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whaleofatjme1920 · 3 years ago

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The Ends of Hallways (Proxies X F!Reader)

The Ends of Hallways

[Proxies X F!Reader]

[Warnings: slight language]

[AN: Y'all are just gonna have to thank Eris for always sending me the best requests. I don't have favorites,,, but Reader, I have favorites. Also no Kate sorry :( ]

Your face was practically squished against the glass of the car Hoodie had stolen as the four of you pull into the parking lot of woods that brim with the Operator’s energy. You’ve never seen these woods in person - only in dreams. You’ve never even really seen your master in person, once again, like these woods, he too has been confined to your dreams. But you hear him, and often. His voice falls down on your ears like gentle rains that fall from the heavens. He is everything and more. That is why it is so exciting for you to finally be here, so close to him, and to his presence.

“You excited?” You hear your group leader ask.

You nod and press harder up against the glass. “Are we going now?” You’re ready to bounce out of the car and everyone can see that.

He chuckles in response. “What do you think Hood? Time to go?”

The hazel eyed man behind him shoots the driver a look. “Masky, just look at her, she’s gonna break the window if we don’t.” There’s a slight playfulness in his tone that tells you the right hand really isn’t annoyed with you.

“Fair enough,” Masky smiles. He then reaches behind his seat, hand slapping at who used to be the runt’s knee. “Tobes? Tob-Tobes, get up.”

Toby’s eyes shoot open as he lurches forward. “I’m u-u-up, I-I’m u-up,” he yawns as his hands rub tiredly at his eyes. “Are w-w-we here a-alaready?” He asks, the exhaustion still clear in his tone.

Both of the men in the front seats nod. “C’mon, let’s get going,” Hoodie says as he pulls up the lock on his car door before sliding out.

You wait impatiently for Masky to unlock the car then zip out like a bat from hell. You’re immediately at the edge of one of the forest’s many trails and taking in the sights and sounds of your boss’s woods. They’re beautiful, really. The autumn colors bathe the woods in fiery oranges and passionate reds with threads of gold to interlock it all together. The sky is just the slightest shade of blue as clouds cover the sun. There weren’t any people here either - not under the little structures, not exploring, not anyone but you and your comrades.

“Wrong one,” Hoodie says as he closes the trunk to the car before tossing a backpack to Toby, who catches it like second nature.

You whip your head around to see that Masky, Hoodie and Toby are smiling at how excited you are before silently asking you to follow them. “Where are we going?” You ask, eyes wide as you jog up to them.

“Across the field. There’s this cool tunnel of trees we think you’ll appreciate,” Masky replies as he leads his group across the grass. It crunches slightly as the four of you move, like it hasn’t been watered in a long time.

“R-Really?” Toby hums as he puts his hands in his pockets. “You s-s-sure we’re n-not gonna be l-late?” The young proxy gives a slight look to his group leader, eyebrow raised as if he’s sure the Operator is okay with them possibly being tardy.

Masky shakes his head before tapping his temple with his free hand, “he told me it’s okay.”

“He did?” You ask as stars cloud your eyes. The Operator, as you’ve heard so far, is to be feared and respected. He’s like a father you can look at but never touch. He seems so out of your range, like he’s not even visible - not even if you squint your eyes. You wonder what makes you so… interesting… in his eyes. You really don’t think you’re worth all the fuss. Clearly he does.

Masky chuckles before ruffling your hair with his hand, “yeah. I think he finds your enthusiasm endearing.” Masky’s not entirely incorrect. When they first got Toby, the Operator was strangely favorable towards the young proxy as well - maybe because he was hand plucked, special, and therefore deemed worthy of his time. You were similar to Toby, albeit, you accidentally got involved with the Operator. He liked you, chose you, then kept you.

Hoodie whistles slightly as the four of you step into the trees, his gloved hand reaching up to tear off a branch from one of the low hanging trees then swing it aimlessly as his side. “Seems pretty obvious in my opinion,” he whacks Toby lightly with the stick making said proxy laugh. “Looks like Toby isn’t the only golden child anymore.”

“P-Probably not,” Toby hums, a slight melancholy coming into his tone. “Think I-I’ve been losing f-f-favor with h-hin for a w-while.” He glances over his shoulder and smiles at you.

You frown slightly and place your hand on his shoulder, “I don’t think so,” you say. “Just means he has two golden child-s now.”

Toby beams.

You do too.

The group continues to move through the trees, mostly silent save for Masky and Hoodie pointing out little memories from time to time. Things such as some guy named ‘Alex’ chasing them through here, Masky’s waking up with no memory, Hoodie’s nature shots, and everything in between. You learn a lot about the hands of your group from when they were just scared film students to the things they’ve done as proxies here. It’s kind of nice as you’ve never really spoken to them this way before.

When you first came into this life and were placed in this group, the hazing process kicked in like wildfire. Almost every day was a mentally or physically, sometimes both, a draining task and a bonding agent. Authority was not to be questioned and they made that more than clear. Eventually, the hazing grew lighter and lighter until it just… didn’t exist. That was how it went - you were no longer considered naive and starry eyed. Still, authority was not to be questioned, and it’s why you and your comrades have never really talked on this specific level before.

It’s why it’s such a treat that you get to talk to them like this now.

Eventually, the four of you make it to an odd stretch of trees. They tunnel over each other, a lot like a thorny funnel, but they frame the sky so well.

“If the sun was setting,” Masky starts. “It would look like a cradle.”

You take a step back and observe the tunnel of trees, trying to imagine the setting sun. The mental image is pretty. “Will we ever be back here to see it?”

“Oh definitely,” Masky continues. “But uh, the business we’re here for today? Don’t know if that’s meant for anyone but me and maybe Hoodie.”

You look on instinct to Hoodie who nods. “Is that normal?”

“Sure is,” Hoodie says as he takes in the scent of the cooling autumn woods. He knows the group is almost to the limits of the Operator’s realm. “Tell me what you feel right now, Reader,” he says in passing as he flicks the stick somewhere off the given trail.

With a glance around at your surroundings, you attempt to get a feel for the area you’re in. It’s cold, much colder, but the atmosphere still feels a little thick. The further you go into the woods (and by extension the Operator’s bounds to which you don’t even know exist yet), you get that odd feeling in your legs that feels like they’ve fallen asleep. It’s like the physical sensation of static. You try to explain it in words, but they fail. Instead, you allow Hoodie into your thoughts.

“Nice,” he smiles. “Alright, try to ask for permission in.”

“I need to ask for permission?”

“E-Everytime,” Toby begins as he and the others pause. They’re right on the edge of the bubble and can feel it so much stronger than you can. “It’s t-to ensure n-normal humans c-can’t come in,” Toby begins to explain as you gaze around your surroundings, wondering how you’ll even begin to ask. “T-Though, their f-feelings sometimes k-kick into o-overdrive and they e-end up p-piercing through the v-veil on a-a-accident.” He chuckles softly and you know exactly what he’s referring to - you’ve heard tales of the people who get stuck wandering where they shouldn’t: always ends in someone strung up in the pines. “W-We’ve all learned t-to ask p-permission like b-breathing.”

You shoot your comrade a confused glance, wondering what that will mean for you. “I just ask?”

“Kind o-of,” Toby says. “Just l-let your f-f-feelings guide you. She’ll t-t-tell you whether you’re a-a-allowed in or not.”

You close your eyes and begin to hone in on whatever your heart is telling you. It’s a cold feeling, mostly like vines that slip up and down your limbs as they grow upwards and then inwards towards your heart. It’s an odd feeling. Once the static vines pierce through your heart, you physically see a fog roll into the forest around you. It consumes you and your comrades before you remember Toby mentioned ‘she.’ The fog thickens. “Wait, she?” You say as the static begins to leave your system. It feels like you’re tearing through roots as you walk forward.

“He didn’t mean it,” Masky quickly replies as he begins to pull you through the fog. “Good job on asking though. Strong response,” he says as gestures to the fog, his hand swimming through the billowy clouds. “Wives’ tale is the stronger the fog, the more genuine you were in response.”

You wade your fingers through the thick fog as you and the others walk forward, deeper and deeper into the darkness where there was none. “Must’ve had a really genuine response, huh?” You mumble to yourself. The fog doesn’t even feel like normal fog - it feels thick and heavy and leaves slight dew on your clothing as you walk. How interesting.

‘Head talk from here on out,’ Hoodie says as the four of you reach a stretch of woods that feels slightly dangerous.

‘Did you feel it too?’ Toby asks, his hand at his hatchet.

Hoodie nods slightly, his eyes narrowing as he slows his pace so he’s guarding the back. He gives you a slightly concerned look as the fog evens out. Everyone but you knows that they’re in perhaps one of the most dangerous parts of the veil. The Operator’s mere presence is usually enough to deter the things like the Rake from his grounds, but that often means they get trapped here - in the in-between - and lash out on the first thing they sense. The sooner the four of you get out of this dangerous spot, the better.

‘What do you sense?’ You ask, cutting mentally through the rough silence, your own hand moving to your blade.

Hoodie looks like he’s about to answer you before he holds his fist up and the other three of you duck down instantly, dipping below the fog. Just then, some deer begin walking past.

‘Deer?’ You say in a questioning tone.

‘Not just any deer,’ Hoodie begins as the deer slowly nibbles on the leaves and other things. ‘Take a good look at their bodies. They look normal to you?’

You narrow your eyes slightly and get used to peering through the fog as the deer pass. Eventually, you’re able to look at their coats. There’s something off about them, something wrong. Something you can’t quite place. The longer you watch them as they move in front of you, the stronger that off feeling gets. They have every physical part of the deer down but it’s just not right. It’s like their joints don’t fit well beneath their skin. And their eyes… Their eyes are completely hollow.

‘You see it?’ Masky asks as the last of the deer passes by. He glances over his shoulder briefly to see you nod. ‘We’re lucky they didn’t change this time,’ he mumbles, slowly inching forward while crouched against the earth.

‘What would’ve happened if they changed?’ You inquire, moving quietly alongside your comrades.

‘Nightmare fuel,’ Toby finally pipes in. ‘Nothing about them looks right. Big mouths full of sharp teeth, black eyes, too many limbs, like a messed up centipede,’ he finishes, a slight shudder coming into his mental tone.

You notice the other two of your group members nodding in agreement before finally deeming it safe enough to stand up and finally exit the in-between of the veil.

You’re greeted to the sight of a beautiful, rustic looking Germanic mansion surrounded by iron gates that hold honeycomb patterns that trail skywards only to end on sharp peaks that you’re almost certain your boss has spiked people on plenty of times. There’s also flowers of every kind in the front gardens that catch your eyes the moment you step through the grand gates. There’s fountains and topiaires, statues and benches that tell you the Operator drips with style and elegance.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Masky smiles.

You nod, “it’s gorgeous.” The air smells slightly expensive, but mostly sweet. How is it that a place like this can even possibly exist? Around the mansion are autumnal trees, mostly maple, some sycamore and other birch. Scattered on the front lawn are other proxies and some independents, mostly catching up and talking before leaving through the same gates you entered from. Some of them smile and wave as they pass you, others grunt and turn their nose up at you upon realizing you’re the youngest. This place sings with the Operator’s overwhelming presence.

Your comrades continue to watch your amused expression as they lead you to the front doors of the mansion. They’re large and stained glass, slightly gothic in woodwork and tower over you.

“Go ahead,” Hoodie chuckles as he nods for you to open the doors.

You glance back to him, then at the large doors before tentatively placing your hands on their surface. With a small breath, you push them open and find yourself greeted to the most exquisite foyer you’ve ever seen. Large chandeliers hang from the ceiling, sapphires and rubies drip from the fixtures and shine the light beautifully across the marble floors. Gold leaf adorns almost everything that juts out while the huge staircase in front of you beckons you forward.

“Doesn’t seem like he needs us yet,” Masky says as he checks his watch. “Got here earlier than expected, huh?” He lightly ribs Hoodie who rolls his eyes in response. “C’mon, let’s go to the sun room. Don’t wanna wait around in here.” He nods for the three of you to follow.

Toby clears his throat slightly as if to remind the two in charge that you’re still very much here and new.

“Oh, right,” Masky says. “Reader, this is super important, so listen up,” your group leader begins as he turns on his heels to eventually rest his hands on your shoulders.

You raise a brow at his sudden contact. Masky normally didn’t touch you unless what he had to say was important - which really, really didn’t happen often.

“This mansion likes to play off your thoughts, feelings, and logic,” he says, his hand gesturing to the staircase that’s slowly moving directions. You didn’t even hear it begin to shift. “The Operator usually keeps things in line for when he summons you, it’s almost a guaranteed path you’ll make it to him, but,” his eyes go serious. “If it’s just you and you’re moving around, you need to have a place in mind or it’ll accidentally spit you out somewhere totally random. We’ve had people get lost in here because the mansion is slightly playful and weirdly baneful depending on the individual walking around.”

“The Operator has a playful side?”

Masky stifles a laugh before shaking you lightly. “I legitimately mean it, you need to have a place in mind or you’re gonna get lost and the Operator isn’t gonna be happy. By extension, I won’t be happy because I need to come get you.”

“Mhm,” Hoodie nods in agreement. “And you can’t have the thought in passing either, it’s gotta be on your mind until it’s in sight.” After Hoodie’s words leave his mouth, Masky lets you go.

You take all the information in and wonder just what makes the place run. It’s like it has its own personality - it’s playful and baneful? You have to ask it permission to even enter its grounds and it deems whether you’re worthy or not? What kind of power does the Operator even have and why on earth would he even care about that kind of stuff? If he truly wanted his proxies to access him, he’d do it with no hesitation. The humans that would wander into his rooms would just end up tasting someone’s blade.

“Sun room?” Hoodie reminds Masky.

Your entire walk to the sun room you try to conjure a mental image in your head. They say it’s doubtful you’ll get lost so long as you’re with them, but you consider it good practice. When you finally make it to the sun room, you’re pleased to see it’s relatively empty save for a few groups interspersed in the large, window adorned room overlooking a silver lake. There’s a few independents walking around with carts holding different tea time finger-foods and waiting tea sets on every table. Maasky leads you over to one of the tables nearest to the view of the lake.

“So, what business exactly are we here for today?” You ask as you waste no time in pouring yourself some tea.

Masky shrugs, “no idea. He said he just wanted us to come.”

“T-Think he r-really only n-needs an audience w-with them though,” Toby adds before silently thanking you for pouring him some tea as well. “L-Leaves us some t-t-time to chat. Y’know, t-the thing H-Hood hates us d-doing,” he lightly jokes.

Hoodie scoffs and feigns being annoyed, “I only hate you two chatting when we’re in the middle of tearing out some guy’s entrails.”

“Y-Yeah, which is a-all the time,” Toby giggles.

You laugh as well.

The four of you are in a heated argument about something relatively stupid when static overtakes Masky and Hoodie’s hearing. They visibly pause, as if they’re trying to key into something you can’t understand when it suddenly stops.

“Have t-to go?” Toby inquires before taking a strawberry tart and popping it into his mouth.

Both Masky and Hoodie nod.

“Yeah. Keep an eye on Reader, please? We won’t be too long,” Masky replies with a small, tired smile.

Toby flashes the two a thumbs up before the both of you watch them leave, a clear destination on their minds.

It’s not long until Toby gets distracted by some other independents that stroll into the mansion. You recognize the two of them as relatively minor legends - well, maybe not the one with the smile. His name is Jeff.

“So, this is your fresh meat, huh?” Jeff chuckles as he lightly pushes Toby’s shoulder. “She looks a little scrawny. Are you feeding her right?”

Toby laughs and nods, “Masky w-w-would lose his m-mind if you s-s-said that.”

Jeff’s chest rumbles as he laughs. “I’m joking,” he holds his hand up as a sign of truce. “Hope you know you’re running with one of the only decent groups out there, Reader,” he says before picking up his tea cup. It looks slightly comical as he brings it to his lips.

You offer him a smile and nod, “yeah, I know.”

The man to Jeff’s left nods in agreement, “Masky’s really good at what he does. Got one of the best.”

Toby immediately fights the notion (playfully) and the three engage in conversation that’s lively and vibrant all the same. You listen to the three verbally duke it out before you find yourself bored. You can’t just leave though, but you want to move at the same time.

“Toby?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I excuse myself?”

“W-Where to?”

“Washroom,” you reply.

“Do y-you need m-me to a-accompany y-y-you?”

Both Eyeless Jack and Jeff scoff.

“She’s a big girl, let her go,” Jeff says as he nods his own approval for you to go. “You told her about the mindset thing?”

Toby nods.

“Yeah, then she’s good to go,” Eyeless Jack agrees.

You flash the men at your table a smile before getting up. You push in your chair and then make it to the entrance of the sunroom, leading into the halls. You don’t have a set destination in mind. The moment you step out of the sunroom, you feel the air change. It’s not unpleasant, but it’s different. On instinct, you turn your gaze over your shoulder to see the sunroom is gone. It’s just hall and lining the hall are doors upon doors.

Alright, you can work with that! A small smile comes to your face as you begin to walk forwards, allowing your curiosity to bloom. The first door you decide to open is one that’s honestly not that exciting. It was just a storage unit. Another was a study. Then it was someone’s room. Another room. And another. How many residence rooms are there?

You close yet another door and then feel a thought come into your head, taking a seat on your train of thought like a butterfly sunbathes on a flower. She - Toby had mentioned it. And you wondered. You let the thought stay. Before you know it, you’re walking through the halls guided by forces you don’t quite understand, and the further you get into the mansion, the stranger the atmosphere becomes. It’s not unpleasant, but it’s not a normal feeling either. You watch as the light fixtures change from something relatively modern and regress into something more vintage. The dust begins to kick up. Irish lace begins to pepper the ceiling. You notice how the doors change style as well. How strange.

Eventually, you reach a dead end stretch of hall. At the very end of this hall is a singular door that looks weathered, as if it was sunbleached and painted over in oils. There’s an elegance to it you can’t quite place, and like a siren song, you find yourself being beckoned to it. Your proxy instincts kick in like second nature the closer you draw to it. You feel your breathing lighten, your steps as well, and you move towards it with a silence that is unmatched - as if you’re floating on air. You draw closer and closer to the door. It’s so magnetic, and you can’t quite explain why/ But closer still you must be to it.

Your hand tenderly grasps the doorknob - it feels like ice - and you twist it open. You wonder if you should be doing this. A part of you feels like you shouldn’t be doing this, but another part of you says this is what you were meant to see. You push the door open ever so slightly, just enough to be able to see inside, but the door is heavy, almost as if it doesn’t want you to. Like it’s trying to protect you from something further. You wonder if it just wishes to keep its secrets.

It’s gorgeous, it truly is. It puts the rest of the mansion to shame. It looks old - perhaps from 16th century Germany and fit for royalty. Plants of all kinds line the walls. They look like emeralds as light shines through their leaves. The sunlight kisses the flowers that sprout from the stalks. Beautiful woodwork surrounds the windows that are covered in fairytale-esque stained glass pieces. The scent is of something much, much sweeter and warmer than the rest of the mansion. Your eyes then draw to the center of the room, where an ornate table sits. There’s gold leaf decorating its legs followed by symbols you can’t really pin down. A tablecloth that looks like it was weaved from the stars above is the only thing that separates a delicate tea set from the precious mahogany table. The tea smells heavenly from where you stand.

Before you can press into the room, you pause upon seeing slender, pale hands take hold of the tea pot. Your eyes follow upwards to the owner of the hands only to see a woman so much more beautiful than the moon in twilight and the sun in the morning. Falling from her shoulders was golden hair that looked like a sea of amber as it cascaded down near the floor. Flowers were woven into it - mostly snowdrops, baby’s breath and queen Anne’s lace. She’s dressed in something from medieval Europe, and never once does her sleeve touch the table. She begins to pour herself some tea, a honey like hum coming from her being as she pours the sweet liquid. Her eyes flick upwards for but a moment when she hears a bird chirping outside. Her eyes are so dark, there exists no white sclera. They’re so dark, like black holes that hide in the depths of space, but you feel as if she holds the universe inside of them. She’s so beautiful, you’re not sure she’s real. A cat has jumped up onto the table, purring at her. When she smiles, your heart sings.

You want to say hello to her and spend time in her presence when you attempt to open the door some more. It creaks slightly. The hinges are ancient. Before you can say anything, the door is slammed shut, sending you flying backwards. You let out a sound of shock before seeing Toby reaching down to get you.

“What t-the hell a-a-are you thinking?” He hisses as he picks you up, grabbing your bicep and beginning to drag you away from the door that still holds your attention. “You r-really just w-wandered off l-like that?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, attempting to get free of his grasp as he continues to pull you along. No matter how hard you smack at him, he doesn’t let go.

“M-Masky said it’s not s-safe for y-y-you to wander o-off. A-And without m-me? D-D-Did you have a-any cognitive t-t-thought when you w-went out on a l-limb like t-that?” He sounds so heated.

You find he’s bringing you back to the sunroom, undoubtedly going to tell Masky and Hoodie about your misbehavior. “Why are you being so weird?” You retort as you attempt to wriggle out of his grasp. “It’s just a room!” You cry out in an exasperated tone.

Toby only reprimands you louder. It’s a losing game.

You eventually find yourself back in the sunroom. Only, instead of Eyeless Jack and Jeff, you see the deeply concerned and slightly pissed off faces of Masky and Hoodie. They’re not happy to see you, and you’re not exactly thrilled to see you either.

“Take a s-s-seat,” Toby says in a harsh tone as he thrusts you back into your seat.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Masky asks, not even attempting to mask his voice because that’s the privilege of being a proxy. You’re able to reprimand your proxies without anyone giving a care.

“You can’t just go off like that,” Hoodie continues as he furrows his brows. “You could’ve gotten-”

“Hurt? This is the Operator’s mansion, what the fuck is gonna hurt me in here other than himself or you two?”

“That’s it,” Masky points out. “He can seriously hurt you if you snoop where you shouldn’t!” His hands grips at your wrist, tightening to a point of pain.

When you feel tears prick your eyes, Hoodie sighs and puts his hand on Masky’s shoulder, “stop it.”

Masky hesitantly lets you go.

“What did you see?” Hoodie asks with a deep sigh, his posture tensing. He’s really hoping you didn’t see the Operator’s trophy room.

You give your comrades a concerned look, not sure whether you should answer or not when Hoodie raises a slight brow. Damn it. You’re emotionally compromised. He’s seeing what he needs to without your permission.

“That’s… Odd…” He says.

Masky glances to Hoodie. “No.”

“Unfortunately, I think yeah,” Hoodie says with a growing frown. He glances to Toby for confirmation, and upon seeing Toby’s nod, says ��yeah,” again.

Masky groans and puts his face into his hands, finding comfort in being buried into himself.

You hold your wrist in your hand and lean back in your chair. “Just… What is it you guys aren’t telling me?” You question, hoping they’d just bite the bullet and tell you.

The group shares a look, debating whether they should even say it or not. When no one says anything, you press them again.

“Come on,” you sigh. “It can’t be that bad.”

“It really could be,” Masky says as he finally releases his face from his hands. “No one knows what seeing it does.”

Your eyes widen before you bark a laugh. “What?”

“No, he’s serious,” Hoodie picks up. “Seeing that door is rare, like, rainbow pikachu rare. Proxies think it’s an omen or a bad luck thing. To see it means a group’s eventual demise.”

You briefly scoff at the thought of proxies being superstitious before you remember some of you can actually cast portals. It’s really not that out of pocket.

“N-No one has e-e-ever found o-out though,” Toby shrugs. “W-We just know t-that the g-groups that h-h-have n-normally e-end in death.” He looks a little uncomfortable as he says the words, like there’s a legitimate truth to what he’s saying even though he’d rather it be utter BS.

“To be fair, we thought it was a rumor prior to you sneaking off,” Hoodie says as he tries to calm down his group.

You take in this information with a small frown. How could something that beautiful be that evil or a harbinger of doom? The thought of it left you perplexed as your comrades continued to lecture you on not wandering off until Masky and Hoodie were called away.

“I don’t know if I feel comfortable leaving Reader here with-”

Toby rolls his eyes, “you c-cant just s-say you want m-me to come with i-instead. N-Not need to insult m-my competence a-a-as a babysitter,” he mumbles before glancing down to his hatchets.

Masky sighs and nods for Toby to follow him out. Looks like it’s just you and Hoodie.

“So,” you awkwardly begin, not really sure what to do or what to say.

“So,” Hoodie hums back. “Anywhere you wanted to go?” When he sees the glint in your eyes, he shakes his head. “Like, a normal place. We’re gonna be here for a while while those two are out,” he chuckles, watching as you visibly deflate.

You allow the question to bang around in your head until you nod with a thought in mind. “The library. I’d like to go to the library.”

Hoodie smiles at that suggestion and finishes the rest of his tea before standing up. He stretches for a moment, then leads you to the hallway your original snooping began. You noticed as his thoughts immediately became clouded with the word and vision of ‘library’ as the two of you trekked the halls. As you walked, you barely recognized any of the doors you passed. They weren’t on your radar, which was odd in your opinion as you had opened a lot of door you probably shouldn’t have.

Eventually, you reach two large oak doors. Hoodie pushes them open and you’re greeted to the sight of a beautiful library. It’s impossibly huge - how could such a place exist in the mansion? You’re well aware it’s a huge place, but the fact that all of this is here… It’s bigger than a downtown city library you visited when passing through Chicago a few months ago. The Operator’s influence is beautiful, isn’t it?

“I’m gonna be in the sci-fi section,” Hoodie says as he nods over to the right wing of the library. “It’s on the second floor.” You notice the spiral staircase that leads to what appears to be a balcony - it must stretch backwards forever. “Check in with me in about 15 minutes. Don’t do anything stupid.” It’s surprising how relaxed he’s being with you. You would have expected someone like Hoodie to be a lot angerier and more observational.

Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, you nod and flash him a thumb’s up before bounding over to the left wing of the library. Nothing is properly labeled, but you get a strong bout of intuition where everything is. Right now, you’re on the hunt for history.

The aisle that holds the history books looks just as old as you would have expected it to. The books here aren’t any you’ve ever seen in stores either - they’re largely from the time period they’re to be representing. Some are more modern, but you get the feeling that they don’t exist anywhere else but under the Operator’s influence. You find a few books that talk about the early history of proxies, some on independents, but nothing to inform you on what you had found.

It’s honestly a little maddening. You check in with Hoodie when you have to - he asks you to list the spines of the books you’re currently looking at - and then you’re back to your fruitless search. You run up and down the halls of the history section looking for anything when you hear static begin to buzz in your heads. The feeling travels upwards like the vines you felt earlier from your heels to your chest. When they claw deep into your heart, you feel a pull. And once again, like a sailor beckoned to the rocks due to a siren’s song, you follow it.

It twists and turns you through the shelves, making you zip past the few proxies and independents that are currently visiting this wing of the library before you’re drawn to a rotunda. You look backwards and see in the distance the front doors of the library. When did this place get a middle wing? It was just straight shelves and a wall with large windows overlooking the rolling hills of the woods. You turn your attention upwards to the ceiling of the rotunda. There’s a large skylight that allows sunlight to cascade down. Around that are gems you don’t even know the name of that weave a mosaic of something positively divine. You allow your gaze to follow the shaft of warm sunlight down, and there, sitting at a table with a book in hand (it looks like a journal) is the Operator himself.

“S-Sir!” You manage to squeak out as you find yourself startled to be in his presence, Heat rises to your cheeks when he looks up from his book to turn his attention to you.

“How did you get here?” He asks, confusion etching his body as he curiously tilts his head.

Your breath hitches. “I’m so sorry,” you apologize, bowing your head almost immediately. “I don’t know how I got here. It just felt like a pull and suddenly I was here? I was in the left wing and looking over history books and I-” you continue to rattle off until the Operator holds up his hand, silently signaling you to stop. You do so as soon as he asks.

“I-. It’s no matter,” he waves off. “Come, sit down beside me.” An inky black tendril sprouts from his back as he pulls the chair in front of him out, allowing you to sit in his presence.

You will your stone-like legs forward and attempt to gracefully take a seat in front of him. It’s a slightly awkward silence before he speaks again.

“How have you been, Miss Reader?”

“I’m alright,” you reply, voice no higher than a whisper.

The Operator hums. “Good.”

Another pregnant pause.

“Child, where is your book?”

“I uh, didn’t grab one?” You answer softly. You can tell the Operator is looking at you with what he can convey to his fullest as confusion. “When I was pulled here I just.. Followed,” you attempt to explain. “I don’t know why I’m here.”

“And what have you done today?” He asks, giving his passing attention to you like a father would.

You bite your lip before steering the conversation towards the room you saw. “I think I met someone.”

“You did, did you?”There’s a passing interest as if he’s saying ‘that’s nice, honey.’

You nod. “She was in a tea room-”

He pauses.

“I found her by accident-”

He makes sure he’s hearing you correctly.

“Her hair was golden-”

He looks up.

“She had plants-”

He’s sitting upright now.

“She had a cat-”

He leans forward.

“Her smile rivaled the stars-”

He’s focusing so intently on you now.

“Her voice was like honey-”

He entirely focused on you.

“She was beautiful.”

The Operator’s ichor pauses for just a moment as he takes in the description of the woman you described. It makes a part of him sing and another part of him sob. He hasn’t heard of her in so, so long.

When you look up, you see the Operator practically leaned halfway over the table and entirely focused on you. It makes you jump. “I’m sorry,” you apologize sheepishly, thinking you saw something you shouldn’t have. “I wasn’t thinking and I uh, think the mansion led me to her?”

The Operator wordlessly nods. “Was she pouring tea?” He asked, voice so much gentler than anything you could ever expect him to conjure up.

You slowly nod. “She was.”

The Operator suddenly slumps down, making you jolt. You rise on instinct to help him when he waves you back down. “Do you realize who you’ve come into contact with?” He asks.

You shake your head. “I’m afraid not, Sir,” you say with slight remorse.

The Operator chuckles deeply - it rumbles his chest and in your head. “You found her.” He could smile, you were sure it would be from ear to ear if he had the correct facial features. “All these years later and you found her.” He emphasizes you like a bittersweet affirmation.

“Who is she?” You ask softly.

Your boss sits back up again. “Someone who loves me,” his tendril sprouts once again from his back and moves towards you. “Someone who loves you,” it taps your nose. “Someone who loves us.” The tendril makes a grand, sweeping gesture.

You take in the words and nod, still not knowing what they mean. Upon seeing your confusion, he decides to elaborate.

“A long, long time ago, in a realm you could not begin to fathom, there was light and there was dark,” he begins, his voice slipping into something akin to someone saying a bedtime story. “I was the light, and that cur we call Zalgo was the dark.”

You scrunch your nose at the sound of his name.

“The dark and the light were born from nothing, and she was beautiful.” His audible smile is actually endearing to hear. “Throughout the years, the light and the dark fought, constantly at each other's throats. It was woven in the threads of history, it had been our birthright. When we came to this place, this planet after being cast from our home - a palace amongst all palaces, a kingdom that rose far above any other, the nothingness came with us. She called herself Liebevolle Frau. She loved her children.” By this point in the story, the Operator has taken the liquids from the coffee cup he drinks from and animated them into the characters for this story.

You watch with stars in your eyes.

“But no guardian is without its favorites, and I happened to be hers.” Liebevolle Frau’s figure was shown sheltering the Operator’s much smaller one. “And this caused a rift that could not be mended through the light and dark. Eventually, the dark waged war on the light.”

It’s a war you’re still fighting to this day.

“In the 1500s, long after this mansion had been built and my power continued to grow, Zalgo had almost wiped us off the face of the earth to splatter out remains across all the five realms. Liebevolle Frau, thought caught off guard,” that would explain the tea, “sheltered me and protected this place and all who resided in it. At the time,” the Operator looks at you. “Independents and proxies had lived here much more commonly than they do now.”

You smile softly.

“Liebevolle Frau’s power had been pushed to its limit in holding back her first born son, and mind, as well as her heart, broke because of it. In her remaining moments of lucidity, she imbued herself, her soul,” the liquids take the form of something fluttering and soft, like a bird, “her everything, and became the place I hold jurisdiction over today.”

Your eyes widen as you think back to the odd feelings you’ve had coming here for today - and Toby’s slip-up.

“I have not been able to find her since the late 1500s,” The Operator explains as the liquids dance back into the coffee mug, the figure of Liebevolle Frau taking a hair longer than the rest. “She lives in everything.”

You’re honestly speechless over everything the Operator has said because it’s so… It’s strangely heartfelt. You’ve never even spoken face to face with your boss and when you do, it’s because some force is guiding you to do so. But if that force felt so alive, it must have meant she wanted you to know.

“Her physical form,” you finally manage to wisp out. “She wanted to be at peace, didn’t she?”

The Operator chuckles deeply. “I would assume so.”

Before you can respond to anything or even come up with another response, you hear both Masky AND Hoodie yelling for you in your head. The jarring difference between your boss’s gentle voice and Masky and Hoodie crying out for blood is enough to make you jump (once again).

Upon seeing your sudden switch in atmosphere, the Operator hushes the voices in your head and calls them to his side.

Toby is the first to show up though, and quickly trailing after him is Masky and Hoodie. They both look ready to reprimand you but upon seeing you sitting with the Operator, nothing but reverence crosses their minds and bodies.

“Good evening, Sir,” Masky says as he bows his head. “Are you well?”

“Thoughtful, aren't you, Timothy?” There’s no animosity or anger in the Operator’s tone, but it makes Masky blush all the same.

A pregnant pause passes.

“I was just speaking with your newest member, Miss Reader,” a pale hand gestures to you. “Come, join us. I could use the company.”

You watch as confused glances get shared between your three comrades before they take a seat beside you.

A pleasant silence passes through the air before a gentle humming that’s sweeter than honey overtakes it like a passing breeze.

#masky #hoodie #ticci toby #masky x reader #hoodie x reader #ticci toby x reader #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #marble hornets #marble hornets x reader #mh #reader insert #x reader #slender man #the operator #slender man x reader

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hellothirteenhere · 4 years ago

Text

formation a (and other related stories)

Summary:

Or, the five times that Megumi received unsolicited protection from the members of the Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical college.

(And the one time he asks for it)

Part 1 of 6

A/N: This is based on a post I did a couple of days ago about Episode 23′s Jujutsu Stroll. I would be posting the completed fic in all its entirety (plus extra scenes!) on AO3 eventually but for now, however, enjoy!

Everyone warned Satoru from taking in the Zenin bastard child.

It would distract from his studies and his training, they wheedle - he was born to be the new god ruling over the jujutsu world, not to play house with two children. (Why not both? Satoru shrugs, swiftly putting an end to that particular piece of bullshit)

What would people say, when they find out that the sole heir of the illustrious Gojo clan had taken in two runts from the streets? (The clan elders did not think that one through - Satoru would love nothing more than to give the jujutsu world a good shake. By taking two little brats of dubious parentage - one without a lick of cursed energy - into his care and protection on a seeming whim, when there were hundreds of dodgy old sorcerers clamoring for it; that, he decides, was a good start.)

Most unfairly of all, however, was Yaga sitting Satoru down the day he broke the news to the college. It was not fair to the children, he said. The Fushiguro kids needed - no, rather, they deserved a stable parental figure instead of a flighty excuse of a guardian who can barely afford to stay for a day. (It was unfair because Satoru can’t deny that).

However, at the end of the day, it was only Satoru who could protect Megumi from the Zenin clan. Whether he deserves him or not, Megumi was stuck with him.

And he’s determined to do right by his precious student.

Work keeps him out of town more often than not but whenever he could, he would swing by to check on the kids, keep them company for a couple of hours, maybe spoil them a little - or as much as Megumi allows him to.

Which is why he found himself humming as he pressed the doorbell of their apartment, returning before the sun had gone down for once.

“Yo!” Satoru grinned as the door swung open. “You look well, Tsumiki-chan.”

“Gojo-san,” Tsumiki smiled. If it had been anyone else other than Satoru, they may have missed the brief millisecond of disappointment in her face.

But she knew it was Satoru standing in front of her - she knew who she was dealing with, so he didn’t waste time with pleasantries.

“What’s wrong?” His eyes instinctively scanned her from head to toe. Before he even got to her feet, he already knew that she was alright. But his Six Eyes immediately alerted him of the possible cause for her distress.

Megumi wasn’t home yet.

Satoru looked at her in the eye. “Where is he?”

“I -,” Tsumiki started, before breaking off with a sigh. “I don’t know. Not here.”

That wasn’t like Megumi at all. For a kid that’s all but ten years old, he sure acted like an old man. He went home immediately after school ended, often did his chores and homework without kicking up too much of a fuss, and stayed holed up in his room unless he was called for dinner. At least, he did.

“He’s been g-having trouble in school lately,” She wrung her hands nervously.

Well, that confirms it: something was definitely wrong.

Satoru quirked an eyebrow at that, a smile frozen on his face.

Tsumiki flushed, knowing that she had been caught in a lie. “He’s been getting in trouble at school lately,” she admitted. “The teachers -”

Ah. Satoru breathed out.

“Old bastards giving our Megumi a hard time again?” He said lightly.

Tsumiki’s shoulders slump. “Yeah.”

“Well,” Satoru rolled his shoulders back, reanimated now that he'd identified the root of the problem. “It’s up to your Satoru-nii to go talk to them, right? Don’t worry, Tsumiki-chan -”

“Please don’t -”

“Don’t go too far - yeah, uh-huh, got it. I’m not gonna hurt anyone,” he waved a careless hand at that. “I’m just gonna scare them a little -”

“Gojo-san!” She protested.

“A little!” Satoru jutted his lower lip out, looking at her pleadingly. “What’s the point of being your Satoru-nii if I can’t deal with the big bad adults for you? You’re lucky to have such a proactive older brother in your life, you know.”

Tsumiki sighed at that before looking at Satoru with a weary smile on her face. “Don’t get too carried away, Gojo-oji-san.”

“That’s cold,” Satoru complained as she closed the door on him.

Smiling, he started his walk towards Megumi’s school. He could teleport, of course, but he actually had a pretty good idea where the kid was. His Six Eyes told him that Megumi was at a park around five minutes away from his home. He couldn’t help but crack a grin at that.

Typical Megumi - rebelling by staying away from home, while still staying at a safe, walkable distance as to not worry his step-sister too much.

Personally, he had never been as nice of a kid as Megumi is, so he doesn’t know how Megumi’s brain works exactly. However, he could guess that he probably chose that park because, while it was close to home, it was out of the way enough from school that Tsumiki probably didn’t think to check there.

His best guess was that Megumi had wanted to stay close to home in case his sister needed him, but that he didn’t want her finding out where he was unless he came to her.

And for good reason too.

Because his Six Eyes shows him not only where the kid but that Megumi - quiet, responsible Megumi - was fighting with someone.

Satoru hummed lightly. It should probably worry him that a seven year old kid was fighting with what seemed to be older neighborhood kids who all towered over his slight frame. A stable parental figure probably would have bolted to the park, running as fast their 9-to-5 limbs could take them.

However, his Six Eyes shows him that, despite being outnumbered and outgrown, Megumi had a fair chance of winning.

So he walked.

Megumi was too young to learn how to fight curses just then but it wouldn’t hurt to let him learn how to fight assholes at this age - maybe if he gets him mad enough one day, he could sic him on the elders. He grinned at the thought.

“Get off me, you psycho!”

Satoru got to the park in time to see one of the older boys creep up behind Megumi as he pounded his tiny little fists on another boy’s chest. The kid reached over and grabbed Megumi’s hair, yanking him off his friend with a sharp tug.

He felt the edges of his vision go red for a second.

“Hey, let go!” Megumi protested, kicking at the kid’s legs.

“You’re such a freak, Fushiguro.” The boy he had been sitting on scrambled to his feet clumsily. He gave Megumi a nasty look. “Girls aren’t su -”

“I’m not a girl!” Megumi growled, kicking his legs out at the kid.

“Yeah?” One of the kids taunted. “Well, you sure fight like -”

Yeah, no.

Satoru called out, “Playing with your friends, Megumi?”

The children all froze at the sound of his voice and turned towards him. He could feel the older boy’s apprehension at the sight of his height.

“Who are you?” One of the kids - the one holding Megumi by his hair - asked.

Satoru paused. His omnipresent eyes took in every little detail before him - the scruff and frays in the kid’s clothes that suggests that it was not his first playground fight, the defiant look on Megumi’s face that suggests that it was not his first playground fight, and, perhaps most telling of all, the pudgy little fingers fisting the hair over Megumi’s ear.

Ah. The entire-boys-will-be-boys thing had always sounded ridiculous to Satoru, who had been taught by private tutors of the Gojo family before coming to the college.

But he never would have thought that there were actually children who would take the term ‘pigtail-pulling�� way too seriously.

“What if I told you I’m his dad?” He smiled at the kid who dared pick on his precious student. All because he didn’t know how to process the emotions that came with a first crush. Ah, youth. He thought, strolling up to the kids with his hands tucked into his pockets.

“W-what?” The kid holding on to Megumi paled, letting go and backing away.

Megumi fell to the ground, barely catching himself. He glared up at Satoru with those wide, defiant green eyes of his. How cute.

“No way!” The other kid protested. “You’re way too young to be a dad!”

Satoru grinned at him with entirely too much teeth. “We have good genes.”

“Just look at my pretty boy,” He leaned down, wrapping a hand around Megumi’s arm and pulling him up. Megumi reluctantly allowed Satoru to pull him close, a sulky expression sourind his face. “Doesn’t he look just like his dear old papa?”

He could see their eyes flicker from his white hair and blue eyes, to Megumi’s dark hair and green eyes. Despite himself, Megumi snorted under his breath.

“Boys,” The kid gritted out, looking up at Satoru with a scowl on his face. “Boys can’t be pretty. Only girls are pretty.”

“Really now?” Satoru gasped in mock-surprise. “I think I’m quite pretty myself.”

He could practically see the gears of the boy’s brain stop at that.

“Of course, my son is still the prettiest.” Satoru brought his hand up to ruffle Megumi’s hair. His eyes flicker to the boy who had grabbed Megumi. “Isn’t that right?”

He watched as the boy’s face flush into a bright, splotchy red. The other boy continued to glare at Satoru, oblivious to his friend’s crisis. And Megumi - oh, sweet summer child Megumi - had no idea what’s going on.

“I- uh, no, b-but -” The kid stuttered as Satoru leaned forward, placing a hand over each of the boys’ shoulders. As much as he could with the Infinity, of course.

He deliberately pitched his voice down, squeezing down on their shoulders with deliberate force - not enough to hurt them, but enough to make a statement. “And I don’t like seeing anyone pick on my cute son. You wouldn’t want to see it too, don’t you agree?””

Satoru deliberately allowed his sunglasses to slide down his nose a little - enough to show the kids a flash of his eyes. Enough to scare the living shit out of them.

Just a little, he remembered promising to Tsumiki.

Well, he amended. Just enough.

Upon seeing them nod, Satoru straightened up, pleased to see that kids looked as though they were about to piss themselves. “Glad we’re in agreement, boys.”

“Off you two go, then. Wouldn’t want to worry your mothers by getting in late.” He smiled cheerily, pushing them to a running start. They didn’t waste another second and took off, sprinting as though the devil himself. One of them, however, kept tripping over himself by looking back over his shoulder at Megumi every now and again, eyes wide as though he was seeing him for the first time.

Satoru scowled at that.

That was not part of the agreement.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu sorcerer #jjk fanfic #gojo #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo satoru #fushiguro megumi #megumi fushiguro #jjk megumi #jjk gojo #jjk ep 23 #jjk episode 23 #jujutsu stroll #jujutsu sanpo

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sunsetinmyvein · 4 years ago

Text

You Better Keep Your Mouth Shut

A fic for someone other than Matty? Miraculous, I know. Thanks for adding some diversity to the mix @robinrunsfiction with your request from the prompt list. :P

Why were family events so awkward and stifled? Was it just a prerequisite of getting together with extended family that by default there had to be repeated pleasantries, uncomfortable questions and weird plus ones? Or was that just my family? Thanksgiving was never fun for this exact reason. The food was nice, but having to mentally prepare for at least three days prior for my aunt’s annoying speeches about what she had already accomplished by the time she was my age was not. But it was only once a year. I only had to grin and bear this for just twelve hours, once a year. I could do that. The best bit of this whole weird gathering was that my sister had decided she required a plus one this year. Apparently, she was fed up of the berating from our grandparents about when she was going to get a stable boyfriend, so she had dragged some poor outsider into this mess. However, that outsider happened to be someone that I already knew. Instead of choosing someone from her own social circle (she thought our parents might get suspicious if it was someone that they had already met), she chose someone from mine. Spencer was my best friend, and she had decided to “date” one of his good friends, Ryan.

It was pretty obvious that they weren’t actually dating. They were overdoing it. The constant hand holding, the sappy remarks, the sweet smiles - it was sickening. Anyone who was paying attention would be able to notice that all of this intimacy was entirely surface level. There were no stories about how they met, no retelling of funny dates, no actual kisses exchanged. My family seemed to buy it, but I wasn’t. I knew full well Spencer would’ve told me if Ryan started dating my sister. But it definitely gave the extended family something new to discuss and fuss over. I’d only met this guy a handful of times in passing over the years and he seemed fairly reserved from what I had seen. Spencer usually talked highly of him. But here he was, fake dating my sister and trying to charm a family that wasn’t his own. The whole charade was leaving a bitter taste. My family were shitty to deal with, sure, but it was still pretty underhanded to deceive them like this. I thought better of my sister than to pull a stunt like this, and I thought Spencer kept better friends than this, too. Apparently not.

“What do you do for work, Ryan?” I heard my dad ask as I tuned back in to the dinner conversation.

“Yes, Ross. Enlighten us.” I chimed in, putting my phone down to hear his answer. I had been texting Spencer to ask if he knew about this or not (he didn’t), and to cross check what Ryan was saying. So far, everything he’d said tonight had been a lie. Where his family lived, what he was studying, he was painting the picture of a perfect boyfriend.

“Is there a reason you never say my first name?” He asked with a frown.

“Well, from the brief time that I’ve known you, I just don’t think that we’re familiar enough to be on a first name basis.” I answered with a fake smile.

“He’s your sister’s boyfriend!” My mother chastised.

“Well, he should act more like it then.” I muttered under my breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.” I quickly dismissed. “So?” I asked, turning back to Ryan.

“I’m an intern at a law firm.” He absolutely was fucking not.

“Oh, that’s good!” My uncle beamed. “Must be lining you up for a good paying job?”

“Yeah, I hope so!” The dark-haired boy laughed nervously.

“What firm are you at?” Now this was going to be interesting.

“Uh…” His wide-eyed floundering made it clear that he hadn’t been prepared with details to support his lie. Thankfully, my sister quickly came to his aid and rattled off some firm that she had heard of. Good save.

“That’s a really good place. They’ll set you up well to take care my little niece here.” He said as he placed an affectionate hand on said niece’s shoulder.

“Only the best for my love.” Gross. I needed to get some air or I was going to throw up all my turkey from how soppy that was.

“I need a drink.” I sighed, excusing myself from the table.

Sure enough, as soon as I started pouring something into my glass, Ryan walked into the kitchen too. I couldn’t even get one moment of peace this evening. Great. He wandered aimlessly around the room, opening a few cupboards before turning to me.

“Hey, where’s the-”

“You’re not in love with her, are you?” I interrupted.

“I, uh… Yeah, I am.” He tried his best to defend himself, while also vehemently avoiding my gaze.

“No, you’re not.” I said, shaking my head.

He cleared his throat and glanced at the doorway before speaking, “What makes you say that?”

“I know my sister well enough to see when she’s faking it.” I answered simply.

He let out a long sigh, looking torn about whether or not to admit it. “Look, could you just keep this between us?” He said eventually.

“Why would I? What’s in it for me?” I scoffed as I kept making my drink.

“I dunno. I’ll give you fifty bucks or something.” He said with a shrug.

“You’re trying to bribe me for my silence?” I laughed loudly; Ryan quickly shushed me in response.

“No, I- ugh. What do you want?” He grumbled in frustration. “Can’t you just drop it?”

“Why are you even doing this?” I frowned, dodging his question. “Actually, never mind, do I even want to know?” I added as I placed the tonic water back in the fridge.

“I offered to do it as a favour when she suggested asking someone.” He replied, still looking around the kitchen for whatever he was after.

“You instigated this?” I asked in surprise.

“Yes. To help your sister out.” He said with a nod. Hm. I supposed maybe he wasn’t such an asshole after all. “Got it!” He said, proudly holding a jar of relish as he left the kitchen.

As expected, the silence was short lived. When Ryan left, my mother came in looking like she was on a mission.

“What’ve you got against that boy?” She asked in a stern tone as I poured the gin into my drink.

“I just don’t think he’s good for her, is all.” I answered vaguely.

“Why?” She interrogated. I shrugged, but apparently that answer wasn’t good enough. “Why?” She repeated.

“They don’t seem like they’ll be together long.” I tried my best to dodge her question. She stared at me for a long moment before deciding that was acceptable. And thankfully she dropped the topic before I spoke on it any further.

“Can you bring the pie in with you?” She asked sweetly as she grabbed a stack of dessert plates.

“Sure.” I mumbled as she walked out. Before I even moved to grab the pie, I poured myself a straight shot of the gin. I was going to need something strong to get through this evening.

By the time I finally came back into the room, Ryan was in the middle of regaling some story to try and get my family to like him more. But it was only a matter of time before he put his foot in it. “I was at practice the other day-”

“Practice?” My dad asked in curiosity.

“Band-” He realised what he’d said as soon as the word left his lips. But he’d said it now, there was no taking it back. “Band practice, yeah.” He admitted sheepishly. I saw my uncle share a look with my dad over this new information. A junior lawyer in a band? They were right to be suspicious.

“You’re in a band?” My sister gawked. She didn’t even know he was in a band with Spencer! What, had they exchanged all of five sentences before tonight?

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I could put you on the guestlist one night, if you’d like?” He offered with a smile.

“I’d like that.” I piped up.

“Oh, I… Yeah… Okay.” He stumbled, looking like he hadn’t expected me to take him up on that. Maybe it was the gin going to my head, but I suspected maybe I could have a little fun with this to make tonight a bit more interesting.

The drinks did indeed make things much easier. They also made a lot of this funnier. I watched Ryan and my sister fawning over each other during dessert, and it was no longer gross, now it was just humorous. After my dad cleared away the plates, they were exchanging romantic comments and staring at each other wistfully.

“Gosh, when’s that gonna happen for me?” I asked with a faux dreamy expression.

“Huh?” Ryan asked in confusion.

“When will I land myself a boyfriend like you?” I elaborated.

“Maybe if you had kept your last job you might’ve met someone there.” I heard my aunt say. But her passive aggressive comments weren’t going to sway me this time.

“It’s a shame Ryan isn’t single.” I pouted. Ryan choked on his drink as I said it, instantly spluttering all over the table. He excused himself and ducked to the bathroom, leaving me trying very hard to not break into hysterics. I suspected I hadn’t been too far off the mark when I picked him to be quite shy, because it seemed that legitimate flirting (not fake flirting) was something he couldn’t handle.

It was pretty easy to carry on like that once I got the ball rolling. And by some stroke of dumb luck, my parents saw it as me warming up to Ryan rather than me messing with him. Whenever the night was nearing its end, I kicked Ryan’s shin under the table to catch his attention. He looked over at me with an exasperated expression, obviously fed up of having to tolerate my antics.

I leant in before speaking, making sure I had his full attention, “I really, really want to kiss you right now.” I said quietly.

His eyebrows shot up in shock, his mouth opening and closing a few times while he clearly tried to think of what to respond. “I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic.” He eventually settled on. I just shrugged. “Why would you want to?” He questioned.

“To start drama.” I chuckled.

“Do you do this stuff at all of your family events?” He asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Only the boring ones.” I grinned.

“Remind me to never help your sister out again.” He sighed as he turned back to the conversation happening on the other side of the table.

My fun didn’t last too much longer after that. The sun had well and truly set, and people wanted to get home, which was my cue to leave. I wasn’t going to hang around here longer than I was obligated to. Once everyone had grabbed their leftovers and sorted themselves out, we were left with the awkward goodbyes on the driveway.

“It’s been a great evening.” I said, before grinning in Ryan’s direction.

“It’s been… an evening.” Ryan sighed.

“Aw, you didn’t have fun?” I asked with a laugh.

“Lovely to see you!” My uncle said, cutting my teasing off as he and my aunt exchanged their parting pleasantries.

“We’ll have to do this again sometime.” I said as I opened my car door. Ryan gave me a look like he’d sooner pass out before stepping foot into this house again.

#Ryan Ross x Reader #Sunsetinmyvein #Sunsetinmyvein prompts #Sunsetinmyvein requests

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scienceoftheidiot · 3 years ago

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In my move, I’m also moving all my drabbles, prompt answers and short stories with my OCs. Here’s an old one.

In case you don’t want to click on the link, the short story itself is right here under the cut. It's 3.5K long, so beware.

No prompt for this one, just Desden and Diane going out for a drink, except it doesn't go the way they expected. Some parts will be rewritten in the future, or a new part added - I have already written a part where they discuss the event at the end, and I'll share it after ;)

In case you don't want to click on the link, the story is right there under the cut. TW : sexual harassement, ableism

“And what’s this song saying, then? “I said I understood it, didn’t say I can immediately translate all the songs that we get to hear in every bar we end up!”

Desden patted Kalinka on the head. He had not been through his first pint yet, while Diane had drunk one and a half. Music was blasting from the pub’s sound system, but most of the patrons were following a sports event on TV at the other end of the room. They were alone near the counter.

“But you said you knew this one! Also, we have only ever been to one bar and it’s this one. And I’m sure you can.” Desden straightened up, more amused than annoyed. “Oh, of course I can! … but not just like that and with all that noise and -«

He tilted his head backwards at the roar that just came up from the back of the pub.

“Who scored ? »

“The… blue ones…? » “Well, thank you very much, but which town is it? » “I have no idea. You should know, if you’re that into it! » “Didn’t know there was a match tonight. Also it’s rugby, yes? Not football, if it’s football we’re leaving this filthy place. » “Gosh, you snob, yeah it’s rugby, of course it is. Two secs… okay so it’s us against… Toulon?”

Desden grinned, his face lighting up behind the dark glasses that hid a big part of it. “Whoah, so not only are we playing tonight, but we scored then! We’re the blue ones! » “How’d you know that? » “I know so many things, you wouldn’t believe it. We’re blue. They’re… white ? » “Oh, please! And they’re red.”

Diane tapped her bitten nails against her glass – nearly empty. The song she wanted to know about was not finished yet.

“Come on, what does the song say?”

Of course, she didn’t really care about it. She did that for the playful exasperation it prompted in Desden. They probably both knew it, judging from the more or less annoyed, crooked smile on his face. He had a dimple in his right cheek – not on the other side, for some reason. It made his smile even more asymmetrical. How come Diane had not noticed that before?

“Right now, I don’t know! why do you want me to do that? » “Cause I ask you to? Nicely? » “You’re drunk.” He gave a high-pitched chuckle. “As if you weren’t. That was the ugliest laugh, by the way.” “And I am not singing yet. If you want to hear that you’d need to get me many other drinks. Care to do just that?” He said while tipping his now empty glass in her direction.

Diane suddenly thought about something, and sobered up a little.

“Is it okay for you to drink that much? Haven’t you told me you have balance problems? » “Oh, this is cute. Are you afraid for me? » “Seems like I’m the only responsible adult, here, so, I ask. »

Desden straightened up and got a little more serious. “It’s okay. I’ve drank only one pint of light stuff, and I’m big. I shall be alright. Besides” he added, and the smile was back “I know you’re strong enough to carry me home. » “Shut up.” As Diane was getting up to head for the bar, a pair of hands abruptly landed on her shoulders, nailing her down to her stool.

“Hey lady? Why don’t you join us for the next round? Drink to our certain victory?” She stiffened. She had almost bit her tongue in surprise. She cast a glance at Desden, who looked lost, frowning. But even if she thought she could handle it, she couldn’t communicate it to him like that. Right now he couldn’t even know half of what was happening. Especially that that stranger had his hands on her.

She had to play it nicely. She didn’t want to make a fuss.

The guy was starting to vaguely massage her shoulders. It sent shivers of disgust down her spine. A bunch of guys near the TV screen had cheered as he talked to her and was now looking avidly. She’d have thought they would be a group of random older rugby supporters, but they were more probably students –and well dressed, at that.

So there were others. She’d have to be diplomatic. She turned to the man – roughly her age, or a little younger, maybe? – dressed fancy, him too, with thin metal rimmed glasses, and what he probably thought as a charming smile. Judging by his dapper style, he and his friends could be from one of those expensive business schools, those were in the city centre, not that far. You never saw people like that near the campus – she knew that from all the times she’d been there for a run.

She tried to smile back at him. “No, thanks. I was having a good time with my friend here, and I’d like to go back to that. You don’t need me to cheer for the team, eh? You got your mates for that. Have a good evening. Bye. » “No need to be rude, girl. Just thought you’d be happy we save you from doing your charity thing here, that all.”

From the corner of her eye, she could see Desden lick his lips, and red slowly rise to his cheeks and ears. “I was not rude. You are starting to be. Please leave us alone.” Her sudden mean look probably worked, because the man finally let go of her shoulders, and walked away with his hands out, in a “I didn’t do anything wrong” gesture. She let out a big, if a little shaky, sigh. Desden spoke in a tiny voice. “I am sorry. We shouldn’t have come here. We should go home.” He was already getting up – and probably felt dizzy doing so, as she saw him suddenly grappling the table. She chose not to say anything about it. “Why, did you know there were going to be assholes in this place? » “No, it’s a nice place, it never happened before, but – » “Then I say we get another drink and leave when we want the fuck to and not before. »

Desden hesitated. He was still half standing, but loosened his hold on the table. “I am not looking forward to more interaction with this type of people. I may sound like a coward, but I am always afraid they could go further. » “And what? » “Please.” He shook his head and made a face. “Don’t let me say it out loud. » “He won’t do anything. Don’t worry. » “I’ll worry if I want to. Just… please, try to understand.” He was visibly upset. “I don’t mind being called names and such. I don’t care. There’s just nothing to do but let them talk. I just don’t want to get in trouble and I especially don’t want you in trouble either.”

She didn’t know what to say. He didn’t go on any further and motioned towards his ever faithful backpack. Kalinka immediately got up. Diane noticed just now that the bright red colour of the backpack definitely clashed with the plain, if nice, clothes he wore from work. But was the same colour as his shoes. Bright red chucks. She was going to make a lame joke about it, to try and lighten the atmosphere, when the whole group of guys that had been cheering in front of the TV came back towards the bar and them. The game was over. Despite the points they’d scored earlier, they’d lost. She locked her eyes on her beer, avoiding the men’s stare. Desden himself had sat back. She didn’t know how he could have told, but there were probably too many people around at the same time for his taste.

The man with the glasses stopped by their table again. Too close from her, his back towards Desden. “See, girl, we lost. Should have come with us instead of staying here babysitting. We’d have won.” Diane didn’t want to be diplomatic anymore. She wanted this guy to eat his words. “Just get lost already. Leave us alone! » “Oh, yes, or what? Your boyfriend’s gonna kick my ass? Send his dog? » “Yeah, Damien, eh!” Another one was standing next to Desden; he looked quite drunk – and quite tiny next to him. “So, what happens if I do this?” He waved his hand in front of Desden’s face; in doing so, his sleeve brushed Desden’s shoulder, who jerked away as far as he could while keeping his hold on the table. He was as red as his backpack and was biting his lips furiously. They had to leave. “Look, he moved! Eh, wait, is he mute, too, or what?”

Diane didn’t give them a look, leaned over the table and pressed Desden’s hand. “You were right. Let’s go.” He just nodded in answer. They both got up, and she led the way, Desden and Kalinka right behind her, feigning to ignore the sneering men around, bumping into them when they wouldn’t move. They managed to get to the counter. Desden mumbled. “I’ll pay.” She did not argue.

“Yeah bring him home, tuck him into bed. How much does he pay you, really? Do you sleep with him, too? Is it part of the contract?” Desden felt Diane stop. Like this was one comment too many. They were in the street, now, and he would have thought the men wouldn’t have followed, that they would have stayed inside and carried on with their drinking, forgetting about them as soon as they left. But they apparently weren’t drunk enough for that. He tried to talk to Diane. “Come on, let’s just leave. It’s okay. Let’s go now.” He had found her sleeve, and was tugging at it. But she wouldn’t move. The guy was still talking – more or less saying the same things on repeat, nothing really inventive.

This type of person was not something he’d encounter often, but he already had. There was nothing else to do than retreat to another place. Most probably home because he was beginning to feel tipsy and that wasn’t good.

“Diane, let’s go. Please.” It had no effect on her. He let go of her arm; he actually was ready to leave without her, that is, if he hadn’t feared for her. She moved away from him, not speaking; he had no idea whatever was going on, or through her mind, at this moment. Frustration and fear were getting on his nerves. Again.

Until he heard, more or less at the same time, the guy suddenly shut up, and a perfectly audible, painful crunch. And then tables or chairs collapsing.

Diane shook her hand, trying to relieve the pain of the punch, and walked towards the man she had just broken the nose of – but surprisingly, not the glasses. She looked down at him from all her height – not much, and he was still half lying on one of the fallen tables – and said in a low, growling voice she didn’t even recognize herself : “One : I am boxing since I am seven. Also, I grew up with three sisters, it teaches you. Two : you are an arsehole. Three : he is not my boyfriend, but if he was, I’d probably be a lucky girl. He is much more of a man than you’ve probably ever been. You are filth. Go home, arsehole, you’re drunk.”

“You are ALL fucking going home. You’ve ruined my terrasse, bloody tossers!” The barman – where had he been all this time? – put his hand on Desden’s shoulder. “You okay, mate? Need a lift? I been late on this, but I’m not a cunt.”

Diane was shaken. The guys were all silent, shocked, too. Sobered up, hopefully. She was. She deliberately turned away from them to walk by Desden.

He was white as a sheet. How had he turned so suddenly from totally red to white was a mystery. He took his glasses off – the first time Diane had ever seen him do so – keeping his eyes closed, he rubbed his face with the back of his hand. He started slowly: “No I think I’ll be okay… I have…” He stopped, then bursted out, something between a genuine and a hysterical laughter. “I think I have a bodyguard!”

“You’re all fucking drunk. Piss off, all of you, or I call the cops. » “You should call the cops! Look what she did! She broke his fucking nose, man! “Yeah, well. Want me to call the cops, I’ll call the cops. Then you’ll have to explain to them why you were harassing a woman and a blind man. Good luck. I was going to throw you out, well, I couldn’t predict she would react like that. Too fast for me. Now fuck off. And I’m keeping an eye on you boys. You ain’t following those two. In fact you’re going to stay there for a while. Now,” He turned towards Desden and Diane, who were already leaving, “you two, piss off.”

Here they were, walking in the middle of a deserted street – it wasn’t that late, but it was a week day. Desden had finally calmed down, but still had random bouts of giggling. Diane felt torn between the same kind of maniacal laughter and the need to throw up. Not because she was drunk.

It took a long time before Desden spoke. “This was -« “Terrible. » “Epic. I have never had anyone fighting for me before! » Desden smiled a broad smile. “What? I didn’t fight for you.”

Diane was still angry. She had to calm down. “And you make it sound like it was a noble fight or whatever. I just punched him.” She hoped he couldn’t hear the trembling in her voice, but he probably could. “I just grew sick of him and I had too much to drink. Sorry. This guy, he… He fucking touched me. Twice. The first time he put his hands on my shoulders, and then he ostensibly grabbed my… It’s… it’s disgusting. And he kept being fucking rude to you. Like you weren’t even there. “I am sorry. Really.” He couldn’t help but chuckling again: “And I know. I actually was there.” “Do you really find this funny or is it the alcohol, or adrenaline showing? “Probably all of this. Sorry. » Desden let his head down and stopped talking. They walked silently again for a few minutes. Diane envied the ignorant calm of Kalinka, who was just there doing her job, and had apparently already forgotten the tension of a few minutes ago. She could see the top of the footbridge. Arrived there, they would part ways – Desden lived nearby on the other side, and wasn’t really into people walking him home, as she understood. Right now he had his hand on her arm, but he could probably manage. He wasn’t really drunk and knew those streets like the back of his hand. She still felt bad about the idea of letting him go alone, though, after what happened. Or maybe it was her who needed someone to walk her home. And probably stay with her. They had reached the footbridge, drenched in a harsh orange light. Diane felt an urge to look over the railing, to have a look at the river at night, to see if the furious rambling she could hear translated into something that resembled what she felt. The river was pitch-black. Not even the slightest, orange-y bit of foam. She sighed. “You okay? I mean, seriously. “Yeah, allright. “Well, you definitely don’t sound okay. “I am, though. “Mmh-mhh.” Desden didn’t look nor sound convinced. He had stopped next to her, and was taking his cane out of his backpack – a sign that he felt at least a little drunk, as he could walk the road back to his home following only his dog, usually. She had seen him do it countless times. She wanted to stay with him. Not to protect him, not to make sure he made it home safely. Because she was not sure of making it home safe herself. Because she felt like going back to her empty flat would make her scream. Because she felt she needed to be held and told she had not done a terrible stupid thing, and that she wanted the arms holding her to be his. “You don’t want company, walking home? You do sound pretty shaken. “Desden, you’re the one always claiming you’re not made of glass. Am I the one who is, then? “Well, obviously not… Okay, okay, it’s just that I don’t like to leave a friend alone like that. “Are we going to accompany each other back home until the end of the night, then? “No need to be all witty, eh. Sorry. I’ll go. Just… take care, ok? And don’t think about this too much. It’s nothing. He deserved it. If he gets it taken care of right away, there will be nothing to see in a few weeks. “Would you have punched him, if you could? “I don’t know. I… don’t think so. Never been a fighter. I’m a coward, really. Always been. “Do you… do you think he’s going to file a complaint against me? “He doesn’t have your name, right? The only thing he has that could help find you is me.” None of them moved, nor talked. It seemed they didn’t know how to leave. She was reluctantly stepping away when he spoke again. Desden had apparently been thinking, because he suddenly said, as if continuing their previous conversation: “And that little speech you gave? It was great. Especially that part about me not being your boyfriend, but – “Wait, you heard that? “Well, I have good ears, but I’m pretty sure the whole pub heard it, Diane. “Shit. It was… anger talking. I hate this type of people. When I’m angry I just ramble, it’s nothing, sorry. “Really? So you don’t actually think what you said?” Was it her or did his hand on her arm, he had put it back there somehow,

tightened a little? “What, about you being a better man? Of course, what, yes I do!” “No.” He took a step closer to her. She could feel the warmth in his breath, now. His hand was definitely holding her arm tighter. The crooked smile had returned, but he was not giggling anymore. “About the fact that you’d be lucky if I was your boyfriend.” She didn’t know what to answer. Because she didn’t know what she actually thought about it. Yeah, it was probably true, but… He let go of Kalinka’s leash and brought his hand up, apparently hesitating. Then he smiled again, and felt for the side of her face, lightly resting his hand on her cheek. “Can I?” “Uh, yeah?” He was going to touch her face. That was what blind people did, right? Like, in film. It felt awkward, them being – admittedly alone – doing that in the middle of the street. On the other hand, while she had been disgusted by the touch of that man in the pub, she could feel blood pounding in her ears right now… But Desden just quickly trailed the line of her chin, stroked her lips with his thumb, bent over and kissed her. A very sweet kiss. A very unexpected one, too. He could probably feel she was surprised by her slight recoil – he had a step back, too. “That… you didn’t actually say yes for that, right?” Red was back on his cheeks, and he looked confused, head tilted on the side. She had never noticed how much of an open book he was. You could read everything on his face, and she couldn’t even see his eyes. He was obviously as embarrassed as she was. “Miscommunication? “Yeah, I… sorry. “No, no, I’m the one who’s sorry.” He let go of her arm. “Sorry, I thought… Alright, I’m probably still drunk. I should go.” She should have let him go, called it a day and went home too. That was the right thing to do. This was definitely not the time to do anything else. She caught his arm – remembering too late that he hated that, let go of it and just hugged him. The top of her head didn’t even brush his chin. Desden took his time to close his arms around her, and did it very slowly, as if she was a small animal anything could frighten into flight. He sighed. “If we’re going this road you probably should talk a little more, alright? Or miscommunication will happen.” He could feel her answer as much as he heard it, as she kept her face pressed against his chest. “Okay. “We still… friends, then?” He felt pained to have to say so, but he’d rather state it and keep her close than have her run away because he was dumb. He’d been definitely dumb to think she was anything else than a friend. It was good. He didn’t have many. “No more of this. Friends. All right?” He felt her head move against him. Just to hold her was good enough. “All right.”

Taglist : @heirsoflilith @hughstheforcelou @shutterbug-12 @omg-okimhere @foxesandmagic

#writing #writeblr #original story #short story #original fiction #original characters

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hazbincalifornia · 3 years ago

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Choice

Chapter 24: Blitzo goes back to work.

Warnings: As always, mpreg, and an IMP death relating to hanging.

Likes, replies, and reblogs are all appreciated, both here and on ao3!

Ao3 link

“Welcome back, Blitzo!” Millie smiled from her seat atop Loona’s desk as Blitzo threw the door to the office open. “I know it’s only been a couple of days, but I’m sure it-”

“Millz, love you to death, but put a sock in it before I do it for you,” he growled, eyes narrow and fists clenched tighter than a politician’s asshole as he chucked his already-drained iced coffee cup into the trash. Loona shuffled in behind him and dropped on the couch, pointedly focusing on her phone screen.

“Geez, who whizzed in your cereal? Something happen?” Millie blinked, bouncing herself up a bit on her seat to keep at his eye level. “Can we help?”

Moxxie emerged from Blitzo's office, shuffling papers. “We’ve managed the cases so far just fine, but I need you to sign off on-”

“You can sign my-” Blitzo sucked in a deep breath, pinching his forehead before letting it out. “Fine, everything’s fine.”

Moxxie raised an eyebrow. “I take it something went wrong. That, or you’re just sex-hungover. That can happen, you know-”

Millie cut him off with a click of her tongue, and his mouth snapped shut. “Moxxie, we don’t need the honeymoon story, I think somethin’s really wrong. He looks all slumpy, like a willow-weed in the r-”

“Can both of you lay off? I don't need the tag-team act right now.” Blitzo wove around Moxxie and his pile of paperwork to enter his office- the one that Moxxie shouldn't have been gallivanting in and out of. “You two deal with the client, I just really, really want to fucking shoot something, so tell me when the deal’s done, alright?”

Millie sucked in her cheek and Moxxie glanced over to her before his eyes flicked back to Blitzo, whose fingers twitched before he slammed the door in their faces.

_______________________

Three sharp knocks on the door. “Sir? It’s time to go, unless you want us to work by ourselves again. We’re more than capable-”

“No, I’m up, I’m up.” Blitzo scrubbed at his eyes- any attempts to fall asleep at his desk and make up for the complete lack of any kind of rest last night had been thoroughly thwarted by his brain going at a hundred miles an hour. (The coffee wasn’t to blame. Probably. He’d fallen asleep on way more than the piddly single one he’d downed in the past.) Mostly, it had been wanting to throttle Stolas mixed with wanting to throttle himself, and then imagining rapidly escalating scenarios of where he might be able to chuck the kid once they popped out. (Currently, he was at ‘trying to slingshot them up to Heaven just to see what they’d do with it.’ In all likelihood, it’d be crucifix batting practice.)

“It’s one that the client said might be suicidal, but she seemed quite self-important and thought that her boyfriend wouldn’t be able to live without her anyway, so I wouldn’t trust that.” The chair creaked as Blitzo got up, but if it was because it was a couple years old and salvaged from the back of the circus’s dump or because of the deadweight around his gut that had officially turned his shirt into a crop top was anybody’s guess.

As he entered the main room, Moxxie was rubbing a cloth over the musical note on the side of his gun, and Millie fussed with a length of rope while humming to herself.

“I’unno sugar, the client said he was kinda hefty…”

“We have other options if it breaks, and clients often exaggerate that sort of thing. Besides, it just needs to hold him long enough to snap the neck, or at least asphyxiate him. Then they’ll just assume it broke after he died.”

“I’m just saying, it’s more cleanup.”

“Well, this is the kind of rope they can usually get topside, so I say we- oh, good, you’re here.” Moxxie pointed to the paper piled up on the coffee table. “I already did all the hard bits, I just need your signature.”

“Right, right. Signature. Got it. Then we get to go kill something, right?”

Moxxie glanced over at Millie, and the look they exchanged passed way more information than Blitzo’d ever be able to parse. Must be a marriage thing. Must be nice, too. Being able to know what each other was thinking and shit. Real useful.

“Yeah, hun, then we can go kill something. Nothing like some good ol’ violence to get the blood pumping, right?” Millie smiled as Blitzo dashed off a loopy B on each of the papers. Most of them were bills, a few were paychecks that he’d probably just forgotten in the mess of the past few months since Moxxie would know better than to try and slip extras in since it would destroy the budget anyway, there was one approving the repairs for the fire, right, right, this was why he let Moxxie handle all the boring shit, at least it was easy to just sign the dotted line- there. Done.

Blitzo cracked his knuckles, tail snapping in mid-air. “Right! Let’s go fuck somebody up!”

“There we go!” Millie gave a little laugh, punching his arm as Moxxie picked up the Grimoire and opened to the right page before drawing the circle with his free hand. Loona was still settled on the couch behind him, nursing a sports drink from the fridge and half-watching the three of them, head tilted slightly.

Moxxie nodded to the portal, setting the book down on the desk. “Right behind you, sir.”

____________________

The guy didn’t even fight back when they woke him up and strung him up. What a wuss. Hangings were usually fun since they squirmed and made funny noises while trying to break free if the neck didn't snap when the chair dropped, but it wasn’t nearly bloody enough for Blitzo’s taste today. Oh, sure, he’d clawed at the rope that had manufactured nylon sharp enough to carve out blood from under his nails, but his face was purpling at a rapid rate, so they probably didn’t have to do anything other than let gravity finish the job for them, especially considering his kicks were starting to slow anyway.

“You want to go watch some wrestling death-matches when we get back home? I heard they’re bringing the Big Boar in, he’s some sinner who was a lucador back in life. That’ll get some of that killer instinct out.” Millie gave a playful growl as she rummaged around in the target’s belongings. Blitzo watched her hips waggle for a moment before she made a little ‘hmmph’ at a pin-up cowgirl calendar.

“Hmm… tempting, Millz, tempting.”

“Pride wrestling’s more like good ol’ fashioned blood sport, especially when they get the guys that can regenerate limbs!” She ground her fist into her palm with an intense look. Moxxie rolled his eyes as Blitzo leaned against the wall.

“Pl-ease… sa...ve..” the human wheezed out before Moxxie poked at his stomach, and he coughed up blood directly on the little imp before falling limp. Moxxie grimaced, using the man’s somewhat-sweaty bedsheet nearby to clean himself off.

“Perhaps you could invite his highness? I remember him saying something about-”

“Nope,” Blitzo snapped out immediately. “Not gonna fuckin’ happen.”

Moxxie raised an eyebrow, dropping the sheets. “It was just a suggestion, sir. Had too much of him over the past few days?”

“You could say that,” Blitzo muttered, a hand resting on his stomach, and Millie's eyes softened.

“Aw, you could have said something. He ride you too hard?”

The fingers curled inwards, claws dragging above the surface and lighting it up red, forcing him away from his own skin. “Something along those lines, yeah. You two can drop this anytime, you know.”

“Well, at least the little one will be out of your hair soon,” Moxxie said. “Just a few more months, then I would imagine it’s just visitations now and then. You said that you’d already discussed things with him about custody, right?”

Blitzo swallowed, the hand raising up from his belly to rub at the back of his neck. “So, er, about that-”

The wood groaned as Moxxie took a step forward. “No. You didn’t.”

“Come on, Moxx, he was drooling over it, how the fuck was I supposed to know he wanted me to-”

Moxxie threw up his hands. “What have I told you? To think about what you’re doing! What do you do? Throw yourself-”

“Oh, you think this is my fault?”

“Of course it’s your fault!” Moxxie folded his arms. “What did I say when you were considering keeping it? That it was going to be a big responsibility! You barely can call Loona civilized and she’s somehow a legal adult, what in the seven rings would you fuck up if you had to raise an actual child?”

“Exactly! I don’t fucking want to!” Blitzo spat out with enough venom to make Moxxie’s fingers tighten on his arms. “That’s the point, I thought this was just going to be for a couple of months and then yeah, maybe getting to see them now and then wouldn't suck the worst ass if they turn out cool, but I’ve got other shit to do! I’m a busy guy, and I’d definitely fuck it-”

“Blitzo…” Millie reached out a hand before curling it into a loose fist in midair. “Hun, I’m sorry.”

“Yes. Thank you, Millie.”

“Although…” She gnawed on her lip for a moment, and he groaned.

“Don’t you start-”

“Why did you adopt Loona then? I’m genuinely wonderin’, that’s all. You love her to bits, why’s this different? If you hadn’t done that I wouldn’t be askin’, but… you like being a dad.”

“I…” He trailed off. There was a scuttering in the wall behind him, like a roach or some other grimy-grody pest, and a chill drilled down the vertebrae of his spine as a shiver ran through his bones. Why was the sweat dripping down his side cold, like condensation on the side of a frozen water bottle? Damned drafty house. “I wanted to be there for somebody, somebody that I chose to be, and that won't-" He cleared his throat, shaking his head to start over. "Anyway, she’s a good kid who's figuring her shit out and I like hanging out with her. I'm glad to be her dad. That's different."

“Why would this be so bad, then?” Millie repeated.

Blitzo scoffed. “ ‘Cause I got Loona when she was older and I had to go through a buncha bullshit to sign the papers instead of just getting nutted in and having it sprung on me? That was an active effort, and teenagers are basically an entirely different species from babies, I’ve only had to clean up her shit a couple of times-”

“Did not need to know that,” Moxxie muttered.

“-Shut up Moxxie, but anyway, point is, Loonie was already walking and talking and has her own tastes and shit, most babies are just worthless little parasites until they’re, like, ten. I was a fuckin’ miserable little thing to deal with according to literally fucking everybody, so why the fuck would I want to inflict that on myself when I can help somebody that’s already gotten through most of the annoying phase? Plus, her sense of fashion kicks ass. Babies can't pick you out dope outfits." His tail snaked up and tapped his shoulder. "Point to me, excellent reasoning.”

“She’s still your daughter, and you still have to deal with a lot from-” Millie tried to continue, but Blitzo held up a hand.

“Look, it’s just different, okay? The apartment’s crowded enough. I’ll figure this out somehow.”

“...If you’re sure,” Millie said, shifting her weight on the creaky floorboards. “How did the prince take it?”

“Ugh, you really think I want to get deep into his little wah-wah I-thought-you-knew bullshittery?” Blitzo snorted. “I don’t give a shit what he thinks, he should have been upfront about the fact that I was going to be ruining both me and the squirt’s life instead of just being a fuckin’ incubator for cash. End of story.”

There was a nudge from inside of him that was much sharper than usual, and Blitzo’s eyes snapped down.

“Did you just fuckin’ bite me?”

#helluva boss #one time #shadow writes stuff #helluva mpreg #daddy blitzo

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palettepainter · 4 years ago

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Overworked

Wanted to do a quick story with Taiho since he’s the least developed of the Higari siblings.

Taiho is the worry wort of the family, he does all the paperwork for the family business so that causes him to stress a lot. Thankfully big brother Higari is there to lend him a hand, and tell him when to go take a nap you dumb idiot

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taiho murmed in his sleep at the unpleasant feeling of something hard and cold jabbing his cheek.

He tired to turn away, rolling his head in the opposite direction, but that only got whoever was poking him to shake his shoulder. He grumbled and tried to shake them off with a roll of his shoulder

“Taiho. Tai. Wake up!”

Taiho finally stirred awake and, with effort, sat up at his desk, one hand brushing his fringe out of his eyes “Mmnnnrr?”

Higari, his older brother, stood at the end of his desk - and though his fringe hid most of his face, it was clear in his crossed arms and tone he wasn’t impressed with the state he found him in “You’ve been overworking again haven’t you?” He said while glancing towards the messy pile of paper on his brothers desk

Taiho blinked slowly, like a bear waking from winter “Whuzzah?” Taiho observed his desk for a long moment, looking at all the bills and paper forms scattered across it. He waved his hand “No no, I’m fine! Really, this doesn’t happen as often as think Higari”

Higari rose a bold brow and then pointed to Taiho’s face, where a piece of paper was stuck to his cheek “You’ve drooled all over your work”

Taiho hummed and then lifted a hand to his cheek. So he had - an old payment form from a car repair they’d done last week was glued to his face “Uh..” he sheepishly pulled it away, quickly placing it down onto his desk and trying to ignore Higari’s piercing stare

Higari sighed “Go to bed Taiho”

“Higari I’m fine, really“ Taiho attempted to bargain, but he should have know that Higari would not be deterred so easily. Higari rose his brow higher, and tapped his foot - Taiho gulped “S-Seriously, I’m fine!“ Clusmily, Taiho scrapped his arm over his desk in an attempt to shove all his paperwork to one side, but that only made him knock over a pen pot and then his half empty cup of tea, which had gone disgustingly cold hours ago. Higari watched as Taiho then scrambled to pick up the mug and pens “I just- We’re a little behind on paperwork, that’s all! I-I mean-” he did a rolling motion with his hand “With Chikara and Suru actually doind the repairs and Hono with his demolition job, a-and Ma takin’ care of the house-”

Higari sighed and shook his head “Alright, do me a favour” Higari held both of his arms out infront of him “Hold out your arms like this”

Taiho hesitated, sensing an ulterior motive “U-Uhm, I don’t really w-”

“Do it” Higari repeated strenly

Taiho made a noise of discomfort, looking almost embarrassed as he shyly raised his arms out like Higari had shown. His arms where shaky

Higari once again, sighed “You can’t keep workin’ Taiho ya need rest”

Instantly Taiho drew his arms back to him and turned in his chair away from Higari, who didn’t falter despite his brothers whinny, childish behaviour. “I’m fine” Taiho gritted, cheeks turning pink at the fretting “Theres just been more..paperowrk then usual this month” he tried to defuse the situation, shrug off the problem, his attempts where futile as - with stupid ease - Higari yanked Taiho’s chair away from the desk with one hand, drawing a startled yelp from his brother who’s hands grabbed onto the arms of his seat to prevent him from falling out

“Yer a real stubborn piece a work ya know that?“ Higari said while making his way towards the desk, scooping up handfulls of the scattered forms and placing them into a pile. Taiho went to stand “Ah, Higari, you don’t have to-”

“Sit down, or I’ll make you“ Higari half warned, still cleaning up the paper.

Taiho knew better then to test Higari’s patience, and without a word, promptly sat his rump back into his chair, lips pressed together into a thin line

Higari turned to him briefly, then looked back to his mine field of a desk, one corner of his mouth turned up into a grin at how easy Taiho had been put back in his place. Once you could see the desk again and the paper and pens had been put back in their rightful places, Higari looked back to Taiho, who was slouching and rubbing his neck, looking guilty.

Higari’s tone was softer when he spoke “You know you can’t keep doin’ this to yourself right? Yer not gonna be able to help if you’re contantly burnin’ yourself out. Ya gotta remember to takes breaks every now and again”

“I know..“ Taiho replied quietly, looking far more interested in the floor “It’s just...I dunno“ he shrugged lazily, hands pulling back through his hair “Chikara and Suru are so busy with doing the actual repairin’ and such, and with Hono and his job I-..I-I’m the only one who can really do this stuff“ Higari, sensing Taiho had more to say, simply kept quite and offered Taiho the chance to continue. Which he did: “And if it’s not done, we don’t get the payment through or- o-or the right parts ordered, or the machine part delivered back to the right person! A-And- And then EVERYTHING becomes a mess!“ He threw his arms out for exaggeration, Higari leaned back to avoid getting smacked

“A-And...and...“ Taiho deflated, letting out a long sigh that ended in a groan, his hands cushioned against his face as he rubbed them over his fave, muffling another long groan.

“Hey..“ it was Higari’s turn to talk as he reached forward to put a hand on Taiho’s shoulder. Taiho didn’t pull his face away from his hands, but did peak out to his brother through the gaps between his fingers “Don’t get yourself worked up over what if’s and maybes. You’re smarter then that, heck, you’re probably the smartest kid outta the family!“ Here did Taiho pull his face up from his hands, up close Higari could now see clearly the dark circles under his eyes and how his beard look more scruffier then usual “The town is pretty small, everybody more or less knows each other and their neighbours - has anyone ever gotten mad over a mistake before?“

“No..” Taiho answered, scratching his neck

“Then why would anyone start now? The communicty knows you, Chi and Suru are all runnin’ the business by yourselves, you guys are all good but yer still three people“ Taiho glanced to him and then looked away again, obviously still ashamed at getting so burried under his work load. Higari was unsure what to do, but had an idea pretty quickly “Sides, if anyone gives you trouble, I’ll give em something to really kick up a fuss about”

Worry suddenly overcame Taiho’s face, Higari couldn’t help but snicker “Please..d-don’t do that” Taiho said with a wave off his hand, unsure if Higari had been joking or not.

“Hey, you guys are still my little brother and sisters.“ Higari held a hand proudly to his chest “Only I get to yell at you“

“I’m not that little anyone“ Taiho joked lightly, the tiniest of smiles coming to his face as e gestured to, even sitting down, the height difference between the two. Higari gave a dry laugh, rolling his eyes playfully - the short jokes where an easy pick he thought, but he’d let his family and Ecto get away with them.

“Har har, yeah yeah, you’re a goddamn beanpole“ At the drop of the silly nickname, Taiho let out a light chuckle, which Higari was hoping for “But that’s what big brothers do...and they also tell their little brothers to go sleep“

“Ah..I was kinda hoping you’d forgotten“ Taiho admitted, peering behind him towards the doorway and then back to his desk, hesitant to leave work unfinished. Higari peered back towards the pile of paperwork, compared to the world load he’d had and seen Ecto do, Taiho’s work load looked like a walk in the park.

“Okay, look-“ Higari pulled Taiho from his chair with strength only Chikara could rival, hoisting Taiho to his feet as he pulled the chair back round to the desk “I’ll finish up your work, and you go and rest. I’ve done this kinda paperwork a hundred times over at UA, so just and goes and rest up for a few hours“

“W-What?“ Taiho blinked down at him “No no! That’s MY work, you don’t have to-“

“Tai, I really don’t mind“ Higari jumped up onto the set, already grabbing at a pen and the first piece of paper of the pile he’d made “You’d offer the same if our roles where reversed, and this way you don’t have to worry about working when you get up“

Taiho looked ready to argue back, so while popping the lid of his pen Higari used his ace card “Ooor I could tell Ma you’ve been over-workin’ again - your choice”

The smugness in Higari’s smirk was grossily obvious as Taiho seemed to freeze up at the mention of their mother. His mother would have his head if she found out he’d gotten in such a state over work, she’d probably ban him from being near a work desk for a week till he was well rested

“U-Uh- N-No no!“ Taiho cracked a nervous chuckle under the pressure “T-Theres no need to get Ma involved“

That’s what I thought, Higari thought, but chose not to voice it. Instead he jabbed a thumb over to the small office sofa “If ya want you can always snooze ‘ere, you ain’t even gotta leave the room if you’re that nervous too”

Taiho eyed the sofa, and then the hallway, before he shuffled over to the red furniture piece on the other side of the room. Taiho laid down, hands on his chest, feet slightly hanging over one arm with his head propped up with one pillow . “Are you SURE you’re okay to do it?” Taiho asked again, sitting up as if preparing to stand up again

“With the amounta paperwork I’ve gotta work through and send off at UA, this stuff I could do with an arm tied behind my back“ Higari finished over the first piece of paper, typed some things up onto the computer screen, then reached for another form “Now stop worryin’ you muttonhead. One nap won’t ki-“

Higari stopped mid sentence at the sound of light snoring

He looked over to the sofa with a hum, and then snickered. Taiho was fast asleep, mouth open in snores, one arm and leg drapped off the sofa with the other leg hanging off the armrest. His hair was sprawled like strings of hay over the cushion behind him, and a small string of drool dribbling from the corner of his mouth. Everyone now and then he’d mutter something incoherent in his sleep, or make a weird expression, but he was thoroughly and utterly fast asleep

With Taiho at last alseep, Higari turned back round to the paperwork

..after he took a very quick picture of course

#MHA #MHA OC #powerloaders family #Powerloader #Higari #Taiho #Story

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does-it-need-saying · 4 years ago

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For the person who made life so much better this year, and who I’d most definitely be a complete mess without. I hope this helps close out your 2020 on a good note, and that you have the happiest and best and most amazing 2021 possible! This one’s for you @loupettes ❤️🐀

Sick Week

“So how long will you be staying here? A day? Two?”

“And by you, you mean we, right?”

The Doctor and Rose were making their way over to Jackie’s flat. After a rather shrill call about not getting a visit in the last month, Rose had been particularly keen on making an impromptu visit home. Although the Doctor still hadn’t exactly seemed to accept it.

“Well she’s your mum, Rose. You don’t see me dragging you along to every single one of my affairs, do you?” Rose stopped them in their tracks and gave the Doctor that unmistakable ‘are you being serious right now?’ face. The Doctor sighed, very much in defeat, and tugged on Rose to continue on. “Fiiiiine, we. I meant we. How long will we be staying here? A few hours?”

Rose rolled her eyes now, choosing to ignore that last remark. “A week.” And feeling a ‘but Rose!’ rising in his throat, she quickly continued on. “I promised her a week so we’re gonna be here a week. And if you make a fuss about it, I’ll up it to two weeks. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he gave in.

Of course Rose didn’t really care whether he was a willing participant or not, but she was quite happy to see she still had him wrapped nicely around her finger. So with an extra hop in her stop, she smiled at him, looped her arm through his, and moved to give him a quick peck on the cheek. But upon feeling a fiery heat on his skin, she recoiled back. “Blimey, what’s wrong with you?”

“Oi! I give into your exact demand and this is the treatment I get? You are a bully, Rose Tyler! Nothing but a mean and hurtful tyrant!”

Rose waited a minute to see if he had any more dramatics left in him. “You done then?”

“Mmmmmm… I believe so.”

Rose chuckled. “Good then, you big baby. All I meant is you’re feelin’ awfully hot there, practically burned me to the touch.”

“Am I?” the Doctor asked, intrigued enough to touch all around his face.

“You mean you don’t feel that?”

“Ahh, that’s just my fancy shmancy temperature regulation kicking in. How else do you think I could survive running around in this giant coat all day? Or did you think I was just that impressive?” he asked with a sly smile just as they arrived outside the estate.

“Okay, but that still doesn’t answer my question. Are ya sick or something? ‘Cause if you’re about to be passed out in bed again I’d like a little heads up. In case another dangerous alien invasion comes up, ya know?”

“If I tell you I’m sick does that get me out of staying with your mother all week?” Rose just crossed her arms at him. “Fine, fine,” he quickly conceded as he opened the door for her and followed her up the stairs. “I’m fine, though. Just something that happens occasionally due to the whole aforementioned temperature regulation thingy. Always good to know when it happens, though, so feel free to let me know when you think I’m ‘hot’ anytime.”

Rose could practically hear the grin spreading on his face, and she couldn’t help but smile herself. Though she was thankful she happened to be in front of him so he couldn’t see how extremely red her cheeks were now. “In your dreams,” she teased.

Following a few more flights of stairs and a couple pushes forward from Rose, the pair finally found themselves outside the flat.

“Any last words then?” Rose asked cheekily as she pushed her key into the lock.

“God help me,” the Doctor pretended to pray.

Rose just snorted back at him as she turned the key, but as soon as the door opened her attention shifted. “Mum!!! We’re here!”

“Well it’s about time!” They could hear Jackie shout from the kitchen and went to join her.

“Sorry Mum,” Rose tried to appease her with a hug, but it wasn’t quite working out.

“’We’ll be back in a week, promise. Just a week’,” Jackie tried imitating her daughter. “A whole bloody month it’s been! A bloody month without so much as a proper call to let me know how you are?! For all I knew you could’ve been dead! Or ‘ad joined some alien cult!!”

Rose just stood there, choosing to take all of her mother’s anger now rather than wait for it to inevitably get worse later on. Meanwhile, the Doctor stuck himself as silently as he could to the doorframe. He was certainly entertained watching someone else getting the Jackie-Tyler-Talking-To for once, evident by the smirk plastered on his face. Or at least he was quite enjoying it until an inadvertent snort escaped his lips and Jackie’s wrath was immediately drawn to him.

“And what do you think you’re laughin’ about, then? You’d think after that year you stole my daughter for, you’d be a bit more careful about keeping up with the visits! But no, you’re just as much an idiot now as you were then!”

The Doctor stood up straight now. “Jackie-“

“Mum,” Rose quickly interrupted him. “We’re sorry, alright. I’m sorry. Just got the dates a bit messed up in my head, but I promise it won’t happen again. Okay?”

Jackie took a hard look at Rose, then at the Doctor, then back at Rose. She let out her breath, and any anger she had left with it. “Fine, then. But for letting you get off easy, I want another day with you here. Patricia’s havin’ a party Sunday afternoon and I never get to show you off anymore, so I reckon you owe me that.”

“Yes, Mum, of course,” Rose promptly agreed, taking Jackie back into a now fully loving hug, while daring the Doctor to argue with a slightly murderous glare. Needless to say, he chose not to fight it.

“Well, then, now that that’s sorted,” Jackie said, taking a step back. “Anyone up for a cuppa?”

---

“You’re puttin’ me on! There’s no way you just happened to run into the Paul McCartney on Abbey Road!”

“All the things we’ve told her about, and that’s the one thing she won’t believe?” Rose sighed to the Doctor.

“It does sound a bit unbelievable, I suppose,” he defended.

“Not you too!” Rose laughed. “She’s bad enough, but you were actually there!”

Unlike the first few minutes of their reunion, the rest of the day was going by quite well. They had spent hours catching up, laughing, and just having the best time. Even the Doctor had quickly dropped his stubborn façade.

“I’m not saying it didn’t happen,” the Doctor continued on. “I’m just saying, if someone had told me ‘oh you know what we did today? We met one of those famous Beatles on the same road of their famous album cover all by accident’- without any of the context, mind you- I might not believe it either.”

“Ha!” Jackie gloated. “I knew there was a reason I still put up with him!”

“Mmhmm,” Rose hummed, deciding to take the loss. She slumped back into her seat as she accepted a sly smile from the Doctor before he took a bite of his chocolate biscuit.

“Mmm, this is absolutely delicious! Did you make these, Jackie?” he asked with his mouth full.

“No, they were a gift from Susan. She just opened a bakery down the road, she did. Great little place.”

“Well, give her my compliments!” The Doctor reached for another biscuit as he was still finishing off the first one.

Jackie sighed at him, noticing all the chocolate smudges around his lips. “Ya’ know there’d be more for you to enjoy if you ate properly.” She licked the tip of her thumb and pressed it to the mess on his face, only to be surprised with his burning hot skin. “Oh sweetheart!” she practically jumped on him, taking him in her arms. “Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feelin’ well, love?! You’re burnin’ up!”

“No, Mum—” Rose tried.

“Jackie, it’s not—” the Doctor tried.

“Oh don’t you go trying to make up excuses. I don’t care what planet you’re from, a fever is never normal!”

“No, actually it’s perfectly normal. You see—” the Doctor tried again, but either Jackie chose to ignore him or wasn’t listening in the first place.

“Now listen, here,” she went on, getting up off the couch while pushing him down. “You’re gonna lie down right here for now and I’m gonna go make you some more tea. I’ve got a special recipe just for these things, works wonders! And when you finish with it, we’ll take you to Rose’s room to get a good night’s sleep. Rose, you can sleep on the couch this stay—”

“But Mum, he’s not even--!”

“Don’t you argue with me, little miss! You may be out travellin’ all of time and space, but I’m still your mum and you’ll do as I say.”

Once again, Rose slumped back in defeat. “Yes, Mum.”

“Good. Now, I still don’t know much about alien sickness, not exactly like there’re any books on it at the shops. But ever since that last time on Christmas Day, I’ve been stockin’ up, just in case ya’ know. So anything you might need, I’ve got it all. Vitamins, acetaminophen, fish oil, sugary treats, salty snacks…”

Jackie continued rambling on her admittedly quite impressive list as she made her way to the kitchen. Rose and the Doctor were left on their own, just staring at each other trying to figure out what they’re next move would be. But they were both coming up blank. They could take on Daleks, Cyberman, and even Satan himself any day, but a determined Jackie? Their only option was to let things take their course naturally. Of course, the Doctor seemed to be a bit happier with the situation than Rose. A few days of being fully taken care of for once? Maybe this stay wouldn’t be as bad as he feared it would be…

“…and of course loads and loads of tea, since that’s what seemed to do the trick last time,” Jackie finally concluded as she returned, setting down the fresh cup of tea. “Right then, I’m gonna go get some extra blankets for you. And Rose, why don’t you go tidy up your room a bit, yeah? It’s always a mess in there, make sure it’s all nice and comfy for when he’s ready to head in.”

“Yes, Mum,” Rose grumbled, getting up. And with all her willpower she refrained herself from giving a nice slap to the Doctor, who was almost begging for one as he waggled his eyebrows at her.

---

Over the next few days, the Tyler residence had slowly turned into more of a resort for the Doctor. Jackie and (begrudgingly) Rose started waiting on him hand and foot, tending to his every need. And the Doctor was certainly milking the experience for all it was worth. Though the first few days he wasn’t exactly sure how to deal with this sort of attention, it didn’t take long for him to learn exactly how to be, what Rose continuously and emphatically was calling him, a man baby.

Admittedly, Rose had become a bit jealous of all the attention the Doctor was getting. Sure, it wasn’t like Jackie had shoved her aside whenever she got sick as a kid. But she genuinely couldn’t remember ever having been so pampered- and that was including her bout of appendicitis in the fourth grade. Still, she did rather enjoy seeing her mum and the Doctor getting on so well. When Jackie wasn’t ‘nursing him back to health’, Rose would catch them gabbing on about some reality show they started watching together, or laughing over the latest estate gossip. She always did suspect they cared more for each other than they let on, and it was nice to finally know it wasn’t just in her head. Even if it did mean having to take care of that perfectly fine twat of a Time Lord.

Finally, though, on the fourth day, the Doctor’s ‘fever’ broke and the magic spell he seemed to have over Jackie wore off. As quickly as she had dove into action, she jumped right back out. The days of automatically full cups of tea, bed side delivery of whatever either of his hearts desired, and a completely nurturing Jackie were gone. And though he wasn’t exactly proud to admit it, it did take longer than he would have thought to return to self-sufficient life.

Not that that put any damper on the rest of their stay, though. The three of them immediately went back to having the same good time which was promptly interrupted that first day. Between movie marathons, wandering the town, a few competitive games of Monopoly (which Jackie somehow always won), and a load of chatting, there wasn’t a dull moment to be found. And when Sunday came along, it was actually the Doctor who seemed most excited to head off to Patricia’s party. His enthusiasm even seemed to rub off on Rose, who had grown tired of these estate get-togethers before she had even learned how to read. But it was nearly impossible not to have a good – no, great- time watching the Doctor fail miserably at limbo and pulling her to dance what seemed like every five minutes.

But eventually the party came to an end and Monday rolled around, bringing with it a sort of gloominess in anticipation of the Doctor and Rose’s departure. Where they all would have been sharing smiles and laughs just a few days ago, there was an eerie and awkward silence instead. Until finally the inevitable had come and they were all crowded together in the flat’s tiny hallway by the front door.

“Now, don’t go forgettin’ about me again, got it? I expect to see you two back here next week. And you better not be lookin’ 20 years older by then, either!”

“We’ll be back next week, Mum. And I promise I won’t have aged more than five years. Tops,” Rose tried joking.

Jackie gave a forced laugh, hugged her daughter, then turned to the Doctor. “And you- you better keep takin’ good care o’ her… and yourself.”

The Doctor only nodded in agreement, a small smile growing on his face. A week ago he probably wouldn’t have admitted to being touched by Jackie’s well wishes for him, but now he felt quite grateful for it. So when Jackie moved to give him a hug him, for once he embraced her back just as warmly.

“Well then…” Jackie started, taking a step back from them. But she couldn’t bring herself to actually say goodbye. And apparently neither Rose nor the Doctor could either as they stood in their own silence for some time.

“Ya know…” It was the Doctor who spoke up this time, scratching the back of his head. “I think we’ve got some more time on our hands. You were talkin’ about wanting to catch that special tonight on—err… the Arctic, weren’t you, Rose?”

“Mmm, yeah,” Rose caught on and quickly agreed. “I was just sayin’ earlier- remember?- how it’d be a real shame to miss it.”

“And I- ya know… if I head off alone I’m no good at getting out of trouble all by myself… So why don’t we both stick around an extra day?”

“Really?” Jackie couldn’t help but beam at the suggestion. Then catching herself, “I mean… if you want to… s’ppose I could reschedule dinner with Diane and Linda for another night- if it’s what you two would like.”

“That’d be great, Mum,” Rose smiled.

“Oh and I was thinkin’,” Jackie went on without missing a beat, already heading back to the living room. “It’d be awful fun to go down and take a ride at the London Eye! Haven’t done that since you were real little. Oh and then after that we could head over to Susan’s bakery and…”

The Doctor was just about to follow when he felt Rose tugging on his coat and turned to her.

“Thank you,” she smiled at him, and stood up on her tip-toes to give him a small kiss on his cheek.

“Oh don’t thank me, I’m just trying to trick you into owing me a favor for once!” he winked at her, then whisked himself off to the living room as well shouting after Jackie. “Oh! I forgot to tell you last night! You’ll never guess what Sid told me about him and Matthew!”

Rose took a moment longer for herself in the hallway as she listened to the two of them gabbing away. She’d had quite a lot of amazing moments over the past couple years, yet somehow this one week had blown them all away and she wanted to ingrain the pure feeling of happiness from it into her mind. Then, with a last little chuckle to herself wondering if she’d ever actually be able to pull the Doctor back to the TARDIS, she went to join them.

#heartfelt fluff #I hope you all enjoy!#sick week #original fic #dedicated to loupettes #I love you girl!#tenxrose #tenth doctor #rose tyler #jackie tyler #dw #doctor who

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shinymooncolor · 4 years ago

Text

Hi 💖💖

@lumosinlove is amazing. Sweater Weather is amazing. This chat and this blog and Olli and me love you all and we’re proud allies and everyone deserves to be happy and be themselves.

Here’s a little, short chat for you all. @frombeauxbatons helped me with a lot of ideas for this one 😍

I know this might not be totally realistic but. Heck, it’s fiction. 💜🖤🤍

Tried something new. So - the last part is a live interview during broadcast. All comments and thoughts and criticism welcome 😇 if you like it, I’ve got another chat for that...

So, sweater weather chat #13

Finn has a vision. And no one understands him. Sergei yells. Dumo and Sunny are pranksters. Kuny wants more lions. Olli is a good boy. The girls are proud of their boys. So much glitter.

—

Saturday 9.22 pm

Prongstar: sooo. Finn just got kicked out from the Arena by Alice. Hahahahah poor baby. He’s almost crying.

Siriusly: what happened?

DumoDad: apparently Finn’s vision was not welcomed by Alice and her team. 😂

CarbO’Hara: THEY HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THEY ARE DOING. I AM AN ARTIST AND THEY ARE SILENCING MY GENIUS

CarbO’hara: she’s mean. I was just giving some constructive criticism. 😣

Newt-leo: I’ve decorated a room with you. I have to side with Alice on this one.

Ollibear: you made one of the interns cry Finn. 🥺

CarO’Hara: HOW HARD IS IT. Certain colours match. Some don’t. It’s just stupid. I could’ve decorated that arena and the locker room way better.

Nadotheman: You’re not decorating my stall. Alice promised we could each decorate our own. Don’t you try and go pridezilla on us now.

Logantremblayzzz: leave us out. Finn is a nightmare when it comes to aestethics… you’d think he was a goalie…

Blizzard: HEY

Newt-leo: HEY

Sunnysideup: ohhh someone is on the couch tonight 😜😜😜😜

Sergei_81: I decorate my stall. Stay away.

RussianGod: I want more lions. I only got little lion. 😳

Siriusly: I get most lions. I’m captain.

Timmyforrealz: OLLI HAS 8 LIONS?!?!?!?

Ollibear: don’t you dare touch them. I will make you regret it

Nadotheman: how come you get 8???? She said there was only a certain amount

Siriusly: because no one can not crumble when Olli turns on the puppy eyes. Also everyone in the front office loves him. He never causes trouble, rarely fights and he’s just a good boy.

Ollibear: you know I’m older than you right?

DumoDad: you’re still a good boy, Olli!

Ollibear: this is weird. But I’ll take the praise.

—

Sunday 8.22 am

Blizzard: SERGEI IS YELLING AT KUNY IN THE LOCKER ROOM!!!!!

Prongstar: be right there

Siriusly: I don’t understand russian. But it sounds bad @sunnysideup

Talkiewalkie: why is his hair blue?

Blizzard: all I gathered was something something prank something something castrate something something blue

TalkieWalkie: ohhhh. Apparently someone put blue dye in Sergei’s shampoo… Oh this is fucking golden. Who came up with that 😍

Ollibear: why is he yelling at Kuny about it?

Sunnysideup: he thinks Kuny did it, Kuny claims he was framed… OH that was something about mothers. Ouch

Timmyforrealz: russian is so much cooler when cursing people 😉

Nadotheman: the blue suits him though. Makes him look younger

Newt-leo: you’d think Kuny would try to hide behind someone bigger?

Blizzard: No it’s a lot funnier this way. Poor Logan to be caught in the middle of it though 🙈

CarbO’Hara: I like how our resident gigantic enforcer is using Logan as a human shield.

Ollibear: you’re not going to rescue him? Not very chivalrous

Newt-leo: he can handle himself. Also it’s funny to see Kuny trying to hide behind him…

Blizzard: Who did come up with it? @prongstar?

Prongstar: shit I don’t have the balls to prank Sergei… Have you seen his uppercuts?

DumoDad: @sunnysideup?

Sunnysideup: 😇😇😇😇 hehehehe hehehehe ask dumo....

Nadotheman: should I rescue kuny? He’s my ride today after all. Dolores is at the car doctor. And we’re raising a cat together

LeWilliam: maybe someone distract Sergei… I’m scared…

DumoDad: Olli can do it. He loves Olli.

Ollibear: cowards. And of course he loves me. I’m the only sane one on this team.

——

Sunday 9.53 am

NatALLY: OH MY GOD!!! LOOK AT ALL THESE RAINBOWS

GingerLily: I love it! It’s adorable. Also, have you seen Finn, Logan and Leo’s jerseys?

Anyaismyname: that is cute.

Celeste: Anya… Is Sergei’s hair blue?

Linnea: yes it is. Because my idiot husband thought it was funny. And apparently he framed some of the younger boys…….

Celeste: why do I have a feeling Pascal is part of this?

Linnea: because we can’t leave them alone for 5 minutes?

Anyaismyname: they asked me to help. I helped. ;)

NatALLY: I love that! Hahaha

Linnea: what does the color on olli’s stick mean? 😌

NatALLY: hmm black, grey, white and purple. ITS ACE!!! So brave!!! 💜🖤🤍

Celeste: I love how they’re all wearing some sort of flag or colors. Proud of our boys!

GingerLily: so brave - James even bought Harry a little rainbow onesie. 🏳️‍🌈😍

Anyaismyname: we did good my lovelies 💖

NatALLY: I can’t all the glitter. Ohhh kase is not gonna be happy if that gets in his hair

GingerLily: I’m not going to tell him that James’ put glitter in his hat then.

NatALLY: please don’t 😂😂 Hahahaha

——

Sunday 10.00 am

“We’re live from Hogwarts where the Gryffindor lions are hosting a charity family skate event for lgbt+ mental health organizations. Remember to tweet, text or dm us with your questions during the broadcast and I’ll do my best to get replies from the players.”

“Joining me for a quick interview is fan favorite Thomas Walker”

“Walker, you’re wearing a rainbow jersey and is that glitter?”

“Ha yeah man! Proud ally here!!! And yeah somehow O’Hara and Nado got their hands on a box of body glitter and lemme tell ya, the locker room sparkles”

“That sounds fun. Is that the case for Ivanov’s hair too? Or is that a statement we’ve missed?”

“Ask him. Snitches get stitches eh?”

“Thanks Walker and as he’s skating away, we have Jackson Nadeau joining us. Also sporting the custom lions rainbow jersey and glitter, a lot of glitter”

“What’s wrong with glitter? I’m casual enough with myself to wear glitter”

“I’m sure you are - how’re you both feeling with this event?”

“Supporting our captain and close friends and anyone else who’ve been told they don’t belong. Lions are for all!”

“You feel strongly about this, Jackson, I didn’t mean any harm. Have there been reactions yet?”

“It’s hockey, what do you think? Lots of dicks out there but also a lot of guys who just wants to play and doesn’t care. You guys are making a fuss. Not us”

“I can ensure that the quibbler has no qualms with your captain or anything. We’re proud allies as well - which is why we’re covering this”

“Yeah thanks for that!”

“Seems like you’re having fun out there - is everyone participating today?

“ yeah uhm, I think, i mean, Kane is on IR with his elbow but he’s skating today. Not playing I think. Front office got us some cool stuff. I know I’m rocking this rainbow look. Some guys chose to wear other stuff which is cool too... kuny got glitter in his eye and is wearing a weird hat”

“I’m think you jealous”

“Haha! hello there Evgeni! How’re you enjoying today?”

“I’m have fun. Is good to. Uhm”

“Support?”

“Yeah support”

“Haha he wouldn’t survive a day without me”

“Well I’ve been following your Instagram recently - how’s your cat?”

“Princess is best cat”

“She’s good! Wanted to bring her but she’s at home with the sitter”

.... to be continued....

#lumosinlove #lumosinlove ocs #sweaterweather #sweaterweatherchats #sweater weather #sweaterweatheroc’s #sweaterweatherchatsnr13

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sanderssidesfanfiction · 4 years ago

Text

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Thirteen

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

June 13th, 1998

“You need a real job, Remy,” his mother told him, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

Remy felt crushed. He had just gotten his first job as a barista at a local coffee shop, shouldn’t Mom be happy for him? “This is who was hiring, Mom,” he said. “No one wants a summer intern who’s not even out of high school.”

“Well, I suppose it’ll do for now,” Mom said. “But you can’t expect to do that forever.”

“I know,” Remy said, nodding. “But this is a good start. It’s something to put on my resumé and it’ll give me a little cash to spend, so I don’t have to ask you and Dad for a loan.”

That worked just like Remy hoped it would, and his mother nodded in approval at him. “Good for you, then,” she said with a smile. “This is a big step for you.”

“Thanks,” he said with a smile, even as he thought, Why couldn’t you see that in the first place?

December 16th, 2000

“It’s official!” Remy exclaimed, walking up to Emile and hugging him. “I dropped out of college!”

Emile laughed and hugged Remy back. “Now that you’re not going to school, what will you be doing?” Emile asked.

“I’m working at a second coffee shop now,” Remy explained, “It’s something I’m good at and if I’m good enough I could get promoted to manager.”

“That’s great, Rem,” Emile said. “I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah, I just feel...freer, you know? Like I could do anything! I knew all the stuff they were teaching me in business school, so maybe if I get good enough at making coffee I can start my own shop. That’d be cool, don’t you think?”

Emile smiled. “That sounds exactly up your alley,” he agreed. “Especially the manager part.”

“I know. Like, that would never happen at Starbucks, but this is a slightly smaller, local chain. Like, only really in this state sorta thing. Still big, but not huge, you know? If they like me, if I can make them like me, I could get paid more with the promotion and quit the Starbucks job entirely.”

“And the paperwork came through in the mail today, huh?” Emile asked, rounding Remy to get a closer peek at the letter Remy was holding.

“Yeah,” Remy agreed. “They told me I didn’t have to go to class after Monday, which was a relief because there was supposed to be a huge test yesterday and it no longer impacts my grade, because I have no grade anymore! I’m free!”

Emile laughed, and Remy grinned. “Well, then, Mister ‘Free Man,’ what are you going to do to celebrate this occasion?”

“I want...to go clubbing,” Remy said. “There’s a club on the outskirts of town I’ve wanted to go to for weeks, but I never got around to it. But tonight, I have a little bit of spare money and no worries, and I want to go clubbing.”

“Sounds like a plan, I guess,” Emile laughed. “You can have fun with that.”

“I’m dragging you along, you know,” Remy said. “It’s eleven, we can have dinner and then head out.”

Emile blinked in shock, and Remy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, of course I’m taking you with me, you have the car.”

“Oh, you want to use me for my car. Nevermind, I completely understand now,” Emile said, words dripping sarcasm.

Remy shoved him playfully and Emile grinned. “You seriously want to go to a club, you’re gonna need a fake ID, you know,” Emile said.

“Nah, that’s the great thing about this club: they allow people under twenty one, you’re just not allowed to buy alcohol. I can get all the cute boys to buy me drinks,” Remy said with a wink.

“Right, because that will end so well,” Emile said, rolling his eyes and wrapping an arm around Remy’s shoulders. “I’ll make us both sandwiches and then we can try the club, okay?”

“Sure. Hey, where were you all day, anyway? You never arrive home after ten,” Remy said.

“I was visiting my parents, remember?” Emile asked. “Just took the day to drive down there, and headed back here starting at like...I dunno, nine? I didn’t eat a whole lot at dinner, though, and you’ll need food in your stomach when you decide to get pretty boys to buy you drinks, so sandwiches it is.”

“Cool. Also, you’ll need to change,” Remy said, guiding Emile inside the house. “I don’t care how cozy your sweater is, you’re gonna get hot, and you’re not gonna get in if you wear that. We’re getting you some new threads.”

“Okay,” Emile said in that voice that Remy knew meant Emile was just humoring him.

Nevertheless, while Emile made sandwiches, Remy raided Emile’s closet and pulled out an outfit that would actually pass for cool. Skinny jeans, and a faded white band T-shirt. Remy tossed a pair of plain socks on the bed and placed Emile’s sneakers at the foot. He walked out. “I’ve got an acceptable club outfit for you on your bed,” he said, smirking. “And it involves those skinny jeans you insisted you’d never find a use for.”

Emile groaned but passed Remy a sandwich, which he immediately tore into. “I’ll get changed,” he allowed. “But you had better be ready for me to whine.”

Remy just grinned and waved Emile onward. When Remy’s sandwich had been finished and Emile came walking out, Remy stood there shocked for a moment. He hadn’t anticipated Emile looking hot in the outfit he’d picked out. Cute, sure. But hot? Completely out of left field. “You chose my socks for me? Really?” Emile asked.

Snapping back to life, Remy shook himself. “Yeah, I didn’t need you ruining your look with cartoon socks.”

Emile pouted. “What’s wrong with my cartoon socks?”

“They’re not exactly the kind of socks you would want to wear at a club, Emile. They won’t score you any points with the guys. Or the gals, for that matter.”

Emile just sighed, ate his sandwich, and then they were on the road. Remy had his chair tilted back and his fingers were laced together behind his head. “Today is a good day,” he said.

“I’m glad you think so,” Emile said. “Were you waiting for me to come home to share the news that you dropped out?”

“Eh, only a little,” Remy said. “I wasn’t, like, watching the window, but I didn’t want to go to sleep before I shared the news.”

Emile shook his head. “And you call me the nerd in this friendship.”

“You are the nerd in this friendship,” Remy said.

Emile laughed as they pulled into the parking lot. “You keep telling yourself that,” he said.

They got out of the car, flashed their IDs to the bouncers, and were let inside with minimal fuss. Remy felt the bass of the music thrum in his chest, and he grinned. He turned to Emile, who was already looking around the crowd, no doubt trying to spot someone he knew. Remy tapped his shoulder and almost-shouted, “I’m gonna go have some fun. Meet by the bathrooms in two hours to see how we feel?”

Emile nodded and Remy started moving through the crowd until he was on the dancefloor. Now, Remy didn’t know the specifics of dancing, but he knew how to sway his hips in just such a way that it would attract attention. He worked his way through the crowd doing just that, catching the attention of several girls, until he noticed one muscled man standing on the edge of the dancefloor, watching him. Remy put on a flirty grin and crooked his finger a few times.

The man offered a smile of his own and walked over. He was about as tall as Remy was, and the second he came over, he said, “Name’s Chris.”

“Remy,” Remy said, offering his hand. “Care to dance?”

Chris took Remy’s hand and they started to dance together, the beat of the drums matching their movements around the dancefloor. Remy noticed that several of the girls who were watching him before were now giving him dirty looks, but he didn’t care. This wasn’t a gay club, but it had the best reputation for being gay-friendly. And no one could kick him out for dancing with a man.

As one song bled into the next, Remy and Chris continued to dance, until they were near the bar and Chris asked, “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Sure, why not?” Remy replied with a laugh.

Chris went to the bar, and came back with two beers, passing one to Remy. “What’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?” Chris asked. “You could certainly go to any gay bar and be the star of the show.”

“You flatter me,” Remy said, taking a sip of his beer. “I just dropped out of college. Figured I’d have a little fun on one of my off days before I start up my second job, to help with rent around here.”

Chris whistled. “Special occasion, then,” he said with a sly grin. “Here with anyone, or did you come over by yourself?”

“Friend drove me over here, but he’s nobody,” Remy said looking around. He pointed to where Emile was at the edge of the dance floor, talking to a girl. “He’s actually getting some action of his own, by the looks of it.”

Chris laughed. “You think he’d be okay if you went home with someone else?”

“I mean, I’d probably have to tell him, but I doubt he’d really mind,” Remy said. He arched an eyebrow. “You offering?”

“If I am?” Chris asked.

“Meh. I’m not looking for anything serious,” Remy said, waving a hand. “We finish our beers and still get on, we can dance more, and if I like you we can go to yours.”

“Sounds fun,” Chris agreed.

The two of them talked as they finished their beers, and when they were done they headed back out onto the dance floor. Remy could feel a buzz settling in, but also just a tad bit of exhaustion. It had to be around midnight by this point, and usually he’d be asleep soon. But he couldn’t be bothered to care about being tired.

After a particularly quick song, which left both Remy and Chris breathless and laughing, Chris kissed Remy softly. Remy kissed back, enjoying the sensation. This wasn’t his first kiss, but it had been a while, and he forgot how good it felt. As Chris pulled back, though, something or someone caught his eye from behind Remy and his eyes widened and he cursed.

Remy turned to find a girl stalking over and fuming. “Chris?! You said you were hanging out at a friend’s tonight?!” she shrieked.

“Bianca, you said you weren’t going to be back until tomorrow evening!” Chris said.

“Is this what you do every time I leave? Go to some club or another and convince someone to come home with you?!” she demanded.

Remy looked at the scene with horror. “You have a girlfriend?!” he asked Chris.

“Not for much longer, he doesn’t!” Bianca exclaimed. “And who exactly are you?!”

“Uh, Remy. Picani. I just wanted to have a little harmless fun, I didn’t realize that Chris might be taken,” Remy stammered out.

Bianca snarled at him. “Sure you didn’t,” she growled.

“I didn’t!” Remy insisted.

“He genuinely didn’t know, Bianca, leave him out of this,” Chris said, putting an arm between Bianca and Remy.

Bianca turned back to him and grabbed him by the bicep. “You and I are going to have a very long talk,” she growled, leading him off the dancefloor.

Remy felt like he needed to take a shower after that realization. He felt like filthy scum, even though he didn’t know that Chris had a girlfriend. He stood there on the dancefloor in shock before deciding to head to the bathrooms. He kinda had to pee, and anyway, that’s where he and Emile were supposed to meet up when they were going to check in.

After doing his business, but before he was done washing his hands, Emile came into the bathroom. “Hey, how are you faring?” Emile asked.

“The guy I was flirting with apparently had a girlfriend,” Remy said.

“Ouch,” Emile said with a sympathetic wince.

“Yeah,” Remy said, sighing. He still felt a little buzzed, but his mood was significantly dampened after learning this new information. “I kinda want to dance more, but dancing’s no fun without a partner, and I don’t know if any other guys here are interested in men.”

“There’s always me,” Emile joked.

Remy huffed a laugh. “Yeah, I guess so. No offense, though, Emile, but uh...I think I’d rather dance with someone who isn’t my best friend. I don’t want people thinking we’re an item.” That thought made Remy uncomfortable in ways that he couldn’t quite articulate. He hoped that Emile wouldn’t try and read into it, though.

Thankfully, he didn’t seem to. “Yeah, I guess not,” Emile said. “No way to get some people interested in you if they think we’re already a thing.”

“I mean, we could always say we’re not exclusive, but I do agree that it would be easier to just avoid that beast all together,” Remy said.

“Wanna go home?” Emile asked, tilting his head to the door.

Remy considered. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m ready to sleep.”

#if there's a place i could be #sanders sides fanfiction #remile #emile picani #ts sleep

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shadowywerewolfqueen · 4 years ago

Text

I Don’t Want a Soulmate

Dean Winchester stared at the clock with rapt attention. In exactly fifty-eight seconds he would be turning eighteen and somewhere on his body, his soulmate tattoo would appear. He glanced over at his younger brother who was fast asleep. Sam was in awe of the idea of having a mark on your body that was a perfect match to another person’s. Even though he was four years from getting his mark, for the past few months, it had been the only thing he wanted to talk about.

“Dean, what do you think yours will be?” “Do you think it will hurt when it appears?” “How long do you think it will take for you to find your soulmate?” “What if you don’t like your soulmate?”

Dean had finally shouted at his brother to quit asking about the stupid things. Unlike Sam, Dean hated the idea of the soulmate marks. He was furious that he didn’t get to choose the person he was going to spend his life with. He had learned all too well how fate could be a bitch. His parents were a perfect example.

Mary Campbell had been the sweetest, most outgoing person who saw the good in everything. Mary Winchester was a shell of the person she was before she met John Winchester. After enduring years of abuse from John, Mary took her own life when Dean was thirteen and Sam was nine. Dean had sworn to himself that if his soulmate were anything like John, he would never stay with them.

Dean watched anxiously as the seconds on the clock ticked down. As soon as the time changed to midnight, he felt a bright hot pain sear into his left shoulder. He gritted his teeth through the pain, not wanting to wake up his sleeping brother. Once the pain had faded, Dean walked into the bathroom to see what his mark looked like. He stood in front of the mirror and slowly pulled his shirt sleeve back.

Dean’s mark was a simple hourglass with equal amounts of green sand in the top bulb and blue sand in the bottom bulb. “Well, it’s not the worst mark I’ve ever seen,” Dean muttered into the quiet bathroom. He glared at the mark as he pulled his sleeve down to cover it. He was going to do his best to pretend like the thing didn’t even exist.

*****

Dean was standing at the bar drying shot glasses when the seat in front of hum was suddenly filled with six feet of aggravated Castiel Novak. Dean grabbed a bottle of whiskey and poured the tattoo artist a shot before sliding it over to him. Cas glanced up at him with a mumbled, “Thanks.”

Dean threw the towel over his shoulder and leaned forward on the counter, his elbows supporting most of his weight. “What’s got your panties in a knot?”

Cas slammed the empty shot glass down as he growled, “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t wear panties.” He smirked at his roommate as he said, “You on the other hand have quite an extensive collection.”

Dean grinned, completely unashamed. “Damn straight! I’m telling you buddy the material feels so good against your skin and they hug you in all the right places.”

“As I always say, I’ll take your word for it. Pour me another shot.” Cas slid the glass back over to Dean.

Dean poured more whiskey into the glass. Cas went to reach for it, but Dean shook his head. “Nah ah, not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Give me the damn glass, Dean,” Cas snarled.

Dean glared at his friend, refusing to follow his order. “No. Something happened and I want to know what.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m your roommate, but also because I’m your friend, Cas. I need to know if I have to go beat somebody up,” Dean answered.

“We’ve only been roommates for a few weeks Dean.”

“And?” Dean asked with a raised eyebrow.

Cas huffed but finally said, “Balth dumped me for some twink in tight little boy shorts. Like, if the dude is even eighteen, I’d be surprised. We’ve been together for two years and he cheated on me for a fucking twink! What the hell does he have that I don’t?”

Dean passed the shot glass over and Cas downed it in one go. He held the bottle out and said, “Here, you need this.” Cas took a long gulp from the bottle. “I’m sorry, Cas. I know you really liked him.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “Truthfully, I don’t know how much I liked him anymore. The past few months haven’t been all that great. I think I’m more pissed about the fact that he refused to break up with me to my face. Not to mention, he chose somebody that’s at least a decade younger than me. Great boost to my ego.”

Dean reached out to grip Cas’ shoulder in a comforting embrace. “Look, Balth was a douche and you deserve so much better. If he can’t see how great of a guy you are, then he doesn’t deserve you.”

Cas flashed a small grin at his friend. “Thanks Dean. You know, I still can’t fathom why you are single. I mean, it’s not like you give a shit about the whole soulmate mark so why not have a little fun?”

“Why even start something with somebody if they’re just gonna leave you in the end? I’m ok with being single for the rest of my life,” Dean replied with a shrug.

“So, why don’t you go look for your soulmate then? I know you’re afraid after what happened with your mom, but you’ve got to try, Dean,” Cas insisted.

“No,” Dean said sternly. “I’d rather be single than find out that my so-called perfect match is some douchebag.”

Cas frowned. “I wish you would let me see your mark. I’m sure it’s something awesome.”

“It’s nothing special. Besides, it’s not like you’ve ever let me see yours,” Dean shot back.

“I figured you wouldn’t want to since you’ve made it very clear how you feel about them. Hell, I learned about your panty collection on the second day of knowing you and you made less of a fuss about that. You nearly bit my head off when I asked about your mark.” Cas lifted the bottle to his lips and took another sip from it.

“Did you ever see Balth’s mark?” Dean asked softly.

Cas nodded as he answered, “Yeah, it was some weird cross thing. Not even close to matching mine.”

Dean sighed. He had only known Cas for a few weeks, but he was the best roommate Dean had ever had. The previous three had been nothing but trouble. One brought all their dates to the apartment and Dean had to listen to them going at it all night. Another smoked pot nonstop. Dean wasn’t a prude; he’d tried a lot of things in his twenty-five years of life but even he didn’t want his apartment smelling like a pot factory nonstop. The one before Cas had been ok except for the fact that they didn’t pay their part of the rent, so Dean kicked them out.

From the very first day, Cas had been an enigma. Cas was the only tattoo artist Dean knew who didn’t have a single tattoo of his own. When Dean had asked why, Cas said he didn’t want to have them, and his soulmate not like them. Dean had scoffed at they, saying it was Cas’ body and he should be able to do to it what he wanted.

That wasn’t the only weird thing about Cas, though. His favorite piece of clothing was an old tan trench coat that was frayed at the seams and had a few odd stains on it. Cas said he’d had it since he was a teenager and couldn’t bear to part with it. Cas also had an unhealthy obsession with bees and botany. Dean had listened to dozens of lectures about how important bees were to the environment and which flowers attracted them the most. The weirdest thing about Cas was the way he always tilted his head and scrunched his eyes and nose when he was confused. Living with Dean meant he was confused most of the time.

Even though Cas was an odd guy and was taken, Dean had quickly fallen head over heels for him. Before Cas, he would have never spent hours watching nature documentaries or thought that anybody would look good in a baggy trench coat. Dean’s heart stuttered every time he caught Cas doing the adorable head tilt thing.

It was because he was so in love with Cas that Dean said, “If you show me your mark, I’ll show you mine.”

Dean nearly dropped the glass he was holding when Cas cocked his head and scrunched his eyes. “You’ve never wanted to see it before, why now?”

“MaybebecauseIlikeyou,” Dean said in one go.

“Uh, Dean. I didn’t understand a thing you just said.”

Dean sighed before slowly saying, “Maybe because I like you.” Dean felt bile rising as Cas continued to stare at him. “Oh shit, you don’t feel the same way. Fuck, you just broke up with your boyfriend and here I am admitting I have feelings for you.” Dean dropped his eyes and muttered, “Way to go Winchester.”

“Dean look at me,” Cas said gently. Dean slowly lifted his eyes to lock with Cas’ blue ones. “Maybe I like you too. It was just one more thing that was driving Balth and I apart.”

“Oh great, I’m the reason your boyfriend of two years cheated on you,” Dean cried as he threw his hands in the air.

“No, you weren’t,” Cas assured. “We’ve been falling apart for months, so please don’t blame yourself. If I truly loved him, there’s no way I would have fallen for you.” Cas grabbed Dean’s hand in his, giving it a light squeeze. “Dean, I don’t care if our marks don’t match. If we start something, I’m not going to leave you for some stranger who has the same mark as I do.” Before Dean could reply, Cas pulled his left shirt sleeve up and exposed his mark to the dim light.

Dean gasped as his eyes locked on the hourglass filled with green and blue sand. He shook his head, whispering, “It can’t be,” over and over. He tore his eyes away from the mark to stare at Cas wide eyed.

“Dean, is everything alright?” Cas asked with concern.

Dean’s hand shook as he grabbed his shirt sleeve and slid it up over his shoulder, allowing Cas to the see the mark etched into his skin. Cas’ jaw fell as he stared at the mark. Cas looked at Dean, his expression a mirror image. “Our marks… they match.”

“Yeah,” Dean said shakily.

“I can’t believe this. I’ve imagined meeting my soulmate hundreds of times, but I never imagined he’d end up being my roommate,” Cas said in awe.

Dean was hesitant as he replied, “I’ve always been so afraid of meeting mine. I hated that fate got to decide my perfect match instead of me.”

“And now?” Cas asked hopefully.

Dean’s lips spread into a bright smile. “Now, I guess I have to admit fate knew what it was doing when it picked my soulmate.” He grabbed a fistful of Cas’ shirt and pulled him across the counter. Their mouths met in the middle. Dean moved his lips against Cas’ and marveled at how soft they felt. Cas moaned and Dean took the opportunity to lick into his mouth. Their tongues danced with one another as the kiss deepened. As they broke apart, Dean whispered, “I think I might already be in love with you.”

Cas kissed Dean again before replying, “I know I’m already in love with you.”

Tagging: @lonewolf34500 @notwithd @multifandom-fanatic @flowersforcas @cockleslovesdestiel

#writersmonth2020 #My writing #my OTP #destiel #soulmate

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brooklynislandgirl · 4 years ago

Note

For the headcanon{s}, can you talk about Beth's mental illness? How it does and does not impact her daily life, if things trigger it, how she handled this after losing Riley {in verses that are sans Riley, obviously}, and what some of her experiences have been? I feel like it's something people determinedly overlook about her, and I'd like to know!

This.

“You can’t be fuckin’ serious!”

“You keep a civil tongue in that head of yours, boy. I think I know what’s best for your sister.”

“With all due respect, sir... you haven’t known what’s best in-”

Beth is an oyster.

Vague lines and curves that are nothing remarkable perhaps to the point of being unappealing. She can only burrow into the Sand....sandy...Andy. Andy and the Admiral are outside of the room, arguing about the proper course of treatment. She can’t hear every word because she’s underwater and all the sounds are so far away as to be indistinct from the beeping of the monitor that is keeping track of her vital signs. The bandages on her pseudo-pods ~arms, they’re arms, Beth~ are too heavy. They keep her trapped to this bed where she can’t really move and she doesn’t know why. It’s all wriggling around inside of her. A parasite. One she has to wrap in smooth layers of aragonite and conchiolin. Layer after microscopic crystalline layer. Maybe if it’s smooth enough and round enough, maybe if it has enough lustre, then they will set her free. She’s so very tired but she doesn’t have her turtle, and the thin cotton gown isn’t warm enough, worn thin in places. The blankets are too scratchy and the air smells funny, too many chemicals that it’s making her feel nauseous.

But that’s all wrong. Oysters don’t have blankets and they aren’t tied down to beds and they don’t... they don’t...

“Electroshock! How can you? Look at her. She’s just a kid!”

“And your sister nearly killed herself tonight, Andrew. I am done discussing this with you. I’m your father, and a neurosurgeon. If anyone is capable of choosing a treatment plan, it isn’t a teen age boy.”

~*~

Beth was fourteen years old when she was diagnosed however wrongly with Depression mood disorder with features of psychosis, after she smashed her bedroom mirror with her fists, deeply slashing her arms from wrists to elbows. The symptoms leading up to this moment certainly were red-flags for what was wrong with her, all of them classic to the specific diagnosis: the trouble concentrating or making decisions, chronic fatigue, feelings of guilt and worthlessness, insomnia, restlessness, loss of appetite, phantom aches and pains that didn’t seem to go away, persistent sadness and anxiety. It isn’t uncommon for girls and young women diagnosed with Turner Syndrome to also develop depression. And her father felt the matter was cut and dry, despite strenuous objections from her brother.

She spent three miserable weeks in an in-patient psychiatric facility receiving less than pleasant electroconvulsive therapy, psychotherapy and was prescribed citalopram {Celexa}. Which made Beth absolutely nauseous to the point that she had trouble keeping water down, only worsened her sleeping troubles, and made her jittery. As soon as the Admiral shipped out again for a year long deployment aboard the USNS Comfort, Andy took her back to the doctor to get a second opinion.

It was then, at fifteen, that she was re-diagnosed correctly with Rapid Cycling Bi-Polar Disorder. Andy nursed her through the withdrawal of the citalopram and taking over her care regiment seemed to do his sister wonders, as she started to be the sweet and gentle girl he’d always known her to be. He’d sort out her medication by days of the week, would make sure she took the right ones at the right times with her meals, going out of his way to cook things she could stomach, letting her sleep in his bed when she wanted to, and for years after, she seemed to improve. She went months without crippling depression and her manic and hypomanic states were few and far between as well.

Then everything changed.

Beth was accepted into several universities and chose Columbia, knowing that their pre-med program was top-notch and their medical school was even better, and wouldn’t require her to change schools for the duration of her education. Having just turned sixteen in June she was starting a new life perhaps far younger than she ought to have.

There was major upheaval, stress and abject terror at leaving Hawai’i behind, going almost as far away as possible. She was not prepared for the cross-continent move. Neither was she prepared for living on her own. Perhaps she simply expected to live with Andy the whole of her life, or at the very least through her under-grad years. But after the initial first two months that it took to move into their grandparents’ apartment in Brooklyn, and Andy setting up all of her bills, hiring a cook and house keeper, making sure she got settled in as a freshman, he enlisted in the US Air-Force. She saw very little of her brother for the next two years, and the only thing that kept Beth from failing out of school was the idea that she would be sent home to live with the Admiral.

She began to notice that her medication {bupropion aka Wellbutrin} seemed less effective during this time. She was barely getting more than three hours of sleep at night, and maybe half that during day time naps. She experiences bouts of nausea that once again made eating difficult to prioritise, a feature that would last her entire life thus far, with Beth being at least twenty pounds consistently underweight. She also began to experience chronic sore throats, what she describes as her bladder shrinking down to the size of a pea, and worse...tinnitus that became co-morbid with her audio processing disorder.

The few times during the year that she was able to see Andy, things seemed to get better....until she crashed immediately after he left again.

Beth decided she no longer wanted to take her medication.

~*~

“C’mon Beth, I’m getting married, it’s not like I’m dying!”

“GET OUT! GETOUTGETOUTGETOUT!” She’s throwing things at him. She’s destroyed seven plates,six coffee mugs and at least one irreplaceable vase. There are so many tears, so much snot, it’s hard to believe his sister is almost eighteen and not eight. But thankfully, she’s still so short she can’t reach the stemware and is forced to come out from behind the island kitchen.

Which means he manages to get his arms around her, a bear hug from behind that locks her stick-figure arms to her chest. She fusses and has a fit, kicking and trying to bite him, but his training in Pararescue has taught him how to hold someone without hurting them.

“I’m not gonna leave you, jelly bean, I promise. And you’ll like Lana. She’s a real nice girl, her family’s from Jersey, and she’ll be moving in with us. You won’t have to-” “LA LA LA! NO CAN HEAR YOU!”

Beth is a hermit crab.

She can just shrink back into her shell and keep everyone out. She can hide down in the bottom of the sea and let the water of her Mother’s arms wash over her and if anything gets close, she’ll pinch them to bits.

But she really isn’t. She isn’t a hermit crab, she’s just a girl and there’s nothing that can keep everything inside of her from dying a slow and painful death. Because now Andy is not only not going to be around, but he’s getting married. To a stranger no less. But like a hermit crab, her house is too small and this woman is never setting foot inside of it. And it’s his stupid fault, because that’s what her brother is...stupid.

Doesn’t he know that no one will love him like she does? That no one depends on and needs him as much? Doesn’t he know they’re supposed to be together, forever and always? Doesn’t he know he’s the only person who truly loves her? The person who said he’d never leave her? Why does he need a wife anyway? She can do everything this Lana person can, and better. If he’d just let her prove it, he’d see!

~*~

But he didn’t. Andy ended up getting married.

Beth dropped out of medical school before completing her residency, but applied her credits to nursing. She was absolutely certain the Admiral was going to have a stroke that she had decided not to become a neurosurgeon like him, or his second choice, a cardiologist. Emergency room nursing suits her needs. She is indoors and on her feet throughout the darkness of the night when home is ever so lonely. It feeds the excessive energy that floods her system and lets her literally crash, semi-conscious during the sometimes three, sometimes four consecutive days she has off.

Life settles into a medication-less routine. Beth finally grows her final inch in height, puts on a few more pounds so she doesn’t seem nearly as cadaverous as she did before. She can blame late occurring puberty for that and for just the most brief moments of time, things seemed to have found their balance. There were no great highs. There were no life-threatening lows. Beth could finally breath.

At least until....the sun burned out and destroyed everything in a single knock on the door.

Perfunctory words that echo in her dreams.

~*~

“Miss Riley, on behalf of the Chief of Staff, United States Air Force, I regret to inform you of the untimely death of your brother, Second Lieutenant Andrew M. Riley-”

Beth Riley...isn’t anything any more. All of everything that was bright and best within her is now a single leg and some bone fragments in a beautiful koa wood casket. It is a folded flag put into her hands. It’s the reception in the Admiral’s house and an incredibly long line of people talking and talkingandtalkingandtalkingandtalking and saying nothing at all. She can’t breath. She can’t feel. Nothing makes sense and it never will because what do you say when half of you is ripped away and gone forever? What do you do when the world stops turning and the sun has burnt out of the sky?

Beth slips out of the house without being noticed. She manages to get in her brother’s Mustang and heads into the city proper, and ends up at the bar he used to like to frequent when he was on leave. She sits at the bar and orders scotch, 25 year Macallan.

She buys the bottle. She buys the entire bar drink after drink until last call.

She lets someone take her home. Gets into his apartment. Doesn’t really feel his mouth and his hands pawing at her. Doesn’t feel anything really at all until she shoves him away. Things become blurry after that and she only really vaguely remembers calling Jay from a payphone some blocks away.

She can’t find her shoes. But that doesn’t matter.

Nothing does.

Three months later ~one hundred days, to be precise~ Beth quits her job. She turns her utilities off. Throws a few things including her wallet, her passport, and her rosary into a sea bag that she’s had forever.

Darfur. The Democratic Republic of Congo. Amsterdam. Uruguay. Wherever Médecins Sans Frontières will let her go, to treat people living in the worst conditions. Ironic, isn’t it...that no matter where she goes, Beth always manages to make it back. That all those fears Andy had of her killing herself from neglect or inattention, or even possibly through deliberate action, and she can’t get so much as a life-threatening paper cut? It isn’t fair.

And maybe...maybe it doesn’t matter. There’s a lot of ways you can die in Louisiana.

She hears the coffee in New Orleans is really wonderful.

#mynameisanakin #She's Talking To Angels {Bethisms}#Making Wishes on Passing Cars|Answered Asks #mental health tw #medication tw #suicidal ideation tw

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queen-scribbles · 4 years ago

Text

Plenty Special

Happy birthday to my darling AJ, who managed to squeeze both bff time and boyfriend time into one fic, which is frankly impressive. :D

---

Abigail had never been one to make a fuss about her birthday.

Her mother usually sent her a gift--aside from the few years, by some miracle, she was able to actually visit--and Tina would leave something little yet fun and thoughtful on her desk, but that was more than enough for her. The day was spent almost-normal, then ending in curled up with a good book. She’d never felt the need to make a big deal out of it.

Felix, apparently, felt differently, if the dozen odd balloons(and the streamers) decorating the Warehouse living room were any indication.

“I hear it’s your birthday,” he grinned in answer to Abigail’s clearly gobsmacked expression when the sight registered.

“You hear correctly,” she said slowly. Her gaze traveled around the room, taking in the decorations. “But when... how... I thought we were just hangin’ out.”

“We can, if that’s what you want,” Felix said. He sprawled across a couch. “You’re the birthday girl, AJ. How come you didn’t mention that when we were setting this up?”

She shrugged. “It’s just never been particularly... different day for me. I’m too much a fan of quiet, an’ especially with Mum away so much for work; we never celebrated with big parties.”

“Fair enough,” Felix laughed.

“This year I have th’ day off an’ get to spend it as I please, that’s plenty for me.”

“And you chose to spend it with me?” He grinned. “I’m honoured.”

“You’re fun company, yeah?” Abigail said, dropping onto the couch next to him. “An’ it’s been too long since we got to spend time together.”

“Gotta admit, I’m a little surprised you aren’t spendin’ it with Natey,” Felix said. He waggled his eyebrows as he nudged her in the ribs.

Wish I could. She swallowed back the knee-jerk thought and played with a lock of hair. “He an’ Adam were needed for a mission, an’ I’d made plans with you. B’fore I knew he was gonna be busy,” she added hastily, realizing that almost made it sound like Felix was her second choice

But Felix appeared to have not even noticed. “Oh, that’s why he was so grumpy this morning. Y’know, by Nate-standards,” he amended with a grin when Abigail cocked a disbelieving brow. “He usually loves all the diplomatic stuff, and seemed kind of... meh about this one.” His grin widened. “He’s moping ‘cause he won’t get to see you, that’s adorable.”

“We might see each other,” Abigail protested. “Way I understand it, whatever they’re doin’ shouldn’t take even a whole day. ‘Less something goes wrong they should be back by evenin’ at latest. B’sides,” she shrugged, “Nate an’ I spent th’ day together for his birthday not two weeks ago, and it would just be more of th’ same.”

“You say that like it’s something neither of you would enjoy,” Felix said with a smirk.

Abigail opened her mouth, shut it, and then replied, “Readin’s always grand, yeah? But a few minutes with him’ll be fine for today. I want to spend it with you. Even if Nate wasn’t busy.”

“AJ.” Felix rested his chin in his palm and grinned at her like a darned Cheshire cat. “I can tell you’re lying. Not about hanging out with me--I mean, cmon, who wouldn’t wanna do that?--but you’re really hoping they get back in time for you to have a decent visit with Nate.”

“That would be nice,” Abigail conceded, since he could tell anyway. “But really, any time I get t’ see him will be plenty special. An’ so will the time I’m spendin’ with you.” She tapped the string of one colorful balloon. “This was sweet of ya, by the way. Didja have anything in mind for us hangin’ out?”

“There’s a couple movies I wanted to watch no one’s else is really interested in.” He pulled off his hat and tossed it in the air. “Nate’ll watch ‘em with me if I nag, but I’d rather do it with someone who’ll have fun. But if it’s not something you wanna do....”

“What movies?” Abigail asked, gathering her hair back in a bun.

Felix yanked his hat back on, eyes bright with hope, and jumped up to retrieve the movies in question.

“Oh, I love that one,” she grinned, recognizing one case before he’d made it back across the room. “Never watched the other one m’self, but I’ve heard good things.”

He grinned back, bouncing a little. “Sooo? I mean, it’s your birthday, if you’d rather do something else we can.”

Abigail gave a soft laugh. “Nah, we can watch these. It’ll be fun.”

“Great!” Felix whooped, and plunked back down on the couch with enough enthusiasm it made her bounce a little. “Which one first? I’m guessing you want the on you know you love?”

She shook her head. “Let’s start with the new one, yeah? Save the best for last?”

“Whatever you say, birthday girl,” he winked and popped open the movie’s case. “You’re patienter than I’d be.”

“Makin’ up words again, are ya?” Abigail teased as she leaned over to start unlacing her boots.

“When I need to,” Felix grinned, rolling with the gentle needling. “And you know what a movie needs?” He flashed across the room to get the first one started, reached behind a nearby chair before darting back over. “Popcorn!”

More specifically, chocolate-drizzled popcorn, Abigail noted with a smile as she took the bowl he handed her. Better’n birthday cake. “Well, you certainly know how to make a birthday special.”

Felix arched a brow even as he scrambled for the remote. “That’s all it takes?”

She shrugged. “Toldja I don’t usually do much.”

“That’s why you need a friend like me,” he said brightly, settling back next to her with his own bowl of popcorn in one hand and the remote in the other.

“Are you gonna be able t’ sit still if ya eat that?” Abigail laughed as she eyed the lavish ribbons of chocolate dripping over his popcorn.

“No, but c’mon, AJ.” Felix bumped his shoulder to hers and grinned. “I don’t sit still anyway.”

She laughed again, almost choking on a mouthful of popcorn. “True. Do ya talk durin’ movies, too?”

“Yeah.” He wrinkled his nose but didn’t sound terribly sheepish as he hit play. He kicked off his shoes and braced rainbow-stripe clad feet against the coffee table, flashing her a grin. “Good luck getting me to stop.”

“Felix, I’d never try t’ make you stop talkin’.” She giggled. “For one thing, I know it’s impossible, yeah? For another...” she bit her lip. “I do it, too. Sometimes.”

“Commentate movies?” His grin widened when she nodded. “I knew there was a reason I liked you, buddy.”

Abigail grinned back and bumped her shoulder to his before they settled in to watch the movie.

---

By the end of their mini-marathon, she was already prepared to label this one of the better birthdays she’d had. It was so much more fun to do movie commentary with someone, and the popcorn was delicious, and Felix was delightful company. She was having so much fun she almost forgot to eat lunch. And it was impressive Felix managed to sit mostly-still through most of her favorite parts in the second movie.

“That was fun,” he announced as he clicked off the scrolling movie credits.

“Yeah, it was,” she said, slouching even more comfortably in her sideways perch against the couch arm. “A very good birthday. Thank you, Felix.”

“Unless you gotta leave, it’s not done yet,” he pointed out. “We can hang out more.”

“I don’t, not yet.” Abigail shook her head and stretched. “Tina asked if I wanted to go for drinks after her shift’s done, but the time for that’s up in the air. If we do it at all. I can stay longer.”

Which also increased her odds of at least crossing paths with Nate today, a fact Felix’s grin said he knew.

“I’m completely unoffended and ready to be your excuse for hanging around all day if you need it,” he winked.

Abigail blushed and reached to twirl her hair.but couldn’t find any loose bits and tugged at her ear instead. “No, I wanna hang out with you, I’m not just-”

“AJ, I’m teasing,” he cut her off with a laugh.

“Oh.” Her face warmed even more, heat spreading to her ears. “Good. I-I know I’m a bit....”

“Besotted? Smitten?” Felix filled in for her, grinning. “It’s okay, he is, too.”

Abigail bit her lip in a futile effort to hold back her smile.

“Oh! I almost forgot, i got you a present!” Felix twisted around to dig down between the cushion and arm of the couch.

“You didn’t have to-”

“AJ.” He tugged free a small orange and yellow wrapped gift. “It’s what friends do. You gave me something.”

She didn’t argue the point any further, mostly because he seemed so excited about giving her something, just took the present with laugh and started working the tape loose until she could unwrap it. Another, louder laugh bubble up when she saw the contents. “Felix, I love them!”

The socks were a soft, minty green and patterned with ladybugs. There was a second pair underneath, light purple with honeybees. Both were adorable and looked very comfortable.

“Hey, I’m just glad to have a friend I can give this sort of thing and they actually appreciate it instead of, y’know, threatening violence,” Felix joked, but the glint in his amber eyes showed how proud he was of himself.

“Oh, yeah, they’re grand,” Abigail smiled. She immediately swapped out the plain blue socks she was wearing for the ladybugs, then tucked the honeybees and discarded pair in her jacket pocket so she wouldn’t forget them when she left. “Thanks a bunch.”

“Welcome.” He turned back to his original position and rested his feet on the coffee table again.

“You know you’re in for it if Nate catches you doin’ that, yeah?” she laughed.

“The operative part of that being Nate catching me,” Felix grinned, wiggling his toes.

“Oh, is it now?” a very familiar--mildly exasperated--voice asked from behind them.

Felix twisted around and flashed a cheesy grin. “Hey, Nate. AJ was hoping you’d be back soon.”

And with that, he vaulted the back of the couch and zipped from the room. Nate, for all his exasperation, didn’t try to stop him.

He did shake his head even as he smiled at her. “He is...”

“Incorrigible?” Abigail supplied as she pushed to her feet and skirted around the couch.

Nate laughed, running a hand through his hair. “That is an excellent word for it, yes.”

“He’s also right; I was really hopin’ you’d be back b’fore I had t’ leave.”

“Well, here I am,” he smiled, and she didn’t try to quell the butterflies in her chest as he stepped into the room to meet her for a hug. “Happy birthday, Abigail,” he murmured into her hair, before kissing the top of her head. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be here for more of it.”

“S’alright, Felix made it plenty special so far,” Abigail said, hugging a little tighter before she loosened her grip to look up at him. “How’d it go?”

“Oh, fine.” Nate traced his thumb along her jaw. “Nothing extraordinary, and no complications.”

She huffed a laugh against his shirt. “There bein’ no complications is a little extraordinary for us, isn’t it?”

“Perhaps just a little,” he chuckled. “But I’m grateful for it.”

“Oh, yeah, won’t hear me complainin’,” Abigail said with a smile, pushing up on her toes in an unspoken request for a kiss.

One Nate was all too willing to grant. “Me, neither.”

They held the kiss until Abigail’s legs started to ache and she dropped back flat-footed. She’d never realized how much difference the extra inch her boots gave her made. It was still a good kiss, made even better by the way Nate followed for a moment when gravity forced her to pull away, clearly reluctant as she was for it to end.

Abigail let out a soft, happy hum as she tucked herself close beneath his chin. ”An absolutely grand birthday to me...”

Nate chuckled and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “Content as you seem with how things stand, I do actually have a gift for you.”

“Gettin’ time with you is present enough.” She blushed at how cheesy it sounded and buried her face against his chest the second the words left her mouth, but that didn’t make them untrue

Nate .laughed. “A sentiment I appreciate more than you know.” His fingers brushed the back of her neck and a pleasant shiver rippled down her spine. “But this is something I very much want to give you.”

“Well, if you’re gonna insist..” Abigail teased. “Though I’ll warn ya, Felix gave me ladybug socks, so the bar is set pretty high, yeah?”

He kissed her forehead. “Consider me warned. It’s back in my room, I’ll go-”

“Oh, I’ll come with ya,” she said, slipping from their hug to lace her fingers with his. “I want all the time I can get.”

Nate nodded and squeezed her hand. “Fine with me. So what have you been doing today?”

She told him as they walked, and he smiled at her obvious enthusiasm for how she and Felix had passed the time. His smile widened slightly when she hesitated upon reaching the door to his room.

“You can come in, AJ. I’m not going to make you open your gift in the hall.” He tugged her hand gently so she’d follow. Which she did, even as the back of her neck and ears warmed. She’d not been in Nate’s room since the aftermath of the Trapper fight.

Once they were in the room, the door nudged half-closed behind them, Nate released her hand to cross to one of the closer bookshelves. Abigail moved to sit on the edge of the bed as he retrieved what he sought before joining her.

The box was not a large one, wrapped in plain(yet beautiful) dark blue paper and tied with a narrow brown ribbon. Real ribbon, not gift-wrapping ribbon. Abigail paused after freeing it and tied it around her bun before setting to work on the tape. The paper soon came away to reveal a sturdy, flat box. Inside that, a layer of soft tissue paper concealed and protected the actual gift. She set aside the lid and the wrapping paper, glanced up at Nate.

The faint smile curving his lips shone magnitudes brighter in his eyes and that intrigued her even more than all the layers she was working through. She bit her lip, looked back down, and gingerly moved the paper aside.

It registered first and immediately that it was books. Two small leather-bound volumes; one deep red, one rich brown. They were nice books. Probably old books, and that was enough to make her heart skip a beat. Another moment’s examination made it skip and stutter through several, and pulled a sharp, quiet gasp from her. The titles were in German, and she could only read the first word of each, but that was plenty for her to give a good guess.

She looked at Nate again, the words escaping quiet, breathless. “Are these...?”

“First editions,” he confirmed with a nod, the smile he’d been holding back breaking through in full force.

Abigail exhaled an unsteady breath, trembling fingers hovering over the books as if afraid to touch them, tracing the gold gilt letters of the word she knew in the air above the covers.

Heidi.

“This is...” Her voice broke, the lump in her throat too much to speak around.

“Your favorite. I know.” Nate leaned over and kissed her temple. “Happy birthday.”

Abigail let out a quiet(borderline hysterical) scoffing laugh, still staring at the books. “Nate...” She wasn’t even sure what to say. They were nearly pristine despite their age; thank you was woefully inadequate, I can’t would be ungrateful.

As if sensing the direction of her thoughts, Nate touched her arm so she’d look at him. “They were given to me... a very long time ago” --when they were new, she read in his eyes, even if he didn’t specify-- “and have sat on a shelf ever since. Knowing how much you love this story, I’d much rather you have them.”

“I... they must be worth a lot.” The words escaped in a whispered rush and she winced and bit her lip. “Sorry. You’re not s’pposed’ta know that about presents.”

Nate just smiled. “They are. But far less to me than doing something that makes you happy.”

That was when it was too much, her heart was too full, and Abigail (gently) pushed aside the books to whirl around and hug him, which quickly--and unsurprisingly--turned into a kiss.

She was fast enough to catch him off-guard, and Nate started to topple backwards at her fervor, but he caught himself on one elbow. The other hand curved against her jaw, fingers just catching her hair, as he returned the kiss. He was smiling into it, and Abigail wondered if her own was even bigger. Probably.

She pressed further into the kiss, her fingers curling in the hair at the nape of his neck, until her lungs ached and heart pounded, then pulled back just far enough to gasp a breath. “Thank you,” she murmured fervently, less than an inch between their lips.

Nate’s fingers dug deeper into her hair, threatening the integrity of her bun. “You’re welcome,” he managed, breathing ragged as her own, before tugging her in for another kiss.

Abigail sat back more completely when this one broke, glancing between Nate and the books with a huge grin on her face. Safe to say he outdid the ladybug socks, she thought, and couldn’t hold in a giggle.

“What?” Nate gave an amused smile and reached over to brush back hair tumbling free from her somewhat loosened bun.

“Just... not sure how today can get much better, yeah?” She caught his hand when he started to pull back and pressed a brief kiss to the base of his thumb before letting go.

He ran his fingers over the spot as he withdrew his hand. “We could go read for a while, if you’ve the time.”

“Always, for you,” Abigail said as she turned to carefully close the box and collect his gift. (She missed the surge of emotion laid bare across his face at her words.) “So, I stand corrected.”

“Well, then.” Nate pushed off the bed, straightening the duvet slightly before offering her his arm. “Shall we?”

She bit her lip, not trusting her voice, and nodded as she linked her arm through his. The other hugged his present close. “Y’know,” she began with exaggerated innocence as they walked, “this is a wonderful present, the best anyone’s ever given me, but...” A pause, lips quirking mischievously. “I don’t know German.”

Nate chuckled, catching the teasing note under the words. “I do,” he said, with a smile one could almost call smug.

“Well, you’ll just hafta help me with that, then, wontcha?” Abigail laughed.

Nate looked at her warmly, brown eyes dancing with mirth and affection in equal measure. “Abigail, it would be my pleasure.”

She grinned and leaned her head against his arm for the rest of the walk to the library. Today was definitely shaping up to be her best birthday ever. It wasn’t flashy or ostentatious or even what most would consider exciting, but it was plenty special for her.

---

(AJ very deliberately does NOT look up what those books are worth, but I know from checking to get the cover colors right--between $1500-4000 each. Don’t tell her, she’ll faint)

#queens fic #the wayhaven chronicles #abigail jenings #nate sewell #felix hauville #aj/nate #otp: smiling always #aj & felix #twc

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izzy-b-hands · 4 years ago

Text

Assembled Here The Volunteers

Set in 1985. A birthday present for one of Brian's kids has him a broken man (because it comes broken into at least fifty pieces that need to be put together, by him, and said pieces refuse to let him do that.) But he has a team of helpers, at least! They won't necessarily make things better per se, but if the present still gets built, isn't it still a victory?

TW for what took me out midway through writing this and what I didn’t realize I was writing about until it hit me hard: emotional immaturity in parents and the realization and apologizing for that from said parent, due to the accidental harm it’s caused a child. I may have had a minor breakdown while writing this as a result, and that might show. But I hope folks will enjoy it regardless.

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

"If you can put it together, I'll fucking pay you," Brian muttered, gesturing to the play house. "Barely even fits in the fucking yard."

"Breathe," Roger instructed with a smile. "It's one play house, versus four dads."

"Four?"

"Freddie's a dad to his cats," Roger explained, and Brian nodded sagely. "So this can't beat us?"

"Not all of us together," Roger replied. "Tell the kids not to cry, we will have this together within the hour!"

---

"Thanks for stopping by," Freddie said to what felt like the fortieth guest. For a kid's party, it seemed like entirely too many people; he couldn't have imagined having that many people at a party for himself at that age.

"Are they alright?" One of the mums asked gently, gesturing to the corner of the yard.John was fussing with the instructions booklet, Roger was kicking at a piece of the play house, and Brian had taken a break to lay facedown in the grass.

"In a manner of speaking," Freddie replied. "It'll be fine."

She nodded hesitantly as she ushered her child away.

"Daddy looks sad," Louisa tugged at Freddie's shirt. She looked sad too, as it happened, and he couldn't blame her. It wasn't a great fourth birthday, to have your mum and older brother off visiting relatives during it, unable to make it back in time, and then to watch your dad have a minor breakdown over a play house.

"He's not sad," Freddie lied, picking Louisa up as the last few guests left the yard. "He's just tired."

Brian chose that moment to let out an aggravated, weak shout as he sat back up, and Freddie winced as Louisa immediately fell against his shoulder in tears.

"None of that on your birthday," Freddie said softly, walking away from the increasingly loud grumbling from his overly frustrated bandmates. "They'll have that put together soon enough, and things will be better."

"I can help," she offered miserably, and wriggled out of his arms, racing back towards the scene at the barely-put-together play house.

"I don't know about that," Freddie sighed, but followed after her.

She had a piece of it in her hands, nearly as big as she was, and was trying to hand it to Roger. "It's a wall!"

"We know sweetheart, but the wall doesn't want to stay where we put it," Roger said, only half paying attention to her as he fussed with what looked like roof tiling.

"Because you need the floor!" Louisa cried, sounding not unlike her father in tone and level of frustration. She slapped at Brian's leg until he moved away from the pile of pieces, and started to grab and lock parts together as best she could.

"No," Brian laughed. "It's not that simple."

"Looks like it might be," Freddie nodded towards Louisa's progress. "Sure we weren't overthinking it a little?"

"It's a house, you can't overthink how to put together a house," John scoffed.

"Give it!" Louisa grumbled, yanking the small hammer that had come with the kit out of John's hands.

"Ask nicely," Brian scolded.

"Give it, please," she repeated sarcastically, and Brian's scolding turned to the three of them as they giggled.

"Don't encourage her," Brian mumbled.

"From what, going into construction?" Roger asked. "Of course we should encourage that, she's clearly got a mind for it."

"Move please," Louisa tapped at Roger's leg as she retrieved more pieces from where they sat at his feet. The house had a floor, and a wall, and she was only ten minutes into her attempt at constructing it.

"You want help?" Roger asked her gently.

"Are you gonna really help?" she spat back, and there was no hiding their laughter at that.

"I have been pretty useless at this, haven't I?" Roger giggled. "How about you tell me what to do?"

Louisa rolled her eyes, but handed him a piece. "See the wall? Put this on it."

"Your daughter now thinks I'm the biggest moron to walk this Earth," Roger smiled.

"No,"Louisa protested. "You all did a bad job."

"No beating around the bush, hm?" John tutted. "We should bring her in the studio. Can't go wrong with a little 'this is good or this is shit' meter."

"Hold this," Louisa instructed John, as she started to layer parts of the plastic roof tiles together, starting with the one he was holding. "Freddie!"

He strode over, eager to see how she might call him into service.

"Can I have a snack?" she asked sweetly.

"Why are you asking him and not me?" Brian laughed. "Dad is the one here who can say yes or no to snacks!"

Louisa gave him a look, then turned back to Freddie expectantly.

"Think you've been demoted," Freddie giggled to Brian. "Sorry about that, but it's out of my hands."

"She's four!"

"And the foreman of this site, and it's her birthday as well," Freddie said. "I don't know who else I'm supposed to listen to, if not her."

"Please?" Louisa yanked at his shirt. "Birthday cake?"

"It's your cake, of course you can have more!"

"That's so much sugar," Brian hissed. "She'll never sleep!"

"She's been working hard on this, sure she'll sleep," Freddie said as he started towards the house for her cake. "Won't you, Louisa?"

She shrugged and giggled and looked back to John. "The roof is done! Put it on!"

"Oh goodness, sorry," John laughed. "I'm going to get myself fired."

"I finished the walls at least," Roger noted. "That should have been your cue, I think."

"Well you could have said you'd finished them!"

"You have eyes, don't you?"

"No shouting!" Louisa shouted as she took the offered plate of cake from Freddie. "Thank you."

"You're welcome; this is the best," Freddie smirked. "Your dad-"

"Has given up, because I have completely lost control of this," Brian interrupted, flopping back onto the lawn.

Louisa frowned, handed Freddie the plate back, and rushed over to Brian. "Get up!"

"The house is done," John offered. "You could go in it now."

“You go in it!” Louisa shouted. “Daddy’s sad!”

John shrugged, and crawled into the playhouse, banging his hip on the plastic door. “It’s nice!”

Louisa wasn’t paying attention though. She’d flopped onto Brian’s chest, wrapping her arms around him. “Don’t be sad anymore; I fixed it!”

John crawled back out of the house into the tense silence, and they watched as Brian slowly sat up, with Louisa in his arms.

“What do you mean?”

“The house made you sad, so I fixed it,” Louisa whined. “You’re still sad; you aren’t supposed to be sad anymore!”

“You...” Brian hesitated. “You know you don’t have to worry about whether I’m sad or not, right?”

“Yes I do!” she protested.

“No,” Brian shook his head. “You don’t. Only I have to worry about that. You worry about playing and having fun...and your cake, remember?”

Freddie held up the plate, but she didn’t so much as turn her head.

“You and Mummy are always sad,” Louisa mumbled. “I wanted to help. I’m a good helper, you said that!”

“Oh boy,” Roger hissed under his breath. “Brian, shall John and I go in and clean things up for you?”

“Sure,” Brian nodded, but tears glittered at the corners of his eyes. “Thanks.”

“I’ll go-” Freddie started.

“No,” Louisa interrupted. “Stay.”

“But...” Freddie stammered. “Okay, fine. I don’t know why, but fine.”

“You make Daddy happy,” Louisa said, in a tone that suggested he had to be an idiot not to realize that.

“Okay,” Brian sighed. “I owe you an apology, sweetheart.”

“Why?”

“Because you shouldn’t ever have had to feel like this,” Brian continued. “It isn’t your job to worry about me and Mum, no matter how we’re feeling.”

“But-”

“Oh, she’s so much like you,” Freddie murmured.

“Yeah,” Brian sighed. “Yeah, she is. I get it, sweetheart, I do. You’ve been feeling like you should be able to help make us happy again, right?”

Louisa nodded.

“And if you can’t do that, then it must be your fault?” Brian’s voice finally cracked, and the tears fell faster than he could wipe them away.

She nodded again, sniffling herself.

“I don’t know how you got that into your head, but I want you to know,” Brian said. “It’s never your fault. Not ever. Grown ups get sad for so many reasons, so many stupid reasons. But none of that is your fault, and it isn’t your fault if we seem sad a lot. It’s just stupid grown up things, I promise.”

Freddie watched tentatively; he could see the wheels turning in her head. It was like watching Brian mull something over, in miniature, right down to the wrinkled forehead.

“My present didn’t make you sad?”

“No!” Brian laughed. “No, I was sad because I couldn’t figure it out, but the present itself didn’t make me sad. I’m happy you have it, I just felt silly I was having trouble with it. And that was sillier still, because look! We got help, and we didn’t even need it! You figured most of it out yourself.”

“My birthday didn’t make you sad?”

“No,” Brian hugged her tightly. “Your birthday could never make me sad. Nothing about you could make me sad, my being sad or upset isn’t your fault or your job to help me with. And I should have seen that and realized how you were feeling, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Louisa pressed a kiss to his cheek, and for a moment, Freddie could feel the tension slip.

“It isn’t,” Brian said, and the tension filled the air again, but blessedly only for a moment. “But I’m going to make sure it doesn’t happen again, okay? I’m going to be more careful, so you don’t ever have to feel like you need to look after me like that. I’m your dad; I’m supposed to look after you, not the other way around! So you let me look after you, no matter how I’m feeling, and if you ever feel like this again, you tell me straight away.”

She nodded, but hesitantly.

“He means it,” Freddie offered. “That’s what dads are supposed to do. Look after you, and apologize if they mess up.”

He swallowed down his own feelings, that hit like a train. There wasn’t time for those, however. Not right now.

“Okay,” Louisa smiled and wrapped Brian in a tight hug, and the tension finally dissipated completely.

“I think,” Brian stood up with a groan, hanging on to Louisa as he moved. “We should go in, and you finish your piece of cake while we finish cleaning up. “

“I can help,” Louisa said softly.

“After your cake, and only if there’s anything left to clean up,” Brian said. “But thank you for offering.”

“Meet us inside?” Brian asked as he took the plate from Freddie.

“Yeah,” Freddie nodded. “There’s tools all over the grass yet. I’ll get those and bring them in.”

The look they shared let him know Brian understood. He needed the moment alone.

“What a fucking mess,” Freddie tutted as he wrangled tools from the lawn. “And all your fault, you know that?”

The play house, being a play house, said nothing in reply.

“And yet, it was a good thing,” Freddie continued. “What a fucking party.”

The play house stood silent, except for a lone roof tile that slid off.

He replaced the tile, and headed inside. The night wasn’t quite over yet.

#text post #LeeH writes #queen band fic

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