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spacestationdaedalus · 3 years ago

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when my demons won’t let me be

or: not in his right state of mind, Jon accidentally compels Martin. It’s not okay, but it’s okay.

or or: i spend so much time reading sick fic and i finally wrote one of my own angst and plenty of hurt/comfort, warnings for canon-typical compulsion and descriptions of panic and disassociation

Martin wakes to a shifting of weight and a cut off breath. It's a hazy half-awareness, coming to him under a snowdrift, on a radio station drowning in dull static.

In a well-practiced motion, Martin extends an arm over the covers to rest on Jon's chest. He doesn't let the full weight fall, not yet. Enough for Jon to know he's there, a touch light enough that Jon can readily push away or lean into. It depends on the particular brand of nightmare, the terror that's chosen to follow him to sleep. Sometimes he sets Martin's arm aside with a gentle squeeze, sitting up against the headboard and taking comfort in the cool bedroom air and the sound of Martin's breathing. At least, in Jon's own words. Other times, he holds Martin's arm to his chest, taking comfort in the weight and warmth of it.

Neither of those things happen, though.

Jon rolls sharply, seemingly ignoring Martin's arm in favor of the other side of the bed. He curls around himself with a low whine, harshly cut off in the back of his throat.

"J'n?" Martin props himself up on one arm. Voice rough with sleep, but no less concerned.

Jon shifts, a back and forth movement that looks like it could be the shaking of his head. His shoulders are taut and trembling. He makes another sound that could be the beginning of a shout, and it brings Martin to full awareness. He moves his hands to Jon's shoulder before he has time to think, desperate to help, to comfort, to something.

"Jon, it's alright-"

“Don’t touch me!” Jon bursts out, dripping and full of static and oh oh oh. It cascades over Martin’s mind, oily and slick. His hands pull away like they've been burned, but numb and far off. As though belonging to a stranger.

He shifts away from Jon and off of the bed, limbs moving robotically to pull back the covers, to move him away until his back meets the bedroom wall. Martin's hands are raised halfway, frozen in a caricature of comfort. A puppet on strings. He wants to move, shout, anything. But the gaze of eyes he can’t see bears down on him, an insurmountable weight holding him in place. Like a butterfly pinned inside a glass display case.

Jon is sitting up, now. Eyes (eyes, eyes, he's all eyes) blown wide, bright and glassy even in the low light of the room. His breathing is ragged and uneven in obvious panic. Even with his hands clenched tight in the front of his nightshirt, Martin can see they’re trembling. Martin’s heart aches and he wants to help but he can’t move and Jon’s eyes are still on him and he can’t breathe and it hurts. And he's afraid. He can hear his pulse pounding in his ears, the eyes are still watching him and it feels so much like burning paper and righteous anger and Elias's face and everything Martin had been trying to forget.

Jon brings up a hand to cover his mouth. Horror and panic clear in his eyes, which Martin knows are reflected in his own. Then Jon backs away, clearly unsteady on shaking legs. Martin's vision starts to blur (when was the last time he blinked?) but he hears Jon's steps fade into the hall. And Martin can do nothing.

The back of Martin's mind still using logic was hoping the feeling would fade once Jon wasn't looking at him. Unfortunately, Martin is used to being proven wrong. Face blank, body rigid, mind screaming.

Autonomy comes back to him slowly, a tingling in his fingertips that trickles down his arms and leaves an awful shakiness in its wake. Nerves making up for lost time, maybe. Trying to catch up with the adrenaline coursing through his veins. A grip Martin wasn't aware of begins to loosen from around his ribcage, and his first real breath in ages is a shuddering gasp. The force of it combined with the jelly replacing his knees sends him sliding to the floor, using the wall for support.

Martin breathes. In. Out. The first breath is molten in his lungs. His eyes water against it, and the second one is even worse. The third leaves as a sob that echoes back at him. In one last betrayal of his body against him, the tears spill over to drip down his cheeks. Martin rests his forehead against his knees and wills himself not to fall apart.

The Lonely was easy, in that regard. For months, Martin didn't have to worry about this kind of thing - the fear and anger and gaping misery that had been following them for so long. But evidently suppressing your trauma with more trauma wasn't a healthy coping mechanism. Go figure.

Leaving the Lonely was hard. Martin had spent most of the first 48 hours oscillating wildly between numb detachment and emotion so overwhelming he thought he would drown in it. Jon helped. He was patient, gentle, all the things Martin thought were too good to be true.

Martin forces himself up as soon as he's able. Maybe sooner, given the way the room sways when he stands. But it passes after a moment, and Martin goes to find Jon.

The house is dark. The occasional creak from the pipes and floors could be off-putting, but compared to everything else, it's benign. He uses fingers brushed against the wall to guide him down the short hallway.

"Jon?" He calls. The floor creaks in response.

Martin reaches the threshold between the hall and the kitchen. The haze of the moon behind thin clouds bleeds through the window above the sink, providing just enough light to see. Martin catches a shadow out of the corner of his eye, but it isn't actually a shadow, and Martin lets himself feel a hint of temporary relief.

Jon is tucked in the corner between two cabinets. Head buried against his bent knees, hands gripping into his hair in a position that mirrors Martin's from mere moments ago. Martin's heart leaps into his throat.

"Oh, Jon." Martin kneels in front of him, slow as to not startle him. If Jon notices, he makes no sign of it.

"Jon?" Martin reaches, but stops halfway. He doesn't want a repeat of before. His palm itches, but he keeps it airborne. Until he knows it's okay.

Jon makes a sound in the back of his throat, one that Martin hasn't heard before. His next inhale is strained and wet and - oh.

Martin had never seen Jon cry before. Angry, upset, shaken, sure. But not this. It twists something awful and thorny in his chest. Martin wants to hug him, but he keeps the few inches between them.

"Don't-" Jon starts suddenly, and for an awful moment the hairs on the back of Martin's neck stand up on end. But Jon cuts himself off with a keening noise, and curls further into himself. His shoulders are trembling, either from holding back sobs or the biting chill of the poorly-insulated kitchen floor, Martin can't be sure. Probably both.

"I-I'm sorry-" Jon stutters, sounding like each word is a fight to get out. "I-I-I don't - I don't know…"

"Just breathe, Jon. It's alright."

Jon shakes his head against his legs. "N-no, you need to-" A sob cuts him off.

"Need to what, love?" The term of endearment slips out naturally on Martin's tongue. If Jon notices, he doesn't say so.

"Leave." The last word crackles slightly in the air, like static electricity threatening a shock. Martin freezes. The compulsion threatens to overtake him, but it's weaker than before. It rings in his skull, and Martin fights it back until it fades to background noise.

Jon whispers, barely audible. "I can't - I can't control it."

Oh.

"Alright, alright…" Martin bites his lip for a moment. Nods to himself.

"Okay, let's just - I'll ask you yes or no questions for now. You can, ah - just nod for yes and shake your head for no. Is that alright?"

Jon's face is still hidden, but that's alright. After a moment, he nods enough for Martin to discern the movement.

"G-good, okay-" Martin pauses, not immediately sure what question to go with first.

"Did you have a nightmare, earlier? Is that what scared you?" Martin silently chides himself for asking two questions, but hopefully it won't matter.

Jon nods.

"Has this happened before? The, uh-" Martin makes a hand motion, but Jon can't see it. "Th-the 'not being able to control the compulsion,' thing?"

There's a pause, then Jon shakes his head. Martin frowns.

"Alright, that's alright. Do you think you can look at me?"

Another pause, longer. Martin doesn't press as the seconds pass. Then Jon slowly raises his head.

Jon's eyes are wide, rimmed with red and dark circles more pronounced than they had been in the last few days. Tears are steadily dripping down his cheeks, flushed dark against his complexion. His lips are pressed tightly together, and Martin can see the barely contained panic mingled with exhaustion in every line of his face.

"Hey." Martin greets, feeling like a small victory. Jon quickly casts his gaze down and to the side, not meeting Martin's eyes. He also moves his hands to wrap around his torso, shivering harshly against the cabinets. Martin frowns again. He racks his brain for the seemingly mundane moments from the previous day. Jon talking less as the day had gone on, his less-than-already-finnicky appetite, going to bed early because he said he was a bit tired. Nothing individually out of the ordinary, not after the hell they'd dragged themselves through just to get here. But-

"Jon, is it alright if I touch you?"

Jon nods almost immediately, but still avoids Martin's eyes. Encouraged, Martin moves carefully to press the back of his hand against Jon's cheek. It's warm - hot, even - to the touch. Martin checks his forehead for good measure, feeling the heat before their skin actually makes contact. Martin's winces in sympathy, moving his hand back to Jon's cheek. He uses both hands, for good measure, to cup Jon's face, and wipe the stray tears still dripping from his lashes.

"Oh, love. You're burning up." Martin says, gently. "That must have something to do with it."

Jon's brow furrows. He brings his own hand up to his face, seemingly to try and feel his own temperature. Martin can't help the quiet laugh.

"First let's get off the floor. 's not exactly comfortable, yeah?" Martin offers.

Jon doesn't react, eyes locked in a middle distance between the two of them. But then all at once his expression breaks, and he buries his face in his hands.

Martin's heart leaps into his throat. "Oh, hey, hey-"

Jon's words are muffled by his hands, and broken up by harsh, jagged sobs.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I-I didn't-"

Martin moves forward slightly so he can wrap his arms around Jon. He can feel the shivers wracking Jon's frame, and the heat radiating off of him in waves. Martin tucks Jon's head under his chin, and holds him.

"Hey, it's okay." And it's not a lie. Martin was scared - terrified, to put it lightly. He knows he can't just brush that fear away. But he's not scared of Jon, never has been, never will be. And Martin know Jon, knows him and loves him and knows that he loves him back. Martin thinks that this might be more complicated than that, but right now, with Jon coming apart on the kitchen floor, it feels that simple.

"I know you didn't mean to, Jon. It's alright."

Jon shakes his head weakly in protest. Martin can't make out his exact words, jumbled as they are. But he feels the intent behind them, with the way they reverberate in his chest.

"We can talk about it later, when you're feeling better. But I'm not mad, I promise." Martin runs a hand through Jon's hair. It might have been a braid when Jon first went to bed, but it's mostly undone now. "Right now, I'm just worried about you. That's a nasty fever you're running."

They stay like that for a few minutes more. Jon's form is still a trembling leaf in Martin's arms, shallow and uneven breaths punctured by the occasional apology and stifled cry. Jon's forehead is pressed into his neck, burning like a furnace against Martin's skin.

Martin almost asks Jon if he can walk, but instead-

"Jon, is it alright if I pick you up?"

Jon tenses, and Martin immediately regrets asking. But then Jon nods affirmative, relaxing slightly into Martin's hold. Oh thank god.

Jon fits easily into the bends of Martin's arms, one at his back and one under his knees. Jon's hands clench the front of Martin's shirt, tightening and loosening in an uneven rhythm as Martin stands. It's easy for Martin to carry him the short distance to the bedroom, mindful of the narrow door frames.

The quilt and sheets are pulled back from before, which is helpful now. Martin eases Jon onto the bed. He brushes Jon's hair away from his face in what Martin hopes is a comforting gesture. But Jon still has that faraway, panicky look in his eyes, and Martin has an idea.

"Don't move, alright? I'll be right back, I promise." Martin presses a kiss to Jon's forehead, hoping he heard and understood enough of that to not mind when he leaves the room.

Martin comes back with a damp cloth and a glass of water. And a bottle of pain reliever - one that Martin had originally picked up from the store as an afterthought, but is grateful for now. He sets the glass and bottle on the nightstand and sits gingerly on the edge of the bed. Next to Jon, who hasn't so much as shifted in Martin's admittedly brief absence. Martin lays a hand on Jon's shoulder, but after a moment, moves to Jon's cheek. An olive branch to Jon's clouded awareness.

"Alright, love. I'm gonna lay this on the back of your neck, okay? Can you lean forward a touch for me?"

Jon doesn't move or otherwise react for a moment, and Martin is almost sure he didn't hear it. But then he pitches forward slightly, and Martin shifts so he can support Jon's weight against his shoulder. He brushes Jon's loose curls to the side, letting his fingers linger there for good measure.

"It's gonna feel really cold, but it'll help. Easy," Martin murmurs, placing the folded cloth on the back of Jon's neck. Jon flinches at the touch, hissing between a groan and a whimper.

"I know, I know." Martin soothes easily, adding other words of comfort here and there, lost to his memory as soon as they cross his lips. He holds Jon close, taking the chance to comb his fingers again through Jon's bed-moussed hair. He knows Jon likes having his hair played with, so Martin ever so gently works his way through some of the tangles, careful never to pull too hard or too fast. Jon's breaths slow and deepen - still marred by the occasional hitch, but a vast improvement from before. He gradually sinks more of his weight onto Martin's shoulder, until Martin is sure he's the only reason Jon is still upright. But Martin doesn't mind.

"Better?" Martin asks, when Jon's trembling passes and his breaths sound less like someone on the verge of drowning. Jon clears his throat.

"I- yes." He rasps, hardly a whisper. The word pulls a cough out of him, but he keeps going. "Th- thank you."

"Of course." Martin says. He all but beams at the sound of Jon's voice, wretched as it sounds. He considers making tea, but something about the bonelessness of Jon's posture tells him Jon won't be awake long enough to see a cup finished. But he does grab the glass of water from the nightstand, and shifts so Jon can take it in both hands.

"Drink some of that for me." Martin presses, and Jon doesn't argue. Martin reaches for the pain reliever next, shaking two pills out and handing them to Jon. He seems surprised at first, but quietly offers a thank you as he takes them from Martin's hand.

"How are you feeling?" Martin asks. It feels like a stupid question, but one of those stupid questions that you just have to ask in lieu of anything else.

"I'm-" Martin knows Jon is about to say I'm alright and something in his face must stop Jon from finishing, because he cuts himself off with a sigh. He presses the heel of his palm into his eye, suppressing a wince. "To - to be honest, uh, quite terrible."

The frankness of it could almost be funny, but Martin's heart aches instead. "I'm sorry. The medicine should help, at least."

Even without his glasses, Martin can make out the two in the hour place of the digital clock on the nightstand, and yeah, it's time for bed.

"And some proper sleep."

Jon nods, eyelids heavy. Martin takes the half-empty glass from his hand, and encourages Jon to lie back with a gentle push. Martin joins him on the other side of the bed, pulling the covers back over the two of them. He leans, partially sitting up against the headboard, inviting Jon into the place at his side if he wants it.

Jon fills the space immediately, burrowing his face into Martin's shoulder. Arms curled in front of him, pressed into Martin's side. He sighs softly. Martin watches the last of the tension bleed out of Jon's face, eyes closed. Jon's fever leaves Martin's side overly warm in minutes, but Martin can't bring himself to mind.

He's sure Jon is already asleep, but-

"M-rtin?"

"What is it, Jon? Do you need something?"

Jon makes a negative sound into Martin's shoulder, shaking his head. It's quiet for a moment, save for their breathing.

"I love you."

Martin freezes, and the response comes as naturally as an inhale after an exhale.

"I love you too."

#the magnus archives #tma #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #jonmartin #tma fics #my writing #i have not proofread this but i'm also proud of it pls forgive me

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giorno-plays-piano · 4 years ago

Note

Yandere alien Bucky x astronaut darling

I find this request very unique! I’ve never actually thought about this before, so thank you for bringing this creative idea <3

P.S. The action takes place in the future.

The Reason

Pairing: alien!Bucky Barnes x astronaut!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, kidnapping, death of minor characters, allusion to breeding and non-con.

Words: 2985.

_____________________

When you finally managed to open your eyes, everything was pitch black for a couple of minutes. Your body hurt so much as if someone threw you into a well, then pulled your dead body out, and threw it back in. The oxygen mask on your face felt heavy as hell.

You easily recognized the monotonous sounds of life support system since it wasn’t your first space mission. Damn, what had happened? Did you finally get that significant brain damage Dr. Strange was so concerned about? You didn’t remember blacking out so violently after your last spaceflights. This one wasn’t even your longest.

When you saw the room, you stared at the unnaturally high ceiling that you couldn’t blame on your blurry vision. It just didn’t look the same. Did they move the Adaptation Center to a new building or something? Did Dr. Strange mentioned it before? You couldn’t remember, really. You didn’t think he did.

Despite the fact that you felt weightless, moving your body seemed nearly impossible as you struggled to move your legs. Shit, and there you thought those magic drugs NASA offered you last time were way better than their usual treatments.

Wait. You didn’t finish your mission. You weren’t returning to Earth yet as you had around 6 more months to spend in space. Had something happened? Did Dr. Str-

Oh yes. Dr. Strange was dead. You still remembered his face when Sergeant Barnes, an extraterrestrial from Theseus-17, had shot him right in front of you.

When you saved them from their greatly damaged spacecraft, it was five of them: Steve Rogers, the Captain, their leader; Tony Stark, the Pilot; Bruce Banner, the Doctor; Vision, the Pastor, and James Buchanan Barnes, the Soldier. All of them simply used human analogues of their true names, but the members of your crew didn't protest: since Theseus-17 was incredibly far even for your highly technologically advanced spaceships, you knew very little of its inhabitants. Apparently, they attempted to establish a good relationship between your races - especially since you had so much biological similarities. In fact, they might be the closest to humans among other species you had ever encountered before, you thought.

Well, it was true, but you failed to see they would use it to their advantage to the fullest.

They were a militaristic alien race with predominantly male population controlled by stratocratic government. Their planet was three times smaller than Earth, but their technological advancement was unbelievable, especially compared to human's: it allowed them to invade several other small planets and colonize them in the past. However, due to some extreme DNA mutations, their female population was declining decade after decade resulting in zero births over the last five years. The Hydrarirans, as they called themselves, were rapidly facing extinction, Steve told you while explaining the reasons why they were so far from their home.

You had a pretty long talk after Bucky had shot Dr. Strange, and Tony strangled Wong. You barely remembered what had happened next, though you could guess you ended up being drugged by Hydrarians. Fuck. Did you send a signal back to Earth? You couldn't tell. Well, you certainly remembered Dr. Strange sending a message about saving the crew of Theseus-17 spacecraft. If you went missing, it would be a clear sign of something going very wrong.

But you still were God knew where. Gradually becoming extremely nervous with each passing second, you looked at the countless wires attached to your body and started to pull, forcefully taking them out of your skin and silently crying - you didn't remember feeling so much pain since the times of your first space mission. Violently throwing away the oxygen mask, you crawled on the bed until you fell to the floor with a loud thud. Shit.

You stayed there for a couple of minutes, afraid Hydrarians would quickly discover what you were doing, but since you heard nothing, you crawled further from bed to a wide glass wall, your vision still blurry. Where were you? It didn't feel like a spacecraft. It felt like you were brought to an unknown planet, and when you saw two red suns shining in the black sky, you realized it was exactly like Steve described his planet to you.

No, no, it couldn't be. Theseus-17 was God knew how many light years away. Their ship wasn't in the condition to fly you there so fast, yours even less so, and you certainly hadn't been put in a cryostasis. However, how well did you know what technology these alien freaks possessed? What if they could be using some teleport able to cover enormous distances? It could easily be an option.

Crawling further to the window, you had finally reached it and touched its cold surface. It certainly looked and felt like a glass beneath your palm.

The black meadows you stared upon were nothing like the ones you saw from a window of the little house where you spent your childhood. This place was wicked, evil. You could feel it in the air as you inhaled that strange, sickly sweet oxygen or whatever it was. No wonder their women couldn't handle living here, and you wouldn't last here either. It was clear what you were brought here for, and even the thought of it was repulsive to you. How dare they? How barbaric were these freaks, intending to use human women as some breeding machinery? If their military experiments made them facing extinction, then let it be, you thought, horrified and disgusted at the same time.

You rubbed your droopy eyes, feeling the wetness on the back of your palm as you tried not to cry, thinking what were your options except to submit silently to your abductors. How were you going to navigate a ship back home? How were you going to steal a ship? Actually, how were you going to leave this damn room, considering that your body was almost unable to move because of the time you spent in space? Recovery would take quite some time, unless Hydrarians had advanced medical support for cosmonauts. You hoped they did, because spending months to recover while staying with these savages wasn't an option.

Huh, it was better to listen to your mom and become a doctor. Now you'd be sitting in your cabinet and listening to concerns of elderly ladies, not being locked away on a planet with no female population. You had hard times imagining what they would do to you if you end up being thrown in a crowd of mad men yearning for intimacy for years.

Rubbing your eyes again, you exhaled loudly. You were in deep, deep shit.

When the white wall beside you suddenly moved to the side, allowing a tall, menacing man in a black military suit to enter, you held your breath, watching Sergeant Barnes walking into the room. You thought of his metal hand with a red star engraved on it - he could snap your neck with one swift motion if he wanted to, though he could probably do it with his flesh hand, too. Certainly, he was both skilled in combat and cybernetically enhanced, so escaping with him guarding you would be extremely problematic. You'd prefer to meet Vision instead of the grim Soldier.

"What are you doing, woman?" Barnes asked as he saw you on the floor with your back pressed to the glass wall, your arms bleeding from violently tearing the wires of the life support system out of your body. Apparently, you didn't look as good as he expected you to.

"A woman has a name." You said sternly, watching one of your abductors marched through the room and trying your best not to tremble. If he was raised in a stratocratic society, he valued power and strong will more than anything else, probably, so you had to pull yourself together.

“I am sorry.” He suddenly said, bowing his head as he stood right in front of you.��“If it pleases you, I will refer to you by your name only, Y/N.”

You blinked, your vision still unfocused and blurry - a part of you was thankful for that since you couldn’t see Soldier’s face clearly. You doubted he looked very friendly, despite talking to you with some respect.

“Don’t touch me.” You commanded as he leaned closer to take you back to bed, his shiny combat boots touching your bare leg just slightly, making you shiver involuntarily.

“We have medication to nurse you back to health, but you still need the life support system. Please, do not resist.” Sergeant Barnes once again tried to pick you up, but you grabbed him by the wrist instead, silently staring at his pale face half-covered by that black mask he wore.

The man got silent and froze on the spot, looking at you with a strange glint in his eyes. He certainly didn’t seem menacing or angry, but there was something in him you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Why wasn’t he upset by your behavior? Soldier didn’t try grabbing you forcefully, nevertheless.

Could it be your contact, then? You might be the first woman to touch him in years. Thinking of it, the very next moment you recoiled, crawling away to increase the distance between you two.

Maybe the man was disappointed, but you couldn’t see it with that blank expression he wore as he suddenly sat down on the floor close to you, and then took his mask away, showing you his rather handsome, yet gloomy face. He looked... human, and it truly scared you.

“I know you think we are a threat to you, but we are not.” He said calmly, watching you. “I will not hurt you. I promise.”

You were ready to laugh at that. “You’ve killed my crew, people who I’d been working with for years.”

“Yes, and I am sorry for that. It was necessary.”

Necessary. What an interesting word he found to describe what he and his comrades had done.

“Don’t you understand what will happen once people from Earth learn about you and things you did?” As he cocked his head to the side, his dark uneven hair falling on his shoulder, you realized he wasn’t scared at all. “We can wipe you out of existence. Even if all of your kind are soldiers, there are billions of us, humans. You aren’t a threat.”

“We are not trying to be one.”

He extended his hand in attempt to touch you, but you recoiled and crawled away a bit further, narrowing your eyes at Sergeant. Whatever he was doing, it couldn’t be good for you.

“Please, do not be afraid. Right now you are the most precious being on our planet, and anyone trying to hurt you will be beheaded at the very least.”

Of course, you were. If Captain told you the truth, you were the one and only young woman on Hydra. You would be treasured, but you dreaded what they would do to you. Even thinking of it made you face twist in revulsion.

“What makes you think using me like a cattle won’t hurt me?”

“A cattle?”

For a few seconds Soldier got silent, and you realized he was searching the meaning of this word - now you managed to see a strange device on his ear that looked like an old Bluetooth garniture or something. Then the man looked at you with a surprised expression on his face, and you felt an urge to bite your tongue to stop thinking how human he appeared now.

“I assure you, you will never be degraded to such an inferior being. On the contrary, we can give you anything you wish for. I know the status of women on Earth is still far from being equal to men’s, but you are godlike to us.”

Carefully lifting his hand again, Barnes had took a shiny black glove from his flesh arm and showed you his hand with five fingers, spreading them for you to see he was as human as you. For the first time you felt like you wanted to cry, and bit down on your lower lip. God, why? Why did he look just like any other man? Why was he trying to seem kind to you? It would be so much easier if he was hurting you, pressing your face into the floor and binding your arms.

“I swear to you on the name of my mother, I will do anything in my power to make you happy.”

Apparently, it was some sacred oath, judging by the way his cold blue eyes gleamed, but you weren’t buying it. Make you happy? The one and only thing he could do was letting you go back home, to your own kind, and allow you to forget what had happened above your ship, the image of Dr. Strange with a wide hole in his chest still making you clench your fists.

“Why are you so sure we are a good substitute? If your own women weren’t able to survive here, what makes you think human females can?”

“Because our extensive research proves it. Moreover, a couple of human females have already been living here for several years.” Your face became distorted with horror at his words. “Captain’s wife was even able to give birth to two healthy children this year. They are the first children to be born on our planet in the last five years.”

“Humans will destroy your planet. They will kill all of you when they learn you’re kidnapping our women!”

“We are already in contact with your kind.” Dropping the glove to the floor, Barnes attempted to smile at you, confirming your suspicions he barely knew how to do it. “It is true, you are much greater in number than we are. But all of us are warriors with far more advanced technology and abundant resources. We will be able to damage your planet heavily before you eradicate each and every of us.”

The more he talked, the harder it was to follow - without the life support system, the lack of oxygen was making it harder for you to breathe, impossible to focus as you started breathing heavier, louder than before, but still refused to come back to bed, staring at the man in front of you with disgust and fear. God, it was better to suffocate than stay here with him.

“Do you know we possess twenty times more the amount of Vibranium you humans do?” Crawling closer to you like a spider, Soldier was watching you with both great interest and concern written all over his face. “We also have tritium and plutonium, too, as well as minerals you do not have on Earth at all. We are ready to trade them for something humans have in abundance.”

You were close to vomit, your eyes tearing up as you rubbed them furiously. You tried convincing yourself no one knew you were going to be captured by ruthless aliens. Of course, no one on Earth knew anything about that. There was no agreement between Theseus-17 and Earth to trade women for Vibranium and other resources. It would be direct violations of human rights and...

And it was very likely of humans to do, considering the lack of resources you had been facing over the last couple of decades.

When you started weeping, horrified of the things awaiting you in the nearest future, Sergeant finally reached you, wiping away your tears with his flesh hand. His touch was very subtle, gentle even, as he tenderly pressed his finger to your cheek, feeling the warmth of your skin. His hand was warm, too.

“It’s not true.” You cried, turning your face to the glass wall and leaving wet marks on it. “They’ll come for me... I won’t become s-some shared property.”

“Of course you will not,” he shushed you gently, enveloping you in what seemed like a hug, lowering your head to his shoulder. “You will be a queen to me. I will treat you right, I swear.”

“You?”

Stilling, you bit down on your tongue, feeling the metallic taste filling your mouth as you drew some blood. Concentrating when your brain was lacking oxygen wasn’t easy, but you could still breathe, inhaling deeply, trying to calm yourself. He said something about Captain’s wife, didn’t he? He said she gave him two children. He said you wouldn’t become a shared property.

Dear Lord.

“I won’t be yours.” You whispered through tears, pushing the man’s chest in desperate attempt to keep him away from you. “I’m not your possession. I won’t be yours!”

You saw him frowning at you, his expression growing darker, more impatient, enraged even as you crawled away from him, your legs too weak to hold you. Oh, he didn’t like you looking at him like that when you realized you were given to him like some prize he won in an amusement park.

But Soldier wasn’t having it. Had you ever thought what it cost him to spend years in combat to earn his privileges, his right to travel among the best of the best? Did you know how much time he travelled across multiple universes to find exactly what he was searching for? Huh, you couldn’t even imagine what he felt when the team got coordinates of your ship, when he saw you for the first time on hologram, smiling and laughing at jokes of Dr. Strange.

Grabbing you forcefully and lifting you off the floor, he raised you in the air above his head, making you silent in fear of being smashed against the floor.

“I have fought for you.” He let out a guttural growl like an animal. “I have killed for you. I have earned my privilege to have you, and no one can challenge my right. You are my woman, and you will stay here with me.”

________________________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @void-hoechlin @abyssaint @heeeyitskay @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @soleil-dor @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @iheartsebastianstan @stargazingfangirl18 @ninefuckingoneone

#bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes #bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier #yandere #mcu #mcu fanfiction #requests

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buglife · 4 years ago

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Shh I got inspired by those doodles I did of Monomon and sick bby Quirrel so I wrote a ficlet.

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It had been a few months since Monomon found a tiny pip rolling around the trash in the City of Tears. She thought at first that it was some sort of ball that some child had lost. Then it sneezed, which scared the hell out of her. She had looked closer and she was surprised to see a nearly transparent pip crawling around the garbage. The poor thing was dented up and was attempting to eat a discarded cloak. When he saw her, he hissed and curled up into a ball, thinking that if he couldn’t see her, than she couldn’t see him. She had picked him up, this little shivering ball of tenacity, and took him with her.

One thing lead to another and she had found herself as an adoptive mother to a baby isopod. The doctor she took him too told her that he shouldn’t even be out of the pouch, let alone being all by himself. Either he was abandoned or something unfortunate happened to his mother, and having the guard investigate gave her no answers. She decided that it was probably going to be a mystery forever, and decided to focus her energy on raising her newly acquired son.

She had named him Quirrel, after an old philosopher who often wrote about the beauty of the world. She somehow knew he’d be able to see the world for the beautiful thing as it is and not be focused on the doom and gloom of it all. She was a scientist, so of course she could find beauty in even the smallest micro-organism and all the way to the desolate wastes. Something told her he’d see it too.

Her high hopes proved to be true, as he turned out to be a rather clever little pip. He was still far too young for speech, or even to be roaming about by himself, so she decided to conduct a little experiment. Sign language wasn’t uncommon in Hallownest, but most non-hindered bugs tended to learn it after they have mastered speech and not before. What if she taught Quirrel, a little pip, some sign language now?

Her experiment bore fruit, and he learned some signs quickly. It was only a few words now that were simple to sign. He was still a baby and lacked the fine motor control for the more complex signs, but he could at least tell her when he was hungry or if he wanted something. She imagined that this experiment could do a lot of good in the end.

What concerned her however, was the lack of actual noise he made.

Quirrel was an incredibly quiet baby at he beginning. He simply refused to make much noise at all, and when he did, he flinched as though expecting to be punished for it. It had taken weeks of positive reinforcement before he started making the noises a little pip was expected to be making. It was very endearing to see him babbling and having her students babble back at him. His tiny eyes would light up and he’d wiggle in excitement before continuing the ‘conversation’. Even with all the encouragements from both her and her students, he still preferred to be quiet, napping through most of the day whilst in her pip pocket. That was normal for an isopod this young, but it was still concerning that he felt that he had to stay quiet.

That changed early one morning when he started to audibly fuss. Usually he’d just try to escape when bored, writhing about and trying to climb out of the pocket. But today, at the most ungodly early hour, he was making noises, squeaking and hissing in what seemed to be discomfort. Monomon had at first though he was hungry, but he outright refused his usual leaf paste. She tried tiktik bits, sliced fruit, and even a cookie, but he refused it all and grew increasingly more frustrated with each rejected food item.

She had tried asking him to tell her what was wrong through sign language, but he was either unwilling or unable to bother with it.

Finally he had enough, and began to wail, loudly. She had never heard him make a noise that loud before and it startled her enough to spill the juice she was trying to tempt him with all over herself. He only stopped loud enough to take a breath before belting out another heaving cry, little eyes overflowing with tears as he made his discomfort known.

“Shhhh….shhhh...it’s okay, my little one.” She attempted to try and comfort him, but he just wailed louder.

Concerned, she picked him up and tucked him under her chin, trying to soothe the sobbing pillbug, when she noticed what could be causing all this pain. His forehead was burning hot, and he was faintly shivering as he bawled into her veil. It wasn’t hard to figure out that her pip was ill and she plucked him out from her embrace to take a better look at him.

There were bags under his eyes and his face was tinged blue with heat. He had his mandibles open wide enough when crying that she can see some swelling in the back of his throat. She gently palpitated his belly and could feel the organs within twist and with every movement he cried harder. So, he was nauseous, which made sense on why he would refuse a cookie. Fever, chills, sore throat, most likely he picked something up from one of the students. She mentally kicked herself, she should have made her students wash up before picking him up as they liked to do. She should have not allowed them to give him little smooches and hugs. She should have not brought him with her at all when among the masses of students and archivists that swarmed about her. But she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him all alone, not after what he’d been through.

The fact of the matter is that no amount of hindsight was going to change the fact that Quirrel caught something and was currently not having a very good time about it. His wails were starting to sound raspy and wet, no doubt that his sinuses were starting to be affected too. The sheer amount of screaming wasn’t helping matters and her thoughts raced on what she should do.

“Modern Manca Medicine, Chapter Seven, pages nine through ten,” She recited out loud as she recalled one of the many books she absorbed after taking Quirrel in, “Common treatment options for sickly manca and juvenile pillbugs include swaddling and standard fever reduction tactics for most invertebrates. Hrm... Grubs and You: A New Mother’s Guide, Chapter Nine, page twelve. When a child refuses to eat, honey is a suitable way to provide needed nutrition and slip in medication without upsetting the stomach. Hrm... that would work, wouldn’t it?”

Quirrel continued his crying, rapidly losing his voice, and she brushed a kiss on the top of his head to comfort him. His antenna twitched and his sobbing died down just a teensy bit, but it was enough for her to notice. He must have smelled her and realized she was going to help him, his eyes were too full of tears to be much use to him at the moment. She grabbed a spare blanket and wrapped him up tightly to deal with the shivers. He instantly stopped wriggling so hard and she managed to slip him back into the pip pocket without much incident.

Next, a cool cloth was needed. She needed to bring down his fever so he could rest. That wasn’t too hard to find. She ended up tying the wet cloth on his head like you would a kerchief, pinning down his antenna so they can cool down as well. She was quite happy to find that after she did that, he had stopped his wailing. He was still making noises of discomfort, squeaking and hiccupping, but he wasn’t outright screaming anymore. Her auditory organs was most happy with that turn of events for sure.

“Herbal Remedies for the Modern Bug, Chapter two, pages one through twenty.” She floated quickly to her herb cabinet, selecting dried bundles here and there. Lemon balm for fever, mint and ginger for his stomach, marshmallow root for his throat, maybe licorice root too? Lavender and Chamomile to help him sleep so he can focus on getting better, yes, that should do it. She mentally ran through the list, using a free set of tentacles to rock Quirrel gently. For now he seemed content to stay in his pocket, squeaking here and there as he braved through his illness. Poor little pip...she resolved to give him extra cookies once he felt well enough to eat them.

She put a kettle to boil and threw her selected herbs inside to seep and condense. She would have used her alchemical equipment to do this faster, but she didn’t feel like taking him downstairs where there would be students and workers showing up. When Quirrel started fussing again, she replaced his now warm cloth with a freshly cooled one, and he quieted down again.

Finally, the kettle had boiled enough and she strained the liquid into a bowl. Next, she took out a jar of honey and began the delicate procedure of making medicine that won’t be instantly spat out by a fussy grub. She calculated that a 2:1 ratio should work the best as he would be less likely to spit up something that tasted relatively good. Eventually, she mixed up a small cup full of her makeshift medicine and retrieved a clean eyedropper. Calculating body weight, she drew up half a measure, and with that finished she went to attempt to give it to Quirrel.

He, of course, put up a fuss, and began screaming again. She understood why, he wasn’t feeling well and his belly was hurting. The last thing he would want right now was something to go down into said hurting belly and she was not surprised when he tried to bite her a few times. Unfortunately for him, Isopods are not known for being able to do much more than nibble. Using that to her advantage, she let him latch on to the end of one of her tentacles, letting him get nice and occupied, and then shoved the end of the eyedropper into the corner of his mouth. The medicine was squirted down his throat before he could do anything to stop it and for that he bit her harder. He even hissed a little and it would be adorable if he wasn’t feeling so poorly.

He let go to scream again, but then stopped and stuck out his tongue. He was obviously tasting the honey now, and he loved honey. Monomon sighed in relief, at least next time she gave him a dose she wouldn’t get bit for her troubles. He opened his mouth a couple times and blinked, looking up at her face. He lifted up his hands and wiggled them.

“Abah?” He sniffled, trying to clear his throat and sinus.

“Hrm, what do you want, my little scholar?” She was pleased to not longer see him screaming. “Use your hand words.”

He made two fists and bumped them together. <”more,”> he signed.

“Of course, you can have more honey. I think you deserve it, after putting up with all that.”

He seemed happy with the idea, and she was able to give him another teaspoon of honey before he signed ‘done’ at her. His little belly could only take so much now and she took the time to wipe his face clean. He fussed at the cleaning, but yawned once she finished. Clearly the medicine was starting to work, his breathing was better and feeling his gut showed that it was settling down. She gave him a nuzzle and a kiss and tucked him back into his pip pocket. He was asleep nearly instantly and she gently strapped the pocket to herself once more.

Once he was secure she floated downstairs and was once again, swept up into the chaos of the Archives. Someone had accidentally released the charged lumaflies and they were setting books on fire.

Thankfully, Quirrel slept through the whole thing.

#hollow knight #fanfiction #my writing #monomon the teacher #quirrel #sickfic #baby quirrel #tiny scholar au #terra lumina #monomom #my niece learned some sign language when she was a toddler and it really helped with communication #she could sign if she wasn't feeling good or if she was tired #so here's how quirrel started off fluent in sign lanquage #hurt/comfort #i think you can call this hurt comfort?

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ophiuchus-interactive · 3 years ago

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Oh Captain, M̴͇͕̻̱͛y̴̢̘͈̱̌̆̋͘͜ ̶̧̞̩̤͗͗̈́C̴͓̰̜͎̐̈͗̑͘ą̷̮̇͗͠͝p̵͕̣̐́t̷͔̜̰̗̀́ȧ̵͇͖̌͌̐i̴͍̒͂n̴̪̼̭̔̃̈͑̓ ?????????

In which ̴t̷h̷e̸ ̵c̶a̸p̷t̵a̵i̷n̶ has a conversation with his y̷̻̔͆e̸̻̞͝o̵̹͛m̷̢̟̈́̈a̵̯͐ǹ̶̨.̸̤̞̋͝-

It was midnight. Not that Valerian could truly tell.

The ship hummed with almost organic rhythm around him. If he sat still for long enough, he could convince himself it was a heartbeat.

Which was why he couldn't sleep.

The commons area had only a single light on at this late and terrible hour- a single bulb, bright and white and unmoved from its fixture.

The The The The The illumination showed only that of the booth, a terribly tacky and dreary leather bench that was stuffed to the brim of cushioning.

Atop the table was evidence of busy lives: Rosalie's greased tools were strewn about and Ophelia's dueling swords sat leaned against a chair leg. Valerian could spot Sergio's brandy glass, tipped over but empty. Peter's mug, Thane's medical journal, and Javier's half-drunk carton of milk were not too far off, either.

It was foreign to Valerian in a lot of ways. So many different lives combined at the commons, each so unique and yet so capable of harmony. Some days Valerian truly wonders how they ever manage to get along, but he catches himself when seeing a scene like this. It was different, but dare he say exciting?

"You're supposed to be asleep, Captain."

He jumped.

The voice came from no singular source- in fact, the voice didn't belong to anyone at all. The artificial intelligence that controls most of the facilities on ship made itself known through the speakers, it's soft, melodic voice a far cry from its robotic, choppy counterparts.

Valerian released a long, deep breath, closing his eyes and placing his hand against his chest. It never feels good to get the daylights scared out of you,

"Sara," Valerian begins, uttering the A.I's name more for himself than as greeting, "you're um- awake."

Silly thing to say. A.I don't s̴͈͂̃́̾́̆l̶͙̖̮͉̹̥̯͐̌͋̅ȅ̶̗͚̃͑̒́̈́̚͘͠͝e̷̝̣̱͆p̷̨̧̺͚̬͍͚͇̣͓̱͒ ̴̡̝̺̎͂̇͐̀͌̿̈s̷̢̤̜̟̣̝̺̯͔͎̦̉̀l̸̹̹͔͙̅̓̇̔͒̎̐̉͂̕͠ḛ̵̼̭̈͊̂̽͘̚͝e̶͓̖͇͓̲̜̱̭̠̎p̸͇͓̺̰̬̥̜̓̾̑ ̶͖͍̝̻͖͚͌̈́͘̕s̷̫̒͋̄͌̕͝ͅļ̵̰̮͙͍͙̣̋̃̒̽̄̕ę̸̬͓̦̰̫̖̦̞̈́̏̀̍̂̋̆̈́͆͘͠ę̵̫̟̰̥͖̼͒͒̈̾̿̇͋͜p̴̧̮̲̦̘̳͐̍ ̴̡̺̃͑̐̽ͅs̷̫͔̞̜͗͗͗͒̀ͅl̴͍̜͠ę̶̯̪̬̀̚ḛ̶̡̛͇̬̜̥̼̹̟͔͚̔p̸̩̩̺͙̫͚͊͋͂̐̂͒̆͘ ̸̧̛̦̟͚̻͒̀̓̇͜s̴̆́͒̎͒̈́̈́͜͠l̶̬̣̖̄̒̎̓̏̂̿͑̉͝ͅe̷͈̗͎̻̘̤͕̋͌̓̂̐̀͝͝e̷̖͎̹̬̐͛̒͗͠p̷̡̢̼̲̤̠̱͔͔̱̈̐̿̀̑ ̴̡̺̩͔̝̖̠̟̫͂̔͊̕ͅŝ̸͍͕̈́͝l̴̩̱̻͍̫̠̣͚̾̽͂̎͐ͅẻ̵͇̙̺̮͈͈ͅȩ̶̰̗̻̼̘̩̱̥͕̾͛̾̈́̉p̶͙͐

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"I am not programmed to a day and night cycle. It is not necessary. But, Captain, protocol suggests that I advise you in your duties as commander of this ship. Sleeping has been known to rejuvenate the mind. It is necessary for your safety, Captain,"

What is also necessary for his safety is not being piloted around by some alien A.I that, if given full control of the ship, would probably fling him and his crew into the sun.

But Valerian ignores that for now.

"Mind turnin' some of the commons' lights on, Sara?"

"Of course, Captain."

The room illuminates in a blink of an eye- the space filling with a white- but still rather dim- light. Valerian blinks his eyes, scratching them to adjust to the sudden lack of darkness that was there moments before.

Stumbling his way toward the kitchen, Valerian opened on of the cabinets, his face instantly twisting into a grimace at the sight of cream of wheat. The next refueling station was a couple days away, which means Valerian was stuck with some of sloppiest, tasteless food known to all creation.

Valerian ignores that, and pulls the box out anyway.

"You do not like your rations, Captain?"

Valerian jumps again, this time clenching the box of hot cereal reflexively,

"It's not my favorite," he admits after a moment, though Valerian feels as if he was truly speaking to no one, "but it'll do, I guess,"

"Javier has saved Hulpora eggs from the previous stop at the refueling station," Sara announces evenly, as if the information was hers to share, "they are in the ice box if you wish for a more pleasing breakfast,"

"And risk his leather-wearing wrath? I'm good, thanks."

Sara said nothing to this, and Valerian thought nothing more of it. The cream of wheat he cooked clung and stuck the pot, the sad concoction more of a paste than anything of edible substance.

He dropped the 'food' into a bowl, and felt his stomach turn as he shoved his spoon into it. The utensil full of slop barely touched Valerian's lips before Sara, out of nowhere, spoke,

"I do not understand, Captain."

Sara's interruption was disruptive enough to cause Valerian to jolt from his place once more, dropping the spoon into the cream of wheat with a slow, slick thud.

Valerian was less concerned about the war crime of a meal that sat before him, and more about what Sara was confused about. It's an A.I, after all, thinking was sort of...their thing.

"Understand, Sara?"

"Hulpora eggs are some of the most nutritious poultry products a human male of your height, muscle density, and species can have. It would be of great benefit to you to have cooked a Hulpora egg, instead."

Valerian nods slowly, the point missing him entirely,

"And?"

"You leave it for Javier. This puts your ability of survival at a risk, does it not?"

Valerian huffs a laugh, "No more than teasing Ophelia for plucking her feathers at the dinner table, Sara."

Silence.

"...That was a joke,"

"Acknowledged," Sara says, "but my point still stands,"

"It's Javier's, Sara. Even if it was better for me in the long run those are his eggs, and besides, he deserves them,"

"I see," Sara says, and Valerian double takes- swearing he heard something akin to being thoughtful in her voice.

Valerian was digging his spoon out of the cream of wheat when she spoke up again,

"That is very kind of you, Captain."

"I try to be," He says absentmindedly, his fingers still digging for the spoon, "wouldn't be in this mess if more people tried to be that way,"

"They are not?"

"They look out for themselves," Valerian explains, "think about their own survival without thinking of another's. Selfish."

Valerian got the spoon out, settling it onto the table, and stared at the mess in silence. He felt tired.

"I am glad I am not capable of having those emotions, Captain," Sara says after a while. Valerian no longer jumped to the sound of her company, "this seems confusing."

"Nah, Sara," Valerian says with a yawn, "ain't nothing to bein' decent, I promise."

#valerian itoos #sara/s4-r-a11 #world lore itoos #itoos world lore #ai itoos

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moonyblackwerewolf · 4 years ago

Text

Back to School Ch. 2 - Sirius Black

Betrothed Ch. 2

Sirius Black x fem!Reader

Word count: 2.5k

Summary: Sirius and Y/N meet at a family dinner and have some fun, later she finds out she is betrothed to some pureblood boy so Sirius comes up with a mental idea to save them both.

Warnings: Kissing, hints of sex, 'aggressive' parents, underage drinking, idk my writing and English? lol

a/n: so this is the second part!! i hope you like it!! :)

Xxxx

Ch.1 Ch. 2 Ch. 2.5 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch. 5

When September first finally came Y/N was thrilled, she couldn't handle a single more day at that Hell she calls home, but that didn’t matter anymore ‘cause she was going her to her real home. She was excited to see her friends again, and Sirius too? No she couldn’t miss him, it was a one night thing, and most importantly Sirius Black wasn’t one of falling for someone. He had slept with half of Hogwarts by now, but there was something about him that made Y/N feel butterflies on her stomach when she saw him.

Now, on the train, looking for a place to sit, after she talked with her friends that were in other full cabinets, she saw a familiar face, Sirius��, so she went talk to him, she was nervous because his friends on there too, but she had to go, it wasn’t like her sister would be happy to share her cabinet.

“Hey” she said making the boys’ attention drift to her “Hm, could i maybe sit here with you guys? everywhere else is full, sorry” she said timidly.

“Sure Y/N, sit” Remus answered sweetly patting the sit next to his. He was the only marauder that Elena had talked with before, besides Sirius, given the events from summer break, she liked him, he was sweet, helped her in class when she needed and unlike his friends, was quiet and seemed to avoid trouble. Remus being as observant as he was didn’t miss Sirius’ and Y/N’s glances at one another during the ride and the tension between them, even though Sirius looked more relaxed then her, something had definitely happened.

The ride was fine, Y/N met the other marauders, they talked and laughed. They asked about her friends and about her house, at first they were taken aback about her being a Slytherin but soon brushed it off, Sirius found out her brother was friends with his brother, which he thought was really weird.

“But how did they meet?” Sirius looked confused and quite amused “Isn’t your brother like 5 years older than us?”

“Apparently at an internship in the ministry, your brother worked for mine and they seemed to like each other” she laughed a bit “weird isn’t it?” Sirius chuckled a ‘isn’t it’ as he started making fun of his little brother

“Young ambitious Regulus, trying to impress the big guys, and he’s only in fourth year”

As the mountains outside started showing and the clouds covered the sky, they knew they were soon arriving at the castle.

“And then my brother looked at me and… BOOM he lift me, hung me up in his shoulders and starts heading to the my father” Everyone laughs “A-And” she couldn’t stop laughing “-so i grabbed his arse and he accidentally threw me in the pool. That was the first time I saw my brother laughing in years, for a change” James was the most amused one with the story.

“Wait, wait” he couldn’t hold his laughter “You’re telling me you grabbed the old Slytherin cocky head boy, your brother’s, ass? And that he threw you in the pool, that’s on my new to-do list, but the pool will have to be replaced by the Black Lake, you Watson, are a genius” Y/N didn’t remember the last time she had that much fun with her friends, it was a good feeling being there with the boys, she wasn’t her usual shy self and she liked that.

Sirius felt something weird in the pit of his stomach when he heard her laugh, he didn’t know exactly what is was. They had a lot of fun, the boys liked Y/N, at first they thought she was a bit snobby but then realised she was pretty nice when she played along with James’ jokes and teasing.

When they could already see Hogwarts in the horizon, Y/N’s friends Elizabeth Greengrass and Katherine Abbott two tall blonde girls showed up, already on their Slytherin robes. “Come on Elena stop fooling around and let's go, we cleaned up our cabinet, now there is a free space for you” Elena looked at them a bit confused.

“What do you mean you cleaned?” She asked.

“Oh” her friends laughed “we sent that mudblood friend of yours Carla is it? to a Hufflepuff cabinet” The boys and Y/N looked at them in shock as she got flustered by her friends’ words.

“Oh my god?! Look, guys i’m sorry” she said apologetically, turning to the marauders “I have to go, but thank you, i enjoyed spending time with you” She said as she stood up to leave, when she left they could hear her scolding the two girls, before their voices faded away.

After she left, Remus took his opportunity and asked “What was that Padfoot?” Sirius frowned at him, so he continued “Y/N, you two kept glancing at each other when the other wasn’t looking. Please don’t do that to her she’s my partner in DADA and a nice person” he looked concerned.

“Oh, that was nothing” this time remus was the one who frowned, as James and Peter, as observant as rocks listened to the conversation with curiosity, “Relax Moony, we met over summer break at a party at her house, nothing much, you know me” Remus frowned again and Sirius sighted “We ran away from the party and explored the house, that’s it” making Remus run his hands over his face.

“You’re hopeless”

James laughed hard, clearly thinking his friend’s explanations hilarious “Padfoot we know you don't explore houses without ulterior motives, what’s up with you? Usually you don’t try to hide your one night stands from us” He knew Sirius better than anyone else. “But by the way Pads, she’s hot, nice and all, but isn’t she like, a blood purist like your parents?”

“No” he gasped “She’s not” he lowered his voice “she’s not like them and well you know, she couldn’t resist my looks”

“Ok, ok, sorry Pads I didn’t mean to insult your girlfriend, I like her, since she’s not a snobby purist” Sirius hit his shoulder and the boys laughed and continued talking until they arrived at Hogwarts. Remus’s suspicions growing at friend’s weird behaviour toward the girl, when he saw Sirius staring at her talking with her friends while getting on the carriage heading to Hogwarts and later on the great hall he stared continuously at the Y/H/C girl’s Y/E/C eyes sitting on the Slytherin table he despised so much, but something about her made him despise it a bit less.

“Quit the staring mate, it’s creepy” James pointed out as his friends brushed him off, continuing to eat his turkey.

Looking up from his plate Remus continues “He just can’t help it Prongs, he thinks he’s brother is quite good looking”

“Oh yeah his Y/H/C feminine brother, you’re it’s just brotherly affection” Peter entered the teasing now.

“Oh shove it” Sirius mumbled hitting James.

In all the teasing the boys didn’t realise Y/N reattributing Sirius’ glances despite her friends’ scowls.

——————————

That week on her way to potions class, the Marauders approached Y/N, Sirius slipping an arm around her shoulders smugly.

“Hello beautiful, Potions too?” Sirius greeted her with a smirk on his face while James slipped his arm on her other shoulder, Remus and Peter stayed a bit back shyly waving.

“Yeah Y/N/N, how are you?” James asked teasingly, surprising Y/N.

She chuckled at the boys “What do you guys want?” James and Sirius put their hands in their chests dramatically.

“Rude. We were just asking” Sirius laughed.

“Ignore them Y/N, you’re free to go” Remus intervened sweetly taking his friends’ arms off the girl.

During the next few months they’d have talks in the corridor, eventually, during classes they shared together and Y/N helped them study, or tried to at least. She was surprised that the marauders started paying so much attention to her, since they never had before, she thought her night with Sirius wouldn’t change anything, but clearly that was wrong. They grew closer, she started helping them in their pranks and the boys loved her, she could handle with all of them, Sirius’ flirting, James’ jokes, Peter’s weirdness and Remus, well he was easy to deal with, the others weren’t but she liked them anyway.

They later started to sneak her into the Gryffindor common room, they’d have talks about future pranks or just about their days and ideas. She even became friends with a few Gryffindor girls including a certain red head James had a huge crush on, Lily and Y/N bonded immediately, the girls shared a lot of interests, they understood each other perfectly, it was a friendship for life. James obviously always tried to persuade Y/N into getting a date, but she always gave him the same answer as Lily, no.

As Y/N’s Slytherin friends started to realise she was distancing herself from them and growing closer to the Marauders and Lily, they tried to talk her out, which made Y/N furious. However she couldn't just argue with them, it would be a matter of time until her sister realised, Diana usually kept her nose so high she didn’t even see who her sister walked with, she didn’t actually care, unless it involved her, but she wasn’t blind and would definitely tell to their mother. It’s not that she didn’t like her friends, she did, they were nice to her, but you couldn’t say the same for others, they still hated muggleborns, it was wrong to judge someone for their status, Y/N knew that, but even though she was conflicted between what was right and what her family wanted, she was scared of them and what they could do.

“You barely spend your time with us anymore!” Katherine stormed at Y/N “Only at night in our dorm room or when, and that’s rare now, you’re in the common room” she was angry and didn’t understand her friend’s liking for those pricks.

“Or in the classes we don’t share with Gryffindor” Elizabeth added “We miss you Y/N/N, Elijah does too” her face softened.

“I miss you guys too Betty” the words escaped Y/N’s mouth even not knowing if they were true. Nevertheless Y/N wasn’t planning on getting any closer to the girls, her solution to her doubts: just ignoring them.

In fact, after that conversation Y/N started spending more time with the Gryffindors, even sleeping there with them on the red couches by the fireplace after a long day or just talking for so long they would fall asleep accidentally, she and Sirius sometimes would end up cuddling subconsciously in their sleep, Remus would always notice when they woke up a little shocked but then just act like it didn’t happen after Sirius making a flirty comment, since the both friends had agreed to ignore the night they shared at her house, but secretly wishing it’d happen again, but they didn’t, it was just friendship right? but Remus and James saw right through their agreement, James teasing them endlessly.

“Padfoot do you take Y/N/N as your beloved wife” James sang grabbing both his friends’ arms.

“I do Prongs” Sirius joked.

“Brothers and Sisters, does anyone here has anything to say? It’s now or never” James continued.

“You’re such an arse James, why don’t you go look for Lily, so i can marry you with her too” Y/N hissed, laughing at the end.

“I’d love to” James accepted

“Good try” she leaves his grip, strong nails never fail.

She’d never admit but she loved their jokes, teasing and dumb comments, that are actually very smart, they are so funny and make her feel so happy. They were becoming her best friends and gaining her trust, which isn’t easy, as she was gaining their’s. It was a feeling she never had before, like a family she never had, the random talks at night, the real trust, and care, made her feel loved in a way she wasn’t at home.

They were becoming real friends while Y/N’s friends kept drifting away from her, they thought that the Marauders were irresponsible gits who just wanted attention, and would only talk to Y/N when she was alone on classes they didn’t share with Gryffindor or on the Slytherin common room. But honestly Y/N couldn’t care less, the Marauders and Lily had become her true family.

One day at a Gryffindor party, some Slytherins crashed and Lucius Malfoy cornered Y/N and Sirius saw what looked like a heated conversation, Malfoy seemed to be raging with anger and Y/N was almost crying, Sirius’ blood was boiling, what the hell was Malfoy doing with his girl, He had enough of seeing his friend suffer and shoved Malfoy away.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Sirius asked concerned, as he held her arms, that was it for her, she started crying and he wrapped her in his arms whispering sweet nothings in her ear “Hey, hey everything’s fine love, what’s wrong, what did Malfoy do?” He asked rubbing her back lightly.

“He.. He… He was trying to bring me back to the Slytherin dorm, saying that i needed to stop my ‘rebellious phase’ and go back to being a ‘good girl’ and to stop hanging out with you guys” she said sobbing against his shoulders.

“Hey Y/N, Malfoy’s an arse, you don’t need to listen to him, he won’t take you anywhere, not under my watch” he paused and smirked at her “You know, I pretty much prefer when you’re biting my shoulder rather than to see you crying on it because of that bloke” He smiled as an attempt to lighten up the mood and even made her chuckle a little.

“But that’s not it” she started sobbing again “H-he said that i’ll have to oblige sooner or later, b-because” she stopped, crying harder and Sirius tightened his grip around her “He said my parents are going to send me a letter explaining everything, Sirius and-and i-i’m scared”.

Lily, who had seen Sirius shoving Malfoy away, ran in her best friend’s direction and wrapped Y/N in another bear hug.

Sirius had never seen her like this, and he hated it, but it made him like and trust her even more. From this day on, he knew, he promised himself that he would always protect her if she ever needed him to, he wouldn’t let anyone hurt one of his best friends.

That night the Marauders spent the night in the common room talking until they all fell asleep, that night she felt loved by the group she now called family, it was a nice feeling.

a/n: i don't know if i like it? idk. What do you guys think? let me know if you want to

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hoodoo12 · 3 years ago

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The Ties That Bind (And How to Follow Them) 3/?

@bunnys-beetlejuice-blog @werwulfy @mel-time @rainingpaint @infptarius @monsterlovinghours @turtlepated @strange-n-unbluusual @heresathreebee @sweetcat-666 @genderless-cryptid @fireflower1015 @go-whovian-universe

Monday at the archives went by uneventfully, though Pate did have some difficulty staying awake. She actually ended up going out to her car for her lunch hour and took a nap, the result being that she didn’t eat anything.

Pate was never quite sure these days what she might walk into when she opened her apartment door, but it was unusually quiet when she arrived home. “Beej?” she called out. He’d taken off once or twice before, taking care of she didn’t know what business she didn’t know where, but he’d usually be back before bedtime. Feeling a little more energized thanks to her nap but famished from her skipped meal, Pate changed into loungewear, scrubbed off her makeup, and started preparations for dinner. It didn’t take long, and she would ordinarily wait for Beetlejuice to return from his roaming but she was starved and quickly scarfed down her portion, keeping Beej’s helping warm with a foil tent over the plate.

Unsure what to do with herself with the specter gone, Pate curled up on the couch and put on an animal documentary to wait for him.

⁂

He worked it down to a system.

Find a crack, enlarge it enough to send a tentacle or two to start searching for the next one while he forced the rest of himself through. A few times he was slowed when the scouting tendrils took longer to find the next exit point, and once he was stymied because a crack was above the ‘window’. He had no idea if anyone on the other side of that mirror saw him, or what they thought as he shimmied up the inside of the glass like a striped spider right out of a nightmare.

As Beetlejuice expected, there was no rhyme or reason to any of this, and no way to determine where he was. He could have been halfway around the world or in the apartment next door to Pate’s. Nothing he saw when he looked out--and he looked out of every window--was familiar. Undeterred because he had nothing but time, he kept at it.

Just because he had time, though, didn’t mean he didn’t ache. He’d never worked his tentacles so long that they were sore, and his fingers felt more numb than not. He had no fingernails left and he could feel the scrapes on his face, left after he’d pushed through a hole that wasn’t quite large enough for him to get through.

Hours had to have passed. If he got to Pate’s mirror before she came home, Beej promised himself a rest. Till then, he pressed on.

It seemed a Sisyphean task, this endless clawing into the white space behind mirrors. Evilly, his brain started asking questions like, “how many mirrors were there in the world? What if he was going in a circle? What if Lillian had forced the illusion that he was making progress, when he was still just trapped in her one special mirror?” If he gave into those thoughts or despair, he’d be lost for good. Then, all at once, as he pressed his forehead to the inside of yet another pane of glass to look out, a piece of paper on the outside caught his eye. He’d been through plenty of mirrors that had photos stuck to them, but very few in a bathroom--with the same black and white striped shower curtain as in Pate’s! The photo had curled from the humidity. Around it was a smear of lipstick in the shape of a lopsided heart. She’d been so angry he’d used her favorite shade to add the decoration--with his finger, no less!--but she’d never wiped it away.

He couldn’t see the front of it, of course, but knew the photo: a spontaneous Polaroid shot on her balcony one evening during the golden hour, an old-school selfie taken just because. They’d both been laughing because it had taken time to line it up correctly and not just get hair or half of someone’s face. They’d wasted so much film trying to get a good one. The final shot was the two of them slightly turned towards each other, Pate’s forehead against his temple, her eyes closed and a wide grin on her face. His mouth was slightly open because he’d been caught mid-laugh, but he was smiling too. Both their arms were outstretched because they figured both of them holding the camera might work better. The tips of his hair were pink.

He was home.

Beetlejuice would have cried in relief if he wasn’t so tired. Now all he had to do was wait till Pate came into the bathroom, probably inadvertently scare the crap out of her, and get her to let him out.

⁂

She must have nodded off there on the couch because the next thing Pate knew she was startling awake, heart thumping in her throat. She’d been on the colorful road again in the foggy wood, running from she didn’t know what and towards she didn’t know where.

Pate rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hands and sighed, swinging her legs to the floor. What she needed was a splash of cold water in her face. Rising to her feet, Pate stretched and squinted at the time on the cable box, noting that Beetlejuice still appeared to be absent. She frowned, slightly unsettled that he had yet to return home.

She padded to the bedroom and on to the bathroom, flipping on the lights. In the sudden brightness she was instantly aware of a figure in the medicine cabinet mirror that was not her own. The initial shock made her jump, but the oh-too-familiar green hair and striped suit made her huff a relenting half smile.

“Okay, Beej, that was a good one. You totally got me,” she said, turning to face him behind her only to find that the room was empty except for her. Brow furrowed, Pate took another moment to look around in case he was hiding and hoping for another shock but there was no sign of him. Turning back to the mirror, where his disembodied reflection still stood with a strange expression on his face, she flashed him a questioning look.

“What’s goin on, Bug?”

Looking more closely at him, Pate noticed that his already mussed hair looked even more awry than normal, and there were marks on his face. Growing concerned, Pate took a step closer, pressed against the counter to lean closer to the cabinet and the mirror with the growing suspicion that something was wrong.

⁂

Time still had no meaning here. He tried the same things on Pate’s mirror that he had in Lillian’s, pounding on the glass with fists and tentacles, to the same zero effect. He even did his best to simply wrench the glass from the wall, but unlike the odd cracks he’d found that was seamless, like it was one solid piece of material. Eventually he gave up and just waited. It was like being in a tomb. He’d had plenty of practice with that, although this was unending light and he could see a portion of the bathroom. That was almost worse torture than just laying in the dark. Pate had to enter here sometime, however. When she did, looking a little like she’d just woken up, it actually startled him. The light was blinding for a moment and he jumped. Pate did too, when she saw him there, and then tiredly derided him for the scare.

He shook his head and said, “No--Pate, baby, you gotta let me out!”

She didn’t see it. She had turned to look behind her as if expecting him to be there.

When she turned back around to face him, she looked confused. She asked him what was going on.

“Pate! Pate!” he shouted, the volume in his voice increasing. “I’m stuck here! I can’t get out, you’ve gotta let me out! I went to see Lillian and she trapped me in her mirror, and then I kept moving from mirror to mirror until I found yours--how long have I been gone? Let me out!” Beej watched her gaze shift from his eyes to his mouth, and realized with growing panic that one, she couldn’t hear him, and two, he just word vomited so much so quickly there was no way she was able to lip-read everything that spilled out of his mouth. He put one hand flat on the glass towards her and licked his lips to try again. Enunciating as best he could, voice still just one notch below yelling, Beetlejuice said, “Pate. I’m stuck. Stuck! Help me get out, baby!” He put his forehead on the glass. The fingers on his outstretched hand, the one pressed palm side to the interior of the glass, trembled as well. The specter lifted his eyes back to her. “Please,” he pleaded.

⁂

Ordinarily after pulling a scare on her, Beetlejuice would be preening like the cat that caught the canary, punctuated with nuzzles and kisses to her forehead and cheeks and statements that he simply couldn’t help himself, she looked so cute when he caught her off guard.

This time, though, he looked positively frantic. His eyes were wide and desperate, his hand pressed flush against the inside of the glass. Pate’s eyes narrowed as his lips moved but she couldn't hear him. She did her best to discern what he was saying by reading his lips, but even then she could only make out a few words.

She thought she caught him say the words “stuck” and “help”. She swallowed, feeling an apprehensive flutter in her stomach. Something was terribly wrong. He was scared, and anything that could scare Beetlejuice was something to be deeply concerned about.

Questions began forming in her mind; how had he gotten himself stuck in her mirror? How could she get him out? The first thought that occurred to her was breaking the mirror, but somehow that didn’t seem like a good plan. What if it hurt him or something?

‘Come on, think!’ she told herself, reaching up to press her hand over the spot where his was in the glass.

Nothing Lillian had taught her seemed to be of any use, it was all about how to keep spirits and specters away, not letting them loose. At that thought she wondered darkly if Lillian might have something to do with this.

“Beej,” she said slowly, in case he couldn’t hear her, too. “Did Lillian do this? Because if she did, I’ll go talk to her right now.”

If the older woman somehow sealed her demon lover away, surely she had the ability to release him, Pate reasoned. And if it meant finally coming clean about having Beetlejuice around, if Lillian refused to teach her anymore because of it, then so be it. She just had to get him out of there.

⁂

Pate putting her hand against his, unable to touch, felt like they were miles apart instead of separated by a layer of glass. He swallowed and ran his free hand through his hair, hoping it wasn’t betraying his rising panic with some odd color. She must have picked up something from his spill of words, because she hit on the person who had done this: her mentor. Beej nodded at her query, but Pate’s announcement that she was going to talk to the older woman right now made him pound a fist on his side of the glass in anger and fear. “Yes it was Lillian! But baby don’t--don’t leave me here!” he shouted. “Pate--!” Frustrated and increasingly worried she was going to follow through with her idea to go to Lillian’s right now, walking away from him after he’d clawed his way and only by chance ended up where he wanted to be, Beetlejuice continued to pound on the mirror. A terrifying thought skipped through his head: What if she went back to Lillian’s and he needed to be in Lillian’s mirror to be let out?!

He’d have to get back to the old woman’s apartment. Frantically he glanced in the direction he’d entered this space and to his ultimate fear, it was once again plain unending white. There was no broken seam, no evidence he’d ever been anywhere but where he was right now. That threw him into a state of even more panic, and without warning Pate, he stepped away from the window.

A tentacle immediately nosed the spot he thought he’d come in, but found nothing. His fingers found nothing. The seam he’d torn apart was nonexistent. He’d have to find another to try and leave this mirror, and who knew where that would take him. Where would he be? Could he find his way back to Lillian’s? A whine that he now knew Pate couldn’t hear escaped his lips. Beej pushed himself back to his feet and went back to the window. “Please don’t leave me,” he whispered.

tbc . . .

#writing #fanfiction #Beetlejuice #Ties That Bind

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belphegor1982 · 3 years ago

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86. “Don’t be scared I’m right here” prompt for sibling feels between Jonathan and Evie! Maybe when they’re kids and Jonathan is being a protective big brother?

I finally finished it! Hope you like :o)

The Chimera in the Attic

“Don’t be so loud,” whispers Jonathan, and Evelyn does her best to pin him with the most beady glare she can manage in the dark. It’s not so easy as it used to be. Jonathan has grown a lot in the past few months, and Evelyn remains somewhat on the small side for an eight-year-old girl.

He’s still skinny, though. The dressing gown Dad gave him for his birthday, saying he’d grow into it, is still too long and baggy for him.

“I’m not loud.”

“You are! I don’t even know how someone so small can be making so much noise while she walks! What are your slippers made of, solid lead?”

“Well, you’re the one who keeps talking!”

“Look, do you want my help or not?”

Evelyn glowers, but forces her voice down.

“Yes,” she mutters with a sigh – carefully, so she doesn’t blow her candle.

“Good show. Now – toes first, and then your heel. Mind the stairs, we’re almost there.”

It seemed a good idea to ask Jonathan for help – and, if she’s honest, it probably is – but she still doesn’t like it when her brother decides to be The Grown-up. It doesn’t suit him at all. But if she is to retrieve the books Mrs Pemberton, the housekeeper and household dragon, confiscated from her and locked up in the attic, then Jonathan and his baffling (and highly dubious) talent for opening doors is just the man for the job.

The fact that this ‘man’ is a thirteen and a half boy notwithstanding, of course.

And to be completely honest, creeping around the dark, silent house around midnight in his company feels much less daunting than it would on her own.

“Mum and Dad wouldn’t have taken my books away,” she mumbles while the both of them tiptoe up the stairs, careful to avoid the fifth step that always creaks.

Jonathan shoots her a look that has more than a little commiseration to it. But he doesn’t make a sarcastic comment like she half-thought he might. He also doesn’t point out that she’d need only wait till next Friday for Salwa and John Carnahan to come back from their trip. He knows few things are more important to her than her books.

“No,” he murmurs, “they wouldn’t have. But maybe you need a little more… I don’t know, subtlety?”

“What do you mean?”

“Next time, don’t leave the books lying around when you know Mrs Pemberton doesn’t approve of you reading treatises that would give any normal adult a headache, especially when you should be sleeping. You might want to keep them hidden.”

Evelyn concedes the point silently.

True to his word, Jonathan only needs a few minutes until the lock gives up. She probably shouldn’t be so impressed.

The South Wing attic is one of the few places in the house that still don’t have electricity – not even gaslight. It’s essentially a large lumber room filled with steamer trunks, some full, some empty, cabinets and bookshelves devoid of books but filled with bric-a-brac, and more generally everything that’s not too sensitive to light or dust. The windows have only had windowpanes for a few years, and that’s solely because Mum and Dad wanted to use the space to store their travel diaries, inconvenient heirlooms, and everything they couldn’t find room for downstairs.

At this hour of the night, it looks empty and huge, and dark, and utterly uninviting.

Evelyn and Jonathan remain frozen on the threshold for a few seconds. Then Evelyn takes a deep breath, hears Jonathan do the same, and they enter.

From there they split up to search, Evelyn hoping the dust won’t ruin her slippers, Jonathan swearing quietly every time he stubs his toe against something. For some reason it feels even more important to be silent here than it did downstairs, which is silly. This attic is not anywhere near sleeping quarters.

Evelyn lifts a pile of old almanacs, careful not to breathe in the dust that goes flying when she puts them down. Then an unexpected noise behind her makes her gasp.

“It’s just me,” whispers Jonathan, who somehow crept up on her. Evelyn is all the more miffed because for once it doesn’t appear he did it on purpose. “Did you find anything?”

“Just these.”

“Are you sure this is where Mrs Pemberton took your books? She could’ve hidden them in her lair with the rest of her hoard – ugly portraits, stuffed lizards, human remains –”

“Oh, shush.”

Mrs Pemberton came with the house, so to speak, and watched over their father’s childhood with a gimlet eye. She’s very fond of John Carnahan and respected Salwa al-Masri from the moment Dad brought his new wife to England, which is a lot more than can be said for the rest of his family and household staff then. But she is Proper and Traditional and rules the house with an iron hand when the master and mistress are away. Jonathan sometimes half-jokes that he doesn’t see much difference between home and school as far as caning and bleeding knuckles are concerned. Evelyn really hopes he’s exaggerating on both accounts; but the last time Mrs Pemberton caught him scaling the vines on the west façade to sneak into a room, he held himself oddly for a few hours, and that wasn’t because he’d fallen down. He also made Evelyn promise she wouldn’t say a word to their parents, so she kept mum, but she can’t help thinking it’s not right. Mum and Dad never hit Jonathan when he misbehaves.

In normal circumstances she wouldn’t pick at his language. But a dark, dusty attic in the middle of the night is the last place in which she wants to hear about human remains.

“I saw her climb the stairs with all three books and come back down without them,” she points out. “She must have left them here.”

Logic has always been her most trusted ally. Jonathan, knowing this, nods.

“All right, so they’re somewhere in this mess. Now. If I was a fire-breathing dragon who eats twelve naughty children for breakfast, lunch, dinner and supper every day, where would I hide forbidden but valuable books?”

Evelyn can’t help a silent chuckle. Then her eyes fall on a cabinet in a corner, standing in a pool of shadow.

She nudges her brother and they silently make their way towards the cabinet.

A rustling sound in the near distance makes them both freeze. The little candleholder trembles a little in her fist; with her other hand she instinctively searches for Jonathan’s.

“Don’t be scared,” she hears him whisper, “I’m right here.” But his hand is none too steady in hers as he grips back.

“I’m not scared.” Jonathan gives her a look before he bends to inspect the lock of the cabinet, so she insists, “I’m not! I was just startled.”

“Right,” he says with that small infuriating grin of his, like he hasn’t jumped as well at the sudden noise. “All right, then, let’s see…”

A minute later he manages to open the door just a sliver and peek inside.

“Well, good news, there’s your books. I can see the name of one of those dratted Bembridge fellows on the cover. Bad news: something’s blocking the door and I can’t get it open without forcing it – hang on –”

Jonathan pulls on the door, Evelyn steps closer to hear what he’s muttering, and that is when a few things seem to fall on their heads at the same time: something heavy, a cloud of dust, an angry screech, the flapping of wings brushing their skulls. Jonathan yelps, Evelyn cries out. Her candle falls to the floor, instantly snuffed out, but the light managed to give her a glimpse of teeth, feathers, and – scales?

A hand grasps hers and tugs her onwards. She runs along without hesitation, barely registering that they’re racing down the stairs and across the wing to Jonathan’s room, until they’re safe and secure behind the door, covered in dust, chests heaving, their hands on their knees.

“What the hell was that?” gasps Jonathan. Evelyn is too out of breath to answer right away. She’s too busy trying to shake the sensation of lightning coursing through her whole body, like her whole person is reduced to a small human-sized wire.

When she’s able to make sounds other than panting, she groans.

“My books! We forgot the books!”

“We were attacked by a monster and that’s the first thing you say?”

“But that was the entire reason we… We have to go back!”

“And we will, but in the morning, when we can see more than five inches in front of us. And won’t be set upon by nocturnal chimeras.”

“Well,” Evelyn declares mulishly, struggling against the remnants of the terror that made her fly down the stairs as fast as though the wings had been hers, “I’m going. I won’t be able to sleep for a while anyway, I might as well have something to do.”

“Evy.”

“You’re welcome to stay here if you’re afraid, of course.”

“Evy.”

“But you will not stop me from—”

Jonathan rolls his eyes. The next thing she knows he drops three heavy volumes into her arms, so covered in dirt one can hardly decipher the titles on the cover.

“Here are your blasted books, you lunatic! And the next time you need something retrieved from wherever it’s ended up then you’re welcome to—”

It’s not easy to embrace another person while holding books that might be a little more massive than one can safely hold with one arm. That doesn’t stop Evelyn from following her impulse and throwing herself in her brother’s arms before he can finish his sentence. Emotions race through her – retroactive fright, a remnant of righteous anger at being denied what she loves most to do, relief at the return of her favourite books – and she knows better than to fight them. Instead she burrows her nose into the front of Jonathan’s dressing gown and lets them run their course.

Jonathan sighs into her hair and wraps his arms around her. If she doesn’t grow taller quickly he’ll soon be able to put his chin on top of her head. Usually she’s tempted to be a little miffed about that. Right now, it doesn’t sound so bad.

“I don’t… I didn’t mean that.”

I know, she thinks, letting the familiarity of his voice and his wiry frame wash the rest of her nerves away. She was fully prepared to march back up those stairs and into the attic, and now she’s unspeakably grateful that she won’t have to.

Later, when they’ve dusted off their nightclothes, Evelyn hops into bed with her brother. She does it every now and then when she can’t sleep for this or that reason, more rarely since he has gone away to Eton and only comes back in the weekends. Even if he complains that her feet are cold he never turns her away. As always, their whispered conversation carries late into the night. Evelyn is drowsing already when she asks, “What do you think happened, exactly, back there?”

“I don’t know,” whispers Jonathan, eyes closed, “and I don’t care. Whatever it was, it won’t bother us now.”

Evelyn agrees and finally falls asleep, secure in the knowledge that she is safe and, perhaps more importantly, so are her books.

※ ※ ※ ※

The next morning, they wake up at an ungodly hour to retrieve Evy’s candleholder and erase all traces that suggest they recently set foot in the attic. They approach the cabinet cautiously, only to find a moth-eaten stuffed crocodile’s head on the floor covered in bird droppings and what looks like a little owl’s feathers. The ‘trophy’ – probably older than their parents – must have been left on top of the cabinet for ages, wedged against the top of the door, effectively preventing anyone from opening the door completely.

Jonathan looks down, then up, then down again, and says, “There’s our chimera. Looks like we survived a crocodile attack last night.”

Evelyn makes a face. The memory of their undignified rout stings, especially now that it’s obvious there was nothing to get so scared about. Startled, yes; scared, no.

“I wonder if we frightened that poor bird away for good,” she muses as they set everything to rights as silently as they can.

Jonathan, who wandered off looking for the point of entry, looks over his shoulder and says, “I hope so. I don’t fancy this attic becoming an aviary. There are too many interesting things here to leave them left for the birds, so to speak.” He plugs an owl-sized hole in a windowpane with a rag and adds with a grin, “The things you’ll do for books, I swear.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Evelyn counters, feeling a similar wide smile make its way on her face.

And Jonathan, who usually has a ready sarcastic retort on the tip of his tongue, only shakes his head with a snort.

Books – both their contents and their physical form – are important to Evelyn in a way they aren’t to Jonathan. Perhaps they’ll never really understand each other on this. But perhaps it doesn’t really matter, either.

After all, even if he isn’t up to standing up to a chimera in the dead of night any more than she is, her big brother still knows her well enough to know that Evelyn Carnahan will only leave a book behind in the direst of circumstances.

(There you go! Not my best prose, I’m sorry, but it’s the best I could hammer out into shape ^^’ I have a lot of feels about these two and I’m always glad for the chance to explore these feels, so thank you, dear anon 💜)

#the mummy #the mummy films #ask reply #fanfiction #my stuff

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deepperplexity · 4 years ago

Text

Title: A Boggart’s Implosion

A/N: So, found this post on tumblr by @kalkar0s where it partly said: "may i start a discussion on snape's boggart? what would it be?

i'm just riffing here, but what if, based on the theory that snape is a natural occlumens and thus, it's more of an instict to him rather than something he has learned, the boggart wouldn't be able to take on a form because it can't sense his fear?

just imagine snape, taking center stage in front of the closet containing the boggart he just saw half of the classroom face, as it took on many frightening forms, and then...nothing happens... (TO READ THE FULL THING CHECK THE POST LINKED ABOVE)"

And, well, I just had to write this out but with my own take on the whole thing.

Setting: Lupins lesson about Boggarts (and the evening before)

Word Count: 899

Warnings: NONE

Masterlist page // Masterlist post

"Really Lupin, a boggart?" Snape arched his brow expertly at the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor on a slight huff. "Why? You don't think they can handle it, Snape? You scared to have a little boggart here?" Lupin said with a slight grin to his otherwise sincere face marred by scars. Snape gave the other man a sneer before rising from his chair in the staffroom. "I have no fear of such a thing," he said in a low, gruff voice. Lupin smiled, apparently excited as something crossed his mind.

"Why such joy, Lupin?" Snape asked right before he was about to exit the room and head back to his own quarters down in the damp dungeons. "A wager," Lupin said as he leaned back in the rather large chair, "you join my class tomorrow and stand before the boggart and I'll, I don't know, take your nightwatch for two months." "Oh really, and If I don't?" "You take mine," Lupin grinned out; Snape just raised his eyebrow yet again. Obviously not impressed by the grinning professor who was unaware of his losing wager. "Deal," Snape stated without hesitation and then left the room in a cloud of black fabric.

The next day...

"Now, class, today we have a special guest who should arrive any moment," Lupin said with a wide smile after having gone through the introduction of the day's lesson; to defend oneself against a boggart. A murmur broke out and the professor held up his hand to silence the room. "Now," and just then the door swung open with a slight band and in stepped Snape with a stark expression. His black cloak filled the entire door as he walked in with harsh steps.

"Ah, there we are," Lupin grinned out but he seemed a bit less happy as he was not at all hoping to pick up extra nightwatch hours for two months. Nonetheless, to see Snape's boggart would be reward enough he was sure of that. "Now, professor Snape here has kindly agreed to demonstrate-" "No, what I have agreed upon is to stand before the boggart. There will be no demonstration of any sort," Snape hissed in a growl and Lupin held up his hands with a chuckle.

"Well, you do claim to have no fear, we'll soon see about that." A murmur broke out in the room and Snape gave the students a dark look; it effectively silenced the room in one fell sweep. Lupin clapped his hands together in delight. "Well, you all know what to do if the boggart goes after you, right?" he asked the class and all students nodded but their eyes went like the eyes of a judge at a ping-pong match between the mirrored cabinet and Snape. Expectation shined in their little eyes.

"Shall we?" Lupin grinned out and his excitement was palpable. Snape merely took the two long strides required to be at the front so as the boggart would try to read his fear and turn in to whatever that was. Snape didn't take out his wand, he simply stood with his hands in the pockets of his frockcoat. As if he were merely preparing to take a stroll through a park on a dandy fine day. "On my count," Lupin said and the silence laid thick and heavy in the room as tension was rising and students were trying to get closer.

"One, two, three..." Lupin counted and then with a flick of his wand the mirrored cabinet opened and - nothing. Seconds passed, and still nothing. Lupin flicked his eyes between the stoic Snape and the seemingly empty cabinet. Something swirled, slithered, fogged and writhed right at the opening of the cabinet a moment later. Something poured out over the floor before Snape who simply just stood there. No motion, no flicker of emotion crossed his face and no movement to grab his wand.

The boggart changed from form to form, a blurry mess of nothing as it tried to find whatever it was that Snape feared. It bubbled, it sizzled, it hissed and growled. Blurry forms of horrors flashed for a millisecond at a time and then turned to something else. Snape just stood there. Lupin gawked and hushed whispers had broken out in the room - about how Snape had no fears, how he was not normal, how it was all wrong, how nothing scared the professor - as the boggart seemed to nearly implode on itself from frustration and constant shifting.

Snape turned his head towards Lupin who just gawked, eyes and mouth wide open. Snape raised his eyebrow expertly with a grinning sneer on his face. "My next shift is tomorrow at eleven," he said with a sour undertone of victory, "pleasure doing wagers with you, Lupin," he finished and then he left the room in one large billowing cloud of darkness; chuckling to himself as Lupin had to stand before the boggart.

"Fool, no person and no thing can penetrate my mind. Imbecile," he chuckled out right after the door to the stunned classroom had closed behind him. He quite enjoyed the thought of being free from the nightwatch for two whole months, perhaps more wagers with Lupin would relieve him of the rest of the years night service? Now that would be quite nice, he thought as he walked through the castle in a, quite frankly, splendid mood.

So, this was fun to write and it's a change of pace for me ^^ Also, quite nice to write something shorter for once xD Probably the shortest thing I've ever written concerning Snape xD

Well, I hope you liked this! :D Feel free to comment - I LOVE COMMENTS - and please vote if you liked this story :)

Masterlist page // Masterlist post

Tags: @lizlil

#snape #severus snape #professor snape #snapes boggart #boggart #fanfic #fanfiction #snape fanfiction #fic #snape fic #deepperplexity #deepperplexity fic #prompted fic #lupin #professor lupin #remus #remus lupin

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musings-from-mars · 3 years ago

Note

Welp, part 5 is a must now

Freelance Love Triangle AU - Part 5

Blake wasn’t sure why she’d been so curious about hard seltzer when she already knew she hated sparkling water. But here she was drinking what vaguely suggested that it might be cherry flavored, yet Ruby seemed to like hers, and Blake had already said she liked it. Gotta finish it now…

Cinder was right about it being quaint. Blake usually shied away from late night trips to the bar because the ones she’d been to were the “loud music, pick up chicks” types. This, however, was more easy going, softer music and people here to chat with friends more than anything else. And since it was a weekday evening, it wasn’t very busy (also a rare treat for a city like Vale).

The three of them sat at the bar, the bow tie and vest wearing barman leisurely drying a glass with a fiber cloth as he handed Cinder her cheap glass of red wine. Blake wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, maybe that Cinder would order something from higher in the big wooden cabinet behind the bar, perhaps to show off her sophisticated tastes. But no, it was just a glass from an already opened bottle of something dark and astringent. At least she was being seemingly authentic.

Blake needed the occasional reminders that Cinder wasn’t the highbrow, high class villainess she made her out to be in her head. She was Blake’s coworker and made no more than she did. Maybe Blake just had a complex, imagining her as an opponent. And Ruby was the prize she felt like they were warring over.

I’m a fucking piece of shit. And dumb. She took another sip of alcohol soda water, accepting it as her punishment.

“Want a taste?” Cinder asked Ruby, sliding her glass to her.

The photographer eyed the dark red liquid skeptically, but she grabbed the stem of the glass anyway. “I’ll try.” She took the smallest of sips, then came away with an expression like she had just bitten into a lemon. “Heghhh…”

Cinder giggled, seeming to be genuinely amused. “It’s an acquired taste.”

Blake reached over, but looked to Cinder for permission to try. Cinder noticed, and for half a second seemed surprised, but then she smiled and nodded. Blake took a sip, and yep, it felt like all the moisture had been zapped from her mouth the moment the wine passed her tongue. She slid the glass back to Cinder. “I don’t think I’ll acquire it.”

Cinder rolled her eye, but continued to smile. Blake took a drink of her seltzer. At least now she knew it could be worse.

“So, uhm…” Ruby began, pausing to sip her drink. “When did you two, like…how’d you become writers.”

Blake looked across to Cinder, and Cinder went first. “It wasn’t my plan initially, but I eventually figured out that I wanted to write for a living. But I didn’t figure that out until I was a third year physics student at my university. Had an identity crisis, had a financial crisis, had a crisis crisis, I’m a journalist now.” She punctuated that with a sip of wine, and both Ruby and Blake laughed. “Blake had a slightly less stressful go at it, if I remember correctly.”

Blake blushed at that, but nodded in agreement. “College was the easy part. It was the after college part that was hard. Urban Valean is, like, the fifth publication I’ve written for in the past two years and it’s the first one I’ve actually enjoyed.”

“I can agree with that,” Cinder added.

“Huh.” Ruby bowed her head a bit. “So I kinda got lucky, huh?”

“Got lucky because of the magazine you’re working for? Or lucky because you’re working with us?” Cinder asked. Blake felt her face warm, both because of Cinder’s obvious flirting, but also because of her use of the word “us.”

Ruby chuckled bashfully and shrugged. Cute. “Both, I guess. You two are really cool, and…nowhere near as mean as I was worried you would be.”

“You thought we’d be mean?” Blake asked, concerned.

Ruby’s back straightened and she shook her head. “I mean, uhh…not you two specifically! I just mean, like, I always imagined I’d get teased, or like, not taken seriously at my first gig. But I liked you both pretty much right away. I’m really enjoying working on this project.” She smiled genuinely, and it made Blake’s heart soar.

“Yeah, you are pretty lucky to be working with us,” Cinder assured her with a chuckle. “And that’s not me being an ass, I mean that. There are a lot of high-strung jerks out there.”

“Yeah,” Blake agreed, then felt her breath catch in her throat. Was she talking about her?

“Blake and I are the types who…you know, we enjoy what we do, but we don’t take ourselves too seriously. At least, most of the time.” And then she winked at Blake. It was a little hard to tell at first because, well, one eye, but that was definitely a wink. She tipped her head in her direction and everything.

At least Blake wasn’t one of those high-strung jerks, then.

“Thank you both, seriously,” Ruby told them, then took the last sip of her drink. “I was so scared when I graduated, because I didn’t know what to do, but…now I feel like I’m on a good track, of some sort. I…” She paused and flinched a bit, then she pulled out her phone, and she went a bit paler. “Oh, shit! I totally forgot!”

“What?” Blake asked.

“Did you leave your other laptop in the oven?” Cinder joked.

“No no, it’s my sister. She invited me over tonight and I completely forgot. I…” She suddenly got to her feet and started fumbling around in her pockets. She finally pulled out her wallet and left a few Lien on the bar. “I am so sorry that I’m leaving so quick, I really would love to stay, but…”

“Don’t worry about it, Ruby. This won’t be our last time hanging out,” Cinder assured her. “We’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

Ruby sighed and nodded. “Thanks.” She turned towards Blake and grinned as she began to leave. “Bye! Thanks again!”

Blake and Cinder both watched her leave, and then a relative silence fell over them, with an awkward empty seat now separating the two.

Blake heard Cinder take in a deep breath, then hopped into the seat Ruby had just vacated. “Blake, can I ask you something?”

Blake’s heart was suddenly hammering in her chest, both due to the open-ended question, and the sudden reduction in distance between them. “Uhh…you just did.”

Cinder huffed the faintest laugh. “Blake, I feel like we should probably talk about this like a couple of adults.”

“Talk about what?” Blake asked, apparently deciding to play dumb.

“About Ruby,” Cinder deadpanned. “About how obviously we both seem to like her. Unless I’m misreading things horribly.”

Blake sighed and shook her head. “No, you’re just about spot on,” she admitted.

“I figured. I can’t help but feel like you view this as us both competing for her affections, but as much as I’d normally appreciate drama like that, when I’m involved, I’d prefer we handle it like real people rather than like rom-com characters.”

Cinder’s eloquence got on Blake’s nerves as usual, only now she was beginning to examine why. Cinder was so irritatingly attractive, and yet she was exactly right about the whole competing thing. Why did Blake have to view her as an opponent all the time, when they had just told Ruby how they were both just a couple of stressed out freelance writers? She took another sip of hard seltzer, realized her glass was empty, and despite her disdain for the taste, signaled the bartender for a refill.

“I am most concerned about Ruby herself,” Cinder continued. “Whether she’s even interested in either of us in that way, or if she is interested in such a relationship at all. So I believe that’s our most important concern right now. Let’s be upfront with her as well, right?”

“You want us to tell her that we both fancy her,” Blake asked, as a statement rather than as a question. The bartender slid another pint glass of fresh-from-the-can hard seltzer. “I can’t imagine that going well.” Nor could she imagine her blood pressure handling such a situation well.

“But at least then we’d know early on whether our feelings are misplaced or not,” Cinder pointed out, and finished off her glass. She signaled for another, probably mirroring Blake’s failure to adhere to her “only one drink” declaration from earlier. “It would save us the anxiety.”

“For you, maybe,” Blake said with a dry laugh. “I can’t imagine telling her something like that, especially since we’re supposed to be keeping things professional. Imagine if she freaks out and tells Robyn? She’d be in the right if she did.”

“I doubt she would, I have a good feeling, if I’m being honest,” Cinder admitted as the bartender finished refilling her glass.

“I don’t!” Blake said, an incredulous smile on her face.

“It’s up to you, Blake,” Cinder assured her and took a sip of her wine. Blake noticed a faint red tint to her cheeks. “I won’t make a move without your…input?”

“What, like, some sort of bro code?” Blake asked, raising an eyebrow at her. She took a few hasty sips from her drink, as if that would calm her down at all. “We’re not frat boys.”

“As I said, I want us to handle this like adults,” Cinder reiterated, eying Blake’s glass with faint concern. “And I think going behind your back, undercutting you…” She let that linger.

Blake sighed, her shoulders slumping a bit. “Would be shitty, yeah, I got that.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Blake.”

Blake held her breath and looked at her, studying her face as she drank more wine. That came out of nowhere. “What do you mean?”

“You compare yourself to others, or most notably, to me all too often,” Cinder told her, setting her glass back down. “You are a woman of merit, and you shouldn’t hamper yourself with the expectations that other people already deal with. You are just one person. You need to do what you can, and less of what you feel like I can. You’ll stress yourself out far less once you do.”

Blake tried to take in all of that, but at this point, her head was a little too foggy to accept new information for archiving. This hard seltzer wash was more potent than she expected. Or maybe she was more of a lightweight than she thought. “Easy for you to say. You get cover so often…”

“I’ve also been doing this longer than you have,” Cinder pointed out. “You’re putting the expectations I deal with on top of your own by comparing yourself to me. I used to do that all the time, hence the crisis crisis I mentioned earlier? Once I stopped giving two fucks about everyone else, life got easier.”

Blake shook her head. She knew Cinder had a point, but she just couldn’t fathom the full breadth of her testimony. “Well, I guess I’ll start working on giving fewer fucks moving forward.” She finished her second glass all too soon. She shook her head when the bartender asked if she wanted another as he took her glass.

Cinder laughed, which weirdly made Blake feel a little better. “Everyone starts somewhere.”

“Yeah.” It certainly sounded nice, no longer caring what other people thought, or even ignoring her own head and just doing what felt right. But how did that relate to the Ruby situation? The thing that would feel right would be to go find wherever she was right now and proclaim her affections, but even that felt like too much right now. The alcohol wasn’t helping.

Cinder seemed to recognize that and took a few more sips of wine before sliding the almost-empty glass away and pushed herself off of the barstool. “Just put it on my tab, thanks.”

“Are we leaving?” Blake asked, not noticing Cinder had gotten up until she’d gently taken her by the wrist.

“You are, anyway. You need to get home.” Cinder told her as she helped her off her stool. “Lightweight.”

Blake would have argued if standing didn’t make her even woozier. She was in that odd in-betweenness of buzzed and drunk. She felt completely aware of her surroundings but felt like she was controlling all of her body’s movements manually, as if letting something go unnoticed would result in her falling over. Thankfully, Cinder kept ahold of her, though the feeling of her faintly cold hand on Blake’s wrist proved to be a distraction all on its own.

They started down the street. Blake walked as normally as she could, save for the occasional sway that Cinder would correct for her. She felt so stupid for having more than one drink despite what she said before. At least Cinder was being nice. “Wait…”

“Hm?” Cinder asked.

“My laptop,” Blake said. “I left my laptop at the office.”

“It’ll be there where you get there in the morning.”

“No, I need it tonight. I gotta take down my notes and do some preliminary searching for contact information for the artists.”

“It can wait, hun,” Cinder assured her.

“It’s on the way,” Blake half-lied. It wasn’t tremendously out of the way, but going straight home would be quicker and easier, not that Cinder knew that.

Cinder sighed and shook her head. “Fine, dumbass, let’s go to the office.”

Blake might have taken offense, but felt too victorious at successfully convincing her.

Cinder buzzed them both in with her ID card, and sure enough, Blake’s laptop bag was still on her chair. They were the only ones at the office at this late an hour. It felt eerily quiet, considering how noisy it could be during the day. In Blake’s slightly intoxicated state, it was especially surreal.

“Do you…do you need to sit down for a moment?” Cinder asked, her voice lulling.

Blake hadn’t put her bag over her shoulder yet, instead holding the shoulder strap as it rested on the floor. She considered Cinder’s suggestion, then shook her head. “No, I’m fine. Just tired.” Then she swayed a little too far in one direction, overcorrected in the other, and began to stumble. “Huh-!”

Cinder stepped forward quickly and caught her, wrapping her arms securely around Blake’s shoulders in an awkward embrace. “Careful!”

Blake groaned in annoyance, then held her breath when she fully recognized her position, held tightly in Cinder’s arms, face-to-face with her. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I just lost my balance for a bit, I’m fine.”

Cinder shook her head at her. She licked her lips before speaking, as if it was difficult to find the words. “No, you need to sit down.”

“Why?” Blake asked, finding herself unable to look away from Cinder’s lips.

“You’re not fit to walk home yet,” Cinder told her, her voice quieter than before, almost a whisper. She began to slowly lead Blake to her desk chair without letting go of her. “Just sit until you feel better.”

“But…no,” Blake said, almost a mumble.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want you to let go of me yet.”

Blake didn’t realize what she said until noticing the look on Cinder’s face, her eye wide and her mouth hanging open slightly. Blake’s face got so hot she thought she might break out into a sweat.

“You want me to keep holding you?” Cinder asked quietly.

Blake couldn’t meet her face, instead staring at the collar of Cinder’s jacket. At first she wanted to double back and correct herself, but then again…

She let her head drift forward until her forehead rested on Cinder’s shoulder, and she did her best to wrap her arms around her despite Cinder pinning them to her sides. Cinder felt tense, but Blake let herself relax within her embrace, letting out a slow sigh.

“Blake?” Cinder whispered to her, but didn’t continue.

“Just hold me,” Blake said back, voice muffled by Cinder’s jacket.

“Do you like it when I hold you?” Cinder asked.

“Yeah.”

Cinder let out a shaky breath, then chuckled softly. She shook her head as she allowed Blake to sink further into the embrace. “Yeah. I like it too.”

#freelance love triangle au #pawling petals #rwby #ruby rose #blake belladonna #cinder fall #drabble

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skyview-temple-spring · 4 years ago

Text

more writing! some AU stuff with Zelda & Ghirahim being idiots and Link and Fi having to deal with their shit. (prompt #7 from the same list I’ve been using) T for language (also on ao3)

Zelda trudged through the muddy Faron forests, weighed down by the monster of a sword strapped to her back. The rain was only a drizzle, but if they didn't get back soon the sky would open and they'd be drenched. Ghirahim would surely start complaining about rust, going on and on for hours about how his sword deserved to be treated and that Link never left Fi out in the rain and how Zelda was no better than Demise if she dared disrespect him in such a way—

They had to hurry.

"Bet you can't hit that tree from all the way over here."

Of course, that is not what they did.

"Oh, you are so on. I thought we had learned by now to never doubt my skills?"

"I'm just saying, visibility is not the best, it's dark and cloudy." Zelda shrugged, crossing her arms and leaning against a nearby tree.

Ghirahim sent her a glare, straightening himself up and summoning a glowing dagger. With a calculated flourish, he sent the blade flying into the misty woods, never breaking eye contact with her. Though the dagger had disappeared from sight, they heard it hit the tree with a loud thunk! a second later.

The sword turned to bow arrogantly to an unseen audience, gloating and making as big of a deal as he possibly could.

"Ha! Who's laughing now?"

"Kweeeee!"

"Oh, fuck me.”

Link lay cuddled up on his couch, curled beneath a fuzzy blanket as he watched the torrential downpour outside the window.

"The weather's getting really bad, should we be worried about them?" He wondered aloud, looking to Fi for an answer.

"20% chance they got lost. 30, maybe, one of them got hurt. 50 they've just done something stupid." Fi rattled off, much less precise than she used to be. After the downfall of the Demon King neither had been very keen to start fighting again, so once the surface had been rebuilt and a new class of knights entered the academy, they gladly let others take on some of the heavy burden of saving the world. The hero and his sword were content to explore the world below on their own terms.

This did not mean, however, their lives were not filled with danger and chaos on any given day.

The door slammed open and the raging wind swept inside, shaking the walls of their home and rattling the shelves. Link jumped up, hurrying to the girl cradling a brown and tan lump under her arm.

"Help?" Zelda called into the house, out of breath and sopping wet. Behind her stood the demon lord, just as soaked, and even more upset.

"What did you do..?" Link cautiously approached them, reaching out for whatever Zelda had brought into their home. She dumped the blob into his arms, turning to wrestle the door closed once more.

"Hello to you too, Link, and yes, we are okay, thank you for your concern." Ghirahim scoffed in his direction, but Link was preoccupied with the animal in his arms.

"Oh my goddesses, is this dead?"

Zelda had slumped onto the couch, dragging the other spirit down with her. Not waiting for a response, Link deposited the lump he was now able to recognize as a kikwi.

"I don't think so? We didn't see what happened, Ghirahim threw a knife into a tree and then we found him lying in the mud." She groaned, sprawling out over the couch with her head in Fi's lap. The sword didn't push her away, wet as she was, but didn't look too happy about it either.

"Yeah, well, if Mocha here hadn't gotten in the way—"

"It's Matcha, dumbass."

"The personal designation of this kikwi is Machi." Fi interrupted them, though the name of the kikwi didn't really matter as it was passed out on Link's floor, "Please refer to it by it's name."

"—he wouldn't have gotten hurt." Ghirahim finished, ignoring everything the other two had said. Link gaped at him, aghast.

"You killed him? "

"Who doesn't like a little murder to start their evening?" Ghirahim waved him off, sarcasm dripping from this words.

"We didn't kill him!" Zelda yelled from the couch, falling off a moment later with a loud thud. She popped back up in time to see Ghirahim poking the poor thing, nearly tackled by Link to keep him off.

"It's a plant, we can't have killed it anyway."

Zelda slowly turned to the demon.

"Do you think plants don't die?"

"You can't kill them."

"Yes, you can!"

"I think he means to say you can't murder them." Fi resolved, though she stayed in her place on the couch. "Murder is a term reserved for sentient life forms."

"Is it?" Ghirahim pondered, to the dismay of a very distraught Link. "That thing's barely sentient, but I would definitely describe it as murder if I actually killed him."

Fi, helpful as ever, chimed in with, "Murder has to be premeditated. Killing someone on accident would be manslaughter."

"Who says it was a accident?"

"I do, I was there!" Zelda piped up, "And he's not dead! He's sentient, too, non-sentient things don't scream when you stab them!"

"Fi's a sentient life form. I could stab her and I don't think she'd care."

"I would."

"Stop arguing over this and help me heal Mochi!" Link shouted over their argument, rifling through the cabinets for a potion.

"Machi." Fi corrected him.

Though he tried, it became clear no one was listening to Link. Ghirahim ignored his plea, continuing to argue with Zelda.

"Besides, your evidence is incorrect," He dismissed, turning to leave the dead (not dead!) kikwi. "Deku babas absolutely scream in pain and they're not sentient. They're plants, this thing is a plant, I didn't murder it."

"I can only verify with 30% accuracy that Machi is a plant."

"60/200 not plant still leaves, like, a quarter of a plant."

"No, that's not what I said." Fi sighed, growing exasperated. "I said I can only verify with 30% accuracy he is a plant. That does not mean he is 30% plant, 70% other. And for the love of Hylia simplify your fractions, you're killing me."

"Macho—"

"Machi."

"—doesn't seem to be able to answer us right now, so we'll have to solve this later."

Link hadn't bothered to pay attention to their discussion. He hadn't been able find a potion (he'd need to restock up in Skyloft. given how prone to injury the four of them were, to be without one was asking for trouble) and stopped his frantic searching, kneeling next to the kikwi to take time and find what was actually wrong with him. There wasn't any blood, there didn't seem to be any wounds. In fact—

"He's just passed out, you scared him half to death!" Link sighed, tugging the plant into his arms. "And it's going to be even worse when he wakes up, put him back where you found him!"

"No way am I going back out in that, I'll rust." Ghirahim whined, gesturing to the rain outside. Thrusting the dead weight into Ghirahim's arms, Link glared at the demon and effectively silenced his protests.

"Fine." He grumbled, much less argumentative than he used to be, and disappeared in a shimmer of diamonds.

"I told you we didn't kill him—hey!" Zelda reminded Link and Fi, but Link was pushing her away from the couch she had been trying to fall back on.

"You're getting water all over our living room." He pouted, "You and Ghirahim are such messes. It's like you brought the hurricane inside with you!"

"You are both incredibly high maintenance." Fi agreed, going back to whatever she had been doing before getting rudely interrupted. "The difference is Ghirahim knows it. Zelda, darling—"

Zelda nearly knocked Link over when she heard the pet name. As forced as it sounded, and almost definitely something she had picked up from Ghirahim (meaning it was not meant to be affectionate, but mocking), the subtle sign of Fi's growing emotional responses warmed her heart. Zelda pulled the sword spirit into a tight embrace.

"You're getting me wet. You know, Ghirahim is right to worry about rust." Fi sighed, but she smiled at Link over Zelda's shoulder. "I was saying you're still in denial. He's rubbing off on you."

"He's rubbing off on all of us, because if you don't stop dripping over my carpet, I am going to stab you too." Link threatened. He had never been very intimidating, and it had only gotten worse as time went on. Brow furrowed and lips pursed, he ushered Zelda away from where she would cause the most harm.

"Yeah, yeah, keep throwing your little tantrum." Zelda ruffled his hair as she walked past him to the bathroom, hitting Link in the head with her wet hat before slamming the door.

"What are we going to do with them?" Link sighed affectionately, looking over the damage they had done. At least this time there was no blood to clean up.

"That is a question I unfortunately cannot answer, Master Lin—"

Fi was interrupted by a loud crash outside, followed by some colorful and violent language mixed with expletives. Link took a deep breath, willing himself to calm down, but the door slammed open with the force of the wind once more.

"So, problem—"

"Ghirahim!"

#my writing #legend of zelda #skyward sword #zelda #ghirahim #link #fi #zelfi #ghiralink #after the war au #some cut lines included '#you can't put me in time out what the fuck zelda #and 'I'm not giving him mouth to mouth wtf' 'probably tastes like mint'#i spelled language so wrong auto correct didn't catch it ;-; sorry if you reblogged this before i fixed it i swear i edited the real writin #cherryskywriting

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vintagedolan · 4 years ago

Text

mixtape | track four

| masterlist | faceclaims | playlist | visual by @brockhsmpton

“Hey! No headshots!”

“Then no moving your head into my shot! Cheater!” Bekah stuck out her tongue. It looked a bit paler than usual.

“Aye, I don’t cheat!”

It was quite the sight, Indy was sure. A small 15 year old versus a much larger 20 year old, ducking behind anything they could in the hospital room - curtains, the bed, the large cabinet door, even going as far as climbing under the sink to avoid each other’s paper airplanes. The first few times she’d protested their swiping of her blank index cards, knowing she would need them eventually for another study session in the future. But Bekah’s giggles were enough for her to give in, taking on her role of judge to ensure no one cheated and even folding a few extras for them.

They kept it up for a while until Bekah started to breathe a bit heavier, wincing some as she tried to throw hers at an ever moving Grayson. Indy caught on first, furrowing her brow and offering up a ‘take it easy’, but the look she gave Grayson was a bit more serious, and he nodded, scrambling for another idea that wouldn’t make it too obvious that he’d noticed Bekah’s struggle. In a moment of insight he grabbed the bedpan, sitting it at the end of the bed and moving to sit towards the top, leaving plenty of space.

“Beks, come sit down, we’ll see who's really got better aim.”

She was grateful, her exhaustion obvious as she leaned back against the pillows, landing a few good ones before Jennifer came in with that look that had her groaning.

“It’s 8 guys, time to roll out.”

“Can’t they stay just a little longer Mrs. Jennifer? Please?” She put on her best pleading voice, but it was futile. Even if they weren’t being told to go, Indiana wasn’t going to push it that night - she didn’t like the way that Bekah’s skin didn’t have it’s usual deep richness. She looked small. Jennifer shook her head.

“Not tonight kiddo, maybe next week.”

Indiana checked her phone - it was only 7:50, and Jennifer never pulled them out early.

Unless…

“We’ll see you soon Beks, get some rest okay?” She kept her voice steady despite the twisting feeling of her gut, giving Grayson time to say goodbye before they both headed out the door with a wave.

Indiana followed Jennifer towards the nurses station, Grayson right behind her. When they stopped, she reached out for his hand, bracing herself.

Jennifer was a kind woman, and she’d only cut their session short if there was something she needed to tell them.

“What’s going on? Don’t sugarcoat it either,” Indy said. Grayson squeezed her hand, running a thumb across the back of it slowly.

“She’s not responding to treatment. Her counts aren’t going down, her tumors aren’t shrinking. Her body isn’t doing well.”

Grayson stiffened.

“So what’s the next step then?” He asked.

“We’re going to try stem cells, but with her systems already so fragile we can’t have her expending any energy she doesn’t have to be. She puts on a show when you all are here, because she doesn’t want you two to worry. And when she actually has the procedure, it’s gonna be family only for at least a week, so I just wanted to give you guys a heads up.”

“Isn’t that the whole reason we’re here though? Because her family can’t see her very often? I don’t want her to have to go through that alone.” The concern was evident in Grayson’s voice, and it made Indiana’s heart swell, even as Jennifer sighed.

“I know, and I wish it was different. But it’s for her own protection, or believe me we’d be looking for a loophole. We’ll take good care of her, and you can always facetime to keep her company, kiddos usually love that.”

Indiana’s logic kicked in, her medical brain starting to spin and catch up with what Jennifer was saying. She set her shoulders, like her mom taught her to, and just nodded.

“Right, that makes sense. We’ll figure out a way to make sure she’s supported through the whole thing. Thanks for letting us know.”

Grayson frowned at the sudden change in her tone but didn’t question her as she turned away. He simply followed her, pressing the buttons for the doors as they made it through the hallways. She was walking faster than usual and he lengthened his stride to keep up, not even making his usual comment about the stairs, just moving straight into the elevator.

As soon as the doors closed he heard her ragged breath and immediately opened his arms, taking a step towards her. He was met with a closed fist pressed to his sternum, her knuckles hard even through his hoodie as she stopped him.

“I’m gonna need you to not do that right now.”

He tried not to pay attention to the way her words made his stomach drop.

“Why?”

“Because if you hug me right now, I’m gonna cry. And I don’t wanna cry.”

To her relief, he didn’t push it. Instead, he laced his fingers with hers again, a bit tighter than before, as the elevator dinged and they stepped out into the now familiar lobby.

When Grayson was six and a half, he’d gotten worried. He’d decided he wanted to be a spy, which meant he needed to practice listening to every conversation he could to get ‘intel’. Which meant picking up the extra house phone to listen in on Cam’s conversations, reading Ethan’s Nintendo DS chats, and most importantly, practicing his stealth by sneaking into the living room when it was just Lisa and Sean, to get the real gossip from the adults. But by his third day as the designated house spy, he was worried - so he did what he always did when he didn’t know what else to do. He went to his dad.

“Why don’t you and Ma talk?” He had asked. His dad had looked up from his paperwork with a frown, putting his pen down and turning to his son.

“What do you mean?”

“You guys just sit in the living room but you don’t talk. I thought moms and dads were supposed to talk. Nick’s mom and dad talk all the time when we’re at his house.”

“Are you worried? About me and Ma?”

He nodded, and Sean smiled his big smile, the one that always brought out the same dimple that Grayson had, reaching out to grab his son and lift him up onto his desk so they were at eye level.

“Let me tell you a little secret Gray. When you love somebody, and I mean really love them, you don’t have to talk. People talk to tell you what’s going on in their mind, but when you love somebody, real deep, like the way I love your Ma, you don’t have to tell them. They just know.”

“Like how I know what Ethan’s thinking all the time?”

Sean smiled, and pinched his cheek.

“Yeah babe, just like that. You can love somebody loud, or you can love somebody quiet. Doesn’t mean you love them any more or any less.”

Grayson didn’t say a word back then, and he didn’t say one now either - he just held onto Indiana’s hand and walked beside her until they made it to her apartment building. The elevator ride was silent apart from the muffled ding of each floor they passed, and he kept his eyes on her face as subtly as he could, making sure she didn’t need him.

She fumbled with her keys in one hand, unwilling to let go of his hand with her other, finally getting it lined up and turned.

They made it five steps inside before Grayson wrapped his arms around her. It was a bit of a smothering hug, as any Grayson hug was, whether he meant it to be or not. He was so big that she melted into him involuntarily, as she had every time they’d hugged goodbye over the last week. But this time, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her hair with so much tenderness that it had her nose burning, her eyes pricking.

“You can cry, it doesn’t scare me. I know you’re worried about her. I am too.”

His voice was so soft that she felt it in her bones.

She swallowed hard, fought it, bit it back like she’d learned to and squeezed him back before going limp, waiting for him to let go, knowing if he held on too long she wouldn’t be able to keep it together.

He didn’t let go.

Instead, he turned his head and rested his cheek on top of her hair and waited. Loved her quiet, let her settle herself at her own pace, relax and compartmentalize. She sucked in another few breaths and then started to walk backwards, arms still locked around Grayson’s waist as he followed her with a smile, letting her guide him to the couch.

They fell into the position they’d found themselves in at the end of Saturday night - Grayson leaned back against the cushion, giving her his whole torso to choose from as she curled up against him. There was a casual intimacy between the two of them that Indiana had never felt. She didn’t hesitate to rest her head on his chest, or throw her leg over his in a bid to get closer. She didn’t have a single doubt before she scooted up so she was closer to his lips, smiling when he reached for her, cupped her face with both hands and brought her to him for a kiss.

“You feeling better?” He asked, nose still against hers when he pulled back a fraction.

“Much,” she murmured, chasing out the last worries she had with his lips as her tool, focusing in on the way they moved against hers, the warmth of his tongue, the way her muscles tensed as his hand traveled from her cheek down her neck, over her shoulder and down to her hip. She sucked in a breath when he squeezed her skin, calloused hands rough against her smooth.

He managed to keep her there for a few more minutes, a lazy make out made up of slow kisses, deep breaths and a few giggles seemingly enough to keep her mind busy for the time being. Everything had moved so fast but so naturally somehow - strangers only a few weeks ago, and now there they were, caught up in each other as if it was the only place they were ever meant to be. But as it always did, school began to poke into the back of her mind, ruining the moment as she started to ease herself up, laughing at the way he held onto her arm and pouted, pulling her back down so he could nuzzle into her neck, pressed up so tight that every breath tickled her neck.

“Gray I have school stuff, I told you that,”

“I thought you said your exam got moved, you got that email the other day!”

She ran her fingers through his hair with a smile.

“Honey just cause one exam got moved doesn’t mean I don’t have shit to do for my other classes.”

“Honey?” He balked, sitting up enough for Indy to see his furrowed brow and wide eyes that had her giggling again.

“Not for you huh?”

“Pretty sure my mom is the only woman who has ever called me honey, so imma have to pass on that one.”

“Then what do you prefer?” She hummed as he cozied back up to her, holding her just tight enough to keep her there, arms crossed around her so her back was pressed to his chest.

“Dunno. Never really had anyone ask before. What are my options?”

She toyed with his fingers, trying to think of what to say.

“I like all of them. I like original ones, but I like the classics too.”

“Classics?”

“Yeah, you know. Baby. Babe.”

He could have blacked out hearing baby come from her lips while she traced shapes on his arm. It took him a moment, but he realized what she was drawing. Letters. B-A-B-Y.

“I like baby. It’s a good term of endearment.” Even if he hadn’t liked it before, the feeling of her fingers lingering over his skin would have convinced him.

“Endearment. So formal,” she teased, leaning a bit to kiss his forearm. He returned it with a kiss to her hair, comfortable silence filling the room for a few moments.

“You really gotta study?”

“Yes.”

“So I should go.” His arms squeezed her a little tighter.

“I never said that.”

“So I can stay?”

“If you want to, I mean it’s going to be me and my flashcards for a good two hours. Riveting stuff. And you have to actually let me study.” Her voice was pointed, half because of his hold on her, and half because of the way he was peppering kisses against her shoulder, making her mind a bit fuzzy.

“I’ll behave. Might take a nap actually.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Silence filled the apartment for a moment and he let his eyes close, relaxing until he felt her body start to shake with a quiet laugh.

“Baby?” She tried it out.

“Hmmmm,” he hummed, heart fluttering at his new nickname.

“You have to let me get up and get my flashcards.”

“You stay, I’ll get em.”

He slid her to the side with ease, standing up quickly from the couch in search of her backpack. Once he found it on the kitchen stool he pulled it open, unsurprised to see a planner big enough to be a novel, and stacks upon stacks of index cards.

“Jesus Indy, how many of these do you have?!”

“They’re for all my classes, I just need the blue ones, the ones in the blue rubber band.”

He didn’t have to ask - he knew every course she had was color coded, no doubt. He brought them over to her with a smile once he’d found them, looking at her perfectly neat handwriting, spelling out a word that he was sure he wouldn’t be able to read even if the letters didn’t jumble in his head.

“Which class are you working on tonight?”

“Pathopharmacology.”

“In English maybe?”

“Drugs. Well, conditions and diseases, why they happen in the body, and then the drugs that you should use and what they do.”

“Well then it’s definitely nap time for me,” he grinned, passing her the cards and sitting down on the couch beside her. He hesitated, eyes flickering around to the pillows and blankets, and the opposite side of the couch. The last thing he wanted to do was move further away from her, but he didn’t want to crowd her, or get in her way, make her regret letting him stay.

“C’mere.”

When he looked over, she was patting her leg, and in a moment of impulse he launched himself over, immediately getting cozy. Her leggings were soft against his cheek and he sighed, relaxing fully, muscles turning to mush when her fingers moved to his hair, starting to scratch lightly over his scalp.

“Oh god,” he groaned, making her halt her movements.

“What?!”

“Feels so nice.”

She laughed and went back to his hair.

“So you’re a sucker for a good head scratch huh? Noted.”

“Back scratches too. Those are my shit.” It took him a moment to realize that he’d never told a girl that before. It was too soft, too… personal.

“Well, I can’t really scratch your back through a sweater. But if you wanna take it off I can-”

Before she finished her sentence he was sitting up and whipping it off, tossing it towards the kitchen without a care, giving her cheek a quick kiss before he settled back down again.

“You’re adorable,” she hummed, nails starting in his hair first and then tracing down his neck, over his shoulders and then down his back in long, gentle runs. His shoulders went slack against her, and she knew that her legs were going to fall asleep with the weight of him on them but she didn’t care. She waited until his breathing settled, quiet snores starting to sound out in the room being her final tell that he’d actually fallen asleep. She kept her cards in one hand and used the other to scratch, occasionally getting sidetracked and tracing her fingers over the lions on his back, the script along the edges. Others came before me. Others to come. She made a mental note to ask him what it meant one day, but instead she let him sleep and continued in her studies, tracing more letters over his back.

If he’d been awake, he would have been soaring at the feeling of the words she was forming letter by letter.

I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U.

But he wasn’t awake - in fact, he didn’t wake up until 10:30, when she shook his shoulder gently. He sat up with adorably bleary eyes, gaining his bearings and then moving to pull her against him again - so forceful that he actually pulled her into his lap and nuzzled into her neck.

“Done studying?”

She nodded against him, resting her cheek on his head.

“Come to Jersey with me.”

“Huh?” She pulled back, her back arching from the way his hands held her hips close to him,

“Your exam got moved to next week right? It’s supposed to be really warm on Friday, the last warm day we're gonna get. I want you to see Jersey, before it gets too cold. I can show you the land where we’re building the tiny homes, and take you to my mom’s house. You can meet her, and Ethan, and get some non-city air.”

She could have pulled out ten things in that sentence that made her anxious - meeting his mom, meeting his twin, not having enough time to study - but there was an excitement in his eyes that had her melting. Even if she’d wanted to, she wouldn’t have been able to say no.

“Okay. Yeah, let’s do it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I could use a non-city day,” she smiled, leaning in to kiss him. She could feel the excitement in his lips as they moved against hers, hands roaming up to cup her cheeks.

“You’re gonna love it.”

And she knew that no matter what they did or where they went, she would, just because she’d be with him.

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

“Bro, I can’t. I gotta rent a car.”

“You are not gonna fucking rent a car for one damn day Grayson. It’s fine.”

“It’s camo and tiger striped bro. It’s a fucking truck.”

“And? We’re in fucking Jersey, it doesn’t matter.”

“You wouldn’t have picked up Eden for a fuckin date in a spray painted Tacoma, Ethan.”

“Okay true, but only because I would have planned better and asked mom to borrow her fucking car.”

Grayson resisted the urge to pick up a rock and throw it at him. Instead, he just threw the football back down the driveway with a little more force than necessary. Ethan grunted when he caught it, rolling his eyes.

“From what you’ve said she’s pretty chill. I don’t think she’s gonna care.” He tried a gentler approach, hoping it would calm his brother down as he threw the ball back. They volleyed back and forth for a few minutes in silence, listening to the tree frogs’ song from the woods - they were getting quieter as the nights grew longer and the warmth started to fade out of New Jersey.

“Will you at least help me wash it real quick? It’s muddy.”

“Bro.”

“Fine. But I’m not vacuuming the inside, that’s all you.”

Ten minutes later and they were outside with a few old sponges and the garden hose, scrubbing away at the dirt and grime that they’d accumulated from all their back road driving. They blasted music, occasionally taking breaks to text their girls back. Ethan felt the nervous energy coming off of Grayson’s every move, and it softened him up a bit.

“You really like this girl huh?” He spoke up while they were both scrubbing the hood.

“Yeah bro. I actually think I might be in love with her.”

Ethan resisted the urge to tell him to pump the brakes - it was all reverse psychology with his twin. If he told him to slow down, he’d only speed up, and there was no use in pissing him off.

“I’m excited to finally meet her. Maybe you’ll stop talking about her constantly.”

That earned him a well deserved spray from the hose that soaked through his shirt, and then it devolved into throwing sponges and a wrestling match on the gravel that had Lisa laughing from the kitchen window. But eventually the truck was clean, and as Ethan watched him vacuum it out three times over, he realized just how serious his brother was about Indiana. So on Thursday night, over late night veggie burgers after Grayson got back from the city, he opted to offer him some advice.

“Snacks.”

“Huh?”

“Buy snacks, before you pick her up. Girls love snacks.”

“Yeah? What kind of snacks?”

“I don’t know bro, it’s your girl.”

“Ask Eden.”

“Girl snacks are not universal.”

“Then how the fuck am I supposed to know what to get?”

“I don’t know dude! Just… fucking guess?”

Which was how Grayson ended up in a gas station in New York early on Friday morning, perusing the same aisle for the third time, arms already full of any snack that he thought she might like. He settled for a good mixture of things - some salty, some sweet, and a few different drinks before he went to the counter and paid, hoping he had something she would like within the mix.

As soon as he got back into the truck he unpacked it all neatly and checked his phone, happy to see a text from her.

do I need to bring anything?

and do you want a coffee? I can make one and bring it with me

He looked down at the three drinks he’d already bought.

Nah, maybe just a pair of shoes you don’t mind getting dirty

And hell yeah to the coffee

Please :)

just text me when you’re here and I’ll come down so you don’t have to park!

He liked the message and started the truck, wincing a bit at the roar of the engine before he pulled out of the lot with Indy’s apartment in the GPS.

Indiana knew he wasn’t supposed to get there until 9. He’d told her that it would be between 9 and 9:15 depending on traffic. But still, she was in the lobby at 8:50 with two coffee tumblers in her hands, trying to keep her nerves in check. She looked in the mirror, checking her outfit again. A black crop top, maroon leggings and a pair of chacos that Charlie had gotten her last year for her birthday. Simple enough. But was it too simple? Grayson always dressed so well - he even managed to make hoodies look put together.

She didn’t have time to think on it, because her phone buzzed in her hand.

Here :)

In the orange truck 🥴

Indy walked out to the curb to see Grayson standing on the sidewalk, tall and broad, as if he was trying to hide the vehicle behind him. It was indeed a bright orange truck, but there were small spray painted stripes on it. It took her a moment to realize they were supposed to be tiger stripes, and with every moment that she spent looking at it his cheeks grew redder with embarrassment. She didn’t say anything, but it didn’t matter - he was already stammering out his explanation that she was sure he’d rehearsed in the car.

“I uh- we did it for a video - we thought it would look cool, and uh, actually it looks like shit, but we got a truck cause we didn’t wanna have to worry about a car and-”

She moved his coffee into the crook of her arm and grabbed the front of his t shirt in her fist, pulling him down to kiss him, lips falling silent against hers.

“Hi,” she said when she pulled away, popping up to give him another quick peck. She couldn’t get enough of it, couldn’t believe that she just got to do that whenever she wanted to.

“Hi.” He beamed down at her. “Missed you.”

“You saw me last night.”

“And?” He leaned down and stole another kiss - she felt like a middle schooler hiding behind the buses from the teachers, just trying to sneak in a few more kisses before they left for the day. “You ready?”

She nodded and blushed when he opened her door for her, hand moving to her ass to help boost her up even though she didn’t need it. She wasn’t complaining, moving over to put the coffee in the cupholder as he jogged around the car and got into the driver’s seat.

“I missed you too, for the record.”

He reached his hand over and squeezed her thigh.

“Good. Now let’s go to fuckin’ Jersey, I brought snacks.”

“I can see that,” she teased, looking down at the floorboard where two whole grocery bags were stuffed full. “Did you buy the whole store? We doing a cross country road trip I didn’t know about?”

He blushed bright pink, keeping his eyes trained on the speedometer.

“Just wanted to make sure I got something you liked.”

She rummaged around in the bags, happy to find a packet of Chex Mix.

“Breakfast of champions,” she grinned, pulling the edges open and popping a few into her mouth. A comfortable silence filled the cab, and it made her hyper aware of everything that Grayson did, from the way he palmed the wheel to the way he ran his thumb along her thigh. They made it out of Manhattan as easily as you can ever get out of Manhattan, Grayson managing to maneuver the traffic despite being in a pick up truck, and she found herself relaxing more and more with each mile out of the city that they drove. Cityscape turned into suburbs with patches of tall green trees and farmland between denser areas, and she couldn’t decide where to look - out the window at the beauty, or at Grayson, who was watching her every second that he could.

“Told you it was amazing out here. Jersey hits different than anywhere else in the world.”

“The whole world huh? You’ve been around the world?”

“Yeah. We did a world tour a while back, got to see a ton of places.”

“Of course you did. Tell me about them,” she hummed, scooting up in her seat so she could lean over against his shoulder, wrapping her arm around his and snuggling up to him. He pressed a kiss to her hair and smiled.

“Well, we started here, in Jersey. And then we went to Maryland, then New York. I think Detroit was next, and then Chicago, which was super cool.”

The cadence of his voice was soothing, and she listened as he listed off state after state, and then moved into countries. Brazil, Argentina, the UK, France, Ireland, Spain. It went on and on, and she laughed at the little anecdotes of the crazy things they got up to in every city, their 16 year old selves taking the world by storm. He could have been talking about the color of his socks and she would have been just as enthralled. She spent her time looking at the tattoos that she could see in person for the first time, scattered across his legs, shown off by his shorts. She’d seen them in her few limited scrolls of his instagram - every time she got on there it only intimidated her to see the comments and the thousands and thousands of likes. But in person, they were even more beautiful, small pieces that no doubt had significance to him. She held back from asking him about them as he spoke.

The drive flew by, even though it was over an hour before there was gravel crunching under the tires of the truck as he turned into the driveway. Her stomach started to tighten as she sat up, suddenly realizing what she was up against. The house was beautiful - bigger than she expected, with white siding and dark metal window frames, a large front porch with a small swing and scattered furniture. It looked neat, but lived in at the same time, welcoming and warm.

“Where’d you go?” Grayson asked, nudging her shoulder.

“Sorry, I’m here. Just nervous.”

“Ma is at work, and Ethan is nothing to be scared of. Trust me.”

“Does that mean I should be scared of your mom?”

He only answered with a laugh, shaking his head as he parked the truck and hopped out to open her door. He held out a hand to help her jump down, arm going around her shoulder as soon as her feet touched the ground, leading her towards the house.

He opened the door for her, motioning her inside of the foyer, which was nicely decorated - it looked a bit like the farmhouse section of Hobby Lobby; not her style, but nice nonetheless.

“Yo E!” Grayson called out through the house.

He was met with a returning yell, and an odd screech from somewhere else in the house that made her tighten her hold on his arm.

“The fuck was that?”

“Gizmo.”

“Who?”

“My bird. I’m allergic to literally anything with fur, so we got a bird when I was little. She’s a cutie.”

Indiana had never in her life thought a bird was anything close to cute, but she nodded anyways, focusing on the sound of what she presumed were Ethan’s heavy footsteps coming down the stairs.

He appeared around the corner a moment later with a big smile - different from Grayson’s somehow, despite the similarities across their features. The biggest contrast was his clean shaven jawline - Grayson had kept a healthy scruff since you’d known him.

“Hey! I’m Ethan, it’s nice to meet you. Indiana, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me!” She kicked herself for the way her voice went up an octave.

“That’s such a cool name.”

“Thank you!”

There was a small beat of silence that made Grayson laugh.

“You ready to go out to Woodland?” He turned his attention to his twin - Indy assumed that meant the land where the tiny homes were.

“Yeah, but we gotta get gas for the quads to take out there.”

“We got some in the shed?”

Grayson nodded and turned to lead the way, giving her a quick kiss before they disappeared around the side of the house. As soon as they were out of sight she checked herself in the side mirror of the truck, smoothing her hair down quickly and trying to find a way to look casual as she waited for them to reappear. She opted to go for the default of scrolling her phone, happy to see a message from Charlie.

Miss your face. Facetime later? She’d sent, with a picture of her and Devin with a massive Washington waterfall behind them attached. It was a beautiful sight - she was slightly jealous that her sister got to see so much of the world while she saw the inside of textbooks and the screens of laptops.

On a date today, can we do it tomorrow?

It took all of three seconds for Charlie to read it and reply.

EXCUSE ME?

A DATE???

MA’AM

I’ll fill you in later, gotta go. Love you

Right on cue, the boys reappeared with an old red gas can each, wide smiles on their faces.

BITCH YOU FUCKIN BETTER

She locked her phone quickly and tucked it in her waistband, moving towards the back door as they loaded the cans into the bed. Ethan looked at her, then her hand on the car door handle, and frowned.

“You don’t think you’re sitting in the back, do you?”

“I didn’t know if twins automatically got shotgun rights,” she shrugged.

“Most times yes, but girlfriends are the exception.” He pulled the door open and waved her in. “Up you get.”

Girlfriend.

Grayson was already in the driver’s seat, and he held up a small aux cord with a grin.

“You’re up.”

She narrowed her eyes as he started the truck up with a roar.

“Why do I feel like this is a test?”

All he did was smile and put the truck in reverse.

Indiana took the safe route, pulling up Cudi and shuffling it, laughing when Ethan perked up in the back with a “oh hell yeah!”

The drive was long, about 45 minutes down the road, but she didn’t mind; the cab was full of the comforting feelings of slightly off-key singing in her ears and Grayson’s hand in hers on the console. Her heart fluttered in her chest when he brought her hand up to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles before he pulled the truck off on a dirt path and put it in park.

“Here we are. Well, almost. Gotta take the quads the rest of the way.”

He could have said anything and she would have been fine with it. She climbed out of the truck, moving to the bed to grab one of the gas cans, hoisting it up on her shoulder so she could carry it easier.

“Hey, gimme that,” Grayson mumbled, reaching up for it. She turned away, just out of his reach.

“I got it!” She watched Ethan go around to grab the other one, just out of earshot, giving her a chance to lean over to Grayson and ask the question poking in the back of her mind. “Did I pass the test?”

He shook his head with a laugh. “There’s no test. If Ethan didn’t like you, you’d already know.”

“True!” Ethan teased, sneaking up on her and snagging the can from her shoulder, passing it to his brother. She nudged his shoulder with hers on instinct, glad to see that he laughed. There was a comforting warmth about Ethan - he reminded her of Devin in a lot of ways. He gave off a sense of automatic, unquestionable good that had her at ease as they walked over to a shed hidden away in the trees. Ethan unlocked it, pulling the doors open to reveal the parked quads. She watched the trees while they filled up the gas tanks, enjoying the sounds of the woods until she felt Grayson’s hand snake around her waist.

“You ready baby?”

She nodded, leaning into him for a second before following him over to the quad, letting him climb on first and settling behind him.

“Hold on,” he said, but she would have wrapped her arms around his middle anyways, resting her chin on his shoulder as he started it up and backed it out, Ethan following suit.

They picked up speed and she nuzzled into his back, returning his beaming smile when he looked back to check on her occasionally, wind whipping both of their hair around. They rode for about 5 minutes, a long stretch back through the towering trees. The only sign they were coming up on the houses was a thinning of the woods, which eventually gave way almost immediately to a large, bright opening - a meadow of sorts, framed out by trees. A few had started to tease with fall, bunches of their leaves turning bright orange and red, scattered amongst the green.

The boys cut their engines almost in sync, the silence revealing the song of the birds and the bugs.

“Welcome to the Jers homes,” Grayson beamed proudly, nodding ahead.

Indiana looked over his shoulder and had to bite back her laugh.

In the middle of the clearing were two small platforms - foundations, she realized after a moment. They were spread out enough for comfort, but close enough that it wouldn’t take more than a minute to walk between the front doors. And they truly were tiny homes if she’d ever seen one - the space looked no bigger than her living room and kitchen combined in her apartment.

“Which one’s yours?”

“That one,” he pointed to the left. “I’m always on the left, Ethan’s always on the right.”

“Even in houses?”

“Even in houses,” he laughed. “C’mon, I’ll show you around.”

She gave him her hand and let him lead her over, stepping onto the platform and listening intently as he started to explain the floorplan in his head.

“So, this is the kitchen,” he exaggerated it, gesturing grandly to the piece of plywood below his feet. “It’s gonna have a cabinet here, and then a sink and a little stove, which will go here. And then the bathroom is gonna be over there-”

It turned into a bit of a stretch for Indiana’s imagination, trying to envision all the rooms, and even the loft that he was describing. But she did her best, matching his enthusiasm however she could, asking questions about anything she could think of just to show him that she cared. He was so excited, and the last thing she wanted to do was damper it because she couldn’t picture the shower tile he was describing.

When the “house tour” was done it was Ethan’s turn for an imaginary walk through, which was surprisingly different than his brother’s despite the house being the same size and general base.

“And now, we go to the best part,” Grayson grinned.

“Oh?”

“C’mon, I’ll show you. Leave your phone and stuff.”

She did as he asked, surprised that when she stood straight again and saw that both the boys were shirtless, tossing their clothes onto the wood. Ethan headed off towards the trees but Grayson stayed back and waited for her, smiling softly when she automatically took his hand.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see. It’s a surprise. Which I feel like is probably not your favorite.”

She didn’t answer, which was answer enough, and he just laughed and swung their hands between the two of them as they started into the trees.

The surprise turned up a few minutes later, in the form of the running water of a New Jersey creek and a rocky cliff side that Ethan sauntered on to with far too much confidence for Indiana’s liking.

“Careful!” She called out on instinct, holding onto Grayson’s arm tightly as he moved to follow his brother.

“We always are. C’mon,” he smiled, starting to lead the two of them over. She locked her knees and shook her head.

“Oh fuck no.”

Both twins' eyebrows lifted, and then they were cackling, laughter so loud it bounced off the trees.

“Why not!? You scared?” Ethan jeered, toes over the edge of the clifface. It couldn’t be more than 25 feet high, but even that had her stomach tightening.

“You’re not?”

With that, Ethan threw her a wink and flung himself over the edge, flipping backwards once and splashing into the water feet first.

“Show off,” Gray muttered, rolling his eyes a bit. “There’s nothing to be scared of baby, we’ve been doing this since we were kids. That’s why we bought this land.”

“Nothing to be scared of,” she scoffed. “How about traumatic brain injuries? Spinal cord injuries? Broken leg? Broken ankle? Broken neck?”

“Hey.” He took her face in his hands. “This isn’t anatomy class. Get out of your head, live a little. It’s fun.”

“It’s reckless,” she countered.

“Reckless fun.”

She scowled at him, but he couldn’t take it seriously with the way her cheeks were slightly squished by his palms. He leaned forward and kissed her softly. She didn’t react on purpose, though it took quite a bit of self control.

“Will you try it? For me?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow. Off to their right, Ethan was scaling the rocks to get back up from the water, yelling about something, but her attention was on Grayson. She held her ground, didn’t react as best she could, resisted the urge to give him whatever he wanted.

“Please?” He tried again, pressing another kiss to her lips. He smiled when he felt her loosen up, realizing that it was working. “For me?”

“Maybe,” she mumbled.

“I’ll keep you safe. Promise,” he whispered, running his thumbs along her cheeks as he kissed her again, somehow softer that time, and her resolve melted into a puddle.

“You better,” she mumbled, still scowling a bit. It was more adorable than intimidating to Grayson.

“So you’ll do it?”

“Once. One time. That’s it.”

“I can deal with that. C’mon, before you talk yourself out of it.”

She kept a vice grip on his hand as he started towards the cliff, where the dirt gave way to solid rock. She stayed behind him with hesitant steps, shuffling her way over until they were above the water, keeping her eyes on Grayson, forcing herself not to look down.

“Now when we go, you can’t lock up. That’s how you get hurt. If you just jump, you’ll be fine, I swear.”

Indiana nodded and sucked in a deep breath.

“Just don’t let go of me, okay?” She asked.

“I won’t. Promise. You count us off.”

He was patient with her as she worked up the courage, settled her shaking legs as best she could.

She counted down from three and forced her legs to move, Grayson’s momentum helping to pull her off the ledge. There was a roar in her ears, a mixture of her own scream and the wind as her stomach dropped before she hit the water. Any breath she had left was gone when she submerged into what felt like an ice bath - she hadn’t accounted for the fact that despite the abnormally warm day, it had been in the low 60’s the last few weeks.

By the time she came up, Grayson was already swimming over to her, eyes alight with adrenaline as he reached out for her waist in the murky water and pulled her to him.

“See! Told you it was fun!”

“Don’t know if that’s the word I would use,” Indiana laughed, shaking her head and moving some of her wet hair out of her face. “But now I can say I did it.”

“Such a badass,” he teased. “C’mon, gotta get out of E’s way.”

She looked up to see Ethan waiting patiently at the top of the cliff - had she really fallen all that way? Grayson led them away slightly, cheering as Ethan jumped and flipped again. There was an athletic nature to the way he moved that put Indiana’s mind a bit more at ease - he seemed to have enough control over his body to make sure he didn’t land wrong, and she hoped the same principle applied to his twin when he climbed out and went to do his own backflips.

Indiana stayed to the water, wading around and trying not to panic every time she watched Grayson plummet down towards the water. She squealed when he over-rotated on one, landing a bit off kilter. She swam to him as quickly as she could, overwhelmed with the concern she had that he was okay. But when he reemerged he was laughing and shaking the water out of his hair.

The cycle continued on for a while - Indiana lost track of the time, only realizing how long she’d been in the cold water by the numbness of her limbs. With the climbing out and up the cliff, Grayson didn’t even notice the cold until he saw her wrap her arms around herself when she thought he wasn’t looking from up on the cliff.

“Last jump E, we gotta get back for food anyways,” he told his brother, jumping quickly and kicking hard to get back up to the surface, immediately swimming over to her. When he got closer, he realized she was shivering slightly, and her lips had a bit of a blue tint to them that had him frowning.

“You’re freezing aren’t you?”

“I’ve been warmer,” she admitted with a smile. Trying to play it off - typical Indiana, he realized.

“You should have said something,” he pouted, pulling her to him. Her hands were ice cold as they wrapped around his neck.

“You all were having fun, and I’m fine.”

“Right. C’mon, let’s get you back. Mom’s making potato soup for dinner. Vegan though.”

“Dinner? What time is it?”

“By the time we get back it’ll probably be 5. We’ve been out here a couple hours.”

“No shit,” she laughed, surprised by his words. It was like minutes to Grayson too - he couldn’t manage to get an amount of time with her that felt like enough it seemed. They swam over to the edge, going a bit farther down so Indiana didn’t have to climb as much, making their way up with soaked pants and smiles on their faces, which stayed there as they took the same path back to the houses. She’d thawed out marginally it seemed, but Grayson could tell she was still cold just from the way she was cuddled up to his side. So when they got back to the pile of their belongings, he held out his shirt for her.

“Here. Extra layer for the quad ride, so the wind isn’t so bad.”

He knew exactly what she was going to say before she said it, so he said it before she could.

“For me?” He tried his earlier line, holding up the black wad of fabric and wiggling his eyebrows.

She faltered, argument falling silent. He’d found a new loophole to her apparent inability to let anyone take care of her, and he ran with it, pulling the shirt down over her head and kissing her nose when it reappeared. He could feel Ethan’s eyes on him somewhere behind him - he knew what he was thinking, what he’d say later about how “soft” Grayson was. His bigger, stronger brother, soft for a girl he’d met only a few weeks ago. He’d seen this trajectory before, and never held his tongue on what he thought about it either, but Grayson hoped he could see that this time, it was different.

Different, because of the way he still got butterflies when she climbed on the quad behind him and pressed a kiss to his bare shoulder. Because of the way he threw the keys to Ethan so he could drive the truck home and the two of them could curl up in the backseat to warm her up. Because of the way she just seemed to fit, with him and with Ethan, in every way.

The last one to make a verdict was Lisa, whose car was parked in the driveway when they made it back. Indiana’s relaxed body tensed up, and he noticed her trying to adjust her still damp leggings, make herself look more presentable.

“You’re fine.”

“I’m meeting your mother wearing your shirt and pants that smell like mud.”

“Mom’s chill. You have nothing to worry about. Actually, she’ll probably be mad at me, since I didn’t bring you dry clothes.”

They climbed out of the back and followed Ethan inside, met again by the sound of squawking as soon as the door opened.

“MA!” Ethan called out, voice booming throughout the entire house.

“In here!”

The trio followed her voice, happy to find her in the kitchen and over a massive pot of soup. They kissed her cheek, one after the other and then moved on to start picking at her ingredients like scavengers that had never been fed. She smacked Ethan’s shoulder when he took one too many carrots.

“You must be Indiana, it’s nice to finally meet you! Heard so much about you!” Lisa’s smile was warm - different than Grayson’s though. He must have gotten it from his father. She wondered who he got his tendency to blush from as his cheeks flushed red at his mom’s words.

“So nice to meet you! That soup smells delicious,” Indy complimented. “Anything I can help with?”

“Well, if you’re offering.”

The kitchen was soon full of laughter and stories as they each took on a job to finish off the soup. Lisa asked about school, and Indiana’s family, her apartment and Bekah.

“So you’re set to graduate in December then? That’s amazing! You must be a smart little cookie.”

“She is,” Grayson chimed in with a smile, and it was Indy’s turn to blush.

Eventually the soup was finished and served out into bowls that were carried to a dining room framed out with tall windows. Indiana couldn’t remember the last time that she’d actually sat and had a meal with a full table around her.

Lisa was a kind woman, not much unlike Indiana’s own mom. She had a feeling that with the boys for kids that she was used to bringing all sorts of people in her house and treating them as her own, and it seemed Indiana was no exception. When she asked questions, Indy could tell that she cared, that she genuinely wanted to know. She hadn’t had an adult invest in her like that in a long while, and she couldn’t dwell on it without her throat tightening up.

By the time their bowls were empty Indiana felt like she’d been in the house for years - like she was home. Lisa took her around, offered her some clean clothes - some old running shorts of Cameron’s for her to change into. She opted to keep on Grayson’s shirt on instead of changing, letting Lisa guide her around the house and show off the rooms she’d decorated while the boys showered off the muck of the creek.

And her new favorite aspect of the house? The espresso machine that caught her eye at the small coffee bar off the kitchen.

“Is that a mastrena?” Indy asked, eyes wide. She knew the price tag on those from her time at Jets - 5k, minimum.

“Oh yeah, that old thing. The boys bought it for me for mother’s day a few years back, I never could figure out how to work it right, to make lattes,” she sighed.

“I could show you if you want! I used one just like this when I was a barista.”

“Did someone say barista?” Ethan perked up, poking his head around the corner. Grayson was right after him, now with a hoodie on, poking over his shoulder in a way that had all of them laughing.

And so Grayson watched as Indiana gathered a few mugs and the rest of the almond milk from the fridge. He stood out of the way, listened to the way she explained how to froth the milk right to his mom, voice gentle without any trace of condescendence. No other girl he’d ever brought home had been so invested in his mother, in talking to her and getting to know her. It warmed his heart the same way that the mug Indiana handed him warmed his fingertips.

“Ran outta milk. Looks like we have to share,” she hummed. Ethan and Lisa had made themselves scarce once they’d gotten their mugs - E would’ve told her it was the best latte he’d ever had, but he saw the suggestive look in his brother’s eyes and went on to distract Lisa instead.

“I’m down,” he teased, passing her the mug. “Come out here with me for a minute.”

He headed towards the front of the house, through the hallways and past the living room, back out to the front porch. The air had cooled off even more, and while she was grateful for the clean shorts, her legs were covered in goosebumps by the time they made it over to the swing. Grayson sat down first, keeping it still with his foot on the ground as he patted his lap.

In a moment of impulse she sat down facing him - it took a moment for her to get arranged and comfortable, but eventually she settled over his thighs, coffee cup in hands and legs around his back.

“I’m gonna have to start packing an extra blanket for you or some shit, you’re freezing,” he teased, chafing his hands up and down her thighs to get some friction for her cold skin. She couldn’t help but notice the way her body reacted to it, and she was glad that the sun was setting, dimming the light that would give away the flush of her cheeks and neck.

“The coffee will keep me warm,” she teased.

“Can I have a sip?”

She held the mug up to his lips and tilted it so he could have a drink, laughing at the little bit of foam that clung to his upper lip when he was done. She kissed it away, wishing she didn’t have the mug in her hands so that she could run her hands through his hair, or over his scruff - anywhere that he’d have her. They kissed slow, quiet, for a while, letting it sizzle out before they pulled back. It had gotten darker when she opened her eyes again, but his smile was just as bright, even in the twilight.

“Did you have a good day?” He hummed, taking the mug from her so she could hold on to him as he started to swing them slowly, back and forth in a soothing rocking.

“The best.”

He hesitated for a moment, taking the end of her hair and twirling it between his fingers.

“Wanna make it a night then?”

She was pretty sure if she’d been attached to a heart monitor, it would have shown a skipped beat.

“Oh?” Her mouth was a bit dry, a mixture of more nerves than excitement.

“A sleepover. Nothing else. We can even do it middle school style if you want, I’ll take the couch,” he reassured her, poking at her side just to get her to laugh, to loosen up.

“We don’t have to go that far. But won’t your mom care?”

“I think you’re her new favorite, so I’m sure she’d love it if you stayed. She always makes good breakfast when one of our girlfriend’s spends the night too.”

“Girlfriend hmmm? Bold assumption,” Indy teased, running a thumb over his cheek.

Her joke didn’t land, seeing that he his eyes went wide in a bit of panic and his shoulders tensed.

“I uh… I just thought, um-”

“Kidding Gray. Though to be fair, you never asked.” She kissed him again to finish off her point, happy to feel him relax underneath her as he nuzzled into her neck.

“Well, will you be my girlfriend then?” He muttered against her skin.

“I guess,” she grinned, pulling back enough to get back to his lips and kiss him again. “Do girlfriend’s get shower privileges? I feel disgusting, and I don’t want to get your bed all gross.”

He laughed at that, shaking his head.

“You’re always three steps ahead, you know that?” He brushed his nose against hers lightly. “C’mon, I’ll get you set up.”

Thirty minutes later and Indiana was finally warm after her shower, happy in a pair of running shorts, one of Grayson’s hoodies and a pair of his socks. When she made it to the bedroom he was sprawled out over the covers, shirtless in a pair of joggers.

“Hi gorgeous,” he hummed, putting his phone on the nightstand and opening his arms.

“That’s a new one,” she mused as she climbed on with him, curling up to his chest like she’d done it a hundred times before. It was much more comfortable than when she’d done so on the couch in her apartment, the warm blanket below her and the soft plush of the mattress giving them plenty of room for him to wrap her up in both arms.

“It’s fitting. A little long though. Might have to find a shorter one to use sometimes.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Been thinking about it. I thought about indigo for a minute, but that’s just as long. What about Dee?”

She looked up at him then, tracing her fingers over his chest, over his heart. D-E-E.

“No one’s ever called me that before.”

“Then it’s all mine. My Dee.”

All she could do was sigh and curl into him further, unable to find the words for the lightness of her body, and her mind, as he held her and pressed a kiss to her forehead, as if he were determined to hold her there until they woke up.

#mixtape #SHES HERE #all 9.4k of her HAHA #hope you love it pls pls pls tell me what you think!#grayson dolan #grayson dolan imagine #grayson dolan fic

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krabmeat · 4 years ago

Text

𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜: Wilbur Soot

𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚜: he/him

𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: physical pain descriptions, paranoia, overdose, hospitalization, alarms, descriptions of hallucinations

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎:

this is the 2nd part to my 7 part series of making all of the songs from YCGMA into short stories! this one is for saline solution, hope ya like it! :]

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One, two, three and four

The seconds tick by on the clock in my workroom. The sound sensitive LED border of the clock lights up whenever I cough. I find it hard to breathe, the wheezes between breaths are loud, so I take a puff of my inhaler sitting on my desk next to my pc. It’s been difficult to walk lately, I’ve made a steady recovery but my legs sometimes feel like the pores are being replaced with lead- heavy and cold. Despite this though, I make my way over to my bedroom. My roommate isn’t home yet, despite how late it is. The walls of the hallway echo my footsteps, the pain I’m in not reflecting with the sounds. ‘I need to take my meds…’ My room, surprisingly not as messy as I thought. Clothes here and there, an undone bed, but overall everything is where it should be. My legs shuffle into the bathroom connected to my room, locating my paracetamol and prozac. Click, click!

I think this time I'm dying

I open the paracetamol with ease, it hypnotizes me. Quickly opening the prozac, my breath becomes jagged- confused. Water flows after the pills, hindering the struggle it would have been, but I feel the same. Panicked and afraid. What's wrong with me? Do I need more? Is there something else? I'm scared, pissed off and lonely- ‘I'm overthinking this.’ But am I? Nonetheless, nothings happening. My legs still feel like hell, and the cold invisible hand is pinching the skin behind my neck, but when I claw at it nothings there. My eyes distantly shift to the pill bottles on the counter. I can feel myself trying to look elsewhere, but my general focus is on the pills. I need more.

I'm not melodramatic

Just 1 more of each should do. Just to be safe. I'm just being safe!

I'm just pragmatic beyond any reasoning

Better safe than sorry, right? I take another drink of water and wait for the relief to set in, but it never does. My legs are aching even more and the fact that there's no effects is just making me panic more. What's wrong with me? Why isn't it setting in fast enough-?!

For thinking I've got f*cking rabies or something.

More. I need more. Maybe that's the problem, I'm just not taking a high enough dosage! I look down at each of the bottles, reading the label for the prescription. “Take 2 per day when symptoms arise. Contact your psychiatrist if a higher dosage is needed” ‘I know what I'm doing.’ There's something wrong with me, I can't bother contacting anyone. I need relief now. Out of impulse, I down both of the bottles and drink more water to allow the pills to travel with ease. Then, I just wait.

I think this time I'm dying

Pain shoots up from my stomach and sprouts to my head like a sapling. The room morphs and shifts and scrunches up like clay. Am I in a dream? I look down at my hands to pinch myself, shaking, blurry and full of vibrant colors.

I think this time I'm dying.

F*ck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I think I've lost my mind.

The world morphs and moves without my eyes permission. My stomach hurts more than my legs do. The reflection in the mirror, a pale, sad and confused blur. The pain isn't going away, it's growing worse and worse. Pins and needles pricking and scraping along the inside of my abdomen, there's millions of them. Every deep breath I take is a dulled stab into my chest. Was the original concern as big as I've made it now?

Blurring the fact and the fictions

Everything is so unreal. Why did I do this again? Where am I? My memory becomes a flickering bulb, dying out from being strained of its power. My concept of time and object permanence is foggy, but that's how I know something is wrong. But what? Am I blowing things out of proportion or is this bigger than a prescription?

While simultaneously fixing myself up with a girl named panadol.

I looked down at the empty paracetamol bottle, I did the right thing- right? My intentions feel like they've been beaten and whipped with a fork, scrambled and confused with each other. But I did what I did, it still hurts though. A pang of regret stabs at my throat for a second, but the desire for relief overrides it.

Bite the tablet, elixir

The elixir! My hands swiftly open the cabinet again, desperate for elixir. I quickly find, it- half a bottle of elixir should do. As quickly as I found the bottle, I downed half of it and quickly drank more freezing cold water from the sink.

Disintegrate, mouths a mixer

That's 3 different types of pills. 3 different remedies! I'll be alright now, right? I should be, but I can't stand steadily anymore. My arms are violently shaking and my legs are about to drop. The sight is horrifying, everything is flickering from absolute darkness to furniture and walls melting like an ice cube. Am I blinking? I can't tell.

I think I've lost my mind

I can't handle this. Am I in mild pain or are things dire? I want the pain I had before, less overwhelming. I have no control anymore. The front door opening and closing shut was barely audible for my ears. “Wil? Sorry I came home so late, I had a client come further into the day.” My legs give in, and a loud THUMP rumbles through the house as I fall onto the tiled floor of the bathroom. I feel the satisfaction of my eyes rolling into my head as my eyelids stay confused on whether or not to close or to stick open to stay alert. “Wil?! Wilbur are you alright?!” Her footsteps rush to my room and into the bathroom to see my frail and hurt body on the ground with the pill bottles strewn on the counter.

I think I've lost my mind.

“WILBUR!!” She rushes to my side and drops to her knees. Her shout was so loud, it made me snap back into the present. After checking my pulse and checking if I'm still breathing, she frantically digs through her coat pocket and dials 999.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If I could just break one more night

I can hear my roommate crying distantly after hanging up and putting away her phone. I don't understand...why do I need an ambulance? I was helping myself, wasn't I?

Maybe I could wake up and feel alright.

I could have gotten past on my own if she hadn't found me. I would have been just fine. I'm tired, just in general.

I optimistically set my alarm clock time

I had something to do today? I forgot. I can hear my alarm clock from my bedside table blaring at me, screaming at me to get up. There was a subtle jolt of excitement that shot up my neck, or was it anxiety? Fear? Adrenaline? Denial?

Serves only to mock me with flashing lights.

The sound seems to go on for longer, despite my roommate rushing to turn it off. Its turned off, but I can still hear the sound of it echoing through the room, bouncing into my ears. My hands raise to cover my ears, but the sound just gets louder and louder. I haven't gotten up yet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I think I've made my choice

Everything is jumping around slightly, the paramedics in the ambulance looming over me, reaching for tubes and clear pouches. I feel something warm on my right hand, my roommate is sitting there with my hand in hers while trying to keep herself together. “Don’t worry Wil, they're gonna fix you up and you'll be just fine...!” She says it like she’s trying to reassure herself more than me- she's more worried about me then I am for myself. One of the paramedics sitting next to her speak up with a clipboard in hand. “You said he overdosed?” “Yes, I came home from work and there was a loud thud from his bathroom. I ran over and he was barely conscious on the floor with pill bottles all around…”

I’m a deceased playing victim

I...I overdosed? How did I not notice? No no, there was something wrong with me, that's why I took so many! But...was I wrong? I was just scared! I didn’t know that this would happen, its not my fault!

Slip the face, slip the victory.

I can't run away from myself, I’m my own shadow. I was scared. I am scared. This is all my fault. I took the pills, no one forced me to. It was me who did this. But, I’m not too angry with myself. Despite my impulsive actions, I don't hate the situation I've thrown myself into.

I think I’ve made my choice

If I don't make it out of this, I won't be disappointed. If I do, then that's alright too. I dug myself into this, so don't I deserve to suffer the consequences?

Sit secluded in hatred

I’m such a bother to her, this is the second time she's had to deal with me like this. The hospital probably hates me, but I won't bother to apologize. I meant what I did both this and the last time I was sent there, they shouldn't be helping me. But I’m not suicidal, I insist.

Void the plans friends are making.

I shouldn't have set my alarm. I would have stayed asleep, made things less stressful. Why did I even set my alarm? Nothing special was happening today, I don't have plans with anyone and the only thing I was supposed to do today is work, and that's later in the day. Most of my friends don't even like me that much, they don't invite me to places or acknowledge me so can I even consider them friends? The only person who even tries to pay attention to me is…is…

I think I've found my voice

“I...I’m..-” My roommate quickly looks down at me when she hears me speak. Her eyes show it all, shocked and relieved. Her skin is still puffy and red around her eyes, but she doesn't bother to hide it. “Thank the lord your alright...what were you thinking?!” She speaks in a hushed tone, intending to not startle or overwhelm me more than I already am. She doesn't deserve this, my paranoia and issues aren't hers. “I’m...I’m sorry..” I hear my voice for the first time in a while, it's gravely and dry. She looks down at me and her features seem to have softened. “We're almost at the hospital, you're gonna be alright.”

I'm a leech sucking blood bags

I've been living off of her this entire time. My hardships were always nonexistent, weren't they? All of my tolls were never mine to begin with, her generosity is what she replaced it with. And this is what I'm giving her, more and more to deal with. But she doesn't have to, right? It's her choice, it's her fault. I'm not guilty.

Taste defeat, it's a sandbag

As soon as the vehicle stopped, I was urgently rolled out the back and rushed into a hospital room. I can hear the doctors and nurses arguing back and forth rapidly, one after the other.

Saline solution

I hear from the wad of voices. Hm, so they're desperate as well it seems… My mind decides not to bother with their procedures, instead I just leave it all to them. It won't be on my hands if they fail after all, right?

Saline solutions to all your

A set of doctors rush into my hospital room while a nurse rolls in a cart filled with who knows what for me. IV tubes are hooked up to a hanging pouch and attached to my arms.

Saline solution to all your

My eyes are squinted from the obnoxiously bright lights scattered in the hospital, the white walls making me develop more of a headache. My head flops to the left, seeing my roommate outside the window in the hallway. She's pacing around frantically with her phone up to her ear. I then turn my head to the right to see a slightly foggy pouch of saline hanging above me, the IV tubes connecting the liquid to my internal damage.

Saline solution to all your…

One of the doctors helps me drink a small amount of the saline solution and then hands me a small trash can. My stomach is crying and screaming in pain and mercy. Tears prick the corners of my eyes from the guttural pain, but it'll be out of my system soon.

Problems.

#wilbur soot #ycgma #saline solution #angst #series #writing #wilbur soot fic #wilbur soot fanfiction #wilbur soot fanfic #mcyt fic #mcyt fanfic #mcyt fanfiction #dsmp fic #dsmp fanfic #dsmp fanfiction

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rosemaidenvixen · 4 years ago

Text

A Secret’s Worth

Chapter 13: Jim

Ao3

Content warning: descriptions of raw meat, mentions of violence, toxic thought patterns.

“You know hon, you’re going to have to talk to Toby eventually.”

Jim jolted, smacking the top of his head against the underside of the cabinet, it didn’t hurt in the slightest, but the loud crunch as he made contact did not bode well for the cabinet.

Barbara winced and set her coffee mug down on the table “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,”

Jim pulled back and stood up straight, grimacing when he caught sight of the broken boards and deep gouges his horns had left in the wood. They were going to have to hire someone to come in and fix that “It’s ok,”

“I’m just...concerned, if you two are having problems things aren’t going to get better unless you both address them,”

“Yeah, I know,”

He regretted the flippant words as soon as he said them, getting a glimpse of the look of hurt and worry on his mom’s face.

“Can you tell me why you guys are fighting?” she said softly

Jim looked away, turning his eyes back down to his...food on the counter “It’s complicated,”

It didn’t look like that answer satisfied Barbara at all, but rather than push further she just frowned and went back to her breakfast.

Jim felt bad for being so evasive, but that was vastly overshadowed by just how relieved he was that she was willing to drop it. He finished grabbing the empty jars and frozen plastic wrapped rabbit and headed over to the table to join her. Eating this close to sunrise usually gave him wicked stomach cramps, but he’d put it off for too long already, and he was too hungry to wait another hour and a half to eat a normal breakfast.

So he didn’t waste any time downing all the jars and getting started on the rabbit.

“Are just you and Toby having problems, or does this involve the girls to?”

Jim froze mid bite, a fresh wave of guilt and anxiety crashing into him. The hand holding the half eaten rabbit dropped down to the table. He hung his head, the weight of his horns tugging it down even further. Even without looking he could practically feel the hurt on his mom’s face, which made him feel even worse.

“I’m sorry, I know I’m prying, but I’m worried about you,”

He heard her setting down her fork and clasping her hands together “I don’t want you to feel like you have to tell me everything that goes on with you and your friends, but…”

Barbara sighed “I was young once to. I know how high emotions can run, and how the littlest things seem to matter so much-- but they aren’t worth throwing your friendships away,”

Jim risked raising his head to look at her better. Briefly meeting her eyes and getting a peek of her melancholy smile.

As soon as she caught sight of him, Barbara sat up a little straighter and continued, emboldened by the eye contact “If you did something wrong, and I’m not saying you did, avoiding them won’t make it go away. Things can’t get better if you don’t apologize and start rebuilding trust. And if one of them did something to upset you…”

She paused, pulling in a deep breath “Then you have every right to feel hurt and angry, but you need to tell them that. Your friends can’t read your mind, you need to communicate how you’re feeling with them,”

Expectant silence filled the air, Barbara’s gaze stayed on him, patiently waiting for his response.

Jim forced himself to maintain eye contact, very deliberately did not ball his hands into fists, and only opened his mouth to speak once he was sure he could do it in a neutral tone of voice “You’re right...I’ll try to talk to them at lunch today, see if we can clear the air”

Whether she actually believed him or saw the cracks in his facade and decided not to push him further, Barbara’s only response was to smile, give a soft ‘I think that’s a great idea’, and go back to eating.

Which made him feel ten times worse about the fact that he intended to do no such thing.

He looked back down at the rabbit in his hand, stomach in knots. Even though it was the absolute last thing he felt like doing, Jim lifted the rabbit back up and forced himself to take another bite.

When you mess up you need to apologize, when your friends mess up you need to let them know that they hurt you.

But what do you do when it’s both of those things? Or maybe even neither?

He knew his mom was only trying to help, but this was way out of her league.

Jim wasn’t trying to keep secrets or shut her out. But Toby and the girls were straight up accusing her of abuse. How could telling her do anything but hurt her?

They had threatened to send her to prison for crying out loud.

And maybe he was wrong or maybe they were, but bottom line, Jim couldn’t tell Toby and the girls the truth.

If this was how they reacted to just some scratches on a door...he couldn’t risk it.

He swallowed and glanced at what was left of the rabbit through the plastic, butchered and cleaned but still very clearly a rabbit, the ends he’d been chewing on bright red and bloody.

There was a monster here all right, but it wasn’t his mom.

Jim forced down the last of the macabre excuse of what passed for his breakfast and hurried back into the kitchen to start on their lunches. When it was time for Barbara to leave she kissed him on the cheek and thanked him before heading out the door.

And didn’t say anything about the fact he’d just made two instead of three, even though he knew she’d noticed.

He did his best to avoid thinking about it; but before he knew it the sun was up, he was normal again, and it was time to leave for school.

Jim sluggishly changed out of his now baggy t-shirt and jeans into his regular clothes, threw his messenger bag over his shoulder, and forced himself out the door, making a bee line for his bike. It didn’t look like Toby was waiting around to ambush him. But Jim didn’t want to give any openings just in case he was hiding in the bushes, which he’d tried a few days ago.

Fortunately that didn’t happen, and Jim was able to start pedaling to school in peace.

As glad as he was about being about to get to school without having to dodge a confrontation, Jim had definitely been taking Toby’s presence on their morning ride for granted. Less than two weeks and he already couldn’t stand the silence.

But as much as it sucked that’s just the way things had to be now.

All too soon he pulled up to the school. Jim headed around the building towards the bike rack, not one of the ones he and Toby liked to use, but the one near the gym that Steve and his cronies frequented. Hopefully they’d already gone in and Jim could avoid running into them directly.

His heart sank when he pulled up and saw Steve and Logan chatting by the end of the rack. So much for avoiding confrontation. Trying to be as discreet as possible, Jim quietly dismounted and started locking in his bike on the opposite side of the rack from them, praying to go unnoticed.

Unfortunately he wasn’t that lucky.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing, parking your dweeby bike next to ours?” Steve stomped over, a snickering Logan right on his heels.

Jim slammed his lock shut, what little remained of his patience gone “I thought that when people saw my lame bike next to your cool one it would make yours look better by comparison,” he said in a complete deadpan.

Steve’s face blanked as he faltered, unable to come up with a response. Jim tried to take advantage of the lull to get away, but he wasn’t quick enough. Steve stepped in front of him and snarled, looming in his personal space to block his exit.

“You’d better tell me what your game is!”

Jim met Steve’s gaze without flinching, normally he wouldn’t try to butt heads with a guy who was called ‘Psycho Steve’ for darn good reason, but after everything he’d been through in the past week and a half Jim couldn’t be bothered to tip toe around him right now “Figure it out yourself Steve, because believe it or not I have bigger problems than your microscopic IQ,”

In hindsight that had probably been the worst thing he could have said. Steve’s face darkened, arm shooting out and grabbing Jim’s collar.

Logan, still hovering behind him, let out a short laugh “Wrong answer Lake,” he said with a smirk.

Steve didn’t say anything, slowly raising his other hand in a fist. Jim winced preemptively and tried to brace himself for the coming blow.

But just before Steve could start rearranging his teeth, Coach Lawrence poked his head out of the gym door, causing all three of them to jump in surprise “Class starts in five minutes, everyone cut the chit chat and get in here!”

He snapped his head in their direction “Kish, Palchuk, that means you!”

Steve growled, but dropped his fist. The second Coach ducked back inside he shoved Jim into the bike rack before stomping towards the gym.

“This isn’t over Crybaby,”

He stalked off, Logan following shortly after.

Jim glowered at Steve’s retreating back before pulling himself up and heading to his own class.

Getting teeth pulled was more fun than spending any time within a ten foot radius of Steve, but it was still better than the burning, queasy feeling he got in his gut whenever Toby, Claire, Mary, or Darci looked at him.

He breathed deeply and tried to force the sudden spike of stress down to a manageable level, Jim knew they meant well, he really did, and he knew all this stuff with curfews and scratched doors was scaring them, but he couldn’t tell them.

Last week had been the closest he’d ever come to spilling the beans, when Toby had jumped him in the bathroom, begging Jim to tell him the truth, promising he wouldn’t go to the cops, Jim had almost done it. He had been so close to just unloading and telling Toby everything. But at the last second he’d bolted. Later once he’d had time to sit down and really think about what had just happened, he’d been really glad that he didn’t.

No matter how much Toby and the girls begged and demanded and insisted Jim could trust them with the truth, the fact was he just couldn’t, no matter how much he did or didn’t want to.

He fumbled with dial in an effort to open his locker.

Jim was a monster, and worse a liar. If the girls ever figured out what he really was...well they wouldn’t run screaming in terror that’s for sure. Maybe Darci would, but chances are she’d be helping Claire decapitate him while Mary filmed the whole thing. And Toby…

His throat tightened unexpectedly, struggling to grab his textbooks as his hands started to shake. That was the worst part, deep down he just didn’t know how Toby would react. Would he be crushed by the knowledge that his ‘best friend’ had never been what he’d seemed? Horrified that he’d never spotted the monster living across the street from him? Furious that Jim had lied to him for over a decade?

Knowing Jim’s luck it would be some unholy combination of all three.

Shutting his locker with much more force than needed, he turned down the hall towards Señor Uhl’s room.

So telling the truth was off the table, but the four of them had made it clear that they weren’t going to let this go any time soon. And they still had the pictures, and the recording Mary made.

Jim had been on edge for days after they’d first confronted him. Terrified that they’d gone ahead to the police with their evidence, and at any moment cops bust open the door and drag his mom away in handcuffs.

But a few days passed without incident, aside from hundreds of texts from all four of them, not an exaggeration, literally hundreds, Jim had slowly allowed himself to relax.

That and the fact that they were still badgering him told Jim that they needed more than just the photos and the audio to go to the police with, they needed him to. And if he didn’t go along with them there was nothing they could do to his mom.

Of course that didn’t explain why his phone had been disturbingly silent for the past two days.

He shook off the worries, Jim had more than enough of those right now, the last thing he needed was to go inventing more. If his friends had realized they couldn’t get him to say anything well then good for them. The important thing was for Jim to stay silent and not respond to their prying, in person or over the phone. As a long term solution it sucked, but he wasn’t about to get better alternatives any time soon.

His stomach was constantly in knots and it felt like he was walking on eggshells 24/7, but he couldn’t take the risk of dropping his guard even a little.

Jim rounded the corner only to freeze midstep. Two people were standing on the other end of the hall quietly chatting with each other. But not just any two people; Toby and Mary. And at the sound of his footsteps their gazes swiveled towards him, piercing him on the spot.

His heart rate tripled.

Ok, no big deal, looks like he was taking the long way to spanish today.

Heart still going a mile a minute, Jim pivoted on his heel, stopping dead when he saw Claire and Darci in the hall behind him, blocking any escape.

Two might be a coincidence, but four? No way. This was an ambush, how long had they been planning this?

Now that he was pinned from either side, they started walking towards him.

Yep, definitely an ambush.

Jim tightened his grip on the strap of his bag. Stay calm, they might have cornered him but they couldn’t make him talk. And if he didn’t talk they couldn’t get anything that they could use to press charges against his mom. The five of them couldn’t stay here in the hall forever, sooner or later a teacher would come by to shuffle them all off to their classes. All Jim needed to do was stay quiet and wait them out.

The four stopped their approach at about three feet away. Jim braced himself, getting ready for the onslaught of begging and accusations.

Toby stepped up to him, breaking the silence “Jim, you don’t have to say anything, I-- we just need to tell you…” he dropped his gaze “We’re sorry, I’m sorry,”

Jim’s jaw dropped.

He what?

There were no words any one of them could have said that would have floored him more. He wondered if he’d actually heard Toby correctly. Right now Jim was too stunned to even react.

“All of us are,” Claire chimed in “We shouldn’t have pushed so hard, especially after you told us we were wrong,”

For over a week Jim had been hoping against hope for them to just drop this and back off, but now that that was, apparently, happening it almost didn’t seem real. If it weren’t for the fact that the school wasn’t made of gingerbread and he still had his pants on Jim would’ve thought that he was dreaming “I-- you-- you what?”

Darci looked nervously from side to side “Can we take this into the computer lab?” she gestured to the door off to the side “Somewhere a little more private than the hallway?”

“Uh...ok,”

They all stepped into the unoccupied room, Darci flicking on the lights and Toby pulling the door shut behind them.

Meanwhile the shock had subsided and suspicion was starting to creep in.

Did they really want to let this go, or were they just trying to get him to drop his guard?

Jim leaned against one of the desks in a way that he hoped came off as casual “So…what exactly is it you guys are saying?”

Toby grimaced “We shouldn’t have kept forcing the issue of the whole basement thing and your curfew the way we did, if you say everything with you and Dr. Lake is cool….we believe you,”

Jim slowly turned to look each of them in the eye, trying to spot any traces of nervousness or dishonesty “Are you guys for real on this?”

“Yeah,” Darci stepped forward “This is your family, as soon as you said everything was fine we should have just butted out,”

Claire came up beside her “That goes for all of us, we’re really sorry we pushed it too far and made you uncomfortable,”

Jim didn’t quite know what to think, on one hand this was exactly what he’d dreamed of happening for over a week, but on the other...there was one person here who hadn’t said anything yet, who was known for having a stubborn streak powerful enough to crush diamonds.

He turned towards Mary, not even trying to hide the distrust on his face “Then what about the recording you made?”

In the second biggest twist of the day, Jim was taken aback to see that Mary actually looked genuinely...remorseful “I lied, I didn’t record anything,” she came up to him and plopped her phone into his hand “Check for yourself, and you can go ahead and delete the pictures of the….racoon scratches,”

Her voice dropped “And I’m sorry to…”

Jim heard her apology, but for the most part he was preoccupied with the device in his hand. To be honest he’d been starting to think this all sounded too good to be true; but if Mary was actually letting him go through her phone--

He still couldn’t believe he was holding it, it was like being handed the holy grail, only somehow more sacred.

Only about a minute or so of browsing through her phone and Jim knew Mary was telling the truth, the photos of the scratched door were there, she hadn’t sent them to anyone. And there was no audio recording in her main files or her autobackup.

A tiny part of Jim was ticked that she’d tried to trick him using an imaginary recording, but that was eclipsed by the enormous relief he felt that the damning words he’d said had never been captured in the first place.

It was like a massive weight being lifted off his shoulders as Jim permanently deleted the photos of the basement door. After handing the phone back he looked around at everyone, torn between his remaining doubts and giddiness at the idea that this may be over after all.

“So you guys are really going to stop bugging me about my curfew and rules and everything?”

They all nodded.

“Yep,”

“Absolutely,”

“One hundred percent,”

Toby came up to him and put a hand on his shoulder, smiling wide “At lunch today what do you say we meet up at the food truck, figure out what we’re going to do over spring break, and forget all this ever happened?”

A tiny smile of his own curled on Jim’s face “Sounds great,”

They all filled out of the computer lab, Jim was last, flicking off the light switch as they left, actually relaxed for the first time in weeks.

Against all odds Toby and the girls had actually decided to let it go.

Jim felt so light he was practically walking on air. It was over. This horrible, screwed up mess was finally over. His secret was safe, his mom was safe. He wouldn’t have to spend every day swinging back and forth between anxiety and crippling loneliness. Jim could actually talk to his friends again, go back to actually having a life.

For the first time in a long time things were looking up.

#tales of arcadia #Trollhunters #jim lake jr #barbara lake #steve palchuk #toby domzalski #mary wang #darci scott #claire nuñez #A Secret's Worth #fanfic #rmvwrites

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sometimeswritingsometimesdying · 4 years ago

Text

stolen basses and stolen kisses

a/n: hello yall. i am back. and i am very sorry to everyone who followed me for ts content because today i present myself with a jatp fic !! which is coincidentally the longest fic i’ve ever completed so, a i’m patting myself on the back for that one

warnings: none. mentions of BadTM parents, mentions of financial trouble, some breaking and entering and stealing is done and luke and reggie get stuck in a closet

pairings: luke/reggie and alex/willie (but its very very secondary)

wc: 3.1 k

summary: the music program is ending due to lack of funding, which means reggie won't be able to borrow the school's bass to play with in the band. so he devises a plan. (and luke decides to go along with it, because reggie's his best friend, and definitely, a hundred percent, not for any other reason)

ao3

Friday, June 16, 1993 (17:34 PM)

Reggie didn’t come home every day to the most wealthy family in the city. Although his parents never mentioned it, he could hear them fight about the bills when they thought he was asleep and he could see his father’s tired eyes raking yet another letter from the bank. Over the years, he’d gotten used to too-small shoes that made his feet hurt and old hand-me-downs that scratched his arms uncomfortably.

Which meant there was no way he was gonna be able to buy a bass. (he’d only started because of the music program at school, which apparently was ending at the end of the school year. meaning he wouldn’t be able to use the school’s instruments anymore. Which meant no more sunset curve.)

He couldn’t give up on music. So he had devised a plan.

Now he just had to get his friends on board with it. Or rather, Luke on board with it. No way Alex was going to agree.

“Luke,” the man in question turned around to face him. “We need to talk.”

Luke’s brow furrowed, but he nodded and sat down on the couch they had in their studio.

It wasn’t exactly a studio, more like an abandoned house they had found where they could practice without anyone interrupting. Was it possibly illegal to do so? Perhaps.

He supposed they liked living on the edge (or whatever it had been that Luke had described it as, and as Alex had very clearly stated he did not like to live as).

“Sure man, what’s up?” Reggie took a deep breath.

“You know how the music program is ending this year?” Luke nodded. “I um,” Reggie swallowed nervously. “If it ends, I won’t be able to play bass anymore since I’ve been borrowing the one from school.”

Luke looked at him, and his mouth opened in a silent ‘oh’.

“What are we-” Luke sighed letting his head fall back against the back of the couch. “What are we gonna do?” he tilted his head to look at the other boy, who was nervously fidgeting with the edge of his leather jacket.

Slowly, Reggie lifted his eyes to meet his.

“I might have an- um,” he tilted his head. “I have a plan.”

“Which is?”

“Ah, well-” Reggie stopped as Alex walked into the studio. The three of them exchanged scared (in the case of Reggie) and confused stares (in the case of his other two friends). Alex looked back and forth between the two, a half eating apple in his hand.

“What?” Reggie nervously smiled at him.

“Nothing! Nothing at all,” Reggie scrambled to stand in front of him, placing his hands on Alex’s shoulders. His friend’s confused expression turned into a concerned one. “Everything's a-okay! Just… talking! With our friend over here! Absolutely nothing wrong!”

Alex raised an eyebrow but ended up deciding to let it go, shaking his head and walking over to the couch.

“Well,” He said, sitting down. They all flinched as the springs let out an unholy screech. “I should probably mention I’ll be out tonight and I have to leave practice a bit early.”

“Oh,” Reggie said, eyes wide. “Why?”

Alex looked down at the apple in his hand. “I um,” he cleared his throat. “I’m gonna go hang out with that boy I told you guys about.”

“The skater?” Alex nodded and squeaked indignantly as Luke messed up his blonde hair. “Ooooh, our good old’ Alex is finally getting some action huh-”

“Oh for god’s sake-” Alex took a pillow from his side and threw it at Luke who was giggling along with Reggie. “Shut up, would you.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking abo-hmfp.” Luke sputtered as a second pillow hit his face.

“Man down!” Reggie exclaimed from the other side of the room. They started laughing, and Reggie knew he had to get Luke onboard with his plan.

No way he was giving up playing in the band.

Saturday, June 17, 1993 (1:06 AM)

Reggie was not very good at coming up with good ideas. However - because there is always a however, with Reggie- he was very good at coming up with bad ideas.

And Luke was very good at always being on board with his bad ideas.

He was starting to regret his proposition.

“I’m starting to think this wasn’t such a good idea,” Reggie whispered from behind Luke. Luke turned his head to look at him and raised an eyebrow.

“It was your idea,” he turned back around looking around the corner for any sign of the night guards. “And, plus, it’s not like you have much of a choice. Either you find a bass to play with or we’ll have to give up on the band.”

“You could always find another bass player,” Reggie mumbled. Luke turned back around, shocked.

“No way man, you’re the best there is,” Reggie looked down at his feet, a smile tinting his face. “And you’re our best friend,” Luke added, and he messed up Reggie's dark hair in a fond manner, seeing the other boy blush and his smile grow.

If he had to be completely honest, Luke found Reggie’s smile to be the cutest thing in the world. Not that he’d ever get to know if all went to plan.

And the plan was, well, not the best. It was quite flawed, as flawed as “just wait until this crush fades away, especially since you aren’t gay Luke what the fuck are you on about?” could be.

God, there were far too many plans going on at once.

He turned back around, realizing he had been staring at his friend for much too long, and popped his head around the corner to look into the empty, darkened hallway. He signaled to Reggie it was free to go, and they hurried all the way to the band room.

The plan was simple, as Reggie had explained (and as Luke had revised), divided into a few a different key points:

Get into the school during after-hours- check, done, the cleaning ladies always kept the bathroom windows open for a few hours after closing to let the air in. it made, frankly, very little sense to him, but, hey, he wasn’t going to complain.

Second, make their way into the band room; also check, done.

Third, find Reggie’s bass (or, well, not Reggie's bass, it wasn’t his yet, but rather the one he would borrow for practice every time) and pack it.

And, last but not least, somehow get out of the school without anyone catching them.

And maybe confess to Reggie about his feelings?

Realize there are no feelings to confess

Notice how pretty Reggie looks when he’s blushing

Fuck

Is this even chronological anymore?

Well, steps one and two of the plan had already been completed and, as the moonlight caught onto the red paint of Reggie’s bass, step three seemed closer and closer to being done as well.

The room was dark and hard to navigate at first, but his friend seemed to manage well enough for Luke to stay by the door as watchout.

Quietly, Luke waited by the door as Reggie took the bass from its stand and placed it in its bag.

From his spot, Luke could see Reggie's face illuminated only by the moonlight streaming in through the windows.

He looked… pretty. Like, really pretty. But, then again, he always did, didn't he?

(and Luke knew. He’d known for much longer than he wanted to admit. But it was embarrassing, and not only for the fact that he was, as far as he knew, straight. He and Reggie had known each other since they were seven and Luke was not going to be the one crushing on his childhood best friend and- oh fuck this)

Luke played with the beanie in his hands nervously. He knew he didn’t only like girls (and he didn’t only know he had tried it out as well- and he’d liked it. Which had terrified him at the time- and then Alex had told them, and everything seemed a lot less hard to deal with)

(heh. hard.)

Luke bit the inside of his cheek and shook his head, leaning on the doorframe of the music room. Casually, his eyes fell to the dark corridor he was facing

Oh. Oh.

Oh fuck.

Luke’s eyes went wide as he saw a flashlight poke its way around the corner of the corridor. He scrambles to Reggie, who lets out a confused noise as Luke pushes him all the way over into the instrument cabinet in the corner of the classroom.

“Luke what-” Luke shushed him and placed a finger to his lips as he closed the closet door behind them. He turned back around to find Reggie staring dumbly at the finger on his lips. He shook his head in disbelief, before indicating him to stay quiet.

“There’s someone outside,” he whispered. “I saw them turn the corner with a flashlight.”

Reggie ‘ah’-ed and nodded.

Pretty soon, Luke realized he had not made a smart decision in locking them in the instrument cabinet. It was small and cramped, and Luke and Reggie were far too close for comfort (or, rather, for Luke to be comfortable he wouldn’t do something that would make him cringe into the next life). If Reggie felt any discomfort, however, he didn’t show it.

Luke supposed that was reassuring, that Reggie was so… okay, with things. Like the fact that they were close enough to feel each other’s breath on their faces, and that Luke’s cheeks were definitely tinted red (but he thought he saw Reggie’s blush spreading on his cheeks as well) and that Reggie was actually leaning forward and Luke found himself mirroring him and-

Oh. oh.

Reggie’s lips were nice- incredibly nice. The kiss itself was sloppy, noses bumping at first and lips fitting together clumsily, but it was soft and sweet and the way Reggie's hand had found his way onto Luke's cheek made him feel all warm and nice. The kiss was short (too short for his liking) and chaste (too chaste for his liking as well) but Reggie’s resulting grin made him feel all sorts of things because he was so goddamn cute and sweet because of course, he was fucking Reggie and-

He leaned forward again, catching Reggie’s lips in another kiss. The second one was longer, and his hands didn’t clam up at his sides. Instead, he reached out and placed a hand on the back of Reggie's head to lightly play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

The cabinet felt all too hot and cramped for this and Reggie sighed into the kiss, tilting his head subconsciously to deepen it further (or was it subconsciously? Luke hadn’t exactly thought about whether Reggie was a good kisser or not well, actually, he had, but no one needed to know right then and there).

Suddenly a laugh was heard from the music room and the two fifteen-year-olds broke apart in a frenzy.

“Dude I swear to god if you get us in trouble- we really shouldn’t be here you know that?”

Wait. Luke knew that voice.

“Oh c’mon hotdog, I thought you enjoyed breaking rules with me?”

Hotdog? What kind of nickname is that?

A loud sigh came from the music room. “Fine, fine- but c’mon let’s go this way- I know how to get free snacks from the snack machines-”

Luke and Reggie exchanged a look- that was a trick they had taught Alex a few years back. Was this the hang-out session he had planned that night with the skater-boy he had told them about?

Their steps faded away and Reggie and Luke held their breath out of stress before breaking out into giggles.

“I think we just witnessed Alex flirting,” Luke whispered.

“Somehow I’m not surprised he did… that,” Reggie replied between remnant giggles. They stared at each other for a while more before Reggie tilted his head towards the door.

“We should-”

“Yeah we uh- we should-” Luke stumbled over his words as Reggie leaned forward and kissed his cheek. He cleared his throat and pushed the doors open. “We- we should go.”

Reggie smiled at him and they climbed out of the cabinet, bass intact and phase three of the plan completed.

They hurried out of the school, the same way they had come in, and made a beeline for the studio.

Saturday, June 17, 1993 (1:42 AM)

Once they made it to their studio, they both let out a sigh of relief, Reggie making a beeline for the couch.

“Holy fuck dude,” Luke said, falling down next to Reggie and swinging an arm over his eyes. “We almost got caught. By someone else who clearly wasn’t meant to be there.”

Reggie hummed. “Someone? That was clearly Alex, no doubt there.” Luke snickered.

“I can’t believe he thought getting snacks was a romantic thing to do.”

“I know right?” Reggie started carding his fingers through Luke’s messy hair. They spent a while like that, Luke’s head in Reggie’s lap, one of Reggie's hands through his hair and the other, which had moved down the couch to reach Luke’s, intertwined with the lead singer’s own. The peaceful silence was broken when Reggie broke out into laughter, much to Luke’s displeasure as the hand in his hair left with it.

Luke turned to his friend with a confused look. Once his laughter had died down Luke shook his head.

“What's so funny?” Reggie tilted his head and looked at Luke upside down.

“You kissed me. In a closet.” Reggie held his stare for a few more seconds before bursting out laughing again, at which Luke smiled.

“Yeah,” he smile grew wider, and curiously tilted his head. “I did do that.”

Reggie tilted his head in the same manner, an easy smile on his face. His cheeks were tinted a rosy pink which made Luke think about how pretty he looked; and, goddamnit, it made Luke blush in his own right.

“Aw, you’re blushing!”

“I am not Reggie I am just-”

“Flustered!” Luke groaned in frustration and resigned to hearing Reggie’s soft giggling with an arm thrown over his eyes again.

Saturday, June 17, 1993 (15:36 PM)

“Are you guys kidding me?” Alex exclaimed. “You could’ve told me! I could’ve asked my parents to buy you a bass! Why the fuck would you go through that?”

Other than being complete idiots, that's why, sat in the air, unsaid but understood by all parties involved.

“Your parents would’ve never agreed to that, no matter how rich they are,” Reggie said, fiddling with the strings on the (stolen) bass in question. Alex considered his two friends (his parents did not, in fact, like them. They thought they were bad influences, for reasons unknown to him) and titled his head, a disappointed expression on his face.

“Look Alex,” Luke said, raising his hands in the air in surrender. “What’s done is done, but at least we can continue practicing now.”

Reggie smiled sheepishly at Luke’s side, holding up the bass that was in his hands as if presenting the evidence of the crime to their friend.

Alex looked at it, a pained expression on his face, before sighing and shaking his head. “Fine,” he walked over to the couch picking up his drumsticks. “You’re lucky I was out yesterday.”

“Oh yeah,” Luke said, nonchalantly. “How’d your date with skater-boy go?”

Alex whipped around with an inhuman velocity. “It was not a date! I was just out with this guy I met and we went around town, well kinda and we-” Reggie tilted his head, an eyebrow raised and an accusing expression on his face. The drummer sputtered in embarrassment. “It was not a date, I don’t care what you guys say.”

“Sure Alex,” Luke said, turning back to his notebook. “Sure.”

“And what do you know anyway? It’s not like you were there-” Alex stopped, mid-hand-gesture. He and Luke stared at each other for what felt like far too much time until Alex sat down and placed his head into his hands. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Monday, June 19, 1993 (8:04 AM)

The following Monday, the three bandmates walked into their first-period class, not expecting to have their names called over the intercom.

Life is surprising, however, and Luke and Reggie found themselves walking into Principal Miller’s office at eight in the morning.

Reggie seemed to be nervous, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Luke leaned into his side, giving his hand a supportive squeeze. He was not looking forward to this.

And, to be fair, Principal Miller was not excited to see them either.

“Mr. Patterson, Mr. D’Amico, please, come in,” the principal waved the two teenagers into his office, a tired expression on his face. “Do you know why you’re here?”

Luke tilted his head and looked off to the side. Reggie shook his head despite very well knowing why he was there.

“There was a bass missing this morning- more specifically the bass you’ve been using for music lessons, Mr. D’amico.” Principal Miller tried to look him in the eyes, but Reggie seemed very interested in his shoes at the moment.

“Knowing your situation at home I’m wouldn’t be surprised if-” Reggie cleared his throat much louder than needed. Principal Miller nodded.

“We’re sorry sir,” Reggie spoke up, glancing at his friend by his side. “But we- we didn’t have much of a choice and, well, it’s not like anyone else would’ve used the bass anyway and-”

Principal Miller shook his head. “Reginald… we would’ve given it to you anyway. Your teacher,” he sighed. “Ms. Corum came to talk with me some time ago, knowing the music program would be closing soon. We were going to give the instruments away but she insisted you keep the bass.”

Reggie stared, and stared and stared until Luke cleared his throat and elbowed him in the side.

He broke out of his trance and rushed forward to hug Principal Miller over the desk. Miller patted his back awkwardly as Luke looked away sheepishly.

Reggie pulled back, basic jumping out of excitement. “Thank you thank you thank you, Principal Miller!”

“Don’t thank me, Mr. D’amico, it was all Ms. Corum,” the principal said, but he doubted the boy heard him in his excitement. “Now go, back to class.”

The two boys thanked him again and turned around, and Principal Miller sighed as the two boys walked out of his office whooping and cheering.

(later they’d wonder if the school was even allowed to do that. They would later decide that it didn’t matter, as long as they had their band.)

(and as long as Luke could continue kissing Reggie)

(which he found, going on, to be one of his favorite things. More so than stealing basses.)

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #julie and the phantoms fic #reggie julie and the phantoms #luke patterson #luke julie and the phantoms #alex julie and the phantoms #willie julie and the phantoms #willex #leggie #what are the ship names again aaaaaaa #its been a while since i've written a long fic for a different fandom so sorry if its a bit ooc yall #n writes

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