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helenazbmrskai · 4 years ago

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It’s all timing - pjm

– If you’re searching for a light and fluffy read well, this won’t be your cup of tea so continue with caution darlings! –

Title – It’s all timing

Pairing – cold husband! Jimin x clocksmith! OC

Genre – fantasy, romance, extreme amount of angst, time travel, smut, marriage, established relationship, Ceo, exes to lovers

Summary – I learnt the hard way that marriage can change a person. I would have never thought that an old watch will let me have a glimpse of my ex-husband’s world but don’t be mistaken I’m not here to fix things. I’m here to change it.

Warning(s) – Jimin is not a loveable character here (until way way later), cheating, mentions of emotional abuse and manipulation, falling in and out of love, the past and present clash a lot, different timelines that may be confusing, this is going to be a wild ride girls and boys, themes of depression and sadness, feeling of worthlessness, and self-image distortion, numbness, discussion of not wanting to have children. Unedited.

Word Count – (5.2k)

[21st March 2021]

Things between us were not always complicated. Our friendship was always exceptional even when friends fought and sought different ways after freshman year at the local Community College, Jimin and I were glued to each other’s side and maybe that’s why no one was surprised as we announced our plans to get married after we graduated.

The new world that greeted us after we finished high school only seemed meaningful because I had Jimin by my side. At that time I had no idea I’ll fall for him this hard, he literally became the extension of myself, my arms and limbs and the lungs that kept me alive. He was my first serious boyfriend even though I dated a few guys here and there before him but none of those relationships seemed to work out either because of me or the guy. Jimin is someone who could easily have his ways with words so when he decided to show interest in me as in more than friends, it was inevitable that I would give in. He was a wonderful lover in the beginning. Passionate and loving, we had many movie nights that ended up with his hands down my pants as his thick fingers rubbed my clit. He bought me flowers and comforted me when I had a bad day.

His cunning smile could get him out of a lot of trouble. Maybe that’s why I never saw the other side of him that sometimes peeked through his carefully crafted mask. I decided to ignore all the red flags until I found myself in a loveless marriage with a man that I couldn’t recognise anymore. Once I realised what had happened it was already too late.

[12nd November 2018]

Jimin hated the fact that I was a heavy sleeper. He even threatened me once that he’ll sleep in the guest room if he had to wake up one more time to my alarm relentlessly ringing while I showed no signs of waking up any time soon.

My workspace was on the other side of town. The rent was cheap so it was worth the extra miles and the full tank of gas in my car but because of it I had to wake up extra early so I could finish showering then I would go to the kitchen to make lunch for Jimin to take with him to work and still have enough time to get ready with a freshly brewed coffee in one hand and toast in the other. Even after our first year in marriage passed by like a flash, Jimin continued to be his affectionate self, he showered me with kisses and felt needy for my touch.

It was one of our best years together. Jimin started to get more involved with his father’s company and my workshop began to gain more popularity to my greatest surprise. While I was working on an old clock that was brought into my shop by an old married couple a few hours ago my focus kept wandering back to this morning. Smiling under my nose as I thought back to why I was late to open up my little workshop this particular morning.

Jimin likes to be spontaneous he always calls me a bore when I hesitate to try out new things but this time he did not have to do much convincing before I agreed. It was weirdly satisfying to wake up to Jimin’s head buried between the juncture of my thighs, shaking and aroused even though I couldn’t feel or hear him do all those sinful things to me while I was asleep. I didn’t feel him take off my panties or lift the covers to expose my bare centre to his hungry eyes and when our gazes met he proudly told me how well I took his fingers even while I was unconscious.

Experimenting was not something I was willing to do before Jimin showed me the appeal of trying out new things. With him by my side, I felt invincible like I could conquer the world if he stays next to me holding my hand tight.

We outlived all expectations. They said high school sweethearts don’t last, well, we did. Even though both of our parents were against the idea of us marrying each other so young we ended up doing just that. Jimin proposed after we got our diploma and I said yes. We lived together as roommates throughout all those years we spent together studying and we moved in together after both of us got our first jobs as postgrads.

I was happy it felt like we were at the top of the world but if I had known that after that year everything will go downhill I would have tried to be happier.

[24th December 2019]

Do you know what are the telltales of cheaters? Well, it starts with subtle changes in his behaviour, you begin to see him less he makes up excuses of having too much work to do or stress so that he could avoid your advances.

He tries to make it up to you with expensive gifts but they mean nothing after the tenth impersonal present because all you would ever want is his attention and love instead of those pathetic attempts of showing their devotion with empty words. The last and most important one on the list is the new anonymous contact on his phone that shows several phone calls and text messages back and forth for hours.

Jimin did all of those.

He stopped experimenting with me. He would fuck me from behind even when I told him I want to see his face. No foreplay, no more cute nose kisses and breathless laughs between the acts of lust and playful wandering fingers.

He no longer cared if I finished first or not at all because after he was done it meant it was over. Jimin took a shower and crawled into bed facing away from me now that this task was taken care of. After the fifth time that he left me hanging, I gathered all the courage that’s left in me to stop his hands from dipping under my pants. I felt disgusted and used he made me think I’m a mere fucktoy that he can discard once it lost its appeal.

I had one of the worst days at work. The clock I was working on was missing a crucial part that I could only import from abroad and the man who wanted it fixed told me to don’t bother because he can’t afford such an expensive repair. It was not something that I could control, the clock was antique for fucks sake. He left without paying for my services even though I told him it was not the only part that I needed to change.

On my way home, a drunk man almost crashed into me with his Sedan and it left me a little shaken up, it was justified to feel the way I was and when Jimin tried to make a move on me by groping my breasts without asking permission first I just snapped.

Not one to back up he snapped right back and it led to one of our ugliest fights. I couldn’t believe the words he so carelessly let out from between those poisonous lips. We had quarrels before every couple has that, it’s normal to disagree to some extents but he went too far this time around. It’s not just the words that left me a crying mess on our bedroom floor with snot stuffing my nostrils, sniffing and rubbing the tears from my swollen eyes. I broke down once I heard the front door shut with a force that made the windows shake. It was past midnight when I heard shuffling and muffled voices, I knew Jimin was back so I cracked the door open just enough to peek into the dark living room.

It was not just Jimin, the smell of alcohol penetrated my nostrils as I watched my husband with disgust, making out with a girl in our shared apartment. I couldn’t believe the audacity he had to bring this chick back where we’re supposed to live together, it was just too much. Hearing him ram into her from the guest bedroom while I cried in our shared bedroom with just one wall separating us. I bet he didn’t even hear the front door closing while I dialled my friend’s number to pick me up. He couldn’t have heard that over that girl’s loud moaning.

I don’t remember when I finally stopped crying in my friend’s arms. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her what happened. It was enough humiliation to witness my once loving husband come home with a quick fuck after a fight, it doesn’t matter that he was reeking of expensive shots of alcohol. It didn’t make his actions any less painful.

My heart broke into a million more pieces when I saw him calling me the next day. I didn’t have the guts to pick up, all I could see was him kissing another girl. I bet he was so drunk that he couldn’t remember anything, I wonder if he yelled at the girl in the morning to get the fuck out once he realised it’s not me who lays beside him. Wishful thinking on my part, he probably fucked her in the morning too just before he called me.

Somi finds my body doubled over her toilet throwing up water since it’s been a while I last ate. She helps me through it and gently gathers my hair into a loose ponytail so I won’t get any in my hair as beads of sweat and tears are rolling down my face. My body works on autopilot going through the cleaning motions as I take a burning hot shower and then lay down to get some rest. My body aches and the fatigue is evident in every lazy flutter of my lashes.

I hear his voice, pleading to my friend to let him see me. Now it’s dark outside, it must be hours that I slept through. Somi denies that I’m here and I’m thankful for her quick understanding, the last thing I want right now is to face him. Even though I never told her what happened between us she could sense that it’s more than just a little lovers quarrel.

Our second anniversary would have been next month but instead of roses and kisses next to a dimly lit dinner table, there’s only a big envelope with papers. Divorce papers. The first time he sees me after a month of silence is to have his signature that would end this relationship for good. Today should have been a nice memory filled with laughter and passionate lovemaking. Maybe we were never meant to find each other. Better off as friends, these simple yet powerful words might have saved our future back then if one of us were brave enough to say it.

Jimin looks worn out, it’s obvious he rushed here from his office once you called, he wears his formal attire. He didn’t think you would show up even though it’s supposed to be the day that you should celebrate another year of marriage.

The papers lay heavy on his side of the table as he skims through the content he sees that you already signed your part. He picks up the pen that I prepared in advance, his hands are shaking almost crushing the poor stationery in half with the strength that he holds it.

”I don’t want to d-divorce.” It’s the first sentence that he says to me. His lips are quivering and fat tears are rolling down his cheeks by the time he dares to look into my eyes. I’m however are past the point of shedding crocodile tears. I cried over him enough times to make my face feel numb and puffy with the amount of sadness that poured out of my body in pathetic waves. I can’t keep eye contact for long as his face keeps reminding me of that night I tried so hard to erase from my memory this past month. A part of me is furious seeing him cry, he was the one who sealed out fate. He has no right to feel sad or plead with me to give him another chance.

”If you ever loved me, you will sign it. I give you a week to do the right thing.” With those last words, our anniversary ended.

[13rd October 2020]

”It’s been a whole year after your divorce, don’t you think it’s time to get yourself out there again?” So this is why she wanted to see me I realise.

I know Somi means well, but I dread those words coming out of her mouth every once in a while. If I think about it she was always good at choosing the worst timing to bring the subject up. She’s not aware that this particular day holds a lot of those sour memories that I once cherished. This day was once one of the most important days to me, to us.

Today is Jimin’s Birthday, it’s the first time since we became friends and then later lovers that we don’t spend this day together anymore. I don’t know how to feel about it yet. I used this new year to heal from my wounds that the love of my life left behind. Getting used to living alone after living with someone for so long was tough. I caught myself making more food than I needed or when I was shopping I got those yoghurts that Jimin loves so much even though I’ve always hated the taste of those. I end up throwing them out at home. I blocked his number and any kind of social media that I could think of from the top of my head. The silence between us was crushing at first, I thought that there are no more tears left to shed but when I got our divorce papers from my attorney I couldn’t stop the new waves of tears from escaping.

Yet all my efforts seem to be in vain as my mind keeps going back to him. I catch myself wondering how he’s doing. If he feels as shitty as me even after a full year apart. If he ever wished things would have been different between us. I just wanted to know if he ever regretted destroying our marriage because of another girl. I don’t know if they are together or not or if he dates her now that I’m out of the picture but it’s better left this way. I’m already heartbroken, seeing him again would just open up my barely healed wounds.

”Can we not talk about this today? I’m feeling kinda low right now.” I sigh, shaking my head habitually if only it would make me stop thinking about him. There’s an old fashioned watch with a silver-coated socket in front of me, it’s pretty. A middle-aged woman brought it to me today telling me that it was a gift from his grandfather but it was never in working condition. She went to several locksmiths over the years but no one could fix it so she asked at last that I would be willing to pay for it. I found it interesting so I agreed to buy it from her. I started working on the old watch and at the beginning, it didn’t want to tick even when I made the necessary changes. I just couldn’t figure out what was wrong with it when seemingly it didn’t have anything that needed to be fixed.

On my way home after a rough day at work, I bought some soju from the corner convenience store so I could at least get drunk enough to sleep through the whole night. The pills my therapist prescribed for me doesn’t seem to work at all nowadays.

I placed the watch down onto my bedside table and pulled the comforter over my drunk head. I heard the loud ticking of a clock but I don’t remember having one on the wall. I thought that my drunk mind probably was still hung up on the fact that I couldn’t even fix a simple watch so I shrugged the noises off and closed my eyes until red dots filled my vision.

I just need some sleep.

[13rd November 2018]

”Wake up, baby. You’ll be late again.” There’s a kiss on my shoulder then on my temple as warm hands turn me around in bed. It feels oddly familiar to have two hands around my waist that pulls me into a hard chest, blond fluffy hair fills my vision once my eyelashes flutter open.

I’m back in our shared bedroom at his lavish apartment that’s a lot better than the shitty apartment that I was able to afford after our messy divorce. Divorce? Wait. A. Fucking. Minute. What is Jimin doing here holding me? It’s been too long that I saw him but he looks oddly young here, the Jimin I last saw started to get wrinkles and lost a bit of weight but this man reminds me of the boy I fell in love with. I remember getting drunk last night but I’m sure even at the state I was in I couldn’t get here on my own and I don’t remember getting a taxi or even getting up from my bed last night. I frantically search for my phone that I conveniently find on the nightstand, speechless as I watch Jimin stretch like we just didn’t share a bed together after one year of not seeing each other. He shouldn’t look so relaxed while I panic internally.

Then I see the date as my phone screen activates with my touch. I don’t use this phone anymore, I got another one after I blocked Jimin’s number because this device was a birthday present from him that kept reminding me of, well, him so I decided to change it even though I couldn’t afford a similar model like this with my single salary. I remember this day like it only happened yesterday it was around the time that he got a good position at his father’s company and we were both invited to a found raiser event. I bought this beautiful red dress that he eagerly ripped off of me once we were back at home slightly buzzed on the champagne.

It doesn’t make sense though. The only explanation that I can come up with is that I might be still drunk and I’m hallucinating of some sort after all it was just yesterday that Jimin’s birthday made me think about us again.

I lock myself into the bathroom. Sighing in relief once I am able to get away from Jimin’s inquiring eyes. He looked so confused when I refused to kiss him on the lips. I always kissed him goodbye before I went to work when things were still good between us. I just don’t know what to make of things right now, I’m so confused. It doesn’t feel like a dream at all and Jimin acts like he’s my husband rather than my ex-husband who cheated on me.

I splash some water on my face to calm down my nerves and I gasp when I look at my reflection in the mirror. My hair, it’s long. I got rid of those long locks after our divorce was done, Jimin liked my hair like this, long and curly, so I decided to cut it short.

”Baby, did you bring your work home? I don’t remember seeing this old thing on our nightstand when we went to sleep.” Eyes widening I rip open the bathroom door startling Jimin as I grab the old watch out of his hands. The digits are frozen one at eight and the other at one. 18. 2018? Jimin catches my hand mid-air as I try to slap myself so I could make sure this is not a dream.

”Baby say something. You’re scaring me. Are you alright?” Jimin holds my hand gently thumbs rubbing my skin as his eyes express his worry. It’s been a while since he was so affectionate. He stopped caring for me after he found that girl. I let him pull me into a hug, I missed this. I missed him but this moment doesn’t change the fact that the Jimin I loved so much cheated on me.

I left to go to work earlier than I used to around this time and I know Jimin noticed. I told him to get some takeout for lunch too.

I worked on the clocks hoping that it will distract me but it just made me think of what happened this morning more. Doing it the second time around made the process easier, I knew what was wrong with the clocks before I get them into pieces. I even remembered the young couple who brought an expensive watch to get it more fitted to his arms and he accidentally left his bracelet on my working bench after trying on the watch to see it fits after the adjustments.

Jimin sulked a little after I denied his kisses but he didn’t force me and for that I was thankful. He nagged me even when we were surrounded by his father’s workers at the found raising event to tell him what made me ’mad’ at him because he wants to apologize properly if he did something wrong. I didn’t say anything, I couldn’t just tell him he should apologize for something he will do in the future, it will just make me the weird one.

I was nervous to go home after the event because I remember how this night was supposed to end. My hand tightens around his arm when I see her approach us. I feel my stomach sink when she smiles at the both of us, introducing herself as Jimin’s coworker. I didn’t remember meeting her here but at that time I had no idea she’ll be the one who my husband cheats on me with. It was dark that day but I remember her blonde hair and her voice. I remember her moaning Jimin’s name.

”Y/N?” I snap my head towards the sound of his voice. He looks concerned it’s not the first time tonight that he had to repeat what he said. I feel sick, my body subconsciously leans on him to get a grip of reality.

I realised this is when it began. Her smile is anything but genuine as she fakes her concern, I can see the jealousy in her dark orbs as she watches my hand around my husband’s arm. She wanted him for herself all this time. She just doesn’t know yet that she succeeded a year after. A tear slid down my cheeks but I aggressively got rid of it before it could reach my chin. Jimin caged me between his strong arms drawing soothing circles onto my back but it doesn’t affect my body positively how it used to I cried harder inside his arms.

Jimin excused us and she relented even though it was clear as day that she wanted to send me daggers through her stare rather than her wishes for me to get better. The car ride was silent, he didn’t let go of my hand and I let him. I let this version of Jimin comfort me because he didn’t do anything wrong, not yet. He had no idea that this was our last happy years spent together before everything went downhill after that.

He held me in his arms.

[5th March 2019]

After my revisit of 2018, I realised a few things. Firstly, I can travel between time with that old watch that only seem to works for a short period of time until it stops at the year I want to visit. The second thing I learnt is that Jimin can be manipulated with the right words. I decided after that night I saw her face raging with malice and jealousy that I’ll find out what really had happened between them. I know Jimin loved me even though I had doubts about it after our divorce. I knew him well we spend so much time together as friends even before we started dating. However, I never thought he would go so low as to cheat on his wife.

He was always gentle and understanding with me. Accepting the fact that I didn’t want to have children. He loved them but accepted me for who I was and never questioned why I felt this way. He was a good man, a good husband.

So I decided to watch him from afar and when she thought no one was looking, she showed her teeth like a venomous snake planting ideas into Jimin’s head talking shit about me, twisting my actions and words; going as far as telling him she thinks I am cheating on him! I know those pictures were fake as I did no such thing. I was so in love with him I would never betray him like that.

Then I remembered his odd change in behaviour, how he treated our once lovemaking sessions as fucking. How he couldn’t look into my eyes while he buried his dick inside my cunt made sense in a way now.

He thought I was the one who played him. He let himself believe that I was late from our dinners because I was fucking someone behind his back and when I told him I’m not in the mood to have sex. He got even angrier he thought that if I lied to his face he will show me what pain feels like by fucking that snake in our guest bedroom. My head was swimming overwhelmed with this information.

The truth hurt like hell.

I thought I will feel somewhat better once I discovered the truth but I feel even shitter. Jimin believed her, he didn’t bother to ask me if I was indeed cheating on him but can I really blame him? I didn’t ask either when I suspected it. We let our insecurities and that jealous bitch stand in between our marriage making it crumble down to pieces. I was angry, raging as my hand shook with it and it led me back to that day it happened. It felt too late to fix things so I closed my eyes and turned the clock. Leaving everything behind. Once and for all.

There’s nothing left for me to change in our past, I can’t fix our past mistakes but maybe I could change things in the future. Starting with exposing that snake. I wasn’t even surprised to see her as the head of the newly developed department.

[11st April 2021]

Jimin took over the firm after his father fell ill as I got to know from her assistant. I could tell she was surprised to see my face but even more surprised to realise it’s not Jimin’s whereabouts that I want to know but rather hers.

I shouldn’t be this smug about the fact that he cut all ties with her after our divorce. Deep down he was still a good man who couldn’t believe the fact that he fucked someone else while his wife cried next door with just one thin wall separating them.

I pictured this moment in my head a lot after I came back from the past. I’m way past the hurt and anger that settled in my bones for a full year and even before that. Instead, I felt eerily calm for someone who’s here to put up a show for the employees. I don’t even care if they think I’m crazy because once I locate her in her cubicles and dig my hair into her scalp pulling her hair hard with my iron grip all I could feel is utter satisfaction.

”I hope you enjoyed your good fuck. Was it satisfying to make my husband a cheater? I bet it was. Did you think I will never find out that you fed him lies and spread rumours about me sleeping around with men?”

Even the security watched as I pulled her by the hair the commotion around us almost drowned out the crying noises she made because of the pain. I didn’t pull that hard though, I hate her with every fibre of my being but I’m not a malicious person like her. She would deserve worse than what I’m doing but I never want to go down to her level ever again so I let her go.

”How did you found out?” She looked pale as a ghost. I know she was scared she had every right to be because I’m sure I have that crazy look in my eyes.

”It doesn’t matter. What does matter, however, is that now I know what you did to him. All for what? Just to have him all to yourself? Look how that turned out for you.” The people around us fell silent that’s how I knew Jimin is here. So I took a step closer to her and smiled.

”I never cheated on him but you know this well. This is not even why I feel so angry. The reason why I want to rip your hair out right this instant is not because you spread lies and badmouthed me but because you made him a cheater.”

It’s his first time seeing me after our divorce but I’ve been seeing him these past weeks thanks to the old watch. This time around I was able to look into his eyes and see that boy I fell in love with. We went through so much together, maybe.

Maybe we can overcome this too.

©️ helenazbmrskai (Like and Reblog don’t repost!)

#jimin angst #btsghostie #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfiction #bts angst #jimin fic #jimin fanfic #jimin fanfiction #jimin x oc #jimin #bts

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tuttifuckinfruttifriday · 4 years ago

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Final part of The Letter >:D this was so much fun @randomly-a-fan ! Luv u❤️ so sorry it took so long!

Recap here !

The Reckoning

Pairing: Jason Voorheese x MJ, Jason Voorheese and MJ x Malon, side of Freddy Krueger x Malon, Archie x Malon,>:)) ?? x MJ and Jason

Warnings: Censored curse words, violence, gore/wounds , angst, small fluff, ?? being sweet, horror

This one might not be that good D: but I tried

Don’t hesitate to tell me the mistakes I made, since it’s long af<3

There’s a lot of time skip(—) but my ideas were mixed and I forgot some things and I’m lazy-

Songs I used:

Archie blinked slowly as he tried to find where he was, having no ideas and seeing as it doesn’t look like anybody’s here. Small parts of his memory were coming back to him very slowly, so he hoped to remember all soon....

And mostly hoped that Jason would do something about it. His father didn’t know about all that Freddy thing, nor his mother... so he couldn’t really except them to help. With a sigh, he walked around and tried to familiarize himself with the boiler room...

MJ was woken up with a gasp, sighing as she realized it was the same nightmare she had yesterday. A loud alarm was blaring from under the door and flashing red lights seeped through the cracks. “What’s going on?!” Panic took place as MJ’s eyes widened, her small frame shaking. There were screams outside, and she didn’t want to know who where their owners. Everything seemed like chaos, to her horrified satisfaction, there was even a coopery smell in the air, which told her that the people behind the door wouldn’t open it soon. A scream passed her lips as she realized she was wrong and there was a sudden banging on the metal, her hands clutching the white covers on the cheap bed. She panicked even more when the door started to open, ready to run outside when they’ll open it— Only to stare at the man before her. “W-what.....???” She was shocked and a little confused, his height difference being obvious. She saw the killer in the papers, but she never thought she would see him in real life... or even live long enough to take in his features. The silent killer only looked at her, his fist, face and white clothes bloodied, as he started walking. Was he sparing her?? Not wanting to be left alone and wanting to show him that she was grateful, she caught up to him. “Th-thank you...” The tall man didn’t show in any way that he heard her, but she was just happy he didn’t kill her. What she didn’t know tho is that he already knew her, but that’s a story for another time if any of you read the previous stories—

She walked alongside him, her shoulder brushing his big arm by moments. He didn’t seem to mind, but she was starting to feel anxious as they passed bloodied and destroyed corpses on the ground. When she wasn’t looking up at him, the killer’s blue eyes took her small frame in, no emotions on his face. The truth is, when he saw that she and Jason were taken, he waited in the open to get taken in. Even if it took some time for the smaller officers to get close to him, his plan worked, like always.

MJ’s eyes widened when she saw the figure of her undead husband approaching, a big smile on her face as she ran from the side of the long haired killer who saved her and embraced him, the latter doing the same and he smeared blood on her white clothes, but she didn’t care at the moment. The Shape looked at the reunion, a small sparkle of emotions blooming in his eyes for a really small second before it disappeared.

Some time later, in the dream realm, Freddy was looking at the newspaper, a growl escaping his throat as he read the titles. “Crystal Lake massacre escapes mental asylum!” “The Shape of Hadonfield taken in and escaping!” In his rage, the dream demon threw a mug that was on the table, scaring half to death the two kids in the corner. “That bxtch....” Rage engulfed him. How tf did Michael get into this?! Freddy grumbled.

The purple-haired clown was hiding the small redhead behind him, seeing that she was really scared. Malon started to feel sick as the heat seamed to increase, her small body not being able to bear it. When Archie felt her sliding down the wall, her feet coming to rest against his, he turned around and saw her breathing in big gasp, sweat literally dripping from her face and neck and he started to panic even more.

Having gotten out, the trio (Jason, MJ and Michael) walked into the parking, The Shape immediately going to a car and opening it with random keys the husband and wife didn’t notice. Suddenly, MJ doubled-over and gasped in pain as she felt really hot, her breaths coming in small gasps as she hyperventilated. Her husband immediately rushed towards her, getting down on his knees as he tried to understand what’s wrong, the click of the car’s locks audible behind him. But they didn’t have time for that, so he opened the door and before he could do anything, Michael took MJ and put her in the back before taking Jason by the arm and putting him in the driver side. He knew a little how to drive since he had to move some victim’s car, but he couldn’t for now because of his shock with being thrown in the seat and MJ moaning in pain at the back. Before he could do anything else, Michael closed the door and looked in the direction of where they came from, still with no emotions showing on his face, only a killer glare. If glares could kill, the nurses and police officers would be dead right now. His feet slammed on the pedal when shots rang, 2 bullets piercing the back window.

—

After being far enough from the hospital, Jason got into the back seat with MJ, who was feeling a little better now. “I-I’m okay now, baby...” “Thank you... And I-I’m so so sorry, it wasn’t me who sent the location—“ With wide eyes, he stopped her by putting his mask up and placing his cold lips softly on hers, one hand behind her head. Speechless and with a smile, MJ kissed him back. They cuddled and hugged for some time, and without realizing it, Jason fell asleep beside her. When she decided that she wanted to tell him about Malon’s situation, she realized he was sleeping... so she cuddled some more with a frown, knowing she wouldn’t be able to wake him up.

—

He was in a room he knew too well, having been here when he fought The Nightmare, Freddy Krueger. He couldn’t stop himself from letting out a shaky breath, his heart going a little faster as he remembered that day. “Well hello there, Big Guy.... Care to join the party?~” Jason turned around in a second as he saw the burnt guy before him, his rotten teeth into a wicked smile. Confused, he frowned and prepared his machete beside him, even if he knew it wouldn’t do anything to him. Party?? What party?? Eyes glancing down, he regretted it. Scratch marks and hair were all over the ground, even what looked like meat which he knew it wasn’t.

His eyes widened when he saw Malon’s body behind him, her red hair hiding her bloodied face and her body on the hot ground—

“Too late.”

—-

A breathless gasp escaped his unmasked face as he sat up, realizing that he was moving. MJ, who was driving, smiled sadly when she saw her husband awake. “Good, you’re awake.” She then stopped the car, turning the keys as Jason took his surroundings in. They were back at their house, the camp. A smile smile appeared on his face until he remembered what he saw in his dream and decided to tell his wife, the latter gasping in shock. “That... that’s probably the man that took her—“ A big hand was put in her shoulder as she started to hyperventilate again. She buzzed against it, the hand cupping her cheek as it’s owner made her look into his eyes, brown eyes blinking as he looked at his wife with a calm face. He knew what he had to do, he would do the same thing he did when Malon was taken the first time... He took his wife inside, her still shaking body wrapped tightly in his arms. Before starting with the plan, they changed their clothes and Jason carefully pushed MJ to get on the bed, taking his notepad and writing on it as she frowned. “She is in the dream realm, we’ll take her back.” “You.. You’re sure Jay..?” He gave a nod in response. So with a sigh, she leaned back and tried to sleep, Jason getting behind her carefully as he set the watch on his wrist, the last time he took it coming back to his mind. He put the minuter to 35 minutes and got down. Their bodies tangled together as they relaxed, their minds going blank as they fell into their nightmare.

Boiling hot steam streamed out of the groaning pipes above them as they got up, MJ taking Jason’s hand as her eyes darted back and forth. The father was determined to find his daughter, again, even if it took his own life this time. He didn’t knew why Freddy did this, why he tried to take all the good things he had, but what he was sure of is that he would make sure to take him back to the real world and make him pay. He knew that Malon wasn’t really dead, he felt it. He only wanted to provoque him, like that last time. His thoughts were cut short when he heard a boyish scream, followed by a high pitched one. He immediately ran toward the noise, MJ running after him with wide eyes, only to trip on a chain that came out of nowhere. “Jay—“ The metal wrapped tighter around her, making her whimper and silencing her. Jason’s steps immediately stopped as he turned toward his lover, his machete at the ready. Not even taking the time to think, he swung the weapon with so much force that the chain creaked and almost broke, finally breaking when he gave another. He caught her body, slowly placing it ont he ground before kissing her head and running toward the noise again, leaving his lover all wrapped up in the rusty metal. Ignoring her calls, he knew she would be safer there. A quick glance at his watch, his breathing hitched in his throat when he saw he had only 20 minutes.

When Jason finally found the source, after 10 minutes of running around in circle, he had to hold back another gasp. Before him were Archie and Malon, the two of them covered in bruises. He didn’t know what was more shocking, Malon sweating and looking sickly pale on the ground, or Archie standing before her protectively, a claw mark on his face and two on his arm. The scratches weren’t deep, but it still looked like it really hurt. They looked like they’d been through hell, small burns covering their bodies.

He couldn’t hold himself back, jumping and tackling Freddy who only now realized his presence. They fought on the ground for some time, Malon crying and whimpering in the background as Archie tried to calm her and watched silently. Each time the dream demon tried to wrapped something around him or disappear, he would always find him at the end. Jason gave all he could, almost getting transpierced by his own weapon. 3 mins. He made sure Malon and her friend were alright before he kicked the brunt man two or three times, making him bark out a laugh. He then rolled to the side as Freddy’s glove was about to slash, taking down the kids with him as the watch finally beeped—

He rolled down the bed as he woke up, the children groaning as they came in contact with the hard floor. MJ was still sleeping, so he made sure to carry her somewhere safer before The Nightmare appeared and slashed at his back, making his daughter scream as she fell and MJ waking up. The two female screamed and cried as they hugged each other, the older one taking the small boy and pulling him back as he tried to get into the fight.

Freddy got thrown through the window as Jason jumped too, Malon following closely behind without him noticing. She was scared for her father and knew that she could never beat a grown man, but her curiosity got the best of her. They got to the lake, Jason forgetting his fears as he continued to slash his weapon, smirking under his mask when he sees Freddy leaning down and panting. They fell to the ground, and as he raised his machete and was going to kill him, the man under said something that made him stop.

“Come on, momma’s boy. Slash me infront of your daughter.~” he dared to look behind him as he caught his daughter small frame behind him, her eyes wide open. The demon had the smuggest look on his face, which didn’t help Jason’s decision as he put his arms on top of his head as he brought down the weapon with his two hands, hearing the sickening sound of the blade transpiercing his flesh.

#jason voorheese #freddy krueger #randomly a fan #michael myers #rz #rob zombie michael myers

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encyclopika · 4 years ago

Note

18 & 20 For the ask game!!!!!!!!

THANK YOU SO MUCH KAT!!! <3 God this is long.

From this writer’s ask game...feel free to send me some asks!!! :D

Gonna link the stories here for reference and for anyone interested in reading!

The Missing Series // Fire and Brimstone

18. Do any of your stories have alternative versions? (plotlines that you abandoned, AUs of your own work, different characterisations?) Tell us about them.

Yes, ma’am! First I’m going to say that most do not, but the Missing series, particularly all that concerning Asuka and Ai, does in a big way...particularly the completely altered timeline that follows them if she doesn’t go away. You’ve seen the comic, where Ai doesn’t lose her nerve that snowy day and makes it obvious to him she also has stock in a deeper relationship. Yeah, that one. I’m currently working on more short comics from that timeline. Not necessarily a whole story, but snippets from that fluffier timeline. But that also means a few things happen differently - for one, Krow doesn’t join the Ryukyu offices, mostly because, in that timeline, he’s allowed to fulfill his own heroic story faster than he can in Missing. He’s not actually a rescue hero, but he doesn’t have Ai around in the main series to come into that as quickly.

I also almost went harder on Ochako’s duality in Missing, almost making Uravity a separate entity that was starting to hate Ochako’s bullshit. I honestly hated that and clearly didn’t do that. Instead, the duality is more “in her head” than anything. This idea kinda comes out in Krow and Asuka instead.

Additionally, there was, once upon a time, an alternative “Missing”, in which Deku chooses not to return to Tokyo for the Pyromancer case, and Ochako faces him alone. It gets obnoxiously dark and gritty, to the point where I’ve taken that OnO fuel and split it between Escape Artists and my little-known horror project Downpour I’ve been working on in not-secret. But, yeah, that’s definitely an abandoned plotline...*shudders*.

There are small details here and there that I changed in both Missing and Missing Out that created alts, mostly concerning Deku and how he fights baddies/figures things out, name changes for OCs, The Ring’s and Pyromancer’s whole identities changed, and Irina’s characterization has really gone through the ringer (from being another lovable asshole bird like Krow that simply gets on his nerves, to being a dangerous, but important antagonist). I also had Deku introduce the idea that people’s quirks can kill them in Missing because I intended to explore it more, and I’m not sure if that’s totally abandoned...

Thanks for asking this one. <3

20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

Yes.

All of that. I don’t wanna toot my own horn, but I live for hidden messages, references, callbacks, foreshadowing and symbolism. The Missing series (and to a lesser extent, Fire and Brimstone) is simply overflowing with these things...there’s so much that even with all of the people who have read it, there are still gems and Easter Eggs left to be discovered. And, before I get into it and make this post obscenely long, my reasoning for doing this is simple - I want you to read my fics again...I want to have reread value.

I’m going to put it under a cut in case anyone wants to discover them for themselves and also general spoils. Here are the ones I’m MOST proud of or that make me laugh or, dare I say it, make me feel smart. This is not an exhaustive list, and of course, I’m not pointing out any future Missing series meta for sake of spoilers.

Titling

Titles, titles, titles, girl you know I love titles. I’m a title SNOB. And I do A LOT of fun things with titles, such as:

1. Using the title of the fic as a buzz word and callback to the theme.

I get real obnoxious with this in the Missing series. The overarching theme of Missing is, well, missing people, particularly in the vain of heartache, loss, and longing. And I put it everywhere:

From Missed Chance:

Despite keeping steadfast to her goals and to her future, she knew that for a long time, she'd be missing him.

From Missing:

Today, there would be an update. As much as she wished it weren't so, the only time she saw Deku was when it had to do with Pyromancer or for a brief moment before leaving the police station in the mornings. Any other time, she was missing him.

“I miss you.”

...

“I'm always missing you.”

That's probably how he wanted it - being Asuka, the one still missing Ai, was too painful.

It couldn't ever be the same again, and Ochako was happy for it, feeling like her life was now so full.

And not a thing was missing.

From Missing Out:

“Miss me?”

“Only a little.”

But even when she was being annoying as hell, I craved her, like I knew I'd miss her.

Still, after all that time in the cold, her lips seemed like a warm reprieve...if I could have ever gotten there...

I miss her.

I'm always missing her.

^This one’s a double whammy, for obvious reasons.

2. Using chapter titles to run with a theme, too.

This only happens in Missing and Missing Out, but, look:

Chapter titles for Missing are the life of a fire and also follow the level of stress in the fic, as well as Ochako’s feelings: Hot Coals, Rekindling, Reignited, On Fire, Blazing, Inferno, Burn Out, Backdraft

Those words are used in their respective chapters too AND we run through them when Ochako is considering confessing or not in the last chapter.

I pull the same kind of crap in Missing Out, except all the chapter titles are things Ai gave to Asuka. If it’s an object, the object is in the chapter, otherwise, it’s stated in the chapter, too.: A Desperate Lie, Lunch, Skills, Home, No Conditions, Second Chances, Worry, Agony. It’s also in reference to this, because kill me, I guess.

Bonus: Since the story is told from within the theatre of Asuka’s memories, the titles for chapters 7 and 8, “Worry” and “Agony”, are spoiled in Chapter 6 here:

I didn't know I'd missed my last shot at telling her...I didn't know that I really would be missing out on a life with her.

Because everything after this is worry and agony.

BONUS BONUS - THE TITLE OF THE FIC APPEARS HERE TOO BECAUSE I’M OBNOXIOUS.

3. Title allusions and character.

Particularly for “Fire and Brimstone”, the title sounds like it’s just about the main boys, Katsuki = Fire, and Kirishima = Brimstone. BUT BUT BUT it’s also referencing biblical shit, which is appropriate, given it’s an Angel/Demon AU. It refers to God’s wrath when people use it loosely, but it is also the torment in hell for the deadly sin lust. *hint hint nudge nudge*

Okay that’s enough about titles. How about the fact that

Krow is a Crow

So many little crow quirks, lore, and bullshit is put into this character, like wow.

1. The entire concept of his quirk is all about crow lore, in that they are often connected with death in a number of cultures. This is why, although he doesn’t like to explain it, his quirk isn’t literally a sense of smell, but a little more mystical than that. It’s a sense. His quirk also references the Carrion Crow, Corvus corone, for which he’s based, which is a scavenger and is heavily associated with carrion and is native to Japan.

2. The green and purple iridescence of his wings are also referred from the Carrion Crow in particular.

3. What’s not overly obvious is that crows and ravens have positive lore too - in a number of cultures they are guides and messengers, sometimes to people, sometimes to Gods, which Krow fulfills to both Ochako and Ai (with Ai’s quirk, she could be compared to a goddess, for which he acts as the messenger - this was how she figured their partnership would work). Krow kind of puts this and the negative lore together when he explains his quirk for real in Missing Out:

As a teenager, I ignored them. Death is everywhere and it usually isn't important. Whatever messages they need sending, I'm not the crow they're looking for.

He also actually has a messenger bag in Missing Out.

4. It’s referenced in Missing and outright admitted in Missing Out that he’s inexplicably attracted to shiny things, which is more or less also crow lore, rather than fact, but still.

5. Krow’s name “Asuka” is a unisex name that refers to scents, but also birds and flight. There are a bunch of different refs that say differently, but I’m sticking with that. “Dakuro” is Engrish for “Dark”, which, if you really wanna meta, is actually his last name, considering his father is British. “Dakuro” is just how the Japanese people around him pronounce it. XD

6. He admits to collecting random shit he finds aesthetic, in reference to hoarding and collecting as crows do.

7. Asuka and Ai’s “lunch for quirk fodder” exchange, as well as his giving her the necklace and the box of quirk fodder, is in direct reference to this adorable true story.

8. Asuka speaks more than one language and is capable of mimicry during his “feral response” while fighting the Bear Trap Villain. This is in reference to the fact that crows and ravens are capable of mimicking human speech like parrots.

9. Asuka likes to sit in high places and watch people, and squats in tree for the majority of Missing Out and often bitches about walking anywhere, unless it’s to protect Ai. He has the mentality of a bird. He’s also built like a bird, with hollow bones and air sacs to assist his properly sized wings during flight.

10. He’s actually incredibly intelligent, and uses it to finagle out of tough situations and generally be a trickster, as is crow/raven lore, but crows/ravens are considered the smartest group of birds besides parrots. Unfortunately, this gets balanced out by the fact he’s a teenage human boy, which makes him lazy and capable of dumbass moments.

11. The murder investigations - there’s a number of instances where Krow can’t help but be drawn to death from his death sense in both Missing and Missing Out. He can’t stop himself from investigating the building Pyro is hiding in, the murder warehouse, and when Ai dies. Crows and ravens will gather around fallen comrades in a mix of mourning and also in an effort to try and figure out what happened and if that threat still pertains to them.

:3 Birb <3

Secret Messages and Tells and Foreshadowing and Symbolism

-In Missed Chance, the duality split of Ochako and Uravity is referenced as happening at a particular moment. Throughout Missing, Uravity is treated as apart from Ochako until the end of Missing where they “agree” on letting Deku help. It’s a duality of self representation.

-At the end of Missing, I’m hoping its clear everyone but Iida was in on leaving the two of them alone. Aoyama initiates it by leaving first.

-There are at least two instances where there’s heavy foreshadowing of the end of chapter 7, once with Aoyama:

“Then where in this overcrowded city?”

“I see. Among the clouds, then.*”

And again with Deku:

“That's a relief. Now, I just need to make sure I don't float myself into the stratosphere and you'll be right!”

-There is SO MUCH symbolism related to flying and birds, I can’t really put it all here, but it’s there. Also so much symbolism to fire in Missing, not only with Pyro’s quirk, but Ochako’s feelings..

-Krow reacts to a memory of Ai before we know she exists (since he’s hiding it) while they are interrogating Necromancer: “That’s not bringing them back. That’s nothing like bringing them back.” He also lets it slip a bit that he’d speaking from experience when ragging on Ochako about Deku. Deku also introduces the idea that people’s quirks can kill them in the same chapter, which is in reference to Ai, but also what ends up happening to Ochako, more or less.

-If you replace Ai’s name with the literal meaning of her name in some sentences of Missing and Missing Out, the UwU angst goes up to an 11. Here’s the one that’s particularly the gut punch:

Ai saved me in every way someone could be saved.

[Love] saved me in every way someone could be saved.

-End of chapter 5 of Missing Out, No Conditions, it should be obvious as hell that if Ai wasn’t in love with Asuka before, she certainly is now. Particularly in the gift box scene, he gives her...butterflies...right?

-Ai is compared to the winter throughout Missing Out. This is more in reference to what she means to Asuka than anything else. Winter, as a season, is the great equalizer and although things die in the winter, it is also necessary to the bloom in spring. This refers to the shift in Asuka’s life because of her - his villain life ends and his hero life begins.

-In fact, that whole scene in the snow is based off this gif, particularly the alt comic. It’s of two crows sitting in the snow kissing UwU.

-In both Fire and Brimstone and Missing Out, it should be getting pretty obvious I like to have my winged beasties flutter their wings when they’re in love.

Referencing Literature & Real Life & Pop Culture/Memes

-Pyromancer’s first crime in Alaska is based off the McCarthy, Alaska massacre where a lone gunman gunned down 6 of the 22 residents and injured more. Guy almost killed the entire town. Pyromancer actually did.

-I’ve referred to “The Raven” by Edgar Allen Poe a number of times, particularly in Krow’s famous line

“Nevermore, bitch!”

But I also referenced the Telltale Heart, The Cask of Amontillado, Frankenstein, The Wizard of Oz, and fanfiction in general.

-There’s a pop culture reference in Fire and Brimstone from Bioshock where Shinso says:

“Would you kindly go repent at the alter? Ashido is waiting.”

And I love it a lot, because in Bioshock SPOILERS, “would you kindly” is the trigger phrase that’s supposedly controlling the player, Jack, to do things for Atlas and in canon, Shinso’s quirk is brainwashing. Mineta upon hearing it just goes “okay” and promptly does what Shinso tells him. Shinso’s brainwashing is also referred to by Mineta just before that:

“Or get brainwashed into believing fairy tales,” Mineta said flatly from beside the Angel.

-There is indeed a motherfucking JoJo’s reference in Missing. And there’s more memes where that came from.

-Krow’s use of “my guy”, “lit” etc etc. is self explanatory. He is a whole ass meme chicken.

-In fact, I call Krow and the other birds of the Missing series “chickens” because of the meme of the girl pointing to a bunch of geese saying “look at all these chickens!” In fact, Irina calls and will call Krow a “cock” in Missing Out and Escape Artists, and it’s kind of a more sinister play on this. Transplant and Keeper, during their convo in Missing Out refer to the women captive under Keeper part of her “henhouse” and that she’d need a “rooster” to go through with her plans. Krow also refers to his fight with Irina as a “cockfight”.

-I’m not religious, but the lore is fun to allude to. The religious references should be clear in Fire & Brimstone, and a lot of the words I use relate to the topic, even casually in the narration, but also when the characters say “like hell!” Also in F&B, the real Angelic hierarchy shapes much of the worldbuilding, as do the references to real life racism, police brutality, and other shit like that.

In Missed Chance, the sun coming through the window puts a “halo” around Deku.

In Missing Out, Krow refers to demons on a number of occasions, sometimes towards himself, his family (which in comes the irony, since they look like Angels), but towards the end, it’s used to explain Ai’s mental illness. There are also these choice lines that entertain the notion of heaven and hell:

Below us was hell – mothers with agendas, school, dipshits, murderous villains, oh my! But up there? It was just us...

I was under no illusions about a heaven...hell certainly exists back down on the ground but I've been high enough now to rule the other place out. Unless this cold, quiet nothingness is supposed to be the intuitive opposite to the chaotic, unfair bullshit below.

-There’s a lot of references and characters with mental illnesses - psychosis, sociopathy, anxiety, depression and PTSD are all explored. In fact, Krow’s tendency to laugh at everything and get triggered by certain events (all of Missing Out is the result of him triggering himself in order to make Ochako realize her mistake) is a tell-tale sign he suffers greatly from PTSD, and Ai’s mental breakdowns are indicative of the anxiety I myself suffer from. Honestly, I just wanted some fics that look into it.

-In the same strain, all of the characters in Missing present different coping mechanisms towards what first-responders actively go through irl. Much of that was taken from my own life as someone with police in the family and being married to a firefighter/EMT.

Okay, that’s enough. Hope you enjoyed...I certainly had fun outlining all of it XD

#izuocha #my hero academia #uraraka ochako #my hero fanfiction #Missing Out #Fire and Brimstone #Missing #kiribaku #oc: Krow #writers ask games #encyclopika talk #THANK YOUUUUU

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kim-seungmine · 5 years ago

Text

let’s go home together

title: let’s go home together

characters: (fem) reader x i.n/yang jeongin of stray kids

word count: 4692

genre: slice-of-life, romance, high school au, emo!jeongin i guess

synopsis: jeongin is heartbroken and you’re in love. separated by two different feelings, both of you soon learn about how blurry the line between the two is.

a/n: i planned this to be longer tbh. nevertheless, here it is! this story is pretty straightforward, i hope you’ll like it! and this is a i’ll hold your hand spin-off so you’ll see some familiar stuff! (you can read this on its own!)

Yang Jeongin doesn’t know why it’s called “broken heart” instead of “destroyed heart” or “ruined heart” because seriously, he feels his heart has been shattered into a million of pieces and the word “broken” will never be able to represent how devastated he exactly is.

Everyone—especially high school students—has experienced at least 1 painful breakup but this is never what Jeongin expected to feel. His English tutor Kim Seungmin said that first breakups always hurt more, but he never mentioned that it would hurt this bad.

“What are you doing here?”

Jeongin glances at his surroundings, narrowing his eyes when he sees you standing at the door, your backpack slung over one shoulder. He’s seen you somewhere he can’t remember, but Jeongin is sure you’re also a sophomore. “Can’t I be here?” he responds with an icy tone that makes you furrow your brows.

“Everyone is welcome here,” you answer. “But you are aware that this is the Arts club meeting room, right?”

“Do I look like I would suck at drawing? Aren’t you guys supposed to support one another because there’s no right and wrong in art?”

You rub your temple. “That was just a yes-no question,” you pause to look at his nametag, “Yang Jeongin. Are you usually this irritable?”

“No,” he sighs. “Sorry.”

You shrug, setting your art supplies near the easel in front of Jeongin’s. “Whatever,” you mumble. “As long as you don’t break things, feel free to come.”

Jeongin has been kicked out of every single club he joined after his breakup for fighting every single person in the room (or court) and almost destroying the baseball club’s bat, but that’s another story for another day.

For now, he just desperately needs a place to make him forget.

It’s been an hour since Jeongin decided to join Arts club, and surprisingly he hasn’t snapped at anybody else but you. Lee Minho, the club’s tutor, looks like he won’t give a shit even if Jeongin burns the whole room down and the other kids don’t even bat an eyelash at him. He enjoys pouring all the rage and sadness he has in him onto the canvas; it almost feels like a therapy.

Minho stops in front of him, examining his work before tapping his shoulder. Jeongin has no idea how Minho ended up in this place. One look at him and he knows Minho will forget everything everyone in this room says in 30 seconds. “Now Jeongin, our newest member, could you tell us anything about your painting?”

Jeongin takes a glance at his painting (that wasn’t exactly a painting, just bold splashes of colors) as the whole class keep their gazes on him. He knows none of them actually cares and that’s what he wants: being honest without having anyone asking him questions.

“I’m just angry,” he answers. Minho nods, “And you definitely didn’t hold back. Amazing, Jeongin, but I hope you’ll feel better soon.”

Minho’s tone is almost nonchalant, but Jeongin appreciates the fact that the older boy doesn’teven bother pretending to care. Putting all his belongings back into his bag, Jeongin stops when Minho reaches you. “Your turn, Y/N.”

You clear your throat, stealing glances at Minho as you’re talking about the importance of small kind gestures. “So, if you’re wondering why you’re so easily annoyed by small matters, it’s probably because you never really stop to appreciate the little joys in life.”

Minho hums in approval and your cheeks flush a little. “Well, in that case, you opening the classroom for me today definitely made my day better. Thank you Y/N.”

You only respond with a small smile, but the look in your eyes gives everything away. You have a huge crush on Lee Minho, and Jeongin wonders when you will realize that Minho won’t return your feelings. Was his relationship this obvious too? Did other people notice that it wasn’t working?

Was he the only one who was blind?

Life itself is a rollercoaster ride, but the speed doubles when you’re in love: one second you feel like you’re on top of the world, but it goes down before you can even reach out to the sky. It gives you a taste of excitement, of fear, of happiness, but the moment you want to savor those feelings, the ride ends. Leaving you all messy and nauseous.

You love painting, you love getting your hands dirty as you mix colors and swipe your brush on the empty canvas. But not when you have a tutoring lesson in 10 minutes. Seungminnever likes it when you stain the worksheets he prints with so much care although it happens all the time and there’s nothing you can do about it.

“When will your lazy ass hand in homework on time?!”

Your brain registers that voice as Seungmin’s, but you remember e-mailing your homework to him last night. And since when is he calling you “lazy ass?”

“How did you know that I’m here?”

“Maybe it’s time for you to hide your Instagram Stories from me.”

“How much does my Mom pay you? Why are you even more demanding than she is?”

“Enough to drag you back to Busan and make you beg for her forgive—hi Y/N!”

It turns out that Seungmin isn’t scolding you, but the angry boy you just met. Jeongin mouths a quiet, “Ah so that’s where I saw her!” before turning to Seungmin. “Why are you only harassing me?” he quips.

You continue to watch them snap at each other, almost failing to return Minho’s wave as the latter quickly slips past the bickering—they’ve started yelling now—duo. You don’t know why you’re still standing there; maybe it’s because of the way Seungmin returns Jeongin’s snarky remarks with sass you’ve never seen before.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Seungmin.” You tap his shoulder to grab his attention. “I have to go home now.”

“Oh wait!” he exclaims. “I’ve been meaning to tell you this, but next week I’ll start intensive practice for our next baseball match and the schedule clashes with your session. Since you two apparently know each other, can I combine your sessions together?”

Jeongin snorts. “You’re in your last year. Why are you still in the team?”

“There are 2 reasons. One, nobody is a better pitcher than I am and Seo Changbin is desperate. Two, I want to do it.”

“When’s your session?” you ask Jeongin when he’s about to start another war with the older boy. English looks like an easy subject, but it really isn’t. You’re not a top student, and you don’t want to lose Seungmin. He’s a great tutor and also a dependable big brother you wish you had.

“Every Thursday.”

“I’m free on Thursdays, so it’s fine.”

Seungmin lets out a sigh of relief and pulls both you and Jeongin to his sides. “Let me buy you dinner, my children!”

Ten minutes later, you’re munching Subway’s meatball burger while listening to Seungmin’s so-called lecture about moving on. “Don’t force yourself to move on. What you’re doing right now will only hurt yourself more,” he says.

You prop your elbow on the table, watching Jeongin’s expression hardens as Seungmin takes another piece of French fries. Talking about feelings with your English tutor and a boy you barely know feels rather weird. Usually you just hop from a circle of friends to another without really being a part of them. Feelings never get involved, except maybe with Minho.

“I’m fine. I’m over her,” Jeongin emphasizes, squeezing his paper cup as he downs the rest of his Cola. “Can we please talk about something else?”

“What did she say to you?”

The idea of separation confuses you more than the idea of falling in love. It’s not entirely because of the person leaving you—you’re used to that—it’s about the feelings that linger. You’ve never been in an actual relationship, but you know about heartbreak all too well. When your best friend from the orphanage you live in got adopted, you felt it. The pain of being left behind. Then someone else left and you felt it again. Soon, it became a routine.

The exact same feeling, with the same amount of pain, but nothing more.

Jeongin huffs, glancing at Seungmin who nods in approval. “Nothing. She just said that she doesn’t like me anymore… which is bullshit. I must’ve done something wrong.”

“Is she dating someone else now?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Maybe that’s all there is to it. She simply doesn’t like you anymore.”

Seungmin clears his throat, patting your hand as a sign to stop talking. “How is that possible?” Jeongin counters.

Seungmin is now gripping your wrist, but you ignore him. “People get bored, Yang Jeongin. Even parents get bored of their children. I’ve seen people returning the children they choose by themselves before the adoption is finalized just because they don’t feel like it anymore.”

“What she means is—”

“You mean I’m boring and not likeable so I should just shut up because she was bound to dump me anyways?”

“Why do you always make conclusions before people finish talking?!”

“But you said it yourself! You, who don’t have a boyfriend or even a friend of your own!”

“Stop it, both of you.”

The tone of Seungmin’s voice, people’s stares and the suffocating silence that follows immediately shut you up. You gather your things, blinking your eyes rapidly so no one will notice that you’re crying. “I’m sorry,” you quiver. “Forget everything I said. And thanks for the burger, Seungmin.”

Jeongin’s words keep playing in your head as you’re catching the last train, and you realize that you have nowhere and no one to come home to.

Seungmin is already waiting in the library when Jeongin shows up. “Where’s Y/N?” he questions.

“Please don’t give me that look,” Jeongin dismisses him, opening his laptop. “I tried, okay? I tried going after her but I couldn’t find her.”

“We’re not starting until Y/N is here. I’m responsible for both of you, but you have to apologize for being such an asshole last night,” Seungmin states. There was a time when Jeongin thought being an asshole sounded cool, but now his heart just feels heavy.

“Have you ever been an asshole to someone?” he asks, almost too quiet for Seungmin to hear.

“I don’t know, does liking your best friend’s soon-to-be girlfriend count?”

“You’re supposed to be my life guru but you’re asking me this basic question?” Jeongin scoffs. “Liking someone is never a crime… as long as you don’t make a move to steal her or anything. Does this girl like Hwang Hyunjin? Or Han Jisung? But no way, Han Jisung only has eyes for Lee Chaeyeon.”

“Bingo,” Seungmin sighs. “And how do you know my friends so well?”

“Hi guys. Sorry I’m late.”

Jeongin looks up, meeting your puffy eyes. You look like you cried yourself to sleep and he makes a mental note to actually apologize to you this time. He’s not an asshole, especially when he’s had firsthand experience of being hurt (and dumped).

He quickly pulls out a chair for you, trying to make his intention to make peace crystal clear. “I went to sleep straight away last night. Sorry I didn’t do the homework,” you tell Seungmin who only smiles at you. “It’s fine, Y/N. We’ll go through it today.”

“I’m sorry.”

Jeongin cringes when he hears his own voice because it’s supposed to sound calm and sincere, not desperate. “I’m gonna sabotage the class for 5 minutes,” he informs Seungmin before turning to you. “I’m taking back everything I said last night. I know what’s done is done and you probably won’t believe me, but it’s not true. And thank you, for being honest with me.”

You glance at Seungmin who’s looking at you as if you’re about to burn Jeongin to ashes. “I’m not gonna kill him, Seungmin. Don’t worry,” you chuckle, and soon the three of you are laughing like there’s no tomorrow.

“I think it’s better if you find out now than later. Maybe it hurts less this way.”

No, it fucking doesn’t. Being rejected before you actually confess still hurts just as bad. Probably even worse. Does Minho hate you that much? Are you that annoying that Minho decided to straight up reject you when you haven’t planned to tell him about your feelings?

How did he know anyways? Was it because you baked him cookies that one time? Was it because you recommended him to your teacher when the school needed a new tutor for Arts club? Was it because you bought one of his cats a new collar?

…. damn. You were obvious.

Now, hidden near the parking lot, you’re crying your heart out—ignoring your ringing phone. Getting rejected sucks, but it’s still nothing compared to having a break down in front of other people. You hate crying in public; you swallow everything up and become one of the toughest students at school.

But you’re nowhere near tough, you’re just too stubborn and too prideful to let people see your true self.

“You’re really something, aren’t you?”

You look up—with bloodshot eyes and runny nose—to see Jeongin hovering over you, hands on his hips. “Out of all places you could choose, you chose to cry behind these bushes. You really think no one will hear you if you’re wailing here?”

“Shut up,” you groan. “How did you know that I’m here?”

He rolls his eyes. “I told you. Everyone can hear you sobbing from a meter away. For someone who wants to stay hidden, you’re loud.”

His face turns a little pale when you bury your face into your knees again. Jeongin crouches down, brushing fallen leaves on your head before cupping your cheeks. “Let’s go home.”

Yang Jeongin isn’t your friend. Well, both of you are in the Arts club and he’s also in Kim Seungmin’s English tutoring group, but he’s not your friend. You two just happen to have helped each other a little, and seeing that he no longer punches anyone or anything in his way means you must have done something right.

Yang Jeongin isn’t your friend, so how does he make you feel better with just a simple phrase?

“Why? Do you want to do something else? Cake? Movies? PC Room?”

You shake your head, letting him pull you up. “Do you even know where I live?”

“Nope.”

“What if it’s faraway from your place?”

He shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. We can still go together, can’t we?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Jeongin lets you lead the way, swiftly enveloping your hand in his when you start sniffling again. “Was this the first time you got rejected?” he asks, as if the said event happened a long time ago. He cracks a smile when you scowl at him. “Stop making fun of me.”

“I’m not!” He lifts his hands in defends while still holding yours. “Trust me on this, you’ll feel better after you talk about it,” he continues. “So go on, talk about his pretty eyes, his sexy thighs—”

“Are you sure you’re not the one having feelings for Minho?”

“…his powerful, soulless stare that opens the portal to another universe, his zero interest in teaching us arts because let’s face it, he’s a shitty tutor.”

You’ve been heartbroken for 30 minutes, but you can already see how it weakens you. The fact that humans can be so easily swayed always scares you, but you don’t want this moment to end. You want to stay like this, walking to the bus stop with Jeongin’s hand wrapped around yours in a tight grip and talking about nothing else but Lee Minho. You want to keep looking into his sparkly eyes as he listens to your rambles. You want to remember his soft voice convincing you that beautiful days will come soon.

Jeongin probably means none of them, but all the words he says sound like a promise, like a seed planted inside your heart.

Whether it will bloom or not, you have no idea.

Whether Jeongin is a rebound or a new love, you have no idea.

At least not yet.

grumpy: im outside

Nothing really happened during your way home. Besides trying to make you stop crying, Jeongin didn’t do anything—only holding your hand until you arrived at the orphanage. He played a game of soccer with some of the little kids before heading home without saying a word to you. No scolding, no snarky comments, no words of encouragement, nothing.

But now, standing in dark, wearing his pink Converse, he’s something and everything you need. Before Jeongin can say anything, you’ve run to him and wrapped your arms around his waist. You expect him to push you away, or at least yells in shock, but he only returns your hug. When you begin to sob into his shirt, Jeongin presses a kiss onto your hair.

“The power that Lee Minho has,” he finally whispers. “He made our Ice Princess cry like this.”

“I never said anything about Minho. Were you really following me?” you croak, trying to look into his eyes before he hugs you even tighter. The moment you hear his calming heartbeat, he begins to ramble about how “ungrateful morons” like Minho deserve nothing but a middle finger. Jeongin whisper-yells all kinds of curse words he knows in your stead, occasionally rubbing your back everytime you seem to shiver in his hold.

When he eventually pulls away, you’re a mess. Being with Minho makes you feel light and giddy—away from your worries. Being with Jeongin makes you feel the exact opposite; he keeps you on the ground like gravity, reminding you that the world is often harsh and unwelcoming. Strangely, you can’t get enough of it. Of him. Whatever his real intentions may be.

“Why are you here?” you blurt out, chuckling when he fails to answer. “Do you pity me that much? Or do you just want to welcome me to Yang Jeongin’s Broken Heart Club?”

“Do you really like him that much?” he asks instead, sparkly eyes clouded with something you can’t fathom.

The question remains unanswered until you wake up in the morning, his voice echoing in your head.

As much as he wants to be good at saying goodbyes, Jeongin has to admit that it’s something he’ll never get used to. Whether it’s saying goodbye to his family in Busan after every visit, saying goodbye to his big brother when he enlisted, or even saying goodbye to a stray cat he meets outside his house.

Jeongin hopes the next time he gets his heart broken, he won’t end up this pathetic.

Seungmin is graduating today after getting into Seoul National University, living up to his “perfect, almighty Kim Seungmin” nickname. Saying goodbye to his English teacher shouldn’t be hard, but Jeongin’s heart hurts a little at the thought.

He spots you from afar, carrying a huge painting you both made the night before. Jeongin jogs to you, taking the painting into his arms. “I hope no one laughs at it,” you mutter quietly.

“I think people will be scared,” Jeongin laughs. “It’s a puppy wearing uniform for God’s sake. What do you expect?”

You huff as you enter the auditorium filled with parents, teachers and the graduates themselves. “And whose idea was that?”

Jeongin grins, putting down the painting at the corner of the room before ruffling your hair. “Mine.”

Your eyes light up at his cheekiness, and he realizes nothing scares him more than having to say goodbye to you.

“Today’s our graduation day, and I kept debating with myself whether I should do this or not.”

Jeongin stands on tiptoe to see the stage better, gasping when he spots Seungmin standing there.

“Thank you to our headmaster for letting me do this.” Seungmin stops to bow at the headmaster, causing everyone to do the same. “I know I don’t usually sing, but I’d like to perform this for all of you: for those who want to let go, for those who want to start fresh, and for those who just want to have fun. This is First Time.”

Seungmin’s sweet voice bewitches the whole auditorium, including you. Jeongin watches you intently, his smile gets wider with each “Whoa!” that escapes your lips. At times like this, you look like an innocent child who only knows the beauty of the world.

“Kim Seungmin has gone insane,” he comments, letting his shoulder brushes with yours. You glance at him, your lips slowly forming a pout. “Why? He sounds good.”

Jeongin points his finger at another girl in the crowd who’s singing along to the song with Hwang Hyunjin, one of the most popular seniors at school. “This song is for that girl,” he explains. You widen your eyes when you let the lyrics sink in. “He’s… breaking up with her?”

“Are you kidding me? He has no chance against Hwang Hyunjin.”

“Where did you get this information?”

“The perfect, almighty Kim Seungmin showed up at my uncle’s house at 3AM and begged me to let him weep over his one-sided love in my room.”

There seems to be a lot of things you want to say, but now Han Jisung has joined Seungmin on stage. You cheer along with the crowd, singing along to the lyrics while trying not to cry. Jeongin averts his gaze back to the stage so that you could cry freely. He meets Seungmin’s eyes at some point, and Jeongin wonders when Seungmin learned to say goodbye with such sincere eyes.

“Do you think Seungmin will be okay?” you mumble when the song ends. Seungmin and Jisung give everyone one last bow before running down the stage, carefree smiles on their faces. Jeongin ponders your question, looking for the familiar ache he himself has been feeling for months.

It’s gone.

“He will,” Jeongin finally answers. “Maybe not now, but he will.”

“I assume that you guys know I won’t ever hang this in my room. Or anywhere in sight.”

Seungmin examines the painting you and Jeongin give him, grimacing as he tries to brush off the dry paint on the dog-slash-human’s face.

“Jeongin did that,” you retort. “Actually all of this happened because of him.”

“This will give me nightmares,” Seungmin protests with a huge smile on his face. This won’t be the last time you see Seungmin because he will always have time for a Day6 concert and so will you, no matter how many part time works you have to do in order to go. Even so, you still have tears rolling down your cheeks which makes Jeongin pouts.

“I can’t believe you’re crying over Kim Seungmin.”

Seungmin smacks his back playfully. “Awww, is our baby jealous?”

Jeongin flushes deep red and Seungmin yells at his friends to wait for him. “I have to go,” the latter says solemnly. “Don’t kill each other. I know how much you kiddos wanna kiss each other so do just that, okay?”

“I’m gonna kill him instead,” Jeongin mutters under his breath as Seungmin leaves. His sharp words jab at your heart, harder than Minho’s words and it makes you feel everything you’ve been trying not to feel for the past few months.

“Jeongin.” You tug on his sleeve, looking down when he searches your eyes.

“Does Seungmin graduating really made you this sad? He’s only a phone call away and he loves you more than he loves me and—”

“I didn’t like Minho that much,” you whisper. Jeongin gapes at you, pulling you closer to him as you fumble with your skirt. You lift your head up to see him trying to stop himself from grinning, tightening his grip on your wrist.

“Minho volunteered at the orphanage a year ago, and he still comes often now. When everyone found out we go to the same school they introduced him to me. And being with him was so easy. He was nice,” you tell him.

Jeongin scoffs. “Well, define nice.”

“Why did you stay in Arts club?”

His silence gives you more courage, so you look directly into his eyes this time. “I bet you wouldn’t last 10 minutes if the tutor was someone else,” you conclude. “It was the same for me. Minho never pities me although he knows where I came from; he never even looked at me in pity. That’s probably because he doesn’t care—”

“You’re right, he fucking doesn’t. The most soulless creature in this universe.”

“... but it made me comfortable. I feel comfortable around him. But I guess that’s it.”

“You, meanwhile, make me feel all kinds of things. At first I thought it was because Minho rejected me, but the more I see you the more I realized that it’s not just me looking for a rebound. You confront me, but yet you’re always here somehow. Whenever you didn’t show up at tutoring session or club meeting I became worried. When I don’t see you I’m always wondering whether you feel better—because you deserve to feel better. Your breakup doesn’t define you, Jeongin. Well, you like to cut me off when I’m talking and you’re really annoying sometimes, but other than that, you’re cool.”

“Minho doesn’t like me that way, and while it hurt I got over it pretty fast. “Losing” Minho didn’t affect that much, I’m used to goodbyes anyways. But I’m afraid that I’m gonna lose you, and I think that says a lot about how I really feel about you.”

You take a deep breath, your cheeks starting to blush as Jeongin only stares at you in shock. He squeezes your hand after what seems like an eternity. “I have a confession to make,” he declares. “I hope this won’t ruin things for us but promise me you’ll listen, okay?”

“I did pity you. I know you don’t really have close friends although you do have a lot of friends. Your feelings—or whatever you call it—for Minho were so obvious and it was also obvious that he didn’t feel the same. I gotta admit that made you look pathetic.”

“But I was even more pathetic anyways,” he quickly adds when you pinch his waist. “I tried to stop myself from doing… everything I’ve done, but I just couldn’t stop myself. I did happen to hear your conversation with Minho and I did follow you then, but it was because I felt that my heart broke along with yours. And you cried, goddamn it. I hate seeing you cry.”

“That was why I came to see you again that night, but you cried even more when I was there. I’m not sure if I helped you feel better.”

“You did. I slept well that night,” you say.

He smiles, causing you to poke his dimple. “I’m also afraid to lose you, Y/N. This is cheesy, but I want to see you smile everyday—especially if you smile for me. I want to go home with you everyday, I want to play with the kids at the orphanage while they tell me about how amazing you are. I like you, and I want you to be happy, I guess. And I want to make you happy, if you give me the chance.”

Both of you are blushing like mad now, facing each other awkwardly, but you don’t want to change anything. This is worth all the blushing.

The shyness eventually subsides and now Jeongin’s looking at you with a teasing glance. He pulls you into a hug, kissing your temple tenderly when he thinks nobody is watching. “Let’s go home,” he mumbles. “Together.”

You snort into his shoulder. “You’re saying that as if we live together or something.”

“Home is wherever you are, babe.”

As cheesy as that sounds, Jeongin’s probably right. The two of you found each other in the most confusing time of your lives. And in this big, scary world, having someone to come home to is one of the most beautiful blessings a person should cherish.

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warlock-enthusiast · 5 years ago

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Waking up slow

The Wayhaven Chronicles

Adam du Mortain x female Detective (in the future)

Detective Kat Kingston faces a murder, Unit Bravo and her mother.

AO3link

----

I don't know where to begin But I didn't think I cared I could be your friend But I'm unprepared

Kat looked at the mirror and stuck out her tongue.

Not much to see there. Especially after getting almost no sleep. Dark circles surrounded her eyes, hollowing out her face, and giving her a constant aura of exhaustion. With her pale skin, Kat wondered, if some aspiring filmmaker would hire her for an extra in their horrorfilm. Background zombie vampire number 21. Surely she could throw in some undead moans and shuffling.

She made a note to investigate, if anyone filmed in the surrounding areas.

Dressed in a pencil skirt and blouse, Kat felt a bit more like herself. It hugged her wide hips and concealed her tummy, which she hadn’t been ready to show to the world since her early teenage years. She decided to throw in some jewelry, a long necklace, earrings, nothing special.

A dash of powder and she faced her mirror again. “You can do this. Just take a deep breath and survive the day and make sure that no one else get killed.”

She’d been the logical choice for a promotion, but she started to doubt her abilities. Always the smart one in class, Kat now found herself facing obstacle after obstacle. A killer haunted her town and evidence seemed to be spare, one dead woman, strange blood samples, Verda working over hours to get some results. But nothing made sense. Wayhaven wasn’t known for it’s high crime rate. Most of the days, she investigated neighborhood disputes, lost cats (her rate of finding them was nearing 100%) and drug related incidents at times.

Lately, doubts crawled into her sleep and made her wonder, if she deserved the title of Detective. She saw herself as neither smart nor experienced enough.

Not to mention a whole squad of agents occupied her office and station. With them around her, Kat felt out of place and small. Between the four of them were years of actual agent work and whatever they’d been paid to do.

With them, her mother had also grabbed a part of her life again.

Wonderful.

“No. Not thinking of her.” Their complicated relationship offered too many raw wounds and too many missed birthdays and the vastness of a lonely childhood. At her ripe age of 31, she surely should get over it, but bitterness seemed rooted deep within in herself. All those expensive hours of therapy, just to face the same old shit.

Kat tucked her red hair behind her ears and nodded. “Off we go then.”

Half past seven and her neighbors slowly began their day. She heard laughing children and dogs barking. The pure picture of a quiet, idyllic town. Kat wrapped her scarf a bit tighter around her neck, because the air felt cold and smelled of frost. Though, she’d always liked this time of the year, before it got uncomfortable warm and before pollen attacked her nose and eyes.

She got in her car and found herself relaxing behind the wheel, with the help of Stevie Nicks and her comforting voice. Singing along Seven Wonders worked miracles on a bad mood.

Her shoulders tensed as she noticed a familiar figure in front of the station. Handsome and rugged, Bobby owned too much space in her memories and still too much space in her life.

Kat nodded. “Bobby.” “Hey, angel. Long time no see.” He smiled and stood right in front of the entrance. Sighing, she tried to find a way around him. “Look, Bobby, I haven’t got the time.” “Come on, just some small answers. Wouldn’t hurt you, eh?”

“At this point, I can’t tell you anything. We’re investigating different angles.”

“Please.” Bobby’s eyes were bright and cheerful and Kat rubbed her neck, hoping that she didn’t blush. He’d been charming back when they meet at college and then dumped her, because he couldn’t bring a chubby girl home to meet his parents.

Yeah, that had happened.

Concentrating on how she felt back then surely helped with bringing more distance between the two of them. It also pushed the self-doubts to a new high. Damn. This morning totally screwed her over.

“The detective is needed inside.”

Kat spun around and almost crushed into Adam’s chest. “Detective Kingston.” He opened the door and positioned himself right between herself and Bobby. Her throat seemed suddenly very, very dry with Adam standing so close. Dressed in his usual grey shirt and cargo trousers, he cut an impressive figure.

“So, are you going to answer a few questions.” “No.”

Kat slipped in and ignored Bobby’s protests. She already feared what he would write about her and the Wayhaven police. Probably calling them incompetent and lazy for selling a few more papers.

“Good morning, Douglas.”

His smile looked earnest and cheerful. “Morning, Kat. Everything alright?” “Yes, thank you.” Kat nodded and followed Adam, because further stalling wouldn’t improve anyone's day.

Adam opened her office door and she walked in. “Good morning. You’re awfully early.”

“Couldn’t wait to see you, Detective.” Felix quipped and Kat felt heat rising in her neck and up to her cheeks. Being the center of attention had never been comfortable and Kat tried hide her embarrassment with focussing on anything but Felix.

A hot, steaming coffee waited on Kat’s desk and she found a note from Tina and a smiley drawn beneath it. She liked it with a dash of oat milk and cupped it in her hands as she sat down. Kat would visit her later and thank her for indulging one tired detective. The rest of the team had already made themself comfortable. Mason leaning against a filing cabinet, Felix lounging on the only other chair, Nate crunched over her desk, checking his notes and comparing them to Kat’s.

“So, another day of research?” Felix sighed loudly enough for Adam to stare him into silence again.

Nate looked up, his warm eyes on Kat. “If that is your plan of action.” She looked down to check her mails. “Yeah, we need to find out what’s going on with the blood of the victim and how it fits into all of this.”

Back in college, she’d thought about following her passion for science and enter the pathology course, but it didn't worked out. It still lingered on her mind from time to time and she spent more time than necessary down in the lab with Verda.

Kat read through the file again.

Janet Greenland. Aspiring engineer. Far too young to face such a gruesome fate.

Kat took a sip of coffee. “I’d appreciate it, if you would tell me about your findings. You’ve been tracking him for a while and must know more than me.” Nate and Adam exchanged a glance. Did they really believe themself to be subtle? They’d only known each other for a few days, but often enough she felt left out of the conversation and their secrets.

“You already received all our information.” Adam’s face seemed unmoved and his intense eyes woke a squeamish sensation in her stomach.

Kat stood up and tried to scrap together her last pieces of confidence. “I know that you’re not exactly excited to work with me, but I appreciate your insight into this and would be really grateful, if you wouldn’t leave me in the dark.”

"Detective Kingston…” Nate started, but Adam didn’t let him continue.

Felix and Mason stayed quiet, probably used to the other two butting their heads.

Kat waited for an answer, knowing that red spots started to bloom on her neck, betraying her confident words.

"So?"

"So." Adam's answer held a final note.

Tina knocked on the door, thankfully cutting through the awkward silence that followed their exchange.

“Excuse me.” Kat got up and straightened her skirt. “Time for break. There is a nice bakery around the corner, if you’re hungry. Makes good sandwiches and cupcakes.”

She left with a feeling that no one in Unit Bravo would follow her advice, and with her coffee secured between her fingers.

Her friend slung an arm around Kat's shoulders and whispered. “The blond one is still staring.” “Probably thinking less and less of me and my competence. Wouldn't blame him." Adam du Mortain usually worked with skilled professionals, not some small town Detective that got a bit lucky and who had to be rescued from noisy ex-boyfriends.

"Let's check out, if anyone has repaired our vending machine.” Kat ignored the urge to look back through the glass and just held herself a bit stiffer. “You’re still hoping to get back your money?” Tina guided her towards their break room. “I do or at least that chocolate bar.”

“Always the optimist.” Kat snorted. “Haven’t been called that in a while.”

As expected, the vending machine didn’t work and she positioned herself against the counter. Tina opened their mini fridge and made a face. Douglas had forgotten about his lunch for about a week now and it began to grew a soft pelt. They really should trow it away, but neither of them seemed brave enough to touch it.

Crossing her arms in front of her chest, Tina nudged Kat’s shoulder with her own. “How you’re holding up? I mean with the case and with your mother back in Wayhaven?”

“Not that well, if you want the truth. I’m afraid for the people here and I don’t know, if I’m up to the task of catching the murderer. Unit Bravo doesn’t help as much as I thought they would.”

Kat bit her lip. “And Rebecca, hm, you know … I respect her on a professional level and that is as far as I’m thinking about her now.” “It’s a start.” “I guess.” Kat finished her coffee. Dead father, absent mother, didn’t help much growing up. She shook her head. “Enough of my stunted emotions. How was your date with… damn, what was her name? Anna?” “Annabelle.” Tina smiled. “Actually, pretty bad. We didn’t click and after dinner we decided to just accept that and part ways.” “Sorry to hear that.” “Nah, I’ll find the one and at least she didn't throw her drink at the bartender.”

Tina laughed and her eyes sparkled with amusement. Kat found herself smiling too. It seemed hard to not do when her friend was around. She also remembered their horrible double date, back when her guy got so angry about something that he threw his perfectly fine vodka soda at the Bartender. They didn’t arrest him but let him go off with a warning to behave better in the future.

“Here’s to another day in Wayhaven.” Kat raised her empty mug.

“Hear, hear!”

#the wayhaven chronicles #wayhaven chronicles #Adam du Mortain #female detective #the get it out of my system fic #oh man #where to go from here #headcanons #kat kingston

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bae-in-maine · 6 years ago

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Juliantina Fic: A Garden Blooms in my Chest. Chapter 2

Hey all, here is chapter two. You can read it on A03 at the link below or here. You can find chapter one on tumblr by searching my tags: #A Garden Blooms in my Chest or #Jude81

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17472953/chapters/41181770

Title: A Garden Blooms in my Chest

Author: Bae-in-maine aka Jude81

Chapter 2: Flowers for my Love

Completion: Story is now complete.

Fandom: Amar a Muerte

Pairing: Juliana Valdes and Valentina Carvajal aka Juliantina

Tagging a few who read the first chapter and commented. If I tag you and you prefer that I don’t, please tell me. Thank you! @elcapitana @xlyre @damiana-atx @viguaquis @cleide12

Juliana blinked and yawned, slowly waking up. The room had darkened, the late afternoon sun no longer shining through the large window in Valentina’s room. And she realized with a pang of guilt that she had slept far longer than she’d intended. She should have returned to the hospital hours ago; her mother was sure to be awake and worried about where she was. But she didn’t want to move from her spot, her hands intertwined with Valentina’s, their legs tangled together. She felt warm and lazy, her blood thick with lassitude.

She stared at Valentina’s sleeping face, soft brown hair falling across her pale cheeks. Her lips were plump, the skin a natural light coral. She bit her own lip, bumping her nose lightly against Valentina’s. She wanted to kiss her, press her lips against Valentina’s, memorize the feel of them against her own. She licked her dry lips, wondering what Valentina’s tasted like, wondered if she would ever get the chance to truly explore them.

She dipped her head and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. She needed to get up, force herself from the comfort of Valentina and return to the hospital. She sighed and carefully pulled away, smiling a little at how hard it was to untangle herself from Valentina. She smiled a little at the frown on Valentina’s face, at the way her hands twitched on the pillow they’d shared.

She scooted off the bed careful not to jostle Valentina, she stretched her arms high above her head, relaxing into the popping of her spine. She rolled her head, trying to stretch out her neck when her eyes caught a flash of color and paper. She slowly let her arms fall to her sides, rolling out her shoulders before approaching the dresser.

She let her fingers lightly skim the brown, parchment paper, rolling a corner between her fingers. It was heavy, the inside almost waxy. She leaned down and brushed her nose against the dahlia’s, inhaling deeply, before turning her face into the hyacinths. She closed her eyes, enjoying the way the tiny petals brushed against her cheek, their succulent scent drifting into her nose. She smiled at the way the petals whispered across her lips as she turned her head. It was silky and smooth, much like kissing Valentina.

She parted her lips slightly, just enough that when she turned her face slightly, the petals caught between her lips. They were soft and cool between her lips, and she imagined this must be what blue tasted like.

She pulled away, standing up when she heard the soft, incoherent murmurs behind her, telling her Valentina was awake. She let her fingers linger on the bouquet for a moment, wondering who gave them to Valentina. Her fingers curled against the paper, wrinkling it when she realized that of course Lucho gave her the flowers, flowers that Juliana couldn’t afford to give Valentina.

She let her hand fall from the paper and turned to face Valentina who was sitting up in bed, hair tumbling down her face shoulders. She was only slightly disheveled, and Juliana liked the sight of her like that, pale cheeks tinted with coral, eyes wide and dreamy, lips pouting, her fingers restlessly plucking at the quilt covering the double bed.

“Hi.”

Valentina held out her hand, and Juliana moved quickly to take it, bumping her shin against the corner of the bed. She hissed in pain and laughed, a blush stealing across her cheeks.

“Awwww, my poor baby, are you ok?” Valentina pulled Juliana down to sit beside her, her hands quickly finding the cuff of Juliana’s pantleg and rolling it up so she could check Juliana’s shin for bruising.

Juliana blushed and leaned back on her hands. “No, it is fine,” but despite her protestations, she didn’t bother to stop Valentina from checking her leg with sure fingers. Juliana bit her lip, staring at Valentina’s profile where the other girl was leaning over her leg, murmuring in quiet distress when Valentina found a small bruise already forming on Juliana’s leg.

“Let me get you some ice,” but Valentina didn’t move from her spot, her fingers caressing the small red mark and bruise forming on Juliana’s shin.

“No, no. It is fine. I don’t need i-ice,” murmured Juliana, her words trembling slightly as she tried to catch her breath. The gentle touch of Valentina’s fingers against her shin robbed her of clarity, and she could hear her heart pound in her ears. Just a simple touch, and she felt as if rendered useless.

“Are you sure?” Valentina finally dragged her gaze away from Juliana’s shin, wondering at her reluctance. She had seen Juliana’s legs a hundred times, admired them, perhaps without realizing that she wanted to do more than just stare at them. Until now.

She leaned down and kissed the red skin, her ears humming with the vibration of Juliana’s breath hitching in her chest. She wanted to linger, press her lips against the skin, all of Juliana’s skin, but she could feel the muscles tremble under her lips, and Valentina pulled away, ignoring the way her chest ached.

“I-Yes…I’m sure,” muttered Juliana, her eyes wide, her mouth dry. She hadn’t expected the kiss against her bruised flesh, nor had she expected the way her breath would catch in her chest, and the way her ribs would expand so abruptly as if the tremulous joy and confusion in her chest would suddenly burst free.

“I don’t know, maybe I should get you some anyway. Just in case.” Valentina quickly hopped off the bed, her fingers a little too eager too touch Juliana. She needed a few moments away from Juliana who was in her bed, her dark eyes wide, lips gently parted. She was too enticing to resist, and it confused Valentina that she both wanted to resist and yet climb back onto the bed and press herself against Juliana, so she could feel the weight of her against her own flesh.

She stepped towards the door, before remembering the flowers. “Oh!” She scooped them up and offered them to Juliana, sitting back down on the edge of the bed so they were facing each other. “Here.”

Juliana frowned for a moment, “Yes, they are beautiful.”

“No, silly.” Valentina laid them in her lap. “They are for you,” she looked down at her lap, suddenly worried that perhaps she shouldn’t have bought them for Juliana. But weren’t women allowed to buy flowers and give them to each other? Surely female friends did that? Except she knew that that the flowers weren’t given merely in friendship. No, each flower was carefully chosen, plucked from the garden blooming in her chest to lay at Juliana’s feet.

“Oh, I thought they were yours. From Lucho,” she muttered as she looked down at the flowers, the tight ball in her belly that she hadn’t realized was even there, suddenly loosening.

They were for her. From Valentina. Valentina had bought her flowers. No one had ever bought her flowers before.

“I-I…thank you,” she breathed, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth and then blooming across her face. Her cheeks ached with the stretch of her smile, and her heart fluttered in her chest. They were her flowers. “They are beautiful, Val. So beautiful. Thank you.”

Valentina leaned forward, one hand cupping Juliana’s cheek, her fingers curling around Juliana’s ear. She leaned her forehead against Juliana’s. “No, Jules. You are beautiful,” and then she looked up, dropping a kiss on Juliana’s nose, before quickly jumping from the bed.

“Ice! Going to get ice!” She hurried out the door leaving Juliana sitting on her bed, arms cradling the flowers.

*****************************

Juliana shook her head, a small smile gracing her lips. She settled the bouquet a little more securely in her lap and then undid the twine holding it together. She pulled back the paper, her fingers gently pulling the stems apart so she could see better. She spread them out on the paper before her and picked up a red dahlia.

She smiled and brought it to her nose and lips. Mexico’s national flower. She’d seen them before, their neighbor in San Antonio had them in her garden, and of course she’d seen them in the front windows of the flower shops and in buckets at the local markets. But she’d never thought anyone would give them to her, that they would be so beautiful. She touched the petals gently, her fingertips gently parting them so she could see more of the deep red color inside.

“Devotion,” she murmured softly, trying to remember what it was that her neighbor in San Antonio had told her. She’d helped her neighbor in with her groceries and had mentioned that her garden was pretty. She hadn’t expected the long exposition about flowers and their meaning from the elderly lady, and she’d tried her best to listen, but she’d been busy thinking about other things that hot day.

“No, that isn’t right,” she sighed as she put the flower down and picked up a purple one. She dragged it lightly across her cheek, chuckling at the way it tickled her cheek.

“Bonding. That’s it. It’s commitment.” She grinned and set the flower down with its companions, wondering if Valentina had known what it meant when she gave it to her.

She picked up the Bird of Paradise next, letting her fingers skim across the long “beak” of the bird. It was beautiful, and she thought it meant passion but couldn’t really remember. She grabbed her phone, quickly scrolling through google until she found what she wanted.

“Joy. It means joy. Hmmmm…” she set it back down and simply stared for a moment at the flowers, her heart tripping a little harder in her chest. She bit her lip and looked back down at her phone, searching until she found hyacinth.

Sincerity. She tapped her phone against her chin, more confused now than before. Did the flowers means something more than friendship, was it possible Valentina was telling her a story?

She groaned and dropped the phone in her lap and rested her elbows on her knees, head in her hands. She needed to get to the hospital, put the flowers out of her mind. But she didn’t move from the spot.

“Hey, are you ok?”

She jerked her head upright to stare at Valentina who stood in the doorway, a small bag of ice and cloth in her hands. “I…um…yes. Of course. I’m fine.”

Valentina frowned a little as Juliana sounded tired and on the verge of tears. “I’m sorry. The flowers weren’t meant to make you cry.”

“I’m not crying, Val,” Juliana chuckled, but it sounded weak even to her own ears, and she knew Val was right. She was about to cry.

Valentina carefully pushed the flowers to the side and sat on the bed, “hey, it’s ok. You haven’t really cried much about what happened to your mom. It’s ok to cry, if you need to.” She wrapped the cloth around the small bag of ice and pulled Juliana’s leg towards her, so it was across her lap, and placed it on the bruise on her leg.

Juliana winced at the weight of the ice and then settled, conscious of the warmth of Valentina’s hand on her leg, gently stroking it to relax her. “I know. It’s just that…” she wiped at her face, relieved that the tears hadn’t spilled down her cheeks yet. She blinked rapidly, willing Valentina’s blurry face to come into focus. “I have to be strong for mama. She will only worry if I cry, and she is too weak to worry. She needs to concentrate on healing.”

Valentina nodded. It made sense, except she knew there was more to it. Juliana didn’t like to appear weak. She was naturally quiet, a little unsure of herself, but strong, stronger than she knew; but Valentina was sure that Juliana couldn’t see it. So Juliana had her pride, and it was her shield what kept her from harm.

Valentina smiled a little and hummed under her breath, Juliana could be so stubborn, her pride sometimes getting in the way of her good sense, but it was one of the things Valentina loved about Juliana.

Loved.

Her hands trembled against Juliana’s skin, and she took a deep breath, her face suddenly flushing. Love. She loved Juliana. Juliana, her friend. Friends loved each other. Always.

“Hey, are you ok?” Juliana slid closer, her legs pushing across Valentina’s lap until the back of her thighs were flush with the side of Valentina’s thigs. She cupped Valentina’s cheek and turned her face towards her, caressing her cheek bones with her thumb. She slid her other arm around the back of Valentina’s shoulders and tugged her towards herself. It was only a few inches, but it was enough so she could press her lips to Valentina’s temple.

“Are you ok?” When Valentina nodded, Juliana continued. “The flowers are beautiful. Thank you. I mean it. No one has ever given me flowers before.” She felt Valentina slip an arm around her lower back and pull her forward. It was awkward and her legs bunched up too much.

Valentina slipped an arm under Juliana’s legs and lifted. It was much harder than she would have thought from her sitting position, but she managed to pull Juliana into her lap. She felt Juliana tense and then slowly relax into her, tucking her head into her shoulder.

“I’m glad you like them,” she whispered after a moment, almost too afraid to speak, lest she ruin the moment. They’d never sat like this before, been quite this close before, despite sharing a bed a few times. This was different, and it made Valentina think of things that worried her.

“I chose each one carefully…” she let her voice trail off, the nervousness in her belly slowly tightening into a hot ball. She could feel her throat closing up around the words she wanted to say, and vines in her chest wrapped tightly around her ribs, making each breath ache.

Juliana pressed her face harder into Valentina’s shoulder, one arm around the small of her back, the other hand resting in her lap, fingers tangled in the bottom of Valentina’s shirt. She could feel the weight of words not spoken pressing against her skin, and it made her want to cry, perhaps to even curse.

She wanted Valentina to say it, without even knowing what “it” was. If Valentina said it, then maybe Juliana could understand the frightened patter of her own heart, the dryness of her mouth, the way she ached to bury her face in the crook of Valentina’s neck and breathe her in, let her scent spill down her throat and wrap around her lungs.

“Joy. Sincerity. Commitment-a bond.” She barely whispered the words against Valentina’s shoulder, but she knew Valentina had heard her.

Valentina instinctively tightened her hold around Juliana when she heard, no felt, the muffled words seared into her shoulder. It was a flaming brand against her skin, and Valentina was sure if she turned and looked, she would see the words scarred into her flesh.

“Yes,” she whispered, dropping her head slightly, her lips pressed against the crown of Juliana’s head.

“I’m glad,” murmured Juliana, as she pulled her face from Valentina’s shoulder, her hand reaching up to cup Valentina’s face, her thumb brushing across her lips.

The met somewhere in the murky middle of friendship and love, their lips pressed lightly together, before their mouths moved against each other, testing and pushing against the limits of what was and what they wanted.

Flowers burst and bloomed in Valentina’s chest, the ivy loosening it’s choking hold around her ribs. It was enough, the garden blooming in her chest.

#juliantina #juliantina fanfic #fanfic by jude81 #jude81 #a garden blooms in my chest #juliana valdes #valentina carvajal #juliana x valentina #amar a muerte #mexican telenovela

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mi6-cafe · 6 years ago

Photo

The second week of writing for LDWS participants has come to a close. Now it’s time for the next bit of the competition: reading and voting!

prompt: “just one shot” Word count: 200 Challenge: use only seven paragraphs

Voters–after you read, check out this form to vote for your top three drabbles! You can also leave anonymous feedback for the writers!

Who can vote? Anyone who’s read the drabbles! Yes, that includes YOU!

Writers–you may also vote, but we do ask that you vote for three drabbles other than your own.

The voting period ends at 11:59 PM EST on Sunday night. Results will be posted and anonymous feedback will be emailed on Monday.

Remember, readers–it’s up to YOU to decide who will wind up on top at the end of the competition!

Drabbles are under the read-more:

Title: Easy Shot

Author: kiddohno

Warnings: Drinking/Alcohol

Summary: James watches over a drunk Q.

It had been a slippery slope.

Q had agreed to just one shot. One, he’d said, and that’s it. James had waved the bartender over, ordered something sweet that would go down easy. So easy, that Q had acquiesced to a second, third, fourth… While James had nursed a single martini, quickly sensing that one of them would have to keep their wits.

James then watched, amused, as Q had gone from drinking to dancing. Energetically and enthusiastically making his way around the club, movements somehow both wild and graceful. While he drew plenty of attention, he politely declined any approach, allowing only brief conversations that James couldn’t hear over the loud beat of the music.

When Q eventually made his way back to the bar to order another shot, he was also determined to get the agent to dance with him.

“You’re drunk,” James had observed while Q threw back the shot.

“Hmm,” Q’d agreed as he plucked the stick of olives from James’ martini. In one deft movement he’d brought them to his mouth and pulled them off, eyes on James. “Absolutely.”

James finished the martini in one go, and let himself be led out onto the floor.

Title: Consequences Author: IrishWitch58 Warnings: canon typical violence Summary: Q is injured and Bond responds in kind

Just one shot started this, leaving Q lying in a hospital bed with machines and monitors. Surgery had stabilized him but now the doctors were just waiting for his own body to catch up and start healing the damage.

Bond was not waiting. He touched one pale hand briefly, and turned on his heel, leaving the hospital room to the sigh and beep of the machines.

Q's second was competent, professional and as angry at the attack as Bond was. R had used facial recognition software to follow the gunman. “We think he's gone to ground. He hasn't left the country.” She handed over a file with pictures. “This is what we know about him.”

The file and an unregistered weapon rested in the passenger seat. Bond eyed the closed petrol station sure his target was inside. Bond could wait now, the patient repose of a predator.

There was a stir at the back door. A figure in a black cap and denim jacket stepped out, glancing around nervously.

Bond raised the pistol and called the name on the file. A startled face turned, eyes wide. A hand made a futile grab for a weapon.

Just one shot ended it.

Title: Realization Author: sunaddicted Rating: T Warnings: canon violence Summary: one moment - that's all it takes

Q could barely believe how a moment had so suddenly changed his priorities: as he watched 007 fall, blood blooming worryingly bright against the white of his shirt, he couldn't help wondering about why he had rejected James again and again - afraid of something happening to him and being left alone.

It hadn't changed the fact that Q loved him - it had only been a waste of time.

Q dropped to his knees and unceremoniously dragged 007 behind a corner, his heartbeat barely slowing down when he felt the other's chest rise and fall under his fingers as he grabbed his Walter; he could have easily hacked it, if he had had at least his mobile on hand - as critical as the situation was, though, Q put the gun in James' hand "Can you shoot propped up against me?"

"It's n-not... ideal"

Q forced himself to ignore the blood that coated James' lips "I asked you if you can do it - not if it's ideal"

"Bossy" James coughed up a chuckle as Q moved him around "Anything you need, my dear Quartermaster"

"Just one shot" Q reassured, entwining their fingers together around the grip of the gun, ready to shoot.

Title: Qustom Made

Author: Venstar

Warnings: None

Summary: a leap of faith.

He was standing on a precipice, the world seemed to disappear below him. Bond glanced up at the night sky, the stars winked at him through the passing storm clouds. Water dripped from his face and bespoke suit as he calmly considered his options.

A voice, soft, posh and very threatening crackled to life in his ear. “Tick, tock, Mr. Bond. Tick tock. Time waits for no man.”

A wry smile pulled at Bond’s lips and thought back to the trio of movies Q had forced him to watch months ago when he had discovered Bond hadn’t understood what my precious meant during one of their lazy lie-ins. “I am no man.”

The voice laughed in response. It was broken up by static. “Very clever, now move your arse. You’ve got just one shot at this. Make it count.”

Bond considered the height that he was about to drop from. “Just like threading a needle, Q.” He adjusted his stance and bent his knees.

A snort came over the line. “Do you sew Mr. Bond?”

“All my suits are Qustom made,” Bond said as he leaped. A delicate, black parachute unfolded from his jacket with the tug of a cufflink.

Title: Shots Author: ato Warnings: none Summary: Q receives an unexpected invitation...

“C’mon, Q. Just one shot.”

Q’s surprised Bond would forego his usual elegant cocktails. After a moment’s hesitation, he nods and claims the last open barstool in the noisy pub. With a smirk, Bond holds two fingers up to the barkeep, quirking an eyebrow at Q, who points to the scotch on the top shelf. It turns out to be very good, and they don’t stop at one.

Hours later, lying on his stomach with the sheets pooled around his waist, completely shagged out and grinning, Q notices James fiddling with his phone.

“Oh, no. No photographic evidence of this encounter. You’re smug enough.”

“Just one shot,” James insists, leaning over Q and kissing his neck. “Just here... the nape of your neck and this curl I keep playing with and this mole. No one else will know it’s you. For when I’m on mission.”

Q buries his face in the pillow, and the shutter clicks.

Days later, a worried Q listens on as James gets himself cornered and reduced to one bullet. Still, James insists he has everything he needs. Just one shot. He’s soon home with an empty clip, a mischievous grin, and a bottle of foreign scotch.

Title: Take the shot Author: Susspencer Warnings: Gun violence, Summary: Daily in the lives of Mi6 members everything can be different if things just go a different way. Whether it’s a double 0 or someone from Q branch or even Moneypenny, life sometimes only gives you just one shot. Will you take the shot or will you miss it?

“James, you have just one shot.” 007 swore this was the only instruction that he was ever given. His license to kill appeared limited.

“Take the shot!” M yelled, as Moneypenny peered through the scope. Two men stood fighting. She took just one shot and watched a man fall from the train.

James had had enough of nursing his wound. He took this one shot, that M would trust him enough to return to the game.

Q's com was open, as he heard 007 fire. He watched as James’ shot went askew. Q adjusted the trajectory with the click of a few computer buttons. Just one shot, with Q's help, became fatal.

After a tetanus shot at medical, with a watchful eye of a concerned friend, it was off for the weekend. The life of a 00.

Friday night at the pub, meant 00’s and shots. They taunted him. “Come on, just one shot.” Q had warm fuzzy feeling and then sleep.

The next morning Q found himself in James’ bed. Q recalled how he arrived in this position. Q smiled. “It took just one shot to get here, but several others to point the way,” as he kissed James.

Title: Biology and the Perils of Efficiency

Author: Gwylliondream

Warning: None

Summary: Bond is the oldest agent on the MI6 payroll.

Sweaty and panting, but far from sated, Bond lay facedown on the duvet. Every muscle in his back tensed beneath Q’s fingertips.

Outside, the rain fell. The power had failed an hour earlier, but Q’s flat glowed with the help of some candles. When Bond escorted the Quartermaster home from the floodlit halls of MI6, he hadn’t expected an invitation inside.

Q grabbed two handfuls of firm arse. He took care to massage them deeply before lowering his mouth to the small of Bond’s back.

Bond gasped and shuddered, too breathless to demand that Q get on with it.

Moving toward his prize, Q felt the fluttering beneath his tongue. He maintained his demeanor, no matter how badly he wanted to grin. He drew back and blew a gust of hot breath across Bond’s arsehole. The candles flickered, sending shadows across the walls.

Bond’s toes clenched as he found his voice. “Don’t stop, for fuck’s sake!” he pleaded for Q to continue.

Q smiled and rested his hand on one arse cheek. Biology dictated that a man of Bond’s age had just one shot. Q was determined to make it worth his while… even if it took him all night.

Title: Down

Author: Iambid/Flantastic

Warnings: None

Summary: When things go wrong, Q will always find him

The pub was a dive. Not James’s usual style. Q found him propped up against the bar, his bruised and bloody hands wrapped around a tumbler of whiskey. James hadn’t been able to stop the man he’d been tracking and his device had killed so many people. He’d disappeared but he was no match for Q. James drunkenly raised an eyebrow when he saw him.

“Smartblood, remember?” Q said as he tapped the injection point on James's arm.

“Smart boy.” James countered, smiling. His face fell. “You shouldn’t come looking for me.”

“You shouldn’t crawl into the bottom of a bottle whenever a mission goes wrong.”

“What else is there?” James asked. “I don't have anything else,” he said, as Q leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You have me.”

James shook his head sadly and for a moment Q thought he might try to push him away. He had before and it hurt Q to think he couldn’t always make things better for his agent. James sniffed and suddenly threw back his drink before beckoning over the barman.

“Just one more shot.” Q said gently, running his fingers over James’s sleeve. “And then come home with me.” James nodded.

Title: It's a Date Author: solarmorrigan Summary: Q gives Bond some incentive to make it home in one piece Warnings: None

“You should go to dinner with me,” Bond said, “when I get back.”

“And you should focus on the matter at hand, 007. Try to be professional,” Q chided, more amused than anything; it wasn’t as though he wouldn’t say yes eventually, but he liked to make Bond wait for it.

A few shots rang out over the comm, corresponding to the guards Q could see drop down on the security feed he had running onscreen. “I am focused,” Bond insisted. “I’m capable of multitasking, you know.”

There was a sharp reply ready on Q’s tongue, but it was lost when a flurry of activity occurred onscreen; an unexpected group of guards, an alarming amount of gunfire, and a heart-pounding few moments of silence while Q searched the security feed for Bond.

“007, report.”

“Uninjured. Penned in,” Bond’s voice came through, quiet but steady; there was a brief pause. “Low on ammunition. I have one bullet.”

Q was already typing, looking for a way, any way, to get Bond out. “Well, you’d better make it back. It’s my understanding that I should have dinner with you,” Q murmured, still searching. “I’ll give you just one shot, 007. Don’t waste it.”

#10

Title: A Quick Pick-Me-Up Author: azure7539arts Warnings: None Summary: Bond was trying so hard to stay sober for this. He really was.

“Just one shot?”

Bond said nothing and finished the rest of his Scotch, which, no matter how much he didn’t want to agree with her right then, really didn’t feel anywhere near enough at all. “I still have a mission to monitor, thanks,” he replied, and even without looking, he could still feel the sharp edge of Eve’s sly smile brushing right up against the edges of his senses.

“R can always take over, you know,” Eve offered, bridging the short gap between them to come lean against the table Bond was also occupying. “Speaking of which… how’s our boy doing?”

“Spectacular,” Bond mumbled before he could stop himself, the indignant hints like budding thorns under the gruff of his voice.

Eve’s grin had become positively shark-like. “Admit it, this isn’t about something as petty as you being jealous because Q’s getting all the attention. You’re actually jealous because he’s out seducing someone else and is doing a fine job at it, too.”

Bond’s eyes flitted over to where the remaining bottle of Scotch was.

Distantly, he contemplated just downing the whole thing, firmly ignoring the heat that had begun spreading all over his back just from listening to her.

#11

Title: Formidable Author: solitaryjane Warnings: none Summary: Bond and Q go rogue together, and the first act is to assassinate M.

This is it, Bond knows. There is no turning back.

He adjusts the sniper rifle and looks once more through the scope. The action is redundant and a bit obsessive, not exactly something 007 is particularly known for. It’s fitting, however, in lieu of his new persona, one that has crept into his subconscious without a by-your-leave. MI6 has betrayed him, betrayed them both, and they’re simply not willing to play anymore.

On the other side of the scope sits Mallory in his fortified office. The window is triple-reinforced, but Bond knows the bullet will penetrate it like spun sugar - Q invented it after all. He will have three minutes to get to the car, fourteen to avoid all the roadblocks. Once he gets outside London proper, where Q is patiently waiting, they’ll be free.

His earpiece crackles. “Now or never, James,” the familiar voice prods, and Bond smirks. He can almost see the green eyes through the camera perched above. Won’t be long, darling, he thinks, and the smile grows wider. It won't.

Bond doesn't look away this time. His hand is steady on the trigger, the aim perfect. His heart leaps at his throat.

Just one shot.

Go.

#12

Title: Never A Good Sign

Author: melynen

Warnings: none

Summary: After a night out, Bond and Q have a little talk.

“‘Just one shot’, you said,” Q glares at Bond. “‘It won’t have any effect on you’, my arse.”

“That one didn’t, no,” Bond says mildly. “It was the subsequent six that did, I believe.”

Q huffs through his nose and looks at the man standing in the middle of his office. It’s unfair, really, how he never seems to suffer from any ill effects from all the drinking Q sees him do. Even now, barely five hours after having escorted his sloshed Quartermaster safely home and setting out water and painkillers at the ready on his bedside table, Bond hardly looks affected by the early hour.

But then, Q brightens considerably. “Vomiting all over your lap was the highlight of my evening, though.”

“I’m sure,” Bond says, and he sounds amused. He pauses and his eyes twinkle; it’s never a good sign. “You did quite thoroughly wreck my suit, darling. I fear it may be a lost cause, so I may require some form of… compensation from you.”

Q blinks, eyes tracking Bond’s movements. “Really, 007?”

Bond steps into his personal space, lips brushing against his ear, and Q shivers. “Oh yes. We shall revisit the topic once I return.”

Thank you to our amazing drabble writers for taking the shot this week!

To our amazing readers, you can help this competition by going here to vote on your top three drabbles. You may also leave anonymous feedback for one or more drabbles.

Let’s vote!

#00qldws #ldws #00Q

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reddielibrary · 6 years ago

Text

Still The One

Secret Santa: Katie | @kaspbrak-eddie

Gift for: Elmo | @ellomello16

Special Message: Merry Christmas to the sweetest member of the fandom! I hope you enjoy this lil fic and I hope you have a good day, ily ♡♡

Word count: 6,789

*click title to read on AO3

Richie Tozier had never considered himself to be a wildly successful person. In school, he’d always been above average but had never been the top of his class, putting little to no effort into homework and exams but still managing to maintain mostly A’s and B’s. It may have been impressive, sure, but he had never been exemplary, and he prided himself in that. The slight apathy he felt for his schoolwork still yielded the same outcome that most of his friends and peers could only barely achieve through long, arduous hours of intense reading, writing, revising, re-revising. He didn’t bat an eye at assignments his classmates lost countless hours of sleep over. School had always come easily to him, as most things did. He was an incredibly charming man, never failing to make even the most stuck-up assholes crack a laugh every once in a while.

Humans he had never taken issue with, he felt most comfortable in social situations and threw himself into them head-first every opportunity he had. Meaningful human interaction, on the other hand, deep, personal, one-on-one connections, well that was one of the few items on the list of things in life that made Richie uneasy. And he had a string of failed relationships to show for it, one that was longer than a suburban mother of six’s grocery list. Richie had simply never been able to connect with anyone on that profound, meaningful level that everyone talks about--that his partners talked about feeling with him. He had simply always felt like there was something missing, something not right. It felt as if something--or someone--was pulling him away, but if there was one thing he was sure of, Richie Tozier knew that he had never been in love.

Eddie Kaspbrak, on the other hand, had. Countless times. He fell easily, and when he did, he fell hard. Lamentably, he had a nasty habit of falling for people who could not even come close to reciprocating the love he gave--the absolute, irrevocable adoration that could only come from someone who aimed to please. The household Eddie had grown up in had been built around his mother’s intense, all-consuming need to be needed. Eddie had never known her as a rational person, although he supposed she probably had been at some point in her life. To Eddie, she was overbearing, almost dictatorial. Everything he did had to be passed through her first, and she approved of almost nothing. After years and years of the constant hounding, the unremittant whining and worrying, Eddie had learned that it was easier to just let her have her way, and he’d carried with him this skill of always striving to please. And he was damn good at it. It affected every part of his life as an adult, relationships with friends, with significant others, but most importantly, it made him incredibly good at his job.

He was passionate about his career--he threw every part of himself into his work, and he loved it. Although the work was unceasing, exhausting, it was a good outlet for his energy, especially when the same tendencies that made him great at his job had a propensity to affect his relationships negatively. Everyone he’d ever dated had had one of two problems with him--either Eddie was too clingy, fell in love far too quickly and let it overtake his entire personality, often morphing it completely to become more appealing to his partner. That, or they fought with him constantly about being work-obsessed, stating that he spent too much time away, or even when he was home, that he was distant, thinking about work; they complained about his going above and beyond to be the best, never supporting him the way he needed. By the time he was in his late twenties, Eddie had decided that he was done with relationships. He was exhausted and completely fed up with pouring his endless love and energy into people who didn’t champion his goals and applaud him for reaching them. In his memory, he had never had someone like that, someone who he could be himself with, someone who wanted him to be his very best. And he assumed he probably never would.

It was a Wednesday morning when Richie had gotten the call at 7:45, jolting him awake abruptly from a deep, heavy sleep. He groaned and patted around blindly for the phone on his nightstand, brushing his sleep-kinked, floppy hair out of his face as he did so. “Tozier here,” he grumbled into the phone, his voice thick and deep.

“Rich! It’s me! Get your ass out of bed, you lazy piece of shit!”

Still half asleep, Richie groaned, “The fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m just kiddin’ buddy. But seriously. Great show last night, you were fuckin’ hilarious!”

“Yeah, Steven. You always say that. That’s what you’re supposed to say, you’re my manager.”

“Yeah yeah.” Richie’s manager, who doubled as his best (read: only) friend, pushed on, ignoring Richie’s humility, “So the guy from SNL called back finally. You’re golden, baby. They want you to come out next week to audition.”

Richie’s eyes shot wide open, he was definitely awake now. He scrambled for his laptop on the floor by his bed as he replied, “Steve-O are you serious? If you’re fucking with me right now I’m gonna drive to your house and murder you.” He opened his laptop hurriedly to check his email, first reaching over to the bedside table to grab his glasses, sliding the thick, bulky lenses over his eyes to bring the world back into focus. Once he got his email pulled up, he desperately refreshed the browser, clicking the ‘get mail’ button incessantly.

“Bro, I can hear you clicking from here. Relax, I haven’t sent you anything yet. I’ll get it to you once I put everything together, I literally just got off the phone with the guy.”

Richie sighed. “Steven, you really are a genius. It’s happening!”

“It’s not me, Rich, it’s all you. And I always told you it would, have I ever lied to you before?”

Richie chuckled, rubbing at his eyes, pushing his glasses up to his forehead, still in disbelief, “Stevia, baby, you lie to me all the time.”

“Hush now. You know when I do it’s just for your own good. Alright, well, I’ll let you get back to sleep… Or back to whoever is in your bed right now.”

Richie mock gasped, “Are you accusing me of having premarital sex? You know I’m waiting until marriage, Steven, sorry to disappoint you.”

“Oh shut up, Richie. Goodbyeee...” He dragged out the last syllable as he audibly pulled the phone away from his face and hung up, his voice trailing off as the microphone was drawn further and further away from his mouth. A few minutes later, just as Richie was succumbing back to sleep, his phone vibrated with an email containing his itinerary.

Eddie sighed as he lay down on a cot in the on-call room of the hospital he’d worked in for almost four years now. He was halfway through another long shift, it was almost 6:00 am, but he could at least take comfort in the fact that it was just a twelve-hour rather than a twenty-four. Eddie had always had a penchant for medicine, even when he was young. Growing up with a mother whose every waking moment was dedicated to her only son, Eddie had been the target of her constant and unrelenting care. Although all of the illnesses she was sure Eddie suffered from had turned out to be fake, the excessive doctor visits as a child had made him extremely comfortable in hospitals and outpatient centers. As he’d grown older, he’d taken comfort in understanding his “illnesses,” and in doing so, he had begun to understand the source of them. He’d never been a slow kid--neither mentally nor physically--and at the ripe age of eleven, he’d realized just how his mother’s protection had hurt him, and he had vowed to leave her the very second he was able.

The only support system he’d had as a kid had been the friends he had made, who, after he’d left town for college, he had forgotten more and more about every single day. He was unsure if it was due to the influx of new information and experiences or something else, but no matter what he did, he couldn’t conjure up any of their faces in his memory, not even a single name. There was something there, he knew, something--someone--tugging at him. Something that panged in his stomach every time he walked past someone on the street with dark, frizzy hair, something he couldn’t put his finger on. There was the day in college he’d gotten reading glasses, and that night just as he was turning the light out, the sight of the frames laying on his bedside table gave him the strongest sense of déjà vu he’d ever experienced in his life, so much so that he had felt light-headed for a few seconds before regaining his composure. He had not slept well that night, dreaming of his childhood, blotchy and blurry, the only clear parts he could pick out in his head were a pair of impossibly thick glasses, beat-up black sneakers, scraped knees, and popsicles melting in the sweltering summer sun.

He’d been awoken by a panic attack in the early hours of that morning, something that rarely happened anymore, only when he had these dreams. These confusing, disorienting dreams. They were trying to tell him something, that he was sure of, but after years of having them, he was resigned to the fact that he’d never figure it out.

As he curled up in the cot in the on-call room to take a quick nap he thought of these dreams, hoping against hope that someday soon he’d understand what they meant.

As Richie boarded the plane at LAX at 5:00 am, he was so jittery that he could barely stand still. Most of it was from the four cups of coffee he’d already downed that morning in the Uber to the airport, but the rest was from nerves. He was nervous about the SNL audition, sure, but he was also nervous about something that he couldn’t quite pinpoint. Something that was in New York. Something he couldn’t remember. He shook his head quickly to rid the thought as he flashed the cute, young flight attendant a small smile, pushing his glasses up and turning to look down the long airplane cabin and find his seat.

He didn’t get much done on the flight, too distracted to think straight, his mind running a million miles an hour. Immediately after he sat down he pulled his laptop out of his backpack, searching for the hours of SNL footage he’d downloaded to watch on the way in hopes it would ease his nerves. He lost himself in the footage, even laughing out loud at some points. He’d lost track of time, but about halfway through the first episode he’d started, he felt a tap on his shoulder and pulled his bulky headphones off, knocking his glasses askew. Fixing them quickly, he looked up.

“Sir, we’re taking off. You have to put that away until the pilot gives us the go-ahead to get large electronics back out.”

Richie nodded and hastily shut his laptop, stuffing it in his bag and slouching down in his seat, looking out the window as the plane taxied the runway slowly. The take-off was excruciating, his seatmate asked him to stop bouncing his leg at least four times, having to speak up over the mechanical, monotonous roar of the engines. He apologized profusely each time, only to be asked again a few minutes later, not even having noticed that he’d started again. Once the electronics light above him lit up, he grabbed his laptop again and tried to relax, doing breathing exercises he’d learned from a school counselor while he was in college to try and ease his anxiety. It worked somewhat, and the five-hour flight raced by quickly. Once they’d landed, he rushed through the airport carelessly, almost mowing down a few toddlers on his way to the exit; airports always made him uneasy, too many people, he always felt overstimulated. As he made it to the arrivals area and found the driver he was told would be waiting for him, he broke into a near sprint, running up to the unexpecting man out of breath. “Hey,” he took a heaving breath and gestured in between the sign and himself, “That’s… That’s me. I’m Tozier.”

“Hello, Mr. Tozier. Pleasure to--”

“Just call me Richie. Please.”

The man nodded solemnly, “You got it, Richie. And is that the only bag you brought? I was told you’d have a suitca--”

“Oh, fuck!” Richie exclaimed in a hushed yell. “Be right back!” He took off, loping through the crowded baggage claim area, his backpack swinging behind him.

Richie managed to find the baggage carousel fairly quickly, and his bag was--by some fucking miracle--one of the first up. He grabbed it and rushed back to the driver, who was chuckling quietly to himself. He unzipped the suitcase to retrieve his winter coat--something he hadn’t needed in years since he’d moved to California. “You ready to go now?” The driver asked kindly after Richie had thrown the old, worn coat over his shoulders and zipped it up tight.

Richie nodded and extended the handle on his beat-up suitcase to wheel it behind him. The ride to the hotel Richie’s manager had booked for him took about an hour and a half. The hotel was in the middle of the city and traffic was, as always, an unbelievable nightmare. By the time they arrived there, it was just after noon, and Richie was starving. The car pulled up to the curb and waited as Richie paid and pulled his suitcase from the trunk. He shot the driver a two-fingered wave and turned around. Right into a shorter man, a man who looked to be around his age. He donned a set of blue scrubs shrouded by a thick parka that went down to his knees, his chestnut hair was tousled and frizzy under the hood, the guy looked exhausted. “Hey, can you fucking watch where you’re walking? Fucking touris--” His voice was cut off as he looked up to glare at Richie, and all of the breath left his lungs. “Do-- Do I know you?” His eyes went soft as he let the hood fall off the back of his head, looking up at Richie, his gaze tracking quickly back and forth over his face.

“I don’t… uh. Maybe? You look kinda familiar…” Richie trailed off, pulling his suitcase in closer to his legs in order to avoid the looks of antipathy from passerby.

“Sorry, you just…” the guy shoved his gloved hands in his pockets nervously and took a deep breath, his exhale condensing in the air in front of his cheeks, flushed from the cold. “You look like someone I used to know… I think. I don’t know. Sorry, have a nice day,” he said as he quickly turned on his heel and hurried off down the street.

Well that was fucking weird, Richie thought to himself, I could have sworn I… He shook his head to clear the thought from it, he needed to focus. As he checked into the hotel, he couldn’t help but be slightly absent, his mind running circles, distressing over the audition, but also blindsided by the strange interaction on the street.

Eddie huffed as he replaced his hood on his head, tucking his chin into the jacket so that as much of his skin was shielded from the cold as possible. You’ve gotta fuckin’ stop with this, Eddie. The dreams… they don’t mean anything. He’s just a dude in glasses. Nobody. Focus. Forget about it. He sighed, quickly weaving through the slow walkers on the sidewalk and darting down into the subway tunnel, taking the stairs two at a time, grateful for a break from the incessant wind. When he got home and went to sleep, he had the same dream as always, but this time it was clearer than it had ever been.

The audition went fine, not as well as he’d hoped, but Richie wasn’t worried about it, he enjoyed his job in California; although Los Angeles did seem a bit lonely sometimes. He was glad to be heading back to Maine for the week to spend Christmas with his parents, who he hadn’t seen in over ten years, always too busy building his career to make it back home. This was the first year since he left for college that he was finally able to take a few days off and be home again. He thought about his childhood as he packed up his hotel room from his quick, three-day stay, pondered why he could remember hardly any details from that period of his life at all--not even the name of his best friend.

He’d run around with a bunch of kids in those years, but there was just one. He knew there was always just one. The one that he wanted to spend all of his time with, the only one he still had any semblance of a memory of: band-aids, tears, cheeks flushed a darker red than Richie had ever seen in anyone--or had ever seen since. The one thing he remembered from his childhood, clear as a bell: the tinkling, warm laugh that echoed from his friend’s freckled, pink lips. The laugh he’d spent his entire childhood and adolescence doing anything and everything to elicit. The reason he still enjoyed making people laugh, why he’d made a career of it. He smiled to himself as he puttered around the room, his mind distracted by all manner of things, the man from the other day all but forgotten.

He gave one last look around to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything then rolled his suitcase out the door behind him. The drive to the airport was slower this time than it had been three days before; snow began to fall about halfway through the drive, covering the city in a layer of pristine, sparkling powder. Richie watched out the window as the car blazed past skyscraper after skyscraper, his breath fogging up the window.

By the time he got dropped off at the airport, the snow hadn’t stopped, in fact, it hadn’t slowed at all. It looked as though there was a large possibility of his flight being grounded for the night, although he’d been refreshing his email every five minutes for the entire duration of the car ride, checking for news from the airline as well as from SNL. No news yet, so he strolled on in and through security quickly. He grabbed his backpack and tennis shoes from the scanner after they came out and sat in a nearby chair to put them back on. As he was slipping his second shoe on, a body plopped down next to him to do the same, dropping a pair of suede ankle boots on the tile floor with a loud slap. Richie could overhear him talking with someone on the phone frantically and snuck a peek up at the man. He was pressing his iPhone between his shoulder and his ear tightly, rambling so quick Richie wasn’t sure how he could get a breath between the words.

“I know, Ma.”

“Yes, I checked, it looks like it’s still going out.”

“It’s really not that bad, I pr--”

“Well, the news always exaggerates, you know th--”

“Yes, I’ll tell the pilot to be careful. Sure.”

“Mhm-- Yeah. Bye, Mom.”

He sighed loudly as he hung up the phone, dropping it onto the seat next to him then bending over to put his shoes back on. He chuckled quietly, “Sorry if you overheard any of that…” he said as he fiddled with the hems of his jeans, folding them just so and tucking them back under the tongue of his shoes, tying them up with the thin laces. He smiled over at Richie, who was still bent over working on the same shoe he had been when the other man had sat down.

“Hey… you’re that dude from the other day, aren’t you?” Richie asked quietly.

The guy screwed up his face, sitting back up. Richie followed, and he watched as realization fell over his features. “Oh my god, yeah. I’m sorry about that, I was just off a twelve-hour shift and…” he blushed and tried to flatten the hair on the back of his head, just long enough to show a slight curl. “And I was tired. But I’m Eddie.”

“Richie. Pleased to meet you, Eddie. Where ya headed?”

Eddie stood up, beckoning Richie to follow. “Bangor. You?” He asked, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“No shit? Same.”

“Oh that’s weird… I’d definitely peg you for a west coast type of guy.”

Richie laughed, warm, loud, “Ah, yeah. I’ve lived there for almost ten years. Born and raised in Maine though, baby,” he said, pushing his glasses up on his nose as his laughter yielded a snort.

“Don’t call me baby,” Eddie snapped. He’d always hated being called baby, although no one he’d ever dated had used the pet name; it stemmed from something else. It wasn’t his mother, as she favored more cushy pet names for him: Eddie-bear, muffin, sweetheart. Someone else had called him baby, had used it so many times. Why couldn’t he remember? The only thing he had left of the name were the feelings attached to it: the pain, the sorrow, the grief.

Richie put up his hands defensively, “Sorry ‘bout that, it’s a habit.” He checked his watch, there were still two hours until the flight was due to start boarding. “You on the same flight as me? The 4:45 one?” Eddie simply nodded in response, looking over at him with warm eyes. “Wanna get some food? I’m fucking starving.”

Eddie, in turn, checked his phone for the time and shrugged. “Sure, what did you have in mind?”

“Well I don’t know about you, but dat Chili’s 2go really hits the spot pre-flight, it’s an absolute delicacy.” Eddie laughed, a sound that made Richie’s head spin, made his heart ache. He beamed, “Letsa go!”

Eddie shot him a smirk, “You know Chili’s doesn’t serve Italian food, right?”

“It does if you order the spaghetti,” Richie quipped with a laugh.

After wandering around for ten minutes only to discover--to Richie’s utter dismay--that there was, in fact, no Chili’s 2go in their terminal, they settled for a little bar that wasn’t too busy, sitting down in a corner booth in the warm, dimly lit restaurant. When the waitress came over, Eddie immediately ordered “the biggest glass of red wine you guys are allowed to serve.” As she walked away, Richie’s eyebrows shot up at him, above his glasses and into the mess of his hair.

Eddie shrugged, “I fuckin’ hate flying. Plus, it’s an airport, everyone is allowed to drink here at any time of the day, right?”

Richie chuckled, “If I got drunk I’d spend the entirety of the flight trying to get you to let me blow you in the tiny airplane bathroom.”

Eddie’s mouth hung open in horror, “God, that’s fucking disgusting. Is everyone like this in California? Do you guys not have germs there?”

Richie winked, “Sorry.”

“So, anyway, what were you doing in New York?”

“Well, uh, actually… I was auditioning for SNL,” Richie said nonchalantly, looking down at his water glass and taking a small sip of it through the straw.

Eddie raised his eyebrows, his eyes twinkling in the soft light of the restaurant. “That’s cool, what the hell?”

Richie shrugged. “I do a lot of stand up in LA, my agent knows a guy who knows a guy.”

“That’s so fucking cool.”

Richie nodded, “It was terrifying though. Did you know they don’t laugh when you audition? Like at all. They’re not supposed to.”

“God, count me out. I can’t even make old people laugh. And they don’t have the internet, they don’t see any jokes.”

Richie smiled, “Maybe that’s ‘cause they’re just distracted by how cute you are.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Eddie replied, stifling a grin as his cheeks turned a dark, warm rouge. Richie’s heart nearly stopped beating at the sight.

They finished their meal with more expository conversation and slightly less dirty talk, although it was admittedly not much better. Eddie’s cheeks slightly flushed from the wine, Richie’s cheeks sore from smiling, they wandered to their gate quietly. “Well, we’ve still got like an hour…” Eddie yawned as he checked his boarding pass, looking around at the gate numbers ahead of them. “Ah! Over there,” he said, pointing to a sign that read 35, the area underneath already had some people milling around it.

They found a set of chairs that was as secluded as you can really get in an airport and they both sat down, depositing their bags and coats on the chairs on either side of them. After a few seconds, Eddie looked over and nudged Richie, who was rustling around in his backpack. “Will you. Uh. Would you watch my stuff if I nap for a little? I can’t sleep on planes, but I’m fucking exhausted.”

Richie nodded, zipping up his backpack after having retrieved a book from it. “Sure thing, sweet cheeks.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, “Don’t… call me…” he was interrupted by another yawn, this one bigger than the last. “Whatever.” He pulled his knees up in front of him in the chair and reached for his coat, covering himself in it completely; only his head poked out above the thick fur that lined the hood. “Wake me up before they start boarding, I’m in the first boarding group.”

“Damn, how’d you swing that?”

He looked up at Richie, his eyes already half-closed with sleep yet still somehow managing to shoot daggers, “Printed off my boarding pass in a timely manner.”

Richie raised his eyebrows, “Well alright, just call me out for poor time management.”

Eddie nestled further into his coat, closing his eyes completely, “Mhm. Night, Rich.”

Richie’s heart soared at the pet name, his stomach fluttering with warmth. He smiled to himself as he looked over at Eddie, already breathing evenly next to him.

After about forty-five minutes, Richie was abruptly pulled from his book by an announcement over the loudspeaker that their flight would be delayed by at least an hour. He folded down the corner of his page and set his book aside, turning to look at his still fast-asleep neighbor. His voice low, he placed a hand on Eddie’s shoulder softly.

“Hey. Eddie,” he whispered, pressing his fingertips lightly into Eddie’s arm.

Eddie stirred, but not enough to move or even open his eyes, “Mmm?” He grumbled, curling up under his coat even more than he already was.

Richie kept his voice at a whisper, “Flight’s delayed. Another hour.”

Eddie murmured some sleep sounds, balling his fists up in the fur of his coat and wrapping it around his sides. “Good. Hndhdon’t wanna,” he let out a long, deep exhale, “dohnwandjsee my mom ahneeway.”

Richie chuckled, “That’s okay, Eds.”

Eddie, almost fully back asleep now, leaned over the armrest separating them and rested his head on Richie’s shoulder, nestling his cheek into the soft material of Richie’s baseball tee.

“Dohncallmeethat,” he whispered on an exhale, and his next intake of breath was a sleep-gurgled almost-snore. It was Richie’s turn to blush, he stifled a smile as he recovered his book and opened it back up.

After another hour, Eddie began slowly to wake back up, his eyes fluttering and a yawn breaking his lips apart as he sat up, sloughing off the coat, now too hot under its insulation. He looked at Richie, his cheeks flushed slightly from the warmth and the sleep. “Uh. Sorry for… I didn’t realize… That I’d been sleeping on you… How long was I out?”

“Like two hours,” Richie replied, a grin on his face. “I bet they start boarding soon, the snow stopped a bit ago.”

Eddie attempted to keep another yawn at bay, “Thank god. My mom is gonna have a fucking conniption.”

“Yeah, you said something about her while you slept,” Richie said, looking down to make eye contact with Eddie.

His eyes flew open wide, panic on his face. “Fuck. What did I talk about? I have weird dreams a lot… Didn’t realize I talked during them. That’s.” He paused, running a hand through the hair that was kinked on one side from being pressed against Richie’s shoulder. “That’s great.”

“Oh, not much. You just said you didn’t wanna see her.”

Eddie looked relieved. “Oh. Well yeah, that’s not untrue. She’s… A lot.”

“Sounded like it. From what I overheard when you were talking to her on the phone earlier…” Richie trailed off, the PA system in their gate had turned on, a bored-sounding woman began to drone out their flight information.

“Boarding for flight XF56G to Bangor will start in the next twenty minutes, sorry for the delay.”

“Where’s your seat?” Richie asked, still looking at Eddie, now rifling through his coat pockets for his boarding pass.

“12G,” he replied, neatly refolding his boarding pass and tucking it into his pants pocket.

Richie hastily retrieved his, folded and nestled into the back of the book he’d been reading. “Dang it, I’m 23B.”

Eddie smiled snarkily, “What I get for being on time.”

Richie glowered over at him, “Whatever, a flight’s a flight. Sucks no matter what.”

Eddie shrugged, “I guess you’re right. Well, it’s been fun, thanks for not stealing my shit while I slept.”

“All I had to do was sit here and watch you look pretty,” Richie replied. “Wasn’t too hard of a task.”

“I swear to go--” Eddie started, but was interrupted by the call for boarding group A, of which he was a part. “Well, maybe we could, uh…” He cleared his throat as he stood up, folding his coat over his forearm neatly. “Maybe we could get drinks or something while we’re in town, I’m only about twenty-five minutes outside of Bangor… God knows I’ll need the alcohol.”

Richie smiled. “Me too, maybe we could meet in the middle. Now go, or you’re gonna forfeit your precious group A standing. Find you after the flight.”

Eddie nodded, turning around and hastily pushing past strollers and bags and masses of people to make his way to the desk, turning around to shoot Richie one last grin before he disappeared behind the door.

The flight was quick, not even two hours. Richie spent most of it reading and attempting to sleep, although neither was going very well at all. He was continually interrupted by snippets of memories, playing in his head like snapshots; popping up and disappearing like old, faded polaroids. Things from his childhood he’d since completely wiped from his mind; at first, it was his parents, yelling at him for breaking his glasses, praising him for his A averages, worrying at him for something that to him was still a cloudy and nameless entity in his head. A relationship, maybe, but he hadn’t dated anyone in high school. Hadn’t he?

Then came his friends; the treasure trove of memories that opened up the moment he began to recall them was immense, it was endless. Summers spent swimming at the quarry, the years when time had had no illusion of significance, no meaning at all. The group of them roving the entire town on their bikes as if they owned the damn place, building the clubhouse in the barrens, hiding out from their bullies there. He was abruptly ambushed by memories of those boys, the bullies who’d made his and his friends’ lives living hell until one by one they’d moved all out of Derry. These memories he’d packed so far away he wondered if he’d been paying the bills for the storage space these had taken up, they surely had not been in his head all this time.

He remembered his friends one by one, Bill first. Bill. He hadn’t had a name in years, hadn’t thought about his friends since he’d moved, every attempt had ended with him left more confused, with more details forgotten. God, had he adored Bill. The leader, the coolest one of all of them by leaps and bounds. Bill’s power over them had been unmatched, they had all loved him, stutter and all. He then remembered Beverly, cooler than Bill by all standards but their own for no discernible reason. He recalled her beauty, but more than that he recalled her biting wit, her fierce loyalty, her courage. He remembered the others too, nearly all at once. Stan, Mike, Ben, their faces came up in his mind as if he was looking at photos, as if he was watching the greatest hits of his life. They came crashing into the forefront of his mind like a shattered stained-glass window being reassembled in front of his eyes.

Just as the plane began its final descent, more memories came to the surface, ripping through the others almost violently, overtaking all of his other thoughts like brushfire and flooding his mind with nothing but Eddie Eddie Eddie. Cute cute cute. How he could have forgotten him he had not the slightest notion, but those years with Eddie came rushing back, and suddenly it was all he could do not to pass out. They came over him in a deluge, swarming in his head like bees and making him light-headed. Little Eddie Kaspbrak, little in stature but never in character. His friend with the asthma that had turned out to be nothing but a bad case of worrying. His friend who had carefully and meticulously cleaned up and bandaged his knee that one day he’d fallen from the back of Bill’s bike, the only one of them able to stay calm and level-headed through all of the blood, all of the pain. His friend with the too short shorts and the too big t-shirts. His best friend. The love of his life.

Richie felt the plane land, hard and fast, felt his seat underneath his legs jostle him around as they made a bouncy impact with the ground, the movement slowing down as they taxied to the gate. He was pulled from the cavern of his thoughts, he looked up and around the plane, searching for that warm brown head of hair he’d just spent so many years without. It had been ten years, but the next five minutes were due to be the longest of his life. The moment the plane stopped moving, Richie unbuckled and jumped up, joined by some of the other overeager passengers. And Eddie. Richie caught sight of the button nose as the man turned his head, his eyes desperately searching the overcrowded cabin for the boy he’d been in love with since before he even knew what love was. The smile that was on Eddie’s face, his eyes brimming with tears, communicated exactly what they were both feeling. The rush of emotions, the inability to wait five minutes even though they’d waited years already. Richie just stared back, unaware of what his face looked like, although he supposed he probably looked like a damn slack-jawed idiot.

They held eye contact until Eddie’s seatmate exited the aisle and followed the line of passengers off the plane. Eddie tore his eyes away and reluctantly followed, flashing an uneasy, impatient smile before he moved. Richie waited patiently--as patiently as he could, although patience had never been his strong suit. When it was finally his turn, Richie moved anxiously off the plane, following the mass of people in front of him who apparently felt that it was okay to walk as slow as physically possible. On the jet bridge, he began to bob and weave through bodies, trying not to push anyone but nearly mowing down a few old ladies, hobbling at an astoundingly low speed through the wide tunnel. The moment he stepped off, his eyes found Eddie, who was waiting patiently for him, bag and coat in hand. Eddie smiled as Richie approached, dropping his belongings on the floor to reach out to him. Their bodies collided solidly, Richie also cast his bag away, their things in a messy heap on the dirty airport floor.

Richie looked down, looked closer this time than he had before. “Eds.” He fixed his glasses on his face, as if unsure whether or not his eyes were betraying him. “Eddie.”

Eddie nodded, tears welling in his eyes. “Richie,” he whispered.

Richie reached his free hand to cup Eddie’s cheek, letting his thumb swipe softly back and forth across his high cheekbone, still as littered with freckles as it had been when they were fourteen. Richie could feel his eyes wetting as well and blinked a few times, refusing to tear his eyes away from Eddie’s, they were still the same warm, hazel brown with flecks of gray. Richie could feel Eddie staring back up at him, boring holes into his own crystal blue eyes, cast into an almost clear aqua by the brilliant afternoon sunlight reflecting off the snow outside, magnified by the thick lenses that sat in front of them. As they looked at each other for the first time in over ten years--really looked at each other--Richie could feel every single memory of them crashing over him like a tidal wave, crushing him and building him back up again, and he could see the hurricane raging on behind Eddie’s eyes as well. He remembered the long glances, the soft touches, the warm, summer sun reflecting off the water, shining on their wet hair and their wet arms, coaxing freckles out of hiding. The bitter winters, those memories still dominated by warmth, the campfires, the backseat of Richie’s truck with the heater all the way up, the two of them wrapped up under blankets in the same bed. The hot breaths and lingering touches, tingling, warm skin covered with goosebumps. The warmth coming to a crescendo, a blaze that had destroyed everything in its path, igniting their lives and incinerating everything within reach. The fight that had ended it all, and the cold that it had left behind. Replaced again with only longing glances out the back of car windows, driving opposite directions across the country.

Richie watched as Eddie lost his battle with the tears in his eyes, letting a sob escape his chest, beaming up at Richie as the tears began to fell. “It’s been… God, it’s been so long, Rich. So fucking long. And how did we-- how did we not...”

“I don’t know… It doesn’t matter though. Because we’re here. And we remember. And… I never told you when we were younger because I was seventeen and a fucking idiot. But I love you, Eddie. I have since the moment I met you, and… I don’t think I stopped, even while I couldn’t remember you.”

Eddie smiled, laughing through the tears. “I love you too.” Just then, Eddie’s phone began to ring in his pocket, vibrating between them. He pulled it out hastily, sighing at the screen and pressing it up to his ear. “Mom. I just landed, calm down. I’ll be there soon.”

“Yes, I--”

“No, it’s fine, I can--”

Richie chuckled softly to himself as he watched Eddie’s brow furrow, and he reached in his pocket to retrieve his own phone. He read through the few texts he’d missed, deciding to deal with them at a later time. He took a deep breath as he opened his email, refreshing it slowly, ready to see nothing. When it finally loaded, there were two messages. Both from his manager. With shaking fingers, he opened the first one. His eyes pored over the screen, barely reading the words, attempting to absorb the contents of the entire paragraph at once. He scrolled to the bottom quickly, not really retaining any of the text at the top. When he got to the last line, it said this: “I know you’ll have scrolled through this whole thing and not read any of it. So, here’s the deal…”

He looked up at Eddie, who’d just hung up his phone in frustration. Eddie’s eyes went soft when he caught sight of Richie’s face. “What’s up?”

“I did it, Eddie,” he said, exhaling a short, relieved laugh. “I got the job.”

#reddie #secret santa event #kaspbrak-eddie

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novantinuum · 6 years ago

Text

Death and All That Follows (Ch. 2)

A03

Fandom: Trollhunters

Rating: K

Words: 4000~

Summary: When Merlin's elixir began to work its magic, it cleaved the then-human trollhunter's soul in two. One half lived on in a hybrid's body. You know how this portion of the tale goes, of course.

But what of the other half? What happens to him?

Well... this is his side of the story.

Chapter One

Note: Unfortunately, fic circulation online is getting harder and harder as the months pass. Please, if you read to the end and enjoy, consider helping me out by reblogging this post, or even commenting/giving kudos over on AO3. Thanks! :D

Chapter 2

His soul eclipsed with sheer happiness and relief, he practically threw himself at his once-thought-lost friend. For a split second he feared it was all grief and smoke and mirrors, that he’d merely phase right through the troll’s blue tinted spectral form, even though grabbing Kanjigar’s hand earlier surely proved this world had some degree of solidity. But blessedly, this was not so. Draal stumbled one step backwards as Jim wrapped his arms as far around him as he could, dropping his head against his chest.

“You’re alive,” he gasped in relief.

“Not alive, regrettably. Not really. This is the Void, remember? I’m nothing but a ghost, same as all the others.”

“I don’t care! I watched you die,” he said, barely able to croak out that last word in his hoarse state. “You took that knife for me, and then you fell and you turned to stone and died, a- and the cavern collapsed, and I couldn’t even stop, couldn’t mourn, o- or-“

“Jim,” Draal reminded in an almost uncharacteristically gentle manner. “My death is not your burden to bear. It is my life and my honor to serve the trollhunter. To… to watch over my friends. And I can rest easy knowing that at least that part of my duty has been fulfilled.”

“But you’re my friend too,” he said, peering up to meet his green and gold rimmed eyes. “I should’ve protected you, should’ve saved you! I was so close, and then…”

Instinctively, he lifted his hand to dab away tears with his palm, before finally realizing with shock that he hadn’t actually been crying at all. He didn’t notice until now but he never had been here, at least not in any physical sense. His heart wept, and he felt like his eyes were puffy and wet, but they somehow… weren’t. Why weren’t-? Oh. Oh, of course. He was a spectral being now. His body was nothing more than an outline of hard light, woven together by the might of ancient magic. And much like the Void’s window to reality, this instinct to feel the tangible effects his emotions summoned was merely an afterimage of the human life he’d left behind. Unneeded habit. Distantly, he wondered how long it’d take for habits like these to fade away, but at recalling the centuries many of his predecessors had spent in this place he quickly shoved this distressing notion into the back closet of his mind. He’d address that elephant in the room later. Much… later.

One day, just one day without a double dose of existential crisis, that’s all he wanted. Wow, it’s almost depressing how low the bar was.

Draal moved Jim’s small hands off his stone skin, breaking their embrace. His expression shone with genuine affection, but also a lingering sense of duty.

“Nevertheless, it in the past. Now is not the time to mourn what could have been, not when there’s still a battle to be fought.”

“He’s right,” Deya spoke up from behind them. “Deep beneath Arcadia’s streets, while the trollhunter trains under moonlight, the dark magic grow stronger with each minute that passes. We can sense it.”

“Morgana,” spoke a distant, stray soul in a mournful baritone, flitting about around them in a flickering azure haze.

“Morgana!”

“Morgana is free.”

“The Pale Lady!”

He swallowed hard. The reminder of the eldritch witch who’d tormented his friends only served to heighten his anxiety, festering like an incurable itch in his overactive mind. Another soul moved in haste right past his ear. He bit back a yelp as he flinched, dodging it. Its whispers were fervent, in rhyme, teetering on the edge of madness:

“She returns in haste and fury, Clad in emerald without light! Crystal’s flame will burn no longer, Snuffed out by Eternal Night-“

Deya lifted a hand towards this restless spirit. “Peace, Heliosa, peace. I promise, our hour of glory will soon come.”

Heliosa’s cryptic whispers abated at her words. Her spectral form grew still, hovering in the space between Draal and Jim. It seemed she didn’t plan on manifesting fully like the others, however. Odd. He scoured his mind as he gawked at the spherical light, trying to test if his knowledge could place a face to her name, but he came up blank. History lessons in Blinky’s library felt so achingly distant now. All those lazy evenings between missions spent in the warmth and familiarity of Trollmarket… the nights Aaarrrgghh let Claire and him lean against his back as he rested, and how his mane of hair always engulfed them… Toby, twisting the amulet’s antiquated translations of A Brief Recapitulation into endless puns… the in-joke he shared with Blinky once upon a time, with their running tally of the (rare) occasions they caught Vendel smiling…

His features softened at the rush of fond memories.

“-may recall from Blinkous’ many, many lectures, is one of the most spiritually attuned trollhunters, and-“

Hold on, when exactly did Kanjigar start talking again?

“Wait, wait, wait,” he spluttered, holding up a hand. The elder trollhunter paused, peering at him with pursed lips. “Sorry, what? I, uh- I kinda blanked out there a bit. Sorry,” he repeated, desperately ignoring the slight embarrassed crack in his voice.

Draal titled closer to whisper in his ear, or at least as close to a whisper his bombastic friend could manage. “My father was introducing you to Heliosa the Harbinger.” He gestured towards the soul still hovering between them, its inner light pulsing at a heartbeat’s pace.

“Oh!” Distantly wondering if there was any way to save this conversation, he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. God, he might as hell have stuffed them in his mouth. “Uh- hello. I’m… Jim. Jim Lake Junior. Although you probably all know that already, so-“

Deya bestowed him a thin, pitying smile. “Be aware, she’s become a troll of few words within the past decade or so. Today is quite the rarity.”

“Hence why we’re introducing her,” his immediate predecessor nodded. “She only speaks in verse. You’ll soon grow used to it.”

Heliosa, still manifesting as a burst of spherical energy, began to dance in unpredictable corkscrews around the small gathering. The display left him mesmerized, gaze obediently following the faint trail of her glow like a cat’s paw to a pen light. Once more she spoke, her willowy voice laced with an unquestionable arcane authority:

“I foresaw the choice of Merlin, Knew the Lake of fate’s design, Centuries prior, time predicted Hunter born of humankind. Born of flesh, remade forthright Daylight’s child chained by night By wizard’s magic forged anew To eclipse Darkness with their might.”

The three trolls standing beside him gawked— Deya and Kanjigar in noticeable awe— clearly not expecting such a vocal presence from this trollhunter of old today. However, where their reaction brought pleasant surprise, all he felt was… well, the only way he could think to describe it was as a sort of reverse dread. His brow creased, her prophetic truth leaving him hollow. It stripped him bare, like a pumpkin with all its guts scooped out. With a spoon. He found the mere idea that destiny wove the threads of everything he’d experienced— that despite his many gambles and unpredictable strategies she’d led him by the hand to this very moment unhindered by chance— deeply uncomfortable. If fate really was his master, then… then he must be nothing. A minuscule, predestined knot in life’s tapestry. A mere pawn, his choices be damned.

Not that he ever had one to begin with.

He felt his spectral form collapse into a dense pinprick of light, perhaps to match how tiny he truly felt.

“I- sorry, excuse me,” he breathed, genuinely not knowing if he’d said these words aloud or if they merely existed as an echo within his mind.

Everything revealed since he awoke here suddenly becoming too much for Jim to process at once, he pulled himself away, immediately taking to floating as if second nature. The presence of Draal and all the others grew smaller and smaller as he sank further into the shadows of their metaphysical forge.

Betrayed, by destiny…

Confused.

Alone.

So, so alone.

I have to finish the fight! Alone...

If you walk out that door, you will die!

What choice do I have?

Oh there’s always a choice. Run away, save your skin!

My amulet does not make mistakes…

Despite whatever doubts you may have, it is now bonded to you. This is a mantle you cannot refuse.

I thought you said I had a choice!

I care, I do! I just see the bigger picture...

Your humanity is not enough, you are not enough!

In order for Merlin’s magic to work, something had to be left behind.

...

So what am I, then?

“Jim.”

Ambient noise emanating from the dull thrum of the forge became all but absent at the call. Impossibly stubborn and not desiring visitors in his current state of distress, he shifted his presence further into the shadow.

He was being stupid, he knew. The voice calling was clearly Draal’s. Why the hell was he hiding from Draal? And after all they’d experienced together...

As he tried to evade him, he bumped directly into a solid, warm surface instead. Living stone, life energy pulsing beneath. He felt a hand swipe towards him and he dodged. At this point he genuinely didn’t know if it was out of reflex or because he actually wanted to avoid his friend.

“Jim,” he repeated, stressing his name. “Look at me.”

Even if the only stimuli he could truly intake right now in this form was sound and touch, he swore he sensed the moment he himself pulsed with light, matching the wave of annoyance cresting within his mind.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I kinda can't do that right now,” he shot back.

“I do not mean-“ Draal sighed, the rough sound betraying his otherwise calm facade and revealing his concern. “Look with your soul, not your eyes.”

Despite his current cynicism towards everything in the universe, he gathered his wits and began to focus in on himself. Soul, not eyes. Soul, not eyes. Puzzling, and infuriating. He had no physical form, how on earth was he supposed to—

Oh. Oh. That’s new, he thought, feeling the slight pricking of another consciousness against his own. The consciousness’ shape intrinsically matched with what he knew of Draal, like how one might recognize someone by scent or the timbre of a voice.

“Ah, so you’ve found it. As you can sense now, we exhibit a different kind of sight here.”

“What… is this?”

“We’re the souls of the dead. How else would souls communicate, without the form granted by the amulet’s binding magic?”

“So. Let me get this straight. Basically, you’re saying the physical Void as I know it only exists through Merlin’s magic?”

He gently hovered beside his presence as Draal paused to consider his next words.

“As far as I’m aware, yes? Do remember,” he said, before Jim could probe for information he apparently didn’t have, “I arrived here mere nights ago. Father has only explained so much.”

“Okay, and about that.”

“About-?”

“You. I- I thought the Void was, y’know. Just for trollhunters. How did you…?”

“It was my father’s doing,” he explained. “At his request the elder trollhunters made an exception for me, against the normal rules. That’s all.”

“Well, I’m glad they did,” Jim said softly. “If there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s that some rules are worth breaking.”

“Some, yes.”

The troll’s presence pulsed with genuine warmth against his soul’s own. He wondered, if he had capacity for sight right now, if he’d see his friend smiling.

“Now tell me, flesh bag. What distresses you at this hour?”

His heart skipped a beat. Well, if he still had a heart, it would’ve skipped a beat. (Language technicality was going to be the death of him here.) In lieu of working organs, he was pretty sure his soul did about the equivalent.

“I’m fine now, really,” he hastily attempted to cover up.

Draal was absolutely not having it.

“Hmm. Interesting.”

“Wh- what is?”

“Your strange definition of ‘fine.’ You ran away, and then hid in the shadow for twenty minutes.”

“Uh- okay, okay. Fine. Or, or,” he stuttered, “not fine, I mean. Just…. there’s a lot to unpack. That’s all.”

“Are you planning to elaborate, or leaving me to ponder forever?”

Jim lapsed into momentary silence again as he considered. Draal was only wanting to help. He knew this. Also, where once his worry was vulnerability, now he literally had nothing left to lose.

“Well for one,” he eventually began, biting sarcasm coating his words, “I’m dead. I killed myself, and now I’m stuck here with a bunch of- of moody former trollhunters for all of eternity. And then. And then! Apparently, it sounds like every day of my life was bound by some divine destiny, or whatever. And I was fine with that, at first, with the idea of destiny. Because I thought-“ the emotion he’d been stifling began cracking through his level headed facade- “I don’t know! I thought it was something I could control. I thought that the amulet chose me for who I was. For being... special, as stupid and selfish as that sounds. But all of this was prophecy, Draal! It was always meant to happen! So what’s the point in it specifically picking me if I was just a pawn to fate all along? And not only that, but one of my predecessors literally knew Merlin was gonna blindside me with all this half-troll business and do they ever consider giving me, you know, a little heads-up? No!”

“It was only a prophecy.”

“Yeah, well it was a prophecy about me! I would’ve wanted to know. Maybe if I had more time, i-if I had the foreknowledge, could actually think on it before just- God, this was all such a mistake!” he cried. He could sense his spectral form growing cold and dim, only suspended by a single thread.

Draal’s consciousness brushed against his in what might have been his attempt at a metaphysical pat on the back.

“You miss your friends,” he observed.

Jim considered levying him a snarky ‘no duh’ in response, but his soul was too weary for sarcasm right now. Instead, with a little focus and a shimmer of daylight, he manifested himself physically once more and wrapped his arms around the one true friend he had left. He pressed his forehead against his chest.

Draal lowly huffed through his nostrils, slowly returning the embrace. While the fierce troll would never admit it, Jim knew from the hours spent fighting by his side that he cared far more than one might assume. Most of the ‘tough guy’ act he exuded was precisely that: a facade. Draal was actually fairly sentimental, and more soft-hearted than a lot of other trolls he knew. (He’d kept a few knick knacks gifted to him by his father in the basement.) If Jim ever brought it up he’d probably throw him in a headlock, though. Some things never change.

“They won’t ever- they don’t know I’m dead,” he said, words sticking in his throat. “They’ll never know, ‘cause to them I’m not-! I-I… can never see them, ever again.”

“I understand.”

He stood there leaning against his friend in relative silence for a time, his breath shaky as he allowed the rest of the emotion coursing through him like an avalanche to gradually dissipate. Draal didn’t budge an inch, still resolute in his duty to support the trollhunter. The smallest of smiles broke through his anguish at this thought, curving across his face. He was so grateful for that.

“Blinky,” he began, small and hesitant, as he pulled away from their hug. “He always said that destiny… that it’s a gift. Thing is, it really doesn’t feel like one right now.”

“Would you like my input, Trollhunter?”

He met Draal’s eyes, the troll peering into his in such a knowing way that it almost made him squirm. “S-sure. Go wild. I’d take anything at this point.”

“You’ve chosen to define the sum of your life as the destination every action leads you towards. But have you considered that perhaps… what matters isn’t where, but how?”

“I’m not following, sorry.”

“Destiny may guide you, act as a beacon for days to come. But in the moment, you decide how you react to the challenges life throws at you. That choice is yours, and yours alone.”

“Oh, great,” Jim muttered, a sour cynicism corroding his tone. “Helpful. So life may suck, but hey! At least I can approach it with a smile!”

“No. That is not what I mean. What happens in the moment has far more impact than you realize, Jim. Consider me, for instance,” he explained, jabbing a finger solidly against his chest. “You chose to spare my life in our duel. A single life. Do you really think the elders’ vague prophecy could’ve ever predicted a young human having the courage to break entirely from tradition, to forge his own path? I wouldn’t be here right now without your intervention. Your camaraderie, and your friendship. Every action— even the smallest— creates ripples, Trollhunter. Do not be so quick to forget that.”

At this reminder, the hollowing of his chest receded, his anxieties ceasing to eat away at him so quickly. Draal was absolutely right. Even moving through the patterns of fate, he still exhibited a great deal of agency. Even within the framework of a game he didn’t create, he possessed the capacity for free will. His grim assumptions earlier were wrong. He wasn’t somebody’s pawn, he was the hand strategically moving the pawn.

Nevertheless, a pang of melancholy ran cold like a shiver through his bones. At the edge of war, he sure hoped his living counterpart realized this too.

“So… what do we do now?” he said. “Not like, about the battle,” he clarified hastily, “but. Just in general? It’s way too quiet here. I could do with some sparring, or something.”

Mischief glinted in his friend’s eyes.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Blue clashed against blue in a myriad of sparks, the magic that held together their physical forms flickering like television static each time they struck a hit. Jim Lake Jr. grinned as he leapt clear of the latest attack. Draal, compressed into a dense ball and unable to slow himself down, continued rolling up the side of the practice ring and clear into the rafters. Somewhere far above, the troll condensed himself to light and all but dissapeared.

“Hah, missed me!” Jim shouted in triumph, backing a few steps up as he scoped the area. His fingers wrapped ever tighter around the hilt of his sword. “Still one hit ahead of you. Y'know, my offer to play easy is still on the- Whoa!"

He manifested his shield in one hand just as his friend, chuckling boisterously, appeared from thin air and swung a playful punch at him. Even in the Void, the contact shot dull vibrations all the way up his arm.

"Not a chance, novice! Tied!" Draal countered, and immediately tucked himself into a ball again. The rumbles of his movement across the stone reverberated powerfully throughout the vast halls.

“What in the name of-!“

Uh-oh.

Jim almost regressed back into his spectral state himself right then and there, the surprise of the elder trollhunter's voice merely the cherry on top after Draal's sneak attack. His form flickered as he returned Daylight to its mount on his back.

“Oh, Kanjigar!” he said, plastering an innocent smile on his face. Draal rolled to a stop in between them, looking equally as sheepish. “Are you here to, uh- to spar too?”

The elder trollhunter pressed his palm against the ridge of his forehead. “Am I here to- no! No, of course I am not! We do not wage battle in the harmony of the Void! And Draal, you too?” he exclaimed, widely gesturing at his son. “Must both of you make a mockery of this sacred space?”

Without so much as a second thought, Draal pointed at Jim. “It was his idea.”

“Hey, excuse me!” he hissed at him under his breath, embarrassment growing evident in his posture. That rat! He bailed him out, and in front of one of the greatest trollhunters to live, no less. Still, Kanjigar was his father, (and Jim couldn’t imagine ever lying to Blinky, himself), so he supposed he’d have to excuse the betrayal. He sighed deeply, and leveled his gaze towards the great troll with a demeanor of assured confidence only a fellow trollhunter would ever dare summon. “With respect, I’ve only been here for like, barely an hour, if that, and I’m already dying of boredom.”

Kanjigar blinked, utterly failing to capture the deeper meaning of his words. “I’m afraid I don’t follow. By all measures you’ve already died, Jim.

“I know that I’m-“ he groaned, carding his fingers through his hair. “Never mind, it’s- it’s just a figure of speech. My point is, I’m not gonna just float about the ether and armchair quarterback every single little fight my other self has like you, okay? I- I need something to do. Something that won’t be stressful as hell."

"What, like sparring? Sparring is not customary here."

"Why?"

Draal huffed in annoyance, and began to hollowly recite words his father had likely imparted when he first arrived. "Because the Void is a peaceful domain wherein trollhunters should seek the calming pursuits they never had opportunity to give thought to in life. Supposedly."

"We do not wage battle because our lives were a battle, young trollhunter," Kanjigar stated simply.

"But that's not fair, it's calming for me!"

He pondered on this fact as the words passed his lips, upon reflection surprised at how accurate they were. He'd actually grown to look forward to his training sessions with Blinky or Draal, back before the loss of Trollmarket. They were routine, ever-evolving, and functioned as wonderful stress relief. Many a day he'd spent letting his frustrations out on the forge machinery after a bad Spanish or algebra exam.

“Wow," he said under his breath, mostly to himself. "That's actually true, it really is. Huh. Crazy how much can change in a few months. But!" He lifts a finger for emphasis, talking directly to the others once more. "As I was saying."

"Yes, do continue," Kanjigar said, peering between him and Draal with narrowed eyes. He crossed his arms, thoroughly unimpressed.

Jim's hand moved to cover the amulet, hanging directly over the space his heart once occupied. He glossed his thumb across its rim. "I guess... the crux of the matter is, certain customs of the troll world had to change when the amulet picked a human. And now, with part of me dead, it’s the Void’s turn. I'll keep my distance from everyone else while sparring for courtesy's sake, but for the record, it makes me happy. I don't aim to stop."

And with that bold statement, he let his armor fade into light. The expression of dumfounded shock that crossed that old troll's stony face in response was almost enough to make him audibly bark in laughter for the first time today. He pocketed the amulet, and walked past his elder.

"You coming?" he said, gesturing to Draal. "I thought I'd explore around a bit more."

"Count me in."

“I heard you shouting in the distance. Tell me- what did I miss?” Deya asked as Kanjigar returned to the others.

“Nothing important,” he groused. “Only Lake and my son desecrating every rule they happen to lay their eyes on.”

She tilt her head at him, in a matter-of-fact sort of way. The knowing smile she presented— top row of sharpened, squarish teeth showing between her lips— whisked him back to the time when he the foolish youth called by the amulet, and she was one of his elders. Long, long ago.

“They’re sparring, aren’t they?”

“Exactly! And as dictated, the Void is a place of eternal peace. A peace that currently, they’re uprooting by way of their irresponsible foolishness!”

Deya’s laugh rang out as clear as a bell. “Oh, lighten up, you old misery,” she teased, swinging a punch at Kanjigar’s shoulder. “To hell with the rules. It's perfectly harmless, sparing here. Let the youth have their fun.”

#trollhunters #jim lake jr #draal #kanjigar #trollhunters fanfiction #deya the deliverer #my writing stuff

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alxndr-l · 5 years ago

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Here I am again, nauseous from lack of sleep, and here to bore anyone who actually reads these things to death with paragraphs of self-indulgent fretting over a hypothetical temporary semi-promotion that I’m probably being arrogant to think might happen.

Seriously, I wouldn’t bother reading this, it’s an essay of brainsplurge that probably makes me out to be a bit of a prick, but I’m posting it here because a) it’s written and b) I’ll be able to find it to read later to remind myself that I’ve already been over all this once so there’s no point doing so again.

I found out this morning that there’s a not insignificant possibility that I might get asked to cover a teamleader for a few months while he’s off sick. There’s two other possibilities, but it seems as though I’m the favourite even though on paper the others look like better choices (I think one is likely to say no, and the other isn’t hugely popular with management). We kind of expected this might happen when discussing how we’d run the place, but it feels different knowing that it might actually come to something.

I’m not sure if I want to agree to it, if I do get asked, but at the same time I’m not sure if I’ve got much choice in the matter. Saying no is always an option, but if there’s no one else do it then it has to be me. Not covering the teamleader just pushes the rest of the team (and I consider both to be friends) into that position instead, and that’s unfair on them as they’ve even less experience than I do.

A good part of my reasons for not wanting to do it are purely selfish. I don’t want the responsibility, it’s a hell of a lot to take on. Ultimately everything that we do, everything that goes wrong, any mistake that gets made, and everything that we don’t get done will come down to me. In the middle of the night when things go wrong, it’s figure it out or make the call to wake someone up and hope they can help from the end of the phone. And although not explicitly the job of the teamleader, it’ll also expected of me to take on the role of being the one to manage their safety as well, and that in itself is a massive responsibility. I could insist we share it, but that would feel like shirking my duties. It’s one thing to lead a team and take that responsibility occasionally, but it’s quite another to do it for an extended, unknown, period of time.

I don’t want to let people down either. I enjoyed the time I was new and no one had any expectations of me after feeling so much pressure to do well as a kid. People have come to expect things of me now anyway, but agreeing means fully accepting that fact and having to live up to it. I don’t want to let them down, whether that’s the manager that decided to ask me, anyone who’s suggested I do it, or just the people who ring up expecting us to fix things. There’s a lot that I don’t know, and a lot that I’m simply not allowed to work on. Whether it’s my fault or not that I’ve not had the training courses it’s still incredibly embarrassing to have to continually say that I can’t do something. Of all the people who could get asked do it, I have the least competencies because the training matrix seems to hate me.

I’ve got my own expectations of what a “teamleader” should be as well. I would be sharing a job title with some truly fantastic people, people who’ve been doing it longer than I’ve been alive and who’ve forgotten more than I know, and the person I’d be covering is one of the best, if not The Best. Give me ten years and I’ll still not be at their standard. They deserve that position, they earned it, whereas at this point we’re just taking the best we can make do with because we’re down a third of our workforce. Do other people see it like that? Possibly not, but I view our grades as almost akin to a ranks to be earned and respected.

There’s an (as far as I know) unwritten rule as well that if you step up and cover a higher role you have to apply for any jobs of that grade if they become available. It’s seen as part of the deal of taking the pay in the short term. I don’t want the job permanently though, I’ve never had any intention of applying for anything this early in my career as I don’t need it, don’t want the responsibility, and frankly don’t think I deserve it. I’ve only just come to terms with accepting the technician role I was given, let alone teamleader.

PT being on that team is a complicating factor too. As much as I enjoy being around him, it can be, at times, difficult. It dregs up too many feelings and thoughts about family that are just easier—if perhaps not healthier—to ignore. I have no idea how to read the dynamic that we have, and I don’t want to end up encouraging something in my own mind that’s not there. I also don’t want to end up wrecking our friendship in any way by working with him all the time. He would hate me thinking it, but he’s the person I don’t want to let down the most. He seems to think a lot of me and I don’t want to shatter that illusion. Christ knows I’ve disappointed my blood-family, I don’t want to see that happen again (even if this father-son dynamic thing is all in my own mind and fuck knows it’s probably just wishful thinking and I shouldn’t encourage myself by putting it in words).

There’s also the possibility that I might end up going off for surgery at some point in the near future myself if the London team ever get around to doing so, and that’ll just mess people around.

It’s a lot of damned phonecalls, and I don’t like phones.

With all that being said, there are some reasons why I would want to do it, and maybe I should do it.

It would be a good opportunity to get experience for when I am ready to become a teamleader, both in trying to get the job and to actually do it. For a first team to lead this would be one of the best to do it in, they’re not strangers, and they’ll hopefully be a little more forgiving if I do make mistakes. It’ll certainly be better than getting thrown in the deep end with people I either don’t know that well, or don’t know at all. It might do me good in other aspects of life (e.g. those hateful phones) although I always seem to have it together more at work anyway.

It’ll get me away from my current teamleader as well. I honestly don’t know how much more I can cope with the stress of dealing with him. The third person in our team is likely to be off for the rest of the year and I am dreading it. I won’t have to worry about what he’s doing, what he’s not doing, and his personal life (2am this morning I had to drive him to his house as fiancée was throwing a tantrum yet again). I’ll not have to deal with the conflicting feelings of having to take charge just so that stuff gets done and it not being my job to do so. I won’t be finishing every shift and exploding in a rant at the first person I see with the latest frustrations of working with someone who is frankly lazy, disinterested, dull, and who openly admits that they come to work to offload on us because it’s therapeutic without sparing a thought for the fact that we have absolutely no choice but to be stuck in a van trying to fill the roles of councillor, citizen’s advice, lawyer, and financial advisor.

It’s awful, but needing to get away from him is probably one of my biggest motivating factors to want to take it. I’d do anything to not have to work with him anymore. How am I supposed to work with someone when my suggestions of actually doing some work are just met with a reply of “I’m not interested” and him promptly going back to sleep? As much as I’m worried about the stress of having to lead all the time, I’ve actually found it less stressful overall on the days where he’s been off and I have been leading because we can just get on and do stuff rather than worry about trying to get him to do his job properly.

Plus it would be a bit of a fuck-you to all the people who make judgements on the fact that I look like a thirteen year old kid and the best way of proving the manager who thought the same and that he could bully me, wrong.

And the end of the day, they might not even ask me. They might realise that I’m not the most qualified person for the job or manage to find someone more suitable from somewhere. This is all just hearsay at the moment, and I’m probably just being bigheaded in thinking that they would ask me. And if they do ask me I haven’t got a great deal of choice in the matter. It’s just an illusion of choice. Saying no would probably end up seriously harming any chance of getting a teamleader job in the future, if I did decide that I wanted it, and there’s not a lot of alternative options to fill the gap. In any case, it’s part of the job description that you step up if your teamleader isn’t there, how can I say I can do that (and do it on occasion) and then turn around and say that actually I can’t when it becomes too scary?

Realistically, could I do it if I had to? I would get by. I’ve always got by when I’ve ended up leading for a shift or two. We wouldn’t be the quickest, the most organised, and there would be a lot of double-checking standards and documents, but we would get there in the end.

#personal #work

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timelordvictoiouspartyof1 · 6 years ago

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Rules were made.... Ch4

Summary: It had taken everything in her to walk away, but she did. She could ignore a lot but the last time was the last time. Bucky had cheated before but there was always a reason to justify it. As soon as she couldn’t find a reason why, no, another excuse to stay, she didn’t.

Words: 3200+

Warnings: Angst but I promise its coming!!!

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader (who I call Maggie, Mags or Magdalene because I don’t like Y/N)

Ch1 Ch2 Ch3

You woke up in an empty bed, not that that was altogether unusual. Oliver had his own place and you had yours. In the last six months that the two of you had been together nights were spent together at one place or the other, but it was odd because he was there last night but not this morning. You closed your eyes and listened closely to see if you could hear him messing around in the kitchen but nothing. That’s when you rolled over and found his note.

“Sorry to run out so early, my flight leaves at 4 and lands around 11, I’ll call you when I get there. Sorry you weren’t feeling well last night, hope it’s better today. I miss you already. All my love. –O”

Right! What an idiot. You were never this careless. What had gotten into you? Bucky. You knew the answer. Laying in bed staring at the ceiling you tore through your memories from last night to make sure you hadn’t done anything to offset things with Oliver. Nope, thankfully he couldn’t read your thoughts.

That’s when you rolled over to check your phone. New emails, nothing urgent. Nat wanted to get together for lunch and day drinking. And……..Bucky?! He had stopped trying to call and message you months ago. Your fingers trembled just slightly as you clicked his name. You held your breath as you read his three short messages, then closed your eyes, dropped the phone on the bed and laid your head back.

That had been your home. Unlike with Oliver and all of the back and forth, you had for all intents and purposes lived at his house. He had a large house. 12 rooms, countless bathrooms, 4 sitting rooms, indoor kitchen, outdoor kitchen, indoor pool, outdoor pool, a gym, and an office. He had taken two rooms as his own and the office, anything outside of that was free range for the men who worked for him. His official room, the larger of the two was on the top floor. It was beautiful and massive, it held most of his clothes and the entire of his personal item, but he rarely went in there. His other room was on the main floor and was connected to his office through a bathroom. He was in and out of his office at all hours so this was the most convenient way to work and still get sleep. That’s where you remember most of your quieter, more intimate memories. Cuddled up next to him or on his lap as he worked or read, laying with him as he drifted off to sleep, exhausted, body bruised and knuckles bloody.

You weren’t a fool, you knew what he did, all those late nights when he wandered in dirty and tired. As much as you had ignored it your whole life being with Bucky had pushed it into the front of your mind constantly. You asked few questions but took in any information he would send your way. Because of this Bucky had insisted on giving you some training to defend yourself and once a mo th or so he or Steve would take you out to the range to practice shooting. He also made sure you had some sort of weapon on you at all times, something you still held to till this day. His house was your home though, once upon a time. But what now?

You picked up your phone again checking the time on the text. 1:48 AM. He was drunk. Not that it mattered, he meant what he said. You knew that. You missed him desperately, he had become your best friend despite all else. Should you text back? Or call Nat? You knew she would have some choice words for him crawling back, but that wasn’t what you needed. A long run to clear your head. It was early still, if he did wake up, you knew with how much he would have had to drink staying out that late, maybe he wouldn’t get his feelings hurt thinking you were still sleep and not that your weren’t texting him back. Running outside was the only thing that really cleared her head, reading books is what cleared Bucky’s. With that thought you knew it was going to take more than a couple miles to get this all sorted out. Thankfully just a mile away was a very large park and the perfect track to get it done. Setting your iPod up and slipping it in your pocket you took off.

You mind drifted in thoughts trying to sort things out. Could you just be his friend? Wasn’t that one of the rules? ‘Three, don’t be his friend you know you’re gunna wake up in his bed in the morning.’ Could you just be his friend? Thinking about being near him again made it harder to push the good memories out.

You leaned against the doorway of his office peering in, he was leaned into the corner of the sofa one foot still on the floor reading from a folder. You just stayed and stared, god, he was gorgeous. You bit your lower lip and rested your head on the door frame.

“Now don’t do that.” He said without looking up. “You know I can’t take it went you bite your lip, it makes me want to bite your lip and then this whole thing will get started and I really don’t have time right now.” He widened the gap between his thighs inviting you to sit down. You climbed in his lap straddling him at first running your hands through his hair lifting his face to look at you.

“I’m sorry. I wouldn’t want to be a distraction.” He chuckled in disbelief. “I mean it.” You said with a soft smile staring into his devastatingly blue eyes. You dipped you lips to put small kisses along his collar bone before you fell back on the sofa away from him with your legs crossed over his. You leaned you head back on the armrest and stared at the ceiling letting him get back to his work. After a minute you let out a long deep breath loudly, bored, like a child. He leaned forward and handed you a book without question or comment, folder unmoving, then immediately leaned back into position and continued reading. You turned the book and read the title, The Lord of the Rings. Bucky loved books he always had more than one on hand. It was one of many very attractive qualities he had. You loved reading too it was something the two of you shared in private for fear it would make him look weak. Often you would read the same book and on a stolen lazy afternoon with no interruptions the two of you would sit around and talk for hours about books. He was very intelligent in that way. Always finishing before you and waiting patiently for your deductions.

You stopped running. Grossly out of breath. Not realizing that you had been pushing yourself too hard. You doubled over trying to catch your breath stretching one arm out to lean against a tree, finally collapsing to the ground. Tears on you face as you tried to catch your breath. You pulled out your phone and stared at the screen not knowing what to do, then it rang.

You took in one more deep breath trying to steady yourself before answering. “Hey baby, I’m sorry I missed you this morning. How was the flight and the airport and all that?”

“You looked so beautiful I couldn’t bear to wake you. Everything was fine as usual. You know I never complain as much traveling as I do. How ya feeling? That bug from last night clear up?”

“For the most part, I think I’ve got a handle on it.” You stood up and started walking back in the direction you parked your car. “Good to hear you made it in. I know your schedule is super packed while you’re there, any idea if we will talk before you get back?”

“Sorry babe, you know how it is. Seminar all day, drinking and networking all evening. But I’ll be back in four days, on Thursday midday. After that I don’t have to be back in the office till Monday so we get a long weekend and I’ll make up for all this radio silence then. I promise. OH! My ride is here. I love you, babe. Text me if you want to.”

“Love you, too. Be safe.” And he hung up as you reached your car. You sat on the ground to stretch with your phone on the grass next to you. Just as you leaned in over your thigh to stretch you pulled back up grabbed the phone again, looked at the time 10:45, and text back.

“I’m hungry. I’ll be at Deb’s grabbing a salad around 11:30” Send.

________________________________________________

Bucky rolled over with a groan. His body hurt and all his clothes were wrapped around his body in a wrong way. He rubbed his face with both hands and blinked his eyes open. It was definitely already day time. He forced himself up on his feet and shuffled to the bathroom. He reached in and turned the shower on, stepping over to the sink and brushing his teeth. He looked in the mirror thinking how he looked like death. He removed his clothes and stepped into the shower letting the hot water run down his body. It felt amazing. He washed his face finally waking him up, that’s when he assessed his body from last night’s damage. Ribs were bruised, busted lip, and the early signs of a black eye, knuckles busted open. Not too bad compared to the other guy he supposed. He turned the water off, wrapped a towel low around his waist and walked back into the bed room. He rummaged around the sheet to find his phone to check the time. He scrambled his hands to quickly when he saw there was a message from you he dropped his phone under the bed. He dropped to his knees to dig it out leaning is elbows on the bed as he opened it. He closed his eyes and steeled himself before reading it.

11:30!!! That was in 7 minutes. DAMN IT! What an idiot. He threw his phone and ran into the closet. Immediately running out with pants on and a shirt thrown over one arm he grabbed his phone and wallet and ran out the door. With luck there was a car being cleaned at the end of the driveway. He walked right to the driver’s door.

“Scott. I need this one now, thanks. Good job.” With the keys already in the ignition he pulled off. He put his shirt on the rest of the way. He checked his watch, which wasn’t there, he grabbed his phone. Clever girl, she knew him better than he knew himself. She picked a place less than 5 minutes away and he had 4 minutes to get there. He would be right on time.

He pulled up and parked next to your car. Looking in the window he could see you at the table. Gorgeous. He turned the engine off and stepped out of the car. He rubbed his hands through his hair at an attempt to fixed it. Realizing he didn’t grab a hoodie as he walked to the door, the weather was getting a little chilly. He was never only in a t-shirt. He learned early when he got back that his metal arm tended to intimidate people so he stuck to long sleeves. He felt odd. Only adding to every thought racing in his mind. What did you want? What was he supposed to say? Who was he supposed to be to you? Was it over with Oliver? He felt like a teenager girl but swallowed it all when he opened the diner door.

He walked up behind you and leaned in to whisper in your ear. “You have never looked more beautiful, doll.”

Not raising your gaze from the menu you that you weren’t reading you replied, “and you look like you drank half the bar last night. Did Steve drink the other half?”

He stole a kiss off your cheek before you had the opportunity later to deny him, then quickly slide in the booth across from you. “Mags. God I-I don’t even know what to say. I can’t believe your back. Let’s get out of here. I’ll take you some place proper. Do you have your stuff? How did Oliver ta-” He sounded so desperate but only partially hated himself for it. He didn’t care how he looked in front of you, especially if saying these things got you home.

“Bucky, stop.” You said softly not reaching a hand out to lay on his forearm. He noticed your hand twitch in the hesitation. As much as he tried to push the thought away he felt stirring in the pit of his stomach. “I’m not back. Not like that. I just…..” you trailed off. You could already feel your resolve breaking. Fuck. He looked so good. Muscular arms you could already feel around you, pressing you into him. Flesh to flesh never being close enough. His teeth nipping at your skin. Your nails digging into his shoulder. You bit your lip.

“Oh, uh, ok yeah.” He ran his fingers through his hair pulling it away from his face but it fell right back into place immediately. He smiled up at you but you could see the confusion in his eyes. The problem was you were just as confused. “Yeah so, how have you been? You looked breathtaking the other night by the way.”

Your eyes closed as you blushed. Well this wasn’t going to work. You melted at the slightest kindness he gave you. You cleared your throat, “Good. I’ve been good. Been keeping busy I guess. The business is taking off. I hardly have to be there anymore. We have five employees. Amazing how many people are so desperate to work for pennies in the wedding planning business. And stop looking at me like that James, I mean it. I pop in from time to time but Wanda has everything under control. She tells me I can do as much as I want but lately I just haven’t been interested.”

“Too busy being a trophy wife, eh? And if your implying that I was looking at you in such a way as to express how lost I am without you here every day and how utterly devastated I will be if you walk out that door and stop speaking to me again, well then you’re wrong.”

“James,” you almost whined. “stop. It can’t be like this, ok?”

“Well, then beautiful you tell me what it can be like. I know how to follow rules. Because I’d rather have you. In any way I can.” He cooed and flirted but looked down at the table as he spoke. Anyone else in the world would only see confidence but you knew better. You reached out and wrapped you fingers around his wrist on the table.

“James, look at me.” He obeyed without hesitation. “I miss you too, ok? More than I want to admit but I can’t. You hurt me too badly, too many times. I’m not going to beat myself up anymore. Why wasn’t I enough? What did I do wrong?” Bucky opened his mouth but you raised you fingers to his lips to stop him and he pressed a long kiss to them. “I don’t want answers because none of them will be enough. I do want your friendship. I miss what we were. In that way.”

“Ok pretty.” He gave a half grin. On purpose, he knew what it did to you. That was always the smile he gave you before he climbed on top of you and pulled you in.

“Like that! Stop it. First rule then, no telling me how pretty I am. And of course no inappropriate touching.” You slowly pulled your hands back into yourself. “No personal inquiries either. Just books, movies, work, the weather things like that.”

“Anything you say. Anything else?” his eyes stayed lock onto you. Almost unblinking he took you in like a man in the ocean holding on to the one thing keeping him afloat.

“No more googly eyes. You know what I mean. Like what you’re doing now. Right then, that should do for now. But I reserve the right to make more rules in the future. That’s a rule too. Do you have any rules?’

He leaned back in the booth draping one arm over the top of it. He licked his lips, “Yeah, I think so. No midnight booty calls, and that includes texts too, I’m not a piece of meat. And no more biting you lip, come on doll, you know that’s just cruel to do to me. And uh, you have to keep my secrets. I need that. I’m falling apart not having that anymore. Keeping it all bottled up isn’t healthy for me.”

You laughed a little. He was so smug. This was dangerous ground and you knew it but you were drawn to him like a magnet, try as you might to fight it, it was inevitable. You put your hand out to shake. “Deal.”

He put his hand in yours and pulled it to his lips. You yanked it away. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Old habits die hard but deal, deal, I swear. I can follow the rules as long as you can. So you said you’re getting a salad? That doesn’t sound good at all. I think I’ll have a burger.” He called the waitress over and ordered then she promptly left.

“So short sleeves, huh? Things really have changed since I’ve been gone.”

“Yeah, no not really. I ran out the house pretty quickly and this was all I grabbed.” You had noticed. He should have known you would. It was still taking all of his self-control to not jump over the table and grab you, pulling you to his body and showing all the ways he was sorry. Or to beg and plead with you to come home, take him back, love him again. Or to get down on one knee right now and propose. Offer to buy an island if you would just come back. But he pushed it down hard and opened his mouth again. “So, read any good books lately?’ He sounded like just a dork.

You smiled. “No, not really, I guess. No one to really push me. What about you? Tell me what you’re reading and I’ll catch up. We can talk about it next time.” It fell out of your mouth so casually.....’next time’.

“Nothing new actually. I tell you what, I’ll figure something out later and text you. We can start it together.” He held in a breath and waited for your response as the conversation halted when the waitress set the food down.

You picked up you fork and started moving salad around the bowl. “Perfect. I can’t wait.” Then you started eating. Four hours later you both walked out of the diner. You stopped at the cars and gave each other a lingering hug, then went separate ways.

You waited until you drove off to giggle and grin like a school girl. You sang at the top of your lungs all the way home. Yes. This was dangerous.

Next Chapter

#mob!bucky #bucky angst #buckybarnes #bucky x reader #RulesWereMade #james buchanan barnes #its just queue and me baby #its a love story

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panda-noosh · 7 years ago

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A Family Like Ours {Breath of the Forbidden One Shot}{Prince!Shiro x Reader}

Words: 3668

Summary: Takashi only needed to get through this meeting, but with a family as rowdy as his, that was easier said than done.

Notes: I missed my babies ;')

Coran Junior was known amongst the kingdom of Voltron to be quite a menace.

The king and queens son – the prince. He had taken on the title that his father had once pinned to his name, and being only five years old, he currently had no clue just how a prince was supposed to act. Neither you nor Takashi bothered to teach him such things just yet; you wanted him to have a childhood. A childhood that neither of his parents were able to have.

With you having served your childhood on the streets of both Altea and Voltron, searching for any type of work you could get, Takashi had been raised in a castle, which had robbed him of his childhood just as much as you had been robbed of yours. Having his every little need met by handmaidens and guards alike, he had never experienced what it was like to be a child.

During the months of your first pregnancy with Coran Junior, you and Takashi had agreed that there would be nothing like that going on in your household once the baby was born. He would have a childhood. He would be able to go outside and play with his friends, and he would know what it was like to do stuff for himself. He would learn basic human skills. He would know that his rank didn't make him any better than other people.

Today he was particularly rowdy, you noticed. From the moment you had opened your eyes, seen him standing by the end of your bed with a large grin on his face, his black hair stuck up in it's uncombed state, you knew today was going to be difficult.

First of all, Coran and Esmay were both fairly restless. Coran insisted on having all of the attention this morning whilst Esmay was fussy over the fact that she had been woken up earlier than usual; she was definitely your child. Whilst Takashi managed to get out of bed with a spring in his step no matter what time it was, you cherished the few hours of down time you got every night.

Secondly, today was the first meeting between Takashi and the new king of the Galra state, Lotor. It was a big deal to everybody else, though Takashi had read the invite with barely a nod of interest to prove for his own excitement. He and Lotor had grown up together, and though they had barely spoken since the incident with Ezor, this meeting between them was surely going to be nothing more than a few friends catching up.

You were excited to meet princess Allura again as she had made it clear that she was accompanying Lotor on his trip to Voltron. Allura had always been pleasant with you, and the fact that she was of the same race as you made you feel a little bit more excitement towards the whole ordeal.

You would just have to find a way to settle your children first.

As the time for the meeting grew closer, you found yourself losing hope. You didn't want to send the kids off with Coran. Lotor would want to meet them both, and you knew the meeting would go much more smoothly if there were children around to break the ice – but children who were this rowdy? You struggled to believe that that would cause anything more than annoyance amongst the guests you would soon be welcoming into your home.

You grabbed at Junior's arm as he ran around you, Esmay seated in your lap with the beans from breakfast still clumped in her curly black hair. She had just finished screaming her head off as you tried to run a comb through her locks, and Junior had not settled down once during the entire ordeal.

“Coran Shirogane, if you do not sit down and settle right now, I'm telling your father that you misbehaved!”

Junior simply squealed, now adding a tiny jump to the laps he was running.

You groaned, running a hand through your hair. You were still yet to meet with the stylists who were due to make you look presentable enough for king Lotor. You still weren't used to the pampering, though you found yourself suddenly craving to be sat in that seat – anywhere but here.

You loved your children with every beat of your heart, but there were times when being alone sounded a whole lot more appealing than dealing with their screaming.

You made another attempt at Esmay's hair, simply using your fingers instead of trying to take the comb to it again. You didn't want to set her off so soon before the meeting, though even your fingers were causing her to stir in your folded legs, her chubby hands reaching out and grabbing at the ends of your trousers.

Junior suddenly slumped forward, spreading himself across your shoulders with his arms wound tightly around your neck.

“Mummy, I'm bored! Daddy said there's a special meeting today that I'm invited to, but it's taking too long!”

You nodded, somehow managing to ignore the five year old currently trying to climb up your back whilst you dealt with Esmay.

“Are you coming to the meeting too, Mummy?” your son continued. “Me and you can sneak sweets in like we did the last time.”

“Daddy got mad at us for that, baby,” you replied, unable to hold back the fond smile that spread across your lips at the memory. You and Coran handing sweets to each other beneath the table, Coran giggling as you subtly told him to shh with a finger to your lips.

“Daddy did indeed,” a voice sounded from the door. Your head swung around, relief immediately flooding through you at the sight of your husband leaning against the door frame of the master bedroom.

A soft smile adorned his lips as he looked at the sight in front of him. You could only frown, shooting him a desperate glance, a silent plea for help.

Takashi chuckled and stepped inside, fixing the cuff of his dress shirt as he did so. His black hair was sat slumped against his forehead, as it usually was on his lazy days. You knew he would soon get it slicked back to look presentable for Lotor, though you found yourself appreciating the casual style he still managed to maintain; it reminded you of all of them years ago whenever you would run into each other in the hallways – you in your handmaidens uniform, him in whatever whacky suit he had pulled together that day. Today, he wore a black and white, vertical striped blazer that made him look taller than he already was.

Your husband knelt down and scooped Coran Junior into his arms. You heard your son squeal in excitement.

“Are you bothering Mummy?” Takashi asked.

“No. I was talking to her about the meeting,” Junior replied. “Did you know that she's coming too? We were all invited!”

“We were,” Takashi chuckled, before you felt him prod the small of your back with his shoe. “What has she got in her hair?”

“Beans,” you responded. Esmay stirred in your grip again, reaching up and catching your fingers as you tried to undo a knot that had gotten caught in her curls.

“Beans,” Takashi repeated. “Why has she got beans in her hair?”

You sighed, giving up. You slumped back against the door of the dresser, finally casting your eyes up to look at Takashi – his presence always managed to calm you, and you felt a slight weight get lifted off of your shoulders whenever you were met by his fond smile, holding his son in his arms. “The both of them were extremely rowdy at breakfast this morning. Junior was running around the dining room, and whenever I went to check on him, she somehow managed to get a handful of beans and then continued to run her fingers through her hair.” Takashi's eyes widened in amusement, his gaze flicking down to look at his daughter. He seemed to soften immediately, a small smile adorning his features once again – that look of fondness that you would never manage to get over. It was a pure look, one that told you just how much this man loved his children.

“Wow,” he said. “I haven't known them to misbehave before noon in a long time.” He looked down at Junior, who was still cradled in his fathers arms. There was a large grin on your sons face, Takashi holding him like he was a baby again, a fact which clearly amused the five year old toddler. “Were you giving your Mummy a difficult time this morning?”

Junior shook his head immediately. You raised a brow, pulling Esmay towards you. She snuggled into your chest, one hand still knotted in her hair as she tried to replicate the feeling of your own fingers.

“And now you're telling lies?” Takashi continued. Junior snickered but continued to shake his head. “What did I tell you about lies, Junior?”

“Lying is bad,” Junior recited.

Takashi nodded. “Exactly. So tell me the truth. What were you doing in the dining room this morning?”

Junior took a moment to reply. You watched him, watched how his smile – identical to Takashi's – never once wavered. He was so amused by this, and you found yourself fighting back your own giggles at the innocent act your son was trying to play, knowing full well he had done wrong this morning. You had already scolded him for not sitting down and eating his breakfast – he knew he had been bad.

“Mummy cooked me egg and toast,” Junior said finally. Takashi raised a brow. “I ate it! The toast was cut into little strips and I dipped it into the yellow stuff in the middle – but I didn't eat the white bit. I gave those to Esmay.”

“Was that all you were doing?” Takashi pushed.

“And then I played races around the table.”

“There it is!” you exclaimed. Takashi shook his head, his grin widening as he tried his hardest to put on a stern expression, glaring down at his son who had now burst into a fit of hysterical giggles.

And then Takashi started tickling him.

You laughed loudly as your husband tossed Junior onto the double bed. Junior bounced once, rolled over and squealed as Takashi attacked him with a claw like hand digging into his stomach, his fingers moulding with the fabric of Junior's shirt as he tickled him. Esmay laughed along with them, amused by the scene in front of her. She started bouncing in your lap, clapping her chubby hands.

“Careful you don't break anything!” you called out through a fit of giggles.

Takashi didn't even look up. He had now leaned down and was pretending to take bites out of Junior's neck, making Junior curl up and kick his small feet into his fathers chest. Takashi played along, pretending that his kicks were genuinely hurting him and rolling over to the side, clutching his heart.

Junior gasped, eyes widening as he scrambled up. He took one look at his father before diving on top of him, wrapping his small arms around his shoulders and burying his head in the crook of Takashi's neck.

“Daddy, stay alive! We have a meeting today, remember? You and me were meant to go to the meeting together!”

You chuckled as Takashi cracked open one eye, wrapping his arms around Junior's middle. Junior gasped at the contact, clearly surprised to see that his kicks hadn't, in fact, killed Takashi.

“Oh yes,” Takashi said. “How could I forget? I definitely can't die now.”

Junior grinned and nodded. “Exactly!”

The door to the room opened at that moment, and Coran Senior poked his head inside. Esmay started clapping again at the sight of him – she had always taken a liking to Coran. You often teased that it was because of his moustache, which he now had trimmed a little bit though it still curled up at the ends.

He raised a brow at the sight of the room – Junior sprawled out on top of Takashi's chest, you sitting on the floor with a bean-covered Esmay bouncing in your lap. Neither of you batted an eyelid, finding nothing weird about how your family chose to spend their free time.

“So this is what has kept you from the stylist chair?” Coran said, turning to you.

You shrugged. “Being a mother is difficult, my good friend.”

Coran scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Well, so is being a queen, and you now have queenly duties to attend to. So get moving.”

You pouted, but you knew he was right. As much as you didn't want to get up and leave the perfect scene you had just been involved in, you did have queenly duties to attend to, no matter how much you tried to push them to the side.

And so the poking and the prodding began, very much against your will. Needles were pushed into the fabrics you were due to wear, tightening them until your bosom was pouring out over the top of the dress. Takashi whistled at you on his way past the room, having only poked his head in once with Esmay dangling from his arm. You had thrown a shoe at him, prompting him to quickly flee from the dressing room with only the echoes of his laughter as evidence he had been there at all.

By the time Lotor had arrived, you had changed outfits twice, had your hair redone a number of times due to Esmay's clawing hands ruining the original do, and had make up placed neatly upon your skin. You knew you would no doubt break out into hives after this meeting, your face not used to the feeling of cosmetics upon it.

You were relieved to finally be taking your seat next to Takashi at the head of the table, Lotor, Allura and sat on the other end. A number of guards occupied the other seats, a mix between Galra and Voltron citizens.

You tried to keep Coran Junior as firm on your lap as you possibly could – at least during the introductions. He could sit still for only a few minutes whilst his father greeted the guests. Takashi held Esmay in his arms as he did so, grinning at Lotor, starting up a warm chat about how long it had been since the two had seen each other, how things had been. Allura congratulated you on the birth of your children, despite it being nearly an entire year since you had been pregnant.

Allura questioned you on the delivery, on how your body had been able to take such a harsh process after the years you had spent being underfed and malnutritioned.

“It was by the grace of the Lions,” you replied, keeping a smile on your face. As the conversations continued to flow – gradually getting more and more political as the meeting went on – Coran Junior failed to sit still in your lap.

He tugged at the collar of your dress, pulling you down so he could whisper in your ear. “Mummy, I stole sweets out of Uncle Coran's room before the meeting. Do you want one?”

You shot upright, eyes wide. Takashi raised a brow, turning to look at you in concern as Lotor went on about how his coronation had went only a few weeks prior. You sent your husband a warm smile, a way to tell him you were okay, though you could feel the giggles bubbling in your chest.

Perhaps it was the boredom that caused you to suddenly be so easily amused, but the idea of Junior sneaking into Coran's room and stealing the sweets he had made you want to laugh.

You looked back to your son and leaned forward so you, too, could whisper back to him. “What ones did you steal?”

Junior fumbled in his trouser pocket for a second before pulling out what looked like a paper bag of jelly beans. You had seen Coran buy those at the market only a few days prior, and it was clear he had planned on saving them for a special occasion. Jelly beans were much more common in Altea than they were in Voltron, a fact that you and Coran had been forced to learn the hard way.

You snickered as you reached your hand out. Junior excitedly bounced upon your legs as he poured a few into your awaiting palm, before slyly placing one into his own mouth.

He shot upright, dramatically looking around the table in the way only a five year old could do. You followed his lead, slyly slipping the jelly bean into your mouth and chewing away as quickly and as subtly as possible.

Takashi and Lotor continued to speak. You and Coran continued to eat, even slipping Esmay the odd sweet whenever she popped her head around her fathers shoulder.

The end of the meeting was quickly approaching, though, and you knew you would soon have to find some excuse as to why your five year old son wasn't completely worn out but, instead, seemed to be on a sugar high. Usually Junior and Esmay both would be knocked out by this time, but Junior was still bouncing up and down on your lap, clapping his hands to the table as Esmay laughed and tugged at Takashi's grey tuft of hair.

Takashi raised a brow as she reached up to do it again. Lotor chuckled.

“They both seem a bit restless from what I can see,” he commented. “Lions, even your wife looks a little bit bubbly there, Takashi. What have you been feeding them?”

You pursed your lips. It was obvious Takashi had caught on. He turned to look at you, tilting his head a little bit to the side with his eyes narrowed. You avoided his gaze, instead choosing to pretend like you had taken a sudden interest in the wallpaper that lined the dining room walls.

Takashi sighed. “My apologies for my families lack of manners, King Lotor.”

“An apology is not needed,” Lotor replied. “We should probably get going anyway, Allura and I. A long day of travel ahead.”

“Of course.” Takashi and you both stood up, bidding the couple a warm farewell.

As soon as the dining room door shut behind them, Takashi sighed loudly, dramatically, any way to get his clear frustration out.

You grinned at him.

“You have jelly beans in your teeth.”

You closed your mouth immediately, swiping your tongue across your teeth. “It was an accident, Takashi. I swear to you. The jelly beans were just there, and-”

“Where did you even get them from?” Takashi stepped forward and swiped the nearly empty bag of sweets out of Junior's hand. Junior wailed, turning to you in a sudden flurried panic that startled Esmay, her head snapping off of her fathers shoulder.

“He found them, Mummy!” Junior yelled. “We have to go! He's gonna get aaaangry!”

You picked Junior back up and held him close to you. He continued to wail, trying to make any attempts to run as Takashi inspected the bag.

“These are Coran's?” Takashi questioned, ignoring his sons overdramatic yelling.

You nodded. “Junior took them from his room this morning, I think. It would have been a shame to have put them to waste, wouldn't it?”

Takashi raised a brow. For a second, you truly thought he was angry; he had every right to be, of course. As queen, you were supposed to show at least some level of respect for the guests you were due to serve. Takashi was aware of your lack of courtly skills, but he had given you a fair warning that eating sweets during a meeting wasn't something he approved of.

You ducked your head down, sighing. “I'm-”

Suddenly, Takashi's fingers came in contact with your chin. It was a slight movement, his fingertips like feathers against your skin, but it startled you nonetheless. Your eyes snapped up as he guided your head to look at him, soft grey eyes meeting yours and immediately, somehow, relaxing you.

“I have told you time and time again that you don't have to apologise to me for anything,” he said. “I'm truly more angry at the fact that you didn't share with me during the conversation. Lions know I could have used a sugar boost.”

Your eyes widened. “Takashi! Lotor is your friend!”

Takashi groaned and leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours. You could sense his exhaustion – you loved it when he got like this. Whenever he was tired, he ceased to function like a king. He became Takashi again, with that same lop sided grin and those teasing comments he always used to make. He no longer cared about what Voltron thought of him, and it was times like that whenever you remembered why you had fallen in love with him in the first place.

“And I appreciate him coming here today, but I've been wanting to curl up in bed all day,” he said. “Would you do me the honours of joining me?”

You chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before pulling away and bouncing Junior on your hip. “Afraid I can't, Your Highness. It seems like these two have quite a sugar rush to burn off.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“I'm going to blame you for dragging us to a meeting that was more boring than your coronation.”

Takashi gasped dramatically. “My coronation was not boring!”

But you were already half-way out the door, grinning to yourself with a spring in your step.

#voltron #voltron headcanons #voltron scenarios #voltron imagines #voltron self insert #takashi shirogane #shiro voltron #shiro x reader #keith kogane #keith voltron #hunk garrett #hunk voltron #pidge gunderson #pidge voltron #lance mcclain #lance voltron #voltron au

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flyingwerekitty · 6 years ago

Text

The Bet

An Emperors fic for @kitsunix! Idk if they’re in character or not but I read a post that reminded me of Dixon and I wanted to do something with the group. ^^”

Now THIS was entertainment!

Sure, the guys could be jerks... but watching them go at each other’s throats never failed to remind Dixon why he put up with them in the first place!

He couldn’t remember what started it. An errant comment about vampire superiority had snowballed into a vicious argument, and now all he had to do was remain neutral and watch them tear each other apart. As the third general of their little army of miscreants, it was his job to act as referee. He preferred the term ‘Devil’s Advocate’ himself. All it took was a well-placed compliment here, a vague criticism there... and he was easily looking at a two-day marathon of batty antics to keep himself occupied.

Man, the Underworld was the best!

“At least I’m allowed to drink blood! Tomato-drinker!!”

“Says the guy with only one power! Dull-fangs!!”

“How DARE you!!”

“Yeah, Stoker. At least he uses his fangs!” Fueling the fire was Dixon’s specialty, and these two were a winged furnace.

“Oh, like he’s ever bitten anyone before!”

“I have so!!”

“Yeah? Prove it!!”

“Don’t worry, Thatch! At least you’ve never been captured by a Normal before! ...Oh, wait.” Dixon grinned.

Thatch glared at him and growled. “Nobody asked you!!”

“Yes you did. You said to back you up on this one. I’m backing you up.”

“I told you to back me up!” Stoker snapped.

He shrugged. “First come, first serve.”

“You wanna settle this the old-fashioned way, Batboy?”

“I can take you!! You don’t even drink blood, how tough can you be!!”

“You don’t even hunt humans, you just startle them with your fangs in broad daylight, like a coward!”

“At least I can see the sun you shut-in freak!!”

“Girls, girls... you’re both pretty.” This was Dixon’s favorite part of the argument. “May I suggest... a contest?”

The vampires exchanged glances.

“What...”

“...kind of contest?”

“Winner gets the title of Best Vampire and a cash prize. Any takers?”

Stoker snorted. “Yeah, I’ll take that! Here!” He slapped a ten dollar bill into one of Dixon’s waiting hands. “And you’d better not ‘lose’ that...”

“I’m in. I’ll just win it back anyway.” Aaand there was Thatch’s ten, in the other hand. “Lose my money, and we’ll settle this over your neck.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dixon tucked both bills into his suit and settled in. “So... what’ll it be this time?”

“Hm... Definitely the scariest!”

“Done that already.”

“Coolest powers!”

“Too biased.”

“...The strongest?”

“Did that, too. It’s gotta be something that proves you’re the better vampire.”

“Blood-drinking contest!”

“You’re on!”

“We’re NOT doing that again. Not after last time.”

“Well, then what do you want us to do?” Stoker grumbled.

“Hm...” Thatch grinned. “I got it! You see that vampire girl over there, by the fountain?”

“She’s cute!”

“Right. I bet she wouldn’t settle for second best!”

Oh, this was perfect. “It’s settled, then! First one to get a date with the girl wins! Stoker, you’re up first.”

“What?! I was gonna go first! It’ll save us some time!”

“What, and miss watching him get rejected? That’s the best part!”

“HA! You’re both gonna eat your words! Watch a master at work, idiots!”

Even his swagger was exaggerated! There wasn’t a Normal’s chance in a coven of this working out!

They couldn’t hear what was being said, but they could see the girl’s lips curl in disgust. Both of them were snickering long before Stoker gave up, stomping back to their home base at the foot of a nearby mausoleum. Thatch nearly laughed himself right off his gravestone.

“Let’s see you do any better!!”

“Sure! Let me show you how it’s done.” Thatch smirked and adjusted his cape before sauntering towards the girl.

Stoker leaned in. “Ten bucks says he gets slapped.”

“Nah. I don’t make bets I could lose.”

They exchanged smirks.

It took even less time for the girl to reject him. He hadn’t finished his line before she was glaring at him. He never recovered from the rocky start, and soon she ended the contest for him by flying away. Thatch came storming back to the base.

“Not. a WORD.”

“HA! And you thought I sucked!”

“You both sucked.”

“Tch. Like you could do better, you’re not even a vampire!”

“Yeah! Besides, that girl’s got a heart of ice!”

“I bet double I can melt her.”

“And if you lose?”

“I’ll pay you double each.”

“Deal.”

He shook both their hands on it, ignoring their toothy, matching smirks. The girl hadn’t gone far, and he could hear wingbeats overhead as the boys tailed him. He could even hear them snickering at his gait as he strolled lazily beside her. He wasn’t trying to look ‘impressive,’ or whatever those idiots thought impressive looked like. For this to work, he only needed to be approachable.

Two minutes later and both vampires were squawking like angry parrots as he and the vampiress linked arms and headed for the gate.

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

“Hi.”

She groaned. “Not again... leave me alone!”

“Nah, it’s cool. I’m not with them. In fact, I got a deal for ya, if you’re interested... it involves money and making both of those idiots look like... well, idiots. Whaddaya say?” He kept his voice low and his posture casual, a lazy grin plastered across his face.

She shot him a curious look. “...I’m listening.”

His grin widened. “See, those idiots made a bet that they could get you to date them. I bet them double, and I’m willing to split it 50/50 if you’re willing to fake a laugh and leave here with me. No dates required.”

She smiled. “How much is ‘double?’”

“About 40.”

“You’re willing to pay me the difference just to show up your friends?”

“Yes.”

Her laugh was loud and genuine.

“Well then, my knight in purple armor! Shall we?”

“We shall~” He offered her his arm and threw a wink at the skies behind him as they left the cemetery. They would be too busy sulking to notice him slip the $20 they gave him into her waiting hands. “Thanks. That ought to shut them up for about... four hours.”

“Well, if it’s for a good cause...” She giggled. “Thanks for the blood money. Maybe I’ll see you around!” She stopped. “...What did you say your name was again?”

“It’s Dixon. Dixon Sneer.”

#Emperors crossover au #Rough work #He would do this though #Hope you enjoy it! <3

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 7 years ago

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McMalfoy’s (Part 1)

So awhile back things were really slow at work so I may or may not have written a fic (on receipt paper of all things) to vent about work. Now I may not work in food, but this made me feel better about my job.

So I present to you all, a fanfic about Harry (and his co-worker, Draco) doubling as an employee for both McMalfoy’s & MalfoyMart. A good number of these chapters will be based on things I’ve had to deal with at work.

Once upon a time there was a kid named Harry Potter. He worked at McMalfoy’s part time. He promised himself that it was only temporary, he would keep the job until he had just enough to go to Merlin’s Music Magic festival that summer with Ron and Hermione. It was pricey, but all of the sickest wizard rock artists were going to be there. So McMalfoy’s would do. It was okay mostly, but his coworker Draco was kind of a jackass. Of course Draco was the boss’ son so he never got in trouble for licking the French fries of muggle born customers. Or for hitting on hot babes when he was supposed to be flipping burgers.

“Babes before burgers, Potter.” He’d say assholishly. And since he was the boss’ son Harry would take the fall for the low productivity and the growing stream of customers.

What made it worse was that McMalfoy’s was ran out of the Malfoy Manor so sometimes he’d get lost on the way to the kitchen and find some muggle corpses or run into Voldemort combing his lack of hair after getting out of the shower on a fine Saturday afternoon. But worst of all were the rude customers.

Bellatrix was a regular, and she always had something to bitch about. One time she tried to use a Hagrid’s Hamburger Hut coupon at McMalfoy’s. He remembered the day quiet vividly, being as it was the first experience he had ever had with a customer like her.

His Wednesday started out decently normal, with Draco adjusting his uniform hat, pretending that he could make it work. Literally no one could ever pull off a McMalfoy’s bucket had not even Cho Chang. Not even Flure Delacour. But hey, Harry had to give him props for effort. Of course, it was Draco’s turn to wipe down tables, but Crabbe and Goyle decided to drop in at that time. Harry found it funny how the pair always showed up when Draco was supposed to be wiping tables. Grumbling to himself, Harry picked up a handful of paper towels and a spray bottle. He wouldn’t get reprimanded for Draco’s laziness this time! He was running on auto-pilot scrubbing robotically as he waited for the lunch rush. He came to the table in the back corner, his ‘favorite’ to clean. He began referring to that spot as the artists’ corner. That day’s mural was a classic. A nice big ol’ depiction of someone’s junk, captioned ‘Big D’. Harry would know it anywhere, he’d caught Dudley drawing it on menus at various high-end restaurants, and even once at a playground. Harry assumed he’d be free of it at McMalfoy’s but apparently the Malfoy’s were willing to serve anyone who had bucks to throw at them. So Harry found himself scrubbing at Big D, resenting Dudley for using a glittery gold sharpie this time. Within five minutes, Big D was very nearly gone.

It was at about that time when Lestrange kicked in the door—literally lifted her leg and slammed it against the door despite having two perfectly functioning arms. Her hair was disheveled with her comb still stuck in it. He sometimes liked to replay that moment in slow motion with a freeze frame on the part where she practically toppled to the floor. Upon successfully entering the establishment, Bellatrix balled her fists and scanned the place as if scoping out an employee to fight. Rodolphus sulked behind, silently begging her to, maybe, not do that.

As was the script Harry gulped and greeted, “welcome to McMalfoy’s how can we McMake your meal?”

“Two apple pies and McMalfoy’s flurry. Rod wants a burger.” Bellatrix replied, leaving Harry to mutter, “thanks for asking Bella, I’m doing great.”

Instead he spoke, “Please let me get to the register so I can...”

Bellatrix gave a dramatic huff. “Do you need to? Can’t you just take my order?”

“Well I have to be able to enter your order into the register so…”

“Just hurry up, I have places to be.” Bellatrix scoffed.

Harry made his way behind the counter, to his luck Draco took this as his cue to follow and ready the stoves. “Okay, what can I McMake you?

“I already told you. I want two apple pies and a McMalfoy’s flurry. With extra chocolate chips. And Rod wants a burger.”

“Actually I wanted a chicken sandwich.” He squeaked.

“He will have the burger.” Bella stated firmly. “Also get me a chocolate frog to go with that.”

The feeling of dread that crept into his soul was overpowering as he carefully replied, “we don’t sell those here.”

“Don’t. Sell. Those??? Here???” She shrieked. “What do you mean you don’t sell those here!?”

“We only see those on Mondays when we are MalfoyMart. We’re McMalfoy’s at the moment, mam.” Harry explained. Frankly he thought it was very ridiculous for the Malfoy’s to double as a restaurant on some days and then become a popular grocery store on other days. But hey, if magic can do it then it would be done. Such was the way of the Malfoy.

Bellatrix squinted menacingly at him. “Draco’s father will hear about this.”

Harry stole a glance back to see the boy mentioned, blushing at how he had just been mocked. If Bellatrix hadn’t continued to be a complete and insufferable pain in the rear, that might have made up for her prior remarks. But no, reformed (and he used that word oh so loosely) or not, Bella was still Bella. If she couldn’t cause people physical agony she would settle for mental torment and the opportunity to be annoying enough to give someone a brain aneurysm.

Harry held his smile. “I’m sorry about that. Would you still like the rest of your order?”

“Sweet Lord Voldemort below! You have the brains of a house elf, of course I want the rest of it!” Bellatrix chided as Rodophus pretended to be very interested in the cheap toys that came with the kid’s meals.

“Hey Bella look at that one.” He pointed at a plastic wand that looked like Lucius’ cane.

Bella ignored him. “Also here, it says I get five knuts off.”

“Bellatrix, you must have grabbed the wrong one, this is for Hagrid’s Hamburger Hut.” Harry fought to keep his smile good and wide.

“Not it isn’t” She insisted.

Harry couldn’t stop his eye from twitching. “Would you like to take a look, Madame Lestrange?” He hoped against all hope, that the use of the formal title would stroke her ego just enough to get her to calm down at least a little.

She turned the coupon over in her hand, inspecting it way too closely. Once, then twice, and then a third time as if doing so would change what it read. “Hmmm.” She hummed before turning it a fourth time. Harry wanted to bang his head against the counter. And in that demented sing songy voice he had become accustomed to she asked, “Well can you use it anyways?”

Harry blinked twice. “It’s for Hagrid’s Hamburger Hut.”

“But if you use it, it can be for McMalfoys?” She seemed genuinely confused.

“I’m sorry, Madame Lestrange, our registers can’t take coupons that aren’t ours.”

He expected another one of her frenzied explosions. The ones that typically led to the police being called. She surprised him though, in calmly taking the coupon back with an, “oh, okay, just let me see it.” She turned her back on him, there was a flash of purple light. “Here you go, that’ll be five knuts off of my meal.”

In her palm lie a clearly counterfeit McMalfoy’s coupon. “Bella, I just saw you use magic.”

“Wh-what, me? Use magic?? To get my way??? I would never.” She sputtered with false shock.

“Hey dear?” Rodolpus tried. “I’m very hungry, it’s only five knuts and we’re one of the richest wizarding families, can we please just order our meal?”

“Can we just…pfft…order our meal.” Bellatrix snorted. “No, we can’t just ‘order our meal.’ We’re getting five knuts off, I have a coupon.”

“Yes, you have a coupon, it’s the wrong coupon.” Draco grumbled to his aunt. And to Harry he muttered, “this changes nothing, Potter, we simply have a common enemy right now.”

“Alright fine, how’s this?” Bella bargained. “No coupon but I get a toy.”

“From the kiddie meal?” Harry asked.

Bellatrix’s eyes narrowed, clearly she was getting serious. “From the kiddie meal.” She confirmed.

Harry sighed, he didn’t want to do this. “Just a moment, let me ask my manager.”

Bellatrix clicked her tongue and drummed her fingers impatiently on the counter until Malfoy’s majestic mane could be seen swooshing around the corner. With all of the regality a pureblood ought to have, Lucius came to stand behind the counter. “Yes, Potter?”

Before Harry could open his mouth to explain the situation Bellatrix spoke up. “You’re employee is not being cooperative.”

Harry’s jaw dropped at the sheer audacity of the woman.

“He won’t take my coupon that I saved specifically for this moment.”

“It’s for Hagrid’s Hamburger Hut.” Harry put in quickly. “So I offered…well she offered to take a kid’s meal toy instead.”

“Just let her use the coupon.”

“Wha-what?” Harry sputtered.

Lucius took the coupon from Bella and finished processing your order. “That will be seven knuts and with the coupon…two knuts.”

Harry knew at that moment he was in for a long few months. It was about four days now, since the incident, but he was still shaken. It haunted him on his lunch breaks, as he pondered whether or not she used a McMalfoy’s coupon at Hagrid’s Hamburger Hut. He took a bite of his PB&J sandwich and gazed at the restaurant mansion. Bellatrix was skipping up the walkway and he only had five minutes left of his break.

#Harry Potter #Draco Malfoy #Lucius Malfoy #Bellatrix Lestrange #Rodolpus Lestrange #parody #fanfiction

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v177293 · 8 years ago

Text

That’s How We Roll

Summary: The silence, heavy with a mixture of disbelief and horror, only lasted for a couple of seconds before the room dissolved into utter chaos. Or in which Saitama is a Dungeon Master for fun and should probably get paid for all the shit he has to deal with.

Word count: ~1800

Note: D&D AU, everyone is as human as can be and there is no running around in capes and thighs (sadly).

It started like any other game night.

Which is to say, Genos spent all day cleaning the apartment from floor to ceiling as if their place wasn’t already spotless, the fading light of the sunset shining through the windows only emphasizing how Saitama could probably see his reflexion on every surface if he wanted to. Weren't it for the fact that he got tired of seeing him run around the place like a busy bee while he was trying to catch up to his latest manga, he was sure the teenager would have forgotten to at least sit down and eat before the day was over. The man could admit he had been a little bit of a slob before Genos decided to all but forcibly become his new roommate, but this was just a whole new level of ridiculous dedication.

Seriously, when the gang came to their place for game night, it always became so much worst.

Like right now.

“You know,” he said with a strange mix of horrified fascination and boredom, “if you keep sweeping the floor like that, I'm pretty sure you're gonna make a hole right through it.”

Genos froze, looking down at the broom in his hands as if seeing it for the first time. “I was only-”

“-obsessively sweeping the same patch you've already cleaned at least five time since this morning?”

“Well, that is-”

“Aw, come on.” While there was something almost cute about seeing him play the regular housemaid while sporting one of the most epic resting bitch face he had ever seen, enough was enough. “Sit down, will you? You're making me dizzy, man.”

“Ah, sorry!” Leaving the broom in a corner, Genos took place next to him, contrite, before perking up slightly after Saitama patted him distractedly on the head, leaving his soft pale hair in disarray as he went back to his manga.

Or at least tried to, only managing to read a couple of pages before the other started fiddling with the different books and miniatures on the table, clearly antsy to start now that the agreed meeting time was almost there.

Not that he had to wait for long; Saitama was just about to tell him to stop fidgeting so much when Mumen rang the door - right on time, as usual -, a smile on his face and a box of store bought cookies in his hands. He probably stopped on the way while riding to their place despite knowing they had more than enough discounted junk food stocked especially for the occasion.

“I know,” his friend answered, slightly sheepish, when Saitama lowered his eyes to the proffered box. “But one can never be too prepared!”

Soon after, King was knocking at the door, the older man joining them in the living room with his usual stone faced awkwardness, greeting them with a nod before taking place at the table. His portable console was already out, ready to wait until the last member of their group deigned to grace them with his presence.

Which could take a while, if past experiences where anything to go by.

Turned out, they were.

It took a good fifteen minutes filled with insults badly disguised as complains from Genos before Sonic finally barged in with a “Hey losers!” To be honest, Saitama was sure the other did it just to piss them off. Not that he was bothered by it, but the man had to admit, seeing how his boyfriend was seething not so silently next to him while glaring hotly at the newcomer, it probably worked.

One day, maybe Genos would finally understand part of the reason Sonic kept doing things like this was because the kid kept rising to the bait. If you ignored him long enough... well, Sonic wouldn't exactly get bored of it, but he'd at least try to bother someone else.

Oh, well. In the end, as long as the other wasn't trying to be a pain in his ass, he didn't particularly care.

They had a game to start anyway.

The story in itself was fairly simple, as far as campaigns went. Not that Saitama was too lazy to come up with a good and fulfilling plot, three dimensional NPCs and compelling quests, but after all these months playing with what had now become his usual group, he'd quickly come to realize one thing: even with all his careful planing and best intentions, they always somehow managed to screw things up.

Every. Single. Time.

Which was why, an hour in the game, the man should have thought a bit more before setting a small group of slightly hostile mercenaries on their path to spice things up. Honestly, they all needed it after Genos and Sonic spent what was admittedly way too much time arguing over who's character was going to sleep on which side of the room of the next inn they were going to encounter.

Sometimes, he couldn't believe he was dating one of those children. Cute or not, he was this close to throwing his pen right in the middle of that pretty face.

“Master!”

Sighing, Saitama gave the teenager the stink eye. “Dammit, Genos, I’ve told you a thousand time to stop calling me that!” Was it really so hard? People were going to start asking weird questions if he kept that up. Only that kid could go around calling his boyfriend master with such a straight face and not care about being heard by someone else.

“But Saitama-san! You’re our Dungeon Master! It is only proper to refer to you by your title!”

Sonic snickered, smirking. “Is that the excuse you use in bed, too? Kinky.”

“You-”

“Alright!” Mumen cut in brightly, lifting a finger to adjust his glasses. “I say we try talking to them. Who knows, this might be a big misunderstanding and if we make them see reason, we wont even need to fight!”

Going by Genos' put out expression, the plan wasn't to his liking. No surprise there, he thought. Kid seems to think heading straight in the middle of the fray is an acceptable reaction for a wizard. Which, to be fair, usually worked in the grand scheme of things since it more or less forced everyone else to follow lest they wanted to be short of a mage. It also more often than not ended with Genos' character KO'd on the floor in dire need of King's healing spells. At this point, though, it was kind of a given that Genos couldn't finish a session without at least one near death experience.

Honestly, his weird fondness – read, obsession – of fire spells was not a good reason to choose a class with so little defence, especially considering how boneheaded he was.

Eyes narrowed and arms crossed tightly across his chest, Genos didn't take long before letting know his far from surprising opinion on the matter. “We can take them. There is only seven of them, we don't need to lose any time talking to those low lives.”

“What about you guys, then?” Mumen looked at the other two, clearly uncomfortable with making any decision before hearing from everyone. Sometimes, Saitama wished he had twenty of him. “Any thoughts on the subject?”

“I, uh,” King started after a short moment of silence before wilting slightly when everyone's eyes turned on him, his voice dying as he caught the full force of Genos' intense stare. “I don't mind either way.”

“See? He doesn't care, so we should just-”

“And now,” Sonic cut in loudly, posing dramatically with the plastic katana he always brought for the occasion drawn towards the ceiling, a self-satisfied grin on his face, “comes the time where I, Speed-of-Sound Sonic, double-crosses you.”

The silence, heavy with a mixture of disbelief and horror, only lasted for a couple of seconds before the room dissolved into utter chaos.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Genos said with a growl in his voice that promised mayhem.

“It means, you numbskull, that my ninja-”

“Rogue,” Saitama said with the long suffering annoyance of someone who've had the same argument one too many time.

“Ninja,” Sonic continued with a side eyed glare in his direction, “thinks that he'd rather align himself with the winners, and clearly, it's not you.”

“Now, everybody, I'm sure we can-” Mumen started, always the voice of reason, before being rudely interrupted by the incensed blonde.

“You perverted asshole, I’m going to fucking incinerate you!”

“I’d like to see you try, you useless piece of trash wizard!”

King wisely kept his mouth shut, his shoulders hunched on themselves as if this could make him a smaller target. An incredible feat, really, for a man of his stature – and not to mention the slightly terrifying and foreboding expression he tended to wear as soon as his nervousness got the better of him. Saitama could all but taste King’s anxiety permeating the air.

Not that he could blame him.

“Master!” Genos' voice was full of determination, his pale golden eyes burning with overwhelming furry as if he had forgotten, once again, that this was only a game. “I cast fireball on the stupid thief!”

Because with everyone's characters standing so close to each other, this was sure to end well.

“Not if I cut your throat first, you brat! Even your lame-ass boyfriend won't be able to save your skin, then!”

“How dare you talk about Saitama-san like this!”

Saitama sighed, silently face palming as Genos disrupted the entire table with a scream of outrage as he went over it to try and strangle Sonic, dices rolling under the furniture with a clatter and snacks spilling on King’s character sheet. The man barely had time to save the picture of his well endowed cleric maiden before it got ruined forever by a handful of greasy party mix.

Sadly, this was another familiar sight on their game nights. And here he'd thought that this time, maybe, hopefully, things could be different. Honestly, he thought as he watched Mumen try to calm the other two down, voice barely audible over the ruckus, once again glad there were no neighbours close enough to get annoyed by all this noise. It’s like I’m a babysitter or something. And I don’t even get pai- oh, no they didn’t.

Yes. Yes, they did. Alright, that was it.

“Oi! Watch my floor, you little shits! You’re spilling soda everywhere!”

His only answer was the shocked howl bursting out of Sonic's throat as Genos suddenly got a hold of his hair.

Seriously. Every damned time.

#dessy writes #opm #saigenos #genos #saitama #sonic #mumen rider #king #fanfic #d&d au #one punch man #humor

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