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gucciwins · 3 years ago

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Are you Angel?

Harry gets hurt while on the job and Y/N gets a phone call she was not prepared for.

Word count: 7413

A/N: hello friends, it's been a while :) this is a continuation to my story Trouble Follows. You don't have to read but it will give you an insight of how Y/N and Harry met. I am thrilled to share more of firefighter harry with you. I adore him and I hope you do as well.

please do let me know what you thought of the story and please reblog! <333

Warnings: angst, breakups, hospitals

A firefighter will always run into a burning building with not a hint of hesitation. All their focus is on saving the people stuck inside.

Running towards trouble is second nature to them.

She knew that.

She also knew what it meant to date a firefighter.

The unreliable hours, the non-frequent communication, the many failed dinner dates. The twenty-four hours shifts when he would then arrive home to just sleep.

Harry had begun to give her a constant comfort that he would eventually come home and climb into bed behind her. He would then gently nuzzle his face in her neck, taking in her sweet honey scent. In contrast, she took in the woody ashy smell that seems to be permanently stained on him.

So trust her when she said she knew what she was in for when Harry asked her to be his girlfriend.

Four months in, she knew she would be here for a long time, maybe forever, if life would allow it.

She was sure; she knew what to expect.

But she didn't, not until she got the call.

The call that would shatter her heart.

The call that would lead her to be sitting in this uncomfortable, ugly brown hospital chair, holding tightly onto his ashy hand. As she prayed on and on to a God, she no longer held close but wished for Harry they were real and would bring Harry back to her.

Y/N prayed for Harry to finally open his eyes and give her a reassuring smile that he would be okay.

That they would be okay.

Until then, she'll wait.

Harry being Lieutenant allowed him to have a consistent schedule. That did not mean there weren't days where he had to pull a double shift or stay back to finish paperwork; he let it pile up.

The one day that was Y/N's was Sunday.

She got him an entire day to lay in bed together and eat all the baked goods she baked for him to try. It was becoming their day. Everyone at the station knew Harry could not be disturbed on Sundays unless it was the end of the world, and even then, they'd have to pry him away from Y/N.

He feels safe in her arms. Harry had never felt that before. Sure, he was surrounded by his firehouse family, but he had never felt so loved in two arms as if she could take all his problems and stresses away. Still, she did exactly that when she would flash him her gorgeous smile and hold her arms open for him to fall into at the end of every day.

Harry knows he's never felt this way, and he won't ever take it for granted.

This Sunday will be different, and she feels it as soon as she wakes up because, in her queen-sized bed, she's alone. No arms wrapped around her waist; no head tucked into her necks as he places soft open kisses to wake her from her sleep gently.

Already, she knows this is going to be a bad day. She feels it in her bones. Having been around trouble for so long, she knows the difference between good and bad. The feelings she has made her want to find Harry and pull him back into bed where she can keep him safe.

Y/N gets out of bed, throwing the warm sheets off her body going to the bathroom to do her morning skin routine, wanting to feel refreshed for when Harry breaks the news; he's going to leave her alone on their day. She knows him well enough; he's cooking her breakfast to make up for leaving her so early in the morning.

She walks out of her bathroom, going straight to her closet and taking out the first sweater she saw. It's a baby blue color and stitched on the left side on top of her heart is: "love me please?" It's Harry's favorite sweater of hers because it's an oversized sweater that fits him well. The only reason she has it back is that he wanted her to wash it and wear it until it got her smell again. Y/N kissed him silly when he told her that, plus she loves that it smells like him now.

Y/N takes one look at her unmade bed and walks away, knowing she's going to crawl back in after Harry leaves her. She walks out and, from the hallway, can hear Harry humming away. If she's honest, she doesn't recognize the song. As she has come to learn, Harry has an interesting taste in music; he has basically heard every song ever to exist. It's a reason they are so good at Four Clovers Thursday Trivia night. She dominates pop culture and films, and Harry takes on music. She's also better at history than him. Their friends love trivia night because their winning always gets them free drinks. It's something she looks forward to each week.

"Morning, H," Y/N says as she approaches him from behind and wraps her arms around his waist. Harry smiles, instantly feeling warm with her arms around him.

"Morning, firebug. Sleep well?"

She mumbles a no, causing Harry to laugh, and she feels it vibrate through her.

"Awe, upset I wasn't wrapped around you." He teases. "I'm making up to you by making breakfast."

She pulls away, spotting blackberries on the counter. "Sure, Jan."

Harry can hear the change in her tone and knows she's still goofing off with him but knows she's upset.

"Angel, come sit. Coffee is ready."

She shakes her head but makes her way over to the chair he pulled out for her. "No coffee. I'll be going back to bed soon." Y/N waits to see if he'll correct her, but he doesn't.

"I'm sorry." He begins.

"No apologies."

"Please let me. I'm leaving you on our day." He pouts.

"As much as I don't want you to go, I'm sure they need you more than I do."

Harry frowns, "I hope you'll never stop needing me." He whispers against her lips before closing the gap. Y/N hums against his soft lips allowing herself to get lost in the moment; she loves his kisses, soft and gentle just as he is despite what his sharp eyes might have one believe.

Harry pulls away after pressing one final kiss on her pouted lips. "I'm sorry I have to go to work, but I know for certain that I can meet you for a late lunch."

"Lunch?" She repeats, arms wrapped around his waist, hoping he was serious with his offer.

He hums. "Yes, 2:30, that bistro with that avocado dressing you like for your sandwich."

"It's a date." She grins, laying her head on his chest letting him hold her tight. He unwraps his arms, letting her go.

"I've got to get going, firebug, but I'll see you later."

"Stay safe, Styles." She tells him as she does every time he leaves.

"Try my best, angel."

With that, he slips his beat-up white Vans with lilac laces and walks out the door; it shuts it behind him. Just as Y/N steps towards it to lock up, it opens back up, startling her. Harry steps back in, and before she can question him, he places both faces on the side of her face and kisses her breathless. Y/N is quick to react, allowing their lips to move in perfect harmony, not as smooth but perfect, nonetheless.

"I--" Harry begins before he clears his throat. "I'll miss you, angel."

Y/N feels the heat rush to her cheeks because, for a moment, she thought he'd say another three words. "And I'll miss you, H. Now get out of here; I don't need you showing up late to our lunch date."

Harry smiles, dimples on full display, hugging her before walking out a skip in his step. She peaks her head out, making sure he gets in the car safely before he drives off. He sits there for a moment, and she knows he is letting his Bluetooth connect as he waits for his drive-to-work playlist titled "it's time" to start playing. He takes a look at his mirrors before backing out and driving. That's when Y/N closes and locks the door.

Time to go back to bed for a few more hours; what else is there to do on a Sunday when she's left alone.

Harry genuinely did not want to go to work today, but it's not like he could say no to his Chief. His Chief was never one to call in favor unless it was an emergency. He didn't ask, knowing he'd get the full story Monday, but for now, he gets on his pants, t-shirt, and boots and hopes there are no fires today.

The only thing is that Harry isn't used to working with the B-shift, sure he knows everyone's name and a little of their lives, but they aren't his usual team. He shakes that off because he knows he would do anything to help a team member and knows they would do the same in return.

Harry is lost in thought, wondering what Y/N was going to do today. He knows she planned to take him to a butterfly pavilion today even told him the outfit she had planned out for it. A pair of jeans that had flowers embroidered all over something she added, saying she thought they looked a bit plain, pairing it with a pastel pink top. Harry was surprised with her style after meeting her various times in different outfits. He was surprised at how soft she dressed in pastels. She may have a bold personality, but her fashion was delicate and warm. It was a nice balance.

He nearly runs into Carols as he made his way to his office, too busy thinking of the girl he left at home. "Sorry, bud."

"No problem, Harry. Surprised to see you here," Carols tells him, everyone knowing Sunday was Harry's day off.

"Chief had something come up and asked me to come in. I should be out of here by eight tonight if we're lucky."

Carlos smiles, "with you around, we usually are."

Harry chuckles, telling him he'll be in his office if he needs anything. He looks around his desk and sighs at how much has piled up already.

Might as well get ahead.

It's a few hours when Harry realizes the house is quiet. He peaks around the window and figures they are all in the common room. It's only one, and thankfully there have been no calls, and if it continues, then he will make it to lunch with his angel.

He shoots her a text.

Angel

13:24 PM

I miss you. Counting down the minutes until I get to see you xxx

Harry clicks send and smiles down at his phone. 2:30 couldn't come fast enough.

As he gets up to stretch and go for a snack in the kitchen, he takes a deep breath because as confident as he may seem, he isn't around the second shift. They don't know him so well, and Harry ultimately is shy. He may be able to hide it, but he has small quicks that others pick up on. Something he knows Y/N spotted quickly, like when he toes his foot into the ground or when he begins to chip at his nails, and Y/N's favorite is when he moves his hands behind his back and sways side to side. She finds it endearing, but others might not think it's leadership material.

He walks into the lounge to cross to the kitchen when a few heads turn to him, but before they can say a word, the alarm rings, and Harry is literally saved by the bell.

Not a second to waste, everyone heads over to the rig and quickly suits up. Harry is Lieutenant meaning he's in charge of the scene today, seeing as their captain and Chief aren't here today. Harry respects all the firefighters and knows this will go well if everyone carries out their job.

It's a factory fire, and as soon as they arrive, Harry can see it's burning fast. He's not sure how many people are there, but he calls in for reinforcements knowing they will need all the manpower they can get.

"This is House 102; please send more units available. The factory fire is burning at a faster rate than we can control. My team is going in now. There are five people unaccounted for; the left side of the building is clear." Harry speaks into his two-way radio.

"Carlos," the young firefighter jogs over, eyes on Harry, no longer staring at the roaring fire. "You're going in with Baz. Stay close and don't go up the second floor; you need to be quick in and out."

"Who's going with you, Lieutenant?" Carlos asks, clearly worried.

"Jameson and Rey are coming with me; stay safe, and if anything happens, just radio in."

"You got it!" Harry pats his shoulder and walks off towards the two waiting men.

Harry knows the men well, he trained them when they came into the house, but they preferred B-shift instead of being with him. One spot was available, and he knew they didn't want to be separated. Rey and Jameson have been dating for two years, but that's a secret only very few know. It's not prohibited, but if it gets more serious, one will have to relocate to a new station. They simply aren't ready for that, and indeed Harry would be sad not to have them around the house or hearing their stories. It just adds a more considerable risk because, at the end of the day, the job is first.

Rey walks towards the entrance with Harry following right behind. Jameson, a few feet back, calling out for anyone in there that needs help.

"Fire department, call out." Echoes out as much as it can as the fire begins to roar louder.

The heat gets worse the further they walk in; they turn right at the edge of a desk labeled "Torres."

"H, there!" Rey shouts, rushing over to a man knocked unconscious and had heavy storage struck over his legs, pinning him down. Harry and Jameson run over, assessing the man before making any sudden moves.

Jameson finds a pulse, weak but there. He gets the extra mask over the man's face hoping it'll wake him up soon.

"On the count of three, we lift," Harry tells the two men standing to a stand as the others do the same.

They nod. "One, two, three." They grunt in unison, pushing the container to a standing position. Harry looks over the man's legs and is thankful there is no blood, but there will be swelling and bruises. "Right, Rey, take him out. We'll keep searching."

Rey nods, lifting the man over his shoulder as he was trained to do, and rushes out of the burning building. Harry and Jameson have just learned a new area when the radio comes on. "Lieutenant Styles, it's Carlos. We found two men; only one remains unaccounted for."

Harry nods. "Got it, no one comes back in. We'll be out soon."

He now leads the way, making his way towards a stairway. There's no fire here, but it's moving faster, and smoke is thick. Whoever is in here might not last much longer without oxygen.

"Fire department, call out," Harry shouts, voice firm.

"Here.." a whisper is heard, both Harry and Jameson freeze. Once more, "here" is yelled but sounds muffled.

Harry looks around, not seeing anything but fire, and fears the structure will collapse soon. Just as he was about to yell again, he sees a can knocked, and a man hidden under a black rag is seen. Jameson rushes over, helping the man sit up. He's older, well into his sixties. He doesn't look too well; he has a few scapes.

"Right, we need to head out," Jameson tells Harry, helping the man stand up who is fighting consciousness.

"This is Lieutenant Styles; on our way out found the last man. Have paramedics on standby."

"Got it, Styles. Get out quick."

Jameson and Harry get the man up and head to exit. Harry can see the light of day and knows he will be late for lunch, but thankful Y/N is understanding and very forgiving. He'll make it up to her by buying dessert.

Just as they almost reach the door, a piece of dry wood comes falling down, separating Harry and Jameson; luckily, it did not hit them, but now Harry has to find a new way out. It's not looking good.

"Harry," Jameson looks panicked, but Harry stays calm.

"Get him out, now," Harry tells him, looking in every direction for what to do.

"No, I won't-" Harry cuts him off.

"Jameson, get this man out. He needs medical attention. That's an order." Voice full of authority with no room to argue.

Jameson nods and heads out. "I'm coming back for you."

Harry chuckles. He sees a small path, but it'd be a more extended way out. He debates what to do. He could wait, but the longer he stays, the quicker this building is beginning to collapse.

It takes him two seconds to decide to go right and find a new route out instead of staying put. He walks and only gets hotter as the fire begins to surround him. He's good at not panicking, always thinks better under pressure, but this is getting intense. Harry climbs over a crate and bends low to go through this tight space. He sees the exit, it's still a bit away, but he knows he is in the clear.

That's when he hears a big explosion knocking him forward. His oxygen masks flys off, landing a few feet away. As Harry reaches his hand out to get it, he's pulled back. He looks behind and sees he's stuck. There are crates stacked on top of him. The air is thick of smoke, and with no oxygen, it seems like the fire will soon enough engulf him.

Shit.

He's really in trouble now.

Harry presses his radio, holding it, hoping it's still working. "This is Harry," He coughs. "I'm trapped under a few crates. I can't reach my ask. I'm west of the building."

"Harry, hold on. We're going in." Harry hears Jameson reply, but he's fading quickly.

He shakes his head. "Can't go to sleep, but this smoke is too thick to actually see anything, let alone for his team to find him.

"Tell…" He coughs again, and this time doesn't stop for what feels like five minutes but is only a few seconds. "Tell angel, I'm sorry."

A voice comes over the speaker, but Harry's eyelids are fluttering shut, the weight of the crates is too much, and the smoke only gets deeper in his lungs if he keeps speaking.

Harry welcomes the darkness as he sees the one person he was supposed to meet for lunch. She's holding an outstretched hand for him to take and who is he to ever say no to her.

Real or not, he goes to her, and soon enough, he falls unconscious, not feeling when his team lifts him out and puts him in the back of an ambulance.

Y/N decided to show up a bit earlier for their lunch date, putting in their order early, wanting to maximize all their time together. She wouldn't see him until late that night, and honestly, she wasn't a fan of being separated on her favorite day of the week.

She sits on a bench right outside, both sandwiches wrapped tucked away in a brown paper bag and a lemonade sitting next to her untouched. It was his favorite, too sweet in her opinion. Still, Harry loved it, especially since he wasn't one to indulge in sweets unless they were hers.

Knowing Harry could be running late, she pulls out a book from her orange tote bag that Harry gifted to her. The book was Beach Read, Frankie recommended it to her then gave her the book saying she needed to read more romance books and not just poetry and nonfiction books. She actually enjoyed it, which surprised her, but even if she didn't, she's too invested to not find out the ending.

She was just starting chapter five when she feels too much time has passed and glances down at her phone.

2:55

25 minutes late isn't bad or unusual even; she decides to put the book away and keep an eye out for him. Usually, when he keeps her waiting, he makes up for it with a long kiss that never fails to take her breath away; she's excited about it now.

Time seems to go slower when she just sits waiting. She debates beginning to eat her sandwich when her stomach starts to growl. It's low, but she would feel bad if she began to eat, and that's when he shows up. She settles for waiting and instead takes a drink of the sweet lemonade.

As Y/N sits waiting for Harry, her phone begins to ring and displays an unknown number but the city's area code. Every bone in her body tells her to prepare for the worst but hopes she's paranoid.

She takes a deep breath before answering and bringing the phone up to her ear.

"Hello, are you angel?" A deep voice man asks.

"It's Y/N. Actually, can I ask who's calling?" She's holding her breath; only one person calls her angel.

"I'm calling on behalf of Lieutenant Harry Styles. Harry has been in an accident and was taken to the hospital. He asked us to call an angel on his way to the hospital. We assumed you were one of his emergency contacts."

Y/N feels her hands begin to shake. "What hospital?"

The man on the phone rattles the information, and she lets it all sink in. He hangs up, and she sits there waiting on the bench for her date that will not be showing up.

Her phone rings again, she answers without looking at the caller.

"Y/N," she recognized the voice; it's Mitch, and if he's calling, then it must be true.

"Mitch," she whispers, not recognizing her own voice. It's shaky, tears beginning to well up.

"Where are you?"

"At the bistro a street down from the station." She replies, hoping he's coming for her.

"I'm close; we'll pick you up and go see him, darling." She nods but remembers he can't see her.

Y/N isn't sure why she's not crying. She feels the tears, but it's like they are stuck; her heart hurts, and she knows that says enough. "We were supposed to meet for lunch. I got worried when he didn't show up, but I didn't think--" he interrupts her.

"Harry is going to be fine, trust me. He's okay, and he needs us there."

Y/N doesn't reply because she sees him pulling in. Mitch is in the passenger seat, Sarah is driving. She doesn't say a word as she swings open the door and settles in the back.

She sets her hands in her lap; she can feel herself trembling. She can feel herself breaking because she won't know if he's okay until she sees him. Mitch can say he's fine, but she needs to see for herself.

Sarah and Mitch share a concerned look; Y/N doesn't notice her eyes looking out the window.

"Y/N?" Mitch begins, voice full of concern. "Do you- are you okay to go see him?"

"Of course." She replies quickly. "He needs me; well, I hope he does."

"Course he needs you. Needs his angel by his side." Sarah tells her calmly, wanting to see her smile, but it doesn't work because only Harry should be calling her that. She shouldn't be on her way to see him in a hospital bed. She should have seen him next to her on that bench as he ate his sandwich and gave her kiss and kiss as she told him stories.

They are silent the rest of the way. Sarah pulls into an empty parking space, and she rushes after Mitch, who seems to know exactly where Harry is as he rushes past the front desk. The only thing that slows them down is waiting for the elevator; she gladly would have taken the stairs if Mitch didn't tell her that he's on the sixth floor. Instead, she waits impatiently for the old elevator that will take her to see her love.

He is going to be okay. He has to be okay. Y/N keeps those thoughts running through her head as Mitch and Sarah guide her to room 613.

Mitch walks in first, holding the door open, Sarah places a comforting hand on her back, and Y/N feels supported and loved, but nothing prepares her for what she is about to walk into.

The constant beep of Harry's heart monitor is the only thing that can be heard in his private room. The beep is steady; it makes her let out a deep breath. The monitor already calming her down, she approaches slowly as if he'd wake if she'd walk any faster.

She sits in the uncomfortable chair next to his bed and pulls it as close as she can.

Y/N just stares at him, taking it all in. He looks like he's resting peacefully like he should originally have been when they started this day together. His curls are disheveled, his face dirty with smoke stains and a few gauzes wrapped around his arms. She can't see much else but knows he's got a road of recovery still ahead of him.

"Hi, Harry," she whispers, her hand slowly reaching under the white sheet to grab hold of his right hand. "I'm right here, okay. Take your time waking up; there's no rush. Just know that I'm not going anywhere."

She pauses, hoping for a reply even though she knows she won't get one. "We can also discuss how I'm sort of one of your emergency contacts."

Y/N presses her lips to his hand. "Need you to wake up, want to see those Rapunzal eyes." She sits back, not removing her hand from his. Sarah has not taken her eyes off of her, Sarah might feel like she might blow up soon, but being at his side, she has begun to feel better.

"Harry, we're here for you. The whole team is outside in the lobby, probably why they sent us to the floor with the biggest waiting area. Even young Carlos is out there, saying you gave them a scare but really hopes you never pick up another B-shift again." Mitch sniffles before stepping out of the room. Sarah walks over to where he was standing.

"Hey Harold, it's trivia night in a few days, and kind of counting on you to get us those free drinks." Sarah chuckles. "It's been a while since we've been in the hospital. I think it was when I made you all donate blood for that ambulance competition. Fun times, now you rest and get better. The good thing is you have the best nurse looking out for you." Sarah glances at Y/N, sending her a small smile.

Y/N sits back in her chair as Sarah sits in one by the window. She knows she's in for a long afternoon and an even longer night.

Harry's head is throbbing.

He's not sure why. The last he remembers is leaving Y/N's house to go for his shift at the station.

They were meeting for lunch; he's sure she wouldn't let him drink any alcohol on the job.

Harry slowly opens his eyes and is blinded by the bright light. He sees a photo of the sunset right in front of him, and a tv hung up; if he's not mistaken, he's in a hospital room, primarily due to being in an uncomfortable bed. The oxygen mask over his face is also a dead giveaway he was in an accident.

He looks around, and he sees he is not alone. His angel is sleeping, a tight grip on his right hand; she looks exhausted. Mitch walks in just as Harry was about to wake her. Y/N mumbles and sits up, pulling her hand away from his to rub the sleep away. Harry wants to tell her to stop knowing how much it actually irritates her eyes, especially when she tubs a little harsher than usual.

"Were you able to find tea, Mitch?" Y/N asks, looking over at him.

"Sarah's bringing it over." Mitch's gaze never turns to her staying on Harry; this confuses Y/N and turns back around in her seat to look at a resting Harry but instead finds his eyes on her.

"Harry!" Y/N scoots forward, grasps his hand in hers. "You're awake. Mitch, the nurse, please."

Harry raises his free hand to take off the mask. He wants to speak, but this won't allow him. "No, love. Got to keep it on."

Harry's eyes close, then flutter open. He stares at Y/N, his eyes kind but defiant. He takes the mask off, coughing a bit; it makes Y/N feel nauseous, knowing he's not doing so well.

"I think you need to keep it on, Harry." She says, "the nurse needs to see it when she comes in soon."

"Hey, angel," he says in a raspy voice. It sounds like he's in pain when he talks.

"Yes?" She asks.

"I'm sorry for scaring you."

Y/N shrugs, "no big deal. I wasn't even scared."

Harry smiles, showering her his dimples since she last saw him this morning. He begins to laugh but stops when it causes him to cough. Y/N lets him settle down before bending down to gently kiss him.

"Now, let that hold you over, and put the mask pack on."

Harry nods. "Anything for you, my angel."

It's a half-hour before the doctor comes in, and by that time, Harry had fallen back asleep, only just waking up a few minutes before the man walked through the door. Mitch alerted everyone outside he was awake and doing good.

Dr. Vazquez walked white coat open, displaying a purple button-up and a bright yellow tie. It puts a smile on Y/N's face.

"Hello, Mr. Styles. Glad you're awake."

"Me too, Doc. Nice tie."

Dr. Vaquez smiles, looking down at himself, "Thank you, my wife picks out my tie every morning before she heads off to work."

"Lucky man," Harry tells him.

"That I am." Dr. Vazquez replies. "You've got a mild concussion, nothing serious, but you are allowed to sleep while you're here. We've got a good team looking out for you. You've got a few burns, but those will heal nicely if properly cared for. A few deep bruises on your leg and one on your rib cage, no blood clots. It will hurt to walk for a few days."

"Nothing too bad, then," Harry sighs, relaxing in bed.

"I've looked at your charts, and it looks like you will be making a full recovery and should be back on the job in three or four weeks. In the meantime, you will need to stay overnight and keep taking in oxygen. I see the nurse changed your mask. Please don't remove this one." Harry nods. "Any questions?"

Harry shakes his head no, "Not at the moment."

"Alright, I'll be off then. I'll come to see you tomorrow midday, and we'll talk about going home. I hear you have a waiting room full of people dying to see; just be aware that visiting hours end at nine, but if you're kind to Nurse Lucy, she'll be lenient to ten."

"Thank you, Dr. Vazquez." Mitch and Y/N say in unison as the man exits the room.

"That's the quietest I've ever seen you, firebug." Harry teases.

"You hush." She lightly pats his arm.

Mitch laughs, "going to go tell them you're allowed, visitors."

Y/N and Harry sit in silence. He can tell she has something on her mind, a slight frown on her face. He wonders if it's about him if she won't be able to handle dating someone who can be hurt by the job. Harry honestly does not want to lose her.

"I'm going to step out," Y/N tells him, looking down at their joined hands, not wanting to meet his eyes.

"Y/N," Harry sighs.

"You've got lots of people waiting to see you and roughly have an hour to see them all. I'll be close by." She leans down, presses a kiss to his cheek, and walks out before he can reach out to stop her.

She steps out while a few members of his team come in to see him offering her a smile as she passes them. As much as she didn't want to leave him, she needed a moment away, and he needed a moment with his family.

God, Y/N has never felt so scared, and now a minute alone, everything is beginning to set in. She has no idea where the restroom is, and the next thing she knows, she's running into someone, but it seems they recognize her because they say her name, and the next thing she knows, she's crying, sinking to the floor. She feels arms wrap around her.

Shushes in her ear, brushing the ends of her hair. It's calming, but she needs to let all the tears she's been holding in.

"Y/N," she can now recognize the voice as Sarah's, "I'm going to help you stand and sit you in the chair.

Y/N feels herself nod.

She begins taking deep breaths, never letting Sarah pull her hand away. It is the only thing keeping her grounded.

"I got her some water." Y/N hears Frankie whisper handing it to Sarah before taking the seat to the left of her.

"I'm okay," she repeats. "I'm okay."

"Y/N," Sarah begins.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, sweetie." Frankie brushes her hair back.

"I'm supposed to be strong; I have to be strong to do this to stand by his side," Y/N tells them, beginning to let her emotions out.

"No one is expecting you not to cry."

"Bu-" Sarah interrupts her.

"No. stop. Accidents happen, and so do injuries. It's okay to be scared and hurt."

"I want to be strong for him." She whispers.

"You are. You never left his side; you talked to him. You're crying now because you care."

She wipes her eyes with her sweater sleeves. "I love him, and I was so scared that when I got the call, I'd never get to tell Harry."

"Then you tell him as soon as you walk back into his room."

"Thank you."

"Nothing to thank, I care about you, and I know Harry would be grateful to know you're not alone. You've always got us. Now let's grab something to eat, and we'll come back in an hour once all of them go home."

She chuckles. "Alright."

"Text me where you're sitting. I'll pop in to see Harry, then meet you."

"You don't have to," Y/N tells Frankie because she knows she is just as concerned about her friend.

"Are you kidding me? You're my friend first, always."

Sarah and Y/N walk down to the cafeteria. She knows she isn't okay but is feeling better, finally letting emotion out. It was only a matter of time before she let the dam break; she's just happy it was not in front of Harry.

The girls sit in the cafeteria munching on snacks for well over an hour. Mitch sends them a message letting them know all the crew has left and it's time to say goodbye for the night. Frankie wishes her goodnight downstairs with promises to come to see her tomorrow and bring her a change of clothes.

"Let's walk you back," Sarah tells her, linking their arms together.

"Do you think he'll know?" Sarah takes a good look at her and grimaces. "I'll just say I tripped, and it made me cry." Y/N jokes.

"I don't think he'll believe that."

"Yeah, me either." The girls walk out of the elevator as their laughter dies down.

They settle in silence as they make their way to his room, Sarah holding her hand leading the way. Mitch is in the chair she was in for so many hours before waiting for him to wake up. Mitch hears their footsteps and turns his head, but Harry is frowning, looking out the window at the dark sky.

Y/N doesn't know what to say, but one look at him has her heart filling up with relief; he's okay.

He's fine, and he gets to go home soon, and she gets to love him all she wants.

Harry turns his head as she steps forward. "Angel," he breathes out.

It makes her eyes well up with tears again. "I love you," she just lets it out, as if she's told Harry this every day as if she never went a moment not saying it.

"Oh my angel," Harry begins to cry, feeling overwhelmed and incredibly happy. His angel loves him, and although this isn't a perfect day, the moment is.

Mitch and Sarah sneak out quietly, shutting the door behind them to give them their privacy.

"I love you so much. Please come here." Harry replies, voice shaky.

In the next second, she's moving forward, pulling the chair as close as she can as he grabs her hands, squeezing them tightly. She leans down and presses her lips to his chapped pink lips. They move gently, pouring all their love and fears into the kiss. Telling each other that the worst is over and they are together, and they are fine. Y/N pulls back, knowing she can't kiss him as long as she'd like due to his sensitive lungs.

"Harry, I love you, and I was so scared I'd never get to say it."

"I'm sorry, angel; I never wanted you to get a call like this, at least not before talking about it."

"Me either," She sniffles, no longer able to control her tears, "but it happened, and I'm just happy you're okay."

"I'm okay," he repeats. She smiles, taking one of her hands out of his hold to wipe his tears away; Harry can't help but lean his head into her gentle touch. "I'm okay because my angel is always looking after me.

"Harry."

"It's true. I've never been luckier and safer since you came into my life." She smiles. "But there's something we have to talk about." He continues, and by the tone of his voice, it's going to be serious.

"Are you okay?"

"What? I'm fine. You're the one in a hospital bed." Her tone is defensive.

"There's something wrong. I can see it."

Y/n sighs, taking a deep breath. She takes her hand out of his hold.

Harry is quick to mask his hurt.

"I don't like that you're hurt. I hate that we aren't at home in the kitchen dancing around to your Sunday playlist as I bake you a new treat." She says in a rush.

"Hey, love, relax," he says and gestures for her to move in closer. She does so, allowing him to take hold of her hands with a firm grip this time.

"You're upset because I got hurt?" She nods in reply to his question. It's stupid because, of course, he's going to get hurt; it'd be naive to think he wouldn't in his job.

"It's part of the job." He says simply. It's something he wants her to accept and remember. She thinks back to a month into dating when he told her about his ex-girlfriend and how she couldn't handle the unknown of the job each day he left her. Y/N thought she'd be fine, but she loves him, and losing him would be something she could never recover from.

"I know. It's just not easy to see." Her voice was quiet and defeated.

"What do we do?" Harry asks, and Y/N freezes; she can feel her heart beating in her ears.

What do we do?

"What do you mean?" She can feel her hands begin to shake.

"This can happen again." He gestures to him in the hospital bed.

"I know." She says softly.

"Is this something you can handle or not?" He asks very direct. She knows this might not be the first time he's had the conversation, but she just told him she loved him, and he's questioning her. She's allowed to feel this way, but it doesn't mean she can't handle it.

"Y/N," he begins, "I'm incredibly happy with you. I see you and me together for a long time. You're it for me, but this job is my life."

"I know," she repeats. "I would never ask you to give up your job."

Harry stares at her; heartbreak passes through his eyes. "Are you asking me to give you up?

She shakes her and begs for the tears not to fall, but it's no use. She feels them falling and can't wipe them as Harry has a hold of her hands.

"Harry, I love you." He frowns as if fearing the worst. "I love you, and I'd rather love you every moment I have you than let you go now and never know what could have been."

"Oh, thank god." Harry lets out a deep breath. She giggles. "I'm sorry we couldn't have this conversation earlier; honestly, I feared if I brought it up, you could possibly break up with me, and I selfishly wanted to have you longer."

"Well, I'm not going anywhere, not if it's up to me. Seeing you laid up is hard but knowing I get to be there for you makes up for it. Also helps that I'm a nurse."

"That it does."

Y/n grins at Harry, leaning in to kiss him, short and sweet for now. Each kiss never fails to make her heart race, and due to Harry's heart monitor, she knows it does the same to him. They sit in silence, staring at each other as Harry traces small shapes against Y/N's cheeks, loving the feeling of her in his hand. Especially when she lets out a soft giggle when he hits a sensitive spot.

"Move in with me," Y/N blurts out after a while of silence.

It shocks Harry. "What?"

"Until you're better. That way, I can be your in-home nurse."

"Only until I'm better?" She nods. "So, you'll give me the boot after." Harry teases.

Y/N can feel her cheeks warming up but pushes through, "Only if you're a bad patient."

Harry smiles, dimples on full display for her, always for her. "Okay, I can be good and naughty only when you ask."

"Harry!" She gasps.

He throws his head back, laughing.

"God, I'm so lucky to love you." His words warm her heart, and she promises to tell him every day from now on.

"Now get up here and cuddle me. I got Mitch to cue up Netflix."

"Are you sure?" She stands slipping her shoes off, knowing he won't be taking no for an answer.

"Going to deprive an injured man of what he wants most?"

"Guess not."

"Good."

Y/N crawls on and lays on his side, carefully resting her head on his chest. Harry presses kiss after kiss for his comfort, knowing he will be okay and has his favorite person by his side. She chooses Legally Blonde knowing it's Harry's comfort movie as much as he tries to deny it.

For an unusual start to their Sunday, it ends right; together in bed, a hospital bed but nonetheless a bed, together arms wrapped tight around each other.

Y/N might not have liked that Harry got hurt, but he's okay, and he will recover.

That's all she could ever ask for.

thank you so much for reading!

please send me a message of what you thought or if you'd like to see more firefighter harry

I adore you. take care xx

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles au #harry styles angst #harry styles ou #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #firefighter!harry #harry fanfic #harry fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #my writing

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starklore · 3 years ago

Text

Okay to answer the question "why does Camilo remember Bruno even though he's the same age as Mirabel," here's my take:

Camilo doesn't remember Bruno very well. The image he paints of Bruno is clearly inaccurate to who he actually is. Bruno is not seven feet tall, for instance, but it makes sense that Camilo, who only remembers him from a five-year-old perspective, would remember him as much taller than he is.

Bruno also isn't nearly as sinister irl as he is in the musical number--and interestingly, in the number, it's Camilo who paints him in the most sinister light, despite knowing him the least.

Like, Pepa talks about Bruno like he was some kind of mischievous gadfly guy, but in Camilo's chorus he sounds like, downright demonic. "He sees your dreams and feasts on your screams." King what?

But it makes sense, because Pepa has actually good memories of Bruno being like a normal-ish dude in between psychic episodes or whatever, to balance her general perception of him out. Camilo doesn't have that.

To me, it seems like Camilo's impression of Bruno is a few sparse memories mixed in with picking up on the family and community's perception of him, from context clues given during the few times anyone actually acknowledges him. People only ever talk about him as this looming creepy figure of chaos, and Camilo doesn't really have any real memories of him to balance out that perception, so that's all he has. (And it's also probably exaggerated for comedic/dramatic effect in the number because he's just Like That.)

Of course, that brings us back to where we started: Camilo and Mirabel probably have around the same actual recollection of Bruno. So why is Camilo so comfortable filling in the gaps with the perception given to him by adults and presenting them as fact--or at least, close to fact--when Mirabel feels that she really has no idea of who Bruno is?

I think there are a few factors at play:

-Personality difference. I think Camilo is just more confident than Mirabel and trusts himself more–this time, to a detriment. It’s also possible that he’s just sort of more perceptive, in that he just pays more attention to what people around him are saying and reads into it more? Idk.

-Mirabel might be less likely to believe the worst of Bruno because she knows what it's like to be seen as the family’s black sheep. (This may be subconscious on her part.) While the family dynamic puts pressure on every member of the family, presumably Camilo included although it’s not explored, he is at least on a surface level accepted by the family, so he may have less reason to identify with Bruno and may be more likely to accept what he’s told about him.

–Also Camilo might just have heard more adult conversations about Bruno because he can shapeshift. Plus Dolores is his sister, so maybe she’s shared things she’s overheard with him that she hasn’t shared with the other kids. (Not that Bruno never left, because Camilo looked surprised and annoyed when Dolores revealed she knew that, but just things other people said about him–again, I think Camilo’s perception of Bruno is largely based upon things he’s heard other people say about him.)

-This is a sadder idea but I think it probably does factor in: since Camilo isn’t excluded from the family the way Mirabel is, he might just like, be around the house more and around the family more often, and that’s why he’s heard more cryptic references throughout the years.

#encanto shitposting #my meta #good post op

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maxwell-grant · 3 years ago

Note

Red of Overly Sarcastic Productions once said :"If you can imagine your Batman comforting a shared child, then congratulations, you're righting Batman. If not, you're just writing the Punisher in a funny hat". This got me wondering: could the Shadow comfort a scared child?

Could he? You forget who was there to lift young Bruce to his feet at his first brush with death (sadly far from his last).

But it's an interesting question to pose still, because children were straight up not in the pulps, not in any I've read, and I can't recall any episodes of the radio show that feature them much (there's gotta be at least a few, because they had everything in that show). The most interaction I think The Shadow's ever had with children (from comics that I can discuss here, because Marshall Rogers' "Harold Goes to Washington" is way, way too much for me to go into right now, and the less I talk about some other DC comics, the better) is in the Street & Smith comics.

There's Jerry from the Devil Kyoti arc, a kid who was traumatized by an encounter with the villain who Sayre's looking after and who ends up having some kind of hidden power that allows him to see The Shadow and defeat the villain. There was a blonde Jerry who showed up later in the Monstradamus arc, but he isn't a kid so much as he's diet Jimmy Olsen or a replacement for Harry, but he had weird eyesight-based powers and a familiarity with The Shadow, so I assume it's the same character.

There was also Donald Jordan - Shadow Jr, and okay, I may have to talk more about this weird little failed experiment some other time, but the basic gist of it is that The Shadow had a friend in Tibet named Harry Jordan (and someday I'm also gonna write about the weird prevalence and significance of the name "Harry" in The Shadow's mythos in and out of universe) who was murdered, leaving his son orphaned and with nowhere to go. And, I'll admit that I have a real weakness for The Shadow calling people "son", which he does a lot in this story.

And as you can expect, it then turns out that the kid's also learned how to cloud minds and has basically the same powers The Shadow has in these comics, and they solve the mystery of his dad's murder together, and yeah, you can absolutely tell that they are setting up this kid to be The Shadow's Robin. Although, interestingly, they don't have The Shadow actually recruit the kid, instead it's Jordan who asks The Shadow if he can go with him and join his mission, and Cranston even states he's going to have to "earn" his way

"Must I stay here, sir? It will always remind me of dad - I'd like to devote my life to your fight against evil and evil doers!

Now, "Shadow Jr's" career was incredibly short-lived, it only lasted for about two other issues, and I have no idea what happened in his final appearence called "Snake Eyes" in Shadow Comics #77, I cannot find that issue anywhere and I really want to. But the one other solo story of his I've read was...well, I think it kinda illustrates why the idea of The Shadow having a Robin was doomed from the start.

...Yeah. Even The Shadow at his most sanitized and family friendly is still The Shadow, and there's no room for children in his network, obviously he shouldn't and wouldn't have children be in those positions or make decisions expected from grown-ups who have already had encounters with death and danger, why would anyone do that-

The only instance I can think of The Shadow interacting with a child in the pulps was during The Prince of Evil, when he has to rescue a young boy from Stark's thugs.

Cranston, dazed, tried to stagger to his feet. Before he could do so, the thug had picked up the limp figure of the boy and was darting out into the street. There was a scream of horror from pedestrians.

A heavy truck was racing at top speed along the avenue. Straight into the path of the truck, the thug threw the senseless boy!

The driver of the truck jammed on the brakes. But it was too late to halt the heavy vehicle. The broad-tired wheels rolled toward the limp head of the lad on the pavement.

An instant before it could crush out his life, Lamont Cranston dived headlong into the path of destruction. His shoulder struck the boy, rolling him toward the curb. A quick wriggle, and Cranston swerved aside from the grinding death that loomed over him.

He picked up the boy. One glance and he knew there was no time to lose. The attempted killer had leaped into a waiting sedan and had already made his escape.

The boy was all Cranston could see or think about. Brass knuckles had fractured his skull. He had suffered a concussion of the brain. A glance at his bluish lips and the fixed glaze of his staring eyes told Cranston that unless the boy was operated on immediately, he would die.

A leap, Cranston was in his car. He laid the boy gently on the seat beside him, then headed the car toward the nearest hospital. Traffic lights were ignored.

The boy was taken to an emergency operating room and a skilled surgeon went to work. When it was over, Cranston asked only one question: "Will the child live?"

"Hard to say. We'll do our best."

"Spare no expense. Put him in a private room. Engage day and night nurses."

Cranston's face was pale. He knew that he himself was indirectly responsible for the boy's attack. A supercriminal had made a prompt answer to Cranston's message over Jackson's telephone. That telephone must have been tapped. The attempt to kill the boy was a vicious warning for Lamont Cranston to mind his own business about the Harmon family. It was a follow-up of the attack on Jackson's dog.

Cranston felt a surge of hot anger. He kept it under control while he answered routine police questions. He told all he knew - which was nothing.

He had only one angry thought. He intended to drive straight to the office of David Chester. He'd get the truth out of the sleek Chester, if he had to batter him with vengeful fists!

Cranston was actually halfway to Chester's office before common sense returned to him. He realized he had lost his sense of balance. He was behaving exactly as the crooks wanted. He was playing their game, not his!

He parked, and the hot rage drained slowly from him. He stopped thinking about the limp figure of a young lad on a white operating table.

This is definitely because Tinsley writes the character differently than Gibson, but I actually cannot think of another occasion where we got to read about The Shadow actively wanting to hit someone with his fists. It's very, very rare to read about The Shadow actually getting mad in the first place in such an undignified way. And I think with this passage, you'll start to notice a pattern.

The problem isn't that The Shadow cannot interact with kids or that he can't comfort them, he does it to his agents and adults he wants to help just fine, he knows how to address people in their language, or any language. The problem is, The Shadow is constantly surrounded by danger everywhere he goes, because he is The Shadow. He can be any number of things at any number of occasions, but usually, when The Shadow shows up, it's usually because people are going to die, and people are going to kill, and it's his job to address that and work the scales.

Children should not be anywhere near this, and if The Shadow's interacting with a child, it usually means that some grave danger or tragedy fell upon them, and he's here to either prevent greater tragedy or address the fall-out, and he'd be the first to agree that neither of these options should be happening at all. It doesn't mean he's not gonna do what's right and give life and limb to protect them, but, it shouldn't be up to the Boogeyman to look after them in the first place. Maybe it shouldn't be up to the Boogeyman to protect us.

But then again, as I mentioned when I talked about my own reasons for liking The Shadow so much, there are many kids who would like nothing more than to have the Boogeyman by their side to protect them. There's comfort in knowing that the scariest man in the room is unconditionally there to protect you, and that is the comfort that The Shadow gives best. Not as Cranston, not under a friendly face, but as what he is.

Due to a lack of scenes from the pulps or satisfying scenes from elsewhere, I will instead be pulling one from a fan story written by Kimberly-Murphy Smith, editor and writer of The Hot Cornerm where The Shadow rescues a child who was kidnapped for blackmail. I couldn't care less that it's fanfic, and if you do, come back in 20 or so years after The Shadow's been made public domain and it's gonna be just as official as anything licensed (on my “to write about” list: how fickle the separation between “official” and “fanfic” is, and the many times it plainly didn’t exist). There’s aspects of her writing I don’t care for, but I really like this scene and I do think The Shadow’s more gentle interactions with people are necessary to getting the character.

Annabelle.

She stopped crying for a minute. "Who's there?" she said, her voice choked.

A friend. Your mommy and daddy sent me to pick you up.

"Mommy? Mommy's here?"

Sh-h-h. Annabelle felt a gloved hand gently stroking her hair. She's waiting for you at home. So, we need to hurry up and leave.

"'kay." She looked around. "Where are you?"

It's kind of hard to see me. It's dark in here, plus you've been crying so much your eyes probably hurt.

"Yeah."

Don't be afraid. I'm here to help.

"'kay."

The implicit trust of children was simply amazing at times. Adults trembled in fear of The Shadow's wrath, but children somehow seemed to understand that he was there to help them, even if they couldn't see him.

Sit up, Annabelle. I'm going to pick you up. Be very quiet.

One hand took each of her arms and guided them around a neck she could not see. "Why are you wearin' a blanket?" she asked as the fabric of his cloak brushed against her shoulders.

Sometimes I get cold at night.

"Even in the summer?"

Even in the summer. He gently stroked her cheek and wiped away her tears. Now, you need to be very quiet so those bad men in the next room don't hear us. I'll bet you're tired.

She nodded.

He rocked her on his arms, projecting a very gentle hypnotic relaxation into her with his powers as he did. You probably didn't get your nap, either. Poor thing. Lean on my shoulder and go to sleep. And when you wake up, you'll be back with Mommy and Daddy.

She yawned, then snuggled against his shoulder and went to sleep.

The Shadow sighed with relief. Now to get past the men out front. He gently pulled the pistol out of its holster under his left arm and slipped it into the belted waist of his overcoat within easy reach, then secured his grip on Annabelle and draped his cloak over her.

She clutched the edge of his cloak in her hand like a security blanket and snuggled against his shoulder again.

(Art by Jill Thompson)

#replies tag #the shadow #pulp heroes #fanfic #I think about the -Sometimes I get cold at night- response a lot #and how superhero capes can easily be likened to oversized blankets #and The Shadow is one of the main reasons why capes became so popular among American heroes #seriously you can see how practically overnight so many heroes at the time imitating The Shadow acquired capes #and what is a hero if not a childhood fantasy manifest #they are all just wearing blankets to battle #I think my posts are turning into too much of rollercoasters

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detectivejigsawpines · 3 years ago

Text

Just a Normal Day

A short drabble about sea grunks having an average adventure, written in honor of their birthday.

Even before they got attacked by the Cthulhu beast, it had been a pretty average morning on the sea for the Pines twins.

Wake up at the crack of dawn (Ford) or closer to late morning (Stan); eat breakfast; reset the spell to ward off the vengeful leprechauns who might still be after them for stealing their treasure in case they’d figured out they were chasing a decoy trail by now; do a little late morning fishing, while keeping an eye out for that golden fish Stan was sure he’d seen swimming under their boat last week, and which he was hoping laid golden fish eggs or something; finally notice what time it was (Stan) and head inside to make lunch.

Just another normal day.

Stan was examining their supplies, trying to decide if it was worth breaking out some of the canned hamburger meat and throwing together sloppy Joes instead of making them eat fish again, when he was knocked skiwampus by the boat being yanked to a halt; as he struggled to regain his balance by grabbing onto the table, a vicious, blood-curdling roar came rumbling through the air from outside.

Stan sighed, and wondered if the kraken was back. In one swift motion he grabbed the spare harpoon they had hanging over the door, and stepped out to see if Ford needed help dealing with it.

It wasn’t the kraken.

It still looked like some kinda big octopus monster, though, with a mass of writhing tentacles where its face should be, and a bulbous head in the back just like an octopus body. The rest of it, at least as far as the torso, was kinda like a human’s but a little bigger (about the size of a baby whale), with slimy-looking green-brown skin and a pair of big, wrinkled, wet wings sticking out of its back. Whatever this thing was, it had grabbed onto the back of their boat, and was looming menacingly over Ford as Stan stepped outside.

“...and you are now my prisoners!” he bellowed, as his piercing golden eyes landed on Stan. “Surrender your weapons now, puny mortals, and I might be merciful!!!!”

“Yeesh, did we trespass on his territory or something?” Stan asked, leaning on the harpoon.

Ford shrugged with one shoulder, since he was trying to write in his journal at the same time. “He didn’t really say; he just jumped onboard and started threatening me.”

“Huh.” Stan looked up at the beast. “You the lord of this part of the ocean or whatever?”

The beast blinked-which looked pretty weird, his eyelids went sideways instead of up and down like humans-before nodding vigorously. “Yes! I am the lord of this part of the ocean, and you must surrender to me now, or else suffer my wrath!!!!” He slammed a fist down against the side of the boat, making it rock up and down so hard he had to scrabble to keep his balance. Stan coughed into his fist to hold back a snicker.

Ford tilted his head. “I could have sworn this was still the primary territory of the Manatee-Merfolk Alliance. Are you sure you haven’t made some kind of mistake?”

“What part of prisoners did you not understand?!” the beast demanded, spreading out his wings and shaking them as his tentacles writhed angrily. “Give up your weapons, now-all of them!!!!”

“...You sure you want that? It’s kind of gonna take awhile-”

“NOW, or I crush your boat in my mighty fist!!!!”

Stan glanced at Ford, who rolled his eyes and nodded. With a small sigh, they began disarming themselves.

********

...A minute passed and they were still at it.

Ford’s pile of weapons was almost as tall as he was, mostly consisting of long-range weapons like guns, but with a few vials of poisons and some handcuffs thrown into the mix.

Stan’s pile was more proportionate, but the number of places that weapons were produced from (including a smoke bomb that he’d somehow managed to keep tucked under his beanie) was frighteningly impressive.

The monster watched their progress with increasingly wide eyes; finally, as Stan produced another set of brass knuckles out of a secret pocket sewn onto the inside of his coat, he spluttered, “...Where were you keeping those?”

Stan just grinned shamelessly. “Trust me, sunshine, you don’t wanna know.”

“Okay, I think that’s everything,” Ford said at last, indicating the pile of weaponry.

“Yeah, well, I’m still workin’, gimme a minute.” Stan produced a switchblade, and tossed it onto his pile. Then, in a brief sleight of hand, he snatched another one from the pile and pretended to draw it out of his coat to toss it on next. “Hey, tentacles-face-ya think you could bring us back by Wednesday? We got a Zoom appointment ta keep, and our niece and nephew hate it when we’re late.” Another sleight of hand allowed him to scoop up another weapon.

“That’s not how this-now see here!” The monster drew himself up to his full height, nearly falling backwards off the boat. “You guys-you puny mortals are my prisoners! And as such, you need to understand that this is not a joking matter! I could squash you both like sea slugs if I wished! I’m all-powerful, an eons-old abomination whose very name would send you into madness if spoken aloud! So you better start quaking in fear and begging for mercy like proper captives!!!!”

Stan looked at Ford. “Sounds like we’re his first.” He looked back at the monster. “You’re doin’ great, buddy-good job on the whole threatening schtick.” He offered a thumbs-up, while using the other hand to snag another weapon that he pretended to produce from another hiding spot.

Ford winked at him, and looked back at their ‘captor.’ “Is this some sort of coming-of-age ritual for your species?” He produced his journal again, pen poised. “Very clever move, by the way, threatening our boat to get us to disarm ourselves. In the future, though, I would suggest that you try taking one of us hostage first, in order to create maximum-”

“STOP IT!”

The monster abruptly started pounding his fists against the side of the boat, nearly tipping it over before instead pitching him all the way onto the deck. “YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE THIS! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO-I’M YOUR-IT’S NOT FAIR-!”

It took Stan a moment to realize that the angry noises leaving his mouth (?) were accompanied by the sound of frustrated sobs.

He hissed through his teeth, and shot Ford a guilty look.

“...Oh boy. Looks like we got a little one here.”

********

Stan crossed the boat and crouched down in front of the weeping monster, putting a hand on his back and rubbing the spot right between his wings.

“Deep breaths, in and out. You’re not gonna get anything done like this, so just take a bit ta calm down, okay?”

The monster hiccuped and coughed, shrinking in on himself in a way that was painfully familiar to both of them.

Ford knelt down at his other side. “Maybe if you tell us why this is so important to you, we can provide some assistance?”

The monster shook his head and buried his head in his arms. “I just wanted-hic-to show my friends I could catch the Pines twins all by myself,” he croaked.

The two old men looked at each other in a mixture of surprise and slight alarm. “...You know who we are?”

That was finally enough to get him to sit up, wiping his eyes with his tentacles. “You kidding? Every creature of the seas knows who you are! You’re the guys who beat up krakens and steal gold from leprechauns and then you and your boat vanish without a trace! You’re the coolest cryptids ever!”

It took both of them a moment to digest that. By the time they did, though, they were grinning in equal delight.

“We’re cryptids?!” Ford asked, eyes practically brimming over with overjoyed tears.

“Yeah! And people at school were sayin’ you’re just a myth, but I knew you were real cuz my uncle saw your ship up in the Arctic last winter, and I was gonna capture you and bring you to class to show everyone how wrong they were and then I’d be famous and they’d stop calling me a weird runt all the time!” After a second his wings drooped, and he stared miserably down at the deck. “...Guess it was pretty dumb of me to think I could catch you all by myself.”

Stan put a hand on his shoulder. “...Kid...as much as we wanna help, we can’t just be your prisoners. We got our own lives ta get back to.”

“Plus, neither of us is able to breathe underwater,” Ford added.

The monster sighed, and pulled a strip of kelp from around his neck, turning one of the leaves until it was facing him. He squirted a stream of black ink from one of his tentacles, and dipped the tip of another one into the ink and used it to trace something that looked like a bunch of gobbledygook to Stan onto the leaf. “Humans...don’t...breathe...underwater.”

Awww...he’s a super nerd, just like Ford and Dipper!

That gave Stan an idea.

“Hey.” He nudged the monster. “What about a picture of us instead? Along with genuine proof of a close encounter?”

The monster’s head jerked up. “A picture?! Like with one of those weird magic boxes you humans carry around sometimes?!”

“That’s the one.” Stan grinned. He looked at Ford and jerked his head towards the cabin; his brother took the hint and headed for it, returning with an antique Polaroid camera that Ford had been experimenting on, but still took good pictures.

The monster’s tentacles began writhing around his face like they’d come to life, and he let out a high-pitched squeal of excitement.

“This is the greatest day of my life!!!!”

********

It took a bit of staging and directing and trying out different angles, but eventually they produced a set of photos that appeared to be of an eldritch abomination in training being attacked by, and bravely fighting off, the ferocious monster hunter Pines twins (hopefully nobody would think to ask how and why the monster had managed to get these pictures taken).

Then, while Stan took them into the cabin and soaked them in a special substance Ford had invented that would render them waterproof, Ford sat on the prow next to the young cryptid enthusiast and offered tips on future hunting adventures, comparing notes with him on some of the creatures they’d both seen. He also (with permission) took a few samples from the monster, including a long strip of skin (“Make it look like a wound I got in the fight! Man, this is gonna be so cool, Yog-Sothoth is gonna eat his heart out! Possibly literally!”) and some of the ink from his tentacles.

When Stan came back with the photos, he also handed over one of his spare brass knuckles that had lost a corner. “Have another souvenir, kid.”

The monster’s tentacles lashed out and wrapped around their faces in what felt like a really weird version of a hug before pulling away, leaving them covered in some of the slimy stuff they were coated in.

“Thank you so much! I really really hope the leprechauns don’t catch you-if they come this way I’ll make sure to eat some of them so they won’t!” He waved at them joyfully as he dived back into the ocean and disappeared.

********

After a moment Stan wiped his face on his coat sleeve.

“...Well, that happened.”

He turned away and began gathering up his weapons.

“Such a strange mixture of childlike innocence and barbarity,” Ford mused as he pulled out a jar and gathered the slime into it for yet another sample. “His culture must be fascinating-I almost wish he would have taken us with him so I could have seen it.”

“You would’ve drowned before you could gather any data.”

“...You don’t know that.”

“He literally didn’t know that humans can’t breathe underwater, Sixer. Not gonna happen.”

He ignored Ford’s sulking and kept cleaning, while musing to himself over the possible monetary opportunities being a couple of cryptids could bring...

#gravity falls #sea grunks #stan pines #ford pines #cthulhu doesn't stand a chance #stan just adopting everyone #humor #and fluff (sort of)#drabble ish

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dreamerhideout · 4 years ago

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enhypen genshin impact!au hcs

characters: enhypen

word count: ~200 words each

warnings: mentions of alcohol for jay’s part, lore inaccuracies (i haven’t caught up on dragonspine event lore yet), spoilers for mondstadt + liyue main quest

a/n: i’m supposed to be working on something else but this brainrot got to me first... anyways, i’m assigning their visions + weapons based off a few fan theories i’ve read~ please enjoy my word dump! :D

more under the cut!

jungwon

okay so we’re starting off with our leader! hmm... i’d say that he has a geo vision

why? idk, i’m half sure it’s based off how calm and composed he is; i do kinda think jungwon is a picture of maturity and elegance (he literally has to take care of six children wdym)

it was kinda hard for me to choose a weapon because i kept going back-and-forth from sword to polearm, but my final pick for him would be polearm

yes this would mean that he is zhongli

a polearm would probably suit him because i see him as the kind to want some kind of control over his weapon (not saying he can’t control a sword). at the same time i feel like he’d want something lightweight which won’t bring him down

i think he’d work with the knights of favonius. working with the liyue qixing could also work for him, but considering the tension between the adepti and the qixing + the social climate of liyue makes me think that he’d want somewhere more calm

acting grandmaster jungwon? i’m down for it

spends time near the mondstadt church; he likes the peace and quiet of it

heeseung

from the get-go i knew he’d have a hydro vision

this one theory i’ve read says that hydro vision users have a strong sense of morality and justice (i guess i also interpreted it as balance) and heeseung seems like the kind of person who does

for weapon, i think he’d prefer to use a sword. we see that he’s good in a lot of areas when it comes to being an idol, so he’d perhaps want that versatility in the weapon he uses as well

hello xingqiu (wait i kinda think this fits)

i don’t see him particularly associating himself to any organization, so i think he’d simply be a wanderer. he goes from country to country as a vagabond, battling monsters along the way in order to perfect his skills

at the same time, i also see him making a lot of friends and having a bunch of connections from just about any corner of the land (more to acquaintances i suppose? heeseung doesn’t seem like the kind to let people in very quickly)

is probably very curious on elemental reactions and might be studious in a way; he would want to learn alchemy

likes stopping by mondstadt’s library when he needs to look up on something. probably keeps in contact with alchemists too

jay

oh man this is going to probably be very stereotypical

pyro vision, hands down. i was considering an electro vision for him at first but the amount of passion he has in doing the things he loves (primarily hip-hop) screams pyro to me

he would also have a claymore because let’s be real, he’d want something to get the job done quick; claymores are literally the weapon that causes the most damage

yeah he’d be diluc. or xinyan. whatever your pick is

bonks monsters for fun, fight me on this

association... i think he’d be a part of the adventurer’s guild. he strikes me as the kind of person who’d want some kind of reward for something he does for fun (in this case, mora. and a bunch of other items you can get from katheryne once you complete your daily commissions)

this is probably how he meets all his friends. if he wasn’t a part of any association, i don’t think he’d have many (not saying that he’s unable to make friends, he’d choose not to unless necessary)

strives to be a well-known adventurer, probably takes up more commissions than the average one

likes spending time in places with good ambience, food, and booze. probably is a regular at angel’s share and liyue’s street food stalls on days he comes to town

jake

i think he’d have an electro vision. it’s something about the way he fiercely cares for other people that makes me think that this suits him best

okay hear me out but i think he’d be amazing with a bow and arrow. he seems to have the tenacity and upper body strength for it, and i don’t think he’d particularly want something that could do a quick kill, like a sword or claymore per se

uhh... yeah he’d be fischl, i suppose. idk this realization was a bit weird to me but it doesn’t seem so far off from happening

sometimes uses his skills to shoot at fruit from trees; it’s a pretty good party trick

association-wise i don’t think he’d wanna join any, tbh. he’d be an “everyone’s friend” kinda guy. unlike heeseung who’d have acquaintances from all around, jake would generally want to befriend different kinds of people (helps around wangshu inn sometimes because of this)

still though, i think he hangs with members of the adventurer’s guild a lot

don’t be surprised if you catch him befriending a member of the fatui-

i also see him really immersing himself in the culture of each country he visits

he’s the guy who pets all the animals, especially the dogs

also seems like the kind to purchase or collect raw meat just to give to the stray animals he meets on his travels

sunghoon

oh boy am i excited for this one

okay so i know this is stereotypical but... cryo vision. honestly, having a geo vision would also be possible but remember that one time childe said something around the lines of the goddess of cryo having such a warm heart and she loved so much to the point it froze? yeah i think i’m basing him off the tsaritsa-

weapon would be a sword. i considered choosing a polearm for him but i think he’d want something slightly heavier that would get the job done, but not necessarily a claymore. do i think he has the capacity to use a claymore if he wanted to, though? sure why not

hello kaeya (or qiqi, if you’d wish)

okay okay this is where it gets fun... imagine sunghoon as a member of the fatui

mmm villain!sunghoon we love to see it

he’d honestly probably be on the road to becoming a harbinger? like, we see how he works very hard at ice skating and idol training, who’s to say that he won’t climb up the ranks real quick?

yes jakehoon brotp agenda is still on so they would be friends (though honestly their friendship is kinda uncanny)

when i thought of stuff to write for him i kinda think that he’d like liyue a lot; the tradition and order feel like home to him. this also fits lore because there’s more fatui appearances in liyue compared to mondstadt

also seems like the kind to wander around the city when things start to calm down for the day; if he’s not being tasked on a mission, he sometimes likes to head out to huaguang stone forest

sunoo

sunshine baby

okay i think he’d have an anemo vision (and this is not because he reminds me of venti). there was another theory that said that anemo vision-holders are hard workers who sometimes don’t give themselves enough rest, and sunoo seems to make the cut. he’s crazy hardworking at things he know he’s lacking at and strives to improve

i think he’d have a catalyst (yes!! we need male catalyst characters!!); i can see him absolutely fascinated by the way catalysts work like... “there’s no solid object engineering the attacks so... what is that? it seems so cool!”

so yeah he’d be sucrose, hello

i also think he’d want to be a part of the adventurer’s guild! it keeps him busy plus he likes helping people :D

would then be introduced to jay (and possibly jake) when he’s assigned to do a commission with him. honestly he’d prefer doing commissions with others rather than doing them alone

has a hard time killing monsters because he finds them cute (especially slimes). i think he’d also empathize with hilichurls to a degree

i see him residing in mondstadt most of the time; he’d also like talking to the locals a lot (has a high rep because of this)

loves trying out local cuisine, some of his favorite dishes include sweet madame and zhongyuan chop suey!

ni-ki

oh i’m also kinda excited for his too

so i initially thought he’d have a pyro vision, but after some time i figured he’d have an electro vision instead. i think it’s this weird sentiment i feel that he’d protect his passions with his life (in this case, dancing; he’s literally inseparable from it), so there’s that

totally looks like the kind to have a polearm. he definitely would want something lightweight that he could lowkey flex with

sadly he doesn’t have a genshin character twin yet :(

would also not have any affiliation whatsoever; he just traverses the land like the free spirit he is

occasionally would tag along with some adventurer’s guild members, but doesn’t like the idea of people telling him what to do; he creates his own adventures instead

am i the only one here who thinks that he’d honestly run really fast here (hehe speedy boi)

he’d love dashing through mondstadt’s plains (particularly springvale), sometimes slashing monsters left and right (he likes liyue’s scenery but the terrain is way too mountainous for him)

one thing he does like about liyue though is playing with the kids in the harbor. he’d get them toys with the extra mora he receives when helping people (big brother ni-ki agenda hmm)

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypenwriters #yang jungwon #lee heeseung #park jongseong #sim jaeyun #park sunghoon #kim sunoo #nishimura riki #enhypen jungwon #enhypen heeseung #enhypen jay #enhypen jake #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen sunoo #enhypen ni-ki #jay park #jake sim

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sapphirestarxx · 4 years ago

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Testing the Waters

Find it on AO3!

This is a birthday fic for the wonderful @neutronstarchild!! The Inuyasha fandom is so lucky to have someone like her. She’s a joy to talk to, so supportive, and full of incredible ideas!! She requested MirSan from me and I did my best to deliver. Thanks to @fawn-eyed-girl for being awesome and beta reading for me!

SUMMARY: Miroku likes Sango. Sango is unconvinced. Sometimes it takes a wardrobe malfunction at a waterpark to bring two people together.

Pairings: MirSan, minor InuKag

***

The day had started with so much potential, but Sango was now less than optimistic.

She sighed, putting her purse and clothes away into a locker in the women’s changing room. They had just arrived at the waterpark about ten minutes ago, but she already wanted to leave. She straightened the strings on her bikini, regretting wearing something so revealing. Although, she acknowledged, it was modest compared to some of the things the other girls around her were wearing. Maybe if she wasn’t so self-conscious about some of her more...generous attributes, she wouldn’t care as much.

And maybe if a certain someone wasn’t there too.

Pink triangular cups covered her breasts in a halter style, coming to tie around her neck and back. Rather than a traditional bikini cut for the bottoms, the ones she wore resembled boy shorts, something she was much more comfortable in. She knew her bottom half was a bit on the heftier side and she liked the extra coverage it provided.

“You ready yet, Kagome?” she called, trying to keep the annoyance from her tone.

“Just a second!” Kagome called back.

Kagome had invited her to go swimming but neglected to mention that Kagome’s boyfriend, and more importantly, his best friend, would be joining them. She had nothing against Inuyasha, but Miroku was a different story.

When Kagome had started dating Inuyasha several months ago, it wasn’t long until she had started trying to make half of their hangouts a group event, mostly in an effort to get Sango to know her boyfriend better. Sango also suspected she was trying to play matchmaker. Because the flipside was that Inuyasha often brought his own friend Miroku with him, supposedly to allow the flirt to get to know Kagome better too, since things were getting so serious between them.

However, Miroku had been more interested in familiarizing himself with Sango.

Because he was a flirt, constantly finding new and inventive ways to ask her out. He’d at least had the courtesy to wait until their third meeting before attempting to make a move. And maybe if Sango had thought he was serious about her she’d have considered giving him a chance-- although she was reluctant to admit it, she couldn’t deny her own attraction to him. But she was convinced he was just flirting with her for kicks. His charm had been a little too calculated, a little too insincere, for her to truly believe it.

Even if part of her wanted to.

“Why the frown?” Kagome asked cheerfully, coming up beside Sango to loop their arms together. She led them out into the sunshine where the men were waiting. Sango followed unenthusiastically.

“You know why,” Sango replied, refusing to be swayed by her best friend’s bright smile.

“Oh, come on, don’t be mad at me.”

“You never mentioned the guys were going to be coming, too.”

“Why is that a problem?” Kagome asked innocently.

Sango wasn't fooled. “He’s not serious about it and I don’t want to spend the whole day fending off his one-liners, Kagome.”

“Miroku hasn’t even flirted with you that much recently.”

“It’s still enough to be annoying.”

It was true, Miroku had eased up on the flirting, although it hadn't completely stopped. His words used to have a practiced smoothness that made her roll her eyes, but now she was starting to see a more genuine side to him. A side that actually made her like him, despite her best efforts not to. It almost made her question if she had been wrong about him, but she never allowed herself to pursue that train of thought. She was just his favorite game to play and she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of winning. Victory would taste sweet to him, but feel far too hollow to her when he inevitably grew bored of his prize.

Sango valued herself more than that.

No matter how she actually felt about him. Which was, perhaps, the real reason she disliked being around him so much. Sooner or later she would slip and he would know.

Kagome shook her head, seeming to read Sango’s mind with her next words. “Miroku likes you. And I mean likes you. Inuyasha says he’s never seen him this into someone before, you know. I wish you wouldn’t be so stubborn, because I’m pretty sure you like him too.”

“Then maybe he should try something new,” Sango retorted.

“He could go about it in a better way,” Kagome agreed with a slight wince.

Sango didn't reply as they walked through the crowd of people and approached the two men who had already claimed a set of reclining chairs. Instead, she gently extricated herself from Kagome's grasp and double-checked the high ponytail she'd pulled her long, dark brown hair into, making sure it was secure. As Inuyasha and Miroku turned their eyes upon them, Sango shifted the towel in her arms in an effort to hide as much of herself from view as possible.

As if that could save her modesty.

Inuyasha’s golden eyes turned heated at the sight of Kagome in her own jade green bikini, complete with ruffled bottoms. Kagome smiled sweetly in return, the black waves of her hair fluttering gently in a warm breeze. All around them came the sound of conversation, water splashing, and loud calls of excitement, but for those two it was like the rest of the world had fallen away.

Sango felt a slight twinge of jealousy, envious of what they had found in each other.

"Sorry to make you wait!" Kagome chirped brightly, and Inuyasha's default surly expression transformed into a loving smile.

"Keh. Took ya long enough," he grumbled, but the affection in his voice was unmistakable.

While both guys were dressed in swim trunks and cut an attractive figure, Sango couldn’t seem to keep her gaze from wandering to Miroku. Her heart started to beat faster as her eyes took him in, feeling a tightening in her stomach. It was impossible not to note, or appreciate, how defined and toned every muscle on his lean body was. Swallowing, she managed to drag her eyes back to his face, the amusement in his indigo eyes making her blush and scowl.

"Sango, my dear. Like what you see?" He teased.

"Not particularly," she lied.

His answering grin was all the proof she needed to know that he saw right through her. It was frustrating.

Giving Sango a playful nudge with her elbow, Kagome set her poolside bag down and dug through it for a moment, unearthing a bottle of sunscreen. She handed it to Inuyasha and turned her back to him, gathering her hair around a fist and lifting it up.

“Do my back, please,” she requested.

“Yeah, yeah. Shit, this reeks of coconut.” Inuyasha scrunched up his nose, taking the bottle from her without further complaint and setting to work. Despite his gruffness, he clearly didn’t consider his task a chore, if the softness in his eyes or gentle way he kneaded the sunscreen into Kagome’s back was anything to go by.

“It smells amazing,” Kagome insisted.

“You smell better,” Inuyasha said.

Sango looked away from them, taking the opportunity to set her own stuff down, all the while refusing to meet Miroku’s eyes. She was nervous to see the way he would undoubtedly drink her in with his gaze, and could already feel his eyes on her back. It made her feel self-conscious, but in a strangely gratifying way. Her suspicions were confirmed when she turned back around, but she still wasn’t quite prepared for the appreciative way his eyes traveled up her body, or his slightly open-mouthed stare.

"Wow," he said.

"Stop staring at me like that," she snapped, feeling herself flush as butterflies stirred to life in her belly at the look in his eyes. She liked it a little too much, and that wasn’t good at all. It made her feel off balance and out of sorts, something that was dangerous around a guy like him, mostly because it might push her into giving in.

"It's only fair, isn't it? After all, you checked me out. Double standards," Miroku pointed out with an easy smile.

"I did not!"

"It's okay, I don't mind if you objectify me," he winked. "In fact, I insist upon it."

"Oh, shut up." A stunning comeback.

“No need to be shy about it,” Miroku laughed. “Want me to apply some sunscreen to your back too? It would be a shame to let that lovely body of yours burn.”

“Not necessary,” Sango said quickly. “I already put some on.”

“She’s lying,” Kagome told him. “Please put some on her, Miroku.”

“Kagome!” Sango yelped. That traitor. She had planned to have Kagome do it, but clearly her friend had other ideas. Like using this as an opportunity to push her and Miroku together. She knew Kagome meant well, but that didn’t ease the sting of annoyance.

Inuyasha rolled his eyes, choosing not to comment. He knew his girlfriend was up to something, but as long as it didn’t directly affect him then he was keeping his nose out of it. Plus, she had probably already informed him of her little scheme and bribed him to go along with it.

“It’s just sunscreen, Sango. Don’t be so stubborn.” Kagome let her hair fall back down as Inuyasha finished and handed the sunscreen off to Miroku. She gave Sango a bright smile. “Inuyasha and I are going to go get some drinks. We’ll be right back.”

“Wait, but--” Sango cut off with a sigh as they walked off, leaving her alone with Miroku. She glanced over at him and he raised the sunscreen bottle with a smile, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

“What will it be? Come on, I’m not so bad,” he coaxed.

“Fine. But watch where you put your hands,” she conceded, shooting him a warning glare before turning her back to him.

“I’ll behave myself,” he assured her, grinning.

Sango was acutely aware of his presence as he came to stand behind her. She reached back to drape her ponytail over her shoulder to keep it out of the way. The pop of the sunscreen bottle opening almost made her jump and she tensed in anticipation. Despite her protests, she wanted his hands on her more than she was willing to admit.

Then his hands were on her and she exhaled in a rush, releasing the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. As his fingers pressed into her shoulders she couldn’t suppress a shiver.

“Sorry, I know it’s cold,” he apologized, misinterpreting the reason for her very physical reaction to him.

“It’s okay,” she managed, her voice coming out a little breathless.

He hummed in acknowledgement, gradually working his way from her shoulders to the middle of her back. He took his time, palms slowly smoothing over her and rubbing the sunscreen into her skin with firm strokes. Her heart skipped a beat when his fingers gently slipped themselves under the strings of her bikini so as not to miss a spot. It sparked a warm glow that settled in her chest, creating a pleasant tingle everywhere his hands passed over. Between the heat of the sun and the heat growing inside of her, a sense of languor washed through her and she couldn’t help but relax against him. It just felt so...nice.

“I like that color on you,” Miroku said conversationally.

“I...what?” Sango blinked.

“Your swimsuit,” he clarified, sounding amused at his obvious effect on her. “It suits you. It’s strong but feminine. Like you.”

The compliment warmed her and she wanted to believe that he meant it. It sounded like he did. His voice was low and close to her ear, almost intimate. She swallowed. Words. She needed to say words. But the way his hands felt on her skin was distracting and made thinking difficult, which was probably why the next thing out of her mouth wasn't a cutting reply.

“Thank you...I think.”

“You think?”

“I…” Sango trailed off as his hands moved to her sides and caressed their way down to her waist, his fingers rubbing circles and making her feel things she wasn’t supposed to feel for him. He continued kneading the lotion into her, his palms coming to rest at the small of her back and dangerously close to her ass. She held her breath, her veins thick with the pleasure spreading through her. Her heart pounded and she closed her eyes, leaning back against him.

Then snapped them open when she realized what she was doing. Oh God.

She jumped away and her cheeks flamed crimson.

Miroku looked surprised for a moment then smirked, letting out a chuckle. She cursed herself-- she couldn’t have been more obvious. It was getting harder to hide what he did to her and for a moment she considered being honest. But no matter what Kagome said, there was no guarantee that Miroku’s feelings for her were genuine, and she wasn’t ready to take that chance just yet.

“That’s good enough,” she said, looking away from his knowing gaze.

“Hmm. You’re already looking a little red,” he observed teasingly.

“I’m just hot. You’re imagining it,” she mumbled.

“I couldn’t agree more-- you absolutely are hot. I would even go so far as to say stunning. And I can assure you, I am not imagining that.”

His words broke the spell his touch had invoked and she rolled her eyes.

“Save the smooth words for someone who cares.”

“So you think I’m smooth.” He was as undeterred as ever.

“That’s not what I meant!”

Miroku just grinned, then held out the bottle of sunscreen to her. “Care to return the favor?”

Sango sighed, pursing her lips. “Turn around.”

It was going to be a long day.

****

An hour or so later, Sango was actually enjoying herself (for the most part). Inuyasha and Kagome had returned shortly after, bottles of water in hand, along with a giant cup of banana split Dippin Dots and four spoons. After that, they headed into the water, Kagome voting to hit up the lazy river first. Miroku had looked at Sango with a secret little smile the whole time and Sango had done her best to ignore it and everything it meant. Which was why she had claimed the spot by Kagome’s side in an effort to avoid him as much as possible, something that only made the looks he aimed her way even worse.

He could get under her skin like no one else.

Inuyasha had scoffed that the lazy river was boring, but Sango was pretty sure that was just because he was stuck with Miroku. Kagome had archly replied that he and Miroku could find something else to do in the meantime if he disliked it so much, but “the girls” were going to get some sun and relax.

Now, she and Kagome were in line to go down the biggest waterslide the waterpark had to offer. Kagome was bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement and Sango smiled, shifting the giant two-person raft in her arms as they waited their turn. Inuyasha and Miroku had already gone down a few people ahead of them and were waiting for them at the bottom.

“Something happened with Miroku, didn’t it.” Kagome didn’t even make it a question.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sango knew what was coming and decided to play dumb.

“I saw the way you were blushing earlier when Inuyasha and I came back from leaving you two alone. And the way he was looking at you.”

“Nothing happened. He just put sunscreen on my back and I put some on his.”

“Mhmm,” Kagome said, unconvinced. “If you say so.

“Why are you so bent on pushing us together?”

Kagome sighed and looked into Sango’s eyes, her expression earnest. “Because, Sango, I know you like him. You may think you’re good at hiding it, but I can tell you have some feelings for him, and he likes you too. And when two people like each other, it’s incredibly dumb for them to not just be together when there’s no good reason they shouldn’t.

“Also, I’ve seen the way you look at me and Inuyasha when you think I’m not paying attention, the wistful expression you get on your face. And I want you to be happy too, and be able to share that kind of happiness with someone else.”

Sango bit her lip, moved by Kagome’s honesty but also a little frustrated. “What’s the point, Kagome? I’m just a challenge to Miroku. You’re right; I like him. A lot. Which is why I get so annoyed with him, since I’m mostly just annoyed at myself for being so into him. Because I’m smart enough to know how it will end.”

“You don’t know it will,” Kagome shot back.

“You don’t know it won’t.”

“Why are you so convinced he doesn’t mean it? I mean I can kind of understand thinking that in the beginning, but now?”

“I don’t know,” Sango said honestly. Her reasons had always seemed so valid to her, but now she was wondering if it was just an excuse. Or maybe the heat of the sun was just getting to her. Still… “Maybe you’re right.”

“Of course I am,” Kagome beamed.

Sango didn’t reply because they were up next. The sound of rushing water from the slide permeated the air and would have drowned out any words she had to say anyways. She tuned out the practiced spiel of instructions the person manning the waterslide was rattling off as she set their float down and Kagome situated herself in the back with Sango taking the front.

“Okay ladies. Have fun!” The person finished, then gave them a push and they were off.

Kagome let out a shriek of excitement and Sango grinned in spite of herself as the raft was carried away by the currents of water, propelling them down the slide at high velocity. The raft swayed, riding up onto the sides of the waterslide at each fast turn, making Sango feel exhilarated. Kagome grabbed onto her from behind, giggling as they rushed towards the bottom.

“This is so fun!!” She cheered.

Sango agreed, letting out a whoop as the end approached.

Then they were crashing back into the pool with so much force Sango found herself submerged for a moment. When she broke the surface of the water, it took a second for her to regain her bearings. Once her senses returned, she heard Kagome’s excited chatter to Inuyasha over to the side, where they all stood in the pool, out of the way of people still coming down the slide. She waded towards them, a sudden gust of wind raising goosebumps on her wet skin. Kagome turned her way, a radiant smile on her face, before her expression became frozen. Miroku was also staring at her, looking dumbfounded, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.

That was when Sango realized her bikini top had gone missing.

"Oh shit," Inuyasha said, turning red and looking away.

Sango let out an embarrassed yelp, her arms coming up in an effort to cover herself as she lowered herself back into the water. Oh God, oh God, oh God. A flush heated her cheeks, making them burn so hot it almost felt like her face was on fire. Maybe if she was lucky she would spontaneously combust and be spared from the rest of this nightmare. And that’s what it was, because this was not happening. She stared fixedly downwards, as if her feet were the most fascinating thing in the world.

She heard voices around her, some of them male, and her self-consciousness intensified.

“Dude, did you see that?”

“Damn look at that girl over there.”

“Holy shit!”

Sango tried to tune them out, almost paralyzed in her mortification. And then Miroku was there in front of her, pulling her up and against him. She was so surprised she didn’t have it in her to resist as he crushed her to his chest and wrapped his arms around her, shielding her from the eyes of all the onlookers.

“Oh my God,” she whispered against his neck. Embarrassed didn’t even begin to cover it.

“It’s alright, I won’t let anyone else see,” he murmured.

An obstinate part of her wanted to pull away because of the intimacy of it all. She was half naked and pressed up against his naked chest, and his arms felt entirely too good around her. But that was silly, especially when he clearly had good intentions. And to be honest, she hadn’t expected such a move from him, which was probably a bit unfair of her. Then again, maybe she had been unfair in a lot of things she’d thought about him. She breathed deep, attempting to calm her racing heart, and found reassurance in his presence.

The nervousness she felt now was for an entirely different reason.

“Let’s just go over here where there are less people,” Miroku suggested, his voice sounding a bit strained. Sango wondered at that, but then Kagome was beside them.

“Oh my God. Sango, hey. I’m gonna look for your top, and Inuyasha is gonna try and keep people away until I find it,” her best friend informed her, sounding concerned.

Sango nodded against Miroku’s chest, refusing to look up and see the reactions of everyone around them. Despite her reluctance, she couldn’t help but be curious as to what expression Miroku was wearing now. Or if it matched the way his voice had sounded. She rested her forehead on his shoulder, reminded again of how tall he was, and how warm his skin felt against hers. Everything she tried so hard to not notice about him was suddenly impossible to ignore.

“Sounds good,” she managed.

Miroku drifted to the side, entering a deeper part of the pool that gave them more privacy, and Sango allowed herself to be led along. Their toes still touched the bottom, but the water now came up to her shoulders, which somehow made her feel more secure. She vaguely heard Inuyasha snarling at some people to stay away, and that would have made her smile if she wasn’t still so on edge over feeling her naked chest rubbing against Miroku’s and oh God she was never going to get past that detail.

When Miroku stopped she finally chanced a glance, peering up at him through her eyelashes. She tried to be as discreet as possible, not daring to separate herself from him too much lest she expose herself to him again-- one time was too many, thank you very much. Although he likely knew exactly what she was doing, he was polite enough to pretend not to notice. And if his arms tightened around her and slid down her back just a little more, then...that was fine, too.

It was hard to tell, but his face looked like it might be a bit flushed, and she wondered if it was really possible that she had such an effect on him. And that if the things he said to her, however ridiculous at times, were words he actually meant . It made something inside of her soften, even as another part of her twisted in anxiety. Her feelings were all in knots where he was concerned and she didn't like it.

"I bet you're enjoying this."

The words came out with more bite than Sango had intended, making her cringe. He was being nice, protective even, and she was being abrasive. Ugh, what was wrong with her? She heard him sigh, felt it in the way his chest expanded and contracted against her body.

"When you came out of the water, dripping and looking like some beautiful siren from the sea coming to lure me to my death...well, I'd have gone willingly and died a happy man," he confessed. "I'm sorry you're in such an embarrassing situation, but I'm not sorry to be the one who gets to help you. In fact, I find myself very grateful."

"Oh," she said. Then, before she could stop herself, “So you definitely saw, then.”

Not that there had been any doubt.

Miroku chuckled and she could hear the timbre of it wash over her, feel the vibrations of it in his chest, making her own tingle appreciatively. It made her breathing hitch for a moment before she sternly told herself to get it together. But it was hard, with all his skin pressed up against hers, and all her pent up feelings for him slipping past the barriers she had carefully erected.

“Oh, I definitely did. And you, my dear, are glorious,” Miroku said unapologetically.

Sango wanted to be offended, but somehow all she could feel was... flattered at his honesty, despite the painful awkwardness of it all. Then one of his hands was reaching up to gently pull the elastic from her ponytail, letting her hair hang free down her back. His fingers worked themselves into the wet mass of her hair, stroking through the tangles and making her shiver at how good it felt.

“Wh-what are you doing?” she sputtered, tensing because she wasn’t prepared for the things it was doing to her.

“Relax. With your hair down it won’t be as obvious to anyone looking that you’ve lost your top,” he replied, sounding amused.

“That...actually makes sense,” she admitted, grateful for his smart thinking.

His hand continued to brush through her hair and she felt hot in a way that had nothing to do with the sun beating down on them. Despite everything, she found herself actually relaxing against him, lulled into a sense of calm by his touch. She closed her eyes for a moment, drinking it in. Slowly, she released her grip on herself and let her arms come around him instead, feeling the muscles of his back under her fingertips. The motion made her inadvertently rub herself against him and he let out a choked groan.

“S-Sango?”

She didn’t reply, the words she wanted to say catching in her throat, so she laid her head against his chest, leaning into him. It allowed her to hear the rhythm of his heart, and how fast it was beating. It was so uncharacteristic of how she usually thought of him-- cool, calm, collected. That he was capable of being flustered too, somehow it thrilled her and made her own heart start to pound. She began to shift in his embrace when suddenly his arms around her tightened, keeping her in place.

“Sango...please stop moving,” Miroku said, his voice sounding strangled.

She froze, confused by his request, her mind still in a haze. “Are you really going to complain about me hugging you?”

He took a shuddering breath. “It’s not that. I’m thrilled but... another part of me is thrilled, too.”

Oh. Oh.

“M-Miroku!”

She flushed at the implication, her nipples tightening at the thought of... that. A wave of embarrassment crashed into her, and with it came the urge to move and squirm. She resisted the impulse, knowing it would undoubtedly only make things worse. Where the hell is Kagome? she thought a little wildly. Because as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t fault Miroku for the very physical way he was reacting to her; he was only human and their position was rather...compromising.

“I’d have to be a saint to remain unaffected by all of this.” Miroku’s voice was husky, his desire for her unmistakable.

She was suddenly acutely aware of the hardness of his erection pressing into her and heat shot through her, lighting every nerve ending on fire with want. Oh no. Oh no. She should say something, anything, because oh God this was too much. “I--I’m sorry, it’s just--”

As if waiting for such a moment, a wave flowed through the water and pushed into her, causing her to sway into him. And into the evidence of how much he wanted her. She couldn’t stop herself from shifting in his arms this time, biting her lip against a gasp as the motion rubbed their skin together and her nipples tingled appreciatively. An answering ache, soft as a whisper, pulsed at her core.

This was bad.

Miroku groaned, one of his hands dipping below the water to land on her thigh, squeezing. Before Sango could voice any outrage over the uninvited touch, he used his grip to gently push her away, attempting to reestablish some distance between them. Allowing herself to be nudged back the slightest bit, she peeked up at him. His face was composed but there was a slight flush over his cheekbones and a firm set to his mouth, his eyes looking straight ahead rather than down at her.

He was trying so hard to be respectful.

And that made her like him so much more. Want him so much more.

“Fuck,” he breathed, closing his eyes in an obvious effort to get himself back under control. “Seeing you basically naked, feeling your chest against mine, it isn’t exactly something I can ignore, you know. Especially when I’m so crazy about you.”

“I know. And thank you,” she said softly. “For...I don’t know. Swooping in to save me. Being surprisingly considerate. Being you. ”

He let out a laugh. “That’s surprising, since you act like you don’t like me very much.”

And that was true. In an effort to keep herself from getting caught up in something that had the potential to hurt her, she’d just pushed him away when all she really wanted was to pull him close. No matter how annoying he could be at times. The words that didn’t want to come earlier were now spilling past her lips before she could think about it.

“That’s not true. That’s not true at all. In fact, it’s the opposite. At first, I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but I--”

Kagome chose that moment to reappear.

“Finally!! Took me forever cuz some kid found it and decided it was his new favorite toy, then I had to go find his mother and...” Kagome paused, as if sensing she had stumbled upon a private moment. “I’m interrupting something, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” Miroku replied without hesitation, making Sango shoot him a glare he couldn’t see. “But,” he went on in a pleasant voice, “it’s fine. We can continue this conversation afterwards. Right, Sango?”

“R-right,” she agreed. She turned her head, looking away from Miroku’s chest to meet Kagome’s very knowing stare. Kagome was grinning, her cinnamon eyes sparkling in delight. That wasn't surprising; this was exactly what she’d wanted. Sango sighed and held out a hand for her top. “Thank you, Kagome.”

“Of course. I’m just gonna go wait over there with Inuyasha.” Kagome gave her a wink, handing the article of clothing off before swimming away.

Then they were alone again. Sango swallowed, her nervousness returning.

“Go ahead and put it back on,” Miroku said with a slight smile. “Don’t worry, as much as I'd love to look I’ll keep my eyes closed until you tell me to open them again.”

“You better,” Sango mumbled back with a scowl. “I mean it.”

He sighed, as if he was misunderstood. Sango didn't buy it for an instant.

She pulled away, taking a moment to make sure his eyes were indeed closed. True to his word, they remained firmly shut, and the corners of his mouth curved into a smirk, as if he knew she was double checking. Giving a slight huff of annoyance, she moved quickly, looping her bikini top over her head until the back tie was snug around her middle. Although she trusted him to keep his word, her eyes kept flitting back to his face as she fitted the cups securely over her breasts. The tie around her neck had come undone and she struggled for a moment with all her hair in the way.

When she was all done she glanced back at him again, unable to keep a wry smile from her face at his good behavior. Gliding through the water, she stopped in front of him and placed her hands on his shoulders. His smile widened but he still didn’t open his eyes, waiting for her permission. That didn’t stop his arms from wrapping back around her or one of his hands from resting low on her back, his thumb drawing a line along the hem of her swimsuit bottoms.

As her eyes traced the lines of his face they inevitably landed on the curve of his lips. Her heart started to pound as her stomach filled with butterflies. This was crazy. But somehow, it felt right.

And she felt ready to take a chance on him.

Sango leaned in and kissed him.

Miroku inhaled sharply, his hands tightening their hold on her as he kissed her back. It was soft and gentle, and his lips were supple and warm beneath hers. Warmth bloomed inside her at the taste of him, making her feel like she was floating. His mouth moved against hers slowly, taking his time, demanding nothing but leaving her with a promise for more. It was perfect.

When she pulled back a blush colored her cheeks as she braced herself for the words she was about to say. Somehow this was easier with his eyes closed.

“I do like you, Miroku. You annoy me, you’re ridiculous and a little perverted, a shameless flirt. But...you also make me smile and you’re sweet and charming and supportive and...I like you. I like you so much it’s irritating. And not as a friend, but as...something more.”

Miroku's smile grew with each word she spoke until he was grinning widely. “Can I open my eyes now?”

“Um, yes. It’s okay now.”

“Good,” he said, opening his eyes, “because I want to look at you when I say this.”

Miroku’s indigo eyes gleamed at her in a way that made her heart skip a beat. Sango licked her lips, nervous and excited.

“Say what?”

“That I adore you, Sango. You constantly keep me on my toes and keep me in check. You’re strong. Independent. Beautiful beyond comparison.” His hand came up to cup her cheek as he spoke, the touch grounding her as her feelings for him threatened to carry her away.

“You really mean that,” she said, feeling his sincerity. There was something about the honesty of his words that made her appreciate his confession so much more than any of his previous, more practiced attempts. It might not have been as smooth but it was more heartfelt.

“I really do,” he confirmed, a tender note in his voice.

“Ask me again,” she said suddenly.

He blinked, his confusion apparent. “Ask you what?”

“The question you always ask me. Ask me again.”

Understanding dawned and he laughed. “Will you go out with me?”

“Yes,” she smiled, her body humming with happiness. “I’d love to.”

****

Tag Wall: @lavendertwilight89 @hnn-wnchstr @cstormsinukagblog @ruddcatha @fawn-eyed-girl @neutronstarchild @kagometaishostory @liz8080 @itzatakahashi @karina-inuphantom @anxietyaardvark @bluejay785 @omgitscharlie @ladyphoenix0711 @witchygirl99 @caribmiko @mymidnightnightmare @11volleyballcaro @ravisk @smh1821 @sistasecbhere @uwunothingtoseehere @inussunflower @kawaiichan67 @sailorlolo @malditamigs @hopidoodle

#Inuyasha fanfiction #Inuyasha fanfic #MirSan fanfic #MirSan #Miroku x Sango #Testing the Waters #Kagome loves to play matchmaker #Miroku wants Sango #Sango is annoyed but secretly wants him too

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uhhhhyandere · 4 years ago

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i would do anything for just a short one shot of orphic light x reader cuddling . its valentines day and im down bad

me too lol i hate V-day.... but chocolate is on sale tomorrow.......

this one’s for you bby and everyone else who is feeling it today. im right here with y’all <3

idk what it is tho hahahahaahh

You didn’t think about it.

Okay, okay, that was a lie. You did. Fuck, you did, but what were you supposed to do? Pretend you didn’t? Pass by other regular, healthy couples and pretend to not wish with every fiber of your being that you were them? It was tiring, so tiring to put on a face and act, to shove your emotions down down until they're squashed out of existence.

Or, at the very least, pretending they're out of existence.

But god, you had to give yourself this one. You didn’t have the power to pretend or act or ignore or do anything right now. Even if you wanted to, Light had everything down to a science from the twitch of your fingers to the drag of each syllable out of your mouth whether it was a microsecond too long or one pitch too high to be normal. Up until now, you’ve every valentine’s day deep in daydreams and fantasies full of flowers, dates, and just... happiness, however that looked like to you with whoever was home to you.

Light was definitely not what you were expecting to be your first - and most likely last one way or another - relationship, but you just wanted something normal. Something that can just give you a taste of real, tangible escapism. To feel warm and happy and cozy and appreciated and loved. For fuck’s sake, you just wanted to feel as loved as every other goddamned couple you see holding hands or - fuck - even laughing and smiling like normal people in a normal world.

That’s all.

But, no, no you couldn’t even have that. You spent ten whole minutes pacing outside Light’s office to gain the confidence to walk in and ask if you can do something, anything. All that amounted to was him grimacing and telling you to leave him “the hell alone right now,” and it hurt. Of course, it did. You finally take a risk and ask for something you want and not live every second of your life wondering what’s going to make him happy, and it gets shut down so easily. You’re not sure what would happen if you ever did that.

So, in your prepubescent turmoil, you left. You escaped the stiff air of the house and his presence, and deeply inhaled the brisk February air. It was cold, sure, but not nearly as ruthless as the winter air could be. It was actually relatively nice out. Thank fuck. You only grabbed your lighter coat in your absconding and settled for the first place of peace you can find in the city: a small park with a cobblestone path cutting through it.

The cruel, black metal of the bunch bit your ass and chilled your skin, but now you could hardly feel it. You could hardly care. What were you going to do? Get up. Sure, and go where? Wander aimlessly and just pass more restaurants brimming with everything you ever wanted? No thanks. The volume of people walking past you here was far fewer. Plus, if you leaned back to let the cold touch your thighs and stare at the cloudy sky, you didn’t have to see any of them.

You’re not sure the wetness on your cheeks began as soft drifts of white landed there or as tears crept from the corner of your eyes. You’re also not sure how long you sat there. Your legs have long since fallen asleep, succumbing to countless pins and needless. Snow was accumulating all around you, on you, even as a terrible, freezing, wet blanket you slightly shifted to knock off every so often.

It really must have been a pathetic sight to see. You shut your eyes and felt each flake land on you, hoping, eventually, they would bury you.

But they stopped.

You opened one eye to see the disturbance. Black completely overtook the sky. Ah, no, not the sky. An umbrella was tipped to cover your body entirely. Your eyes trailed down the thin metal supports to his face. Not unimpressive, not frustrated, not angry, just... there. Light looked down at you like he would look down at the sidewalk while walking any other day. A pale face sticking out of a black turtleneck under a brown coat he bought to replace the white one that was just getting too old and worn out for him.

You look away. Using the back of your finger you wipe away a tear - definitely a tear and not snow - before settling both frozen hands in your pockets. Your eyes meet for a few more seconds before he steps to the side and takes a set next to you, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his thigh next to yours. Light held the umbrella in the small gap between you.

“What are you doing here?” You ask finally, breaking the minutes-long silence. “Thought you were busy.”

“Finished,” he replied. “Then I had to come play hide-and-seek with you when you ran out like a petulant child who didn’t get the toy they wanted at recess.” You want to shoot up straight and bitch at him, to say that it’s his fault, that everything is his fault, and to tell him that this is the least of the reactions you could offer in response to it all.

“Then leave,” you said. “I’ll come back. You know that. Just... just for today let me be... happy. Please.” Your voice cracks and you have to look away once more to wipe away more stray tears. “I just wanted something... normal.”

“Normal was out of the question from the start. In fact, don’t pretend that it was ever in the question. We’re meant for more than... normal.”

You shake your head. “Not today, Light, fuck. You’re such a fucking genius, but god, you could never read a room, could you?” Light clenched his teeth but ultimately stayed silent. At least, for the minute he spent contemplating whether to tell you to ‘come off it,’ or to play into it for the longer-term benefit of your temporary satisfaction. You beat him to the punch. “It’s Valentine’s Day.”

“Funny enough, I knew that.”

“Well, I couldn't tell.”

“You don’t seem the type for flowers and poems, Y/N.”

“Well, you don’t seem the type to-to... you know, and that’s-god-that’s not it, and I feel so stupid, in the scheme of things, to have this bother me, but fuck, Light. I’m a human. I’m complex and shit, and I can’t do what you do. At least, not consciously.

“This is... this fucked up, sure, but it’s the first real... something I ever had with someone else. Middle school, high school, even most of college was just me existing alone. It seemed like... it seemed like every single other person just got a handbook on how to socialize, how to develop relationships, how to love and be loved that I never got. That everyone else was able to be loved, but never me. Never me. I was never picked or chosen, or, even if I was, something better would come along and I’m left in the fucking dust. It’s me, you know? Never... never enough. For once - just for once - I can feel like I’m enough. That I’m not deciding every second if I’m breathing too loud or not being useful or whatever.”

By the time you’re done, you feel far too comfortable in the silence that follows. You’re not horrified of what he’s going to do in response. You settled back down and shut your eyes. “That’s all,” you add pointlessly, “and, I’m not sure if you can tell, I really, really hate this holiday.”

Light stood up. You watch him, like before, with one eye. The umbrella rests on his shoulder at an angle, and with his free hand, he extended his palm out to you. You furrowed your brows and quadruple your number of chins to look down at it. Light rolled his eyes.

“You could stay here if you want.” You kind of wanted to. Spending a few more hours alone was tempting, but... but that’s what you always were, have been. You had one chance - one person - left to change that.

His hand was warm over your own. It kept you centered and balanced as he led you down the snow-covered streets. Though it’s nothing like the pure joy emanating from others, it was something. It could probably be compared to two business partners walking stiffly while holding hands if you’re being honest.

But for this, you can act for.

You played pretend the rest of the way home until you convinced yourself you were in a good mood. You refused his offer of food when you return home. Instead, you nestled under a large white blanket and clicked on whatever was on: some cliche romance fic Light would never, on any other day, stand for. You could heat Light shifting around in the kitchen behind you. He emerged with two mugs with steam rising in small swirls above them. Light placed them on the table and you watched him motion for you to raise the blanket.

Light slipped in beside you, and you wondered how painful it was for him to wrap his arm around your shoulder. It’s stiff, uncomfortable, and a bit cold, but not surprising. You shut your eyes and imagine... you try to imagine someone else, but there’s no one else you could picture besides Light. Anyone else felt... wrong, so you opted to watch the snowfall through the windows. Turning your body towards him more, you snuggle into him and rest your head on his shoulder.

His hand rose between you. You figured it’s him adjusting himself or the blanket, but you’re surprised when his fingers lightly grab your chin and lift your head. There’s no time to react before his lips land on yours.

Oh yes, you can act today. For today, you can pretend. You could let your heart be filled and convinced you are loved, because tomorrow, tomorrow was never guaranteed.

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painted-crow · 4 years ago

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What does a rapid fire Bird Secondary look like ?

Me!

I've talked about this a bit before, but I don’t like detailed plans, like step by step "here's what I'm gonna do." There are circumstances when I'll plan, but rather limited ones:

For fun. Maybe I'm interested in something but can't do the actual activity, so I plan it out instead. This plan might serve as a reference later, but I'm just as likely to discard it because I don't feel like using it or I have a better idea.

As a crutch. If I'm really inertia-struck with anxiety or executive dysfunction, making a plan or even just a list can be a hack to get out of it, but again, I'm likely to abandon it halfway through if I start feeling better.

"Formal" experimentation. I don't do this a whole lot, and usually I do this kind of thing in my head... but sometimes you gotta actually think the details through and write them down in advance.

But it's not how I like to work. To me, plans feel brittle and restrictive and usually boring. I lean towards other tactics:

Clever repurposing of something I learned/collected, or of resources that happen to be around me

Use of a tool I picked up thinking "this'll be handy at some point"

Bringing up weird knowledge I acquired At Some Point, possibly by accident, for fun, or while working on something else

Bringing up general skills I learned on purpose

Learning skills on the fly because the situation needs them; I prefer to know what I'm doing better than this, but reasonably speedy autodidacticism is one of my most prized skills and it's not a bad fallback.

(El Goonish Shive)

"Moooom! Paint is identifying with a mad scientist character again!"

Basically, I pull from my collection of existing skills, tools, knowledge, and current available resources to craft a solution on the fly, after getting close enough to the situation to get a good look at the problem.

This makes me feel very clever, it works really well, and I love doing it. Favorite way to do stuff, hands down.

Trouble can be, if people don't recognize how much prep work goes into these "instant" solutions, they're inclined not to believe they're real and will actually work. And I don't like pulling the "actually I studied this for six months" card because it feels like bragging :/ plus, for all the different things I can say that about, it stops sounding believable.

Truth is, I have almost no attention span for television (I'm aware this is weird but don't have an explanation for it), I hyperfocus easily, and I choose hobbies with lots of moving parts.

Like aquascaping. Do you know how many different bottles of chemicals you need to get the water chemistry right so the aquatic plants will grow? For me it was five, but a lot of people I knew online had waaay more (and fancy CO2 systems) because they kept demanding plants. If you kept the right balance of fish and plants, you ended up with this little ecosystem in a box. Like a tiny slice of a river! I was pretty good at it.

I still don't know how I got from "let's try making California rolls" to "afraid to run out of good mirin," but somehow I ended up really into cooking Japanese food and it's a permanent influence on my pantry and basically anything I cook now.

I do know how I ended up with so many oil painting mediums and solvents and so many paint colors that I have to have a list on my phone now to keep track of which ones I have in stock, though. Also did you know that acrylic paints also have mediums you can add and they make using acrylics SO MUCH EASIER? because I do and it seems like nobody else does and that's sad.

I also binge read nonfiction, especially when I'm depressed. It gives me something to focus on and feels vaguely productive even when I don't have the energy to do more.

Does this all sound like a lot of work? It's really just some of the stuff I do for kicks. We haven't touched on the novels I've written, the coding languages I know, the gardens I've kept, the professional design software on my computer (which I built myself from parts), the knitting and the baking and the graphic design and the candle making and the martial arts and the French language stuff from back in high school that I still kinda remember.

OH and then you have the weird stuff I carry around. *empties purse* here we have a multitool, lockpicks, a can of WD-40, some yarn or string, bandaids, a styptic pen, hand sanitizer, hairbands, screws I don't want to lose bc they belong to my couch, glasses cleaning wipes, a metal pen with a point that can break a car window, a bunch of fast food napkins, mini bottles of ibuprofen and acetaminophen, earbuds, comb, random lanyard, and four mini rubber ducks; all of these make sense to me don't ask why my purse is heavy

Plus all the ebooks loaded onto my phone, which I carry everywhere! And I have even more in my Humble Bundle library.

I list all these off to make a point: Birds' resource libraries can be HUGE. I don't know where mine exists on the hugeness spectrum, but I'm only 23, and older Birds' libraries are probably even bigger.

So yeah, as odd and niche as my interests can be, I have a LOT of them, and I can just go into situations without a plan because between all the skills I've learned and the books I've read and reread and the resources I carry everywhere and the hoard of supplies at home and the Bird masks and the Badger mirroring and THEN the ability to learn what I need on the fly if all else fails--

I don't need a plan.

I don't want a plan.

I'm more powerful without it.

I can react and pull from anything I've ever done or used or read. I can build things on the fly. Doesn't matter if I need to help cater an event or build a website or just prop open a heavy door--I'll have something relevant, or I'll figure it out.

There are situations where I won't be as capable, of course. For example, I know very little about cars, or writing music, or roller skating, or amino acid protein chains. But that's okay, because there are other people who specialize in those things, and I'll almost certainly come out of the situation having learned something and added to my library.

(Except the roller skating thing. I'm kind of phobic about skating of any kind. Cool when other people do it, but I get *eurgh* sliding in socks on linoleum.)

How do I end this... oh!

The fancy word for the act of making up a solution to a problem on the spot, using whatever materials and resources you have on hand, is bricolage, and one who practices it is a bricoleur. I learned that from a LiveJournal blog about writing that I used to read when I was 12, and I still remember it for some reason, which is very on brand of me.

#sortinghatchats #ravenclaw secondary #rapid fire ravenclaw secondary #paint speaks #asks #q

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maybedefinitely404 · 4 years ago

Text

Day 5: Logicality

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 5 - Any intense emotions your soulmate feels you will also experience.

Content Warning: strong emotion (duh), yelling, food mentions (one line).

Word count: 1.8k

He remembered back in high school, when things had gotten rough for him. Not that they had a reason to. Virgil had told him countless times that it was okay that he didn’t have a reason, he was allowed to feel sad just because, but his childhood friend’s words meant nothing during the times he was curled up on his bed at three am with a black hole in his chest, quietly sobbing apologies to the soulmate that could certainly feel his sadness as intensely as he did. If it was just him suffering, it wouldn’t have been so bad.

When university began, and his mental health began to improve, Patton was giddy. It took him a few months to adjust to missing his family, getting used to the crowded dorms, and the increased pressure of classes. Except now the classes were about things he really enjoyed, clearly pushing him forward in his Psychology career, and the people were so much nicer than in highschool. Bullies didn’t really… exist in college, not the way they did back there, and he found himself flourishing.

But now, no longer constantly focused on his mental health and that alone, a part of him, deep inside, was a little bit worried that he didn’t even have a soulmate. He never really felt the strong emotions his friends claimed to feel, emotions clearly detached from them but oh so real. Virgil was privy to spurts of pure courage, almost ecstasy, that would have him jumping off his bed to pace on the floor with a huge grin stretched across his face, trying to dispel the energy. Janus, a friend he made in one of his psych classes, sometimes talked about the negative emotions he got from his soulmate, the surges of hatred and bitterness that made him curl his slender fingers around the nearest object until it snapped or his fingers cramped up. The borrowed emotion, both good and bad, were something Patton hadn’t experienced yet, and the implications of that frightened him. He wanted a soulmate so badly… he would be crushed if he didn’t have one.

These were the thoughts rushing through his mind as the three of them walked into Philosophy 109, Virgil and Janus having an animated conversation about last classes homework. Something about Karl Marx; he wasn’t sure what they were torn about, exactly. He always had a tough time listening in this class, not due to the content of the lectures, but just because something about the prof set him on edge. Virgil offered that ‘his voice is kind of irritating’ and Janus pitched in that ‘his slides are always sloppy’, but none of that was quite… it. It wasn’t anything he could put a finger on, but just walking into the classroom had him stewing slightly.

Just as Janus was seemingly reaching the peak of his arguments, hands waving wildly, Virgil dug his elbow into Patton’s ribs.

“Hey, did you want to get dinner after class or wait until before English?”

The elbow in his side hurt, and before he realized what he was doing, Patton had shoved Virgil off of him. The shorter man stumbled, nearly knocking into the professor that had just walked into the room before catching his balance. His brows furrowed.

“Dude, you good?”

Patton’s eyes widened, almost comically, “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I don’t know where that came from. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Virgil glanced at Janus, who merely shrugged, “Class is about to start.” He gestured meekly at their usual table and they sat, Patton taking the aisle spot before Janus could. Another look was shared between the other two. Patton was usually overly eager to sit in the middle, giggling at Virgil’s snarky notes and stealing Janus’ snacks, but right now he felt on edge. Defensive. Angry.

Huh- that was new.

His leg shook under the table as the professor greeted the class, nearly knocking Virgil’s travel mug off the table if it weren’t for his quick reflexes. He was running frantically through his mind, trying to find the trigger that had caused his anger. The day so far had been nothing unusual; morning classes and lunch at the cafeteria (grilled cheese, heck yeah), study session with the dorm in the lawn outside his building. Nothing had gone wrong, and even if this prof wasn’t his favorite, it wasn’t anything he couldn't get over so why-

Oh.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, it occurred to him that these weren’t his feelings. This wasn’t him. And that thought alone should have snapped him out of it, should have made him jump up and dance on the table because oh my goodness he actually has a soulmate, his worries were for nothing!

Except he couldn’t. Virgil’s concerned glances were increasing in frequency as his pen dug into his paper, trying his hardest to concentrate on the lecture over the raging blood in his ears. His teeth hurt, and he realized he was clenching his jaw hard enough to bite through rock. His leg still jittered, his notes were becoming more sloppy, and for the love of god, if this prof doesn’t stop talking I’m going to-

“WILL YOU SHUT THE HELL UP ALREADY?”

At first, Patton thought he was the one who said it. His note paper had been ripped from his notebook, crumpled beneath his fist, and Virgil and Janus sure both looked shocked enough. But then the voice continued, coming from the back of the class.

“You’re a terrible professor, are you aware of that?! Did you get your teaching degree from a fucking Dollar Store?! I’m surprised you graduated middle school, you half-witted, socially insensitive, entitled, piece of-”

“Mr. Starr, out of my classroom! Now!” The prof bellowed, causing Virgil to shrink into his hoodie. The man flew past the three of them, slamming the door behind him. Patton didn’t even realize he was following him, water bottle in hand, until the prof tried to call him back to his seat, which he ignored.

That was his soulmate, he was sure of it.

By the time he was standing in the empty hallway, his rage had started to calm down. His hand was starting to unfurl, leaving red crescents in his palms from his nails, but he could still feel the simmering anger rolling and lapping at his insides. Curling around his stomach, pushing at his heart, twisting in his fingertips like a flag in a gentle wind.

A slam down the hallway reminded Patton of what he’d set out to do, and he took off after the sound, hoping and praying that he wouldn’t lose the man he was chasing. After that freak-out, he wouldn’t be surprised if the man dropped the class, since he obviously hated the prof so much. And he didn’t get a good enough look at him, so if he lost him now, who’s to say when he would find him again?

Patton exited the building, assuming this was the door he’d heard a moment ago, panting slightly. He surveyed the parking lot desperately, the lawn surrounding the building, the walkways leading across the campus like vines, and… yes! There he was, standing against one of the trees, head tucked to his chest, hands shoved into his pockets almost aggressively.

This is stupid, what are you even going to say? He pondered as he crossed the grass quickly, sizing up the man in front of him. Black button up, blue jeans, hair pushed out of his face, and Patton was reminded of just how gay he was. This man was gorgeous, in an I-could-kill-you kind of way.

He didn’t acknowledge Patton as he approached, but he could see the man watching him out of the corner of his eye suspiciously. Wordlessly, Patton handed him the bottle of water, trying to hide a smile when he took it hesitantly, popping the top off and taking a sip.

“Thank you.”

“No problem,” Patton squeaked, taking it back when he was done.

“I didn’t expect anyone to follow me.”

“Well…” He gestured to himself lightly, giggling, “I’m here.”

The man stood his ground, seemingly uncomfortable with the attention, “You don’t have to stay. I wouldn’t want you to fall behind.”

“Nonsense!” Patton grinned, “I’ll just steal a friend’s notes. Plus, I’m sure you need someone to talk to.”

“I don’t want to bother you-”

“I’m not bothered! I’m serious. Sit down.” Patton gestured at the ground, flopping down onto the lawn. He looked at him warily, like he was weighing the pros and cons in his head, before joining him, leaning against the tree.

“I’m Patton, by the way.”

“Logan.”

“Nice to meet ya, Logan! So, why d'ya scream at Jacobson like that?” He said it lightly, but he didn’t miss the slight wince from the other.

“I’m sorry you had to see that. I’m not generally one to lose my temper. It’s just…” He looked like he wanted to apologize more, stop talking, like he was being a nuisance. Patton gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile and a nod, which seemed to be enough to spur the other on.

“I can’t stand him. He injects his own philosophies and values into the concepts we’re studying, and it muddles the main ideologies to the point where it’s hardly about the original topic anymore. It’s as if he’s teaching a course on himself.”

“Why don’t you just drop it?” He hadn’t meant it to sound so cutting, but if Logan was bothered, he didn’t show it in the small shake of his head.

“I need the credit. And by the time I realized how flawed his lessons are, it was past the drop date. I didn’t have time to fill out the paperwork, so I figured I’d muscle through it.”

“Well… it is half way through the semester, so you did pretty good.”

He murmured something under his breath that Patton didn’t catch, something that sounded suspiciously like ‘not good enough’, before looking up to meet Patton’s eyes for the first time. Boy oh boy, if Patton hadn’t been able to breathe before, he was fairly certain he would die at this point.

“Why did you follow me?”

It was at that point that it occurred to Patton: he had no proof. Sure, the rise and peak of his mysterious anger coincided perfectly with Logan’s outburst, but if their interaction so far was anything to go by, this guy wouldn’t fully trust something that wasn’t one hundred percent factual. Claiming to be his soulmate might just scare him away, and for all that was good and holy, Patton didn’t want that to happen. So… he’d waited nineteen years to meet his soulmate, he could take it slow. Bring up his history with depression, the emotions that Logan must have felt at the same time, and maybe, hopefully, let him come to his own conclusions. He wasn’t in a rush.

“I just thought you might want a friend.”

#lywrites #tsshipmonth2020 #sanders sides #logicality #patton sanders #logan sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #sanderssides #ts soulmate au

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ffangirlingsince2001 · 4 years ago

Text

The Witcher and the Princess: Collecting Steam

Geralt of Rivia is not a babysitter, he is not a bodyguard, and he has no interest in transporting princesses across the continent. Until gold is offered and for the next 90 days he’s saddled with a chirpy, bubbly, princess, who is betrothed to the prince of Narok and has a desire to see everything before she’s trapped behind another set of walls.

A/N: All I have to say is whoo baby.

Geralt x Reader

Warnings: HORNY Witcher, angst, drunkeness, brothel, quick smut, language, talking about whores (like the profession)

They didn’t talk about it.

When she first woke her cheeks turned a bright red and then she turned away while pulling her dress back into place. And then it seemed all was forgotten. She thanked him for saving her life- a little dramatic if he did say so himself- and then insisted they keep moving. It had been two weeks since and still they didn’t talk about it.

But by god did Geralt think about it.

The feeling of skin on skin burning between them would not leave him alone. He could still feel the rhythm of her breathing against his skin, frantic fingers scrambling against his skin as she struggled to remember where she was.

It’s not that she was helping his case either.

It wasn’t that she was doing it on purpose. She didn’t mean to brush her hand against his when she took a strip of venison. She didn’t mean to look at him like that when she spoke to him. She didn’t mean to glow golden against the silvery light of freshly fallen snow and soft moonlight.

And yet, she did.

He never acted on it. He wouldn’t dare. He never caught her by the hand when she neared or brushed away the piece of hair that regularly fell out of her plaits, taunting him as it brushed her cheek. He never pulled her in by her waist or exposed soft shoulders. He never ran his hands beneath her skirt or hoisted her against a tree, legs wrapped tightly around him. He never coaxed his name from her lips amongst a thread of moans or bruised her hips with rough fingers while she rode him.

He never did any of that, but he reveled in imagining it.

“Geralt,” came the soft whisper and for a moment the fantasy was real. Then it came again, and he was abruptly ripped from his fantasy. “Are you okay?”

“Hmm,” he grunted, and she cautiously approached him, A she sat on the ground, she swept her dress out from underneath her and crossed her legs. He watched the exposed skin for a moment a cursed himself. He was acting like a little boy who had never seen a woman before.

“Are you sure? Did I do something?”

“Why would you think that?”

“You keep staring at me like you’re mad, like want to… kill something,” she whispered, and he grunted, fists clenching as she leaned closer.

“I’m fine.”

“You seem tense.”

“I’m fine.” She furrowed her brow and stared at the Witcher more intensely than he thought her capable of doing. He glanced over her shoulder to avoid her scrutinizing gaze making her huff before moving closer.

“Let me help you,” she proclaimed and twisted images of her writhing beneath him filled his head.

“No, Y/N I’m fine.”

“Would you stop pretending you’re fine. I know you don’t want to be here, but I don’t want you to be more miserable than you have to be.”

“Let’s go, we can make it to the next town before sundown if we leave now.” He brushed past her and ignored the little huff she made in his direction.

She didn’t push his mood any further as they rode closer to the town that he would have preferred not to stop at. Too many people knew him here, and too many people would take interest in his travel companion.

None of that mattered because he could protect her from all of them. It was his own intentions he wasn’t sure he could keep her safe from.

He paid for their room and turned to her, wincing at the look she was giving him.

“Get yourself some dinner and the go to bed, take a bath if you want, just don’t cause trouble,” he instructed her, ignoring her obvious roll of the eyes.

“Where are you going?”

“Whorehouse,” he grunted, and she burst into a fit of laughter, a smirk of her own taunting him.

“Of course, you are,” she said and then she slipped a few gold coins into his hand. He glanced at them; confusion written all over his face. “A tip, but only if she keeps you busy for a while.” And then with a scandalous wink she skipped off towards the bar.

The gold was heavy in his hand and he wanted nothing more than to chuck it at her before throwing her over his shoulder and showing her what it was like to be kept busy.

Instead he pocketed the gold and strode out the door towards the brothel that he frequented when fate led him to this town. They recognized him right away and a girl he never bothered to learn the name of pulled him into an unoccupied room.

“Let me take care of you,” she purred, and he silently shook his head before shoving her against the mattress. He hiked up her skirt and she struggled against the raw attack.

“Don’t fucking move,” he growled. If propriety didn’t allow him to teach his princess a lesson, he was going to teach this whore. She stilled and he smirked, imagining his keep squirming beneath him. She wouldn’t have listened he told her to keep still, she would have fought him tooth and nail. She wouldn’t have just let him in. She would have made him work for it.

She annoyed him and it seemed odd that he would even bother trying to replace the princess with this nameless woman. Her moans were high pitched, thinly veiled noises to hide the pain. It was too practiced, there was no surprise, no sign that she hadn’t been there a hundred times before.

“Fuck,” he grumbled pulling out and handing the whore what she was owed plus the coins Y/N had so graciously provided him. “The tip is to keep people out until I’m gone,” he snapped, and she nodded, shock written all over her face. The door slammed shut and he laid back on the bed, trying not to think about whatever stains were on the bedsheets.

He laid there for an hour, wasting time as she had requested. And then he wandered the streets for another, hoping she would be asleep by the time he returned to the bar. She didn’t infuriate him when she was sleeping. She was good and quiet and her eyes were closed.

She didn’t say things that made him want to throw her over his knee when she was asleep.

But it seemed luck was not on his side, because as he stepped into the pub she was doing exactly the sort of thing he wanted to punish her for.

She stood before him, on top of the bar, a drink far stronger than anything she should have been drinking in her hand. And she was leading the energetic crowd in a rousing rendition of Toss a Coin to your Witcher. A young man was holding her hand as she twirled about, though he seemed just as drunk as she was.

“Y/N,” he barked over the crowd and she turned to him with a grin.

“I told you it was about my Witcher,” she told the crowd. “Someone owes me money.”

“Get down from there,” he growled and she rolled her eyes.

“Are you going to catch me?” she slurred, pretending to fall. He jerked forward and she fell into peals of laughter. “Don’t be so uptight, I have everything under control. Don’t I, Sven?” The boy who was standing beside her nodded. “See, Sven agrees with me.”

“Get down,” he said once again but she shook her head and spoke to the crowd behind him.

“We have another song to sing, don’t we?” she asked, and they of course cheered, raising their glasses to woman standing above them. “You can join us, it’s about you after all,” she giggled, tipping a little too close to edge as she struggled to regain her balance. Geralt took the chance to grab her wrist and pull her into his arms. The crowd booed when they realized she was gone and through laughter she yelled that she would be back for an encore once he fell asleep.

“Don’t even think about it,” he growled and she laughed again, wrapping an arm around his neck as he carried her to their room. Once he had her inside he set her on the bed and she smirked before skirting out of his grasp. “Go to bed,” he ordered her, trying not to think too much about the coy look she threw over her shoulder.

“I have to take a bath,” she informed him and before he could protest her clothes were merely piles on the ground. He averted his eyes until she was settled in the water. Shadows hid the soft flesh he was forced to avoid, but he could hear the water lapping against her skin, taunting him, making him wish he could join her.

“How was your whore?” she asked softly, the nonchalance in which she asked surprised him. “Did she earn the tip?”

“No.”

“I’m not surprised, from what I understand they never do.”

“And what do you know about whores, little princess?”

“Men in court never hide their conquests, even if they had to pay for them. They’re always so disappointed but I don’t why they’re surprised. I mean what does a whore have that I don’t? Nothing, it’s what I have that they lack.”

“How do you figure?”

“Well, we both have a perfectly good cunt,” she announced, and he felt himself twitch beneath the tight fabric of his pants. “I can fake a moan and swoon just like every other woman, but do you want to know what I can do that they can’t?”

“Tell me,” he growled far too quickly. He had meant to sound humored, but it sounded thick and suffocated; however, she was too drunk to notice.

“Desire,” she purred, and it took everything in him not to rise, pull her from the water and into his arms. “No matter how good she fucks you’ll always know you’re paying. No matter how hard she tries to convince you she is completely devoted she never will, because the jingle of gold will always be there. I’ll mean it, or at least you’ll think I mean it because you’re not paying me. I’ve entered into your bed willingly, and by then I’ve already won.”

“What about experience?” Had she been sober she would have noticed him prying, but the alcohol kept her focuses on her rant.

“Oh please, you can’t tell me you would rather the struggle to fill some loose whore than stretch me out.”

“I don’t struggle in either case.”

“Of course, you don’t. but I know how men are. They like to own and being the first is a bit like ownership don’t you think. That’s why the preach about waiting, so your husband can own you.” He was throbbing now, aching to fill up the soft flesh she boasted so opened about. And now she was speaking of marriage, which only made him feel worse.

She was an innocent girl with a husband waiting at the end of their journey, and yet he wanted nothing more than to ruin her.

“Do you need the water?”

“No.”

“Are you sure? It’s still warm. You know someone stole my bath water once. Sold it as an elixir for eternal beauty. People bought it of course, I wasn’t one to ruin their fun.”

“Did it work?” She laughed and he was sure she was rolling her eyes.

“Don’t tell me your thick. Of course, it didn’t work. There’s no such thing as eternal beauty, everyone gets old and decrepit at one time or another. Except you of course, but you have much worse things to deal with them wrinkles, don’t you? Maybe it’s a blessing to die early?” she whispered softly, trailing off. He could feel her staring now, a soft of closed off stare that accompanied untold secrets.

“That’s awfully cynical of you, Princess.”

“I’ve been told,” she muttered darkly and then as quickly as it had come the darkness disappeared. “Would you hand me a towel?”

“Get it yourself,” he grunted, regret instantly filling his lungs.

“Suit yourself,” she laughed, climbing out of the bath, skin catching the light as she approached him. He could see every slope of flesh, every hill made for caressing, every inch of skin begging to be bruised. Her forced himself to look away, focusing on anything that wasn’t her. “So bashful,” she teased, “Weren’t you just fucking a whore?”

“You’re not a whore.”

“From you, that sounds like a compliment,” she said as she wound the towel around herself.

“Get dressed.”

“Or what?” She was testing him, and she knew it. He caught her eye and cursed beneath his breath. God, she was infuriating. He vowed to never let her drink again. It was dangerous for both of them when liquor sang rebellion to nineteen years of oppression and privilege. “What are you going to do about it, Witcher?”

“I’m getting a drink. Be dressed and in bed by the time I get back.”

“I’ll come with. I want another.”

“You’ve had enough to drink.”

“You’re not my father, nor my husband, so you can stop fucking telling me what to do,” she spat, completely unprepared for the force at which he yanked her closer.

“I dare you to say that again, because I have no problem teaching a spoiled brat a lesson.” Her hand shot out to slap him but he caught it without hesitation. Pressed against him, only a towel to cover her, he could feel her breathing. It was hot and angry, the swell of her lungs pushing her against him with each breath. She was at his mercy this way, wrists caught in his hands, naked and wet, waiting to take whatever he wanted to give her. He wanted to. He wanted to so badly it hurt to push her away. “Good. I expect you to be dressed and in bed when I get back.” He released her wrists and left the room. As he locked it he heard her scream in frustration, something heavy crashing to the floor. He turned away, ignoring the angry cries. He wanted to forget her and the painful feeling that he was losing something as he walked away.

***

Taglist: @mallorydoesstuff @facelessfiction @aphadriel-fanfic @raspberrydreamclouds @thegreattodd @saint-hardy @ravenclawsstolemybunies @queenofmankind @britty443

#geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia smut #geralt of rivia fluff #geralt of rivia angst #the witcher #the witcher fluff #the witcher smut #the witcher x reader #the witcher angst #the witcher fanfic #the witcher fanfiction #geralt of rivia fanfic #geralt of rivia fanfiction

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handonhaven · 3 years ago

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So um there is certain group that in this fandom(I'm not gonna name which one but I think it'll be pretty easy to figure out) that have taken to editing articles online to make it seem like their ship is happening and pretty much everything else they wish would happen on the show. Granted the edit to the articles don't last very long before they get changed back. But still I feel like that just a whole new level of sad. To go through all that trouble and they're just feeding into their own "I feel like I been lied to" thing. That's why if it's not one of those websites where Brett and other cast members do their interviews(the website that can't be edit) then I don't pay no mind or believe anything it says

Okay I know I'm really late with this one(and sorry if you answered something like this already) but Lizzie and Josie just made me mad to no end in 3x16. First let me start by saying I get them being upset that Hope ditched them and stole their car. That's understandable. But the fact that they didn't care where Hope was or where she went or if she was okay etc. That made me so mad, and then the only thing Lizzie cared about was making sure Hope would be in a relationship with someone other than Landon(don't even get me started on the comment she made about them and sex 😡😡). Because why shouldn't Hope be with the one person who loves her truly just the way she is. And does whatever he can to make sure she's okay and does whatever he can to help her unlike everyone else at that school, as well as a million other things I could add. And then at the end of the episode when Hope was back at the school both Lizzie and Josie go talk to her and try to act all high and mighty in a way. Asking Hope of it meant nothing to her what happened between them in 3x15. Clearly it meant nothing to Lizzie and Josie because they spent all of 3x16 not giving a crap about Hope. I mean they say they want to be there for Hope and help her and so on but then turn around and do the exact opposite. I honestly can't.

I think I can honestly say after this season. I would sacrifice anyone if it meant that Hope and Landon could be happy. I would throw anyone and everyone under the bus if I had to. Heck I would throw someone to malivore if I had. Just so they could be happy. Because all the trauma they went through these past 3 seasons plus all the trauma they went through before hand. They're done, like let them be done going through trauma. Just let them be happy of once, I don't care who has to pay what price let someone else go through something. I know it would suck for another character to go through pain I do. But Hope and Landon has had 3 seasons of nonstop trauma. That's way more than enough. Just give them a break and let someone else go through something. I don't care who they would throw under the bus to make that happen. Just make it happen, so that way Handon can deal with and possess all the trauma they've been through and move past it and just be happy. I know it's wrong to say let another character through pain so they can be happy, I do. But after three seasons of only them going through some much this is how I feel now. Yes I know other characters went through stuff too, but it was never to the extent to what Hope and Landon have been going through. And they even got a break from it and got to deal with. Hope and Landon have never gotten that.

So my friend came up with this theory that 4x04 is going to be a parallel to 3x04. Because at the end of 3x04 we had to watch as Hope watched Landon melt right in front of her. Which was heart breaking enough by the way. Then the end of 4x04 will be Landon watching Hope die right in front of his eyes. Just thinking about something like that happening just breaks my heart 💔💔💔💔. It was bad enough having to see that once. But they have see that twice.... I think my heart will jump out of my chest and fall into the ocean somewhere never to be seen again. There's no way I could take seeing something like that twice.

Okay so I know everyone has there own thoughts on this one, but I would love to hear yours. So if Klaus was alive and met Landon what do you think he would think of him? I honestly think he would love Landon(even though he wouldn't come out right and say that). For the person he is despite everything he's been through in his life, and how he's always trying to better himself. For how good he is to Hope and how happy he makes her. And for how he's trys to help Hope with everything, and does what he can to help keep her safe. And so on.

Seriously?? Wow. So that’s how they’re spending the hiatus? That’s definitely sad and absurd, the kind of stuff they do continues to reach new levels. I just don’t get what the point is of trying to temporarily deceive people by doing that... so that they can feel like they’ve won for a little while? They must be pretty desperate. And they really are just lying to themselves at this point, and are going to great lengths to lie to other people too. Idk what sites even allow them to do that, at least the articles get changed back though. But yeah, I’m gonna stick to only looking at legit articles and websites, and official info from people who actually work on the show. That’s just incredibly stupid, honestly.

I actually did talk about that a bit in a response to an ask here x. But yeah, same. I understand them being upset about Hope ditching them too, but Hope clearly did it to keep them out of what she was doing because there could’ve been danger. That’s nothing new for Hope, and since they’re supposed to be her best friends, shouldn’t they know that? And even though they were upset, they still should’ve been more concerned about Hope’s safety, which they weren’t. And yes, exactly. Yes to all you said. It was all so frustrating to watch and made me mad too. And so true about Hope and Landon, Hope should be able to be with him, he’s all those things you said and more. So there was no good reason for Lizzie to try to find Hope someone else when she still loves Landon and wasn’t interested in moving on. And I agree about the end of the episode as well. Once again, their concern was the fact that Hope had ditched them, not if she was okay. Exactly, it doesn’t seem like 3x15 meant anything to them since they were so quick to give up on Hope. Just one thing went wrong, which was really more of an inconvenience for them, and they didn’t even try to be there for Hope. They got offended and did nothing. So it makes me worried for when Hope has to deal with Malivore and whether or not they’ll really be there for her.

Yeah, I mean, hopefully no one would have to be sacrificed for them to be happy. But it’s really sad that it’s gotten to the point where it feels like it would take something that extreme to make it happen. It’s truly insane the kind of trauma they’ve gone through and how they can never get a real break and be happy. I agree, if anyone deserves to be happy at this point, it’s them. And I wouldn’t want someone else to have to suffer either, but if the writers are so insistent on having someone suffer, they need to have it not be Hope and Landon for once! They need a better balance of what goes on with all the characters instead of just putting Hope and Landon through everything all the time. Exactly, they seriously have gone through nonstop trauma, they can’t go through anymore at this point, it’s too much. I agree, they need to be able to recover and heal after all they’ve been through so that they can be okay and be happy. I honestly don’t know how either of them have even been able to keep going after all they’ve experienced, it’s so horrible. And yeah, it’s not that the other characters haven’t gone through stuff too, it’s just not at all like what Hope and Landon have dealt with. And like you say, with no breaks, no time to heal. I just think it’s ironic how they wanted this show to be lighter, yet they still put these characters through terrible things, Hope and Landon most of all. They have them constantly dealing with trauma and pain and death, they just lighten up the tone and throw in some comedy amidst all of the tragedy to make it seem lighter when it’s really not. Not for Hope and Landon anyway. I wish they’d make their actual lives and experiences lighter overall, and let them live and be happy for a bit, it’s what they deserve.

Oh my gosh! So I’ve also wondered if Hope is gonna die in 4x04, but I didn’t even think about how that would be a parallel to 3x04! 😭 It will be so painful if it happens, I’m not sure I can take it either! Although, if Landon is there if it happens that could also make for an amazing scene. Like seeing Landon crying over her, or his reaction to it triggering his Phoenix powers again, or maybe even getting healing tears? I’d lose it. It would definitely be heartbreaking, but as long as they wouldn’t get separated again like in 3x04 and they could still be together after, hopefully we would survive seeing something like that again!

When it comes to Klaus and Landon, I have so many thoughts about that, I could make a whole other post about it. But I completely agree with what you said. Every time I see people say Klaus would hate Landon, that he would’ve killed him, etc. like... it makes me mad but I also wanna laugh. Because there’s just no way that Klaus would feel that way about Landon, and whoever thinks he would either didn’t actually watch The Originals, or at least didn’t pay attention to it or understand it. I don’t know how anyone can watch that show and come away from it thinking Landon isn’t the kind of person Klaus, Hayley, and the rest of Hope’s family would want for Hope. And we already saw Klaus’s reaction to Landon dancing with Hope. He was smiling and happy to see Hope with him. He’s already basically approved of Landon. But I really do think he would love Landon too. He wanted Hope to be happy, and Landon is the one who makes Hope happy. So I think that alone would be reason enough for Klaus to like Landon and want him in Hope’s life. But also the other things you said as well, I think he would really admire Landon and the kind of person he is after all that he’s been through. I’ve always thought it was interesting how, in some ways, Landon went through similar things in his childhood like Klaus and Hayley did. He was abused, and Klaus was also abused, and was in foster care with no real family, like Hayley was. And I think for Klaus to see the way Landon has handled that and didn’t let those things change who he is as a person, and still chose to be a good and kind person even after being treated so horribly, I’m sure that would mean a lot to Klaus. To see the way that Landon has been able to overcome darkness in his life, and that’s what Hope needs as well. Klaus and the rest of the Mikaelsons always wanted Hope to be better than how they had been, and Landon helps Hope to be better and helps brings out the best parts of her. And of course with the way that Landon treats Hope, and how much he loves her, how loyal he is, and the way he fights for her and is willing to do whatever it takes to keep her safe, I’m sure Klaus would be so grateful to Landon. Like, just imagine Klaus’s reaction to what Landon did for Hope in 2x11, along with everything else he’s done. How could Klaus not love someone who loves his daughter that much and is that devoted to her? I could go on about this, but this has gotten ridiculously long so I’ll stop. But yeah, I definitely think Klaus would love Landon and be so glad that Hope has him.

#answered #s3 #handon

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disneymiraculousefandomsblog · 4 years ago

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Hey everyone, so this is a one shot story requested by @lieutenant-amuel . I really hope that it turned out as you were hoping. This was my second EOA Fic I’ve ever written so I hope it came out okay heh. I really liked this idea, I’m not used to writing fluffy Fics lol 😅 but I’m happy how this came out. Feedback, Reblogs and constructive criticism is welcome💖

I Will Make You Proud

It was a beautiful day in Avalor, the people were getting everything ready and prepped for the Peace Festival. It had been 40 years and since they last had a Peace Festival, Thanks to Shuriki ruling over Avalor and banning Avalor from having any festivals. Now that Shuriki was defeated thanks to Princess Elena and her friends they were able to celebrate all the festivals Shuriki had banned.

Every year during the Peace Festival, Avalor hosts an Olaball competition. The Royal courts compete against each other to win and take home the golden cup. Gabe’s order’s were to pick up Elena and Naomi, and take them to the arena where they would meet up with the rest of the team. “Wow Elena, everyone seems so excited and busy for the festival.” Naomi said.

“Well it’s been 40 years since the last time we had a peace festival. Now that Shuriki is gone, I thought it be a great idea to bring back the peace festival to celebrate the lasting peace between Avalor and the kingdom of Carina.”Elena replied with a smile.

“I guess Shuriki wasn’t into a lot of “peace”. Naomi stated. “No not really.” Elena answered.

“We all know the real reason why everyone is so exited.” Naomi said with a smile.

“Olaball!” They both shouted excitedly together.

Gabe pulled on the horses reigns to stop the coach, Elena and Naomi got down and made their way to the arena. The first thing they see is Luisa blowing the whistle having the team do drills, Elena and Naomi glance at each other. Before they could say something to each other Abuela Luisa blew the whistle telling them to join the others doing running drills. Gabe glances at the team “I’ll see you guys later.” Gabe said with a soft chuckle.

The coach began to move, “I’ll go visit my parents while I’m here in town” Gabe thought to himself. A few minutes passed, Gabe pulled the reigns stopping the coach. “Mama! Papa!” Gabe said opening the door to the bakery.

“Gabriel!” Blanca said giving her son a hug.

“Sorry I’m late I had to take the princess to Olaball practice.” Gabe explained.

Gabe’s dad turned to see his son, “Really, how does the team look? Do you think they are ready for the big game?.Roberto asked enthusiastically.

“Beats me. You know I don’t follow Olaball ball.” Gabe answered putting on an apron.

“Who doesn’t follow Olaball?.” Roberto said with a scoff.

Gabe gazed down sadly for a moment. Blanca saw the tension between her husband and son, she tried to move on. “Mijo why don’t you help me stir the filling.” Blanca asked handing Gabe the bowl and spoon.

Gabe looked back up and took the bowl, “Of Course Mama.” Gabe said with a small smile. Gabe began to mix the empanada filling, there was a few seconds of silence before Gabe spoke up. “It’s about time we bring back that award to Avalor right papa?” Gabe stated.

“Trophy, it’s a trophy.” Roberto sighed frustratedly.

“Right trophy.” Gabe said looking to the side. “You know, I actually work with the team spiker.” Gabe stated with a smile.

“Striker, He’s called a striker.”Roberto said as the pan he had cluttered as he put it down.

Gabe tried to brush it off and continue. “Right Striker. Well fillings done” Gabe said handing his father the spoon to taste it. Roberto took the spoon from Gabe and tasted it.

“It’s not good enough, I’ll have to redo it myself.” Roberto said frustratedly.

Gabe sighs frustratedly “I’m trying to help, what do you want from me?” Gabe said grabbing a bag of flour.

“I want you to help me run the bakery.” Roberto answered grabbing the other side of the flour from his son.

“We’ve already been through this, papa. I’m a royal guard not a baker.” Gabe said still holding the bag of flour.

“The name of this bakery is Nuñez and Son. I’m Nuñez your supposed to be the Son.” Roberto said as he pulled the bag of flour to his side causing it to rip spilling all the flour on the flour. “Ugh, My lucky Jersey.” Roberto said storming out of the room.

Gabe gazes down sadly shaking his head, “I gotta get back to work.” Gabe stated giving him mom a kiss on the cheek.

“Gabriel.” Blanca said as she went after her son. “Please stay”. She said almost pleading to her son. Gabe gazes down as he hears his mother asking him to stay.

“Just once it would be nice if something I did would made him happy you know?” Gabe said with a sigh.

“I know, but you know how stubborn your papá can be.” Blanca answered.

Gabe had his head down his eyes looking to the ground, Blanca gently lifts his head to see his face. “You make me happy Mijo.” Blanca said with a soft smile.

Gabe looks up at his mom and gives a small smile, “Thanks mamá. Gabe said giving his mom a hug. Blanca embraced the hug of her son and hugged him back. Gabe waves goodbye to his mamá and heads back to the castle. Gabe pulls up in front of the castle and opens the door to the study where everyone was sitting figuring what they were going to do Next.

“Princess Elena, I came to say I’m back.” Gabe said saluting Elena.

Luisa went toward Gabe asking him if he would be able to take Rico place in the team because he hurt his ankle. Gabe pondered a few minutes thinking about the offer, he wasn’t really good at Olaball or even into the sport. Elena comes over and encourages him to play, “Gabe it would mean a lot to us if you played for our team.” Elena said encouragingly. “Plus I think your parents would love to see you play.” Elena said putting her hand on his shoulder.

“Alright count me in!” Gabe said looking at Elena with a smile.

Gabe was excited to tell his parents, this could be his chance to prove that he can make his papá proud. To win that trophy and see the look on his father’s face when he brings it home. Gabe went to his parents house to tell them the news. “ Mamá, Papá, I’m going to be on the Olaball team.” Gabe said with a smile.

“Ahahah! That’s great news! I can teach you all my tricks.” Roberto said with excitement. “Come let’s go practice outside, I’ll show you all my signature moves that will win us that trophy.” Robert said grabbing a ball.

Gabe nodded and followed his Papá outside. “This move I call the Roberto round house.” Roberto said giving Gabe a demonstration. “Now you try it.” Roberto said kicking the ball to Gabe who just caught it with his hands. “No hands In Olaball.” Roberto corrected him.

“Sorry reflexes.” Gabe said with a small chuckle. Gabe tossed the ball into the air and tries to do the same move his dad did. As Gabe spins and tries to kicks the ball, but he misses it causing him to loose his balance and fall to the ground.

“No that’s not how you do it.” Roberto signs pinching the bridge of his nose. “Let me show you the Roberto Rumba.” Roberto said as he demonstrated his next move.

Gabe watches attentively, as soon as his dad was done Roberto passed him the ball to try the Roberto Ramba. “Roberto Ramba.” Gabe said as he tossed the ball into the air and bumped it with his hips aiming for the goal. The ball flew across the house missing the goal.

“Let’s try this again.” Roberto said with a sigh.

Gabe tries a few more times to do his dads moves, but he couldn’t do them like his dad causing the ball to always miss the goal.

“Let’s take a break.” Roberto said with a disappointed sigh and walked into the house.

Gabe sighed and sat down thinking how he disappointed his and he would never make him proud. Blanca saw her husband walk inside mumbling to himself, she gazes outside and sees Gabe sitting alone. She walks outside and sits next to her son. “Mijo what’s wrong?” Blanca asked with a soft tone.

“I hoped I’d be better than when I was a kid but, Nope still awful.” Gabe answered frustratedly. “I thought If I joined the team and help them win the trophy, then I’d finally do something to make Papá proud of me.” Gabe said gazing down sadly to the floor.

“Ever since I became a royal guard Papá has been different. I know he wants me to run the bakery and be an Olaball player but.. I’m not a baker and I’m not good a playing Olaball. The only thing left for me so try and make Papá proud was Olaball.” Gabe stated.

“I can’t help but think that I’ll never make him proud. what if I keep failing him? What if I do something wrong? What if I don’t win this trophy for him he’ll be disappointed in me more than he is now?.”Gabe said with a sigh. “All I want is to make you and Papá proud of me.” Gabe said with his head bowed to the ground.

Blanca remained quiet thinking of what she was going to say, she knew her husband was stubborn and wanted different things for their son. She knew all Gabe wanted to do was make them proud of him. especially his father, it’s all he ever wanted to do.

“Gabriel Mijo, we are proud of you. I’m proud of you.” Blanca said with a soft smile looking at her son who’s head was still eyeing the ground. “ I know how stubborn your papá can be, but he just wants what’s best for you.” Blanca said with a small smile.

Gabe briefly looked at his mom and gazes down once again.

“Gabriel, You probably don’t remember this because you were just a little boy, but when you were younger you would always tell us that you wanted to protect your home and fight bad guys that tired to invaded Avalor. You wanted to be a guard, it was your dream.” Blanca said with a small chuckle at the memory. Gabe looks up at his mom.

“Really? I said I wanted to be a guard?.” Gabe asked.

“Yes, you made a little sword and pretend you were fighting.” Blanca said with a smile.

“I didn’t know that mamá.” Gabe said with a small chuckle.

“You had quite the imagination Mijo, I thought it was cute seeing you wanting to make a difference and save your home. Your papa saw it differently, he was worried about you. Being a guard is a dangerous job sometimes because you put your life in danger to save others. That’s all your papa saw if you were to follow that path, your papa cares about bastante Gabriel. That’s why he tried to push you to play OlaballI ball, or run the bakery with him.” Blanca said gently lifting her sons head to see him face to face.

“Your papa won’t admit it but, he loves you very much Gabriel. He even told me that he wishes that you would like what he likes, so you two can connect and have something in common. Tu papa can get carried away sometimes trying to make you into something your not, but Mijo you can’t be like him or anyone else. You can only be yourself because that’s who you truly are. Your papa has a hard time seeing that your not a little boy anymore, your a grown young man that has his own dreams.” Blanca stated softly.

Gabe stayed quiet pondering on everything his mama just told him, “If papa loves me then why doesn’t he show it? Every time I come visit to help him he’s always saying nothing I do is good enough.” Gabe said with a sigh. “

“Mijo I can’t give you a straight answer as to why your papa is like that. Maybe it’s because he wanted you to follow in his footsteps, but you decided to follow your own path.” Blanca answered gazing at Roberto inside the house.

“Mijo I know you want to make your papa proud, and gain his approval, but you can’t change or become someone you don’t want to be because your trying to please please him. Gabriel your special just the way you are, your a great at your job, and your good at what you do. If you love something and your good at it, you should pursue it.” Blanca said setting her gaze back to Gabe.

“Gabriel, I am so proud of you and what you’re become and accomplished. I know you will win the Olaball challenge and bring back that trophy.” Blanca said looking into her sons eyes with a soft smile on her face.

Gabe gave a small smile back and embraced his mama in a hug, “Grasias Mama.” Gabe said with a smile.

Blanca smiled and hugged back. “Your papa is very proud of you too Mijo, even if he doesn’t always show it. He loves you very much, we both do.” She said hugging her son tighter.

Gabe was the first one to gently pull away, they both smiled at each other. “I have to go now mama, I’m going to meet Princess Elena at the Olaball court. She is going to train me for the big game.” Gabe said as he stood up.

“I know you’ll win this game Mijo.” Blanca said with a smile standing up.

“Grasias Mama, I will make you proud. Te Amo Mama.” Gabe said kissing his mom on the cheek.

“Mijo I am already proud of you,Te Amo tambien.” Blanca said with a soft smile.

Gabe smiled and made his way to the coach. Blanca waved goodbye as she saw her son get on the coach and ride away.

The End

I really hope you liked and enjoyed reading this🙂 most of the scenes are from the episode because I was trying to tie it to the episode. Credit goes to Disney for most of the beginning, I added my one writing when Gabe and Blanca have their bonding moments. This was my second time writing a EOA Fic so I’m sorry if it’s not exactly as you wanted it heh. Feedback,likes, Reblogs, constructive criticism is most welcome. 💕 after all your feedback helps us writers to keep going 😉✨

#eoa fanfic #eoa fandom #eoa #elena of avalor #princess elena #elena posts #elenasfamily #elena castillo flores #disney fanfiction #story requests #my story #my fanfic writing #my fanfiction #I will make you proud #gabelena #gabe nunez

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litwitlady · 4 years ago

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2x13 Interlude

Takes place immediately after they find Tripp’s body beneath the tool shed and Michael ostensibly moves yet another body. This is very heavy Alex angst - please be warned. Warnings also for anxiety and panic attacks, abuse and violence. The end is slightly fluffy, I promise. But it takes a minute to get there. I wrote this mostly for myself, but thought I’d share anyway.

After Michael leaves, Alex slips back into the house and heads directly to his old bedroom. The one he shared with Flint for so many long, miserable years. The door is ajar, and he nudges it fully open. He sucks in a breath as he looks around and notices that next to no memories from his childhood remain. The walls have been repainted; all his stuff removed – likely thrown out with some random week’s trash. In the corner by the window, a single desk and chair remain. Both flea market finds he and Greg had hauled home one Christmas. Alex walks towards the small desk and opens the top right drawer wondering if it’s possible his old eyeliner had somehow managed to escape his father’s purge. But no – just a bare, wood drawer. Only the memory lingers.

Alex sits in the middle of the floor and notices one of his knuckles is bleeding. He sucks on the injury and lets the coppery taste of iron sit on his tongue. He thinks about how much blood the past has taken from him, from Michael, from Tripp. That tool shed built by an evil man and maintained by another evil man. Both men a part of him. Connected through the very same blood he spent so many years shedding at his father’s hands. The overwhelming shame of his legacy still clasps at his heart, threatening to never let go no matter how many tool sheds he destroys. Tears crawl down his face, burning his skin along the way.

He reaches inside his shirt and grips Tripp’s dog tags that are quickly becoming the lifeline he never knew he needed. Not every part of himself is inherently evil. God, how much he wants to have faith in that belief. He lays back, staring at the ceiling trying desperately to believe Tripp is just as much - if not more so - a part of him than Harlan, than Jesse. Alex knows he’s done evil things – in deserts halfway across the world. To people – men, women, children – that he’d never even met. How many times he’s lain awake staring at similar blank ceilings reliving those memories and trying to convince himself what he did was for survival, for love of country. But ultimately being left with the hollow truth that none of the people he’s killed had to die in order for him to live. A truth locked deep inside his heart, but not so deep that he can ever forget. No. He’ll have to live with that truth for the rest of his life.

His thoughts wonder back to Michael, replaying the way he’d swung that axe so gleefully. Alex could almost see the weight falling off his shoulders. Closing his eyes, he tries to write that memory onto his heart. That’s how he wants to remember tonight. As a healing for Michael – the boy, the man – he’s loved for the past 11 years. And it doesn’t matter if Michael never loves him again because he’ll have this memory to keep him warm now. Maybe it will never replace the horror of what Jesse did all those years ago. But it’s enough for now. Like a cozy blanket he’ll pull out when those terrible images reappear. He’ll wrap himself tight in this memory of a sweaty, smiling Michael Guerin wildly swinging an axe and destroying the thing that has haunted his hand, his memories, his heart for over a decade.

Several long minutes pass as Alex lays there running his fingers over Tripp’s engraved name again and again. He wants to call Michael. Ask him to come back. To lie there with him for the rest of the night. Maybe the rest of forever. But he can’t because Michael is no longer his. The ache in his heart pulls more tears from his eyes as he curls up on his side. He knows he needs to go home. Take off the prosthetic. Do his PT. That he’ll regret this in the morning when the muscle spasms come for him. But there’s a small voice inside his head whispering that maybe he deserves that pain. After all, he, too, is complicit in so many of the ways Michael Guerin has hurt over the years.

A soft knock on the door jars him from his emotional spiral. He turns to find Greg looking down at him clearly concerned. He sits up, dropping the dog tags back down his shirt to rest against his heart. Greg reaches out a hand to help him up. Alex gladly accepts but can’t quite meet his brother’s eye. ‘You alright?’ Alex sighs and nods. He can tell Greg doesn’t believe him and well, who would?

‘Guerin go home? You guys did some real damage back there.’

Alex doesn’t say anything, just shifts all of his weight to his left leg and grimaces at the pain in his right hip. Greg grabs his elbow to help him balance. ‘Come sit down and talk to me, Alex.’

But Alex doesn’t want to talk. He wants to go home, crawl into bed, and spend the rest of the night chasing nightmares. Or maybe he’ll finally take one of his sleeping pills and erase the world for a little while. At least he has options.

Greg seems to understand. ‘Well, at least let me drive you home. No need to stress your leg any further.’

Alex finds the energy to speak and shakes his head. ‘It’s okay. I drive with my left leg, anyway. Plus, both my crutches are in the car. I’ll be fine. Just been a long day.’ Week. Year. Life. He swallows and tries to muster up something he hopes resembles a smile. Greg’s face lets him know he’s failed. ‘Listen, I’ll come back tomorrow. Help you eat all those disgusting casseroles. I’ll explain everything. I promise.’

Greg helps him out to his car. Once he’s inside with the door blissfully closed to anymore questions, Alex deflates, sagging back against the leather seat, and starts to cry again. He knows that there’s something incredibly broken deep down in the dark place he tries not to think about. The stress of the past week is finally catching up with him and he knows he needs help but can’t figure out how to ask for it. Instead, he starts the car and heads home, tears freefalling and chest heaving. He’s scared to look at the passenger seat, scared he’ll see his father sitting there. Smug and gloating that somehow even in death he’s still winning.

Alex focuses as best he can on the road directly in front of him and manages to make it home safely. When he turns into his driveway, he’s shocked to find Michael’s truck parked in his regular spot – tailgate down and waiting for him like so many nights ago. Alex’s chest clenches at the memory of Michael’s ‘I like Maria, okay’. He can feel panic rising and worries that he’s now in danger of a full-blown panic attack if this night doesn’t end quickly.

He shuts the SUV off but doesn’t move. Tension begins to coil in his chest, wrapping his lungs in a vice grip that he’s having a hard time breathing around. Michael must notice that something’s wrong because he hurriedly moves to open his door and unbuckle his seat belt. Alex barely registers any of this as he tries to focus on his breathing. He can distantly hear Michael calling his name, feel his hand wrap around his neck. And then there’s Michael’s hand on his chest and his hand on Michael’s chest. Alex can feel Michael’s heart beating solidly beneath his palm. Can feel the strong in and out motion of his breathing. He clings to that and tries to match him, breath for breath. It takes a moment, but eventually, the pressure in his head eases, sounds return to normal, and the weight on his chest finally subsides. He sucks in as much oxygen as he can in long, deep breaths.

Michael takes a step back giving him some space, not knowing what to do next. Alex hates the lines of worry written across his face. Hates that he’s the one who has put them there. But he’s also never needed someone as much as he needs Michael in this moment. He moves to get out of the car, but his right leg is no longer obeying him, and he can’t hide the groan that escapes him as he shifts towards the door. But Michael’s hands are there to catch him and ease him off the seat, taking the brunt of Alex’s weight onto his own shoulders.

‘My crutches are in the back.’ Michael helps Alex lean against the driver’s side door and then turns to grab the crutches from their perch on the backseat. He hands them to Alex and watches as he puts his arms through the grips, adjusts his stance until he’s as comfortable as he’s going to get. Alex closes the door behind him and notices that Michael has his keys. He presses the lock button on the key fob and follows Alex up to his front door in silence. Alex suspects Michael’s using his telekinesis to ease the walk. They turn to face each other, neither knowing what to say. All that comes to Alex is a simple thank you. He knows it’s not enough.

Michael thumbs away the tears that are somehow still falling down Alex’s cheeks and unlocks his front door. The alarm starts to beep when the door opens, and Alex gives Michael the code to disarm the system. He makes his way into his bedroom and collapses on his bed. Michael takes the crutches from him and places them next to his nightstand. He kneels at his feet and begins taking off Alex’s shoes. He glances up at Alex, asking for permission to remove the prosthetic next. Alex gives a small nod and watches how gently Michael tends to him, all soft tugs and gentle pulls. He’s too tired to care how intimate a situation this is between the two of them. Too tired to think about Maria or not being good enough. He just unbuttons his jeans and lets Michael pull them off him as he tosses his shirt to the floor.

He watches as Michael grabs the lotion from his bedside and begins to massage the tight muscles in his right thigh, from his knee to his hip. Alex relaxes back onto his pillow, closing his eyes and thinking that maybe the nightmares won’t find him after all. His thoughts drift as Michael’s fingers continue to work their magic, shifting to his left leg knowing how much extra work it’s put in today as well.

What feels like a just a moment later, Alex jerks awake suddenly not realizing he’d fallen asleep. Michael is curled up next to him, snoring softly. He considers waking him and telling him to go home or to Maria or wherever he belongs now. But he can’t bring himself to give up the alien warmth and the way his body fits so perfectly next to his own. It’s selfish and he knows it. But he doesn’t care. Alex settles back against Michael and pulls his arms tightly around him. Michael’s left hand comes to rest on his chest and Alex realizes that the bandana is gone. And for the first time, Alex thinks he feels something inside him start to heal.

#malex #malex fic #alex manes #the angst is so strong with this one

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bird-in-a-cage · 4 years ago

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Impression

“So, they don’t know they’re brother and sister yet?”

Billy rolled his head a little from Steve’s shoulder to look up at his face, chocolate drop eyes concentrating on the Harrington family television. This was the third time they were going to watch through all the Star Wars movies because Steve, stupidly brilliant pretty boy baby face Steve Harrington, still didn’t quite get it, but wanted to so he wouldn’t be teased by his pack of almost teenage dweebs anymore.

Billy understood the movies. It wasn’t that hard. And really any excuse to spend another Friday night in Steve’s arms, on his stupidly huge couch with one too many decorative cushions was more than okay. They were just a tangle of limbs, snacks and drinks on the coffee table in preparation so neither would have to move more than to just change the video tape over or use the bathroom.

There were far worse ways to spend a Friday night than trying to get your secret boyfriend to understand the plot of Star Wars.

“No, not in this one. That happens in the third one.”

“Oh! The one with the little bears?” Steve’s eyes sparkled a little when he remembered something. It was a cute little trait Billy had picked up. It happened over a lot of things, mostly small and inconsequential, but it was nice to see it so close up.

“Well, they’re Ewoks, not bears but yeah, that one.” Billy sat up a little to light a cigarette. Usually he wouldn’t smoke indoors, but Steve’s mansion was always empty and he didn’t seem to mind. Plus it was winter outside.

Fuck Indiana winters.

“But then why do they look like bears if they’re not bears?”

Steve's hand was warm on Billy’s lower back, as he inhaled and chuckled on the exhale. “Because it’s space? Shit can be called anything if it’s not real.”

The blank blink Billy received made him chuckle all over again, want to pinch Steve’s soft cheeks and call him an idiot between kisses to that natural pout and confused forehead. “But they’re bears though…”

“One movie at a time doll face. You’re missing the plot of this one.”

Billy settled back down and there was no more talk of bears. There weren’t many questions at all really. During the first viewing Steve had been a barrage of whys and who’s that and why is that important and why does that guy in the black cape get his own music, trying to walk before he could run in understanding what the plot was and trying to guess where it was going. Now he was quiet, just watching, sharing Billy’s cigarette for as long as it lasted. It was nice, homely. Something Billy wasn’t quite used to yet. But the movie played and he was happy. It was getting easier to be happy around Steve. Just be himself.

The phone rang during Han Solo’s big scene. It ruined the emersion a little bit. Billy would never admit out loud he had a crush on Han Solo, because he wasn’t stupid, but he felt that everyone had a little bit of a flutter for him. Surely? Right?

Steve reached back to where the phone was sitting on a side table. It was still so weird to Billy that his house had more than one, but the perks of being rich. More than one phone, a massive television and a personal VCR player. A whole bathroom for just downstairs. Billy sat up again, reached for an open soda and paused the movie as Steve answered, tucking the dark green rectangle under his chin.

“Harrington residence…. Oh, hi Mr Hargrove…”

Billy froze dead on the spot for just a second, his blood running cold, eyes probably wide and frantic as he grabbed Steve’s wrist to check the time on his watch. Curfew had been half an hour ago. He’d been so wrapped up in the movie and Steve and just being content and happy for once he’d completely forgotten to keep an eye on the time. And now he was going to get it for sure. The only reason he’d been allowed over anyway, to spend time with another boy, was because of the Harrington name. It held a lot of prestige in this dumb hick town. And Neil was a stone cold sucker for keeping up appearances.

Billy went to move, to get up and find his boots he’d kicked off hours ago and drive back as fast as he fucking could, but Steve put a hand on his leg, gave him the eyes, pushed down slight but firm. Stay.

“Yeah he’s here… We’re just working on a school project Mr Hargrove I-...”

Steve’s regular phone voice was equal parts butter wouldn’t melt innocent and boardroom professional. It was a wild mix. Billy stayed frozen to the spot, giving eyes he wasn’t sure weren’t completely insane. The longer he stayed, the more trouble Billy would be in, they both knew this, and yet Steve just rubbed his thigh like it was no big deal. Like he wasn’t on the phone to someone who had broken Billy’s wrist in the past for breaking curfew when he was thirteen.

That had been by half an hour too. And because Billy had been at another boy's house.

“Oh, you want to speak to my father? Sure. I’ll just pass you over, hang on...”

Billy just sat back and watched, now in total fascination and complete confusion as Steve tossed the handset back and forth to himself like he was passing a basketball in warm up drills, as he swung his long legs off the couch and stamped his sock covered feet on the floor, rocked and rolled in place to make the couch springs squeak in certain ways, talk muffed things that weren’t even real words into the back of his arm, before tucking the phone on his shoulder again on the opposite side.

“Yes?” The voice that came out was a whole octave deeper. It still sounded like Steve, but it didn’t. Each letter was far too pronounced to be how Steve would say it. He grinned at Billy, listening to Neil talk through the handset. “I apologise for that, but the boys have been working very hard all evening, I don’t think they’ll be done anytime soon. Maybe it would be best for their educations if William were to come home tomorrow?”

The smirk Steve shot across the couch was something wicked. It was so clear he’d done this many times before. Billy had never heard Harrington Sr, had only seen him in that one photo in the hall, but the voice Steve was using matched the figure pretty perfectly. He even molded his body to fit more in an upright posture, arms and legs straight, face more square somehow. Morphed into what Billy assumed was a perfect characterisation of his father. Even scratched his top lip all pretentious like Harrington Sr looked like he would do.

“I understand your concerns Mr Hargrove but I assure you this is for their best interests. There’s quite the setup on my dining room table, and heaven knows my son needs all the help he can get.”

Billy finally started to relax again, sinking back properly into the cushions, when Steve rolled his eyes dramatically, mimicked Neil yammering on with his free hand. Neil was a totally different person when he spoke to people he respected, tried to always get on their good sides no matter what town they moved too. It was a show of course but no one really knew that.

"I assume the reason he didn't call is because it wasn't planned Mr Hargrove, boys will be boys after all. William is perfectly fine here. More than welcome to stay, he's a good influence on my Steven."

Steve reached out to the coffee table for the half empty pack of Billy's Marlboros and his lighter, hitting one out as he balanced the phone on his shoulder.

"Now if you don't mind, I do have some important work to get back too. Please refrain from calling unless it's an emergency. We will do you the same courtesy. Goodbye."

With that, Steve stretched his body back to hang the phone back on his receiver and light up the cigarette, laughing at Billy’s expression which must have been a weird mix of everything but mostly, what the hell was that?!

“What?” He chuckled around the puff of smoke. “You think I’ve never pretended to be my dad on the phone before. Gotta keep the school off my back somehow.”

Billy snatched the cigarette without malice, just for a calming inhale, just to let it sink in that stupidly brilliant pretty boy doll face secret boyfriend Steve Harrington was actually something of a genius. Just to let it sink in that Billy was free for the night. Without a second question asked. All because of a voice and a name.

God, small towns were weird with their hierarchies.

He passed the cigarette back and settled back into his previous spot on Steve’s shoulder, felt lean arms come back around before one of them started the movie again.

“Your old man’s a fucking dork by the way,” Steve muttered, stubbing out the filter in an ashtray after a few minutes. It made Billy laugh and squeeze Steve’s thigh, just where his hand was.

“I know man, I know.”

#harringrove #billy x steve #steve harrington #billy hargrove #fluff #also on my ao3 #my writings

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