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desceros · 6 months ago

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Hey, if this is too personal totally feel free to disregard this! But I've seen you mention having adhd more than once, and I know a super common symptom is executive dysfunction. The professionals I see aren't sure if I have adhd specifically, but they agree that I definitely have major executive dysfunction issues. Like... it feels like an actual, physical wall between me and the things I need to do, and even want to do. This wall feels... impossible to scale. I think that's just executive dysfunction in general, though, and isn't really unique to me. I just wanted to know if you have any tips that help you do the things you want to do or need to do even when it feels impossible? I've tried so many of the tips I see online, I've done quite a bit of research into the mental illnesses I do have and even the ones I likely have, and... I don't know. I still just feel stuck. Sorry if my thoughts are disorganized or hard to follow, I'm sorta really going through it right now. I'm fine, just... stressing myself out. Any tips you feel comfortable giving would be so, so appreciated. And thank you for taking the time to read this!

yes indeed, i am hashtag officially diagnosed with what i like to affectionately call my dumb bitch disease (not that anyone else is allowed to use that term for it.... well. maybe my very close friends. but yeah. gotta laugh at the awful things so you don't cry, right?)

so the thing with adhd (well. any kind of mental health issue) is that it's all a spectrum. every human person on this planet is somewhere on the euclidean axis of how many neurodivergencies they have. some people have no recognizable symptoms in any of the recognized areas we have. some people may have mild issues with things, and it's a bit fuzzy if they "have adhd or not." when you talk to a professional, there's a particular line of demarcation that happens when someone is looking to diagnose you with something.

do these symptoms interfere with your day to day life? are they severe enough to rise to the level of DISORDER?

it's completely possible for you to struggle with executive function and not have adhd. you may have something else, as executive function disorder is not exclusively in the domain of adhd, or it might just be that those particular neurons are cranky in your brain. what you're doing here—recognizing symptoms and looking for ways to address them—is really good, and basically what adhd therapy does, anyway.

all that being said, honk shoo honk shoo, let's get into a What The Fuck Are You Talking About for people who want more information on the subject, and some advice i have for you. i'll start generally, then talk a little bit about the writing thing specifically since it's a bit of a special beast for me.

what you are describing does indeed sound like issues with executive function to me.

first, for those new to the idea, executive function is the fancy term for the "executive" of your brain. the guy in a fancy suit who makes shit happen. when you walk by a dirty plate, you have the thought "oh i should put that in the dishwasher." executive function is the gap between the thought "oh i should x" and doing x.

a lot of the problems that neurodivergent people have, especially those with adhd, is that this function is impaired. some days, it's just fucking impossible to move that plate.

and it's not consistently, or predictably. some days, you will be perfectly able to do the thing. yesterday you put the plate in the dishwasher. today you put the plate in the dishwasher. tomorrow you will put the plate in the dishwasher. but tuesday comes, and you walk by the dirty plate, think "oh i should put that in the dishwasher," and then you stand there and stare at it without moving it. and you're like, c'mon. it's easy. you did it yesterday. all it takes is moving your hand. picking up the plate. walking into the kitchen. putting it inside the dishwasher. isn't that so easy? why can't you do it? why isn't your hand moving? are you lazy? are you stupid? this is infuriating! you literally just did this yesterday! you've done it a hundred times! what the fuck is wrong with you?! and then wednesday comes. now you have two dirty plates. now the task is twice as hard. maybe you can do it. maybe you can't. it's a harder task now. now you have three plates. now you're guilty because you have all these dirty plates, and it's a mountainous task now, and your roommate is giving you stink eyes for leaving dirty plates out, and you're a fucking adult who should be able to take care of some dirty plates, and you want to, you WANT to take care of the plates, but every time you THINK about them you flop into a cold sweat—

this is executive dysfunction. it's one of the more insidious side effects of adhd in my experience. that said, there are a lot of little tricks i've gotten from therapy specific to addressing this problem, so i'll give you a list here.

DO I HAVE TIME? this is best used for small, quick tasks like our plate example. you walk by the dirty plate and think "i should put this in the dishwasher." do you have time, right now, to do it? will it interfere with the thing you were doing? for example, if you're on the way out the door because your ride is honking, the answer is no. if you're on the way to get another glass of water while kicking back and watching some youtube, the answer is yes. if you have the time, do it now. now let's say you bring the plate into the kitchen and open the dishwasher. it's clean. you haven't emptied it yet. now the task has changed. but that's okay; do you have the time to empty the dishwasher right now? maybe you only get an hour a week to kick back and watch the youtube, and it's a special time that you need in order to recharge. the answer becomes no. well the plate is in the kitchen now instead of your room. victory.

COIN FLIP GAME. this one i actually got from the anti-planner by dani donovan, which i can Not recommend highly enough. there is a task you have to do, and you want to do it, but you're having a problem getting started. or maybe you have to do it but it feels icky, but you do really need to do it. the important thing for this trick is that it is not time sensitive; if you don't do it right now, it's okay. so you flip a coin. heads, you do it. tails, you get to wait until you have the thought that you need to do it again. if you get tails, then you are allowed, guilt-free, not to do the thing. if you get heads, sorry champ but you're doing the thing. gamifying it in this manner kind of... cheats your brain into approaching things differently, which can help you get around that brick wall.

TASK INITIATION. sometimes, it's not that the task itself is the problem; it's because you're having problem with what's called "task initiation." getting Started doing the thing is really fucking hard. if this is your issue, you can try and approach it a different way, usually by going "backwards" down the order of operations. so say for example, laundry. i have a lot of trouble with laundry. if i think to myself "i need to do my laundry," i have difficulty with the task initiation there. so what i do instead of "starting" at the shoving clothes into the washing machine part, i'll go into my room and make sure i've picked up all the dirty clothes and sorted them out. check my bathroom for towels and washcloths. sort them away. now i'm standing in front of my dirty laundry, and i'm "doing laundry," so it's easier to pick up one of the organizer bags and take it into the laundry room. i went backwards down the line and found a place in the task list where i could begin without the hassle, then i basically tricked myself into continuing past the point where i was having trouble.

BREAK UP THE TASK. this one is good if you feel like you're looking at a mountain and it's so overwhelming you just. don't do the thing. you'll hear it a lot: "just break it up into smaller tasks!" but. what the fuck does that actually mean? what does it look like? it's going to depend on You, but let's look at our plate example. so we just walked by the plate and we know we need to put it into the dishwasher. well. let me start by looking at the plate. can i do that? can i pick it up? let's say the answer is no. well, why? maybe i'm so stressed from work that this is just one too many things on my, haha, plate right now. okay. maybe don't worry about this right now, then. or maybe i'm having trouble because i know that the dishwasher is full of clean dishes, so it's not really as simple as "put the plate in the dishwasher." so, bring the plate into the kitchen. put it on the counter. maybe that's enough for now. or maybe i can open the dishwasher. look inside. it's full, and i don't really have the energy to unload it right now. ...or maybe i do, but i'm just looking at this huge thing that feels too big. maybe i can put away one plate. okay. that wasn't so bad. maybe i can put away all the plates. plates are easy. my trick is i take all the clean dishes OUT of the dishwasher and put them on my kitchen island without worrying about putting them away yet. then i load the dirty things into the dishwasher. well now i turn around and i have all the clean dishes pilled up nicely here. momentum really is everything. one task leads to two leads to five leads to done.

TASK BUNDLING. this is useful if you're trying to be more consistent about something and you already have something else you do consistently. for example, i have dogs. every night around six pm, i feed them supper. now, historically, i've had problems with remembering to eat/feeling like cooking when i wasn't hungry/being hungry but having trouble cooking. i don't need to tell you how unhealthy that is, hahaha. so what i did is i bundled my supper together with their supper. they will eat every night. they will Not forget to remind me that they want to eat. i make their supper every day. so i make their supper, feed it to them, and bam! i'm in the kitchen. preparing food already. so it's really easy for me to keep going and prepare My food. let's say you want to drink more water. every time you open tumblr, bundle together the task of checking to make sure you have a glass of water with you, and take a sip. let's say you want to take a vitamin. keep the bottle by your toothbrush. and get weird with it! don't let social norms hold you back. i have a toothbrush in my shower. i have medicine on the bookshelf next to where i play video games. these aren't the "usual" places for things, but they Work for ME. find the places that work for you, and bundle things together. you'll be a lot more likely to do them if they're tied to something else.

BODY DOUBLING. this one is HUGE. i've actually infected my neurotypical friends in discord with this one, it's so powerful, hehehe. basically, you externalize the executive function. there are a couple of ways to do this. if you want to do something, ask someone to be in the room with you. they don't have to be doing the same thing, or anything, really. but having another Person there (another BODY, if you will) will make it so you can do the thing. you can also do this over discord. for example, my friends and i will open up a voice chat, and we'll be doing things. i'll be writing, khaya will be drawing, yorsh will be writing or drawing, keisha will be writing or drawing... and because we're all there together, we're super productive! it smashes through that brick wall a bit. there is a whole genre of youtube videos i LOVE that target this thing. find "study with me" type videos where you have someone doing homework or something, maybe they have rain, or lofi music, or just the ambient noises of a coffee shop; whatever you find most helpful. i actually body double with a little fox timer i have on my desk. i turn him on for an hour, and since he's "working," it's really easy for me to be like "ok i gotta work too." silly? yes. does it work? yes!

BULLET JOURNAL/APPS. i don't mean the pinterest pretty things where you end up spending way too much time on making a pretty spread. i mean the actual basic bullet journal that the original creator developed because he has adhd and needed something to keep his shit straight. i did this for a while, and i found it somewhat useful? eventually i found more success with the app TickTick, which is so good for me keeping my tasks straight and accounted for, i pay for the premium bc fuck yeah. if you're the kind of person motivated by streaks (think, like, doing something because you don't want to break a streak. i am very much this person.) then i've gotten a lot of good mileage out of the Today app. i don't use it much anymore, but it's very good if that's a motivating thing for you.

WEAPONIZE ANNOYANCE. i do this one a lot. i have certain things that annoy me a lot. like, being wasteful with water really annoys me. so that means i don't like to wash laundry more than once. which means, if i put something in the washing machine, i WILL move it into the dryer. so if i can put my laundry into the washing machine and get it started, i have defeated the demon of moving it into the dryer by weaponizing my own irritation against myself. same thing with gritty bathroom floors. my cat's litterbox is in my bathroom. i Really hate stepping out of the shower and feeling litter under my feet. so i'm pretty meticulous about keeping the bathroom floor clean, even though sometimes i have a moment of executive dysfunction about vacuuming every day, because whenever i hit that brick wall i think. ok. well. we can look at this brick wall that's here. now think about the sensation of stepping out onto cat litter out of the shower. aofjalsfjadlskfjslakfjsalkfj. and that's enough for me to reach for the vacuum. so you can use your preferences against your weaknesses, especially if they're things that you're Very particular about.

RECONTEXTUALIZE. my therapist will sometimes stop me and say "you are should-ing all over yourself." and this is when i'm saying things like "i should x" or "i should y." i should be able to put away this plate in the dishwasher. i did it yesterday! i should be able to do it today! the moment you catch yourself thinking these things, stop. think about it differently. instead of "i should be able to put this plate away," think "i want to be able to put this plate away." now you can say. well. why do i want to put the plate away? because it's dirty, and dirty dishes will attract bugs. i don't want bugs. i want my room to be clean and smell nice. i want to enjoy being in here. now, instead of a chore that needs to be done, you can think about it as a positive thing you're doing. sometimes this is enough to get around that wall.

now. you've asked me about writing specifically, which is. kind of a special beast for me. you said it seems like i have a compulsion to do it—and it really does kind of feel that way. if i go too long without writing, i feel uncomfortable. antsy. like i'm not doing what i need to be doing in order to be Me. as such, it's usually not that difficult for me to convince myself to write. if i start seeing a brick wall about it, i can go "...but... think about the COOL SHIT that's about to happen in symphony!!" and i'll go "OH YEAH" and break right the fuck through that brick wall kool-aid style.

that said. i do experience executive dysfunction with my writing. there are days when i want to write, i have the scene in my head, i have the time, i'm in my special writing place, and i sit down and—and i can't do it. i can't write. i keep clicking into tumblr. i close tumblr on my computer then pick up my phone. i watch youtube videos. it's like no matter what i do, i can Not focus on writing. even though i am screaming and rattling at the cages because i want to!!! i want to write!!! i want to do nothing MORE than write!!!!

often, one of the tricks above will work for me since i've learned how to use them over the years, and i have practice tricking myself. i find particular success with the body doubling in particular for writing. but some days, it just. Doesn't Happen. and here is the ultimate truth that i will bestow upon you:

it's okay if you don't do the thing.

so you don't pick up that plate today, and tomorrow you have two. so you don't do your laundry, so you have to do it tomorrow. so you miss a meal. you go a day without writing. it's okay. as long as you're safe and healthy, it's okay. tomorrow is another day for you to try and do the thing.

stressing out about how much you want to do the thing is counterproductive. you're just going to make yourself ill doing that, and then you'll be less capable of doing things. just... chill. relax. breathe. do what you can. try the tips i gave, look for some more and see if those work, and if they don't... all right. it just isn't meant to happen today. no big deal. do something else today. maybe you don't pick up that plate... but you do fold that laundry that was giving you a brick wall a few days ago. maybe you don't write that fic today... but you do read that book you've been putting off, and now you have a new favorite author you want to pick apart and study. life is short, and precious. don't should on yourself.

#ask tag #adhd tag #holy FUCK this got long. but i hope it helps you a little c:

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pinkteapotwriting · 3 years ago

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Hey could you please do a dom remus, dom james and sub Fem!reader, with pet play and the use of kitty instead of "daddy".

Scenario: remus is dating the reader but james likes the reader to and james catches them fkn and he ask to join.

Btw i love your content so much! Pls never stop.

This was oddly specific but I also loved it??? Thanks for all of your patience love xXx

James Potter x Fem!reader x Remus Lupin

Warning : Sub!reader, Unprotected sex, Voyerism, Praise kink, teensy innocense kink, i don’t remember if I put degradation, pet play, pet names

Word count : 1730

---

James was cocky, some would consider him arrogant.

You however, found it enticing.

You’re just kind of self destructive that way, I suppose.

Remus was different from James, he was quiet and analytical. When he did have something to say it left a mark. Remus had you memorized, he knew every trigger, every touch, and every desire in that pretty little head of yours and both of you always enjoyed his intuition.

As James flew across his broom stick, dodging every bludger with ease, Remus’s intuition was telling him that you were extremely horny. You were on the best seat in the house, Remus’s lap and every time James would catch the quaffle in his very capable hands, you’d clench your thighs a little. Remus placed his lips at the shell of your ear, his hot breath and tone of voice making you shiver.

“When were you going to tell me about your little crush, poppet?”

“I don’t-”

“Don’t lie to me, you know that gets you punished. Besides, I can feel how needy my girl is, don’t you want me to take care of that for you?”

“Yes please.”

“Alright, if we leave now we should have enough time before everyone gets back, maybe even longer cause it looks like Gryffindor is going to win so there��ll be a party in the common room tonight. We’d have the dorm to ourselves Puppy, how does that sound?”

“Please Remmy, I want it so bad. I want you so bad.”

“Let’s go, we’ve wasted enough time now.”

---

James’ eager eyes scanned the room for his favourite girl, but you were nowhere to be seen. The euphoria of winning had worn off, and all he could do was politely brush people off as he searched. He felt bad that he felt this way, but he couldn’t exactly help feeling it anyhow.

To avoid all the bothersome people he decided to just call it a night and dream of the girl he couldn’t have.

Remus’s girl.

He trudged up the stairs, reminiscing of the time you placed your hand on his shoulder, he didn’t know he was such a fan of physical touch until you showed him. None of the marauders were really cuddly, but you seemed to thrive off of it and he was happy to oblige. At least that was something.

He was so lost in his own thoughts, but something he heard stopped him from the routine habit of opening the door without question. He recognized the cute pitch your voice took, but this time you were moaning, a lot.

And he would have left you alone but he heard his name, so he figured he had a right to listen, right?

“Please Remmy, want your fingers.”

“You don’t want my fingers, you want James’ fingers.”

“I- I want both- still like you too.”

“Greedy girl, one cock isn’t enough for you huh?”

“He’s so pretty, want him so bad”

“Poor dear, James isn’t here so it looks like my girl can’t get what she wants.”

James knew he was confident, but he didn’t realize he was confident enough to burst through the door, not even phased by your naked figure rutting against Remus’s thigh.

“Nice of you to join us James, I was hoping you’d overhear.”

“Yeah? Then I’m glad I did.”

“Puppy, why don’t you greet our guest the way I taught you, hmm?”

“Okay kitty.”

You climbed off of Remus to settle in front of James on your knees.

“She calls you kitty?”

“It’s like her version of Daddy, I find it endearing.”

“It’s cute” he squats down to fondle the pendant on the collar you were wearing. He’d never seen you wear anything like that before. It read the property of R.L.. “So, you’re Remus’s puppy huh?”

“Yes sir.”

“Would you mind being my puppy for a bit?”

“No sir, wanna be your puppy for more than a bit.”

He patted your head and rose to his full height.

“Good girl, what’s your safe word?”

“Red, or I can snap.”

“Why would you snap?”

“In case your cock was in my mouth sir.”

“You should let her suck your cock first, she takes it well.”

It took a lot for you to not clench your thighs together. James studied your eager face and smirked at your instant compliance.

“Alright Pup, get to it. Let’s see if Remus knows what he’s talking about.”

All James wanted to do was eat you out until you couldn’t cum anymore, but he had never met someone so submissive before. It was fun to test the waters, and he would be sure to reward you later. You greedily swallowed his cock, his length wouldn’t deter you, since you were already used to Remus. James’ moans and soft grunts were feeding you into moving at a faster pace. You didn’t even notice the tears streaming down your face, but James did.

“Remus, you certainly do know what you’re talking about. Looks like you’ve trained her well. Are there any boundaries you have that I should know?”

“What’s mine is yours, just try not to mark her up too much.”

“That’s a shame, she’d be a pretty little thing to mark up, but she is yours. I can respect that.”

You were whining now while they talked as if you weren’t even there. Looks like they both knew how to direct conversation to make you impossibly needy, oh well.

James grabbed your hair to pull you off of him.

“Why don’t we show kitty how quick I can make you cum? I heard you wanted my fingers.”

“Please, want them so bad.”

“You also said I’m pretty.”

“You are pretty Jamie, wanna kiss.”

He helped you to your feet and cupped the side of your face gently.

Kissing James Potter was much different than kissing Remus. Remus could tease you endlessly about how desperate you were, but his kiss destroyed all pretenses. Remus was fire. James wasn’t cold, but it filled you with a different kind of warmth. His lips were soft, a complete juxtaposition to the way he was holding you. When he pulled away you sighed in contentment.

“Okay, get your ass on the bed.”

Well, his words were less put together than his lips were. But his command didn’t have you complaining.

You climbed on the bed in front of Remus as he enjoyed the show from the head board. You made sure to arch your back the way Remus liked, your cunt on full display. You figured James liked it too considering the way he muttered fuck under his breath as he squeezed your ass. Remus loved the anticipation dripping from your face.

“My pretty puppy, you look ansty. Are you sure you can handle James fingers. I think it might be too much for you.”

“No Kitty, I can take it please.”

“It’s not me you should be asking.”

“Remus she’s been such a good girl don’t tease her. Don’t worry baby, if you’re good you can cum as much as you want, maybe more.”

You looked at Remus with wide eyes, while he barked a laugh.

“Don’t look at me like that pup, you wanted this now you’re gonna take it.”

You wanted to jolt with the electricity that flew when James finally touched your clit, but Remus had trained you better than that, so you stayed planted only letting out a quiet whimper.

“Yeah Y/N, Kitty says you’ve got to take it.”

With that he pushed a finger inside your cunt while rubbing quick little circles with his thumb.

“You’re so wet baby” He was interrupted by your moaning when he pushed a second finger inside. “Taking my fingers so well. I want you to cum before I give you my cock, think you can manage that?”

“Oh she’ll just have to, besides, she loves being a little cum bunny, don’t you darling?”

“Love it so much Kitty, wanna be good, please let me.”

“Nothing is stopping you, go ahead and make a mess on Jamie's fingers.”

Your mouth fell open as James worked you through your orgasm, once he pulled out you were able to catch your breath again. He flipped you on your back and you were smiling at an upside down Remus.

“Fuck you’re precious aren’t you?” He bent down to give you an upside down kiss and grinned at you in your giggly state “James, you better hurry up and fuck her or else I’m kicking you out and I will.”

James took a glance at your now furrowed eyebrows.

“You’re confusing her Remus. Oh Bunny, Kitty was just teasing. Is your brain getting a little fuzzy?”

“A little Jamie, don’t want you to go. Can you please fuck me now?”

“Well since you asked so nicely.”

He pushed in inch by inch and he had this curve that rubbed perfectly against your walls.

“James”

He fulfilled your request with much happiness, snapping his hips into your like that’s all he was meant to do. You went to grip along his back, but he pinned your hands above your head, continuing his ruthless pace.

“Sorry Bunny, if I can’t mark you, you don’t get to mark me, understood?”

You nodded pitifully, barely even able to do that. You were completely absorbed in the pleasure James was giving you. You didn’t even realize you had squeezed your eyes shut until James reprimanded you.

“I can feel your thighs shaking love, keep your eyes on Remus. I want your kitty to watch your face as you fall apart on my cock.”

“Kitty”

“What is it, puppy?”

“Wanna cum.”

“Go ahead and cum pretty girl, you’ve earned it.”

James was quick to stimulate your clit with his thumb again and just when you arched your back at the arrival of your orgasm James was filling you with his own. Slowing down significantly as he worked you both through the remnants of your climax he made sure to capture your lips on his own.

“James, I think you called me Kitty more than Y/N did.”

You frowned at that.

“You don’t need to be jealous Jamie, you can be my kitty too.”

“Really?”

Remus swept some of the hair out of your face, admiring your fucked out expression.

“Really.”

It was only fair that someone as spectacular as you got to be shared.

---

@sunny-bunnny @quindolyn @midnightgremlin @weasleyposts @bluemoonyblurbs @emmaev @agalandhermarvelobsession

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin smut #james potter #james potter x reader #james potter smut #harry potter smut #harry potter fanfiction #smut #fanfiction

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the-dream-team · 3 years ago

Text

Can I Try Again

Another ridiculously fluffy one-shot for @efkgirldetective's summer of jily week four prompt: picking berries // I know I've kissed you before, but I didn't do it right // the entire song, pink in the night <3

She is beautiful and he is in a perpetual state of falling. Down and down and down the goddamn rabbit hole, but somehow the further James plummets, the brighter his life becomes. It’s the kind of brightness that blinds him- somewhat painfully- and leaves his vision spotty, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Lily Evans walks ahead of him, a spring in her step, sunshine pouring through her hair. She’s cut it short for the summer, just above her shoulders, and he’s mesmerized by the way it bounces around her neck as she walks through the gardens of his family’s home. It’s an image he’s played over in his head an infinite number of times, but his rosiest daydreams don’t hold a candle to the real thing. The afternoon light hits his glasses just right and suddenly there’s a halo of glowing stars framing her as she tucks a dark red strand behind her ear. He can’t even see her face, but it doesn’t matter. I could stare at your back all day.

He is the luckiest boy in the world and every moment is made up of the sweetest form of torture. Agony and exuberance whipping his heart back and forth like a rogue Bludger.

She must know, he thinks. Must have some sort of clue that she’s occupied every corner of his mind for well over a year now. Even more so now, after the platform. He wishes more than anything for the ability to read minds as she glances over her shoulder with those startlingly green eyes, that friendly grin.

He can’t help but smile back- or maybe he was already smiling before she even turned around. It doesn’t matter. By some miracle, she’s here, and he can only marvel at the kindness of fate.

***

It had been a passing comment. One of those early morning conversations as his friends frantically scribbled out unfinished essays while shoving waffles down their throats. Chatter muffled by mouthfuls of eggs and yawning. Remus had commented offhandedly about the fruit bowl being passed around, and then-

“Oh, raspberries are my favorite.”

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t already looking at her when she spoke. But truthfully, he was always looking at Lily, a habit he’d long since stopped fighting once he realized how fruitless his efforts were. She was beautiful and he was hopeless. Simply lucky to be in her presence. She was the sun, and he, but a lonely planet, entirely reliant on and endlessly seeking out her light.

Sirius spoke the words James should have if his mind hadn’t gone fuzzy from hearing her voice.

“You know, the Potters have a raspberry patch in their gardens.”

“Oh, really?” She glanced from Sirius to James with a brilliant smile and excited eyes, so purposefully glued to his that he had to duck his head and rake a hand through his hair to hide his heating cheeks.

“That’s right,” he said more to his plate of sausages than to her. “They’re usually ripe to pick by early August.” When he peered back up, she was still looking his way.

“You should come over this summer and take some off our hands,” said Sirius casually, turning towards James as if it had been his idea.

“Yeah,” he jumped in a little too eagerly. “I mean- if you’d like, you’re more than welcome.”

Her smile widened, rounding the apples of her cheeks in a way that made his stomach flip pleasantly. “That sounds like fun.”

He assumed she’d forget the conversation, it had been just another morning, just another casual chat among housemates, but that didn’t keep him from daydreaming about the potential of a far-off day in August rather incessantly during the following months. But then as the school year ended and summer rolled on painfully slowly (and Lily-less), an owl arrived. And her handwriting crawled across the page like a message written in the clouds.

***

Lily swings the woven basket back and forth in her pursuit of the best raspberries. There’s already an impressive bounty growing in her basket, far more than he’s managed to collect- too busy watching her kneel down and pluck berries off their delicate branches to pick any of his own.

He turns to a leafy bush, green and lively and swaying slightly in the warm breeze, and quickly pinches off a handful of berries in an attempt to catch up with her. When she spins around, he’s thankful for the distraction. A minute earlier and she would have caught him staring. Again.

She smiles pleasantly and brushes her fringe off her sweaty forehead with the back of her wrist. James’ heart leaps into his throat.

“You’ve been quiet,” she says, but not accusingly.

“No I haven’t,” he responds, voice gravelly from underuse. “Just been busy picking raspberries.”

She glances at his measly basket, then back to his face with arching brows and an amused smirk.

He can’t help his own guilty grin. “Alright, Evans, I’m sorry we can’t all be unreasonably talented at everything we do.”

“It’s berry picking, Potter,” she laughs, “not advanced Arithmancy.”

In retaliation, he plucks a raspberry off of the nearest branch and playfully throws it at her. She somehow has the gall to lean her head back and catch the goddamn berry between her teeth. His brain short circuits. He’s quite certain his jaw is on the ground. She acts as though this is no big deal, swallowing the fruit with a satisfied smile, her tongue brushing her lower lip before tossing another into her mouth.

“Oh, these are delicious!”

He can’t form a response even if he wants to. Even if it was a matter of life or death, which it sure as hell feels like. He can only stare at her mouth, at her lips stained raspberry-pink, and lose himself in the knowledge that he knows how they feel against his own- even just briefly.

***

The platform teemed with students stretching their legs after the long journey home from school, saying their goodbyes to friends as their families greeted them for the summer.

A pit sat in James’ stomach- heavy and demoralizing- the entire train ride back to London. He knew she’d be gone soon. Back with her parents in Cokeworth for two excruciating months before their seventh year began. He’d taken their close proximity for granted during the school year, and as he faced a summer without the promise of her warmth, he wondered if it was even possible living in the dark.

He laughed loudly at a joke Peter told, overcompensating for the fact he’d missed the punchline while his thoughts were spiraling over her. Sirius shot him a look that suggested he wasn’t doing a great job of masking his emotions. Had it been so obvious the entire way home? Could she have noticed the despondency in his eyes, heard the heavy thumping of his heart? He rolled his eyes at Sirius and mustered up the most unbothered smirk he could manage.

But then, without warning, she was in front of him.

“Alright, Potter, don’t let your head overinflate while I’m not around to keep you grounded.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Evans,” he laughed, thankful his voice sounded steadier than he felt. “Just so long as you promise to consider switching your loyalties to Puddlemere. There’s no way the Harpies even make it to the semi-finals this season, and I can’t bear seeing you heartbroken again.”

“Oh, piss off, Potter,” she replied, but the way she threw her arms around his neck seemed to argue she didn’t mean what she said. Instinctually, he hugged her back, and thank Merlin he had her to hold onto as the wind was knocked out of his lungs at her touch. An overwhelming warmth sparkled across every surface their bodies met, and it took every ounce of control he had to restrain the truly pathetic sigh that threatened to escape his throat.

“And I haven’t forgotten,” she spoke into his shoulder, breath hot thorough his t-shirt, “you promised me berry picking this August.”

It would be impossible to miss the rapid beating of his heart through his chest pressed up against hers. “I’m already counting down the days.”

When she pulled back, hands resting on his shoulders for a beat longer than expected, his body moved faster than his brain could keep up with. He leaned forward, aiming for her cheek, but miraculously landing against her mouth- connecting for the briefest of moments before parting again, as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened between them. If it weren’t for the ghost of her lips still burning against his own, he might have thought he’d dreamt it.

“Lily, I’m not waiting any longer, we’re leaving, now,” came the unpleasant voice of her sister from across the platform.

Lily’s disoriented smile faltered slightly before she composed herself again, meeting his eye. “I’ll see you in August?”

“Yeah, August,” he somehow said with his mouth still tingling, forever changed by what they now knew.

***

The memory of her lips, how they feel pressed between his smile, is harder to ignore when they’re in front of him. He can remember the warmth where they touched him over a month ago and absentmindedly he brings a raspberry to his mouth so he can imagine how she must taste.

His emotions were hard enough to control before he knew what he was missing, but now they are impossible to reign in. He forgets how to breathe, and as a result, his head spins maddeningly. Unsure of how much longer he can stand up straight without making a fool out of himself, he walks forward and lays a hand on Lily’s back- partially to lead her forward, partially because the desire to be connected to her in any way is driving him mad.

She lets him guide her through the rows of bushes, under an ancient wooden archway, and across a courtyard of blossoming poppies and forget-me-nots enclosed by walls of hedges. Yellow and purple petals reflect brilliantly in her green eyes, creating their own fields of wildflowers within her irises. He walks her towards a wide, circular fountain in the middle of the grass where bubbling water spills over onto stone tiers and pours into the basin below, its floor littered with glinting coins, dancing under the water’s rippling surface.

He sits down and she follows suit on the stone ledge surrounding the water, partially shaded by an impressive plum tree. Cool droplets spray off the fountain, refreshing like summer rain singing I love you, I love you, I love you. Lily glances his way and he wonders if she can hear his thoughts.

“Are we finished picking berries?” she asks, eyes squinting and nose crinkling in the sun.

“I figured you had enough to feed a village.” He reaches over and grabs a raspberry from her basket and she gasps in faux outrage.

“Are you really stealing my raspberries, Potter?”

He adores his name on her tongue. “My apologies,” he says, pulling a silver Sickle out of his pocket and sliding it over to where she sits. She looks at him like he’s lost his mind. “For your troubles. Go on then, make a wish.”

“Oh!” Her eyes light up and she takes hold of the coin, lifting it to her heart as she closes her eyes in search of a wish.

He thinks he could look at her forever. Happy, sunkissed, an unconscious smile playing across her lips. With her eyes shut, he uses a minute to take a deep breath, attempting to calm his racing heart and compose his dopey grin. They’re sitting close together, knees almost touching with the basket of berries between them. As she tosses the Sickle behind her shoulder, he smells the faint scent of her vanilla shampoo.

She noticeably tries to hide her smile when her eyelids flutter back open.

“What did you wish for?” he asks, unable to stop himself.

She freezes with her eyes locked on his. A pink blush spreads across her cheeks, growing darker the longer he stares back at her. “I can’t tell you,” she says, words sounding choked, “or else it won't come true.”

Her flushed face awakens something in his chest, a confidence that blooms magnificently, turns his nervous, pattering heartbeat into a steady, powerful drum.

His voice drops to a hoarse whisper when he asks, “Can I guess?”

Her breath hitches. “I think you might already know, James.” Her words, the sound of his name, melts him down to a puddle. By some miracle, she continues speaking. “Look, I know I’ve kissed you before-”

“But I didn’t do it right,” he says frantically, his hands finding her face and brushing through her hair. He starts to understand why people advise against looking directly at the sun because being this close to her fills him with such astounding emotion he thinks he might explode. She stares up at him, blush deepening, lips parting, and he takes a ragged breath. “Can I try again?”

This time, when she smiles, he knows exactly what he’s doing.

He leans in slowly, letting their breath mix together, their noses bump lightly before he closes the space between their lips. She’s soft and warm and beautiful and radiant and he’s never felt a happiness quite like this one, never experienced a kiss this perfect. His fingers travel over her scorching skin and brush her neck as he deepens the kiss, tasting the raspberries on her tongue, his heart soaring as she responds blissfully until they’re both left breathless.

“And again?” she asks, pulling him back with a smile against his lips.

“And again,” he smiles back, marveling, once again, at the kindness of fate.

#summerofjily #look guys #i have never written present tense before so take that information as you will #and of course i switched to past tense for the flashbacks because I guess I want everyone to suffer #have some sickeningly sweet fluff to make up for it lol #i do not love writing kisses!#but I know you guys like when jily seals the deal so I do it for you #absolutely love this prompt and mitski is that glareingly obvious?#plus picking berries is all i've thought about for 24 hours #<3 #who is reading these tags #seriously lmao #jily fic #jily #lily evans #James potter

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oonajaeadira · 4 years ago

Text

Long Fall Into Oblivion (Ezra x reader)

(header by sirtadcooper - check out the whole beautiful set here.)

Rating: Mature.

Pairing: Ezra (post-Prospect film) x f!reader

Warnings: Non-explicit sex. Some swears maybe (think there’s a f*ck in there somewhere, my GOODNESS). A lot of gooey, syrupy, soft fluffety fluff. Author attempts at writing Ezra dialogue. A lot of chewy prose.

A/N: I can’t believe I’m posting this, but here goes. I love Ezra. He is a man of questionable morality and an insufferable tongue and I really shouldn’t. But I really do. I just wanted to give him a try. I’ve softened him up here, putting a few years on him so maybe he’s fluffed up some since the events in the film. Also I just ignored the fade or assumed that aurelac mining was still happening because scarcity/demand. Doesn’t matter. Just wanted to go exploring.

Summary: You take a job as an aurelac prospecting trainee and Ezra shows you the ropes. You’re gonna fall in love with him. That’s it. That’s the whole thing.

TAGLIST: you can always request to be on the taglist for this or any of my work. If you’d like to be on taglists for upcoming fic, please sign up here –> TAGLIST

MASTERLIST

________________

Bakhroma is one of the smallest gas giants in the sector, but as you stand on the surface of the Green Moon, it dominates the entire horizon, pulling your focus, threatening to engulf everything around it. You almost feel sorry for the lush moon as you walk through its undergrowth, so gentle and full of beauty, destined many years after you’re gone to give its life to her.

A moon is an orbiting admirer, and what is an orbit but a long fall to oblivion?

There’s a painful, sour ache in your heart as you walk back to the camp in twilight, watching the back of Ezra’s helmet bob along in front of you. You’d spent two days digging that claim only to find the weakest aurelac nest you’ve seen yet, only three viable nodes. You’d dug through one of them by accident and completely melted another like an incompetent fool. Kevva’s ass, you were such a disappointment. Three months in the Green and you still can’t cut a blister out properly. Not even once.

Ezra’s shoulders are wide and tense, his one hand splayed out as he walks, running over the tops of the tall ferns, catching one every now and then only to rip the top away, twirl it between his gloved fingers and toss it impatiently aside.

The other two members of your team headed out on a sling this morning, another two will be arriving in a few days. And you wonder if Ez regrets just not cutting his losses and leaving with them, or at least sending you back in exchange for another kip.

You think about shifting through the comm channels, hoping that he’s chattering away in one of them, switched without your knowledge, but it’s a lost cause. You can hear him breathing on the channel between you. It’s not often Ezra has nothing to say.

________________

You thought your father was leaving you an inheritance. It’s not the reason you took care of him through his illness, but you’d dropped everything to be back home with him through his final months. In a way, it was a blessing, a reason to quit the Dasha factory and the terrible working conditions there, come back home and focus on your dad, relive good memories, just spend time. The reconnection lifted your heart, but his death sank it low again. When you learned he had nothing to leave you but a small house and some old vehicles, you sold what you could and traded in the rest.

Then you had nothing. No family, no job, little savings, questionable future. It almost broke your spirit. But the last few months with your father rekindled your love of him as he told you about his years in the Fringe, mining and prospecting. And your heart had said, “what the hell, let’s try that.” So you listened.

It took some time to track down the right inroads, but you were able to find some ads for prospecting teams, in particular those who were willing to take on members in training for a re-distributed cut. With all provisions included--other than suit and gear, which your father’s inheritance neatly covered--it seemed like just as good of a deal as any, and an adventure to boot.

But the reality was, every team you met with was full of hardened men, and while you were not a soft Central woman, you also weren’t overly versed in weaponry and didn’t know if you could defend yourself out in the Fringe against attack if things got crusty.

You were just about ready to admit defeat when you walked into yet another conference bunker and found your match. The first thing you noticed was that he was standing when you arrived, waiting for you politely rather than manspread at the table. Second were his eyes. Deep, brown, and sad. Maybe sad was the wrong word, certainly it seemed by the lines in his face, possibly by the missing arm, that he’d seen enough sadness, but toward you, it read more as concern. You wouldn’t know it until later when he confessed his feelings about this first meeting, but he was worried you wouldn’t choose him. Ezra had a hell of a time hiring partners. He may have been one of the longest-working aurelac diggers out there, but young kippers saw his greying beard and seasoned diggers saw his lacking arm and they all tended to turn around and walk out before he even said hello. So he’d tried to put himself out there as a trainer, show that he had something more to offer.

It didn’t hurt his feelings when you admitted to him later that those qualities were exactly why you chose him. He seemed the opposite of threatening. And his eyes were bright when he smiled at you. With his thrumming baritone and his Fringe twang and his mixed deck of mosaic words, he had a way of speaking that felt like a fluffy blanket curling around you, your brain vibrating with comfort at every new monologue. He was eccentric and perhaps a little jarringly rough in his humor at times, but there was something about him that you trusted immediately, even though you’d come to learn later you probably shouldn’t have if you were being overly cautious.

Not that your judgement ever came to detriment. Not that he ever proved you wrong that way. Not when it came to you. But the man was dangerous when he had to be in a way you hadn’t initially picked up on.

________________

You hadn’t been out in the Green two weeks before you looked up from the bottom of a dig hole to see Ezra standing over you with a thrower.

“You get down and you stay down, understand?”

“Ez? What--”

“I said stay down! Do not make me waste words on mere repetition!” The fuzzy blanket of his voice replaced suddenly by a snarling, snapping brush wolf, a quick change hitting you like a slap in the ear.

There’d been pops and whizzes as shots rang through and you did as your trainer said, face down, the view of your visor giving you nothing but dirt. Your helmet was a chorus of quick breathing from both of you and sweat rolled down your neck as you begged the eyes of Kevva to look down upon your partner. When the crossfire faded, you’d heard Ezra stalk away. Then there were a couple more shots. Then more footsteps returning.

“You are permitted to stand, trinket. All is well as it can be for us. But not so much for our dearly departed friends.” These words were as soothing as much as his previous ones had burned, and he simply went back to working at the dig at hand as if he’d just come back from taking a leak. It wasn’t until you left the site that evening that you tramped past two rotting raiders, gaudily outfitted with broken face shields, left to let the Green take them.

Ezra whistled as he stepped over them, stopping only to harvest their filters and munition rods, which he tossed your way to stow in your pack, and then continued lazily down the path toward camp. Just another day on the job.

He may be a little peculiar and not someone to trifle with, he may have just killed two people without remorse or further comment, but his lack of reassuring words told you that this was just part of the deal. You wear the suit, you use the air scrubber in the tent, you follow the landing pod instructions as written, and you defend yourself against those who wish to harm you. Survival by any and all means is paramount, mundane, and something he has no qualms with on any level.

There was something deep down inside of you that instinctually pulled you to follow him, not just down the literal path before you, but whatever path Ezra chose to wander.

________________

Before you’d left the station with him, he’d taken you to a thrower range to gauge your skill which was decent in theory, but dismal compared with what he could do. No matter, he still patiently taught you how to properly clean and charge a weapon and the best way to breathe and pull the trigger; “like you’re taking hold of a man’s...well... Just go easy and firm.” He suggested you should come and practice every day before lift off and then hope to Kevva that you didn’t have to rely too heavily on it.

“If I find myself in a coffin of my own suit, then feel free to defend yourself as a final means of preservation. Otherwise, when it comes down to shots fired, best to let me do the dirty work. Might as well keep the blood where the blood has been.”

You’d been a little nervous about sharing a freighter pod alone with him, but Ezra was...well, not so much a gentleman as just a comfortable soul.

He always waited until you were hungry to eat, thinking it rude to eat alone in front of you. He never moved around the pod while you were sleeping, content to keep still with a book in his cot. And if you couldn’t sleep, he was always willing to read to you from whatever impossibly dense old world classic he was digging through for the umpteenth time, letting his voice come up from the deeps and pull you gently under. If you asked permission to turn on the radio, he’d ask you “why Isn’t it on yet, woman,” quietly tolerating your taste in harsh and gleeful babblecore pshcyopop. In the later days of the journey, he’d even come to dance with you from time to time, although both of you were dismal at it and ended up with you in a fit of giggles. It was a sure-fire way to cure a case of the pouts you carried through from the morning fitness sessions when he beat you at pushups. Again.

When it came to privacy in the tight space, he had a habit of turning away without having to be asked or stopping his stream of talk when you went to change clothes, just happily chattering away until you called the all clear. Although he was not squeamish about his own state of undress, should you happen to catch it by accident. While he was respectful of your privacy, he seemed to need none of his own, but neither did he flaunt anything. You might look up from studying the flight manual to notice he was changing into a fresh pair of compression pants, tugging them on haphazardly with one hand, more concerned with telling you the overwhelmingly disgusting manufacturing process of Bits Bars than his own ass hanging out where you might see it. At least he always changed facing away from you which was a kindness.

Until it wasn’t.

After you realized you’d fallen quietly in love with him--a sudden, soft moment on the Green--then you’d admit only privately to yourself that you wouldn’t mind if you accidentally saw a little more than the occasional shirtless attire he might wear around the tent.

But in the pod, the only part of him that had caught your curiosity was his stump, and you’d known Ezra intensely enough over the past couple of weeks where you knew he wouldn’t take offense. Especially if you asked him the right way.

“Will you tell me a story, Ezra?”

“I feel that it is my duty to do so whether you ask me to or not. Shall I choose, or is there something in particular you would like to hear?”

He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, propped up against his cot, going through his kit, cleaning his gear. You waited until he noticed your lack of answer and looked up to meet your eyes. When he saw that you had put your manual down and were focusing all your quiet attention on him, he stopped his busy work.

When Ezra gives you his attention, it is absolute. When he knows you seriously need something from him, that becomes his immediate main priority and all else can wait. It’s only gotten more intense since that day, but there is a trust that resides between you when you look into his eyes, gathering your words as he waits patiently every time to hear whatever you’re going to request of him. There’s always hope there in his big browns, always something specific he’s waiting for you to ask, and every day you get a little bit closer to understanding what it might be. But until then, any question is a welcome one, any query is met with his wish to provide.

“Will you tell me how you lost your arm?”

At first you thought you may have gone too far, that maybe you insulted him, as his eyebrows peaked together and he looked down at his hand. But then, “That is a tale that may cause you some consternation, trinket. The Green is dangerous and unforgiving, and there were times I may not have been a man worthy of fair opinion.”

“My father was a prospector, you know. I’ve heard stories. Have you ever killed anyone?”

He clicked his tongue and screwed up an eye, causing the thin white scar on his cheek to twist. Then he sighed and returned to your locked gaze. “To be honest, I have. Though I have never done so with pleasure, I have killed in defense and out of desperation, and it was out of dispatching a man in this way that I came to lose the second favorite of all my appendages.”

“Second favorite?”

“Well, it depends what you classify as a limb.” He huffed a small laugh, a spark in his eye, trying to diffuse the harsh subject in his own way.

His leaning into baseness never bothered you. There was something earthy about it, gritty and rough, but never lewd. You rewarded his crassness with a smile. “Do you plan on killing me out in the Green?”

“I would hope my murdering days are behind me, and if they are not, you would see me aim a thrower at everyone but you in the course of my spree. You are under my tutelage, and for that, I owe you a duty of care. That is my word by Kevva.”

“Then tell me the story. I like your stories. I promise not to judge now-Ezra by then-Ezra.”

A dimple formed on his cheek, a punctuation mark framing the approaching anecdote on his lips. “Then I will declare myself absolved of any sin heretofore and regale you with a clean and grateful heart.”

________________

You can see the tent through the trees and you realize with some horror that it’s just you and Ezra for the next few nights. If he’s angry with you, and this is how he is when he’s upset, the silence will be unbearable.

Even that little girl he helped out here years ago was probably more capable than you. You feel so lost in this moment, and it’s only made worse by his silence. You fumble with your communicator and hit the mute just in time to choke on a sob.

This isn’t like you. You’re not one to cry when things get rough. You hardly shed a tear when your father died. But the thought of that just brings another sob and as acting as your own psychologist you realize that you are experiencing some displaced sorrow, the odd need to please the leading male in your life, the one that’s walking ahead of you, away from you. If he’d just turn around and throw you his worn weary smile, if he’d just start up a conversation you’d know that there was hope for you, you’d know you didn’t give up everything to be here in a job you couldn’t hack.

You gotta stop this. Or it’s going to be an uncomfortable night.

Shake it off.

Once you enter the tent, the usual dance happens. Ezra reaches up to turn on the air scrubber and you unhook his filter tube from his helmet. When he turns to you, you pull open the zipper cover on his suit and start his zip for him before lifting his helmet up and off. He can pull the zip the rest of the way, but you generally pull the left collar down for him so he can get his arm out. He’s on his own from there as you turn to fuss with your own gear.

________________

You remember it starting easily enough. He was telling you a story about the breeding habits of the Tokovian Musk Owl and you could see he was having trouble with his suit zipper, yanking at it and trying to look down at it even though it was under his chin and his helmet. Without another hand to keep the fabric taut, the zip didn’t want to release, so you simply batted his hand away and started it for him. He didn’t even stop his yammering, just threw in a “thank you” somewhere in between “could hear them screeching” and “for a fuck.” He’d right out asked you the day before if you wouldn’t mind disengaging the filter tube just because it was delicate and he didn’t want to mangle the expensive part trying to pop it out one-handed day after day. And while he could manage the helmet fine enough, his prominent nose thanked you for a smoother removal for sure.

It wasn’t the only routine dance you’d concocted.

There was the harness dance.

While dig days were excruciating, you always looked forward to helping him attach the harness for his prosthesis--a kind of rigid pole attached to a shovel so you didn’t have to do all the hard digging alone. There were a couple of straps that came around his torso with multiple latches and you’d come to really enjoy wrapping your arms around him to fit the straps on. Sure, you could do the job just as easily from behind, but if you embraced him at the front, he’d usually raise his arm and let it come to rest around your shoulders while you worked. If you let yourself dream, it would be easy to imagine that he might be pressing you into him just a little bit.

And there was the harvesting dance.

On a dig, you were the one to mix the fazer and Ezra did the pour. He fished the sack, you cut the cord. You sliced the outer casing and held it open while he did the extraction. And with the flesh-covered stone, he told you every time to “hold it like you love it” so he could cut away the slippery blister before cleaning the gemstone.

It was a beautiful harmony. And the only way it worked. Because once on every dig he urged you to do a solo extraction, and on every dig, you pierced the blister and lost that stone. And on every dig, he squeezed your shoulder and told you it was a wondrous try, that he was proud of you, and there would always be another turn. There was no sarcasm, no pity, just a warm smile and ceaseless optimism even though you just lost both of you thousands in pay.

These were the first touches, these shoulder squeezes that ran down your arm on the let-go. Sometimes he would just reach out and grab onto you like a pole to help himself up, or he might stumble off balance on uneven ground and without the counterweight of his right arm he’d throw his hand out onto you to steady himself. He wasn’t beyond lightly touching the small of your back to encourage you down a path or to take your next try at a gem pull.

This was all part of something you’ve secretly named the left-handed-lover’s dance. Basically, that you keep on his left whenever you can in case he needs your help or has the inclination to reach for you. It started out as just trying to be a good partner. Then it became a passing hope that it was more than just a friendly bond. But you were both here to do a job. He was here to teach you to be an independent prospector and you were here to assist and learn. That was evident at the end of the day; once you were both in the tent and out of the suits he never touched you, never so much as bumped into you or grazed your hand in passing an item or clapped you on the arm after a good joke.

But out in the field all zipped in and helmets on, there was nothing more natural than his gentle hand guiding you or reaching for your assistance, including the day you realized you loved him.

________________

Before you can turn away to strip off your own coverings, Ezra catches your arm, spinning your face into the light. You try to shake him off, not wanting him to catch your eyes puffy from crying and your cheeks still streaked with tears, but his grip is not so gentle now and he yanks you back around to his stormy glare, chin up, brows low. His intensity paralyzes you, rendering you unable to continue your struggle when he catches your eyes with his.

When Ezra gives you his attention, it is absolute.

His gaze travels back and forth between your eyes, waiting for an explanation, a minute so stringent it breaks you down, dissolves you into the tears you’d tried so hard to hide.

“I’m sorry, Ezra. I really am trying... I don’t know why I’m such a scuffer at this and I know it would only be right to release you from the contract and tell you to send me back but I don’t want you to, I really wanna stay, I really wanna learn and I’m so, so sorry.”

Your words have an immediate effect, softening him, pulling his glare into concern and wonder, his lips parting just the tiniest bit in surprise.

“This is the reason for your heavy mood? You think I am provoked by your proficiency in the field?”

“I crusted up good today and it seems like you’re not happy about it. Just...know that it means so much to me that...I don’t wanna let you down.”

“Oh, trinket, no.” An incredulous huff jumps out of him and his grip on your arm loosens, becomes a splayed warm support behind your shoulder, moving in soothing patterns and you’re instantly relieved that your assumptions were wrong. “You have done no harm in my book. It is not an easy thing to deliver a gem of this ilk into the world unscathed. Your opportunities have been few and scattered and it takes many sticks before a lover becomes a lothario.” He knows the crass humor will make you laugh, knows what to say to lighten your heart, to get you to soften, and bring you into his intimate, conspiratorial mood. “To be perfectly honest, I am selfish to an unrighteous degree, for every gem you burn keeps me in value to you. A worthy sacrifice to guarantee you mightn’t be so quick in your need to fly away from me until your training’s complete.”

This causes a hitch in your breath as you see the welcome turn the conversation he’s taking and you follow the path he’s making for you. “I don’t want to leave you, Ez.”

A smile creeps up one side of his mouth. “Well then I am a happy man. A bargain is struck! Partners it is.”

“Partners it is.”

A moment hangs between you as he rubs his thumb in slow circles on your shoulder. There’s that look in his eye again, the one where he’s waiting for you to ask the question he wants to hear from you. So close now.

Still, you’re unsure. “I guess I’m lucky I found the one person who wants an incompetent partner.”

“No, I do not, nor is it what I have and I must express my objection to your self-debasement. This work is not for the shiny, and you have not once complained about taking on the meat of the digging or the crawl of my schedule.” His hand comes to your helmet shield and he rakes his thumb across it as if he ached to wipe away one of your staleing tears. “Those bright eyes of yours got a penchant for spotting deposits more skillfully than I could ever manage and that’s not something that can be taught; that’s talent, girl. The blistering?” He shrugs. “Even I can’t manage that without the steady help of your fine hands. You may think that your blunders in education are causing us some financial ruin, but our fortunes are creamy. I assure you, we can afford it.”

That look is still there. He’s waiting. “There’s some ‘us’ and ‘we’ in there, Ez.” Your hands drift to his sides, taking fistfuls of his compression suit top, willing him closer.

The edges of his eyes take on the crinkle you’ve come to find so much comfort in. “So there is.”

You’re almost there. You know what he wants. “Why were you so quiet on the walk back?”

“Because for the next few days we are alone here and I have a mind full of questions I do not know how to ask you.”

“Then let me go first.” A yearning happiness settles in his brown eyes; finally. Finally you’ve found out what it is he needs you to request of him. “If I take this helmet off, are you going to kiss me, Ez?”

His eyes close in contentment and he nods, “Yes. Yes, little jewel. Yes I am, that and more. I hope I have inferred correctly that it is your wish that I do so, because I am in free fall. I feel my orbit ending and my pull to you is complete.”

_______________

“A moon is an orbiting admirer, and what is an orbit but a long fall to oblivion?”

Speculating days were some of your favorite times, just wading through the brush and looking for the telltale signs and shoots of an underlying deposit. Sometimes you came upon nests of strange groundling insects or flowers that only grew in secret. There were treasures underfoot on this poisonous moon, but if you remembered to look up as well, you might find some dangerous beauties there too.

On that day--the one where you finally understood your heart--you’d looked up to find that you were on a cliffside overlooking a valley, the canopy a million different hues of green, the gas giant looming over half the sky in a big pink and orange semi-circle. There was a fallen log that served as a perfect seat for the perfect view and you knew Ezra wouldn’t mind if you stole a few moments to sit and to take it in. It’s just the kind of thing he’d appreciate. And you were proven right when he came up behind you, putting a hand on your shoulder to steady himself as he swung one leg then the other over the log, finding a perch next to you, spouting pretty words through the channel link--soft and low--about moons and orbits and obilvions.

“That glowing beauty is Bakhroma. She is quiet and fierce, made up of the unfathomable and the unknowable, always within sight, but out of reach and untouchable unless one would trade the honor with great sacrifice. She reflects the light that is given to her with a patience that is heretofore untold. And the Green Moon upon which we ride follows where she goes like a lovesick fool, spinning around her in a heady kind of adoration, full of secret treasures buried deep down that will ultimately one day belong to her, falling incrementally over eons until he finally loses himself in her, all his glories gladly forfeit to her welcome and inevitable embrace. Alone but together, seemingly eternal, pulled as one by the laws of a mysterious universe.”

The void that came after those words was filled with the beating of your heart, and you were sure he could hear it through the channel.

When he’d landed there beside you, you’d registered how his hand slid off your shoulder, diagonally down across your back, coming to rest at your waist, his arm draped lightly around you. Natural. Easy. Everything was warm--the colors of the sky, the care with which he kept you close as if to better hear the honey sweetness in his prose, the fire burning in your lungs and neck.

Ezra probably didn’t know that you spoke a little Vayok.

Bakh being the Vayok word for adornment. Ornament, Gem. Roma was a modifier, a diminutive. Small. Dear.

Bakhroma. Sentimental bauble. A little jewel.

In other words, a trinket.

All you wanted to do was sit down to take in the view of an entire world for a few moments, but by the time Ezra took your hand and helped you to your feet, all you saw was him.

________________

The helmet is barely off before his lips are sealed to yours in a press of greed. Even if he can’t form words when he kisses you, he can’t help but express his deep relief in a heartbreaking moan. It’s a fight to release yourself from the suit when he keeps pulling you against him and every time you try to get some space between you to work the zipper, he chuckles into your mouth, enjoying the tease and the struggle. It’s simultaneously frustrating and thrilling and you give in for a few moments just to give him what he seems to want so desperately right now.

Ezra kisses like a man starved for air, long, hard, and full of need, peeling his lips away only to come back for another breath of you until his initial want is slaked and he slows, allows for more time between his taking, his mouth starting to mumble against yours, praising you with pet names, telling you how perfect you are to him, how long he’s “fought against my more dubious natures to respect your womanly virtues and take them only when you could see in me a man worth bestowing them on.”

You’re able to use his weakness for monologuing to turn around in his vice-like embrace, finally freeing yourself of the suit and he takes the opportunity to drawl more pretty words in your ear, warning you that “I’m afraid I have been enamored of you overly long and may be extra eager in my attentions. So you just say the word if you need a slow down, gentle one, and I will do my best to comply. Although I will admit it will be a difficult endeavor indeed as I feel I am entering your atmosphere and nothing might quell this burn but finding some drowning place to land.”

Your first impression of him was of a man whose age and temperament and body would not be able to overpower you.

Your first impression was wrong.

Of course, it helps that you are willing.

It doesn’t take long for him to strip you down, and then himself. To kiss you down onto the floor. To find exactly where you like to be touched most and how long it takes for you to break from it. He has so many words for you, so many praises to sing about every part of you that is round or soft or wet, comparing you to things that are sweet and plush or celestial and holy. And when you take his favorite limb in hand--as wondrous as the rest of his body--and guide it to its fit, he plunders and harvests all you have to give him, filing you with himself, for as long as you call for it, as long as you let him. He loves you like he speaks to you: rough and drawn out, full of beautiful tangents and meandering plotlines, but in the end it is beautiful and fulfilling; you may be just a little bit confused how you got to the ending, but you’re completely in awe.

When you lay breathing heavy, staring but not seeing the ceiling of the tent, your consciousness seemingly lifted to see through it to the stars, to the glowing face of Bakhroma, you run hands through rough-chopped hair on a head laying on your chest. He’s listening to your heartbeat, waiting for it to slow down so he can start again. The air is thick--even the air scrubber can’t keep up with all your humidity--and there’s a halo around each bulb of the string lights just barely illuminating the darkness.

“How long, Ez?”

“Hm?”

“How long have you been waiting for that.”

“Most likely since the day you walked into my interview. I am a man of simple wants and you had all the right parts for my preferences.”

“For real, Ez.”

He tipped his head up to find you. “What you ask has many true answers, and I stand by the first. I have no qualms telling you of my weakness for a pretty succulence and a kind smile the likes of which you possess. But if you are asking when I knew I would have it, well, that may have been the first day you danced. Or when you asked me to read you to sleep. Or when I understood I wouldn’t let those bastard raiders get near enough to take their turn at your qualities when I had not had them myself. Or when you finally saw me as a viable person to drape your affections on; maybe it was that day too.”

“When I finally saw you as....”

“I have read many tomes and verses but none so full of beautiful passages as your face that day on the cliff. There is a difference of knowing and being. I knew the feel of your pull that day, but found I’d been in orbit all along.”

How he can live this way, twist everything into a tossed away poem...it should be exhausting. Yet you feed off it. You breathe it like air.

After another long cycle of frenzied entanglement and violent euphoria, you ask Ezra if he’d like to move to a cot, maybe get some sleep. “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to walk to the dig tomorrow morning,” you confess.

“No need to worry about tomorrow,” he says, wapping his arm around you and dragging you back to him, grumbling into your ear. “We are the only prospectors in this sector and the aurelac will wait. Until our new compatriots arrive, we are officially on hiatus. Recreational mining only. Restricted to the confines of this tent. By order of your supervisor. In the interest of more precious treasures. And I intend to strike it rich.”

“Well. I’m here to assist. And learn.”

“When it comes to this dig, trinket, you are more than competent. I am no longer your trainer. Partners it is.”

“Partners it is.”

The new contract is struck, signed and sealed in kissing and in touch and a long, slow fall into inevitable oblivion.

#ezra x reader #ezra/reader #ezra prospect #prospect fanfic #prospect fanfiction #pedro pascal #soft #soft ezra

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3mmafr0st · 4 years ago

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Remember Me - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 3.5k (This is the longest thing I’ve ever written in one siting I think

Next Part->

Warnings: SMUT and everything that comes with it, Talk of death and murder, violence, guns, brainwashing

A/N: I had a really good time writing this so if you want this to be a series then say so because I will! Also I had to manually space this whole thing so sorry if the format is kinda weird

I hated that chair. It made me forget things, made me forget him. It never worked completely, I fought too hard, fought to remember him. Our last mission was one that I would fight the hardest I ever have to remember.

The minute I walked through the threshold, I saw him. If the black muzzle-like mask identical to mine, and the darkness in his eyes wasn't enough, then the silvery left arm with a familiar red star on the shoulder similar to the one on my knee sealed the deal. My body immediately relaxed the moment I saw him, but I didn’t know why. I wracked my brain for answers to the question. What was his name? Sadly, yet another thing that I couldn’t remember. Then again, I couldn't remember my own name, never mind someone else's. He looked me in the eyes and I could feel something in his stare, but I didn’t dwell on it, instead sitting myself down next to him to prepare myself for the briefing.

The two of us settled into our hotel room. The room was nice, the standard one bedroom with a bathroom connected and an attached balcony. The balcony overlooked the street, across from a well known cafe that the target frequented. The two of us were meant to stay at the hotel until one of us got the shot, and by one of us, they meant Soldat. We weren’t told who the target was, just a face and location. I didn't know why they sent me on this mission. I did have the eyes of a hawk, which might have been why, but I had no experience with long distance killing. He, Soldat, was the expert. The two of us sat on the balcony, as he fiddled with the gun, making sure that it was just the way he wanted it. I watched the cafe, searching for the target. The two of us sat like that for a while, I was his eyes, but he was my trigger, in more than one way. Every time my eyes would drift over to him, a memory resurfaced, another mission that we were on in the past, or fleeting moments that I didn’t quite understand. It wasn't much at all, but it was something. He surprised me when he talked first.

“How much do you remember?” I quickly checked my person and the area around me. “Don’t worry, I've already scanned the area for bugs.”

“I have bits and pieces of old missions, but that’s it, nothing solid.: I had thought about lying, telling him that I didn't remember anything to save face, but the minute I looked into his eyes, I just knew I couldn't keep anything from him. I didn't know why, but just looking at him made me want to tell every single thing about me. “What about you?”

“Maybe it's because they’ve been doing it for so long that I’ve built up a tolerance or something like that, but the last few times it's gotten weaker and weaker.” I felt something, some sort of feeling that sat in my heart that I didn’t quite understand.

“Do you want to talk about it? If you don't, I get it, but then again it's not like we have anything else to do for a while.” He took a second to gather his thoughts, longer than expected. It worried me, what happened?“It was a reconnaissance mission, the two of us were sent as a couple, two oil tycoons that had shady business dealings. The middle gets fuzzy, but I remember something happened between us and that’s why we were sent to the chair, for extra conditioning.” What the hell did ‘something’ mean? I felt my heart race, my stomach twisting in knots. This was going to be a tough mission.

It had been 4 long and strenuous days, with a regular schedule of waking up an hour before the cafe opened, and then staking out together on the balcony until closing, when we finally got to do what we wanted like eating and sleeping.

The heat of his body had become familiar to me in the past few days. I always woke up first, his arm always slung over me, having done it in his sleep, and every morning I would move the arm and get myself ready before he would wake up.

The two of us met up on the balcony as the cafe opened, and that's when I spotted him, the target. I looked down at the photo to double check, and there was no doubt in my mind that it was him. I tapped Soldat’s knee with my metal one and pointed to the target on the ground.

“He’s here,” I whispered. Once he got a clear view of the target, I heard two almost silent puffs of air, and the man fell to the ground, dead. Although the man sitting beside me intrigued me to no end, he was terrifying at the same time. The fact that I knew the second shot was only a precautionary measure and the fact that both of us could kill each other if we tried hard enough was enough of an idea to scare the hell out of me for some reason. At the same time though, it was sort of invigorating, to have someone who gets it, who understands what I’ve been through.

“I’m going to take a shower,” He said gruffly, and quickly packed up the gun and headed off to the bathroom. I sighed, disappointed that he was in that much of a hurry to leave me. I looked out onto the chaos that was happening. The “police” had arrived, but in reality, they were false officers, agents of Hydra sent to differ and obscure the investigation like normal. The man laced dead on the pavement, and I couldn’t help but let my mind wander, who was this man, was he a good person, or bad? Did he have a family? The thoughts pushed me even deeper. Who were we anyway? When were either of us born, what are our names, do we have families?

It was all too much to bear at that moment, so I decided the best course of action would be to get in some comfortable clothes, namely the large tee shirt that was given to me as pajamas, and relax. I slid the glass door open, the cold and dry processed air of the hotel room hit me. I pulled the shirt out of my bag and changed into just the shirt and panties. I flooded onto the bed as hard as I could, metal hitting against the wood of the bed. It was so comfortable for the time that I was alone. I spread myself out on the bed, rolling around in the blankets and for a brief moment, just enjoyed myself. The feeling of cotton sheets against my leg made me smile contently, the cool of the metal contrasting with the warmth of the bed. The whole thing made me feel like I was off in another world, the life I would have had without Hydra.

Maybe I really was in my own world, because as I rolled to lay flat on my back, and opened my eyes there he was. He simply stood at the door of the bathroom, only a towel around his body, looking at me with a masked expression, hiding any reactions he might have had. I immediately sat upright on the side of the bed, a blush starting to creep up over my face.

“You know, if I was an enemy combatant, you would be dead right now.” His face didn’t change, but he took a step closer to me, making me want to look down. It wasn’t just the fact that he had caught me in such a vulnerable position state, it was his too. Throughout the entire mission, and any mission that I had glimpses of, he had always stayed as dressed as possible, never even taking his shirt off before bed. I could see every muscle across the wide expanse of his chest all the way down to where his hips began to create a v-shape. The sight was almost mouthwatering and I honestly didn’t know how to handle the sight. He was a good spy, he could tell that I was clearly uncomfortable. I stared harder at the ground from my seat on the side of the bed, as he stepped even further towards me, settling right in front of me.

“What’s wrong, you’re upset?” He’s slightly confused but I still hid from his gaze. I felt his hand underneath my jaw, tilting my chin up so I was forced to look up at him.

The moment his skin hit mine, images, events began to flood my brain, his smile, the two of us together laughing, our hands intertwined. His hand moved back in shock, and stepped back a little. At that moment I knew that the same thing had happened to him.

“Did you just remember too?” I nodded, and he sat down on the bed next to me, trying to process.“What did you see?”

“The two of us, old missions, I don’t quite understand” My voice caught in my throat as an idea hit me. It was a bit of a long shot, but maybe, just maybe, it could work. “What if we’re triggering each other?”

“That makes sense, but why?”

“Maybe if we do more, we’ll find out.” My voice wavered, worried that he wouldn’t agree, that he would reject the idea immediately. Instead, he simply said nothing, looking at me intensely. Slowly, his hand cupped my cheek, his eyes scanning mine for any hint of regret or hesitation. Tentatively, he leaned in, my eyes fluttering closed as our lips finally met.

It was like an explosion, our lips moulded together perfectly as images and memories began to appear in my head. We had done this before, so many times before. I grasped onto him, trying to find something to anchor me. I threaded my hands in his still-damp hair, as his arm wrapped around my waist pulling me impossibly closer. The contact made me gasp, and he deepened the kiss, our tongues dancing together as more and more visions hit me. Other missions where this exact same set of events continued to happen over and over again. It was the strongest sense of deja vu that I had ever felt.

His body began to press closer to me, pushing me down into the bed. I finally broke the kiss so I could breathe. I looked up at him, his eyes had almost lost all of their blue, leaving only dark pits behind. I quickly pulled the large tee over my head with his elf, and his eyes followed to my chest. It was like I could read his mind, and I knew what he was trying to do. Although that sounded amazing, I had a different plan in mind.

Using my superstrength, I flipped the two of us over so he was the one lying with his legs dangled over the edge of the bed. His eyes met mine, and I couldn’t help but smirk as I raked my nails over his chest, eliciting a quiet groan from his lips. God, I never wanted him to stop making those sounds, I just wanted to make him feel good. I had no idea how the towel stayed around his waist, but it had. Kneeling down, I slowly undid the towel. It was huge to say the least. For a minute, I wondered how the hell I was going to get the whole thing in my mouth, but the minute the thought occurred, it was followed by memories of doing exactly that. I didn’t want to tease him, but I just couldn't help but enjoy the view in front of me, watch his chest heave, his body beginning to glisten with sweat, his dick resting on his stomach, going a little past his navel. The only words I could use to describe him in this very moment was perfect.

My hand rested on his stomach. I felt the muscles in his abdomen tense as my tongue hit his cock, licking one long strip up the shaft, before bringing the head into my mouth. I felt his hand wrap itself into my hair, pulling me even farther onto his dick. I slacked my jaw and hollowed my cheeks as best as possible as I slowly sank farther and farther until my nose hit the base of his dick. The groan he made as his cock hit the back of my throat made me begin to squeeze down around nothing, my panties already ruined at this point. I waited there for a minute, trying to make sure I would be ok for what happened next.

He immediately took control the minute I began to relinquish it, rutting his hips up and into my mouth, pushing my head down onto his dick. I looked up at him, watching as his head flew back, his mouth parted and groans and moans spilling from his mouth. His thrusts started shallow and slow, but began to pick up pace, as I could feel him get closer and closer, his moans louder and louder. His hips began to stutter, and I felt his cock twitch in my mouth.

“Fuck, Y/N.” His hips slammed forward into my mouth, as I felt him spilling into my mouth. I pulled myself up, and swallowed.

Y/N, I knew what it had to be, but I was still in awe and shock. I hadn’t heard that in forever. I must have remembered some time along and told him, archived in his memories. I couldn’t help but hope that this would help me go even deeper into my past. My name had been lost to me for so long, it was nice to finally have an inkling as to who I was.

My eyes locked with his, as he sat up, pulling me up to my feet. He wasted no time, pulling me down on the bed and rolling me on my back.

Our lips met, the kiss passionate, and yet soft and gentle. He moved lower and lower, kissing his way down my body. I closed my eyes, simply enjoying the way that his mouth felt on me, but gasped as he latched onto my nipple, swirling around the peak while rolling the other in his metal fingers. I moaned out at the different sensations, but I pulled his head up, so he could look me in the eyes.

“Please, I need you inside me,” I was out of breath, but he got the point. My body was already clenching around nothing and couldn’t wait any longer. A smirk spread over his face, his ego starting to form, a personality that I had never seen before, but his face jogged more and more memories. His fingers trailed down to my core, trailing his fingers through, collecting my wetness in his fingers. I gasped at the feeling of finally being touched, some sort of relief.

“Fuck, doll, all this for me?”

“Only you, no one else.” My rambles were cut off, a moan ripping through my throat as he pressed down on my clit, rubbing rough circles on the bud. His hand trailed downward, and eased two fingers into me, making sure I was ready for him. He pushed in and out a few times, before pulling them out of me, taking them into his own mouth. His face looked like he was eating the best thing he’d ever tasted.

My eyes were glued to him as he began to line himself up, bringing the tip of his cock up and down my pussy, just enjoying the way he looked standing like that. Slowly, he pushed into me, easing his way in until I felt his thighs hit my ass, my legs wrapping around his hips, trying to keep him in this place as I moaned out, the feeling of being so so full filling my senses. His dick snugly hit that special spot inside of me, causing my head to spin with pleasure.

He waited until he knew that I was absolutely ok, before pulling out just as slowly as he went in, almost completely out, before quickly slamming his hips back in, making me scream out. He kept a fast and brutal pace, no longer being able to control himself.

“Fuck, I didn’t know how much I missed this, doll. You’re squeezing my cock so good.” His words only made me clamp down more, egging me on. I bit down on my lip hard, but he leaned down and began to kiss me, pulling my lip out from between my lips. He broke the kiss, settling his face near my ear. “Don’t you dare stop makin’ those noises.”

I could feel my stomach begin to tighten, the familiar knot forming in my abdomen as he kept hitting the spot inside of me perfectly. He must have noticed I was trying to hold off for him

“Cum for me doll, I’m right behind you.” His thumb pressed against my clit and I was done for, my vision going black, as my body shook under him, as I felt his cum inside of me, filling me up.

A word, a name bubbled up to the front of my tongue, overflowing and pushing its way out of my mouth. “Bucky!”

I couldn't see for a minute, my vision cloudy and hazy, but I felt him slip out of me. I whined at the empty feeling in me, as he got up and went to the bathroom. A minute later, he came back, washcloth in hand. Silently, he cleaned me up, before casting the small towel aside, settling on the bed next to me.

“I missed you,Y/N”

“I missed you too, Bucky” The name felt right, the right sounds that fit perfectly with the way he looked and acted. His face softened, as the memories of the two of us hung heavy in the air.

“I know this might be a bit far, but I hate doing this,”

“Me too, doll. I want to remember you.”

“I say when they put us in the chair this time, we fight for the memories, and next mission, we run like hell.”

“That sounds like a perfect idea”

I had thought it out coming back to the facility, how they wouldn’t be able to overpower both of us at the same time, so if we gave no indication that we could remember again, they wouldn’t have any worry. The only problem was where the hell we were supposed to go. I was pretty sure that the facility was in America, the plane that we took was over a large body of water as we came back, and all of the people at the hotel had French accents, or spoke the language. I had no clue who I was, besides my name, and my love for Bucky, but damn if I wasn’t going to find out where the hell we came from.

I was strapped down to the chair, my limbs bound in tight leather to the seat, with a piece in my mouth, and the clamps on my head. They turned the machine on, and pain shot through every part of my body. I felt the memories wanting to fade away, but I shut my eyes, trying to push myself, will myself to remember. The pain was unbearable, so instead I made myself a room. A little room in my head where I would stay with my best memories away from the pain. The room had walls and doors made out of the metal in my leg, a metal I’ve never seen anyone break. I stood in the room, going through the memories, through everything that had ever happened between Bucky and I.

Finally, the machine eased off of its power, and my body relaxed, relieved that the torture was finally over. I searched my mind, and found my little room, intact. I wanted to jump up and down, celebrate my success over the machine that had been the bane of my existence for as long as I could remember, but I couldn't. I stayed strong faced, and yet blank, as I heard the door open and out walked the man, the one they called Pierce. He was our handler.

“Mission Report”

“The two of us arrived at the hotel, we waited for four days until the target arrived, which was when we executed the mission and were extracted.” My voice was monotone and dull, the way I would sound normally after I had been fully wiped, with only memories of how to maim, kill, and spy.

“Very good, you may go to your room now, you have a new mission for tomorrow.” His words were cold, and two of the people who worked here grabbed either of my arms, leading me to the place that I was left to sleep. I looked up at the ceiling, thoughts swirling through my head, did Bucky make it out ok? What did he remember? I could help with that though, the memories would come back. But that was just a part of this. We were going to get out of this hell hole, and no one could stop us.

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logan-please-smile-speaks · 4 years ago

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also you’re required by law to read through the whole thing sorry not sorry

According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don't care what humans think is impossible. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Ooh, black and yellow! Let's shake it up a little. Barry! Breakfast is ready! Coming! Hang on a second. Hello? Barry? Adam? Can you believe this is happening? I can't. I'll pick you up. Looking sharp. Use the stairs, Your father paid good money for those. Sorry. I'm excited. Here's the graduate. We're very proud of you, son. A perfect report card, all B's. Very proud. Ma! I got a thing going here. You got lint on your fuzz. Ow! That's me! Wave to us! We'll be in row 118,000. Bye! Barry, I told you, stop flying in the house! Hey, Adam. Hey, Barry. Is that fuzz gel? A little. Special day, graduation. Never thought I'd make it. Three days grade school, three days high school. Those were awkward. Three days college. I'm glad I took a day and hitchhiked around The Hive. You did come back different. Hi, Barry. Artie, growing a mustache? Looks good. Hear about Frankie? Yeah. You going to the funeral? No, I'm not going. Everybody knows, sting someone, you die. Don't waste it on a squirrel. Such a hothead. I guess he could have just gotten out of the way. I love this incorporating an amusement park into our day. That's why we don't need vacations. Boy, quite a bit of pomp under the circumstances. Well, Adam, today we are men. We are! Bee-men. Amen! Hallelujah! Students, faculty, distinguished bees, please welcome Dean Buzzwell. Welcome, New Hive City graduating class of 9:15. That concludes our ceremonies And begins your career at Honex Industries! Will we pick our job today? I heard it's just orientation. Heads up! Here we go. Keep your hands and antennas inside the tram at all times. Wonder what it'll be like? A little scary. Welcome to Honex, a division of Honesco and a part of the Hexagon Group. This is it! Wow. Wow. We know that you, as a bee, have worked your whole life to get to the point where you can work for your whole life. Honey begins when our valiant Pollen Jocks bring the nectar to The Hive. Our top-secret formula is automatically color-corrected, scent-adjusted and bubble-contoured into this soothing sweet syrup with its distinctive golden glow you know as... Honey! That girl was hot. She's my cousin! She is? Yes, we're all cousins. Right. You're right. At Honex, we constantly strive to improve every aspect of bee existence. These bees are stress-testing a new helmet technology. What do you think he makes? Not enough. Here we have our latest advancement, the Krelman. What does that do? Catches that little strand of honey that hangs after you pour it. Saves us millions. Can anyone work on the Krelman? Of course. Most bee jobs are small ones. But bees know that every small job, if it's done well, means a lot. But choose carefully because you'll stay in the job you pick for the rest of your life. The same job the rest of your life? I didn't know that. What's the difference? You'll be happy to know that bees, as a species, haven't had one day off in 27 million years. So you'll just work us to death? We'll sure try. Wow! That blew my mind! "What's the difference?" How can you say that? One job forever? That's an insane choice to have to make. I'm relieved. Now we only have to make one decision in life. But, Adam, how could they never have told us that? Why would you question anything? We're bees. We're the most perfectly functioning society on Earth. You ever think maybe things work a little too well here? Like what? Give me one example. I don't know. But you know what I'm talking about. Please clear the gate. Royal Nectar Force on approach. Wait a second. Check it out. Hey, those are Pollen Jocks! Wow. I've never seen them this close. They know what it's like outside The Hive. Yeah, but some don't come back. Hey, Jocks! Hi, Jocks! You guys did great! You're monsters! You're sky freaks! I love it! I love it! I wonder where they were. I don't know. Their day's not planned. Outside The Hive, flying who knows where, doing who knows what. You can't just decide to be a Pollen Jock. You have to be bred for that. Right. Look. That's more pollen than you and I will see in a lifetime. It's just a status symbol. Bees make too much of it. Perhaps. Unless you're wearing it and the ladies see you wearing it. Those ladies? Aren't they our cousins too? Distant. Distant. Look at these two. Couple of Hive Harrys. Let's have fun with them. It must be dangerous being a Pollen Jock. Yeah. Once a bear pinned me against a mushroom! He had a paw on my throat, and with the other, he was slapping me! Oh, my! I never thought I'd knock him out. What were you doing during this? Trying to alert the authorities. I can autograph that. A little gusty out there today, wasn't it, comrades? Yeah. Gusty. We're hitting a sunflower patch six miles from here tomorrow. Six miles, huh? Barry! A puddle jump for us, but maybe you're not up for it. Maybe I am. You are not! We're going 0900 at J-Gate. What do you think, buzzy-boy? Are you bee enough? I might be. It all depends on what 0900 means. Hey, Honex! Dad, you surprised me. You decide what you're interested in? Well, there's a lot of choices. But you only get one. Do you ever get bored doing the same job every day? Son, let me tell you about stirring. You grab that stick, and you just move it around, and you stir it around. You get yourself into a rhythm. It's a beautiful thing. You know, Dad, the more I think about it, maybe the honey field just isn't right for me. You were thinking of what, making balloon animals? That's a bad job for a guy with a stinger. Janet, your son's not sure he wants to go into honey! Barry, you are so funny sometimes. I'm not trying to be funny. You're not funny! You're going into honey. Our son, the stirrer! You're gonna be a stirrer? No one's listening to me! Wait till you see the sticks I have. I could say anything right now. I'm gonna get an ant tattoo! Let's open some honey and celebrate! Maybe I'll pierce my thorax. Shave my antennae. Shack up with a grasshopper. Get a gold tooth and call everybody "dawg"! I'm so proud. We're starting work today! Today's the day. Come on! All the good jobs will be gone. Yeah, right. Pollen counting, stunt bee, pouring, stirrer, front desk, hair removal... Is it still available? Hang on. Two left! One of them's yours! Congratulations! Step to the side. What'd you get? Picking crud out. Stellar! Wow! Couple of newbies? Yes, sir! Our first day! We are ready! Make your choice. You want to go first? No, you go. Oh, my. What's available? Restroom attendant's open, not for the reason you think. Any chance of getting the Krelman? Sure, you're on. I'm sorry, the Krelman just closed out. Wax monkey's always open. The Krelman opened up again. What happened? A bee died. Makes an opening. See? He's dead. Another dead one. Deady. Deadified. Two more dead. Dead from the neck up. Dead from the neck down. That's life! Oh, this is so hard! Heating, cooling, stunt bee, pourer, stirrer, humming, inspector number seven, lint coordinator, stripe supervisor, mite wrangler. Barry, what do you think I should... Barry? Barry! All right, we've got the sunflower patch in quadrant nine... What happened to you? Where are you? I'm going out. Out? Out where? Out there. Oh, no! I have to, before I go to work for the rest of my life. You're gonna die! You're crazy! Hello? Another call coming in. If anyone's feeling brave, there's a Korean deli on 83rd that gets their roses today. Hey, guys. Look at that. Isn't that the kid we saw yesterday? Hold it, son, flight deck's restricted. It's OK, Lou. We're gonna take him up. Really? Feeling lucky, are you? Sign here, here. Just initial that. Thank you. OK. You got a rain advisory today, and as you all know, bees cannot fly in rain. So be careful. As always, watch your brooms, hockey sticks, dogs, birds, bears and bats. Also, I got a couple of reports of root beer being poured on us. Murphy's in a home because of it, babbling like a cicada! That's awful. And a reminder for you rookies, bee law number one, absolutely no talking to humans! All right, launch positions! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Black and yellow! Hello! You ready for this, hot shot? Yeah. Yeah, bring it on. Wind, check. Antennae, check. Nectar pack, check. Wings, check. Stinger, check. Scared out of my shorts, check. OK, ladies, let's move it out! Pound those petunias, you striped stem-suckers! All of you, drain those flowers! Wow! I'm out! I can't believe I'm out! So blue. I feel so fast and free! Box kite! Wow! Flowers! This is Blue Leader, We have roses visual. Bring it around 30 degrees and hold. Roses! 30 degrees, roger. Bringing it around. Stand to the side, kid. It's got a bit of a kick. That is one nectar collector! Ever see pollination up close? No, sir. I pick up some pollen here, sprinkle it over here. Maybe a dash over there, a pinch on that one. See that? It's a little bit of magic. That's amazing. Why do we do that? That's pollen power. More pollen, more flowers, more nectar, more honey for us. Cool. I'm picking up a lot of bright yellow, Could be daisies, Don't we need those? Copy that visual. Wait. One of these flowers seems to be on the move. Say again? You're reporting a moving flower? Affirmative. That was on the line! This is the coolest. What is it? I don't know, but I'm loving this color. It smells good. Not like a flower, but I like it. Yeah, fuzzy. Chemical-y. Careful, guys. It's a little grabby. My sweet lord of bees! Candy-brain, get off there! Problem! Guys! This could be bad. Affirmative. Very close. Gonna hurt. Mama's little boy. You are way out of position, rookie! Coming in at you like a missile! Help me! I don't think these are flowers. Should we tell him? I think he knows. What is this?! Match point! You can start packing up, honey, because you're about to eat it! Yowser! Gross. There's a bee in the car! Do something! I'm driving! Hi, bee. He's back here! He's going to sting me! Nobody move. If you don't move, he won't sting you. Freeze! He blinked! Spray him, Granny! What are you doing?! Wow... the tension level out here is unbelievable. I gotta get home. Can't fly in rain. Can't fly in rain. Can't fly in rain. Mayday! Mayday! Bee going down! Ken, could you close the window please? Ken, could you close the window please? Check out my new resume. I made it into a fold-out brochure. You see? Folds out. Oh, no. More humans. I don't need this. What was that? Maybe this time. This time. This time. This time! This time! This... Drapes! That is diabolical. It's fantastic. It's got all my special skills, even my top-ten favorite movies. What's number one? Star Wars? Nah, I don't go for that... kind of stuff. No wonder we shouldn't talk to them. They're out of their minds. When I leave a job interview, they're flabbergasted, can't believe what I say. There's the sun. Maybe that's a way out. I don't remember the sun having a big 75 on it. I predicted global warming. I could feel it getting hotter. At first I thought it was just me. Wait! Stop! Bee! Stand back. These are winter boots. Wait! Don't kill him! You know I'm allergic to them! This thing could kill me! Why does his life have less value than yours? Why does his life have any less value than mine? Is that your statement? I'm just saying all life has value. You don't know what he's capable of feeling. My brochure! There you go, little guy. I'm not scared of him.It's an allergic thing. Put that on your resume brochure. My whole face could puff up. Make it one of your special skills. Knocking someone out is also a special skill. Right. Bye, Vanessa. Thanks. Vanessa, next week? Yogurt night? Sure, Ken. You know, whatever. You could put carob chips on there. Bye. Supposed to be less calories. Bye. I gotta say something. She saved my life. I gotta say something. All right, here it goes. Nah. What would I say? I could really get in trouble. It's a bee law. You're not supposed to talk to a human. I can't believe I'm doing this. I've got to. Oh, I can't do it. Come on! No. Yes. No. Do it. I can't. How should I start it? "You like jazz?" No, that's no good. Here she comes! Speak, you fool! Hi! I'm sorry. You're talking. Yes, I know. You're talking! I'm so sorry. No, it's OK. It's fine. I know I'm dreaming. But I don't recall going to bed. Well, I'm sure this is very disconcerting. This is a bit of a surprise to me. I mean, you're a bee! I am. And I'm not supposed to be doing this, but they were all trying to kill me. And if it wasn't for you... I had to thank you. It's just how I was raised. That was a little weird. I'm talking with a bee. Yeah. I'm talking to a bee. And the bee is talking to me! I just want to say I'm grateful. I'll leave now. Wait! How did you learn to do that? What? The talking thing. Same way you did, I guess. "Mama, Dada, honey." You pick it up. That's very funny. Yeah. Bees are funny. If we didn't laugh, we'd cry with what we have to deal with. Anyway... Can I... get you something? Like what? I don't know. I mean... I don't know. Coffee? I don't want to put you out. It's no trouble. It takes two minutes. It's just coffee. I hate to impose. Don't be ridiculous! Actually, I would love a cup. Hey, you want rum cake? I shouldn't. Have some. No, I can't. Come on! I'm trying to lose a couple micrograms. Where? These stripes don't help. You look great! I don't know if you know anything about fashion. Are you all right? No. He's making the tie in the cab as they're flying up Madison. He finally gets there. He runs up the steps into the church. The wedding is on. And he says, "Watermelon? I thought you said Guatemalan. Why would I marry a watermelon?" Is that a bee joke? That's the kind of stuff we do. Yeah, different. So, what are you gonna do, Barry? About work? I don't know. I want to do my part for The Hive, but I can't do it the way they want. I know how you feel. You do? Sure. My parents wanted me to be a lawyer or a doctor, but I wanted to be a florist. Really? My only interest is flowers. Our new queen was just elected with that same campaign slogan. Anyway, if you look... There's my hive right there. See it? You're in Sheep Meadow! Yes! I'm right off the Turtle Pond! No way! I know that area. I lost a toe ring there once. Why do girls put rings on their toes? Why not? It's like putting a hat on your knee. Maybe I'll try that. You all right, ma'am? Oh, yeah. Fine. Just having two cups of coffee! Anyway, this has been great. Thanks for the coffee. Yeah, it's no trouble. Sorry I couldn't finish it. If I did, I'd be up the rest of my life. Are you...? Can I take a piece of this with me? Sure! Here, have a crumb. Thanks! Yeah. All right. Well, then... I guess I'll see you around. Or not. OK, Barry. And thank you so much again... for before. Oh, that? That was nothing. Well, not nothing, but... Anyway... This can't possibly work. He's all set to go. We may as well try it. OK, Dave, pull the chute. Sounds amazing. It was amazing! It was the scariest, happiest moment of my life. Humans! I can't believe you were with humans! Giant, scary humans! What were they like? Huge and crazy. They talk crazy. They eat crazy giant things. They drive crazy. Do they try and kill you, like on TV? Some of them. But some of them don't. How'd you get back? Poodle. You did it, and I'm glad. You saw whatever you wanted to see. You had your "experience." Now you can pick out yourjob and be normal. Well... Well? Well, I met someone. You did? Was she Bee-ish? A wasp?! Your parents will kill you! No, no, no, not a wasp. Spider? I'm not attracted to spiders. I know it's the hottest thing, with the eight legs and all. I can't get by that face. So who is she? She's... human. No, no. That's a bee law. You wouldn't break a bee law. Her name's Vanessa. Oh, boy. She's so nice. And she's a florist! Oh, no! You're dating a human florist! We're not dating. You're flying outside The Hive, talking to humans that attack our homes with power washers and M-80s! One-eighth a stick of dynamite! She saved my life! And she understands me. This is over! Eat this. This is not over! What was that? They call it a crumb. It was so stingin' stripey! And that's not what they eat. That's what falls off what they eat! You know what a Cinnabon is? No. It's bread and cinnamon and frosting. They heat it up... Sit down! ...really hot! Listen to me! We are not them! We're us. There's us and there's them! Yes, but who can deny the heart that is yearning? There's no yearning. Stop yearning. Listen to me! You have got to start thinking bee, my friend. Thinking bee! Thinking bee. Thinking bee. Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! There he is. He's in the pool. You know what your problem is, Barry? I gotta start thinking bee? How much longer will this go on? It's been three days! Why aren't you working? I've got a lot of big life decisions to think about. What life? You have no life! You have no job. You're barely a bee! Would it kill you to make a little honey? Barry, come out. Your father's talking to you. Martin, would you talk to him? Barry, I'm talking to you! You coming? Got everything? All set! Go ahead. I'll catch up. Don't be too long. Watch this! Vanessa! We're still here. I told you not to yell at him. He doesn't respond to yelling! Then why yell at me? Because you don't listen! I'm not listening to this. Sorry, I've gotta go. Where are you going? I'm meeting a friend. A girl? Is this why you can't decide? Bye. I just hope she's Bee-ish. They have a huge parade of flowers every year in Pasadena? To be in the Tournament of Roses, that's every florist's dream! Up on a float, surrounded by flowers, crowds cheering. A tournament. Do the roses compete in athletic events? No. All right, I've got one. How come you don't fly everywhere? It's exhausting. Why don't you run everywhere? It's faster. Yeah, OK, I see, I see. All right, your turn. TiVo. You can just freeze live TV? That's insane! You don't have that? We have Hivo, but it's a disease. It's a horrible, horrible disease. Oh, my. Dumb bees! You must want to sting all those jerks. We try not to sting. It's usually fatal for us. So you have to watch your temper. Very carefully. You kick a wall, take a walk, write an angry letter and throw it out. Work through it like any emotion: Anger, jealousy, lust. Oh, my goodness! Are you OK? Yeah. What is wrong with you?! It's a bug. He's not bothering anybody. Get out of here, you creep! What was that? A Pic 'N' Save circular? Yeah, it was. How did you know? It felt like about 10 pages. Seventy-five is pretty much our limit. You've really got that down to a science. I lost a cousin to Italian Vogue. I'll bet. What in the name of Mighty Hercules is this? How did this get here? cute Bee, Golden Blossom, Ray Liotta Private Select? Is he that actor? I never heard of him. Why is this here? For people. We eat it. You don't have enough food of your own? Well, yes. How do you get it? Bees make it. I know who makes it! And it's hard to make it! There's heating, cooling, stirring. You need a whole Krelman thing! It's organic. It's our-ganic! It's just honey, Barry. Just what?! Bees don't know about this! This is stealing! A lot of stealing! You've taken our homes, schools,hospitals! This is all we have! And it's on sale?! I'm getting to the bottom of this. I'm getting to the bottom of all of this! Hey, Hector. You almost done? Almost. He is here. I sense it. Well, I guess I'll go home now and just leave this nice honey out, with no one around. You're busted, box boy! I knew I heard something. So you can talk! I can talk. And now you'll start talking! Where you getting the sweet stuff? Who's your supplier? I don't understand. I thought we were friends. The last thing we want to do is upset bees! You're too late! It's ours now! You, sir, have crossed the wrong sword! You, sir, will be lunch for my iguana, Ignacio! Where is the honey coming from? Tell me where! Honey Farms! It comes from Honey Farms! Crazy person! What horrible thing has happened here? These faces, they never knew what hit them. And now they're on the road to nowhere! Just keep still. What? You're not dead? Do I look dead? They will wipe anything that moves. Where you headed? To Honey Farms. I am onto something huge here. I'm going to Alaska. Moose blood, crazy stuff. Blows your head off! I'm going to Tacoma. And you? He really is dead. All right. Uh-oh! What is that?! Oh, no! A wiper! Triple blade! Triple blade? Jump on! It's your only chance, bee! Why does everything have to be so doggone clean?! How much do you people need to see?! Open your eyes! Stick your head out the window! From NPR News in Washington, I'm Carl Kasell. But don't kill no more bugs! Bee! Moose blood guy!! You hear something? Like what? Like tiny screaming. Turn off the radio. Whassup, bee boy? Hey, Blood. Just a row of honey jars, as far as the eye could see. Wow! I assume wherever this truck goes is where they're getting it. I mean, that honey's ours. Bees hang tight. We're all jammed in. It's a close community. Not us, man. We on our own. Every mosquito on his own. What if you get in trouble? You a mosquito, you in trouble. Nobody likes us. They just smack. See a mosquito, smack, smack! At least you're out in the world. You must meet girls. Mosquito girls try to trade up, get with a moth, dragonfly. Mosquito girl don't want no mosquito. You got to be kidding me! Mooseblood's about to leave the building! So long, bee! Hey, guys! Mooseblood! I knew I'd catch y'all down here. Did you bring your crazy straw? We throw it in jars, slap a label on it, and it's pretty much pure profit. What is this place? A bee's got a brain the size of a pinhead. They are pinheads! Pinhead. Check out the new smoker. Oh, sweet. That's the one you want. The Thomas 3000! Smoker? Ninety puffs a minute, semi-automatic. Twice the nicotine, all the tar. A couple breaths of this knocks them right out. They make the honey, and we make the money. "They make the honey, and we make the money"? Oh, my! What's going on? Are you OK? Yeah. It doesn't last too long. Do you know you're in a fake hive with fake walls? Our queen was moved here. We had no choice. This is your queen? That's a man in women's clothes! That's a drag queen! What is this? Oh, no! There's hundreds of them! Bee honey. Our honey is being brazenly stolen on a massive scale! This is worse than anything bears have done! I intend to do something. Oh, Barry, stop. Who told you humans are taking our honey? That's a rumor. Do these look like rumors? That's a conspiracy theory. These are obviously doctored photos. How did you get mixed up in this? He's been talking to humans. What? Talking to humans?! He has a human girlfriend. And they make out! Make out? Barry! We do not. You wish you could. Whose side are you on? The bees! I dated a cricket once in San Antonio. Those crazy legs kept me up all night. Barry, this is what you want to do with your life? I want to do it for all our lives. Nobody works harder than bees! Dad, I remember you coming home so overworked your hands were still stirring. You couldn't stop. I remember that. What right do they have to our honey? We live on two cups a year. They put it in lip balm for no reason whatsoever! Even if it's true, what can one bee do? Sting them where it really hurts. In the face! The eye! That would hurt. No. Up the nose? That's a killer. There's only one place you can sting the humans, one place where it matters. Hive at Five, The Hive's only full-hour action news source. No more bee beards! With Bob Bumble at the anchor desk. Weather with Storm Stinger. Sports with Buzz Larvi. And Jeanette Chung. Good evening. I'm Bob Bumble. And I'm Jeanette Ohung. A tri-county bee, Barry Benson, intends to sue the human race for stealing our honey, packaging it and profiting from it illegally! Tomorrow night on Bee Larry King, we'll have three former queens here in our studio, discussing their new book, classy Ladies, out this week on Hexagon. Tonight we're talking to Barry Benson. Did you ever think, "I'm a kid from The Hive. I can't do this"? Bees have never been afraid to change the world. What about Bee Oolumbus? Bee Gandhi? Bejesus? Where I'm from, we'd never sue humans. We were thinking of stickball or candy stores. How old are you? The bee community is supporting you in this case, which will be the trial of the bee century. You know, they have a Larry King in the human world too. It's a common name. Next week... He looks like you and has a show and suspenders and colored dots... Next week... Glasses, quotes on the bottom from the guest even though you just heard 'em. Bear Week next week! They're scary, hairy and here live. Always leans forward, pointy shoulders, squinty eyes, very Jewish. In tennis, you attack at the point of weakness! It was my grandmother, Ken. She's 81. Honey, her backhand's a joke! I'm not gonna take advantage of that? Quiet, please. Actual work going on here. Is that that same bee? Yes, it is! I'm helping him sue the human race. Hello. Hello, bee. This is Ken. Yeah, I remember you. Timberland, size ten and a half. Vibram sole, I believe. Why does he talk again? Listen, you better go 'cause we're really busy working. But it's our yogurt night! Bye-bye. Why is yogurt night so difficult?! You poor thing. You two have been at this for hours! Yes, and Adam here has been a huge help. Frosting... How many sugars? Just one. I try not to use the competition. So why are you helping me? Bees have good qualities. And it takes my mind off the shop. Instead of flowers, people are giving balloon bouquets now. Those are great, if you're three. And artificial flowers. Oh, those just get me psychotic! Yeah, me too. Bent stingers, pointless pollination. Bees must hate those fake things! Nothing worse than a daffodil that's had work done. Maybe this could make up for it a little bit. This lawsuit's a pretty big deal. I guess. You sure you want to go through with it? Am I sure? When I'm done with the humans, they won't be able to say, "Honey, I'm home," without paying a royalty! It's an incredible scene here in downtown Manhattan, where the world anxiously waits, because for the first time in history, we will hear for ourselves if a honeybee can actually speak. What have we gotten into here, Barry? It's pretty big, isn't it? I can't believe how many humans don't work during the day. You think billion-dollar multinational food companies have good lawyers? Everybody needs to stay behind the barricade. What's the matter? I don't know, I just got a chill. Well, if it isn't the bee team. You boys work on this? All rise! The Honorable Judge Bumbleton presiding. All right. Case number 4475, Superior Court of New York, Barry Bee Benson v. the Honey Industry is now in session. Mr. Montgomery, you're representing the five food companies collectively? A privilege. Mr. Benson... you're representing all the bees of the world? I'm kidding. Yes, Your Honor, we're ready to proceed. Mr. Montgomery, your opening statement, please. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, my grandmother was a simple woman. Born on a farm, she believed it was man's divine right to benefit from the bounty of nature God put before us. If we lived in the topsy-turvy world Mr. Benson imagines, just think of what would it mean. I would have to negotiate with the silkworm for the elastic in my britches! Talking bee! How do we know this isn't some sort of holographic motion-picture-capture Hollywood wizardry? They could be using laser beams! Robotics! Ventriloquism! Cloning! For all we know, he could be on steroids! Mr. Benson? Ladies and gentlemen, there's no trickery here. I'm just an ordinary bee. Honey's pretty important to me. It's important to all bees. We invented it! We make it. And we protect it with our lives. Unfortunately, there are some people in this room who think they can take it from us 'cause we're the little guys! I'm hoping that, after this is all over, you'll see how, by taking our honey, you not only take everything we have but everything we are! I wish he'd dress like that all the time. So nice! Call your first witness. So, Mr. Klauss Vanderhayden of Honey Farms, big company you have. I suppose so. I see you also own Honeyburton and Honron! Yes, they provide beekeepers for our farms. Beekeeper. I find that to be a very disturbing term. I don't imagine you employ any bee-free-ers, do you? No. I couldn't hear you. No. No. Because you don't free bees. You keep bees. Not only that, it seems you thought a bear would be an appropriate image for a jar of honey. They're very lovable creatures. Yogi Bear, Fozzie Bear, Build-A-Bear. You mean like this? Bears kill bees! How'd you like his head crashing through your living room?! Biting into your couch! Spitting out your throw pillows! OK, that's enough. Take him away. So, Mr. Sting, thank you for being here. Your name intrigues me. Where have I heard it before? I was with a band called The Police. But you've never been a police officer, have you? No, I haven't. No, you haven't. And so here we have yet another example of bee culture casually stolen by a human for nothing more than a prance-about stage name. Oh, please. Have you ever been stung, Mr. Sting? Because I'm feeling a little stung, Sting. Or should I say... Mr. Gordon M. Sumner! That's not his real name?! You idiots! Mr. Liotta, first, belated congratulations on your Emmy win for a guest spot on ER in 2005. Thank you. Thank you. I see from your resume that you're devilishly handsome with a churning inner turmoil that's ready to blow. I enjoy what I do. Is that a crime? Not yet it isn't. But is this what it's come to for you? Exploiting tiny, helpless bees so you don't have to rehearse your part and learn your lines, sir? Watch it, Benson! I could blow right now! This isn't a goodfella. This is a badfella! Why doesn't someone just step on this creep, and we can all go home?! Order in this court! You're all thinking it! Order! Order, I say! Say it! Mr. Liotta, please sit down! I think it was awfully nice of that bear to pitch in like that. I think the jury's on our side. Are we doing everything right, legally? I'm a florist. Right. Well, here's to a great team. To a great team! Well, hello. Ken! Hello. I didn't think you were coming. No, I was just late I tried to call, but... the battery. I didn't want all this to go to waste, so I called Barry. Luckily, he was free. Oh, that was lucky. There's a little left. I could heat it up. Yeah, heat it up, sure, whatever. So I hear you're quite a tennis player. I'm not much for the game myself. The ball's a little grabby. That's where I usually sit. Right... there. Ken, Barry was looking at your resume, and he agreed with me that eating with chopsticks isn't really a special skill. You think I don't see what you're doing? I know how hard it is to find the right job. We have that in common. Do we? Bees have 100 percent employment, but we do jobs like taking the crud out. That's just what I was thinking about doing. Ken, I let Barry borrow your razor for his fuzz. I hope that was all right. I'm going to drain the old stinger. Yeah, you do that. Look at that. You know, I've just about had it with your little Mind Games. What's that? Italian Vogue. Mamma mia, that's a lot of pages. A lot of ads. Remember what Van said, why is your life more valuable than mine? Funny, I just can't seem to recall that! I think something stinks in here! I love the smell of flowers. How do you like the smell of flames?! Not as much. Water bug! Not taking sides! Ken, I'm wearing a Chapstick hat! This is pathetic! I've got issues! Well, well, well, a royal flush! You're bluffing. Am I? Surf's up, dude! Poo water! That bowl is gnarly. Except for those dirty yellow rings! Kenneth! What are you doing?! You know, I don't even like honey! I don't eat it! We need to talk! He's just a little bee! And he happens to be the nicest bee I've met in a long time! Long time? What are you talking about?! Are there other bugs in your life? No, but there are other things bugging me in life. And you're one of them! Fine! Talking bees, no yogurt night... My nerves are fried from riding on this emotional roller coaster! Goodbye, Ken. And for your information, I prefer sugar-free, artificial sweeteners made by man! I'm sorry about all that. I know it's got an aftertaste! I like it! I always felt there was some kind of barrier between Ken and me. I couldn't overcome it. Oh, well. Are you OK for the trial? I believe Mr. Montgomery is about out of ideas. We would like to call Mr. Barry Benson Bee to the stand. Good idea! You can really see why he's considered one of the best lawyers... Yeah. Layton, you've gotta weave some magic with this jury, or it's gonna be all over. Don't worry. The only thing I have to do to turn this jury around is to remind them of what they don't like about bees. You got the tweezers? Are you allergic? Only to losing, son. Only to losing. Mr. Benson Bee, I'll ask you what I think we'd all like to know. What exactly is your relationship to that woman? We're friends. Good friends? Yes. How good? Do you live together? Wait a minute... Are you her little... bedbug? I've seen a bee documentary or two. From what I understand, doesn't your queen give birth to all the bee children? Yeah, but... So those aren't your real parents! Oh, Barry... Yes, they are! Hold me back! You're an illegitimate bee, aren't you, Benson? He's denouncing bees! Don't y'all date your cousins? Objection! I'm going to pincushion this guy! Adam, don't! It's what he wants! Oh, I'm hit!! Oh, lordy, I am hit! Order! Order! The venom! The venom is coursing through my veins! I have been felled by a winged beast of destruction! You see? You can't treat them like equals! They're striped savages! Stinging's the only thing they know! It's their way! Adam, stay with me. I can't feel my legs. What Angel of Mercy will come forward to suck the poison from my heaving buttocks? I will have order in this court. Order! Order, please! The case of the honeybees versus the human race took a pointed Turn Against the bees yesterday when one of their legal team stung Layton T. Montgomery. Hey, buddy. Hey. Is there much pain? Yeah. I... I blew the whole case, didn't I? It doesn't matter. What matters is you're alive. You could have died. I'd be better off dead. Look at me. They got it from the cafeteria downstairs, in a tuna sandwich. Look, there's a little celery still on it. What was it like to sting someone? I can't explain it. It was all... All adrenaline and then...and then ecstasy! All right. You think it was all a trap? Of course. I'm sorry. I flew us right into this. What were we thinking? Look at us. We're just a couple of bugs in this world. What will the humans do to us if they win? I don't know. I hear they put the roaches in motels. That doesn't sound so bad. Adam, they check in, but they don't check out! Oh, my. Could you get a nurse to close that window? Why? The smoke. Bees don't smoke. Right. Bees don't smoke. Bees don't smoke! But some bees are smoking. That's it! That's our case! It is? It's not over? Get dressed. I've gotta go somewhere. Get back to the court and stall. Stall any way you can. And assuming you've done step correctly, you're ready for the tub. Mr. Flayman. Yes? Yes, Your Honor! Where is the rest of your team? Well, Your Honor, it's interesting. Bees are trained to fly haphazardly, and as a result, we don't make very good time. I actually heard a funny story about... Your Honor, haven't these ridiculous bugs taken up enough of this court's valuable time? How much longer will we allow these absurd shenanigans to go on? They have presented no compelling evidence to support their charges against my clients, who run legitimate businesses. I move for a complete dismissal of this entire case! Mr. Flayman, I'm afraid I'm going to have to consider Mr. Montgomery's motion. But you can't! We have a terrific case. Where is your proof? Where is the evidence? Show me the smoking gun! Hold it, Your Honor! You want a smoking gun? Here is your smoking gun. What is that? It's a bee smoker! What, this? This harmless little contraption? This couldn't hurt a fly, let alone a bee. Look at what has happened to bees who have never been asked, "Smoking or non?" Is this what nature intended for us? To be forcibly addicted to smoke machines and man-made wooden slat work camps? Living out our lives as honey slaves to the white man? What are we gonna do? He's playing the species card. Ladies and gentlemen, please, free these bees! Free the bees! Free the bees! Free the bees! Free the bees! Free the bees! The court finds in favor of the bees! Vanessa, we won! I knew you could do it! High-five! Sorry. I'm OK! You know what this means? All the honey will finally belong to the bees. Now we won't have to work so hard all the time. This is an unholy perversion of the balance of nature, Benson. You'll regret this. Barry, how much honey is out there? All right. One at a time. Barry, who are you wearing? My sweater is Ralph Lauren, and I have no pants. What if Montgomery's right? What do you mean? We've been living the bee way a long time, 27 million years. Congratulations on your victory. What will you demand as a settlement? First, we'll demand a complete shutdown of all bee work camps. Then we want back the honey that was ours to begin with, every last drop. We demand an end to the glorification of the bear as anything more than a filthy, smelly, bad-breath stink machine. We're all aware of what they do in the woods. Wait for my signal. Take him out. He'll have nauseous for a few hours, then he'll be fine. And we will no longer tolerate bee-negative nicknames... But it's just a prance-about stage name! ...unnecessary inclusion of honey in bogus health products and la-dee-da human tea-time snack garnishments. Can't breathe. Bring it in, boys! Hold it right there! Good. Tap it. Mr. Buzzwell, we just passed three cups and there's gallons more coming! I think we need to shut down! Shut down? We've never shut down. Shut down honey production! Stop making honey! Turn your key, sir! What do we do now? Cannonball! We're shutting honey production! Mission abort. Aborting pollination and nectar detail. Returning to base. Adam, you wouldn't believe how much honey was out there. Oh, yeah? What's going on? Where is everybody? Are they out celebrating? They're home. They don't know what to do. Laying out, sleeping in. I heard your Uncle Carl was on his way to San Antonio with a cricket. At least we got our honey back. Sometimes I think, so what if humans liked our honey? Who wouldn't? It's the greatest thing in the world! I was excited to be part of making it. This was my new desk. This was my new job. I wanted to do it really well. And now... Now I can't. I don't understand why they're not happy. I thought their lives would be better! They're doing nothing. It's amazing. Honey really changes people. You don't have any idea what's going on, do you? What did you want to show me? This. What happened here? That is not the half of it. Oh, no. Oh, my. They're all wilting. Doesn't look very good, does it? No. And whose fault do you think that is? You know, I'm gonna guess bees. Bees? Specifically, me. I didn't think bees not needing to make honey would affect all these things. It's not just flowers. Fruits, vegetables, they all need bees. That's our whole SAT test right there. Take away produce, that affects the entire animal kingdom. And then, of course... The human species? So if there's no more pollination, it could all just go south here, couldn't it? I know this is also partly my fault. How about a suicide pact? How do we do it? I'll sting you, you step on me. That just kills you twice. Right, right. Listen, Barry... sorry, but I gotta get going. I had to open my mouth and talk. Vanessa? Vanessa? Why are you leaving? Where are you going? To the final Tournament of Roses parade in Pasadena. They've moved it to this weekend because all the flowers are dying. It's the Last Chance I'll ever have to see it. Vanessa, I just wanna say I'm sorry. I never meant it to turn out like this. I know. Me neither. Tournament of Roses. Roses can't do sports. Wait a minute. Roses. Roses? Roses! Vanessa! Roses?! Barry? Roses are flowers! Yes, they are. Flowers, bees, pollen! I know. That's why this is the last parade. Maybe not. Could you ask him to slow down? Could you slow down? Barry! OK, I made a huge mistake. This is a total disaster, all my fault. Yes, it kind of is. I've ruined the planet. I wanted to help you with the flower shop. I've made it worse. Actually, it's completely closed down. I thought maybe you were remodeling. But I have another idea, and it's greater than my previous ideas combined. I don't want to hear it! All right, they have the roses, the roses have the pollen. I know every bee, plant and flower bud in this park. All we gotta do is get what they've got back here with what we've got. Bees. Park. Pollen! Flowers. Repollination! Across the nation! Tournament of Roses, Pasadena, California. They've got nothing but flowers, floats and cotton candy. Security will be tight. I have an idea. Vanessa Bloome, FTD. Official floral business. It's real. Sorry, ma'am. Nice brooch. Thank you. It was a gift. Once inside, we just pick the right float. How about The Princess and the Pea? I could be the princess, and you could be the pea! Yes, I got it. Where should I sit? What are you? I believe I'm the pea. The pea? It goes under the mattresses. Not in this fairy tale, sweetheart. I'm getting the marshal. You do that! This whole parade is a fiasco! Let's see what this baby'll do. Hey, what are you doing?! Then all we do is blend in with traffic... without arousing suspicion. Once at the airport, there's no stopping us. Stop! Security. You and your insect pack your float? Yes. Has it been in your possession the entire time? Would you remove your shoes? Remove your stinger. It's part of me. I know. Just having some fun. Enjoy your flight. Then if we're lucky, we'll have just enough pollen to do the job. Can you believe how lucky we are? We have just enough pollen to do the job! I think this is gonna work. It's got to work. Attention, passengers, this is Captain Scott. We have a bit of bad weather in New York. It looks like we'll experience a couple hours delay. Barry, these are cut flowers with no water. They'll never make it. I gotta get up there and talk to them. Be careful. Can I get help with the Sky Mall magazine? I'd like to order the talking inflatable nose and ear hair trimmer. Captain, I'm in a real situation. What'd you say, Hal? Nothing. Bee! Don't freak out! My entire species... What are you doing? Wait a minute! I'm an attorney! Who's an attorney? Don't move. Oh, Barry. Good afternoon, passengers. This is your captain. Would a Miss Vanessa Bloome in 24B please report to the cockpit? And please hurry! What happened here? There was a DustBuster, a toupee, a life raft exploded. One's bald, one's in a boat, they're both unconscious! Is that another bee joke? No! No one's flying the plane! This is JFK control tower, Flight 356. What's your status? This is Vanessa Bloome. I'm a florist from New York. Where's the pilot? He's unconscious, and so is the copilot. Not good. Does anyone onboard have flight experience? As a matter of fact, there is. Who's that? Barry Benson. From the honey trial?! Oh, great. Vanessa, this is nothing more than a big metal bee. It's got giant wings, huge engines. I can't fly a plane. Why not? Isn't John Travolta a pilot? Yes. How hard could it be? Wait, Barry! We're headed into some lightning. This is Bob Bumble. We have some late-breaking news from JFK Airport, where a suspenseful scene is developing. Barry Benson, fresh from his legal victory... That's Barry! ...is attempting to land a plane, loaded with people, flowers and an incapacitated flight crew. Flowers?! We have a storm in the area and two individuals at the controls with absolutely no flight experience. Just a minute. There's a bee on that plane. I'm quite familiar with Mr. Benson and his no-account compadres. They've done enough damage. But isn't he your only hope? Technically, a bee shouldn't be able to fly at all. Their wings are too small... Haven't we heard this a million times? "The surface area of the wings and body mass make no sense." Get this on the air! Got it. Stand by. We're going live. The way we work may be a mystery to you. Making honey takes a lot of bees doing a lot of small jobs. But let me tell you about a small job. If you do it well, it makes a big difference. More than we realized. To us, to everyone. That's why I want to get bees back to working together. That's the bee way! We're not made of Jell-O. We get behind a fellow. Black and yellow! Hello! Left, right, down, hover. Hover? Forget hover. This isn't so hard. Beep-beep! Beep-beep! Barry, what happened?! Wait, I think we were on autopilot the whole time. That may have been helping me. And now we're not! So it turns out I cannot fly a plane. All of you, let's get behind this fellow! Move it out! Move out! Our only chance is if I do what I'd do, you copy me with the wings of the plane! Don't have to yell. I'm not yelling! We're in a lot of trouble. It's very hard to concentrate with that panicky tone in your voice! It's not a tone. I'm panicking! I can't do this! Vanessa, pull yourself together. You have to snap out of it! You snap out of it. You snap out of it. You snap out of it! You snap out of it! You snap out of it! You snap out of it! You snap out of it! You snap out of it! Hold it! Why? Come on, it's my turn. How is the plane flying? I don't know. Hello? Benson, got any flowers for a happy occasion in there? The Pollen Jocks! They do get behind a fellow. Black and yellow. Hello. All right, let's drop this tin can on the blacktop. Where? I can't see anything. Can you? No, nothing. It's all cloudy. Come on. You got to think bee, Barry. Thinking bee. Thinking bee. Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Wait a minute. I think I'm feeling something. What? I don't know. It's strong, pulling me. Like a 27-million-year-old instinct. Bring the nose down. Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! What in the world is on the tarmac? Get some lights on that! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Vanessa, aim for the flower. OK. Cut the engines. We're going in on bee power. Ready, boys? Affirmative! Good. Good. Easy, now. That's it. Land on that flower! Ready? Full reverse! Spin it around! Not that flower! The other one! Which one? That flower. I'm aiming at the flower! That's a fat guy in a flowered shirt. I mean the giant pulsating flower made of millions of bees! Pull forward. Nose down. Tail up. Rotate around it. This is insane, Barry! This's the only way I know how to fly. Am I koo-koo-kachoo, or is this plane flying in an insect-like pattern? Get your nose in there. Don't be afraid. Smell it. Full reverse! Just drop it. Be a part of it. Aim for the center! Now drop it in! Drop it in, woman! Come on, already. Barry, we did it! You taught me how to fly! Yes. No high-five! Right. Barry, it worked! Did you see the giant flower? What giant flower? Where? Of course I saw the flower! That was genius! Thank you. But we're not done yet. Listen, everyone! This runway is covered with the last pollen from the last flowers available anywhere on Earth. That means this is our Last Chance. We're the only ones who make honey, pollinate flowers and dress like this. If we're gonna survive as a species, this is our moment! What do you say? Are we going to be bees, or just Museum of Natural History keychains? We're bees! Keychain! Then follow me! Except Keychain. Hold on, Barry. Here. You've earned this. Yeah! I'm a Pollen Jock! And it's a perfect fit. All I gotta do are the sleeves. Oh, yeah. That's our Barry. Mom! The bees are back! If anybody needs to make a call, now's the time. I got a feeling we'll be working late tonight! Here's your change. Have a great afternoon! Can I help who's next? Would you like some honey with that? It is bee-approved. Don't forget these. Milk, cream, cheese, it's all me. And I don't see a nickel! Sometimes I just feel like a piece of meat! I had no idea. Barry, I'm sorry. Have you got a moment? Would you excuse me? My mosquito associate will help you. Sorry I'm late. He's a lawyer too? I was already a blood-sucking parasite. All I needed was a briefcase. Have a great afternoon! Barry, I just got this huge tulip order, and I can't get them anywhere. No problem, Vannie. Just leave it to me. You're a lifesaver, Barry. Can I help who's next? All right, scramble, jocks! It's time to fly. Thank you, Barry! That bee is living my life! Let it go, Kenny. When will this nightmare end?! Let it all go. Beautiful day to fly. Sure is. Between you and me, I was dying to get out of that office. You have got to start thinking bee, my friend. Thinking bee! Me? Hold it. Let's just stop for a second. Hold it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, everyone. Can we stop here? I'm not making a major life decision during a production number! All right. Take ten, everybody. Wrap it up, guys. I had virtually no rehearsal for that.

wow you made it, good job

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sugarmaplewings-fics · 4 years ago

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Can I Sleep With You Tonight?

Pairing: Tamaki Amajiki x reader

Warnings: None, extremely fluffy times with our anxious boi

★ ★ ★

Tamaki started awake, his body jolting up to a sitting position in his bed. He'd been dreaming, and the shock of it had disturbed his sleep. He caught his breath, still wrapped in a blanket while he fought back trembles. Glancing at his bedside clock, he noticed it was a bit past three AM. He groaned to himself, thinking about his classes later that day and how he needed to get back to sleep so he wouldn't be tired.

He laid himself back down, his head sinking into his pillow, and shut his eyes, trying for sleep. It proved impossible, however; echoes of laughter danced in his head, making him start to shake again.

He racked his brain, trying to think of what he might be able to do to calm himself down. Immediately, he thought of you, your face appearing in his mind. Your bright smile, which reminded him of the sun, made him smile as well, his eyes still shut. But then the laughter started up again, your voice now joining theirs.

Tamaki sat up again. He couldn't go on like this. He needed to sleep. He could feel how tired he was. The only problem was that he couldn't shake his nightmare from his mind.

He let himself think about you again, remembering how you comforted him whenever he was anxious, how your gentle touch could bring him back to reality and soothe his mind. He hugged himself, trying to imagine it was your arms wrapping around him.

A new thought struck him. What if he went over to your room?

He almost instantly nixed it, thinking that you would be upset. Just because he was awake so early didn't mean you had to be. Besides, it was just a dream. You would think less of him, his brain told him. To be so upset over something as little as a dream . . . .

Tamaki laid himself down yet again, squeezing his eyes shut, willing for his mind to fall back into slumber. But he couldn't stop thinking about it, how everyone had been staring at him, his throat closing shut until he couldn't breathe or speak—

Tamaki steeled his nerves to the best of his ability. He stood beside his bed, lingering for a moment before grabbing his blanket and wrapping it around himself. The warmth was comforting to him, and it helped him to silently make his way to the door out of his room.

He quietly crept into the hallway. It was dimly lit for the night, so he was able to make it to your door relatively easily. Luckily your dorm room was in the same hallway as his, so he didn't have to risk taking the elevator.

Tamaki stopped outside your door, reading and rereading your name posted at the side of its frame to make sure he wasn't going crazy and knocked on the wrong person's door. Now he was just standing there like he had no idea what to do. He chewed on his lip, raising his fist to knock on your door.

He lowered it again quickly. Maybe this was a bad idea. You probably didn't want to see him right now. He turned to walk back to his room but then stopped after a few steps. No. He'd made it this far. He wouldn't get anywhere just going back to his room.

He came back and raised his hand once again. Then his anxiety began to take over, once again. His stomach clenched and his brain went fuzzy with fear. His raised fist started trembling, softly landing against the door without a sound. He stood there with his hand pressed against the door, frozen for a minute.

He squeezed his eyes shut again. He was going to do this. Tamaki reminded himself how kind you were, how gentle, how often you told him you loved him. He smiled to himself at a new thought. Even if you were mad at him, you were too nice to really do anything.

He moved his hand against your door, softly knocking.

★ ★ ★

You were enveloped in darkness, your mind peacefully swirling as the concept of nothingness truly dawned upon your being. You were at peace, softly sleeping until a knock at your door jarred you from your repose.

You cracked open your eyes, blinking into a new darkness, this one gently illuminated by an alarm clock on your bedside table, which read 3:27 AM. You sighed, rubbing your hands over your face and turned over. Silence blanketed the room once again, and you began to wonder if you really had heard anything in the first place when the knocking came again.

This time you sat up, grumbling to yourself as you threw off your blanket. Who could possibly want you at this hour? They better have a darn good reason.

You stumbled over to the door, unlocking it with a click and cracking it open. A figure stood in the dimly lit hallway, hunched over and wrapped in a blanket. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust and your brain to catch up, but you quickly recognized the bowed form as your boyfriend.

"Tamaki?" you whispered, sleep tainting your voice. "What are you doing here?" You didn't even try to suppress your yawn.

He shifted his weight, beginning to fidget with his fingers. "I, um, wanted to see you."

You stared at him. "Right now? You couldn't wait until breakfast?"

You couldn't see his face, but something told you you had made him a bit upset. "I can go. I'm sorry I woke you up." He started to back away, but now you were beginning to realize how rude you were being.

"No, Tama, I'm sorry. Here, come on, I'm already awake anyway."

He froze, standing a couple steps from your doorway, trying to decide whether or not he should accept your invitation. You opened the door wider, standing to the side as you motioned with your arm for him to enter. Tamaki finally stepped forward, entering your room, allowing you to shut your door behind him. Your back was turned to him while you locked it and you suddenly felt arms wrap around your waist from behind.

You started a bit at first, not expecting the contact, but soon enough melted back into your boyfriend. "So why did you come to me?" you asked, your voice low.

Tamaki squeezed you tighter, burying his nose into the crook of your neck. "I . . . had a bad dream."

You let out a breath, a soft smile appearing on your features. So that was it. You turned yourself around to hug him back, inserting your arms under his blanket he had wrapped around his shoulders like a cape. "You're safe now," you cooed. "It can't hurt you. Do you want to talk about it?"

Tamaki swallowed. "I-I had to give a speech in front of the whole school. And then all of a sudden, my voice just stopped working. It was like I was sick and I couldn't say anything. And then everyone started laughing at me because I was just standing there. It was horrible." His voice shook as he spoke, conveying how upset he was.

You tightened your embrace around him, mulling over what he'd said in your mind. "That does sound pretty bad. So did you want to sleep with me tonight?"

You felt him nod.

"Alright. Let's get you in bed." You kept your voice low and soothing, trying to keep him as calm as he could be after his dream. You walked him over to your bed, letting him lay down. You fixed the blankets so the one he had brought could be on top and got under with him. He rolled to his side, facing away from you allowing you to spoon him, intertwining your legs with his as you rested your head in the crook of his neck. You allowed your hands to wander up and down his torso, stroking his arm gently while you whispered into his oddly pointed ear.

"You're alright now, Tamaki. I've got you." You kissed the tip of his ear. "You don't have anything to worry about."

You felt his breaths begin to even out, contrasting the shallow, hitching respirations he normally took while he was awake. Your bodies were warm, pressed against each other. The combination of the darkness and warmth, followed by your boyfriend's steady heartbeat, made your eyelids grow even heavier than they were before. You allowed your whispers to trail off into gentle hums, before they stopped entirely.

The two of you slept peacefully, your minds floating together in the sea of dark nothingness that is sleep.

★ ★ ★

@kingtamakimurder idk if you’ll see this, but I heard you were interested in some Tamaki fics and I made one 👀

Thanks to everyone else who read this! I appreciate each and every one of you!

-Sugar

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kiras-sunshine · 4 years ago

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My each and every word

Carlos Reyes Week 2021

Day 1: “I love you but stop talking + fluff”

Summary: “I love you, but stop talking,” he mutters, his eyes still closed.

It slips out of his tongue. The words are out of his mouth before he can really think about them, but TK falls silent next to him immediately. The room is quiet, and while the silence is not uncomfortable, he faintly feels like there is something wrong with what he just said.

On ao3

”Squeeze my hands,” TK says, as he holds both of his hands in his own. His expression looks so focused as he looks down to their joined hands it almost makes Carlos want to laugh.

He does as he asks, even though he faintly thinks that all of this feels a little pointless. He feels absolutely fine, but TK has still woken him up already five times during the night to check if he has a concussion.

He sits on his side of the bed cross-legged, his hair is a mess, and he has dark circles under his eyes, but his eyes are full of softness.

“Okay, good,” he breathes out and lets his hands slip away from his. He holds up his index finger. “Follow my finger.”

Carlos sighs softly. “Ty, I appreciate this,” he says as he follows his slowly moving finger with his gaze, “but I’m fine.”

He glares at him. “You were in a car crash,” he points out, “you hit your head twice.”

In his opinion, car crash feels like an exaggeration. It makes it seem more dramatic than it was. His partner had been driving the car and another car had run a red light and crashed straight into their side in the middle of the intersection.

It hadn’t been a massive collision, but he still managed to hit his head against the window and the car seat. Or at least that is what he thinks happened. The details are a little fuzzy, because it had all happened so fast and he cannot recall where he exactly dumped his head.

“Yeah, but I feel fine,” he insists.

His head is still throbbing with dull pain and his shoulders are stiff, but it is nothing he couldn’t live with. He didn’t even get a scratch from the crash and he could walk out of the car by himself. He had been checked in the ER and the doctor had given him painkillers and ordered him to rest for a day or two.

She had been concerned that he might have a mild concussion and that he should keep an eye on the possible symptoms and TK had taken that advice to the heart when Carlos had mentioned about it, offhandedly, when he came over to his place after the shift.

“Do you feel nauseated?” He asks, continuing on to next part of his question pattern.

“No,” he says, as he lies down in the bed. The ache in his shoulders eases as he breathes in deeply.

The bed feels softer than usually and the bundled duvet is warm against his legs and all he wants to do is to fall asleep again and possibly sleep longer than an hour.

TK gently strokes his cheek with one finger. “What day is it?”

“Monday.”

“Be more specific.”

“25th,” he replies without missing a beat. He looks up to him and finds him smiling at him, softly.

They have no lights on because bright lights make his headache worse, so the bedroom is dim, but he can still make out his face and see that his eyes are glistering. TK rubs his own cheek and jaw little helplessly.

“Okay, maybe you don’t have a concussion,” he says, admitting his defeat and lying down next to him. He settles the pillow under his head and just looks at him. There is so much affection and love in his eyes, it is almost impossible for his sleep deprived brain to comprehend.

“I’m glad we are on the same page,” he says, as he supresses a yawn.

“Tired?” He half-mutters against the pillow.

“Yeah,” he admits, “like I’ve been woken up five times during the last five hours,” he adds, with a lopsided smile.

“Sorry,” he says, in a soft tone, but he doesn’t sound particularly apologetic.

“It’s fine.” He lazily cups his face with one hand and presses a kiss against his forehead, even though moving causes a sharp pain to flash through his neck. “I’m glad you’re here, but you can stop worrying about me.”

The painkillers are definitely making him sleepy and his mind just a bit fuzzier than normally. The exhaustion is hanging deeply on his limbs and he feels like his thoughts are a bit jumbled, but he guesses it is due to the lack of sleep and pulling a twelve-hour shift before the crash.

TK closes his eyes and opens them slowly again. “I just want you to be okay,” he says in a small voice.

“And I am,” he reassures. He still hasn’t moved his hand away from his cheek and TK turns his head slightly to kiss his palm.

“Okay.”

He smiles at him and closes his eyes. He means to close them only temporarily because TK is still talking, but his eyelids feel heavy and he can feel himself slowly slipping asleep despite the headache in the base of his skull. He cannot really focus on his words, even though he tries his best to listen to him.

He likes TK’s voice. It’s deep, calming and just slightly hoarse. His tone is soft, and he is faintly sure that whatever he is saying to him is worth of listening to, and usually he could listen to him for hours on end, just describing his day or telling something that happened on work, but right now, all he wants to do is sleep and he cannot think about anything else.

His voice is barely above a whisper, but he feels like his headache might be getting worse at any sound he hears.

“I love you, but stop talking,” he mutters, his eyes still closed.

There is something bothering him about it, nagging at the corner of his mind, but he cannot clasp the thought before it slips away again. His mind is too tired, and his thoughts feel as if they were thickening and he cannot think straight.

He suddenly feels that maybe he came across a little ungrateful. He has insisted every time he has woken him up that it has been unnecessary and, generally, telling people to shut up feels impolite. He cannot recall the exact words he used just moments before and he still cannot put his finger on what is making him uneasy about it, but he has the faintest idea that he should apologize.

It means the world to him that TK is there with him and willing to look after him, and he knows he deserves better than him telling him to shut up. He has no real energy to attempt to open his eyes, but he fumbles with his hand and he finds his fingers and curls his own around them. He brings it up and softly kisses his knuckles.

“Ty, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean like that,” he whispers, mostly against his hand.

“It’s fine,” he says, with a soft sigh. “You should sleep.”

He distantly thinks that he doesn’t sound annoyed with him and he considers it a win, and he thinks he should say something more, but he falls asleep before he can wallow in that thought any longer.

*****

He wakes up with a jolting pain in his shoulder and his mouth is dry like a sandpaper. It takes a moment before the memories of the accident and the following evening flood into his mind and he is slightly disappointed to realise that he is alone in the bed. He fumbles TK’s side of the bed and it feels cold, he probably has gotten up hours ago.

He sighs as he gets up. He feels better than before, he mind feels clearer and the headache has faded almost to nothing. He half-expects to feel nauseated when he stands up, but nothing happens.

It doesn’t take him long to find TK curled up in the corner of the couch in the living room. He has a blanket thrown over his legs and his face is lit up by his phone screen, but he puts it down as soon as he notices him.

“You okay?”

His eyebrows are furrowed, and he sounds concerned.

“Yeah, just thirsty,” he replies as he takes a glass out of the cupboards and pours water into it. He takes a big gulp as he walks to the couch next to him. “Why are you up?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” he replies with a thin and sombre smile.

He knows falling asleep doesn’t always come easy to him and he has hard time making his brain slow down. He likes to get up and distract himself instead of merely tossing and turning in the bed.

They have been officially together closer to three months, and while Carlos cannot claim he could read him like an open book, he feels like has gotten considerably better at reading him.

Picking up and understanding small cues, from the way he smiles to way he breaths and movement of his hands, has been a slow process, but he likes to think he knows him somewhat well, and he has a hunch that this might be about something else than just inability to fall asleep.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he replies almost immediately and sucks in his breath.

He keeps studying him with his gaze. He seems fine, but there is almost certain sadness humming underneath his smile.

“I’m sorry about the earlier,” he says, as he takes another gulp of water. He doesn’t truly believe that it would be what is bothering him. He had complained about the constant waking up only to reassure him that he was not in the imminent threat of developing a brain damage, but he still feels the need to apologize.

It’s a bit of a shot in the dark, but TK’s expression changes. He bites his lower lip before he flashes him sudden smile. “It’s okay. You were tired and possibly concussed, all sort of things can slip,” he says with a vague wave of hand.

“I don’t have a concussion,” he argues, drinking the remaining of his water and placing the glass next to the couch on the floor. He shifts his focus back to him.

“Sure, you don’t,” he says, easily, but he pinches a part of the blanket in between his fingers and fidgets with the fabric of it. “Do you remember what you said?”

There is almost uncertainness and wistfulness in his voice that catches him by surprise.

“I told you to shut up,” he says softly, “which seems a bit harsh.” He places his hand over the one that keeps fidgeting with the blanket. He stops the movement of his fingers. He glances up from their hands up to his face.

“Do you remember anything else?”

He stares at him, blinking and feeling slightly perplexed. He knows he was tired, and he still is, but he cannot remember saying anything else except asking him to stop talking. A small knot of dread forms in his stomach, he doesn’t like being unsure of his own actions or words.

“No.”

“Huh,” he breathes out. He straightens up on the couch and he opens his mouth but closes it abruptly. “Maybe we should do the tests again.”

He rolls his eyes, fondly. “Ty, I’m alright.”

He just grins at him. “You have a tiniest memory lapse there, babe,” he declares, holding his thumb and index finger really close together.

He asks him the questions, make him squeeze his hands and follow his finger, and Carlos does all of that, mostly just to humour him but also because it is starting to nag his mind a little that he has said something that he cannot no longer recall.

“You don’t seem concussed,” he concludes, but his eyes are still darting between his face and hands, as if trying to solve a jigsaw puzzle that doesn’t have all the pieces.

“I told you,” he breathes out with a slight twitch of the corner of his mouth.

He likes to think he would know if he had a concussion.

“You sure you are feeling okay?” He asks, again, but this time he tentatively touches his jawline with his fingers.

“Yeah. What did I say? Something mortifying?” He jokes with a chuckle that sounds a bit nervous to his own ears, too.

He knows whatever he said half-asleep must hold some significance because otherwise TK wouldn’t be hanging on the fact that he has forgotten his own words. Half of their conversations are had in half-asleep state after their shifts, and afterwards he cannot recall every detail. So, the fact that he has slipped something he cannot remember shouldn’t be unusual.

“You told me you loved me,” he says, holding his gaze. He shrugs and waves his hand. “Well, your exact words were I love you but stop talking.”

“Oh,” he says, half-involuntarily.

It is the first time he has told him it. Aloud anyway. The thought of it has been ringing in his head with clarity for weeks now, and the words have been on the tip of his tongue so many times, but he hasn’t said them.

He is not completely sure why he has held back those three little words. He guesses it might be because he fears scaring him off or trailing their relationship into territory, he is not ready for. He guesses it is a bit ridiculous because after the beginning’s back-and-forth he has never made him feel that he would want nothing else or less than him and their relationship.

Still, the first verbal love confession feels like a milestone. Although, he feels like both of their actions have been screaming small I loves yous for a while now.

His train of thought is disrupted when TK continues talking. “Which was followed by I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.”

Carlos cannot help but grimace. It sounds terrible to his own ears, now, too, and while there is no traces of hurt in TK’s voice, it still sounds slightly strained, and he thinks he might have figured out why he was unable to fall asleep immediately.

He has no recollection of saying those words, but they must have come so effortlessly and naturally to him in his mind, that he didn’t even register that there was anything odd about saying them, or that maybe he should have put more thought and effort into them.

“I wasn’t sure to which one you referred to,” he continues with a light but joyless laugh, but he intertwines their fingers and holds his hand in his gently.

“Obviously to the talking part,” he replies, immediately and squeezes his hand.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he breathes out. Half-assed slip during the middle of the night definitely was not the way he hoped to tell him it, but he is a little relieved that he has managed to tell him it, at least once.

“You don’t have to--,” he starts, because he doesn’t want him to feel pressured, but he is stopped when TK places his index finger against his lips.

“I love you, too,” he whispers with an enamoured grin.

He is convinced that his heart skips a beat at hearing his words. It fills his heart with such pure and raw happiness he is afraid that his heart might burst at any given moment, but it also brings him different kind of sureness to hear him say he loves him. As if all the pieces of the universe have suddenly shifted into their rightful places.

He cannot help but smile, beatifically, but he still squeezes his hand a little tighter and rubs the back of his hand with his thumb. “I’m sorry you thought I were taking it back.”

He lets out a breathless laugh. “I’m not sure what I thought,” he tells him slowly, “uh, I know I’m not the easiest person to love so--,” he continues, but he lets his voice trail off.

“Absolutely not true,” he argues, immediately, and cups his face with his free hand.

“That’s sweet,” he replies, leaning into his touch.

“It’s the truth. There is nothing unlovable about you.”

He stays quiet at that, but the way he looks at him is enough for him. It’s intense, warm and disarming and he almost feels like he could see straight into his soul and essence of him.

He reaches to kiss him. His lips are soft against his own and the one kiss blends into a series of slow kisses and he pushes him gently against the couch. TK laughs into the kisses and they are both smiling so wide that the kissing is becoming challenging.

“Can I say it again?” He asks, as he rests his forehead against his and they are both trying to catch their breath, “now that I’m awake enough to remember saying it?”

“You can say it as often as you like,” he whispers, and he can feel his breath against his face and neck.

“You will get tired of hearing it,” he deadpans but he cannot bite down his grin.

“I don’t think that’s possible. Just like I won’t get tired of saying it, like ever.”

“Good,” he says, feeling almost giddy with happiness, “because I love you, a lot.”

TK chuckles, but he sounds genuinely happy and carefree and it makes his stomach twist in a best way possible. He closes the small distance between their lips and this time the kiss is still full of adoration and affection, but it is still more eager. His hand finds the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it up slightly and TK’s hand is in the base of his skull, tracing a small circle against his scalp.

Carlos kisses the corner of his mouth before he stars to press soft and small kisses along his jawline and trailing into a particular soft spot just above his collarbone that he knows that drives him crazy when he kisses it.

“I’m not complaining,” TK says, sounding a little out of breath, “but I think the doctor’s orders included rest and that is not where this is heading if you keep that up.”

He laughs against his neck, but he still raises his head. He flashes a beaming grin at him. “I guess it’s a good thing that I don’t have a concussion then,” he says, smugly.

He hums but he wraps his arms around him. “Maybe so,” he says, but he flips them around gently but swiftly, and he ends up laying against the couch, TK astride on top of him. He sits there, looking around him, and he already misses the warmth and feeling of his body against him.

TK seems to spot what he was looking with his gaze and slightly reaches to pick up something from the floor. It’s one of the couch pillows and he motions him to raise his head. He does so and he places the pillow under his head.

He represses the urge to roll his eyes fondly, but he still gives him a look.

“What?” He says, laughing as he pulls his shirt off, “I don’t want you to get any more hurt.”

“You’re unbelievable,” he mutters, but a wave of warmth spreads in his chest. Besides, his neck feels instantly better resting against the flat pillow.

“I know,” he replies, easily, before he kisses him again. “Also, please stop talking,” he says with a genuine laughter against his lips.

“Make me.”

“Gladly.”

#carlosreyesweek2021 #day 1 #tarlos fic #tarlos #911 lone star fic #fluff #carlos reyes #tk strand #i hope this is not completely awful lmao

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chockfullofsecrets · 4 years ago

Text

Critical Role: Better Than Talking

(Read on AO3)

Rating: Gen

Summary: In her humble opinion, Jester was pret-ty good at cheering up her friends.

Caduceus, though… Caduceus was a challenge.

Wordcount: 2203

A/N: I tried to write Caduceus angst but it didn’t really take... so instead you guys get more of my quasi-philosophy lol.

In her humble opinion, Jester was pret-ty good at cheering up her friends.

She knew the minimum level of destruction required to make Nott stop worrying about consequences and really focus in on a prank, she could spot Yasha’s dry humor as it slid carefully into a conversation and riff on it until half of the party were laughing so hard that they had to pound on tables - she could even kind of make Caleb smile now! No one else in the whole world could do that, except maybe Nott and Frumpkin, but they had known him for so much longer that it still felt like an accomplishment.

Caduceus, though… Caduceus was a challenge. Like a painting that you thought would be pretty easy to do, and then realized that there was lighting and perspective and lacy things that you could spend hours and hours on only to realize that you had to start over again.

She knew what kind of things he liked, of course - she wasn’t a terrible friend! Or at least she tried to tell herself that when she started panicking. He liked so many things! Nature! Plants! Cookbooks! Tea! Cool dead things! Healthy emotional conversations!

None of which were easily available on the not-quite deserted island that her party was not-quite stuck on, at least not in a form that hadn’t already tried to hurt Caduceus. People, then - she really liked gifts, but if you liked someone a nice conversation with them wasn’t a bad way to cheer up either, right? Jester racked her brain, trying and trying to think of times that Caduceus had sought out one of them to talk to, and in her despair almost came to the conclusion that there was one thing that Caduceus didn’t like for sure and it was them.

That didn’t exactly make sense, though - Caduceus had definitely chosen to come with them instead of going home with his family, and that had to count for something.

Maybe it was just her that he didn’t talk to so much. And that, she wanted to fix. Immediately.

It felt especially important after the party’s very first Heroes’ Feast, when everyone had done such a great job of making her feel better. Although, she admitted to herself, maybe it was just a little bit the need to find a distraction before she talked herself out of believing all the nice things that her friends had told her about herself that had her wandering over to Caduceus.

He was going through his maintenance ritual, checking on all his lichens and beetles and all the other small bits of life that he carried around with him. Watching him on previous nights, Jester knew this to be a fairly involved inspection and one that required him to be at a distance - no matter how friendly they all were with each other, having flesh-eating bugs crawling around near everyone’s personal items was more potential chaos than even she could handle. She was more than a little relieved to see his ears twitch in acknowledgement of her presence, followed by a gentle rhythmic tapping of his staff on the ground as he encouraged all the creepy-crawlies to make their way back inside. “Hey.”

“He-eyyy,” Jester replied, sliding to the ground with crossed legs to mirror his pose. “What’s up, Caduceus?”

Instead of spilling all his secrets, Caduceus tipped his head back slowly to regard the walls of stone that vanished into darkness above them. “Rocks, I guess. Not sure what else could be living up there, but there’s always something, huh?”

“...huh.” Jester blinked, looking up too, and realized a little too late that Caduceus had already refocused on her with a distinctly amused expression.

“That’s not what you were asking about, is it.”

She shook her head, learning forward to try and get a better fix on him. “Nope! I wanted to talk about you, actually.”

“Hm,” Caduceus said. He looked surprised, eyebrows raising just a little, which just made Jester feel even more unbalanced - why would it surprise him that she cared how he was feeling? “Okay. What about me?”

Well, she would just have to make it extra clear how much she cared. “Oh, well - are you doing okay, Caduceus?” He didn’t say anything; she needed more. “I mean, you lost your memory last night - and the day before that you almost got eaten so many times - and then Vokodo almost kidnapped you! - and earlier you said you missed your siblings, I miss my Mama too-”

She trailed off, a little breathless - before listing it off, she hadn’t even realized how much had happened to Caduceus in just the last few days, just that he had been a little quieter than usual. “Wow, that’s a lot of things… really, are you okay?”

“Whoa.” Caduceus looked a little breathless too, and he hadn’t even been saying anything. His lips bunched up on one side as he made a considering noise, scratching at his beard. “I haven’t done that before.”

“What?”

“Listed out all the bad things that happened to me.” He blinked. “That was more than usual, right? Usually I just forget them after a while.”

Jester wondered if this conversation would have made sense to anyone else in the group, searching for some kind of thread of thought to grab. It was a lot harder to talk to someone when you were trying to be serious. “You forget? Like how the people here forget? Oh my god, Caduceus, do you think someone was stealing your memories before?”

Caduceus smiled, big and slow. “Nah.” The smile dimmed a little. “Well, I guess I wouldn’t know if they were, right?”

Jester stared at him for a whole minute as his eyes flicked down, brow furrowed in thought. “Um… Caduceus?”

The firbolg in question abruptly cleared his throat and looked back up. “No, I definitely remember some bad things.”

“Oh, Caduceus, I’m sorry-”

“It’s okay, I don’t think about them much. There are a lot of happy things to think about too, aren’t there?”

Caduceus looked her over then, catching her incomprehension with an easy understanding that made her shrink back a little, and exhaled with one of those soft smiles he seemed to be in endless supply of. Jester wished she didn’t know the limits of her own stockpile, discovered this very evening. “Hey, you’ve had a pretty big night already. It’s okay for you to take a little time to focus on yourself and process. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Ah. No. Wasn’t she supposed to be doing the cheering up here?

She took a deep breath to steady herself before she could do something embarrassing like starting to cry again. And then another one, because it actually seemed to help her remember why she was here in the first place. “I do, though! Everyone was so nice to me tonight, and then when I was thinking about it I realized that I couldn’t remember anyone doing that for you, and I know you’re really good at this kind of stuff but it doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t have anyone to talk to, you know? We love you so much!”

At that, Caduceus looked - he looked really happy, actually, his smile curling warmly on one side and his ears perking up. “Well, I have all of you to talk to. That’s a lot better than what I had before you came along.”

“Really?” Jester urged, something loosed and flapping lightly in her chest. “You can talk to any of us?”

“Feels pretty great, doesn’t it?” Caduceus was outright grinning now, and she could feel an answering smile unfurl on her own face, no stockpile needed.

“Bet I can make it feel better,” Jester challenged, and scrambled forward to hug him. She had to kneel in his lap to get a proper angle on his tall frame, but she managed to wrap her arms around his chest and press her cheek to him and squeeze like she could hold all that happiness and connection in place all by herself.

“Oh,” Caduceus said, pleased - and wasn’t this easier than talking anyway, she wasn’t sure why she had even bothered - and went to hug her back. Caduceus gave the best hugs, warm and fuzzy and second only to her Mama’s, made even better by the way that he absently nuzzled at the side of her head with an amused huff of breath.

Jester bounced a little on her knees and nuzzled him back. Caduceus’ arms shifted, hugging her tighter, and she did it again. Nudging up aside his face, she felt him twitch and stutter out an exhale like it had come from her own body. “Okay?” she murmured.

“That tickles,” Caduceus murmured back, muffled in her shoulder, and Jester raced through happiness all the way to mischief before she could even think about stopping, an instinct that had been with her even before the Traveler.

She pulled back, vibrating with excitement. “Ca-du-ceus-”

“-oh, no-”

“Are you tick-i-lish?”

She was hoping to make him blush and squirm the way that most of her friends did when she teased them, but true to form Caduceus was nearly impossible to fluster. He just blinked at her. “Didn’t I say that?”

Just for that, she pinned his arms to his sides in another hug and nosed around his ear and the side of his neck until he was outright giggling, high and breathy and so unlike his voice that she had to pat around his head just to make sure that it was really him.

“St-stahap-pff-” Caduceus interrupted himself with a snort that made Jester giggle along with him, which must have tickled even more if Caduceus’ increased struggle was any indication.

“Aw, that’s so cute! Tickle tickle tickle!”

Caduceus snorted again and shoved lightly at her belly. Wary that Caduceus might gather his composure and tickle her back, Jester sacrificed their hug to grab the offending hand.

“No,” Caduceus squeaked, using his newfound reach to shuffle her right out of his lap.

Jester clutched his hand even tighter to keep from hitting the deck. “Wow, Caduceus, you don’t have to push.”

Caduceus did look embarrassed now, cheeks flushing a beautiful pink to match his hair. He reached out to help her keep her balance, wiggling his wrist a little until Jester let go. “I thought you were going to tickle my hands.”

“Your hands are ticklish? I didn’t know you could even tickle hands.” Jester frowned. “Caduceus, do you not like being tickled?”

Caduceus pressed his newly freed hands to his face, the pale skin only making his blush more apparent. “No, just… it was a lot.”

“Oh! It’s okay, Caduceus, I won’t tickle you if you don’t like it.” She meant it too - she had totally stopped trying to tickle Caleb when he told her that his instinct might just be to light her on fire next time even though she was pretty sure it was a joke.

Caduceus said something from behind his hands that Jester couldn’t quite catch. She reached forward and tapped him lightly on the knee. “Do you want another hug?”

Caduceus rubbed briskly at his face, and when he lowered his hands again he looked nearly as calm as usual, no trace of the frantic giggling he’d just been doing. Jester tried not to pout. “Sure,” he still said, and even when she drew back to give him the option of space he reached for her shoulder and drew her back in. She climbed back into his lap, trying to be as big as possible and wrap him up like her Mama would without sticking her nose anywhere ticklish.

They ended up with her forehead pressed to his collarbone, his hair falling in a gentle waterfall against one side of her face. “Yep,” he said warmly, “you did it, this is better.”

Jester beamed and winched her arms around him even tighter. “This is really nice, Caduceus.”

“Mhmm.” They sat for a long, calming minute, Caduceus’ chin perched between her horns, and then she felt his arms loosen a little. She prepared to pull back, wishing it could last a little longer, but then something dropped into her lap.

It took a little maneuvering, but she glanced down to see Caduceus’ hand, palm up.

She kept hugging Caduceus, unwilling to break the circle of warmth that wrapped them both, but she did have a whole extra limb to play with. She brought her tail around and, biting her lip in concentration, dragged the spaded tip lightly over Caduceus’ palm.

His fingers twitched, and Jester couldn’t help laughing as puffs of Caduceus’ squeaky laughter began to resurface. “Aw, you do like being tickled!” She could have teased him so much more - she felt like it might make him even more embarrassed and tickly, and it was nice to think of being able to break him once in a while.

But for now, she felt her friend shaking with laughter, so much of it that he had to snort and squeak every so often just to get it all out, and figured that she’d done enough cheering up for one day.

#tickling #critical role #jester lavorre #caduceus clay #chocfic

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spaceskam · 4 years ago

Text

what i would do to get into your head

for @malexweek day 2: trope day! here’s my loose interpretation of the huddling for warmth trope (apart of this universe)

ao3

Michael had been completely and utterly terrified for the entire day.

“What if they bully me like in bad high school movies and throw me in the dumpster?”

“Michael, it’s music class. I’m almost 99% sure they won’t do that,” Isobel said, pushing his backpack all the way there.

As much as Michael was glad he tested out of the alien-specific power training classes, he was terrified to be the only one in an entirely human class. He knew it was going to be difficult to make friends. Sure, they might talk to him and be normal, but he would know they didn’t mean it.

“Can’t you just come with me?” he whined. Isobel smiled and shook her head.

“Sorry, we can’t all be geniuses or prodigies like you,” Isobel mused, kissing the side of his face and shoving him into the room.

Part of Michael expected everyone to look over at him, to stare and gawk, but they didn’t. Instead, they went on with their day. Michael took a deep breath and nodded. He could do this. He could.

Michael had technically been able to join music since his sophomore year, but he’d gotten scared both then and his junior year and chose to work in the library for his extra period. Which was fun and all, but he wanted to do music. He was passionate about music. He played three instruments and wanted to show it. But that was just difficult when some heavy anxiety weighed on his chest the way it did.

But, with the help of Isobel, Max, and his mother, he’d finally enrolled in music.

It did help that Alex Manes was also in the class. He, while not alien, was an outcast in the purest form. He was antagonistic and brutal and… easily one of the hottest people to ever grace the universe. Michael had never actually spoken to him, but he’d seen how he parted the hallways like the red sea with his presence alone. He’d seen him get in fights in defense of other aliens. He’d even seen him smile. That image seemed burned into his brain. It made him feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside.

Michael sat in the far corner by himself, hoping not to bring too much attention to himself. He would happily blend into the background. Except, that almost immediately backfired when Alex Manes himself walked right up to him. He was even more gorgeous up close.

“You’re in my spot,” Alex said, staring him down with his dark-lined eyes. Michael’s eyes slowly widened. He thought about pointing out that it was the first day of school and there was no way he had a specific seat. But, of course, he couldn’t find those words.

“Sorry,” Michael said, fumbling to grab his bag as quickly as he could and move out of his way. He moved over four chairs, leaving three between them so he wouldn’t bother him. Alex watched him with a raised eyebrow. Michael tried to ignore him.

Eventually, the teacher, Mrs. Wilks, walked in and immediately began talking. Michael listened as intently as he could, trying to ignore the way Alex never seemed to stop staring. His eyes burned into the side of Michael’s face and sufficiently made it impossible to focus.

Which is how the next three goddamn weeks went.

Michael would struggle to pay attention every single day because of Alex and it got to the point Mrs. Wilks pulled him to the side to make sure Alex wasn’t bullying him. And he wasn’t. He was just staring.

“Michael,” Mrs. Wilks said at the beginning of class, “Why don’t you come up here and play for our warm-ups.”

Michael stared at her with wide, reluctant eyes. He knew she was just doing that to get him away from Alex, but that would just get more eyes on him. He was fine with just Alex’s, but everyone else?

But, Michael was compliant to a fault and he found himself sitting in front of the piano.

He played for warm-ups and even roughly sight-read the pieces they were doing. He was rusty, but it worked well enough. By the time it was almost over, he found that he was actually comfortable playing in front of that many people.

"Wow, thank you, Michael," Mrs. Wilk's praised as the class came to an end. She clapped and basically forced the class to join in which was uncomfortable to say the least. Thankfully, the bell rang shortly after and the room cleared out within a matter of seconds.

Or, almost cleared out.

Michael had turned to put his sheet music back in his bag when the piano bench creaked with the weight of another body. He looked over his shoulder to see Alex Manes sitting there, straddling the bench and looking right at him. He didn't say a word and still, Michael's cheeks got hot. Alex smiled in response which just made his face burn even brighter.

"You're good," Alex said, "And you're also good at biology."

"I-I guess."

"No guessing, you're the only alien in that class and it's because you're ridiculously smart," he said. Michael had no idea what to say.

"Thank you?" he offered. Alex rolled his eyes.

"You wanna tutor me?" Alex asked. Michael's eyes went wide again. "Why do you always act so shocked when anyone talks to you? Like, you're not invisible." Michael was silent. "Well, do you wanna? I suck and you're the only person I think I could handle being in a room with for more than five minutes."

Michael swallowed harshly and Alex looked way too amused.

"B-But your dad," Michael said lamely. As hot as Alex Manes was, his father was a proud xenophobe. The mention wiped all amusement from Alex's face.

"There's a shed behind my house, no parents around, no distractions," Alex said, eyeing him, "I'll pay you."

"Um, yeah, sure, I can tutor you," Michael agreed. Alex nodded, standing up. The bench was bracketed by his knees still and his studded belt was all but right in Michael's face. It was pretty hard to focus on anything else.

"I'll meet you by your truck after school."

"Okay," Michael agreed lamely.

He watched Alex walk out of the class and tried not to think too hard about what he'd just agreed to.

Michael floated through the rest of the day on autopilot, his mind stuck on what was set to happen that evening. A tutoring session with Alex Manes. That was it. There was nothing weird or sketchy about it. It was simply tutoring. So why did it feel so goddamn nerve-wracking?

For his own wellbeing, he didn’t tell Isobel, but he did let his mother know that he was going to be home late because he was tutoring. He even typed out Jesse Manes’ name and didn’t send it, keeping it there just in case he needed to send it quickly. Was that too paranoid?

As Michael made his way towards his truck at the end of the day, he couldn’t help but immediately notice that Alex looked goddamn picturesque as he sat on the hood. It should’ve been disrespectful that he just took over his truck like that, but… damn. The angle of it all made his legs seem impossibly long in his skinny jeans as they hung over the edge. He was leaning back on his arms and the sun seemed to be beaming down just for him, his face turned towards the sky with his eyes closed. It only occurred to Michael at that moment that Alex knew which truck with his without even asking. Oh, he had feelings about that.

“Hi,” Michael said as he walked up to his car. Alex slowly opened his eyes and tilted his head towards Michael, not budging from his place on the hood. Michael’s whole body tensed up at that.

“It’s about to rain,” he said.

“Is it?”

“Yeah, can’t you smell it?” Alex asked, tilting his head back again and breathing in deep. Did he know how risque that looked? “It’s in the air.”

“Oh, uh, cool,” Michael said, clearing his throat and shifting awkwardly. Alex hopped off the hood of the truck and headed towards the passenger side door.

“Let’s go.”

Michael couldn’t help but obey.

Apart from Alex’s whole thing was he seemed to make the conscious decision to optimize space. He had his leg pulled up to the seat, but his thighs spread far apart while his head laid back and occasionally gave directions to his house. Logically, Michael knew it was a power thing. Illogically, Michael was sure he wanted him to wreck from being distracted.

However, instead of wrecking, his truck started sputtering before slowly to a stop. Embarrassment flooded him and he looked over to Alex who just smiled.

“I can fix it,” Michael insisted. Alex smirked and nodded.

“I believe you.”

Michael quickly jumped out of the truck and Alex, for some reason, followed. He popped the hood and started tightening all of the cables around his battery and alternator and anywhere else for good measure. Alex was looking over his shoulder which made it infinitely harder to locate all the cables.

And then, to make it worse, it started sprinkling just like Alex had said. And then it very quickly started storming. Alex laughed, as the sky drenched them and made it even harder to try to tighten things. Michael grunted and jogged back to the driver's seat and turned the key but it still didn’t work. His battery was dead.

“You’re an alien!” Alex called to him over the sound of the rain, “Do your little electrical thing!”

“It’s not my specialty!”

“I believe in you!”

It was a hollow thing, Michael knew that, but it made Michael feel like he could run a goddamn marathon. He started at Alex for a moment, watching as he spread his arms out wide and smiled up at the sky that covered him in rain. He was even more gorgeous than Michael ever could’ve imagined.

After double-checking that Alex wouldn’t be totally freaked out by him actually using his powers in front of him, Michael went back to the front of the car and tried to channel all of that energy under his skin and in his blood, his hand hovering over the battery. He took a couple of controlled breaths, just like his mom taught him, and just tried.

A small bout of energy came from his palm and went to his car battery, ignoring the rain. He added a little telekinetic umph to turn the ignition and he grinned as the truck roared to life. Laughter bubbled out of him as he did so. It was the first time he had done something so useful with his powers. His mother always taught him not to rely on them, but… That felt good.

“I told you,” Alex said, suddenly way too close and, when Michael looked over his shoulder, he was right there. He was so close and looking at him and smiling and covered in rain. “You’re good.”

Michael felt chills douse his skin from head to toe, feeling frozen as he stared at him and basked in his praise. He almost forgot about the rain. Instead, his eyes followed a water droplet that traced over Alex’s impeccable cheekbones.

“You ready to go?” Alex asked, voice low and right there. Michael gulped.

“Yeah,” he agreed. Alex raised both his eyebrows suggestively and nodded his head towards the cab of the truck.

Michael dropped the hood and they both got back inside, sitting for a moment. It was going to be a bitch to dry his seats without a mildew smell and his shoes were going to be so goddamn squishy and his hair was going to be so gross, but Alex had laughed and he said he believed in him and, god, it made everything better.

Alex finished directing him to his house and then told him where to park so his dad wouldn’t ask questions before they both ran into the shed, laughing slightly. Michael had never felt so confident in his life than in those few seconds, even as the chill of being soaking wet set in.

Still, they sat side by side on the floor, their backs against the little bed in the corner. Michael was still buzzing with power which seemed to keep his own coldness at bay, but Alex was already starting to shiver a little bit as he rubbed his hands together. He eyed him a little as he pulled out his biology textbook (human biology only, alien biology had to be taught at home or, if you were lucky, a progressive sex ed teacher might give a run down).

“If you need to go inside and dry off, I don’t mind waiting,” Michael said. Alex looked at him with those big, intoxicating eyes.

“I’ll just get wet again coming back out here, don’t worry about it,” he said, leaning closer. Michael just nodded, looking back to his book.

“So, most of this is just a review,” Michael started.

Just like in class, Alex didn’t seem to be paying attention. His eyes were burning into the side of Michael’s head, intense as hell despite the fact he was shivering. Michael did his best to ignore it along with his own chill. However, he stopped being successful at that when Alex’s teeth started chattering.

“You’re cold,” Michael said dumbly. Alex grinned through it. His eyeliner and mascara was somehow still perfect even though his hair was plastered to his forehead and frizzy. He was as picturesque as always if you disregarded how cold he looked.

“And you’re warm,” Alex said, leaning in until their sides were pressed together as much as he could. Michael’s mouth went dry. “You can share some body heat, can’t you?”

Michael felt his eyes widen as he realized what he was saying. Alex just kept that smile in full force. How the hell did he exist? More importantly, why was he even giving Michael the time of day? Of all the people in the world and beyond, Michael was the least worthy of that attention.

But, still, he let Alex come close. He even dared to drape his arms over his shoulders and Alex leaned in even closer, almost balling up to feed off his body heat. Alex’s eyes were on the textbook as he did so which somehow made it all the more exhilarating. This was okay. He was allowed to touch another boy like this. Not just another boy. Alex.

Michael’s eyes went back to the textbook to try and focus, but Alex’s eyes seemed to take that as a sign to go back to staring at his face.

“Right, so, uh,” Michael breathed, scanning the page for something that was more interesting than him. He failed. “I'm assuming you remember Punnett squares. Fun fact, my people’s DNA is a little different and instead of just dominant and recessive, we have a triple combination and the third goes into our power skill and specialty. So we have dominant, recessive, and regnant genes types. They mix the same way yours does, it’s just a little more complex.”

“How does that work for Punnett squares?” Alex asked, still shivering and his teeth chattering. It made Michael feel guilty for some reason, so he rubbed his arm in hopes some type of friction would help him warm up.

“My mom said it’s like they use capital letters, lowercase letters, and superscript letters that stand on their own,” Michael said, shrugging slightly.

Alex didn’t answer right away, breathing in deep as a chill shook him. Michael looked back at him and saw that his lips were starting to tint a little bit purple. He couldn’t even acknowledge how close they were, he was just concerned. He frowned and tried to remember if it was normal for humans to get so cold just by getting wet, but he didn’t actually know. The shed also didn’t have any heat, so maybe Alex had one of those deep-seated chills that were impossible to get rid of. Michael hadn't actually had one of those before.

“Hey,” Michael said softly, “You really need to go dry off or get under a blanket or something, you’re gonna get sick.”

“Warm me up,” Alex requested.

“I’m trying, but it’s not working,” Michael said back.

Alex looked at him in the eyes, his brows furrowed like he was trying to make sense of something that Michael wasn’t aware of. He looked all over his face for what felt like a million years before he leaned forward and pressed his icy lips to Michael’s. Bells seemed to ring in his mind, every inch of Michael trying to battle with the fact that he was both shocked and not shocked at all. It added up. But, still, how the hell did Michael get the pleasure of his attention?

Alex pulled away, but he didn’t go far.

“I am so confused,” Michael breathed.

“Should I have asked first? Sorry,” Alex said, forcing a little laugh, but he genuinely seemed a little nervous. It was the first time Michael had ever seen him look nervous. “I just am really fucking intrigued by you.”

“I just…” Michael said, trailing off once he realized he didn’t really have anything to say. Nothing worth substance, anyway. Not when his mind was just on Alex.

Michael leaned back in just a little, meeting him in a kiss. Alex smiled against his lips and moved his hand up to his cheek. Pathetically, Michael was trying to remember the last time he kissed someone and it counted. He couldn’t actually come up with anything and, instead, focused on Alex and not being a terrible kisser.

“Warm me up,” Alex repeated against his lips, but this time the connotations to his words were so much different and Michael’s skin felt like it was on fire.

He wasn’t quite sure how to be confident like Alex, but he fed off the request and let it play into his people-pleasing qualities. Michael kissed him deeper and moved his hand to the hem of his damp shirt, slipping beneath it to get a little skin on skin contact. Alex nodded in approval as he tilted his head and slid his fingers into Michael’s hair.

“Tell me if you wanna stop,” Alex told him. Michael couldn’t find a reason to want to.

It was a slow process of just kissing and touching and turning to face each other entirely. Alex, bold as ever, tugged Michael into his lap as he leaned against the bed. Michael grabbed the blanket off the bed and pulled it over them. Alex smiled as they huddled beneath it, pressing close to each other as Michael used his TK to tuck it in place so he could keep his hands beneath Alex's damp shirt. Skin to skin contact, right? They hid under the scratchy blanket, touching and breathing and rubbing and kissing and slowly undoing all the cold.

It didn’t go further than that and it seemed like it actually was mainly for warmth, but the kissing was definitely for more than just warmth.

“I like you,” Alex told him, holding him close and still gliding his hand up and down his spine, “But you’re very unapproachable.”

“No, I’m not,” Michael laughed, shaking his head, “ You’re unapproachable. You can be scary sometimes.”

“Don’t let me scare you,” Alex shot back, sealing his statement with a kiss as his hand squeezed Michael's thigh over his tight, wet jeans, “I promise the only things I wanna do to you are out of the kindness of my heart.”

And the words, as sweet as they were, were set with the dirtiest tone of voice that had ever been used on Michael and his face started to burn again. Alex grinned and shook his head before kissing him again.

They stayed there until the rain had stopped and they were warm, sharing kisses. Michael felt special in a way he couldn’t articulate. He knew that, whatever this was, couldn’t be shared. He was an alien, Alex was a human, that was a no-go zone. He couldn’t tell anyone despite the fact that he wanted to scream from the rooftops. He wanted to tell everyone that this guy had chosen him. That he’d wanted him. He was special.

But, eventually, they had to move and Michael’s phone going off signaled that.

It was his mom’s ringtone and he basically dove out of the blanket to get it, ignoring Alex’s low laughter in response as he leaned where the textbook had been pushed to grab it. He answered on the third ring, pressing the phone to his ear and answering with the greeting from his parent’s native tongue like he was taught to. It was a respect thing.

“You said late, but I didn’t know you meant this late,” she said, voice tame, “Where are you?”

“Um, at the library,” he lied, ignoring the way Alex kept rubbing his thigh, “It was raining really hard so we waited at school until it slacked off before heading that way to be safe.”

“Mhm,” she hummed, mildly disbelieving but still choosing to accept the explanation because he’d never lied to her before, “Well, are you almost heading home? Dinner’s soon.”

“Yeah, I was about to leave. I’m sorry I didn’t keep you updated,” he said.

“As long as you’re safe. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Michael waited until he was absolutely sure the call had ended before he dropped his phone, his lips parted. “I just lied to my mom. I never lie to my mom.”

Alex’s fingertips gently reached to the back of his neck, spreading his fingers to cover the most space and slowly guiding him back to being chest to chest. He was going to be the death of him.

“I’m a bad influence,” he hummed matter-of-factly. Michael rested his forehead against Alex's, feeling a little intoxicated at the way Alex was staring at him from this close. There was just something about his eyes.

“You’re the best bad influence I’ve ever had.”

Alex grinned and tilted his head to kiss him. His tongue parted Michael's lips, reminding him just how warm they could be if they just got close. It had his mind wandering to just how close they could get. Michael didn’t want to leave, but he knew he had to.

“We’ll have to schedule more tutoring sessions in the future,” Alex told him, voice low and almost a little commanding. A whole new layer of chills rose to Michael’s skin, but it had nothing to do with being cold.

“You want to?” Michael asked. It was a packed question. Do you want to do something we have to keep secret, do you want to do something this risky, do you want to do something that could get us both in trouble, do you want to put up with me and all of my bullshit? He didn’t know if Alex knew all of the questions that came alongside his small one, but Alex nodded.

“I want to.”

And that was good enough for him.

#malexweek20 #malex20 #malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #my fic #verse: on earth

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echo-bleu · 4 years ago

Text

Brothers

A little Manes brothers canon divergence for @eveningspirit ‘s birthday! I hope you like it :) It also happens to fit with today’s @alexmanesappreciation theme: legacy.

[concussions, mentions of vomiting, mentions of abuse, mentions of the shed scene]

The exact sequence of events that leads to him, Flint and Gregory sitting together on a mattress in the bared living room of a house he doesn't know will remain blurry in Alex's memory. He puts it on the massive concussion he sustained at the hands of his own father, because he was careless enough to let his guard drop for ten seconds and the bastard managed to sneak up on him.

He remembers waking up in his childhood home and almost throwing up on the floor of the basement at the goddamn awful feeling of being back there−or maybe that was just the concussion. Probably the concussion.

He'd suspected that his father was faking most of the consequences of his stroke for a while, and he'd known about the bug on his phone for days. He just didn't expect his father to act so fast, in the middle of the junkyard, when Alex was supposed to report back in the morning.

Maybe Jesse heard something in his voice down in the bunker. Alex let his emotions carry him away and said more than he meant to, so maybe his father figured out that he was made somehow. Either way, he got the drop on him, and Alex woke up with a killer headache, pissed off, confused, and, yes, scared. Even after all these years, after three tours overseas, his father still scares the shit out of him.

The one who greeted him upon waking up, however, was not his father. It was Flint, a gun in his hand and a hard look on his face. Alex's sudden hope that Flint was here to free him was squashed quickly at his sneer. He listened to Flint and their father argue up in the living room about where to keep him for hours−something about Jesse grabbing him too early, before things were ready−before Flint came to get him. He'd learned his lesson from last time, because he stayed out of range of Alex's zip-tied hands the whole way out of the house. Alex nearly fell down the stairs at least three times because of the dizziness, and threw up, with some satisfaction, on his father's shoes.

It's been days, but he's still dizzy and nauseous all the time, and the killer headache is a constant companion.

Greg's hands are on him, checking him over. He finds one of the bumps on his head and Alex flinches away, almost overbalancing off the mattress when the cuff on his wrist pulls him back. “Are you alright?” Greg murmurs. Alex nods, and immediately regrets it as it sends a spike of pain down his spine.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Greg?” Flint growls. For once, he doesn't have his gun in his hand. Alex realizes that it's because the gun is tucked in Greg's waistband and he frowns, trying to keep it in his line of sight just in case. He thinks Greg actually cares, that he's not in on this with Flint and their Dad, but if he's not, why is he here?

“Now that's a real funny story,” Greg smirks mirthlessly. “Why don't you sit down, Flint?” He formulates it as a question, but it's obviously an order. And in a situation where there's only one gun, ranks don't matter much. Greg is out of the Navy and Alex outranks both of them anyway. Flint slowly drops to the floor, just outside the mattress, and crosses both his legs and his arms petulantly.

“See, yesterday morning, I got a call,” Greg stars. “It's the funny thing about being the only one in our family Alex trusts enough to list as next of kin. You get these calls. I got one before,” he nods to Alex's leg. “No, two, actually. There was that one time−” Alex glares at him and he rolls his eyes. “Okay, okay, back to the point. I was told that Alex had been AWOL for 72 hours, and they were looking for him.”

Alex winces. Of course he already knows that crawling this way out of this one, even if everything ends well and no one dies, is going to be impossible. Being AWOL will earn him jail time, which is already bad, but if they start looking into his recent activities out of suspicion...well, he hopes to God that Liz has really emptied the lab, or things will get a hell of a lot more complicated.

Speaking of Liz...

Helena Ortecho was a surprise. There's a kind of irony in there, that Alex would be more surprised at being held captive by a woman he hasn't seen in over a decade than by his own family. He wonders what Liz would think of Helena being a kidnapper−or of her being more motherly to him that he's ever seen her be to Liz and Rosa. She watched Flint tie him up to a radiator without a word and then brought him food and clothes that weren't covered in vomit and dust, even getting Flint to briefly untie him at gunpoint to get his arm through the sleeve. Alex might have tried to seize the opportunity to fight back if he'd been able to see straight.

“Now I'm a good brother, and I know there's no way Alex would go AWOL without a good reason,” Greg continues. “Especially the day after he drove to the rez with a bunch of suspicious people who are supposedly his friends, and tells me he thinks that Dad has changed.”

Flint huffs.

“Yes,” Greg nods. “Either our baby brother really is more naive than we thought, or something fishy is going on.” Alex rolls his eyes, and Greg just glares at him.

The last few days, after getting to the house, are even more fuzzy. Alex remembers trying to push the mattress against the wall to get a better range of movement, and Flint coldly making him pull it back. He remembers pulling off his prosthetic, his stump swollen and sore from too much time with it on, and then trying to hit Flint with it the next time he came by, which earned him what is probably a second concussion from the butt of his brother's gun. He doesn't really remember anything since then. From the stubble on his face, it's been at least three days, but time is wonky and his mind unreliable.

Which brings him to now, and now has Greg sitting beside him on the mattress. Alex tries to blink away the confusion and sit up properly, wincing when his stump moves on the mattress. Days without a shrinker will make it a bitch to get back into the prosthetic.

Greg shifts. “I took a family emergency day, since that seemed to be the case, and I drove to Roswell. I had to look up my own brother's address in the phone book,” he glares again.

Alex throws his free hand up. “Hey, you're the one who didn't want to come.” His voice is weak and hoarse from disuse, and Greg looks more concerned than chastened.

“Right. I broke in−sorry, Alex, I'll replace the lock if you want me to. Alex's house was empty but his suitcase was still waiting on his bed. So I looked up Isobel Evans.”

“Really? Isobel?”

Greg shrugs. “I don't know what's going on between you, Guerin and Maria, but I'm not getting in the middle of it. Besides, Isobel seemed the most sensible of all of you.”

“You're just attracted to her,” Alex mutters.

“Alex, the choice I had was her or her brother. I know you're gay, but would you really go to Max Evans first?”

“I see your point,” Alex concedes, though he's still really not sure “sensible” is the adjective he'd use to describe Isobel. His muddled brain can't seem to come up with a better one, though, so he lets it go.

“All Isobel could tell me was that no one had seen you since you came back from the rez, but she got everyone moving to find you. Guerin went at it with Dad, got him to admit that he got to you first and Flint took you from him. Don't ask me how, I don't know.”

Isobel, Alex thinks after he's parsed all this−with at least a thirty-second delay. Isobel must have gone into their Dad's head, he would never have told them that willingly. But Greg doesn't know about aliens and there's no way he'll risk telling Flint something he could use against them, so he keeps quiet.

“After that, it wasn't hard to follow Flint here from his place,” Greg finishes. “I disarmed him once I confirmed you were here.”

Flint grunts. Alex looks over at him, amused. He's never been the best at self-defense, even when they were kids, too easily overtaken by his temper.

“Now will someone explain to me what's going on here?” Greg straightens up more, in a stance that looks relaxed but Alex can feel is fully vigilant. He may be missing part of the story, but he's a force to be reckoned with.

Alex and Flint exchange a glance. Somehow even as they stand on opposite sides of this fight, this decision−tell Greg about the aliens or try to lie their way through some kind of resolution−comes down to them. “Where's Helena?” Alex asks.

“In town,” Flint answers, some of the confrontation gone from his tone. “She won't be back for a few hours.”

“Who's Helena?” Greg asks.

“Flint's accomplice,” Alex answers. “Ironically also my friends' mom.”

“Which friends?” Greg frowns.

“Liz and Rosa. You remember them?”

Greg nods. “Rosa was the girl in Flint's year who died, right? Her mom is helping you?” he asks Flint.

Flint shrugs and looks at Alex again, trying to communicate something silently. Alex doesn't bother figuring out what it is. His head isn't quite clear enough to see all of the implications, but he already knows that there's no way Greg will settle for anything short of the truth. And Greg has always been very good at reading his brothers.

Plus, Greg is in control here, and he's been more than sympathetic to Alex since his injury. This could come out well for Alex, so he won't let Flint turn this to his advantage.

“Dad tried to take me down because I've become an inconvenience to his little genocide plan,” he says before Flint can stop him. “Flint thinks he can use me to get Michael to build him a bomb.”

That's the little he's gathered from Flint's talk with Dad the other day, and from Flint and Helena's interaction. He has no idea where Helena comes into it or how she learned about aliens, but he knows Flint's motivations well enough. They've been clear since Caulfield.

“Wait, genocide? Bomb?” Greg spits out in shock. Then he shakes his head, as if realizing that he shouldn't be surprised. “What the fuck are you doing, Flint?”

“They're invaders,” Flint says. “They're dangerous.” He's looking at Alex rather than Greg, as if he's trying to convince him. Alex wonders if he's not still trying to convince himself. Dad's twisted ideas coming from Flint's mouth sound so perverted and out of place.

“They're people,” Alex shoots back.

“They're aliens!”

“They're refugees!”

“Whoa,” Greg throws up his arms. “Am I missing something obvious or did you suddenly become a racist asshole? Are you even hearing yourself?” he asks Flint. Flint has the good grace to look a little abashed.

“Literal aliens,” Alex mutters. “We're talking about actual aliens.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Not even a little,” Alex sighs.

Greg closes his eyes. “Okay. Aliens. And Dad−”

“Wants to kill them all. Kept some of them prisoners for decades and experimented on them.”

Alex watches both Greg and Flint's face closely as he says that. Greg's is suitably horrified, but he doesn't know how to interpret Flint's expression. It's not disgust. It's not glee, either. He may be parroting Dad's rhetoric, but he's not lost to it.

“Dad was just trying to protect us,” he says. Not perfectly assured. The facade is cracking.

“Was?” Greg notices.

“He's been weaker, since the stroke.”

“You know he's faking the limp, right?” Alex asks.

A shadow goes through Flint's gaze. “Of course,” he says, but it's obviously a lie.

“Another lovely moment, finding out my father has been faking a disability for months when he hit me over the head with his cane,” Alex casually turns to Greg. Flint winces, glancing down at Alex's empty pant leg. “I love how well we communicate in this family.”

“Alex−” Flint starts.

“You don't get to say anything. You've been holding me chained up for days against my will. You've lost the right to tell me how great a family we are.”

“I'm still hung up over the alien thing, but I have to agree with Alex here,” Greg says. “What the fuck were you thinking, Flint?”

“He wants Michael to do something for him,” Alex says when Flint doesn't answer. “I don't even know why you'd think Michael will do anything. We're not together. And you're asking him to build a bomb designed to wipe out his entire species, Flint.”

“Wait, wait, Guerin's an alien?” Greg interrupts him.

“Yep,” Alex pops out the 'p'. “That's Dad's great threat to earth. Three orphan refugees who just want to live their life.”

“They're not alone,” Flint mutters, at the same time as Greg asks, “Three? Who else?”

“Max and Isobel Evans,” Alex smirks. The cat is out of the bag anyway, since Flint knows, and this little revenge feels good. Having one of his brothers on his side will feel good.

Greg blinks. “Okay,” he drawls out. “Let me get this straight. Guerin and the Evanses are aliens, even though they look just like us. And Dad knows about this, and wants to...wipe them out? And you're helping him?” he points to Flint.

“It's not just them,” Flint says. “We had specimens in Caulfield who could cause cancer with a simple touch, blow up whole buildings. They have dangerous powers.”

“And you have a gun,” Alex says. “How is it less dangerous than any of those powers? Powers, I should add, that Dad had no trouble using for his own agenda when it came to eliminating Jim Valenti.”

“Jim Valenti was killed by Subject N-38,” Flint frowns.

“And what, you think he went into his cell for fun? I have all the video surveillance, Flint. All the records. Decades of Dad and our grandfather randomly torturing people before going home for Sunday dinner.” From those surveillance tapes, he knows that Flint never had real contact with any of the prisoners. He never even went beyond the upper level, where he did the designs for his bomb. Alex spent hours and hours watching those tapes. “They're the same as us. Just people.”

“They want to wipe us out,” Flint says.

“They're my family,” Alex counters softly.

The shock on Flint's face would be comical, if it wasn't so painful. Greg's gaze on Alex is lost and sad. “They're more my family than you've ever been,” Alex adds for Flint.

He tries to mitigate that blow by putting a hand on Greg's arm, to show him that he doesn't mean him, but Greg shakes his head and gently moves away, guilt obvious on his face. Alex pushes through and leans his shoulder on Greg's, welcoming the support. His head is clearer now, but he's aching all over.

“Did you ever stop to think, when you were overseas?” he starts, his voice barely more than a whisper as he's trying to conserve some energy. “When you pointed your gun at insurgents or civilians or whoever it was that day you were ordered to contain or kill, did you stop and wonder who they were? If they had a life, too, a family? A brother?”

Flint looks away.

“Michael was the first person who really understood,” Alex continues. “He grew up in the system and he got the worse luck. He made me feel safe, for the first time since Mom left. He made me feel like I could get out of Roswell, escape Dad.”

“What happened?” Greg asks in a murmur.

“Dad found us,” Alex answers. “He didn't know what Michael was, but it didn't matter. He knew what I am. He started to choke me, and Michael tried to step in, so Dad took a hammer to Michael's hand.”

Neither of his brothers look shocked. Greg is clearly pained, and he drapes his arm around Alex's back in comfort, and Flint won't look at him, but they're not shocked. That's probably the saddest thing, that they all know exactly what Jesse Manes is capable of.

He waits until he's caught Flint's eyes again. “Michael's mother was in Caulfield,” he says. “He got to see her blow up with the building. He wanted to stay with her. He dreamed of going to college, but he stayed in Roswell because his sister needed him. He used to play the guitar while I sang, before Dad ruined his hand. That's the threat you're trying to eliminate, Flint.”

Flint swallows. “Did Dad really kill Jim?”

“I have the video on a secure network,” Alex nods. “We'd have to go to my place to show you, but yes. He did. I'm sorry,” he adds after a moment.

“Why are you sorry?”

“I'm sorry that Dad isn't the man you wish he was. I wished for something else for a long time, too.”

Flint stands up suddenly, and starts pacing. “I've read the reports,” he says. “The aliens attacked people when they arrived. And there's been thirteen murders in the last ten years done by aliens.”

Greg looks at Alex. “Is that true?”

“Yes,” Alex sighs. “They're people. No worse than us, but also no better. We found the murderer. He's dead now.”

“We're talking about a serial killer, Alex!” Flint loses his cool. “What if they're all like that?”

“What if they aren't?” Alex yells back. He regrets it as the sound rings painfully inside his head. “Tell me how many times you've heard that same question asked about Native men, Flint.”

Flint opens his mouth, and closes it again. He paces the length of the room faster, giving the edge of the mattress a kick when he passes by.

Greg clears his throat. “Can we go back to the bomb? What the fuck is it?”

“It's not really a bomb,” Flint says. “It's a chemical agent, designed to eliminate people who have specific DNA strands.”

Alex can almost see the cogs turn in Greg's head. “How do you plan on dispersing it?”

“My team designed an atomizer,” Flint explains. He looks hesitant, like he knows he shouldn't be talking about that but he can't quite remember why. They've got through to him at least a little, Alex realizes. “I just need someone to build it.”

“Michael,” Alex explains for Greg's benefit. “He's a mechanic. And a genius.”

“So it's not a sanctioned mission,” Greg raises his eyebrows. “You and Dad have been working on this for...how long? Years? A Manes family mission to commit genocide?”

“We're doing what needs to be done,” Flint stops pacing and stands at attention.

“By fucking kidnapping Alex? Flint, did you stop even once to think about what you're doing?”

“They got into Alex's head. I'm doing this for his own good.”

Alex lets himself fall back until he's lying down on the mattress, prompting his brothers to look at him. His headache is getting worse, not better. “His words, in your mouth,” he tells Flint. “I expected that from Clay. Not from you. Have you forgotten everything, Flint? All of Granddad and Granny's history lessons?”

Flint looks away. Greg seems to seize the opportunity, and he stands up and grabs Flint's arm. “Let Alex go, Flint.”

“I can't.”

“Do you remember the last time we were all at the house together?” Greg lowers his voice, almost as if he doesn't want Alex to hear, but the room is small. “We promised we'd look out for him,” he nods toward Alex. “That we wouldn't let Dad get to him again.”

“He shouldn't have come back to Roswell,” Flint sets his chin stubbornly.

“Maybe not. But he's still our brother. We need to stop failing him.”

For the first time, Flint truly looks torn. “I'm trying to protect him from the aliens,” he says slowly.

“I think you and I both knows that's not who we need to protect him from,” Greg says.

Alex resists the urge to retort that he can protect himself−his current situation would tend to disagree, although he swears he'll free himself the minute his head stops swimming−and finds himself feeling oddly touched.

Flint looks down at his shoes.

“Let him go, Flint.”

“Fine,” Flint finally relents. He grabs a key from his pocket and tosses it to Alex, who scrambles to open the cuff around his wrist.

He eyes the gun in Greg waistband again, trying to figure out if it's worth making a go at it, but he decides to trust Greg. It's not like he can stand up, anyway.

“What now?” he asks.

“We should really get you to a hospital,” Greg says.

“No. I need to see that Michael's okay. And I need to stop their plan,” he waves at Flint, including Helena and his father as well. He gives Flint a defiant look. “I can't let you harm them.”

“I know,” Flint sighs. “Helena's gone to bring Guerin here.”

“Will you stand down?” Alex asks him. “Let me do what I have to do?”

“I won't try to harm you,” Flint holds his empty hands up in a surrendering gesture. “Or your family,” he adds reluctantly.

“Good.” Alex turns to Greg and holds a hand up to be helped into a standing position. “You have a phone? I'm going to need it.”

“Who put you in charge?” Greg asks, amused. “You have a concussion, Alex, you need medical care.”

“I know. I'm doing to call my doctor,” Alex answers. “After I call Michael, anyway. Anyone know where my leg is? We have a lot of work to do.”

#roswell new mexico #alex manes #alexweek2020 #gregory manes #flint manes #roswell nm #mine #echo's fanfiction #manes brothers #eveningspirit

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perhapsitmaybedragons · 4 years ago

Text

A Congress of Newts and Serpents

Shoutout to cassieoh for the title, which I quite like and never would have thought of on my own.

I really wanted to write Newt getting romance advice from Crowley. It didn’t turn out the way I was expecting it, but I like how it went. It’s quite fluffy and has a very happy ending - one shot only.

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26944687

Or continue reading below:

“The point is,” Anathema continued, “That you had no right to say that!”

“I'm just saying, maybe we should go back home to discuss this?” Newt glanced at Aziraphale and Crowley. Aziraphale looked concerned. Crowley was smirking in that way that meant he thought he was about to get a lot of free entertainment.

“Home?” She was seething. She grabbed his keys off of the table in the entry way. “That sounds like a wonderful idea. I will absolutely see you at home. You can find your own way there.”

She slammed the door behind her and Newt stood there, watching her go. He had some inkling he was meant to chase after her, but another part of his brain was arguing that it was something that one only did in romantic comedies. She would calm down. Eventually. Right?

“What exactly did you do?” Crowley couldn't hide his delight. Sure, he was very kind for a demon, but he was still, at heart, a demon. “I don't think I've ever seen her so mad.”

“It's not like we've known them that long, Crowley,” Aziraphale poked him.

“I just said that I thought it was silly to go around lighting sage in the cottage. She said it would cleanse the air or something, and maybe get rid of demons?” he ran his hand through his already messy hair, somehow making it worse in the process. “I pointed out that might mean Crowley couldn't come around and she said something about well of course it makes exceptions for him he's one of the good guys. And it's just...I believe in science and I don't understand all of this new age stuff. I'm trying, I swear!” He spared a quick glare at the leftovers from tonight's dinner – sage encrusted chicken. It had brought the fight from this morning right back, after he'd thought they'd already worked it out.

“Well, dear boy,” Aziraphale chuckled. “It may be 'new age' to you, but I can assure you it's existed for centuries. Nothing new under the sun, as they say.”

“Who says that? I don't say that,” Crowley shook his head and went to get himself a drink. They were all in his flat. Aziraphale had thought it would be a good idea to get the humans to come around every so often while they all waited to see if Heaven or Hell would make another move. So far, all that had happened was that they'd learned Newt was a lightweight and that Anathema got angry after just one drink (though she never seemed actually drunk ...just ...angry).

“You do have to meet in the middle,” Aziraphale continued as though Crowley hadn't interrupted him. “It's alright if you don't quite believe the same things, but it isn't kind to patronize.”

“I didn't think I was being patronizing...”

“But you may have come across that way, even without intending it. How long have you known Ms. Device?”

“I mean...we met the day we all had to stop Adam from blowing up the world.”

“So just a few weeks, then. It can be hard to build a relationship that quickly.”

Neither one of them could see Crowley rolling his eyes behind his shades. “It was quick,” Newt admitted. “Do you think it means we're wrong for each other?”

“I think, Newton, that you should go home, get some sleep and talk to Anathema in the morning. Perhaps you should sleep on the couch tonight, let her have the bed,” Aziraphale clapped him gently on the back. “Crowley will take you, since she took your car.”

“I'll take him? News to me. Why don't you take him, angel?”

“I couldn't – what would be the point? I don't have a car. He'd have to take the bus and at this hour those can be impossible to come by!”

“You could miracle one up for him-”

“I will not perform a frivolous miracle when you could just take him in your car,” Aziraphale insisted. “It would be much faster than the bus, anyway. The way you drive, so long as you don't get yourselves into an accident, you'll probably be there and back in half an hour.”

“I'm sorry, so long as we don't get into an accident?” Newt repeated.

He was ignored. “Fine!” Crowley threw his hands up. “I'll take him. Are you going home now, then or did you want a ride, too?”

“No, no, I thought I'd stay here until you get back. I have some thoughts I wanted to run by you.”

“Fine,” Crowley said again. “You, awkward human,” Newt frowned but didn't correct him. They both knew that Crowley knew his name. “Let's get going. The sooner we leave the sooner I can get back and take a nap.”

“Haven't you been drinking?”

“He's right, Crowley. Sober up, first.”

Crowley groaned and shook the alcohol from his system. “There? Happy? All back in the bottle for later. Can we please just go?” He flung the apartment door open and gestured for Newt to go out. Newt scurried along, out the door, through the hallway, down the stairs and finally to where the Bentley was parked in all its glory. He'd seen the car before, but he'd never been in it. He didn't know very much about cars, but he knew just enough to know this was expensive and old.

He climbed into the front seat and buckled in. Crowley got in on the driver's side and started the engine.

“Wait, don't you need to turn the headlights on?”

“Ugh...if it will make you feel better,” Crowley nodded and the lights came on. Then he reversed the car and headed off in the direction of Tadfield.

“It's just...” The words poured out of Newt before he could think better of it, “I don't see what the big deal is. I really wasn't trying to upset her or anything. I thought relationships were about sharing your opinions. But ...maybe it's not a great idea to form a relationship based on a book...”

“A book?”

“Yeah. Agnes Nutter. She predicted us together. Apparently marriage as well.”

“Ah.”

“So. Stupid reason, huh?”

“Well, yeah.”

Newt hadn't expected that. “But she got everything right! Agnes predicted every little thing we needed to survive. How can you say that it's stupid?”

“Because you said that it's stupid. I was just agreeing with you. Did you want me to say 'oh, no, you're wrong. Perfectly logical to let an ancient witch decide who you should be with and who you should marry. Most obvious thing in the world, that'?”

“Maybe not,” Newt shrunk into the passenger seat, vaguely aware that he was sulking. “I guess it's not as good as overcoming everything you and Aziraphale have, but you can't really compare us – we're just human. I mean, she's a witch but -”

“I'm sorry, what was that?” Crowley had brought the car to an abrupt stop. Newt's whole body jerked as they went from impossibly fast to standing still. He felt a little fuzzy, but fully aware that had Crowley not cushioned the blow that could have done some serious damage to him.

“She's a witch, literally. I'm not calling her names-”

“Not that, I know about her being a witch,” Crowley was acting funny. His tone of voice was bored, like he didn't want to have the conversation. But Newt knew enough about body language to gather that Crowley was very interested in what Newt had to say right now. “What's that about me and Aziraphale?”

“Well, you're together, aren't you? So I figure you had to fight all of Hell and maybe all of Heaven, too, just to be together.”

“We're not,” Crowley didn't finish his argument. “He and I are friends. I mean...really good friends.”

“Aren't you in love with each other?” And now Newt was absolutely baffled. He'd had best friends before. None of them looked at him the way Crowley looked at Aziraphale. Not that he'd ever seen, anyway. “I thought you were together. Anathema-” now he trailed off, suddenly reminded of the fight. “Look, no matter what you two are to each other, I know you've fought before. How did you deal with it?”

“Probably the same way you dealt with fights with your mates in the past,” Crowley started his car back up again but didn't start driving. They were sitting still, parked on the side of the road. He looked deep in thought.

Newt was many things. Awkward, bad with electronics, maybe a little on the odd side. But he wasn't dumb. “Look, if I fight with friends it's never about anything important. And they get loads of time away from me, so if they're mad at me I don't have to worry about going to bed alone.”

“Those aren't things I have to worry about. I mean, I don't worry about going to bed alone. I do go to bed alone... I just don't worry about it, I mean.” The car started moving, but it wasn't lost on Newt that Crowley was driving the speed limit. He wondered for a moment if it was the first time Crowley had ever obeyed traffic laws.

“Fine. Indulge me. Hypothetical. If you and Aziraphale were in love and you had a fight-”

“Why do you need to bring him into this hypothetical? Why not just say 'if you were in love with someone and had a fight with them'?”

“Fine! If you were in love with someone, anyone, doesn't matter who, and they were very angry at you, what do you do about it? Especially when you never put in the ground work to be together in the first place?”

To his credit, Crowley did seem to be pondering the question sincerely. “Complained to the wrong people, mostly.”

“Complained? Not ...would complain? You're talking like you have been in this situation.”

“Not the part about being fated to be together by someone, obviously. Um...you've heard of the,” Crowley snapped his fingers as he tried to remember the correct phrasing. “The friend zone!” he looked triumphant when the word came to him.

“Yes,” Newt said slowly. He'd used the phrase himself as a teen once, and had been quickly reprimanded by his mother. He had learned to be wary of the kind of people who used it.

“That was mine, but it was an accident, swear it. I was just in a bar complaining to someone, and obviously I'd had a bit too much ...I said to this guy, 'you know, an out and out rejection would be fine, but it's not like I haven't been obvious about the whole thing. I may not have said the words but all my actions were you know...implying, and this person is smart, they can do book analysis and tell you why the curtains were blue or some such so why can't they read between the lines for me?' And this ...this asshole comes up with a story about some girl he was friends with and was being nice to all the time and how she only wanted to be friends and it was obviously the same as my thing, she'd lead him on by being nice to him. And, Newt?”

“Er-yeah?”

“I was just drunk enough and feeling just evil enough to goad him on with that. That was...I want to tell you the seventies – the nineteen seventies, but I can't remember for sure now. It was stupid.”

“So who was it then?”

“I already told you. Some asshole in a bar.”

“Not the friend zone guy! Who were you complaining about not realizing you're in love with them?”

“You know damn well,” Crowley grumbled. “Everyone knows except that idiot. Especially all the other people in bars I've complained to for the last several thousand years. He's so clever but he's so stupid-”

“Are you sure you sobered yourself up all the way?” Newt checked that his seat belt was fully secure.

Crowley ignored him. “The point is, Agnes got everything else right so she's probably right about you two. Do you like Anathema?”

“Of course I do!”

“Then take an interest in her interests. You ever seen something that makes her just,” Crowley clenched one fist for emphasis, the other remaining lazily on the wheel, “Just light up? Something that makes her so excited it's like the rest of the world drops away and maybe it does for you, too, because you're so focused on how happy she looks?”

“Once or twice...”

“And you don't want to do everything you can to make her look like that any chance possible?”

“Yes. ...Yes, I do. But I'm a little surprised you're willing to give advice on this. Or talk about it at all. You don't usually say much to me.”

“I talk when there's something worth saying. ...what do you know about glaciers?”

Newt stared at Crowley like he thought the demon had gone completely mad. “Uh- just that they're melting awfully fast, what with the greenhouse gases and-”

“Remarkably slow things. Used to be, at least. Then global warming and the polar bears dying and – not my point. My point is, the glaciers were here when we got here. Him and me, I mean. Him and I? Me and him? ...right, anyway, there's this big one that's been there the whole time and it's moving really slowly. Like ...snails are out pacing this bastard, right? That thing is going to somehow circumnavigate the globe multiple times before he's going to want to talk about us.”

“Us?”

“Not you and I us, me and him us!”

“Oh, right. Right. So are you admitting-”

“Yes, yes, we're past all that. I'm in love with Aziraphale, big whoop, you figured it out. Again, you're not the first one to say something to me about it.”

“And you've ...told him since then?”

“Not technically. We got kind of close to talking about it once... He says I go too fast for him. So if I go too fast and there's a glacier out pacing him, where do we meet in the middle?”

“Is that where the 'glacial pace' phrase comes from? I never thought about it before,” Newt admitted.

“Sorry. We're supposed to be talking about you and your witch, right? Look...I don't know what to tell you. Other than that she's an angry drinker so I would keep the stronger stuff out of the house. You can't be with a person just because a prophetess says you're meant to be. If you want to be with her, it should be because you want to be with her. But make that clear to her.”

“I was trying. That was part of the argument, really. I was trying to point out that my not believing in everything was a good sign for us, because it meant I wanted to be with her for her and not because of Agnes.”

Crowley frowned, “Well, I do actually see your point on that one. But sometimes it matters how it's said.”

Newt tried to look less astonished than he felt. Somewhere along the line, Crowley had decided to take the conversation seriously and actually offer help. Some part of the back of his brain tried to remind him that this was a demon, one who wasn't above still messing with people (though usually in mostly harmless ways). But he couldn't see if this was a trap or not. It seemed like friendly advice.

Judging by how Crowley sped the car back up to his normal speeds (the speedometer was not at an angle Newt could see, and even if it were, they were now going a lot faster than it could measure), Newt figured the conversation was over. Crowley turned the radio on, which went from classical to “Bohemian Rhapsody” without either of them changing the station.

They both pretended to be focused on the music until the car rolled up to Jasmine Cottage. “You'll be all right. I think you're kind of good for each other. Just make sure you're listening, but also make sure she listens to you. When you got together the world was ending so you had to do it quickly, but it's not ending anymore, all right?”

“Yeah, all right,” Newt got out but left the door to the car open. “Crowley? Um. Thank you. For the advice and for being honest with me about you and - ...about your stuff. I hope all that works out for you. For what it's worth,” He wasn't sure he should continue. Newt was very good at putting his foot in his mouth, and he hoped this wasn't another one of those situations. “I think if you spoke to Aziraphale... he might be ready now. You wouldn't be rushing him or anything, not if you just told him what you want to talk about and then let him decide if he wants to have that conversation. I'm pretty sure...look, you don't see the way he's looking at you some of the times, but everyone else has noticed.”

“Whatever you say,” Crowley had adopted that bored tone again. He flicked his wrist and the car door shut itself, making Newt jump back in surprise. But the window was still open. “You and Bicycle Girl have a good night. Hope things work out.”

“Thanks, I-” But Crowley was already driving away. “Thanks, anyway. Right.” Newt squared up his shoulders and headed into the cottage, ready to talk. But he heard a honking noise and realized Anathema was pulling up in Dick Turpin now.

“How did you beat me home?” she demanded as she got out. “I was just about to turn around and go back for you, but I got this feeling that I shouldn't and-” she shook her head.

“Crowley gave me a ride. Literal speed demon, that guy. Look, I wanted to talk to you..”

“I wanted to talk to you! I've done some reflecting and-”

“Anathema?” He interrupted. “I promise I'm going to listen this time, but can we please go inside first? We're literally in the middle of the road here.”

“Right...right.” She moved the car to its appropriate parking spot before they both went inside. And talked. And listened. And talked some more. They took turns talking and listening for the next several hours before they went outside to watch the sunrise the next day, neither of them having gotten any sleep.

“Think we'll be all right?” He asked, putting an arm around her shoulders and squeezing.

“Yeah, I think we will.”

Crowley had headed back immediately after dropping Newt off. Aziraphale, as he'd promised, was still in the flat where he'd been left. He'd brought a whole collection of books to keep himself occupied. He was curled up in a chair Crowley hadn't had before today (“Heaven's sake, more tartan?! Crowley thought to himself as he saw the plush chair Aziraphale had conjured up). He was reading an ancient looking book, a steaming cup of tea next to him.

“Crowley! How did it go?”

“S'Alright. I got him home in one piece, anyway.”

“Do you think they'll be alright? Human relationships can be so ...fickle.”

“Angel?”

“Hmm?”

“Am I still moving too fast for you?”

The question hung between them momentarily. Aziraphale sat up and put his book down on the floor. He seemed to be carefully considering his options. “I -what brought this on?”

“Does it matter? We've never talked about it. I am asking if you are ready to talk now – and telling you that if you aren't, it's ok.”

“No, I want to talk about it,” Aziraphale wiggled so that he was sitting up straight. “I'm sorry. You've done so much for me all these centuries and at first I thought – ah, well, this must be a trap. Then we had the Arrangement and I thought, well, fine, he just wants some time off from doing this work. But it was never about that, was it?”

“See, I thought I had been astoundingly obvious about it. Too obvious. Like one of those American John Grisham novels-”

“I don't like John Grishams-”

“I know, I know, cause they lack subtlety and all have the same plot. You've told me. But that's my point, isn't it? You were the Enemy, but you were the enemy who gives away a flaming sword God gave him because the humans might need it. I thought you were intriguing.”

“I'm not sure I'm ready yet. Not fully,” Aziraphale admitted. “I think my feelings are obvious enough at this point?” His eyes met Crowley's. “I hope so, at least. And if not...you can consider this a formal declaration.”

“A formal declaration?” Crowley repeated. He tried very hard not to smirk. The smirk won. “So this is your ...declaration of Intent to Begin Woo, then?”

“Ah, yes, exactly!” Aziraphale looked delighted by the idea. All these centuries and he still didn't always get sarcasm. Or he purposely chose to disregard it, in Crowley's case. Crowley could never be certain which one it was.

“And how would that look?”

“It would be slow, but I could start coming around and bringing you flowers and talking to you about your day-”

“Other than the flowers, how is that different from what we're currently doing?”

“Because my intent is stated, of course!” Aziraphale looked affronted. “And now you know I'm not doing it just to be your friend, though I do still quite value your friendship. I rather like this idea...”

“It does let you set the pace,” Crowley admitted. “I want you to be comfortable with this.”

“I am quite comfortable, thank you. Comfortable enough to suggest that I ...sleep over?” A blush crept to his cheeks, but before Crowley could start teasing, he corrected. “I just mean sleep in this chair. It's quite comfortable. Not the bed. You'd take the bed. But it would make it easier for me to begin my wooing of you.”

“All right, then, Angel. You're on. But I expect to be uh...thoroughly woo-ed starting tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow morning, then! It's a date.”

#good omens #my writing #ineffable husbands #crowley #anthony j crowley #aziraphale #newt #newton pulsifer #anathema #anathema device #fluff #romance advice #getting advice from a demon can be surprisingly helpful

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allisonallura · 5 years ago

Text

A Mystic Message.

Did I really just write a whole one shot about the game going down today? Yes. Yes I did. While I was reading over the facts of the game, a thought occurred to me, what if the game was down because someone, was trying to reach out to you?

The male character is just referred to as "Him" so that you may fill it with whatever character you desire! (Sorry Jaehee stans)

◈ ━━━━━━ ⸙ ━━━━━━ ◈

It had happened again. You had tried to log into the messenger only to find that it wouldn’t let you in, The beginning menu would appear before you to give you fact after fact, you were sure that by the end of this you would know everything about these characters.

Yoosung Attends SKY University

The name of Jumin Han’s cat is Elizabeth the 3rd

Assistant Kang has been working with Jumin Han for 2 years

This game runs in real time.

Gama Data Download Checking for Updates…

You were currently lying on your couch upside down out of pure boredom, and considering you were still in quarantine, you didn’t have much else to do. Your eyes watch the spinning envelope mock you as your eyes narrow at the screen. Whatever was happening with the servers, you hoped it was fixed soon. You had already missed three chat rooms and was in the middle of your route. Now was not the time to be missing chat rooms and messages.

You sighed softly to yourself as you sat up, setting your phone down beside your thigh as you thought this over. Maybe you were a little too obsessed with this game, You were obsessed with a 2D man for crying out loud. But was it really your fault real men didn’t meet your standards? No.

Maybe it was because you could relate to these characters. Each of them were broken in their own way, most of them had rough pasts, Some have been through more than others, but that’s what makes each one unique and loving... But him.. He hits way too close to home. You could feel every emotion he showed you, his joy, his sadness, his pain. It had always felt like you were talking to a real human and not just a bunch of 1’s and 0’s thrown together to make a fantasy. As if those eyes.. Were looking at the real you. You made emotional connections with all of them, you laughed with them, you cried with them. Only now did you notice you had just been sitting here, lost in your own thoughts.

As you stood from the couch, you headed into the kitchen, if the server was going to be down for a while, you might as well get something to eat right? Then the next time they ask you don’t have to lie just to get the subject dropped. Preparing a sandwich you sat at the counter, eating your quickly made meal until you heard the beep. The beep to inform you that you had received a text message in the game, was it back up? Furrowing your eyebrows lightly, you stood to retrieve your phone.

Walking over to the couch you lifted your phone, Your lock screen was of course, him. Unlocking it your homepage lit up before you, which was also him. Opening the app that was located in your hot bar, you waited patiently for the main screen to load.

Your eyes watched the spinning envelope for two minutes before you became confused, but you had just gotten a text notification from the game? So how was it not working? Tilting your head softly you shrugged before shaking your head, ready to lock your phone until the same ding came through.

This wasn’t a text from the game.. This was.. A text from your actual phone? But.. that wasn’t your notification sound? Opening your message app, You grew more confused as you saw it, there, two unread messages from an unknown number. Opening the messages you read over them.

Unknown: Hello? Unknown: Is this working?

The messages read. This seemed all too familiar to you, you hesitated to answer. Your thoughts raced for what felt like the millionth time today as your eyes scanned the screen, something inside of you calling to answer the messages. It couldn’t be anything bad.. Right?

MC: Yes… it’s working.. MC: Who are you?

Unknown: MC? Is it you?

Your eyes widened, they.. They knew your name. How did they know your name? Your brain trying to come up with any possible explanation for this. Perhaps it was just an old friend and you had lost their number? That did seem to happen quite often since you moved to Korea.. Your American friends would attempt to contact you only for them to come up as Unknown. Nodding softly, you decided to keep the conversation rolling.

MC: Yes, it’s me. MC: But who are you?

Unknown: It’s me.. [Your Favorite]

Your breath hitched, now you knew someone had to be messing with you. But even if it was just someone pulling a prank, how did they know who your favorite was? Perhaps just a lucky guess? Or.. was someone watching you as you played? Did you have a stalker? You grew nervous at the thought, looking back to the screen, ready to call them out on it.

MC: Yeah.. nice try. MC: Come on.. You can tell me your name. Nice prank though.

Unknown: MC.. It’s not a prank. Unknown: It’s me.

You rolled your eyes, they seemed pretty persistent with this prank. However, there was still one way to end this rather quickly.

MC: Sure… if you say so. MC: I’m going to call you okay? MC: You can prove it to me there.

Unknown: Very well.

For some reason, you felt even more nervous. Hitting the “contact information” you saw the number, hitting the phone symbol beside it as you held the phone up to your ear. It was ringing.. You couldn’t believe you were calling a complete stranger over some silly prank. But hey.. You might make a friend out of this. Shrugging once more at the thought as the ringing continued.

Less than a minute later, whoever this number belonged to had answered. An uncomfortable silence rested between you both, neither of you seeming willing enough to speak first. You were prepared to hang up when a voice came through.

“Hello, MC.” That voice.. You could recognize this voice anywhere.. That was his voice. All of your senses seemed to stop in that moment, you couldn’t register his voice continuing until his voice held concern as he spoke your name once more.

“I’m sorry.” You replied softly, your voice just above a whisper. There’s no way this could be real, there’s no way he could be real. He was just a character to a game, that was all. “This.. this can’t be real. Your voice changer is very convincing I have to say, it must have been expensive, But.. I think I’ll be going now.”

“No wait!” His voice pleaded for you to remain on the line, but quite honestly, you were a mess of emotions in this moment. You were confused, scared, but also hopeful in a sense. A small part of you wishing it could have been him.. But it was clearly impossible.

“Please, MC. It is me.. And I can prove it.” Your silence was all he needed to continue, he began to tell you every detail of your game experience. The moments you laughed, the moments you cried, How sometimes you would look at the screen with pure adoration in your eyes for him and the others. He kept going until he knew you now believed it was the real him, then he grew silent once more.

“But.. how.. H-how are you able to be on the phone with me like this?” Your voice seemed fragile, you couldn’t believe this was really happening, even though he had given you all the proof you needed. “And of all the people who play.. Why me?” You questioned lightly.

He simply chuckled. “Darling, with the right connections and you can do anything in this world.” You could feel his smile, it was so bright and warm. “I picked you because you’re the one for me MC. It’s as simple as that. You’ve played my route time and time again and everytime you show different emotions, surprising even me… No one else who has played has ever looked at me the way you do. You truly care for me and don’t see me as just some 2D man you can get over so quickly… even if in reality that’s all I am.”

You were speechless at this point. You felt as if the sun itself was shining down on you. “You’re so much more than that… I connected to you because.. I saw a lot of myself in you. You’re so important and kind.. Even after everything you’ve been through. You deserve so much more than what you’re given..”

You heard a soft sob on the other side of the line. “I’m sorry.” He said. “I wish there was something more I could do to be with you.. Maybe one day we’ll find a way to physically be together.”

You huffed softly at that, though.. If he can call through dimensions, who’s to say he can’t build a portal or something. “Maybe one day..” You smiled to yourself. “Though if we do manage to do that.. I think I'll come to you. You’re needed there whereas me here..”

“MC.” He stopped you before you could speak anymore. “You’re needed no matter where you are, even if you don’t believe so. You have people who love you, though if you wish to come here that is something I can’t change your mind on.. But we’ll worry about that when we come to it. For now, I must be going.. The signal will be getting weaker soon.” His voice sounded disappointed. “I’m sorry I stopped the app to do this.”

You laughed softly. “I think my app freezing was well worth this surprise.. I’ll be playing your route again though.. So don’t worry about it too much.” Your smile grew brighter as you said this, now know that when you played, it was *actually* him you were responding to.

He huffed in amusement. “Promise no bad endings?” His voice took a light playful tone as you heard the line begin to go fuzzy. “I promise.” You spoke with ease, not even needs to think twice about it, you had never gotten one of his bad endings, and now you didn’t plan to, even if it meant you would never completely finish the game, his happiness is worth it.

“I love you, MC.” He spoke suddenly, you felt a bright blush form on your cheeks as he spoke those words you had read over and over in his route. But actually hearing them.. This was something completely different.

“I love you too.” You spoke, your voice as soft as silk before the line went dead. Though you were sad the call had ended so suddenly, you were more happy that it had happened. The missing piece of you was now complete..

Quickly wasting no time, you got back on the messenger to see that it was working properly once more. Your progress for his route continues as the familiar text sound beeped from your phone. You have received a text from him. Figuring it would be one of the basic ones you saw everyday you clicked on it. Though your eyes widened as you read over the text.

“One day we’ll be together.. I promise. I love you, MC.”

◈ ━━━━━━ ⸙ ━━━━━━ ◈

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this story! I'm sorry it wasn't as good as my other pieces but this one wasn't really planned and I was just kinda going with the flow.

But still! feedback is appreciated! Thank you :heart: Word Count: 1,882

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24012616

#mysticmessenger #mysme jumin #mysme zen #mysme 707 #mysme yoosung #mysme jihyun #jihyun kim #x reader #fanfiction #follow #mm #cheritz

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lilyandersonn · 4 years ago

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All That is Gold // S.R

Chapter One // Series Masterlist here

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Esther (OFC)

Series summary: Determined to use the powers that hydra bestowed upon her for good, Esther joined the Avengers team after years of hiding. Everybody but Steve is impressed by her, and after two years of being on the team, it seemed a friendship with him was a pipe dream. But a near death experience is about to change everything.

Chapter warnings: Swearing, mentions of blood and gun related injury

Words: 2120

AN: This series takes place in a non-canonical avengers world, if it isn’t obvious. Esther is an empath (she can feel what others are feeling & control their emotions) and has healing/strength powers. Although it’ll be addressed in later chapters, the necklace I refer to her wearing blocks her empathy powers. This is my first marvel fic so please be kind :) I don’t have a beta reader so apologies for any glaring mistakes.

Chapter One

"Esther, look out!"

The warning came just seconds too late. It had all happened too quickly. The bullet had found its target, piercing her stomach and throwing her backwards on impact, before she could think about dodging. Her back slammed against the wall behind her, knocking the wind out of her already stinging lungs as she slumped down onto the floor with a surprised cry. Hands instinctively flew to the wound, palms becoming saturated with the sticky, crimson blood seeping through her black suit.

Beads of sweat formed on her forehead, and she could feel trickles of it sliding down the back of her neck as her body convulsed on the snowy ground. The cold November air still stung at her cheeks and the wetness of the ground that soaked her suit made her shiver, but in spite of that, her skin felt like somebody had drenched her in lighter fluid and a lit match to it. Biting down hard on her lip, enough to draw blood, she forced back the involuntary whimpers as her body fought to heal.

Around her, the fight continued.

The mission was supposed to be a quick, in and out - she would distract the hydra agents, control their emotions long enough for the three men to get the information they needed and get back out again. But somehow their infiltration had been anticipated, and they were greeted with dozens of agents ready and waiting.

"Esther, you good?" came Steve's calm, levelled voice through the earpiece.

"All good," she spoke back, through gritted teeth, "don't worry about me, Cap'."

She knew something didn't feel right - healing never took this long, and it had certainly never been this painful. The bullet was still lodged in her abdomen, she had no way of knowing if it had splintered or not, and she could only assume it was to blame for the slow, or lack of, healing process. But for the sake of the success of the mission, she tried to stay silent and white-knuckle it.

Concentrating on anything other than the gaping, bloody hole in her stomach, Esther focused on the snow. It was still coming down pretty heavy, covering the tracks made by the ongoing fight, only to be ruined again as somebody stomped through it, or as a hydra agent hit the floor. Her mind cast itself back to earlier that day, as she and Natasha had giggled like two naughty school girls, hiding just outside the quinjet, ready to ambush Bucky and Steve as they approached, with armfuls of snowballs. She thought about how even Steve, ever the stern leader, had lit up as he and Bucky were relentlessly pelted. And the giddiness she had felt as she and Natasha lay side by side, shrieking with laughter as they created snow angels with their shivering bodies.

It was definitely a stark contrast to what was unfolding now.

Smiling to herself at the memories, Esther hadn't noticed that her eyes had fluttered closed, head lolling against the cold brick behind her. The wound still hadn't healed itself, and the snow around her was stained scarlet. There was no way of knowing how much blood she'd lost, but given the way she was losing the strength to keep herself upright, a lot would be a good guess.

"Esther, don't go to sleep on us, okay?" Steve spoke again, this time unable to keep his concern from seeping into his tone.

Eyelids impossibly heavy, Esther desperately fought to stay conscious. Steve was still speaking, growing more frantic with each passing moment, in her ear, but he sounded so far away now - as did the fight. The temptation to just close her eyes again, just to rest for a moment, was too much. Everything hurt, her entire body crying out as it still struggled, and failed, to heal. I'll just sleep for a little bit, Esther thought, letting unconsciousness envelop her, like a warm blanket.

"Fuck! Sam," Steve shouted through the chaos of the fight, too entangled in a brutal fist fight with a surprisingly strong hydra agent to get to her, "get her out of here! Now!"

"But--"

"Buck and I can handle this, just get her back to the compound. Now, Sam."

Still reluctant to leave his two team-mates to fight the agents, Sam faltered - super-soldiers or not, they were still outnumbered. But one look at Esther's frail looking body, crumpled on the ground in a puddle of her own blood, set him into action again. He had to fight off a few men on his way to her, but it didn't take long before he was kneeling by her side, carefully taking her into his arms and flying them out of harms way.

If it weren't for the slow rise and fall of Esther's chest as they flew through the snowy night, he might have thought she was dead. Her body had healed her enough to keep her teetering on the edge, but Sam couldn't be sure how much longer she could hold out, and flew faster than he had ever before.

Esther finally woke with a start, her body abruptly bolting upright in the bed where she lay, heart thudding violently against her rib cage as she wildly looked around the room. Eyebrows furrowed as she took in her surroundings - a windowsill full of flowers, a balloon that read 'congratulations' tied to the end of the bed, a vitals monitor next beeping rapidly in time with her heartbeat. A hospital room. Peculiar, since she hadn't been a patient in one since gaining her powers. The strangest thing, though, was the blonde super-soldier slumped, fast asleep, in the plastic chair next to her.

They'd always had an odd relationship. Friends, but not quite. Their personalities clashed far too often than either of them would like - Esther thought Steve was too serious and uptight, and Steve hated that Esther was nonchalant about everything. And they certainly didn't have a close enough friendship for her to not be surprised at the sight of him asleep at her bedside. It wasn't an unwelcome sight - in fact, it was comforting to not wake up alone in an unfamiliar room - just, strange.

Suddenly, the memories of a getting shot flooding her brain, Esther threw back the thin duvet and lifted the green hospital gown to inspect her stomach - ignoring the fact that Steve could wake any moment. Met with only the sight of smooth, pale skin, her body sagged as she let out a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding. Dropping the gown and pulling the duvet back over, she laid her head down onto the pillows.

Turning her head to face the man next to her, she whispered, throat too dry to speak any louder, "Steve, hey, Steve, wake up."

Slowly stirring from his slumber, Steve's blue eyes met Esther's gaze. He looked at her sleepily for a moment, his eyelids blinking against the bright lights of the room, until he seemed to remember where he was. Face dancing through a range of emotions, if she wasn't wearing her necklace she would have felt as he switched between surprise, relief, guilt - and was that, anger?

His mouth gaped open and shut, struggling to find the right words to say, before settling on a lame, "You're awake."

"I am." she croaked out, the sound of her voice sending him into action as he grabbed the cup of water from the table next to her, holding it up to her dry, cracked lips so she could sip. If Esther wasn't so shook up from waking in a hospital room, she probably would have stopped to appreciate the gentleness in the way Steve held the back of her head, fingers threading between her brunette locks, as he helped her drink.

"Bruce thought you'd be out for at least another day." he said quietly, as he set the cup back down in its place. And, as if already knowing what her question would be, he spoke again, "You've been out for four days."

"Four days?" she repeated incredulously, eyebrows arching.

"The bullet," Steve said grimly, "we think it was meant specifically for you. It was coated in something that was blocking your powers, Bruce will be able to explain it better than I can. But when they finally got it out, your body had to work to fight off whatever it was, and your-- fuck, Esther, your heart stopped beating."

"Well shit, somebody really wants me dead, huh? I don't know if I should be terrified, or flattered, honestly."

"Yeah, somebody really wants you dead, Esther. Enough for them to create a weapon designed specifically for you." Steve snapped, soft, concerned expression twisting into an exasperated frown, "So for once in your life, can you take something seriously? Why do you always have to make a joke out of everything?"

"Who said I wasn't taking it seriously?" Esther bit back, unable to tame her temper, violet eyes fiercely glaring back at him, "Just because I'm not reacting the way you want me to, doesn't mean I'm not taking it seriously. I'm so sorry I don't act like I permanently have a stick lodged up my ass, like some people I know."

"I'd rather act like--"

Whatever undoubtedly scathing retort Steve had planned died on his tongue, as Sam and Natasha came barrelling through the open door, both grinning from ear to ear at the sight of their friend awake. Esther suddenly felt a lot lighter, tension spilling from her body like a deflating balloon, quickly sitting up -- ignoring the fuzziness in her head at the abrupt movement -- to greet two of her favourite people.

Natasha was the first to talk, as he made himself comfortable in the chair next to Steve, who had tried to smile lightheartedly at the two, frown leaving his face, "You look like death."

Coming from anybody else, Esther might have had some colourful words to say, but she couldn't help the giggle at her best friend's brutal honesty. Although there was no longer a wound there, her stomach stung painfully as her body shook with laughter. The way her face twitched, an attempt at disguising the wince of pain, didn't go unnoticed by Steve, who was still eyeing her cautiously.

"Yeah well, give a girl a break! Steve says my heart stopped beating, so I technically died," Esther said, jutting her lip out into a pout, discreetly pressing her hands against her cramping stomach underneath the blankets.

Remembering the balloon tied to the bottom of her bed, Esther turned to Sam, who was leaning against the windowsill, watching on with an amused smirk, "Was this your doing, Wilson?" she asked, nodding her head towards the object in question.

"I figured it was only right to congratulate you on not dying," Sam explained, a boyish grin on his face as he fiddled with the ribbon keeping it tied to the bed.

As the three of them burst into laughter at Sam's morbid joke, the legs of Steve's chair scraped loudly against the floor with a squeak whilst he stood, storming out of the room without another word.

"What's up his ass?" Natasha asked, now lounging at the bottom of the bed, forcing Esther to either move her feet out of the way or be crushed.

Esther shrugged, staring at the doorway with a frown, "I ask myself that every day."

"He's been an even bigger ass than usual the last few days," Sam admitted, sitting in Steve's now vacated seat, "he's been badgering the doctors and nurses non-stop, and he just about had a fit whenever somebody told him to leave. To be honest I think that's one of the only times I've seen him willingly leave the room since you've been out,"

Stunned into silence, Esther fiddled with the pendant on her necklace. A tinge of guilt now stained the unbridled frustration she had felt towards the super-soldier just moments ago. She couldn't help the corners of her mouth curling into a ghost of a smile as she imagined Steve, stubborn as ever, refusing to leave her side, sleeping in that uncomfortable plastic chair just so he didn't have to go. It wasn't completely out of character for him to be so caring, but Esther had never thought that side of him extended to her.

Sam and Natasha shared a secret, knowing look between each other whilst they waited for her to snap out of it.

Although content to sit there and ponder Steve's motives for another moment longer, the sound of her stomach grumbling loudly brought her back into the room.

"I need a burger."

#steve rogers #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers/ofc #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfiction #marvel #bucky barnes #thor #tony stark #natasha romanov #sam wilson #bruce banner

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alison-anonymous · 5 years ago

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♡ loose cannon ♡ pt 5

Here it is darlings, the fifth part of Loose Cannon, just like I promised! There will probably be only one more chapter to this fanfic, and that will be the end! Enjoy, my darlings! 💙

Keep Hope

♡♡♡

Hades is dead.

It was official now, you had seen his body. You had seen them take his casket away, you had cried on his body. Three months had passed since his death and while you had changed physically, you were forever emotionally deceased without him. You now got up in the mornings, got yourself dressed, and attended royal meetings. Even though you and Hades never actually got married, Mal thought of you as her new mother figure, so she wanted you on the royal board. So, you attended those meetings. You forced smiles and responses when need be. But your smiles never met your eyes and your eyes were dead. Glossy and emotionless. You couldn’t feel any emotion, as your body had become as hollow as a tree.

An embodiment of nothing. You didn’t even have your powers.

You weren’t really sure what kept you going through the days. I mean, you were practically brain dead, on auto-pilot twenty four seven. But something kept you going through the days. Some sort of lingering hope that refused to leave, like when your loose tooth is only hanging on by a string, but yet refuses to let go.

Maybe there was something deep down inside of you that just knew... he was still alive.

♡♡♡

“Due to the border being lifted, we’ve already confirmed that taxes are going to need to be raised slightly. There have also been some concerns regarding rogue Isle adolescents that we’re going to have to acknowledge...” Fairy Godmother’s reading of the daily concerns to be further addressed turned fuzzy as it swam through one ear and out the other. You stared blankly at the wall behind her head, chewing ever so slightly on your nail. Mal, who was seated next to you per her request, glanced over at you from the corner of your eye.

You were fading again.

She gently tapped her knee against yours, causing you to jump slightly in your seat, reeling you back into the present. Clearing your throat, you made sure no one else noticed your little slip. “Sorry,” you apologized quietly. Mal just simply smiled at you.

You knew she was worried about you. Everyone was. You were never the same. But how could they expect you to be? You didn't have much to look forward too. They didn't dare try to encourage you finding another guy out of fear you might try to kill them.

"And, before we close this meeting, there is one last thing we must discuss. Y/n?" Your head snapped at the sound of your voice, straightening your back.

"Yes?" You croaked, your throat sore from barely speaking.

"We never discussed Hades belongings," Fairy Godmother paused as you froze at his name. "His ember. We would like to get it in the museum as soon as possible. Do you have it?"

Your eyes reglossed as you slowly lowered your head, causing everyone to purse their lips in pity. You slowly shook your head. "I'm sorry, but he had his ember on him when..." you couldn't finish the sentence as your voice became lodged in your throat.

Ben gently rested a hand on your arm and offered you a sympathetic smile. "It's okay, Y/n. Let's wrap things up." He motioned the last part to Fairy Godmother, who quickly nodded and attempted to end the meeting on a happy note by mentioning your upcoming “coronation”. Since you had become Mal’s new mother figure, she had desperately tried to win you a prize of getting a position on the royal court that wasn’t out of pity or as a replacement for her father. The only position she was able to score was that of her Lady in Waiting, but the purple haired girl meant so much to you that you bit back your cringes and accepted the role.

Of course, you got a whole coronation ceremony to go with the title, even though all you would really be doing is what you were doing already. Now you just got a fancy sash to go with it.

The bell rang throughout the castle, signifying that the students would be rushing to their next classes now. It was also your signal that the meeting was over. As you quietly began to pack your notes and books back into your bag, you pulled out your phone to check the time and instantly regretted it. You still had a photo of you and Hades singing a duet together as your lock screen. Tears brimmed in your eyes as you stared down at the glowing screen, wondering if this feeling would ever go away.

Mal and Ben glanced anxiously towards you, silently debating with one another on whether or not to ask if you were okay. They never got the chance though, as you quickly rushed out of the conference room, not noticing it when a book fell out of your bag and landed on the ground in front of their feet. Ben bent down to pick it up and once he read the cover, his face blanched.

“What is it?” Mal asked. He held the book out to her so she could read the title too.

“Buried Alive?” She asked incredulously, turning to Ben with her mouth agape. She slowly shook her head, green eyes full of confusion. “She doesn’t really think...”

Ben let out a soft sigh. “It is... rare, but it isn’t impossible for some people to have such a hard time believing that their loved one is gone that they resort to... drastic measures, like believing they’re still alive.”

“She thinks he’s still alive,” Mal said, more to herself than anyone else. “I can’t believe this. This is why she’s having such a hard time letting go. Should we do something?”

“What is there to do?” Ben exclaimed. “It’s only been a couple months. We need to give her space. If I were in her position, and you were gone...” he gently took her hands in his and gazed into her eyes. “I would do everything I could to bring you back too.”

♡♡♡

It was the night before your coronation. Evie and Mal had paid you a little visit before they left you alone for the night to set out your outfit and put curlers in your hair, but the second that they left, you practically leapt onto the floor, tugging out all of the spell books and magical elements that you had collected. You had started trying to find ways to bring back Hades about a week or two ago, after your gut instinct that something was wrong here took the wheel. You had tried everything from Ouija boards to reincarnation spells and so far nothing had worked. You did your research on what happened to people who were buried alive and most of them ended in death, but none of those people were... Hades. You read books about being entrapped in ice, how to cure death, tons of articles on voodoo, but every page you turned, every spell you performed always ended the same way.

Nothing.

And while you had an inkering to just give up, you pushed through it. You wouldn’t give up on your true love even if there was just the slightest chance that he could still be alive. Running a hand over your face, you thumbed through another spell book you had swiped from the restricted section of the library until you came across one you hadn’t tried. It said that if you had an object that was once the deceased’s prized possession, and repeated a chant over it, that it could become enchanted and lead you to wherever your true love was. Of course, this was if you knew for sure that your true love was still alive whereas you only had a gut feeling.

But...

You turned around to stare into your closet, the half that contained Hades’s clothes remained untouched. But you could still see the leather jacket that he always wore, the one that he had once asked you made him look fat. A smile whispered along the edge of your lips at the memory. You suddenly realized... that was the first time you had almost smiled in a while. It was worth a shot, you decided, and quickly took the jacket out of the closet.

Turning back to the spell book, you were about to begin the chant when you realized how late it was. Your coronation was tomorrow and you should probably actually try to get a good nights sleep for once, you decided. After you memorized the chant in your head, you were about to hang the jacket back up when you realized... it still smelled like him. Like that cheap cologne he always wore that you said you hated but you really didn’t. You cautiously held it a distance away from you, afraid to get it too close.

After what seemed like forever, you finally pressed it against your chest and deeply inhaled the scent. Maybe if you breathed deeply enough, you thought, it could feel like he were still there with you. You decided to take the jacket to bed with you, snuggling up in a ball under the covers with his jacket still safe in your arms.

Maybe if I dream hard enough, you thought, it could feel like he were still here...

♡♡♡

The next morning was your coronation. Of course, you did your best to shove the jacket to the back of your mind knowing how important this was to Mal. It was difficult, but you managed to do so with fake smiles and grins, and while you loved Mal to death, it was very hard for you to find joy in things anymore. Mal and Evie had showed up like usual to help you get ready, and it seemed like only seconds before you were walking up to Mal and Ben on their thrones and getting dubbed with Fairy Godmother’s wand. Before you knew it, you had a glistening sash on your shoulders and a flurry of paparazzi in your face.

After Fairy Godmother cleared away the cameras, you and Mal exchanged a warm hug and you did your best to live through the mingling of the after-celebration before slipping away outdoors. The sun was slowly setting, so you knew you had to act fast before people began searching for you. Pulling out Hades’s jacket from your purse, you inhaled his scent one last time before holding it up into the sky. Drawing in a deep breath, you felt the power that wasn’t restricted by the pendant around your neck surge as you ran through the chant in your head once again. This had to work, you whispered in your head. It had to.

You began to chant the words, muttering them under your breath as you closed your eyes, sensing the air around you to pick up a bit as a magical reaction. The strength of your chant was beginning to pick up as his jacket began to feel lighter in your hands-

“Y/n?”

The disruption was like slamming the door shut on your spell, causing you to stumble slightly, eyes popping open. The blissful power you had felt before snaked back into its shell and Hades’s jacket fell limply back into your hands. Tears of frustration sprung into your eyes as you whirled around to face who dared to disrupt your spell only to be greeted with the VKs, the Pirate Trio, and Ben. Expressions varied from face to face, some of confusion, others of shock, most of worry, and some of awe. But Mal’s was the one you were most concerned with. Quickly hiding Hades’s jacket behind your back, you tried your best to plaster on a nervous smile.

“H-Hi guys, what’re are you doing out here?”

“We came to look for you,” Carlos answered, eyeing the jacket that you were hiding. Mal crossed her arms on her chest and stared at you in disapproval.

“I thought we were past this, Y/n,” she sighed. “I know how hard his death is for you, but trying to bring him back just isn’t going to happen.”

You tilted your head back and heaved out a deep sigh as some of your friends shifted awkwardly on the grass. “Mal, I love you, but this is none of your concern.”

“Actually, it is,” she spoke with wide eyes, full of concern and frustration. “He was my father. And I’ve gotten over it. But you trying all of these pointless spells and filling your head with such nonsense from stolen books-”

“They are not pointless! I know he is out there somewhere, I can feel it, Mal!” You cried out, for once expressing more emotion than you had in months. Shock filled her expression as the rest of the crowd slunk away slightly, trying to give you and Mal room but not wanting to leave you two alone. You watched her closely as a flame suddenly ignited inside of her eyes. Gritting her teeth, she threw her hands up in the air and practically screamed, “Hades is GONE, Y/n! He is gone and there is nothing that you or me or even the Genie can do about it. I’ve made peace with it, and it’s time that you do the same. He’s gone, Y/n.”

Her words were enough to shatter you completely before a new voice entered the fight.

“You guys really underestimate me.”

♡♡♡

To be continued...

I know, I know, I'm horrible for leaving such a cliffhanger. The next chapter will be the last one, so let me know in the comments if you want to read it!😉💙 I love you all so much, thank you for all the support and PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

♡ a.a.

#descendants hades x reader #descendants x reader #descendants #descendants 3 #hades x reader

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