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seiyasabi · 4 years ago

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Momma’s Boy

(This is a Yandere Severus Snape x Hufflepuff! Female Reader story :)) Sorry if this is too OOC!

TW: Bullying!, unhealthy feelings!, manipulation!, Mommy kink!, face sitting!, creampie!, Femdom!, consensual sex!, etc..

Please proceed with caution!)

A wide hand smacks his books from his hands, casting everything onto the cobblestone floor. A soft sigh leaves the blach haired man’s mouth, as he slowly looks up from his belongings, to see a smirking Sirius Black.

“Watch where you’re going, Snape-boy,” The four males let out ugly laughs, eyes filled with mockery. Severus says nothing, moving to pick up his things, only to be stopped by James.

“Don’t think that we’ll let you off the hook that easily,” The brunet’s glasses gleam with a dark delight, making the bullied boy gulp in fear, “We’ve seen you creep around that cute hufflepuff- what was her name again?” He pretends to think, allowing a grinning Peter to take over.

“Yeah, you’ve been creeping around that cutie, (Your Name), for far too long. We’ve noticed you following her like a kicked puppy,” Remus shoves Severus into the wall, causing the 6’1 (1.85 m) man to hit it harshly.

“Don’t think we haven’t noticed you telling her lies about us,” Confusion is clear on the tall man’s face, causing all four of them to scoff, “She refuses to hang out with us, because she claims we harass you! That’s not true, is it, Snape-boy?”

“I-well, uhm-”

“I-well, uhm,” James mocks, a knowing grin on his devilish features, “Don’t be nervous, we won’t hurt you.”

“Well, you lot haven’t been too kind to me these past few years,” More scoffs echo off the cobblestone walls, making the tall man feel small.

“That’s not true, and you know it. We’ve been joking around with you, because we’re friends, aren’t we?” Remus reassures condescendingly, “Plus, friends tell friends when they’re wrong. You’re wrong for pursuing (Your Name), because Remus, here,” He slaps the dirty blond man on the back good-naturedly, “Liked her first. So, having you around, writing in your creepy notebooks about her, will no longer be appreciated.”

An angry flush covers Snape’s pale cheeks, “It-it’s not like that! (Your Name) is my friend, please don’t make me-”

“Make you? We never make you do anything. We’re just suggesting you leave her alone, unless you want us to take matters into our own hands.”

Sweat beads on the brow of the black haired man, as he tried to look around for anyone willing to help. No one besides the five of them are in the hall.

“No,” The four raise a collective eyebrow at his disobedience, “No, I won’t stop being friends with (Your Name). I don’t care what you do to me.”

“That’s sweet, really, but I’m going to have to change your mind,” Remus snarls, his hands balling into fists. In a swift motion, the dirty blond man starts to punch at Severus’ face and chest. The tall man doesn’t have time to put his hands up, getting wailed in the head and torso multiple times.

The blond’s friends jump in as well, quickly bringing their victim to the floor. Their kicks and hits are rapid paced, disorienting him relatively quickly. He curls into the fetus position, trying to protect his head, luckily stopping their punches.

His assault continues for a few moments more, before he’s dragged to his feet, and held against the wall by the collar of his shirt, “Are you going to leave her alone now?”

Snape shakes his head, blood dripping down his face, entire body aching, “No, I won’t. I let you lot walk all over me for far too long. We’re in our last year, why are you acting as if we’re first years?”

Remus tightens his grip around his collar, teeth bared like an animal, “That’s the wrong answer.”

The blond raises a fist to punch him once more, only to be stopped by a familiar voice.

“What are you doing?” Your concerned voice rings through the hall, along with your running footsteps. Hurrying up to the group of boys, you start to shove at Remus, trying to break his hold on your close friend (crush), “Let him go! Are you crazy?”

Your friends are seen down the hall, looking at you in both surprise and slight disdain, “(Your Name), stay out of their business. Once they settle it, everything will be fine-”

“You can’t honestly think that I’ll let them hurt Severus! He’s our friend, and-”

“Stop standing up for him, he’s a total creep. The Marauders are doing you a favour-” You block out what your friends are saying, continuing to push at the blond’s hands.

“Stop it, Remus! Just leave him alone!” He quickly pulls away, causing you to sigh in relief, only for you to be the one pinned against the wall. Your friend is being held by the blond’s lackeys, holding him back from helping you. Your other friends watch on in horror.

“Why must you always get in my way, Love? I’m trying to teach him a lesson,” You wrinkle your nose in disgust, trying to wriggle out of his grip.

“Don’t call me that. Just leave Severus and I alone. I understand that you have taken a liking towards me, but that doesn’t excuse your horrid behaviour. If anything, it makes me dislike you! You’re nasty, big headed, crude, and mean for virtually no reason! I don’t understand why you and your friends act this way-”

“He doesn’t deserve your affection!” He blurts out without thinking, his grip on your wrists tightening, “He hangs around you like a dark shadow, he makes everyone around him uncomfortable-”

“I think he’s cute,” You snap out uncharacteristically, “In fact, him following me around is harmless; you following me around, on the other hand, is very harmful. People are afraid to talk to me because of you, and he’s one of the only people who stayed being my friend. I don’t want to hear you talk badly about him, when he has made my life better than it was before.”

Remus releases you after a long moment of silence, a hurt look on his handsome features, “Fine. Stay with the freak if you want to, just don’t come crying to me-”

“I won’t. I won’t seek you out, ever,” The blond motions towards his friends, prompting them to release your friend. You hurry to the dark haired man, cupping his face with soft hands, “Are you alright, Severus? They didn’t hurt you too badly did they?” His lip trembles, signaling oncoming tears, prompting you to turn towards your friends and wave off their concern, “It’s alright, you guys go to class, I’ll take him to the nurse.”

They stalked off, Remus constantly looking back at you. Unfortunately for him, all of your attention is on a certain tall man.

“Come along, Sev, let’s go to the nurse,” He shakes his head as he sobs uncontrollably, “No? Well, I can’t let you stay battered… Do you want to go to my dormitory? I’ll heal you there,” He nods, allowing you to half-drag-half-pull him towards the Hufflepuff dorm. You’d picked up his things and set them in your satchel, before heading off. Many cast the Slytherin man questioning looks, but quickly realised who was helping him. You’re known as one of the kindest souls at Hogwarts, so it’s not too unlike you to help the freaks of the school.

Once in your room, you help him sit on your full size mattress. You share the room with only one other girl, leaving two empty beds between the both of you. Luckily, she’s out of the room, most likely at her boyfriend’s dorm room.

Sitting beside him, you quickly pull out your wand, “This might feel a bit weird, but I promise I’m helping,” You murmur a healing spell to yourself, watching as his skin becomes smooth and even toned once more, “There we go! Good as-oh no, why are you crying again? Did it hurt?”

Hearing your distraught voice, he tries to comfort you whilst bawling his eyes out, “Nu-no, no, you du-did nothing wu-wrong,” He throws his arms around you, bringing you into a tight hug, “It-it’s just… You treat me so well, and-and I love you so much-” He cuts himself off to hide his face in your neck. Oh no, he just accidentally confessed!

You giggle to yourself at his shy behaviour, and run a hand through his messy hair, “It’s because I love you too, silly,” When you say that, Severus practically feels his soul leave his body. His Darling loves him?

“You-you love me too?” Nodding against him, you cuddle him sweetly. You rub his back reassuringly, rocking him slightly.

“Yep! I’ve liked you for the past few years, but I never had the courage to confess,” He raises his head, looking at you with watery eyes.

“Really?” When you nod, he can’t help himself, “Can I- Can I please have a kiss?”

“Of course!” You lean forward, giving him a sweet peck. Severus practically creams his pants at the feeling of your lips on his. Seeing his bright red face, you frown a bit, moving his hair out of his face, “Are you alright? Did I make you feel uncomfortable?”

“No! No, it was nice,” A dreamy smile crosses his handsome features, as he leans in again, “Can I please have another one?” Smiling, you nod, smooching him softly once more.

This, in turn, turns into a whole makeout session. You slide onto his lap, making it easier for you to reach his mouth. Your new seating arrangements allow you to feel his hard cock under your ass, a small smile quirking its way onto your lips, “Are you excited, Sevvy?” You hear a small whimper in response, causing you to giggle, “Do you want me to help you?”

“Please?” Instead of responding, you start to grind against his clothed cock. Your panty clad cunny is directly against his fly, your skirt just barely covering your ass. Grabbing his hands, you place them on your hips, their massive size making you feel secure. Severus whines at your grinding movement, hips bucking into your own. To silence him, you give him an open mouthed kiss, your tongue dominating his own.

Drawing away from his mouth, there’s a long string of saliva connecting you both together. Using a manicured finger, you break it, and bring it to your mouth. Your tongue darts out, licking your shared spit off seductively, “Do you want me to fuck you, Sevvy? Wanna be inside of me?”

“Yes! Yes, please!” You run a hand over his clothing clad chest, kissing him on the cheek.

“Okay, Baby. Do you want me to suck your cock? Or do you wanna eat me out?” His hands grip at the fat of your hips, drool practically dripping from his gaping mouth.

“Let me eat you, please,” Snape begs, bucking slightly into you. You cup his face with both hands and grin, pinching his cheeks teasingly.

“Okie dokie, Sevvy. Lay back for me,” He drops back like a corpse, flopping haphazardly on your, surprisingly comfortable, mattress. Unzipping your uniform skirt, you slide it down your legs, tossing it on the other side of your bed. Your cute boyfriend gasps at the sight of your thong, never seeing one before. Chuckling at his shocked reaction, you quickly strip yourself of your blazer and dress shirt, exposing your lace bralette, “Do you like what you see?”

His head practically snaps off his neck with how fast he nods, “You look so… so beautiful, (Your Name). I feel so lucky to see you this way,” A dark blush coats your (skin colour) cheeks, as you look away a bit shyly.

“Thank you. Will you let me see you undressed?” He squeaks out a ‘yes,’ prompting you to practically rip off his slacks, dress shirt, and blazer. Only in his drawers, your heart jumps into your throat. His broad shoulder and lightly muscled abdomen look wonderfully full, and the very apparent bulge in his boxers make you lick your lips hungrily, “Are you ready to eat my pussy, Sev?”

“Yes, please sit on my face,” You gawk at his out-of-character words, but do as he asks. Slipping your panties off, you scoot forward, placing your bare cunny on his awaiting maw. He helps you settle on him by wrapping his arms around your (Size) thighs, relishing the feeling of your fat being squished between his forearm and bicep.

Because he wrapped his arms over your legs, he is able to part your pussy lips, giving him easy access to your throbbing core. He gives an experimental lick to your slit, making your legs tremble. Now knowing that he’s doing something right, he dives in like a man starved. His teeth lightly nip at your engorged clit, all whilst his tongue dips into your dripping hole. A squeal leaves your lips, signaling the pleasure you’re currently feeling.

Gripping his head by his hair, you throw your head back in pleasure, “Ye-yes! You’re doing so well for me!” He keens at your praise, increasing the speed of his ministrations. Though you can tell that he’s a virgin, he’s exceeding your expectations by a long shot. Lightly grinding against his face, more moans and whimpers leave your throat, your entire body becoming rigid as your orgasm approaches. With one last well placed suck, you’re cumming into his open mouth. Your juices run down his chin and splash against his cheekbones, causing Snape’s heart to practically beat out of his chest. You’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Moving off of his face, you pat him on the head affectionately, “Did I do good?” He wipes some of your juices off of his mug, before slurping them down.

“You were amazing, Sevvy. Have you done this before?” He shakes his head no, making you coo softly, “You’re a natural! Such a good boy.”

“Thank you, Mommy,” It’s like his entire body took a screenshot, with how still he became. He must have thought you’d be disgusted… but you aren’t. Instead, a small moan leaves your lips, before you bring him up into a hug.

“My Baby Boy likes calling me Mommy? You’re so adorable,” You reach down to his cock, pulling him out with a tender touch. His tip is a dark pink, his precum dripping down his thick length. A large vein runs up the underside of his circumcised prick, and you can’t wait to sit on it, “Is it ok for Mommy to sit on your pretty cock, Sevvy?” You slip him between your cunny lips, grinding down on his length, and mixing your liquids together.

“Ye-yes, Mommy! Please, please fuck me!” Taking him in one hand, you guide him to your opening, before pushing his tip inside teasingly. His whimper causes a gush of your slick to coat his length, helping you ease down him, until your pelvises touch. You can feel his dark, trimmed pubic hair rub against your cunny, making you squeeze down experimentally, “You-you’re so tight!”

Smiling at him coyly, you reach behind you, and unclasp your bra, letting your perfect tits jiggle enticingly. You toss it aside, before grasping Severus’ hands, and guiding them to your breasts. He immediately squeezes, loving the feeling of them in his hands. You let out a small whimper, moving your hips in a circular motion, ultimately grinding him against your cervix.

“Can I move, Pretty Boy?” Groans of pleasure rattle his chest, as you start to suck dark hickies onto his pristine skin.

“Yes! Yes!” Giggling, you quickly lift your hips almost off of his cock, before slamming down harshly. Both of you groan in pleasure, signaling you to increase your pace. Moving at lightning speed, you start to bounce rapidly. Tits jiggling in the Slytherin boy’s hands, you bring him into a heated kiss.

You swallow down his desperate whines, your hands pulling at his unkempt locks. Juices dripping down his cock, both of your thighs are quickly covered by your essence. His abdomen rubs against your clit with every bounce, bringing you closer and closer to your release.

Breaking from the kiss, you suck on the skin of his throat, before speaking, “You’re so big, Sevvy. My pussy can barely handle how thick you are,” His hips meet yours, hitting your cervix harshly. A loud moan escapes you, “Fu-fuck! You’re so good for Mommy! Come on, Darling, meet my movement, and you can cum inside.”

At your words, he starts a breakneck pace, meeting your every movement with a mighty thrust. Your hands reach up to pinch his pretty, pink nipples, making him falter in his movements.

“Mommy! Mommy-you feel so good! Please let me cum inside!” Increasing almost impossibly in speed, you feel yourself quickly hurtling over the edge.

“Gu-go ahead! Mommy wants you to cum with her!” With one last sitting movement, the both of you orgasm harshly. Your back arches almost painfully, as you feel him fill you to the brim with thick, hot cum. Your own juices squirt out, coating the both of you in a sheen of white sperm and a glossy cunny juice.

Severus face plants into your chest, practically drowning in your perfect teats. Whilst catching your breath, you run your hands through his hair, loving how silky the strands are.

“You did well, Sevvy. You were so good for me,” You fully embrace him, as he buries his head further into your plush chest.

“Th-thank you, Mommy, I’m glad I was good enough for you,” Bringing his face up to your level (wish is relatively hard, because he’s tall), you smile sweetly at him.

“You’re always enough for me,” Kissing him on the forehead, you cuddle into him for a while longer.

While you’re content and happy, Severus is over the moon.

The girl he’d pined over for years is finally within his grasp! He’d have to write this moment down the moment he gets to his dorm!

He’s just one step closer to stealing her away the moment they graduate. Hopefully, you’ll still be the homemaker he knows you’re meant to be, even if you’re a bit angry at him at first.

Wrapping his arms tightly around you, he knows that you’re the only one for him. Hopefully, you think the same, too.

#yandere snape #yandere severus #severus snape #yandere harry potter #harry potter x reader #snape x you #snape x reader #yandere male x female reader #tw mommy kink

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itsallyscorner · 4 years ago

Note

Ik someone else already asked for like a delivery part (and honestly, that would be amazing. Like imagine the girls reacting to Baby Mix casually dropping it in their chat). But, also imagine Tom and Y/N haven’t released anything to the public and Perrie (my loose-lipped queen) let’s it spill over a virtual interview or something, how chaotic would that be????

Anyway, I truly loved your Baby Mix stories. You’re combining two of my favourite things so effortlessly. Thank you💜💜💜

Hello my love! So sorry for the long wait, I hope you don’t mind! Thank you for requesting this and being so patient with me❤️ I’m so glad you’re enjoying the Little Mix reader! stories🥰 I haven’t written a delivery part yet but I already had an idea of how I wanted to write this so...here ya go! Happy reading🤎🧸

💌.

Meet Aunty Pez

She would be the best aunty in the world, ugh🥺 Also I’m so sorry I haven’t been active, school has been keeping me busy, but hopefully it’ll ease up soon! Sending all my love to all of you💞

At 3:14am, on an early Monday morning, the bundle of joy that you and Tom have been waiting nine months for has finally arrived. After hours of enduring pain and labor, Amelia May Holland was born. Weighing at 7.5 lbs, she had the same bright chocolate colored eyes as her father, gorgeous brown hair, a mix of your and Tom’s nose, and thankfully she inherited your lips. She was a precious little thing, always cradled in the arms of either of her parents, since they both couldn’t believe she was finally in the real world with them.

The sun casted soft rays of light into the hospital room you and your little family occupied. The warm light added to the peaceful atmosphere you were all currently in. You were sat against the hospital bed, cradling Amelia in your arms, while you and Tom stared at her in fascination. You lean your head against Tom’s shoulder, eyes never leaving your baby girl, who’s nose momentarily scrunched up.

Softly chuckling, you glance at Tom, “Not even a day old and she’s already doing a habit of yours.” The gentle smile grows even wider on Tom’s lips, a sense of pride rushing through his veins.

“Well she’s definitely her father’s daughter.” He hums, his arm around your shoulder pulls you flush against his chest. Tom hides his face in the crook of your neck, placing feather light kisses onto your skin trailing down to your shoulder, where he rests his chin.

“I can’t believe we made her. Isn’t she the most gorgeous baby in the world?” He speaks in a hushed voice, cautious of startling his newborn daughter awake. He gazes at Amelia with a fond expression on his face, large fingers gingerly reaching out to softly stroke the back of his baby’s hand. She’s only been here a few hours and she’s already wrapped him around her dainty little fingers. He would go to extreme measures to do anything for her and to make sure she lived the best life she can. She was to be treated like a princess in his eyes; because she was his princess and you’ve been bumped up to be his queen.

“She’s all we’ve ever wanted.” You turn to face Tom over your shoulder. The whole morning, ever since you gave birth, the two of you spent most of the time admiring Amelia and would burst into tears at how proud you were of each other. Not only had you both just made the most precious baby in the world, but this was a new chapter in your lives. A new experience of life with a stronger bond, full of love, and years of memories that’ll be looked back on in the future.

Tom shifts his gaze to you, the look in his eyes changing to adoration. He tenderly kisses your lips, repeating the actions a few more times before speaking. “Thank you so much for this. Thank you for being an amazing wife and giving me a family. I love you so, so, so, so, much. You have no idea.” He brushes his nose against yours, shutting his eyes, to savor the meaningful moment.

“I wouldn’t be doing this with anyone else but you. You’re gonna be such an amazing dad.” You beam at him. Tom softly chuckles, leaning his forehead against your temple, “God, I hope.”

“You will, you’ll be the best one in her eyes. I already know it.” You reassure him, pecking the corner of his mouth. You turn your attention back to Amelia, who was still sleeping peacefully in your arms.

“So when should we tell everyone?” Tom asks, resting his chin on your shoulder again. You lean the back of your head against his shoulder, making yourself comfortable in his arms.

“I think we should tell our family and friends first. I’m not ready to share her to the public yet, I want her to only be ours for now.” You quietly explain. You feel Tom smile against your skin.

“Of course, darling. Whatever you’re most comfortable with, that’s what we’ll go with.”

(Y/n)🌻: sent a photo

We thought Amelia might want to pop in and say hello to her favorite aunties for the first time!❤️

Perrie🦋: oh my goodness! Congratulations🥳🥳 I’m over the moon for the both of you!!

Oh she’s precious! Look at those cheeks!! I can’t wait to meet her🥺

Jade💜: OMG WE SHARE THE SAME NAME!!

I’m so happy for you and Tom!! You guys are going to be the most amazing parents in the world!❤️

Leigh-Anne😻: Baby Amelia, you are the most adorable baby I’ve ever seen!!!😍 Babe, you and Tom have some really good genes👀

Congrats you two!! I’m so proud of you both❤️❤️❤️

Jesy💖: Thank god Amelia got (y/n)’s genes for her lips!!😂😂 I can’t imagine another loose-lipped Holland!

I’m so happy for you guys!! I can’t believe you’re already a mum, darling🥺 We love you so much and can’t wait to see you and Baby Amelia❤️

(Y/n)🌻: You guys🥺🥺 I can’t wait to see you all and get out of this hospital! This bed isn’t doing anything for my back😭

Perrie🦋: You must be so exhausted lovey, how are you doing? I hope everything went well during delivery!

(Y/n)🌻: Very painful, I felt like I was about to pass out omg😭 The doctor kept on telling me to push, I didn’t know if I was shitting myself or pushing the baby out😭

Tom’s been amazing the entire time. Bless him, I think I broke his hand while I was pushing :(

Jesy💖: Omg!! What was Tom’s reaction to childbirth?!!

(Y/n)🌻: If you thought he couldn’t get even paler, you thought wrong! He was as white as the walls in the room😭😭 He was a good sport through it all though!

Also, Amelia’s crying. I’ve got to go, I’ll talk to you girls soon!! And good luck with the interview today, you guys are gonna smash it xx

Perrie🦋: Don’t worry about us! You’re officially on maternity leave now! We’ll send your regards for the interviewer❤️

Leigh-Anne😻: Look at our baby mama! We love you❤️❤️❤️

Jade💜: Say hello to baby Amelia and that Aunty Jade loves her🥰

Jesy💖: ^Kiss ass, she’s not even a day old and the competition for best Aunty has already begun smh.

Bye darling, we’ll catch up with you soon❤️

You smiled at your screen before turning it off and placing it onto the table beside your bed. Tom was pacing the room, cradling Amelia against his chest. He was gently rocking her back and forth, alternating from shushing her to humming some sort of tune underneath his breath. You sat back and admired the curly headed boy that’s claimed your heart. Not only was he the love of your life but he was also the father of your child. Sure you guys were young, both in your late 20s, but the daddy role definitely fit Tom perfectly.

Tom must’ve felt your stare because he turned around and sent you a tired smile. He walked towards your bed and motioned for you to lay down. Using one had to cradle Amelia, he used the other to help you get comfy in the hospital bed. Still with one hand, he fixed your hair on the pillow so that it was away from your face. His large calloused hand cradled your jaw, “Get some sleep, darling. I know how tired you are.”

You pouted at him, “But what about Amelia?” He shook his head, his thumb stroking your cheek, “Don’t worry about it, I’ll try and get her to sleep. You just close your pretty eyes and get some rest in.”

“What if she’s hungry?”

“If she doesn’t fall asleep, then I’ll wake you up. Just please get some sleep, love. You haven’t taken a proper nap since this morning and I know you’re already close to knocking out.” He reasoned with pleading eyes. You sigh finally giving in, lazily nodding in response. Tom beams at you and leans down to place a tender kiss onto your lips.

“I love you both.” You mumble against his lips. He pecks your lips once more, “And we love you too, mummy.” The moment you closed your eyes, you were out like a light.

You managed to take a nap for about half an hour until you felt a few pats on your shoulder. You were immediately awake, turning your head to look for Amelia. You looked at the hospital bassinet, where you could see her sleeping peacefully.

“What’s wrong?” You ask Tom. He was sat beside your bed with his phone held in his hand watching something.

“I’m so sorry for waking you, but you should see this.” He apologized with a pitiful smile. He scoots closer to the bed so you can look at the screen. Your brows furrow together in question as you stare at Tom; it was the girls’ interview.

“Just watch.”

“Hello ladies! Thank you for joining me today!” The interviewer started. A round of “hellos” and waves were seen on the recorded Zoom session.

“Thank you for having us!” Leigh-Anne said.

“Yeah, it’s always a pleasure to be on your show, Zach.” Jade gushed. Zach made a show of flattery making them all laugh.

“I mean I guess I should start by asking how are all of you?”

Jesy was the first to answer, “I’d say we’re all doing pretty good, aren’t we girls? You know—just trying to get by especially with all that’s going on in the world.”

Perrie agreed, “Yeah, we’re lucky enough to be healthy and have the privilege to work. So I’d say we’re very blessed and making the best out of situation.”

“That’s great for you girls. AND speaking of making the best of the situation, thank you for giving us entertainment! I’ve been watching The Search and I’m absolutely obsessed.” Zach began, complimenting the show. He continued, “Although I did notice, that there’s only four of you at the moment, and in the show. How is it like to not have (y/n) around?”

Jesy pouted, the other girls having familiar reactions at the lack of your presence.

“As much as we miss her, it’s best for her and the baby to stay home and away from the public. When it comes to your career or family; family comes first, so it was totally understandable.” Jesy explained.

Jade chirped in, “Well, she’s not completely missing out. She’s had a few virtual appearances on the show and we’ve all been in contact, we always know what she’s up to.”

“How’s she doing? With the baby preparations and all?” Zach asked the girls. Their faces immediately brightened with joy, especially Perrie how squealed and clapped her hands in delight.

“Oh she’s doing wonderful, we were just texting her! She’s officially on maternity leave!” Perrie cheered. On the screen, Jesy eyed Perrie warily.

“Officially on maternity leave?”

Perrie smiled widely, “Yes, she is! She sent us a photo of the baby in our group chat and my goodness! Their baby is so cute, I just want to pinch her little cheeks!”

The three other girls’ eyes widened at the things coming out of Perrie’s mouth too stunned to say anything.

Zach squinted at Perrie, “Wait she’s already had the baby?”

“PERRIE!”

“Yeah, today actually.” The blonde answered proudly.

“PERRIE SHUT UP!”

“STOP TALKING!”

Perrie stopped, looking at the three girls offendedly, “What?”

“Oh my god, she did not.” Leigh-Anne facepalmed herself. Jade’s jaw was slack and Jesy’s eyes were wide with horror.

“Babe, do you know what you just did?” Jesy questioned Perrie, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose in stress.

You paused the video, taking in what just happened.

Tom eyed you carefully, “Your phone’s been blowing up consistently. Pez even called me to apologize, she feels really bad (y/n).”

You frowned knowing that Perrie was most likely upset at herself. You’ve been friends with Perrie for years now. It was common knowledge amongst you and the girls that if something big and secretive were to happen, you were to never tell Perrie. Not that you all wanted to leave her out on propose, she just didn’t know how to keep her mouth shut. When Perrie found things that made her happy or excited, she didn’t know how to contain her happiness. So it wasn’t completely a surprise to learn she’s told the world you and Tom were finally parents.

Tom noticed that you were still quiet, “Are you mad, darling?”

You shook your head, “No—no, I’m not mad at her. I know Perrie can get too excited sometimes.”

“So you’re okay with this?” Tom asked you, knowing that just an hour ago you said you wanted to keep Amelia away from the public. His hand reaches for yours, grasping it.

You tilted your head at the ceiling, “Yeah, I guess I am? I mean it’s not like she said Amelia’s name or anything. All she told them was that I gave birth already.” You paused and turned to look at Tom.

“Plus, I think she’s saved us the trouble of figuring out how to tell the world about Amelia.” You send him a smile. He reciprocates the action and brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “We don’t have to tell them anything more. All they have to know is that you’ve given birth and our little princess is healthy. Also that we’re very happy. The rest of the details will only be for us. For now.”

“For now.” You confirmed squeezing his hand. You glanced at your phone and motioned for Tom to give it to you. Scrolling through your contacts you clicked on Perrie’s name, “I guess we should call her and thank her.”

You clicked on the FaceTime icon and not even a second later, Perrie immediately answered the call.

“I am so sorry.” She apologized, hand covering her face. You chuckle at her and shake your head, “We’re actually calling you to thank you Pez.”

Her face contorts into confusion, “What do you mean thank me? I just exposed the two of you during a live interview.”

Tom poked his head into frame, “Well one, you’ve announced that Amelia’s here already, so that’s one thing off our list. And two, you just saved me months worth of relief during interviews. Now that everyone knows we have a baby, I don’t need to be scared of accidentally slipping it out when I have to do promos!”

The blonde looked between both you and Tom I’m disbelief, “Are you kidding me? If I knew you two would’ve responded this way I wouldn’t have been spending the last hour beating myself up for it.”

You laughed smiling at her. Perrie beamed at the both of you, “For just delivering a baby, you look gorgeous hun. You’re glowing.”

“Aw thank you, lovey.” You look at Amelia from the corner of your eye. “Do you wanna see her?” Perrie eagerly nods at the camera. Tom takes the camera and rounds your bed to the bassinet. Aiming the camera above Amelia he said, “Amelia, meet Aunty Pez.”

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creativeashproductions · 4 years ago

Text

We Wouldn’t Be Us // Charlie Gillespie

IN WHICH: We get a look into the timeline of the reader and Charlie’s relationship from the first date that wasn’t so perfect to the news they get. The relationship has its ups and downs like all relationships do but this one brings the birth of a song. They know in their relationship that anything less just wouldn’t be them

Warnings: Swearing, an argument, allusion to sex (NO SMUT), pure fluff

Words: 3.1k

A/N: I suppose this is an entry for @cherrymaybank’s Valentine’s Day Fic Challenge.

Based on the song We Wouldn’t Be Us by Alexandra Kay

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

Every dress didn’t seem to fit properly no matter what mirror with different light in your apartment you tried. The spare bathroom’s bulb was dying, so that made the colour appear off, and the best mirror was dirty, which would dampen the romantic goal. Nothing made you feel that oomph that you desired for this date.

You could wear the standby little black dress of which you had two options, the clubbing one or the work appropriate one. It didn’t seem right to choose a standard black and no colour for this insanely sweet guy that had this insane energy. With that thought in mind, you dug deeper in your closet for that special dress that you’d never found someone worthy of it. It was your best dress and your most expensive with the tags still on. You would have gone for the maroon dress but it was Valentine’s Day and that seemed like over kill.

Somehow it still fit perfectly despite the length of time from purchase, it was a vibrant green satin with lace matching the colour. The dress's satin ended just below the knee with the matching lace falling an additional six inches past. The A-line skirt was loose flowing contrasting to the form-fitting material across your bust and midsection.

One of your favourite parts of the dress was the off-shoulder bateau neckline that gave a tasteful sneak of your cleavage. The bottom of the thick straps came to make a perfectly straight horizontal line. Across your waist was a one-inch wide satin ribbon attached to the dress that formed a perfect bow that tied the outfit together, no pun intended.

“Whoa.” You breathed stepping in front of the floor-length mirror kept in the spare bedroom, it had once been your roommates’ room before she moved.

You had to admit the dress was magical with it, bringing out all your curves and went with your skin tone. It was a pure shock to see how you managed to make the dress come to life with just a makeup look that was easy to do. All you did next was your favourite beige heels that went with everything. You had just slid on the left heel when the buzzer sounded and slid the right on as you hit the button unlocking the apartment building door.

“This is going to be perfect.” You breathed leaning into the mirror beside the front door. You inspected your lipstick as a knock sounded on the dark brown wood of your door.

“You look gorgeous.” Your date breathed, widening those colour changing irises as he took in your outfit, “You take my breath away. Happy Valentine’s Day”

Your cheeks flushed, “Thank you, Charlie.”

He stepped into the apartment as you quickly went to the kitchen to grab your coat and purse with your essentials. He had gently retrieved the coat from your arms to help you into the cold jacket.

“I know traditionally I would have brought you flowers, but I also know you love books.” Charlie breathed grasping the items in his hands, “So I got these flowers.”

His warm hands held three books. The top one was The Orchid House by Lucinda Riley with a cover that had the background blurry with only the back of a girl in clarity. The girl’s pink dress matching the flower in the upper corner of the book. The next cover proudly displayed The Rose Garden by Susanna Kearsley with red flowers growing down on a stone building. The third one was a light pink book with an anatomically correct heart with flowers growing out of the arteries, veins and valves; a collection of poetry I Saw You As a Flower by Ellen Everett. Lastly, you held Rupi Kaur’s second collection of poetry The Sun and her Flowers that had come out a couple years ago.

“Charlie, this is so thoughtful. You even has a rose one!” You breathlessly spoke gently touching the covers, “Thank you so much for these.”

“I thought we could read them together?” Charlie was bashful as he quietly asked with flushed cheeks. He didn’t know why he felt like this was his very first date all over again.

“I’d love that.” You softly told the Canadian with the manners a mother would be jealous to have in her home. Charlie’s fingers linked with yours as he tugged you out of the apartment into the hallway.

Your hands swung during the short walk from the apartment building to his bright orange Subaru across the street. The sound of the light wind rustling the trees lining the sidewalk mixed with the humming from Charlie was a perfect film score. He was the ideal gentleman even before he asked you out.

You couldn’t wait to tell your close loved ones about Charlie. You could really see this going somewhere. The relationship that is, as you were now on the side of a road with the Subaru’s hazard lights flashing.

“I forgot to fill the tank.” Charlie moaned, pressing his forehead against the steering wheel. His eyes clenched just as tight as his fists.

The Canadian was so embarrassed to have had what he thought was the best date of his life. He’d played music from the playlist he had patiently curated specifically for this date, and he held your hand to the restaurant. He’d already made plans for another date when his car’s warning beeped.

In Charlie’s haste, he’d forgotten to fuel up his car, so here he was with the prettiest person he’d ever seen in his passenger seat. His confidence in a second date had greatly diminished.

“Char, you said Owen was on his way. There isn’t anyone else I’d prefer to be stranded with. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“I wanted this date to go perfect. This is my first Valentine’s Day with someone.” Charlie admitted turning his head to stare into warm pools of your e/y colours. His eyes scanned the soft smile that appeared on your face as his confession, “I had this whole thing planned out, and now you definitely won’t want a second-”

“I’m gonna kiss you. If you don’t want that, let me know.” You murmured before pulling him in for what would be the best kiss of your life thus far.

Sure his car broke down, but you kissed him anyway. He tasted of the complimentary chocolate dessert from dinner.

A Year Later

A young, admittedly broke couple sat on the cold floor of the unpacked kitchen eating SpaghettiOs. You had only just moved into the studio apartment with Charlie that had drained most of your savings. Had it not been in a decently safe area in the city and a close commute you would have said no.

But it was the perfect starting place for you two as you both were unfamiliar with living with an SO. It sucked on each of your ends to not have a better situation, Charlie wanted nothing more than to spoil you on the first day living together. Unfortunately, it wasn’t possible but sitting on the floor with a cheap candle was imperfectly perfect.

“I’m sorry we’re eating out of cans.” Charlie whispered pointedly, keeping his eyes on the spoon, stirring the red sauce with the beige circles.

“Char this is perfect. As long as it’s you and I then anything is perfect. Besides we didn’t label the boxes, I have no idea which box has our kitchenware.” You admitted glancing at the boxes boarding the edge of the room.

You ate out of cans for at least a week before you had unpacked the kitchen and had the means to buy actual groceries. Living together thus far had been going super smooth until wasn’t.

It was a bad day on both your parts, your entire work was deleted after a computer glitch. Charlie had auditioned for a role he had been really really wanting since he heard about it. Your father came down with the flu axing the plans to meet for dinner; it would have been the first time in six months you saw him in person.

The apartment's atmosphere had been rising and very volatile by mid-afternoon when Charlie blatantly forgot a deal. If he was going to play music, it had to be in the study so you could focus on your work.

Today he’d decided to be in close vicinity to have a virtual jam session with both Owen and Jeremy. He’d chosen the room you were in solely because it had the best wifi reception which you needed as well.

“Charlie, please can you go to the study? I’m trying to finish this!” You cried out as he struck a chord on the electric. His eyebrows came other in the glare he sent you, “I lost all my work last night.”

“The guys and I are working on songs-”

“-Charlie, this is due tonight. I can’t concentrate with-”

“It’s not my fault you have a shitty attention span!” Charlie angrily snapped contradicting the gentle touch on his guitar. He placed it back on the stand to not accidentally damage it, “The wifi is best in this room.”

“I’m very much aware of that Charlie. Out of the two of us, I use it the most. Can you please either move to the study or at least wait an hour so I can finish?” You pleaded with the Canadian actor ignoring the two guys on the computer silently waiting for the fight to be over.

“Why can't you mov-”

“Fine. I will.” You fully stared down your boyfriend for a full five seconds before you harshly closed the top of your computer. It took seconds to gather your work stuff into the leather satchel you stored the computer in, “You didn’t even mute the call.”

Charlie watched as you swiftly pulled on your jacket, “Babe-”

The sound of the door slamming shut cut his sentence before he even had a chance to speak his thoughts. The apartment was eerily silent compared to the sounds of music that always played through the Bluetooth speaker.

The inspiration to play evaporated with the aftermath of a stupid argument permeated the apartment typically filled with love. All three actors quietly said their goodbyes before they ended the video call.

You spent an hour uncomfortably sitting in a cafe finishing up what you’d needed to finish with the argument replaying. Your finger barely hit the button to send the email before you had already stepped outside the business. You spent the walk struggling to draft a text to your boyfriend.

It didn’t matter because when you walked into the apartment, you heard the soft song you’d both deemed yours. It was cheesy, but that was part of Charlie’s charm. Speaking of your boyfriend, he was sat on the floor of your kitchen with matching mugs of brownies.

“I’m sorry. I was insensitive.” Charlie started as soon as your jacket was draped over one of the kitchen chairs. His usually wide smile was as bashful as the one he’d worn on the night of your first date.

“No I’m sorry, Charlie. I could have easily put on my headphones or moved to the bedroom for a bit. The fight was stupid, and I love you so much that sometimes I think I take you for granted. I mean, look at you! You made the brownie cups-”

“Even sitting on the cold floor like when we moved in.” Charlie cheekily inserted, reaching over to hold your hands in his, “I like our tradition. I definitely like how we upgraded from SpaghettiOs to brownies.”

“Me too.” You breathed leaning over to press a lingering kiss on his lips. His hands delving into your hair to keep you close.

The butterflies stormed your stomach as the heat slowly inflated from your toes until it reached your flushing cheeks. Raw emotion pouring into the passionate kiss that only closed down as you broke for air. But you also went back in as that warmth slowly built in your tummies. Charlie’s eyes marginally opened to ensure he wasn’t imagining the Angel he got to kiss.

Finally, with heavy breathing, you pulled apart, but only a fleeting moment froze the time in the apartment. For, as soon as Charlie caught your dilated pupils, his one hand cupped the back of your hand, fingers tangled in your h/c tresses.

Soon enough, you were making up on the kitchen floor with each article of clothing tossed in the vicinity. A shirt landed on the kitchen sink spout. The brownie mugs forgotten as you gave into the passion with your boyfriend. Your lovemaking had you missing supper.

Charlie’s solution was a trip to the local authentic English pub founded by a nice guy from London. You never failed to stop him for a dance in the empty street as his smooth voice gave music for smooth motions. Dancing was a common thing from pulling off the road in Dieppe to dance. You drank and danced at the pub until Jack cut you off at 2am as his pub rules had.

You and Charlie just laughed in a love bubble as the real-world worries faded because you always came together in the rough times.

Months later you returned to Dieppe with Charlie to spend the holidays with them. The entire family together creating such a welcoming atmosphere.

“I’m gonna grab a glass of water.” You informed the group of gals ad non-binary pals who had gathered in Meghan’s bedroom. The group had decided to sleep over Meg’s childhood room with face masks, nail polish and lovely wine.

Meg and Jeannette both nodded to acknowledge your announcement before they returned to their respective conversations. You took a moment to take in the great group of Gillespie and Co you had the honour to be part of. The thirst was only temporarily forgotten in the happy bubble you found yourself in.

You practically skipped to the kitchen, barely noticing the two people in the living room, but their words stopped you in your tracks. Your boyfriend, Charlie Gillespie, stood close to his older brothers Ryan, Patrick and Michael.

“I’m gonna ask her to marry-” Charlie caught himself from finishing the sentence when he saw you standing pale-faced at the opening into the living room.

His entire body was encapsulated by the lights casting in the living room from the Christmas tree. The tree couldn’t hold a candle to the ring of your dreams that promptly had you bursting into tears.

“I RUINED THE SURPRISE!” You sobbed dropping your face into your cold hands, avoiding the gaze of the Gillespie brothers. Had you not been hiding in your hands you would have known the older three had vacated the room.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Charlie cooed with the ring safely put away in the box he had shoved back in his pocket, “You didn’t ruin the surprise. I shouldn’t have been telling my brothers in the middle of the living room.”

Charlie’s warm hands slowly pulled your hands from your soft post-mask skin with such a pretty healthy glow. He could see the remnants of the mask on the edge of your scalp, but it didn’t take away from your beauty.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, staring up at him from underneath your eyelashes. The soft hazel eyes not upset in the least, things often didn’t go the way you wanted to together.

Take the first date from over two years ago where you and Charlie had waited for Owen to meet you with a jug of gas. You’d shared childhood stories and future dreams. Or the time you hadn’t marked the boxes creating an entire week of eating out of cans and cartons.

Ruining the proposal was almost expected at this rate.

“I knew from the moment I saw you in that emerald dress I knew that you were the One for me. I’ve adored each moment I’ve gotten with you from the spontaneous dances on the side of the road. To bursting into song in the middle of the street.” Charlie shakily started with sweating bands but an open heart, “When your best friend told me the emerald dress was the special one, it melted my heart.”

“Charlie.”

“Other than my belief that this relationship will last, I was only ever sure of one thing in my life. I was sure I would be an actor, but now I’m more sure that my favourite role will be supporting you, loving you and evolving with you as your husband.” Charlie sniffled, taking one hand from yours to wipe the tears flooding his cheeks, “Will you marry me?”

“Yes.” You breathed lunging on your tiptoes to kiss him with as much passion as you could. Your hands caressed the skin of his cheeks; his long tresses tickling your wrists.

“God I love you.” Charlie gushed with a gentle shake of his head. His hazel pinned to your e/c eyes as if you were the most precious gem in the world.

A voice cut the bubble enveloping you, “Well are you gonna put the ring on her finger or what?”

Charlie’s head moved to meet the teary eyes of his mother surrounded by his siblings as they bounced on their feet. You laughed as your now fiance clumsily rushed to slide the absolutely gorgeous ring on your finger.

“Welcome to the family officially.” Jeannette cheered along with the celebratory whistles and yells as the crowd of the family grew more and more. Soon enough, the entire room was overflowing with people congratulating your new engagement.

Months later, you stood in front of that same group holding the hands of your handsome fiance. Both dressed to the nines in front of the officiant.

“I wasn’t looking for a fairytale, because they all end the same. The princess has a conflict that she revolves with the help of the prince. They get married and live happily ever after. I adore how we’re writing our own story that fits our relationship. Charlie Gillespie, I wouldn’t change a thing about our lives. I wouldn’t have it any other way even with the fighting and slamming doors, but we always end up on our kitchen floor making up with two brownies in mugs.” Your vows brought tears among the onlookers along with the Canadian barely keeping it together.

The vows would later be eloquently transformed into lyrics from you with the accompanying melody provided by Charlie. On Valentine’s Day, you played the song on the kitchen floor with a plate of brownies. Three brownies waiting to be devoured.

“Three for each of us.” You wept as you watched as Charlie melted into a puddle of joyful tears. He took no time in placing his hand over your flat stomach.

Yeah, you wouldn’t have it any other way. Especially when Valentine’s Day become more to the Gillespie family; a new little love taking up the day.

(Reader’s Dress In Beginning)

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angelictaehyun · 5 years ago

Text

Growing Pains

⤷ In kindergarten, he accidentally punched your nose. Thankfully, from that, a loving, caring friendship blossomed. Since then, you both had been attached at the hip, until suddenly... you’re halfway across the globe, a couple thousand miles apart.

PAIRING; yeonjun/reader

WORD COUNT; 3.2k

GENRE; singer!yeonjun, coming of age au, angst, slight fluff

WARNING; mild swearing, heartbreak, abandonment, angst

Honestly, five-year-old Yeonjun was nothing short of a nightmare. Though, he was seen this way only by you.

On a sunny day, sometime in kindergarten, he sat crouched on the playground’s field, searching for a ladybug. As for you, you believed if you found a ladybug, it could grant you a wish, thus you joined the young boy in his quest. You sat next to him, mindlessly searching the grass, and when he looked up to see you... he panicked. Other children, as he was told, are unclean and gross, and that’s exactly the sentiment he told himself as he pushed you onto the grass, causing you to scrape your elbow and bleed. You couldn’t stop sniffling as a big, crocodile tear trickled down your face; he felt terrible. In the palm of his clammy hand, he held a tiny, red ladybug, and seeing you cry, pushed him to give it to you.

"Please, just take it,” he quivered nervously. He thrust his hand in your face to present the small creature, but he ended up punching your nose. Unsurprisingly, you began full-on bawling.

He ended up in the principal’s office, and despite his feeble attempt to explain the true incident, his nap and playground time was taken away as punishment. Shortly after, he sulked back to class, passing the nurse’s office. Through the tinted, glass window, he saw you laying on an uncomfortable cot with an ice pack held over your nose and gauze over your injured elbow.

He was miserable.

He decided to genuinely apologize. He despised the idea of you being upset with him, even though he didn’t know you. After a stolen pint of ice cream from the school’s cafeteria, a pleading fest, a horrendous papier-mâché, and a heartfelt apology, you decided he wasn’t the worst. As for Yeonjun, he decided he liked you and suddenly, in the blink of an eye, he was glued to your side.

But you didn’t mind. It was hard to resist his smile.

· ──────────────────── ·

The day you decided Jung Mina was your absolute, garbage, worst enemy, you were nine.

On your first day back at school, you had gone to the restroom for a quick minute, and when you returned, you found she had stolen your diary to read in front of the class. Though she was quite the golden child, pissing you off to no end. Fortunately, your school’s field day neared the horizon and you decided to show her up. You wanted everyone, specifically Choi Yeonjun, to see your pure, unadulterated talent. You decided to absolutely destroy her in each event.

You were quite the vengeful nine-year-old.

Yeonjun, on the other hand, felt hesitant to follow through with your field-day-domination plan. Mina was just too pretty. Her hair smelled like sage and he had the biggest crush on her, unbeknownst to you. He was scared to mention his deep, dark secret, especially after you vocalized your complicated plan. You received virtually no help from him on field day. Despite that, you had won nearly every event. Unfortunately, somehow, you remained tied for champion with Mina, but the tiebreaker seemed quite simple. All you had to do was win a human-wheelbarrow race with Yeonjun, it was almost too easy.

And in all honesty, you would’ve won had Yeonjun not dropped you in the middle of the field and trip over your body, easily distracted by an air kiss from Mina, herself. He’d been lovestruck, but he didn’t have much time to dwell, especially not when you were squashed under him. He scrambled to help you back up, hoping he didn’t completely ruin your chance but it was too late, you had long lost the race. He turned to you, meeting your unkempt ponytail, narrowed, piercing gaze, sweat, and pursed lips. He was terrified, rightfully so. You told him off in the middle of the field, him withering in shame as he took in your colorful wording.

You chose to ignore him for a week, leaving him pouty. He decided to relive the past and create another papier-mâché, steal ice cream, and beg for forgiveness at your front door. He stood in the doorway, glancing at you with big, apologetic doe eyes, as an onset of a tear formed. Your resolve crumbled as you pulled him into a forgiving hug. As you pulled away, you admired his puffy lips which tilted into a small smile, and for the first time in your life, you felt your heart flutter.

He never did tell you about his crush on Mina. In the end, it didn’t quite matter.

· ──────────────────── ·

Year thirteen, you experimented with makeup. A lot of it. You tried different brands, colors, and styles. Yeonjun would be lying if he said you didn’t resemble a clown, but he kept his mouth shut and let you figure yourself out. Unfortunately, people were mean. When boys laughed at you behind your back, he made sure to drag them outside and put them in their place. When girls acted catty, he held you when you cried. When your family fell apart, he sat and devoured ice cream until your stomach ached. When you decided to join the dance team, he cheered you on at the audition.

He was always protecting and supporting you, even when you weren’t aware.

Lastly, when Homecoming approached, he was by your side as your unofficial date.

You both sat on the gym bleacher, overlooking your classmates who were either awkwardly swaying to the music, stuffing their faces at the snack station, or making out with each other. You regretted attending the dance, considering your boredom. though, when your watchful gaze traveled back to the couple kissing, a brilliant idea came forth.

“Junie, you know, neither of us has had our first kiss,” you observed, leaning slightly to see his reaction. He simply hummed in response, not fully listening. You continued, “... and I want to have my first kiss. I think we should have our first kiss with... each other.”

He stayed still, showing no indication of acknowledging your statement. You didn’t blame him, the music was quite loud anyway, you could barely hear yourself. You pretended you didn’t say anything and for an awfully long moment, you both stayed silent. Though that silence mixed in with a hint of embarrassment got too overwhelming, you had to excuse yourself to the restroom. As you left, he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He definitely heard you, but he didn’t know how to process your ask let alone go through with it. He spent so much time, deep in thought, that he failed to realize your absence. When he snapped out his pensive state, he searched the massive gym for you and found you almost immediately, but you weren’t alone. You were pressed up against a dirty, filthy wall, experiencing your first kiss with someone that most certainly wasn’t Yeonjun.

He stood frozen, feeling a bit creepish, yet he couldn’t move if he wanted to, he couldn’t even breathe. Unfortunately, you didn’t stop until a while later, forcing Yeonjun to watch every second in complete agony. Your hair was messy and you were out of breath— that sight broke Yeonjun’s heart. The other boy dragged you onto the dance floor and when you spotted Yeonjun, standing absolutely dumbfounded, you sent a big smile and cheeky wink his way.

You seemed too cheery, and though he was your best friend that should’ve reveled in your happiness, all he saw was red. He felt pure, unadulterated rage, and jealousy. He was supposed to make your first kiss unforgettable, not the other boy.

It was supposed to be him.

· ──────────────────── ·

At fourteen, you decided you didn’t necessarily like your boyfriend all too much, especially since someone else already held your heart. Sure, you felt the loss of your first relationship, but the realization that you’d loved Yeonjun for longer than you cared to admit, hurt more. Though, what hurt the most, was the conclusion that your love was likely unrequited. That night, you sobbed into the phone, and the second he heard your cracked voice, he hopped on his bike and headed in your direction.

It didn’t matter the time, he needed to make sure you’d be okay.

Naturally, he believed you were heartbroken from your breakup, so he attempted to soothe you with ice cream and cuddling. He pulled you against his chest and softly caressed your hair as you watched Titanic; it was supposed to make you feel better, but it made you feel significantly worse. He belted out the movie’s famous ballad in a feeble attempt to lift your spirit and for the first time that night, you smiled. It was a fake smile, of course, but he wasn’t privy to that. Nonetheless, he thought you looked breathtaking.

You complimented his soothing, silvery, beautiful voice — it made his heart swoon.

He was fourteen when he decided to become a singer. It was also at fourteen, he realized he was hopelessly in love with you.

· ──────────────────── ·

At fifteen, you rode the dinky, old subway with Yeonjun to a company audition — one he eventually passed and became a trainee for.

You were there the day he stepped foot into the building for his first training session. You were there when he felt like a loner amongst the other trainee, and you were there when he decided to become the absolute best, letting nothing get in the way of his dream. He set his sight high, and with that determination running through his bloodstream, he decided to express his undying love for you. So when you kissed him back, on the roof of his house, under the moonlight, after eating a gallon of ice cream, he felt like he had everything in his grasp.

After that night, you never let each other go. You stayed by each other’s side and fell more in love as the days passed by, remaining blissfully unaware of the pain the future had to offer. At least you were happy, even if that happiness was on a ticking clock.

· ──────────────────── ·

You were eighteen when you packed a bag and said goodbye to Yeonjun.

A month before high school graduation, you irrationally decided to study abroad in America. You weren’t stupid, you knew about the promise he made to himself when he was younger, his whole schtick of letting nothing stop him from his dream. You knew you were a hindrance, and it was only a matter of time before he realized that as well. You loved him with your entire heart, that much was obvious, but you didn’t want to be the thing to hold him back. He begged you to stay, he said he could have you and success, something you both knew was a plain lie. He couldn’t have you and be an idol, it was one or the other, but he was too stubborn to admit that to himself.

He drove you to the airport in a painfully silent car ride. He was angry, hurt, devastated by your decision to leave him, but you, on the other hand, felt complete and utter relief. He was so close to reaching his dream and all you truly wanted was his happiness, unfortunately, leaving was the only way you knew how to ensure it.

You cried as you said your farewell to him, but his blank face gave no indicator as to how he truly felt; he had barely spoken a word to you the entire week leading up to your departure. He stood motionless as you kissed his cheek, completely devoid of emotion — it hurt you. When you walked away, you felt heartbroken but much lighter. He watched your figure travel through security, unable to bring himself to leave. When you turned for a final glance, you noticed how broken he seemed, but you knew he’d piece himself back together — it would just be without you.

When you turned the corner, leaving his sight, he let every emotion flood his body. That night, he sobbed into his pillow, crying harder than he ever had before.

He’d lost you.

· ──────────────────── ·

You truly discover yourself at twenty. You graduated university earlier than everyone else, got your first and only tattoo, decided America wasn’t great, and moved back to Seoul. Hell, you even found your signature scent.

As much as the country itself sucked, your time in America served you well. You got your first job, experienced university life, made a friend or two, dated a lot, but most importantly, you got the degree you diligently worked for. Of course, it was hard to be away from him. You spent months holed up in your room, refusing to leave the apartment. It hurt the most when you watched his debut, seeing his face rushed every memory back to you. However, over a long period, you slowly pieced yourself back together and moved on. Eventually, you were able to think of him without feeling a sharp pang in your heart.

When you moved back, you weren’t surprised to see his handsome face plastered along the subway or on large billboards. It brought up old scars, habits, memories, but it reminded you that he was able to achieve everything he sought out to do. You, of course, knew he would, he was too stubborn and hardworking to fail; he was meant to succeed.

You just hoped he was happy.

While you were self-discovering in America, Yeonjun nearly gave up everything. He wasn’t proud to admit it, but countless times he almost bought a one-way ticket to you. However, a newfound brother held him back and kept encouraging him to move on. Not long after, he thanked Soobin for his support, had it not been for him, Yeonjun would’ve given up everything. He understood why you left and it was that knowledge that pushed him to work harder, he just wanted to make you proud, even if you were out of his life. He worked tirelessly to debut and once he did, he realized that despite everything, it was worth it.

If it was meant to be, he’d find you again.

He let his mind stray to you from time to time. He couldn’t help it, you were the love of his life. He truly hoped that wherever you were, you were happy.

· ──────────────────── ·

At age twenty-one, on a warm summer’s night, you left your apartment to head to a convenience store, searching for a pint of ice cream and an iced coffee, and maybe an energy drink if you were feeling desperate. Not a month into moving home, you had decided to pursue a master’s degree, but on a night such as this, where you frantically searched for any source of caffination just so you could complete your dissertation, you sorely regretted it.

You were met with harsh, fluorescent lighting as you entered the store but it was a welcomed relief, especially after staring wide-eyed at a computer screen for the past week. You browsed then snack aisle, too preoccupied to notice the soft jingle of the opening door. a tall, lean figure strut past your aisle, standing in front of the drink section for a bit, clearly having trouble deciding on a beverage. You made your way to the front, feeling content with your pint of ice cream, iced americano, and a bonus bag of pretzels. On your way, you stumbled into the hoodied boy and you cursed yourself because only you would run smack into the only other customer in the shop. You scrambled to pick up your scattered belonging, “Oh my God! I’m so sorry, I didn’t see where I was going, I’m such a klutz. Next time, I’ll pay more attenti—”

“Y/N, it’s you...” the soft, hushed voice cut off.

You stared at the young boy’s feet, slowly lifting your gaze to scan the rest of him, stopping at his broad chest, too afraid to look into his fox-like eyes. You knew it was him, of course, you did. It was the same deep, soothing, honeyed voice you spent your childhood falling in love with. Your breath caught in your throat as you dared steal a glance at his face. When you finally met his piercing gaze, he thought he saw the universe in your eyes. He opened his mouth in silent awe as a stray tear cascaded down his cheek. He moved toward you as if you were a flighty deer, and hovered his face closely. You thought he was going to kiss you, and surprisingly, you were quite eager despite the time apart. He pulled you into a loving embrace, so tight, you believed he’d never let go — not that you wanted him to.

That night, he accompanied you home.

Your heartfelt reunion was more than you could’ve asked for. He spent the night with you, doing nothing but catching up, laughing at past memories, eating ice cream, and slowly falling back in love. When he pressed you against your sink, he kissed you with everything he had. At that moment, you understood that despite the painful heartache, everything worked for the best.

You were truly meant to be, you found your way back to him.

Everything was complicated, unsurprising for an idol, but he saw the way you looked at him; it was a look that said you’d move every mountain and all the bright stars in the sky, just to make him happy. It was the same way he looked at you.

He told himself once, when he was a young five-year-old, that he wanted to stay by your side. He left it once, but he’d be damned if he ever left it again.

#txt imagines #txt x reader #txt fanfic #txt scenarios #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun imagines #yeonjun drabbles #choi yeonjun #idol!yeonjun #choi soobin #choi beomgyu #kang taehyun #huening kai #yeonjun #kpop fanfic #angst #fluff #txt #funky fox

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seasonofthewicth · 4 years ago

Text

quarantine questions

AN: this was inspired by the incredible @highqueenofelfhame ‘s fic everyone’s favourite teacher (which you can find here xxx and I 100% recommend). I absolutely adore that fic and couldn’t help but write my own spin on teacher Rowan and Aelin.

p.s. one day I will write Aelin as something other than a teacher, today is just not that day.

p.p.s. this isn’t a proposal fic I just can’t think of titles. Anyway, enjoy!

word count: ~2.2k

part 2 - part 3

------

Aelin loved her job, she really did, but Gods did quarantine make it difficult.

Normally she loved seeing the kids, they were great fun, and most of them wanted to learn and wanted to be in her classroom which meant the environment was positive and enjoyable. Even the kids that didn’t want to be there could usually be won over with a few tricks or promises of treats, which was always rewarding.

The interactions with the kids were what made her get up in the morning, the reason she had become a teacher in the first place was to satisfy her desire to help nurture children and to help them grow. But then the global pandemic had hit and the access to her students was reduced.

Not only did she have to adapt to trying to teach her lessons online, working out how the content could be explained using only her voice and a computer screen had pushed her in ways she hadn’t expected. While it was satisfying when she figured things out Aelin knew her lessons over zoom weren’t up to her usual standard.

That was the reason she had let her students know she would be at her desktop for an extra half an hour every day after school usually finished, for them to come to her if they had any problems or anything they wanted her to go through with them. Normally she would have operated her open-classroom-door policy, but a virtual replacement would have to do.

A good number of her students had taken up her offer of extra time to go through problems with her in the few weeks since she had started it, some came in groups for extra explanation for her lessons or some came individually for personal guidance.

As the clock struck 3:30 she joined the zoom call to wait for any students to join. It wasn’t long before a notification popped up telling her a student was requesting access to the call.

“Hello,” She called once the student had entered the call.

“Hey Miss G.” The student on the call was a young girl named Evangeline.

Evangeline was an enthusiastic student and always tried her best. She sometimes struggled with the content, but her perseverance was what gave Aelin such a soft spot for her.

“Hey Evangeline, what can I do for you today?” She asked, making sure her tone was upbeat enough to invite questions.

“I just have a few questions about your lesson today I was hoping we could go through them?”

“Of course,” She said, grabbing her notepad and pen in case she needed to do any drawing of diagrams to aid her explanation, or make any notes for herself.

It didn’t take her long to go through Evangeline’s list of questions, they were all genuine and thought provoking, and it made Aelin smile knowing Evangeline had thought deeply about her teaching.

“Is that everything for today?” She asked capping her pen. “How are all the rest of your classes going?”

Evangeline took a deep breath, looking down below her computer screen and Aelin’s stomach turned nervously.

“They’re okay…” She started. “Most of them are fine, Spanish is even going well, it’s just Maths.”

Aelin shuffled where she sat, hoping the conversation wasn’t going where she thought it was as her student continued.

“I’m in Mr Whitethorn’s class, and his teaching in our lessons is fine, I’m just really struggling with the assignments. The class is huge too, so I don’t like to speak when I don’t get something.”

Mr Whitethorn.

Mr Rowan Whitethorn.

Aelin’s boyfriend of three years, not that Evangeline knew that, who was currently sitting in the room next door where he had been teaching his own zoom classes for the past few weeks.

She had met Rowan when she joined the school almost four years ago, she was newly qualified and nervous for her first proper teaching job. She had made friends quickly within her own department, the other history teachers Yrene and Elide were great fun and always up for a raucous night of drinking with Aelin. They had taken her under their wings when Aelin first started, which had led to her meeting Rowan.

The school was one of the largest in their district, meaning the different departments didn’t often mix, but one night Elide had brought along her boyfriend Lorcan, another maths teacher, who brought along his co-worker Rowan.

Rowan Whitethorn had not been what Aelin had expected. She remembered seeing him in the halls at school, dressed smartly in his button down and slacks, square framed glasses hiding most of his face.

In the bar Rowan Whitethorn had looked like a god. His tightly-fitted t-shirt highlighting his strongly-built arms and allowing her a long look at his intricate tattoo stretching down one of his arms that had previously been hidden. His silver hair shining in the bright lights as he towered over her to greet Elide.

He had flashed her a grin as he had taken the seat next to her and introduced himself and Aelin had been gone. Hooked on his slanted smile and the twinkle in his shining green eyes.

They had got along well all night, and he had bid her farewell with a chaste kiss on the cheek. The next morning she swallowed her pride and asked Elide if she could pass along his number. Elide had only replied with a phone number and a smirking emoji.

From there their relationship had been simple, but not boring. He drew out her fire and she loved him for it.

They had kept their relationship hidden at school, which had proven difficult once the quarantine kicked in and they had to hide the fact that their zoom lessons were taking place in the same house.

Aelin sighed, her attention only briefly drawn away from her student. “I’m sorry to hear that, Evangeline. Have you tried contacting Mr Whitethorn separately to let him know that you’re struggling? I’m sure he’d be more than willing to help you if he knew.”

She knew her boyfriend would be horrified to find out that a student was struggling and had been too shy to ask for help.

“No,” The young girl started, still blushing. “I’m not really sure what I would say.”

“I could help you draft an email if you wanted?” Aelin offered immediately and let out a soft sigh of relief as Evangeline nodded enthusiastically.

-----

Once her call with Evangeline had finished where Aelin had helped her to compose a draft email to Mr Whitethorn she shut her computer and left her office. She padded into the living room where she found her boyfriend lounging on the sofa, dressed in a pair of light grey sweats and a Doranelle University sweatshirt.

Seeing him dressed so casually in their home sent a warm jolt through her chest, and an only slightly lesser rush of warmth headed somewhere slightly lower through her at the sight of him.

She flopped down next to him and burrowed her nose into his neck, breathing in his pine and snow scent.

“Hello, you.” His voice was soft as he pecked a kiss onto her cheek. “How was your day?”

She laughed, tilting her head up to face him. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen him today; they coordinated their breaks to see each other throughout the days.

“Fine,” She said with a sly smile. “I helped one of my students draft an email for her ever so wonderful maths teacher, Mr Whitethorn, to ask for some extra help.”

“Oh Gods,” He laughed, a loud and bright sound, and tucked an arm around her shoulders pulling her in tight. “What a nightmare. He sounds like a great teacher to me.”

She snorted. “And modest.”

He poked her side. “I think he’ll get back to them tomorrow, he’s busy now anyway.”

With that he pressed a more meaningful kiss to her cheek and peppered them all the way down until his lips were pressed against her own. She leaned into the kiss, twisting her fingers through his thick hair to pull him closer towards herself.

It was incredible how he still managed to ignite her blood with a kiss, her skin burned where he touched. He slid his hands down her sides, tucking one into the crook of her knee and hitching her leg up over his own.

After a few minutes she managed to draw herself back for a breath. “He is very busy.” She pressed one last kiss against his lips. “Cooking his beautiful girlfriend her dinner. She’s very hungry.”

He growled, face pressed tightly against her neck and nipped the skin lightly with his teeth, a promise for later, but stood up, nonetheless. He held his hand out for hers and tugged her up to follow him to the kitchen.

-----

She knew Rowan had seen Evangeline’s email, and had arranged his own one-to-one session with her over zoom to go through her questions. They mostly tried to stay out of each other’s teaching, knowing that everyone had different styles and used different techniques, but they shared general pieces of information about their roles and their students.

She knew Evangeline was feeling better about his class now, she’d told her a couple of weeks later in another one of her post-school hours drop ins that she had spoken with him and he had offered her guidance on the assignment.

She also told Aelin that Mr Whitethorn had opened up the chat facility for students who weren’t confident in speaking aloud to ask questions during his lessons. Aelin had to bury her smirk at the comment, hiding the fact that Aelin herself had made that suggestion to a worried Rowan.

She was currently on an extended drop in session with around fifteen of her students going through one of the larger pieces of coursework she was setting for the class. She had tried to avoid setting large pieces of assessed work throughout the pandemic as she knew how difficult it was to work from home and she understood that not all students had a level playing field when working from home, but this one had been unavoidable.

This session had run way past the time she had allocated for it; they were over an hour into the half-hour time slot she normally used at the end of the day for the sessions.

She was listening to her students’ discussions of their ideas for the coursework, she encouraged group work and collaboration as long as the final pieces of work were completed independently.

She nodded along silently, until she heard a voice from behind her.

“Aelin, are you coming—” Rowan’s voice cut off as he froze in the doorway.

She gasped, whirling in her seat, aware of the students on her call falling silent.

Her eyes flew back to her computer screen to check the small square in the corner that showed what her students could see of her.

Rowan was clearly well inside the frame where he stood behind her, frozen with his hand on the door handle, his mouth hanging open in an exaggerated o-shape.

She turned back towards him, her own eyes as wide as his as they met, neither knowing what to say or how they could explain his presence in her house with anything other than the truth. She knew there were too many students on her session for this to stay a secret too, the news would spread along the student network in no time.

Rowan’s mouth snapped shut and he began to inch backwards to where he had come from, but he was interrupted by a voice.

“Hey Mr Whitethorn.” Evangeline’s voice was clear over the zoom call, and it snapped Aelin out of her stupor.

“Hey guys,” Rowan’s voice was croaky. “I’ll just be—”

“Mr Whitethorn will be going now.” At her raised eyebrows he raised his hands in apology and crept back out of the room, pulling the door closed softly behind himself.

Aelin dropped her forehead to her hands and puffed out a laugh, before glancing back up at her screen.

At least five of her students were visibly on their mobiles, tapping away. Those who weren’t all wore mischievous grins. This was mortifying.

“I know why he was so helpful after our chat now Miss G.” Evangeline’s voice was smug even over the video call.

“Yes, well. Sorry about that, anyway, moving on.” She could move past this; she would move past this.

----

She left the room once the call with her students was finished, most of the awkwardness had cleared by the time the call had ended, but she had no doubt that there wasn’t a single student in the school who wouldn’t have heard about this by the next day.

She collapsed onto the sofa, her face buried in a pillow next to where Rowan sat, looking down at her sheepishly.

“I’m so sorry Aelin.”

She let out a muffled scream before taking a deep breath and looking up at him, a wonky smile spreading across her face.

“It’s not your fault,” She told him. “It’s this rutting quarantine.”

------

In regard to tags, I have so far assumed that anyone who has previously asked to be tagged had requested specifically for my new girl au fic, if you want to be added to a general tag list for things like this please let me know!

#rowaelin #throne of glass #rowan whitethorn #aelin ashryver galathynius #rowan x aelin #throne of glass fic #rowaelin fic #rowaelin fanfic #aelin galathynius #tog #my fics #quarantine #au #rowaelin au

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votederpycausemufins · 4 years ago

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So, happy eggs benedict day to those who watch dsmp. I’m sure you’ll have fun today! I know I will when you all read this chapter and freak out at the end! also gonna apologize for the formatting. I wasn’t sure how to replicate what I did while writing it, so I’m doing that instead.

@petrichormeraki

“Hey Tommy?” Phil took the teen over to the side, wanting to speak with him. “Since Grian is still talking with his admin-”

“He’s my admin too. You saw that the other me was in their world.”

“Right, fine. While he’s talking to your admin, I’ve got a question.”

“Alright, shoot.”

“When you were talking with that other you… D-Did Kristen show up?”

“Mumza? Uh, no. Why d’ya ask?”

“Well, I guess you wouldn’t know. She wasn’t really around when you were growing up. But she’s sort of… a goddess of death.”

Tommy’s eyes widened. “She’s what?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, no. Mumza didn’t show up. You did. Or the other version of you. I guess you’re the death god there instead of her.”

“Right. Well, anything else happen, mate?”

“After the other you showed up, the other me got taken away by him and told me the thing to say to Xannes.”

“Alright. Thanks for telling me Tommy.”

“Theseus. Theeeeeeeseus. Theseus! Wake up!”

“Ugh… where am I?”

“Prison. Specifically Base Iridium.”

Theseus shook his head to wake himself up more. “Wait where the fuck am I?!”

“I just said you’re-”

“No what the fuck is this?!” Theseus shouted and tried moving around, only making the sound of chains jingling.

“Ohhhh, enchanted bedrock casket to make sure you can’t move. But hey, At least we get face holes. Aaaand you’re hyperventilating.”

“How do I get out?! Let me out!”

“If I knew how to get out, I would have aaaaaages ago and gone to see Sense!”

“W-Wait, S-Sense like the e-evil r-redstone guy?”

“Yes! With a wonderful mustache and sexy suit of his~”

“Oh eww gross. You’re just as bad as him.” Theseus cringed.

“How’s he doing?”

“Half starved to death and had his vocal cords ripped out.”

“He. What.”

“The new emperor of Helscraft or whatever did it. Kicked him off the throne and trapped him in whatever was there instead of the nether.”

“No! Now I need to get out!” Chain rattling filled the air.

“Uh hey, what’s your name by the way?”

There was a pause from the rattling. “Oh you heard I changed it? It’s Grifter now.”

“Uh, didn’t know you started with anything else.”

“Hiii Puffy! I’m baaack! Did you an’ Grum talk about stuff?” Jrum walked into Puffy’s home holding a lot of quartz in his arms. He knew he could just put it in his inventory, but this was more fun.

“Yes we did, though… well it was a little rough for him, so he’s... out building a place for you to stay near your charger until you can get home, alright?”

Jrum nodded, accepting the answer without question before setting his haul down on a table and picking up a piece quartz to chew on. “I made a new friend! His name is Michael!”

“Oh, that sounds nice.”

“Yeah! And then I went exploring and I found a big cave!”

“In the nether?” Puffy asked, only half paying attention right now while hoping Jrum would get distracted talking. She knew the bot’s brother wasn’t really out building after his panic attack, but duckling Dream had been kind and offered to help the child.

“It looked kinda like it, but no. It kinda looked like something Uncle Scar would make. It was pretty. He once built a humongous drill to get to the nether. A-And then some of the nether started climbing out, but the hole was waaaaay too big so it didn’t have any chance!”

“That sounds creative.”

“Yeah! He also made a magic village with a big magic crystal, and apparently it helps connect to the hels dimension, so I made a friend there!”

“What’s that?” Puffy asked with a tilt of her head.

“Oh, the hels dimension is a place parallel to this dimension, but it’s not like another dimension like the overworld and the nether are different dimensions to themselves, hels is like… us, but through a mirror! A funhouse mirror! Like my daddy is really good at redstone like me, and he can get frazzled at times, but he’s really nice. But then there’s the hels version of him who’s like a big mean evil scientist!”

“Oh really. And I suppose you made friends with your hels version?” Puffy asked with a small smile, but Jrum frowned and found his antenna to tug on, squeezing the little blue ball at the end.

“Uh, no. Grum and I were built by our dads, but in hels, they got separated and so they couldn’t build us. So… we don’t have our own hels versions.”

Puffy frowned sadly. “Do you want to talk about that?

“Yeah. I’ve tried telling my dads, but they just sort of reassure me without really listening.”

Puffy got a chair set up for Jrum, ready for an impromptu therapy session which she hoped wouldn’t end as bad as the last one. “Now, what’s bothering you most?”

“Well, the fact that we don’t have our other versions kinda hurts because it sort of makes me feel like we’re less real. I know my dads say that we’re of course real, but it doesn’t hurt less because they just sort of say it and not give reasons. In fact, they sort of give us less reasons because they were really protective about us respawning since they didn’t know how that would work. I mean, I guess they had a reason to worry since Grum and me are here now, but the fact they couldn’t trust us with that kinda hurts.

“And then we need to be charged up as well as eat, but we don’t need to worry about phantoms. I guess it’s a trade off, but no one else has to deal with that! It feels weird! From what Xisuma said, he needed to mess with some files to get us read properly by all his admin stuff, and he didn’t need to do that for others sort of like us, so why are we different?!”

Puffy hugged Jrum to comfort the now crying robot. The small whispers of reassurance helped a little, telling him he really was a person and that he would be safe. Jrum was glad for them he didn’t like the mess he was in, and the fact that it came from not really being a person made it sting even worse. So he was very happy to find someone who would listen and understand.

System hard drive crash. Attempting recovery. Recovering… Recovering… 92% of data recovered. Rebooting… Rebooting… Essential data missing. Please insert external drive for troubleshooting.

External drive connected. Reading external data. 16 files located. Do you wish to replace data with files? Backing up old files. Backing up… Backing up… Data has been backed up. Replacing data. Replacing… Replacing… Replacement complete. Restarting. One moment.

Restart complete. Checking systems. 100% data found. Implementing… Implementing… Files implemented.

Are you sure you want to rename this machine? Renaming… Renaming… Renaming complete. Restart needed to fully implement. Restarting. One moment.

Welcome. Please continue with s s s set u u up. Ch ch choose a l l lan. :)

Grumbot sat up with a start. He was pretty sure if he wasn’t a robot, he’d be breathing heavily. He put a hand to his head before looking around. It looked like he had been put in a room with a bed, but he didn’t recognize it, and no one else was there.

Grum tried to remember what happened. Had he run out of battery? Or had he gotten damaged. No, he had been trying to [: )] and it didn’t work out. He had also been with Puffy, so perhaps this was another room in her house. It wasn’t one he had seen before, but he also hadn’t really gone exploring.

Getting up from the bed and stretching, Grum decided to do just a little bit of looking around the room to make sure this really was Puffy’s place. He didn’t want to end up in someone else’s place and get in trouble. Though perhaps it was a similar situation to [: )] when they showed up on [: )].

That was another thing he almost forgot. Jrum. Was he okay? He didn’t know how long they had been separated and if it were long enough, he could have gotten in trouble. He had always taken after their [: )] and if the people here weren’t the happiest about stuff like that, it might not end well.

Well, as he looked around, the place seemed safe, and after carefully breaking a piece of the wall before putting it back, he was still at Puffy’s home. He attempted to contact Jrum, but it seemed that function wasn’t working. Possibly because they were no longer in [: )] and it was something there that allowed a direct connection between the two of them.

Grum’s eyes landed on a piece of paper he hadn’t noticed before. It seemed to be a note of sorts, so he read it. It seemed to be from the admin. He wrote how Puffy said Grum passed out and she went to check on Jrum to make sure the same didn’t happen to him. That if he would like, the admin could check him over and make sure everything was fine and there were no programming issues.

The robot rolled his eyes. He wouldn’t have any issues. [: )] and [: )] had built him just fine, Plus Jrum had gotten the two of them updates from [: )] so they were even better. There was no reason to see the admin, especially because…

Because…

Because why? This person was the admin, so he would just be making sure the server ran as smoothly as possible. He likely was just worried. That was all. What admin wouldn’t? And they hadn’t done anything to make Grum think otherwise. If they did, then maybe he would need to be wary. But so far, nothing.

Puffy suggested they get a treat for Jrumbot to help him cheer up and Jrum wiped away his virtual tears before following her. As they left, neither of them noticed the small red plant wrapping around the antenna and connecting to the now red ball on the end of it.

“Ah ha. Nice joke Theseu- wait a second.” There was silence. “You’re not my brother.”

#hermit!tommy au #hermit!tommy #tommyinnit #grian #philza #avian!Grian #watcher!grian #grian xelqua #hels!grian #hels!tommy #jrumbot #captain puffy #grumbot #dreamwastaken #still not a fan of how dream's persona eminates someone... problematic #the blood vines

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rae-sparda · 4 years ago

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Let's run around the world

This plan of yours is going to get us killed. I’m in. march2021promptchallenge

Pairing: Rebekah x Enzo

Word Count: 1277

A/N: First time trying this pairing. I’ve seen people talking about it and I think it would be fun

All errors are mine, I'm too lazy to look it up, sorry

Tagging: @hellotvshowtrash @elijahs-wife @elijahswife @umaficwriter @ronniemikaelson @lovelyandproblematic @mikaelson-emma @nikmikaelsonswife @xxwritemeastoryxx sorry if I forgot people, I'm starting this '-'

She never thought she would fall in love again. Not like this, especially not with who this man was and his friendship towards her exes. Well, just one ex and another one-night stand. Whatever. Both were laughing loudly and drinking more than enough to inebriate them. Suddenly he got up, pulling her with him, stumbling wildly through the room, snickering like children.

“Oh, come on. Not this Original blonde, Enzo! What is your problem?” The vampires stopped, turning to face the owner of the voice, the brunette was frowning and the blonde was not in the best mood. Vamp speeding to Damon, she smiled wickedly, snapping his neck in a second, happily waltzing back to Enzo’s side.

“Where do you want to go? We’re too drunk.”

“We are not drunk enough to dance, gorgeous.” Rebekah groaned, pushing him away but was smiling at his idea.

“Don’t think you can act cute and all that just because you called me ‘gorgeous'.” He snorted, pulling her back to him, hugging her waist, and letting his head fall on her shoulder.

“Whatever you say, gorgeous. Let’s go.” She snickered once more and they left, going straight to Mystic Grill. If she was honest, Rebekah was extremely happy she wasn’t back in Nola. Since she returned to her own body, she was ready to kill her mother and be done with the family drama. And done she was when they turned their wretched of a mother into a vampire. Fleeing was surprisingly easy and the fact that Nik respected her was something she was still finding it difficult to believe.

The Original sister felt giddy with the attention Enzo gave her, being a true gentleman and funny. Of course, there were times where they fought and she snapped his neck, but no relationship is perfect. They both had their fair share of problems with family and were simply looking for a place to be quietly enjoying their lives. She could still remember the first time they finally slept together, the euphoric feelings, and the way they shared blood. If she could, she knew she would blush profusely. Their bed talk was so simple, so naive and full of dreams she knew how lucky she was to have come back and meeting Damon’s old friend.

“What are you thinking about, gorgeous?”

“Stop calling me that.” She asked fighting a smile that was slowly making its way to her lips. He nipped her neck and she bit her lip, closing her eyes while she enjoyed the feeling of being with him. A throat cleared beside them, making both vampires turn their heads not impressed and angry at the interruption.

“Hello, mate. We’ll want bourbon, will be easier if you just hand over the bottle.” Rebekah snickered again, seeing Matt roll his eyes before leaving them be. Enzo pulled the blonde with him, seating in the back, on a table where they would see everything but wouldn’t be disturbed if they didn’t want to. After they finally had the bottle of bourbon and were virtually alone, they drank even more, talking about stupid ideas and the plans for the future.

“You know... We could just travel around the world. I would show you so many places that I know you would love.”

“And where would take me first, love?” Rebekah smiled coyly, stealing his cup and drinking it in one go, much to his annoyance.

“Well, we could always go to Paris. France is amazing... Or maybe we could go to Tokyo. The girls surely would love your accent.” She dryly remarked, rolling her eyes and ignoring his growing smirk.

“There’s a place I want to go first.”

“And where is it?”

“New Orleans.” Rebekah choked, coughing loudly calling the attention of a few patrons, and glared at her boyfriend, clearly not amused by his choice. Enzo, on the other hand, simply smiled happily, having fun at her expense, of course.

“Do you hear yourself? It seems like you never heard a freaking word of what I said about my family!”

“Love, lower your voice, please. No need to fret.”

“Lorenzo, darling... We can’t go there... My brothers wo-”

“We’re going tomorrow. It’s decided.” She opened and closed her mouth like a fish for a few seconds, trying to process his words.

“Please tell me this is just a drunk idea.”

“Nope, gorgeous. I need to meet your family.”

“This plan of yours is going to get us killed. Of course, I’m in.”

Rebekah regretted many things in life, getting drunk was only one of them. But what she really regretted was the raging headache she was enduring after getting in New Orleans and hearing her brothers arguing over her newest lover. They had already threatened to kill Enzo in a million different ways and the bastard wasn’t helping with his smirks and remarks towards Niklaus.

“For God’s sake, Enzo, just shut up.” He pouted, making her melt and embrace him, kissing him slowly much to her sibling's disgust.

“This is a family home, Rebekah!”

“If you say anything else I’ll stake you, Kol! And if you give one more step towards Enzo, I’ll get Caroline’s heart and feed you with her intestines, Nik!” She screamed, making her brothers freeze in place.

“Children, please! Can't you behave for thirty minutes?” Elijah, bless her older brother, was already tired of the constant bickering and trying, uselessly, to control his family. Rebekah glared at her boyfriend, her face screaming at him ‘I told you so!’.

“You’re asking too much of our beloved brothers, Elijah.” She sneered, pulling her boyfriend away to walk with her and enjoy the quarter’s festivities.

“You know when Damon told me about their feud with your family... I never thought they would be so dramatic.” The Original snorted and hugged him, nipping his neck while he pulled her closer and caressed her body, kissing her sensuously. Their make-out session only stopped because a throat cleared, interrupting them once more.

“I swear to god I’m go-”

“Rebekah... When Klaus told me you were back I didn’t believe him. But here you are.” The blonde blinked and rolled her eyes, a smirk twisting her lips.

“Yes, well... Why would you be interested? I thought you were after that psychologist... What is her name again? Oh yes, Camille. Chop chop, go after the blonde woman.” She saw the way he was glaring at Enzo and entered in front of him, getting head-to-head with Marcel. “Go away, Marcel. We have nothing to talk about anymore.”

She felt hands enlacing her waist and her body being pulled back. Resting on her boyfriend's body, she side-eyed him curiously. “So... This is the ex-boyfriend.”

“Technically Stefan it’s my ex-boyfriend. Marcel was before him.”

“Should I get worried, gorgeous?” Rebekah closed her eyes, denying it while she giggled, opening her cerulean eyes to face Marcel, ignoring the way he seemed hurt.

“Not even in a million years...” Turning around in his arms, the blonde girl pouted, biting his lower lip and pulling it slowly, making him hiss. Grinning, she licked his lips, to soothe it gently and cackled when the presence vanished.

“You hurt his feelings, love.”

“Marcel and I weren’t meant to be, Enzo.”

“And we are?”

“Of course, we are. Since I let you drag me here, you’re going to let me choose the destination this time.”

“I think I can live with that, love.” They smiled knowingly at each other before vamp speeding away and stealing a car. The road trip had just started and they had all the time in the world to go anywhere they pleased. The rest, like the saying, says... It’s history.

#march2021promptchallenge #rebekah mikaelson #enzo st. john #rebekah mikaelson x enzo st. john #wth is their ship name?#the vampire diaries #the originals #tvdu fanfiction #fluffy-ish i think #rebekah is my baby #enzo would treat her like a queen

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c-is-for-circinate · 4 years ago

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It’s New Years’ Eve, and for once, my dash isn’t full of the sorts of fun-silly-memey end-of-year posts celebrating the past 365 days. Which is fair. We all know what this year has been, and for all the hoped-for relief that it’s finally over, we all know it’s going to keep being hard for a while yet into the next one.

But there have been so many little moments this year, too. So. A list:

In the courtyard of my apartment building in the middle of Chicago, in a part of the city where trees don’t get planted on the sidewalks, there are two tall trees, taller than the three-story roof of the building, like trees should be. This spring, one of my neighbors (and I will never know who, because I have met none of my neighbors in person) left a package of sidewalk chalk on the concrete path in the middle of the courtyard, and one by one, bit by bit, people began to use it--the woman with the little girl who looked about two through my window last January and looks about three now, and the people with their dogs, and the neighbors passing by or sitting in the sunlight under the green trees in the summer, one or two at a time, never talking to each other, but sharing the chalk. Every rainfall it washed away, and a few days later there would be art again: bright flowers and shaky hopscotch courts, scrawling letters of BLACK LIVES MATTER and GO VOTE and HAPPY 4TH OF JULY, the oddly-colored fish I circled around the middle of the yard in June and the only jack-o-lantern I put out this year at the end of October. Nearly every person in this building is an adult, very nearly no children at all, but everyone played this summer, or if we didn’t play, we saw it out our windows under the green trees all year long.

The neighbor downstairs on the other side of the hall took up clarinet this year, or started practicing at home in the middle of the afternoon--not at the start of quarantine, when we were all shy and quiet, but later on, bit by bit, as the hair came down and the cabin fever set in. They are good at clarinet, and they are taking joy in it, and some days I turn off my own music just to listen for a while as they practice. Today they played the Totoro theme song, just loud enough to be quiet and smile at.

On weeks my D&D group can’t convene a quorum (we’ve tried so hard to hold zoom sessions, and sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t and sometimes the Japanese prime minister resigns and a house none of us have ever lived in catches fire and things go wrong), our cleric screenshares the New York Times crossword, and whoever’s there works in laughing diligent cooperation to fill out puzzle after puzzle, tripping each over each other to answer clues first while our cleric tries to keep up with typing in the letters. We can solve a Sunday in about twenty minutes. Last month we worked on the Cryptic Crossword for well over an hour before we had to break up for the night, but it got shared to the group chat. Three days and well over a hundred text messages later, I unmuted the thread to discover that my players had managed to work together and solve the entire thing, and I found I was so proud of them I could burst. (Then I wrote them a five-dimensional logic grid puzzle to solve on a time limit, because they keep talking their way out of combat and if they can do THAT, then they can figure out that the Marquis of the Mews is an archfey wearing pink in the midst of a ball where they can only ask yes or no questions and must be done by midnight.)

All year long, we have held virtual knit night on Thursdays from our homes. All year long until it grew too cold, the owner of our little yarn store set up chairs on her sidewalk on Saturday afternoons, six feet apart, where we could bring our masks and our yarn and knit in the bright sunshine and see each other face to face and be seen in return. (And the owner of our little yarn store has stayed in business, and not just because she made that place a home for us over months and years before 2020 even happened, but because so many people have learned to knit this year, and so many people have found something to do with their hands and their hearts and their yarn that is soft and beautiful to look at and warm in the cold.)

I have a friend who texts me every weekday morning at 11:30 AM to check in and poke my executive function into gear if it needs an external starter. I have a friend seven time zones away who makes lists of the things they need to do that day in our discord chat at 3 AM my time, and when I wake up and check in I make lists back while they’re at work, and if they wake up the next morning again and I’m still awake they prod my executive function to put me to bed again. I have internet friends I’ve fallen out of touch with and internet friends I’ve found again and I’ve gone through seven different fandoms this year skipping from rec to rec to rec, and had people to talk and cry and flail at about every single one.

Sometimes strangers do nice things for strangers just because they can. This year I have commented on more fic than ever before in my life, essays that took half an hour to write because I could and I needed somebody to know they’d touched me, to maybe touch them back. This year, someone on my dash gave me access to a whole trove of personally-uploaded movies because I’d lost my Miyazaki library and she had one to share and, fuck, if you can do something like that for a friend of a friend of a friend, why wouldn’t you? An acquaintance gave me a free handsewn mask that fits better than anything else I’ve bought this year. I am so, so, so proud of the students I have helped survive this year of remote learning, bit by painstaking bit, as they passed AP Calculus and junior high biology and learned to write beautiful papers and run statistical analyses and make lists of ADLs and cope with getting out of bed every day when there’s nobody to notice if they don’t.

I’ve spent more time sitting on my back porch this year than I have in longer than I can remember, even when I have to put on a winter coat and extra socks to eat dinner. The people across the alley have put up their Christmas tree on their back deck for the season, and their downstairs neighbors strung lights. They’re beautiful in the dark.

#this is apparently the 2020 mood #and really #it's not all bad

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scapegrace74-blog · 4 years ago

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Don’t Call It Love

A/N With Saorsa done and dusted, it’s time to return to the Metric Universe. When we last left Jamie and Claire in October 2017, they were sharing comforting silence and attending a Depeche Mode concert together. Will things fall easily into place now that they have tripped over the line from being roommates to being friends? Oh, hell no. What would be the fun in that?

All other parts of the Metric Universe are available on my AO3 page.

The song by Zero 7 (another guest artist!) that inspired the title is here.

Winter, 2017 - London, England

It happened by accident. Happenstance. Serendipity. Fate. The words she used to explain the fact that she and Jamie started seeing each other outside of the flat in social circumstances that would typically be characterized as dates varied, but her opinion remained fixed. They weren’t dates. Jamie was her roommate, a good friend, a fellow enthusiast of the culturally obscure, and a brilliant pub trivia partner. They had both agreed that a romantic relationship between them would be disastrous; ergo, there was nothing romantic about their increasingly frequent outings. If she could memorize the names for the 206 bones in the human skeleton, she could certainly manage to keep her feelings for Jamie inside the tidy box she had built for them.

Non-Date #1

They crossed paths inside the massive Spittalfields Market, both of them with shoulders damp from the chilly November rain. Jamie was on his way to the fishmonger, while Claire carried a cloth bag filled with late-season vegetables, determined to eat something other than take-out on a rare day off from lectures and the hospital.

“Are ye on yer way back tae the flat, then?” Jamie asked, physically fighting the urge to offer to carry Claire’s wee sack.

“No, I’m off to the charnel house first.”

“The what, now?” Surely he’d misheard her.

“The charnel house. Don’t tell me you’ve been living over top of a medieval burial ground all this time without realizing it?” Claire teased.

Intrigued as much by her beguiling smirk as the opportunity to explore a bit of London’s history, Jamie followed Claire to a commercial highrise near the edge of the market. Descending a non-descript stairwell in Bishop’s Square, they came to a halt in front of a glass wall. On the other side was an excavated ruin, the crypt of the long-vanished chapel of St. Mary’s Spital hospital, a quick scan of a nearby information plaque informed him.

“They only discovered it was here when construction of the office tower began,” Claire said, a wistful look on her face. “For centuries, travelers and the victims of London’s many plagues were buried around the hospital, quite literally in the Spital fields. When the graves overflowed, they brought the excess bones here and stacked them for safe-keeping until the Apocalypse. Imagine, forgetting something so...fundamental.”

Jamie grunted in acknowledgement, seeing the reflection of Claire’s face superimposed on the glass. He couldn’t decide if this human tendency towards forgetfulness pleased or disappointed her.

“Tis rather...”

“Macabre?” she suggested with a grin, turning away from the display and climbing back into the cloud-roofed square.

“I was gonna say morbid, but as ye like.”

“We build our present on the bones of our past, my Uncle Lamb used to tell me. He was referring to archaeology, but I’ve found it to be true of life itself.”

They walked back to the flat, collars raised against the hastening rain. Jamie had bought enough hake for two, so they shared the narrow worktop, dicing fresh vegetables and letting their shoulders bump together occasionally.

Claire ate at the two-person dining table while scrolling social media on her phone. Jamie used the coffee table to hold his plate and the gaming magazine he was flipping through.

It wasn’t a date.

Non-Date #4

Her cellphone rang as she was leaving the bathroom, thoughts bouncing between her end-of-semester exams and her non-existent plans for the Christmas holidays. She accepted the call with one hand while starting the tedious job of separating her soaking curls with the other. At first there was only static. She glanced at the screen, recognizing the familiar number.

“Jamie?” she tried.

“...mac na ghalla, Hamish...” followed by muffled noises and masculine jeering. She switched hands and started to towel off, making certain first that the video call button wasn’t active.

“Hal-lo. Paging Mr. Fraser. You have a call on line one.”

“Ach, sorry Claire. I didna mean tae... That is, the lads were just... How are ye?”

She giggled at his discomposure. “I’m well, thank you. And you?” They had seen each other that morning, as he came off shift and she was leaving for her morning lectures, so she assumed there was more to this call than a polite inquiry into her state of well-being. She had learned over their months as roommates that sometimes you just needed to wait for Jamie to get to his point.

“Braw, thank ye. I was... weel, I’m at the park with some o’ the lads, tryin’ tae put t’gether a side, an’ we’re short a winger, an’ I was jus’ thinkin’, ye said ye wanted tae learn tae play an’...”

Another James Fraser quirk was that he rambled in broad Scots when he was nervous.

“Jamie, are you asking me to play rugby with you?”

“Aye. Aye, I am. If ye wish, o’ course.”

“I did just step out of the shower...” she mentioned, already peering outside at the threatening sky and mentally assessing her wardrobe for something suitable for a ruck and maul in the rain. “Hello?” when there was no sound from the other end in some time.

“Aye, I’m here. Nevermind, Claire. I dinna consider, ye must be gettin’ ready to study fer yer finals, an’...”

“Where are you?” she interrupted, opening a drawer and pulling out a pair of yoga pants.

“Victoria Park?” Jamie replied, sounding hesitant and hopeful.

“Give me twenty minutes.”

“Splendid!” She could hear his smile down the line.

“I better not get mud in my hair, Fraser,” she retorted before hanging up, her own smile lingering on her face.

There was nothing romantic about rugby.

Non-Date #7

The flat was strangely forlorn, even with Christmas lights twinkling merrily in the living room windows and a tiny fir tree precariously balancing its five ornaments standing in the corner.

They had exchanged their gifts on December 23rd, sipping on hot chocolate spiked with Kahlua and grinning shyly at each other. She’d bought Jamie the next Call of Duty game for his XBox. Nothing intimate, just something he’d mentioned in passing he was looking forward to trying. His boyish glee upon unwrapping the package warmed her more than her drink. Hands shaking slightly, she delicately opened the tastefully wrapped rectangle he presented to her. Inside was a cashmere scarf, luxuriously soft beneath her fingers as she stroked it.

“Is this?” she asked.

“Aye, tis the Fraser plaid. Ye ken there’s no’ a clan named Bee-cham, right?”

She was deeply touched, and thanked him was a kiss against his scruffy cheek.

Jamie had left for Scotland the next day, having somehow managed to secure a week’s worth of leave from his uncle over the holiday season. As was her wont, she’d put down for as many shifts as possible while medical school wasn’t in session, but by some fluke she wasn’t scheduled to work New Year’s Eve for the first time in recent memory.

Some of her classmates from nursing college had invited her along to a “raging party in Shoreditch”, but she’d made up some excuse. The truth was, she wasn’t in the mood for loud music and over-priced drinks with a group of virtual strangers. If Geillis had been in town, she would have allowed her friend to coerce her into whatever mayhem she had up her sleeve, but Geillis was still in Columbia and eight months’ pregnant with twins, to everyone’s collective shock. Especially the mother-to-be.

No, what she really wanted was a quiet evening at home, snuggled under her favourite fleece blanket on their couch, the latest Ferrante novel in her lap and a glass of Pinot Noir at the ready. Jamie had a turntable and a surprisingly well-curated selection of vinyl in his bedroom, but she didn’t like entering his domain without his permission.

Without giving it a second thought, she rang his cell. It was only upon hearing the raucous sounds of a party in full swing that it occurred to her that just because she was spending New Year’s Eve alone, it didn’t mean Jamie was as well.

“Claire?” he yelled over something that sounded a lot like live music. “Are ye all right, lass?”

“Oh! I’m so sorry, Jamie. I just wanted to ask... never mind. It’s not important. Enjoy your party...”

“Wait!” the background noise mutated, sounding like a riot underwater, and then there was a wooden slam. Jamie huffed a sigh of relief.

“Mu dheireadh. Are ye still there, Sassenach?”

“Still here,” she confirmed, suddenly feeling sorry for herself. She might be the most pathetic thirty-year old in London.

“Did the hospital no’ call ye in for a shift, then?”

She tucked the blanket under her feet, warding off the chill that always seemed to creep in from the wall of windows. The Christmas lights she’d strung reflected against the glazing in alternating colours: blue, red, green, blue, red, green.

“No. By some miracle of the festive season, I have the night off,” she joked halfheartedly. “I’m sorry for interrupting your night out. I wanted to ask if I could borrow your turntable and a few of your albums?”

“O’ course. Ye didna need tae ask. An’ I’m no’ out. I’m at home, at Lallybroch.” He pronounced the word with a guttural flourish that made Claire think of an exotic kind of pastry or a rare tribal custom. Any time Jamie spoke of his family’s home in Scotland, he imbued it with an otherworldly quality, like a fortress in a fairy tale, a far away land of warriors and mist. It was strange to think of him there now, while she sat alone in their flat.

“It sounds like quite the party.”

“Aye. The Frasers take their Hogmanay celebrations verra seriously. Ye shoulda come wi’ me.” Then, as though realizing what he’d said, he added quickly, “We could use a doctor. Dougal sprained his ankle doin’ a sword dance, and Angus singed his arse somethin’ fierce jumpin’ o’er the bonfire.”

She laughed, her mood suddenly much lighter, and asked for more particulars as to how his cousin’s naked ass came to be in close proximity to open flame. Without either realizing it, the last minutes of 2017 crept by.

Fireworks erupted outside, followed by the tolling of bells and honking of horns. On the other end of the call, she could hear cheering and an off-key rendition of Auld Lang Syne. They were both silent, embarrassed to have been so caught up in their trivial conversation as to have missed the arrival of midnight.

“Happy Hogmanay, Sassenach,” Jamie’s voice came soft and sure over the line.

“Happy New Year, Jamie,” she replied. “I should really let you get back to your party. Your family must be wondering where you’ve disappeared to.”

He hummed noncommittally. It occurred to her that had they been in the same place, they would likely be kissing right now. It sent a shiver of want down her spine.

“Jamie?” Her voice sounded thready, like she had just woken from a deep sleep.

“Hmmm?” Shivers, again.

“What’s a Sassenach?”

He laughed softly, and she had to bite her lip. What was the matter with her? “Tis a Scottish word for a foreigner, particularly an English one,” he explained.

“You’ve never called me that before,” Claire remarked.

“I’ve ne’er spoken tae ye while on Scottish soil. T’wasn’t an accurate description ‘til now.”

There was a long silence. She could hear the sound of revelry through the door of whatever room at Lallybroch he’d hidden inside. Outside the flat there were firecrackers. They reminded her of mortar rounds heard from a distance in Afghanistan.

“You don’t like fireworks, do you?” she guessed. It didn’t take an advanced degree in psychology to know that bright flashes and sudden pops of sound would trigger his PTSD. They really were a mess, the pair of them.

“Nay. Jenny an’ Ian’s bairns love them, an’ I told them no’ tae hold off on my account, but they insisted on a bonfire instead. It reminds me o’ when I was a lad, a’fore ye could buy fireworks along wi’ yer ham at the local Tesco.”

Jamie launched into a long account of the significance of bonfires in Highland culture, and she let herself drift on the melody of his voice, the turntable long forgotten.

“Tell me about yer most memorable New Year’s,” he prompted after his cultural diatribe wound down.

“Oh, well, they all rather blur together, actually. Too much drink, too much spent on the cover charge. You know how it is.”

“Nah, I mean when ye were younger. Ye must ‘ave celebrated in some remarkable places.”

She thought back to her time spent following Uncle Lamb around the globe. Truth be told, traditional holidays weren’t something that stood out in her memory. They felt like a foreign custom, a series of drawings taken from a picture book that showed a mother, father and children crowded around a loaded table while snow piled up outside. They bore no relation to her reality. It was no wonder Christmas and New Year’s left her feeling ambivalent.

Still, she didn’t want Jamie to feel sorry for her, so she launched into one of her favourite tales.

“One year, I must have been eleven, Lamb was leading an excavation of a Berber oasis town in northern Mali. The site closed down for the Christian holidays, but Lamb decided to stay behind rather than travel back to England. We ended up riding camels through these enormous sand dunes, following a local guide on an ancient caravan route. On December 31st, just as the sun was setting and we had begun to make camp, the camel Lamb had been riding let out this infernal noise, leapt to its feet, and started to gallop away. Lamb and the guide set off after it on foot, hollering and waving their keffiyeh in the air. It was the funniest thing.”

“They left ye all alone in the desert?” Jamie asked, horrified.

“Oh, well, they came back eventually. The camel had been stung by a scorpion, you see. Once it got over the fright, they were able to catch it and bring it back to camp.”

“Were ye no’ scared, tae be out there in the dark by yerself?”

“No. Not as I remember it. The sunset was glorious, and little by little the sky came alive with a million stars.”

“Ye brave wee thing.” Jamie sighed. “I wish I was there wi’ ye.”

She didn’t know if he meant with her on that sand dune, or with her at their flat. Either way, her answer was the same.

“I wish you were too.”

They finally hung up well past two o’clock. It didn’t count as a date if the other person was five hundred miles away as you whispered goodnight.

Non-Date #12

The Royal London was expanding its pediatrics wing, and Claire was invited to a fundraising gala held, fittingly, in the Museum of Childhood. The invitation included a plus one, and she’d been putting off asking Jamie if he could join her all week. It wasn’t that she doubted his suitability as an escort. Far from it. But the gala was taking place on February 14th, of all nights, and the symbolism made her nervous. Still, the alternative was spending the night being hit on by a drunken internist or hedge fund investor, and that was a headache she could do without.

“So,” she began casually a few nights before the event, “any plans for Valentine’s Day?” If he said he was working or had, god forbid, a date, she would just have to go stag.

Jamie set down his gaming controller and turned to face her desk. The pulsing colours from the screen lit his curls like a neon nimbus in the dim room.

“Nah, nothin’ definite. An’ ye, Sassenach?” he asked tentatively, as though easing himself out onto a frozen lake, unsure of the depth of the ice. The nickname he had assigned to her during his holidays in Scotland had stuck. She didn’t correct the inaccuracy, as she rather liked the idea of having a name that was only his.

“Well, I’ve been summoned to a fundraising gala for the hospital, and I was wondering... not that you need feel obliged... it’s black tie, which is really the height of pretension, if you ask me... anyway, there’s no way to decline gracefully short of an aneurysm, so...”

“Out wi’ it, Sassenach,” he prodded.

“Mightyouconsiderbeingmydate?” she blurted, before taking a large gulp of tepid tea.

“Yer date?” he asked as though he had never heard of such a thing.

She sighed, resigned to the fact he was going to make this difficult. “Yes. My date. My plus one. My social companion. And hopefully, my defence against spending the evening being pitied and set up with someone’s second cousin, Nigel, the chartered accountant.”

“Do ye have somethin’ against accountants, then?” The corner of his lip was twitching with the birth of a grin.

“Oh, very funny, you bloody Scot. Look, I need a date on Valentine’s Day and you are the only man in the Greater London Area who won’t interpret that as an opportunity for a pity shag. The offer is on the table. Take it or leave it.”

Something flashed behind his eyes that she couldn’t interpret. Then it was gone.

“Ne’er fear, Sassenach. I’ll protect ye from all the wee Nigels.”

***

She’d forgotten to ask whether Jamie had suitable attire for a black tie event. It was too late now, regardless. They were meeting at the museum, since she was on shift until eight. Using the nurses on-call room to get changed, she slinked into her burgundy chiffon gown, its gauzy layers wrapping around her like millefeuille. Her hair was a lost cause, so she slicked it back into a tight bun at the nape of her neck and hoped for the best. Silver chandelier earrings and a dab of cologne below her jaw, and she was ready to go. She carried a small beaded clutch and her dress shoes - there was no way she was navigating the Tube in stilettos.

The museum was a single massive space, conversation and the tympani of glassware echoing against its high-arched ceiling. She stood in the entryway after checking her coat, spinning in circles and trying to get her bearings. More than one lascivious glance was directed her way, but she studiously ignored them in favour of looking for Jamie. With his height and red hair, he shouldn’t be hard to pick out of the crowd.

There was an appreciative murmur from behind her, a gust of fresh air, and then a soft tap against her bare shoulder. She turned around.

No. Not hard to pick out from a crowd at all. Standing before her was James Fraser in full Highland regalia. He wore his family tartan, a black velvet waistcoat, brilliant white dress shirt and a black bow tie. When her gaze fell to the floor, she noticed his polished brogues and white socks pulled up to his knees. She’d never before considered how a man’s knees might be alluring, but there it was. Jamie had very sexy knees.

“G’d evening, Sassenach. Ye look... weel, ye look bonnie.” Jamie’s normally deep voice was gruffer than usual, perhaps on account of the cold night air. Or maybe his bowtie was tied too tight.

“Good evening, Jamie,” she replied once she found her voice. “You look, well, if you were a Jacobite, I’d say you looked regal.”

The tops of Jamie’s ears went red, and he ducked his chin, his tamed curls falling briefly forward. It gave him the look of a bashful child receiving unexpected praise, completely at odds with the strikingly masculine figure he cut.

“No’ a Nigel, then?” he teased.

“No. Definitely not a Nigel. Come, let’s get something to drink before all the top-shelf liquor runs out. You wouldn’t believe how much some of these doctors can put away!”

Jamie was a perfect date. He stood by her elbow as she mingled and greeted various colleagues and professors, nodding at their tales of medical misfortune and smiling at their awkward jokes. He spoke confidently about his work and current affairs, and patiently tolerated endless jibes about what a true Scotsman wore beneath his kilt.

When she politely excused them from one such conversation, he leaned over to whisper in her ear as they walked away to fortify themselves with more alcohol.

“I’ve a mind tae lift my plaid an’ moon the entire assembly the next time one o’ yer wee doctor friends asks about my underthings. Are ye sure they arena raising funds for a new proctology department, Sassenach?”

She snorted in a truly unladylike fashion and turned to meet his unrepentant smirk. Just then, a figure approaching from the bar caught her eye.

Oh no. It couldn’t be. After five years, she’d finally relaxed her vigilance, had ceased anticipating his presence at every turn, and now, here he was.

“Sassenach?” Jamie was watching her with concern. The blush had drained from her cheeks, leaving her wine-stained lips and sintering eyes the only colour on her face.

“Claire! Fancy meeting you here!” Had his voice always been so nasal? His eyes so glassy and vacant, like portals into nothingness. He’d obviously been drinking heavily. A blond woman half his age had her arm linked through his.

“Frank,” she uttered his name. Jamie stepped into her side, his posture erect, somehow sensing that she needed his protection from this unheralded threat.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise. I’d heard you’d gone into the army, or some such thing. Afghanistan, was it? Well, with your penchant for violence, I suppose that’s fitting.”

She breathed deeply through her nose. She would not let him get the better of her. She wasn’t that person anymore. With a clammy hand, she grabbed onto Jamie’s fingers where they rested around her hip. He squeezed back. He was here. She wasn’t alone. It was all the strength she needed.

“Yes, that’s right. I served overseas for a time, but I’m back in London now. In medical school. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we were just leaving.”

Focusing on each step, she turned towards the exit, Jamie’s hand now warm upon the small of her back. Her chin wobbled, but she bit down hard to stave off tears.

“A doctor?” Frank taunted from behind her. “Wouldn’t a demolition expert be more apropos, darling?”

She froze, spine trembling with anger. Jamie made a questioning noise, asking without words if she wanted him to intervene. She didn’t.

Glancing over her shoulder, she dealt her parting blow.

“Give my best to Amelia and the children.” Without waiting to witness the aftermath of her pronouncement, she made her way out into the chilly night air, Jamie’s bulk a silent sentinel at her side.

It wasn’t a date if it ended on the floor of your bathroom, crying ugly sobs as mascara stained your cheeks, while your partner held your shoulders and made soothing noises with his throat.

That wasn’t dating, that was survival.

***

mac na ghalla = son of a bitch

Mu dheireadh = finally

#my writing #outlander

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himbo-buckley · 5 years ago

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Intimacy, Sex and Buddie (better known as I have a lot of feelings about this show, some of which are related to the before mentioned topics)

I should preface this by saying this meta was supposed to be a lot shorter and only talk about how both Buck and Eddie use sex to distract their respective partners from whatever topic they actually wanted to talk about but since I decided to rewatch the show to make sure I don’t miss any such scenes, it has exploded a bit and taken on more topics

I should also preface this by saying that the whole of the 118 has some obvious intimacy / commitment issues except Bobby (which is sort of surprising) but *John Mulaney voice* we don’t have time to unpack all of that!

On another note I cuss a little in this Meta because my parents let me listen to TicTacToe as a small child and after that it never stuck that cussing is wrong so, uhm, parental supervision is advised or something?

This Meta will so far have three parts, one for each season and is organised by episode so you could technically follow along

Without further ado I present: Intimacy, Sex and the Buddie of it all, Season 1: (Better known as “Not a Sex Addict”)

Episode 1.01:

Buck, we meet first in the pilot and one of the first things we learn about him? That boy fucks! Like literally his second scene is him having sex in the firetruck, which in the episode is presented to us as his way of dealing with the stress of firefighting (it cuts from Bobby’s confession scene saying some firefighters are sex addicts to Buck racing the Brunette). Then later in this episode, between saving a baby, getting in a fight with Athena and not knowing who Rambo is, he fucks the snake horder and get’s himself fired for his trouble. He also tells Bobby he is a sex addict here.

Now you could easily read both those scenes as proving Buck’s statement or you can read it as him justifying his actions, which I think is what Bobby did, or you can fall in love with the cocky bastard and think there is more to it, which is obviously what I did. And also what I think this show wants you to do? Because in the same scene Buck gives the first of his many heartbreaking speeches about having nothing else besides being a firefighter and how that is the best part of him (or whatever, I’m combining the speeches, I didn’t rewatch that scene because it gives me too much second hand embaressment)

And let’s look at this statement and what we know about Buck by fast forwarding a bit, okay? Because we know virtually nothing about who Buck was prior to the Pilot. We know he spent a summer in South America as a bartender, we know he tried out for the Seals about a year ago and we know he’s been a firefighter for 3 months (meaning the first season is his probationary time the same way Season 2 is Eddie’s), so depending on how long firefighter training takes he probably has lived in LA for less than a year, meaning he probably hasn’t made too many meaningful connections yet and the 118 are really the closest thing to family he has there (a fact that if you fast forward again is sort of proven in canon if - if we take every word as being word of god - by Maddie saying „If our parents call“ in 2.01, implying Buck is probably not close to them) (he also tells Maddie „It was getting pretty lonely here“ in 2.01, so you know, point proven?)

Now I don’t think Buck is a sex addict after all. Yes, he is using sex to unwind (and good for him, at least he isn’t drinking or taking drugs, Bobby), but he is also using it to substitute actual intimacy, because that boy is fucking lonely.

Just look at the scene with the brunette, alright? After the act he asks her: „So can I have your actual number?“ and she says no, and he does this whole macho spiel about „the golden times“ or whatever, but come on, we know this is bull, right? Look at how earnest he looks when he asks! (and here I have to applaud 911 again, because the show only has one young conventionally attractive character at this point and instead of his character just being badass ladies man, but he is held accountable for his actions and the show went out of its way to point out how problematic his behaviour was, so kudos! I love you!)

Episode 1.02:

In this episode Buck loses two people and is understandably distraught. And Bobby comes to him in the locker room, to, as Buck thinks, express his disappointment, which is what Buck thinks he deserves, except Bobby is in full Dad-mode and just wants Buck to talk about it. Which Buck does almost imediately leading to us learning about the Seals and that our Buck has so many emotions and knows it and likes it (again, shoutout to the writers for having their young attractive Macho-dude cry in episode two! Ya’ll the real ones).

Now Bobby clearly didn’t see this coming and is like „Uhm, how about we talk to a professional about all that, I have my own shit, kiddo“ and then we get our first therapist scenes and look, while I do see where people are coming from, I do not consider this rape. I do however think it was a badly thought through scene and also an abuse of power and Autumn Reeser should not be allowed to work as a therapist again. The way this scene is shot and cut however makes it seem like Buck came onto her and did not regret what happened, so you know as the german saying goes: where there is no complaint there is no judge. (which does not mean I condone what happened, but, tbh, this is one of those scene where I feel the writers just did not think the implications through. Someone with a twitter go ask Tim Minear about it)

Anyways, let’s talk about everything before the sex because I think this is what’s relevant:

The scene begins with the therapist asking Buck if he is uncomfortable, he seems that way (and kudos to Oliver Stark for the way he acts this scene because we can truly feel everything Buck feels) and Buck saying his „I’m not really into feelings. I mean yeah feeling them, just not talking about them.“ after which the therapist throws some things at Buck to see what sticks (which is something therapists sometimes do in early sessions, just try to gauge a reaction, see where the no no - zones are, especially with people like Buck who are quote „not scared“. Like, he is so walled up already.)

And now comes the part that I’ll give you word for word, because this is what matters in this scene, okay?

T: „You lost somebody, that’s hard“

B: „Yeah but we lose people. At least that’s what everybody keeps telling me.“

T: „Was this your first time?“

B: „Well, I’ve had calls where it’s been to late but I’ve only been doing this not even 6 months. Now I just can’t shake the feeling that this one didn’t need to go down the way it did.“ (up until the second part Buck sits tall, then he leans forward, his voice becomes urgent, THIS is the important message)

T: “So do you think there is something you could have done differently?“

(close up to Bucks face looking distraught, ding ding, we have a winner!)

After this they cut away to Athena and when we come back Buck is crying and the therapist tries to explain why the guy might have died and then walks toward Buck and tells him how they’re actually here to talk about him and then Buck deflects, he tells her to call him Buck, they talk about facebook, scene change, they come back after Sex, Buck is all better.

(Slightly unrelated sidenote at this point we have seen Buck have sex 3 times and every single time it’s sitting on some chair with the girl on top, uhm, what’s up with that? (He’s a bottom))

But I truly think the important part is what I’ve highlighted, this is where she hit a nerve and sure, he let her finish and listened and cried, but Buck’s a multitasker, he was just waiting for his opening - which the therapist gave to him by sitting down across from him and touching him, so now Buck turns the tables on her and makes her uncomfortable - or: she struck a nerve and he deflects, so instead of the emotional vulnerability she wants from him, he gives her physical intimacy, probably aware that this way he will not have to come see her again (because isn’t that what all women do? Hi, Brunette from Episode 1).

And then the episode ends on the very relevant conversation were Abby asks him out and Buck says no because HE REALISED HE HAS SOME ISSUES WITH WOMEN AND INTIMACY!!! I love this show so much, you guys! Buck tells Abby he can’t go out with her because they’ll definitly have sex and he tells her about the therapist and Abby is all you wish and he tells her how much he likes her and how he has no one else in his life that make him feel good and it’s all cute and dorky and yes, sometimes I do find myself shipping them. A little.

Episode 1.03 has nothing of relevance as far as I recall so we ignore it.

Episode 1.04:

... also not that relevant except that little scene at the end that I thought was in Episode 5 titled: The moment I fell in love with this show! When Bobby says „help“ it gets me every time! I keep expecting him to not answer but he asks for help and I gasp. Every. Damn. Time.

Episode 1.05

... is when it get’s really interesting because this is when the Sex addict meets the women he has been emotionally intimate, which is, you know, the thing he’s sensitive about!

I really like how Buck is all in Protector-Mode and seems so competent up until when they’re in the car together and Abby starts to talk about them (him) not having wanted to meet and it hit’s him that uuups, this is the actual woman he has been talking to! A human being (and not just some voice on the phone he talks to) and an attractive one as it is (and boy do I love how dressed down Connie Brighton is most of the time? Look, she’s pretty and she’s not 25 and she looks it and that’s okay!) so again Buck deflects by making the whole exchange about Sex - you know, physical intimacy because he is scared of emotional intimacy. Which is what I have been trying to prove here.

Then they save that little girl and have the very sweet moment in the car were Buck is very vulnerable, though I think it’s mostly for Abby’s benefit? Because Buck is in protector mode and there is nothing Buck wouldn’t do to help someone else, even flay himself open. He’s just selfless like that.

And then they find Patricia and bring her home and he is very uncomfortable and then he says goodbye all sweet and Patricia tells him to be kind to Abby and Buck is already in so deep, so really someone should have taken the time to tell Abby to be kind and nice to this boy (if Buck gets another love interest I want someone to give them the shovel talk, mainly Hen or Eddie, possibly together, because this boy gives away too much of himself and it hurts me), but alas no one did, so Buck tries to protect himself by, you guessed it, talking about sex!

It really is a defense mechanism for him, which might prove that he came from a conservative background or might just not mean anything, besides that he is very comfortable with Sex and other people are not which is why he uses it to deflect. People generally don’t try to look to deep if you make them uncomfortable, which is generally Buck’s way of dealing with problems: he either pushes back and steamrolls over it or is it too loud and open about something, which keeps people from looking to deep (Season 3 is proof of that, the only person who sees through his act, I think, is Hen because she also uses false bravedo to deal with things. Eddie sees it too, but only after Buck explains it to him, because Eddie operates completely different - but that’s something I’ll talk more about later)

And then all of Bucks fears of people not liking him after seeing what’s underneath are proven right when, after spending a whole day with him, Abby tells him they shouldn’t see each other again because she too likes him and if they continue mistakes will be made (which is just her respecting Bucks wishes from 1.02 but also proves to Buck that no one can like him on a deeper level). She gives this very sweet speech about how good he makes her feel but if you look at Buck’s face it’s just sooo closed off. And then she does this very mean thing with the „do not fuck some tinder-girl“, which i find very hypocrit of her, because she basically told Buck she won’t give him more than what they currently have but also he’s not allowed to look somewhere else for it (although she is very right, Buck needs to learn to find validation in himself and not through other people, which is something he sorta did in Season 3? More on this later)

Which is why we get the phone sex scene at the end. Because at this point Buck has been emotionally intimate with this women and then he met her and he kept being emotionally intimate with him and she basically rejected him so Buck made it about physical intimacy. He rejected her back. Found a loophole. Pushed back.

And I know I’m ignoring the scene in between when he is all proud about not having sex with Abby, but yeah, he would have had if Abby let him so it doesn’t really count.

Side note: this whole Episode proves that Buck is not a sex addict - if he were we would have seen him maybe try and convince Abby or seen a scene of him struggeling with whether he should pick up another girl or something, but they didn’t. Nope, they gave up „Buck with Hen and Bobby - bonding time“.

Episode 1.06:

I dislike this one a lot because it calls the episode before a liar by having Abby go on a date with Buck, after saying they shouldn’t meet each other again. I actually checked IMDB to see if there was a christmas break between those episodes, but nope, they aired a week apart! (Also how everyone pushes Buck into doing Valentine’s day even though he doesn’t like it? Yeah, not on board.)

But you know what’s relevant af about this Episode? The scene between Bobby and Buck where Dad helps his son get ready. I truly think this scene, combined with his firing in 1.01 is what caused the shift into Buck 2.0.

Also canon yet again tells us that Buck is not in fact a sex addict but rather using sex to avoid real intimacy and then they have this bantery conversation about not being a dick by having sex on the first date and being a gentleman and I love how Peter and Oliver play off of each other here. This scene is so much fun to watch because they clearly had so much fun acting it.

We can basically jump over the rest of the episode, but I do want you to look at the scene between Bobby and Abby in the hospital for a moment because I 100% thought they were setting up a love triangle here? (Again, someone with Twitter ask Tim Minear)

Episode 1.07:

The actual time jump according to IMDB happens between those episodes (someone who watched Season 1 live please confirm) although in the story there isn’t - they just decided to air the Valentine’s episode in November and then come back in February to talk about the full moon - apparently.

Aside from that Buck is such an adorable dork in this episode which i truly think is why half this fandom is in love with him and some more scenes with Peter and Oliver that are just plain fun happen (and I love season 3 but I miss how much fun they got to have in Season 1). Also our first real bi!Buck sighting and the implication that Buck went from delivering Babys to delivering a tapeworm, only to go: I’m gonna have sex with my girlfriend now! And I honestly love him for that.

Other than that, not much to prove or disprove this meta except Buck being hesitant to go on another date and trying to explain away why he came to see Abby but her just cutting right through his bullshit.

Episode 1.08: not relevant

Episode 1.09:

Our second instance of Buck nearly dying. Buck’s „I don’t suppose you do a lot of pull ups“ kills me every time and Hen freaks out about it a little and he just loves it off. He is a true badass.

Also there is the Ballon scene which makes me mad, because Buck has every right to be upset about everything, even if none of it is Abby’s fault. I’m really up in the air about how I feel about the Bobby and Buck talk in the locker room because on the one hand side I do agree with everything Captain Dad says and I think this scene also is part of creating Buck 2.0 but on the other hand side he is kind of invalidating Buck’s feelings?

Anyways, Bobby tells him, that if Buck really likes Abby he needs to stop trying to feel like she needs saving and let her set the pace. I’m not saying it’s why Buck waited around so long for her in Season 2 but I do think Bobby basically telling him this is what a real man would do - the thing Buck wants so badly to be - plays a role. It’s too bad that while Buck is all in, Abby is not.

I’m also gonna put my clown shoes on real quick and say we get a nearly identical scene in 2.10, when Buck talks to Chimney about Eddie and Shannon. Make of that what you want.

Episode 1.10:

Buck identifies with the guy using him to cat fish girls because he understands his need for connection and intimacy. After all he did the same thing, just a different method.

Also Abby leaves.

There’s not more to say

So this is where Season 1 ends, with Buck aware that he was trying to substitute physical for emotional intimacy and trying to correct it and build a life with Abby - which did not work because Abby left.

But I just wanna mention real quick how much character development Buck has in such a short amount of time! It floors me every time. And while we all know he attributes this to Abby, it’s really just about Buck being Buck and he was already on his way to becoming this guy, simply because through his job and the firefam suddenly he got validation? I feel so proud. I really only wish Buck would finally come to this realisation himself or maybe someone would tell him this. He deserves it.

#evan buckley #buck meta #buddie meta #buck #911 meta #911 #911 fox #textpost #mine #season 1 #meta #my meta

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sibyl-of-space · 3 years ago

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Final Fantasy IX ~ Melodies and Memories

"Jesters of the Moon"

There are a lot of very good video games in the world, but it takes some luck and circumstance outside of a game's control for one to reach me at just the right time(s) and place(s) in my life that it has a tangible impact on who I am -- who I want to be. One that carves out a space for itself in my soul that will never be removed or replaced.

I've just finished playing Final Fantasy IX for the first time, and there's no doubt in my mind that such is the case here.

(Continued below readmore.)

I drew this art last year, when I was mourning my attachment to an old favorite game that I just don't feel the same way about anymore: Majora's Mask. I wanted to draw something that captured my feelings about it, because sometimes art is the best way to talk about something when the words don't want to come.

Why is "Jesters of the Moon," the name of a random song in the Final Fantasy IX soundtrack, plastered in the middle of this Majora's Mask fanart? Especially considering I hadn't even played Final Fantasy IX yet when I drew this?

The reason is exactly that "luck and circumstance" that allowed me to fall so uniquely in love with the game.

"Mt. Gulug"

In 2008, someone on YouTube uploaded a Majora's Mask parody-slash-let's-play series called "Majora's Mask: The Things Which Were Taken Out." The series has since become unlisted and won't be linked here out of respect for the creator who probably doesn't want things they said and made in 2008 being spread all over the internet, but because of Unregistered Hypercam 2 reasons, the series inserted other background music over the video and didn't record the actual game audio.

I didn't recognize any of the music, but I watched these parody videos on repeat because in addition to being funny (...at the time, in my mind, at least), I really really loved the music. It got to the point where I would sometimes be playing Majora's Mask and get disappointed when I approached Goht and the Mt. Gulug theme wasn't playing in the background.

I had forgotten about these videos for a really long time in the interim, but I remembered them at some point when I was thinking about Majora's Mask and I found them again. The creator had cited the Final Fantasy IX soundtrack for virtually all of the background music used in the videos, and I realized that despite knowing literally nothing about the game, I had become really fond of - and weirdly nostalgic for - the songs from it that I now recognized.

So I looked up "Jesters of the Moon" and played it on repeat while I drew out my feelings in colored marker. A few months later, I realized that my backwards compatible PS3 can also play PS1 games, and eBay had FFIX for PS1 at a good price. I had nothing to lose by ordering it and seeing what the source of all that fantastic music was like.

"Vamo Alla Flamenco"

I started my playthrough knowing nothing about what to expect from the game. I'd never played a Final Fantasy game before and my overall JRPG experience has been mostly limited to Tales of, Persona, and more recently, mainline Shin Megami Tensei. The only things I knew about Final Fantasy were a) the Tidus laughing scene, and b) Sephiroth. IX seemed like it had vibes I would enjoy, but beyond that I knew nothing about what the experience would be. So I approached it with a "let's have fun and see how it goes" attitude, naming my party members the first silly thing that came to mind, ending up with "Swaggy," "OwO," "Bitchin," "Gunz," and "SWOOORD" to start with.

(For the record I do not regret those names whatsoever.)

I was immediately struck by how differently the game uses music in comparison to all of my previous JRPG experiences. This was not a game where the composer was given a list of theme songs that were slapped on top of a mostly completed game-- this was a game constructed with the soundtrack in mind as a part of the writing process.

The opening act plays almost like an opera (side note, yes I know one of the other FF's has a literal opera, I haven't played that one): you traverse the same locations from different perspectives as different characters, introducing the cast with lighthearted humor and dramatic irony out the wazoo. While you traverse the city as OwO, OwO's theme is playing in the background, coloring your perspective of the city and the narrative. When you switch to Gunz patrolling around the castle, Gunz's theme accompanies your movement and informs his character and mission. I am so accustomed to "location themes" being the norm in virtually all video games that experiencing character and/or narrative themes as BGM instead while I bumble around town changed my entire perspective on what music in games can do and be.

The operatic feeling is definitely intentional, because the game uses a play-within-a-game narrative device to hit you over the head with its themes in a way that is somehow poignant and artful while also being extremely blatant. That is a hard balance to strike, but it manages. The whole game is like that: it is completely straightforward and tells you exactly what it's about at heart, but it does it beautifully.

At any rate, I was enamored with this intro and had a very fun time, but I wasn't obsessed or anything and ended up putting it down. I spent several months on the first half of disk 1 with weeks passing between play sessions. I liked the game plenty, but life stuff happened and I decided to get obsessed with Dai Gyakuten Saiban and Ghost Trick for a while. No regrettis.

It was already clear, though, that FFIX was going to be special to me. My compositions for my team's game in the Global Game Jam in 2021 were directly inspired by FFIX's opera-like intro. I wrote two character themes for our game that would serve as background music when you play as the two protagonists, coloring your journey differently even when moving in the same spaces. I was intentionally trying to mimic the way music is used in FFIX as an exercise. The themes I wrote are definitely some of my strongest work so far.

(You can check out the game here if you want, I promise it is significantly shorter than Final Fantasy IX.)

"Melodies of Life"

Music caused me to pick up FFIX the first time, and music caused me to return to it. After months of not touching or really thinking about it, just earlier this week I was inspired to play it again, because - again - I listened to the right song at the right time.

I was again mourning the loss of something, in this case a friendship, for reasons I'm not going to share here. I had already heard the song "Melodies of Life" because it came up when I was looking up FFIX songs to reblog on Tumblr a few months ago, and I decided to listen to it again. Even without knowing the game context, the song itself really spoke to me in that moment: "a voice from the past, joining yours and mine, adding up the layers of harmony" - it kind of made me feel at peace with the fact that I had a lot of positive memories of that friendship and I could keep those at heart while also moving on in the present. ...I'm also a sucker for music metaphors, so there is that.

I was really moved by this song, cheesy as it is, and I was also definitely in the mood for a distraction. Picking up FFIX again felt like the best move.

It was, and my life is forever changed.

The game never stopped being beautiful and funny and touching, and the soundtrack never ceased to amaze. I recognized concepts I've seen in other games but never had I seen them used so artfully. I adored the fantasy world and non-human cast, I found myself enticed by random encounter for the first time because it made me feel like I had to struggle to survive a difficult journey. Music, gameplay, visuals, and story felt like one cohesive work of art for the entire duration.

Life circumstances got me to play the game again, but the game itself was so captivating and wonderful that I binged the entire rest of it - disks 2-4 - in less than a week. Everything else that the game had to say, it told me itself, in its own context, and I was ready to listen.

"You're Not Alone!"

This is going to make me sound like an emotionally-stunted twenty-something, but it has been years since a work of media has got me to have a really good cry. I used to cry playing games all the time as a kid but recently I'll find myself getting emotional, sure, often tearing up, but getting completely red-faced and snot-nosed because I physically cannot contain the emotions being evoked by a work? Years. I can't honestly tell you the last time it happened with certainty.

I feel like an emotional band-aid has been ripped off. I was f*cking sobbing during the entire duration of the "You're Not Alone!" sequence. It didn't matter that what was happening was obviously coming from a mile away, because the delivery was so raw and emotional and human!!! A whole game's worth of Swaggy punching first and asking questions later to save his friends, being Protag McProtag endangering himself for others in any and all circumstances, for the payoff of all of his friends forcing him to stop being such a primadonna and let them help him for once. It's true, too! He relies on them just as much as they rely on him! And the game doesn't just tell you this, no, it lets you try to solo all these fights and waits until you realize how boned you are until they come bail you out.

When Bitchin showed up with her "looks like you need a hand" I wanted to straight up yell at my tv. YES I DO!!! YES I DO NEED YOU BITCHIN!!!!! THANK YOU!!!!!!! I half knew that SWOOORD was going to heal me before I got truly KO-ed but I had been unmercifully wiped in "unwinnable" battles before in this game, so I legit thought I might have to re-do that whole part of the game again, and I was so relieved and thankful when she showed up and healed me.

This moment exemplifies everything that I adore about this game. It doesn't just tell you its story. It shows it to you, it sings it to you, and it and lets you play it out and feel it for yourself.

"Game Over"

This song is all too familiar to me. Gizamaluke's Grotto was very unforgiving for a first-time Final Fantasy player, especially one who didn't happen to pick up Big on the way for a fourth party member early on.

I hadn't heard the piano part in a few months, though, because when I picked the game back up I started just mashing to reload before it got to that point any time we wiped. I didn't hear it again until the game was truly over, this time for good.

I let it play for a while. Not too long, because I have a CRT TV and didn't want "The End" to get burned in. But a while. Enough to meditate on what I'd just experienced, and how I was feeling about it.

There's so much more to say about the game, far more than I could put in a blog post. But I don't think I need to describe these thoughts in words. I can do what the game did, and use music, use art, use stories, use metaphors, and use symbols to communicate what I mean; and hope that someone else is able and willing to listen.

And although a written record of my thoughts likely won't be preserved for all that long, maybe the feelings and the memories will be, so long as they have been shared.

#personal #analyses #ffix

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meltangospelhour · 3 years ago

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Notes on Reverie & Discipline: Chapter 1

Format: 1st Person Narrative

Chapter Rating: R / +17 [Implied Sexual stuff/it's smut]

Summary: This story was written after and based upon the 2020 GOFest that's been collecting dust. It's a first person recollection of thoughts after certain events, as well as repressed feelings coming to the surface between three characters in particular.

Chapter 2 // Chapter 3

Blanche

Comparing notes is how we’ve come to conclude our daily routine. It has been logical to do so; our research overlaps quite a bit. As you know, I oversee the handling of evolutionary components and deducting the requirements; Spark is an expert when it comes to breeding and handling Pokémon in their infancy; and Candela, in matters of improving overall stats of a Pokémon, which can involve a combination of stardust and candies.

To address it as Spark would: “Candy makes the candy.”

...Ahem.

So, because candies can trigger the evolutionary outcome of a Pokémon, it is inevitable and without question that I would be working alongside Candela quite often. It’s a fate inescapable. Even if we’ve discovered nothing new, she and I will come together out of a habit that’s formed over the course of these years. If one of us is too sick to appear in person, we’ll connect virtually. In all matters of candy, stardust, and now Rockets, there is always something to discuss.

Such evenings are somehow intense, yet still quiet. Cozy, if you will. The way my partner shifts from being so analytical in one moment, into a giggling fit the next, was a pattern that alarmed me in the beginning. Are you really a scientist, I’d wanted to ask countless times during our first sessions. Now, I’m happy to be a witness to the gamut of personalities that find themselves called into the field that are Pokémon studies.

Candela is far more crafty and even more calculative than I had come to imagine. If she loses, she still somehow wins. I have to work hard for my victories against her; she loses gracefully, but you will have most certainly earned that victory. Countless times, I have created elaborate defenses, counting on her weaknesses--proven and potential. And, repeatedly, I have seen her sidestep them before she’d even touch the surface of my hard work.

As if I were the purest ice, she sees right through me.

With her, there is no hesitation in matters of reading my face, my eyes, the way my fingers move, the pace of my breath, the tone of my voice, the quivering of my lips. Even down to the way I dress, she knows the language I speak past my mask, intentionally and not.

I could, at times, feel where those eyes went. It was distressing, yet oddly… alluring. That reaction has yet to change.

Within six months of observing me, she once asked of me: “You’re upset; aren’t you?”

“And why do you think this?” I sharply quipped.

“Your braid; it’s underhanded. When you’re in a better mood and have your hair braided, you’d usually opt for an overhand technique. Right?”

I found myself paralyzed; she was right. My Lapras had come down with Pokerus. While the virus itself is generally beneficial, it doesn’t make the course of the disease any easier to endure. Seeing someone you care about in pain and discomfort weighs heavily on the mind. As always, I kept my more guttural emotional responses suppressed. The issue of anyone knowing what my Lapras was going through wasn’t the problem; the issue was the potential of my raw emotions stifling my work.

I found myself angry; I had lost control. To opt for a euphemism so many are wont to make: she thawed past my glacial barrier. With this knowledge, would she take advantage of it?

She did, only…not in the way that I’d feared.

Candela stopped by to make sure my Lapras was comfortable, and told a story about how her Infernape, then a Monferno, came down with it. The Pokémon's massive head now resting in her lap, my research partner sang to it a lullaby that I’d never heard--Only to realize along the crescendo that it was Lugia’s Song in a different key. My Lapras, for the first time since falling ill, found enough will to make sound beyond agonized moaning and hummed along with her.

I looked on at the scene that churned impossible-to-pinpoint feelings from within: a woman who I’d feared, and, in a panic, further embraced water-types into my repertoire. Only to find that she seemed relieved I had done so while jovially complaining about needing a real challenge. Now doting upon the very Pokémon who could potentially, with its gains in its newfound recovery, could likely better withstand her team, if not devastate it, if I calculate my strategy accordingly.

It dawned upon me that she saw herself as a small part of something much bigger. If we were strong together, it was all that mattered to her.

She’d said to me some time ago, not the exact words, but akin to: Battles are frequent. They are won, they are lost. But war only has one victory, and that is the victory to focus upon.

That resonated true, especially now.

The feeling of partnership and friendship remained stable. However, something else within felt threatened.

...Something deeper that I’d repeatedly denied myself.

❄❄❄

I’ve worried. I’ve found myself knotting up within. I hadn’t fallen ill. I began to follow the pattern that was behind this sudden nuisance. One of the GO Rocket leaders we were up against is a person from Candela’s past. Someone close to her. A rival and a close friend. In a passing and annoyingly irrelevant thought, I immediately processed the possibility of them being doubles partners in that not-so-distant past.

I found myself thinking about it more, wishing to see the fight they’d engaged in in that field. I thought more about them than I did Cliff. I feel so terribly sorry for Cliff; Giovanni is unworthy of a man that loyal. But I found my thoughts wandering more often to a point that could be deemed unhealthy at worst, counterproductive at best.

The Salamence were the ones that drove my thoughts into this descent. Candela had one that she loved so dearly. That is not to say that she didn’t love her Pokémon equally, but her closeness and address of the dragon seemed so very unique in of itself. To compare, she addressed her Moltres with a certain deference, as we often did with our signature birds. To further illustrate the relationship, one could say that they were our patrons and we, their scions, in a sense. With the Salamence, however, there was a certain reminiscence and determination that I could never understand--

--Until I learned of Arlo’s possession of a Salamence. Though, his was tainted--as far as I was aware. Likewise, this could all be fallacious; I could be bringing up Sierra and Candela’s Houndooms, mine and Sierra’s Lapras, or Spark and Cliff’s Tyranitars. These coincidences potentially had just as little-to-no grounds for concern.

...Right? Of course. Of course, I’m right.

The Salamence themselves shouldn’t be a detail worth my mulling over; however, it drove my curiosity as to who filled the ranks of Arlo’s non-tainted team that Candela had, from what Willow said (who recounted what Candela told him) requested to battle. For old friends who dedicated themselves to the world of Pokémon battles to have matching Pokémon, or Pokémon who were romantically involved, it was often seen as what one might call a ‘cute’ gesture.

A cute gesture between old friends…

...Old friends who could be considered to be of ‘marrying age,’ no less…

To share a pair of dragons was no small matter in certain cultures. After all, Arlo is presumably Kantonian, or perhaps Johtonian; Candela is--

If the dragons are or were mates, then, possibly--?

(I still do not know Candela’s exact age. Her appearance is considerably younger than Spark’s, despite her being the eldest. I attribute this to a number of factors alongside her own healthy habits. One of my admins even teased that Valor’s old guards biologically engineered their higher ranks to fit a certain ideal, to which I immediately dismissed, but considered the potential sciences for my own personal application in terms of enhancing my own mental aptitude permanently.)

In addition, I suppose Spark being very open to discussing Sierra, but Candela’s withholding of Arlo, fuels my ruminations. Spark and Sierra have shared no past, but the level of transparency he was willing to offer is to be appreciated.

“...Has she mentioned him to you?” I asked Spark while watching Elekid and my Metagross play together.

“Nope.” He was careless and quick to reply. I wish he’d not assume before speaking.

“...You’re aware of whom I’m asking about?”

“Yeah,” Spark laughed. “Candela and Arlo. It’s all over your face.”

He wasn’t being careless, and I was wrong about him.

Sporting the audacity to gesture around the proximity of my own face with his finger just to drive his point home, I felt anger well inside of me. And yet, I wasn’t sure who or what I was angry towards. I quickly deducted that I was mad at the situation itself; that I had let my feelings over the situation shatter my façade. He didn’t need to ask “who” due to the fact I had, apparently, exposed my emotions out in the open more than I’d anticipated.

“I suppose that Professor Willow is the only one that Candela had spoken with in-depth about him. Are you not curious?” I asked Spark.

“Of course I’m curious!” he said as Elekid went flying. Nonchalant, Spark raised his hand to catch the flying ball of flailing and laughing energy. He was many things, but the manner that his ‘mother Beartic’ side often activated, as effortlessly as taking a breath, never ceased to impress me.

“You know what, though? When Candy’s ready to speak, she’ll speak! ‘Sides, it’s not like she’s got anything we can actually use! I mean, what’s she going to say? Dude likes boxers over briefs? What are we gonna do with that? Mail him thongs?”

I was fortunate that my anger had found focus. Spark was right; it was pointless. The thirst for my knowledge was driven by my own selfish desires, nor was it hampering Candela’s performance. If anything, it was a fuel.

And yet, my desires persisted. And grew.

...How would she know what sort of undergarments he preferred? Why would you even use such a crass example, Spark? They were only close friends. Nothing more.

I have had days where I absolutely abhorred Arlo. I’ve yet to speak with him; and yet, the reports from trainers and the fact he’d hurt Candela was beyond enough.

I had nights where I reveled in our time -- OUR time -- comparing notes with one another. That time Arlo could have shared with Candela, had he behaved and not fled like a spoiled coward, now belonged to me. Her closeness as she leaned over to see my work along the scattered papers and array of holo-screens...

...The firm, caring squeeze of her hand upon my shoulder;

...The warmth voluminous breasts brushing against my back when she leaned in for a closer look;

...The tenderness and melody of her voice uttering my name, telling me how proud she was to be my partner.

...The scent she wore that often compelled me to lick my own lips.

...I’ve experienced guilt for this indulging. We are working. I always kept still and drank in those moments. I dismissed the apologies from her when she soon realized how close she leaned over me as I worked in my seat and at my desk. For the record, I do not like it when anyone invades my space uninvited. I’d not prefer it.

But this? This was acceptable.

Desirable.

I always kept my voice to a whisper when I forgave her, and kept my face close to hers. At first, it was never planned; a pleasant accident. But, after conducting enough research regarding such gestures, I found that it was a way to sate this growing need for her I had within. To quell the steam without crossing the professional line, so to speak.

I began to realize that part of myself had lost control for her. Close to my proximity, I could feel her warmth, combined with that warm, sweet, spicy perfume that most certainly had traces of Salazzle pheromones imbued within. Alone and in the darkness of night, I then found myself yielding to the temptation of vivid fantasies and succumbing to the will of my own wandering hands.

I felt safe to do so.

Then, from within a dream, something clicked.

Awakened by epiphanies is the norm for my course of sleep. I keep a notebook upon my nightstand for such moments. However, this was the first time I felt too horrified to write. I didn’t want the degradation of my thoughts towards carnal desires to be committed to any tangible memory.

Still; it was a thought that felt as if I were gazing down a void that could envelope me at any time. I kept wanting to know just how close they had been.

Why are the notes on him so vague?

Why so much hatred just because of Candela?

Did she break your heart, losing a Pokémon battle?

Or stealing your potential title?

Am I missing something?

You seriously cannot justify abusing Pokémon because you lost against her!

You wanted the leadership position; didn’t you?

No, that’s too easy. That can’t be it.

Sometimes that’s all there is to it, Blanche.

Perhaps I’m committing the sin of over analyzing things. I still recall Cliff’s message, chiding me for ‘thinking too much.’

(While his observations are… sound, that did nothing to gain the upper hand against me in our previous battles.)

Perhaps these concerns I ruminate upon weren’t merely carnal desires. Perhaps they were more...

[He is sly and manipulative.]

That note. Who’s being manipulated? Why mention this useless detail in our dossier?

I can only compare him to anything but. I’ve met Rattata who were more sly than he.

Small. Loud. Does nothing but preach. Preoccupation with humiliation, and announces frequently for his desire to not be embarrassed. And yet, he seems so simultaneously proud and disgusted of Rocket. That isn’t very manip--

“Wait.”

My need to annotate took precedence over my stubbornness. This might be important. I took only a few notes; short ones for column [A]; extensive ones for column [C]. [C] would come to explain [A]. I will make [C] explain to me [A].

And yet, weeks later, we found ourselves standing beside one another. The subsiding heat from the summer sunset radiated upon us in the glow of victory as we watched the GO Rockets flee. With the aid of Victini’s blessing, we were able to overwhelm what could have become a potential disaster beyond words. One may call such a scene ‘romantic.’ Perhaps that would have been the moment where I should have confessed to her. Perhaps share a kiss? That’s how that sort of thing works; yes? Two warriors, victorious in their pursuits, succumbing to their long-repressed desires. In those stories Candela loved so much, it always seemed to play out that way.

Almost always. There was that one spy novel she complained for an entire week about.

Despite my successful duel with Cliff fresh upon my mind, I set aside enough space to recall what I’d observed of Candela and Arlo.

(Due to the sheer number of witnesses, Spark and Sierra’s battle was not worth recalling and was quite straightforward; to this day, and apparently to Sierra’s chagrin, people still speak of it extensively.)

I had witnessed the Valors; leader and traitor, from a distance; the unreadable faces; the wordless, pre-battle lingering. The reflection of the sunlight in Arlo’s spectacles from my position obfuscating the legibility of his emotions--while Candela, so expressive as can be with her enrapturing eyes, was no more different from when challenging one of our trainers. She radiated so much vivacity; and yet, she told me absolutely nothing.

...That was the point; wasn’t it?

My recollection was suddenly interrupted by that familiar voice so warm and bubbly: “I guess we won’t have any notes to compare tonight, huh?”

“...I suppose not,” I replied. Of course not; we were uncovering details at an amazing pace; my personal concerns aside.

Still, my chest began to ache, caused only by what I could only ascertain was due to tension. Candela; invite me to something after our dinner with the Professor. Ask me something, anything. A showcase battle? A doubles battle with Spark and the Professor? Chess? Would you… Care to spend the night? Anything? I couldn’t look at her. I looked at everything and everyone else around me but her. I knew that if I did, she’d call me a Piplup and ask what was wrong. Not that I minded, but I wasn’t ready to allow myself to react to that the way I desired to do so in public.

She said nothing.

Before I could take command of the situation and extend my own invitation, I finally directed my eyes where she was supposed to be.

She was already gone.

I last glimpsed her waving to Spark and Professor Willow before mounting her Rapidash and taking out beyond the valley’s treeline.

I took a step forward to call out to her, to simply give her the similar dismissal/greeting that I often did by announcing her name; but the echo of the sound of my heel clicking down on a flat rock seized me by surprise, thus disrupting my usual vocal range into a far more embarrassing octave.

It was the reverberation of both my voice and that step that suddenly alarmed me. Something about that echo, in my mind’s auditory hallucinations, made it feel as if I were speaking in a chamber.

No, a theatre.

What would have been something of a charm in a natural, open space--to hear one’s voice echoing in such a way--triggered a visualization of all the notes that I had taken, and what I had bore witness to today.

Something’s up. I was now beyond determined to find out just what it was.

Chapter 2 // Chapter 3

#pokemon go #fanfic #blanche #spark #candela #pokemon fanfiction #leader blanche #leader spark #leader candela #my writing #candela x blanche #candela x ???#leader arlo #ship fic #love triangle #smut

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theangriestpea · 5 years ago

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The Killing Type | One

Summary: Just when Lavender thought things were going great with Sweet Pea, a new girl comes back to turn to turn their entire relationship upside down. Now they have to navigate a world of drug dealers, rival gangs, and co-parenting. Sequel to Mercy Killing. <ao3> <masterlist>

Rating: Mature // Explicit

Pairings: Sweet Pea x OC // eventual Jughead Jones x OC

Warnings: referenced teen pregnancy, referenced sexual assault, cheating/lying, PTSD

Word Count: 5k+

A/N: I cannot believe I wrote this is such a short amount of time, omg. As stated on the final chapter of Mercy Killing, this is a sequel to both Mercy Killing and @the-gargoyle-queen‘s fic Young Gods. The timelines for both are a little screwed up to make them converge. We begin this series at the end of sophomore year with no time between Mercy Killing chapter 16 and Chapter 1 of The Killing Type, and one year after Young Gods. Try not to focus too much on the lack of continuity for the sake of future plot. I think Lily is a bit OOC in this chapter....I made her into an uber bitch and she's not.

Chapter One - A Mercy Killing

Lavender stared at Jughead, not at all understanding what he meant by forgiving Sweet Pea. What had he done this time? Of course the two fought more often than not over petty things but they made up hours, sometimes minutes later. It was just their dynamic. “Who is she?” She pressed as he looked at his buzzing phone again.

“Lily is Sweet Pea’s ex but I think he should really be the one to tell you all of it.” He said, his anxiety starting to show with his tone of voice. Lav made a face that he couldn't quite tell what it meant. “Listen, just try to get his side of things before exploding on him, okay?”

She stiffened, not liking his accusation of her tendency to react dramatically to any inconvenience no matter how minor. “Why did no one tell me about her? All this time and I’ve literally never even heard her name before. I don’t understand what the big deal is!” Her voice started to edge on the side of frantic as panic began to flood through her. Who was this girl and why did no one mention her?

Jughead sighed. “It’s complicated, Lav. Sweet Pea told us not to mention her around him. We all agreed that it would be better for you and him if you just didn’t know what went down between them.”

“So, everyone collectively decided that I, Sweet Pea’s girlfriend, didn’t need to know about someone who was obviously very important to him? Why is he hiding her from me, does he still have feelings for her or something?” She asked, her tone turning accusatory. Jughead put his hands up to try and calm her down, but instead she stood. “Whatever, Jug. I’m going home. Have fun talking to your new best friend.”

“She’s not-!” Before he could finish she had slammed the door behind her. Jughead sighed and sunk down into the old couch. Things were about to get a lot more complicated.

Lavender made a bee-line for her trailer as fast as her short legs would carry her. She was fuming at the thought that everyone kept some big secret from her, and worse of all she was dying to know what it was. She sent a quick text to Sweet Pea, demanding he come over to “come clean” when he was done with his job. Sweet Pea, being ever the oblivious asshole, had no idea what he needed to come clean about but figured the purple haired girl would fill him in when he got there.

Hours later, once Sweet Pea was done running bike parts to Centerville, he walked into the Rhodes trailer having no idea what shit storm was about to be thrown at him.

First of all, he found his girlfriend curled up on the couch in a state of drunkenness that he hadn’t seen her in in many months. Immediately he thought something had happened, she had a PTSD episode or someone made threats. In an instant he was by her side, her thin shoulders in his hands to get her to look at him.

“Who is she?” Lav slurred, eyes red from crying. Every worst case scenario had gone through her head. Was he cheating on her? Did he have some other life that she had no clue about and he was keeping it from her? How could this girl that she knew nothing about cause her so much grief?

Sweet Pea’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Who is who?” He asked, having no inkling of what in the world she was talking about. “Why did you drink so much?”

“Lily Owens.” Lav spat hotly, “Who is she?!” Her voice began to raise with notes of hysteria. She was so worked up and heartbroken and she had no idea why.

His blood ran cold as he stared at her. He had hoped that he could have approached the subject of his ex eventually, when the time was right. But Lavender was so god damn sensitive that he didn’t think that time would ever come. The insecurity she felt after the attack by the Ghoulies was so great that sometimes he felt trapped in that even talking to a girl she didn’t know had her upset.

They had a long talk about it once and she agreed to get it handled in therapy. And she did get better but there were times when he knew she just couldn’t help it. They had broken her so thoroughly that it was going to take time. He sighed softly, trying not to show how aggravated he was. “She’s my ex, Shanna. I was going to wait to tell you this but...She’s coming back to town in a few days and she needs a place to stay...with our daughter.”

“Your what?” Lav asked, somehow finding the fact that he had a child with another woman was way worse than him cheating on her. “You had a kid and never thought to tell me?!” Fresh tears came to her eyes and quickly fell down her face that was flushed pink from inebriation. “Don’t you think that was something I’d need to know?”

He flinched, feeling the hurt roll off of her in waves. “This is exactly why I didn’t tell you. I knew you’d overreact!”

“Overreact?!” She yelled, her voice finally raising. “Are you fucking kidding me?! You kept a whole ass family secret from me, Sweet Pea! Get out. Just get OUT.”

His eyes narrowed as he stood, releasing his grip from her. “You always do this! You always fly off of the goddamn handle over every little thing. So I have a daughter, so what? I’ve never even met her! Lily ran off pregnant and had her without me there, so yeah I don’t bring it up because I’d rather not think about being a dad at sixteen! You’re not the only fucked up person in this relationship!”

She stared at him with stunned silence and he knew he had gone too far, as he always did. Sweet Pea just huffed angrily before turning and leaving in a manner exactly as she had from the Jones trailer earlier that day.

The next two days, Lavender spoke to no one. Not Jughead, Not Fangs, and especially not Sweet Pea. He hadn’t even bothered to text or to call as she was always the one to give in first. Still, the fact that he wasn’t even trying to patch things up between them only served to hurt her more.

Fangs had left her small apologetic presents at her doorstep. Flowers, snack cakes, chocolate, even a bottle of her favorite rum. While she accepted the gifts, she still refused to speak to him. His messages were all left on read.

Jughead and Toni had both sent only one apology text, while both seemed pretty heartfelt, they were also denied any kind of answer from her. It was only after an hour and a half long intense therapy session did she decide to try and make up with all of them. Her therapist had helped her realize that Sweet Pea was put in a difficult position from the start of their relationship with her trauma and intense insecurity. In the end, she concluded that he wasn’t purposefully trying to hurt her. He was trying to save her. It just ended up blowing up in his face.

She had picked up a carton of Marlboros for him and was walking up to his trailer. She didn’t notice whether or not his bike was on the side of the house, and dismissed the beaten up car parked on the street as a neighbor’s. It could have easily been someone else’s. Or maybe his dad was finally out of rehab?

Knowing that he was possibly still upset with her, she chose not to use her key to walk in. Instead she knocked on the door in her usual fashion and waited, cigarettes in hand. What she didn’t expect (but totally should have) was for a teenage girl to open the door.

She was shorter than Lav by about an inch, brunette, and absolutely stunning. Lavender's heart fell into her stomach. “O-Oh,” She stuttered, “I thought-”

“He’s not home.” The girl said in a somewhat flat tone. She had learned all about the person in front of her from Jughead. He filled her in on all of Sweet Pea’s doings while she was gone. “But you can come in and wait for him. He’ll be back in a few minutes.”

The door opened wider and Lavender looked inside, noticing that now the trailer was littered with baby clothes, toys, and assorted things necessary to take care of a child. The scene made it all too clear to Lavender that Lily, who she assumed opened the door, was now living with Sweet Pea. Suddenly she was breaking all over again and the progress she made in therapy was virtually gone.

“I should go.” Lavender mumbled, unsure of where she fell in this new hierarchy. “Can you just tell him that I came by? I need to talk to him.”

“You’re Lavender, right?” Lily asked and she nodded in response. “I’m Lily. I think we should talk. Come in, it’ll be easier than standing out here. Daisy is asleep so don’t worry about her.”

Lav did not at all feel comfortable talking to her, but the backfiring of a nearby car put her so on edge that she had no choice but to hide inside. She felt idiotic by being set off at a time like this. The intense need to hide somewhere where she felt safe overrode her discomfort with the situation at hand.

Lily seemed to have some knowledge of what was going through the other girl’s head. She noticed her jump and frantically check her surroundings at the loud sound. Jughead and mentioned her PTSD and that Lily should tread carefully for the time being. After knowing what happened with the Ghoulies, Lily ultimately felt pity for Lavender and not contempt...Though if she were completely honest, there was a little of that too.

It was clear to Lily that Lavender was very disoriented by the sudden amount of baby things around the living room, as well as an open suitcase that had all of Lily’s belongings in them.

The current girlfriend sat down on the chair that Sweet Pea fell asleep in way too often and sunk down into the cushions as if she were trying to disappear from sight. Lily took a seat on the couch, wondering if the awkwardness was going to go away any time soon.

“So you live here?” Lav finally asked, nearly flinching under the look Lily gave her. The question seemed much too obvious, of course she was living here. She had nowhere else to go.

“Yes.” Lily said, her voice a little more curt than she initially intended. “We needed a place to stay since my mom stayed in Toledo. Sweet Pea said it was okay. Is there a problem with that?”

“No! Not at all.” Lavender said quickly, wishing she had turned and ran when she had the chance. “Sweet Pea just didn’t tell me…”

Lily huffed, of course he didn’t. “We need to talk about that.” Of course, she still had residual feelings for the serpent. He was the father of her child. And the way he had ended things were so messed up. Plus he had said when she came back they could start all over. Obviously that wasn’t going to happen now.

“I get that you’re his girlfriend now. I mean, I never expected him to pick a Northsider over…” She stopped, seeing the hurt expression on Lavender’s face brought on a wave of guilt. “You really had no idea about me, did you?”

“No…” Lav said, her voice so soft that Lily almost didn’t hear it. “We never talked about past relationships. Look, I really need to go. Can you just give these to him for me?” She asked, motioning towards the carton of cigarettes in her lap.

“When did you start dating?” She asked, her tone serious.

“Three months ago but we hooked up the July before that….” Lav admitted, not wanting to withhold anything.

“July?” Lily asked and Lav sensed the anger in her voice. “I knew he was cheating on me. I knew it.” She hissed under her breath, not meaning for Lav to actually hear her.

Pain ripped through Lavender’s chest. He had still been in a relationship with Lily that night? She felt like she was going to throw up. She abruptly stood. “I-I’m sorry, I…” She didn’t know what she could say to make any of this better.

“I’m not blaming you.” Lily quickly said after a small sigh. “You didn’t know….How could you have known that I was about to give birth to his daughter? Of course he’s so fucking selfish he didn’t even say anything about it to either of us.”

Lav was holding back tears to the best of her ability. The thought of being the other woman, even for just one night, made her want to lock herself up and drink herself into oblivion. Really she only stayed away from the unhealthy coping mechanism when Sweet Pea was around. Right now, it didn’t seem as if he’d have time to be around for very long. He had a baby to take care of.

“I’m sorry,” She apologized again, really just having no idea how to handle this situation. She backed towards the door, reaching for the handle when it swung open. Sweet Pea was there, looking as tired as ever. A confused look crossed his face when he saw the tears threatening to fall from Lavender’s eyes.

“Shanna?” He asked, not knowing what Lily had done to make her upset...if she had done anything. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to apologize but.” She was too upset to be angry at anyone other than herself. “I need to go home. I got you some cigarettes...here.” She shoved them into his hands before nimbly squeezing past him and running off.

Sweet Pea looked down at the carton before looking up at Lily. “What did you do ?” He asked, his voice threatening to raise.

“You slept with her before you broke up with me.” Lily said, her voice low but angry. “You didn’t end things until August. You said, you said we could start over if I came back, Sweet Pea. You promised me that we would try for Daisy.”

He felt utterly lost. He had loved Lily so much but her leaving had him feeling so alone that he needed something . His dad had started his first stint in rehab and had been in and out since. He was so completely alone with no one to hold at night. Initially he had felt terrible about it but the guilt went away because in the end she had left him when she said she never would.

“You left, Lily. What did you expect?” He asked, his voice icy. “You abandoned me like everyone else did. How did you think I could continue to love you after that?” Her hand reared back and slapped him hard across the face, the sound bouncing off the walls of the trailer. And deep down he knew that he deserved nothing less.

Lavender returned to her trailer, attempting to put herself back together. She had truly wanted to work things out with Sweet Pea and didn’t have the strength to curse him to hell when she saw him. And the look on his face when he saw her. Past his confusion was definite regret. The softness of his eyes made her want nothing more than to be held by him. She wasn’t sure if that was ever going to happen now.

She eyed the bottle of rum on her kitchen counter and she knew that she should resist it’s calls. Did she really want to wake up with a hangover tomorrow? It seemed better than feeling heartbroken at his point.

As she reached for it, she heard a knock on her door. Lav let out a sigh of relief to have been stopped before she drowned herself yet again. She went to the door to see her boyfriend standing there, looking equal parts pissed off and broken down. His left cheek was bright red and starting to bruise and she knew that Lily must have hit him.

She said nothing as she opened the door for him and he walked in, hands clenched into fists. He was clearly agitated but not at her. That was evident enough in him not screaming at her when she opened the door. He saw the bottle of alcohol sitting out in the open and made a straight line to it.

Lav felt as if she were about to cry again, this time for him. Because like her, Sweet Pea also had a habit of hitting the bottle when he felt like the lowest of the low. Of course, she was still very much heart broken by his actions before but seeing him in pain was a whole new kind of ache. It was one that she found herself hating more.

“Wait,” She called out just as he grabbed the bottle by the neck. “Pea, can we talk first? I promise not to yell at you…” Her voice showed her weakness, but she didn’t really mind since he was the one hearing it.

Sweet Pea let out a tired sigh and nodded. He carried the bottle to the couch and sat down with a heavy thud, keeping the rum in hand as if in case of emergency. Lav gently sat down next to him, turned sideways on the seat to face him fully. “Can you just...explain to me what’s going on?”

“I fucked up.” Sweet Pea said, scowling at himself, “again.”

She knew his biggest fear right now was her leaving him. While she thought she had abandonment issues, his own were far worse. “Just tell me what happened.” She said, her voice gentle to show that her being upset wasn’t as important as what was going on with him currently.

“I loved her, you know? I didn’t mean for her to get pregnant.” Sweet Pea said, his voice extremely quiet. He very rarely opened up like this. And him doing it sober was a first. “Then she left. She left like everyone else leaves. And you’re probably going to leave too because I always mess everything up. I don’t know how to be a good boyfriend or baby daddy or whatever. I’m just a teenager. I just don’t know.”

Lav put a hand on his leg, moving closer to him as a few stray tears escaped her eyes. “I’m not leaving you. I just want to know everything. That’s it. I’m sorry I blew up on you the other day. I should have let you have a chance to explain. It seems that I don’t know how to be a good girlfriend either…”

He let out another sigh as he set the bottle down on the table in front of him and pulled her into his arms. He hated for anyone to see him like this, but he hated being alone even more.

He buried his face into her blonde roots and just breathed in the scent of her vanilla shampoo. Lav nuzzled her face into his chest, listening to him breathe. "I told her I'd try, Shanna. Before you. Before everything. I promised her."

Lavender squeezed her eyes shut, having no idea why she was going to say what she was about to. "If you have to," she couldn't even say it. "I understand, Sweet Pea. It's okay. I'll be okay."

That wasn't what he wanted to hear, but he appreciated her willingness all the same. "Can I stay here tonight? One last time?"

She couldn't stop the silent tears from coming and in truth she didn't want to. "Of course, Pea. One last time."

The next morning, Lavender awoke to find herself alone in her bed. The spot where Sweet Pea had slept the night before was still warm. She sighed softly, not having the emotional energy to even cry over the loss of their intimate relationship. Could they even function as friends? They weren’t friends before they started dating, so how could she expect them to be after? She had no idea what she was going to do without him by her side almost every night. Perhaps it was time to talk to Fangs again.

She called him over after attempting to shower the sadness off of her. She put on clean underwear and lounge-wear as she waited for him to come over. Fangs came crashing through the door like a puppy who had missed his owner, grinning at her and quickly making his way to the couch.

He stopped grinning when he saw the forlorn expression on her face. “What’s wrong, babe?” He asked, taking her hands into his.

“We broke up last night.” She muttered. “Because he...he promised Lily before we were together that they could start over when she returned.”

Fangs was frowning. While he loved both Lily and Sweet Pea, he had long since come to the conclusion that they were much better as friends and not as lovers. But, he also knew that Sweet Pea intended to keep any promise he had made if he could. And though he could tell his friend was visibly upset, he was surprised to not find her crying and drinking. Despite it being only ten AM.

“I wish I had told you, Lavie.” He said in a quiet voice, pulling her into his chest to try and soothe the heart he knew to be aching in her chest. “I’m so sorry. You deserved to know. I just thought...you were doing so well…”

“It’s okay, Fangs.” She mumbled, her voice muffled by his t-shirt. “You had made a promise too. I just...I just don’t know where to go from here. I mean, I thought that I might...you know…”

He pulled her away, looking over her flushing face. “That you might love him?”

She groaned, “please don’t say it out loud. It sounds so stupid.”

“No, it doesn’t.” He bit back, almost angrily. “It’s not stupid at all. Come on, let’s go to the quarry. It’s finally warm enough to swim!”

Lavender froze. She had many plaguing thoughts about wearing a bathing suit in front of others. While all her wounds had healed perfectly well, she still had long, thick bands of scar tissue across her thighs and stomach, with a few smaller ones on her chest. Sweet Pea was so far the only one she had let see them since she was able to shower alone and clothe herself. The thought of anyone else possibly seeing them made her sick to her stomach.

“I don’t feel like getting wet, I just took a shower.” She lied, hoping he wouldn’t call her on it. Unfortunately today was not a day that Fangs was feeling particularly intuitive.

He cocked his head to the side, “but you love to swim. It’ll cheer you up!”

“I don’t have a bathing suit that fits.” She lied again, hoping that maybe he’d either catch the hint or drop it. “My boobs got bigger over the winter and mine are all too small now.”

His eyes looked at her chest as if to examine it. If it were anyone else, she’d be offended, however it was him so she knew it was not meant to be explicitly lewd. “They look about the same to me. You can always wear a bra or something instead.”

Lavender wanted to hit him upside the head for being so dense. She knew he wasn't purposefully being obtuse but it was still grating her nerves. “Fangs. I don’t want to go swimming.” Her voice was a little more firm now in an attempt to get through to him.

A puppy-dog look crossed his face as he pouted at her. “But...Lavie...it’ll be fun…You can wear some of my trunks if you want?”

She let out a sigh of defeat, “alright. Bring me some with a drawstring so I can tie them tight otherwise they’ll just fall right off.” His pout was replaced with a broad smile as he all but cheered with success.

Fangs left but was back five minutes later with a pair of black swim trunks for her. He happily handed them over as she went into her room to change. She put on a purple bikini, which still fit perfectly fine, before putting on his pants. She then put on an old form-fitting T-shirt that kept all of her scar tissue covered.

As she looked herself over in the mirror, she frowned. She looked utterly ridiculous but it was better than exposing the truth. She didn’t want anyone to be reminded of that day back in early January.

She finally came out of the bedroom to see Fangs packing a bag of snacks and a cooler of beer for them. “Jones and Topaz are meeting us there. I hope that’s okay.” He said, his back turned to her.

“That’s fine…” Lav mumbled awkwardly. She had already forgiven them as well, and hoped that they’d help her forget about her ruined love life.

They made it to the quarry, the sun shining high above them. Toni and Jughead were on the small beach, clad in their swim gear already. They both gave Lavender strange looks at her attire. “My, uh...bikini doesn’t fit anymore.” She said, but the only one to catch the lie this time was Toni who gave her a worried look.

“Lily will be here in a few with Daisy.” Jughead said as he typed a message onto his phone. A panicked look crossed Lavender’s face.

“Jughead...why would you do that?” She asked as Toni elbowed him in the ribs. He looked up, appearing like a deer in headlights. It hadn’t really occurred to him how awkward it might be for her. Really he just wanted to hang out with her, having missed her all these months. It had almost been a full year since he’d seen her last.

Toni sighed, obviously aggravated by his lack of thought. “Lily is cool, Lavie. Don’t worry about her.”

Lavender tried not to think about their only interaction. Lily had called her a Northsider, reminiscent of Sweet Pea back before they were dating. It was an insult that she hated. She couldn’t help that she had grown up mostly on the Northside or that she didn’t dress like a typical Serpent. She enjoyed soft colors a bit too much and flannel looked terrible on her.

“Okay.” Lav forced herself to say as she plucked a can of beer out of the cooler Fangs had brought. “I guess meeting Sweet Pea’s daughter would be kind of cool.”

“That’s the spirit!” Fangs said cheerfully as he stripped off his shirt. “Let’s go!”

He attempted to pull her into the water. “Fangs! I’m trying to drink, I’ll join you in a minute!” She pleaded with him, trying her best not to spill any PBR in the process.

“Oh fine, you have five minutes so you better chug it or I’m throwing you in.” He let her go, shaking his head before him and Toni raced to the water.

Jughead was quiet. “You broke up with him.” He said, his voice low so that the others wouldn’t hear. “So he could be with Lily….”

“Yea.” Lav replied as she took a gulp from the can.

"I know why you're wearing that ridiculous get-up, Lavie." He mumbled to her. "You don't have to hide it from us. I'm sure they're barely noticeable."

She frowned, refusing to look at him. "I didn't want to come at all. This was a compromise with Fangs. He was too dumb to figure it out."

Jughead grabbed a beer for himself and sat down, motioning her to join him. She sat down next to him on the makeshift log bench. "Figures. At least his heart is in the right place."

They watched Toni and Fangs splash one another. "How are you holding up, really?" He finally asked.

She opened her mouth to answer when she saw Sweet Pea, Lily, and Daisy approaching, she quickly shut it. "Don't worry about it." She said, throwing her head back to finish off the beer in her hand.

Jughead frowned, wanting her to open up but also knowing that she wouldn't now. Who knows if she ever would. He knew that the progress she had made was about to backslide thanks to her and Sweet Pea no longer being together. Despite the rocky beginning, they truly were good for one another.

He wanted to say something encouraging, but failed at the sight of Lily. This did not go unnoticed by Lavender who was sure to bring it up later.

Sweet Pea wouldn’t look at her. He was carrying Daisy, who at nine months looked exactly like him. Lavender wasn’t sure how long she’d be able to stand the sight. Her chest was so heavy that she was worried that she’d sink when she got into the water. If she got into the water.

Lily gave her a strange look. “Are those Fangs’?” She asked, nodding her head towards the trunks Lav was wearing. It wasn’t mean spirited, rather just honest curiosity.

“Yea. My bikini is too small so I asked to borrow his shorts.” Lavender said, her tone even and not bearing any ill will. The atmosphere surrounding them was completely uncomfortable and Lav had no idea what to say.

“Jug, can I talk to her alone for a minute?” Lily asked, her voice gentle and there was a small smile on her face. Jughead nodded and stood, patting Lav on the back briefly before walking closer to the shoreline.

Sweet Pea glanced at the two of them, wanting to listen to whatever Lily had to say but also knowing she’d probably yell at him if he did. He begrudgingly moved towards the water with his very excited little girl.

Lily waited until both boys were out of earshot. She turned and looked at Lavender who was toeing the dirt with the tip of her shoe. “Thank you.” Lily said, her voice genuine. “You didn’t have to break up with him.”

Lavender couldn’t help the hurt sigh that left her, “Yes I did. He made a promise and I wanted him to keep it.”

“I mean, you didn’t have to because I’m not taking him back.” Lily said. She wasn't hostile but there was anger hidden somewhere in her tone. Lavender mistook it to be directed towards her when it was truthfully towards Sweet Pea. “He cheated on me. And to be honest, I can’t be sure that he won’t do it again.”

“You left him.” Lavender said back, jumping to his defense. “What did you expect?”

Lily’s gaze hardened. “I expected some common decency from the man who told me he loved me. What I didn’t expect is for him to stick his dick in someone else just because things between us got hard. All he had to do was talk to me. He could have broken it off first before pursuing other people.”

Lavender was sitting rigidly on the log, daring to look up at Lily. Her hazel eyes encapturing a mixture of rage and pain. But Lily wasn’t done. “I’m sorry for what the Ghoulies did to you, I am. But he can’t fix you. And it’s not fair to put that responsibility on him either. He needs to be a father to Daisy right now. That’s what’s important.”

She was speechless, unable to come up with anything to say in return. While Lily had a valid point, it hurt tremendously to hear it. Lavender stood and Lily backed up to give her space. “This was a mistake.” She said, obviously talking about coming to the quarry. She took a few steps before stopping and turning back towards Lily. “And for the record. You don’t know a single thing about me. So maybe you should stop assuming the type of relationship I had with Sweet Pea. That’s between us. Not you.”

She turned back, grabbing Fang’s keys from his pile of things and leaving. The only one to notice her departure was Sweet Pea, who failed to mask the pained expression on his face at the sight of her go.

-----------

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brokenjardaantech · 4 years ago

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rk1700 december day 5, 6, 13: superior/replacement; comfort; assemble/disassemble

written for @rk1700december. day 5: superior/replacement; day 6: comfort; day 13: assemble/disassemble

female connor is called rhea. rk900 is called cronos.

summary: cronos and rhea get a new piece of furniture and get adopted by elijah kamski.

also on ao3

----

It is the facility’s quarterly large-scale acquisition day. It means new equipment, new tech, new people, and nearly everyone is excited - a welcomed change and a reminder that they are not alone in the fight (Cronos is pretty certain by this point that there is a conflict going on out there, an intense and high-stake one nonetheless from how hard Anchor pushes him during training sessions. Exactly against whom or what it is about, though, those he has no idea about, and he leaves it be for now since Anchor doesn’t seem to be making an explanation anytime soon.) Even Rhea, who doesn’t quite understand what is going on, seems happier and more excited than usual.

What surprises Cronos, though, is that the two of them also have a quota despite not being Alliance personnel formally.

‘Is Rhea still staying in your quarters?’ Anchor suddenly asks one day as she reloads the thermal clip of her rifle. She had persuaded Cronos to let Rhea have some alone time while she taught him how to shoot, and Cronos successfully convinced her to wait for him in their quarters with a new box of building blocks. They exchanged few words until then, the recoil of the rifle against his shoulder and the blast of supersonic miniature slugs hitting the targets having become familiar sensations as a result, and although he is certain that handling weapons is in his programming, coating the slugs with his biotics to increase their damage is something new.

‘Of course,’ Cronos replies. The thermal clip isn’t completely spent yet but he reloads it anyway. ‘What’s the matter?’

Anchor raises her rifle again and spells out L. W. A. on the target. Her real name’s initials, maybe? ‘So you guys have been squeezing into the same bunk this whole time?’

‘I don’t see the problem with it,’ Cronos admits as he does the same to his target, RK9c appearing in the dented metal board. ‘We are close.’

The human looks impressed. ‘You guys need more space?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I reviewed the dimensions of your quarters. You guys can have a double bed which comfortably fits the two of you without sacrificing much living space, and since we’re requisitioning some new furniture anyway, I think…’ she puts down her rifle in exchange for a pistol and shrugs. ‘Why the fuck not?’

Cronos folds up his rifle and watches Anchor bury a few larger warped slugs into the target’s head. It twists and creaks under the force of the biotic fields attached to the slugs. ‘A bed is a lot of materials.’

‘Materials which we can afford to print,’ eject, replace. ‘There are already people who’ve said that they won’t be able to use up their quota of new materials and offered them up to people who need it. My rules are as long as the total amount of material we need doesn’t exceed the total allocated amount, I don’t mind.’ She holds the pistol with only her left hand and fires a shot. ‘I don’t want to waste anything so I think it’s good to ask you first.’

‘Then I need to ask Rhea too,’ he says before picking up a pistol and emptying all the slugs he can into the target’s forehead until the thermal clip overheats. ‘The bed is hers as well.’

‘Sure,’ Anchor fires a shot just to catch it midway with a strand of her biotics. ‘Give me an answer before tomorrow dinner. I want this done as soon as possible.’

Cronos nods and aims and then realises something. ‘Does it come with a new mattress?’

‘Of course.’

‘And blankets?’

‘Just go to the storage room and grab a few. Remember to wash them twice, though. Stars know how long they’ve been there.’

A plan starts formulating in his processors, and he can feel his face splitting into a grin. ‘Will the bed come in pieces?’

‘You don’t actually think we have a printer large enough to print a whole bed in its entirety, do you?’

‘Good.’ Then returns to his target despite his mind not being able to focus on it now.

‘You’re planning something.’

‘Just something for Rhea, Anchor. Completely harmless.’

Anchor snorts. ‘We are walking mini-nukes if we want to be, Cronos, even Rhea if pushed to her wit’s end.’ A shake of her head. ‘We’re never completely harmless.’

Rhea blinks at him after his explanation even though he has already shared his processing power with her.

A new bed, she repeats. For us?

Yes, Cronos replies. We have the space. We will have the materials. We can build the frame together.

Rhea picks at a loose thread dangling from Cronos’ shirt with her free hand. What will happen to this one?

Chugged into the recycler just like everything else, maybe, he sends back with a shrug. We might even save some material by reusing this one’s, who knows?

Can I roll across the new bed?

It’s ours. We can do whatever we want. Just don’t break it.

Hmm. Rhea wriggles until half of her body is lying on top of Cronos’, after which she tilts her head up for a kiss he gladly indulges in by slowly coating every single surface of her mouth with his own analysis fluid using his tongue. Her whines make a certain part of him fill with thirium, Rhea starts grinding against it and sending waves of pleasure through both of them, and Cronos flips both of them over so that he is covering her body with his and is looming over her. Yes please, she tells him, and they get lost in each other for a while.

Despite telling Anchor that he is going to assemble the new bed with Rhea, he knows it is very likely that he will have to either do it alone or ask someone to assist him due to the sheer size of some of the components. It can also be turned into a practise of his biotics, but he doesn’t want to hurt Rhea accidentally in case he loses control either. Disassembling the original bed is easy enough given his raw strength and the composition of its parts, though, and he is even allowed to chop some of the smaller pieces of the original frame into smaller blocks for Rhea to play with while the others - together with the now too-small mattress - are sent for recycling. He then goes to retrieve the components of the new frame after teaching Rhea to amuse herself by throwing the blocks around and is surprised to see a man he has never seen before waiting for him.

‘You’re Cronos, aren’t you?’ his body language is tense as if he is unused to situations like this. ‘Anna - Anchor - asked me to help you build your new bed. Everything’s printed out or shipped here; help me with them, can you?’

Cronos moves to help him load a particularly long plastisteel beam onto the trolley and notes the stripes on his sleeve. A member of the Council. ‘Is Anna Anchor’s real name?’

‘You can say so.’

An affirmative, then. ‘How about you?’ Cronos asks. ‘You know who I am but I don’t know who you are except that you’re in the Council.’

The man looks at his sleeves and lets out a small ‘ah.’ ‘Call me Elijah,’ he says and loads another box with a clank from the parts within. ‘Elijah Kamski, formerly known as Ilya Kaminski. Council member, traitor to the Alliance - according to some, at least.’

Cronos decides to carry the last box himself. With a cock of his head, he and Elijah begin their way back to his quarters. ‘I doubt you would be here if you had really been a traitor.’

Elijah chuckles. ‘Can’t argue with you on that.’

They return to Cronos’ quarters to Rhea sleepily pushing her new blocks around the space between her legs as her eyelids droop and her head nods every other second. Clearing the floor by giving it a biotic sweep, Elijah brings the package in and cuts through the wrapping with a crafting knife which came out of nowhere, and the mattress starts inflating itself upon coming into contact with air. They move it to the living room and lay Rhea down there, but after tugging her in and watching her squash her cheek against the pillow, she simply lies on her side and watches, with bright eyes, Elijah and Cronos set off to work.

They bring everything in and scatter all the parts in sorted piles on the floor but Cronos is lost. He has no idea on how to start, nor does he think he has all the tools needed, and the human looks like he’s trying not to laugh when he looks at Elijah. Then he does.

‘The Administrator programmed you to biotically charge at your mentor as an instinct but didn’t give you built-in construction manuals?’ A sigh and he sobers up instantly, wiping non-existent sweat away from his forehead with the back of his hand. ‘How typical of her.’

‘Are you implying that the Administrator is a violent individual?’

‘Not inherently,’ Elijah sighs and shakes his head. ‘Anyways, let’s get this done before bedtime, shall we?’

‘Do we even have enough tools to build it?’

‘Look at these,’ he says as he picks up a beam. ‘The welts at the end. They’re supposed to lock against each other. No nails, no tape, no glue. Just tension and good ancient engineering.’ He puts it back to its original place in the pile and calls up his omni-tool. ‘Now I swear the instructions are somewhere on the intranet…’

Cronos doesn’t have access to a lot of things due to his identity as an informal on-site personnel but he delves into the databases anyway, hitting numerous virtual walls where classified data is stored and is reasonably out of his reach. He could’ve overridden them if he wanted to, but something in his programming tells him that it is not worth it, so he merely retreats and waits for Elijah to finish the job for both of them.

‘There,’ he announces when he finds it. ‘Level one classified, of course, because why not. Stick your hand into the hologram and it’ll transfer to you directly.’

The hologram flickers and blinks when Cronos does so, but he indeed obtains the blueprint and the construction manual in the span of no more than a few microseconds; with new information at hand, they at last start slotting pieces together into larger parts on their own before collectively deciding to put some of the bigger pieces together to complete the outer frame first, and the three of them - Cronos, Elijah, and Rhea who has climbed out of the nest of blankets and pillows and is sitting on the floor wrapped like a dumpling - stare at the hollow rectangle for a moment.

‘Are you certain it’s going to hold?’ asks Cronos. ‘It seems…’ he doesn’t know how to explain what he’s feeling.

‘It will be sturdy once the supports are added,’ the human replies in a reassuring tone. ‘Let’s get them in before it actually collapses.’

And so they hasten their effort and shoves the support beams in, Cronos nearly breaking one of them when he accidentally put too much force on it and Elijah nearly trapping himself between two beams when he very nearly places a piece which would have left him no way out, but somehow, despite their clumsiness and lack of experience, they manage to get the frame done in less than two hours in total, and they let out breathes they didn’t know they were holding in realisation.

Elijah meets Cronos’ eyes. ‘Mattress?’

‘Mattress.’

Turns out, their most difficult task is getting Rhea out of the nest she has made while they were still assembling the bed frame. No matter how much Cronos and Elijah coax, sweet-talk, or bribe with toys or food or kisses (from Cronos only), the most reaction they can get from her is a stretch of her body underneath the blankets and a few mischievous blinks that definitely does not stem from sleepiness. Time for an ultimatum.

‘If you don’t get up now, I’ll have to snatch you,’ Cronos says. ‘You know I can and I will.’

Rhea’s jaw cracks open in a yawn and then shakes her head. Very well.

‘Elijah, get ready to snatch the mattress away.’

‘Sure thing,’ the human answers with an incline of his head, and on a count of three, Cronos clams his arms around Rhea - together with all the blankets around her - and hefts her squirming body up as Elijah pulls the mattress and pillows away and drags them onto the bed with quick, agile movements that can only come from years of experience. He hops off the bed and brushes his hands together to relieve them of non-existent dust, and Cronos can finally throw both himself and Rhea - playfully, of course - against the supportive material with a bounce.

Rhea melts against the mattress and him.

‘See, Rhea? That’s what you’ve been missing out on,’ he says as he shifts to give her more space to roll around. She keeps making these happy humming noises from her throat which makes his heart swell with happiness as well. ‘There’s a reason we don’t sleep on the floor.’

Rhea hums. With a lazy stretch, she rolled over for one last time before latching onto Cronos as tight as she can - which is not very tight at all, but he can give her the illusion that he is firmly in her grasp.

Elijah laughs and ruffles Cronos’ hair. ‘You guys look comfy.’

Rhea deactivates her skin and requests for an interface which Cronos gladly accepts. Waves of drowsiness and contentment crash into his system, and he has to set up a filter just so that he doesn’t slip right into sleep at the very moment.

‘Indeed.’

#rk17cember #rk1700 #dbh connor #dbh rk900 #elijah kamski #dbh elijah kamski #oc: anchor/anna #detroit: become human #groom lake aftermath

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