#my grandma once said most of life was waiting and praying | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ellsbclls · 3 years ago

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White Winged Dove

warnings ➛ COUNTRY!TOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MY BELOVED!!!!!!!! smut, baby! (PLEASE do not interact if you are a minor), hurt/comfort, minor angst, happy ending: guaranteed!, a handful of swear words, and y/n has no choice but to have a country accent, i don’t make the rules here. extended warnings will be under the cut!

word count ➛ 9.5K

authors note ➛ i saw that gifset of tom taking a shower in cherry and my brain short circuited, so here! have a cupcake!

synopsis ➛ Tom feels like his world is falling apart, so he turns to you, the only person that reminds him of home.

extended warnings ➛ nsfw, fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, multiple orgasms, unprotected f/m intercourse (please practice safe sex, kiddos! wrap it before you whack it!), a tiny tiny tiny sliver of blood!play if you squint with one eye closed.

You remember the night in waves, docile, fleeting waves that tease the rim of your consciousness before reeling back. Golden whiskey licks at the seam of your lips with each pass of the bottle, and the pond is glittering beneath the blinking trails of all the lightning bugs — tens of hundreds of fireflies, dancing in the night’s misty skyglow, rivaling the pale moonlight.

You remember the night in waves, but he is a mighty current.

You can’t scrub the memory of him from your mind, that bleak, hopeless expression that hollowed out his features. You remember how your heart split into a million little shards the second it appeared, and just when you thought there was nothing left to break, his fragile voice pleaded for you to take him somewhere, anywhere, as long as it was far.

By the time the sun spilled past your window pane, you were nothing but a drowsy amalgamation of lithe limbs, coated in morning glow as it spilled through the glass.

But behind your eyelids lives an imprint of the night before — a shimmering reflection of the night sky, and the moments that unraveled beneath its sweeping gaze.

9:17PM — You’re belting into your hairbrush, not a care in the world, and pouring your heart and soul out to a crowd of none. Somewhere between all of your clumsy twirls and impromptu choreography, you stumble over the shoebox that was poking out from under your bed, and a flurry of damp tresses and musical giggles fan across your comforter.

The walls in your house have always been notoriously thin, but what could you possibly expect from the weathered planks of wood paneling that lined your bedroom? You could hear your father’s creaky footsteps whenever he ransacked the fridge for leftovers in the dead of night, and the heavy thump of laundry that your mother would throw down to the basement, but once your radio crackles to life, and Stevie’s enchanting croon permeates the air, all those subtle nuances fades to a dull, lifeless roar.

With each passing note, the white winged dove becomes you, and you soar above endless miles of Mississippi wood. There’s not a soul that can drag you back to the outskirts of town, force you to confront what may become of you when you land, there’s no room for trepidation where you go. There, in your own little corner of the woods, it’s just you, Stevie Nicks, and the moon.

And, technically, Thomas.

Minutes have gone by, you still can’t find the strength, nor the energy, to lift yourself up, and as your downy blankets hug your tired frame, you remain blissfully ignorant of your peeping tom.

Thomas, affectionately penned Tommy, has been your best friend, your confidante, since the very first day of kindergarten. You had pulled a pack of scented markers from your tiny, pink barbie backpack during free time, and he had pulled out the empty seat beside you, plucking, sniffing, and ultimately discarding each and every pen until the box was empty. When you asked him which one was his favorite, he asked you the very same in response, just so you’d “coincidentally” have a shared affinity for coconuts. He was oddly endearing, which is a trait that’s always stuck with him. So, even at a young age, you never wondered if he was just using you for your nice possessions, or trying to take advantage of your courtesy — he always offered himself to you at face value, and you never stopped taking as much of him as you could get.

Had you been aware that your childhood friend was waiting expectantly at your window, you may have handled your alone time with a tad more discretion — but you weren’t, and each act of your private concert forces him into an even harder position. To what extent does he let you embarrass yourself before he makes his presence known, and for how long will you bury your head in the sand before the embarrassment mulls over? He sees your stage dive as a golden opportunity, and seizes it before you begin to stir.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Three short, mild raps, uttered in quick succession, jostle you from your lavish daydreams like a bucket of ice water, and you have to squint just to make out his fair features amidst all the darkness shrouding them.

“Tommy?” A flash of his soft, earthy hues tame the wild drum of your heart, confirming your suspicions, and you fight the urge to chuckle when he innocently waves at you.

“Well don’t get all shy on me now. Come in.” You open the window just enough for him to slip through its frame, allowing your eyes to graze the sculpted plains of his back, and admire, albeit shamelessly, how his muscles ripple beneath his fitted t-shirt.

Yet, there’s something about him being in your room, towering over fixtures that once towered over him, that makes you feel uneasy. A part of you adores the way he instantly makes himself at home, but the remainder is doused in fear, fretting over his wandering hands and what they may discover, surveying little trinkets and souvenirs that decorate your desk.

“Hasn’t changed much since the last time I was in here, has it?” He notes, absentmindedly shaking the contents of a snowglobe your grandma brought you from New York, a miniature skyline of Manhattan continuously buried in a flurry of snow. Most of your playdates took place in his house, so as your friendship flourished past elementary school, and the time that spanned between your meetings grew shorter and shorter, you’d found yourselves frequenting his home for all of your endeavors. It was just easier that way.

That’s the sole reason you rarely visited your room. It surely wasn’t the suffocating atmosphere that plagued your home, or your hormonal, angst ridden brain convincing you that you’d scare him to the high heavens if he caught a glimpse of your relationship with your family — how dismal it is. How you build entire worlds, cycle through dozens of bountiful lives, in the luxury of your mind in hopes of retreating.

You’d be lying if you said the poster of Zac Efron, now lurking precariously behind his shoulder, wasn’t a glaring reason as well.

“Yeah, couple things here and there, but it’s pretty much the same.” You try to be discreet as you wander around your own room, Destination: Tiger Beat. Once you reach it, you rise up on your tiptoes to cover as much of the poster as humanly possible, but scramble for an excuse once you notice him turning. “You actually left something the last time you were here. It’s on the top shelf.”

RIP! The poster is crumpled in your grasp no sooner than his back turns to you. You’d have to give a formal apology to your wildcat once you were left to your own devices, but until then, he was banished to the most unsuspecting corner of your room.

“Jesus Christ Y/N,” His thumb fondly strokes a small, yellowed testament to your friendship, a weathered page of loose leaf etched in awry plumes of ink that perfectly encapsulate his very essence — egregiously passionate, regardless of the outcome. He had written it when he was about seven, intending to give it to the “girl of his dreams” once he met her. You can still hear his sweet, little voice echo between your ears, endearingly mistaking his r’s for w’s. “You kept this?”

“Of course I did.“ Candor coats your tongue before you catch yourself, the tail end of your answer turning to dust as soon as it hits the air. You can’t bring yourself to admit just how many restless nights you’ve allowed yourself to clamber up that oak dresser, just to read that letter over, and over, and over again, praying that if you had stared at it for long enough, his messy scrawl would transform into the words you yearned for most — that it was meant for you, that he’s loved you from the very start. “Wasn’t sure if you were planning to repurpose it for some other lucky gal.”

You lock eyes with him for the first time since he appeared at your window, and stowed beneath his reservation are faint embers of warmth, kindling behind ebony curtains as you indulge in the hearth of his gaze. Lifetimes seemingly pass before his eyes are flickering back down to his hands, and it prompts you to offer him the note. “You can have it back.”

“No, you keep it.” Your brows pinch together, and a thousand questions collect on the tip of your tongue. You wonder if he recalls the same memory you do, if he remembers the significance buried in that little scrap of paper, but ultimately choose not to dwell on it. He knows just how much you love to collect memorabilia — keep cherished memories stowed away for safekeeping — he’s just being thoughtful. “Consider it undeniable proof that I know how to read and write.”

“Ain’t nothin’ in here about knowing how to read.” You tease, catching your tongue between your canines as a smirk conquers your lips.

“Ya got me,” He chuckles, smile reaching for, but never quite meeting, his faraway stare. You are so accustomed to his teasing quips, his usual flair for the dramatics, that this half-hearted attempt at replicating it fills you with discomfort. He tries to punctuate his words by tossing his arms to the sky, but they don’t reach high enough to convince you that he’s okay. Something is plaguing him, and you won’t settle for anything less than the truth.

“Tommy,” His name is sweet on your tongue, all honeyed vowels and soft, descant consonants that command his attention. “What’s wrong?”

“No, nothin’, I just-“ he’s avoiding your eyes, which is a clever strategy on his part. If eyes are the windows to the soul, then his are a stained glass mosaic, a vibrant display of all his emotions, and you — you are but an avid observer.

“Hey, look at me,” Two slender digits underline the curve of his jaw, and with a firm grasp of his chin, leave him no choice but to meet your gaze, tender and resolute all the same. “ You don’t have to tell me anything if you’re not ready, but I can tell when someone’s been rode hard and put away wet.”

“I just, I need to get out of here, and I thought I’d ask my favorite distraction to accompany me.” He stumbles over his words, faltering over his messy façade, but you’d rather this over nothing at all.

“And where might we be goin’?” You query. You can tell that this is going to be a long night, but luckily for him, you don’t have any plans that can’t be rescheduled. Your adoring fans will just have to wait another night.

“Somewhere… Anywhere,” He murmurs hopefully, and your heart nearly sinks to the floor. You’ve never seen such a chasm of joy, not in those bright, amber orbs you study so adamantly. You’d almost deem it pain, whatever’s tugging at the frame of his optics, whatever’s depriving them of that usual, warm glow. “as long as it’s far from here.”

9:39PM — “Watch your step.”

“Can you help me?” You whine — one hand reaching out for his assistance, the other firmly clasped around a bottle of Jack Daniels. There is an awkward incline just below you, only a few inches off the ground, but tall enough to make you stumble, and he could already see you bumping your knees on the way down, so he offers his elbow as a point of leverage.

“Atta girl, you’ve got it.” He coos, reluctantly abandoning your grip once you’re safely on the ground.

Mystical, and buzzing with life, you introduce him to the farthest corner of the woodlands. Whenever the walls of your room become suffocating, your legs always give out right about here.

Your secret hideaway.

Where you let your most worrisome thoughts roam free, and when those thoughts seemingly wander into nothingness, you chalk it up to wishful thinking, and fail to realize that they haven’t disappeared, they just don’t belong to you anymore. They belong to the babbling brook, constantly replenishing itself and its inhabitants with fresh, spring water, belong to the frogs and crickets as they fill the night with their moonlit ballad, they belong to the night, and it’s reflection, as it wades across the face of the creek; dotted with lightning bugs or the cosmos themself, you weren’t sure. All you know is that you always returned, as if a piece of you was tethered to the very spot.

“Where are we?” He wonders aloud, raking his fingers through his downy, chestnut locks as he explores his surroundings.

“I don’t exactly know.” You confess, making yourself comfortable on the ground. Most nights, you slip off your shoes and sink your feet into the brook, but you know Tom like the back of your hand, know what kind of ideas might venture through that rascally mind of his when he spots you near the water. So, you play it safe, pulling your knees up to your chest as you peer up at him from a safe distance. “It’s nice, though. Quiet. Good place to let your thoughts wander.”

“You ever take a dip in here?” Predictable. You stifle the urge to laugh at his query, sinking ivory veneers into your pillowy bottom lip, and shake your head in response. “Hell, if I were you, with my own nature-made swimmin’ pool, I’d bring all the boys around.”

“You know I don’t waste my time with no silly boys.” You sigh, sending him a wistful glare.

“You sure about that?” He counters, mimicking your perked brow with eerie precision.

“Oh, I’m sure.” You huff. God doesn’t build boys the same way he built him, he took his time crafting that statuesque frame, implemented hawk-eyed precision for each and every beguiling detail you’ve come to adore. He is a man, tried and true, from his sharp, angular structure to the neverending bounds of his heart, but rather than inflate his ego moreso, you let him assume the worst. “You can take a dip if you want, though. I wouldn’t mind.”

You wonder if he can tell just how little you’d mind as a mischievous glint highlights his amber hues, but before he can even open his mouth, you’ve already pinpointed the source of his glower, already voicing your adamant refusal. “No, absolutely not. Not a chance, Tommy.”

“But why not?” He whines, bellowing over your feeble chant, conjuring the most convincing set of pleading eyes he can muster. “It’s dark, it’s humid, and ain’t no one around to tell us not to.”

“Sounds like all the more reason to not do that.” You scoff, scooting further away from him and the strength of his hopeful gaze.

“I hate to pull out the big guns, but... what if I told you that it’d make me feel so much better if you accompanied me?” You’re left to wonder what the big guns are supposed to be, if they aren’t the way he is encroaching on your personal space, crawling up the length of your legs until there is only a sliver of space between you.

“I’d remind you that there are much drier ways to make you feel better.” You could feel your warm breath fanning across his lips, distracting you with the scent of minty toothpaste and your vanilla chapstick, ultimately failing to notice his hands, and how they’re positioned just below your waist.

It would only take one swift move to reach the small of your back, two to scoop you up in his arms, and about six more to drag you into the pond — kicking and screaming, but successfully so.

And he doesn’t chance it.

SPLASH! You’re no sooner submerged in the brooks’ murky depths, reaching out for lily pads and cattails that fail to provide you leverage, and your screams bubble into thick, smothered embers of a once irate flame. He better pray you never emerge from usunder, because he’s merely a howl away from being swept up in the tide — the tide being your arms as they force him to the bottom of the crick.

“Y/N,” your name scrambles between the slosh of the water and the pounding in your ears, but you manage to break the surface and blink spare drops of water from your eyes.

“I was drowning!’ You gasp, struggling to keep your head above water as you kick, and splash, and writhe around in the stygian abyss.

“In two feet of water? I beg to differ.” You can barely make out his comeback over his fit of giggles, but a part of you would rather this bright, teasing version of himself that what you’ve been dreading beforehand. Taking his outstretched hand, you stumble to your feet and, much to your dismay, find yourself standing in about two feet of water (which, in your defense, is a far more daunting threat to someone your size as opposed to his). You cool his inflating ego with a cold splash of water, dispersing tiny droplets from your fingers as they wave in front of his face.

You splash around in the water for what feels like forever, transforming stray lily pads into makeshift hats, dressing to the nines in the latest collection of aquatic couture, and as the moon casts a pale spotlight on the babbling brook, you occupy it’s centre, huddled in one another’s embrace, swaying back and forth amidst the shallow pools.

10:02 — You're still wet.

Drenched, really.

You’ve resorted to wringing out your hair with your bare hands, twisting the dampened locks between your fists until water pours from the follicles. You’d never once pondered the benefits of freshwater landings, but you were about to find out. A glare threatened to slice through the air, but immediately wavered at the sight of him — desolate, void, so lost in his thoughts that you’d wondered if he were even there.

God, you’re worried sick. You’ve dealt with bouts of sadness, sprinkles of melancholy, but this was downright depressing. You wouldn’t even know what to do if you tried, and that’s what worried you the most.

Thomas, your best friend, your crush, your light — the best parts of you all wrapped up in a clumsy little package while the best parts of him threaten to snatch up your heart, as if it wasn’t already his.

“Tommy?” You break him out of his reverie, but press on, scooching closer to his form, dangerously standoffish, like an uncaged animal winding up to attack, until you cross the threshold into his personal space. With a sturdy hold on his bicep, he melts into the palm of your hand, practically leaning all of his weight into you, stealing a reprieve you didn’t know he needed. “You can talk to me, y’know. It’s just us.”

“She left, Y/N.” The evening air seems still, in perfect tandem with your breath as you fear what might come out once you finally exhale. You know he’d shove all of his feelings down if he caught you shedding a single tear, and this isn’t about you, it never has been. So you hold your breath, latching onto the heavy silence that follows his confession, and pray that your chest is strong enough to smother the sob bubbling beneath its surface.

Fortunately, he takes your silence as a cue to continue. “The closet was empty, and all her cookbooks were gone. I looked downstairs and there was nothin’ there.” You don’t know if he’s finished, watching as he toys with a loose string on his jeans, but he breaks his own silence with a newfound waver in his voice. “I had a feelin’ she was ‘bout to leave, but I didn’t think it’d be so soon. I thought I had a lil’ bit more time to say goodbye.”

Edie was a good mother, the best of mothers, and never had she drawn a line when it came to who she nurtured. When you were little kids, you’d race each other to his house once the school bell rang, tiny little bodies weaving through the stalks of corn that prefaced the farm. She would follow the shuffling crops with a heavy eye, leading you to the porch with her raspy, whimsical chime, and crouch down to envelop the both of you in a tight hug when you emerged. She was the best of mothers.

But she wasn’t the best of wives. You were both far too young to notice the signs — the nights where you found her sound asleep on the sofa by her own volition, the packed suitcase that hid underneath the stairwell to the basement, the hesitance that laced her tone when she said I love you to his father — and something tells you she wanted to keep it that way.

Her son didn’t need to worry about his parents, and how fast they were falling out of love, and whether they really loved each other in the first place. Her son just needed to be a kid, and that is a belief she devoted the best years of her life to.

But he isn’t a kid anymore.

That’s why she fled in the middle of night, leaving nothing but a ruby encrusted ring on his dresser — her class ring. The same one he’d snatch from her jewelry box whenever she wasn’t looking. The same one he used to propose to you at the wee age of four, promising you as much of the world as a toddler could imagine.

Tears prick at the corner of your eyes as he recounts every detail, and every fiber of your being yearns to just schoop him up in your arms, hold all his broken pieces together with the strongest embrace you can muster. He doesn’t deserve that type of pain, shouldn’t have to relive it, and yet he takes it upon himself to tell you everything, to relive it for your own selfish gain.

You grow envious of the way the moon trails kisses down the slope of his nose, across the high rise of his cheeks, and over the swell of his bottom lip. There were times where you’d find traces of his mother in Tom’s features, lining the curve of his warm smile or, when the sun hit them just right, speckling his earthy hues with tiny rods of gold. Tonight, he is shrouded in a celestial spotlight, mesmerized by its waning body, and if you squint just enough, you’ll find her longing stare hidden beneath his own.

“And the worst part is that I ain’t even mad at her. Not even a lil’ bit.” He concludes, talking more to the sky than to you. “Not even at all.” When his gaze falls back to you, you can only try to cover up the betrayal, wipe the back of your arm across your tear-stained cheeks before he notices they’re even misty.

You inevitably fail, expelling a wistful sigh as he pulls you into his side, comfortingly running his hand over your bicep as he murmurs sweet nothings into the night.

“I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t want you to find out like this,” You furrow your brows, and wonder just how he would want to break the news to you. Would he let you find out for yourself, or would he bring you out to the plantation, and let you sink into the soil until the news began to blossom in the fields? Would they be cornstalks? And would they reach for the sky just like her? “I didn’t wanna make you cry, but... I didn’t know where else to go.”

“It’s okay.” Your voice is a wash of dulcet tones, fingers soothingly raking through his damp tendrils in a silent bid to comfort him. “It’s okay, I’m a big girl. I can take it.” You’re quick to clamber to your knees, wrapping him up in an airtight embrace, keeping him from wallowing into a puddle of tears. “I’m right here, Tommy.”

“I know,” he sputters, with an edge of sorrow to his tone.

“I’m right here, I’m not goin’ anywhere.” You promise.

“Don’t say that” He whispers, and shatters any trace of consolation looming over the encounter. Your brow furrows, your heart pounds against your chest, and for a fleeting second, you feel like you're caught in a lie. What if he knows? What if he can tell just how much you’d surrender to be with him? What if he doesn’t want it?

“Why not?” You’re near hysterics, praying that the intensity in your eyes makes up for the tremor in your voice. “Why not? I didn’t say anything I didn’t mean.”

“I just don’t want you to make a promise you can’t keep, Y/N.” That sullen gaze resurfaces, chills the air with it’s haunting presence — that hollow stare which fosters the remnants of a bright, contagious joy, and carves a pit, just as empty, in the well of your stomach, one that aches to be satiated. He tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear, but his palm lingers against your cheek, trying to smooth out the heavy creases in your expression with the gentle stroke of his thumb. “Hell, I don’t want you to promise that in the first place. You deserve more than all this, you deserve the best this life has to offer you, and I’m not gonna keep you from all o’ that.”

You’ve lost track of your heart long ago, it’s dizzying tempo rivaling a hummingbird, nearly undetectable as it flitted uncontrollably, knocking against your ribs until its ultimate descent to the pit of your stomach.

You pray that he can one day see everything that you see in him, that loving himself is as easy for him as it is for you; you hope that there is a life where he never has to feel as small, or inconvenient, as he confessed, and you wish that this would eventually be that life.

You decide that it’s time to put an end to wishful thinking.

“Let me make something clear to you, Thomas.” You cup his jaw, firmly, and utter each word without a trace of uncertainty. “I’m not sure exactly what I want from life yet. I don’t know if I wanna spend the rest of it in this little ol’ town, or just pack my things and go as far as the wind will take me. I couldn’t tell you if I tried, but… that’s okay.” Slowly but surely, your lips give way to a sheepish grin, feeling lighter, freer, the further into your declaration. “It’s okay, because there’s one thing that’s for certain, and it’s that I’m all yours. It don’t matter how far I go, I’m always gonna come home to you.”

The silence is deafening.

All your emotions hang in the air, crippling your air supply with insurmountable regret. But his gaze is what terrifies you the most; just as suffocating, but in a way that sweeps the air from your lungs. You knew that there would always come a time where all the unrequited feelings you’ve harbored would finally boil to the surface, fueled by the hope that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t as one sided as you thought; but under the void of his empty gaze, you wonder if you’d made a huge mistake.

Or maybe there really is nothing — nothing to reciprocate, nothing to subdue you, nothing to salvage what little remained of your friendship after such a loaded confession — and so you scramble to assemble an apology convincing enough to overshadow your lapse in judgement.

But he doesn’t even spare you the chance, swallowing your half-hearted excuses with the firm press of his lips, pouring a lifetime of ardent desire, of longing, into the hollow of your mouth. It’s crystal clear that you’re his, the realization comes borderline cathartic. There has never been a day where your heart has not beat for him, and only him, forever threatening to spring from your chest and return to its rightful owner. The days, the months, the years of back and forth felt like a cruel jest from the fates, but now you were here, bundled in the warmth of his strong embrace, tongues curling against one another in an endless battle for dominance, and you would endure it all over again if this was where it lead

He searches for some sign of absolution, paws up and down your back in hopes of grounding himself, and you reverently provide, mustering what little strength you have left to crawl into his lap, brushing against the growing bulge in his jeans without a trace of subtlety, offering him the most sacred parts of you in hopes of bringing him home.

“Y/N,” he sighs raggedly, a half hearted attempt to gain your attention, one that proves unsuccessful as his pleas whittle into a frail, insipid shadow of what they could be. You’re too busy acquainting yourself with the plains of his body, embedding a trail of deep red marks into the column of his neck as your hands slip beneath the hem of his t-shirt. He’s built like a greek statue, you don’t even need to discard his shirt to indulge in the taut muscles tensing beneath your fingertips. “Y/N, darlin’, wait.” He interrupts your greedy ministrations by fastening his digits around your wrists. This is the point of no return, you can feel the fragile divide between friends and lovers, splintering beneath the weight of your heart, and yet you fail to concern yourself.

His digits are free to roam the high plains of your cheeks, pioneering the flushed expanse with beacons of soft, arching butterfly kisses until there’s no skin to cover, ultimately pressing his forehead against yours. ”You don’t- I don’t want you to do anything you don’t wanna do.” Seems almost redundant, you muse, to wonder if you want him when you’ve made it abundantly clear that you’d follow him to the ends of the earth. You are a pillar of salt, and as he showers you in a knee buckling torrent of kisses, you melt into the palm of his hands. If the way you’re draped against his form isn’t evidence enough, then the wetness pooling between your thighs most certainly will be, he’ll come across that confirmation once he tends to the spot you need him most.

You trace the cleft of his chin in delicate pursuit, whining as he tears his lips from their languid path, and peer through your inky lashes to meet his gaze once more. “I want this, Tom. I want you.”

“You have me. I’m all yours.” He echoes your words back to you, reverently, delivering a sacred vow from the hearth of your soul, ove you have, and will continue to, dedicate your humble living to, and you seal that promise with a bruising kiss.

The weight of his palm melts into the small of your back, pulling your chest flush against his own as it sweeps up your spine, and you moan against his lips when your nipples press up against his sturdy chest, aching to be freed as they strain against their gossamer confines.

You’ve only had the pleasure of making out with Tom for less than five minutes, but you can already tell that it ranks high on your list of favorite pastimes. Soft, pink petals brush against your own like they’re a flourishing canvas, and he’s trying to even out the brushstrokes, but all he leaves is a scorching flush in his wake, and your clothing, despite being bathed in pond water, do little to ease the blistering heat. It’s suffocating you, and you begrudgingly tear yourself away so that you can rid yourself of the article.

Besides, the less fabric separating you from his anchoring, toned embrace, the better.

“I’m all dirty,” Your meek voice collapses into a fit of giggles, and your feeble attempt to wring out your clothes is thwarted by his hands, venturing up, up, up, and under the hem of your skirt at a teasing pace, savoring the feeling of your warm, silky skin beneath his fingertips. You can tell he’s as desperate as you are, confronted with acres of new terrain to explore, and only so little of his patience to spare.

“I know, I’m sorry angel.” His voice is soft, and soothing, and riddled with mischief. Even if there is even an ounce of truth in his apology, you can still make out the devilish grin that toys at the corner of his mouth. “May I, m’lady?” He croons teasingly, flashing those whiskey glazed hues in a way that you could never refuse.

“Proceed, good sir.” You counter in the most refined timbre you can dictate, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he bunches the hem of your dress in his palms, hoisting it over your head to expose the breathtaking contours and curves of your body. You can’t remember what compelled you to forego your bra, but the thought is soon pushed to the corner of your mind, making room for the warm, fuzzy feeling that conquers your insides when Tom lays his eyes on you, bared to him and only him. His gaze alone makes you feel like you are a spectacle to behold, the most enchanting vision to ever cross his line of sight. If there was even a speck of insecurity buried deep in the back of your mind, the sight of Tom’s eyes, blown wide with adoration as they worship every sinful inch of your skin, instantly quells those fears.

He struggles to find his words, to occupy this infinite silence with anything, everything, as his calloused palms caress the sides of your waist, but all he can manage is a husky growl. One that prefaces the reappearance of his tongue, and its feverish descent from the column of your neck to the tops of your breasts, bathing your skin with gluttonous, broad strokes, and coaxing pretty, little whines from the back of your throat.

There is something so unhinged in his actions, so carnal, it summons another wave of arousal to pool against your soiled panties, knowing you have such a strong clutch on his resolve. Though, another branch of your mind races at a mile a minute, consumed by the endless possibilities that come equipped with Tom’s skill.

You try not to dwell on the little flings that came before you, especially now, in the afterglow of your confession. The taunting, pitious gazes you shared with his hookups in the hallowed halls of your alma mater, toting a reminder that they could indulge in everything you yearned for, scorched you more than the thought of the act itself — but the rumors were just plain inescapable. If even a fraction of them hold a candle to the truth, then you are in for one hell of a night.

“You’re just as sweet as I imagined, angel.” Angel. The nickname sends sparks flying in the well of your stomach. “Can’t wait to taste that perfect little pussy. Just know it’s gonna be even sweeter when you cum all over my fingers.”

You whine softly at his words, but clench hard around nothing, aching to be filled by those unbearably long, slender digits. Nothing could have prepared you for the scene unraveling below you — his lips latched around the stiff peak of your nipple, a husky groan reverberating around the pebbled surface, and head slightly moving against the palm of your hand as your fingers tug at his chestnut locks. The long, covetous laps of his tongue mingling with the vibrations of his contented little hums make you desperate for more, arching, writhing, trembling against him in hopes of finding a semblance of relief for the ache between your thighs.

“Tommy, please.” You plead in the most convincing, fucked out tone you can muster, but he doesn’t budge, showering your other bud with a flurry of quick, relentless kitten licks. Even mother nature joins in his relentless teasing, making you squirm as the gentle breeze blows cool, summer air against the glistening bud.

This is torture, a blissful, euphoric form of torture that, despite your irritability, you would surrender to time and time again. But you fail to notice just how hard your canines puncture the swell of your bottom lip, too immersed in the stroke of his tongue, in the ghost of pleasure that stirs in the pit of your stomach each time you rut against his clothed cock. A sharp, metallic tang seeps into your mouth, hitting the tip of your tongue and forcing a trembling whimper to the front of your mouth.

The pitiful sound piques Tom’s interest, and before you can wipe the blood from your lip, your face is already cradled between his palms. “Fuck, Y/N, look at you,” His eye were wide with concern, and your heart sputters over the blistering scorch of need his compassion arises in you. “C’mere.” Dropping his forehead against your own, his tongue tentatively brushes the curve of your lips, lapping up every last drop of blood that is smeared against it. He applies pressure to the wound, cauterizes it with a searing dance of bloodstained brims, as his one hand weaves into your damp locks. You barely know how to respond, but your body compensates with an untapped sense of hunger, scraping your teeth against his lower lip as you desperately claw at the toned valley of his back.

“Please, Tommy, please. I’m dripping.” You mewl, teetering over the perilous edge of delusion, foraging between your stomachs in search of his free hand. Yet another wave of arousal pools between your thighs at the sight of him, with his puffy, saliva stained lips slightly parted, and his eyes blown wide with the insatiable need to indulge himself, to spoil you. Once your fingers circle around his wrist, you guide his hand to the apex of your thighs and urge him to feel for himself, applying the lightest of pressure against his fingers, urging him to caress your tender lips through the sodden barrier of your panties. To feel what he’s done to you. “You feel that? It’s all for you.”

“All for me,” he echoes back, mesmerized, cognac hues fading into obsidian orbs as he rubs deliberately teasing circles over your covered clit. “And you ask oh so pretty. Let me take care of you, my pretty girl.” Before you even get the chance to reply, he’s pushing your panties to the side, dipping the pad of his middle finger between your silky folds — feeling, exploring, acquainting himself with the tight ring of muscle that he plans on stretching open.

His hesitation is nothing more than a plight at this point, you are more than willing to take anything he has to offer, and he can gather that much from the wild gleam in your eyes, so he slowly works one finger into your snug, velvety walls and curses under his breath at how heavenly you feel. You’re unlike anything he’s had before, far exceeding the lengths of his imagination as you softly clench around his digit, and it only takes a few seconds to adjust to the lithe intrusion, your walls already twitching against his shallow, testing thrusts, before he adds another.

“So fuckin’ perfect, darlin’. Love the way your pretty little cunt takes me.” A thin sheen of sweat coats your forehead as he rocks his digits at a leisurely pace. Tom is obsessed with the tiny frown forming between your brows, almost like you’re confused by the amount of pleasure building between your legs, struggling to keep your eyes open, your juices spilling past your opening to trickle down the palm of his hand. To say your experience is limited is a bit of an understatement — the whopping two men you’ve slept with prior were merely amateurs in comparison to your lover. Even if there was enough air in your lungs to articulate it, you don’t have the heart to tell him that you’ve never been fingerfucked. Period. The embarrassment almost swallows you whole.

But even without anything to compare it to, you’re convinced that you’re receiving the upper echelon of experiences.

As his pace quickens, prodding against your pulsing walls with an onslaught of keen, ravaging thrusts, you’re too busy gasping for air to notice how he’s switched his angle. Now the heel of his hand is rubbing against your bundle of nerves with each stroke, applying just enough pressure to light a spark without ever setting you off, and as the pads of his fingers pound against your sweet spot, you are reduced to a limbless puddle in his hands, doused in an ethereal glow that only he could surface. “God, Y/N, you look like an angel. My pretty little angel— ‘bout to cum all over my fingers.” he panted, voice biting the air with a wolfish gleam, canines peaking past his thin lips.

“Tommy, I’m so close.” You aren’t sure if you can hold on for much longer, dangling on the coattails of insurmountable bliss, finding a new reason to fall apart with each lewd kiss or sharp thrust. Your orgasm is already creeping up, threatening to crash over you each time he plunges into your slick heat, but you know that you want to feel him — all of him — stretching you to unimaginable lengths as he sinks into your tight little hole for the first time. “I wanna feel you. I wanna- I need to cum on your cock.”

Tom’s brows meet in the middle, and you wonder if you’ve strewn too far, surrendered the remainder of your common sense to lust and her shameless palms. “Such a filthy little mouth for such a good girl.” He whispers, wondering aloud, his free hand abandoning the nape of your neck to cup your jaw as his thumb sweeps over your bottom lip, applying just enough pressure to drag it down before letting it spring back to its pouty default. “You will, angel, you will, but I gotta get you ready first.” He reassures you, and you remember just how prominent his length is, straining against the denim cage of his jeans, and attribute his wavering tone to the sheer restraint he’s been exhibiting. But you have to admit — if his fingers are only a fraction of his length, then you are not sure just how much of him you’ll be able to handle. The thought sends you barrelling toward your climax, but not without the help of his thumb, pressing up to rub fervent, clumsy circles against your clit, his husky tenor cooing sweet words of encouragement into the space just below your ear. “I can feel you, angel, let go for me. I’ve got you.”

With one final thrust, he buries his fingers to the hilt, caressing your g-spot with a tentative come hither motion, until you are ridden with overwhelming waves of pleasure. All you can feel are your tender walls tightening around his fingers, and your thighs starting to tremble under the weight of your high. But he is spellbound, mesmerized by the swirling vision of you at your most content, eyelids hanging low over your blown out hues, your hips absentmindedly grinding against his hand, meeting his timid rhythm as he tries to work you through your aftershocks.

Emptiness soon replaces the stretch of his fingers once he slips them out, but a twitch of excitement follows the path of his slick hand, and you can’t stop from outright moaning at his shameless display.

“Just what I thought,” he murmurs. You are too captivated by the sight of his lips — pink, and kiss-weathered, and frankly obscene — opening wide to welcome his slick fingers, gracing his taste buds with your juices, and humming around them as they coat his tongue in an intoxicating elixir . “Open up, pretty girl,” You‘re torn from your trance by the pressure of his digits, knocking against your bottom lip, begging for entry. “Come taste how sweet you are.”

Hollowing your cheeks, you graciously welcome his fingers, putting on a show as you swirl your tongue between the two digits, moaning softly as the bittersweet taste that hits your tastebuds. You aren’t prepared for the shallow, tentative thrust of his digits, or how he starts up a slow, steady rhythm against the back of your tongue — but god do you welcome it, softly gagging with each steady downstroke, spit already dribbling down your chin as you try to keep up with his quickening pace.

“Atta girl, that’s it.” He offers you a ginger smile, one that makes the tears pooling in your eyes worth gagging for. “Good girl. Good, good girl. I wish you could see how pretty you look.”

You try to reply over his digits, but your words are muffled and faint as they thud against the wall of your lips. Luckily, he’s coherent enough to notice that you’d like to speak — and who is he to stifle that sweet little voice of yours? “Thank you,” you pant, fluttering your tear-stained lashes up at him as you clamber to fill your lungs, disputing your feverish pleas as you wriggle away from the outline of his cock. The sensation of his waterlogged jeans rubbing against your sensitive bundle of nerves has you keening over him, pushing you further from his crotch, and closer to his embrace, back arched with a near-feline agility.

“Can I?” you ask, kneading your palms over his thighs, feigning innocence as you inch closer and closer to his zipper with each upstroke, and he nods, granting you permission to free him from his denim confines. In one fluid motion, your one hand unzips his fly as the other helps him kick off the remainder of his offending items, and you have to resist the urge to drool at the sight of his cock springing from his boxers, let alone his sinfully perfect, exposed form.

He’s a little bit larger than you expected — what he lacks in length, he makes up in girth, but there isn’t much to make up for in the first place. His shaft is decorated with pretty, ivory veins, ones that would no doubt twitch beneath the hot, heavy weight of your tongue, and the crown of his cock is flushed, glistening with a thin sheen of precum that makes your mouth feel conveniently dry. Your walls twitch at the disheartening reminder of your emptiness, but all out spasm as his fingers eclipse the circumference of his cock, using your juices to leisurely pump himself.

“You’re so pretty.” You sigh, a flurry of giggles floating beneath your words as you reach out to touch him, hovering just above the tip in order to send him a cautionary glance — one he hurriedly accepts, nodding his head fervently as he stutters into his grasp. A rosy hue blooms across the valley of your cheekbones as you encircle him, covering whatever he can’t as he all but bucks into your palm. His heart strains against his chest upon the realization that his hand easily dwarfs your own, watches your smaller fingers barely curl around his engorged shaft and fights the urge to cum right then and there.

No, he needs to feel you.

“Are you sure?” He asks once more, granting you a final chance to salvage what little scraps remain of your childhood friendship, but you are already committed, determined to devour every last, glorious piece of him, to prove that he is the rightful owner of you, all of you, every shimmering shade of you.The sentiment would be almost derisive if not so loving, so noble, and yet you dismiss it with three, chaste kisses upon the outline of his profile — against his forehead, the notch on the bridge of his nose, and finally his lips, warm and inviting.

“I’m certain.” You promise, merely a breaths width away from his lips.

You have never been more certain of a decision in your life, desperate to feel him nestled deep inside you, to blur the line where he begins and you end. Your fingers curl around the base of his cock, their pressure neither here nor there as they coax a hiss out of him, and you line him up with your entrance, tossing your head back as you waste no time breaching your needy hole with the bulbous head of his cock.

It’s blindingly clear that you have been given the reins, what with Tom’s finger’s seeking refuge in the soil beneath him, a low groan rumbling beneath his chest, his eyes rapt with an unspoken urgency as they survey the spot where you connect, and you relish in your paramount. Your knees dig deeper into the ground as you lower yourself onto him, and with little resistance, your walls steadily welcome inch after inch with a searing embrace, etching every delicious ridge and vein of his length to memory until he bottoms out, and you’re left with an overwhelming sense of fullness. There is a dull pain laced in the stretch of your opening, intermingling with the remnants of your last orgasm, and as you twitch and pulse around his girth, he appears like an dream before you, sifting through a thick haze of desire, wispy curls clinging to the thin sheen of sweat coating his forehead, and eyes blown wide with ripples of pleasure, of lust, that long to be indulged.

Once you’ve adjusted to him, you test a few shallow, tentative rolls of your hips, lifting yourself off the tiniest bit before filling yourself up again. He just feels so perfect, like god spent a little extra time molding him just for you, rubbing against parts of you that have never known such ecstasy until now, and you struggle to find a rhythm amidst all these new, dizzying sensations. “Poor little thing, you’re so worked up, you barely know how to take my cock.” It’s funny, how he can make such degrading words sound so sympathetic, and regardless, your body responds long before your brain can register, wildly spasming around his cock. It doesn’t take long for his fingers to return, digging into the curve of your hips to assist you, working you over his length in long, plundering strokes that steal the air from your lungs. “That feel better, angel?”

“Mhmm,” you shakily nod your head, fingers finding purchase in the broad expanse of his shoulders as you dig your nails into the freckled expanse, flooding his senses with the weak little uh, uh, uh’s tumbling from your lips each time you’re impaled on his cock. If he could lap up every hitch of your breath, every wayward sigh, he’d be drunk off the height of your unbridled joy. Hell, he can barely sustain himself as is, ravenously lapping up the beads of sweat clinging to your temple, swirling his tongue around your earlobe in its descent. Yes, yes, he’s swept up in sultry waves of you, and as your pelvis kisses his, as the air is filled with the sounds of your hips snapping against his own, he’s less and less concerned about emerging from your enchanting depths. “You got another one for me, angel? I can feel you squeezing my cock, baby, I know you got another one.” He’s delirious, clawing at the altar of your hips, and nowhere near as close to finishing as you are, but god is he eager to tear another orgasm out of you.

You, on the other hand, are a furnace, taunting flames of embarrassment licking up your insides, pooling in the small of your back, racing up your cheeks, at such arduous lengths as to mix with the coil of pleasure tightening in your core. Tom seizes the opportunity to find some leverage, pulling his knees up to rest on either side of you, planting his feet on the ground so that he can thrust up into your sopping cunt at a punishing pace, and you both can already feel the tell-tale signs of your building pleasure. “It’s okay, Y/N, you can let go.” Nothing more than a faint whisper, you indulge in the way his cock massages your inner walls, how your name sounds so filthy, yet beguiling, as it slips from his slightly ajar lips, how it blends so well with the weak little moans of his own name rolling off your tongue. “Let go for me. I wanna feel that perfect little pussy cum all over me.” His hand dips between your sweat slick forms, firmly swiping his fingers over your hypersensitive bundle of nerves, turning circles into your favorite shape, and his change in position makes the crown of his cock curve into your g-spot each time he pounds into you — so your helpless to the crescendo of pleasure that washes over you.

A broken, startled shriek tears through your lungs, and you topple over his thighs, digging crescent shaped indents into his knees as you surrender to your climax, walls fluttering and contracting over his length as he works you over the edge.

“Oh, what a good girl.” He coos encouragingly, reaching his hand out to cup the weight of your breast, swiping his thumb over your peaked bud as his pace eases up, and it isn’t until now that you realize he’s leaning back, holding himself up by his forearms while he drinks in your pleasure-ridden form. “My sweet, sweet girl.” You can tell he’s holding back by the way his hips still stutter up into your overstimulated heat, how his cheeks, his forehead, all of his features are set with a heavy flush, how you aren’t filled to the brim with his cum — and you simply won’t allow that.

“It’s okay, Tommy.” You whisper, carefully lowering yourself until your chest is aligned with his own, sharply exhaling as you feel him push up against your tender core. Your eyes are soft, and dazed, and oh so pretty, glittering beneath a thin layer of unshed tears, but this is about him, it’s always been about him, and as his cock twitches amidst your spasming walls, you firmly believe that you can handle another orgasm if he can coax it from you. “Keep goin’, it’s okay. I want you to fill me up. I wanna feel all of you.”

“Y/N—” His voice is stern, but your lips are fierce, stealing whatever argument may have been building in the cavern of his mouth as you weakly tilt your hips downward, offering yourself to him once more. When he muscles up enough strength to tear himself away, he only finds a bounty of understanding, of devotion, of love, teeming at the brim of your eyes, and he needs no words to indulge himself, to yield to a mesmerising whirlpool of you, you, shimmering you.

Tom wraps one arm around your back, holding you close to his chest while you scatter soft, lingering kisses to his shoulder, smoothing his palm over your damp tresses as he hoists one leg over his hip, prying your legs even further apart so he can fuck up into you — impossibly tighter, and tormentingly more responsive as he slams into your overstimulated cunt. You can feel every square inch of him now, every long sweeping vein, the tiny sliver of skin hidden beneath his tip, it’s all crystal clear as he plunges into your weepy core, and you’re so cockdrunk, so fucked out of your mind, that you don’t even notice your hips slanting down to meet his thrusts. You’re just that greedy for another orgasm, hellbent on tumbling over yet again as he fills you to the brim.

It doesn’t take long for him to work himself to that precipice once again, the coil in his stomach pulled taut with your whimpered chant of his name, with each strong pulse of your cunt tightening over him. He buries himself to the hilt one last time, stuttering into your hips with a loud, frenzied groan, and finally teeters off the edge, dragging you down with him as you sink your teeth into his shoulder blade, pumping his hot seed into you, coating your walls with hot spurts of cum as you milk him for every last drop, the crude sound of your arousal mixing with his own making you shudder.

You both lay there for a second, safe in each other’s warm embrace, basking in the aftermath of your fortuned affair, and you cowered beneath the sky and it’s constellation clad ceiling, feeling infinitesimal, but oh so contented, beneath its glorious gaze. There, wrapped up in one another, two splintered halves mending, healing, into the whole they were destined to become — the sky was but a star in comparison to your light, your bright, everlasting light.

How did we get here? You wonder. How, oh, how is he finally mine?

You follow the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way the moon lounges across his curly lashes in a silver chaise — you survey him at his most vulnerable — and determine that you have more than enough time to find the answer. As long as he’s here, by your side, you don’t plan to wander too far.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! PLEASE LIKE, OR LEAVE A COMMENT, IF YOU ENJOYED!

TAGLIST: @devotion @reawritesthings

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland smut #tom holland blurb #tom holland oneshot #I CAN NOT BELIEVE I ACTUALLY FUCKING FINISHED THIS #the way this magically climbed from 4.7 to 9.5k in one day will never cease to amaze me #and i hope that this spawns a new love and excitement for country boy tom because i love arvin but #BOY does that man scare me a lil bit #this is more like a . . hart of dixie type of country #more apple pie! less homicide!#I ALSO DONT KNOW WHA THAPPENED TO THE SMUT THIS IS LIKE 40% SMUT #anyway i really do hope yall enjoy #mine*

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atinydise · 4 years ago

Text

Ateez arguing with their s/o in a middle of a make out session (part 2)

❦ Genre: Fluff & Suggestive.

❦ Pairing: OT8.

❦ Word count: 3K.

❦ Requested: Heck yes lol, thank you! 🦋

❦ A/N Note: ⚠️Since I took again an eternity to post it, I advice to read the first part again (or for the first time)! Thank you for liking the 1st one tho! hehe

HONGJOONG

Jongho called the leader once again, even waved in front of his face but still nothing. "Is he ignoring me?" He asked San. His friends shrugged. "He's lost in his thoughts. And he's probably really far away from here." "HYUNG!" Yelled Jongho in the leader's ear. His brain finally reconnected to the reality. "The hell-" "It's been 2 minutes since I'm trying to get your attention." Said Jongho, a bit pissed. "What's going on?" He grabbed his phone, hoping to see any notification. "We need to go back practicing." "Ah.... then I'll join in 2 minutes. I need to call someone." He said, leaving the room. "What on the earth is going on with him?" Whispered San. "No idea." Replied the maknae. Hongjoong went to the restroom, the most far away from the practice room, just to be sure that nobody will bother him. "Okay, please babe pick up." He begged quietly plugging his Air Pods on. [“Hello, it’s the girl who always chosen after her boyfriend’s career. What can I do for you?”] At least you didn’t lose your humor sense.

[“Babe I’m sorry.”] Apologized Hongjoong. [“You are sorry for what exactly?”] [“For ruining the intimate moment, we were about to share.”] [“And?”] Hongjoong rolled his eyes. Good thing for him you weren’t able to see it. [“And to always let my career pass before you.”] [“And?”] You repeated. Your boyfriend was confused for a second. He ignored for what he needed to apologize. [“And... and...”] he stuttered. [“I don’t know.”] He heard a long and heavy growl coming from your side. [“Well. I guess it’s already more than fine.”] You claimed. [“What do you wanted me to say?”] He asked curiously. [“I don’t know... maybe something like ‘to apologize, I’m coming right now and for sure tomorrow you won’t be able to walk’.”] You said, imitating his voice. [“Are you on your period?”] Asked Hongjoong. He knew you so well that he immediately understands when you dirty talked to him, without even a simple stutter. You let a quick silence settle before finally say: [“Yeah.”] [“Then let’s wait a little bit longer then.”] He sneered. [“Coward.”] You replied. [“Love you too.”] [“Me too.”] [“So, we are good?”] He asked. [“Give me at least a hug and we will be good.”] You replied. [“See you tonight then.”] He smiled.

SEONGHWA

[“Hello! You are on Y/N’s voicemail I’m not av-”] Seonghwa growled and let his phone fall on the couch. “She’s not answering I guess.” Claimed Mingi. “No.” Seonghwa rolled his eyes. “She’s ghosting me since... 2 days now.” “Did you try to meet her at school?” “Yeah. I’ve waited 3 hours there. To finally remember that she’s on spring break.” “And at her apartment?” Asked Mingi. “Of course, Sherlock. But nothing.” Sighed Seonghwa. “It’s like she disappeared.” Mingi raised a brow. “She’s probably doing her own life.” The eldest member was suddenly hit by the reality. “Mingi you are a genius!” “Yeah, I know but why?” “We are Thursday!” Claimed Seonghwa, putting his shoes on. “Yeah and?” “Y/N is doing her laundry every Thursday evening! She might be there.” Seonghwa left the dorm so quickly that Mingi was still processing what just happened. “The beck is wrong with him...” Your boyfriend ran to the laundry shop which you are used to go. He prayed the whole way, that you would be sitting there, reading a book or watching a ton of TikTok while your clothes were washing. His heart missed a beat when he spotted you there. As fast as possible, he opened the door. “Babe!” “Hwa?” You raised a brow. “You came here to tell me how to wash my stuff?” Seonghwa ignored your question and turned around. He saw a cute grandma tidying her clothes. “Excuse me ma’am. But I will need you to leave quickly because I’m about to take my girlfriend, right here and right now.” “Seonghwa!” You yelled, outrageously. “Oh, it’s okay darling. I was young too.” Giggled the old lady. You grabbed your boyfriend by the wrist and guided him outside. “What the hell is wrong with you?” You asked, mad. “I want to apologize!” “Do you think it’s the right way to do it?” “I want to prove you that nothing can bother me to have sex with you now. Not a stain and not even an old grandma.” “And the CCTV?” You pointed at the camera fixed where you were standing 2 minutes ago. “I don’t mind having public.” He smirked. “You are unbelievable.” You sneered. “Does it mean you are forgiving me?” “Maybe.” You replied cockily while entering back inside. “Grr. I love when you play hard-to-get.” “What the hell happened to you Park Seonghwa.” You laughed happily.

YUNHO

Yunho was tormented. It was 3AM and he didn’t close his eyes for a second. He was staring at the white ceiling, trying to know how to resolve this situation. You didn’t talk to him after the little incident. Yunho understood why you were mad. He didn’t tell you the truth and the real reason behind his shyness. He glanced at you. The sheet was barely covering your back. He was about to put it right, but the little voice in his head claimed that it was a bad idea. So, he stared at the big spec between both of you. For sure, you could put a third person in the middle. Yunho sighed. What could you to be less mad? The reason of why he decided to stop earlier was because of the stress, not because you weren’t attractive enough. It was the opposite actually. He truly believes that you will think that is too dumb. Just because he’s scared of doing something wrong. Or worse hurting you. But more he was thinking, more it started to be overwhelming for him. “Y/N.” He whispered. “Hm?” You muttered sleepily. “Y/N.” “What? It’s 3AM.” You grunted, still not facing him. “I’m sorry for what happened this evening. I was terrified. I don’t want to do anything wrong with you.” He continued. “I really find you attractive. Even too much sometimes but... I want to have sex with you of course.” You couldn’t help but to smile secretly. His words were well chosen. All the insecurities you had earlier were vanished. Yunho stayed quiet for few seconds, waiting for you to say something, but instead you handed your hand, still facing the wall. He understood that it was an invitation to cuddle. “So, we are good now?” He asked, positioning behind you. “Yeah.” You replied, rubbing his hand which was resting on your stomach. “Cool.” He whispered, finally relaxing. “Thank you for telling me.” You said. “So... do you want to try it right now?” He shyly asked. “I’m tired Yunho.” You declined. “Sure. Okay. No problem.” He replied. “But can we change our position because you are waking up the ‘beast’?” You laughed when you felt his boner pocking on your butt. “Told you... you were too much attractive sometimes.” He giggled, blushing a bit.

YEOSANG

A new notification. But not coming from you. Yeosang was waiting for you to send a message like you usually do in the morning. But the next day after your little and stupid argument, you were remaining silent. “She should have sent a message already. It’s 10AM.” Said Yeosang, frustrated. “Just let her breath.” Sighed Jongho, playing PlayStation on the upper bed. “I didn’t send a text to her yet. She should be the one apologizing.” “Why?” “We are 2 making love. So? She can buy condoms for me too!” “You right.” Started Jongho. “But you should always have a pack or at least one, on you.” “On which side are you?” Growled Yeosang. “None. Your intimacy isn’t my business. But I just admitted that both of you are wrong.” Declared the maknae. “Since when are you so mature?” Sighed his friend. “I need someone who can tell that I’m right.” Jongho stayed quiet. He would never say something like this when knew he was 100% right. “And she would never buy one because she would be ashamed of it.” Added Yeosang. “The cashier doesn’t care. You are not the only one in the earth to buy one.” Replied Jongho. “We are going to see if you have the same speech when you’ll buy for yourself.” “I do already.” “W-wait what?” Just when Yeosang was getting curious, you entered the room like a storm. “Kang Yeosang!” You threw the plastic bag on him. “What th- ouch!” “Jongho, I will ask you to leave the room for an hour. Or 2.” You removed your jacket. Yeosang opened the bag and threw everything on the bed. His eyes widened when he saw a dozen condoms’ pack. “The hell Y/N-” “I bought exactly 12 packs to show that you don’t need to be ashamed about it and that no one cares.” Jongho exited the room completely flustered, but with a bigger esteem for you. “Okay now remove your pants.” You ordered, pulling out your hoodie. “Like? Right now? Not even a make out-” “It’s been 10 hours that I’m waiting.” “O-Okay.” Yeosang was a bit taken a back, but it was fast forgotten when you unclasped your bra.

SAN

You rolled on your bed once again. You were so frustrated and mad at San. The vein on your forehead couldn't stop popping out every time you remembered him picking up his phone. Angrily, you covered your entire face with a pillow. Desperately, you tried to erase of these thoughts. Just when you were finally finding some peace, the fire alarm resonated in your apartment. You jumped out of your bed and went straight to the kitchen. Instead of seeing a big fire, you saw San opening the window as wide as he could. "What is going on?!" You claimed, grabbing a chair. San was panicked as you, or even more. He was trying to push the smoke out of the room while wondering what you were doing. On your tippytoe, you pushed the button to stop this annoying and loud noise. "Thanks God." Sighed San, relieved. "The heck you are trying to do. Burn my apartment?" You turned off the stove. "I wanted to prepare a royal breakfast for you." He pouted, disappointed that his surprise failed. You looked around you, now that the smoke was slowly disappearing, you could see the entire mess in the kitchen. Flour was spread on every parcel of the counter, one or two eggs were smashed on the floor, milk was spilled on cupboard and an incredible number of dishes were stacked in the sink. "Yeah, that's the first time I make pancakes by myself." He scratched his head. "Choi San..." "I want to apologize for yesterday! But I wanted to do it right!" "Oh nice. So, you said 'to apologize to Y/N because I've completely ghosted her to talk with my teammate that I can see every day, I'll burn her apartment'?" "Babe! I'm really sorry." He apologized once again. "I will do everything you want for a week." "Everything?" You raised a brow, curious. "Yeah." "Okay, then start by cleaning your mess." You pointed at the counter. "After that let's clean the entire apartment." "Sure." He nodded. "After that... we will eat at our favorite restaurant. And you are going to pay." "Wow. Sex must be really important for you." Declared San, when the list didn't stop. "Never stop a horny woman." You warned him.

MINGI

["I'm parked in front of your building. Let's talk really quick."] You read this text message at least 10 times to be sure you understood well. It's been 2 days since the practice room accident. You only exchanged few messages but nothing more. You didn't mind giving him a proper answer. You just put your hoodie back on, and of course by "your" it means "his", and left the dorm, without warning your roommates. But honestly, by the way you went out, dressed like this, they could only assume that you were about to meet Mingi. Just when you got out of the building, you spotted your boyfriend's car, as he said, right in front of the door. You hesitated a second, but finally hoped in. "You should have wear something warmer. It's cold outside." He said instantly, when he saw your bare legs. "Good evening to you too Mingi." You greeted him sarcastically. "Do you drove here, just to scold me about my outfit?" "No, of course no." He whispered, looking right at the street in front of him. Since, a big and awkward silence settled. None of you wanted to say something, too afraid to tell something risky and lead one of you to be mad. It felt like walking on a really straight and thin line. You played nervously with the hem of the hoodie, which was barely covering your legs, you noticed. That's probably why he scolded you. For your own good. As always. "I'm sorry." You both apologized at the same time. You glanced at each other, surprised and giggled cutely. "I'm sorry." Insisted Mingi, grabbing your hand. "Me too." You smiled to him. "Sorry for almost crushing you with my weight." He added. "You did." "And sorry for almost make you bald." "You did it too." Mingi pinched your leg gently, happy to see that you were still bratty sometimes. "Ooookay! I'm kidding! I'm sorry for what I've said too. That's wasn't really nice." "Yeah, it wasn't." "Song Mingi-" "Soo..." you didn't have enough time to say anything that he started the car. "Where are we going?" You asked enthusiastically, putting your seatbelt. "Just want to bring you somewhere. So, we can talk about these 2 terrible days." "Oh, I thought you wanted to go in a Love Hotel." You joked. "That's the plan too." "I-"

WOOYOUNG

2 weeks since your argument but 4 weeks since you shared an intimate moment. You needed to admit that even a flick on your forehead would turn you on. You were so needy. But no way Wooyoung could know it. You tried your best to stay far away from him when sleeping, so you wouldn't end by griding your butt on him, desperately. Usually, Wooyoung was really touchy, and he would initiate a make out session the first one, but surprisingly, he only exchanged a peck or a hug from time to time. You spotted him covering his manhood, with a blanket sometimes. He would always pretext that he is cold. But you are not dumb. He takes shower way much longer than usual tooo. On his side, Wooyoung was really struggling to not give up the first one. He was barely looking at you. He knew that with only one shorty or croc-top, it was over for him. In conclusion, you were 2 idiots trying to suppress their arousal for each other, just because of an argument. "Do you want to watch a movie?" Offered Wooyoung. "Sure, and I know how much you like movies." You smirked. Your boyfriend rolled his eyes and ignored your comment. Instead of insisting on the subject again, he played the first movie that appeared. It was a really nice and chill one until the main actress discovered the wild side of college. It started by a scene and then other one. Followed by 3 more. Inside Wooyoung was hoping that you wouldn't notice the form on his sweatpants. "What a movie huh." He laughed nervously. "Yeah." You nodded. "They are really getting it huh." "They are really liking these scenes." "They are really well made." He replied dumbly. "Maybe that's what they want." "Of course, everyone wants that." "Yeah. Everyone." You repeated. "Everyone." "You exchanged a quick glance. Wooyoung was finally the first one to give up. "Do you-" "Heck yes!" You replied. "You should have told me!" "No, I was too mad at you!" "Do you really want to argue again? Right now?" He asked. "No." "Okay then go because I'm going to explode!"

JONGHO

"I still don't understand how you ended here, right in front of my college." You raised a brow at Seonghwa and Yeosang. "We were just having a cool walk and unconsciously ended here." Replied Seonghwa, the most natural possible. "The campus is 30 minutes away from KQ Quarter. And 30 minutes with a car." "We had a pretty long walk, okay?" Replied Yeosang, nervously and almost aggressively. "Okay okay... relax dude." You rolled your eyes. "You should come with us a bit." Started Seonghwa. "There's a park next to the campus. Let's talk there few minutes." Added Yeosang. "You guys... are acting really strangely." You claimed. Without asking your authorization, they each picked your arm and brought you to the park. You could fight or ask them to leave you alone, they wouldn't. Seonghwa almost needed oo ask people to not all the police. "What the heck guys? I really need to study and-" You stopped right when you saw your boyfriend sitting peacefully in front of you. A big blanket and a bunch of food were cautiously set on the grass. "Hi babe." Smiled Jongho. "What is this?" You asked. "You prepared all of this?" "Yeah." He scratched his head. "I hope you like it." "And we helped." Whispered Yeosang. "Are you doing this because you said your coach's name when we were making out." "You what?" Almost chocked Yeosang. "Eeew, this is disgusting!" Added Seonghwa. "It was an accident!" He rolled his eyes. "An accident." You crossed your arms on your chest. "I'm really sorry baby. I swear it was only because I've worked with her few hours ago." Explained Jongho. "Anyway, it's not like she's sexy. She's 60 years old and so strict and rude." Said Seonghwa. "She is sexy." Said Yeosang. All of you stared at him. "I'm joking. Relax." He sighed. "Y'all ready need to chill sometimes..." "So do you want to spend an afternoon with me?" Asked the maknae. "Of course." You accepted happily. "Cool! Then sit here." He pointed at the comfy place settled between pillows. "Thank you, Mark." "Mark?" "I'm kidding!" You giggled. "1 point for me now." "Unbelievable." Smiled Jongho.

#ateez scenarios #ateez reactions #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #ateez suggestive #ateez imagines #ateez writings #ateez #ateez kpop #ateez cute

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x-infernhoes-x · 3 years ago

Text

Evermore- Maliksi x Reader

Title: Evermore

Genre: : )

Warnings: Not much but I’ll leave it to you guys lmao. Implied Relationship as well so ye.

Word Count: 1, 690 k +

Description: I don’t know WHY I get ideas for fanfics at ungodly hours of the night like I’m supposed to be on a break here since my neck still hurts from writing that 2k pound of word vomit that is known to be one of my greatest smut piece that eventually earned me the title as ‘The Emissary for Zaddy Cannibal’ WHEEZE and I started writing this at 1:57 am so let’s hope I’d finish this before 4 am. I’m basing some stuff I know about Maliksi from the comics and perhaps the anime as well. I also suggest listening to Evermore from the live-action version of Beauty and the Beast after reading!

PS. I didn’t finish this last night because I got sleepy at 3 am. There’s an AO3 version of this that’s direct to the point if you want something shorter than this one which can be found here! Oh and my grandma suggested that I set the font size to 12 instead of 11! and as always, I finished this at 3:29 am GGWP talaga.

Anyways, enjoy! _______________________________________

If people asked about how the Prince of Tikbalangs was like as a person, most of them would describe him as rowdy, haughty, stubborn at times may even be perceived as a pervert due to his distaste of not wearing any underwear underneath his jeans. Some thought of him as the classical, spoiled rich kid who cared for no one but himself but in reality, he was so much more than what people would perceive him to be. Being a Prince was something, sure he got everything that he wanted regardless of what it was, he would always find a way for it but sometimes it led him to live a rather lonely life that felt like he was nothing more but a slave to live through this illusion of being the perfect prince.

If they took the time to peek through the curtains of his façade, they would see that he just wanted someone to understand and see him for who he is but this also proved to be contradictory for the poor fellow given the fact that every time someone would show him just the right amount of honesty and kindness, he would find out that most of these people were only after him for things such as taming him to become their loyal servant, for his money or even for the sake of his looks. He thought that this curse of his would stay with him for the rest of his Engkanto life but somehow that all seemed to change his rather pessimistic view on life when he had come across someone who would turn his whole life in a different direction.

Maliksi had met (Y/N) (L/N) on one of his father’s many extravagant events where he was forced to sit through it. Of course, while his father was busy chatting away, the prince took this as an opportunity to sneak away which eventually led him towards an unsuspecting person who would change his life forever.

At first, the two of them were like total opposites, always clashing and arguing about something to the point that his father, Senior Armanaz had to interfere with their constant bickering but time seemed to wear both Maliksi and (Y/N)’s dissatisfaction for each other’s presence and instead began to tolerate the other, which eventually led into something more than just friendship among the two.

Maliksi and (Y/N) were completely inseparable, almost attached to the hip to the point that the Prince was rarely seen without them. He would take (Y/N) on trips across the country, sometimes he would take them out on long drives after his races and almost everything in between. People have reported that the two seemed even more in sync especially in battle, covering each other’s backs while bantering about which car model was the best or where they would eat after this whole ordeal like the two of them were playing a mere game of Patintero or even playing a good round of Pogs to see who got the most hits on their opponents and who seemed to be stronger.

But there were precious moments where Maliksi would take them on trips across the country just to escape from the hectic and bustling streets of the city and gave them the taste of what it means to be free and live life in color. He would watch his partner’s joyful and almost curious gaze with a feeling of warmth and care in his chest that would make him smile along with them, the two of them would participate in various festivals such as Flores de Mayo and its ritual pageant, Santa Cruzan, The Masskara Festival in Bacolod down to his personal favorite which happened to be the Moriones Festival that takes place in Marinduque. But out of those trips, the one that he treasures the most was the time Maliksi and his parents had flown out to their home province, Bukidnon to celebrate the Kaamulan Festival where his partner met the rest of the family, of course, this was also the time where he had proposed to (Y/N) after their 3 years of dating, he was glad that they had accepted his proposal.

Who knew things would eventually change from thereon. With the underworld restless and agitated from all the events that have transpired, it seemed to put a strain between Maliksi and his fiancé. To make matters worse between the two, Maliksi began to do races that would conclude in fatal car accidents for both parties. This would result in (Y/N) and Maliksi arguing non-stop every time they meet however these fights never resulted in something physical but it would leave them in tears or the other walking away with a slam of the door. This cycle seemed to break the moment a certain Babaylan-Mangdirigma had beat him at his own game and managed to snap some sense into him as well the moment his beloved ran at him at full force, scolding him right in front of Alexandra Trese before the two left to settle their problems in private.

“Magpakasal na tayo.” Maliksi told (Y/N) the morning after the two of them had reconciled. Of course, this made his fiance cough up their drink, eyes wide and still hacking their lungs out while Maliksi made his way over to them, patting their back gently to ease their pain. Once things were clear, (Y/N) could only look at him, disbelief and surprise evident on their face before they spoke, “Seryoso ka ba?! Paano yung simbahan, yung venue-“ Holding their hands in his own, Maliksi could only give his soon-to-be spouse a grin, placing a chaste kiss upon the back of their hands. “Wag ka nang magalala, babe. I’ve got it covered.” And just like he had said, Maliksi did have it covered, the venue, the church, and everything in between. It was a quick but simple ceremony that had his parents and (Y/N)’s parents present and nobody outside of the clan knew about this union between them. Time seemed to move quickly after that but the two newlyweds felt like it was an eternity for them both.

In a short amount of time the fantasy of church bells and dreaming faded into war cries and chants of ‘Sic Itur Ad Astra’ quickly and we see Maliksi and his spouse come face to face with the greatest foe they’ve ever come across, the war-god of Bukidnon, Talagbusao. With the rest of their forces subdued by the War God and Maliksi trying to recover from the hit he had taken from Talagbusao, the Tikbalang prince seemed to take notice that his spouse was nowhere in sight and panic seemed to take a hold on him like a choke-hold. Standing up, he began to look for them, ruby-red eyes rapidly scanning the area, furiously looking for his beloved, silently praying to Bathala that they were okay or let alone still be alive.

His prayers seemed to be answered when he saw them, still kicking and fighting and running to where Talagbusao was and he immediately knew something was wrong. “(Y/N)!! ANONG GINAGAWA MO!?” Maliksi yelled out through the sound of roaring bullets, trying his best to reach over to where their lover was. “Alexandra, ngayon na!” Maliksi heard (Y/N)’s commanding voice ring out as she caught the Babylan-Mandirigma’s knife, Sinag throwing it to her while they subdued Talagbusao to the best of their abilities, eyes locked with their husband as they mouthed at him, ‘Patawarin mo ako, Maliksi.’ And as quick as a flash, Alexandra, Talagbusao, and (Y/N) disappeared into the Dragon’s Gate. Maliksi was left to watch his spouse in paralyzed horror and shock disappear right before his eyes, chest clenching in panic as the impact of the closing portal sent everyone nearby it flying backward.

_____________________

A month has then passed after that event and we see Maliksi within the Trese household as he would always do, always waiting, hoping, and praying that his (Y/N) would return to him safe and unharmed. This day was different than the other days he would spend at the household because this day was the day that Alexandra Trese had returned as announced by a pale-looking and wide-eyed Hank. The tikbalang prince was the first to head where Alexandra---who was now swarmed by her older brothers and the kambal, his eyes still searching for his spouse, his expression of hope immediately diminished as he spoke, his voice slowly trembling with each step he took, “Nasaan si (Y/N), Alexandra?” at the mention of his spouse’s name, Alexandra then refused to meet his eyes as the rest of the Trese siblings along with the Kambal clearing a path for him, all watching him with disconsolate looks and glistening eyes as Alexandra held onto Sinag as tightly as she could, trying her best to find the right words to say to him.

“Wala na si, (Y/N), Maliksi. She’s gone.”

_________________________

“There is a story, of a man who had lost his beloved in a war, some say he still waits for their return, others say that the day his beloved had disappeared, he had soon followed.”

“They say that this man could be found standing by the tall windows of Tower A [1] located in Ayala Avenue. Urban myths suggest that this man is a ghost bound to the building, others say that he’s the reason why that Tower still exists.” Now in his prime, Maliksi sat in the place where his father used to sit. It had been years since he had taken over the clan and years since his beloved, (Y/N) was taken away from him at such an early age. Beside him was an empty throne reserved for them once they return. No matter how many years it would take him, Maliksi Armanaz, former prince and now leader of the Armanaz clan, would still wait for his beloved, (Y/N) to return to him until the end of his days. He would wait for them for evermore.

#trese netflix #trese #trese imagine #maliksi imagine #maliksi armanaz #fanfic #trese x reader #maliksi x reader #kailan kaya ako titigil #ewan ko ba HAHAHA

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whydoyouwantmyname · 4 years ago

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Imagine being Sirus’s daughter

-You were born in the year 1978, your mother was a muggle who Sirius met at a punk rock concert, and they had dated for a few months before deciding they were better off parting way as soon as he revealed he was a wizard.

-When she gave birth to you, Sirius hadn’t even known she was pregnant, and she didn’t tell him until you were 6 months old, when she went to his flat and frantically knocked on the door.

“Olivia, it’s six o’clock in the fucking morning, why are you...” and then he noticed the baby carrier

“She is one of you Sirius, she made...” her voice loud with frustration as she hushed it, “she made all of her toy fly at me when I told her it was nap time, she once cried and all the lights blew. Sirius I can not have this thing live in my house.”

“Clearly not if you are calling her a thing.” He snapped before snatching the carrier out of her hand, “I suggest you sell all her baby things, I don’t want her having a single reminder of you in her life.”

-He slammed the door in her face, and quickly placed you on the sofa, and just stared at you, for an hour. Internationally he was freaking out, he was 18, Fresh out of Hogwarts, and had zero idea how to parent a child. So he did the only thing that made rational sense, and picked up the phone.

“Hey mom, I have to tell ya something....yes I know it is early, but I just couldn’t wait to tell you....No, no I am not in jail again, however you might wanna sit down for this one..... you’re a grandma.”

-The phone was silent, and next thing he knew his fireplace lit up green, and out stepped Euphemia Potter, who was still dressed in her night gown, her eyes wide as she looked at her son’s best friend, and then noticed the small child asleep in her carrier. “She’s beautiful.”

“Mom I have zero idea how to even...”

“Trust me Padfoot,” the name slipped so comfortably out of her mouth as he looked at her with panic, “None of us do. We just do it, and pray that we don’t accidentally hex them.”

-That morning Euphemia spent teaching Sirius all about how to care for a baby, but quickly learned his new delima, “Do you have anything for her?”

“No, her mother just dropped her off this morning, I didn’t even know...”

“Did she tell you her name at least?”

“No.”

“Well, how about [Y/N]? That’s what I would have named James if he was a girl.”

“[Y/N] Euphemia Black, I like it.” He smiled, looking over at a surprised Euphemia, “What? I always hear that it was a muggle tradition to give your daughter’s your mother’s middle name.”

-After that she took you and Sirius out to a muggle baby store, and the grocery store, and bought you everything you could ever need. The whole time you were with the two, you never cried, you just stared at them with your [Y/C/E]’s and played with the small rattle Euphemia bought you. Once you returned to the flat, she flicked her wand and you watched in wonder in her arms as all the furniture started to assemble itself, while your father put all the baby food and bottles away. Soon he was putting the clothes she had bought you on the hangers, while Euphemia rocked you to sleep, your eyelids heavy as she looked down at your smooth face. Her trance was broken though by Sirius’s soft voice, “How do I know I wouldn’t turn out like her?”

“Because you would never allow yourself to. I know your mother was a vile woman, who had no regard for her children, but you Sirius Black, are the greatest thing she ever created. Besides you are an amazing friend to James, and I can only imagine you will treat this little girl as well as you do my son.” She stated before slowly raising and removing the maroon and gold sweater from his fingers, and hung it up for him. “Now, I am sure Lily is already at the house frantically worrying about this wedding that’s in a few days, so I will give this precious angel to her daddy, and call you tomorrow?”

“Of course, give them all my love.” Sirius smiled as she gently placed you into his arms, before looking to him, “You will do amazing things [Y/N], I just know it.”

-For the next week Sirius didn’t allow anyone into his flat, he just wanted to spend that time admiring your features, and learning how to be the fun dad. However after 7 days there was a pounding on his door, and behind it stood a tall, lean man, with shaggy brown hair, and glasses. In his arms were neatly wrapped boxes, and a stag plushie sat on the top.

“Really, you couldn’t have bought her a dog one after her father?” Sirius joked as James smiled, his voice filled with joy as he replied, “Never.”

-The moment you saw James, you immediately smiled, and crawled over to his feet as quickly as you could, your hands grasping at his pants as he sat the boxes down on the kitchen counter. “So you must be [Y/N]?” All he got as a reply was a giggle, and soon you were up in his arms.

-That afternoon you spent attached to James, and while him and Sirius talked, he would slowly dance around the flat with you, or throw you in the air, which also caused you to release a loud giggle. Sirius’s stress would rise quickly when he did, but once you were safely back in his hand, James would look at his friend and smile, “Don’t worry Pads, I won’t hurt our little princess.”

-Soon there was more knocking at the door, and behind it was Remus, and Peter. The man of the house quickly enveloped his friends into a hug, and opened the door wider to reveal James holding you upside down, as giggles filled the air. Quickly he lifted back to the vertical position and spun you around quickly, until you leaned into his shoulder. When he stopped Remus looked to Sirius, “Clearly we know who her favorite uncle is going to be.”

“Bullshit Mooney, she is going to love you all the same.” Sirius reassured as James stroked your back, “[Y/N], ready to meet your other uncles?”

-You immediately leaned out of James arms and right into Remus’s chest, your hands going to his face as you patted it quickly. However soon your fingers were tracing the light scars on the man’s face, your touches were delicate as you lightly brushed his warm skin. Remus tensed slightly under your touch, almost scared that you would cry within seconds, however you quickly placed your head onto his shoulder, and cuddled into him, causing Sirius to smile, “Told ya.”

-Peter was terrified to touch you, he preferred to just watch you interact with the others, and when you tried to climb up onto his lap, he stiffened. You immediately started to tear up, causing James to quickly scoop you up.

-That afternoon you napped on Remus’s shoulder.

-James and Remus both volunteered to change you, Peter was too timid to even try.

-Later that evening there was one last knock, James jumped up immediately and reached out to Sirius for you, a smile on his face as he said to you, “Alright [Y/N], now you are going to meet one of the most important woman in my life, but don’t worry, it doesn’t mean I love you any less.”

-When Lily saw you, her hands went to her face, as she silently freaked out, “Merlin, she is beautiful Padfoot.”

“Not as beautiful as her Auntie Lily.” James replied as you leaned forward and allowed Lily to hold you. She quickly cuddled you into her chest and smiled.

-As soon as Lily arrived you refused to leave her, not even James, who you were previously attached to could take you away from her, if they tried your eyes immediately watered.

-James pouted a bit about that, but Lily just chuckled and stated, “Don’t worry Love, I am sure she still loves you.”

-That night you fell asleep in Lily’s arms, and soon she was softly walking towards your nursery to put you to sleep. She smiled though at the sight of the stag plushie, and made a mental note to pick up one to represent the other boys.

-When she returned to the parlor, she smiled at the sight of the four young men, who were currently gushing over the small infant who was sleeping.

-That night when it was just James, Lily, and Sirius, he asked them if they would be your godparents. They agreed.

-The next day Lily arrived to the flat and handed Sirius a wolf, a rat, and a black dog plushie for you, and then she sat on his couch with a cup of tea, as they discussed life, your small body seated upon Sirius’s lap as you chug to your black dog plush.

-Whenever Lily saw a cute child’s outfit she would pick it up for you.

-Remus was famous for buying you books

-Peter often bought you random trinkets

-James always bought you toys.

-On full moons, Lily would babysit you, which you enjoyed, especially once you were older. She normally would play disney movies, and read to you 100 stories. She was always ready to play dress up, or paint with you.

-On nights where the order would met Euphemia and Fleamont would watch you, at their own estate. You enjoyed going to the Potter’s, and would crawl or toddle to each different room on the bottom floor. You also had a habit of falling asleep in the parlor with the pair, Fleamont normally was reading to you out of one of his many book, while Euphemia held you, her fingers tracing through your hair.

-Once they were done either meeting or fighting, Sirius, James, and Lily would drag themselves into the manor, and head to the parlor, where they would smile almost immediately at the sight of the small girl asleep on the couch.

-Sometimes when you would cry, Sirius would transform into the dog form, to which you would stop crying immediately and cuddle into the raven color, soft, fur.

-Your first word was Dadda, quickly followed by “Pong” which you would yell often at James.

-You knew all of your uncles by their Nick names, and sometimes they would find themselves calling each other the names you had assigned. James was Pong, Remus was Ooney, and Peter was Ermtail. You called Lily, Elily

-You were the flower girl in James and Lily’s wedding, they had you sit in a wagon, which was bewitched to move down the aisle, and once it stopped at the end, Sirius went to scoop you up, and held you beside James and Remus.

-When James turned to Sirius to get Lily’s wedding band, you were the one holding it out to him, with a smile he plucked the small golden band from your little hand and whispered, “Thank you darling.”

-At the reception each of the marauders danced with you, even Peter, however he only danced half the song with you, before passing you off to Lily. Remus walked up beside the timid man and clapped his shoulder, “Don’t worry Wormtail, you won’t break her.”

-Albus and Minerva were obsessed with you, each one taking time to hold you and shower you in attention. Minerva looked at Sirius at one point and whispered, “I can already tell this girl is going to be a handful, just like her father.”

“I hope so Professor.” He joked as she carefully handed you back.

-Lily and James both danced with you together, and some of your favorite pictures were taken that night, as James and Lily spun you around, or swayed together with you on your uncle’s hip.

-Your father and you were the last ones on the dance floor, his breath smelled slightly of fire whiskey, and your eyes were heavy, but that didn’t stop your father from holding you close to his chest, your head resting on his shoulder, as he softly swayed you.

-That night when you arrived back to the flat, he carefully placed you down onto the changing table and quietly changed you out of the dress you had surprisingly worn the whole day, and into a pair of Jammies that Euphemia had gotten you. As he placed you into the crib, he couldn’t help but notice how much you had changed in such a short time. He spent the rest of the night sitting in your room, watching you sleep as he pondered the thoughts of his current life.

-For your first birthday, they had a small gathering at Jame’s and Lily’s flat, Lily had spent the whole day before decorating and cooking, while James attempted to help. However as your Uncle Remus would later tell you once you were older, all your Uncle James did was eat the cupcakes Lily had been making, which resulted in her sending James to Sirius’s flat, where he sat with the Marauders, joking and drinking while you were left in Lily’s care. (Who had picked you up when she dropped of James)

-When you arrived your attention was stolen by all the decorations, which were all natural colored, but had a bit of sparkle to them. Your father however was taken by the food spread that Lily had made, “Goodness Lily, are you feeding an army?”

“Have you seen the way you four eat Pads? You basically are an army.” She sassed as she extended her arms towards you, “Besides, I will spare no expense for this little bundle of joy.”

-When Remus arrived you were on the floor with your father and James. However at the sight of Remus, you pushed yourself up from the floor, and wandered towards your uncle, however after three steps your balance caused you to fall, and look up towards Remus with tears in your eyes at the fact that you had failed. Sirius staring at you in wonder as Remus scooped you up.

-Those were your first steps.

-Lily had made you your own little, jam filled, smash cake, it was completely covered in green frosting and on the top of it sat a tree, which she had purchased completely made of chocolate. In different tones blue frosting she had made a small pond, and within the smears of blue she wrote upon it Happy Birthday Darling in red frosting. Meanwhile all the adults got to eat the cupcakes, which she had filled with raspberry jam. Sirius couldn’t help but chuckle as he looked towards James, “Your future children are going to be so spoiled.”

-Later that night when it was just James, Sirius and Lily, they told him Lily was pregnant, and that they were going to tell his parents the next day. They also revealed that they wanted to name Sirius The Godfather. “We figured we would return the favor.” James joked as he looked down towards your small frame, the brand new teddy bear tucked your your face as you sucked your thumb in your sleep.

-That night you and Sirius had a sleepover with the Potters, and when you awoke that morning James and Lily were already gone. This left Sirius to gather all of your presents and hurry home with them, after feeding you some eggs, and apple juice.

-That night while you sat on your father’s lap, there was a knock upon the door. Cautiously Sirius put you down in your crib and advanced towards the door, wand drawn. When he looked into the peephole he saw the back of his best friend, upon opening the door, he saw the red rimming of his eyes, clear evidence of his sorrow. Without saying a word to Sirius he just walked past him, and straight into the nursery, where you giggled with excitement to see your Uncle. His lips forced themselves into a smile as he leaned in and picked you up, his feet dragging as he flopped into the rocking chair and held you. Normally you would have been squirming, wanting nothing more than to play with him, but you knew he just needed your stillness.

-It took Lily an hour to call Sirius’s, “Is he there?”

“Yes, he has just been sitting with [Y/N], not saying a word...”

“He hasn’t told you?” Lily cut him off

“Told me what? Did something happen to the...”

“No, no baby Potter is fine. But Sirius... I am so sorry. Euphemia and Fleamont caught Dragon Pox’s. When we went to the house they weren’t there, the neighbors had said they saw an ambulance, so we rushed to Saint Mungo’s. By the time we arrived....” her voice slightly broke but that was all Sirius needed, “Mum’s dead, isn’t she?”

“Sirius, I am so sorry. Dad’s not doing well either, they estimate he has maybe a week.”

-With that the phone dropped, and his feet took him to his friend, fresh tears covered both their faces as he gently wrapped James in a hug. None of you moved for what felt like forever.

“Can I stay here tonight?” James finally whispered, his voice hoarse, as Sirius muttered, “Of course, as long as you like.”

-Fleamont passed away two days later.

-When James and Lily introduced you to Harry, you were obsessed. You wanted nothing more than to always be near the small bundle.

-The Marauders loved having two babies to spoil now. However Peter was still extremely timid around you both.

- There was only once where you were jealous of Harry, but that was just because James was holding him, and not paying attention to you lightly tapping his leg. You just sat down at his feet, and silently started tearing up, which Lily immediately noticed. This caused her to quickly advance towards James and removed Harry from his arms, James had a look of confusion, until he heard your small sniffle. Quickly he scooped you up, and apologized.

-You loved trying to help Lily with Harry. However sometimes you were too helpful, but Lily never scolded you, just corrected the behavior.

-There was one night where she was left to watch you and Harry while the order handled some affairs. You hadnt spent a night there since they had moved to Godric Hollow. She awoke to hear muffled whimpers from her son’s room, and quickly rose to collect her house coat and check on him. Upon passing your room she hadn’t noticed that your door was open, so when she opened Harry’s she was surprised to see that you had climbed into Harry’s crib, and were softly singing a nursery rhyme Euphemia had taught you to him. His eyes growing heavy as you looked towards Lily, “He was sad, now he’s better.”

“I’m sorry Love, did his crying wake you?” She whispered as she carefully lifted you out of the crib with the sleeping boy, as you gently nodded your head, “I’m sorry.”

“Oh there is nothing to be sorry about, I just wish I had the camera out to record that precious moment. How about next time though, you come get me?”

“Deal.” You smiled as she placed you back into the bed, and tucked you in.

-The next morning she told the others what you had done, and joked with Sirius, “You know she’s going to make a fine older sister someday.”

“My darling Lily, that would require me setting down, and that is not happening any time soon.” He teased back as you lifted your arms with pride, a clear plate infront of you as you giggled, “Done!”

“Splendid, now thank Auntie Lily for the pancakes, and say goodbye to everyone.” Sirius smiled as you did as instructed, and gave everyone, except Peter, a syrupy kiss on the cheek.

- the day after Sirius did missions for the order he normally wanted nothing more then to spend the day with you, in the flat. Normally you would both do arts and crafts, or he would watch what muggles called VHS tapes. You guys also spent the day eating snack foods, your favorite being Orange Maids, your father’s was chocolate.

-When Harry turned 1, you were excitingly running around the house, Harry crawling after you as the three adults sat on the couch, whispering amongst themselves. You had no idea how the conversation they were having would change your life forever.

-You once asked why Uncle Ooney never came to the flat anymore, to which your dad just told you Moony was sick. You had no idea that they ever suspected him of being a spy.

-The first time you saw Peter in the house at Godric Hollow you felt like something was off, and avoided him more than normal.

-It was two months later, you hadn’t known yet that this would be the last day you saw Auntie Lily, and Uncle Prong. Your father was extremely cautious to make sure you weren’t followed, and carefully snuck into the house. When you were placed onto the ground you took off running through the house, wanting so badly to show off your costume. The whole house was decorated, candles were lit everywhere, and streamers dangled from the living room ceiling. When you entered the kitchen however the counter was lined with food, and Harry sat in a high chair at the table, a tired James sitting beside him, as Lily stood at the stove.

“Uncle Prong, look at my costume!” You instructed, as he looked away from the Cheerios that littered the tray, and smiled at your outfit.

“Wow, we’re identical.” He gasped as you raced over and gave him a hug, Sirius stood in the doorway as Lily looked at the two of you, turning her head slightly she whispered, “Was this her idea, or yours?”

“She told me she wanted to go as Uncle Prong, figured it won’t be too hard to pull off.”

-That night you all stayed in, Lily was playing a muggle show on the tele, while you all sat on the couch eating candy. As your eyes grew heavy, Sirius looked down toward you, and whispered to his friends, “We best be on our way.”

“Oh come now, you only just arrived 5 hours ago, why don’t you two spend the night and in the morning...”

“I would love too, but I unfortunately have to get this little one home, would hate to have her dressed like your ugly mug two days in a row.” Sirius joked as James pretended to be offended.

-You sleepily gave both James and Lily a hug, unfortunately Harry was already asleep in his room so you were unable to say goodbye to the small baby that had been dressed up as a Lion that year.

“I love you.” You softly whispered to them during both of their hugs, they tightened their grip in response and replied back.

James: I love you to the moon and back my dear.

Lily: I love you too my little Prong.

-As soon as you got home, you fell asleep in your costume, Sirius didn’t have the heart to wake you up to change so he just closed your door and let you be

-when you awoke, it was to your father’s screams, and the slamming of the door. When you crawled out of bed, you saw the man your father called Albus, standing in your living room. He lowered his head, and sank to the floor, his eyes watery with tears as his soft weeps overtook him. They only paused however when he felt your soft touch. It was then Dumbledore looked to you, and whispered, “Do you want to go see your Uncle Remus?”

-When Dumbledore arrived to the cottage in the woods Remus had, he softly knocked. Your small frame in his arms, as Remus opened the door. “Remus.” His voice was soft, “The worst has happened.”

-When Dumbledore left, Remus was sitting on the couch, his eyes glassy as he looked towards you, the child of a man he had been convinced to be a traitor. But he knew Sirius, he knew Sirius would never betray his friends, yet.... here you were, no one had any idea where your father was, or how Voldemort died. But he did know one thing, he needed to take care of you while Sirius was away.

-Two days later you saw your father again.... on the front of the Daily Prophet, you would learn later in life he had went away for murdering Peter Pettigrew, the man who really betrayed his friends. But no one would ever know.

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

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mediocre-writerr · 4 years ago

Text

grow as we go [toni shalifoe]

toni shalifoe x reader

requested: Hello! I was wondering if you could do a Toni x reader before the island. Where the reader is Martha's older sister and she moved out a few years back but when her mom lets her know about the trial and stuff comes back immediately and finds Toni living there. And when they were kids Toni always had a crush on the reader and know that she's older it has just gotten stronger

*not my gif*

The younger girls’ laughter filled the bedroom next door. You squished your pillow over your face, before slamming it down next to you.

You stripped the blankets off of you and headed straight towards the noise. You knocked on the door before opening it, “Marty, Toni, I love you both dearly, but please go to bed. I have a big test tomorrow and I need you to go to bed.”

“What’s so important about tests anyway?” Toni shot back, crossing her arms.

“You’ll find out once you become a sophomore in high school. So please...goodnight girls.” you said and they answered in unison.

“Goodnight Y/N.”

“Your sister’s hot.” Toni said bluntly.

Marty smacked her arm, “Ew stop! She’s so old! She’s 15 and we’re 12! That’s like dating your grandma!”

The two giggled like school girl children. Well they were, but Toni couldn’t stop getting you out of her mind. Which was weird, she never felt this way about anyone before. Like she wants to kiss Y/N.

Eww cooties!!! Toni thought before shrugging off the idea.

“I just don’t understand why people decide to eat meat? It’s literally killing animals.” Martha began.

We were waiting for her mom to pick us up from school, “Because meat is good. It’s literally heaven on Earth,” but she became at lost for words when she turned her head to see Y/N. All of the girls just a tad older now, you about to leave for college and then about to go into high school, “Actually that’s heaven on Earth.”

Marty finally looked up at who you were staring at, wide-eyed, “Shut up Toni! That’s my sister!”

She raised her hands up in defense, “I can’t help it!”You smiled at the two younger girls as you arrived to the spot they were sitting and waiting, “Hello beautiful.” she flirted.

You playfully rolled your eyes, “Hi Toni, Marty. How was your guy’s day?”

“It was good.” Marty said with a smile at her older sister.

“Better now that you’re here.” Toni flirted yet again and you just laughed.

She always flirted with you as time grew older. Once Toni discovered that she was only into girls, she did not hesitate to flirt with you on a daily. Especially when she realized that you liked girls and boys. It’s not that you didn’t like it, but you about to graduate and her about to enter high school was enough for you to be a little weirded out about the tiny age gap.

It was the night before you were about to leave for college and your family decided to have a little family game night, plus Toni of course. Both Marty and Toni were fighting over who was gonna be your teammate in the game, like always.

“She’s my sister!” Martha yelled, pulling at your arm.

“She’s my wife!” Toni yelled back and your sister dropped her arms, raising them up in defense.

“Yeah, you win.” she mumbled before placing a seat back on the couch.

You looked at Toni with a small smile on your face, before running your fingers through your hair, “You know I’m too old for you, right Toni?” there were a few minutes of silence and you nodded approvingly, until she said, “Yeah, but I’m in it for the long run.”

She smiled at you with her big cheeky smile and you pushed her slightly before ruffling her hair.

“Did you unload everything?” your mom asked as you looked into them empty trunk of the car. The airport terminal not too far away.

You nodded with a sad smile. Your dad rushed towards you, holding you in a big tight hug. Tears threatening to spill as we hugs tighter, “Stay safe, okay?”

“Of course Dad.” you then went over to your mom and gave her a huge hug while she cried into your shoulder, “I love you.” you whisper.

“I love you too.” she says back, sniffiling in the process.

Marty throws her arms around you and you could feel the tears hit the crook of you neck, “You gonna be okay?” you ask softly and all she did was nod, unable to say anything else, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And lastly there was Toni, who stood there awkwardly with a sad smile on her face.

“Get over here.” you say, nodding your head towards you, opening your arms wide. She throws herself into your arms just like Marty did. You hold her tight, burrying your face in her hair, “You take care of her for me, okay?”

“I will, I promise.”

The next four years of college was a blast. All of the parties, but really also all of the self-growth you learn along the way. You’ve been with a few guys and a couple girls, but all of the relationships seemed to fail. Like something was missing.

You were up late one night writing an essay, when my phone started ringing, “Hello?” I asked, whispering, not wanting to wake my friends up.

“Hey sweetheart.” your mom’s voice echoed throughout your ear.

You smiled softly, “Hey Mom, what’s up?”

“It’s about your sister,” your mom drew out and you immediately tensed up in your seat, waiting for her to answer, “She’s involved in a trial with her old physical therapist, from when she broke her bone, Dr. Ted.”

“A trial for what?” you asked, hoping and praying it’s not what you think.

Your mom sighed, her voice getting all chocked up, “There’s a bunch of accusations being made by hundreds of girls that he helped for sexual assault.”

Your heart dropped at what she said, you put your elbows on your desk, before rubbing your face with your hands, “I’ll be on the first flight home.”

You got back to Minnesota late at night. Almost midnight and the drive back to your house wasn’t the most pleasant, but all you thought about was getting home to Marty. She needs her older sister more than anything.

When you got home, you didn’t bother saying hello to your parents because they were fast asleep. You tiptoed through the halls and into your old bedroom, putting all the luggages next to the window. From the room next door, you could hear small laughter coming from inside.

The door was slightly opened, so you pushed on it a little more. You saw an older Toni and Martha messing and joking around with one another. You crossed your arms around your chest before leaning against the doorframe.

“I guess some things never change huh?” you questioned and the girls’ heads snapped towards yours.

“Y/N!” Marty yells, jumping from off her bed and towards you. But not before stepping on Toni’s body in the process.

“Ouch!” Toni screamed which caused you to let out a smal little laugh.

She embraced you in a hug and you just held her tighter, “What are you doing here?”

You shrugged, “I just wanted to visit for a bit.”

Toni gets up from off the mattress on the floor. And you notice a bunch of other clothes that belonged to her in Martha’s room.

“You live here now?” you asked, raising your eyebrow up.

She just nodded, “Yeah sorry about that. You’re probably stuck with me for awhile longer, not that I’m complaining.” she teased and you smiled.

“You grew up to beautiful Toni.” you said and the same smile you had, matched onto her face. You gave her a hug, holding her close, “It’s good to see you again. I’m gonna head to bed. Goodnight.”

As you closed the door. Toni opened her mouth just as wide as her eyes were, looking at Martha. She let out a small chuckle shaking her head.

“You are not going to date my sister.” she pointed out.

“I’d be your sister in law Marty. You should be happy.” she exclaimed, falling back onto the mattress with a dreamy look in her eye.

Marty just hummed in response, turning off the lights.

At around 2 in the morning, you heard muffled cries and sobs come from the room next door. You shot out of bed, heading straight to her room. To find your little sister crying in Toni’s arms. You didn’t say anything, but rather tilted your head in concern. Toni read your mind and just nodded.

You say on the mattress that laid on the floor, keeping the two of them company while she started to fall asleep and calm down. Toni laid Martha down softly before coming to plop down next to you.

“I tried protecting her Y/N.” Toni whispered and you nodded.

“I don’t blame you for this. We were both here when it happened. Neither of us could’ve known.” you explained, shaking your head, “You wanna know what I learned about you?”

“Oh no.” she mumbled before listening politely.

You let out a soft chuckle, “That you are the best friend anyone could ever ask for. Maybe it’s because you didn’t have the best family life. Or maybe it’s because you’ve never felt that kind of love, but it gave you the greatest quality of being the best friend that I have ever seen.”

“She’s my only family, I need to protect her.” Toni said with a shrug. You could feel her pinky inching closer to yours and you didn’t hesitate to move it closer either. She wrapped her hand around yours, the fingers falling into place with one another.

You tilted your head to the side, “And what about me?”

“I like you Y/N. I always have. No matter who I had a silly little crush on or actually dated. It was always you.” she whispered.

She stared at you in anticipation and you nodded with a smile, “I like you too.”

“So what does this mean?” Toni asked, your faces growing closer by the second.

“We’ll play the long game,” you tucked her hair behind her ear, “We’ll go out and live our lives, date who we want. But at the end of the day I’ll know you’re out there and you’ll know I’m here. We’ll find our way back.”

She crashed her lips onto yours and it was everything you expected. Soft, gentle, and amazing. Then suddenly it all clicked, like this is where I am meant to be.

///

tag list: @greysky22 @yourssincerelyj @hstoria @shalifoestilinski

#the wilds imagines #the wilds #toni shalifoe imagines #toni shalifoe x reader

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willow-salix · 3 years ago

Text

TAG MiniBang 2021

Because the combined bad influences of Flyboy and Sonata were at work here we also decided to bend the rules a little and post early...

I was privileged to work with one of my best friends on this project, @misssquidtracy . We went a little rogue (seems to be a theme for us) and shared both parts of the challenge with both of us contributing to the art and the writing. Squiddy provided a beautifully done pallet knife piece as the background for my foreground art and we plotted the story together to ensure that it worked for both of us. We had been looking forward to sharing the writing but unfortunately, due to life constraints on her part she was only able to write a little of the fic but what she did add perfectly compliments the tone and style of my writing.

Big thanks to @tagminibang ) @godsliltippy ) for organising this event.

So, here it is, our offering to the TAG Mini Bang. We hope you enjoy it.

Ting ting ting

“Not again,” Virgil groaned, hauling himself up the stairs from the kitchen to the lounge. He regretted ever giving Gordon that bell, he really did. Yes his brother had gone through a tough time, yes he had scared the hell out of them when the Chaos Crew had left him at the bottom of the ocean in his mangled craft, yes they were incredibly grateful that he was alive and mostly whole, but if they had to hear that dinging one more time they might possibly murder him themselves.

“Yes, Gordy, what do you need?”

“I’m lonely, and I’m hungry, come and sit with me for a bit?”

“Sure-”

“But maybe make me a sandwich first?”

“A sandwich?”

“Yeah, with extra cheese and a pickle on the side, not too large a pickle but not too small that it’s gone in one bite. I want to taste it, you know, but not be overwhelmed.”

“Sure-”

“And can you get me a drink too? One of my special milkyshakes, you know, with the ice cream and frozen banana in it?”

“Coming right up,” Virgil sighed, heading back down to the kitchen again.

“Gordon still demanding everything and anything?” Scott asked as he jogged in from the poolside. His T-shirt was sticking to his chest and his hair was damp with sweat but he still looked like he could do it all again. Not that they would have time, they were lucky if they got to do any planned exercise at all, usually they were forced to skip it and work out on the job when a call came in.

“Of course he is,” Virgil growled, slapping a slice of cheese on a piece of bread with far more force than necessary.

“What did the cheese do to you?”

“It’s guilty by association.”

“Ah,” Scott said, like that explained things perfectly.

A few slices of chicken received the same treatment and Scott wondered if the meat had actually been dead when it arrived on the island or if Virgil had simply smacked it into submission so well that the chicken had flown clear into next week and arrived as sandwich filling.

“Can you fix his drink?” Virgil asked.

“Can’t gotta shower this off before Grandma accuses me of stinking up the place again.”

“Any excuse,” Virgil scowled. “It would only take you a second.”

“A second too long, bro, I’m escaping while I can and you’d be wise to do the same,” Scott said, heading for the stairs and freedom.

“How can I escape when Gordon needs help?”

“You’re forgetting one important thing,” Scott told him wisely.

“I am? And that would be…”

“John’s home.”

Virgil snorted out a laugh. “He’s less likely to do it than you are.”

“No, you're misunderstanding me. If John’s home that means…” Scott let his sentence trail off into silence heavily filled with insinuation.

“Sel’s here,” Virgil finished triumphantly, catching on perfectly.

“Give that Tracy a prize,” Scott grinned, shooting triumphant finger guns his brother’s way as he headed up the stairs.

And they said that John was the genius in the family, they hadn’t seen Scott at his most devious. Virgil wasted no time in yanking out his phone and texting the witch to come and take over.

“Here’s your sammich, Squidward,” Selene cooed, plonking the plate down on Gordon’s lap while smacking a kiss to his forehead. “Virgil started it but I finished it for you, Brains called him down to his lab with some kind of air filter emergency so I took over. I brought you some of those crisps you like from my private stash too.”

“The cheesy curl ones?” Gordon asked hopefully.

“Yep,” she grinned, waggling a family sized bag of Quavers in his general direction.

“Did you bring my drink?” Gordon asked around a mouthful of chickeny goodness. Say what you wanted about Virgil but he made a damn good sandwich, even if Gordon could taste that this was made with a little less love and a little more impatience than usual.

“No, sorry, did you want one? Virgil didn’t say that. I’ll go get you something, just wait right there.”

"Not like I can leave if the mood takes me," Gordon grumbled as he opened the chip bag.

She was already gone, only to race back in a few moments later with a can of coke.

“What? What’s wrong, boo?” Selene asked when she saw the pouting look of disappointment on Gordon’s face.

“It was supposed to be one of my special milkyshakes,” he whined.

“Right, got it, my bad!”

She was gone again, taking off to the kitchen where, upon closer inspections, she did indeed find the beginnings of a milkshake. There were two scoops of ice cream already in the blender, melting in the warmth of the room. A half peeled banana sat abandoned on the counter next to a carton of milk.

“Typical,” she groused as she set about breaking up the banana, pouring the milk and setting it to blend as she tidied the mess away. Once done she poured it into a tall glass, added a straw and a few slices of fresh banana to decorate the edges, just as he liked it, and delivered it to the waiting aquanaut.

“Great, thanks, Sel,” he grinned, handing her his now empty plate and swapping it for the glass. She put the plate on the coffee table and sat on the couch opposite him.

“Anything else I can do for you?”

“Sit with me and keep me company?” he begged, looking so miserable and pathetic that she couldn’t say no.

“Of course I will.”

Gordon swung his injured leg up and she moved to sit next to him on the couch, placing a cushion on her lap for him to rest his cast covered foot on.

Gordon settled down with a contented sigh, sucking happily on his straw, the milkshake level in the glass steadily dropping.

“I’m bored,” Gordon bitched five minutes later.

“That peace lasted a long time,” Selene laughed, putting her phone down on the side table to give him her full attention. “What can I do to help? Do you want to watch something or play a game?”

Gordon made a face. “You’re crap at games, Sel.”

One eyebrow rose in disbelief. “I wouldn’t exactly say crap…”

“You tried to play with Alan and died three times in two minutes, lost all your lives and were forced to float along behind him as a ghost for the rest of his turn.”

“Anything is crap when you say it like that,” Selene huffed.

“Only when it’s true.”

“Tell me then, oh great games master, what do you want to do?”

“Nothing.”

“Then don’t moan you’re bored,” she pointed out.

“I mean there’s nothing to do. No one is around.”

Selene gestured to her chest. “Am I suddenly invisible?”

“No, of course not,” he scoffed. “That would be far too cool, why don’t you have witch powers like that?”

“Because I live in the real world, not a movie?”

“Lame,” he declared, dismissing it.

“Back to the original point that I am, in fact, right here. Therefore your comment that no one is around is redundant.”

“I meant no one I can do anything with.”

“Thin ice, bub, thin ice.”

“I meant like my brothers or someone. Alan is busy revising for his final exams, Virgil’s with Brains and I’ve no idea where Scott is but I think he’s avoiding me, which is just mean if you ask me. I’m a delight.”

“Yeah, you sure are,” she drawled, not sounding too convinced. “You’re also forgetting a brother.”

“Who?”

“John? You know, gorgeous ginger love of my life that’s chilling in his room right this minute? That brother?”

“John? No way.”

“What’s wrong with John?” she squawked indignantly. Her man was the most perfect of people, amazing and fabulous, just all round awesome. Although she might be a tad biased.

Gordon shrugged, scrunching his nose up in a ‘meh’ kinda way that said everything and nothing.

“No, come on, tell me what you meant,” she demanded.

“No offence, Sel, but John’s a bit…”

“A bit what?” she asked, her tone warning him that he was in very dangerous territory.

Gordon, with the grace of an elephant and confidence of a man that knew he was injured and therefore wouldn’t get slapped, plowed on.

“A bit boring.”

“Boring?!” she hollered, her voice travelling to the four corners of the island so effectively that Alan lifted his head, wondering if some distant God was echoing his thoughts as he slogged through his history homework.

“How very dare you!” Selene continued, working up a good glare that Gordon was completely immune to. He simply sipped the last of his milkshake, smacked his lips and raised an eyebrow, daring her to do something about it.

“He is not boring.”

“Matter of opinion,” Gordon shrugged, handing her the glass to put down on the table.

“Right, that’s it, you can besmirch my fun factor but I will not allow you to do so to my man. That’s a step too far.” She gently, for which he was thankful, shoved his leg off her lap and dragged his hover chair over from its spot beside Virgil’s piano.

“Get the hell in, hoppy, we’re going for a ride.��

-x-

"You deal with him, he's driving me nuts and pissing me off at the same time."

"Me? I'm the very picture of perfection, I could never drive anyone nuts."

John declined to comment on that one for fear of never stopping, he had twenty-four years worth of stories after all.

“The pissing you off is subjective too,” Gordon finished triumphantly.

"He's your problem now," Selene announced, shoving Gordon's hover chair further into the room before making her escape, slamming the door shut behind her.

John closed his eyes, praying for patience. His fiancée was well known for her legendary patience when it came to pampering and mothering his family whenever any of them were sick or injured. She'd spent almost every day with Gordon since his run in with the Chaos Crew and had done so with relentless cheer, for her to have given up now was not a good sign.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing!" Gordon protested hotly.

"Are you sure?"

Gordon averted his gaze, suddenly taking great interest in a dust particle dancing across the shaft of sunlight filtering in through the window, "Yes, I'm sure. I wasn't doing anything. That was part of the problem."

"Ah," there it was. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I'm so bored," Gordon wailed. "And your girlfriend is being mean to me."

"Fiancée," John corrected him, not looking up from his work.

"It's not my fault I hate sitting around doing nothing all day. I’ve gone from a physically and mentally intensive, fifty plus hour a week job, to sitting on my ass from dawn until dusk. Can you blame a guy for getting twitchy?"

"Unfortunately, you don't have much of a choice at the moment," John reminded him, quite needlessly he thought.

"Gee, thanks for the reminder," Gordon huffed, trying to cross his arms although the cast and sling he was sporting prevented it. That just seemed to annoy him even more.

"I can't do anything right now! How do you do it?"

"Do what?" John asked, squinting through his magnifier at the small window frame he was carving from a piece of polymer clay.

"Just sit around all day."

John raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "I don't sit around all day."

"OK, float around then. It's not like you're actively running around like the rest of us are."

"I'll pretend I never heard you say that," John scowled, wishing Selene had dumped his brother into the sea instead of into his quiet, peaceful room.

"You're sitting around right now," Gordon pointed out, gesturing to the desk John was sitting at, which was currently doing double duty as a work table for his latest project.

"One day you'll learn to appreciate the benefits of a quiet, occupied mind and a still body," John told him.

Gordon sighed, propping his good elbow on the desktop, his chin resting in his upturned palm as he watched his brother fiddling with tiny things that seemed utterly useless to him.

"What are you even doing?"

"Working on a series of book nooks for Sel's side of the bookcase," John answered, sounding slightly distracted as he measured the finished window against its place in an intricately carved brick wall.

"Why?"

"Because she likes them."

"I mean why are you making it? Can't you just buy her one? It's not like you can't afford it."

"Where's the challenge in that? Besides, things are always more special when you make them yourself."

Gordon yawned and leant forward to rest his head on the tabletop.

"Do you want to help?" John offered, although honestly Gordon's version of helping was always patchy at best.

Gordon scooted closer to look over John's shoulder, eyes darting over the rectangular box that he was building the nook inside. About the size of two thick books sandwiched together, the nook already had a little cobbled street and two shop fronts in place. The tabletop was scattered with a selection of impossibly tiny screwdrivers, picks, scalpels and other instruments of possible torture that he couldn't hope to name.

"Pass," he announced decisively, flicking the control of his hoverchair so he spun in a wide circle, pointing to the door. "I'm out."

"Peace at last," John sighed, flicking his magnifier back into place over his right eye as he set aside the window to be baked later and reached for a fresh blob of clay.

-x-

"What ya dooooooing?" Gordon yodelled, slamming the bedroom door open so hard that it smacked into the wall and shook several picture frames. He scooted his way into the room without even waiting for an invite.

"Gordon!" John huffed, clutching his heart where it was trying to leap out of his chest from the shock of his brother’s sudden, and very noisy, entrance.

"Hi, I got bored, thought I'd drop in on my favourite big brother," Gordon grinned as he glided his hoverchair closer.

"Are Scott and Virgil busy?" John asked, that would be the only reason Gordon would have promoted him to his favourite.

"Yes," Gordon admitted, "but that's not the reason why I'm here."

John turned his head to shoot him a raised eyebrow of doom, clearly communicating without words that he didn't believe him in the slightest.

"So, what are you doing?"

"Working on this book nook," John replied patiently, holding up the small cauldron he was crafting.

"The same one?"

"Yes."

Gordon’s eyes nearly fell out of his head, "Still? It’s been four days!"

"Yes," John hissed out, starting to get frustrated by the constant questions.

"Why?"

"Because it takes a long time. If you're going to do a project you should do it right."

"At the speed you're going it's gonna take forever," Gordon snorted, casting an assessing eye over the work John had already done.

"That doesn't matter," John assured him. "It's not really about the time it takes or the end result, it's about the process, the journey to get there."

"Sounds lame to me," Gordon yawned.

"Obviously," John drawled, rolling his eyes.

"What do you mean by that?" Gordon demanded to know, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"Because it's you."

"Hey! Rude."

"Accurate," John said, placing the little cauldron down and selecting another piece of clay which he placed on a ceramic tile.

"Why?"

"Because it requires a calm mind. It's good to slow down sometimes and just be still."

"Says the console jockey."

Console Jockey? He did not just say that!

"So you don't think my job is stressful? Or as tiring and important as yours?" John snapped, wondering if it was bad form to smack your injured brother around the head with a partially constructed book nook. He glanced at the nook, he had put a lot of work into it… It would be a shame to waste it. That thought alone saved Gordon.

“Well, yeah I get that it might be a bit stressful, but it’s not like you have to do much that puts you in danger, not like us,” Gordon continued, digging his hole even deeper, a hole that John was looking forward to shoving him into.

“We all have our specialities, you couldn’t do your job without me doing mine,” John retorted, trying very hard not to let Gordon’s comments get to him. Gordon would never understand what it was like for him to be stuck so far away from the action, away from his brothers when things were going wrong.

Gordon, thankfully for him, had been unconscious from the moment he had activated his emergency code. He hadn’t heard the frantic calls going out over the comms as the family mobilized to help him. He hadn’t heard the desperate scramble as Thunderbirds took off, racing to the scene. But John had heard it all.

John had been the one to stay on the line with Gordon, talking to him the entire time, knowing that he probably wouldn’t hear it but feeling that he needed to say it all the same. He wanted to know that if his little brother regained consciousness for even a second he would hear a familiar voice, that he would know that they were coming, that they would rescue him. He would know that he wasn’t alone.

He knew what it was like for people that were in danger, knew the comfort they got from someone talking to them, listening to their stories, being there for them verbally if not physically. John was often the one that spent the most amount of time with those they rescued, keeping their spirits up as much as possible until his brothers got there.

His brothers were seen by their rescuees as the real heroes, the ones that leapt in and plucked them out of danger, but John was the one that got them that help, the one that made sure the rescue played out as best it could, liaising and coordinating until the job was done. But Virgil, Scott, Gordon and Alan were the ones that got the thanks , the ones that got the hugs after they dropped their charges off, not John.

Not that he minded too much, he knew that his job was just as important as theirs, maybe even more so because, when someone put out that call for help, when they sent their desperate plea out into the world, they deserved to know that someone would always be listening out for it, that someone would hear and that help would come.

He knew all of this, and he knew that Gordon did too, it was just the frustration of inactivity that was making him say the things that he was. John just wished that that knowledge made it easier to listen to.

“I might not be doing the physical rescuing,” John continued, feeling the need to push his point home. “But I work just as hard, when you’re home you’re off duty until a call comes in, you can relax, swim, watch movies and laze around until you’re needed. When I’m up there I’m on duty 24/7 and even when I do manage to catch some sleep it’s not deep or particularly restful. Any little noise, any call that triggers the system's keyword algorithm gets transferred automatically, I have to go from asleep to awake in seconds to take it.”

Gordon was quiet for once, watching him closely. John didn’t like it, it made him feel like an exhibit in a zoo. And here we have the little seen Tracy, see how he stays inside his hide and hardly ever ventures out… he knew how they saw him, why they likely thought he had the easy job.

“These help, they give me something else to focus on. I need to keep my mind active and challenged while still trying to relax.” John paused, trying to think of a way to explain his thinking that Gordon might understand.

“These are almost like a meditation,” he started. Gordon understood meditation and finding your zone. “Creating something out of almost nothing. It keeps my mind focused, helps with finger dexterity and hand eye coordination with the added bonus of it relaxing me. It’s good to slow down and take some time to do something creative, you should try it some time.”

Gordon listened to his brother and he tried to take in all his words, he tried to understand the meaning behind them, he really did, but it just didn’t make any sense to him. He understood about wanting to be lazy, to sit around and do nothing sometimes. He loved to laze on the couch with his snackies and an Into the Unknown marathon playing out on the holoscreen, but that was watching something exciting, interesting, to him that was relaxing. This...whatever it was that John was actually doing, made no sense whatsoever to him. The idea of trying to relax by actually thinking...that was the most alien concept of all.

Gordon knew, probably better than his family gave him credit for, what it was like to be mislabelled. Within every sibling pool, there were the mandatory roles: the serious one, the caring one, the smart one, the funny one, the calm one, the angry one, the one who sang in the shower, et cetera. He’d proudly embraced the role of ‘the funny one’, and had diligently flown the flag for the humour camp for as long as he could remember. If a brother came home from a rescue in a slump and needed a cheery pick-me-up, it was Gordon who stepped up to the task, irrespective of his own mood. His smile and laugh were infectious, and he had yet to encounter a frown he couldn’t (eventually) turn upside down.

But with every ‘role’ came misconceptions. Scott was serious, therefore people were quick to automatically assume that he was a killjoy. Similarly, John’s intellect and preference for solitude often went hand in hand with him being branded antisocial, since there was apparently no possible way someone could enjoy their own company so much, yet still pursue and maintain meaningful relationships with actual people.

Gordon was no stranger to this treatment. He liked to laugh and be spontaneous, and consequently, was often regarded as the Tracy who didn’t take his work seriously, the Tracy who had the attention span of a gnat (albeit a very handsome one), and the Tracy who couldn’t be trusted with anything that required delicacy, be it physical or emotional. His affinity for making people laugh, though an exceptional quality, frequently acted as a double-edged sword. On the one hand, his relentless optimism made him the most effective of the bunch when it came to emergencies involving children and young adults. On the other hand, it sentenced him to a fate where the bad jokes he cracked would always be two steps ahead of the secret deep thinker that lay within.

“Let me see it again,” Gordon sighed, trying his best to be a supportive and understanding brother, since he did feel a little bad about the things he had just said. He hadn’t meant to say them, they had just come out. That was the trouble with being laid up from an injury, not only were you out of action but you were in pain, and pain made you grumpy and less likely to monitor the things that came out of your mouth the way you should.

He knew that John worked hard, hell he knew that what his brother had said was right, John was never truly off duty. They were all aware that he didn’t get enough sleep, enough down time, enough time to relax and just be. They knew that if John was on Five he would consider himself on duty, at work, and therefore he’d never allow himself to take time out. Things had changed since Selene had blundered her way into his life, now he spent a lot more time on the Island, which meant that he was finally taking some time out for himself. If one of the ways he chose to do that was by crafting ridiculously tiny things out of clay to stick in a hollowed out box that was his business. Gordon wasn’t there to judge, he was there to spend time with his brother.

John moved aside a little so Gordon could get a closer look, trying to resist the urge to smack his hand away every time Gordon reached for a tiny piece that had taken him hours to perfect.

“These are really small,” Gordon mused, poking at a window that John had just finished painting, leaving behind a smudged fingerprint. “Woops, sorry, Bro.”

“Maybe you should try making something of your own,“ John suggested, carefully removing the window from his brother's possession and picking up a brush in order to attempt a fix.

Gordon nodded and John passed him a ceramic tile and a miniature rolling pin.

“How about you try cutting me out a few shop sign bases?” John suggested.

“Do I get one of those scalpel things?” Gordon asked, a little too eagerly for John’s liking.

“Maybe we can work up to that,” John hedged, subtly moving the scalpel out of his brother’s reach and passing him a square cookie cutter. “Use this cutter for now.”

Gordon shrugged and spent a few minutes rolling and squishing the clay trying to get the thickness to the exact measurement that John insisted on. It wasn’t easy or fun.

“Nope!” Gordon announced, giving up and pushing the tile away. “It’s still boring. Pass.”

He swung his hoverchair around and headed in the direction of the door. “Later, Bro.”

“Oh...OK...later, I guess,” John stuttered, wondering just what he had done to deserve such a chaotic family as his.

“Oh, hey, boo, where are you go- WAHH!”

John’s head shot up as Selene’s yelp rang out from the hallway.

“Sorry!”

“So you should be, you little shit,” she grumbled to his retreating back as she thumped into the room.

“What happened, love?”

“Let’s just say that if his chair had wheels I’d have lost a few toes,” she said, wincing in imagined pain.

John scooted his desk chair back and patted his lap in offer, one that she happily accepted.

“So, why was Gordy doing his boy racer bit? What did you say to him?”

“Me? What makes you think I said anything to him?”

“Because I know you two?”

“Fair,” he sighed, sliding his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. “I don’t know what to do to help him.”

Selene turned her head to look at him, not liking the helpless look on his face.

“Babe, you are helping him, you’re there to keep him company or talk to him if he needs it, that’s more important than anything. What happened to make you think that you weren’t helping?”

“He was asking me about these again,” John nodded towards his work area on the desktop. “But he didn’t seem to understand, that or he just didn’t want to.”

“He’s Gordon,” she sighed. “You know what he’s like, he’s full on, he’s in your face and he’s not at all subtle. Taking his time with things just doesn’t compute with him.”

“It would do him good though, if he doesn’t learn to embrace it he’ll be exactly the same as he was last time.”

“Was he really that bad?” she asked, concern lacing her voice.

John nodded. “He doesn’t do inactivity well. When he had his hydrofoil accident his therapist talked him into signing up for a virtual college degree in Environmental Management of Rivers and Wetlands. It was supposed to take him at least a year as a part time course with ANU in Canberra, but he blew through it in the first semester and earned himself a distinction for his insights on the impact of Anthropogenic Noise on Wetland Habitats. His professor was so impressed he offered him a fully funded PhD, citing his time with WASP and the time he spent in the bathyscaphe as practical experience that would make up for his lack of degree. Obviously he turned it down, but he still likes to rub our faces in it now and then.”

“Wow,” Selene breathed. “Forget his professor being impressed, I’m impressed.”

“He has a phenomenal brain,” John said, a small but very proud smile on his face. “When he actually decides to use it to its full potential, that is. There is nothing he can't do when he chooses to focus on something, he’s all in. It really helped him to feel like he was gaining something and moving forward even though he was sitting still.”

Selene nodded, understanding completely. She knew that all of her boys were wicked smart, but Gordon always presented himself as the least academic. He was more of a doer, wanting to be out in the field, learning as he went, diving in head first to every situation.

But as Selene and John both knew, appearances could be deceiving.

“If that’s what helped him last time, then we need to find a way to convince him to try something new,” Selene insisted.

“I tried, he’s not interested.”

“That was with your things, babe. We need to find something that’s a little more him, and I think I know just the thing.”

-x-

“I have arrived!” Gordon yodelled, announcing his entrance in his own unique way. He slid his hover chair in through the open door like the boss that he was, bringing his shining presence in to brighten up his middle brother's obviously dull existence. “Didja miss me?”

“Like a hole in the head,” John grumbled, turning to look at the grinning face of his brother. His eyes immediately began to water as they were assaulted by the far too bright colours of the shirt Gordon was wearing, a tie dyed monstrosity that Selene had made for him for his birthday.

“A little more gratitude, if you please," Gordon huffed.

“Grandma finally released you?”

“Yep,” Gordon stretched out his injured leg and patted the air cast on his now slingless arm. “Got time off for good behaviour.”

“I find that hard to believe,” John teased, then nodded to Gordon’s arm. “How’s it feeling?”

“Not too bad, my grip still isn't great but Grandma promised me that once the bone has finished knitting I’ll just need to exercise it and build the muscle strength up, then it’ll be as good as new.”

“That’s great, it won't be long before you're able to go back out with Virgil and stop, how did Sel put it, 'haunting the house like the ghost of Christmas future'?"

"Can't come soon enough," Gordon sighed, butting his chair right up close to John's, knocking his arm in the process. "What you do- you're still doing that? Still? It's been a week!"

"It's not like I get a huge amount of down time," John pointed out. "I'm only here now because Sel said she'd dump me if I didn't make an effort to come down earlier in the evenings so I could actually eat a meal with you all."

"You actually believed that threat?" Gordon laughed.

"Of course not, she'd never dump me, but I thought I had better humour her and let her feel like she at least had a little sway," John shrugged, pushing aside the little piece of doorstep he had been painting. "Honestly, it's nice to come down for a meal and family time, I hadn't realised how much I'd missed it until it was happening again."

"I guess we all got a bit too caught up in International Rescue after we lost Dad," Gordon admitted.

"Like we had nothing else in our lives," John nodded, completely understanding.

"Yep."

Gordon fell silent and John let him, concentrating on mixing the perfect colour acrylic to add a few highlights to his stones.

"Can I have a go at making something? I bet I could do it quicker than you," Gordon asked, reaching towards what Selene called the sharps tub. John smacked the lid down on it just in time.

"Actually, we got you a present."

"You did?" Instantly distracted, Gordon sat up straighter, excited by the prospect of a gift. "What did you get me?"

This," John answered, opening his desk drawer and extracting an interestingly shaped bottle, upright with a thicker, rounded bottom and a thinner neck, ending a cork stopper.

"Wow, is that an original?" Gordon asked, taking the bottle carefully and turning it to study it from all angles. He knew exactly what this shaped bottle was, there had been a collection of them in Commander Shore’s office that he would stare at every time he got called in for some reprimand or another.

"19th century," John nodded. "Sel found it in a little shop in Mayfair. They assured her it was a genuine, used on a ship, captain's decanter from around the time of the civil war. They hadn’t fully traced it when Sel bought it but they think it came from one of the ships that fought in one of the smaller skirmishes around 1861.”

“This is really cool, thanks,” Gordon smiled, still turning the bottle over and over.

“It’s to hold this,” John continued, drawing Gordon’s attention back to him.

Grinning, John delved back into his desk drawer and pulled out a rather faded and quite dusty box. He brushed the dirt off the top and slid it over to Gordon.

"A ship?" Gordon frowned.

"Yep, Selene and I thought that you needed a little project of your own, so she had the idea to get you a ship in a bottle. You don’t see them a lot these days, but apparently her Grandfather had a couple and they always fascinated her.”

“So you put the ship in the bottle?”

“Yep, instructions are inside, go nuts.”

“Pfft, instructions,” Gordon snorted. “No one needs instructions, they’re a waste of time.”

-x-

“Ouch,” John hissed, hopping in place on one foot as he bent down to pick up what looked to be a tiny piece of mast that had attacked the sole of his foot. “Gordon, why are there bits of ship all over my floor?”

“Because I dropped them,” Gordon replied, his voice muffled due to the tongue of concentration that was peeking out from between his teeth.

Huffing, John gathered all the pieces off the floor, both pieces of ship and bits that they had been cut out of, and deposited them on the desk next to Gordon.

“How’s it coming along?” John asked, settling in his own chair. He’d only been gone a day but Gordon had managed to take over the entire bedroom, spreading his belongings, bottles, snack wrappers, his phone and a discarded hoodie, all over the place, as well as half the contents of the vintage ship box.

“It’s ridiculous. I think it’s missing pieces or something, it’s broken.”

“Well it was an old kit, but we were assured that it was complete,” John frowned, sliding the tray over that Gordon was supposed to be storing all the pieces in. “Have you checked the contents list and matched each piece to make sure they’re all there?”

Gordon looked at him blankly, like he was talking a foreign language.

“Did you check that everything was there before you started?" John elaborated.

“Of course I did,” Gordon promised, crossing his fingers and hoping his brother didn’t see.

“Against the list?” John clarified.

“I eyeballed it, OK?”

“Not good enough,” John insisted. “That’s not how you go about doing things like this, you can’t just slap them together and hope for the best.”

“Why not?” Gordon whined. It worked for him in almost everything else he did in life.

“Because this happens," John gestured to the mess surrounding them.

“Fine, I’ll read the damn instructions.”

Leaving Gordon to it John slid his almost completed book nook over and picked up his paintbrush to start adding some finishing touches before he started on the wiring for the lights. He’d barely done more than five minutes when Gordon started huffing.

John waited a little longer, trying his hardest to ignore the ever increasing sounds of frustration and impatience from his brother. In the end he couldn't stand it a moment longer, he had to ask the most loaded question ever.

“What’s the problem?” John asked, pushing his own work aside.

“These instructions don’t make sense,” Gordon bitched, flapping the paper in John’s face. “Look at the little picture here, you have to stick this little pole into that hole in the deck but the deck doesn’t want to stay together and that piece there keeps sliding and the pictures make no sense.”

“That’s because you missed around eight steps in between,” John told him, praying for patience.

“No I didn't, I followed the pictures exactly,” Gordon insisted.

“The steps aren’t in the pictures,” John explained. “See right there?” he pointed to the words above the pictures. “The pictures are a diagram of each finished stage, not how to get there. They are for reference only, not instructions.”

“Urghhh, this is going to take forever,” Gordon pouted, crossing his arms. “What’s the point?”

“The point is that by the end of it you’ll have something unique that no one else does, something you can be proud of and know that you built with your own two hands.”

“I’m not sure it’s worth the effort,” Gordon muttered.

“It is,” John promised. “I’ll help. How about I read out the instructions and you follow along? We’ll get through it quicker that way.”

Gordon wasn’t convinced, but John looked so hopeful that he didn’t have the heart to refuse him, especially since he and Selene had gone to so much trouble to get the things for him in the first place. He might be a miserable little sod, but he wasn’t that ungrateful. He knew that they had gone out of their way to get something they thought he’d like, the least he could do was make the thing, even if he knew he wouldn’t enjoy it. Maybe John was right, working together they could get through it quicker, and that could only be a good thing.

“Alright,” Gordon agreed, “let’s give it a go.”

Slowly, methodically, John read out each piece that was needed and Gordon located them, storing them neatly in a wooden box that Selene provided when she popped in to bring them drinks an hour or so later. She stayed just long enough to steal a kiss from John and drop one on the top of Gordon’s head before she beat a hasty retreat, not wanting to get roped into helping. She wasn’t the best at following instructions and didn’t want to get grumped at.

By the time they had all the pieces checked and catalogued they had discovered there were indeed two pieces missing, but thankfully they were easy fixes, just a small , round piece of wood to represent a porthole, which they could easily make a replacement for and a piece of mast. One snipped toothpick later and that was sorted too.

John started with the first set of instructions, reading them out patiently as Gordon found and fitted them together.

“So, how’s work been?” Gordon asked, like a chatty hairstylist, as he carefully dipped the end of a thin dowel into a small pot of wood glue.

“Same as ever,” John deadpanned, “a bunch of idiots that got themselves into trouble and needed help, and only half of them related to us.”

Gordon sniggered, glancing at John, seeing the sly smile on his brother’s face. He’d forgotten just how amusing John could be when he delivered something sarcastically witty with such a serious tone. Gordon hadn’t realised how much he’d missed it, wondering just what his more serious brother would come out with next. John was always like that, he seemed so quiet and reserved but, when he was relaxed and in company he was comfortable with he’d take you by surprise by letting loose a zinger that you couldn’t help but laugh at.

“Let’s not talk about work,” Gordon suggested, “we haven’t hung out properly in ages, you’re either up in Five or there are other people around.”

“Is that your way of saying you’ve missed me?” John teased.

“Maybe,” Gordon allowed, “but if you ever tell anyone I said that I’ll deny it and tell Grandma you want her to make your birthday cake this year.”

John held his hands up in surrender, although he couldn’t hold in the laugh that bubbled up as he reached for the instructions again.

“OK, let’s get this done before we stop enjoying each other’s company.”

They worked slowly but steadily over the next few hours, putting together the structure for the first mast. Once it was done they called it quits and abandoned it for another day, the smell of something tasty coming from the kitchen proving to be too much to ignore.

-x-

“Gordon, that’s my finger.”

“Oh, sorry, can you just like… I don’t know, yank it off?”

“If I wish to leave half my identifying fingerprints behind, yes.”

“Do you really need them?”

John didn’t dignify that with an answer, the look he threw at his brother communicated his thoughts perfectly.

“OK, OK, I’ll get some dissolver from Virgil’s studio, wait right there,” Gordon instructed him, grabbing his crutches and hobbling his way out of the room.

John sighed, keeping his hand perfectly still, the hull of the boat dangling from his fingertip. He was still there five minutes later when Gordon clumped his way back in, Selene hot on his heels. She had the glue dissolver under one arm, a large bag of chips under the other and a plate of sandwiches in each hand.

She dumped the plates on the desk, then the chips, before turning to see the state her fiancé was in.

“Do I even want to know?”

“Probably not,” Gordon winced, dropping down into his abandoned desk chair and reaching for a plate.

“Can you at least help me before you start stuffing your face?” John asked, waggling his hand, which made the boat sway violently from side to side.

“Can’t, eating,” Gordon mumbled around the massive mouthful he had just taken.

“What did I say?” she demanded to know. “No hurting the hands, you know how I feel about that.”

John wiggled his fingers again, drawing her attention to his plight. He looked so pathetic with the half built little ship swinging from his hand that Selene took pity on him, intervening when he looked like he was about to grab the thing and yank it off himself, fingerprints be damned.

“Oh for the love of the Gods, let me do it!” Taking his hand she used a paintbrush to smear glue dissolver around the area of skin it was stuck to. She took her time, rewetting and using the brush bristles to push the dissolver under the boat, trying to ease it free from his skin with minimal pulling.

“Thank you,” he sighed, sitting patiently while she worked. Thankfully it didn’t take her too long, although it took a lot of cursing under her breath and the odd ouch from him to get there.

“One boat,” she announced, placing it triumphantly on the desk.

“Fanks,” Gordon said, spraying chip crumbs as he did so.

“Welcome,” she said, brushing at her leg which had unfortunately been in splatter range. Still holding John’s hand she bestowed a kiss to each of his abused digits before releasing him.

“Right, I’m out of here. Play nicely, you two, I don’t want to have to send Grandma in to babysit you both.”

“It won’t come to that,” John assured her, reaching for his own sandwich. “We’ve not got much left to do now. We just have to attach the rigging to the masts, check that they fold properly then insert th-”

“I’m out, I don’t need to hear anything about insertion, not after you just glued a boat to your hand,” Selene declared, her exit swift and to the point, the door shutting firmly behind her.

“She has a point,” Gordon admitted, swallowing his last bite. He pushed the chip bag in John’s direction, although there was barely more than a handful and a few crumbs left in it.

“But we’ll never admit it to her face,” John insisted, steadily munching through the large sub she had brought for him.

“Never,” Gordon agreed.

-x-

Gordon sighed dramatically as he crutched his way down the hall from his bedroom. John’s bedroom door was open but his brother wasn’t inside. The ship, now fully rigged, sat beside the bottle on the desk, just waiting to be placed inside once some sand had been poured in as a base. Gordon had chosen all different shades of blue to represent the sea and had even watched a few videos on how to do sand pouring art, something he’d never expected to find even remotely interesting, yet he couldn’t bring himself to go in and make a start on it.

John had barely been home the past week and when he had it had only been for food and enforced sleep. Even then he had been known to sneak out of bed the second Selene was asleep, being discovered on numerous occasions sitting at their father’s desk until the small hours working on this, that or the other.

Emergencies, and therefore the need for their services, had seemed to increase three fold, something Selene was blaming on the moon phase and mercury going retrograde and, for want of a better explanation, they were all inclined to agree. There was no rhyme or reason for the surge in idiots that were calling in at all hours of the day and night with trucks caught under a too low bridge causing a pile up, hands stuck down toilets, drunks climbing to the top of electricity pylons and repair men getting trapped inside ATM machines they had been fixing.

His brothers had been on the go near constantly, whether it was from rescue call outs or working on their plan to find their father, but none more so than John. While Selene had always been good at what she liked to call Tracy Wrangling, none more so that when she was dealing with a stressed out Scott, even she had admitted defeat and left them to their own devices. Self preservation was key after all.

John had been dealing with not only rescue calls and Chaos Crew sightings, but signal tracking, GDF liaising and general hoop jumping, all of which had kept him far too busy.

It had been over a week since they had done anything to their project and Gordon was feeling the loss. Not so much of the project, although that really had helped with his frustrations at his lack of physical ability, not that he would ever admit that to John, but in spending time with his brother.

Much to his surprise he’d found that he was reluctant to work on it alone, it had become their thing to do together. It was a time where they would hang out, shoot the shit, reminisce about childhood memories, times that they had spent together talking about their hope for the future where they would find their father alive and bring him home.

Both of them knew that it wouldn’t be easy, that if they did manage to find him there would be no telling what physical or mental state he would be in. Gordon knew from experience just how tough physical injury, limitations, and recovery could be on the mind and the body, especially in someone who had been as active and viril as Jeff Tracy.

They all knew, although no one seemed to want to talk about it, that as hard as it was going to be to actually locate him and hopefully bring him home, that would only be the beginning of what could potentially be an incredibly long and difficult journey of rehabilitation and reintegration into the family and the world as a whole.

John had been right, taking some time to be quiet, to slow down and think while keeping your mind and hands busy really was a productive way to spend your rest hours and, stupid as it sounded, Gordon didn’t really want that to end.

He was only a week or two away from potential cast removal and a return to physical activities like his beloved swimming and strength training in their home gym and, while he couldn’t wait to get back to it, he knew he’d feel the loss of his enforced quiet time.

He glanced again at the abandoned ship on the desk and turned away, clumping down the hall towards the stairs. So it would take them a little longer to get it finished, Gordon was fine with that because for once he wasn’t feeling the need to rush.

-x-

“Remember to pour it slowly,” Gordon instructed as he held the funnel in place, its long pipe reaching right down into the bottom of the jar. “Start with the darkest one, that’s going to be our base colour.”

“I’ve got it,” John assured him, selecting the tub of midnight blue sand and scooping some out into a smaller pot to make things easier. At Gordon’s nod he began to slowly and steadily pour the sand into the open neck of the funnel. As he watched Gordon expertly directed the tube, allowing the sand to pour out to pool in the bottom of the bottle.

At Gordon’s signal John stopped pouring and waited while Gordon carefully removed the tube and used a long metal skewer to poke and prod the sand into something that looked vaguely like waves.

“The next colour up,” Gordon requested and John did as he was asked. They repeated the process four more times with different shades of blue, John pouring in a little at a time, Gordon directing the tube to deposit more in one place than others, mimicking the movement of sea waves as best they could. In between each layer Gordon used the skewer to poke and mix the colours here and there, blending the layers into a smoother transition.

“That’ll do,” Gordon said confidently, twisting the bottle so John could see the full effect.

John had to admit that he had been pleasantly surprised when Gordon had announced that he had ordered some coloured sand and looked up how to do sand art on the internet. He hadn’t really known what to expect, although he would admit, if only to himself, that he had thought that Gordon would be a little heavy handed and impatient, but once again he had proved him wrong. He really had done his research and the result was a beautiful mix of colours that really did give a perfect impression of a gently moving sea.

“That’s looking great.”

“I know,” Gordon grinned, modest as always. “Where’s that resin gone?”

“Here,” John answered, pushing it across the desk towards his brother. “Make sure you read the instructions and measure the amounts accurately or it won’t set and you’ll ruin the sand and the bottle.”

“Yeah, yeah I got this,” Gordon assured him as he did indeed read the instructions through properly. Once he had familiarised himself with the ratio of resin to hardener, he measured carefully and poured them into a mixing jug. Once it was fully mixed he slowly, gently, poured the mixture a little at a time into the bottle on top of the sand. With each little pour he waited for the resin to trickle down between the grains, slowly adding to it until all the sand was covered.

“And now we wait,” John said, carefully placing the bottle in the patch of bright sunlight coming in through the window.

“Wanna watch a movie?” Gordon offered casually, not really expecting his brother to agree. John hardly ever watched anything with just him, they had vastly different tastes in movies and John usually made some polite excuse to escape.

“Sure, sounds good.”

“Really?” Gordon goggled, his eyes almost falling out of his head. “You don’t have anything more important to do?”

“More important than watching a movie with my little brother? I don’t think so,” John grinned, retrieving Gordon’s crutches from where they were leaning against his bookshelf and tossing them to him one by one. “Come on, last one to the lounge picks the movie.”

“Hey, no fair!” Gordon yelled, scrambling to his feet as he fumbled with his crutches. “You’ve got legs like a giraffe and neither of them are broken!”

“Sucks to be you,” John tossed over his shoulder as he took off down the hall to victory.

-x-

“Careful,” John warned.

“I am being careful,” Gordon snapped. “I got this.”

“Your hand’s shaking.”

“Thanks for that, Captain Obvious.” He steadied his, only slightly shaky, hand by propping his elbow on the desk for stability. “OK, let’s do this.”

They both held their breath as Gordon maneuvered the body of the boat through the opening in the bottle, making sure each sail stayed carefully folded down and the strings remained untangled before he fed it down the neck and into the bottle.

“Phase one, complete,” John intoned in such a serious voice that Gordon couldn’t help the laugh that he snorted out.

“Pass me those long nosed tweezers?” Gordon asked, holding out a hand.

John slapped the requested instrument into his brother's hand like a nurse in an operating theater, provoking another burst of laughter.

“Thanks.”

“Welcome.”

Making sure the strings of the sails were still dangling outside of the bottle, Gordon carefully moved the body of the boat further down into the bottle with the metal skewer until the stern touched the top of the resin and sand layer.

“Now the sails,” Gordon whispered, hardly daring to breathe as John moved in to help, taking over the holding of the strings while Gordon reached in with the tweezers.

Gently, working together, they started the delicate process of tugging gently on each string, unfolding the paper sails and locking them in place.

“String one.”

“Got it. Watch number four sail.”

“Yep, thanks...OK… can you just give string five a little pull? Perfect.”

“Sail three is flopping!”

“Gah, hang on, just got to tighten that...yep that’s got it.”

“Maybe if I gather…”

“Yep, that’s good, do that again.”

“This next bit is going to require a delicate touch, maybe I should-”

“Hey! I can be delicate!”

“It’s not coming up...back sail two is stuck, release it...careful!”

“There, saved it.”

John gently pulled the strings a little more and there it was, their ship, sails proudly upright and everything. He kept hold of the strings, while Gordon held on to the boat with the tweezers as they carefully lifted the bottle from its side to its proper upright position.

Using the skewer John maneuvered around Gordon’s hand and nudged the boat into a better position before he carefully released the strings. They both held their breath, hoping and praying that the sails wouldn't collapse the second the strings fell.

The boat, with its sails, stayed strong.

“Yes!” Gordon cheered, holding up his free hand for a high five, grinning when his brother’s palm smacked against his own.

“Scalpel,” Gordon joked as John handed it to him so they could lop off a little of the trailing strings. Then, using the skewer, they arranged the strings around the edges of the boat.

With the boat finally upright and in place, they added another layer of light blue coloured sand with a sprinkling of white to mimic the tips of the waves. They finished it off by pouring in a little more resin, both to set the sand and hold the boat in place, using the tweezers to make sure it was correctly positioned.

“Phew,” Gordon breathed, leaning back in his chair and stretching out his cast covered leg. “We did it. Go team.”

“We did,” John smiled. “And it looks damn good.”

“It really does,” Gordon agreed, shifting his head to look at the bottle from all angles.

“Nothing left to do but let it dry and put the stopper in,” John said. “How do you feel now it’s done? Was it worth the time?”

“I still think we could have done it a lot faster if you’d just let me skip a few steps in the instructions and do it my way, but it wasn’t that bad,” Gordon admitted. “I’m oddly proud of it.”

“You should be, you did good,” John leant back in his chair, crossing his arms as he relaxed. “Are you going to stop teasing me about my book nooks now?”

“Pssh, no,” Gordon snorted. “Ships are cool, yours will always be boring.”

He didn’t see the bottle of water coming until it was too late.

-x-

Gordon walked straight to John’s room from the infirmary, feeling oddly free without his crutches and casts. Six weeks was a long time, after all.

The bottle with its little ship sat exactly where they had left it in the center of John’s desk next to the abandoned book nook that was still not finished. It took him very little time to insert the cork stopper and pour a little of Selene’s spell bottle sealing wax around the top, a bright, cheery yellow wax that matched his beloved Thunderbird Four.

He smiled as he thought of his little craft, waiting down in her dock for him, ready to be taken out when the next call came in. It had been a long and frustrating time but finally, blessedly, that time was over.

He poked an experimental finger into the wax seal, checking that it had set properly. It had, and he couldn’t help feeling a little sad about it. It had been a project that at first he’d had very little interest in, but slowly it had turned into so much more. Not just something to wile away a few hours but a chance for him to reconnect with the brother he spent the least amount of time with.

Years ago, back when he had been small, John had been his everything. When Alan had been too tiny to be of any use and Scott and Virgil had been too old to be bothered with him hanging around, it had been John that had been there for him. It was John that had patiently listened as he read aloud from his sealife books, who had watched movies with him, played with him, and spent the most amount of time with him. Back then, their three year age difference had seemed like so little but so much at the same time, an older brother that made him feel wanted and included when the other two saw him as an annoyance.

Gordon couldn’t quite put his finger on when things had changed, when they had slowly drifted apart. John had seemed to grow up so much faster than he had, Alan had welded himself to his side, looking up to Gordon as he had to John and things had never been the same again.

It had been too long since they had been able to just hang out, to laugh, to tease each other without things going too far and one of them getting annoyed. It had been nice and Gordon had realised that he didn’t want to go back to nothing but hollocalls to Five when an emergency came in or the odd family dinner and movie night where he had to share with the rest of the family. John was the only brother that Gordon didn’t spend one on one time with as standard and he realised that, no matter how much he might blame it on John being so far away, in reality it was as much his fault as John’s.

Gordon picked up the bottle, leaving a box in its place. The model kit of the Mercury Project space capsule and its launch pad had been hard to find even with his junker contacts. In fact, he had almost given up and admitted defeat before he'd thought to look at the label on his ship box and sent the shop owner an email.

Smiling to himself, knowing that there was no way John would be able to resist that challenge, he took the finished bottle, with its little ship, to his room where it would take pride of place on his bookshelf, a constant reminder that even in the worst of times, positivity could still be found.

“Thanks, Bro.”

#tag mini bang 2021 #tagminibang2021 #Gordon Tracy #John Tracy #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirdsarego #thunderbirds fandom #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds fanart #TAG Mini Bang 2021 #TAGMiniBang2021

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ourloveisforthelovely · 4 years ago

Text

Unexpected Part 4

Harry Potter Marauders Era Post-Hogwarts

Link to Part 3

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader

Rating: M

____

The sound of someone knocking on the bedroom door roused from your deep sleep. You heard Regulus groan beside you as he lifted enough to look at the clock.

“The fuck?”

Regulus grumbled. Who the hell was waking him up at 7:30 am when Halley was sleeping?

“What?”

Regulus snapped. The door opened and James stepped in with his hand over his eyes.

“Do you two have clothes on?”

“No.”

Regulus replied, with a grin. The more that he could make James uncomfortable the happier Regulus would be. He wasn’t a fool. Regulus knew that James was still pissed over you running off and getting married. For the few days that the three of you had been staying with James and Lily, James had barely said 4 words to you and it was beginning to annoy Regulus. He made a mental note to talk to James later.

You, meanwhile, gave your husband a small displeased expression as James spoke again.

“That’s just great. I really don’t want to be in here but Reg, your mother is here and we don’t know what to do with her. She’s trying to tell Sirius that he’s doing everything wrong with Halley. They are about to fight. Not to sound concerned but I would pay to see it but I don’t want my kitchen destroyed either.

Regulus quickly got up in search of his abandoned pants. This was the last thing that he wanted to deal with. He needed some form of caffeine before dealing with Walburga or Sirius.

“Fuck shit crap...what the fuck is she doing here?”

James, who had turned around, shrugged.

“We wondered the same thing. It's kind of funny though. Halley is looking at your mother like she hasn’t seen anything like her before.”

Regulus sighed.

“Because she hasn’t. Y/n and I don’t act like raving lunatics around her. Whether you want to believe it or not, but we used to live a very drama-free life. I knew this would happen. We would tell her and she is just going to show up at random times. Who the hell comes visiting at 7:30?”

“You drama-free? Forgive me for not believing that. As far as your mother, she’s been here since 7.”

James clarified. For once, James had to agree with Regulus on something. When James opened his door that morning to see Walburga Black on the other side, he had to make sure that the world hadn’t ended. James was under the impression that Walburga never wanted to see him again. After all, the horrible woman screamed it at his face when Sirius ran away and James was not the least bit upset.

Regulus turned.

“7? Normal people are sleeping at 7...oh wait...this is my mother that we are talking about...carry on. You said that Sirius has Halley?”

James nodded.

“He’s protecting her like a little piece of gold. I think it's annoying your mother and that is what’s the best about it. She wanted to hold her and Sirius told her that his turn wasn’t over and she has to wait in line.”

You ran a hand through your hair trying not to sigh. This was going to a giant mess!

“I got this,Y/n.”

Regulus muttered as he pulled on a shirt and stormed downstairs. If his mother thought for one minute that she was going to sink her claws into his daughter, she had another thing coming! The last thing that Regulus was going to let happen was Halley have a horrible childhood like him. He would die before that happened.

It's a good thing that we willed Halley to Sirius. I could rest in peace knowing that she is safe with him. I will rest better knowing that James also doesn’t have her.

Regulus thought with a pleased smile. The two of you had sat down one night after Halley was born and decided “who do we really hate the most?” Regulus thought the whole thing was rather amusing until you made the comment,

“We need to decide who would be best to raise our child if something happens to us. Do you really find our child’s security a laughing matter?”

The two of you had come to an agreement that Halley would go to Sirius since James and Lily had Harry to worry about. Of course, James and Lily could be involved as they liked in their niece's life but Regulus was adamant that Halley went to Sirius and you agreed.

Walburga looked up when Regulus stormed into the room. She automatically frowned at her youngest son’s disheveled appearance. Regulus’ curly hair was a mess and his shirt was untucked. Walburga hadn’t seen her son look this bad in ages. If Walburga wasn’t hell-bent on holding her granddaughter she would make a comment about Regulus looking sloppy.

“Regulus, make your brother give me the baby.”

Regulus’ attention went to Sirius who sat at the table cuddling Halley. Without saying anything, Regulus eagerly took the cup of coffee that Lily was holding out to him. He didn’t turn to face his mother who looked like she was about to blow a fuse over being ignored. It vaguely reminded Regulus of Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction. If she started screeching, “I will not be ignored” Regulus wouldn’t be able to fight the urge to laugh at her. What was she going to do, after all? Send him to his room?

“Regulus, you are ignoring me.”

Walburga snapped. Regulus shook his head and pointed to the cup of coffee in his hand.

“See, he has to have the motivation to deal with you too. He’s just too nice to say it.”

Sirius commented. Walburga huffed as she sat back down at the table. Her dark eyes were focused on her eldest son and granddaughter.

“You should have socks on the baby. She’s going to catch a cold.”

“It's warm in here.”

Sirius muttered.

“Sheesh mother, would you sit down and take a pill or something? It isn’t like we are going to let her crawl through a puddle of bleach or something. We aren’t heathens.”

Walburga rolled her eyes before standing up and turning back to her youngest son.

“We are having dinner with our whole family tonight. Bring your wife and the child...and for Merlin’s sake brush your hair. You look like your father did after Sirius was born...I swear a woman has a baby and the father goes to pieces.”

Regulus finally had enough coffee to be able to process his thoughts clearly.

“I haven’t gone to pieces, mum. I was asleep. It's barely 7:45...most people are sleeping.”

Walburga put on her sweater with a disapproving scowl that used to send Sirius and Regulus running. Her face reminded Regulus of the time that he had caught the living room drapes on fire.

“I’m sure your wife wasn’t sleeping. You should help her with the child.”

Regulus groaned.

“Mother, I swear to god...it is too early and I haven’t had enough…”

Sirius jumped up and tugged Regulus after him.

“Happy family time is over mother. They will show up to your cult dinner later. Try not to ruin him any more than you already have.”

“You’re not coming, are you?”

Walburga questioned. She didn’t want to deal with Sirius more than she had to. If she dealt with him too much then she could develop feelings for his sassy sarcastic self and she didn’t want anything to deal with that. She was catching enough feelings being around Regulus and Halley. Adding Sirius to the mix would be a disaster!

“Not in a million years.”

Sirius replied before leaving the room muttering to Halley about her family being crazy and to not listen to anything that anyone told her.

“I’ll tell you all about the cult when you get old enough to understand. Your crazy grandma is an alcoholic and needs her special cider to function.”

Regulus shook his head before turning back to his mother who looked ready to start yelling. The fact that Walburga Black wasn’t screaming spoke volumes about her actually want to be involved in Halley’s life.

“We’ll come, mother.”

That evening you stood beside Regulus as the two of you stared at the front door of 12 Grimmauld Place.

“Why are we doing this again?”

Regulus questioned. You sighed as he snuggled Halley closer to him.

“We are being good people and Halley deserves to know both sides of her family.”

Regulus didn’t make any facial expression before turning to you.

“We can just tell her that my family is a bunch of shady characters that she really doesn't need to know. Hell, Sirius can back us up on that one. Halley has your family and she has Sirius...that's enough from my family. She doesn’t need to grow up witnessing these psychos in action.”

Before you could respond the front door opened. Orion stood on the other and smiled seeing Halley in her father’s arms.

“There you two are. We were wondering what was taking so long. Now let me have her.”

You watched as Regulus made a pained expression the moment that his father snatched Halley from him. Orion spent the next few moments smiling down at her as Halley started tugging at the buttons of his vest. ‘

Regulus silently prayed that Halley would start pulling hair that night. That would be one hell of a way to make an introduction into the family...giving someone a new bald spot.

“Come on it. Everyone else is here.”

Regulus reached over and wrapped his hand around yours. You couldn’t help feeling sad when you noticed the dark expression on Regulus’ face. It was the same expression that he had the day before. You assumed that this would be a normal thing anytime that the two of you were in the Black family home.

Multiple sets of eyes rolled up when you stepped into the room with Regulus. You knew a few of the people already. Narcissa and Lucius were looking at the two of you with wide eyes while Bellatrix scowled in your direction. The horrible woman almost made a comment but was stopped the moment Narcissa elbowed her in the side.

Walburga smiled before turning to Druella.

“I assume that you haven’t been told but Regulus and Y/n married not long ago. This is their daughter Halley.”

Regulus hated the way that his aunt and cousins were looking around at each other as if saying,

How is he still here? How is Regulus still with us? What was Walburga thinking?

Walburga turned back to her youngest son with a pleased smile.

“Sit down.”

The next half an hour was the tensest of your life. While Walburga had been overly nice to you the day before, tonight she was in a constant conversation with her sister-in-law. Tonight, she was clearly showing the true colors that Regulus mentioned to you before.

So much for being hopeful….

You thought as Narcissa turned to you. She gave you a sweet smile.

“Halley is a darling little girl. How old is she?”

“Four months.”

Regulus replied. Narcissa again smiled ignoring her cousin’s careful gaze. Regulus wasn’t about to let his guard down. He didn’t care how sweet Narcissa pretended to be. Regulus wasn’t as concerned about Narcissa as he was Bellatrix. His older cousins’ cold gaze was locked on the two of you.

“She’s the same age as our Draco. How wonderful they are the same age! Did you have a hard time with the pregnancy?”

You shook your head before putting your drink down.

“Not at all. A little morning sickness but that was it. Her birth wasn’t bad either.”

Your eyes flickered over to Regulus who had a small smile on his face.

“I think we both did well.”

Narcissa’s mouth dropped.

“You mean, Regulus stayed in the room with you? He didn’t leave?”

You immediately realized just what Draco’s birth was probably like for Narcissa. She was probably in some cold sterile room all alone. “He was with me the whole time. He may have been a bit traumatized but he did just fine.”

Narcissa immediately glared at Lucius. The man was giving Regulus the biggest “fuck you” expression imaginable.

“I think that you and I will have a talk later.”

Both Lucius and Narcissa sat hissing at each other quietly for the next fifteen minutes. You leaned over to Regulus.

“I think I just caused a rift between them.”

Regulus smirked. He couldn’t give two shits as to what was pissing Narcissa and Lucius off. They could get hit by a bus for all Regulus cared.

Bellatrix, who had been listening quietly, the whole time was finally beginning to have enough. She wasn’t thrilled with the fact that Regulus brought you home. Since when was he allowed to go marry whomever he wished? Bella didn’t have that luxury nor did Narcissa or any other woman. Regulus probably got to do as he wished because he was a male.

Stupid double standard.

Bellatrix muttered before turning to Narcissa.

“Regulus was always the weak one. Now look he’s gone and knocked up a blood traitor.”

She said it loud enough for you to hear. You had to stop yourself from turning to hex the bitch. If you needed another reason to hate Bella. She had given you one. Clearly, she knew nothing about her cousin. Regulus was anything but weak.

“Reggie, can we go home now?”

You whispered in his direction. Regulus’ eyes turned in your direction. He had somehow started talking to his father.

“Soon.”

________

@amelie-black @truly-insatiable @lucasfilms77 @realgaytrash @fandomsxxregulus @spiderxalmighty @jessyballet @knreidy1 @rubyroscoe1 @acciosiriusblack @quuenofblacks @hazncalsgal @bennyberry @criminalyetminimal @whymyparentscheckmyphone @brokencasbutt67-writer @authoressskr @fandom-trash-worth-it @hankypranky @summer-novak @shaylybaby2032 @marichromatic @maggioli-m @emiwrites3reads @stuckinsaudi1 @shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @knight-of-gleefulness @deanwherescas @shitfaceddaniel @wontlookaway @mycuddlycorner

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perish-the-creator · 3 years ago

Note

Godzilla and gojirin, fluff, 17

Put it in the bag nice and slowly chump

TW: Mpreg. Teen Parents. Gijinka. Blah blah blah.

“I’m here for you.”

Goji held the phone close to his ear as he resisted the urge to start crying again. When Gojirin had said she would be moving away, the young couple had decided to lose their virginity to each other and keep in contact by any means necessary.

So when Goji found out he was pregnant, he made sure to call the girl who helped make it happen.

“I’m sorry,” Goji said. “I-”

“Don’t apologize,” Gojirin said. “It’s alright. Like I said I’ll be here. It’s just-”

“We’ll have to tell our parents.”

Both young teens held their phones in silence. The mere fact that they would have to confess to their parents that they had committed such an act was hard to stomach (literally). Not to mention the fact that Gojira was only just starting to loosen up and trust Goji more only for him to go and pull this stunt.

“I….I don’t know if I can,” Goji whimpers. He slides against the wall and curls in on himself. He can’t imagine looking his father in the eyes and telling him such massive news. They were barely making ends meet with the two of them, but now they’d have to worry about another mouth. Or even worse, his father would make him give the child up for adoption. “Gojirin I can’t-”

“I’ll tell my parents first,” She sighs as she looks at the picture of Goji and her from the photo booth at the arcade. The same arcade they snuck behind that day to do what led to this moment. She loved Goji and she knew he loved her. She had convinced her parents to let them stay in contact because they had faith that it wouldn’t lead to anything more than just a simple childhood romance. And look at them now. “And then they’ll probably call your dad and we’ll...figure something out.”

There’s a pause.

“I love you,” Goji finally says. “Again, I’m sorry-”

“Goji, this is a two-person act. We both had a part to play. 50/50,” She laughs lightly. “Maybe our parents should’ve let us take those sex-ed lessons after all.”

They both laugh.

_____________________________________________________________

“Can you feel him moving?” Goji asked as Gojirin placed her hand on his stomach. They were sitting on the floor in Gojirin’s mother’s living room. She was in the kitchen making some soup for Goji to eat while he stayed for the night.

Of course, when the two teens had to tell their parents there was the expected reaction. Gojira passed out after Goji told him. He even thought it was a cruel prank before Goji went fishing for the positive test in the trashcan.

After many long weeks of talking, groundings, and otherwise, it was decided that Gojirin and her mother would move back to Japan so that Gojirin would be involved with the growth of her child. Not that either teen truly complained. They were more than happy to get to spend time together.

Granted, it was expected that in the next three or so years the two would be wed, but again it wasn’t an issue. Thankfully their child was conceived out of true love.

“A little,” She says as she draws circles on his stomach. “Kinda crazy, you know?”

“What is?” Goji asks.

“You know,” Gojirin chuckled. “How me and you made another human being. Like man, we made a life together and it’s just mindblowing.”

Goji laughs with her before grabbing her hand and looking at it.

“Do you think he’ll come out brown like you?” He shyly says. “I...would like it if he does, you know? You have a very pretty complexion and I’d hope he gets to reflect that.”

“It doesn’t matter to me either way,” Gojirin says just as her mother starts to set up the small table for them. “As long as he’s a healthy baby that’s what matters most to me.”

“I see,” He nods. “Though I’m a bit scared. I can’t decide whether or not to give birth the normal way or to get cut open. And frankly, both options scare me.”

“Well, I’ll be there either way,” She lightly kisses his cheek. “From your first labor pain to the moment our son is out, I’ll be right by your side.”

“And so will we,” Gojirin’s mother pipes in. “Ugh, I still can’t believe you made me a grandma already, child.”

“Hehe, sorry mama,” The young teen chuckles before helping arrange the table. Goji attempts to stand up but Gojirin’s mother was quick to give him a look. He shrank down and waited for them to finish. The night was filled with laughter. Gojirin’s mother giving the young man advice as to how to handle certain sicknesses and pains.

She prays over the three as well. She hopes that misfortune does not fall upon them. Goji genuinely made Gojirin happy. She remembered the days her daughter would come home brighter after only an hour of walking with him. They complimented each other in a way that reminded her of the love between her husband and her.

Though fear did linger. She learned that Goji’s mother died in childbirth, and Gojira had made a passing remark that his family had a history of producing large babies. She hopes that the young man will be able to grow with his son and her daughter.

_____________________________________________________________

“Oh my,” Biollante says as she looks down at the infant.

The newborn showed off his parents’ genes perfectly. With time the family was certain he would develop that nose Goji has. Lots of curly brown hair on top of his head that laid on beautiful brown skin. To be honest, he wasn’t the prettiest looking baby, but honestly what baby comes out completely perfect?

“Goji please sit down,” Gojira urged as his son gently placed down the baby carrier. Obviously, after several hours of intense labor, the young boy’s body was still recovering even five days later. Gojira was thankful his boy was strong and survived the ordeal.

Gojirin came to him and guided him towards the mat on the floor for him to lay down. They kissed briefly before he eased himself down. Gojira began to attend to his grandson.

Minilla. That’s the name they decided to give him.

“How you feel Uncle?” Biollante asked as Gojira picked up the infant and cradled him. “You know, you’re already a grandpa.”

“Ah it’s weird,” He admits. “But it’ll grow on me.”

Gojirin lays beside her boyfriend, whispering sweet nothings to him as she grabs his hands and caresses them. It was very clear the two were still deeply in love.

But on cue, the newborn awoke with a fury. An ear-piercing screech rang in the air. He was hungry, again, and all Goji could do was groan.

“We don’t have formula yet, huh?” Gojirin asked as she helped Goji sit up. The family shook their head just as Gojira gently handed his grandson off to his son. The young man yawned as he unbuttoned his shirt. Instantly, once latched on the newborn ceased his uproar and suckled peacefully.

“I just want to sleep,” Goji starts sniffling.

“Haha, should’ve thought about that before you two got busy,” Biollante teased just as her uncle hit her upside the head. But as Gojirin rubbed his back, Goji knows that he doesn’t regret a thing. And neither does she. She promised to always be there for him.

And she always will.

#godzilla #goji #gojirin #godzilla x gojirin #goji x gojirin #minilla #minya #gijinka godzilla #gijinka gojirin #perish works #little whiddle

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percywinchester27 · 4 years ago

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A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-11)

Word count: 4.5K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: None

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: I’ve been good. I am very curious about what you think of this chapter, though ;)

The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23 Shout out to this girl for being so awesome!

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

“Oh, look at you. You’re so tired.” Madison rubbed your back as you rested your head against the table in between the lectures.

“She does have a night job.” The stink eye you wanted to give Rebecca would require you to raise your head. She didn’t deserve that sort of effort. All of your thoughts were anyway occupied with how Sam’s trial must be going. You were praying that the poor kid would get off.

“It’s a good thing Civil Procedure class is cancelled for today. You can go home early and sleep the exhaustion off before the party,” Madison said excitedly. If only you could make an excuse out of the exhaustion and ditch the evening completely. The thought of Madison’s disappointed face stopped you from doing that. She really wanted you to come. The least you could do was show your face and then go back home.

It irked you that Madison was so excited for this but the rest of her friends were treating this as just any party as opposed to her party. You turned your head towards her and asked, “So who else is coming?”

She perked up immediately. “Well, it’s you guys, Brad, a couple of his friends and a few girls who were in my sorority.”

“What about your brothers? You have two, right?”

Her face remained carefully fixed in the same expression, though you saw the warmth in her eyes go out. “C’mon, you don’t really think they’d wanna be at my party, do you?”

“They’re your brothers! They’re supposed to be with you on your birthday.”

Lacey gave a high pitched laugh. “They’re both older and cooler, why would they wanna be at their baby sister’s party?”

“Clearly you don’t have any siblings,” Rebecca commented. “Definitely not a brother.”

But I do. I do have a sister, you wanted to say. The words never made it out.

Madison took over quickly, realising that the words were unnecessarily sharp. “It’s just different with brothers, Y/N. They aren’t up into each other’s businesses.”

She was still looking at you uncertainly, worried if the taunt from Rebecca had stung. It hadn’t. You had accepted that Rebecca was mean simply for the heck of it. It was her problem that she was an awful person. Not yours.

You were actually feeling bad for Madison. It was appalling that her family didn’t want to spend time with her. Jo wasn’t your blood sister, yet she dragged you to the one ‘average’ birthday party so she could celebrate with you. And when it came to brothers, you had seen brothers who would die for each other. Heck, even when it came to simple things they would crawl over to be there.

Long after you had reached home and dropped into your bed, Rebecca’s comment kept coming back to you.

Definitely not a brother.

She was wrong.

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

22nd September 2008

You knew you shouldn’t have been out this late in the evening, even if getting the printouts was essential. The only functioning printing shop was across the town and you didn’t want to ask Jo or aunt El to give you a ride. Already, you were asking too much by agreeing to live with them. So far they had denied your requests to work at the diner to be a helping hand, too. Asking for anymore would only tip the balance further.

The bylane was empty, not a single vehicle on either side. You walked up ahead, holding your papers close to you along with your bag.

“Hey, Darlin’, where you headin’?”

Three men had appeared at the other end of the bylane, their raucous laughter trailing after them. You couldn’t get a look at their face, however, from the way their silhouettes stumbled against the light from the street behind, gave you the impression that, at least, two of them were drunk.

You turned around and started back in the direction you had been coming from. The street there had a lighter traffic than the one you had been heading towards, but it was still better than having to walk past those men.

“Honey, come back,” another one called. The other two jeered in encouragement. You didn’t dare look back as you hurried along, almost to the end of the bylane. Why did it have to be blank walls on both sides? Their voices appeared closer yet and you took off in the sprint, stopping only when you appeared on the street.

Shops were open here and people were still walking up and down. You broke into a run once more without a backward glance till you stumbled into someone.

“Y/N?”

Dean Winchester’s green eyes were looking down at you, in surprise at first, then concern. “Are you okay?”

“I- I…” You couldn’t bring yourself to finish the sentence, your lungs out of breath.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said, slowly leading you towards the steps of a nearby store. “Sit down a minute.”

He perched on the steps next to you as you steadied your breath, his hands still holding you by your shoulder. “I was being followed,” you said. “Those men down the alley.”

Dean’s eyes steeled and he looked in the direction you had just pointed to. There was no one there. Maybe they had gone back the way they had come.

“Did they hurt you?” Anger evident in his voice.

You shook your head. “I was too fast.”

His concerned eyes hovered over your face, ascertaining that you were truly okay. It was something that Sam did, too. See for himself than blindly trust words.

“Those bastards,” he finally spat.

You were beyond glad you ran into Dean. His hand on your shoulder had calmed you more than anything else.

“What’re you doing in this part of the town by yourself?”

“I needed some printouts to confirm my acceptance. I thought I’d take a walk.” Your voice grew smaller with each word, knowing for sure that Dean would chastise you for poor decision making skills. You waited for him to say something along the lines of ‘What were you thinking?” Instead he gently let go of you.

“You think you can walk?” He asked, none of that judgement in his voice.

“Yeah.”

He stood up and offered you a hand. You took it to hoist yourself up.

“My car’s parked a few blocks away,” he said. “I’ll take you home.”

You wanted to protest, not wanting to appear a damsel in distress, but you knew your legs just might give out any moment.

Perhaps he saw it in your eyes or in the set of your mouth. Dean gave you a small smile. “Humour me. I had a rough day, too. Could use the company.”

You were beyond grateful to him for upholding your dignity. You didn’t know many men who did that, who wouldn’t want to jump at the opportunity to play the saviour. Not because they wanted to save someone, but because it would stroke their own ego.

“What happened to your day?”

Dean’s smile widened just a bit. “This asshole supplier came in with a shipment, delivered it at the wrong yard and took up a fight for payment.”

“What a jerk!”

He gave you a ‘I know, right?’ look. “Jackass wouldn’t listen long enough for my man to explain the mistake.”

“Must be hard running a place,” you mused.

“It’s actually a lot similar to running a family.” He looked at you. “You’d know.”

“My grandma had a very small business and she ran the family.”

“Y/N,” he said quietly. “It takes one more than one person to make a family and more than one to run it.”

You knew what he was actually saying, the meaning behind his words. That while gran took care of you, you took care of her, too.

“Why didn’t you ask Jo to drive you to the copy place?” He asked out of the blue, saving you from replying to his earlier remark.

“I didn’t want to disturb her. She’s already so busy running the diner…”

“Jo would kill me if she found out that I told you this, but she worries about you more than she lets on.”

You were taken aback. “I didn’t mean to-”

He clarified quickly. “I’m not accusing you for worrying her. She worries because she loves you.”

“I just don’t want to be a burden,” you murmured looking down. You had reached his car.

“Is that how you feel about being with Sam, too?”

He had cut to the chase quickly, and hit the nail right on the head. You didn't know how to answer Dean’s question without making it look like you were putting yourself down. You knew that if you lied, he’d know that, too. Dean was very sharp and perceptive when it came to people. More so that Sam.

You decided to tell him the truth.

“No, I don’t feel that with Sam. He chose to be with me without any prelude. He’s accomplished so much in life already and I’m so sure he’ll achieve so much more. I used to wonder what could he possibly want with a small town girl like me, but I don’t think that anymore. He sees me as the best version of myself and I’m beginning to see it, too.”

“You’re making him sound cooler than he is, you do know that, right?” Dean teased lightly.

You rolled your eyes.

Dean opened the door of his car for you and then got into his side.

“As much as I would want you to see it differently, I understand not wanting to be a burden,” he said, revving up the engine. You thought back to everything you knew about Dean and it made sense that he would understand you. There was never any judgement there. “But they’re your family and I get that you’re self-respecting, that you’re used to doing things by yourself. But would it be such a bad thing to let others help you once in a while? Do it for her and Ellen, if not for yourself. I know you love them enough for that.”

His words made up your mind on something you had been debating for a while.

“Dean,” you said unsteadily but upfront, “I need money for college. I know I can sell off Gran’s old house for the money but I want to keep it. I can’t ask aunt El to help me with the diner facing financial issues.

You took a deep breath. “I don’t know why I’m asking this from you. But… with you, I feel like I’m with someone I can trust. Will you be the guarantor for my student’s loan?”

His face jerked towards you instantly.

“You can say no if you want,” you said quickly. “I won’t be upset, at all.”

Dean didn’t answer you immediately. He drove along the lane and turned into Aunt El’s driveway. He turned the ignition off and only then did he look at you.

His eyes were soft and his voice was low. “When Sam was about twelve, he came home one day and announced he was going to be a lawyer. He’s been a smart kid all along, but the look in his eyes… the memory gets to me even now. I knew Bobby didn’t have the sort of money to fund college, so we both worked all the odd jobs we could find to at least start saving.” He laughed as he reminisced.

“Bobby is a stubborn old man. He wanted to pay for Sam’s college. We had to fight it out with him, too and things were somewhat crazy up until this kid scored a straight up full ride to Stanford. We decided to use the college fund to move back here, start the garage. Ended up starting a whole new fund for law school. Turned out he didn’t need that either.”

The faraway look in his eyes vanished and he glanced at you. “What I’m getting at is that the money is still in the account. Use it.”

“Dean!” You gasped.

“Pay it back when you start printing dollar bills.” He held up his hands. “I know you’re not the one for charity. I’m not offering you one. This way you’ll save a lot of interest money.”

This was insane. When Sam had suggested that you ask his brother to be a guarantor you had agreed only because you knew Dean was kind and he wouldn’t put you down in any way. But this was asking for too much. This was his hard earned money.

“I can’t possibly-” you spluttered; he cut you off.

“Yes, you can,” he said firmly. “I was wary of you when you first dropped into this town, seeing how quickly my brother was head over heels for you-” he chuckled. “But not anymore. He couldn’t have found a better person. And look at all that you’ve achieved by yourself. That money can’t be put to a better use. We are all so proud of you.”

You flung yourself into his arms, tears running down your face.

“Shhhh…” he soothed you. “Don’t hold them back, kiddo.”

You didn’t hold back. You clung to his jacket and sobbed into his chest, the way you wanted to when you found out Gran had passed, the way you wanted to at her funeral. It was guttural and raw and instead of flinching away from you, Dean held you tightly against him, his fingers digging into your shoulders.

Slowly your sobs subsided into tired breaths but you didn’t make a move out of his arms. It felt safe here- you were both comforted and understood.

“Can I ask you something?” You asked after a while, voice small.

“Hmm?”

“You said you were wary of me being in Sam’s life. What changed your mind?”

Unexpectedly, Dean laughed. You looked at him in confusion.

“Sam started playing again,” he said simply.

You blinked at him.

“The piano in the house belonged to our mom. She wasn’t an expert in any way, but she loved the sound it made. She used to play simple songs on it for birthdays and on Sundays. In high school Sam took classes, to honor mom’s memory, I guess. He played a lot when he was learning. Ever since he first started college, I haven’t heard him play at all. You come in and suddenly there’s Bethoveen in the air.” He chuckled.

“Whoa.”

“He’s been happier, really. He laughs a lot more now.” Dean titled his head to one side.“That and the fact that you’re pretty freaking awesome.”

Sam was lucky he had a brother to look out for him. “I always wanted an older brother,” you voiced out your childhood hope.

“You know, when Bobby first took us in after the fire, he told me something.”

“What?”

“Family don’t end in blood, sweetheart.” He shrugged, eyes so full of warmth. “You want a brother, you got one.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face.

Dean didn’t come inside to meet Jo.You waved to him from the door. He waited till you were safely inside before pulling out of the driveway. You watched the sleek black car disappear into the night from the window of your room, thinking about how just in a couple of months Lawrence had started feeling like a home. You thought about how Aunt El made sure that you ate every meal and Jo gave up the nicer mattress for you. You thought of the selfless love Sam showered you with and now here was Dean, offering up his hard earned money without a second thought. You had yearned for a full family all your life. Here, you had found one.

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

“No no no…” Meg glared at you in horror. “You absolutely CANNOT wear that!”

You looked down at your ash coloured jeans and the cream cashmere sweater. “What’s wrong with this?” You were offended. This was the best fitting pair of jeans you owned and it was a lovely sweater.

“You’re going to a party, honey,” Meg said slowly, as if talking to a five year old. “Not to the Walmart.”

“Hey!”

“Seriously, Y/N. I’m not letting you out in that thing. This reflects very badly on me as a roommate.”

You rolled your eyes. “Dear God, stop with the melodrama!”

“You think this is melodrama?” She got up from the chair. “This is a fashion suicide. I know you have your weird cold thing, but three drinks down you’re not going to feel anything.”

You put your hands on your hips, staring her down, knowing fully well that you wouldn’t get beyond one beer. Three drinks Y/N thought it was a good idea to dance on tables. You did not want to meet her.

“C’mon, in you go!” Meg didn’t give you an option. She pushed you into your room.

You protested to the best of your abilities. “I’m not wearing a stupid dress!”

“You don’t have to wear a stupid dress. Just something cool.”

“Like what?” You challenged.

Meg sat up on your table. “Show me what you got!”

Resigned, you opened your wardrobe for her to see. There wasn’t much to it, so Meg would have to give up sooner or later anyway.

“What’s that I see?” She was pointing towards a purple satin top, hanging at the very end. It was skimpy, with a plunging neckline and noodle straps. The top had been a gift from the girls at your last office, hoping it would brighten your wardrobe.

“Oh, hell no! I’m not wearing that.”

But Meg’s grin in that moment would have given the Cheshire cat a run for its money. “You’re totally wearing that, Darlin.”

Too late to regret now. You should have thrown out that scrappy blouse ages ago.

“That’s barely any material. You know me. I’ll freeze to death in it.”

“That’s why man invented leather. I’ll be back,”

With that, Meg bounded out of your room and returned with one of the coolest black leather jackets you had ever seen. “You try them on!”

It was abundantly clear she wasn’t going to take a no for an answer so you stalked off to the bathroom, making sure you huffed enough to let Meg know you were mad. She couldn’t have cared less.

Trying it on, you realised it actually looked good on you. The smooth velvet satin was sultry and felt great against your skin. It would have otherwise been too skimpy and you wouldn’t have dared to step out in something like that, but paired with the jacket and your dark jeans, you looked like a badass. Feeling bold, you pulled out the kohl pencil and lined your eyes for good measures, then pulled your hair up into a ponytail.

Meg, who was holding a book in her hands, whistled loudly at the sight of you. “Hotness!” She sang. “My, my, Y/N. Where have you been hiding all that?” She was definitely eyeing the tops of your breasts.

You blushed. “You don’t think this is too much, do you?”

“Oh, hell no! You look like a goddess! The only thing missing is a pair of heels.”

“I don’t own any except the formal ones.”

“There’s my pair right in front of the door,” she pointed.

You tried on the classy black heeled boots. They fit perfectly.

“What do you think?” You did a twirl.

Meg blew you a kiss. “You look mind blowing. There are going to be casualties tonight.”

You had to admit, this felt great. To dress up and go out and about. Even though the party was bound to suck and you knew for a fact that you wouldn’t stay beyond a drink, this feeling of confidence made you want to keep dancing. You wanted to ask Meg to come with you, however, she had already mentioned that she had some plans for the night. She’d been cryptic, too, about what they were. You had your suspicions.

“I didn’t know you owned the first edition of To kill a mockingbird,” Meg said, showing you the book she had been holding. “This is priceless.”

“Yeah. It’s my favourite book.”

“Must have cost a fortune.”

“It’s a gift.”

“Do you mind if I keep it for a day or two? I promise it won’t leave the apartment,” she reassured.

“Of course.” It was one the only two things from your past life that you couldn’t bring yourself to part with.

“Have fun, Darling!” Meg kissed your cheek as she handed you her purse. It was all very fancy, the jacket, the boots and now this chain strap purse. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

You blew her a kiss and set out into the night. The Alibi was just a couple blocks away. In those unused boots it felt like a mile. During the stretch, your mind kept wandering to what had happened in the courtroom. Sam would be back in Stanford by now and you desperately wanted to contact him to see if the kid was finally free. Several times you opened your mail and almost typed out a message to him, then backspaced it all. The second guessing was killing you, however, you weren’t sure about where you stood with Sam still.

You were so relieved when you finally reached the bar, albeit fifteen minutes late. The place was halfway between fancy and fun with dark interiors and dim light. Everyone was already there. Madison wore a sparkly green number that brought out her complexion perfectly. She looked absolutely beautiful. Lacey and Rebecca wore similarly skimpy outfits. Meredith was slunking in the corner, busy in her phone, sipping on what looked like a cosmo. Brad and the boys were huddled around the pool table. There were three other girls you didn’t recognise. You assumed they were Madison’s sorority sisters.

Madison squealed when she saw you and immediately tackled you in a hug. “Y/N! I’ve been waiting for you since so long.”

“Happy birthday in advance, Maddie!” You kissed her cheek. “You look stunning.”

“You’re the one to talk.” Madison put you at arm's length, giving you a once over. “You look like a femme fatale. You have a rocking body!”

“So that’s what’s been hiding under the sweaters?” Lacey teased.

You shushed them and pulled out a small package. “This is for you!”

“You shouldn’t have!” Madison said. She opened the box carefully. Inside, were a pair of dangling pearl earrings. They had cost you a bit, but gosh, they were so elegant. You knew they would look lovely on Madison.

“Oh, these are beautiful!” She quickly removed her sparkly pair and replaced them with yours even though they didn’t really match. You were touched.

“This is such a perfect gift, Y/N!”

“Enough with the mushiness,” Lacey complained. “Get her a drink, someone!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Madison said. “What will you have, Y/N?”

“Just a beer, thanks.”

Rebecca who was holding a glass with something red in it, sauntered over to you. “C’mon! The over-achiever of the class can do more than just a beer, right?”

You were taken aback by her comment. Overachiever? You were hardly that. Is that how everyone saw you?

“If she wants a beer, she gets a beer!” Madison adamantly stalked off to get you one.

You took a seat next to Meredith who gave you a nod of acknowledgement and went back to whatever she was doing on her phone. Sometimes you liked her the best in the unholy trinity that followed Madison everywhere.

“Beer for the lady who is a lovely vision tonight.”

It was Brad. You groaned internally, taking the beer from Madison.

“Gotta say, Y/N,” he slid in next to you. “Never figured you would be the one for beer or satin and leather!”

“What can I say, I’m a new discovery everyday.” The sarcasm was dripping off your tongue, but despite scoring a seat in Stanford, Brad didn’t have the mental ability to figure it out.

“I like that in a girl.”

That was your cue to get out of there.

“Gonna head to the powder room.”

You made your exit as quickly as possible. It was close to twelve. All you had to do was stick around till Madison turned twenty-six and then get the hell out of here.

Easy enough, right?

Not so much.

When you got back from the washroom, everyone at your table was highkey excited, giggling and squealing.

“What is going on?” You asked Lacey.

“Look there,” she pointed out to the other end of the bar. “It’s Mr. Winchester.”

You stomach dropped straight to the ground at the mention of his name. And sure enough, there he was sitting in a corner booth dressed in a plaid shirt and jeans, busy with his phone.

“My GOD will you look at him!” Rebecca screeched. “He looks like a fucking lumberjack.”

“Oh, he can lift me all day for as long as he wants,” Lacey sighed.

“Should we go talk to him?” Rebecca asked, excited. “I mean he’s by himself. I can buy him a drink.”

“It’s a private booth, dummy,” Meredith said, looking away from the screen for the first time. “He hasn’t ordered anything. He’s clearly waiting for someone.”

“Maybe we get to see his lady love today,” sighed Lacey.

Rebecca gave her a scornful look. “There’s no one with him right now. So who cares?”

“Madison will. It’s her party and it’s almost midnight,” you said quietly. “Maybe we should concentrate on her right now.”

In reality, you wanted to throw up. You didn’t want to believe Sam would be seeing someone, let alone stay here to witness his date. All that time you had been worrying about his case, had he been waiting for this?

The cake cutting and celebration for Madison was all a blur. There was a lot of hugging, unnecessary screaming and then a round of super expensive drinks.

Rebecca, the absolutely horrible person that she was, decided to go to Sam immediately afterwards and Lacey tagged along. Madison was busy with phone calls, one after another wishing her a happy birthday. It would have been the perfect opportunity to slip out and go home. Instead, with unsteady feet, you walked to the bar.

The bartender had his back to you, so you asked loudly. “Vodka. Neat, please.”

You removed the leather jacket, leaving your shoulders completely bare, the plunging neckline making more skin visible. Next, you yanked the tie out of your hair, letting it spill over your shoulders.

The bartender eyed you appreciatively before putting down the shot in front of you. “This one’s on the house.”

“Thanks!”

You brought the glass to your lips and tipped it back.

“One more!”

“You sure?” He asked, hitching one eyebrow

You grinned, though none of the warmth seeped into your chest. “I am one hundred percent sure.”

“Okay.”

“Oh, hey,” you said, as the distinct squeals of Rebecca laughter erupted from the background. “Make it tequila this time.”

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

A/N 2: Hah! Who is excited for the next chapter? It’s one of my favourites ;)

Biggest hugs to everyone who reblogged and commented. I love you guys!

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whatamidoingwithmylifeman · 4 years ago

Text

MK 11 Nozomi vs Canon intro fight dialogues part 1

Hey o, finally got part one of the Nozomi intro fight dialogues done. Same rules for the replaced guest character apply like the first time.

tw/cw: small implications of abuse and trauma

@yuvononik

enjoy below the cut

Barka vs Nozomi

Baraka: You took Shariah away!

Nozomi: She was left for dead! I saved her!

Baraka: Why should I trust what Quan Chi’s spawn says?

Baraka: You are not welcome here in Outworld, Nozomi

Nozomi: I think your Kahn would beg to differ.

Baraka: Kitana doesn’t speak for Tarkata!

Baraka: I know your dirty tricks, Goddess

Nozomi: Comparing me to that bastard necromancer isn’t a reliable source of information.

Baraka: Your personality and eyes are the near image of him!

Cassie vs Nozomi

Cassie: You don’t dress too fancy for a Goddess

Nozomi: Why should I? I’m only a Demi Goddess

Cassie: Stop the presses. We have a humble God.

Cassie: Wait so you’re like Kronika’s granddaughter?

Nozomi: She must not know I exist!

Cassie: Don’t you think it’s a little too late for that?

Cassie: You’re with the good guys, right?

Nozomi: As long as the “good guys” don’t hurt my children, then yes.

Cassie: Give me names, and I’ll make it an official SF order to bring no harm to them.

Cetrion vs Nozomi

Cetrion: My sweet niece, have you come back?

Nozomi: To try and close void again

Cetrion: Ah. So you aren’t going to stay

Cetrion: What does your mother say of your proposal?

Nozomi: As long as Rain makes me happy, then she’s fine with it.

Cetrion: Well if she’s fine with it..

Cetrion: The One Being calls to you.

Nozomi: Oh no! Not again!

Cetrion: Again? What do you mean again?

D’vorah vs Nozomi

D’vorah: The lost world’s demi-goddess

Nozomi: Not really lost if I never intended for it to be found

D’vorah: Kronika will merge it with this one in the new timeline.

D’vorah: Why refuse Kronika’s offer?

Nozomi: Kind of hard to accept someone's offer when you're being held prisoner in a cave

D’vorah: You should not blame Kronika for the One Being's rashness.

D’vorah: This one does not fear you.

Nozomi: Good for you? Look I really don’t care.

D’vorah: Not the reaction this one was expecting

Erron vs Nozomi

Erron: You and Rain sure are quite the match.

Nozomi: What do you mean, Black?

Erron: Two demi-gods with daddy issues.

Erron: You really ripped Kotal a new one.

Nozomi: There are two types of people I can’t stand. Argus and liars.

Erron: Give me one good reason to pray to you.

Erron: Y'all really have it in for Argus, don’t you?

Nozomi: If you don’t want to do so, then don’t.

Erron: You’re not good at this god thing are you?

Frost vs Nozomi

Frost: Since Michiko’s my mom, does that make you my platonic grandma?

Nozomi: Stardust Frost, I’m not old!

Frost: Aren’t you ageless?

Frost: What can you offer me Nozomi?

Nozomi: Love. Safety. Revenge.

Frost: I already get love and safety from mom and Reiki. But about the revenge thing.

Frost: Mom warn you about me?

Nozomi: Yeah. She said not to keep you up past 9, otherwise you get really cranky.

Frost: Very funny, grandma!

Fujin vs Nozomi

Fujin: You’re the one helping Michiko in her quest for vengeance!?

Nozomi: I am the Goddess of Revenge.

Fujin: You have another goal in mind. What is it?

Fujin: Nozomi… is there a reason you weren't there in the fight against Kronika?

Nozomi: No reason you need to worry about

Fujin: Nozomi, talk to me.

Fujin: Raiden cares a great deal about you.

Nozomi: Even after helping Michiko in her quest for vengeance?

Fujin: He understands why. He doesn’t blame you or Michiko.

Geras vs Nozomi

Geras: Nozomi, creator of the world below

Nozomi: And what of it?

Geras: Creationism was always your destiny

Geras: The One Being, The Morai, and The Reapers

Nozomi: Enough with the trying to make me remember that life!

Geras: I am sorry you had to meet him like that again.

Geras: Kronika will give you anything you wish.

Nozomi: She didn't seem to care about me when I was trapped beneath the sea of blood

Geras: Even Kronika cannot oppose the One Being

Jacqui vs Nozomi

Jacqui: Where’s your mom?

Nozomi: She said she had some family matters to attend to

Jacqui: Shouldn’t you be with her?

Jacqui: Kronika might not be finished

Nozomi: Lucky for us, I got my mom on our side

Jacqui: So is she gonna be our secret weapon?

Jacqui: Haven’t seen you since you found your dad’s decapitated body

Nozomi: Out of all the deaths I have witnessed, why did that one bother me the most?

Jacqui: I’m sure your dad’s out there somewhere.

Jade vs Nozomi

Jade: I found your mother’s temple

Nozomi: So Michiko has told me

Jade: Your mother was quite the informant

Jade: Will you help Kitana Kahn?

Nozomi: I don’t think I’m the right Goddess to ask

Jade: Then who do you suggest?

Jade: Are you really Raiden's daughter?

Nozomi: Platonically I am.

Jade: Platonically?

Jax vs Nozomi

Jax: I hear you’re related to Kronika, Shinnok, and Cetrion

Nozomi: Unfortunately, yes, and yes

Jax: Family get togethers must be a nightmare

Jax: You’re a weapon of mass destruction

Nozomi: I lose my shit once, and everyone calls me unstable

Jax: You lost your shit more than once Nozomi

Jax: I hope your union with Rain straightens him out

Nozomi: There’s no point in the union if I’m going back to my world.

Jax: Have you talked to him about this?

Johnny vs Nozomi

Johnny: I’m confused. Is Quan Chi or Rai-dude your dad?

Nozomi: Biologically or?

Johnny: With as protective as Raiden is of you, I'm going to assume it's Raiden.

Johnny: Earthrealm’s savior has arrived!

Nozomi: Oh, what a pleasure it is to meet the famed Johnny Cage.

Johnny: Finally! Some recognition.

Johnny: You control lighting!?

Nozomi: ehh, sort of.

Johnny: Are you sure you aren’t Raiden’s daughter biologically?

Kabal vs Nozomi

Kabal: Nozomi? What kind of name is that?

Nozomi: It means hope.

Kabal: That all? Could’ve sworn it meant more

Kabal: What deal did Kristy make with you?

Nozomi: Who said she made one with me?

Kabal: Bullshit! Kristy wouldn’t lie to me!

Kabal: You can bring people back from the dead?

Nozomi: Yes. Why?

Kabal: Do you make em revenants like your dad?

Kano vs Nozomi

Kano: Heard you were the Devil of Deals.

Nozomi: And Debts! Name your price.

Kano: Now we’re talking!

Kano: Well color me gobsmacked. You and Rain?

Nozomi: What of it?

Kano: Kind of thought it’d be you and that old sorcerer

Kano: What are you here for sheila?

Nozomi: Has nobody ever taught you not to cross a devil?

Kano: Guess yer about to teach me that lesson?

Kitana vs Nozomi

Kitana: If it wasn’t for you.. Mother would still be..

Nozomi: A corrupt, money grubbing, backstabber that lies through her teeth?

Kitana: Thank you so much for your help Nozomi.

Kitana: My revenant and Liu’s is really attached to you huh?

Nozomi: I blame my dad.

Kitana: Well that, and Liu Kang himself thinks of you as his sister.

Kitana: Are you leaving soon?

Nozomi: Once the portal’s fixed.

Kitana: Liu Kang and I will miss you

Kollector vs Nozomi

Kollector: Are you also a collector, Nozomi?

Nozomi: Yeah. Of debts.

Kollector: You and I would make great business partners

Kollector: What is Shariah’s status?

Nozomi: Her wounds are healing tremendously. Nyx is keeping her company.

Kollector: If that Saurian tries anything with her..

Kollector: How is it Mileena, Tanaya, Skarlet, Nyx, and Phantos get to see Shariah, but I can’t?

Nozomi: She requested them. And I know they wouldn’t try to take anything from my world.

Kollector: So she’s still mad at me?

Kotal Kahn vs Nozomi

Kotal Kahn: So you're the Nozomi Raiden has bragged on so much.

Nozomi: Leave it up to dad to be the embarrassing one.

Kotal Kahn: Dad? I did not know Raiden had a daughter.

Kotal Kahn: Is Shariah doing alright?

Nozomi: Didn't think you'd care.

Kotal Kahn: She helped Jade free me.

Kotal Kahn: Do you also practice the dark arts?

Nozomi: I practice all sorts of magic. Wanna see a card trick?

Kotal Kahn: Your character slips my mind day by day.

Kung Lao vs Nozomi

Kung Lao: My hat tricks, your card magic.

Nozomi: Together we’d make great great entertainment for a kid’s birthday party.

Kung Lao: Or anybody’s in general!

Kung Lao: You dated Shang Tsung?

Nozomi: Yes?

Kung Lao: Hate to break it to you Nozomi, but Rain’s not an upgrade.

Kung Lao: Are you going to leave once the void is sealed?

Nozomi: It’s what I intended to do from the start

Kung Lao: You’re the best sister ever. Please don’t go.

Liu Kang vs Nozomi

Liu Kang: Madam Nozomi.

Nozomi: Liu, you know you can just call me Nozomi

Liu Kang: Well I haven’t seen you in so long, I feared you’d think me a stranger

Liu Kang: You have poor taste in partners.

Nozomi: Oh? What are you, some expert?

Liu Kang: You met Kitana. I rest my case.

Liu Kang: Are you really going to leave us once the void is sealed?

Nozomi: That was my plan from the start, Liu Kang.

Liu Kang: You’re my favorite sister. Please don’t leave.

Mileena vs Nozomi

Mileena: How’s Shariah doing?

Nozomi: You and Tanya just saw her!

Mileena: That was an hour ago! I need a new update now!

Mileena: I’m glad it is you who Rain will wed.

Nozomi: Why?

Mileena: You make him the happiest!

Mileena: Tell me, does my sister actually like me?

Nozomi: She worries for you and Tanya everyday

Mileena: You mean it?

Nightwolf vs Nozomi

Nightwolf: Why do you hate that spot in the Netherrealm anyway?

Nozomi: Something bad happened there.

Nightwolf: Great Spirit Nozomi, are you alright?

Nightwolf: You’ve met the Great Spirit before.

Nozomi: No, she's met the Great Spirit

Nightwolf: You are her Nozomi.

Nightwolf: Raiden spoke a great deal of you.

Nozomi: Oh? Enlighten me?

Nightwolf: Like a father bragging about his daughter.

Noob Saibot vs Nozomi

Noob Saibot: Quan Chi spoke a great deal of you, daughter of Fuyuka.

Nozomi: I doubt it.

Noob Saibot: He’d sang your praises to everyone in the Netherrealm.

Noob Saibot: Tell me why Michiko hates me.

Nozomi: I don’t think she hates you, Bi Han.

Noob Saibot: I have seen that rage in her eyes before. There is no mistaking it

Noob Saibot: As Quan Chi’s daughter, you will take over the Brotherhood of Shadow.

Nozomi: Shouldn’t that technically go to Melantha instead of me?

Noob Saibot: Shinnok’s daughter has chosen to stay in Orderrealm.

Raiden vs Nozomi

Raiden: Out of all the gods, you led Michiko against Flamus and I?

Nozomi: You and Flamus need to atone for what you did to the Karasugawas!

Raiden: I cannot blame your anger or hers.

Raiden: I hope Rain will be a good husband to you.

Nozomi: He was my best friend and greatest boyfriend.

Raiden: Should he hurt you, lighting will strike more than twice.

Raiden: Are you going to leave?

Nozomi: Once the void gets closed again.

Raiden: You know there are a lot of people here that will miss you Nozomi.

Rain vs Nozomi

Rain: Nozomi are you really going back to the world below?

Nozomi: You can come with me Rain!

Rain: But wouldn’t it be better here?

Rain: Is it true you do not have followers my cosmic queen?

Nozomi: I have no need or want for them, love.

Rain: All the realms should worship you and your generous beauty.

Rain: I don’t feel comfortable with you going to Orderrealm alone

Nozomi: I’m just visiting my cousin Rain.

Rain: Melantha isn’t the problem. It’s Hotaru

Scorpion vs Nozomi

Scorpion: So you’re the reason for Michiko’s wrath against the gods!!

Nozomi: I am the Goddess of Revenge! Why does everyone forget that?

Scorpion: Because that is not the impression you give Goddess.

Scorpion: Tell me, why does Michiko hate me?

Nozomi: She’s just afraid Reiki would leave her for you.

Scorpion: Reiki leaving a wonderful woman like Michiko? That’s impossible.

Scorpion: I am sorry for acting so hastily back then.

Nozomi: Because of you, we almost didn’t find Charu!

Scorpion: Hurting anyone else was never my intention.

Shang Tsung vs Nozomi

Shang Tsung: We’ve danced this dance a thousand times.

Nozomi: And yet you still miss the steps.

Shang Tsung: Forgive me, I’m still learning.

Shang Tsung: You and the Edinan demigod?

Nozomi: Rain was my friend for as long as you were.

Shang Tsung: Should we hurt you, his soul will be mine.

Shang Tsung: I’ll miss you when you leave.

Nozomi: You’re usually not this direct Shang.

Shang Tsung: I have no need to be elusive with you.

Shao Kahn vs Nozomi

Shao Kahn: That sword will be mine!

Nozomi: I’d like to see you try and take it!

Shao Kahn: I’ll enjoy cutting you up with it when I do.

Shao Kahn: You took Sindel away!

Nozomi: She never loved you in the first place.

Shao Kahn: You’ll pay with your life!

Shao Kahn: It’s a shame your mother isn’t here

Nozomi: Mother doesn’t need to waste her time with you.

Shao Kahn: A shame she won’t get to see her precious daughter die!

Sheeva vs Nozomi

Sheeva: Thanks to you Sindel is reunited with her daughters.

Nozomi: I know what it’s like to live so long without a mother.

Sheeva: I hope you and your mother get a chance to catch up.

Sheeva: How is Shariah doing?

Nozomi: Her wounds are healing tremendously!

Sheeva: That is good to hear.

Sheeva: So you are also a devil?

Nozomi: Of deals and debts.

Sheeva: How many are in your debt?

Sindel vs Nozomi

Sindel: I thank you for waking me from my corruption

Nozomi: It wasn’t an easy task.

Sindel: I imagine it was not

Sindel: If you are to wed an Edinan then it would be wise to do so in Edenia.

Nozomi: Queen Sindel, I’m not staying long

Sindel: Please stay in this world with all of us Nozomi.

Sindel: How is she?

Nozomi: Shariah is healing pretty quickly.

Sindel: Shao Kahn will pay for this.

Skarlet vs Nozomi

Skarlet: So you’re the famous blood-bender?

Nozomi: You’re the Skarlet Michiko has mentioned?

Skarlet: How have we not befriended each other already?

Skarlet: My sister, how is she?

Nozomi: Shariah is healing well.

Skarlet: I shall visit her soon.

Skarlet: If Reiko bothers you again, I’ll deal with him

Nozomi: I might have to take you up on that offer

Skarlet: I’ll bloodbend him til he breaks in two.

Sonya vs Nozomi

Sonya: Did you honestly make a deal with Kano?

Nozomi: Heard he was a crosser. Thought I’d teach him a lesson

Sonya: You are some sadist.

Sonya: What’s Kronika’s deal with you?

Nozomi: She thinks being nice to me will make up for what her husband did.

Sonya: I didn't know she was married.

Sonya: From the way Raiden spoke about you, he seemed really proud.

Nozomi: So I’ve been told.

Sonya: You should stick around, for his sake.

Sub-Zero vs Nozomi

Sub-Zero: So you are the one who saved Michiko all those years ago?

Nozomi: She was so scared when I found her.

Sub-Zero: Did she ever tell you why?

Sub-Zero: Is Michiko going back with you?

Nozomi: That is for her to decide

Sub-Zero: So that is a no?

Sub-Zero: You control all the elements?

Nozomi: Their khaotic forms.

Sub-Zero: What are you Nozomi?

Shinnok vs Nozomi

Shinnok: My dearest niece, it’s good to see you again

Nozomi: I’m only here to seal up the void Shinnok

Shinnok: Won’t you stay?

Shinnok: So you’re marrying Rain?

Nozomi: Yup.

Shinnok: He will know death should he bring you harm.

Shinnok: Nozomi, your father has told me this isn't the first time you have been held captive in my realm

Nozomi: I don't want to talk about the first time.

Shinnok: Nozomi. Who else hurt you?

Quan Chi vs Nozomi

Quan Chi: Starlight. You and your mother’s return fills me with such joy.

Nozomi: Didn’t think you really cared.

Quan Chi: When you left, I nearly died again.

Quan Chi: My daughter, are you not happy to see me?

Nozomi: Your return could mean Isaac’s return!

Quan Chi: Nozomi, what did he do to you?

Quan Chi: If Rain hurts you, I will see to it he is tortured beyond death.

Nozomi: You’re actually accepting of the engagement?

Quan Chi: I trust your judgement.

Hotaru vs Nozomi

Hotaru: Madam Nozomi.

Nozomi: General Hotaru.

Hotaru: Here to see Lady Melantha I presume?

Hotaru: Nozomi, I love Melantha. I’m not going to hurt her.

Nozomi: One mark on her, and your soul won’t live another life.

Hotaru: You have my word.

Hotaru: Melantha wept when she heard you were going to leave.

Nozomi: I have no reason to stay.

Hotaru: Leave, and I will hunt you down and kill you for making my beloved Venus cry.

Reiko vs Nozomi

Reiko: If it isn’t the gorgeous blood bender.

Nozomi: An engaged blood bender, Reiko.

Reiko: Not for long.

Reiko: Honestly, why settle for that demigod?

Nozomi: Cause he isn’t a scheming little shit!

Reiko: That tongue is sharp. I like it.

Reiko: May I have this dance?

Nozomi: You can have a seat.

Reiko: Only if you take one on my lap.

Meat vs Nozomi

Meat: Is Shariah here?

Nozomi: Yes she’s healing- son is that you?

Meat: I want to see her. Then we’ll talk.

Meat: Are you mad at me for leaving?

Nozomi: I just want to hold you again.

Meat: Your hugs were my favorite.

Meat: No flesh please. I don’t want any.

Nozomi: Anything, just please don’t leave again.

Meat: Then you stay too.

32 notes · View notes

thecandywrites · 4 years ago

Text

Blood For Gold Part 12

Wow, my personal life has taken some hits lately, things are going sideways and I've gone through some loss and am about to experience a lot more. And this has been one of my few saving graces in dealing with all of it.

So. Let's go from bad to worse and from big to overwhelming shall we? introducing some new characters. to the right of Ramsey, Audra's mother's mother- Loreiris aka The Saharan Viper. Her parents, Jodhaa and Akbar (I know, super original right? I love that movie) then Akbar's mother, Rahelle. To the right of her, The Jade Empress/Sultana- aka Grandma Anavia, then Audra's heir father- Leucordorize, aka Cory, and his wife, below him, Maradiem.

As always, thanks to @kriskukko for sharing that regency orc art with me. And to @punkhorse96 for all of your wonderful feedback.

Blood For Gold

Part 12

You barely had your “gifts” moved to Amara’s room and had your “Will” in her possession by the time Axal came back and crashed into your bed.

“And?” You asked as you sat in your room and took off your jewelry and makeup at the vanity.

“And the reason Audrey Rogers is his favorite is because she has a double headed, polished red jade dildo that she wears in a harness and rams him with it, just, balls to the wall, rails him with it, railed me with it too, it was glorious.” Axal proclaimed proudly as you dropped your earrings onto the surface of the vanity.

“What?” You blanched, completely taken off guard by that revelation.

“Ramsey loves both men and women, but he is much more preferential to men and if I may be so bold, is very preferential to me. Lucky me, lucky, lucky me.” Axal cooed as he rolled over to look at you through the mirror and even from here you could see the beginnings of hickeys on his skin, despite his high collar on his borrowed English clothes.

“He...he likes to be railed?” You asked, flabbergasted.

“Yes, and it’s because he loves men more than women and has been...I believe the English term is a rake?” He asked.

“Yes, a boyish playboy, that’s what that means.” You confirmed.

“Well his parents are done with it and beyond fed up with it. And in an effort to shake him of his rakish ways, he claimed that you were the only one worthy of him, conveniently at your wedding to Edward, so that you were thankfully no longer on the marriage market and thus no longer available, like a pregnant woman only wanting preserved meat in a fresh produce market and even when he went to the stables, supposedly “comparing” all of them to you, and since there is only one you- Audra, he and his parents were at an impasse until you became a widow, only a year later, which Ramsey confided in me that he was not expecting at all and honestly terrified him because he thought he would have more time, on the range of three to five years, even a decade at least, but his father is pushing him, practically has a cannon to his head by the way Ramsey went on about it. Apparently when it was found out that you would be available, the calendars were marked as to when you would be available again and the ball at Havenfield was planned thusly, to encourage him and you to get together and Ramsey has been recieving coaching for a year by his father about how to properly court a moura bride based on your master. Ramsey is only pursuing you because you are, in his mind, his last and only saving grace from ruination at the hands of his parents.” Axal informed you.

“Oh...oh my gods, he has the homosexual panic in a heterosexual society then?” You asked.

“Very much so.” Axal confirmed as he winked and clicked his teeth.

“But if he likes to be railed and wants to be railed by you- then that means that he and I are at an impasse, I will never share a lover, let alone a husband with you or anyone else for that matter, it’s practically incest, even by our lax Dorierran standards, let alone the English ones. I would never stand for it and I would never be allowed to have a lover of my own here, I like to be railed, not to be the one railing necessarily and I’m turned off to the idea and by the idea.” You argued, finding aversion to the idea of railing Ramsey. Demsey Draft, if he asked nicely, perhaps, but not Ramsey.

“I know, that’s why I have a solution for all of us. So at 3C’s, there is a lady I have in mind, Buchon Octavia Lafronze.” Axal grinned.

“Octavia? Really?” You asked, intrigued at his choice.

“You see, all Ramsey needs is a public wife, a highborn lady who is preferably beautiful, to give him an heir and a spare right? And one that would play to the public right? You have no desire for that. I have always known this about you. She’s closer in age to him and she would have the right temperament and would be a better fit and her mate, Drina, could always pose as my wife if I need to do so here, I will send for them tomorrow morning. She can be here by the end of the week. You just have to play along for about a week and a half. Surely you can do that can’t you?” Axal petitioned as you realized that your circumstances weren’t nearly as dire as you thought they were as you were relieved that Ramsey was not another version of Richard, but rather...in a bind himself, and while he was desperate, he was not as malevolent as you thought he was only a few moments prior. This suddenly made more sense. It wasn’t necessarily Ramsey that perhaps sent for Calla and Bennie, it was probably and most likely his father, wanting to clear out obstacles for his son. That made the most sense.

“I can.” You decided.

“Excellent, however in the second order of business. There is no Demsey Draft at The Red Velvet Rope.” Axal declared before you turned to face him with a frown.

“What?” You asked.

“There is a guy who is called “Draft”, his real name is Kondus Rogers, he’s actually Audrey’s Rogers’ husband and he’s the one who fashioned his wife’s dildo after his own cock which is just as equally impressive, but he is a minotaur, a brahma bull minotaur at that, he’s huge, giant cloven hooves, wide impressive horns, he has to come into rooms ducked and sideways, beautiful, glorious man. But there are no other “Drafts” and certainly no Demsey’s that work there. There is only one moura orc who works there but he’s a midnight orc, like, dark, dark midnight blue orc. But his name is Louko, aka Louis Charter and his moura mark is barely a speck of gold on the back of his neck. That’s it. I went through the whole “catalog” too and looked all of them over, some more thoroughly than others.” Axal informed you as you recalled seeing a minotaur serve you that Sultan’s feast there.

“That...that’s impossible.” You shook your head no, not wanting to believe him.

“I can only tell you the truth of what I found. That is the truth and the whole truth. I would not hold anything back, especially from you. Unless The Red Velvet Rope is keeping him locked up in a high tower or locked in a dungeon or he works at two whorehouses and is really a whore for another place and he was on loan, I don’t know what else to tell you.” Axal shrugged before he got up, stretched and kissed you on the cheek.

“Goodnight Audra, I love you. Don’t do anything I would do and probably will be doing.” Axal wished you before he left your room through the secret door and made his way to Ramsey’s rooms for the night, sauntering all the way.

“He...he can’t be right.” You said to yourself in the mirror before the thought occurred to you.

Convenience and coincidence rarely went hand in hand by happenstance, unless… what if it was connected? Your gut told you that it could be. But your rationality had a hard time figuring out a way for the two to be connected, much less how.

The next day you were surprised to learn that the rest of your family had moved with haste and had somehow, by nothing short of a miracle, had gotten ahold of The Blue Blaze, a speed train meant to expedite moura bride’s travel on the continent that traveled twice as fast as the normal steam trains and had somehow bypassed every other train, even the Orient Express trains, which were delayed by half a day so that The Blue Blaze could pass and supersede them and you felt like you were being led to the gallows the way you had been immediately prepared for your family’s arrival and your nerves were beyond frayed and you were consumed with anxiety because your gut was screaming at you that you needed to flee now before you could face your mother’s shame that you had been defeated in only a year and a half. Moura’s were bred and prepared to live in circumstances much graver than yours had been and come out rather unscathed after decades of “mistreatment”. You felt your mother especially would be extra harsh on you and you had only been able to speak barely a word about it to Amara who seemed immediately aware of your unease and had asked you about it back at the palace as you were waiting for the carriages to come around and take you to the station.

“Why are you so anxious?” Axal asked as he noticed you were pacing the platform, wringing your hands and double checking your jewelry to make sure it laid right as you silently prayed to all the gods who would listen as the Raymonds and all their guests were waiting for the train to come at the station. You were actively ignoring the stares from others on the platform because you were dressed in your traditional clothes as a proper sultana from perhaps Constantinople or the Middle East or even India instead of an English lady and you looked and felt even more foreign here now than you did when you first came two years ago. You felt lost and like you didn’t really belong anywhere. You felt you didn’t belong here in England and you didn’t belong in Dorierra either. You felt like you were homeless and homesick for a place that was neither Dorierra or England. You were excited to see who else might have been coming but you were agonizing over the unknown of how they would react on seeing you again and anxious to know how they would react once they learned the truth of what had happened and to know that you lost to one of the moura's oldest foes.

“I’m not the same woman I was when I left, I’ve been...I’ve been wounded and I’ve been trying to heal but...the wounds that are the hardest to heal from are the ones that no one can see.” You tried to tell him as even Demsey was watching you, wishing he could offer you some kind of aid or comfort as you were clearly distressed. Even Ramsey seemed anxious but he was practically ignoring you and almost glued to his mother while Charlotte was completely oblivious to the plight as she and Zax continued to talk as even Jane felt sympathy for you as Rian kept her company nearby, since Charlotte and Jane kept each other company while Axal kept you company, even choosing to pace with you a little bit, so that you weren’t the only one doing so.

“Do you know why Audra seems as tight as a bow string?” Demsey murmured to his sister Amara who was standing closest to him.

“Apparently, when Audra left, she was similar in many ways to Bennie, Audra is self conscious that her mother will be displeased to see how much she’s changed and think that the changes were not for the better.” Amara murmured to her brother.

“Surely once her mother learns of what she’s gone through, she will have some understanding, and if her mother thinks she’s changed for the worst, she will need to have her head examined. Because Bennie plays to Sierge the way an actress plays to the adoring masses. Audravienne is actually genuine and authentic.” Demsey tried to reason as Amara smiled at her brother’s discernment.

“When I came to check in on her, she was having an attack of anxiety and panic about it. According to Calla, Audra’s mother is...demanding and exacting. Not necessarily soft or all that motherly. And what’s more is Audra’s father isn’t even her father.” Amara murmured, having wanted to tell her brother about this but not getting an opportunity beforehand.

“What do you mean?” Demsey asked.

“Apparently the stables are as their name implies, moura women are dames, moura men are studs, and the stable masters decide who breeds who, on any given day in order to improve genetics. Audra told me that she has two fathers, a house father, or the father who presided over her home and is for all intensive purposes married to her mother and raised her and her siblings as his own. But her heir father or the father who sired her, is someone else, someone who is popular among the stables because he throws the ideal that Audra seems to embody. The way a white mare will throw color onto a foal. Audra told me that her heir father has fathered thousands of children and he never once even learned Audra’s name. I got the impression that they were very estranged. That’s why Axal and Audra look like the twins they are but Rian and Zax look nothing like them, they all have different hier fathers but the same mother.” Amara revealed to her siblings who seemed to gravitate around them.

“Is that true?” Kiera asked Leumeni before Calla approached since she had overheard her name.

“Yeah. Audra’s father is known as the Buttercup Stud. Every kid he has the closest to “the breed standard”, sadly, just like horses or dogs are bred to conform to a standard, the stables are overrun with him and his offspring.” Leumeni reluctantly confirmed.

“Would I ever have to... ?” Kiera asked.

“No, never, over my dead body, any bride who is not moura who comes into Dorierra is automatically disqualified from ever having to be involved in the stables part of Dorierra.” Leumeni finished for her as Amara realized the two had grown that close already but either Leumeni wasn’t being completely honest or you had been over exaggerating, which didn’t seem likely as Demsey seemed to catch onto Amara’s alarm as even he was surprised by Kiera’s interaction with Leumeni as he blinked in surprise at her and gave her meaningful look which she quickly and almost guiltily avoided.

“What’s going on?” Calla asked as she came over with Tzane.

“We’re trying to figure out why Audra’s anxious.” Amara informed her.

“Oh, it’s because of Audra’s mother, her mother, Sultana Jodhaa Lilita, is one of the most beautiful women in the world, but in marinai there’s a term, it means “tiger mother” in the most direct translation. But it means that the mother is demanding and pushes her children for very high levels of achievement and always towards perfection, to the point anything less than perfection is not allowed, much less accepted and severely punished. She makes my mother look like a kind, soft, warm hug with a blanket compared to her. Hell, I’m anxious. Lilita can cut you down to your kidneys with just a look. Much less a word. She can weigh and measure kings and they would be found wanting in her eyes. The only kind, soft mother figure in Audra’s life is actually her heir father’s wife, Maradiem, something of a step mom I guess? In English? But I sincerely doubt she will be coming, or her heir father for that matter, I doubt he could be bothered. Now Audra’s father Sullimon Akbar, he’s wonderful. Firm but gentle and kind and honestly the ideal father.” Calla breathed but the sound of the train coming into the station pulled their attention back as Demsey watched as you seemed to stand extra rigidly as you seemed almost frozen in fear as he was ready to march back to Windsor and go ahead and get Heavencrest geared up for you. You had clearly been through hell and if your family thought they could come here and judge you harshly for it, they were going to be in for a rude awakening, he wouldn’t stand for this and neither should you. He needed to shield you from this. He didn’t know how but he was determined.

Meanwhile Ramsey was in a similar state of panic, he could see your own anxiety as his own whirled within him. He had heard from his mother that your own was a “typical” moura mother, meaning, harsh, demanding perfection, and not exactly soft, kind, understanding or sympathetic like his own, but rather, like his father, and he worried what kind of scrutiny he would undergo himself.

The moment came and your tears flooded your vision at seeing your mother and your house father again as you did your best to bow and greet them respectfully, but you had barely lowered yourself an inch before your mother, uncharacteristically, practically ran to you, grabbed you up and held you fast, hugging you so hard your back popped, which you weren’t expecting. Nor were you expecting her to be crying too. Along with your Papa who also hugged you from the back so that you were effectively sandwiched between them before you just broke down crying, relinquishing yourself to their arms as you noticed that even your grandmothers, Loreiris, who was your mother’s mother and your house father’s mother, Rahelle were here too as they tried to squeeze in and hug you too, which you happily did.

“You are just as beautiful as the last time we saw you.” Your mother cried into your shoulder, before you noticed your hier father- Cory, and his wife- Maradiem and their other children, your half siblings and Cory's own mother, the Jade Sultana- Anavia, standing next to them, wearing their more traditional elven clothes.

“Father,” you greeted formally after wiping your eyes and greeting him respectfully and traditionally, as you were taught.

“No formalities here Audravienne.” He gently cooed to you as he hugged you too. For one of the few times in your life and for the first time, using your name to do so as all of you were once again, brought to tears at being reunited as Maradiem huged you just as tightly as your own mother had as even your heir grandmother hugged you tight as did your “hier siblings”, never in your life did you expect to see everyone in your family, nor their warm greeting, but you would be lying if you tried to deny that you didn't want or need it.

“I thought…” Demsey began before Calla cut him off.

“Uh, I’m pretty sure that’s the first time he’s ever called her by her name, even when she was leaving to wed Edward, he didn’t use her name.” Calla murmured to them as she and was effectively shocked before you introduced their hosts as they greeted Yalin and Gregori, giving them many gifts, in thanks for inviting them and hosting them as Gregori happily took the swords with pleasure while Yalin happily accepted all the jewelry, feeling like she was suddenly carrying fifty pounds of gold and jewels before Yalin and Gregori had to hire all the available carriages at the station to bring everyone back as you were squished between your mother and your housefather as your mother held you the way you had always needed her to and once back at the palace, your family insisted on talking with you privately which Yalin and Gregori opened up one of the audience rooms for your family as all of you filed in and the doors were shut, leaving Bennie and Calla and their siblings and the Voyambi’s on the other side as Calla and Bennie pressed their ears to the door while Yalin and Gregori, Ramsey, Charlotte pressed their ears to the other doors on the other side of the room while Jane sat anxiously by, worrying about what was going to happen next.

“What happened? Why are you a shakan?” Your mother implored in marinai as she held your hands in yours.

“Because of the abuse Mama.” You answered honestly.

“What abuse? The contract should have shielded you from any and all abuse, tell me.” Your mother warmly invited.

“I was alienated, persecuted, beaten, raped, poisoned, forced to drink mourkatili by the gallon.” You began before everyone gasped in outrage.

“And did you kill them for trying to kill you?!” Your mother demanded.

“No, I could not repay any of it. All I could do is gather all the evidence I could that it was happening in the first place. They poisoned their own father with Jade’s Crown, it made him go crazy! He would be himself during the day and a violent madman at night and I was locked away with him like a prisoner, three months after I married him, he could not hide it from me anymore and once he showed it, it just got worse and worse. Then when it became apparent that he would die soon, they poisoned me with cyanide and mourkatili, it was in everything, even the water I bathed in so that they could bury me with him. In only a month I was addicted to it, I was constantly drunk and my kidneys bled into my urine, my colon bled into my stool. By gums bled into my mouth. It took me five months to wean off of it without going crazy myself.” You explained as Bennie and Calla shrunk down on the other side of the door, both of them holding their hands over their mouths to keep them from throwing up as tears streaked down their faces.

“What are they saying?” Amara pressed.

“The Morrigans made her drink mourkatilli.” Bennie answered as she wiped at her eyes, her tears streaking her eye makeup and staining her handkerchief as she and Calla both shuddered at the very thought.

“Mouras, more or less, are immune to every kind of poison. To give moura a shot of cyanide, it’s like giving yourself a shot of whiskey. It can get you drunk, and make you sick if you drink too much, but not unless you drink amounts that would kill a village, you’ll recover, you’ll have a hangover, but you’ll be ok eventually right? However a millenia ago, there was the poison of poisons that was made, a poison that would kill anything and everything, including and especially a moura. Mourkatili means “moura killer”. Before the gold plague the only thing that could kill a moura was battle, very old age or a broken heart. We were immune to everything else, until mourkatili was invented. Only it behaves like whiskey laced with morphine or laudinoum or opium or any other very addictive drug, for a moura- it’s better than morphine, better than laudinum, better than opium, better than sex, better than anything and everything. It’s both sweet like candy, yet zesty like orange juice and numbing like morphine, but it makes a moura body bleed, it’s killed countless moura babes still in the womb, when their mother’s bodies choose between saving the baby or saving itself, the body will always choose the latter. It’ll make a moura mother instantly abort a baby, no matter the stage of pregnancy, but that baby will be dead before it’s birthed. It makes your gums bleed around your teeth, it makes your throat bleed, it makes your stomach bleed, it just makes everything bleed but it also makes the blood in your own mouth taste like chocolate. It’s the very first poison mouras are trained at the stables to detect because one sip could either kill you, or turn you into an addict and you kill yourself trying to chase the high it gives you. It’s the single biggest danger to a moura’s life and health and with such a dose, Audra’s internal organs probably look like they’ve been shot with a bird shot and the chances of her mothering a child after this will be especially hard, if not impossible for her. No wonder the stable masters didn’t let her come back and gave her the shakan status, because the shame of having an addict in the family is worth killing her for- to preserve the family honor. The Morrigans destroyed her and poisoned her and tried to kill her and it’s a wonder she’s alive. A single drop of it in a well can kill all the inhabitants of a city ten times the size of London. And she...she just told them that they made her drink a gallon of it. That much should have killed her, made her an addict at the very least. Fuck, how is she alive? How is she…?” Calla wept as Bennie and Calla hugged each other as the Voyambi’s stared in horror at each other as Demsey was seeing red, he wanted to run Richard Morrigan through with a thousand swords and make pay with everything he had, including his life for what he did as one look around, Calla and Bennie's brothers were of the same mind as all of them curled their lips in anger and disgust as all of them were heaving mighty breaths as Duke and Duchess Voyambis were even appalled by such knowledge, to know a countryman would behave so.

Meanwhile back inside the audience room-

“It is because I have that proof that they are paying double to me what Edward claimed he could. But the stable masters knew that the chances of my recovery were slim. And I was more trouble than I was worth. So they branded me a shakan and I’ve been alone and by myself ever since. The Morrigans even blocked all messengeraris, all my letters, everything, even after I left them. There was no way for me to tell anyone and they isolated me from every other moura, it wasn’t until only a few weeks ago that Calla left a note inside a book that found its way to me that I was able to find Yalin, and she introduced me to others.” You explained to your family.

“Where are the Morrigan’s now?” Loreiris demanded, drawing her sword as everyone else did the same before Gregori and Yalin hurriedly opened the door as Bennie and Calla did the same, falling over each other to try to get through the door first as all Demsey saw was your whole family have a weapon drawn as they all stared angrily towards you, as you stood there with your hands up, using the universal signal for stop and they didn’t need to think twice, he bolted for you, leaping between Calla and Bennie, thinking they were going to attack but Ramsey managed to get to you first since the door he was overhearing from was closer to you before he pulled you behind him, rather hoping to be run through, so that he wouldn’t have to live without Axal as Demsey was there with him only a couple of seconds later.

“Oh my gods, they’re not after me, they’re wanting revenge on the Morrigans, I told my family what they did to me.” You confessed as you ducked and evaded both of them before Jane burst into tears and sunk down to the floor and you and Rian were the first to her.

“My parents are done for aren’t they?” Jane sobbed.

“Who is this girl?” Your mother demanded.

“This is the Morrigan’s only daughter, who is innocent in all of this. But her parents, as awful and abusive as they are, are the only things between her and living in the street. She was my only friend through all of it and she helped me gather evidence.” You answered as you helped pull her back up to her feet as you consoled her.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, if I can have a moment of your time and attention. While it is true that the Morrigans have wronged Sultana Audravienne, they have been under intense investigation for the last few days. A year ago, when the stable masters initially investigated this matter, they found solid evidence of wrongdoing and have kept that evidence, and they attempted to resolve this matter, thus the current contract that she has with them and the Morrigans. If you wish to legally press charges and wish to sue for damages and accuse them of whatever they might be guilty of, that can be arranged. But if you attempt to kill them in revenge, you will be wanted for murder which will spark a war. Right now, we must do things the proper way here in England. But this will take time. Up to a few weeks at least, maybe even a month. For now, settle in, come together, enjoy being reunited with Audravienne. There is a masquerade ball in only two days, and it will take us about a week but there has been a request for a proper Kamoba battle, which we will gladly host here. Let the tempers flare in the Komoba battle so that in court, we can all keep our composure and our heads and our wits. I will have the best lawyers involved and this matter will be resolved before you depart.” Gregori offered your family which seemed to be the magic words in appeasing them.

“Fine.” Loreiris huffed as she resheathed her sword as did everyone else in your family resheathe their weapons before Axal managed to pull you away from Jane and brought you back over to your family where you received even more hugs and words of encouragement and praise and understanding.

“Are you disappointed?” You asked your mother.

“No, I’m shocked, and I’m angry and very disappointed with the Morrigans. But not with you. You are blameless in this. You survived. You are here and you have persevered against mourkatilli which is a battle far too many lose to. No. I am proud of you. So proud of you. Since you are free of mourkatili now, we will have those masters reevaluate you. You will be coming home. Never again will an Englishman be in any position of authority over you and never again will you suffer at the hands of anyone, lest of all an Englishman. No, no child of mine will ever marry an Englishman after this” Your mother insisted as she said the word “Englishman” with particular hate and disdain and disgust As Yalin, Calla and Bennie all winced and grimaced as they gave each other meaningful looks.

“We’re screwed.” Yalin murmured worriedly to her husband before she translated your mother’s words to him.

“Oh I wouldn’t worry about it. Richard Morrigan has practically dug his own grave, all we need to do is prove he is the only Englishman who is like himself before we let himself bury himself in it before Audravienne is awarded everything he has and thus we will come to have everything he has. We can prove that we are different and that Audravienne would be treated very well here. Ramsey is up to the task to prove he is different.” Gregori returned confidently as Yalin looked from Gregori to Ramsey who looked particularly terrified of the idea as Ramsey looked to Axal who looked particularly anxious with his mother’s words as well.

“Mama, not all Englishmen are like the Morrigans.” You gently countered, thinking of Demsey Voyambi more than anyone.

“I mean the Raymonds, your hosts, act the opposite to the Morrigans, they have been very kind, welcoming and hospitable, they invited you here haven’t they? They are hosting us aren’t they? And they offered to help us. They are good people.” You tried to intercede for Axal’s sake as Axal blew out a breath of relief and gave you a look of gratitude and appreciation as Yalin too was giving you a grateful look.

“It is the Dauphin that has made us coming together possible and you just heard with your own ears what they are about to do for us. We can not snub them or begrudge them. They are innocent in all of this. Let us see how it plays out.” You desperately pleaded.

“What is Audra saying?” Gregori whispered.

“Audra is interceding for us.” Yalin proudly revealed.

“Excellent. Knew she would.” Gregori insisted.

“And you must make sure that her confidence is well founded and must be richly rewarded.” Gregori insisted to Ramsey.

“Yes, of course.” Ramsey forced a smile and a nod.

"Who are you?" Loreiris demanded as she stood before Demsey and appraised him.

"I'm Duke Demsey Voyambi." He cordially answered.

"Who are you to Audra?" She asked as she searched his eyes.

"A freind." He allowed.

"A friend?" She repeated with a raised brow.

"Yes." He nodded.

"A friend who put himself between her and her family? With a look in your eyes that said that you were about to fight all of us off if we posed a danger to her?" She posed.

"Absolutely. She has suffered more than enough and she should suffer no more, not by anyone's hands, not even those who may or may not share her blood." Demsey insisted as Loreiris mouth quirked a lopsided grin at him.

"A good friend then." She surmised.

"I hope so." Demsey found himself nodding.

"Good. But you should know, that the next time you try that, you will be run through and I have a feeling Audra would prefer you alive, rather than dead. Do not face a blade without the proper protection, or a blade of your own." Loreiris advised cooly before she turned and returned to the others.

#Blood For Gold #Blood For Gold Part 12 #regency era orcs #regency era orc drama #orcs #moura #orc love story

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suphoshi · 5 years ago

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LOVE YOU LIKE THIS | Byun Baekhyun x Female Reader

Genre: Fluff, maybe the tiniest little bit of angst

Word Count: 2,057

Baekhyun loved you in loud ways. He shouted it from mountain tops, made sure every God knew you were his, kissed you like you were the most perfect thing in the world. You loved him softly. Quietly. Kept him tucked safely under your arm away from everyone else. You would never be good enough for him. He loved you anyways.

“I love you.”

He says it in the way he tip-toes into the room at 10 p.m. after he puts the kids to sleep, letting you go to bed early after washing the dishes. He says it when he crawls into bed and pulls the blankets over your shoulders even though he knows you’re going to pull them off of him in the middle of the night. He says it when he watches you breathe, touches your cheek, kisses your forehead. His arms wrap around you for just a few seconds because he knows you can’t stand being held for too long while you sleep. This is how he loves you.

He rolls away onto his back after a few minutes and his soft snores follow soon after. Your eyes peek open to see him and you sit up, moving closer. Even like this, him asleep and laying on his back with his head faced away, you feel so whole. You mimic his action from before and pull the covers up over him, but it doesn’t feel like enough. It never does. Unlike him, it was always so hard for you to show the small ways you loved him. He had a way of filling your heart up with the simplest actions. Making you breakfast even when he was late for work, holding you while you cried, which was often. He tied your shoes when you didn’t even notice they had come loose. He loved everyone. Brought his sunshine smile everywhere he went. Made you laugh more than you ever thought was possible. He made you a mom to the most beautiful children on the earth. Every day, he did something to make you smile. Every day.

When you were five, your mom died. You weren’t even fully able to grasp what that meant then, but you knew she was gone. An absence in your life that would never be filled again. Soon after, your dad left. He was never a loving person to you, never really showed much interest even before your mom died, but still. He was your dad, and he was gone. Your grandma raised you alone. She wasn’t a tender and loving person, but still. She was all you had. She died when you were fifteen. You didn’t cry, but you felt her loss in the same way you felt your mothers. You moved in with your aunt after that. She never wanted you, but she felt obligated as your mother’s sister to at least let you stay through high school, which you did. During your senior year, you applied for every scholarship to get into college just so you could get away, studied harder than anyone. Took every part time job you could manage. Did anything to make ends meet. Four years later, you had a job at an accounting firm in Seoul as a secretary. You had an apartment to yourself, lived comfortably alone. It was enough.

You met Baekhyun at a movie theater. It was the last showing of some stupid cartoon that had terrible ratings.

“What movie has the least amount of people in it?” You asked and the employee looked at you curiously before checking. You can’t even remember the name of it, but you bought a ticket, a box of candy, and a large sprite. The theater was nearly vacant, exactly what you wanted, minus one person sitting in the back corner. You didn’t mean to intrude on their space, but the back row was your favorite spot. So, you sat as far away as you could and put your feet up on the seat in front of you while the previews came on. It wasn’t long before your shoulders felt heavier, your eyes drooping.

It felt like the next day by the time your eyes opened again, the sound of someone clearing their throat jolting you awake. All of the lights in the theater were on now. Your candy and sprite sat completely untouched beside you.

“Excuse me?”

Your head snapped up at the voice and you pulled your legs off of the seat in front of you so fast that one of your shoes came off. The person beside you chuckled and climbed over the seat below you, grabbing your shoe.

“You okay?” He asked. You looked at him and he was wearing a mask, brown hair poking out from under the hood of his sweatshirt, falling into his eyes some. You nodded your head, holding your hand out for your shoe.

“You slept through the entire movie.” He said with a chuckle and you stared at him, unsure of why he would care.

“I don’t come to watch; I just like the sound.” You said, still waiting for him to hand your shoe back.

“The sound?” He questioned, and you nodded.

“Yeah. Like, the vibrations when it’s loud. I like the sound of it.”

He took that in for a second, humming and looking around before his eyes settled back on you.

“Interesting. You didn’t eat your candy.” He pointed out and you looked down at the unopened box beside you.

“I know. I just got off of work, so I was tired.” You said before looking back at him. “What about you? You seem to have paid a lot of attention to me during the movie, did you even watch?”

You could see the smile in his eyes, even with the mask on, and it made your heart jump.

“I didn’t come to watch either. I just like to be alone and I heard this movie was awful and it came out weeks ago, so I knew no one would be here.”

You were both quiet for a minute, just staring at each other. It scared you how comfortable you felt in that silence.

“Can I have my shoe back?” You asked and his eyes smiled again before handing it to you. You smiled to yourself as you stood up, gathering your things. He didn’t move. Just watched you. You pulled your bag over your shoulder and looked at him while you adjusted your shoe back on your foot.

“What?” You asked and he shook his head. Those eyes were going to be bad for you. You could feel it in the way your stomach kept flipping, over and over when you saw them.

“What’s your name?” He asked and you answered quickly, waiting for his in return.

“I’m Baekhyun.” He said. More silence. It was cute how awkward he seemed, like he didn’t know how to talk to a girl when he had nothing to worry about with you. A girl who never even spoke to a guy before.

He cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck before looking away. “Um, so. I come here every Tuesday.”

He said it so innocently that you softened for a second. Somehow, it was the nicest thing you’d ever heard even if he didn’t directly state what he meant by it. It brought the biggest smile to your cheeks and you nodded.

“Tuesday.” You repeated and he shook his head ‘yes’. You nodded in response before walking out.

You came back every Tuesday. At first, you both sat the same distance apart. Sometimes you slept, sometimes the movie ended up being funny, so you laughed. Sometimes you cried. The first time you did, Baekhyun moved to the seat beside you and handed you a napkin. You laughed because it was so embarrassing, but he said it was fine. Once that barrier was broken, he never sat anywhere but right beside you. Not much later, you started seeing him outside of the movies, texting and calling each other, talking about your lives. It was so hard to let him in the way you did, but Baekhyun did everything in his power to know the darkest parts of your heart, and you didn’t know how to make him stop (you didn’t really want him to).

Eventually, things changed from silent movie dates, to movie dates where you held hands. After that, he would walk you to your car, give you a hug. When he kissed you for the first time, you ran away because it brought tears to your eyes. It shocked you how tender and gentle he was. No one ever touched you like that before. He just smiled and watched you go. When you opened your phone that night before bed, scared and certain he would want nothing to do with you anymore, you cried again.

Baekhyun [ 22:37 ]:

You look so pretty in blue. And when you

smile. And when you cry. And when you run.

I hope you don’t run forever.

No one ever wanted you before, but the thought that Baekhyun wanted you filled that void in your life so quickly that it scared you. He was the most perfect person you had ever known. You grew up thinking you never deserved that kind of love, but he gave it to you despite that. And he never let you run again.

Now you’re staring down at him. Your husband, the father of your kids, your best friend, your favorite person in the whole world. You can’t help but cry. You don’t deserve him. You never will.

You sniffle too loud and he wakes up, eyes heavy, turning to face you.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, wrapping his fingers around your wrist. You shake your head and cry harder, not sure how to say all of the things you want to. ‘Thank you’, ‘Thank you for being there for me and the kids’, ‘Thank you for working so hard to keep everyone happy’, ‘Thank you for being my best friend’, ‘Thank you for loving me’.

“Babe,” he says sitting up now and pulling you onto his lap, pressing your head into his chest. “Why are you crying?”

His hand grips the back of your neck, holding you close, while his free hand rests on your lower back. He rubs gentle circles there, breathes love into your soul like it’s the only thing he knows how to do. It’s so easy for him to make you feel calm and you wonder if you’ve ever made him feel that way. If he feels the most at home in your arms, the way you do in his.

“Whatever it is, it’s okay. Don’t cry.” He mumbles into your shoulder and it only makes you cry harder. You grip him tightly and pray to a God you’re not even sure exists that he won’t ever take him away from you. No matter what it takes, you never want to live in a world without him.

All of those feelings sit inside your heart, beg for a way out, beg for a way to communicate to him the way you feel, but you just sit there silently. He grips your shoulders, pulling away from you a little to see your face. He wipes the tears from your eyes, kissing you lightly. His lips on yours ignite the same fire in your stomach they always have, even when they’re only there for a second. He doesn’t ask for more, just looks at you, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs, brushing away your tears.

“I love you.” You say. And it’s in the way his eyes smile before his lips do that you know. He can hear your love in the same way you hear his.

He hears it in your eyes when you tear up while he sings the kids to sleep. He hears it when you make him take his vitamins before he leaves for work. He hears it when you play with his hair on the couch while you watch a movie. He hears it when you lay out his pajamas before he gets home and they always seem to match yours. He hears it just like you.

“I know.” He says and you pout your lip a little, tears filling your eyes again. He kisses you just like he did all of those years ago outside of the movie theater and it continues to amaze you that someone could touch you so gently. He lays you back down and you let him keep his arms around you now, because even though you hate being held while you sleep, it’s okay because it’s Baekhyun. And you want him to hold you forever.

Hi guys!! So this is the first kind of fic I have ever posted, and I really hope you guys enjoy!!! I was inspired by Valentine’s day and just felt filled with a lot of love, so this is what came from that. Please like or leave me some critiques/reblog, whatever it is you wanna do, I would really really appreciate it!!! Also, if no one told you how much they love you this v-day, please know I love you dearly from the bottom of my soul and I hope you all find your 2020 filled with 100000000x more love. Okay, that’s all, bye bye!

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hija-del-trueno · 4 years ago

Text

I know that forever could never be enough

I tried hard to finish this before Valentine’s Day ended but life happened and the perfectionist in me has reviewed and edited it again and again.

I was given the immense honor and privilege to gift @paddingtonfan69 and I think all of us Stepril shippers know that paddingtonfan is one of our greatest contributors. We all holler at each other on Twitter and Tumblr when they’ve posted. Time and time again they have constantly raised the bar for us all, and doing it flawlessly. (Lol) Paddingtonfan really surprises us with every piece of fic they drop. The horny teen cinamatic universe would literally not exist without them.

So aside from meeting my gift exchange responsibilities I wanted to create an homage of some sorts. I probably haven’t done it any near justice to the great work paddingtonfan puts out but I really hope you enjoy and also super happy to have participated in this gift exchange.

I’ll stop stanning now. 😉

i. Ellen

The year is 2003. The Space Shuttle Columbia disintegrates upon re-entry over Texas (a tragedy). Arnold Schwarzenegger has been elected the Governor of California (since when do actors qualify as politicians?). Finding Nemo has come out (Dory is her, she is Dory). And Ellen Johnson, 16 yr old Willingham Junior, just got her first car.

The car is....well it’s a car. A minivan to be exact. It’s a 1987 Toyota Townace LE and the only reason why she even has the privilege of riding such a trash heap is because her grandfather has just passed away and he left it for her in his will. And that’s really the only thing he left for her in his will.

She’s not ungrateful, but the car is old and falling apart.

“It’s as old as you, and you’re running just fine,” says grandma. If only grandma understood that cars don’t run on the same timeline as humans.

But Ellen understands, they are poor. Dirt, redneck, poor. She grew up in a mobile home park at the edge of Sylvan Hills and Oakland City. Her grandparents, Easton and Elise Johnson, raised her after her mother, who was quite frankly a crackhead, dropped her off right after she was born. She has no idea who her father is and the only reason she knows who her mother is, is because occasionally she’ll show up to ask for money for drugs.

When Ellen was 5, her mother came by and practically wrecked the motor home. The woman had binged for a full week and came searching for more. Ellen cried and cried when the few toys she had were swung left and right, at least until her Grandma Elise had the sense to grab her and lock them up in the bathroom while Easton made the crazy woman go away.

As she held her and comforted her, Grandma Elise whispered, “The Lord made loved and cares for you very much, do you understand me baby girl. He has deposited His Grace on you and you must never be afraid. Always be brave, got that?”

Now that Grandpa Easton is gone, Ellen fears it’s only a matter of time before Grandma Elise is gone too. But she’s not scared, she’s always taken things in stride. Growing up she was the star pupil of her elementary school, middle school, and Sunday school. Her heart was always in serving others and despite not having the monetary access to help financially she sought to help through her time and talents.

At the age of 10 she was serving food in soup kitchens on the weekends. By the time she was finishing up middle school she was already the Bible School Coordinator for her church’s children ministry as well as a cherished volunteer in the community.

And word carried through because a week before finishing middle school her youth pastor called her. Apparently, a friend of his’s father was on the board of Willingham Academy and was offering a full scholarship to attend. Ellen got a tour of the place before school started and she was beyond awed at the opportunity the Lord had blessed her with. Without a doubt, Ellen said yes.

In her excitement and haste, there were a lot of things she overlooked. For one, Sylvan Hills to Buckhead was a train and bus ride shy of an hour and fifteen minutes.

There were other things too. Like how the kids there were all rich and snooty. But Ellen paid it very little mind, she focused more, prayed more, read her Bible more, and grew as God meant it to be.

So having a car truly was a blessing. Even if the car in question was a jallopey. She drove it in carefully to the Willingham parking lot, meaning to not catch any of the student body’s attention. Sneakily she got out of the minivan, her head down, gripping her backpack straps tightly to make haste.

“Johnson! What the helllll is that thing?” Unfortunately no haste could save her from her regularly scheduled tormentor Jake.

“Just my new whip, Jake,” she explained defeatedly, moving her feet quicker to get past him. Eventually he and his goons stood in front of her, blocking her path.

“Is that what they sell at redneck dealerships or is that all you could afford?” His others friend sniggered behind him.

Honestly one would think Jake’s comebacks were good considering they were standing in a private academic institution, but they were extremely subpar. Ellen didn’t respond, instead she looked ahead rolling her eyes.

Catching a whiff of her rebelliousness, he stepped closer to her to whisper venom in her ears. “Uh uh Ellen. Learn your place. You don’t belong here remember and you never will.”

It was really beyond Ellen how high school was so much like the movies she’d watch. There was the high school caste system and in Willingham she knew she might have never reached the top. Jake was mad because she was popular and she wasn’t popular by their means of popularity. She certainly didn’t have money or cars or mansions. She was popular because she was extremely kind and was always helping out. Ellen exuded confidence (in the Lord) and people just gravitated around her for advice and nurture.

She easily paid Jake and his bullying no mind. Besides on a daily basis she had bigger fish to fry, like making sure her and her grandma had food on the table and shelter over her head.

Jake stepped back and announced rather loudly, “And don’t park your trash heap close to our cars! We wouldn’t want our tricked out vehicles to get scratched with your deplorable junk.”

“Oh now Jake, don’t be mean,” a voice interrupted behind him. Ellen felt the heavens opened up a bit more to shine upon the angelic voice that had chimed in.

One of the other reasons Ellen was so popular. June Lee. The most popular girl in school, June was a true, modern Southern Belle. Her family was excruciatingly, filthy rich.

“Well, I am a descendant of Robert E Lee himself,” she’d joke in her thick drawl. Ellen wouldn’t be surprised if she was.

June was also extremely beautiful. She had spent her life in the beauty pageant circuit and had only lost twice. Both times later proven to have been bought by her most envious opponents. June was taller than most girls, blonde hair cascading well past her shoulders, light green eyes, and fairly leans and strong (she was in fencing). The blonde bombshell, the Willingham student body would whisper.

Most importantly though, June was Ellen’s best friend. And honestly, Ellen praised God everyday for their friendship. She couldn’t have survived Willingham without her. When she first came to school and everyone had made fun of her for her unapproved uniform (an overly large blazer from Goodwill, and a black sweater vest from her grandpa’s closet), it was June who’d give Ellen her old (but really practically brand new) set of uniforms. Everything Ellen needed to know of how the upper echelon lived, June taught her.

Sure, June had other girls fawn around her. June’s Disciples they’d call them, but if Ellen was a disciple she’d be John, the Beloved Disciple. It was no surprise to anyone that June would come to Ellen’s defense.

“Of course, Queen Virgin shows up,” Jake mutters. A silly nickname, considering that everyone here in a Christian academy is probably a virgin. At least, Ellen thinks.

“Now come Ellen, there is much to discuss and little time.” It’s like the seas part, the group of boys move and a hand pulls at her wrist willing her to continue on her original destination. “I like your car,” June smiles at her once they’re walking side by side, “it has...character.”

They make it to the fellowship room into the small office located inside. It’s technically Ethan’s office but he’s also the Baseball Coach and he just never uses this space so he loans it to the Fellowship leader. And well, June happens to also be Fellowship leader.

Inside, there’s already a Bible and a Fig Newton waiting for Ellen. Normally, Monday’s are for planning out the scriptures for the week ahead. They sit side by side and flip through the pages of God’s word and jot down notes. At least June is doing that, Ellen...well lately Ellen has been distracted.

The butterflies in her stomach haven’t quelled. They never have. They’ve been fluttering inside her since she met June. But now things were coming undone. Now, everything about June seemed more poignant, more beautiful. The girl could trip and Ellen would still think she was an angel. But it was so much more than attraction. June really cared for her, listened to her, and was loyal to her. So in return Ellen was there for her as well. It’s the least she can offer in the relationship.

June blushes. “Now I know you’re not staring at the Word of God like that. What’s got you all worked up?”

“You,” Ellen says and then gasps. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “I mean, sorry.”

The taller girl smirks. “I think we talked about this before.” Many times this year after Ellen came clean to her.

“Yes of course. It’s just really hard sometimes.” Ellen wanted badly for this “crush” to fade away, but it was persistent and if she didn’t know any better she’d say it was growing.

June finally turns to look at her. There’s understanding in her eyes, and something akin to longing, a tinge of it. “We mustn’t fall into the temptation of -“

“-disorderly passions. I know. I understand,” Ellen says solemnly. She looks down to her Bible. 1 Peter 2:11-12.

“Even if we did, Ellen, I’d only disappoint you.” June fiddles with her pen. This here, is perhaps the most hurtful part. The fact that Ellen knows that June reciprocates. It makes her heart beat faster and every glance carries more meaning.

June blames it on hormones and their age. And Ellen, well she wants to argue that she knows when love is love but it’s an argument she’s not ready to make. It’s too soon to say and she’s too naive to know if it really is.

June settles a hand against her cheek.

“But if it makes you feel any better, I think you’re absolutely gorgeous and you got a heart of gold.” Her voice is much too soft and Ellen can’t resist.

They lean closer, their eyes close together. Ellen waits for her lips to connect with hers but all she hears is the chair screech back. “I gotta tee tee something fierce,” is all she says. She doesn’t even spare her a glance and it hurts Ellen more than she thought it would have.

When she’s at the door though, June turns around. “Ellen, our friendship is far greater. We must safeguard it.” She’s right.

And Ellen gnaws at these feelings and ideas throughout the week, throwing herself into her work and academics.

“I will disappoint you, beloved. We will disappoint each other and hurt each other. It’s innate to us, to fall into sin and wear our heart on our sleeves. But His Word says that above all things to guard your heart. I will disappoint you but there’s someone who never disappoints, and his name is Jesus. Let’s think about this and pray, Beloved.”

Ellen continues to be distraught by these words from Fellowship that Friday afternoon when someone hits her car. For a second, she thinks it’s her fault and she groans. The car had spun multiple times and smoke is coming from the smashed hood. She does what any sensible person does, turns off the ignition and steps out. Ellen is okay, thank the Lord but as she stares at her precious car, tears prickle her eyes.

“Oh shit,” a young, burly black man approaches her. He has a cut along his left temple and only then does Ellen realize that his car got wrecked too. “Are you okay?”

She simply nods, too distracted by seeing her precious Townace destroyed. The tears start flowing.

“Fuck,” the young man mutters. “Listen, don’t cry, alright. I was just visiting some family I got over here. I can’t have you crying when the cops come. You’re a female white teen and it’s just bad rep for me. I’m a cop myself, see. A rookie but a cop nonetheless.” He flashed her his badge.

She wipes away at her tears. Getting this black man in trouble is the least of her intentions.

“It’s my fault. I was uhhh trynna get my....iPod to work,” jamming his thumb onto the harmless device, “....darn touch wheel.”

He pulls it out and Ellen can’t help but be distracted. She’s always had a penchant for seeing brand new technology. “Wow you have an iPod!”

He looks up, relieved that Ellen has paused her crying. “Yeah, listen. What’s your name?”

“Ellen”

“Ellen. Okay. I’m Bowser. Listen, I can pay for your.....what is it?”

“1987 Toyota Townace,” she says matter-of-factly.

“Right...Anyways I can pay for that and have it fixed up for you but I have a feeling that thing was already on its last leg so why don’t I just take it off your hands, have my insurance pay you out and you get yourself a normal poor student car, like a Corolla or something of the sort.”

Bowser’s proposal is anyone else’s blessing. She’s heard horror stories of people who hit and run or hit and have no insurance. But still, she turns to look at the car. June thought it had character and she was right. It did. Never one to be flashy, Ellen really only cared about getting to places. The car was still a gift from Grandpa Easton and in many ways, it represented her. Janky but with character.

She looked up to the sky. What would Jesus do? Was the Townace really a want or a need? As the sun finishes setting, and twilight enters Ellen realizes much like many of her other desires, that those aren’t really wants, and she must do what she has to do.

“I accept your offer, Mr. Bowser.”

ii. Blair

She hates Sterling for what she did, but she misses her like a little kid....

Sterling is gone. She left Atlanta in a hurry, far before school started. She’d told her parents it’s because she wanted a head start on getting to know people, getting acclimated and such. Which is really straight bullshit because Blair knows that the real reason Sterling ran away to the Bay early is because she managed to piss off everyone who loves her.

It was the surprise of the century. Sterling had everyone fooled. Their parents, Bowser...April. You see the original plan pleased everyone. Sterling got into Duke, Blair got into Chapel Hill, and April was farther away at Penn but not excruciatingly far which allowed for them to schedule out weekends together. “Todo mundo happy, everyone contento.” At least that’s the stupid happy-go lucky phrase their Spanish teacher taught them.

But it wasn’t a week before graduation that Sterling called everyone together and let the news slip. She never actually accepted Duke. Instead Sterling had applied to UC Berkeley, got in and had accepted. The living room was silent for a good solid minute. And then all hell broke loose. April simply stood up and left. Her parents shook their heads disappointedly (disappointed that Sterling had lied. They would always be supportive of whatever academic endeavors they chose to follow). And Blair, well she was just silent.

It wasn’t till the last day before school that she overheard the massive argument Sterling and April had.

“You’re -fucking- selfish!” April half-yelled, half-gritted.

“I’m selfish! You’re the one who had us in the closet all this time. I’ve always followed my heart and living in the West Coast is going to finally allow me be free from all the repression that his backwater community and you brought upon me.”

Blair pops in her headphones knowing shit is about to hit the fan but later when Sterling is crying under the covers, Blair stops having pity.

“She’s right you know?”

Sterling pokes her head out, her eyes bloodshot and weary. “You too?”

“It is selfish, Sterl. I always thought it was going to be me and you. But now you’ve made your choice.” Blair hates her words but they just seem like the right ones.

“You don’t understand,” her sister gasps softly tears streaming down her cheeks, “You and April won’t ever understand. I have to do this for me.”

Blair can’t help but agree. “Yeah I guess we don’t.”

Graduation comes and goes, and everything just feels to bittersweet. Sterling leaves three days after. She hugs her before entering the terminal and stares sadly when she doesn’t hug her back. In all honestly, Blair is still shocked. Still betrayed.

And now a shy three weeks later she sits in Yogurtopia still feeling the same but now worse because Sterling is not here and despite everything. Her soulmate is gone. Her better half. Her sister. She sighs and her shoulders slump as she cleans the fudge pump, hoping that once again Sterling’s annoyed smack could be heard.

Instead the door chimes ring bringing in a new customer. And lo and behold, her partner in sorrow walks in. In any other world, Blair would revel in seeing April grovel in pain at the hands of Sterling but seeing as in they were both in the same boat she actually felt bad.

April looked worse than when her dad went to prison again in the beginning of Senior year. Her hair was all frizzy and it showed that clearly this summer’s heat was going to be the last thing she would care about. Deep dark circles appeared below her glossy eyes signifying that sleep escaped her. And Blair got a whiff of her. She for sure had no showered.

“Hi Blair.”

“April...how can-“

Interrupting desperately. “Have you spoken to your sister?”

Blair shakes her head. “No. She’s being a bitch so I won’t be reaching out to her.”

“That she is.” They stare at each other uncomfortably because now that the one person who brought them together is not here there really isn’t much else to say to each other. Tragic, really.

Blair decides to break the tension extending a froyo cup the other girl’s way. “Here have some heartbreak froyo on me.”

Like a scared critter grabbing some food from a stranger’s hand, April approaches Blair softly. But when her hand grabs the container tears pool around her tired eyes. “I miss her so much Blair.”

Blair’s not going to cry. Not for Sterling, and while it’s true that she also misses her she won’t lose her dignity over it. She simply nods listening to the other desperate being standing across from her.

“Blair, Sterling is it for me,” April whimpers.

“I know.” It’s all she can really offer.

April zombie walks away to fill her froyo cup and sits in a corner when Bowser walks in. Blair herself had gone back to cleaning the fudge pump. She could feel his gaze on both of them. Blair swore if he asked them about Sterling too she would walk out.

“Ladies,” he says loudly, startling her. She looks up at him questioningly. Across the room, April looks up too. “Come into my office.”

“Me?” April points to herself.

“I don’t see any other lady I could be referring to right?”

Bowser let’s them settle into his office couch when suddenly rips at ‘em.

“Let me give you two a life lesson. When someone parts from your life, you don’t sulk. You gotta pick yourself back up again and stand straight even if your heart is torn to pieces. You wanna know why? Because you’re here beating yourself over someone who made a choice and is off living without remorse. So S-T-O-P Sulking!”

April drops her head ashamedly. What a chump, Blair thinks but also how dare Bowser categorize them together. At least she showers.

“Bowser I’m not sulking-“

“You’re fucking sulking Blair. You sulk differently from this one but you’re sulking.”

Blair crosses her arms and sits back letting herself drown into the couch. She supposed that perhaps she is sulking. At home she rarely says anything. Sometimes her mind takes her into this deep wormhole where she tries to explain why Sterling has made the choice she made and it only brings Blair suffering. Maybe, she thinks, it’s Sterling’s way of sticking it back to her parents because they lied for so long? Maybe Sterling’s gone because she knows Blair is not really her twin or her sister for that matter, and she doesn’t care. Blair’s goosebumps activate when she remembers the latter.

“Sterling made her choice. So now the ball is in your court: you either accept or her choice or deny it and let go. Now, the choice doesn’t have to be made at this minute. Let it simmer a bit but stay occupied. That’s why this summer I’ve decided to hire you both as my bounty hunters for a summer edition of teenage bounty hunting.” His hands open up with the proposal.

Blair turns to meet April’s widened eyes. Ugh, will she even last under her state? Her disdain seems to carry through to her face because Bowser continues.

“I know I lost my best gunslinger but Blair you know we don’t use guns to catch skips. In fact, I think Stevens’ dramatic flair and intelligence can help us capture the skips without causing much ruckus. Think of it as 007 and not Terminator.”

He has a point. Blair nods in agreeable. “Okay.”

“Okay!” A sense of accomplishment literally puffs Bowser’s chest and Blair wants to roll her eyes but instead turns to the other girl who hasn’t responded.

I mean, it’s not like she has a choice at this point and Blair knows she has nothing to do at home.

“Alright, great.” Bowser smiles also not caring for April’s consent either. “Blair, I’m letting you go early but take Stinky over here to wash up and start teaching her everything you know.”

Blair catches the other girl sniffing herself and cringing. Maybe Bowser’s pep talk and plan does pull em through for the summer.

Having realized that her shift truly is over she pulls out of her Yogurtopia apron and hat, motions Stevens out the back door and out into the backlot.

Blair stops suddenly though, making April crash into her when the door slams behind them. In front of her, stands a beat up, broken down mini-van? Is it a mini-van? It’s weirdly shaped like a box but she supposes that maybe at its original time the concept of shape fluidity didn’t exist.

While the dismantled vehicle presents numerous questions in her head it also brings about an influx of ideas, imagination, and creativity. Sometimes Blair astounds herself.

She turns around.

“Blair what-“ she pushes April to the side and starts slamming her hand down roughly on the one-sided locked back door.

“Bowser! Bowser! Open up, I have a question.” Suddenly the door opens revealing a disgruntled Bowser.

“Why can’t you go around?”

She shakes her head and points at the car. “What is that? And has it been there this whole time?”

“It’s a 1987 Toyota Townace and yes it’s been there this whole time.” His hands settle on his hips.

“A Toyota,” her nose crinkles. If she had to buy a Japanese brand she’d take a Nissan over a Toyota but none the matter.

“Can I have it?”

Bowser’s eyes widen. “Umm, you gotta pay me?”

“Pay you?! What the fuck? No you just have it sitting there like trash. Come onnnnn. Please Bowser.”

He crosses his arms attempting to intimidate her but she crosses her own knowing damn well she’s going to win this showdown.

“Fine.”

“Yes! Come on Stevens, let’s go. I have another project for us.”

Operation: Oregon Trail is simple.

Step 1: Build one of those Tik-Tok inspired #vanlife vans from the Toyota during the summer

Step 2: Go to school

Step 3: Come back to Atlanta and drive to UC Berkeley during Winter Break

Step 4: Beg for forgiveness

Step 5: Drive back home for the holidays with Sterling in tow

By Week 3, her and April were busy working on the van in the day and bounty hunting at night.

“Can you pass me the caulk?” April mutters by the corner she’s working on.

Blair smirks, “This cock?” She stands, the caulk gun positioned at her crotch swinging it in her hands in April’s direction.

Catching the joke much too late, April deadpans and rolls her eyes. “Give me that!”

Blair chuckles but never accounts for what she sees next.

“Besides,” April grips the edge of the rod and places it near her crotch while her other hand rubs up and down the tube of caulk, the liquid oozing out from the tip, “my cock is way bigger than yours.”

It’s only until they’re both literally rolling on the floor of the van laughing that Blair knows, this summer is definitely going to be a contender for her Top 5 Best Summers Ever list.

iii. April

Her fingers have frostbite as she pumps gas on the Ace. By the end of the summer, both Blair and her’s ass kicking in bounty hunting had paid off and they used the money to invest in the best for the Ace. The van was now equipped with new 4x4 locking hubs, a new oxygen sensor, a new alternator, new brake pads, new tires, a new battery, and a brand new Queen bed.

The feeling of accomplishment dwindles though when she goes to school. Penn wasn’t her first or her second choice. But it was an Ivy League and one far enough away that she can start being herself without anyone judging her. April has been waiting her whole life to come out of the closet and she does, at least to her mother and she pens a letter to her father in federal prison. That’s not really the problem though.

The problem is that the minute she steps on campus she realizes she’s no longer the main character in her movie. There’s 40,000+ students and everyone moves in and out of classes, student organizations, and greek houses. It’s overwhelming to say the least. She signs up to be in the LGBTQ+ student org, but even attending the first meeting she has trouble settling in. Everyone is so….out, that at the end of the meeting she feels like her parents at the country club: bitchy and judge-y.

Don’t get her wrong, April does manage to make friends at school. There’s Erin and Jen who are in her Feminist Literature class, and Alwyn, a cute gay freshman who she discovered sitting in the back at the next LGBTQ+ meeting like a deer in headlights. But none of them fill the emptiness she feels. The truth is that she knows that most of the feelings she’s feeling can only be quelled by Sterling Wesley.

April is nervous, and understandingly so, that when she finally makes it to Berkeley, Sterling will have already moved on. “I mean yeah she’s probably dating,” Blair says over the phone one night during their weekly check-ins. Blair has been a breath of fresh air during her stay here. They meet twice during their first semester. The first she travels down to North Carolina for a weekend and Blair gives her the “slutty tour” of Chapel Hill. It’s fun because they both get shitfaced but April regrets it when she has to stop three times on the side of the road to throw up as she drives back.

The second time, Blair meets up with her at Penn for Thanksgiving. They actually have a nice formal dinner and Blair brings a paper map to plot out their route for December.

“I finally called her,” Blair confesses.

“You did?”

“Yeah. She’s doing okay. She said she was actually really glad to have heard from me. I told her not to buy a ticket home.”

April really wants to ask her if Sterling mentioned her but she decides against it. It would damper Blair’s emotions at the moment and April was at a place where she really valued Blair as a person.

By the time December comes around she’s actually excited to go back home. She just hoped that home wasn’t as cold as Penn. It was.

“Fuckin global warming,” she mutters. Curse words seemed more common now in her language since moving out but also, let’s be honest, it’s all Blair.

“April! Is that you?” She jumps at the shrill voice behind her.

Turning around she fines herself face to face with none other than…… “Ellen!”

The woman throws herself and envelops April in a big hug. The old April never used to be one for physical touch but again after the Wesleys, all that had changed.

“Oh my goodness. You are now a college woman. Look at you. How’s Penn State?”

Part of her wants to unleash everything she’s been feeling these past few months but then again its Ellen. She foregoes it because she knows even Ellen won’t have the right answers. “It’s good. Everything is good, I have friends. I’m doing very well in my classes.”

“I bet, you always were a star -“ Ellen looks behind her at the Ace, “pupil.” The lithe woman takes a step back looking at the van in its totality. “Is this a 1987 Toyota Townace?” The wonder in her voice does not escape April.

“It is. Me and Blair actually flipped it before we left to school.”

Ellen’s eyes gloss over. She’s no longer there, April thinks, she’s transported herself to another place, perhaps another time. It happens to Ellen all the time, and April always wonders where in fact it is that she goes to. “Ellen?”

The blonde woman snaps out of it. “Oh sorry, I got lost there a bit. You know, I used to have a car just like this when I was a student at Willingham.”

“Oh wow, really?”

“Yes and she was a beaut! Of course, the other students didn’t think so but I thought she had character.”

April nods in understanding. “Well me and Blair are loading her up to drive to Berkeley and pick Sterling up.”

“Oh,” Ellen gushes, “that’s absolutely wonderful. I am so glad that you and Sterling were able to come together and work your differences aside, because I know what you two have is special.”

Now it’s April’s turn to transport herself. To a time when Sterling was just some girl she was trying to beat in her overachiever conquest, and then to a time when the Georgia sun settled on her blonde hair and her moist lips descended over hers during golden hour. “You were right this whole time. Ellen, I love Sterling Wesley, and I’m not sure if you agree or not but I just wanted to say thank you for pushing us in the right direction.” April does not regret her words but she is shocked at her own boldness of coming out to her high school mentor. Call it a spur of the moment.

Ellen’s eyes soften at her confession. “April, thank you for trusting me. I think I always knew but its great to here. I can’t really say that I judge y’all. I love you two far too much to do that. But…I can say that I know exactly how you feel. I actually used to have a -friendship- like yours and Sterling’s.” Ellen grabs her hands. “Oh, oh, her name was June whether you believe it or not.” They both chuckle at the coincidence. “Oh she was so great and so kind. An angel, my angel. But those were different times and we just…couldn’t.”

April knows being in the closet was hard but Sterling always reminded her that there were more people out in this country than ever before and it was true. She met so many other lesbians at school who lived amongst more supportive communities. She can’t imagine what life would be like without all these supports she now held for granted.

“I’m so sorry, Ellen.” But it wasn’t too late, right? “Where is June now?”

Ellen dropped her hands. “Oh she…she’s gone with Our Lord. Right after college, she was diagnosed with cancer. I stayed with her the whole time through though.” A single tear rolled down her pristine cheek until she brushed it away with the back of her hand. April hugged her once again. “Oh don’t you fuss about me. I have a greater love that sustains me, the Lord’s love. And I love all of y’all and being of service. It’s my life’s passion from here till Jesus himself comes for me.”

June and Ellen sit with April throughout the trek. Not everyone gets their happy ever after. What if she and Sterling don’t get hers? Or worse, what if Sterling really has settled and moved on? How is she supposed to move on? April almost quits halfway through the trip when they camp out in Yellowstone (a side adventure they’d planned out). The stars were bright and twinkling above them, when her insecurities bubble through.

“Blair, why did I come on this trip?”

They usually both stick to their edge of the bed. Something about *not being near the object of my sister’s desire because ew gross.*

“Because you’re so head over ass for my sister and you’re going to conquer her back.” Blair hasn’t turned around which is very typical of Blair considering she’s probably tired of hearing her gripe over they same bullshit all this time.

“I just...I don’t know. What if I go and she’s with someone?”

This time she does turn around to face her. “Okay first of all, I think she would have told me if she is like really seeing someone. And second of all,” Blair sits up a bit more and grasps one of her shoulders, “April love is for the brave. And if there’s something I’ve learned about you since I’ve known you is that you are not weak. You have massive big clit energy and when you really, really want something you make anyone your bitch until you get it. Love isn’t something that weak people do. Being in love takes a hell of a lot of hope.”

She let’s go of her shoulder and leans back into her pillow. “So shut up already and just waltz in their to get your woman.”

The rest of the trip is light and fun. There’s so much nature to explore across the country. It’s even more fun when along the way some flirty cops stop them and Blair fakes being her girlfriend to get them off their tail. She even throws in a signature lewd hand gesture right when they pull back into the highway.

Berkeley is just 20 minutes away and the nerves jump back at an all-time high.

“Do I look good?” she asks, checking herself out on the rear view mirror.

“No you look like shit.” Blair’s legs are up on the dashboard and she already told her like 50 times on this trip that that is dangerous but she doesn’t seem to care.

“Haha, I’m kidding. You look hot. Like lesbian hot, I guess. Not that you would be my type or anything. Just saying.”

April rolls her eyes and continues driving. It’s 9pm and she had freshened up her makeup and hair at the last stop knowing this would be their last push to the end. They’ve both been silent. It’s likely the Blair is just as nervous as her in seeing Sterling again and praying that shit doesn’t blow over again like it did last time. So many emotions, so little time to process them all. Compartmentalizations no longer working.

“April,” she can’t turn her head completely to look at Blair because her eyes are glued to the road but she motions her head that she’s listening. “I just want to tell you that no matter what happens right now. Me and you are friends. I think, like, almost best friends. I hope we can stay that way.”

She can’t help but turn to look at Blair because this is the first time she’s ever directed such honest need for her in April’s whole life.

April grips the steering wheel tightly. “Of course. This is surprising to me as much as it is to you but honestly, you saved me this year. This has been the best summer and adventure I have ever had.”

They both share watery smiles. “Okay, okay. Let’s pleaseee stop with the sappiness. Play some Eilish and Bridgers and let’s go get our girl!”

When April puts the van in park outside Sterling’s off-campus apartment she wishes the ground would open up and swallow her. But the minute April hears her infectious laugh and catches a glimpse of her from the side mirror, she gets her bearings. “Stevens always win,” she whispers to herself.

“I missed you, my other half,” Blair says.

Sterling’s crying. April can’t see her but she knows by the way her little hiccups come through when she murmurs, “I miss you too Blair-bear.”

When she walks over to them, Sterling’s back is to her and she makes sure to not interrupt their sisterly moment. Blair being Blair though has other plans. “Sterl, I also brought you a surprise.”

“A surprise?” Sterling says still not having seen her. It’s almost as if time itself has stopped and April notices all the tiny new things that make her fall harder for the girl in front of her. Her hair is longer and even in loungewear, April knows she’s been working out, if only because her ass looks tighter and firmer.

April clears her throat and Sterling immediately turns.

iv. Sterling

“April?” April is here. Blair she knows would come around, but April! The last time they were in front of each other they had been at each other’s throats, hurtful words had been shared, and tears had been shed. The only reason why they even took graduation pictures together was because Debbie harshly whispered into her ear that she would regret it the rest of her life, so she complied, even though they both look pissed in the pictures.

So Sterling is perhaps a little shocked that she is here. And yet the butterflies in her stomach suddenly take flight and the crisp Bay Area air gets thinner making it harder and harder to breathe.

“Hi,” April says breathily too. They keep staring at each other until Blair coughs.

“We’re pooped Sterl. It’s been a long ass drive. Are you gonna take us up to your bachelorette pad?” She breaks off the staring contest she has with April and looks to her sister.

“I um. I only have one bed but uh, you can have the sofa if you want April. Except its like a really tiny sofa, but I mean you’re tiny. But like not like that. I didn’t mean it-“

Blair butts in again, “Sterling, hey. I think we get it.”

Rose creeps up through her neck and cheeks, giving her a beautiful complexion despite the obvious California tan. “Oh ha ha, yeah. Ummm so I mean do you wanna come up...”

“I’m actually pretty tired and this van has a bed. I can sleep here.”

Her reactions are delayed by about 10 sec but she nods in agreement and turns to her sister stiffly. “Alright well let’s go Blair.”

It’s only until they are by the stairs that Blair snickers, “Welp that was awkward.”

Sterling holds her tongue till they’re both behind her door. Turning suddenly to Blair, “What is April doing here?”

“You mean, April, my best friend.”

“Yes,” she seethes. “I know she’s your best friend, she’s practically in all your Instagram stories.”

Blair ponders for a second, “Hmmm I didn’t know you were so invested in my Instagram feed.”

Now that’s just silly of Blair to think. “Of course, you’re my sister.”

“Oh really, because it didn’t seem that way when you left.”

Sterling looks at her forlornly. She knows Blair didn’t come all this way to fight with her but Sterling thought she could get away with not hearing about this. “Blair, come on. You know why I did it?”

Blair crosses her arms, looking around her apartment. Thankfully her other two roommates had already left home for the holidays. “To live in a small, shitty California apartment all for the sake of your sexual liberation.”

“Yes.”

“I just wish you would have trusted me with that. I wish you would have trusted our parents and April. All of us.” Blair grabs her by her shoulders. “Did you forget we are your biggest fans? Sure we would have griped and groaned but, me…..Me, Sterling, I wouldn’t have cared, I would have supported you 100 percent.”

Sterling saw and felt the pain her sister held. “I think I know that now but at the time I was scared. I was scared that the minute one of you tried to stop me I’d cave in and not follow my heart. And so I removed myself the opportunity. Because I love you and if you would have told me to stay, I would have but then I wouldn’t be happy thinking about the what-if and blaming you for it.”

They’re both crying now, knowing that the pain they had caused themselves was unnecessary. No one was to blame, but fear itself was. “I’m sorry I was a bitch to you,” Blair whispered into her shoulder.

Sterling kisses her cheeks. “And I’m sorry I ran away. I promise this is the last time I keep something from you and I promise to be honest from now on. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The clock in her room strikes 2am but sleep is nowhere near her. Having Blair here in her room brings a comfort unlike any she’s felt since she got here. Berkeley, the Bay, and California in general have been so good to her. The people and the ambiance is everything Sterling imagined it to be and more. The only thing its missing is her family, her people. Sometimes she’ll sit and crack a joke knowing Blair can keep the gag going but it falls short to roommates. Sometimes she’s running low on energy and wants to quit schoolwork all together and imagines April scolding her but kissing her ear motivating her to finish so she’ll get the reward at the end. Sometimes she wishes Debbie and Anderson were nearby so they can tuck her in goodnight. It’s hard to want everything and not being able to have it all. She makes amends with what she has and currently having Blair here is everything.

“Dude so then April is yapping it up with the skip, giving a really good New York accent might I add. The girl deserves an Oscar, when Blam! I hit em from the back and down he goes. Poor guy never saw it coming. And that was a solid 2k we used to buy the tires and the alternator for the Ace.” What is surprising though is hearing April’s name fall out of Blair’s mouth so nonchalantly.

“So April is like your new best friend?” She asks timidly.

“I suppose yeah. Stevens is cool. She’s like super resourceful and like really good at mechanics AND she also comes up with all these nasty jokes. I would have never thought she was that cool,” Blair gushes.

Sterling tries to answer but silence follows and Blair speaks up again, “Are you like jealous? Because you shouldn’t. I don’t roll that way.”

“No,” Sterling confirms, “I know you don’t. It’s just surprising is all. Usually I was the one who would tell you every new thing I learned about her and now it’s like she’s some stranger you’re sharing to me about.”

Blair flops on to her belly and grabs the pillow to prop it under her chin. “Look can I just say something, Sterl. April came here all this way to apologize and try to make it right because she truly, deeply loves you. You might think I am biased as her new best friend, and you’re right. I totally am. But look, I know, she said some pretty shitty stuff last time but its Stevens we know she has like 50 mental defense mechanisms that are toxic but she’s grown a lot and she’s really trying. You two are totally different but I think that’s why you work so perfectly. Sterling, you can love anyone you want at the end of the day and as long as they don’t hurt you, I’ll support you but April is really good for you. So just think about it okay. Let her do the work and try to convince you.” Blair waits for her response.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Blair smiles mischievously. “Great. Now I can finally go to sleep.”

“Uhuh, are you sure you didn’t want to throw in some pervy joke?”

Blair snickers and wiggles her eyebrows, “Nah I’ll let April tell you all the ones she knows.”

The next morning, Sterling wakes up at 9:00am. It’s so late that it’s likely that Blair and April are probably already up. She reaches the tap the bed beside her and finds it empty, confirming her suspicions.

“Blair?” She says into the living room. There’s a small circular dining table on the corner with a bright neon pink sticky note that wasn’t there the night before.

Sterl

I was serious about last night. Give April a chance.

She doesn’t know I had booked a flight back to Atlanta.

Drive back with her. I’ll see y’all soon.

Xoxo gossip girl LOL ;)

Suddenly there’s knocking at her door. “Sterling, its me April,” there’s an urgency in her voice and its probably because she’s panicking too. When she opens up the door she finds a frantic April, “I swear I didn’t know she was going to do that. I can’t believe Blair fucking did that. Ugh I should have seen it coming.”

“It’s okay, really, come in.” She moves aside to let April in and Sterling gulps loudly which she regrets immediately right after. She is really super close to embarrassing herself in front of April.

The bane of her existence/object of her affection moves around capturing everything at once. She can tell when she’s making observations, profiling her and storing it away in her mental back pocket. Its annoying, but also extremely sexy. Eventually April’s gaze turns to her, and the scrutiny continues but its much softer. Like her gaze is capturing a mental picture of her.

April is still as adorable and beautiful as she last left her. She wears leggings that show absolutely every hard muscle and a cropped hoodie that shows her hard rock abs. “I saw Starbucks down the street so I brought you a Flat White.” And that right there is the kicker. If she wasn’t wet before just looking at the small woman before her, now she definitely is because the past six months she’s been forced to drink only cold brews with cold foam. Or drip espresso. Ugh.

“Thanks. I should go get dressed and finish packing, so we can go,” she murmurs. She hates that the air is heavy with their awkwardness. She turns to go into her room when suddenly April grips her arm.

“Sterling wait,” April’s hand loosens up instinctively, she would never hurt her, “I think I know why Blair left. She’s giving me a chance. A chance to have the space to apologize and be honest with you.” She sets both Starbucks cups down and pulls out a piece of paper with her perfect handwriting, with red edit notes and scribbles that Sterling can absolutely giggle about. “I wrote this note saying how I felt but its much to drab for my taste. Not when I can try to tell you with my mouth and with my words.”

April stands straight and takes a step toward her. “Sterling Wesley, I am here, having travelled and waited for so long because I would like to apologize to you about the things I said when we last spoke. I was hurt at the moment. I felt betrayed and used, but you were right to feel closeted by my inaction in having us move out of that closet. I’m sorry I wasn’t more supportive of your decision at the time. It’s one of my greatest regrets. Bowser and Blair both tried to nudge me to move on but it was so hard. My heart just kept coming back to you.”

She pauses her look narrowed more determined. “I love you. I know that now and yet I’ve always known the minute you kissed me at Ellen’s office that day. I haven’t been as brave as I could be but I’m here now. I love you and I want us to work and im here to beg you to forgive me because I’ve been living like a lost woman all summer and fall without you.”

There’s no question asked but it lingers heavy in the air. It’s by far the most beautiful, unorganized thought that has come from April Stevens mouth. She licks her lips to relieve the onslaught of cottonmouth she suddenly feels. She follows her sister’s advise. “Convince me.”

Oh how the tables have turned. When the shorter girl looks at her dumbfounded, Sterling takes a step further standing in her personal space. “Convince me we can do this.”

April stares at her bare shoulder since she’s wearing tank top. Her longer hair is half up and half down, tickling her back but not as intense the goosebumps that settle on her skin by being able to hear April’s shaky breath.

“Okay. You were upset that I was still closeted but right before I left to Penn I came out to both my mom and my dad.”

Oh my god, April came out to her parents. If she could have thrown herself at her she would have, but Sterling wanted to remain firm. “That’s great but we are at opposite ends of this country.”

April crosses her hands and licks her lips thinking. “Yes well, there is an app called FaceTime which works wonders for situations like these. Also, John left numerous amount of frequent flyer miles I can use throughout the year to come visit. We can schedule it together.”

There’s really not much more to debate about it. April flashes her a smirk because she knows she won. Or so she thinks. “What if I’m already seeing someone?”

April stops breathing and Sterling’s gaze challenges her. “Well…I suppose there’s only two ways to go about this. One, I can buy you you’re ticket to Atlanta and you won’t ever have to see me again. Or two I could convince you in other ways.” This intrigues her. “Other ways?”

“Yeah.” April steps forward again, her head lifting up, their lips so close. “Convince you that I’m way better. It just requires that we both take our clothes off.”

“Oh then I definitely choose this option better.” And she seals the deal.

It isn’t till the next day as they lay half naked in the back of the Ace after another round of lovemaking. It’s the last night they have to sleep in the van before they drive into Atlanta. The Ace is just outside Ozark, Arkansas is where they decided to settle after their small detour in Branson. Blair and April originally had measure to route two paths, a northern one on the way into Berkeley and a southern one on the way into Atlanta, so all the sites on this trip were as new to April as they were to Sterling.

The sun finished setting, and the cold winter weather seeped in. Sterling feels sated and loved and relaxed. She’s about to let sleep wash over her when she hears April fumble next to her. She pops open and eye only to find the other girl struggling to put on her pajama pants whilst staring at her ass.

Her face reddens when she notices she’s been caught. “Are you just going to sleep with your ass out and the doors open?”

She props herself on her elbows looking back at the question at hand. “Yeah why not?”

April crinkles her nose. “There could be serial backwater lake rapists. I’m at least closing the doors. Plus it’s cold.”

She hums accepting that last bit. But settles her head on the pillow again. “Besides my ass looks really good,” she pulls out her gun from the compartment next to her, “And I have my glock locked and loaded right here.”

It’s funny to see April horny but Sterling lives for it. “That’s really hot,” April whispers probably hoping Jesus doesn’t hear her statement.

“I know it is,” she smirks back.

It’s only until April snuggles next to her that Sterling really starts counting her blessings. She didn’t need much convincing after leaving Berkeley. She’d dated around the first semester but everyone seemed to superficial or too careless or not firm enough or too tall. It’s the height that really confirmed that she missed April terribly so. But the words that had been exchanged had been too harsh and in the April/Sterling playbook, April always won verbal debates. There seemed to be no remedy because in Sterling’s mind the ball had always been in April’s court.

It’s funny just a few days ago she confided in Blair that April seemed like a distant stranger but now Sterling knows it took them less than a day to get reacquainted with each other. And now, well now it seems like they never split.

“Sterl, Top 5 moments on this road trip,” April murmurs against her bare shoulder.

There was so many:

LA was largely overrated but it was fun to drive along PCH with their hair out.

Then they snapped obnoxiously cute pics with the Cabazon Dinosaurs and the Joshua trees

They saw all the weird Alien museums in Roswell

The cowboy drag show in Amarillo

The Dolly cabaret in Branson

“Hmmm I think my top 5, is 5. Singing to all of Taylor’s top hits down PCH while scarfing down our In-N-Out.”

April smiles, “Yeah classic.”

“4. Would have to be the Jesus Mountain out in the desert.”

“Oh yes. I had forgotten about that.”

Sterling laughed remembering the crazy amount of sex they’d have right after leaving Salvation Mountain.

“3. The drag cowboys.”

April snickers next to her, “I think I liked more the lap dance you gave me there.”

“Oh of course, that’s totally why it’s up there. 2. Would have to be all the mind-blowing sex we are having.”

The other girl nods. “Yes agree, yup.”

And Sterling pauses before announcing one, deciding to intertwine their fingers together. “1. Is you coming back to me.” She pulls her hand up to her lips to press a light kiss on it.

Beside her April lightly exhales fast asleep. She’d roll her eyes at having exerted such a romantic moment for nothing. Sterling knows though there is a conviction in her heart. A truth that stands firm now and that will continue to be even after April wakes her up again in the morning. Sterling is going to love her for a very, very long time.

#tbhfanexchange #2021 tbh valentine's exchange #teenage bounty hunters #stepril #blair wesley #sterling wesley #april stevens #ellen johnson

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ayma-nidiot · 4 years ago

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“Don’t Speak Their Names” - Shrimpshipping fanfic Epilogue

This chapter can be found here on AO3.

Epilogue - The Evergreen Greenhouse

~29 December 2007~

Even throughout his almost-over undergrad career - which involved a lot of trips to archaeological sites with Spinos - Rex still found the time to duel. As a matter of fact, he proudly approached the front door of his off-campus apartment with a trophy he just won from a local tournament - and against his father, no less.

“Weeves!” Rex called out. “I just won the tournament! Since we both just turned 21, why don’t we go celebrate with drinks?”

The first one to answer him was not his husband, but rather his 2-year-old daughter. “Papa!”

“Amber!” Rex picked Amber up and gave her a big kiss on the cheek. “How ya’ doing, big girl?”

Indeed, Amber was a big girl; though she just turned two years old, she already showed signs of being gifted. She could already speak in complete sentences, count to 100, and recite the alphabet pretty well. Still, she loved many of the same things that typical toddlers did - not the least of which was her mother. “I’m feeling awesome! But… But…”

“You okay?”

“Someone’s not feeling so awesome… It’s Daddy.”

“Why, what’s wrong with him?” Rex put Amber down, and allowed her to lead him to the loo. He was not at all pleased to see Weevil there, praying to the porcelain goddess. “Gods, Weevil! What’s wrong?”

“Ugh…” Weevil gave Rex a pained look before throwing up into the loo again.

“Daddy’s been like this aaaaall morning.” Amber sounded like she was about to cry. “What should we do, Papa?”

It was then that Rex had just remembered Weevil drizzling a ton of chocolate syrup over his fried bee larvae a few weeks ago. At first, he thought that Weevil was just being a buttmunch as usual. But then Rex recalled the cravings he had during his pregnancy - and the speech his college doctor gave him, the one that all male shapeshifters were capable of getting pregnant. “It… It can’t be…”

“Papa?” Amber looked at her mother quizzically.

“Amber, get my phone. I’m gonna call the doctor and get Daddy there right away.”

After his wave of nausea finally abated, and Rex had made that call, Weevil put the toilet cover back on and pouted at his husband. “Rex, honey, come on. You don’t have to go that far. Just give me some Pepto-Bismol, and I’ll be fine.”

“Throwing up for an entire morning is totally not fine.” Rex picked Weevil up princess-style and put him in the middle of the 2006 Mazda 5 with Amber. “And you’re about to see that.”

________

~A quick drive and 30 minutes later~

“So… So, what did you find, Doctor?” Weevil asked Dr. Balls.

“After performing the ultrasound, we’ve discovered that you’re pregnant, Mr. Raptor. Eleven weeks, to be exact.”

“Aww, how sweet…” Rex smiled as he stroked Weevil’s belly.

“Anyway, I do not anticipate that you will need hospitalization, just some light bed rest for now. I’ll prescribe some antiemetics, though. You are more than welcome to visit should you feel the need to do so.”

“I… I see. Thank you, Doctor.” After Dr. Balls left, Weevil turned to glare at his husband. “Why didn’t you tell me that I’m capable of getting pregnant, dino brain?”

“Yeah, about that…” Rex scratched his nose. “When I first visited this doctor, he told me that all male shapeshifters are intersex. But they each have their own unique heat cycles, depending on what they can change into. Yours just aren’t as frequent as mine.”

“...Humph.”

“I’m sorry, Weeves, are you mad? You still want to keep the baby, don’t you?”

“Oh, I’ll keep the baby, all right. But you better treat me to bee larvae whenever I ask for it.”

“Yay!” Amber gave her father a happy hug. “I’m going to be a big sister!”

“Indeed you are,” spoke a middle-aged woman in scrubs, who had just entered the room.

“What? Mother?” Weevil didn’t expect to see Camellia come out of nowhere. “What are you doing here?”

“Grandma!” Amber ran to Camellia to give her a hug too.

“I’m just getting some shadowing hours, that’s all,” Camellia spoke as she hugged her granddaughter back. “After seeing what Rex went through during his pregnancy, I’ve decided that I want to become an obstetrician.”

“That’s great! Congratulations!”

Rex’s smile turned upside down when Camellia turned on the T.V., and the first thing that came on was a replay of Weevil’s now-infamous regionals victory.

“It’s hard to believe that Rex Raptor used to lose so much back in the day,” one of the Duel Monster Channel’s announcers spoke over a still of Rex’s face in defeat. “But now that he’s won a championship against Spinos Saurus, I think he’ll reach his former fame once again.”

“Oooh!” Amber had never seen this duel of her parents in their teen years. “Is that you, Papa?”

Rex facepalmed. “Yeah, yeah, that’s your Papa, all right.”

“So have you learned to use strategy since then, dino brain?”

“Nah. Strategies are for dweebs and bug boys.” Rex held tightly onto Weevil’s hand. “And I’m so proud to be married to a man who’s both of them.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

The doctor interrupted this conversation, coming in with a few papers. “Okay, Mr. Raptor, here are your antiemetic prescriptions. I’m also going to schedule your 20-week ultrasound. As you know, not only will we be able to search for abnormalities, but we can also determine the sex of your baby.”

Weevil had just recalled what Phuckdis said right when future Amber was “supposed” to kill the bug duelist. “Oh, there won’t be a need for that second one. I already know that I’m carrying a boy.”

“You… You sure?” Camellia asked.

“I’m willing to bet my deck on it.”

“Then how are you supposed to beat me, bug boy?” spoke a voice from the adjacent hospital bed.

“Whoa!” Rex turned around to see Mai laying on that bed, with Joey by her side. “Again with the coincidental meetings, Joey?”

“Great, just the person I wanted to see…” Weevil felt another wave of nausea about to hit him, and clutched his gut tighter.

“Hey!” Amber ran over to Joey. “Now look what you did to Daddy!”

“Ehehehe…” Joey waved a nervous hand. “Hey.”

“...I know you! You’re that big meanie who took Papa’s Red-Eyes Black Dragon and Daddy’s Insect Queen, aren’t you?”

“Amber!”

Amber ignored her mother. “Someday, I’m going to beat you and get them back! You’ll see!” She stuck her tongue out at Joey. “You big buttmunch!”

“Okay, Amber, that’s enough,” Rex laughed as he picked up his daughter.

“I suppose our rivalry never really will die, will it?” Joey laughed back, then turned to talk to Amber. “Amber, you’re a very smart kid. I’d love to duel you someday.”

“...” Amber only pouted in response. “Okay, but you’re going to be bug juice.”

Weevil smiled, as he always did when his daughter used catch phrases from both of her parents. “So what brings you here, Joey?”

“Well…” Mai sat upright. “I’m almost done with my degree, and I moved to this university for the upper-level courses. I started feeling sick on my way to class today, so Joey escorted me to the clinic. And… it turns out I’m pregnant. With triplets, if I might add.”

“And if you couldn’t tell, I’m the dad!” Joey proclaimed proudly.

“Of course, this idiot got the whole ‘marry first, have kids later’ thing backwards.” Mai rolled her eyes. “He only got the courage to propose to me yesterday.”

“Touché,” replied Weevil.

“Soooo.” Rex waggled his eyebrows at Joey. “Looks like Weeves and I weren’t the only ones busy making babies on my wedding night.”

“Hehehehe...” Joey chuckled nervously. “And what a coincidence that Mai and Weevil will probably give birth on the same day.”

“Then maybe you should be the ‘godparents’ of our son.” Weevil was only half-joking.

“You know what I think would be cool?” Rex stepped forward and started making grand gestures. “If we had one bed over here and another one over here. Weeves and Mai can be in the same delivery room. That way, we can all witness each other’s kids’ births.”

“I’m down for that!” Mai appeared to agree with Joey.

“I dunno…” Weevil’s eyebrow twitched when he looked at Joey. “Not sure I want to be anywhere near this sasquatch when I experience the most awful pain of my life.”

“Actually, that can be arranged,” Dr. Balls cut in. “It’s more common than you think for friends or their spouses to give birth together.”

“Good to know.” Weevil groaned slightly as he got out of bed. “Well, I’ve got a final paper to write for biochemistry, so if you’ll excuse me.”

“Weeves, take it easy!” Rex helped Weevil out of the bed until he was confident he could walk on his own. “It would suck if you threw up all over your expensive laptop - or all over this floor - now wouldn’t it?”

“So I’ll see you again in nine weeks?” Dr. Balls patted Weevil on the shoulder, giving him the ultrasound pictures on his way out.

“You bet.”

“Fantastic. Now, no dueling or other strenuous activities until your second trimester, understood?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Weevil bowed on his way to the nearby pharmacy, giving a congratulations nod to Joey and Mai. He didn’t feel nauseated at the moment, but still felt muscle soreness from his morning sickness bout. While waiting for his antiemetic medications to be made, he rubbed his belly, speaking to the unborn child in there. “So help me Ra, if I ruin my entire semester’s work because of you, you’ll be sorry.”

“That’s not very nice!” Rex used a much more caring tone with their future child, patting Weevil’s belly at the same time. “Don’t listen to your mom; he’s just cranky. Final exams and all that.”

“It’s weird how I’m the mom this time around… So, we can get each other pregnant.” Even with his antiemetics now in hand, Weevil didn’t yet feel like getting up from the pharmacy’s small sofa.

“Hey, Weevil?”

“Yeah, Rex?”

“Wouldn’t it be cool if we could, like, get each other pregnant at the same time?”

“Hahaha!” Weevil refrained from laughing too loudly, out of fear of exacerbating his morning sickness again. But now he felt like getting up, and held Amber by the hand. “Yeah, right. The stars would have to align perfectly for us to be in heat at the exact same time. Oh, and Rex?”

“Yeah, Weevil?”

“You owe me ¥2000 if the child I’m carrying is a boy.”

“Naw, that’s no good. You’ll owe me ¥3000 if it’s a girl.”

“Then it’s on!”

___________

~02 March 2007, 11:00~

“Hmm!” Dr. Balls looked closer at the 2D. “Well, Mr. Raptor, I’ll be. You guessed right; you are carrying your first son. And he’s a perfectly healthy lad, he is.”

“Ha!” Weevil turned to smirk at Rex. “What’d I tell you? Now pay up.”

“Grr, whatever…” Rex forked over three ¥1000 bills. “Seeing as how we’re married and share most of our finances, this is kind of pointless.”

“Wait a second…” Dr. Balls probed around a bit more after he switched the ultrasound to 4D mode. “Hmm, very interesting!”

“Wh-What, is there something wrong with my baby?” Weevil stammered.

“No, no, it’s just… I’ve had many male shapeshifter patients, some of them insect shifters. But… none of them had a cocoon around their baby.”

“Are you serious?” Weevil looked at the ultrasound, and sure enough, his unborn son had not only tiny moth antennae and wings, but a thin moth cocoon keeping him warm. “It’s like… my body literally is the Cocoon of Evolution. I’m totally digging it.”

“Aww!” Amber kissed Weevil’s growing baby bump. “Hi there, baby brother. I can’t wait to meet you!”

“And I’m totally not. ” Even in his married life, Rex had not quite gotten used to insects.

“Since the two of you will complete your doctorate work at the university, you’re more than welcome to give birth here,” Dr. Balls informed his patient while rummaging through files on his tablet. “Especially if you and Rex plan to teach at this university someday. Now, let’s see… Your due date is July 20th. A day before your own birthday, if memory serves.”

“Yeah, well, you know that whole thing about most people not giving birth on their due dates? I get the vibe I won’t. And with any luck, Mai won’t either.”

“The important thing is that the both of you have healthy pregnancies, yeah?” Dr. Balls began to pack a few items for Weevil. “By chance, Rex, do you still have the fetal doppler from your pregnancy?”

“Of course. I couldn’t just part with the damn thing.”

“Splendid! And, as always, feel free to call if and when you need something. Good day now!”

“Good day.” With that, Weevil blocked the incoming sun from his eyes, and without looking, he knew a bee had just landed on his finger. “Say, Rex? Can we stop by somewhere really quick before lunch? I just got an idea.”

“Sure! Where, exactly?” Rex spoke with Amber sitting upon his shoulders.

“I want to visit my old home. You know, the one I haven’t set foot into in nearly four years.”

“Whatever for?” Rex couldn’t believe that Weevil would ever want to go to the home he was mercilessly abused in.

“You’ll see when we get there.”

“Argh, I’m not that patient, you know!”

“Careful.” Weevil pointed to Amber as the small family crossed the street. “You’ve got a toddler on your shoulders.”

Before Rex could think of a comeback to that, he heard a middle-aged man’s voice suddenly call out from underneath him. “Change? You got spare change, young man?”

“Huh?” Rex looked down to see a raggedy man in a group of other homeless people. “Sorry, but I don’t carry cash on me.”

“Is it…?” The homeless man got up to get a better look at Weevil. “Could you be…?”

“Hey!” Rex put Amber down and instantly got defensive of Weevil. “Leave my husband alone, you freak!”

“No, hun, it’s okay.” Weevil stopped Rex from throwing any punches. “I know this man.”

“Weeves?” Rex couldn’t understand why Weevil, of all people, would want to take time out of his busy day to talk to a group of homeless people.

“So what happened?” Weevil asked.

“It turns out that I couldn’t keep The Underwood Company afloat. Not only were we about to file for bankruptcy, but all my employees revolted. Now I’m stuck here, depending on the goodwill of others just to have something to eat.”

“And they revolted because of how horribly you treated them, didn’t they? You know that maid Adelaide you abused, just because she was being kind to me? She’s working on her business degree now and wants to take over the company - under a new name, of course. In fact, my family and I were just on our way to visit the old Underwood house. Oh, and just so you know, your ex-wife is going to be an obstetrician soon. Not even your horrific abuse of her could stop her from achieving her dreams.” Weevil held his baby bump protectively. “Or mine.”

“Adelaide and Camellia are…” The homeless man knelt and cried. “And you…?”

“I can’t believe I’ve wasted my time talking to you. I have better things to do with my time. I hope that you suffer for the remainder of your days, and that karma is an utter bitch to you.” Weevil got one last look at the homeless man. “Goodbye, Roach Underwood.”

“Daddy, who is this creepy guy?” Amber looked at the homeless man curiously, still unaware of just who he was or what he had done.

“That’s just it - a creepy guy.” Weevil gestured for Amber to grab his hand. “Come along, Amber, there’s something I want you to see.”

“Weeves… That man we met, is he…?” Rex tried to say as Weevil rang the doorbell to the Underwood mansion; surprisingly, the exterior was rather well-kept.

“Yes. He is.”

Rex didn’t need to hear anything more, and didn’t want to dwell on what he knew was a prickly subject. So instead he commented on how nice Weevil’s childhood home looked like on the inside.

“Is that…?” One of Weevil’s old butlers noticed his former master’s presence.

“You can let him in!” Adelaide called from a far-off room. “It’s Master Weevil!”

“Master Weevil, you have returned!” Several maids and butlers flocked the entrance of the home, giving Weevil lots of hugs.

“Oh, I never thought I’d see the day!” a maid cried. “You look just like Madame Camellia!”

“Guys, guys, take it easy!” Weevil showed off his baby bump after everyone had stopped. “I’m not a little kid anymore; I have my own family now.”

“‘Sup!” Rex waved. “I’m Weevil’s husband, Rex Raptor. And this is our daughter, Ambrosia Camellia Ptera Raptor.”

“How do you do?” Amber curtsied with her sun dress.

“Oh-ho!” Adelaide chuckled. “You’ve raised a fine young lady already. Not to mention you’ve given her a pretty middle name. Well, now that you’re here, what can I do for you? Some lunch, perhaps?”

“Before we get to that, I want to show Amber a little something. By chance, is my childhood greenhouse still here?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. It’s the only room in the mansion that has remained untouched by the renovations.”

“R-Really?” Weevil didn’t expect that response from Adelaide.

“Yes, really! Feel free to check it out for as long as you like before lunch.”

“Thank you! Come on, guys, come see!” Weevil sounded far more excited than either Rex or Amber. He cried tears of joy upon arrival, and stopped to smell a hibiscus flower. “It… looks just like I remember!”

“What’s so exciting about a bunch of plants?” Rex didn’t want to admit it, but he wasn’t all too interested in looking at a bunch of plants.

“Yes, we’ve got the best plants ever, but there’s something even better. Something that’s made me into the duelist I am today.” Weevil allowed a moth caterpillar from the hibiscus flower to crawl on his finger, and showed it to Amber. “Amber, this is a baby Acherontia lachesis , or the greater death’s head hawkmoth.”

“It looks just like your Petit Moth, Daddy!” Amber let the caterpillar crawl on her finger too. “It’s sooooo cute! Ooh!” A pink butterfly landed on Amber’s nose, causing the toddler to sneeze.

“You just sneezed off Greta oto, or the glasswing butterfly.”

“It’s so pretty!” Amber laughed, wanting to play with every little insect that touched her. “Can I stay here forever? Pretty please, Daddy? I wanna learn more about your beautiful bugs!”

“Wish we could, but Auntie Adelaide is gonna have lunch ready soon. But you can play here until then.”

“Hooray!” And with that, Amber ran off with the hawkmoth caterpillar still in her hand.

“Should you really be letting our toddler play with a creepy crawler called ‘death’s head hawkmoth?’” Rex raised an eyebrow.

“Spoken like a dino brain who doesn’t know jack diddly squat about insects.”

“Well, at least it’s good to know how you became an insect duelist.” Rex hugged his husband from behind as he watched their daughter play in the greenhouse. He let his hand drop to Weevil’s baby bump.

“She looks just like me when I was little. If it wasn’t for this greenhouse, I… I don’t know where I’d be today.” Weevil placed his hand on top of Rex’s. “I wonder if I can get our son to love insects, too.”

“So…” Rex laced his fingers with Weevil’s. “Speaking of our little boy, what do you think we should name him?”

Thinking about his adventures in San Francisco with Rex seven years ago, and how they deepened their bond there, it didn’t take Weevil long to think of an answer. “I want our son to be named Francis Bakura Raptor.”

#yugioh #ygo #shrimpshipping #mpreg #fanfiction #HOLY SHIT I'M DONE

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