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spencersstrawberryjello · 4 years ago

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Room 104 (Spencer Reid x gn!MC)

Summary: After some complications with the hotel’s computer system land Spencer and Parker in a one bed hotel room, confessions are made (featuring Garcia being iconic at the end because she’s an absolute queen and a legend)

Content: IT’S THE “THERE’S ONLY ONE BED” TROPE BABYYYYY also just kind of awkward fluff I guess (nothing sexual)

Warnings: Swearing, like once, also they��re both awkward as hell

MC’s name and pronouns: Parker, no pronouns specified

Word Count: 2008

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“I’m sorry sir, it looks like room 104 is one of our king suites. Perhaps you mis-clicked while booking?”

“I didn’t book the room - is there any way we could upgrade? We’re from the FBI, you see; our unit chief Aaron Hotchner was actually the one that booked the room in the first place.”

The woman at the front desk turned back to her computer screen, clicking a few more things before addressing Spencer again.

“Unfortunately it looks like the only rooms we have available right now are single bed rooms, either king or queen beds. Though my computer is acting really strange - would you like me to call my manager and see if there have been any system glitches recently?”

“No, no, it’s fine. I wouldn’t want to bother them… what do you want to do?” He turned to me. I’d been standing behind him, letting him sort out the room, but I just shrugged, trying to act nonchalant.

“We’re friends. I don’t think it’s that big of a deal.”

“Friends. Right. Yeah,” He echoed my statement, a strange look overtaking his face only for a moment before he turned back to the front desk woman, “104 works.”

“Wonderful. I’m sorry again for the confusion,” She said, typing up something before grabbing a key off of a board on the wall behind her, “Checkout starts at 8 tomorrow morning. If you need anything, please feel free to call room service, or come down here. Have a nice night!”

Spencer took the key from her with a half smile and a nod, and I followed him as we set off towards the room.

“Reid,” I had to pick up my pace to keep up with his long strides, practically jogging next to him, “Are you sure you’re comfortable with this? You seem off.”

“Yeah. Oh, yeah. Yeah. No issue,” He replied unconvincingly, keeping his eyes fixed in front of him.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a bad liar?”

“I’m fine, Parker. Really.”

“Ok… ‘cause I know you have some issues with germs and that kind of stuff -”

“It’s fine. I’m all good.”

“... Ok. Cool. Because I’m all good too.”

“Yeah. We’re friends, right? No big deal.”

“Exactly. Friends.”

We walked the rest of the way to the room in silence, stopping at a dark wooden door with a gold placard reading 104. He slipped the key into the lock, swinging the door open to reveal our room for the evening.

It was nice, albeit very old-fashioned. It gave off the same “I haven’t been updated since the 70s” energy as the rest of the hotel, with brown shag carpet offsetting beige striped walls. There was a dresser in the same dark stained wood as the door, also matching the headboard and two nightstands near the bed. The bed provided a pop of color in the form of a royal blue and tan comforter, the blue being presented in large polka dots swirling over the fabric. The aggressive brown on the carpeting was broken up by a circular blue rug to match the bedspread, and the whole thing was just overall an assault on my eyes.

It was clean, though, and it was a place to sleep. At this point that was my only standard, as I could already feel myself struggling to keep my eyes open.

Of course, there was only one king-sized bed in the center of the room, which made my stomach flip. Without a word, I glanced over at Spencer, who had already headed into the room, setting the key on top of the dresser next to the old TV. The thought of spending the night laying next to him… it made goosebumps race up my arms.

Because there was no denying he was attractive. Everyone would admit that. But his smile made my heart soar, and every time we touched all the air rushed from my lungs. And that’s what scared me.

We worked together. We were friends; co-workers. Nothing more.

We couldn’t be anything more.

“Um,” Spencer cleared his throat, his attention on the bed, “I can take the left side, if you want? I don’t really have a preference…”

“That’s good with me,” I offered him a small smile, before pulling my backpack off and rifling through it for the pair of pajamas I packed with me. I stepped into the small bathroom to change, brushing my teeth and considering washing my face before deciding I was way too tired to deal with it.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, Spencer took my place, and I immediately flopped down on the right side of the bed, burrowing under the covers and waiting for him to get out so I could turn out the lights.

After a moment, he joined me in bed, staying as close to the side as he could and clearing his throat again, his words coming out in an awkward stutter.

“Are you good with me shutting the light off?” He asked.

“God, yes. I’m exhausted - night, Reid.”

“Goodnight, Parker.”

We both flipped the lamps on our nightstands off, plunging the room into darkness. I noticed Spencer had left the bathroom light on, and I smiled to myself. Sometimes I forgot about his fear of the dark.

As much as my body was begging for sleep, I couldn’t get my mind to stop racing, my thoughts dominated solely by the man laying next to me. Even through the torrent of thoughts in my mind, I could hear one thing very clearly.

Say something say something say something say something -

“Spencer?” My voice was harsh in the still room, seeming to echo off every surface around us. For a second, I thought he might’ve been asleep, but after a moment he replied.

“Yes?”

“I can’t sleep.”

I don’t know why I thought this was a good idea, but he responded again after another lapse of silence.

“Thinking about the case?”

“Not the case. Thinking though.”

“About?”

It crossed my mind that this was the moment that could ruin everything, but the word slipped out before I could stop it.

One word.

“You.”

I heard him take in a sharp breath, and with every beat of silence I felt more and more nauseous.

Take it back no say something else no just hang on wait take it back -

“I’m thinking about you too.”

I heard him roll over, and I rolled over to face him as well.

“Really?” I asked. He rolled his eyes.

“Hell, Parker, I’m always thinking about you. I always thought I was so obvious.”

“I felt the exact same way,” I laughed, and he smiled. It lit up his whole face, and I felt like my heart was going to explode.

“I guess we’re both just oblivious then.”

“Apparently.”

We lapsed into another spell of silence, both of us staring at each other as our laughter faded, uncertain of what to do. It was only when his gaze flicked down to my lips that I knew we were both thinking the same thing.

I opened my mouth to speak, but he beat me to it.

“... Can I kiss you?”

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to hear you say that,” I said.

He closed the gap between us quickly, not wanting to waste anymore time as he pressed his lips to mine in a soft and gentle kiss, stealing the air from my lungs. It sent a thrill straight through me, and I couldn’t get enough when his hand reached up to cup the side of my face as he moved his lips against mine. I realized very quickly that he was an incredibly good kisser, and I threaded one of my hands in his hair, pulling him even closer to me.

When we finally broke the kiss, both of us were breathing heavy, foreheads still touching.

“Spencer, will you lay with me?” I finally mustered up the courage to ask, and he grinned, nodding. I pressed another kiss to his lips before laying my head on his chest, feeling him wrap his arms around me in a warm embrace.

I pulled the comforter over us, and before we knew it we’d both fallen into a fast and peaceful sleep.

------------------------------------

We’d just gotten back to the local police department, ready to send off someone else to go try and get some rest. We’d been sleeping in shifts, so we were only getting like three or four hours, but Garcia was still hyper as ever when we came back in. Her and Derek were standing in the doorway of the room we’d set up in, but spun around when they realized we were there, subsequently blocking us from getting inside.

“Hey, how’d you guys sleep?”

“Great - lord knows Reid needed some,” I teased. He just jokingly elbowed me in response before looking over Garcia’s shoulder to talk to Hotch.

“Yeah yeah whatever - hey, Hotch? Why’d you only book us a single bed room?”

I expected him to apologize for some kind of mistake, but he just looked confused.

“Reid, I specifically booked a room with two beds so that two people could go to the hotel at the same time. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really? Because when we showed up, the front desk lady said that the room we’d booked was a king suite. They didn’t have anymore double bed rooms available, either -”

“Man, that’s crazy - you know, now that you guys are here though, our lovely lady Jennifer Jareau found out some more information about the case that I think you guys will want to hear,” Garcia cut off Spencer’s comments, ushering us into the room where JJ was standing by the board.

“You got more information on the case and didn’t tell me?” Spencer rushed over to where she was standing, leaving me lingering closer to the door.

“I knew you’d try to come back in,” I heard JJ start to argue, but my attention had been captured by someone else.

I guess they thought I was out of earshot, because immediately Garcia leaned over and whispered something to Morgan.

“Five bucks, you know the deal.”

“Technically, they haven’t confirmed anything yet. I’m not paying you until I know - wait, you didn’t do anything illegal, did you?”

“Despite what my past actions may indicate, I don’t break the law every time I hack something, Derek.”

“Hey, I’m just checking! It wouldn’t look good for an FBI agent to be party to criminal activity, you know.”

“I don’t think that hacking a hotel computer and altering one of their records is going to get me in any trouble.”

“Whatever you say, babygirl.”

“And I was right, wasn’t I?”

“Why don’t you go find out?”

I heard her walk past him and come stand next to me.

“So…” She said, in a singsong voice that was clearly trying to prompt me to say something. I just laughed, though I could already feel myself blushing.

“So…?”

“Haha, I knew it!” She laughed triumphantly, and I rolled my eyes. “You kissed him, didn’t you?”

“How the - literally how could you possibly know that?”

“Trust me, I have very good intuition when it comes to romance,” She joked. I just shook my head with a laugh, and she turned to Derek, grinning.

“Alright, cough it up chocolate thunder!”

She held out her hand, and he groaned, pulling out his wallet and slapping a $5 bill into her outstretched palm.

“Happy now?”

“Very.”

Her and Derek continued talking, but I headed across the room to where Spencer and JJ were standing, talking about the case.

“Can I get a recap?”

“Yeah - hey, what was Garcia so excited about?” She asked. I quickly glanced over at Spencer before smiling and shaking my head.

“It was nothing. Just this dumb bet her and Derek had going about when this moron would finally sleep. They needed my honest report.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” She laughed before turning back to the board. Spencer looked at me, and I bit back a smile.

“I’ll tell you later.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x gn mc #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #bau #bau fanfiction #fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #there was only one bed #writing #fanfic writer #cm #spencer reid x gn!mc #awkward spencer reid #baby reid #one bed trope

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radioduo · 4 years ago

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fight back || dsmp become human au

word count: ~1,480

description: tubbo gets into a bit more trouble than he meant to. lucky for him, he has tommy by his side. (after this part, there might be a short dream team/feral boys ficlet! if not, we’ll go back to ranboo’s pov :])

warnings: death, violence, and mild blood descriptions. if you want to avoid, skip the paragraph surrounded by the red dashes (————)

first // prev // next

Tubbo didn’t want to die.

O Fight back

He managed to take a shallow, shaky breath, and he closed his eyes. His LED was flashing bright red, a sign of danger. He felt time slow down around him, and Tubbo weakly blinked open his eyes again. In front of him were bright red letters that cast an ominous red light onto his face. He shook his head as he stared at them. Do nothing, he scoffed to himself. Fuck no. He placed a hand on the translucent sign and pressed against them with all the force he could muster.

Tiny cracks formed under his palms, and he pressed his hands forcibly against the barricade. Come on, come on, he pleaded silently. He shoved himself against the barrier and listened to it fracture and break with a satisfied smile. The barrier shattered, and Tubbo was almost disappointed he couldn't hear the sound of glass crashing to the ground.

He returned to reality with a jolt and realized where he was. There was a hand to his throat and very shortly about to be a fist in his face. Tubbo narrowed his eyes with anger and shot out his feet with more force and aggression than he had ever used before.

Lukas let out a grunt of surprise and pain and he stumbled backward. Tubbo dropped from the attacker's grip, and he fell to the floor. He rubbed at his neck, gasping for breath, but didn’t have time to recover. A kick came flying towards his face and he quickly rolled out of the way.

“Tubbo, be careful!” Tommy called to him.

Tubbo scrambled to his feet and narrowly avoided getting a fist to the face as he quickly dodged. “Don’t you think I’m trying, Tommy?” he yelled back. He yelped as Lukas grabbed his arm and pulled him backward. Tubbo’s LED was flashing red rapidly. He was in danger.

“Nowhere to run, eh?” Lukas muttered. He shoved Tubbo backward and into the wall once more. “You’re done for, tin can.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Tubbo replied, venom dripping from his voice. He jerked his head forward and slammed it into Lukas’s forehead harshly. Tubbo only felt mild discomfort, thankfully. He shook his head to clear it and grabbed the man’s shoulders. With a vicious shove, Lukas flew backward. He had just enough time to turn around and try to brace himself as Tubbo quickly looked away. The sound of shattering glass rang out around the living room. Silence fell over the Crafts. Nobody moved a muscle.

————

Finally, Tubbo turned to look at the table and winced. In the middle of it lay Lukas sprawled out on a pile of broken glass. Shards of the coffee table littered the carpet, and a dark crimson stain was beginning to form on the beige shag rug beneath the disturbingly still intruder.

————

Tommy was the first to speak again. “Holy shit! Bleed red, dickhead!” he shouted.

“Tommy, be quiet. Don’t you realize what happened?” Techno said firmly. “I think we just witnessed a murder,” His words hung in the air heavily. “What did you just do, Tubbo?” He knelt next to Lukas to put a finger to his neck, checking for a pulse.

Tubbo took a step back. His hands were shaking. “I-I don’t know, I just had this feeling that I-”

Wilbur looked at him. His brown eyes flashed dangerously. “What do you mean you had a ‘feeling,’ Tubbo? Androids don’t have feelings.”

X Obvious

O Stay silent

Tubbo balled his hands into fists.

O Stay silent

The android didn’t say a word as he watched Wilbur’s face. The other boy's expression changed to one of realization, only to quickly be replaced by fear. “You deviated,” Wilbur breathed. “You fucking deviated, Tubbo.”

Wilbur

Relationship - Wary

Tubbo’s LED flashed again. “I didn’t know what was happening, Wilbur!” He ran a hand through his hair. “I knew I couldn’t stand by and let myself be k-” he swallowed and took a breath to calm himself. He didn’t want to process what had just happened. “I didn’t want to die. I’ve never been afraid of death like that before, Wilbur. I couldn’t just do nothing,” he whispered.

Wilbur started to respond but Techno interrupted him. “He’s dead,” he announced. He wiped a smear of blood from his fingers. “The table shattered underneath him as he fell. He didn’t stand a chance.”

Phil stayed silent as the twins whispered to each other. Tommy walked over to where Tubbo stood and put a hand on his shoulder. Tubbo appreciated the gesture but moved away. He didn’t think he could handle physical touch at the moment. He looked at Phil with desperation in his eyes. “Phil?” he asked.

Phil’s blue eyes shifted from staring at the coffee table remains to where Tubbo stood next to Tommy. “Why did you not do what I told you to?” He asked. His voice was calm, but Tubbo could feel the tension beneath his civil exterior. “I told you not to do anything, and then you go and fucking kill someone?”

“Look, it was a mistake, okay?” Tubbo said. His voice was strained and scared. “That sounds so stupid considering what happened, but I promise I didn't mean to.” He gave Phil a steely look. “Do you know what it’s like to have your life in danger like that? To feel helpless and trapped and unable to move?”

Phil falls silent again and rubs his temples. He didn’t seem like he was going to say anything more when the sound of sirens was suddenly audible from outside. “Shit,” Phil muttered through gritted teeth. “The police are here. How the fuck are we going to explain this?” The question was rhetorical. Nobody bothered to try and answer him.

Tommy turned to Tubbo. “You need to get out of here,” he said. “We need to get out of here.” His tone was more severe than Tubbo had ever heard it. “You can’t stay here, you’ll be arrested and destroyed if the police find you,”

Tubbo felt icy fear seep into his veins. “Where would we even go?”

“There are so many places around Detroit for us to go, Tubbo,” Tommy replied. “We could find a hotel for the night and figure out where to go from there.” The blond boy frantically rushed up the stairs and disappeared, leaving Tubbo at the base of the stairs with Phil and the twins. The others were stalling. Nobody was ready to face what lay on the other side of the door.

Tommy came thundering back down the stairs with a bag in his hand, and Phil rushed over to talk to him. “Tommy, what are you doing? You can’t just run off like this,” he said in a hushed voice. “You need to stay here,”

X Silent

O Fear

☐ Unfair

Δ Together

Tubbo shook his head at Phil.

Δ Together

“We have to go together,” Tubbo insisted. “I have to leave, Phil. I'll be arrested and destroyed if I don't escape, and I don’t know my way around the city like Tommy does.”

“I won’t leave him to die, dad,” Tommy stepped in. “You’re not changing my fuckin’ mind,” he said, slinging the bag over his shoulder.

Phil grimaced. “You’re right. I can’t stop you,” he admitted. “Just promise me that you’ll be safe. That you won’t get into any trouble,”

Tommy, despite the weight of the situation, gave Phil a smirk. “I can’t promise you anything, old man,” Tommy began walking towards the glass sliding door. He paused and looked over to Tubbo, who was still standing at the foot of the stairs. “Come on, Tubso. Out the back door and over the fence. These three can’t stall for much longer,” he said. Tommy opened up the door and ushered Tubbo out with him. The two stepped into the cold night air and shut the door behind them.

While Tommy hopped the fence, Tubbo turned to look at his house. His home. It was the one place he’d ever felt truly at peace, and he was being forced to leave it behind. He let out a shuddering breath. Why did he have to have feelings and fears all of a sudden? Why couldn't he just stick with his orders? Why-

“Tubbo?" Tommy whispered loudly from the other side. A tuft of his hair poked up from over the tall wooden fence. “You coming, man? Are... are you okay?”

X Lie

O Truth

☐ Wilbur

Δ Phil

Tubbo paused. The sound of police radios filled the silence and Tubbo watched as officers swarmed inside the house. They hunched over the coffee table, shouting to one another and looking around frantically. The android didn't hear them, but he saw the lieutenant bark an order at the officers and point outside into the darkness. His stomach dropped. He looked back at where Tommy stood.

O Truth

“I will be,” he said at last. “Hopefully.”

#tubbo #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #technoblade #philza #dream smp #dsmp #dream smp au #dream smp fic #dsmp become human #death tw #violence tw #blood tw #blood mention #eden writes!

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wishing4nuclearwinter · 3 years ago

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You, Me, and the Gun Between Us

Whumptober No.2 - Talking Is Overrated

Garrote (with a side of haunting) ft. Benny

[warnings: suffocation, ghosts, blood, visions, violence, guns, bindings, death (... maybe)]

His knees are killing him. How long are the bastards going to make him wait before they finally let him eat a bullet? The rug they spread over the cracked earth is filthy, more stain than carpet. Benny suspects it had once been shag, before it was matted flat. No way his suit pants are surviving this one.

But, then again, neither will he. Hope springs eternal, but he’s convinced he’s teetering on the edge of eternity, waiting here like this. When he tumbles over, then what?

Whoever Caesar had summoned is either dead, stupid, or insanely foolhardy - emphasis on the insane. Their seat at the table sits empty, mocking. Benny’s caps are on all three.

His throat burns. A thirsty man in the desert, that’s exciting and unique. Oh, he’ll be sure to tell this story at parties if he manages to get out of this mess. He briefly catches the eye of a praetorian, the guard sneering at him before he can open his mouth. Fine, he didn’t want whatever passed as water to these creeps anyways.

He dares a glance at the guard to his left, but he’s gone. The person - thing - standing in his place is barely there, a dream walking among the waking. It takes far too long for the pieces to click. He should have known sooner. Blood still pours from the bullet holes.

“What in the -”

He blinks and she’s gone. Again and something wraps tightly around his throat. Feels like metal, a thin cord digging through his skin, snapping his windpipe shut.

He claws at it, his bound hands finding only bare skin. It pulls tighter.

A sigh ruffles the back of his hair. It’s cold, too cold, burning worse than the metal slicing his neck.

“Time to cash out.”

Caesar’s tent melts away and a new scene forms. This one he knows like the back of his hand. He spent far too many hours watching Jessup dig that damned hole.

He doesn’t want to be here, to see this. He can’t stop it, the thoughts aren’t his own, the memories watch him from below. On the ground, on his knees. He doesn’t beg. She didn’t beg.

“Maybe Khans kill people without looking them in the face, but I ain't a fink, dig?”

Eyes that should be his, aren’t his, whisper everything his mouth won’t.

Now it’s your turn. Look at me.

He can’t look away even if he wants to. He doesn’t.

The tent comes back into view, however distorted. A brief reprieve, long enough to feel the cord tighten. He can’t think, can’t breathe. A horrible crunch reverberates up his neck and through his skull, as if his spine is fracturing under the pressure.

There are hands on him; warm, living hands. He’s vaguely aware as they try to haul him up, but he’s glued down. There’s nothing. He’s dying and there’s nothing, only the gash on his neck that grows, blooming under nurturing guidance.

They can’t save him from nothing.

“You’ve made your last delivery kid.”

The Benny that watches him is warped, an impossibly wide smile plastered on his face with teeth that he just knows are sharp enough to glide through flesh.

“Sorry you got twisted up in this scene.”

He’s covered in blood, saturating his checkered jacket, caked in his hair, coagulating where it pours from him into the dry dirt. He can’t tell where it’s coming from.

Miles of empty graves stretch behind him, waiting patiently for their offering, sacrifice.

On the edge of it, Vegas burns. Black ash eats at the sky, swallowing the world in one bite. Never satisfied. It settles on his tongue, burns acid holes through it. He chokes. The cord tightens.

“From where you're kneeling it must seem like an 18-carat run of bad luck.”

He can’t beg. He has to. He can’t.

“Truth is -”

It’s her, it’s him. The courier’s bullet wounds are embedded in his skull, dark blue eyes replace brown.

“The game was rigged from the start.”

Both speak in unison, the false Benny’s words frostbitten, listless, cruel. Hers seethe, rip him apart fiber by fiber, slow and methodical until he’s empty. She replaces them with fine, jagged glass just under the skin. He screams and it’s hollow, silent.

He’s shattering, he’s dying. He’s dying.

I’m going to die.

BANG BANG

The cue. In a blink he’s knitted back together, whole and unbroken. Vegas, his doppelgänger, the graveyard, the ash, the sky are all gone. It’s her and him and Maria. The rage has dissolved too and she watches him with something akin to pity. Her grip on the gun loosens and it clatters as it hits the nonexistent ground, metal meeting metal.

They don’t say a word. There is nothing left to say, because he knows. He knows her terror and her agony and it’s more suffocating than the cord that refuses to let go.

He empathizes. He’s sorry.

He doesn’t regret it.

Something snaps.

#whumptober2021 #no.2 #garrote #fallout new vegas #fnv #courier six my dearly deceased #writing #suffocation #ghosts #blood #visions #death #(maybe?)#violence #guns #bindings #this is my first time writing present tense so. bear with me #writing4nuclearwinter

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rohad93 · 4 years ago

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Worth the Fight: Ch9

Everything hurts.

And she does mean everything...

It took a herculean effort for Amity just to pry her eyes open the moment she came into consciousness. Even just laying still in her bed, her body throbbed with every beat of her heart and she groaned to herself.

Everything was sore and she winced with every movement as she slowly pulled herself to sit up in bed.

Her muscles screamed in protest as she stood from the bed wincing. Even her hands hurt. She glanced down at her palms to see the new raised up blisters across the pads of her fingers and at the base of her palm from holding the training sword, they were soft and tender.

All she wanted to do was lay back down in bed, and she would have, had she not remembered that she had training again with Luz today, at her own insistence as well...

It occurred to her that this was probably what Luz had been trying to tell her yesterday, not that she didn't think she could do it, but that they would need to take a break because she would be much too sore to continue on today.

She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes as she remembered what Luz had said yesterday.

‘Okay, we train tomorrow; no matter what’

She knew, she definitely knew this was going to happen and had let Amity run herself right off a cliff with her mouth. She groaned to herself.

She wasn’t going to get out of this by hiding in her bedroom, well, she could, but she’d have to face Luz eventually if she wanted to continue training, and she did, though not at this very moment.

She’d made this bed, now she would have to lie in it.

With a pained grunt, Amity made herself climb out of bed and get ready for the day to come, grabbing her training clothes and hiding them in her skirts before finally leaving her bedroom to face the day.

Her siblings were already sitting at the table having their breakfast when she walked into the room on stiff and sore legs that protested every step she took, wincing.

Edric snorted to himself and Emira just giggled.

“What?” Amity barked, looking between her snickering siblings as she plopped herself down at the table.

“Nothing!” The two chirped much too quickly to be believable.

Amity just grumbled and started to eat the food laid out in front of her, while she wasn’t exactly eager to get to training, she was eager to get away from her siblings, who both kept looking at her and each other between snickering to themselves.

“What?!” She finally growled again after five minutes of the same thing.

“You seem a little…,” Edric started.

“...sore, today,” Emira finished with a grin.

Amity narrowed her eyes at the two of them. They couldn’t possibly know, there was just no way they could know she had started sword training with Luz.

“I am, I fell harder than I thought I did,” she said, turning back to her food, ignoring her brother’s quiet snickering.

“I’m surprised your ‘guard’ didn’t catch you…” Emira was smirking at her and Amity can't even begin to guess what her sister seems to think based on that comment. Her brows furrowed between her eyes as she looked at her sister who is giving her the most salacious smirk she’s ever seen and it made her frown.

“Okay, what are you talking about?” She couldn’t stand the knowing looks the two are giving her.

“We know, Mittens.” Edric only grinned at her.

“What, exactly, do you know?” she growled, stabbing at a piece of fruit sitting in front of her with her fork.

“About you and your little guard, what you were really up to on your ‘walk’.” Emira set her chin in her palm and is still giving her that infuriating smirk.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…,” she started but the twins are both giving her tired, but amused smiles and Amity is starting to sweat.

“Aw, come on, Amity.” Edric snorted. “It was obvious what’s going on. You didn’t want us to come, you were gone for hours…”

“Impressive, by the way…” Her sister cocked a brow and pointed at her.

“You came home all sore, sweaty, and disheveled…,” he went on. “It’s obvious to any idiot what’s going on,” Edric huffed and Emira shot him a disbelieving look but didn’t say anything.

Amity clenched her hands into the skirt of her dress. How the hell had they found out? She had been so careful, she thought, anyway.

“Please don’t tell, Bump…,” she mumbled, shoulders sucked up to her ears. The twins shared a look.

“We would never do that,” Edric assured her and Emira nodded.

“You’re a grown woman, these things are bound to happen…,” she trailed off.

Amity looked up at them, relieved at their words, though Emira’s confused her a bit.

“But…,” Emira trailed off, cheeks a little pink. “How was it?” she asked quietly and Amity cocked a brow.

“Um… tiring,” she admitted. “I didn’t expect stamina to play such a large part, though I should have guessed, I didn’t realize I’d be this sore either…” She rubbed at her arms as she looked back up at the twins.

“Ah, yes, you gotta work on your stamina.” Edric nodded knowingly, crossing his arms. Emira rolled her eyes at him.

“Luz said as much…” Amity frowned.

“Was it like you expected, or?” Emira asked curiously. She’d always wondered if her sister would trust her enough to share such things with her when the day finally came.

Amity pursed her lips, she didn’t think her siblings would be this interested in her desire to learn swordplay but she certainly didn’t mind, so long as they kept their word, which was hard to get, but once had, was neigh unbreakable.

“It wasn’t exactly what I expected,” she admitted. “But it was still quite enjoyable, I learned a lot, and I’m looking forward to our next meeting… when I’m not so sore that is. Maybe I’ll be able to keep up with her.”

Edric choked on the water in his mouth.

“She was that good, was she?” Emira cackled.

“She’s very skilled, yes.” Amity nodded, “A little rougher than I expected…,” Amity grumbled, remembering all the times Luz had jabbed her with that stupid stick while trying to goad her into attacking. She had bruises all across her torso from the knight’s rough handling.

“I don't think I want to hear any more of this…” Edric made a face and Amity looked at him confused while her sister just laughed.

“She had a good time, Ed, leave her alone.” Emira waved him off. “Girl had some muscles on her, I imagine she was a little rougher than our Mittens would be accustomed. She is really cute though…,” Emira admitted.

“What?” Amity blinked at that, what did Luz being cute have to do with sword fighting?

“I just mean I understand why your interest in sex was finally piqued with that woman, she’s quite attractive.” Emira shrugged and watched in fascination as her sister's confused face slowly turned pink than red and then even redder as a look of scandalized outrage took over her face, mouth hanging open in an odd mix of rage and shock.

“What!?” She screamed, standing up and slamming her hands on the table, completely forgetting about how sore she was for a moment. Her face is so hot she can feel her heartbeat in her cheeks.

The twins both jumped, glancing at each other with wide eyes before turning back to her.

“You think Luz and I were..!” she stops herself, they’re alone in the dining hall but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a servant nearby who could hear. “That is NOT what happened!”

“Then… what were you two doing that left you all…” Edric made a motion with his hands. “Sore and tired and sweaty?” he asked and if possible Amity turned even redded now that she hears what she said in a whole new light.

“Luz is teaching me swordplay!” she hissed.

“Swordplay…,” Emira mumbled and is going over their conversation in her head. “So you’re not shagging the cute guard?”

“NO!” Amity is so red she could double for a tomato.

“Well, that’s not half as interesting.” Edric pouted.

“Kind of disappointing… Oh, can I have her then?” Emira cocked her head.

“Ugh!” Amity turned and stomped out of the room, heading for the front doors without a backward glance.

She has her training clothes tucked away under her dress and doesn’t even stop as she passes through the gate where Luz and Jerbo are standing at attention and she doesn't even spare Luz a look. Luz instead shared one with the other guard before shrugging and following after her. They walk along in quiet for several moments, Amity stewing and Luz watching her grumble to herself.

“Are you okay?” Luz cocked her head at the very obviously irritated noble who was stalking down the road not paying attention to anything, much less where she is going.

“I’m fine!” she snapped. She couldn’t even bear to look at Luz after what her brother and sister had said. She only went a few more feet before she noticed the footsteps following along behind her had stopped. She turned to look at Luz, standing a few feet away and frowning.

“I thought we’d come to an understanding about treating each other with some basic respect, especially if we’re going to be teaching each other…” Luz pursed her lips as they locked eyes and Amity took a deep breath. Her embarrassment with her siblings isn’t Luz’s fault, though now she finds it hard to look at the other woman without seeing what her sister must-see.

Tall, lean, and solidly built with bright eyes, dark brown hair, and soft features despite her outwardly rugged appearance. Amity mentally shook herself, damnit Emira!

“You’re right… forgive me… I don’t want to discuss it, but I’m fine,” she mumbled, looking at the ground.

Luz made an agreeing noise as she walked over to Amity.

“Well, are you ready to train then?” She crossed her arms and Amity grimaced, which only made Luz grin. “What’s wrong...are you maybe… sore?” Luz asked in a knowing tone that made Amity’s cheek turn pink for the second time that day as she pointedly refused to look at Luz.

“A… bit…” she admitted, making Luz chuckle. “But yes, I’m ready…” She nodded. She knew this was her punishment for getting ahead of herself yesterday. Luz just smirked and nodded as they made their way to the same clearing they had trained in yesterday. She made quick work of changing and received the training sword from Luz.

Her hands protested the tight grip on the hilt, rubbing on her new blisters painfully as she practiced strikes against Luz, who blocked them effortlessly with her own sword.

“I think that’s enough,” Luz called after no more than ten minutes of watching Amity wince with every movement.

“What?” Amity looked up at her with wide gold eyes. “We just started!” she exclaimed and Luz shrugged.

“I said we’d train today no matter what, as you requested,” she reminded, making Amity frown. “ but I never said how long we’d train for…,” she trailed off, the corners of her lips quirked up into a smile and as annoyed as Amity was by that smile and tone, she was more grateful than anything. She had insisted they train and Luz had indulged her, she was well within her right to make her train till she dropped, but she didn’t. “You're too sore and tired to train. I told you, if you overwork your body you’re going to end up hurt, I was trying to tell you that yesterday…, but you insisted.” She planted a hand on her hip as she gazed over at Amity, who flushed at that, embarrassed, looking elsewhere.

Luz was the one teaching her because she actually knew what she was doing and she probably needed to listen to her if she was to get anywhere with this.

“You’re right, I’m sorry… I should have waited to hear what you were going to say yesterday before I jumped to conclusions…,” she conceded, crossing her arms.

“Ya know, you wouldn’t have to say sorry to me so much if you just listened before you started yelling at me,” Luz chuckled. She suddenly knew how Eda had felt many times over the last five years, and Amity scowled face pink.

“Three is hardly a lot,” she huffed.

“Yeah, but I get the impression that you don’t apologize very often…” Luz grinned and Amity’s face only darkened further but she said nothing; Luz wasn’t wrong. The knight just winked and Amity huffed, turning her head away as her face turned red, thinking again about her and her sibling’s misunderstanding this morning. Luz seemed to sense her discomfort, even if she wasn’t entirely sure why.

“It’s okay.” Luz smiled. “I did the same thing when I first started, Eda tried to warn me too, but I didn’t listen. She made me train all day... It’s a learning process.” She shrugged. “We should head back so you can rest,” Luz said, sheathing her sword and walking over to lean on a tree, facing away from Amity so she could change.

The noble watched her back for a moment before changing as quickly as her sore muscles would allow.

Amity is silent for the walk back, in her own thoughts.

Maybe, objectively, the knight was attractive, but Amity was looking for so much more in a partner, and unlike her parents, those things weren’t wealth and power. Kindness and intelligence were at the top of her list, maybe someone who liked to read and learn as much as she did. She pushed those thoughts aside for now as the manor came into view.

She had other things to occupy her attention, and now that she thought about it, she still had her own end of their deal to keep.

“I’ll meet you tonight in the stables for your lessons,” Amity said without preamble, making Luz turn to her, confused.

“Huh?” is the eloquent reply that made Amity roll her eyes.

“You want to learn runic, your first lesson starts tonight,” she informed, and before Luz could think of anything to say they were standing at the front gate and Amity was walking through them toward the manor, leaving Luz at the gate with Jerbo.

“Huh?” is all she can say again as she watched her disappear inside.

~ ~

Luz hummed to herself as she laid back in the hay, one leg crossed over her knee to hold up the basic runic book she was still trying to decipher. A small fire she had built was burning nearby, lighting up the small stall with its warm glow.

The sun had set not too long ago, but being summer, that meant it was still fairly late, how late she wasn’t sure, but she wasn’t tired anyway and she was still waiting for Amity. King was snuggled up to her side, his massive head thrown across her stomach. She scratched the space between his ears and horns.

“Are you going to behave when Amity gets here?” she asked, eyeing the beast, who slid a single rust-colored eye open to look at her but said nothing, naturally. “You better,” she warned and King snorted, like a petulant child.

Luz rolled her eyes at him.

“Are you in here talking to yourself?”

Luz looked up and smiled as Amity appeared, a book and some parchment under one arm and a quill and inkpot held in the other.

“I was talking to King.” She gestured to the wolf who growled at her before getting up and stalking away to the other side of the stall in a huff. “He’s grumpy…” she shrugged and scooted over to make room for Amity, who looked disdainfully at the pile of hay before sighing and sitting herself down near her.

“Where did you even get that… thing…?” Amity eyed the massive wolf out of the corner of her eye. King growled in response.

“He’s my buddy!” Luz insisted. “He was following around my mentor and I dunno, we bonded, so when I set out on my own he came with me,” Luz explained and Amity hummed.

“Are you ready?” she turned to Luz who was looking at her with a wide smile and bright eyes.

“Yes!” Is the eager reply.

Amity nodded and can’t help but smile as they cracked open the beginner runic book and Amity wrote down the basic runes. The main elements that all other runes were built on.

Luz is a quick study and memorizes the base elements and their runes quickly, jotting them down and Amity can’t help but admire her beautiful penmanship. Just another strange thing about the woman to add to an ever-growing list.

“I’m surprised you don’t know any of these, usually the first things someone training to be a knight does is learn runic for the enchanting aspects of fighting.” Amity looked up from the book and looked at Luz, who had her nose buried in another, one with a dark brown cover and gold inlay on the spine as she jotted notes in its margins. “I hope that isn’t a book from the archives you are defacing either…”

“No,” Luz chuckled. “I bought this, and I never bothered learning since I couldn’t do magic until recently…,” she said distractedly as she finished writing whatever she was in the book.

“What do you mean you couldn’t do magic until recently?” Amity’s brows furrowed between her eyes.

“I’m human, I don’t have a bile sac,” Luz finally looked up at her. “I can’t absorb the natural magic of the world like a witch can, so I had to get creative…” Luz grinned at her.

“How do you do magic then?” Amity tilted her head.

“I’ll show you!” Luz perked up excitedly as she took the ink pot and a piece of parchment and carefully inked a glyph onto the paper, it began to glow in bright blinding light.

“Ta~da!” she grinned.

“I’ve never seen a light spell cast like that before…,” Amity mumbled in awe at the glowing paper. “Do all humans do magic this way?” she turned her gaze back to Luz, who frowned and shrugged.

“I dunno, I learned from this book.” she gestured to the heavy, ancient tome in her hands, turning it around to show Amity the glyph on the paper. She took it and looked over the pages. The glyphs make no sense to her, she’s never seen such a thing before, but the runes around them explain just what it is and what it does. Or rather, what elements are incorporated within which tells her exactly what spells she’s looking at.

She explained it to Luz, holding the book to her.

“The runes around this glyph read as ‘mirage’, which means it’s a basic illusory spell,” she explained.

“Ohhh,” Luz jotted down the runes on the paper she is using to take notes. Luz for her faults is an apt and studious person.

“If you humans don’t have magic, how did they ever almost destroy witch kind?” Amity asked, which made Luz’s head shoot up, eyes wide.

“What?” she blinked.

Luz was the only human Amity had ever met, and there really wasn’t much information on them. Just the stories their parents or grandparents told about the round-eared race that had tried to push witch kind to the brink of extinction by overpopulating their own kind and trying to push witch’s out until they had begun to push back in equal measures of fire and blood. It seemed like a far-flung tale to Amity, considering humans were all but extinct, and according to Luz, couldn’t do magic, and she told the human as much.

“Humans are all but extinct, huh?” she repeated, frowning. She had kind of started to figure that out considering that the more she thought about it, she couldn’t remember ever seeing another human outside her mother, who told stories about humans and everything they did, but Luz had never thought to ask where they were and now any information she could have gotten from her mother is unreachable.

“You didn’t know?” Amity started at her with wide eyes as Luz shook her head.

“Before I started traveling with Eda I just lived alone in the woods with my mother, after she died it was just me for two years.” she shrugged. “I was too busy trying to figure out where my next meal was coming from to worry about why I never saw other humans.”

“Oh…” Amity isn't sure what else to say to that.

“It’s okay…” Luz smiled, but even Amity can see it’s not half as strong as it was before.

“Here.” Amity handed her the book, now that you have the basics that the book skipped over you should be able to decipher this.” Luz took it and hummed as she distracted herself with deciphering the runes on the page.

After a while, Luz finally jerked up.

“I think I got this! It’s the glyph for an ice enchantment!” she exclaimed with a grin. Amity looked over it and the runes did seem to agree with Luz’s assessment.

After a few minutes of carefully studying the glyph, Luz took the quil and carefully inked the glyph onto a blank piece of parchment, and hesitated only a moment before tapping it. Ice erupted across the paper, thick and heavy in a symphony of crystalline sounds.

Luz didn’t expect how heavy it would be and the slippery, solid chunk of ice paper fell from her hand, Amity jerked out of the way as it landed where her leg had been only a moment earlier, a sharp corner sunk into the ground. Amity winced as she thumped onto the ground, sending painful vibrations through her whole body but especially the tender raw spots on the palms of her hands as she caught herself.

“Sorry!” Luz grimaced as she held out a hand to Amity, who took it, again, wincing, though Luz didn’t seem to notice as she helped her to stand. “I didn’t expect it to be so heavy… or slippery.” she chuckled, scratching the back of her head sheepishly.

“It’s alright, Luz,” Amity assured her as they both settled themselves back down in the hay pile. “It did work,” Amity said, looking down at the paper. “You are picking up the basic runes rather quickly…” she praised and Luz smiled brightly at her.

“Well, I do love to read… though usually, I’m just rereading Azura…” she mumbled and Amity blinked at her.

“Azura, the good knight?” she asked and Luz turned to her with wide eyes.

“Yeah!, do you read it too?!” Luz leaned in closer, excited.

“I’ve...read them…,” she hedged, cheeks pink. She had them all and had read them so many times now she could probably recite them from memory.

“Oh, which one is your favorite?”

“I’m partial to the third in the series…” a small smile pulled at her lips.

“Oh, I think the fifth is my favorite,” Luz hummed thoughtfully.

“Ah, I haven’t had a chance to read it yet…” Amity frowned, looking down at her hands. It took a long time for books to be published and she hadn’t been quick enough to get her hands on a copy when the first batch had come out.

“Do you want to borrow mine?” Luz asked and Amity’s head shot up.

“You have a copy?” she asked hopefully and Luz grinned.

“I do, I couldn't carry a lot when I was traveling, space being a premium and all, but whenever the new ones came out I would sell the old one to a bookshop to make room for the new one.” she leaned over and dug through her bag before pulling out a book with a familiar green binding, grinning. “I wish I could have them all to reread whenever I want, but…” she shrugged.

“I have all the old ones…” Amity found herself saying. “If you’d like to reread one of them…,” she trailed off.

“I’ll keep it in mind, thanks.” Luz smiled and handed her the book.

Amity winced as the book’s spine hit her palm and Luz noticed this time. She sat up fully, setting the book aside, and grabbed one of Amity’s hands, making her jerk, looking at Luz with wide, surprised eyes.

“Ah, sorry! May I?” she held out a hand and Amity blinked at it for a moment before, reluctantly, setting her hand in Luz’s, who turned her hand over to look at her palm and frowned at the large blisters, several of which had popped and oozed across her skin and were covered in dirt from her fall moments earlier. She took Amity’s other hand and looked at her palm, finding much the same.

She hummed as she let go of Amity’s hand and leaned over to her bag, digging through it for several moments before coming back with a small glass vile full of pale blue liquid and some strips of bandage.

“This will help with pain and help heal them quicker so long as you keep them clean,” she said as she popped the cork out of the vial and took hold of one of Amity’s hands again, and poured a drizzle of the liquid into her palm before carefully setting the vial aside and gently rubbed the liquid across the blisters. It was cold and numbed the raw spots of skin, but as cold as it was, Amity’s face was hot as Luz administered the tender care.

The light of the fire camouflaged the color erupting across her cheeks as Luz delicately rubbed the liquid in with gentle circles of her thumb before taking a strip of bandage laid across her knee and wrapping it snugly around Amity’s hand before repeating the process with the other hand.

Once both hands were bandaged, Luz sat back, satisfied.

“There ya go!” Luz grinned as she corked the vial and held it out to Amity who blinked at it before taking the proffered bottle. “Use that, and when it hurts just rub some in and cover them for a few hours. Eventually, they're going to callus, like mine. but for now, it will be a little painful, sword training is just like that,” she admitted and held up a hand, and even just with her eyes, Amity can see the hardened skin on Luz’s palm. She shouldn’t, knows she shouldn’t, but she can’t stop herself as she reached up and ran her fingertips across the skin of the hand Luz is holding up to her. Her palms are rough, with callus’ at every junction of her fingers and across the meat at the base of the digits. There are a few soft places in between and Amity ran her finger through the hollow junctions of soft, warm skin at the center of her palm, almost in a trance, but it’s broken when Luz jerked back and Amity flushed, about to apologize but Luz only giggled.

“Sorry, it tickled.” she smiled and Amity swallowed thickly.

“You should keep this for your use.” Amity managed to get out around a tongue that suddenly felt too swollen to speak correctly and tried to hand back the vial of magical liquid once she could get a grip on herself, but Luz just shook her head.

“Naw, I went and got that for you, I knew you'd be needing it.” Luz shook her hand and smiled. Amity didn't know what to say to that. Luz could have easily just told her what she needed, she didn’t need to get it herself.

“O-okay…,” she mumbled, slipping it in her dress pocket as they sit in the warm, dim, yellow, and red light of the fire. Luz’s brown, half-lidded eyes shine like embers in the flickering light that is casting soft shadows across her face. Amity swallowed. “Thank you…”

Luz smiled brightly at her in response and Amity felt a hard twinge in her chest that immediately set her heart to beating faster in her ears and her palms grew sweaty.

‘Oh no’

#lumity #Luz Noceda #Amity Blight #fic #the owl house #toh #King #Edric Blight #Emira Blight #gay

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aiorevelations · 3 years ago

Text

A Number, Not a Name: Part 14!

Another chapter for tonight!! :)

Three months earlier:

The flight to Bulin was cramped. Sweaty and hot passengers all stacked on top of one another. I had no idea so many people visited Krudia now. Though I guess I wouldn’t know considering how long it’s been. Liana sat next to a window six rows back in economy class, wearing a blank expression on her face. Growing up she had always flown first class with her family but now she thought it best to have a seat near the back of the plane, not wanting to draw unwanted attention to herself.

The sound of a baby’s cries echoed through the cabin, joining that of the engine rumbling and passengers snoring as they slept. Liana let out a sigh. Children, though at times a joy to have and be around, often served as a source of annoyance. Especially when it came to crying children on a flight. Her thoughts were interrupted as a voice came from the seat beside her. “So what brings you to Krudia?”

Liana looked over at the older woman and smiled. “Business, and yourself?”

“I’m actually returning home. I just visited my daughter and her husband. They live in Hungary. Every time I visit they keep trying to convince me to move there. They’re always saying how it’s so much nicer and a much better place to live than Krudia. I know they’re right but Krudia is where I’ve lived my whole life. My family’s ancestral home. There is so much history, you know?”

Liana nodded. “I understand.”

“Whenever I visit them I make sure not to stay too long. Otherwise, I’m afraid they’ll persuade me to move.” She chuckled to herself. “Is this your first time visiting Krudia?”

“Yes. It’s my first time.” Liana lied. She hoped she sounded convincing enough.

The older woman seemed to believe her words as she nodded her head. “Well, I hope that you’ll find your stay here pleasant and enjoyable.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Liana turned to look out the window, hoping the lady would take it as a sign to end their conversation. But the woman continued to chatter on.

“If you have the time I would highly recommend visiting the Izmirlian Square. It truly is magnificent. The marble statues and fountains. The Ionic columns.”

Liana turned back to the woman. “Oh it sounds…wonderful” she replied in a disinterested fashion.

The woman clapped her hands once in excitement. “I didn’t even mention the square’s historical significance. You seem like a girl who likes history. I mean, who doesn’t like history. My ex-fiancé was actually a history teacher…” The woman continued to prattle on. Liana quickly looked at her watch and sighed. There were still nearly five hours left for the flight. I should have traveled in first class instead. “Though it may be somewhat difficult to have the best experience at the square, what with all the rallies and loud marches of Dalmar’s supporters.” Liana sat up in her seat as she heard Dalmar’s name.

“Dalmar? As in Davit Dalmar of Dalmar Petroleum Corporation?”

“One and the same.”

“I think I remember hearing that he announced a run for parliament and that it was met with a mixed reaction.”

“I’ve never seen a group of people more devoted to a person. And I’ve lived quite a while.”

Liana looked ahead, lost in thought. “You ever wonder what causes that much loyalty…devotion in a person, that they’d stay by someone’s side no matter what.” She said softly, a hint of sadness in her voice.

“Hmmm,” the woman thought for a moment. “Either love or desperation I suppose. Though in Dalmar’s case I’d be surprised if it wasn’t the latter.”

Liana glanced out the window again. “I have a feeling it doesn’t matter which one it is to Dalmar.”

…..

Present-day:

The moon shone brightly overhead, illuminating the forest and the security guards with a pale, bluish light. The strong scent of pine filled the air, reminding Jason of the smells of Christmas time. All around he was surrounded by an assortment of trees, pine, birch, and conifer. He continued to follow the men as quietly as possible, careful not to step on any twigs or branches lying on the ground. The lights of the mansion had long before faded away into the black of night. Jason guessed that he’d come about three or four miles as he’d been walking for almost an hour. I just hope this isn’t a wild goose chase. Just then the security guards came to a sudden stop. Jason ducked behind a pine tree, keeping his eyes fixed on the guards. The two of them walked toward what looked like some sort of structure. Jason leaned forward trying to get a better look. It appeared to be an old warehouse. He made his way closer to the building and then darted to the trees on the south side of the structure. He reached the edge of the tree line and looked around in all directions. Seeing no one in sight he headed for the south wall of the warehouse. Carefully, he made his way along the side of the building towards the entrance. As he walked he heard male voices, he assumed from the two men he’d followed, grow louder.

He peered around the corner of the building and saw the guards by the metal door. One of the two men typed in a code on the security keypad. The door slid open and the two men entered. Jason waited several minutes to make sure no one else was around. He glanced around once again, before heading to the door. Jason quickly punched in the code he’d seen the guard type in the pad. Good thing I have Mom’s photographic memory. The metal door opened and Jason stepped inside the warehouse. He nearly flinched as the door shut behind him, leaving him in the dark. He still wasn’t entirely sure of this plan but it was too late to back out now.

He took a deep breath and walked further on. He anxiously looked around trying to locate any armaments that could be there or something that pointed to its location. Jason stayed on high alert, knowing that at any moment he could be spotted.

Near the middle of the corridor, Jason saw a door leading off into another room. He stepped through the doorway and scanned the space inside. The room was filled with lab tables and accouterments, mainly of a chemical nature. Beakers, tubes, and burners were strewn all over the tables. Some were broken, but it appeared most of the lab equipment hadn’t been touched. In fact, much of it still was contained in boxes stacked against one of the walls. The floor was covered in broken glass and what appeared to Jason as a reddish-brown “dirt.” The lab tables and equipment were also covered in the same substance. Well someone forgot to clean in here. He then saw what appeared to be traces of blood splattered on the floor and walls of the room. One could only imagine what horrors had taken place where he was standing. He swallowed as he felt an eerily sense of uneasiness begin to wash over him. He shook it off and made his way to one of the tables and quickly browsed the items placed on it. Finding nothing he dusted his hands off and headed back to the corridor.

Jason looked through the other rooms off the hall but found nothing except empty cardboard boxes. At the end of the corridor, he came to a stairwell. He quietly made his way down the stairs to the level below. At the last stair landing, he spotted the two guards he had followed walking down the hall in front of him. The hall was dank and dark, with two doors lining each side of the aisle. Warehouse pendant lights flickered from above, the only source of light in the hall. The only sounds were the scuffling of shoes against the concrete floor and voices coming from farther down the aisle. Jason didn’t know what was said as the conversation was in another language, he assumed Krudian. The security guards entered a side door on the left side of the corridor, the source of the discussion, and shut the door behind them. Jason waited a few seconds and then descended the rest of the metal stairs. He went inside the room to the right.

The room was small and box-like. A metal desk, layered with dust, filled the room. Under the desk was a gray shag rug that looked like it used to be white. He began cautiously pacing the perimeter of the room and walked to the desk, which he began searching through. All he found was some old tattered notes, crumbled together, in a drawer. Jason unfolded and laid them out on the desk. He couldn’t decipher much, but from the chemical formulas they contained, he guessed they probably were reports and results of the lab tests carried out. He placed them back in the desk and took his time closing the drawer. Jason started to exit the room when he felt something blow against his foot, a draft. He knelt down to the floor and saw that part of the wall did not go all the way to the ground. The gap was so obscure you’d never notice it unless you were actively looking for a hidden room or place where something could be hidden. He wasn’t entirely sure but there seemed to be another room behind the wall. Jason examined the wall and the floor carefully, trying to find anything that would open the door.

He spotted something, a mark on the wall. At first glance, it looked as though only a scuff or screw but if you looked closely enough you’d see that it was a very tiny button of sorts. Jason pressed the button and was rewarded with a metallic click. He took a few steps inside and saw it was a tunnel. Inch by inch he maneuvered his way through the boxes that lined that shaft, checking them each as he went along for any evidence he could find useful. At the end of the long shaft, he saw a door with a frosted window over which “Private” had been printed in gold lettering. Jason stopped at the door and twisted the knob. It didn’t open. He tried again, this time straining with the effort. It still didn’t budge. “This guy sure is a security freak” he muttered under his breath. “Good thing I came prepared.” Jason reached into his right shoe and pulled out a lock picking device under his foot. He inserted the device into the keyhole of the door handle and twisted it to the side. The door swung open and Jason stepped inside the office.

The room was covered all around with wooden panels and on the wall, directly in front of Jason, was an oak bookcase that took up its entire length. In the center was a large worn mahogany desk, its veneer long ago rubbed off. Behind it was a tattered leather chair. The only things Jason saw on the desk were a hand-blown glass lamp at one end and stationery and a pen on the other. He noticed that the top drawer had a keyhole in its center. He pulled out his lock-picking device again and placed it in the keyhole. The drawer came open and Jason peered inside. It was empty. He felt around the drawer trying to see if there was perhaps something he was missing. He found it. He discovered that the back of the drawer felt slightly different than the rest. The other part of the surface felt wooden while this section was smooth, almost like plastic. Jason decided to investigate further. He pulled out his trusty pen from his suit pocket. He clicked the bottom metal button and a blade released.

He started cutting around the suspect area. Once he was finished he pulled that section of the drawer away and discovered that it was a computer. The top of it had been made to look exactly like the wood of the desk. Jason laid it carefully on the desk, opened it, and turned it on. The computer screen flickered to life. On the login screen, Jason saw the computer was protected by a passcode. Thankfully, he had much experience when it came to computers and codes and was able to bypass the system in a few minutes. After accessing the home screen of the laptop Jason looked at the names of the different files. His eyes landed on a file titled “Feuersturm.” Meaning “Firestorm” in German which he then clicked on. Jason could sense that he was very close to the intelligence he and Tasha desperately needed. As the file loaded he silently prayed that it was what he was looking for. Even more fervently he prayed that he wouldn’t be caught. That was the one thing they couldn’t afford.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the file finished loading. Jason quickly scanned it. Unsurprisingly, yet still, frustratingly to Jason, the file was encrypted. He sighed. Well, this is going to take a while.

…..

“And this portrait,” Dalmar motioned to the piece on the wall, “depicts General Davit Ajemian.”

“Davit?” Tasha smiled. “You weren’t by any chance named after him were you?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I was.” He leaned in closer to her. “My mother was a historian and said she wanted me to be imbued with the qualities and traits that he possessed.”

“Oh?”

“Courage. Perseverance. Ambition.”

“You certainly have those qualities and then some.”

“Why thank you.” He took a sip from his glass. “There was a famous battle. The Battle of Sommone. Sommone is a small town about an hour or so away from here. It was the First World War and the Turks had invaded our country. They had nearly taken it over and all hope seemed lost. The country, the army, was prepared to surrender. Except for Ajemian. He led his troops bravely at Sommone and defeated the Turks. That marked the turning point in the war.”

“I can see why he's admired so much.”

“His philosophy on life, especially on that fateful day, is one I have taken to heart. Never surrender. No matter what setbacks, no matter what obstacles, I don’t accept defeat.”

“It seems you and I are kindred spirits. I don’t accept defeat…and I don’t take no for an answer.”

“Why do I have the feeling you’re trying to tell me something.”

“I am. You’re just trying your hardest not to listen.” Tasha sassed.

Dalmar smirked and took another sip of champagne. Try as he might not to be, he found himself fascinated by Tasha. The way she matched his fire and wit. Others would find themselves intimidated by his words, and even by his mere presence, but not her. He knew she had her eyes set on learning more from him. And he for his part was reluctant to give her that which she desired. It appeared they were at an impasse. Involved in a sort of dance, going back and forth. Caught up in a game few knew the rules of, but that they each were determined to win. It was only a question of who would prevail.

“Speaking of listening. I would love to hear your thoughts on the orchestra.”

“They are incredible.” Tasha glanced, beyond the men and women waltzing, towards the orchestra in the corner of the ballroom. “The musical selections for this evening have been wonderful. I especially love the piece they’re playing now, Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. The way the music slows almost to a standstill and then how all the sections come join together into a crescendo. It truly is a masterpiece.”

“Mozart was indeed a musical genius.”

“He certainly was,” Tasha responded.

Dalmar placed his champagne glass on a marble table and extended his hand to Tasha. “May I have the pleasure of dancing with you?”

“Of course,” Tasha answered. Dalmar took her hand and the two of them made their way into the center of the ballroom. Tasha placed her hand on Dalmar’s shoulder while he wrapped his arm around her waist. Dalmar pulled her in closer towards him and they began to waltz across the dance floor. Tasha felt unnerved and even disgusted by being in Dalmar’s arms however as they danced she made sure to smile and laugh. As though she truly was enjoying being with him. Tasha knew that she couldn’t let her true feelings and emotions be seen while on this mission or any mission for that matter. It was part of her basic training as an agent. Repeated over and over to stress its importance. Whatever happened on the field, no matter how horrific or unsettling, you couldn’t let your emotions control you or your actions. That choice alone could be the difference between whether or not your cover would be blown.

Tasha’s thoughts once again drifted to Jason. He had been on her mind ever since she saw him sneak off into the woods earlier that evening. She had tried not to think of him, to not be affected by his actions, so she could stay completely focused on the task at hand. But so far that had proven to be impossible. She couldn’t help but wonder about him. What he was doing. If he was alright. Be angry at him for putting their assignment and lives into jeopardy.

I just don’t understand why Jason had to go off on his own like that. Is he trying to blow our cover? I guess Donovan was right about him. Most first-time agents are too eager to prove themselves. I just had to brush Donovan off, didn’t I? If this whole thing blows up. If we’re discovered…stop it Tasha. You can’t think about the worst-case scenario. Not now. I have to focus on Dalmar. Get the info we need…that’s the only thing that matters right now.

Dalmar looked Tasha up and down, and then glanced deeply into her eyes. “I have to say you look stunning. That color looks divine on you. It brings out your emerald eyes.”

Tasha looked down to the side and gave a slight smile. “I had to look the part. I’ve never had a gala hosted in my honor before. Or at least partly in my honor.”

“For you, I’d host a hundred galas.”

Tasha furrowed her brow “Really? A hundred huh?”

“Or a thousand. Whatever you’d like.”

Is this guy really acting like a love-sick puppy? I’m seriously not getting paid enough for this. But I might as well use it to my advantage.

Dalmar held his arm up and twirled Tasha. “Yet you can’t find it in your heart to even consider my request.”

“As I said before I’m in the habit of-”

“Not disclosing much to those around you. Though I must confess I don’t understand why. If you look at the great men of history they all had someone they could rely upon. Someone to confide in. Julius Caesar had Cleopatra. King Ferdinand, Queen Isabella. FDR, Eleanor. Nothing would satisfy me more than being that to you. Are you truly going to say that possibility doesn’t even interest you?” She paused. “Besides, I always have my way…eventually.”

Dalmar stopped dancing and thought for a moment. Tasha could almost see the wheels turning in his head. She waited anxiously for his reply. Hoping her words had been enough to convince him.

“One condition”

“And that is?”

“You promise to visit Krudia…and me…as often as you can.”

“As if you could keep me away.” Tasha flirted.

A huge boyish grin spread across Dalmar’s face. “It looks like we have a deal.”

“It appears so” she smiled.

“Well, if you’ll excuse me, I have a limo ride I need to arrange for us.” Dalmar slowly released his hand from Tasha’s waist and walked over to where Wilhelm was standing in the corner of the ballroom.

As Dalmar walked away Tasha let out a breath she’d hadn’t realized she’d been holding in. Yeah, I’m definitely not paid enough for this.

#AIO Fanfiction #aio fanfic #aio #Adventures in odyssey #adventuresinodyssey #jason whittaker #tasha forbes #jason and tasha #fanfic #fanfiction

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throwaway3844893 · 5 years ago

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Imagine: Katniss and Peeta struggle with memories of the rebellion and the thought of having children. Set 15 years after Mockingjay and from Katniss’ point of view.

Note: I wrote this almost four years ago, so it’s pretty choppy and out of character. I decided to post it anyway!

There are nights where I wake up and not even Peeta can calm my screams. Those nights are the worst of all. But, it takes more of an emotional toll on him, though, the thought that even he can't cure my misery. The problem is, I can't tell him what I dream about. Or I'll risk breaking his heart.

Last night was one of those nights.

My throat is hoarse as I step out of bed, careful not to wake Peeta. I chug a glass of water I leave on my bedside table every night, but my throat still aches.

My covered feet patter down the stars, and I tiptoe quietly into the small kitchen. I pop a toaster waffle into the toaster and prepare myself another glass of water. The chilly air of the refrigerator makes my hairs stand on end as I grab the maple syrup, but I warm up as soon as I close it. Beeping sounds come from the black microwave as I set the time for the syrup to heat up.

I move to open the white-trimmed window, and hear the songs the birds sing in the morning. Warm air filters in through the screen with a light breeze.

My waffle pops out of the toaster and I grab it while it's still hot, and cut it into six individual pieces. I then drown it in syrup, chewing slowly to savor the taste.

When I finish eating, I put my plate into the white sink and tighten my olive green robe. I turn around and gasp as I see Peeta standing at the archway, and he is fully dressed already. I try to ignore the redness under his eyes

"Good Morning," I say cheerfully, smiling at him. I walk towards him and he just stares at me with this blank look. Funny.

I snake my arms around his waist and look at his blue orbs. They gleam like a child's who's played too many video games in a day. And that seems very off.

"Are you okay?" I ask, resting my head in the spot where his heart beats. I feel as his chest rises then sinks as he takes deep breaths. Suddenly, the motion reminds me of the time he almost died in the arena, where Finnick saved his life. The thought of Finnick reminds me of his death. I grip Peeta's shirt, forcing the memories away.

I look up, and see his eyes turning dark. Like they always do when he has a flashback.

I let go of his shirt and take a step back cautiously. He looks up at me, half hijacked, half him, but the real him is falling before my eyes, no longer fighting the mutt inside him.

"I'm a..." he mutters quietly, looking down at his hands, then up at me again. A face of confusion stares back at me, and I have nothing to do.

"I'm a mutt," he says, a look of anger growing in his eyes. I take a few more steps back, but my back hits the corner. If he goes full-out, I'm screwed. The door is all the way to the left, and if I bolt he will run out and we can't have civilians at risk.

"I'm a mutt," he cries again, louder, "I'm a mutt, I'm a mutt! I'm a mutt! I'm a mutt!" He yells, walking towards me at an increasingly fast pace. His hand shakes as he picks up the glass of water I took downstairs, and it shatters into a million pieces next to me as it launches across the room.

"You're not a mutt!" I yell, as he starts walking even faster towards me. The fear grows in me when he's only three feet away and I can see the absolute blackness of his eyes.

"Peeta, you're not a mutt, I promise, you're the boy I love. Please, you're not a-"

He shoves me back into the counter, and I cry out in surprise. He grabs me by the hair and brings my face to his.

"You made me a mutt! It's your fault, my family is dead because of you!" He screams, his fist connecting with my eye. I yell out, and my hands reach to cradle the spot he punched.I manage to break free of his grip and grab onto his arms, struggling to hold on.

"You're not a mutt! You're Peeta Mellark, you're not a mutt!" My voice breaks at "Mellark," and he seems to calm down a small bit.

"You're a baker, a painter, you always double knot your shoelaces, you sleep with the window open, no matter how hot or cold it is," I whisper into his ears.

He manages to sink down to the floor and just starts muttering about how he's a mutt.

"Peeta," I cry, "you're not a mutt."

He doesn't look up, he just puts his hands to his ears and starts rocking, the same words repeating over and over.

I sink down next to him, grabbing one of his hands. My eye throbs violently and aches where he punched me, but my only focus is getting him back.

"I'm a mutt, I'm a mutt..." he says, his voice slowing at every word.

"Shh," I say, cautiously bringing my free hand to his hair, stroking it as he rocks. "You're not a mutt."

When the worst of it passes, and I know he's coming back, I stand up and walk to the bathroom. When I look in the mirror, my eye looks terrible. It's bright red and swelling, and there is a small cut where his knuckles touched right below my eyebrow. Makeup won't cover this up. Meaning he'll have to see what he did. That's not what I want. I don't want him to know he hurt me, however much he did.

As I'm gently patting my eye with a wet wash cloth, the door bursts open. The action is so sudden I drop the wash cloth to the floor. It hits my foot and makes me uncomfortable but I'm frozen.

Peeta rushes in, and I can see in his eyes he's him again. I quickly look down, hiding the right side of my face from his. But I can't hide forever.

I blink a long blink, wincing a bit as I do so, since my eye feels like it's on fire. His feet make loud noises as he walks up to me, until the small rustle of the shag rug I'm standing in silences his steps.

"Katniss, are you okay?" He asks, taking another step towards me. I move my head, opening a white drawer and pretending to be busy looking for something.

"Moderately," I say, and as I feel his hand touch the exact spot where my back hit the counter I tense up. "F..." I whisper quietly, not wanting to say the full word.

Taking notice of my tenseness, he moves his hand to my shoulder. "Are you really okay?"

"I'm fine," I say, a little less convincing. And I'm a terrible liar. Sometimes I wish I had his skills at painting and lying. Both would be handy at this point.

"Look me in the eye and tell me you're okay."

Now I've really blown it. Peeta's going to know either way. Slowly, achingly slow, I turn to look at him. My eye throbs as I meet his eyes.

A look of guilt floods his face when his eyes meet mine. They slip towards the wound he gave me during a flashback.

"You said you were fine," he says angrily through gritted teeth, his fists clenching together.

"I am fine," but my voice is small, like a child's. And as if the world was against me, a shooting pain goes through my back as I lean, making me wince very noticeably.

"Your eye isn't okay. Your back isn't okay, what else isn't okay? What else did I do to you, Katniss?" He's in tears now, fighting down cries as he realizes what "he" did to me.

"Peeta, it wasn't you, it was Snow, it was all Snow, but he's dead now, we're safe, I promise you I'm okay," I whisper, wrapping my arms around his waist.

"No," he yells, shoving me off him.

"Peeta-"

"I can't do this anymore. I can't keep waking up to you in so much pain and not being able to help you. That hurts me, Katniss, and it makes me feel so guilty because I know you're dreaming about me when I'm having a flashback, and you dream about me killing everyone you love. And... and I just can't live with that. I can't live like this. Not knowing after a flashback if I hurt you or not," he says, looking at me with the ultimate guilt and hurt in his eyes. My hand rests on the marble counter top, and I grip it hard for support.

I never realized I hurt him this bad when I wouldn't let him comfort me.

"I..." I stutter, my voice low and quiet, "I never realized that... that it affected you so much. I'm so sorry, Peeta, I really am. I just..." I don't know what to say. There are so many things he needs to know, that he needs to be told about how I feel, but how am I supposed to bring those problems up when they don't even relate to this situation?

"Katniss, are you not telling me something?"

I let go of the counter, sliding down until my bottom hits the shaggy rug underneath my feet. Peeta kneels down beside me, looking at my face in a concerned way. I look down, not meeting his eyes.

"I don't dream about you having flashbacks. I don't dream about you killing people. I dream about..." a lump starts to form in my throats, the guilt setting in. This will crush him if I say it, because this is the one thing he's hoped for, and asked for, in the fourteen years we've been married.

"What is it that you dream about, Katniss?" His warm hands reach mine, and he holds both in his lap. The white rug's soft spirals are the only thing I look at. I will myself to look up, and the look in his bright blue orbs completely breaks me. It's as if my heart shattered in my chest. I know, I know, if I tell him he will feel the same way, only ten times worse.

The dreams are so vivid. Him, sitting in the meadow behind our house, laughing as he watches our daughter dance and run, her long, dark hair trailing in a braid that mimics mine. Her blue eyes shining with happiness as she plays. Our son, only three years younger than her, his small and chubby legs struggling to chase his sister. His blonde hair shines in the sun, and he is a replica of his father except for my gray seam eyes. And then me, sitting on a small blanket next to Peeta, watching them as he does. Our hands are intertwined, and my head is leaning on his shoulder, covered in a white shirt that buttons up three times at the top. I look at his prosthetic leg, and it reminds me of what we have overcome. We have beaten this world, and now we can enjoy peace.

The girl with the brown hair leaves her brother and comes up to me. All that fills my sight is her beautiful face, her eyes so innocent, burning into mine with wonder and curiosity. As I stare into her, or Peeta's, eyes, she begins to speak.

"Mommy, what do you know about the Hunger Games?"

That's when I wake up. Those are the nights Peeta can't help me. Every time, the same dream. The same fear that consumes my entire being.

"Peeta... I dream about us. Our future."

"Our future? What's bad about that?" He asks, real worry in his voice. A finger gently strokes my cheek, wiping a tear away.

"It's not... it's... Peeta god damn it, I know this is going to break your heart and I just can't say it," I sob, the blue eyes of our hypothetical daughter burning into my brain, filling my entire mind with "Mommy, what do you know about the Hunger Games?" Echoing throughout my head, engulfing me with her voice.

I finally crack. "I dream about kids! Our kids, the one you've been asking and asking for ever since before we were married. That's why you can't help me, because it breaks my heart knowing I'm breaking you're heart in the process. I dream about how beautiful they are, how happy we are, but then she comes up to me every time and asks me about the Games and I just cannot have that!"

He doesn't even try to hide the hurt and disappointment in his voice, "You don't want kids."

He's crying now. It makes me feel like the single worst person on this planet. I made my true love's heart shatter. I look down at my hands, ashamed, and start picking at the rug.

"I-I should've told you before, I just didn't know how because you were so hopeful and you want them so, so badly."

"If you didn't want them, why wouldn't you just tell me from the start? Why did you have to put me through all of this and get my hopes up?" Peeta yells, snot dripping out of his nose. His voice is cracking, like his whole world was just destroyed.

Maybe it was.

"I didn't know. It's not that I don't want them, Peeta, it's the fact that they're going to have to learn about the world we lived in, about the Hunger Games, and I can't have that. I want kids, so, so badly but I just don't know if I could do it. I'm sorry."

He just shakes his head, and hot tears drop into his hands, and the cheeks that have always been so soft are a bright red.

"Peeta, you're the love of my life and seeing you like this... if this is what my decision is causing you to feel, I'll have children," I whisper, putting my hand on his shoulder, and I realize he is wearing the shirt he wears in my dreams.

I think about it. I want kids, I've always wanted kids ever since I was a kid. I just didn't want to bring them into a world where the Hunger Games existed. That world doesn't exist anymore. I live in the New Panem, where everywhere is even. There are no Hunger Games or President Snows. There's only dandelions in the spring that bloom in the meadow and beautiful leaves in the fall that illuminate the forest behind. Yes, they will have to learn about our past. They will have to learn about how Katniss Everdeen, at age 16, competed in a fight to death and started a war. About how their father was captured and tortured to the point where he only remembered the things Snow lied about to him. They'll see the scars on us, they'll hear the scars left on us as we hold each other or scream from the nightmares that have plagued us for years. But they won't feel the pain Peeta and I felt. They'll feel the joy of love and peace.

#katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #everlark #peeniss #the hunger games #mockingjay #after mockingjay #ooc #imagine

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athingthatwantsvirginia · 5 years ago

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A Patti Smith Envelope

PART THIRTY-FOUR OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: anxiety about future, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 4.1K

Summary: Ella and Jess move into their new apartment.

A newspaper ad circled in red ink had led them to the cozy one-bedroom four blocks over from Truncheon and six blocks from campus. It was only late April, earlier than Ella was expecting for them to find something. But she had finished finals, had booked gigs working at the art camps at the college over the summer. She had a few weeks off to make art, and hopefully help out in Truncheon. After touring the place, it felt right. An excited tightness in her stomach. Jess, too, had squeezed her hand in elation as soon as they walked through the door. The place had built-in bookshelves on the far wall, the bedroom on the other side. Ella didn’t believe in signs, but even she could agree it was as close to perfect as they were going to get.

Luke had offered to help without even being asked. Chris, Matthew, Leo, and Mabel were all participants to different degrees of willingness, and they hardly needed any more bodies. But Luke insisted the minute Jess had told him the moving date over the phone. It was likely he needed some sort of distraction since April had moved to New Mexico anyway. She wasn’t going to be back until the summer. And it seemed neither Luke nor Lorelai had come to their senses about each other yet.

He rolled up to Philadelphia in his truck two hours before they expected him. He claimed moving wasn’t moving if there wasn’t a truck to help out. Packing up all the stuff in the apartment was easier than Ella expected, just as it had been when she moved out of her childhood home. Jess could be cluttered sometimes, but nowhere near the level of Chris, and most of Jess’s belongings consisted of old band t-shirts and marked up books anyway. Ella, likewise, had most of her records stuffed in the back of her car. The dresser fit in Chris’s SUV after a fair amount of squeezing stuff in. The bed was the real challenge. It turned out Luke’s truck wasn’t such a frivolous vehicle, after all.

A drizzle was just beginning to fall from the gray, cloudy sky as they finished moving all the boxes inside. The apartment, on the second floor of some ancient building, was not exactly up to twenty-first century standards. The pipes were old and cobwebs gathered in the corners. A splinter or two jutted out from the worn down wood floors, golden brown under the dim lights. But the bohemian rug and many lamps they’d scouted out from the thrift shop a week earlier were already proving helpful. Boxes, labeled with mostly Jess’s scrawled, cramped handwriting, were stacked high in the corner of the living room, others gathered on the cracked tile of the kitchen counter.

Ella blew the stray hairs away from her eyes, otherwise pulled back in her black bandana. Her bangs were growing longer, and she was just becoming able to fully tuck them behind her ears. Roses of flushed color bloomed on her cheeks, her skin hot and sticky. Chris had already sprawled out on the dark gray couch, Leo on the arm. The couch, too, was secondhand, bought for ten bucks at the ReStore off the interstate.

“You really should be paying us,” Chris huffed, throwing his arm across his eyes.

Ella scoffed from where she was helping Matthew and Mabel unpack the kitchen. There was actually not much to be done, as Jess and Ella were planning on getting most of their supplies in the following days. There were a few mugs, bowls, spoons. “Consider it payback for the amount of times I’ve made you pie.”

“I was under the impression those were ‘no strings attached’ pies,” Matthew chimed in.

“Or, at most, ‘friends with benefits’ pies,” Mabel added.

Ella rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’m taking advantage of all of you. I’m eternally in your debt. But I think we got everything, if you guys wanna get outta here.”

The four of them exchanged glances, eventually coming to a consensus they were exhausted enough to leave and retire to the cold pizza in the fridge at Truncheon. Ella suspected they were excited to have their own rooms for the first night in forever, as Chris had already made work of moving his stuff into Jess and Ella’s old room, before they had even finished moving out. She gave them sweaty hugs and salutes goodbye, finishing with unloading the meager contents of the new fridge.

“Hey, Jess, we’re outta here!” Leo called.

Jess’s head appeared from the doorway to the bedroom. “Good. Better to save yourselves now before World War III breaks out in here.”

From beyond the bedroom door, Luke could be heard grumbling obscenities and fighting with the new bed frame he was struggling to put together.

“See you on the other side, then,” Matthew said, smiling. “Also known as Monday.”

“We’ll see if I make it until then,” Jess shrugged, offering them a small wave. “Thanks, guys.”

“You are not welcome,” Chris grunted, trudging out the door.

Mabel gave Ella one last hug before exiting the apartment, shutting the door softly behind her. A grin broke out on Ella’s face. She and Mabel had gone on more than one lunch together, had even gone shopping once. It was new and Ella was still a bit worried the timid woman would be scared away from a friendship with her, but they were slowly getting to know each other.

As Jess continued grappling with Luke, who went on grappling with the bed frame, Ella finished with their groceries. The kitchenware was more or less unpacked to a decent level. The books were next on her list, followed by the records. Rounding the corner of the counter into the living room, she stopped short of the book boxes.

She put her hands to the hips of her jeans. There were a few water spots on the popcorn ceiling, reminding her of Truncheon. The air smelled cozy, but more of lemon Pledge than anything else. Someone had dusted the built-in bookshelves in the initial flurry of unpacking. During the walk-through of the place, Jess had pointed out the corner next to the couch as the perfect spot for an easel. Looking over it, with familiar furniture moved in, the place seemed more real. Less like a dream for the two of them. The terrace past the small sliding glass door was empty, but she thought maybe they could fit a few chairs. It wasn’t as though the view was spectacular, just a vision of the city street below and the other apartment building opposite. But it was more than enough for two people who had both lived out of their cars for extended periods of time.

An odd sense came over her, one of total novelty. Never before had she had a real say in her home. Her parents lived in the blue house in Stars Hollow before she was born, Lane had moved into her house with Zach and Bryan long before Ella started sleeping on the couch, the apartment above Truncheon had been a simple convenience to everyone involved. But she and Jess had chosen the apartment together. They had admired the cheap price, the proximity to work, the odd seashell tiles in the bathroom. The place seemed to have been built before the contemporary requirements of architectural uniformity. It had a mind of its own inside: a leaky sink and a brick exterior and shag carpet in the bedroom. Not altogether a surprise, considering it was in the artsy housing district near the campus.

“Dammit!” she heard once more from the bedroom.

Heaving a tired but cheerful sigh, she crossed her arms over her Clash t-shirt (borrowed from Jess) and entered the bedroom, to the left of the living room and kitchen, opposite from the tiny bathroom. Luke and Jess were both hunched over the metal frame, trying to hold both the headboard and the footboard up and attach the middle section. Their faces were angry and red, frustration radiating off of them.

“Hey, so, it’s past seven,” she announced, eyebrows raised at their trouble.

Jess jumped slightly, his back to her, at the sound of his voice. The footboard slipped out of his grip.

“Oh, for the love of-” Luke began.

“It’s fine,” Ella interjected calmly, going over and placing a hand on Jess’s upper back. He panted but said nothing as his uncle continued fussing.

“Where did you even get this? There’s no damn instructions!” Luke said, readjusting the hat on his head.

“The discount store,” Jess answered, glaring down at the frame and over at the mattress, which stood leaning against the wall near the dresser. “Not all of us have diner money to fall back on.”

“Anyway,” Ella continued, “I bet we could all use some food. Jess, maybe you could drive Luke down to that place on Birch and get some sandwiches? I can finish with the bed.”

Luke shook his head. “Ella, I don’t think-”

“She probably can,” Jess interrupted dejectedly. “I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s those sculpture classes. But she can fix anything. Not just showerheads and cash registers.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Luke said, raising his hands in surrender and leaving the room. He went to grab his coat from the messy pile by the front door.

Ella stifled a laugh. “My god, he’ll never change.”

“Why is he coming with me to get the food?” Jess asked under his breath.

“Because I think he’ll have a stroke if he doesn’t stop with this bed. And he doesn’t know where the place on Birch is. You do,” she explained, giving him a peck on the cheek before going to try her hand at the bed.

Shoulders sagging with fatigue, Jess gave a begrudging nod, then glanced back over his shoulder. “Fine. Hopefully he’ll be less Vesuvius and more Mauna Loa by the time we get back.”

“Not everyday you hear a good volcano metaphor,” she quipped, assessing the middle section of the bedframe and deciding to take it apart altogether.

“I know. Imagine how dull your life would be without me,” Jess shot back, a small smirk tugging at his lips despite his frazzled state. “Turkey?”

She nodded. “You know me too well, James Dean.”

“Agreed,” he said with a teasing laugh.

“Fuck off,” she replied through a chuckle.

Jess’s smirk grew as he turned on his heel to leave. “Love you back, Stevens.”

. . .

The windshield wipers of Jess’s rust bucket screeched against the glass as he rolled down Birch Street, away from the sandwich shop. A white paper bag full of subs sat in the passenger seat atop Luke’s lap. In one hand, Luke held a bouquet of deep red tulips. Jess hadn’t remembered the florist shop where Ella had worked the previous summer was right down the road from the sandwich place. He’d stopped in for the bunch of blooms as they waited for their order to be filled. The plastic wrapper around the bouquet crinkled in Luke’s fist as he braced himself, Jess rounding a damp corner.

“I told you we should’ve taken my truck,” Luke grumbled.

Sighing, Jess fought to keep his jaw untensed. “My car’s fine. It’s driven us across the country more than once.”

“Before or after it broke down on the highway and Coop had to have it towed back to Stars Hollow?” Luke asked, his voice tired and strained.

“Not sure. I know for a fact it was after you stole my car, though,” Jess retorted, eyes on the slick roads. He wished the radio was on, but the memories of Luke whining about his album choices were still too recent in his mind.

Heaving a large sigh, Luke gave a shake of his head. “Fine. I give up.”

“Thank you,” Jess muttered.

“You’re welcome,” Luke shot back irritably.

But then he looked over at Jess. His hair was no longer greased, his clothes fit better, his eyes were clearer. Most of the time, his brow was no longer drawn in anger or his face a scowl. Even his posture was different; straighter, brighter, more self-assured. And then he thought of Ella. She looked much the same as she had during her last few weeks at work, with her wide smile and loud laugh. The smiles were more frequent, though, and she seemed so relaxed around her friends. Even around Rory she had sometimes seemed a bit nervous to Luke, as though she were worried over a misstep.

Luke couldn’t contain the small grin on his grizzled face. “I’m really proud of you, Jess.”

Snorting a laugh, Jess spared Luke a quick glance before turning back to the road. They were only a few minutes away from the new home, but Philly traffic was never reliable, even on a Saturday. “Let’s put away the pom-poms for now.”

“I’m just sayin,’” Luke began with a shrug, “got your own company, your own apartment with Ella. You really seem to be doin’ great.”

Jess gave a short, humble nod, but took a long pause before he spoke another word. “Lorelai proposed to you, right?”

Luke’s brow crinkled. “Yeah?”

“But you proposed to Nicole?”

“Yeah.”

Humming under his breath, Jess gave another nod. Red brake lights glowed in the rainy evening darkness. “When did you know...how you wanted to propose?”

“Jess, are you gonna propose to Ella?” Luke asked, eyes going wide and smile growing.

“Never said that,” Jess answered nonchalantly, shaking his head. “Just never really delved into that part of your personal history. Figured I’d ask. Maybe I wanna get to know you better, uncle dearest.”

Rolling his eyes at Jess’s old patterns of behavior, Luke didn’t let his smile waver. He looked down at the bouquet in his hand. “Well, considering it was an impulse cruise ship marriage, not a lot of thought went into it. It just sort of happened. If you’re asking me how to propose to Ella-”

“Which I’m not.”

“-then I’d say she loves you and she’ll say ‘yes’ no matter what. And I’d say that you know her better than anyone in the world, and you shouldn’t...second-guess yourself. Do what feels right.”

“And did an Elvis impersonator marry you two on that cruise?” Jess continued.

Luke bit back another sigh. “No, wiseass. It was a regular minister.”

“Huh,” Jess chirped wryly. “You learn something new everyday.”

. . .

Patti Smith spun on the record player as the rain grew stronger outside. Though it was a pain in the ass to unpack the record player, Ella decided it just wouldn’t truly be home without the grace of music on the first night. Luke had left about an hour earlier, though they insisted he could stay over. He said he was nervous enough leaving Lane and Caesar in charge of the diner for one day, and he didn’t want to be late for the morning shift the next day. It made Ella roll her eyes, but eventually she gave up trying to convince him. It wasn’t as though she expected Luke to change his ways. The tulips sat in a mug of water on the kitchen counter, to be placed in something fancier and on something fancier once they actually had a makeshift dining area. For the moment, only the big pieces from the old place and the bed were filling up the small apartment. Ella had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at Luke’s face when he saw she had put the bed together all by herself, finished before they got back with the sandwiches. An expression of extreme frustration had slowly melted into pride. Both were memorable.

Between Jess and Ella, who sat cross-legged on the floor on either side of the coffee table in the living room, was a half-eaten pie. One of the few leftovers from Truncheon they had lugged over to put in the fridge before an actual grocery run. The apple crust was a bit soggy, but the filling was surprisingly good cold. She found herself so wholly content as they sat together: eating pie, listening to records, in the dim lamplight of the first place which was solely theirs. It all struck her with a force she wasn’t expecting. She chuckled to herself as she grabbed another forkful, eating away at the half they had not even bothered to cut but just dug into instead.

“What?” Jess asked through a sweet mouthful, furrowing his brows at her.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Doesn’t this all seem a little...surreal to you?”

“Does what seem surreal?”

“Just...we have an apartment together. And you own a business. And I only have a year left of grad school. I just...sometimes I can’t believe it’s happening. I can’t believe it turned out the way it did. You don’t feel that?” she asked, lowering her eyes sheepishly.

He cracked a small, crooked smirk. “I don’t know. I always just sort of thought I’d end up where I’d end up. And here I am. With you. Not a bad place to be.”

She rolled her eyes, a blush coloring her cheeks. “I know about your Kerouac philosophy. But just...when you first met me, did you ever think in a million years this is where we’d be now?”

“I didn’t know exactly where we’d be. But, I knew I’d land somewhere. I didn’t know if I’d land with you, but I wanted to. Maybe it’s a little surreal, but it doesn’t surprise me,” he explained, leaning his elbows onto the scratched wooden surface of the table with arms crossed.

Snorting a laugh at his insouciance, Ella finally locked eyes with him again. “It just feels a little too good to be true, I guess. I mean, you go to school your whole life, you work towards something your whole life. Once it happens, once you’re near the end...I just never thought it would actually happen. I don’t know what’s next.”

She tugged at her earring with her right hand. Jess noticed the chipped blue polish on her nails, though they weren’t bitten down. He couldn’t quite decipher her mood. Not that she seemed sad or distant, but he could tell she was having a hard time articulating herself. And he could tell she was letting an old worry creep up on her; she was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He allowed his smirk to grow into a full smile and dropped his fork into the pie tin. “C’mon, you’re gonna figure it out. You know you are. I’m the directionless one. You’ve always been able to do anything. You’re plan girl.”

Ella gave a mirthful scoff. “You’re not directionless, Jess. And I’m not plan girl. Rory was always plan girl. I was try-to-make-it-to-the-finish-line-without-tripping girl.”

Jess hummed thoughtfully, about to reply. But she spoke again before he had a chance to.

“I thought you had a thing for her, y’know,” she said, taking another bite of pie.

“Who?”

“Rory.”

“Really?” Jess asked, and he couldn’t hide the bewildered amusement in his tone. “When was this?”

She shrugged and narrowed her eyes for a moment in memory. “Just when you first got to Stars Hollow. I mean, you hated Dean, and you like a lot of the same things, and you seemed to get along with her.”

“No. It was pretty much always just you,” Jess said, shaking his head slightly. “Maybe we liked a lot of the same stuff, but...I didn’t ever feel like she...got me like you do.”

“Oh, she didn’t, Kurt Cobain?” she teased, raising her eyebrows. She put her fork down in the tin next to his, her stomach full. Her eyes were beginning to get tired, her body starting to ache from the day of moving. She was glad the bed was put together.

He raised his hands in joking defense. “Hey, I know it sounds cheesy, but it’s true. Remember that night she was tutoring me?”

“The night you crashed her car? Yeah, it rings a bell,” she replied.

“Yes, that one,” Jess continued, smiling sardonically at her. “We were talking about the future. And she kept getting on me about how I had to do better and I had to go to college, just like she did, or else I would have no life.”

The smile which tugged at Ella’s lips was slightly bitter but mostly fond. “Sounds like Rory.”

“Everyone in Stars Hollow thought I was the antichrist. Maybe Rory didn’t, and maybe we were friends, but she definitely wasn’t okay with who I was then. Maybe she thought, with enough Schoolhouse Rock videos, she could get me to shape up,” Jess continued, taking small glances out the sliding glass door as he spoke. He could see a sliver of the city lights past another building on the right side. It was better than the bland brick wall and the dumpster which served as his view from the room in Truncheon.

“Hey, she is an amazing tutor. If there was anyone who could’ve converted you to the Ivy League conveyor belt, it was her,” Ella said.

“Yeah, but you and I both know school was never the way I was supposed to go. It was the way you were supposed to go, but you didn’t try to get me to be anything other than what I was,” he told her, voice light but eyes sincere.

Ella felt her heart skip a beat, but shrugged again. “I don’t know. I definitely tried to get you to ditch those CDs.”

“The exception that proves the rule,” he replied.

“Speaking of, I figured out how I’m gonna organize the books,” she said, tossing a look past his shoulder at the empty shelves.

“How is that a ‘speaking of’?” he asked, a confused smirk coming over his face.

“I’m doing genre, then alphabetical order by author. The way you used to do your CDs when we were in high school,” she explained.

“Oh.” Jess had his eyes trained on her, watching as she undid her bandana and ran her fingers through her mess of blonde hair. He chewed on his bottom lip. Then, after a pause filled only with Patti Smith’s poetry, he blurted out: “Y’know, you were the first person I ever said ‘I love you’ to. The only person.”

Her gaze softened and she nodded. “Me too.”

“No, Stevens, I mean anyone. Not just Nora Ephron kind of love. Not family either,” he said, most insistent, though he did his best to keep his tone nonchalant. As though it were just a run-of-the-mill fact about his past.

She stopped for a moment, brow crinkling. “Your mom never said it to you? Not even hippie dippie Liz?”

“No. We weren’t that kind of family. She wasn’t that kind of mom.”

A crease of concern deepened between her brows. Every time it had come up before, she assumed both of them meant romantic love. Familial was a different beast. But she had to remind herself never to assume with Liz, no matter how she seemed. Jess had arrived when Liz was a binge-drinking nineteen-year-old.

Before her brief interlude in the ‘love doesn’t exist’ frame of mind, before her mother’s death, Ella’s world had been filled with ‘I love you’s. Mostly from her mother, in her soft voice, with her delicate perfume. Some from her grandmother, and even from her father. And after, Lorelai had sometimes said them in passing. Rory, too. The three words, no matter how commonplace they could sound, were important, she knew. Especially when they weren’t uttered, or stopped being uttered.

She opened her mouth to say something, then bit the inside of her cheek and hesitated. Rising from her place, she rounded the corner of the coffee table and went over to him. Jess tilted his head at her in askance, but she only answered him by sitting down in his lap, straddling him as their noses drew only inches apart. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and simply hugged him. For a moment, he sat motionless, his muscles tense. It wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting, if he’d been expecting one at all. But then, he circled his own arms around her waist. They sat there, breathing slow and clinging to each other, for a long time. Patti Smith droned on around them, enveloping them.

Eventually, she pulled away and ran her fingers affectionately through his hair. He looked up at her, unsure of what to say. Fortunately, she took the lead, gaze unwavering as she spoke in her quiet, husky voice.

“Jess, you’re the fucking best. You’re my favorite person. And you’re gonna be hearing ‘I love you’ every day for the rest of our life,” she assured him, matter-of-fact. “So, I suggest you get used to it.”

“Right back at ya,” he replied after an awestruck pause, just before their lips met.

In spite of the fuss over the bed frame, Jess and Ella ended up spending the night on the worn rug in the living room, nearly naked underneath the first throw blanket they could find in the boxes around them.

#jess mariano #jess #mariano #jess mariano fanfiction #jess mariano x oc fanfiction #jess mariano x original character fanfiction #jess mariano imagine #jess mariano imagines #jess mariano au #gilmore girls fanfiction #gilmore girls oc fanfiction #gilmore girls au #gilmore girls imagines #gilmore girls imagine #luke danes

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azure-firecracker · 5 years ago

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Hello! So, I’ve had some Six headcanons in my brain for a while, so I’m going to start posting those. If you want a specific headcanon, don’t hesitate to ask me. They’re really quick and fun to do!🙃 Here are some headcanons about the queen’s bedrooms.

Catherine of Aragon:

Has by far the fanciest bedroom of anyone.

It looks like a fancy hotel room, because she never wants to stop feeling like royalty.

Everything is in white and gold.

She has one of two rooms that have balconies.

The bed is huge and completely white.

Her room is on the first floor, but down the hall so it’s not right next to the living room.

The wall next to the balcony is entirely glass, but she has gold patterned curtains that she adores.

There’s a golden cross on the wall that the other queens helped her make out of metal, and it’s her most cherished possession.

There are no carpets, just white tiles on the floor.

She has minimal decoration, because she wants it to look simply elegant, but she does have one pot of sunflowers next to the window.

Her bookshelf is the only thing that isn’t white or gold.

Anne Boleyn:

Has the biggest room in the apartment.

Claimed the entire 3rd floor for herself, so her room is an entire floor.

It looks like a hurricane happened in there. It’s always a complete mess.

Even without the mess, it still looks insane.

Every wall is a different color: deep green, purple, light green, and white.

The curtains are zebra printed with bubblegum pink trim.

She has several carpets covering the floor because the room is so huge. The biggest one is a rainbow shag rug, but she also has one with a pink floral print, a green argyle print, and a white shag rug shaped like a dog.

The stairs just come up in the middle of her floor, and they had to put a fence around them so she wouldn’t fall. Anne uses the fence to hang up the clothes she doesn’t want to put away.

One corner is a cuddle corner, and she has a pillow and a blanket in every queen’s color.

One corner has her bookshelf and a green beanbag.

One corner leads to the fire escape.

One corner has the shelf she painted gold for her heelys.

Her bed is huge and super soft. She has a green blanket with a green lace overlay and 7 different printed pillows.

Jane Seymour:

Her room is right next to the living room.

Cream colored walls, second-smallest room in the apartment.

Has a white bed with lots of pillows, two of which are pale pink.

White vanity with a mirror that has lights around the edge.

Her rug has piano keys printed on it.

There is a bulletin board with pictures of the queens that takes up an entire wall.

She has 6 potted plants in her room.

She has a huge armchair near the window.

She keeps a different air freshener in the room every month.

Anna of Cleves:

Sleeps on the second floor down the hall, next to the stairs to the third floor.

Kitty is her neighbor.

Red was too dark for the walls, so they’re melon colored.

Every single wall has at least 3 band posters on it.

She also has several selfies up around the room.

An entire wall is taken up by a huge speaker system.

She has cool lights that hang from the ceiling, and they glow different colors if you press a button.

Because of her occasional muscle spasms that she gets because of how she died, she has a heated bed, which is also very soft.

Anne helped her paint the bed frame with flames on it.

Katherine Howard:

Her room is right next to Anna’s.

Everything is in shades of pink and purple.

Jane helped her cover the walls in styrofoam and fabric, so you can literally bounce off her walls.

She has a pink and purple shag rug, and a smaller white one.

The desk and dresser are both white with pale pink accents.

There is a purple basket chair and a pink beanbag chair.

The curtains are pink and silky with purple flowers on them.

Has a balcony, but rarely uses it.

She has a canopy bed that’s soft pink with lots of purple pillows on it.

Her favorite thing about the room is that there are fairy lights in her walls that she can turn on each night to make everything glow.

Catherine Parr:

Smallest room in the apartment.

It’s on the second floor, right next to the top of the stairs.

It’s very simple.

The walls are light blue.

There is a brown desk with some pen doodles on it.

There is a bed with a dark blue blanket and another red plaid blanket on the end.

There is a window seat with a blue swirly cushion and several pillows.

Cathy loves to work in the window seat, especially when it rains.

Every wall that is not taken up by the bed, the desk, the window seat, or the door is covered with a bookshelf.

All the books are carefully organized.

Despite the fact that there’s very little space in the middle of her room, she actually has the softest carpet out of anyone.

Her room is the go-to place for cuddle sessions.

#six musical #six the musical headcanons #catherine of aragon #anne boleyn #jane seymour #anna of cleves #katherine howard #catherine parr #phoebe’s hcs

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out-of-jams · 5 years ago

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Airplane Mode | Track 06: Base Line | jhs

Summary: Inspired by Love at First Touch by bagelswrites

In a world where a bruise marks the first touch of your soulmate, time is the only thing that matters. The marks take hours to appear, sometimes even days if you're really unlucky. Once First Touch is initiated, both parties only have a few weeks to find the other. From then on, the body begins to reject any form of sustenance other than the touch of the other. If one fails to find their soulmate in time, they starve to death.

So what happens when your soulmate is a world famous idol?

And you're just one fan in a sea of many who can't even speak the same language?

Pairing: Hoseok/ FemOC

Word Count: 5.1k

Genre: Fluff. Angst. Idol!au. Smut. Soulmate!au. Explicit language.

Warnings: Explicit language.

Words written in bold are spoken in Korean.

Previous| Next | Track List | Masterlist |

Eunjae woke up very confused.

To the sound of loud, constant ringing.

It startled her sleeping body so much that it yanked her out of the land of dreams and back to reality. Slowly peeling her heavy eyes open, Eunjae stared blankly at the unfamiliar white wall across from her. Her brain was not yet awake and was could barely process where she was and how she got there. So it took her a moment to realize that the obnoxious sound echoing through her ears was a doorbell.

“Miles, I swear to God.” Eunjae mumbled incoherently. Reaching up to rub the sleep from her eyes, she sat up in bed, causing the thick comforter to pool around her waist. She was still dressed in the same outfit from last night since she had nothing else to change into. Though she’d shed her bra and joggers right before collapsing into bed.

A sigh left her lips as another round of doorbell ringing started up and she tore her eyes back open in irritation. It wasn’t until her vision landed on the brown wood of the long dresser across from her bed that the memories came rushing back to her. She most definitely was not in New York.

“So then who—” Eunjae’s eyes widened as the sound of light knocking accompanied the ringing of the doorbell. Whoever was on the other side had given up on just ringing, and started to match the tempo of both sounds to tap out some kind of nonsensical song. Blinking in the dim light shining through the black curtained window, her mouth parted in realization. “Oh, shit.”

Eunjae sprang out of bed and almost face planted into the rug underneath when her foot got caught in the comforter. Curses flying from her mouth, she stumbled across the room, ripping her joggers and bra from where they’d landed on the vanity mirror after she blindly threw them. Eunjae scrambled into her clothes and swung the door to her room open so fast that she almost smacked herself in the face.

No one ever said she was the most graceful person first thing in the morning.

“I’m coming!” Whoever was on the other side of the door was either deaf or too caught up in the track they were remixing on her door to hear her.

Eunjae’s bare feet padded down the short narrow hallway outside her room. She’d been so tired last night that she’d barely even given her new living space a quick, cursory glance before crawling into bed. So now as she grandma-shuffled towards the door like some half-assed zombie, she let her eyes wander.

To the right side of the hallway was a door that led to a bathroom that she was sure she would explore later to shower. As she emerged from the passageway, it opened out into a kitchen/living room. To the left was a small, but nice kitchen. And instead of a table, there was a long bar/island with stools pushed underneath. All of the equipment looked brand new and it was too bad that she wouldn't have a need for it.

The living room was straight ahead. A leather couch took up one whole wall and the cream colored shag rug underneath looked soft enough to sleep on. Separating the couch from a dark wood tv stand was a rounded glass coffee table. The walls throughout the whole apartment were painted a boring eggshell white that was almost blinding in the sun.

“I’ll have to fix that.” Eunjae muttered to herself. The place wasn’t huge, but she didn’t want it to be. She didn’t want to be put up in some lavish penthouse like some weird, trophy soulmate. Eunjae already felt awkward enough for how much Big Hit was already doing for her; best not to add more to the list.

As Eunjae reached the door, she stopped from grabbing the doorknob when she caught her reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall. With a grimace, she quickly ran her fingers through her wild bedhead in an attempt to tame it. Seemingly satisfied, Eunjae quickly yanked open the door before the neighbors decided to file a noise complaint.

Jung Hoseok stood on the other side of the door, one finger hovering over the doorbell as if he were about to ring it again. His expression converted from amused to surprised, and then back to amused, before finally settling on friendly. Eunjae decided right then and there that he was way too awake, way too early in the morning. Hoseok’s dimples came out to play as he flashed her a grin and an energetic wave.

Not only was he completely awake, but he was fully dressed for the day too. With his white and red long-sleeve pullover, french tucked into a pair of jeans, he looked very casual. He’d parted his dark hair in the middle so that it exposed the lightly tanned skin of his forehead. And a black belt was threaded through the hoops of his jeans to keep them from falling down his slim waist.

All-in-all, his very put together appearance made Eunjae look like some half-dead monster that just crawled out of the sewer.

Just call me Master Splinter . She thought, staring up at him with tired eyes and messy hair.

Hoseok dropped his hand and leaned casually against the doorway. His fresh scent filled Eunjae’s nose and she vaguely wondered if all of the members smelled that good, or if it was just a Hoseok thing. Tucking a hand into the pocket of his jacket, He gave her a greeting that was way too cheerful for her exhausted brain to mimic.

“Good morning!”

Eunjae hummed in acknowledgment and reached up to rub at her cheeks. “Morning, Hobi.”

He seemed completely unoffended by her lack of enthusiasm which she was grateful for. “Sleep okay?”

“Yeah. You?” Blinking up at him through dead eyes, Eunjae tried her hardest to match his energy. It was infectious; beginning to filter through her haze filled mind like a stream of fresh water.

“Yes. Good!”

“That’s good.” Eunjae mumbled around a yawn, ��‘hat time is it?”

Hoseok tilted his head to the side cutely in confusion. When he hesitated in replying, Eunjae sent him a sleepy smile and lightly tapped on her wrist; the universal gesture to ask for the time. Hoseok made a noise of understanding in the back of his throat and fished around in the pocket of his jeans to pull out his phone. As he flashed the screen her way, Eunjae gave a slow blink at how early it was.

The both of them had gotten back from the airport a little after four am, and the numbers flashing across Hoseok’s phone read that it was now ten am. If Eunjae was doing the math right (which she probably wasn’t), that only equated to around less than six hours of sleep total. Which was definitely pointing to the danger side of her sleep-o-meter.

“Oh.” Was the only sound that could leave her mouth and a pout formed unconsciously on her lips as she squinted up at Hoseok.

How was he already awake and ready to begin his day now ? She really envied his ability to pull energy out of thin air. Though she couldn’t help but wonder why he was there. Eunjae thought someone from the company was supposed to pick her up and take her shopping for the early half of the day. Surely Bit Hit wouldn’t send her out with Hoseok. Because that would undoubtedly cause a huge scandal if they were caught. Not that she would have minded spending time with him, but she wasn’t quite prepared to be bashed into the next century in the next issue of Dispatch.

Eunjae shifted a little closer to the door and tried to peer around Hoseok’s tall frame to see if any of the other members were in the hallway. Or anyone at all. When she found no one, she turned her attention back to the man in front of her, who was slipping his phone back into his pocket.

“Where, um,” Eunjae paused, brows knitting as she tried to search for the words in Korean. At coming up blank, her nose scrunched. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Everyone?” Hoseok parroted back with a blink. Shrugging, he offered her a smile. “Only me.”

“Only you?” Her lips twitched up in response at their weird back-and-forth game of repeating words. As if saying them out loud would help them to translate somehow.

Pulling a hand from the pocket of his fuzzy pullover, he gestured back down the hall to where he’d informed her last night was where Bangtan resided. Their apartment was all the way on the opposite end of the corridor, and Eunjae could just barely make out the outline of the door.

“Left.” A string of non-english words then left Hoseok’s mouth and all Eunjae could do was stare up at him blankly. At noticing her confusion, his mouth pursed and he tilted his head, leaning further against the doorframe. If he felt at all frustrated by their lack of ability to communicate, he didn’t show it. “Earlier. But not me.”

“Oh. Why?”

Hoseok clasped his hands together and held them up to his cheek dramatically, swishing from side to side with his eyes closed. “Tired.”

“So you slept in, then.”

Eunjae said it out loud mostly to herself, but he answered her with a cute, “ding, ding, ding! ”

Which made her wonder how much English he could or could not understand. But that was a question to answer at some other point in time, when she wasn’t falling asleep standing up. Running her hands down her face to try and wake herself up, Eunjae’s tongue flickered across her dry lips.

“Are you here to take me with you to the company, then?” She couldn’t help but continuously feel guilty over the fact that she couldn’t communicate very well in his language. Him being the one to be forced to speak in hers didn’t sit well with her.

Eunjae could definitely tell when Hoseok was confused. In the few short hours that she’d known him in person, she received that look from him a lot. He’d tilt his head to the side and furrow his brow a bit. Then his eyelashes would flutter faster than normal as if the answer to his confusion was right in front of him, but he just couldn’t see it. And his pale pink lips would part just enough to stop from looking like a full on pout. Not only that, but a small little hum would resonate in the back of his throat, sounding more like a sigh than not.

And Eunjae was on the receiving end of a very confused Hoseok.

Pursing her lips, she tried to think of a way to communicate what she was trying to say. Her mind went blank and she cringed internally at the now awkward air encasing them like a bubble. Eunjae wasn’t really sure if a game of charades full of wild gestures and confused faces would somehow disperse the cringeworthy tension.

Too caught up in trying to find a way to bridge the invisible, gaping chasm between them, Eunjae failed to see the imaginary light bulb go off above Hoseok’s head. His sudden movement, however, caught her attention as he fished back into his pocket and whipped out his phone. He quickly held up a finger telling her to wait as his other hand swiped across the screen. Eunjae couldn’t see exactly what he was doing due to the fact that he had what looked like a privacy screen attached to the glass.

Hoseok whipped his phone around to show her and Eunjae almost smacked her forehead at her stupidity. On display was a translator app and as he passed her the phone, she couldn’t believe that she hadn’t thought of the idea. It was so obvious.

“Talk for English to Korean.” He waved a hand at the phone, but before she could speak, the app picked up his voice and a translated version of what he’d just said came out of the speakers in a robotic voice.

Snorting in amusement, Eunjae repeated what she’d said previous and Hoseok let out a tiny hum and gestured for his phone back. The words that left his mouth went in one ear and out the other, and Eunjae shifted on her feet as she waited for the app to translate. Hopefully she’d be able to get a burner phone sometime during the day so that she could download the app for herself. Getting lost in a foreign country with no means of communication was something that was not on her bucket list. After mentally calculating the funds in her bank account, she was sure she could swing it.

“Sejin texted that someone would be here to pick you up at eleven.” The female monotonous, robotic tone snapped Eunjae out of her thoughts and she eyed the phone Hoseok held out between them. “But you have no clothes, right?”

It took Eunjae a second too long to figure out how he knew that bit of information. The night before (or that morning) had been kind of a blur to her. The memories came back to her slowly: him questioning her about her missing luggage, and the add on the fact that she was still in the same outfit.

Hopefully I don’t smell bad . She unconsciously wrinkled her nose at the thought.

“Right.”

Instead of answering her, Hoseok pushed off the doorframe and gifted Eunjae with one of his eye smiles. He gestured for her to follow him and her face contorted in confusion, but she slipped on her shoes still by the door and stepped out into the hall anyway. As the door closed behind her, Eunjae couldn’t help but ask, “where are we going?”

She asked more out of curiosity than anything else. Miles would always berate her about the fact that she was too spontaneous, too willing to bounce from one plan to the next. Eunjae was the type of person to just go along with whatever was thrown her way. And she liked to live life that way; there was something freeing about not holding yourself to a plan sometimes. Most of her more cherished memories were created by taking a leap of faith.

“Clothes!” Hoseok threw over his shoulder, waving his hand in the air to usher her along. Eunjae’s short legs had a hard time keeping up with his long ones and she internally cursed her genetics. At least being a 5’1” woman in South Korea was kind of average. Well, that’s what Eunjae liked to tell herself anyway.

The hallway they were walking down was empty and she took a moment to wonder if any of the other apartments in the building housed celebrities. Surely they had to, what with how expensive they were and the amount of security to even get into the building. Hopefully that meant that there would be little risk of someone exposing the nature of her and Hoseok’s soulbond.

That was just a hassle she didn’t want to deal with.

Eunjae almost ran into the back of the rapper, shoes scruffing against the carpet as she slid to an abrupt stop. Hoseok didn’t seem to notice, instead quickly keying in the code to the apartment and swinging it open. He turned to the side, back pressed against the door to hold it open, and motioned for her to enter first.

The situation was slowly starting to dawn on her. As an ARMY for a little over a year, the prospect of being granted access to Bangtan’s apartment threatened to bring out the fangirl in her. The shock of Hoseok being her soulmate had still not settled in, but as Eunjae was brought more and more into his world, the reality she once knew began to shatter. For now, the walls were merely cracked, but she didn’t doubt that once she met the rest of the members, it would implode into tiny pieces.

After taking a moment to compose herself and not let her inner ARMY show, Eunjae crossed over the threshold. As she passed through the doorway, her shoulder brushed against Hoseok and the electric heat that jolted under her skin almost made her trip over her feet. That feeling was something that Eunjae doubted she would ever get used to. The sound of the door closing drew her attention away from the wide hallway of the entryway and back to Hoseok.

“Need to hurry.” He waved her to follow him as he walked quickly through the wide hallway of the entryway.

Eunjae nodded in response, despite the fact that he couldn’t see it from where he walked in front of her. Hoseok turned left at the end of the short hallway wand the apartment opened up into the big living room. The far wall was made up of all windows, though the blinds were drawn halfway down so she could barely see the view of the city.

The building was located in Hanam Hill, which housed some of the most expensive apartments in Seoul. It was just far enough out of the heart of the city to provide privacy, but not so far that the boys had to travel a long distance to the company. Eunjae had yet to get the chance to see the view from her own apartment since she’d gotten in so late.

The boy’s living room was nice and spacious, but it wasn’t at all flashy. The two of them passed by a large cream colored L-shaped couch and with a wide screen tv mounted to the wall. It was decorated with various knick-knacks that must have been collected from various members.

The marble floor reflected the lights overhead and Eunjae had to stop her jaw from dropping at the sight of the luxury kitchen. It was big, way bigger than hers, and all of the equipment looked state of the art. Which made her wonder if the boys had some kind of personal chef, or if they all just ordered in whenever Seokjin didn’t want to cook.

Hoseok must have caught her rapidly wandering eyes because he threw a grin over his shoulder and offhandedly waved around the space. “See later.”

“You have to go?” Eunjae assumed that’s why he was speed walking through the apartment like a bat out of hell. She had to speed up to a trot in order to keep up as they passed various closed doors down the hallway next to the kitchen.

“Yeah.” Hoseok finally stopped at a door on the left that was already cracked open. He pushed it the rest way and spun around to usher her in. “Practice.”

Hoseok’s room wasn’t super huge, and Eunjae already knew through Miles that he shared it with Jimin. There were two beds against the far wall, separated by a bedside table. There were a few shelves hanging on the walls with various trinkets that Eunjae couldn’t tell who they belonged to. Hoseok crossed the carpet and stopped at a closet door. There was another one a little to the left, which must have been Jimin’s.

Without pause, the door swung open to reveal a smaller version of a walk-in closet. It was big enough to fit both of them if they squeezed, but not so large that she could fully stretch out if she laid down. There were clothes hung up in a random order that Eunjae couldn’t discern, bright colors popping out in between darker ones. Lines of drawers covered the bottom half of the opposite wall, but all of them were closed.

Back pressed up against the door frame, Hoseok gently laid a hand on her shoulder to guide her closer to the closet. “Pick any.”

“For me?” Eunjae pointed a finger at herself. She felt a little slow on the uptake.

Sure, he’d said that he was taking her to get clothes, but she didn’t imagine that he’d give her some of his. Her inner fangirl was starting to crawl its way out and Eunjae had to bite down to keep it from escaping. Was he really about to give her full access to his closet? Not only was her inner ARMY screaming, but the wannabe fashion designer inside of her couldn’t wait to pick through his designer clothes.

Her excitement at the situation must have been showing because Hoseok’s contagious giggle left his throat. He moved away from the door to stand behind her, both of his hands on her shoulders as he ushered her closer. “For you!”

As he let his hands drop, Eunjae turned to shoot him a beaming, grateful smile. The one that made her nose crinkle. “Thanks, Hobi.”

Hoseok grinned and mumbled something in Korean too fast for her to catch. Before she could ask what he’d said, the phone in his pocket dinged . He slipped it out and glanced at the screen before giving her an apologetic smile. “Got to go.”

“Go!” Eunjae waved him off with both hands, not wanting to be the reason he got in trouble. “Don’t be late.”

Hobi hummed and put his phone and opened his arms wide to gesture at his closet. “Stay. Pick any. I will see you...soon!”

For whatever reason, he’d decided not to use the translator on his phone. Either he forgot about it in his haste or he wanted to go without, Eunjae wasn’t sure. But she appreciated the gesture either way. If anything, him trying his best to speak English gave her more incentive to learn more Korean for him.

Eunjae was a little shocked that he trusted her, a near stranger, enough to leave her alone in Bangtan’s apartment. Sure, they were soulmates, but she could have been some kind of crazy sasaeng. So him gifting her that trust was something that she didn’t want to betray.

“See you soon.”

Hoseok gave her a cute little wave before disappearing out the room. As she turned back to the numerous amount of clothes hanging in the closet she could hear the front door open and close. With hands on her hips, Eunjae spun in a small circle, analyzing the different choices. She already knew that she didn’t have a chance in hell of fitting into any of the taller man’s pants. At least not if she wanted to be able to walk without tripping over herself every five seconds. Her fingertips brushed through the fabric with pursed lips.

She was going to have to get creative.

As he walked down the hall, Hoseok could hear the boisterous sounds of the rest of his members spilling out of the practice room. Jimin’s laugh greeted his ears as Hoseok pushed open the door and slipped inside the room. All six of the boys were sitting in a messy circle in the center of the room and the smell of fried chicken and sweat invaded his nostrils.

Jungkook turned at the sound of the door closing with half a piece of chicken sticking out of his mouth. A mumbled, “hey, hyung,” sent bits of chewed up food spraying from his mouth and onto the floor.

“Kook-ah!” Jimin scrunched his nose down at the mess next to his leg. “That’s disgusting.”

Jungkook just shrugged and shoved the rest of the chicken into his mouth. His greeting brought everyone else’s attention to Hoseok as he crossed the room to squeeze in between Yoongi and Taehyung. Neither of them moved to make room, so Hoseok just stretched his legs out between them, half leaning on Yoongi as he did so.

“‘Bout time you got here.” Yoongi raised a brow at the other rapper as he brought his chopsticks to his mouth.

Namjoon, who sat on the opposite side of the circle, quickly swallowed the food in his mouth before addressing Hoseok. “So, how is she adjusting?”

Leaning back on his hands, Hoseok gave a small half-shrug. All eyes were back on him again as they waited for his answer. The members had been just about as excited for his soulmate to arrive as he’d been. Though the language barrier was definitely a large obstacle, Hoseok still had faith that they could figure out an effective way to communicate.

Prior to his soulmate’s arrival, he’d been following Namjoon around in his free time to bug him for English lessons. Hoseok may have known enough English to somewhat follow along during American interviews, but he wasn’t knowledgeable enough to have full blown conversations. That was where the regret had settled in. He definitely should have been more adamant in the past about learning it, but there was nothing he could do about that now.

Hoseok had gone out on a limb when he first met Eunjae by giving her his contact information. Sure, she was his soulmate, but he wasn’t reckless enough not to take the fact that she was a fan into consideration.

The rest of his members had been a little worried and somewhat skeptical, but at the end of the day, they trusted Hoseok’s judgement. They knew that he wouldn’t do anything to put them in harm’s way. He’d had faith that the universe wouldn’t pair him with someone who wasn’t a good person, so he’d taken the risk. And it had paid off.

Though he didn’t really know that much about her and they hadn’t been able to communicate a whole lot with his intense schedule. But Hoseok held out hope that they could form a strong bond. He’d been taken by surprise by just how strong the magnetizing pull between them was. Even after all of the research that he did as he laid in bed late at night hours after practice and interviews and studio sessions.

Jung Hoseok would be the first to admit that he didn’t know a whole lot about soulmates. He’d never paid much attention to it during primary school. The only time it even crossed his mind was whenever a news article would come out, but even then he’d forget about it soon after. Which was yet another thing he regretted.

Maybe if he’d paid more attention, he would have been prepared for how addicting the touch of a soulmate was. It was like a drug that he couldn’t help but want to get his hands on all the time. Not that he would, since he barely knew her and didn’t want to scare her off somehow.

Hell, he was barely even conscious of his body’s own movements before he touched her. Hoseok wasn’t even big on copious amounts of skinship with the exception of the other members. Even then, he wasn’t as touchy as Jimin or Taehyung. So wanting to constantly initiate skinship with a near stranger was overwhelming.

“Earth to Hobi-ya!”

A kick to the bottom of Hoseok’s show brought him out of his thoughts. Seokjin raised an eyebrow from across the circle, waving his chopsticks like he could magically pull the thoughts from his head.

Hoseok shot him an innocent look. “Did you say something, hyung?”

With a dramatic roll of his eyes, Jin gave another kick to his shoe. “What’s got you all spaced out? Namjoonie asked how your soulmate is adjusting.”

“Ah.” The rapper gave Namjoon a sheepish smile, who just waved him off in response. “I’m not sure. It hasn’t even been a day.”

“But we’re gonna meet her today, right?” Taehyung turned to him with hopeful brown eyes.

He’d been one of the most excited ones to meet her beside Jimin. And Hoseok couldn’t help the grateful blanket that settled in his chest. The fact that his members were so accepting of the situation was something that he was thankful for. If they wound up not getting along with his soulmate, Hoseok wasn’t sure what he’d do. So he didn’t think about it.

Hoseok patted Tae’s shoulder with a smile. “Yup! She should be here some time later. Try not to embarrass me.”

He’d said the last part playfully, but a small part of him meant it.

“You said to make sure that we embarrass you, hyung?” Jungkook’s doe eyes peered over another piece of chicken that he was about to shove into his mouth. Though his overly innocent expression gave away his mischief.

“That’s what I heard.” Yoongi’s monotone voice did well to hide his playful sarcasm. He ignored the deadpan look from Hoseok and busied himself with downing the rest of his coffee.

“Let’s at least try not to scare her.” Namjoon, ever the responsible leader piped up with a shrug and a snort of amusement. “At least let her settle in first.”

“So don’t let her meet anyone then. Got it.”

The kick to the bottom of Hoseok’s shoe came from Jimin this time and he ignored it in favor of pushing Taehyung’s chopsticks away from his face. The smell of chicken must have broken through whatever tied over exhaustion gracing Hoseok’s system, because his stomach growled loudly enough for the whole room to hear.

Seokjin eyed him from across the circle, eyes narrowed and pouty lips pursed. His expressions morphed into one of concern as he nodded his head towards the food containers in the center of the circle of boys. “You should eat something.”

Hoseok’s nose wrinkled at the thought of putting any type of food in his mouth. The last time he’d eaten something, the taste of garbage had coated his tongue for the rest of the day. It wasn’t something that he really desired to repeat, so he wanted to forgo that option for as long as he could. “I’m okay.”

“Jin-hyung’s right.” Taehyung pushed the piece of chicken dangling from his chopsticks against Hoseok’s lips. “You should eat.”

With a grimace, Hoseok opened his mouth to reiterate that he wasn’t in the mood to scrape the taste of decay from his taste buds. But before he could, Taehyung shoved the food into his open mouth. Cringing in absolute disgust, Jin sent him a glare before he could spit it out.

“Chew and swallow.”

Not wanting to be on the other side of Seokjin’s wrath, Hoseok did his best to chew without letting the food touch his tongue. After he swallowed, Taehyung ducked his head to hide his smile of victory.

“See, that wasn’t so bad.”

Hoseok would have answered Jin if it wasn’t for the fact that his stomach twisted in sudden nausea. The small bit of food that he’d just eaten was about to make a reappearance. Ignoring the looks of concern from the other boys, Hoseok shot off the floor and stumbled his way to the door. He’d almost made it too, but his system was fast working and he hadn’t been quick enough.

His fear of throwing up came to fruition--all over the floor of the practice room.

“Fuck.”

#bts fic #bts #hoseok fic #hoseok fanfic #hoseok #bts fic rec #won't let me link my Masterlist for some reason

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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Tree House Kisses, Chapter 30 (Adorney) - Scorpio and Veronica

A/N: Click here for previous chapters. xoxo!

Chapter Summary: Courtney faces a nemesis and makes a big decision.

Chapter 30: Complicated

Courtney paced back and forth along the porch, wanting to make a run for it, but not wanting to chicken out. She shouldn't be so nervous, but she couldn't help thinking about the pressure of first impressions. Which in itself was an odd worry because she already knew Adore's friends, for the most part.

When she had told Adore that she wanted to hang out with her, she didn’t mean Adore and friends. She had no problem with any of them, but Violet still had some kind of animosity towards her and Courtney wasn’t sure how she was supposed to respond to that kind of hostility, especially when she was in Violet's house. She was basically stepping into the den of the beast.

Fortunately, Pearl seemed to like her, and Courtney was sure that she and Willam were friends on some level. But she hadn't had much interaction with Trinity or Fame. From just having classes with both the girls, she knew that Fame could talk an ear off and Trinity seemed easygoing, if a little aloof. But they were two of Violet’s best friends, so Courtney needed to be prepared for anything.

“He is so cute, Adore!” Trinity squealed, petting the tiny gray kitten as he explored the shag carpeting in Violet’s basement.

“I know, right?! Bonnie finally came through with her promise to let me get another cat.” Adore grinned happily, eyes never leaving the little baby kitty, making sure her friends didn’t crowd him too much.

“Hey, didn’t you say cheerleader was supposed to be coming over?” Willam looked up from the little cat.

“Yeah, she is. I’m gonna text her; see where she is,” Adore said, grabbing her phone.

“I hope she got lost,” Violet said to no one in particular, earning a smack on the thigh from Fame. “Hey!”

“Be nice.”

“Thank you,” Adore nodded to Fame.

ADORE: Ur still coming, right?

COURTNEY: I’m here

“Oh, she's here.” Adore hopped off the couch, jostling Pearl awake.

“I still don't like the idea of her infiltrating my home with her heterosexual cooties!” Violet yelled after Adore, earning another smack on the thigh from Fame.

Adore swung Violet’s front door open to reveal Courtney. The blonde’s fingers twitched, nervously grabbing at the bottom of her skirt, a bright smile on her face.

“Hey, babe,” Adore smiled, grabbing Courtney’s arm and tugging her in the house.

“Hey, Dory,” Courtney wrapped her arms around Adore’s neck, pulling her into a tight hug before following her inside.

Violet’s house was nothing like Courtney’d imagined. She figured that it would be all stark white walls, abstract art and fancy, sharp-edged furniture. Instead, there were warm tones of terra-cotta and gold, walls and surfaces filled with family photos that she was dying to get a closer look at. She caught a glimpse of Young Violet out of the corner of her eye, cheeks covered with frosting from a birthday cake, and slowed down to get a better look before Adore tugged her forward.

As they descended the steps into Violet’s basement, Courtney could hear talking and laughing. Her stomach still churned nervously, the smell of weed and cinnamon candles hitting her. The basement, like the rest of Violet’s house, was oddly different from how Courtney imagined Violet lived, with furniture straight out of the 70s. An old bunny-eared TV was playing a Friends rerun, volume turned down low so everyone could still hear each other.

“Hey Courtney!” Pearl waved from her spot on the couch. Her blonde hair was pulled into a messy bun on top of her head, hazy blue eyes graced by her signature thick liner.

“Adore, I never told you that you could bring her. Courtney, get out of my house.” Violet raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms.

Courtney stopped mid-step, eyes widening as she looked to Adore.

“She's messing with ya,” Adore shook her head, before pulling Courtney towards the couch. Pearl moved her feet to make room.

“No, I'm not. Ow!” Violet jumped as Fame pinched her thigh.

“Courtney, I love your outfit. You are always so cute,” Fame pushed Violet off her lap, hopping up to hug Courtney.

“Oh, thank you. You always look amazing too,” Courtney pulled back from the hug, gesturing to Fame’s checkered light pink and white dress, that stopped right above her knees, her blond hair pulled back into a braid, a little left out to frame her face.

“Hey, cheerleader,” Willam spoke from his place on the floor beside Trinity.

“Hey, you guys- oh my, whose kitty is this?!” Courtney cooed, flopping down on the floor next to the pair.

“Oh, I didn't tell you. I got her the other day,” Adore said, getting comfy on the couch, throwing her legs over Pearl's lap.

A look of hurt flashed across Courtney's face as she pet the grey kitten.

“How could you forget to tell me? Why didn't you invite me to go with you?”

“Uh…”

“Oh, here we go. Whiny best friend feeling left out. Adore-” Fame threw her hand over Violet's mouth, cutting her off.

“Hey, how about we go get some snacks?” She offered with a smile, then leaned close to Violet to add, “I know you survive off of babies’ tears and hate, but some of us-ow!”

Fame snatched her hand away when Violet bit down on her palm.

“Anyway,” Fame continued. “I'm pretty sure the rest of us are starving. Right?”

Fame looked around, trying to get the others to help her.

“I would kill for some Del Taco,” Pearl groaned from the sofa, emptying the cash from her pockets.

Trinity punched her leg in enthusiastic agreement. “Yes! Omigod, some hash brown sticks and a queso loaded nachos sounds amaaaazing,” she said.

“Perfect!” Fame chirped. “Violet and I will go grab food for everyone.”

Violet stood with a sour face, knowing what the others were doing, as Fame collected the money and orders from everyone.

“Court, you hungry?” Adore asked, noticing her friend sat there with a solemn look on her face, petting the kitten.

“Oh, that’s okay. I don't have any money on me,” Courtney shrugged.

“I'll pay. No biggie,” Adore shrugged digging in her pocket for a couple more crumbled dollars, telling Fame, “Get her two breakfast burritos and extra sauce.”

Courtney smiled up at Adore gratefully, happy that she knew her order without even asking. She decided to drop the whole ‘why did you get a cat without me’ line of questioning, instead saying, “Your kitten is precious. What’s her name?”

Adore flopped down beside her on the rug. “It’s Shane.”

When Fame and Violet left, the whole vibe of the room lightened up.

To Courtney’s delight, she found Trinity fun and likable, and soon found herself relaxing and just watching her and Willam banter back and forth. The way they sniped at each other reminded Courtney of siblings, and she leaned her head back on the sofa, amused by their antics.

By the time Violet and Fame made it back with the food, Courtney found herself totally comfortable with the group, she and Trinity getting Shane to chase a little piece of string while she told them all about cheer practice drama.

Violet lingered by the stairs while Fame flopped down on the ground with Courtney and Trinity. Her dark eyes narrowed, observing the way Pearl’s hand absentmindedly rested on Adore’s thigh while they dug into the food.

When Courtney rose to ask where the bathroom was, Violet smiled and generously offered to lead the way. Upstairs, she paced outside the bathroom door, waiting for the blonde to emerge, planning out exactly what she was gonna say as they headed back down to the group.

“You know…” Violet began quietly, as they made their way through the kitchen. “Pearl and Adore have been getting awfully close this summer…”

“Okay…” Courtney replied uncertainly.

“What do you think about that?” Violet asked.

“I think...I mean, great. That’s...good for them.”

“You sure about that? ‘Cause you don’t seem too excited to me. And it seems like, if you were a real friend, you’d be just thrilled for your bestie to snag someone as hot as Pearl Lent.”

“I...what are you talking about, Violet? Of course I would be happy for her, but she hasn’t told me anything about this, so I don’t know what you’re-”

“Well, of course not. Because you sabotage everything, so of course she’s not going to tell you.” Violet leaned against the doorway to the stairs, rolling her eyes.

“I don’t...what?” Courtney’s cheeks began to burn. “What are you talking about?”

“Why do you think she and Raja didn’t work out? It’s because she has her hands full dealing with a needy best friend who demands attention 24/7 and gets jealous every time she touches someone else!” Violet announced triumphantly.

“I do not get jealous-”

“You’re a liar! I’ve seen the way you looked at them, it drove you totally crazy! But guess what, princess? She doesn’t want you. So maybe you should focus on your boring asshole boyfriend and leave her alone.”

“Why are you such a bitch?” Courtney choked out.

“Because unlike you, I actually want my friends to be happy,” Violet said, flinging open the door and heading downstairs, leaving Courtney dumbfounded.

Courtney stood at the top of the stairs, heart pounding, skin flushed with anger. Was it true? Had she really fucked things up for Adore with Raja? There was of course, that one time she’d walked in on them in the costume room, but that was an accident. Adore knew that. And she never tried to stop Adore from spending time with Raja. Raja was just busy. But Courtney couldn’t deny that she wasn’t Raja’s biggest fan. There was something haughty and aloof about her that she just didn’t like. But so what? She didn’t have to like everyone! Pearl was totally different. Pearl was sweet and fun and if she and Adore got together, well, that would be just great. Fan-fucking-tastic.

As Courtney struggled not to cry, she realized that, more than anything else, she needed to get out of Violet’s house. She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes for a few moments, taking a deep breath, and then went downstairs to grab her purse, with the excuse that she was getting a migraine and needed to head home to lie down.

“Since when do you get migraines?” Adore asked, frowning.

“Um, I’ve gotten a few this summer. You know my mom gets them. I guess it’s genetic,” she laughed weakly.

“I’ll walk you out,” Adore said, starting to untangle herself from Pearl on the sofa.

“No!” Courtney exclaimed. “I mean...No, it’s fine. Don’t bother. I’m...I’m fine. Have a good time.” She bit her lip and turned, scrambling up the stairs.

Adore turned to Violet with narrowed eyes.

“Okay...what the fuck happened, Violet?”

“What do you mean?” Violet blinked innocently, reaching into the bag of Del Taco for her burrito.

“Confess, asshole!” Adore grabbed a handful of dark hair and yanked her back towards the sofa.

Violet let out a mischievous giggle.

“Alright, alright. I’m not sure why she took it so seriously. I was just ribbing her a little about how she’s so needy and demanding and how...you know, maybe that had something to do with why you and Raja broke up and that she should back off.”

“Violet!” Adore cried.

“What?!” Violet grinned, unwrapping her burrito.

“Dude,” Pearl said, shaking her head. “You’re a real douche sometimes, you know that?”

“...and what did I ever do to her?! She’s such a fucking bitch!” Courtney said, pacing back and forth in front of Roy’s bed.

“Yeah, its sounds like-”

“Not to mention, I mean, what was all that nonsense about Adore sleeping with Pearl? Why would I care about that? Like, she thinks I’m gonna try and prevent Adore from getting laid? Since when have I ever done that? And why would I?! I don’t care who Dory has sex with!”

“It kind of seems like you care,” Roy said quietly.

“No, I don’t! I just think Violet is a bitch! Why are you looking at me like that?!” Courtney demanded.

Roy sighed. “She’s always been a bitch, Court. Why did it get to you so much today?”

“Because!” Courtney exclaimed. “What if, what if Bob had a friend who hated you and talked shit about you? All the time?”

“I'd talk shit back. Besides, you have a friend who hates me and I deal with that, don't I?”

“Who?!” Courtney asked, hands on her hips.

“Uh, Adore?”

Courtney threw up her hands. “Adore doesn't hate you!”

“She does so!”

“Does not,” Courtney countered. “You just have like, a sibling bickering thing going on. She treats you like her brother. It’s actually kind of cute.”

“Well, I guess I don’t get it because I’m nice to my brother.” Roy folded his arms.

“But you’re mean to your sisters.”

“Am not!”

“Roy.”

“Not unless they start with me first! It’s not my fault my sisters are evil,” Roy said.

Courtney sighed, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, you can’t compare you and Adore. It’s totally different, because Adore doesn't say nasty shit about you to me. She always defends you when we’re fighting. In fact, Adore is the one who told me to go out with you in the first place.”

“So...you only went out with me because Adore Delano told you to?”

Courtney paused, turning around to look into his eyes, taking in the slightly hurt, slightly challenging look on his face.

“Well, no. Of course not…” She moved forward, putting her hands on his shoulders. “But...I just mean, she was supportive. It's...it’s different.” Courtney cupped his cheek, heart racing, hoping that he would understand.

“Uh huh.”

“And like, I don't care if Adore sleeps with Pearl, I just don't know why Violet was talking about it like that. It was weird.” Courtney climbed on the bed beside him, sighing.

“Right.” Roy cleared his throat slightly, swallowing down a lump in his throat.

Eyes squeezed shut, Courtney asked in a small voice, “Can you please just be on my side?”

Roy reached for her hand. “I’m always on your side. I don’t even know how not to be on your side.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, clinging to his fingers, teeth worrying her bottom lip.

“So...” Roy began, after a moment. “She was a real cunt, huh?”

Courtney turned her head, a smile finally playing on her lips. “Yes! Exactly. I just wish I knew why she hated me.” She pouted slightly, pressing Roy’s hand to her cheek.

“Hmmm. I can’t help you there, babe. Because you’ve got the most lovable personality on the entire planet. Are you sure she’s not...you know...a little deranged?”

Courtney giggled, climbing into his arms. “You think that’s it?”

“It’s the most obvious explanation,” he said, nuzzling her cheek. “In fact, we should probably warn her parents. Maybe they’ll want to get her evaluated before she hurts someone.”

“Yeah?” Courtney began to kiss his neck.

“I mean, the failure to fall hopelessly in love with Courtney Jenek is the first sign of mental instability,” Roy murmured.

“You’re a pretty smooth talker, Del Rio…”

“You think this is good, wait until you hear my bit on the perfection that is every…square inch…of your skin…” Roy said, flipping her onto her back.

Courtney laughed, pulling him down for another kiss.

“I’m serious!” She ran her fingers through his hair, gazing up into his brown eyes. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too. Which I guess bodes well for my mental health.”

“Roy!” Courtney swatted him playfully and he caught her hand, kissing her fingers. She watched his face carefully, that mischievous smirk hiding total and utter adoration. If there was one thing she’d realized this summer, it was that Roy was someone who would never let her down. Who would always be there for her. Who loved her more than she probably deserved. She cleared her throat and said, “You know, I’ve been thinking about you...and us…”

“Yeah?”

Courtney nodded, fingers brushing against his cheek. “Uh huh. And I think that...um…”

Roy held his breath, as if she was a butterfly that he could scare away with the slightest movement.

“...maybe it’s time for us to take the next step? I mean...physically?” When Roy didn’t move or say anything after a beat, Courtney quickly added, “If you want.”

Roy finally cracked a smile, deep dimples appearing in his cheeks. “If I want?”

“I don’t want to be presumptuous.”

“Right.” He lowered his head slowly to kiss her, hands sliding up under her top, weight bearing down against her as his heart began to race. As the kiss grew deeper, he suddenly felt hands on his chest.

“You do know I didn’t mean this second, right?” Courtney asked breathlessly.

“Yeah, sorry,” Roy pulled his head back, panting. “I got a little overzealous.”

“It’s okay.” She reached up and ran a thumb over his lip. “But I was thinking like, maybe...Saturday?”

“This Saturday? Seriously?”

“Yeah? Think you’re up for it?” she teased.

“I think I can handle that.”

Courtney smiled, rubbing her thigh against him with an impish look in her eyes.

“Stop that,” he warned, causing her to giggle, then placed a kiss on her forehead. “I’m gonna plan something really special, I promise.”

“Can’t wait,” Courtney said softly.

ADORE: U okay?

COURTNEY: I’m fine

ADORE: Sorry about Violet. She told me that she said it was ur fault that me and Raja broke up?? I yelled at her.

COURTNEY: lol, i figured she was full of it. nbd

ADORE: Seriously. I’m not defending her at all. I don’t know what made her say that. It’s not true. I’m really pissed at her.

COURTNEY: Thanks

ADORE: Can we hang out again, but just the 2 of us?

COURTNEY: Of course <3

ADORE: Sat?

COURTNEY: Sunday okay?

ADORE: U got it. Hit me up anytime, I’ll be home.

April studied Courtney’s face critically, eyeshadow palette in one hand and angled brush in the other.

After a few moments, Courtney began to shrink self-consciously.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m just trying to figure out...oh!” She put down the palette and picked up a liquid liner, leaning over to touch up what she’d done earlier. “Hold still.”

Darienne fastened a clip into her hair, running her fingers through the blonde curls to give them a more tousled look. “Okay, so, remember, your mom thinks you’re here, so if she calls, we’ll text you.”

“She won’t,” Courtney said. “She’s doing some meditation workshop with her boyfriend.”

“God, this is so much easier with flaky parents,” Darienne sighed, and off Courtney’s scowl, stammered out, “No, I mean, your mom is awesome, I’m jealous.”

April snickered, finishing her lips and handing her a tissue to blot, then turning the chair to face the mirror. “So...what do you think? Is it what you wanted?”

Courtney stared at her reflection. The face that stared back was hers, and yet...not. Between the dark, smokey eye makeup and matte red lips, April had certainly fulfilled her request to look “older and more sophisticated.” Her clingy black dress was simple and a stark departure from her normal wardrobe of bright colors and girly pastels, sparkles and ruffles. She nodded, swallowing.

Darienne put a hand on her shoulder. “How do you feel?”

“Um...I guess a little nervous.” Courtney bit her lip.

“Yeah,” Darienne said with a light chuckle. “Listen. I’ve known Roy my whole life, and I have no doubt that he’ll have some very sweet, kind of cliché, but totally lovely evening planned for you. It’ll be romantic and beautiful and show how much he loves you.”

“Sounds accurate,” April laughed.

“But like...it’s your first time,” Darienne continued. “Both of your first times. The sex itself? It’s not gonna be good. At best, it’s gonna be like, bearable. For you, I mean. For him, it’ll probably be the best thing that’s ever happened to him.”

Courtney giggled, twisting the tissue in her hands.

“What I’m saying is, and I don’t know if this totally makes sense but...if I were you, I’d try not to make it all about sex. Try to just...relax, and enjoy the rest of the night. You know? Being close to him. How much he loves you. Because that’s what you’ll want to remember.”

“Yeah.” Courtney smiled, taking a deep breath.

“If it helps, my first time with Bob was in the back of his car. And he came in like, 2 seconds,” April said.

“Oh, god,” Courtney said, stifling a laugh with her hand.

“It got better,” April said with a shrug. “I mean, if he’s prepared properly, he can last through almost a whole song now.”

“Good to know,” Courtney grinned.

“Speaking of prepared, let’s make sure you have everything you need!” Darienne said, turning her attention to Courtney’s overnight bag and little silver clutch.

Roy stood outside April’s front door, nervous anticipation building in his stomach. The door swung open to reveal Darienne, smiling in that obnoxious maternal way of hers.

“Hi honey,” she cooed. “Come on in.”

“Would you please stop,” Roy murmured.

“Stop what? You look really handsome. Is that a new jacket?” She grinned, lashes fluttering.

“I mean it, Dar, stop being weird, this is-” Roy stopped talking abruptly when Courtney turned the corner, April at her side.

“Hi,” Courtney said softly, giving Roy a sweet, lopsided smile.

“Hi,” he breathed, transfixed. “Wow. You look...wow.”

She giggled, biting her lip coyly. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah, absolutely…” He reached out his hand, and she walked forward, lacing her fingers into his. April sauntered behind her with a small black duffel bag, which Roy took quickly, peering into the family room where April’s dad sat in front of the TV. “Come on.”

“You kids have fuuuun!” Darienne sang from the doorway as they walked towards the car.

Roy rolled his eyes, tightening his grip on Courtney’s hand. She looked down, realizing for the first time that maybe she wasn’t the only one who was nervous.

“But not too much fun!” April added, snickering.

Roy opened the car door, shaking his head. “God, those two are so annoying. I can’t wait to finally-”

Courtney cut him off with a soft, sweet kiss, hands gripping the lapels of his jacket. Roy relaxed against her, pulling her closer by the waist. When she lifted her head, he sighed blissfully.

“Thank you. I needed that.”

“No problem,” she said, sliding into the car with a wink. “Let’s go.”

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bytemycupcakes · 5 years ago

Text

Smile For Me Bedrooms

I think too hard about the characters rooms, here’s proof

Not all the charas, but more than I should really have thought of. (I could probably do more if I think long enough)

-Randy’s room is dark and very purple, always being lit by real or LED candles depending on how awake he is. There’s a clear witchy feel, as all the walls are covered in dried herbs and other decorations. There’s likely a few blankets hung on the ceiling. His room is an absolute mess, covered in dirty clothes, rejected poems, the remnants of spells, and empty energy drink or soda cans. His room is lined in dressers and tables, only one of which is somewhat clean. He has a twin-sized bed with a thick dark purple comforter and a black weighted blanket with far too many pillows. His room is always cold, despite how warm you think it should be. His room smells like a strong mix of several different incense (Including the common ones of sandalwood, sage, and dragonsblood), Pickles (of course), whatever his most recent meals were, and just general musk of clothes that really need to be washed.

-Trencils room is semi similar, lots of plants, books, and general witchy-like things, but Trencils room is more light and warm with yellows, browns, and greens, Very clean, One wall has a large bookshelf filled to the brim with ancient books he’s collected over the centuries. He has a table set up like a desk with ingriedient cabinets, and always a few books stacked across it. His floor is a nice light brown hardwood with a olive green handmade rug, while his walls are a soft golden yellow. His bed isn’t as big as he’d like, but he always keeps it as tidy as possible, with a thin microfiber blanket the same colour as his cape. his antique nightstand has a barely working alarm clock and a framed photo of Nat as a baby, both atop a little white doilie. There’s probably a very subtle antique or cinnamon smell to it, just enough that you can tell what it is, but otherwise unnoticeable. His room is at it’s peak beauty in the evening, the tired sun beaming through his plant-filled window. No matter the outside temperature, his room is perfect and homey, even though he keeps the window open at all times.

-Dallas' is also yellow, but like spring-aesthetic-y kinda yellow (Pastel and eastery kinda). Likely lined in thick canvas tarps, an excess amount of cups, some for paint, some for drinks, and a bunch of empty canvas' leaning against the walls. His bed is massive and the bedding matches his shirt to a T, he's got a single very old and flat pillow that you can never figure out how he lives with. None of his furnature matches, all different types of wood, some painted some not, none match the beautiful mid-brown floor either (which is fine since it’s covered in tarps). There's empty paint tubes all over the floor, a pile of clothes in the corner Everything that isnt the walls, floor proper, and ceiling has spots of paint on it. You can see all the dust in the air cause he does not have curtains. The room is always like.. a single degree too warm but Dallas never minds. There's the smell of paint in the air always making you think theres wet paint afoot.

-Parsley’s room is a deep desaturated blue, think the boiler room but a bit lighter. The floor is such a dark brown that it looks black when the light is off, and has white molding across both floor and ceiling. He keeps the room lit mostly from his bathroom light. His bed is full sized, has gorgeous grey sheets, and a beautiful ocean blue quiltted blanket. He uses rejected stuffed animals from his children as pillows (Like squishmallows), but has two proper pillows matching his sheets. His desk is fancy, a deep oak, and always covered in various papers, pens, and his laptop. An expensive black desk chair is randomly rolled around the room if it isnt in use, there seems to always be pants or a suit jacket laid over it. His room always smells like he just got out of the shower but without the humidity, and has an awkward cold-air about it.

-Tim Tam and Putunia share a room. With matching white bedframes hiding all the mess they hate to clean and their “secret boxes”. The walls are a nice minty/aqua green with white molding across the floor. Tim Tam’s bed is a mess and has pure grey bedding with only one stuffed animal at a time, they rotate. The (empty) laundry basket at its foot. While Putunia has a soft pink blanket and several different colours of pillows, she keeps all the other stuffed animals on her bed. Their shared toybox is at the foot of her bed. The floor is scattered with toys, abandoned board games, and unfinished homework or books. They have a large pink childrens dresser split in half for them to share, Tim Tams half has clothes sticking out of it and gouges in the wood while Putunia’s is covered in every sticker she’s ever found. The two have a single nightstand between their beds, full of their board games, and topped with a large lava lamp acting as a nightlight. They have very pretty white lace curtains, it’s a miracle Tim Tam hasn’t destroyed them yet. Their room smells sweet like candy, but you’ll never find the source.

-Nat’s room is pink and she pretends to hate it. She has a large circular pink and white patterned rug in the center, though most of it is covered by her gigantic bed. Her bed has that clasic pastel lolita feel with a very intricate cannopy drapped over the four bedposts. It has a thick comforter, but she always uses the thin pink shag blanket kept folded at the foot of her bed. Her room is lit by the small amount of light that gets in from her blackout curtains and her single lamp. Her window is filled with small plants from her learning to garden like her father. Her room is weirdly spotless for a 13 y/o girl, it’s only occasional mess being a scarf she may have stolen from Trevor. She has a small bookshelf with books stolen from Trencil, shoplifted, or library books she just never returned. Her dresser is covered in picture frames, some empty, some of her and Trencil, her friends, or even some of Flower kids photos they gave her. She has a desk to do homework on, but she always does it on her bed. Her room smells like a campfire and is always comfortably cool. She has no idea if her main lights actually work.

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