at Grim causing wind to go everywhere blowing the fire. More people also began to crowd around the two and murmurs and gossip broke out everywhere, but all you could pay attention to was stopping them.

That didn't work out.

The two kept on spitting insults at each other and magic, and once you got close you grabbed Ace by the ear pulling on it causing him to slightly turn from the fight. You tried to lecture Ace in that moment to tell him to stop, but Ace was far too focused on the cat in front of him and ended up grabbing your wrist, throwing it off his ear, and then shoving you right on your hands and butt into the cement where some flames were.

All in all basically getting roasted alive was a solid 3/10, but you are sure some people got pictures and videos of it. Since you did get out of those flames in a split second and ‘Stop, Drop, and Roll’ which surprisingly worked, all you ended up with is some burns on the palm of your hands and the back of your calves. And since everything was pissing you off today you also found out that the cult-like cloak you were wearing is fireproof.

Grim got more enraged the more the fight went on and finally had enough, “Eat that!”

A great amount of flames appeared darted toward Ace, but Ace had other plans, “And I just change my trajectory with the wind like… that!” The wind sent the flames hurtling to the statue of the Queen of Hearts causing the statue to be engulfed into flames.

And your only thought was, ‘This school needs to offer a physics class even a basic math class if all these magicians are as bad at predicting as this one.’

The two children were panicking and running in circles with their stupid tails between their legs screaming at each other and blaming each other. You just wanted to get this over with because you knew that you would be in trouble even though you can’t control anyone or threaten anyone because you are magicless. Grim is also a wild cat, and cats never listen.

Right as Ace tried to reason with Grim the headmaster showed up, but that only caused two to overreact in fear of him and run away from him and the problem both of them caused.

Neither escaped of course because they both got whipped which made you think what were the laws regarding teachers and children because you know that whips mostly were not allowed at school and not to be used on children.

Nevermind that because the lovely headmaster with his gorgeous top hap and magnificent cape started another lecture, “This is my Lash of Love! It'll be another hundred years before you can outrun me!I told you just yesterday to 'not cause any trouble', didn't I?Then you go and char the statues of the Great Seven!I very much would like to see you expelled.”

You could not wait to be let out and with a blank voice you let out, “Honestly, please let me out. I’ll take the streets over this.”

No one heard you or at least no one seemed to.

“Assholes,'' you grit your teeth ready to bear with another problem the headmaster gave you.

Ace did not agree with you and screeched out, “Wait! Not that!” He whined like the baby he is.

The headmaster could only make your day worse by turning to you who by the way is still covered in burns and had a look of pure defeat on your face and address, “And you, this is not how you supervise Grim.”

You just exhaled and promised to yourself that while getting expelled and kicked out of this school sounded great, living on the streets did not (Even if it did for the tiniest second there), so you nodded and smiled as best as your strained face from anger could take.

The headmaster thought that was enough and turned to Ace asking, “My goodness.. You, what's your grade and name?”

Ace actually replied, most likely in fear, “Ace Trappola, first year.”

The gracious headmaster was pleased, “Then, Trappola, Grim, and you as punishment, I order the three of you to wash 100 window around campus!” He bounced his head probably affirming to himself that he chose the proper punishment after he pointed at you.

Grim did not agree, “Nyaaa!? It's all cause this joker was making fun of us!”

Ace also did not, “Eeeh!? Me too?”

You silently sympathized with the headmaster for having to deal with so many children because he could only respond undoubtedly, “Most definitely! After school, meet in the cafeteria. Understood?”

The two children groaned in disapproval but went with it.

And Grim stated something that you couldn't agree more with,“Nothing but misery since yesterday!!”

Your only response to the entire situation was to fall onto the cement again and try not to cry because a bad bitch doesn’t.

~~~~~

Hahaha...I can't with myself. I tried to make this short, but it's the longest one so far. Thank you so much for reading everything, and I hope you have a great day!

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x you #twst x reader

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