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yellowocaballero · 1 year

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i need seasons 2-4 of kyle rayners reworked adventures i am OBSESSED :o

OH BABY BABY ME TOO ME TOO OKAY. Believe it or not I'm trying to keep all of this as short as possible so the random little HCs are being left out, I might add some extra later.

So again this is a single season haha. Because a) it did not actually end up that short, I got a bit #poetic there, and b) Season 3&4 are a bit vaguer in my head and aren't as entertaining to tell! If/when I wrangle them into something much more interesting I'll share them. I know that there's probably a 1-2 year timeskip to Season 3 and a much, much longer timeskip to Season 4 AKA Green Lantern: Shippuden, which would have a different protagonist. Milagro Reyes, Blue Beetle's sister. Alright, that one I DEFINITELY have to elaborate on later...

TL;DR

Avatar: The Last Airbender Season 1 combo with Star Trek The Original Series but also the moral of the story is ACAB.

The moral of like this entire children's cartoon is ACAB, by the way, in case I was remotely subtle about that.

GREEN LANTERN SEASON 2: SOMEHOW THIS WAS RENEWED BY CARTOON NETWORK

(By the way, I'm super embarrassed to say this, but I love thinking of stories hyper-specifically styled after kid's cartoons. In case you were wondering: New Wave airs on Kid's WB between Pokemon and Jackie Chan Adventures on Saturday mornings. Green Lantern airs on Cartoon Network, it's ridiculously over promoted because the network doesn't realize how ACAB it is. That one Legion of Superheroes Zoboomafoo show is on PBS. You get the idea. Stories ought to have clarity of purpose.)

Think the first season of Avatar: The Last Airbender, when Aang is searching for any remaining airbenders or a firebending teacher. Same energy.

The episodes are formulaic. Kyle's on a space road trip, searching for signs and survivors of a lost culture. Each episode Kyle lands on a new planet, digs up some rumor or trail to surviving Green Lantern rings, journals, records - anything that could prove what happened to Hal Jordan. Sometimes he finds a trail to an abandoned Green Lantern outpost. Other times he's fortunate enough to actually meet an ex-Green Lantern, usually while fishing them out of some trouble. Other times he's just landing for a pit stop and finds himself wrapped up in alien trouble. Kyle's lost as hell, in over his head, and has no idea where to even begin on this ridiculously ambitious journey. Kyle's always thrown himself into new situations and new places and trusted everything would work out, but space is a little bigger than America. He just has to trust that the answer's out there. He can't go home without it. He can't look Guy, John, and the Justice League in the eyes and lie to them. Even for BTS.

He has one guide in this journey: Kilowog's ring! It serves as his personal trainer on how to use the ring, advisor, teacher, and educator on alien species. It's gruff, pretty silly, but Kyle is depressed to learn that his ring is his closest friend now. It is the sole teacher Kyle has into the actual Green Lantern Corp - it always advises him on their creed, their views, and how a real Lantern would solve a problem. It is remarkably unhelpful on finding a damn Lantern.

Instead, all Kyle finds are problems. Every planet has a problem he needs solving, a person he needs to help, or a disaster to avert. Sure, none of it's Kyle's business - but hey, he's a superhero. Not a cop. You can barely even call him a Green Lantern. Everywhere he goes, citizens of the galaxy tell him about the GLs they met and used to know - how they hurt, how they helped, how they should have done better - and who they wished the GLs would have been. They wished that the GLs actually helped instead of enforced.

They don't have an actual GL. But they do have Kyle. So Kyle says - show me where to help.

He helps wherever he can. He sees everything and learns everything. He meets heroes, villains, and ordinary people just trying to get by. He meets heroes from all walks of life, sees every kind of civilization and culture and found the good and bad in each one. He talks to everybody, from the kings to the peasants, and learns from them all. He learns about the thousand systems of government in the galaxy, and learns about where they succeed and where they fail.

He makes friends. Brave people who fish his fat from the fire. Regretful ex-Lanterns who threw themselves back into being a warrior even without their rings - and embittered ex-Lanterns who resented the loss of their power and authority. He meets a princess who spent her entire life figuring out how to govern well, and the leader of a rebel cell who specializes in freedom. He meets people who are very good at explosives and people who have sworn never to throw a punch. They all have something to teach him.

Not even the ex-Lanterns know what happened on Oa. Kilowog's ring can't show the black box to anybody but its wielder. So Kyle keeps travelling. The ring picked up an unusual energy signal in the next system over - maybe there's an outpost there!

(The unusual energy signal was space vampires. That's how Kyle saved a space Transylvanian town from intergalactic vampire pirates.)

Kyle saves people, but he has to make decisions too. He solves problems. Kilowog's Ring tells him how the GLC would have solved the problem, and he usually takes it into consideration, but usually the episode is about Kyle learning how to solve the problems his own way. He learns how to judge the values of the GLC critically and think for himself, and how to admire not the institution but the good people inside of it like Kilowog. How to fight to promote equity and justice, instead of just fighting to maintain pre-existing systems of power.

Six months later, Kyle has finally defeated whatever (Zuko/Zhao/whatever) villain has been chasing him around (they join his space found family) and makes it to the (North Pole) Green Lantern Outpost At The Edge Of The Universe. This was it. He's spent a month following this trail, and he's risked everything. He's turned over every intergalactic stone, taken every risk. If there's anything, it has to be here.

But all he sees is an empty tower surveying an empty kingdom. And Kyle looks around and he sees nothing. Not the last guru he was promised, or a mythical member of the Guardian species. There's no heroes or warriors. Nobody helpful. Nobody to fix anything. Nothing that will help the people he's met who need help, nobody who will use the GL powers for good. Nobody can restart the Corp as it deserves to be restarted, nobody to turn it around and use their immense power as it was meant to be used. Nobody to avenge Kilowog and expose Hal Jordan for who he really was. The real Green Lantern isn't here.

Kilowog!Ring: "What are ya talking about, kid? The guy's right here." Kyle, dirty with sticks in his hair, has not slept in thirty six hours, going insane: "IS HE FUCKING INVISIBLE" Kilowog!Ring: "That guy is you, kid :)" Kyle:

Well, Kyle feels like a fucking idiot. F to his hopes and dreams. But at least he's not scared anymore.

Kyle goes home.

Earth is different. Or maybe it's just Kyle that's different. Everything feels so much smaller but so much bigger, and when Kyle stands in the middle of L.A. he's captured by the beauty of the universe - the beauty of humanity as part of that universe, how humans are just another mundane strand in the great web of the universe, and how special they are for it. How he's not special, how he will always be a face in a crowd, just one insignificant person in a world of seven billion - but how amazing that is, to be among a proud seven billion! How improbable, to be the only Kyle Rayner! There are trillions of unique people in this universe, people who all have lives and stories and hopes and dreams, and there's no such thing as an insignificant soul. In an city where everybody has to be special, where everybody has to make it big and stand out and yell their names - none of them realize how special they all are just for living. Special just for being their fleshy, insane, amazing selves.

Kyle flies to the Watchtower and walks into the middle of a Justice League meeting. And he looks Superman in the eyes and says, "Hal Jordan killed the Green Lanterns."

….

Aaaand then he posts a video on his YouTube channel titled "coming clean" and the thumbnail is him sitting on a couch in his house.

Surprise bitch, he's pulling a Tati. Kyle spills EVERYTHING. He tells the whole truth and nothing but the truth. What the Earth's hero did, why he killed himself, and why it happened.

Kyle explains that the Corp was not destroyed by Hal Jordan - it was destroyed by its own greed and vanity. Its black-and-white and justice-above-all ethos took a grieving man and warped him into a mass murderer. A power such as the Green Lanterns should be used to help people, not control them. It should protect people, not impose law. So uhhh end video, I'm fucking off to space agan, Kyle out!

A year ago, a funky little blue man told Kyle "Help them." He could have warned Kyle about Rayner, told him what a Lantern was, but that was what he chose to say. Kyle never really understood what he meant. Superheroes helped people, right? That's what Kyle figured at first. Six months later, after learning the truth, Kyle believes that he must have been asking Kyle to help the GLC - find the surviving GLs, save the organization, help Jordan himself. But he never really understood until now. It took life on Earth and life in space to really get it.

The Guardian understood that the Corp failed because it cared more about fighting evil than doing good. Yes, it kept people safe, but it never helped them. The Corp was light and goodness in the galaxy, but it never put helping people first. And Kyle finally realizies that this is what the last Guardian wanted for him, and what he wanted for the Corp. This was the future the Guardian wanted. And that's what he's going to do. That'll be Kyle's ethos.

He'll help people. Nothing more, nothing less.

It doesn't matter if people believe him. It doesn't matter if the League believes him. He doesn't stick around to find out. Kyle returns to Oa and finds the ruined power battery, the same battery Hal Jordan used up in his own selfishness and grief and destroyed.

And, with the implacable will of somebody who's always known what he's wanted, who has seen how to create it and what must be created, who travelled the galaxy and back and helped people at every stop of the way, who knows exactly what he wants the GLC to become, he remakes Oa.

He reaches inside the battery and pulls out a handful of rings. Kyle is instantly convinced he's fucked up the whole thing already, because they're all different colors?! Orange ring, Black ring, what the hell? Why is Kyle so bad at this?! But he releases them, and they go zooming off. Somewhere, Guy and John get their rings back. Not the rings they wanted.

Kyle finally makes some normal-ass rings and gives them to his found family/supporting cast from the season (Gaang…Kyle Krew…we'll workshop it), people who all have different perspectives and methods and ways of problem solving but who are all equally dedicated to helping people. They will be the first vanguard of the new Green Lantern Corp.

If Kyle wants it hard enough, it can happen. And all Kyle wants to do now is become a good man, who leaves the right legacy. Season 3 is him running around like a chicken with his head cut off trying to run a gigantic space organization by himself but you know what he's doing his best.

Kyle, who has been writing space emails to Alex this entire time as a framing device: "Hey, honey, so I've been worldbuilding." Alex: "Cool, for the webtoon? Or for your next DND campaign?" Kyle: "No I mean I've been building a world. Should it have volcanoes? I want a volcano." Alex: "Kyle I cannot put you in charge of dishes much less a world what the FUCK are you doing." Kyle, crying: "I have no idea honey can you come here please I suck at this."

#green lantern #kyle rayner #hal jordan #guy gardner #john stewart #so actually Kyle's intro arc in the comic was KINDA like this #where he started off as a goof not taking the whole thing seriously and then Alex got murdered and he fought Hal Jordan and he sobered up #but uhhhh this doesn't involve any dead girlfriends so it's better :)#did you know that the 'fridged woman' thing was FROM ALEX?#anyway New Wave is actually in the Jackie Chan adventures art style sorry I never shared that #my writing #there IS actually a GL animated series from like 2010 #it's like. it's fine.

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streaminn · 10 months

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Whew, okie Stream! I have had a real shit day ngl and I need to get it out lol. So, instead of just ranting and raving, I offer my interpretation of the latest update of the Ortegaverse! (I hope y'all don't mind, but I've stolen some ideas that were given here, but most of this is all me)

So, without further ado!! I present,,, Enid after losing Mabel during childbirth. (Note: please forgive any mistakes or inconsistencies with the rest of the AU, I had to take some creative liberties)

Oh god, this doesn't feel real. It feels like just yesterday, Enid was speaking her vows, and now... Now she's all alone again.

Well, she's not alone exactly. No, somehow this is so much worse. Now, Enid has a kid, a daughter.

And she looks just like her

Why? Why? Why does this keep happening? Is Enid just cursed? It sure does feel like it right now. Every time Enid thinks she's found it, found happiness, it gets torn away from her and every time it hurts so much more.

This must be some cruel joke by the universe at this point, some higher beings getting some sort of sick pleasure by seeing Enid suffer. The very process that brought the brightest light to Enid also took away the one person she felt the happiest with. Enid's not sure how much more she can take. Not sure how much more she wants to take.

No.

No, she's not gonna think like that. There's no point in that line of thinking.

And besides, she could never do that to their daughter. Mabel would never forgive her. Enid would never forgive herself.

No, Enid will raise this tiny human and give her the life and love she deserves. Enid is going to be the mom that Esther could never even hope to be. Enid swears with every fiber of herself that this little girl won't go a single day knowing an empty stomach or the icy cold of an unforgiving, unloving mother.

Mabel may not be here physically anymore, but Enid will carry her in her heart and she will gladly give her heart to this girl. Their daughter will know who her mother was and how much she would've loved her if she was here.

This world may be cruel, but Enid won't be. Enid will bear the brunt of all the world's hatred just to ensure her baby never has to know it.

Probably the hardest part of all this is that she doesn't even have a name yet. They both had wanted to wait to choose the baby's name until they saw her, knew that when they did, they'd know just what to call her. But now, Mabel is gone and Enid has to do this on her own. How is she supposed to make this choice?

"Miss Sinclair? Ma'am, did you hear me? Do you have a name yet?"

Enid can barely make out what the doctor's saying as she stares endlessly at her child in her arms. Enid watches every movement carefully, every one of her senses centered solely on the tiny girl. She looks into the baby's eyes, chocolate brown looking back at her and suddenly, Enid is taken back years into the past. Strikingly similar brown eyes swirl through her mind and Enid knows. These eyes so unfairly resemble those emotionless ones from so long ago. The very first pair of eyes Enid ever fell in love with. And as the little girl giggles brightly, Enid smiles just as brightly in return.

"Willa."

(Next part is just my silly little addition)

7 Years later

"C'MON MAMA!! I wanna go on the swings! HURRY!!" Willa shouts, dragging her mother with impressive strength. The last few times they've been to the park, Willa has had to wait hours just to play on the swings. Today, they finally managed to get out of the house at a reasonable time. For some reason, Enid felt lighter today. Getting out of bed this morning was remarkably easy plus last night was the first in years that she slept without any nightmares. It was as if her mind and body had finally synchronized into a mood that wasn't pure depression. Needless to say, Enid was shocked to find that her watch said it was only 8 in the morning when they left home.

Now, Enid was struggling to keep up with her rambunctious daughter as she dashed across the playground area of the park, one hand solidly wrapped around Enid's wrist. Enid laughed at the dark-haired girl's excitement, "Okay, okay! Willa, slow down or you're gonna pop Mama's arm off!"

As the pair ran towards the swingset, Enid caught a glimpse of long, dark hair in signature double braids. Was that? Enid shakes her head. No, of course not. Why would she be here? She wouldn't. That's the point, Enid thinks.

Enid shakes the thought from her head, unwilling to let some trick of the light distract her from a day as bright as this. No, today is all about Enid and Willa.

Thankfully, they make it to the swings just in time, there's only one swing left and Willa jumps on it without hesitation, leaving her mom in the dust, literally. Enid walks around the set and stands behind her daughter, ready to push her.

They go at it for a while. Until Enid hears someone walk up from behind her. Whoever it is, their footsteps are so light that it leads the blonde to believe that they're trying to sneak up on her. It sets Enid on edge, waiting for this idiot to try and attack a mother in broad daylight. She's unable to stop the protective growl that emanates from deep inside her chest. The person behind her stops suddenly at the sound and Enid extends her nails preemptively and speaks without turning, "Don't mess with me. This kitty's got claws and I'm not afraid to use them."

It's barely audible but Enid's sensitive ears catch the sharp inhale from behind her. With her body in full defense mode, Enid turns to face the potential threat only for her own breath to catch at the sight.

"Enid."

"Wednesday?"

And! Scene!!

Okie, I'm gonna go to bed and cry now lol

OKAY

You didn't gotta do my heart like that bud but GODSAMN

Personally, I wouldn't think Enid would call her kid Willa, probably too consumed with Mabel's death to think of anyone else. Maybe a second name but not the first

Hope you get better soon mate, I'm sure things will go good eventually

#Ortegaverse #Writing #Rachelsfavqueer

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fanfic-inator795 · 5 months

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**Random fandom related rant incoming regarding ROT//TM//NT, don't like don't read**

Okay so, if any of you have followed me for a while, you know that I was in the Rot//TM//NT fandom for like three years before eventually leaving for the most part, save for occasionally peeking in on things (and taking part in the second Fashion zine, which is still in-progress if anyone's wondering).

When I left the fandom, my major point for WHY I left was that I felt like the fandom was becoming way too angst and gore heavy, being way too obsessed with post-movie stuff regarding the Kraang, the apocalyptic future, characters getting brainwashed/mutilated/going through ptsd/disturbing scenarios in general, etc.

This is still my main reason for why I'm still (and probably will always, regardless of how often I end up revisiting the show in the future) keeping my distance from the fandom. However, my other main reason is just the sheer fact that the fandom has a favoritism problem when it comes to the turtles - specifically the fact that Raph is essentially pushed to the sidelines in fandom works I'd say 85-90% of the time.

Just a reminder that I do not - and have not - check the tag every day so maybe my view on things is skewed, but of the ROT//TM//NT stuff that still makes its way into my Tumblr view space or YouTube algorithm, this is definitely how things seem to be.

In general, when it comes to art and fics and edits and all that, pretty much 8 times out of 10 it's going to be focused on either Leonardo, Donatello or both. Without a doubt, when it comes to fan creations involving the turtles, these two get the most solo-pieces. Like- at this point it's not even close. It cannot be denied that they are the fan favorites.

Mikey is next in line, because he's the funny and cute and chaotic youngest sibling, and then Raph is dead-last, getting the least amount of solo-pieces. Hell, half the time when I see Raph included in an art piece/fic/edit, it's only because it's centered around ALL the turtles, making him seem like an after thought. (and even then I've seen plenty of stuff where the artists/writers/editors focus solely on 'the twins' and Mikey, and then either don't include Raph at all or give him very little focus)

What's more, adding onto my frustration at just how angst-focused the fandom was when I left (and, from what I can tell based on my brief pop-ins, still seems to be) is that whenever you DO manage to find a Raph-focused fandom thing, it's him in these angsty or depressing scenarios/AUs, or he's crying over one of his brothers, or he's being the one giving comfort to his brothers.

Because that seems to be all the fandom sees him as! He's the protector, the Big Bro/Mom of the group, the one who dies first in the bad future, the one who we can project bad childhoods onto - though that's not to say that the others don't get projected onto either, they all absolutely do.

As such, you could argue 'oh well, this is just a part of the fandom, it's not a slight against Raph specifically' except it IS because while yes, all the other Turtles get plenty of angst art/fics/edits too, they also get plenty of fun stuff - memes and silly lighthearted scenarios and works where they get to be cool and badass. And as far as I can tell, Raph - for the most part - doesn't get that. At best, he'll get the fandom making jokes about how he's the dumb one or the emotional one. I remember coming across this one Hippoworm fic where all the other turtles got to participate in their wedding and form bonds with Warren and Hypno, meanwhile Raph was the one who ended up being the 'bad guy' of sorts, crashing the wedding because he was too oblivious to catch onto what was happening. This is what I mean when Raph just gets either horribly sidelined or shoved into the roll of support whenever he's not the one getting tortured or brainwashed.

Outside of specific 'Raph is best Turtle' fans/creators (who were already pretty rare back when I was still in the fandom...), you don't see the art of Raph being cool or wearing cool outfits like you do with Leo/Don/Mikey. You don't get fics where he's the full focus and gets to go on this big adventure or have this big interesting arc (AND IT'S NOT CENTERED AROUND TRAUMA, I feel like I have to emphasize this because again this fandom is just so angst heavy). What's more, you go to AO3 to find ANY non-angst/lighthearted Raph-centered fics and it's nearly impossible because, to fans, it seems like he's always got to be attached to one or all of his brothers. It can't just be him or, hey, I'll even take him and a side character/one of the villains (excluding the Mud Dogs because come on now those are literally just his brothers again). Just SOMETHING that lets him be an individual outside of his family - something that, again, literally every other character seems to get!

Even when it comes to something as simple as headcanons - I'd say 95 percent of people view the 'Donnie is autistic' headcanon as canon. But you could argue that Raph has just as many moments that come off as him having autistic traits, but most fans seem to either ignore these bits or see them as jokes, once again seeing Raph as the dumb one whenever he's not the group's shield or responsible one.

On the one hand, I can't fully blame the fandom for this as the show itself often shoehorned Raph into constantly being in a support role for his family. Going by the number of spotlight episodes he gets, it's really just "Mrs. Cuddles", "Sparring Partner" and "Raph's Ride Along", maaaybe "Mystic Library" (even though most fans only remember that ep for the Donnie Rap, let's be real here) and "Man VS Sewer", though the latter still has quite a bit of focus on the other turtles - otherwise he's strictly used as co-protagonist at best and sidekick to one of his other brothers at worst. He does get to land the final blow in "Evil League of Mutants", and gets a bit of extra spotlight in both season finales... buuut then gets kidnapped by the Kraang in the movie (which, regardless of how much it makes sense for the story, it still sucks to see Raph get tortured and put out of commission for more than half the film, essentially being used as a catalyst for Leo's development).

So yeah, hard to build off canon when the canon gives you so little. On the other hand, I still can't help but side-eye the fandom every time Raph - a large/plus-sized and not conventionally attractive character - is either pushed aside completely or strictly used to uplift or prop up the other three skinny 'pretty boy' turtles. Slotting him in strictly as the 'parent' of the group and essentially adultifying him or, even worse, putting him through tons of pain or killing him off so that the others can go through a guilt arc isn't that much better.

Now, could a lot of my feelings towards... all this be personal biases and my own bitterness at my fave being seemingly slighted by the fandom? Sure, you could argue that if you really want to. But from what I've seen, experienced and recalled from my days within the fandom, I feel confident that the points I've ranted about are founded in evidence. The fandom has a huge favoritism problem in my opinion, and it's this plus a distain towards all the angst and torture/gore-fics that have really soured my feelings towards Rise as a whole - and that feeling hasn't gone away.

That's the main reason why I wanted to just get all my feelings out (hence why I'm not tagging this rant), not to attack anyone in particular but just for my own personal benefit. I do hope that eventually I'll be able to rewatch the show (though probably not the movie) and fully enjoy myself without being reminded of all the fandom hang ups and other small annoyances I have with Rise. But for now, gonna be honest, I don't really regret leaving the fandom.

#apologies for the rant. just had to get this out #also I've got nothing else to do at work so #have basically been holding onto this since I've left the fandom

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lilpeeppup · 1 month

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Oh, If you must know…

︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷

I’m Lukaus or if you like you can call me Pup —> the sad owner of this page.

I’m 19, going on 20. I identify solely as masc being or just masc presenting non binary. he/they/it

︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦︶

This is where the full volume of my thoughts, wants and episodes will be.

I have, diagnosed Major depression, ADHD, Generalized Anxiety, Some kind of attachment and personality disorder.

And ofc, this page will have, obsessive + yandere thoughts, rambles, posting, writing and maybe some nsfw.

︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷

Comfy :

likes, reblogging, anons, and comments.

Uncomfy :

Sexualizing me or my posts, minors trying to have personal relations.

Iffy :

Flirting (Mutuals is okay)

Boundaries :

Plz don’t play with my feelings </3 If you’re interested or gonna flirt, make sure you actually mean it.

︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷

Thanks for reading this far! But, apart from above

Usually none of my posts will be directed to anyone that can see it (yet), so don’t worry about that—

Directory :

#pup awh - gushing

#pup thoughts - my thinking

#pup love - posts ab/for future partner

#pup vent - venting

#pup write - poetry

#pup sillies - posts for mutuals

#male yandere #obsessive love #yandere blog #yandere aesthetic #yandere #puppup

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commonwealthoccurences · 1 year

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Back To Eden - ch 4

Summary: Sole is a journalist and independent investigator who worked with the famous Detective Nick Valentine before the bombs dropped. They stumble out of Vault 111 with hazy memories of a case gone awry, a sense of desperate yearning, and the bitter experience of already having had to fight for their life to survive against the odds. What's a little nuclear wasteland to a (newly) seasoned investigator?

See masterlist for warnings.

Fic-long tags: Hurt comfort, angst, pining, flashback scenes, noir detective show meets post-apocalyptic chaos, Preston Garvey is a sweetheart, Sole is doing their best and living out of pure spite, slow burn (Nick/Sole), etc etc.

Preston Garvey was suited to be a leader, Sole thought. They had been a good judge of character before the war, to the point that it was uncanny, and despite their ongoing migraine and the poking and prodding that Sturges was doing, they could just tell. There was something warm about his eyes and the way he simply treated them as if they were any other stranger that deserved respect, not the frozen person who had stumbled into his group’s shelter, half-deluded and nearly beyond help.

It was difficult to get formal introductions out of the way without feeling a little silly. Sole could confidently say that the existential dread was setting in about their situation; it’d gotten hold of them sometime between Sturges leaving the room and when he’d come back and had to explain what medicine was like for him and the group and everyone on the planet. There were no formal facilities, after all, now that it was “after the war.”

They swallowed their dread, though, and exchanged calm greetings with Preston before he propped himself up on the chair next to their bed and began speaking. “Well, I’m sure all of this is extremely confusing to say the least. Sturges let me know what’s been going on and… I’ve gotta say, we’ve seen a lot of stuff out here, but, uh– you’re definitely a first.”

Sole laughed, though it sounded a little off, even to them. “At least I’ve got that going for me.”

Preston let out a quiet, good-natured “Hah,” but looked troubled.

“Don’t be afraid to lay out some depressing news. After everything that’s been going on, I can take it.”

“I’m simply concerned about how adjusting to the way things work now will turn out for you.”

“Oh, how bad could it be? It was just a little nuclear apocalypse, I’m sure I’ll be alright.”

This got a real laugh out of him. “Well, I’m glad you’ve kept your sense of humor. You’re gonna need it.”

Sole knew he was telling the truth. “Look, we’re perfectly happy for you to figure things out on your own time, so don’t worry too much about that. This place is relatively safe, not too much around, so you’re okay here. I’m sure you’ve realized the food situation is… a little delicate, but we’re doing our best.”

“I’d like to help.”

Preston’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Well, I appreciate the offer, but you really should be focusing on resting. I think jumping into the middle of things already would be against doctor’s orders.”

Sturges cut in, raising his hands in a defensive gesture from where he was rolling gauze in the corner of the room. “Hey, don’t throw me under the bus. I’m just doin’ what I was told until Curie gets back.”

“Curie…?” Sole looked between the two.

“Our resident doctor. She’s out looking for more supplies, won’t be back for a couple of days. Really bad timing of events– I woulda felt a lot better if she’d been here to take care of you.” Sturges sighed. “But, that’s the way things go ‘round here.”

“Hey. I think my doctor’s been doing pretty good, for what it’s worth.”

Sturges laughed. “Thanks. I’ll go ahead and get out of your guys' hair so y’all can figure things out.”

He stepped out of the room and Sole returned their gaze to Preston. They pressed their lips together, thinking. “Have you found the bunker?”

“What?”

“There’s a bunker behind the house to the left of us, have you found it?”

“Uh– found it, yes. It’s locked tight and unfortunately brute force hasn’t worked so far. Why, is there anything important in there?”

Sole rolled to their side to get their elbow underneath them and began struggling to sit up. “Oh, only a ridiculous amount of food and some weapons.” Their body was screaming at every movement; they weren’t exactly sure on the precise amount of time that had passed since they crawled out of the Vault, but it had been around a few days, and they’d spent 99% of it on bed rest.

“Hey, hey. Where do you think you’re going? Didn’t we have that talk about staying in bed and doctor’s orders?”

“Uh-huh,” They gasped as they pulled one of their legs forward and a sharp, stinging pain shot down the muscles. “It was very nice. Unfortunately, this is more important.”

“Listen, I do appreciate the want to help, but I don’t think you’re gonna have any better luck forcing it open than we have– no offense.”

Sole swallowed a whimper at the needling pain crashing through their ill-used muscles. Now that they thought about it, they were on bed rest for a lot longer than however long they had been out of the Vault. They had been on “bed rest” since the bombs dropped, however long that had been. Sensing he was getting nowhere with them and picking his battles wisely, Preston began to reach out carefully, “Is it okay if I help you?” He asked, resigned.

“Please.”

Sole groaned as they were hauled as gently as possible to their feet. Makeshift crutches were propped up in the corner, something Sturges had created and set aside for a future date. Whenever they were actually supposed to be getting off of bed rest. Sole reached for them quickly, ignoring the aches and pains in their arms from being moved too fast, and Preston helped them settle the crutch pads underneath their armpits. They blew out a sigh of relief as the excess weight was taken off their already-weary legs.

Preston stayed close and watchful as they crept closer and closer to the hallway. “Where are you going?”

Sole groaned as they shifted their weight to the side and took a couple of deep breaths. “I’m not gonna brute force the bunker door. I have the key.”

“Look, considering you’re gonna be watching my back for the next month or so, I think I have the right to demand some combat training.”

“Detective, I appreciate the concern, but I’ve been alright without it. I know how to handle myself.”

Detective Valentine put his hand out to stop them from punching the elevator button. They were following a lead to a nearby office building and had to bring one of the workers in for questioning; some suspicious activity had cropped up between his credit cards and phone records, and frankly as Detective Valentine had put it, they needed to bring anybody in so the BPD would see some progress. They had appreciated his transparency and knew that there was some merit to the suspect being brought in, but they were quite surprised to hear him spell out his motivations so clearly. It was wearing on him, obviously. Balancing the fact that he had to answer to the department and actually making progress on the case. “We’re doing the training.” The Detective ripped them out of their thoughts.

Sole sighed, “Fine. Can we please take the elevator now? I would take the stairs just to be stubborn but I’m really not in the mood for it.”

The Detective removed his hand and Sole pressed the up arrow, but he hadn’t taken his eyes off them. They chanced an awkward glance at him, but the way he was studying their face made them shift and raise an eyebrow. “Maybe I should take the stairs anyway.” They meant it as a joke, but it came off harsher than intended.

Detective Valentine caught himself and stared forward at the brick walls while quiet dings signaled the descending elevator’s approach. He drew in a breath, paused, and then spoke, “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

Sole shook their head. “Don’t worry, Detective. I’m not insulted. I understand your concern. Besides, it might help us both blow off a little steam. I know things have been… tense around the office, and my presence doesn’t really help that.”

Uncharacteristically, the Detective made a sound somewhere between a scoff and a groan. “Ignore them. They want the department to handle the case without outside help, but don’t want to be on the case and receive any of the flack. They–” He cut himself off as the elevator arrived. “Anyway, don’t pay any mind to them.”

Sole spent the elevator ride fighting a smug smile. An endorsement from the Detective Valentine meant something. They took advantage of the elevator ride to twist side-to-side in an attempt to find some relief for their aching back. Spending uncountable hours into the night hunched over their desk at the station wasn’t doing their spine any favors. They were infinitely grateful for the lead they got; a chance to escape the department, to watch Detective Valentine work on something other than his notepad and packs of cigarettes, and finally and most importantly, some progress on the case.

The elevator made its easy climb to the 11th floor, the silence filled with a jaunty little tune that Sole had probably heard on the radio before somewhere. It came to a stop at their destination with a soft ding and Detective Valentien grabbed their arm as they moved to walk down the rows of cubicles, pulling them to the side. They made a bit of a face at being tugged along, but knew it must be for good reason; the Detective didn’t do things without good reason. “I’ll wait by the elevator. I don’t think this guy will react well if I show up, but you’re not part of the BPD. You think you can handle this one? You just need to get him to come back to the elevator, I can do the rest. We just want to get him out without making a scene.” He asked, tone hushed.

“Uh, yeah. I think so. If you don’t want me to advertise that I’m currently affiliated with the BPD, what do you want me to tell him?”

Detective Valentien opened his mouth to reply, then shut it. “Why don’t you wing this one.”

“What?”

“Part of this work is thinking on your feet. I can’t give you hints and tips forever– we’ll only be working together until the end of next month. That’s five weeks. You want to build your skills for pri- independent investigating, right?”

“Well, yeah, but–”

“Then figure it out.”

So Detective Valentine was the ‘throw the baby bird out of the nest, sink or swim’ sort of mentor. Great. Sole was hardly prepared, and wholly surprised that he was willing to let them wing something on such an important case. With a deep breath, they nodded, took a step back, and turned and walked down the hall.

Detective Valentine watched as they went, swallowing down the subtle taste of regret. Maybe it was too early to throw them out on their own, but he would be waiting right there, and things were escalating fast in the grand scheme of things. Their mystery killer had already claimed another victim, and that detective instinct in his gut was telling him they’d be hearing from him soon, either via a note or more nefarious means. There was no time to coddle Sole.

And though he’d never admit it aloud, he was getting used to this partner and mentor thing. He hadn’t really pictured himself partnering up again; his first and last partner had died in the line of duty years ago, and it was difficult for him to find someone that he trusted to have his back. The instinct ringing around in the back of his skull was screaming at him for not only taking on another partner, but them being an untrained rookie on top of that. There was something about Sole, though. So he bit back his own protests and watched them disappear from sight.

The suspect was a 33 year old man. Brunette, brown eyes, office worker; average in every way. Sole walked past people who looked, acted, talked, and walked like him every single day of their life and never blinked. Then again, they had also written article after article about men like him who had been discovered doing nefarious things. However, they had never interviewed men like him before they were confirmed one way or another.

Jim Grayson.

Sole repeated the name to themself in their head over and over again, trying to make sure they would get their introduction and cover story right. They resisted the urge to scrap their nails across the inside of their palm, a nervous habit Detective Valentine had been quick to call out just days after they met. They had a feeling he’d noticed even sooner, but had been being polite.

Putting on their best cheerful grin, they stopped at Jim Grayson’s cubicle and leaned against it casually. He had his back to them, one headphone in (as per company policy, most likely) typing away at his terminal. Sole chanced a quick glance at the screen, double-checking to make sure it was simply boring business stuff. Though, if their bad guy was really writing out serial killer letters to the BPD in the middle of his work day with his back to the cubicle entrance, they would seriously be questioning their own and the BPD’s skills.

Grayson shifted in his chair and tilted his head at his monitor. It was then that Sole realized that they were casting a very subtle reflection on the screen, and he turned to face them. “Hello.”

Confrontational. Okay, Sole could adapt. “Uhm– hi. My name is Sole. I work for the Boston Bugle and we’re doing an article on the effects of– well, we’re trying to put something together about the effects of political tension on office worker productivity. Y’know, cause of all the stress.” They faked a nervous laugh and watched him lean forward. That made them genuinely a little unnerved.

“Oh, interesting,” Yeah, this guy didn’t care at all. “How can I help?”

“Well, I know it isn’t great to interrupt your work day and everything, and my boss does, too, so we set aside a budget so I could take my interviewees out to lunch. To compensate for your time and stuff. So, I was hoping I could–”

Jim Grayson stood up to his full height, stepping into Sole’s space slightly with how small the cubicle was. They resisted the urge to back out of the box. “I can take my lunch right now. Let me grab my coat.”

Grayson leaned forward and pulled his coat off the hanger behind them, intentionally leaning even further into them. They grit their teeth with tension so great it felt like they may crack them just so they wouldn’t duck out of his way; they knew that’s what he wanted. “Great. Thank you so much for doing this.” Sole gushed, immediately dropping their expression into one of disdain once they turned and began walking towards the elevator.

Panic welled in their throat when they saw Detective Valentine was nowhere to be found as the elevators came into sight. He for sure said he was going to wait by the elevators, right? That was their one job, to get Grayson to the elevators. Maybe he meant downstairs, in the lobby? Maybe they were supposed to get into the elevator with their murder suspect by themself after he’d already taken a liking to trying to make them uncomfortable. God, they really should’ve gotten clarification.

They took a quiet, deep breath and came to a stop in front of the elevators, steadying their slightly shaky hand as they reached out to push the down button. The wait was just as uncomfortable as they thought it would be; he was staring directly at them. They could feel it. They gently clasped their hands in front of them and pushed to let themself show they were nervous. It only made sense for this makeshift persona they had built in less than a minute. But there was something more uncomfortable about allowing him to know they were nervous than there was about trying to stamp it down.

Unfortunately, the elevator doors opened and Sole realized they were going to have to step inside the space with Grayson. Alone. They put on a hesitant smile and began to take a step when they heard, “Just step into the elevator and say nothing.”

Thank God, it was that familiar gravelly voice. Sole could’ve screamed out of relief; they certainly wanted to scream and maybe shake the Detective up a bit, but instead, they settled for glancing at him. He had come around the corner, up behind Grayson with practiced, quiet footsteps, and had carefully placed a hand on Grayson’s bicep. Firm, unyielding. It was quite clear the situation Grayson was now in, but he simply kept his gaze on Sole and let a smile cross his face.

The trio stepped into the elevator together and the doors slid to a shut behind them, sealing them in. Sole had never really liked elevator music before, but they weren’t sure if the tune or utter silence would be worst in that moment. Once the elevator started moving, Detective Valentine began, “Jim Grayson you are under arrest under suspicion of murder. Everything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law. If…”

There was something so stupidly comforting about hearing Detective Valentine read out Grayson’s Miranda rights. Like the placing of a seal. There was finality. The potential bad guy was in custody and Detective Nick Valentine of the BPD had ahold of him. It was okay again. Later, they would be a little annoyed with themself for finding comfort in his arrest.

Grayson leaned over, paying no mind to Detective Valentine, who honestly looked a little annoyed by Grayson’s nonchalance. “You’re not as clever as you think.” He murmured, before straightening up.

The steps Sole took down the hall were excruciating. Something about the crutches readily reawoke their once resting shoulder injury, and the throbbing ache felt like something was pushing at their skin. They grunted with every step, but refused to stop. Though they’d passed the days on bed rest mostly asleep, there was something so relieving about the idea of finally being useful again.

Finally, they reached their old bedroom. “Preston, do you think I could get a bit of help? I need to get to the floor.”

Preston was kind enough to oblige and warned them softly before he pressed gentle hands to the underside of their forearms and allowed them to grip his in return. Carefully and slowly, they eased themself to the grimy floor, and breathed a soft sigh of relief. Sitting up was hardly more comfortable, but they were grateful to not have to worry about collapsing.

Carefully, their shaky hands felt along the rickety floor tiles. On the way through their old house, they’d worried that the years that’d gone by and however many bombs had dropped would’ve loosened or removed the panels completely, but they’d had a stroke of luck. They were loose, but they were in place. Finally, they found the little, minute notch they’d once pressed into one of the panels and with a small, triumphant sound, peeled it back.

At first, they thought their luck had run out. The wood below the panels had rotted significantly through the years. They knew it wasn’t just wood though, it was some sort of plastic-wood amalgamation that Vault Tec had created for longevity's sake, and they were astonished to find themself grateful for it. In a small, carved nook of one of the supports, was a small key.

Fingertips protesting, Sole dug in and pried the key out. They shifted backwards, nearly tumbling as their center of balance shifted dramatically; Sturges said something in their ears was still a little messed up and their balance would be off for a week or more. Preston let out a quiet exclamation and was quick to prepare to catch them, but they let out a breathless laugh and looked up at him, eyes a little unfocused from the disorientation. They held up the key, “I hope this helps.”

“Damn. I– this means a lot, you have no idea. Was it your bunker? I know you’ve… been gone a while, but I wouldn’t feel right, taking your food.”

Sole shook their head and immediately regretted it as the room began to spin. They closed their eyes and pushed down the nausea. “Mm, no, not mine. A neighbor’s. He was an older man, didn’t have any kids or grandkids. No family at all, really, but we got along, and he didn’t believe in getting in on the vaults even though they offered him a place. But he was big on his bunker, and wanted me to have a spare key, just in case. Always said he knew something big was coming.” Sole paused and opened their eyes, staring at the floor. “If only he knew how right he was. I wonder what happened to him.”

Preston knelt down. “I’m sorry for your loss. And thank you. We owe you, big time.”

He offered a hand and Sole allowed him to haul them to their feet, forgoing the crutches that were causing them so much once-buried pain. They made it two steps out the door with Preston’s assistance before Sturges popped his head out of what was left of their guest room. “Hey! What happened to ‘doctor’s orders?’”

“Oh, just saving our lives a little,” Preston answered for them.

“Oh. Well, in that case.” Sturges made a sweeping gesture for them to continue down the hall, expression confused.

As they made their way back to their bed and were kindly assisted with settling in, Preston spoke. “I know adjusting is gonna be hard. But I want you to know you have a place with us, at least until you get on your feet and figure everything out, however long that may be. And if you decide you want to stick around after that, you’ll still have a place. I don’t know all the details about what you’ve been through, and I don’t need to, unless you wanna talk about it, but we’ve all got stuff like that. I think you’re gonna do just fine here. There’s a bit of a learning curve, that’s all.”

“Thanks, Preston. Really.”

“Anytime.” He gave a warm smile and began to get ready to leave.

“Uh, real quick. Could you- could you tell me how long it’s been. Since the bombs dropped.”

He paused, hand brushing the door frame. His hesitation unnerved them and they almost wanted to shrink back against their pillows. “I don’t know the exact time frame, not sure who does.”

“Well, can you give me your best estimate?”

“Uh. Yeah. We think it’s been about two hundred years.”

The shock that went through Sole’s system felt like it was killing them. There had been more than a few things over the time they’d been awake that made them feel as if they were dying, but Sole thought this was it. If they were older, they were sure they would’ve had a heart attack right there and died. Despite themself, they felt tears begin to slip down their cheeks. They didn’t feel grief or sorrow or even anger, it was just shock. There was no way, and yet they knew Preston was telling the truth. “Oh.” They said, voice wobbly with tears despite the small smile on their face. “Okay.”

#back to eden #fallout 4 fanfiction #gender neutral sole survivor #nick valentine #preston garvey #sturges #hurt comfort #angst with a happy ending #slow burn #friends to strangers to lovers

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hellonoblesky · 2 years

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hi dovie im writing that fanfic where albatross sneaks into soukokus bed. i need to know what his terrors would be about (im giving you a "PLEASE GIVE ME A CHARACTER ANALYSIS IM BEGGING YOU" look rn btw)

LOVe. LOVELOVE LVOE PEACE AND LOVE MWAH MWAH

SO. So. In the Trainwreck Trio au Albatross is the sole survivor of Verlaine's killing of the Flags, yeah? So he has nightmares n stuff from That alongside survivor's guilt, and a feeling of inadequacy because he couldn't save Doc who was the one person he really did think he saved there, and also bc they teased him for not being very smart all the time so he's like "AUGH why do I get to survive but all the smarter people died?? I'm not worth this, god DAMMIT" <- Which feeds into his nightmares and terrors, really sending him into a silly doom spiral of The Horrors

BUT ALSO the only reason Albatross even SURVIVES Verlaine's onslaught is that in this au Wollstonecraft was on standby for repairs for Adam, so Adam calls her and is like "HEY I THINK VERLAINE JSUT FUCKING MAIMED ALL OF CHUUYAS FRIENDS GO?? CHECK ON THEM PLEASE AND THANK YOU" so she goes in there with a team and they re-stabilize Albatross literally by having to move the majority of his organs and internal functioning system into a metal vessel and then working circutry and robotics through him so he's functional enough to pass as a normal person (given that no one pays attention to or makes contact to any part of him lower than his chest because it is Metal you knock on that man's stomach you hear Clanging)

^ This is important because alongside the Terrors and Horrors of watching pretty much his entire found family get torn apart right in front of him, Albatross begins a spiral into a state of questioning his personal humanity, the thought of "I should be dead I should be dead I'm not dead because of these machines in me I'm part of a machine now am I a Person anymore??"

Which feeds into a self-isolation that was originally fueled by his survivor's guilt and probably PTSD, because now he's like "Oh. oh those are normal people I don't think i. i deserve that. ok. hm. ok i'm leaving now."

AND TO HIM. TO HIM?? CHUUYA AND DAZAI BOTH FALL UNDER THE CATEGORY OF HUMAN. HE LOOKS AT THEM AND HE'S LIKE "Yeah... there they are,,, just normal guys..... not exactly the normallest of guys but they're more people than I am i think,,"

So, you remember that one post about dead albatross symbolysm? The kin awakening one? Yeah so the frantic sobbing-so-hard-he-can't-breath breakdown I mentioned he probably had at the end of that? That's like, within the AU timeline, so it's like

>SB Events >The Horrors (Self-Isolation Version) >Breakdown/Tipping Point (Catalyst for him being able to Begin to return to regularly interacting with people, starting w Chuuya) >The Horrors Pt2 (Adjusting to everything) <- This is the stage where the drawing I did takes place in! He's too unstable to just be able to Ask to stay over but he figures if he can Sneak in then it's fine >Dark Era (He's a lot better at this point but also he has an episode about Dazai leaving because Losing People Doesn't Go Over Well With Him) >Current day (Epic Gamer moment)

ANYWAY so the Terrors and Horrors you want to go for for ur fic are probably feelings of like. Feeling lost and struggling to find closeness but also being so close and Needing that closeness to someone, an unhealthy dose of anxiety but specifically the anxiety you feel when it's mixed with depression so it's anxiety but somehow?? Slower. Like it's definitely Anxiety but mixing it with Depression made it's constancy thicker so it's less a "fidget nervous gotta run gotta go fear fear fear" feeling and more of a "the swamp is swallowing me and the branch is just out of reach but if i can just move a little to the side here jsut a little", if that ??? Makes sense??

TL:DR: Survivor's guilt and a feeling of displacement. Horrors and terrors of the Depression stage of grief mixed with Anxiety

AND if you have other questions I can answer them :)!!!!!!!<333

#turtledove answers #trainwreck trio #bsd shit #TAG ME IN THE FIC WHEN ITS DONE AUGH IM SPINNIGN AROUND SO FAST RN /POSITIVE #IM liTLEjt jLSDFZHDKJBKJDFHKJSDFJH RYASUFH

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edwardskhakipants · 3 years

Text

Forks, Washington. August 2004.

Esme and Carlisle stood in the middle of their grand living room, waiting for their five vampire children to arrive. Alice arrived first—prompt as usual. She settled herself gracefully onto the tufted sofa Esme had recently acquired, only to be immediately jostled by Emmett who heaved himself onto the cushions. A breath caught in Esme’s throat—she had lost many pieces from her beloved collection by that action—but it looked like this one was still in one piece. For the moment. Jasper took Edward’s normal spot in the only armchair, forcing Edward to wedge himself between Alice and Emmett.

“What?” Rosalie grumbled as she perched on the armrest of the couch beside Emmett, “Are we having another one of those How to Respect the Telepath in Your Life meetings again?”

“No,” Edward answered, fully aware of the intent of this meeting since it hatched in Carlisle's mind two days prior. “But there’s never a bad time to bring that up. Christ, Emmett, if you’re going to have a song stuck in your head for over seventy-two hours, the least you can do is learn the correct lyrics.”

Emmett’s eyebrows knit together, asking his brother a silent question.

“It’s ‘mulatto, an albino, a mosquito, my libido,’” Edward answered.

Emmett’s brow furrowed doubtfully.

“No.” Edward shook his head, answering Emmett’s thoughts. “Why would he eat a beetle?”

Emmett grinned playfully and tilted his head towards Edward.

Edward wasn’t amused. “You know what it means.”

A silly grin plastered on his face, Emmett elbowed Edward in the ribs, silently egging him on.

Edward’s eyes darted to Carlisle, then Esme, and he shifted in his seat. “Sexual desire,” he muttered.

Emmett howled with laughter and clapped his hands once, “Wow, Eddie! You’re just going to say that in front of Esme!?” Edward scowled as Emmett’s bouts of laughter echoed through the room.

Esme ran a hand through her youngest’s ginger hair. “Boys,” she warned, and Emmett sucked in his laughter.

“Our meeting today has to do with all of you,” Carlisle began.

“We simply wanted to go over the rules of attending school with you kids before you start your second year at Forks High School,” Esme explained, unfolding and re-folding her hands in front of her. “There are already whispers, and we don’t want those whispers to turn into rumors.”

“I thought the only whispers about us at school were whether or not Edward liked girls,” Rosalie said, earning an eye-roll from Edward.

“No,” Alice chirped,” Some kids think we’re a cult.”

Jasper leaned back heavily in his chair. “We haven’t heard that one since the Seventies.”

“Kids are getting more creative these days.” Emmett nodded appreciatively.

Esme held up one, delicate finger. “Which is why it is best to take preventative action.”

Carlisle took the floor. “We thought a few reminders would be helpful before you started your first day of your second year,” Carlisle said. “We don’t want another incident like the one we had at the end of last year.”

Every head in the room turned towards Emmett.

“What?” Emmett threw up his hands in exasperation, “The water gun fight was the senior prank—I wasn’t the one who brought them to the school. Hell, I wasn’t even the only student who got suspended!”

“That’s true,” Carlisle agreed, “but you were the only student to shout, ‘Sit down, kids! Daddy’s gotta tinkle,’ and shoot the stream of the gun from your crotch.”

Jasper snickered—the sound was immediately silenced by a single raised eyebrow from Esme.

“I still don’t see the problem,” Emmett continued, “That’s not necessarily a vampire thing.”

Edward—who often mistook himself as the third vampire parent rather than the youngest son—sighed, “Yes, but it brings unnecessary attention to the family. Which is the first rule: do not bring attention to yourself.”

Esme ran her fingers through her son’s hair once more, “Yes, darling, you are especially good at keeping to yourself.” Edward’s eyes widened, despite Esme’s gentle touch, already aware of where her point was headed. “So much so, that I have been given the names of several child therapists to help my son through his depression. One was recommended for his exceptional work on spotting and treating the early signs of sociopathic behavior.”

Esme grabbed her son’s chin and forced him to look at her. “You have to talk to other people.”

Knocked off his high horse, Edward flinched back from Esme’s hand. “Friendship with humans never bodes well for us.”

“We’re not asking you to create lifelong friendships with humans,” Carlisle clarified, “We are simply asking you to be likable.”

“A nearly impossible feat for Edward.” Rosalie grinned. The comment went unnoticed, save Edward’s slight flinch. But the quick, little tick was satisfying enough for Rose.

“Look at your father,” Esme gestured towards Carlisle, “At every hospital he works at, he goes out of his way to ensure he is well-liked among his colleagues. He forces down countless lunches and coffees, solely to make sure they’re comfortable around him.”

Carlisle took over. “And your mother, a beloved member of her gardening club and a prized member of the PTA.”

“And neither of us have rumors started about us, and do you know why?”

All five teenagers grumbled the ingrained response. “Humans don’t want to spread rumors about people they like.”

“Exactly.” Esme nodded.

“I try!” Alice whined, “But Edward never lets me talk to any humans.”

“That’s because every, single thing that is about to come out of your mouth is incriminating. You might as well walk around with a neon sign that says, ‘I’m a psychic vampire’.”

Alice scoffed, “Is not!”

“You wanted to tell Nihal Howard not to audition for the musical.”

“And he broke his leg on opening night,” Alice challenged.

“You were going to tell Christiana Ward that pink was not her color.”

“And she lost prom queen to Ashley Kirby.”

Jasper put a comforting hand on his wife’s knee. “Maybe try not to meddle so much, darlin’. Natural relationships, first.”

“They would have been!” Alice wailed, “I would have played it cool and casual and made friends and you all would have seen it! But everyone’s hurt and I have no friends at all because Edward won’t let me try!”

Edward rolled his eyes.

Carlisle suppressed a heavy sigh. “You have to let your sister try, Edward.”

Edward’s mouth fell open. “You cannot seriously be siding with her on this!”

But Carlisle stood his ground. He and Edward stared at one another for a few seconds, engaged in a silent conversation. In the end, Carlisle tilted his chin and Edward slumped back. Victorious, Alice used both pointer fingers to jab Edward in the side several dozen times at vampire speed.

Rosalie flipped her golden locks over her shoulder. “I don’t know how you all struggle so much. I have no issues with becoming well-liked at school while remaining inconspicuous.”

“Oh yeah, you’re so inconspicuous,” Edward grumbled, now extra-petty that he had been called out two times in one meeting. “You dress like you're on your way to brunch at your second husband’s country club in Beverly Hills and you make out with your foster brother. The perfect picture of discretion in Forks High School.”

“At least I don’t dress like a sad, old man.” Rosalie grimaced, disappointed in her comeback. The light, humorous insults that were required in family situations were Emmett’s forte; Rosalie’s insults were meant to emotionally cripple a person.

Edward sat up in his seat on the couch and turned to face Rosalie. “I think you missed the main takeaway in that you make out with your foster brother.” Edward turned back. “I can read your minds, and I still don’t understand what made either of you think it was okay to bring your relationship to school?!”

Emmett smiled, unperturbed. “It’s hot.”

“It’s disturbing,” Edward disagreed.

Esme frowned, “You kids don’t really do that, do you?”

“Would it help if Jasper and I became an official couple too?” Alice suggested. Jasper perked up at the idea of being able to hold hands with Alice in public again.

“No!” Edward yelled at the same time Emmett and Rosalie muttered their acquiesce.

“It wouldn’t seem as weird if there were two couples,” Emmett agreed.

Edward dug his fingers through his hair. “Oh my god!”

“...maybe not, kids,” Esme intervened, but was ultimately ignored.

“So should we come out today like it happened over the summer, or make a little show out of it?” Alice asked Rosalie.

Rosalie waved a hand in the air. “Oh, it’s way more fun if you play up the theatrics.”

“A little more realistic, too,” Emmett agreed.

Alice looked to Jasper for his opinion. “It might be better if we were discreet about it,” she said. “Like we knew it was wrong, but we wouldn’t let anything stand in the way of our love.”

Jasper scooted forward to the edge of his seat. “Or we could let it be quiet and drawn out. Let others see our mutual pining, and root for us to be together.”

Gazing deep into the golden eyes of her soulmate, Alice sighed, “I love that.”

“If people wanted us to get together, it would normalize Emmett and Rosalie’s relationship.”

“Or Rosalie and Emmett could stop,” Edward suggested, bitterly. “That would be normal, too.”

“Oh, Edward,” Alice patted his shoulder, “You’ll find love someday, too.”

“That is not at all what bothers me about the situation.”

Carlisle made the decision for everyone. “Rosalie and Emmett, break up at school. Alice and Jasper, remain friends and siblings.”

Disappointment filtered into the room through Jasper.

“I heard that,” Edward grumbled at someone’s thoughts.

“You were supposed to,” Rosalie shot back.

“We are also initiating a new rule,” Esme brought the room back to the conversation at hand, “No more correcting your teachers.”

A chorus of complaints rang from the couch.

Esme clicked her tongue, “I’m tired of defending you all from entirely preventable issues. I have emails from curious teachers wondering why my foster daughter is taking French 101, when she already appears to be fluent.” Esme looked at Rosalie, who immediately tucked her bottom lip between her teeth. “Or why my son, at the tender age of sixteen, could not only deadlift three hundred pounds in his first weightlifting class, but also give his coach tips on improving his posture.”

Emmett glanced over at Edward before he realized Esme was, in fact, addressing him. “What!?”

Jasper snorted. The sound was a mistake, for it brought Esme’s wrath onto him. “And not to mention the emails from not one, not two, but three teachers warning me that my foster son has an intimate understanding of the mechanics of a point fifty-eight caliber rifle-musket.” Esme held out her hands, almost pleadingly, “How does that subject keep coming up, Jasper?”

A noncommittal grunt was the only answer Jasper had for that question.

“No more,” she commanded. “You can get good grades but keep your extra knowledge on any subject to yourself. Whatever your teacher teaches is all you know. Understand?”

“But what if we—” Edward started.

“Understand?” Esme repeated.

The five teenage vampires understood, even if they didn’t want to.

“I believe that all five of you will graduate from Forks High School!” Esme cheered.

The kids stared back, unable to muster the zeal Esme had over the prospect.

“Meeting adjourned!” Carlisle announced, and faster than fast vampire speed, the kids bolted from their seats.

Esme was able to get in a few more reminders as her children flitted around the house and filed out to the silver Volvo. “Remember to buy lunch with cash and not your credit cards. Emmett, please do not joke about being mauled by a bear. Do not address your teachers by their first names—I don’t care if you’re older than they are, Edward. Alice, please wear something a bit more causal, pet.”

When the house was finally empty, Carlisle pulled Esme backwards into his chest and began massaging her temples. The gesture wasn’t needed, but any touch from her husband was always welcome.

“Do you think they’ll listen?” she asked her husband.

“Not a chance.”

#this bad boy had been swimming around in my head for awhile #please enjoy #my other fics havent been cullen centric enough for me lately #so i had to do something #twilight fic #twilight fan fiction #and thank you to the editing queen edwardsmate4ever for beta'ing for me #youre a queen

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kissomen · 2 years

Text

night owl | lee heeseung.

SYNOPSIS ⤑ in which a young girl, park seulyeon, thinks the world is on her side when she meets just about the sweetest boy she’s ever met, lee heeseung. that is, until an unknown figure with his face begins wreaking havoc in the middle of the night.

CHARACTERS ⤑ lee heeseung x female oc

GENRE ⤑ 80s au, fluff, romance, thriller

WARNINGS ⤑ swearing, violence

CHAPTER ONE.

everything happened in a blur; the colored, moving splotches of the crowd upon the bleachers, the orange haze of the setting sun glooming over the freshly trimmed grass and illuminating faces. the feeling of heat rising to her skin in beads of sweat; her black and red cheer uniform sticking to her skin.

her feet were aching in the soles of her white, platform tennis shoes, head throbbing as her limbs move accordingly to their designated, over-practiced routine. dark strands of hair had escaped the tight clutches of her high ponytail and were now sticking to her flushed, heated face. it was tiring, the settled heat from august still creeping it’s way through the month of september and carefully into october, where the light brushes of breeze ever so often felt as if mother nature was taunting her.

her throat was starting to become sore as she chanted those same silly catchphrases over and over like a mantra. her lips were dry and cracked and she could feel her eyebrow sweat slipping towards her eyes. she wanted this to be over, like she did every football game. at first, cheer was her only escape from the lonely shackles of her one bedroom apartment, an escape from her solemn, depressing reality.

it was fun, at first. like everything is really. that is, until she wiggled her way down into a deep never ending hole of another type of competition that she doesn’t remember ever signing up for — maintaining her reputation. here at ivory twine university, the cheerleaders were filled to the brim with competitive jealousy. she was never that type of person to gossip, to cheat, to lie, to hook up, to keep secrets, to use boys for fun. she never considered herself to be that person. heck, she still wasn’t. watching all of her so-called friends on her cheer team say and do such vile things, was starting to become highly frustrating.

back in grade school, she would have never even pictured herself becoming one of these demons with pom poms, but look at what life can throw at you in the desperate, early years of teenage acceptance, right? seulyeon was tired. she was tired as she pivoted on her heel into a back hand spring. she was tired as she waved those glittery bombs of death over her head and painted the most forced smile onto her lips. she was tired as she stepped her scuffed shoes into the palms of her fellow cheer-mates. she was tired, oh so tired, as they tossed her up into the air with a spin. and maybe just maybe, she was tired enough to miscalculate her step and miss someone’s hand completely. and maybe that was the reason she scrapes her leg hard into the dirt on her way down.

the pain in her shin stung hard as she lied on the grass helplessly, hands quickly going to wrap themselves around her leg tightly. she closed her fingers around the cut as if the blood that was starting to develop from her gnash would stop in its tracks. but it didn’t. it dripped down the expanse of her thin fingers and soon, her cheer mates would make their way over to her, interrupting their signature, repeated, over the top cheer.

the crowd didn’t seem to lessen their feverish roars, obviously there for the entertainment of the football game. who cares about the cheerleaders anyway? a girl with maroon dyed hair slips the white ribbon from her ponytail in an attempt to wrap it around seulyeon’s wound, but unfortunately it bleeds through the satin. “i thought it’d work, i’m sorry.” she whines in a panic, sitting on her knees atop the grass with seulyeon’s leg pulled into her lap. she’s looking up at the girl with flushed cheeks, her eyebrows knitted together in worry.

“it’s okay, just,” the injured girl winces as another member of her cheer team crouches down at her side. “just help me up.” her fingers press into the stained satin ribbon tied sloppily around her shin, and as two girls grab either of her arms in an attempt to help her up, the unstained parts of the ribbon slowly begin to slide down. “ah,” she squeezes her eyelids shut at the unnerving sensation of the satin sticking to her blood.

her arms are thrown around two shoulders belonging to her cheer team, slowly and carefully making their way down the grass. she hears faint whispers into her ear, “it’s okay, we’re almost there,” “just a little bit longer, you got this…” and her distracted brain finally concludes they’re headed to the nurses office.

her heart suddenly leaps inside of her chest at the thought of it, before it slowly begins speeding up its rhythm against her ribcage. the image of a tall, lean boy with big glasses and round poked out ears suddenly ease its way through the curtains of her brain, and suddenly, she forgets all about the pulsing, bloody wound on her leg.

she knew lee heeseung was going to be there, like he always was, everyday, in the morning and until after lunch, even after school during sports games. she already knew he’d taken up a position as the nurse’s student assistant like she already knew where he likes to park his 1970s beetle in the school parking lot. she knew the smell of his rain scented cologne, the way he parted his shaggy, black hair, that same leather jacket he wore everyday to school. she knew the sound of his obnoxious laugh, the friends’ he’d talk to in the hallway. she knew the way he’d sit slouched back in his chair in algebra class, the only class she had with him. in the corner of her eye, she’d see the lines of his adam’s apple as he leaned his head back over the top of the chair, peering at the board over his big, round frames.

she knew almost everything about him, but she also knew nothing at all. admiring from afar doesn’t really get you anywhere, she’s learning that the hard way.

her friends on either side were trying to talk to her as they were now inside the school building, but she was nearly blocking out their voices. visions of heeseung treating her leg wound blocked out all sources of communication for her, and you could almost make out the heart shapes that molded themselves inside the core of her dark brown irises.

before she could even blink, they had stopped right in front of nurse beorin’s white-painted door. she licks her lips briskly, trying to clear out the clouds that had formed inside her brain. seulyeon, focus. “are you doing alright, seulyeon?” the girl holding up her right arm with freshly manicured nails whispers to her.

“yeah, are you okay? you’re losing a lot of blood.” the girl on the left side croaks, and the three of them all tilt their heads down to gaze at her wound. the ribbon was completely soaked, red drips threatening to slide down her skin.

seulyeon swallows the hard lump settled inside her throat. “yeah,” she clears her throat, watching as the girl on the right lifts her fist up to knock swiftly against the wood of the door.

silence engulfs the trio for a good few minutes, and the girls at her side begin to sigh impatiently. “we have to get back onto the field,” one whispers to the other. “can we sit you down on these chairs until the nurse comes?” seulyeon looks down to her right at the three, red cushioned chairs settled neatly to the side of the door.

“yeah, that’s fine.” she tells them, trying desperately to ignore the pain that shoots up the side of her injured leg. the girls set seulyeon down gently onto the chair closest to the door, straightening up with a sigh as they look down at her worriedly.

“okay, we’ll come check in on you when the game is over. hopefully, you can still make it to the football party afterwards.” the girl with maroon dyed hair tells her with hands placed on her hips, her hair now draping past her shoulders in tangles.

“w-what about your ribbon?”

“don’t worry about it,” she throws her hand up in the air dismissively. “yorin has an extra scrunchie she can give me. i’ll be fine.” seulyeon purses her lips into a line worriedly, peering up at the winded girls with concerned eyes.

“okay, park.” the other girl with curly, brown hair leans over to pat her swiftly on the shoulder, her uniform sticking to her abdomen with sweat. “we’ll catch you later, okay?”

“okay.” the injured girl grumbles.

she watches solemnly as the two girls jog back down the expanse of the slick hallway, their tennis shoes squeaking against the tile and their hair swooshing back and forth. she lets a small sigh escape past her dry lips as she sits back in the chair. it was kinda nice to be away from all of it, she admits to herself. she peers down at her wound again, where the pain has subsided but more blood began to roll down the length of her leg. she groans, leaning over in an attempt to swipe it with her fingers when the door beside her creaks open.

she whips her head up to peer over at the door, cheeks immediately blooming crimson. the head of a boy with big round glasses peeks out from behind the door frame, his eyes landing on her with thickly raised eyebrows. “oh,” he mumbles, as his eyes gaze down at the red soaked ribbon that’s sliding down her shin. he emerges from out of the doorway, finger going to push the middle of his glasses up the slope of his nose bridge. “oh no,” he says softly, making his way over and crouches down in front of her. he places a palm under her calf and tilts his chin down to peer at the wound over his glasses. “how did that happen?”

“um,” she swallows nervously, the aroma of his familiar cologne drifting inside her nostrils. “i was about to do a leap but then i tripped on someones hand and… my leg scraped at the impact.” her voice is soft and quiet, and she’s hoping heeseung doesn’t notice her nerves.

she hears him hum lowly in his throat, before straightening his back up and adjusts the leather jacket that sits over his shoulders. “it looks.. looks pretty gnarly. come on in.” he nods his head over towards the door and starts walking towards it, teased strands of his dark hair falls over his eyebrows and behind his glasses.

seulyeon slowly gets up to her feet, heeseung outstretching his hand for her to take but she shakes her head. “it’s okay,” she chuckles, limping her way over towards the door. the boy softly closes it behind her.

the room is chilly, and goosebumps immediately rise to the expanse of seulyeon’s arms. she peers up at the wooden ceiling fan, watching the long chain dangle around as the blades spin vigorously. “uh, you can sit down over there on the seat.” heeseung tells her softly, as he opens a wooden cupboard beside the door and begins rummaging through it. seulyeon slowly steps further into the room, her eyes landing on the gray, cushioned table top pushed against the wall.

she inhales slowly, exhaling out as she follows his instructions and takes a seat on top of it quietly, adjusting herself in an attempt to get comfortable. she places her hands in her lap and lets her feet dangle aimlessly above the floor. she watches him, examining his figure. when he turns around with a first aid kit between his hands, she notices the white button up that hides itself behind the layers of his leather jacket. there’s a chain that adorns itself over the curves of his exposed collarbones, eyes traveling down to the tucked in hem of his shirt that sits behind his brown leather belt and baggy denim jeans.

he walks over towards her, gaze fixated on the transparent box with a soft furrow to his brows. he sets the small box beside her on the seat and clicks it open, reaching for a pack of cotton balls and peels one out, other hand wrapping itself around the small bottle of rubbing alcohol. “does it still hurt?” he asks her with a small crack to his voice, head snapping up towards her and gazes at her with widened, glossy eyes.

“no,” she mumbles, watching as he looks back down to press the cotton ball against the opened top of the bottle. he tips it over slightly, the cotton ball soaking up its substance.

he sets the alcohol down and crouches back down in front of the girl’s legs, his free hand carefully going to brush his fingers behind the smooch curve of her calf. he quickly pulls the knot of the ribbon through, seulyeon watching it flutter to the ground. “i’m just going to- to press the cotton ball to it so it gets disinfected.” he tells her softly, eyes flicking up past the rims of his perched glasses to look at her, and her heart beats up in her throat at the sight. “it might burn slightly, so bare with me.”

“okay.” she croaks out, feeling her palms grow sweaty in her lap. she watches as he slowly presses the wet cotton ball to her wound, the cold sensation sending a tingle throughout her leg. she winces slightly with a harsh tsk of her tongue, and the boy flicks his eyes up to her again.

“you okay?”

“yeah.” she tells him, suddenly aware of her short, dry replies. this is the one chance you get to talk to him, why are you being boring?

“okay, just a few more presses.” he mumbles in his throat, carefully dabbing the cotton ball along her wound. she holds in her wince this time, eyelids tightly closing shut. his fingers creep further around her calf. “sorry.. i know it hurts...” he whispers, breath hitting her kneecap.

it’s like the unexpected heat of october all over again, sweat beading along her brow.

“okay, we are…” he inhales, straightening up to his feet. “we are finished. wound is clean.” his chest deflates with an exhale, popping the cotton ball into the trashcan beside the tabletop. he screws the cap back onto the alcohol bottle and reaches for the roll of bandage tape tucked neatly into the first aid kit. “now i’m just gonna wrap this around it. and then.. you’re all good to go.”

no. no this can’t be it. i only said like, three words to him. seulyeon quickly parts her lips to speak, watching anxiously as he crouches down in front of her again and begins unrolling the bandage. “so um.. what inspired you to want to be the nurse’s assistant?” she blurts, ears immediately reddening in horror of awaiting his reaction.

the boy glances up at her with raised brows in surprise of her sudden question, tearing off the bandage and presses it to her leg. “oh, um,” he begins, a shy half smile curving to the sides of his reddened lips. he slowly begins wrapping the thick bandage around her leg. “well.. i kinda had this like… weird amount of time between classes. and i didn’t have anything to do, so i- i kinda just.. took up the opportunity uh.. on the spot.” he shrugs softly, looking up at her to throw her a shy, soft chuckle. he reaches up a quick hand to push up his glasses.

“oh…” suddenly, seulyeon forgets how to properly reply to another human being. “well, that’s kind of nice.” she replies quietly, the silence after her reply burning inside her eardrums. “have you ever had to deal with something gross?” okay, okay. good engaging, question. nice one, seulyeon.

“hmm..” the boy hums, straightening up to his feet once the bandage was secured tightly around her wound. he rolls the excess tape back up around his fist, throwing it back into the first aid kit. “how- how gross are we talking?” he asks her with a quirked brow, an amused half smile growing to his lips.

seulyeon shrugs. “i don’t know.. like, super gross.”

“honestly,” the boy chuckles briskly, clicking the first aid kit shut. he then places his hands on the tabletop on either side of the box, leaning his weight forward and gazes at the wall in thought. seulyeon notices the way the light catches the gold hoops pierced through his ears. “i.. i haven’t really had to deal with anything uh, super.. super gross yet… but let’s hope that doesn’t happen.” he tells her, and they both share a short chuckle.

he notices her eye contact and quickly averts his gaze, his cheeks fading into the lightest pink. he picks up the first aid kit quickly, before turning around to make his way back over to the cupboard. panic blooms in seulyeon’s chest. “uh.. i have another question.” she begins, her legs beginning to sway back and forth nervously.

“hm?” he hums, placing the box onto the top shelf and quietly pulls the cupboard door shut. he turns around and adjusts the belt looped around the waistband of his jeans, his brows perched up into his forehead as he gazes over at her in suspense. seulyeon notices the tips of his rounded ears are red.

“uh,” she licks her lips quickly, her fingers going to lightly brush her loose bangs behind the shell of her ear. “so.. there’s this football party i’m going to after the game.. do you wanna, um… come?” please say yes, please say yes. save me from this jock infested hell.

she watches heeseung’s throat as he swallows slowly, placing his fists into his jacket pockets and leans his back against the cupboard. “ah,” he breathes through a nervous giggle, scrunching his nose as the action pushes up his glasses. “that’s nice of you but i.. i don’t really like parties.” he tells her with knitted brows, seulyeon watching his doe eyes flicker around her face. “i don’t think your friends are too fond of me anyway.” he lets a half lipped chuckle escape from his lips, tongue nervously swiping out to moisten them. he’s studying her carefully over the rim of his glasses with a tilted-down chin, accentuating his big, brown eyes. she watches the apples of his cheeks dust pink.

“no, no, it’s okay.” she says through a forced smile, trying to force down the lump burning in her throat. “it’s totally fine. i understand. i should.. probably get going,” she sighs, slipping down from the table and stands back to her feet. she adjusts the hem of her cheer skirt awkwardly, eyes darting around the room. “thanks for the bandage. and.. you have a good rest of your night.” she tells him, hoping he doesn’t hear the slight waver in her voice.

“hey, no problem.” he tells her softly, eyes carefully examining her own. he smiles briefly, shoulders scrunching up softly with a tight inhale, fists clenching in his pockets anxiously. he watches as she makes her way towards the door. “have a great time at your party.”

she throws him one more smile before the door clicks closed behind her, and that’s when she feels the tears burn behind her waterline. before she can even throw her head back down the hallway, the whole cheer squad is making there way towards her. “seulyeon!” her good friend yorin, a girl with chin length, sandy colored hair runs up to her, a wide smile etching into her pointed features. “are you ready to go? they’re waiting outside.”

“oh, uh,” she blinks quickly in an attempt to blur her tears away, stumbling slightly as yorin throws an arm over her shoulder. the rest of the team soon surround her as they emerge down the hallway, the chatter loud and echoey against the thin, plastered walls. “yeah.”

“wen is going to be there,” yorin whispers to her with a smirk, as the pair and the rest of their teammates walk down the hallway towards the double doors. seulyeon’s heart sinks to her stomach. great.

“well, he plays football so i imagine he will.” she replies bluntly, her arms going to cross over her chest. “and why would you tell me that, anyway? i don’t like him like that.”

“cmon, seulyeon.” yorin teases, her free hand going to poke a finger into her side. “he’s like, so in love with you. have you seen him? how can you not like him back?” she whispers to her, her thin eyebrows furrowing above her eyes.

seulyeon groans inside her throat, the images of heeseung pushing up his glasses with flushed cheeks floods her brain. her cheeks soon bloom red, pursing her lips together so she absolutely does not blab about her secret crush on someone who trades dragon ball cards at lunch. “yeah yeah, yorin. save the chatter for when we get to your house.”

the girls emerge outside, the sun setting low in the sky and the breeze nips at their exposed skin. hoots and hollers are heard from beyond the sidewalk, where the cars of the football players are parked. seulyeon squints at the intensity of their bright headlights, making out their silhouettes as they stand up in their seats. “c’mon ladies!” they whistle, and seulyeon rolls her eyes.

this is gonna be a long… long night.

— HEEELLOOO I HOPE YOU ENJOYED CHAPTER ONE OF MY NEW FIC >_< IM SO EXCITED TO WRITE THIS ONE!! it’s gonna start off pretty slow but the build up will be so worth it so please bare with me <33 HDBEHDJ AHH IM ALREADY IN LOVE WITH HEESEUNG IN GLASSES CAN YOU BLAME ME <\3 no. the answer is no. anyway, if you guys enjoyed this chapter i’d really appreciate a like, reblog, or interaction of any kind if possible!! and don’t be afraid to send me asks i love talking to you guys <33 see you all next monday eheh ;)

— katerina !

> next chapter >

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bubblyani · 3 years

Text

The Letter

(Melvin Purvis x Reader)

A Melvin Purvis One Shot

Fandom: Public Enemies (2009) Michael Mann

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 6.6k+

Summary: The day when the FBI plans to catch John Dillinger, you finally write a letter full of undisclosed affections to Melvin Purvis, the love of your life.  

Author’s Note: Please note, this is all based on the fictionalized version of the character played by Christian Bale. It was a challenging concept but very happy with the outcome. Maybe I’m just “Bumping Gums*” but, hope y’all enjoy!!

“What are you thinking about?”

That familiar, male voice inquired. Cool yet affectionate; lingering in the darkness long enough for a female voice to hum before responding:

“Me? just things…” she began, her voice comprised of a much greater familiarity above all others, “Things I wanna say to you. I…” a chuckle arose, “It’s silly but…” she inhaled deep, “I just want to, write them down…for you”

“What?…like in a letter?”

“Uh huh!”

“Why? I’m right here” Her giggles seasoned his genuine curiousity,“It’s not the same. I…” she inevitably paused, “I’m just shy” as softness smeared over her tone. “Oh…” he decided to follow suite, “…somehow I don’t believe that” with his words exiting in the form of purrs, the two pairs of lips finally met. The kiss, it was chaste. Yet the sound remained crisp. And the shared chuckles that soon followed, were crispier. Audibly vivid at its finest.

Sheer pity, for it merely was a memory. Such a pity, for it vanished the very second your eyes dared to open.

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

(1934)

A heavy sigh left your lips in disappointment. Arms folded, your right index finger wandered over your silk robe, in detail. It had no other option, especially when your lips could not indulge his own, when your eyes could not indulge the only loving gaze that truly mattered. Thus, there you were, running your fingers over the silk of harsh reality. Nothing to imagine, nothing to relive.

All the while you stood, staring at the door ahead. The door from where he just left.

It was a lazy afternoon, and anxiousness had found its way deep into your bloodstream. Woken nerves, uneasy stomach, the pounding heart with great speed and clarity. Harsh reality had turned to the worse, grabbing you by the shoulders, only to force you to stare deep at it.

Face the facts, it uttered. But which part of you wanted to do so?

Though being the sole occupant in the room, your pounding heartbeat did not fail to drown your very own hearing. This feeling, you despised it, to the core. If only it would stop.

Until it finally did. But only when you spun back around in a split second. For you decided to take action on it instead.

Planting yourself firm on the wooden desk, hands were occupied in the hurried dance as drawers were pulled, and stashes of paper were grabbed and dropped out before you. But once the hands found their way to a beautiful pen inside, all actions reduced pace. Holding it with care, your eyes grew warm by the mere sight. For the pen, it was a symbol of things a many, and one in particular. The one which cost you a heavy sigh, before opening the cap and let the pen make take its course on the paper. And just like that, you finally wrote down two words. Two out of the many your heart ached to speak into existence:

Dear Mel…

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The sigh that followed soon after, was relieving. It was liberating. In truth, even a smile seemed possible. Hence, your intentions were clear.

“Dear Mel…” leaning forward, you read it out with warmth. For you were prepared to permit the ink to reunite with the paper once again, and linger on a little longer:

Looks like I finally found a reason to sit down and write this letter to you. Honestly, I feel like laughing, cause I never thought I’d end up doing this.  

Chuckling to oneself, you proceeded to write:

But I know if I don’t do this now, I would regret it. Cause now I finally know you deserve to read every last bit of my thoughts and feelings. All that I have hidden for too long. Before it’s too late.

Seeing you walk out that door wasn’t anything new. But when you did it this afternoon, it felt different. My heart, it felt something. It was heavy! That’s the word. Was I worried? afraid? I don’t know. All I know was that, it was too much. Enough for me to remember your effect on me.

Those words may have been generalized, yet you were astounded by the comfort you sensed when writing them. Inhaling deep, you kept on:

You were not a man I expected to ever meet in my life, Melvin Purvis. Never for one second. Out of all the folks here in Chicago, why would we ever meet? Whatever reason it was, I am very thankful. I am very thankful I opened my door to the hallway that night.

And I am thankful for Mr. Lloyd, and for that man in the navy blue coat.

Your words, they brimmed with sincerity. Looking up from the paper, you couldn’t help but stare into the wall. It was simply inevitable. Especially when every bit of detail began to flow into your consciousness, only to unfold the memory of that fateful night in your mind.

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

Chick Webb’s “Blues in my Heart*” playing in the radio, certainly did not fail to mirror your heart to perfection. For the melancholia was mutual. And the dim lights illuminating the apartment in the late evening, seemed to have sealed the emotion shut.

Memorable was your deep sigh, along with warm cup of tea that rested on your hands:

“I figured he, of all people would vouch for me, but instead he just…hung up” You remembered uttering, tone enriched with sadness whilst imitating a telephone being disconnected.

“Well…” a gruff voice began, “…if I were your Old man, I would never pull that nonsense”

You looked up, to set your eyes over at your neighbor Wilmer Lloyd, sitting across from you in his pajamas. A spritely gentleman in his late seventies, Lloyd was the friend, who in time became the father figure you wished you had.

Amused by his temper filled response, You chuckled with disbelief:

“Mr. Lloyd, your daughter had to move to another city, cause you didn’t like the fella she wanted to marry” you replied, “No need for the unnecessary kindness” adding with a smile, you proceeded to take a sip of the hot beverage.

“What kindness? she is no good kid like you. She married a goon*! ” Lloyd responded in defense, leaning forward with conviction, “While your Pops is just mad cause you’re trying to be a Secretary”

“I bet you a Lincoln* that my folks rather have me marry a goon, than have me find my own way of living” you said, gulping down the rest of the tea.

“Don’t jinx it, kid” the old man grunted, his index finger pointed right at you, “I don’t wanna hate you too”

You laughed out loud. Truthfully, you were relieved to have finally did. The room felt too depressing for too long.

“Alright, kid. I’m beat” the old man sighed, pushing himself up to stand with a grunt. “Goodnight, Mr.Lloyd” You stood alongside him. The two parted ways, with you making your way over to the kitchen, and your neighbor making his way out. As if it was so habitual. For a daily chat with old Wilmer Lloyd, was indeed habitual.

Your first proper encounter with Lloyd was a special one. It was only a few months ago that you moved into Chicago. Stressful work shifts and lack of friends led to an eventual emotional breakdown one fine evening. A seemingly noticeable one, which caused the usually moody Lloyd to peep through his door, only to find you bawling your eyes out in the hallway. The sight of you kneeling before your apartment door in tears, was more than enough for his cold heart to melt, and to voice his concern. All while he helped you gather the groceries that had fallen out of your brown paper bag.

“We all gotta start somewhere, kid”

That phrase of comfort, was the invisible handkerchief that wiped your tears that day. And as you rinsed the tea cup, that phrase managed to return to your consciousness, being an invisible hand to pat you on the shoulder. Closing the tap, you sighed with relief. For you were once again thankful for the good in humanity.

Until the sound of a gunshot attacked your ears.

Clinging on to the sink with a jump, you felt your heart beat out loud, and there was no stopping. Before any was comprehended, a loud groan soon followed, originating from the Hallway. Your eyes widened. Could it be?

“Mr.Lloyd…” you breathed, as your legs finally made you dash towards the door to open. You gasped out loud, the moment you found Wilmer Lloyd sprawled on the floor, shot.

“Oh my god!…” you whispered, kneeling beside him.

But Lloyd lost your attention for a slight second, for you caught the sight of a man disappearing into the right-side stairwell. The sight was quick and blurry, yet it was evident he was armed. And one particular color was prominent as he left.

The groan repeated, forcing you to focus on Lloyd once again. Which was most important.

“A-are you alright?” A meek inquiry was all that you could do.

“WHAT DOES IT LOOK LIKE, KID?” The old man answered in pain, shifting. Slight relief washed over you, when you noticed he was only shot in the arm. Perhaps it was your heartbeat, or a new set of pounding footsteps nearby. Either way, the sounds grew louder from the left.

“Freeze! Chicago Police-” A voice, a male voice cried out, only to pause, causing you to look over, only to freeze.

Lowering his pistol, a well dressed man stood, surrounded by two others. All in suits and fedoras, and all seemingly alarmed by the sight of you and Lloyd.

“Is he alright, Ma’am?” The first man inquired. “I’m fine. Jesus!” Lloyd responded with annoyance. The man nodded with acknowledgement. Although there was slight embarrassment in the his face, you were simply too distracted by the cool nature of his voice.

“I know this is the wrong time but…” the man uttered, “…but did you see-”

“The shooter? ” you began all the sudden, “…in a navy blue coat? He went that way” pointing towards the right, you added. The muscles of the man’s tensed face relieved.

“Thank you, ma’am…” he breathed, before making a dash, “Boys! Take this man to the hospital” his commanding voice trailed behind him, indicating Lloyd. All before he himself disappeared into the stairwell.

And to your luck, the two able bodied youngsters knelt over the old man to do the needful. “The bullet is still inside. He’s gonna be alright, ma’am”

“Thank god! You heard him, Mr.Lloyd” you said, “Let’s go”

“Eh…” Lloyd muttered, holding the wound whilst being carried, “Not that I’m overjoyed about getting shot, but I gotta say I’m more than happy to know I’m not gonna die tonight” he grunted. To which you finally smiled behind him:

“Not in a million years…”

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

The sound of loud sirens shattered your trail of reminiscence. Sirens, you gasped. For they suddenly brought you worry. Was he in trouble already?

Parting from the pen and paper, your hands pushed you to rise and scurry towards the window. Except you merely saw a youngster getting his ear pulled by an angry policeman, for fiddling with the police car siren.

You clutched your chest, sighing with relief to see. The fact that daylight yet reigned supreme was also sufficient evidence for you to rationalize your new-found relief. He was safe, wherever he was.

Returning to the desk, you picked up the pen. Glancing at it with affection, you proceeded to write once more:

Because of the accident that night, I found myself meeting a man who fascinated me instantly. So , you could understand how frustrated I was when I couldn’t even thank him.

You smirked upon those words. Not soon before you continued writing:

But then again, who knew I would have the actual luck to see him again two days later? At a place where I least expected. All thanks to a Bad Customer.

Akin to a Moving Picture, or a Talkie*, that very moment began to project into your memory. All the while your index finger managed to twirl a piece of your hair with nostalgia.

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

“Apparently it was just some low level goon. Well, at least that’s what the Police told Mr.Lloyd…when they took his statement. But I don’t buy it, no. Why would those Federal Agents be there if it was?…”

You said, tying up the white, cotton waist apron over your baby blue waitress uniform.

“Goodness! I really wouldn’t know what I would have done if I were you, Sweetpea” Cathy, your best friend replied while she followed suite.

Once the hair was fixed, the two of you headed to the kitchen, “Everyone! Look who’s changed her shift!” Cathy cried out, urging the other employees at the Diner to focus on you. There were cheers, bringing out the brightest smile in you. It was official.

Living with the Great Depression which has affected all, you were grateful even for the employment at a Diner in the city. A temp job, as you called it yourself. Until that very morning, you were assigned to the later shift and spent several weeks parted from Cathy. Fortunately, upon your boss’ satisfaction, you were finally offered the shift you always wished for: The morning shift.

You graciously used the first hour that morning for familiarization, which mainly included the customers. And that was indeed the part that fascinated you. For the customers were diverse with each shift. And the mornings were mostly welcomed by blue collar workers.

“Cathy! They’re waiting for the pancakes”  “Oh! Shoot! I’m on it”

Listening to Cathy’s response in the background, you shook your head with amusement. You watched your friend waltz over to the eagerly waiting booth. But only before you made your way to the corner of the Diner counter.

“Can I help you, Sir?” A well rehearsed phrase exited your painted lips with politeness. A young man was the current owner to the corner seat. “A refill” the blonde haired drawled, indicating his empty, white mug on the counter. “Right away” “Thanks, Sweetheart” he replied, whilst the sound of the black coffee being poured, filled your ears. A group of eyes watched you from another corner. It was certain. And sure enough, your stealthy eyes caught the sight of some men sat across the diner. All sniggering. “Ya know…” the Blondie continued as he leaned forward, “my boys over there…” he indicated the suspicious group, “…they don’t believe me but, I think you’re one fine girl, sweeter than sugar” he said, flashing a flirtatious smile. “Oh, really?” You inquired with a polite chuckle. “Cross my heart, I hope to die” He was handsome, yes. But he was the handsome you never wanted. The type of handsome that could also break your heart. Besides, his attempt of seduction was misdirected, “So…um…” leaning closer, he began to whisper, “Care to help me prove the boys wrong? Like with a date? Or even a kiss? ” He inquired, his suggestive eyebrows being quite evident.

Oh, that fool, you thought. If you were at liberty to throw your head back in laughter, you would without any hesitation. Yet, it would not be appropriate.

“Ah! I’m sorry Sir, but I’m working” you replied.

“Aww come on!” He groaned, to which you shook your head and took a step back.

“Sorry Sir-Ah!” Except he grabbed you tight by the wrist. And displeasure was the mask he wore.

“Hey now, is that the way you treat your regulars here?” He inquired, increasing volume. Confused and very violated, your heart rate began to speed up. You sensed a threat.

“Let go, Sir!” You muttered in desperate politeness. Yet he did not.

“Why?” He sniggered, amidst your struggle to break free, “Whatcha gonna do, sugar?”

“I believe the lady asked you to let go”

That voice. A voice you could identify. A voice that forced you and Blondie to turn heads. Your eyes widened. Dressed smart and completed with his Fedora, the FBI agent from two nights ago stood before you both. Authoritative yet graceful, he sighed: “Pardon me for intruding, but I know a Regular won’t harass a waitress this way” he said in a casual tone, to which Blondie stood up:  “Yeah?” He snarled, offended, “How would YOU know about being Regulars, smart ass?” “Cause I am one” The Agent answered, before missing Blondie’s surprise punch, only to twist his arm within seconds.

Cries of pain erupted from the young man’s lips, until he was pulled close by the agent. You watched him whisper some words to Blondie’s ear, all before he finally released him. Confidence was nowhere nearby when the blonde man stashed some cash onto the counter, and stumbled towards his group of boys with fear.

You suddenly heard Cathy’s sigh of relief nearby:  “Oh, Thank god you’re here, Mr.Purvis” She said to the Agent, “You just saved my friend” she motioned towards you.

Finally you had the liberty to observe him. Tall and lean with sharp facial features, he possessed the handsome that comforted you. The handsome that formed potential in you. The handsome that attracted you. Sitting on the now empty seat, he flashed you a cool smile: “Melvin Purvis” he said, “I believe we haven’t had the pleasure…” It seemed he did remember you. You smiled back. “No, we haven’t…” you replied with softness, as you held up the pot, “Coffee?”

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

And who knew the man that fascinated me, would be you?

I am not ashamed to say, I was over the moon to see you again, Mel. Seeing you for only a few seconds in the hallway, clearly wasn’t enough for me. I was greedy. So greedy I was afraid to admit. But the moment I realized that corner seat in the counter was your usual spot, I knew my greed was not in vain. I was greedy, to get to know someone so badly. So, when you saved me from Blondie, you also saved yourself a spot in my heart. I just didn’t know it at that moment.

But I do remember when I finally did.

When one serves a regular customer long enough, certain facts become known. Be it their usual breakfast order, their favorite beverage, or the guilty pleasure one indulges once in a while. But apart from that, conversation comes into play as well.

I don’t think you knew how happy you made me every time we talked, even while you had your Eggs and Toast. Whatever it was, I enjoyed them all. All topics, from about the mouthy janitor, to the famous FBI cases, which were solved or ongoing. But I was also happy when you also had the time for me, to know about my crazy stories about customers in the late shift, or even just about myself. Which surprised me the most.

You finally became aware of the smile you wore throughout writing. Though you managed to relax your facial muscles, the smile remained at default. Thus, you kept on with your words:

Mel, you made me look forward to work everyday. And that was one huge favor. Waitressing was never this girl’s dream. Another job was. And you know what.

“I know…” you remember saying, as you wiped the Diner counter, “Secretary, A Nice Office…Even my own folks think it’s a silly dream for a girl like me-”

“That doesn’t mean its your truth” Mel, your calm, unfazed reply, those words shook me. You were right. You made me feel braver. You made me want to work harder. You made me feel like anything was possible. And that was when, I finally saw that special spot you had in my heart. Oh Mel, it felt like an earthquake in here. I was affected. I couldn’t even sleep that night. Cause that spot of yours made me realize, I had fallen for you. Fallen in love with you.

Placing your left palm over your chest, it did not take you long to relive that magical feeling whilst you wrote:

Suddenly, I couldn’t look you in the eye anymore. And I’m sorry for that. I may have looked busy with customers for some days, but that was me struggling. I was at a war with myself. A constant battle with my eyes to not care for you more, a battle with my lips to not tell you, how much I pined for you.

But as you remember, I finally did.

And the morning when you did, felt to be a landmark of your bravery.

Upon serving his breakfast, you retreated to the kitchen with haste. The fact you did not even acknowledge Melvin’s usual “Thank you” proved strangeness. Generally, when employees were seen standing at the back entrance of the Diner, one would expect them to be occupied with a personal matter, or even have a smoke break. Except, you simply longed for a break from him.

Seeing Purvis was torture. And that morning felt more torturous than ever. Your desire for him multiplied with every single visit.

Rubbing your forearms to fight off the spring chill, You took a deep breath. What was that you feared? Confessing your feelings? Or the mere possibility of being refused?

“What are you doing? Out here in the cold?” You gasped, looking up to find Melvin standing before you.

“I-” you paused, as Melvin took off his long coat, and slung it over your shoulder with no hesitation. A warmth protected you all the sudden. Was it the coat? Or was it him?

“Are you unwell?” He inquired. You shook your head, not taking too long to finally settle your eyes on his. And there it was: the speeding pulse, the torture, the multiplication of desire. Eyes growing wider with concern upon your speechless look, Melvin shot glances at both directions with stealth: “Is anyone bothering y-”

Only to be intruded by your lips pressed against his.

Oh, Mel! What did you do to me?

With a deep shudder, you kept writing: Why did your lips taste like the sweetest pie in all the world? I’m sorry if my ink turns messy here. It’s just that thinking about it, I just hope my heart won’t burst and bleed. Tasting that sweetness, I was ready to risk it all. Ready to accept the worst fear to come true.

You had a fair point. Especially when his lips remained unmoved throughout your kiss. Which forced you to move back quick, and blush with embarrassment: “I-I’m sorry…” you blurted, struggling with one’s movements as you handed over his coat back and turned to leave.  “No! please…” Melvin breathed, stopping you with his hand on your shoulder, “I’m sorry…” he stressed, “I suppose I was just caught by surprise” with a chuckle soon after. “Believe me, it wasn’t planned” you chuckled alongside him, relaxing a little. “Although I was hoping…” he began, “If I could take you to dinner one night…” Your eyes widened, but your heart bloomed.

But life was kind enough to gift me a date instead. A date with the best man I know.

“Yes! You can…” you answered immediately, “And please…no need to call me Ma’am anymore, Mr. Purvis” you smiled. To which he smiled back with a hint of mischief, which seemed surprising for the 30 year old Agent:

“Then, there’s no need to call me Mr. Purvis anymore either”

A date that I had always dreamt about. Not with a boy, but with a real gentleman. It had come true. Were you reading my thoughts this entire time?

Bashful giggles erupted from your lips upon writing. It was a date to remember :The fancy restaurant, the fine dining, the stimulating conversation basked in soft jazz and candlelight. Watching and taking in every fine line that adorned his beautiful, statuesque face brought you pride.

Sitting with you, getting lost in our own world, it was no doubt that I was the luckiest woman in the entire restaurant that night.

“I had a wonderful time, Mel. Thank you” Your words were enveloped with warmth and sincerity.

It was late, and Melvin had brought you back home like the gentleman he was. Opening the car door for you, he surprised you with just a smile, no other reply. Which forced you to raise your eyebrows, evidently confused. Could it be that he did not share the exact sentiments as you? Were you not the woman he hoped for by the end of the night? Insecurity began to bubble up within.

“What?” You inquired with a nervous chuckle, “All night you were yapping away, but now suddenly cat got your tongu-”

He gently pushed you against the car. Just so his gracious hands could cup your face, and just so he could plant his lips on yours.

And I was also the luckiest woman in the neighborhood, when you finally kissed me right back.

Sweetness infused with softness, you needed not permission to be fueled with greed at last. For greed finally permitted you to wrap one’s arms around his neck, only to pull him closer. Those lips of his, they had tempted you from the very first moment. And when they finally voluntarily expressed their affection, you were more than ecstatic.

Mel, your kisses were magic. They made me wish if I had all the power in the world to slow down time.

And I felt the very same, when we finally made love that night.

That night, that mere memory. You would be lying if it did not manage to send chills down your spine.

Invitation for a nightcap was your only shameless excuse. For not a single cell of your being, wanted him to leave your sight. Not when he had lit up a flame of desire in you, a few minutes prior. You silently cursed all the passerby’s who forced you both to pull away from the kisses. The kisses that he started by the car. But what could you do? You were surrendered to the laws of love.

Thus, the mere act of turning on the Crosley* Radio, became an involuntary act of seduction. Rudy Vallee’s “If I had a Girl like You*” filtering out from the speakers, gave life to the entire apartment. And it did ever the same to you, tempting you to sway your body from side to side. But your body felt so much vigor, when Melvin gave up on patience, only to hold you by the waist, spin you around just so his hungry lips could taste yours once again.

Melvin kissed you, and you kissed him. Slow, articulate, these lips were making up for every day they did not touch one another. All those days full of remorse.

Thus, began a dance between the two lovers. Heated, passionate. A dance consisting of choreography that had existed within all of mankind. Did not matter if it was carrying you bridal style to the bed, or placing you on to the bed without a sound much louder than a mattress squeak, either way, Melvin’s presence exuded safety.

Pleasure and excitement were in a fiery alliance when you savored shedding every piece of clothing off his torso. Never once did you think seeing many layers would bring you so much arousal. Especially when his eyes had nowhere else to look but at you during. His eyes, they burned with desire. And you would be unfaithful to your honesty if you denied the loins that burned within you as a result. For it was evident how much you longed for him. How the hunger led you to provide him the attention he truly deserved with your touch and kisses.

Dressed, he was smart, authoritative. Undressed, he was god-like. And to hear his soft moans amidst your attention was a gift. A gift that aroused you further. Yet before your eager hands could fondle his hardened shaft, he flipped you with impatience to focus on you instead. His kisses were other-worldly, making sweet contact on your soft, naked skin, creating waves of untold pleasure whenever he peeled off each piece of lingerie. Naked you may have been finally, yet you were more than ecstatic with the new outfit you wore: him. The infusion of soft music, sounds of lovers moans and kisses while the bedsheets rustled, were indeed sweeter than nectar. Tantalizing enough for him to finally enter you. Arousing enough for you to accept him. Resulting in unity, love making, deeming soft as the moonlight that shone into the bedroom. Soft, yet impactful that every second remained carved in your mind fresh, like it was yesterday.

Oh Mel, how did your touch made me weak, but gave me power at the same time? How did you make every second of it worthwhile?

You wrote with a sigh, blushes occupying your cheeks. Not before you cleaned up your ink stained fingers, caused by your thoughts of pure distraction.

Why did you get me addicted to your loving? But most importantly, why were you the perfection I dreamt of all along?

Breathless, you would be lying if it did not take you a while to regain your senses. Re-reading the previous sentence written, you proceeded to give the letter further life:  

After that night, I wanted shout out loud from the rooftops full of happiness, I wanted to tell the entire city, no! The entire world of my blessing: My blessing to have a wonderful man like you, Mel.

The simple truth: that was all that it was. And not long since you and Melvin had gotten together, life was suddenly drizzled with an extra dose of joy. An extra dose of encouragement and hope. Work went better for the both of you. Even Mr. Lloyd managed to re-meet him, but this time with more familiarity and respect. Given his interaction with the Agent, it was evident the the older man had offered his blessing and approval, which meant more to you than anything.

Since then my life was bliss, Mel. With you by my side, I knew I could take on anything.

Except, you drew in a sharp breath with a heavy heart.

All until J Edgar Hoover declared those fateful words to America: War on Crime. John Dillinger.

The heaviest sigh left your pursed lips. For a surge of concern was powerful enough to consume you.

Believe me, Mel. Seeing you get promoted to Special Agent in Charge of the Chicago Field Office, it brought me nothing but joy. Seeing you in the papers, I was the most proud anywhere I went. But with that pride, and with that joy, I was also afraid. How could I not be, when you were assigned to catch Dillinger, Public Enemy No. 1?

How could I not think of the risk you had on your life? So afraid for you that it didn’t strike with me that we didn’t see each other for so long after.

Though you were out of sighs, your heart remained heavy with the thought. It was true, soon after his men’s lives were affected by Dillinger and his gang, Melvin did not set foot in your apartment nor in your neighborhood. And surprisingly, you did not feel betrayed. Not one bit.

When you phoned me that one time, I could tell in your voice. I could tell the weight you had on your shoulders. The burden, the responsibility, the guilt.

And to me, it didn’t matter I couldn’t see you everyday anymore. It didn’t matter that I had a hard time missing you or thinking about you. Be it at the diner, the streets, the park, the living room and the bedroom. It didn’t matter to me that I had to pretend my life had nothing to do with yours. All I wanted was for this nightmare to end: to stop the unnecessary deaths of innocent lives. All I wanted was for you to be safe. And I knew you could do it all. Without complicating things.

Thus, when someone knocked on your door a few hours ago today, your fear was justified. You remembered standing by the door, arms folded, only to feel your heart beat out of your chest. And when those loud, rapid knocks attacked the wooden door, you could not help but wonder: Could it possibly be one of Dillinger’s men? Another shooter perhaps? Were they aware of Melvin’s connection with you? Were you about to be leverage?

But to your surprise, you opened the door regardless. Clutching your chest, you could only gasp.

But I never thought you’d suddenly come crashing in this afternoon.

For there stood Melvin Purvis, Fedora at hand, heavy panting accompanied.

Never so soon.

“You were not at the Diner” he said in a hoarse tone, still panting. “I-I took a day off” you answered, with wide eyes,“Mel…” you gulped, taking a step forward “What’s wron-” To which he could only reply with rough kisses, slamming the door shut behind him.

And being in his arms again after possibly endless days and nights, you were certain you did not wish to be anywhere else.

It was as if fate urged me to stay home today, just so I wouldn’t miss your hungry kisses. Just so I wouldn’t miss your love. Something I craved for what felt like forever.

Longing translated into desperate kisses, where tongues wrestled in haste. And passionate lovemaking rushed in soon after. The type of passionate, that demanded every item of clothing make quick stops in different parts of the apartment, only to lead a trail to the bed. The type of passionate, that had his eager hands wander over your naked back, before palming your heaving breasts with impatience. All the while you straddled him, with your hips rolling against his. The type of passionate, that tempted you to gaze into his shining eyes. For they spoke to you, even in silence. How he treasured you, how he savored you, his eyes said it all. And with your responding kiss brimming with moans and emotion, you acknowledged his silent confession, you satisfied his hunger, and accepted his peak of pleasure. All until a new climax was reached together, before collapsing on to the bed with exhaustion.

“Mel…” you panted, sweat further infusing with his, “You still didn’t tell me what’s going on…”

It was only a few minutes later, did Melvin began to speak. Only then were you able to find out about the mission that would happen tonight. The mission to finally catch Dillinger. And as if the floodgates just opened, he kept talking. And all you could do was nod, as he continued to cradle you in his arms.

Little did I know, you came to me in possibly the most fateful day ever.

“You think it will work? The plan?” You inquired, soft. His responsive hum vibrated in his chest. “The source is solid…” he replied, “So…we’re betting on it”

Lifting your head up, you looked at him. Truthfully you could not help but feel sorry. There was a hint of exhaustion in his tone. How far did this man go to make this mission a reality? How many men were sacrificed in the process? Death of many men including Carter Baum, his own partner. Feeling useless, you knew you could only offer him a reassuring soft smile:

“Then it will…” you murmured, placing a chaste kiss on his forehead. His skin seemed magnetic to your lips, causing you to proceed with more kisses. Over his eyebrows, bridge of his nose, and finally his lips, the best place of all. With another greedy peck, you pulled yourself away and sat up. With the afternoon breeze playfully caressing your exposed frame, you were tempted to reach out and grab your silk robe tossed on the edge of the bed, which you did.

“I hope you know I couldn’t risk seeing you, with Dillinger’s men on the loose”

Melvin began. Looking back, you nodded with nonchalance. “Of course…” Wrapping the robe around, your answer was as casual as taking a diner order, “I understand” you added meek, looking down at the knot.

“But…that doesn’t mean I was never here”

You froze. With wide eyes, you looked up at his sitting frame. “What do you mean?” You blurted. Only to gasp, “You-w-were you-?”

Melvin nodded, “Every night around bedtime, from the street…looking at THAT window…” he said, indicating the very window in your bedroom. If only you could just tell him how your heart just began to melt after possibly weeks. If only you were capable of an embrace that told every fiber of his being how moved you were by him. Melvin sighed, running his fingers through his hair:

“I just had to make sure you were safe…” he said, “But today, I…” he paused, “I couldn’t stay away”

“And neither should you…” you replied in an instant, cupping his face, “….you’re only human” you continued with a sigh, “It’s been too long, Mel” your voice grew softer, “ And I missed you” uttering weakly, you proceeded to press your forehead against his. And like that, you both stayed, indulging in the silence with the most innocent physical contact possible.

“This mission…” Melvin began, his warm breath falling on your face, “If I make it out alive-” “Mel, you WILL make it out aliv-” you breathed, before he placed his fingers over your lips.

“If I make it…I’m yours”

He whispered, forcing you to freeze once again. Overwhelming emotion seemed to have frozen you with disbelief, when his sharp features unveiled the softest smile, “As a man, I want to do what’s right for the people” he said, holding your chin, “ I want do what’s right for my heart. And I wanna do it all with you, by my side, always”

And in the blink of an eye, you left through that door, hours before our lives could possibly change forever.

No wonder you made love to me, as if it was your last.

Sniffing, you placed a loving kiss on the pen. For it was the pen Melvin once gifted you with. The pen he hoped you would use when you finally become a secretary. And it did not take long for you to wipe the tears that streamed down your cheeks in silence. What will happen tonight, at the Biograph Theater will end in either two ways. And all you could do was to pray for one in particular. Pray for the one you desperately needed. With another final sniff, you continued to write, until you found yourself finally finishing off the letter you never imagined yourself writing. You wrote your heart out, which left you no regrets:

Before I end this letter, I want to ask you a question.

Do you remember when I was helping you put your tie back on, minutes before you left?

When I did, I felt something. Something warm, something nice. And I won’t lie, I enjoyed it. Cause in the end, it gave me the feeling you always gave me from the moment I met you: Hope. But today, that hope was also protected by a layer of love. A strong layer. To be able to put your tie on possibly every day, would be an honor I’d wear like a badge for life.

Mel, you WILL make it out alive. You and your men, you WILL get it done. Because this letter will be waiting for you. Because I will be waiting for you.

Ready to have more hope, ready to do more good, ready to live our truth, by your side, always.

With love,

Yours forever…

——————————————————

Glossary of 1930′s Terms/Slang Bumping Gums* - 1930’s Slang for “Talk about nothing useful” Blues in my Heart* - Jazz song by Chick Webb and his Orchestra recorded in 1931 Goon*- 1930’s Slang for thug or bodyguard Lincoln*- 1930’s Slang for $5 bill Talkies*- 1930’s Slang for Movies Crosley*- A Radio Brand famous in the 1930’s If I had a girl like you*- Jazz song by Rudy Vallee, recorded in 1930

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fallout-drabbles-n-stuff · 3 years

Note

Companions and how they celebrate birthdays(whether theirs, the Sole Survivors, etc)(+Maxson)? *My birthday is coming up on July 31 so ye.*

(I feel like celebrating their own birthday might get a little depressing with our more edgy companions *cough* X6 *cough* so I'll give you them celebrating sole's! These are more on the platonic side but if anyone wants romantic, just send an ask!)

Cait:

•As one could probably guess, Cait isn't exactly equipped to throw some extravagant birthday bash. She wouldn't even know where to start. Plus as bad as it might sound, unless she's particularly close to you, she may even feel a little weird trying to do anything for you.

•Now that that's out the way- Cait would do simple things to celebrate. Maybe share a couple halfway decent beers with you, have some laughs..maybe go out and terrorize the town with some light hearted trouble making if you'd up to it.

•If you're especially close, she'll do her best to get her hands on a little gift for you. Most likely a new knife.

Curie:

•She does her level best to put together some type of gift basket- including stimpacks, hub flowers, low-radiation snacks, and a sweet little heartfelt handwritten note (granted she's a synth)

•Would try to get some of your friends together for a "party", taking extra careful precautions not to let those who want to rip each other's eyes out mingle.

Danse:

•He'll try his best to make it special, no matter how silly it is.

•If it's pre-Blind Betrayal, he'll wake up extra specially early and grab you an actual hot breakfast from the mess hall, maybe even throwing in a fancy lad snack cake as a makeshift birthday cake. He won't sing happy birthday for you though, but hey, he will let you skip out on morning training exercises.

•Now if it's post-Blind Betrayal, the snack cakes are still on the table but no mess hall breakfast. Seriously though, Danse with his newfound time to spend would spruce up your power armour and maybe a couple of guns if he knows you wouldn't mind.

Deacon:

•HQ party? Oh yeah. Expect everyone to be forced into wearing stupid, vibrant birthday hats handmade by Deacon himself. How he even knew it was your birthday is yet another one of Deacon's mysteries.

•Anyways- He genuinely wants you to know that you're appreciated, and doing so on your birthday just seems fitting. Even if he does so by dancing around like an idiot with a terribly beaten up piñata so you laugh.

Gage:

•Tries not to "overdo" it, seeing as these types of things were pretty much alien to him. Think about it- you think raiders throw birthday parties? Even if they do, it's probably not the traditional party a pre-war vaulter would vibe with, even the overboss.

•He'd celebrate with just the two of you up in Fizztop, two chairs pulled up to the balcony so you can view the little raider kingdom you've established.

•Might even sing you happy birthday if he's in a particularly good mood, chuckling the entire time through it before taking a nice long drag of a cigarette to hopefully deter you from noticing the blush on his face.

•It might not be much, but his company and maybe a couple ice cold colas is hopefully enough.

Hancock:

•Oh, he's making a big deal out it.

•Makes sure to decorate the Old Statehouse, invite some of your friends over, shit- he might even get some fireworks if you don't mind him being a little "extra"

•You're a very important person to Hancock and Hancock treats important people in his life well. Expect a party like none other and quite possibly little gifts from the inhabitants of Goodneighbor that know you well, including your very own "Happy Birthday" sung by Magnolia.

•Will dance with you if you're up to it.

Macready:

•Believe it or not, he's right up there with Hancock when it comes to enthusiasm for celebrating. Sure, he may not have a whole big place to decorate and throw a party but..hey, he does his damn best. Birthdays have always been fun for Mac, ever since Little Lamplight.

•It may be a little crappy, but he'll hand make little decorations and stuff for your home in Sanctuary- put together a little buffet of both your fave snacks and pig out.

•Later on, and only if you're up for it, Mac might just show his more childish side and propose making a "birthday blanket fort".

Maxson:

•I hope you know that it's not just Arthur celebrating- bastard made sure to go behind your back to the proctors and Captain Kells to orchestrate a little surprise party for you.

•It may not be an overly done up party, but you'll get the privilege of the Elder singing for you and an alarmingly eloquent birthday letter from said elder after all the other officers return to their stations.

•If you have no other duties to tend to (which you won't because he said so) Arthur will then proceed to invite you to his quarters for drinks and maybe a game or two of chess...which somehow turns to him bringing you on a vertibird joyride.

Nick:

•He's actually hella fun.

•He manages to set up this elaborate birthday themed scavenger hunt, leaving clues with your friends so everyone gets to be involved. Each individual clue leads you to small presents he managed to acquire until finally you find yourself where he put the actual party together at.

Piper:

•Just to be a little different, Piper decided to gift you a recording of her and Nat singing "Happy Birthday, Blue!" Perhaps secretly hoping it would take place of the heart wrenching "Hi Honey!" tape you seemed to painfully play every once in a while.

•In any other news, Piper would also be happy to put together a little get together for you and the rest of your companions so everyone can celebrate together.

Preston:

•The entirety of the Minutemen are going to be celebrating. Think Hancock can throw some parties? You oughta see how these people get down. Expect a whole bonfire party, violin playing with dancers, and the finest wasteland chow (which probably is halfway edible) If you don't reign them back, they might start firing artillery rounds in stead of fireworks.

X6-88:

•It's probably a strange celebration idea but..X6 isn't exactly savvy to what most people do for their birthdays seeing as The Institute doesn't celebrate synths’...much less treat them as humans.

•Through his job, X6 has seen some of the most impressive sights the Commonwealth can offer- so to commemorate your birthday, he decided to take you around and see them all.

(And a happy early birthday to you! Hope it’s a good one ❤️)

#fallout 4 #fallout #paladin danse #fo4 companions #fallout companions #danse #elder maxson #curie #porter gage #deacon #x6 88 #cait #hancock #nick valentine #arthur maxson #brotherhood of steel #macready

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obeiii-mee · 4 years

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Hi there! Im back, tysm for doing my HC ;;/ it was super cute, i really liked Mammons and Satans!! If you dont mind if i ask for another? Hdjsks Recently, i slipped while walking home with some pals and scrapped my knee. It wasnt too bad, but it sure looked bad lmao If you can could you do HCs for the boys reacting to MC slipping and scrapping there knee while walking w them? Im sure Mammon would have a heart attack hfjd Tysm!! Keep up the good work♡

Thank you so much! I hope your knee gets better and that it wasn’t too painful! The brothers would all be panicking in their own way but I agree, Mammon would faint or something lmao.

Hope this was OK.

————————————

The Brothers with an MC who fell and scraped their knee:

Lucifer:

-It was a miracle you managed to convince him to come out on a walk with you at all

-The man doesn’t know when to take a break from his work

-He’s more likely to accept if it’s you asking tho, he has an obvious soft spot for you

-The others call him a suck up behind his back because of it

-You were so happy that you managed to pry Lucifer away from his desk, you were basically skipping alongside him

-Long story short, you tripped over your own two feet and fell

-Luckily, your knees and palms were the only things that got a bit scruffy

-Well, actually your right knee looked as if someone tried removing your entire knee cap with a scalpel, skin and all but adrenaline was kicking in and you couldn’t feel much

-You’ve never seen Lucifer freeze the way he did then

-His mind just drew a blank

-You were about to shrug it off and call it a day, get up and continue your walk but daddy Lucifer can’t have that

-He has six younger brothers (and a younger sister at some point) he is pretty experienced when it comes to treating injuries

-You aren’t walking for the rest of the day, let me make this clear

-He will carry you back to the House of Lamentation no matter how much you protest

-In case it wasn’t obvious already, Lucifer gives off massive dad vibes and now he’s bandaging your leg while you’re laying down on his bed

-While the rest of the brothers watch the two of you from behind the door frame because they are all equally worried

-Get ready for the three hour lecture coming your way

-He’s pissed and amused at the same time tbh

-Silly human, falling over like that and hurting themselves

-Lord Diavolo forbid you try to get out of that bed, he will drag you back and make sure you stay there until your knee is better (kinky)

Mammon:

-He was on his merry way to the casino to blow off all of Lucifer’s money and you tagged along solely for the purpose of making sure he didn’t spend all of Lucifer’s money

-You’d both be done for if he did

-But I guess fate really had it out for you on that day since your foot slipped on....something and you tripped

-Both of your knees looked bloody and damaged as hell but you were more irritated than anything

-Mammon on the other hand did a fucking double take and almost passed out

-He screeched his lungs out

-One look at your injured knees and he was ready to drag you all the way to the human realm on foot to find you a doctor

-“MC ARE YOU OK WHY THE FUCK IS THERE SO MUCH BLOO-HOLY SHIT STAY STILL DON’T MOVE! THE GREAT MAMMON WILL FIX THIS...SOMEHOW.”

-It was very dramatic, he cried

-You stood up to prove that you were alright because you thought he was going to have a seizure soon enough

-OK, that helped him calm down a little

-At least now he knew your legs weren’t about to get torn off and you weren’t on the verge of death

-Fuck the casino, you were going home

-Like Lucifer, don’t expect you will walk home by yourself

-He will carry you, a bit embarrassed by his initial freak out but still eyeing your wound, concerned

-As soon as you get home and the other brothers help you out because he’s shit at bandaging, he just sits in his own pool of misery and guilt

-Your poor knees wouldn’t be so jacked up if you hadn’t come along with him today

-He was so determined to make it up to you, he stayed by your bedside like a loyal puppy with a wagging tail (flashback to the animal event)

-Overall, he almost went into cardiac arrest and was too panicked to realise you were fine

-You thought he was smothering and overprotective before? Good luck for the rest of the week

Levi:

-“See, this is why I don’t like going out. There’s always some normie laying on the groun- OH MY LORD DIAVOLO, MC IS THAT YOU?? ARE YOU OK?”

-HIS HENRY ALMOST DIED ON THE NEWLY POLISHED FLOOR OF AN ANIME CONVENTION, HE HAS VERY MIXED EMOTIONS

-You fell knees first and hurt them quiet badly but you could stand, even if the pain made you twitch a little

-This confused Levi because you looked fine even though your knees certainly didn’t

-You told him you felt alright and it wasn’t that big of a deal and he absolutely rolled with it

-But you guys still went home after that

-He said it was because you bled all over your cosplay but that’s just him being a tsundere

-Levi is usually very shy when it comes to physical contact but he firmly insisted that he help you walk home

-I mean, he knows you said you were feeling OK and maybe humans just have a lot of tolerance for injuries like that

-But he still felt it was necessary that he took you home and checked out your injuries

-He kept the mood light while disinfecting you’re wound with some help from Satan by talking about how the convention went

-High low-key relieved seeing you walk around like normal two minutes after that

-He started bitching to you about how you made him miss his the event but he didn’t mean any of it

-“Stupid normie, making me miss my favourite Ruri-chan event. You’re lucky I love you and think you’re cute....did I just say that out loud??”

Satan:

-Oh dear, why would you go out for a walk in the middle of a rainstorm? What were you thinking?

-Actually, it was Satan’s idea

-He may be a demon and the prince of Wrath no less, but he is such a sappy, cheesy bastard at times

-He definitely thinks that walking and kissing in the rain is very romantic (bet he read something like that in an erotica)

-You know what’s not romantic blondie? Slipping on a very small puddle and potentially fracturing your leg

-It was just a scraped knee but you were frustrated enough to be extra

-He’s helping you up before you even have the chance to realise you fell in the first place

-Your knee was looking pretty bad so you guys went home just to avoid any further casualties

-He’s actually chuckling all the way back while you playfully glare at him because how dare he laugh at your misery?

-Date night was ruined but at least he got to take care of you

-He knew your knee must have hurt and he felt bad but he couldn’t help but giggle a bit to himself because your fall was so comical

-Ah but he does enjoy fussing over you for the rest of the night a bit too much

Asmo:

-You thought Mammon was melodramatic?

-Take a look at this fucking guy

-He actually screeches even louder than his brother and probably falls to his knees too (but not really because those pants were expensive)

-His screams definitely got the attention of at least 10 random passerbyers

-He’s actually on the verge of crying

-I mean, can you blame him?? Look at your beautiful knees!! They were ruined

-He felt so bad for you, he actually babied the hell out of you that day

-“Asmo, it’s fine. It’s just a scrap.”

-“A SCRAP, MC IT LOOKS LIKE YOUR KNEE IS ABOUT TO FALL OFF YOUR POOR SKIN-“

-It was just a scrap but Asmo’s secret talent is being extra as fuck

-He totally spilled all the tea to the rest of the brothers when he got home

-And then he ushered you into his room

-Funnily enough, he’s pretty good with injuries. Not as much as Satan and Lucifer but still

-He pampered you for the next few hours but that image of your skin being all grazed like that will forever haunt him

-How can you not be so bothered by it?? He’d die if he was in your place

-I love Asmo just because of how dramatic he is

Beel:

-Your shoelaces were undone and of course that meant a fun little trip to the floor of Hell’s Kitchen

-Beel didn’t notice you fell at first, he was concentrating on his food and assumed you were next to him

-But then he realised that you weren’t and for a moment he thought you disappeared or something

-Before he turned to find you laying on the floor, curled up because life was pain and you were suffering

-“Are you OK? Or are you just tired? Belphie does that a lot when he’s tired.” Or depressed one might say

-But for real, he’s good at identifying serious wounds and less serious wounds since he’s an athlete

-He can tell your knees were bleeding way more than they should have from just a simple scrap

-He slinged you over his shoulder and carried you, calmly, back home, with a burger still in his hand

-He’s actually really collective and talked to you while cleaning up your injury to take your mind off the pain

-He knows humans are a little more fragile than demons so even though he knows it’s not a big deal, he can’t help but worry

-It’s kinda hard falling around him tho because chances are, he will actually catch you even if he happens to hold something

-He’s sad if you’re sad so please don’t cry he will bandage your scraped knee do you want the last bit of his burger to make you feel better?

-Comfort hugs afterwards!

-Which is awesome because Beel gives out best hugs :)

Belphie:

-Ah yes, another beautiful day at RAD

-Walking alongside with your grumpy and sleepy boyfriend when a random demon bumps into you

-Wel not bumps, more like shoves you so hard you fall down and tear the fabric of your pants

-While the dude shrugs it off and speeds away

-You were a bit pissed off because rude

-But Belphie was fucking fuming

-He felt so offended on your part

-I mean, the nerve of him

-He was tired as shit but he wanted to chase after him and throw hands, possibly fill his pillow with rocks and hit him over the head with it

-He forced himself to focus on you first before hunting the moron down

-He was a bit concerned when he didn’t see you come back up after you fell

-Turns out, you scraped your knee pretty horribly and now you were bleeding all over the floor

-He’s even more quiet than usual as he helps you up and half carries you to your next class

-He starts taking care of your knee in the middle of DevilDom history he doesn’t give a flying fuck

-He’s still furious by the time he gets home and most of his brothers know to leave him be when he makes that scary ass face

-No talk to him

-He angy

-“Does your knee still hurt?”

-“A bit but it’s not-“

-“Come nap with me.”

-“Why?”

-“Naps shall cure your pain.”

-“...”

-“Nah but for real come take a nap with me.”

-Next day at school, the dude from yesterday walks by him and Belphie smashes his head against the wall

-Before walking away as if nothing happened

-I stan protective Belphie

These HCs are really bad but I love them anyway

Al~

#obey me #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me imagines #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me satan #⭐️ requests #☂️ demon brothers #🌸 comfort #💞 Protective Bois

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