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sergeantsporks · 3 years ago

Text

Another Shot at Life

Rating: General Audiences, Gen

TW: Child abuse, emotional manipulation

Ao3

Hunter accidentally makes his way into the human realm and can't get back home. But he's discovering that might not be such a bad thing.

Ch 7/7: Home

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6

Vee trudged up towards the old abandoned house. She’d started checking it every single day since Hunter had been taken, hoping he’d be there.

He never was.

She pushed open the door, and stopped, dead in her tracks. “L-Luz? Red?!”

Red was shrieking like its little heart was being torn in two, fluttering around where the portal had always appeared.

Vee rushed forward, panic building in her chest. “Hey—are you okay?!”

Luz was turning a key over and over in her hands, poking at it. “I need to go back,” she said dazedly, “I need to rescue him.”

“How long have you been here?!”

“I—I don’t know. A couple of hours? I can’t… get the key to work. But I have to go back, I left Hunter behind, and Belos has him, and—” She struggled to her feet, then immediately fell.

Vee caught her, slinging one of her arms over her shoulder. “You need to go back home. You look awful.”

“But Hunter—”

Vee took the key from her. “I’ll go back for him,” she promised, and a sort of steely calm settled over her. Yes. She would figure this out, she would rescue Hunter.

“Mom will never let you—”

Vee bit her lip. Of all the things to take a leaf out of Hunter’s book for. “We won’t tell her.” She tucked the key into her hoodie pocket, half-carrying, half-dragging Luz back home. “Camila!” she called, “Come quick!”

Camila poked her head out of the kitchen, then shrieked, rushing forward and taking Luz from Vee. “Mi carina! Luz, baby, what happened?!”

“Mama,” Luz half-sobbed, “Mama, I left Hunter—he helped me get away from Belos, he—”

Vee slipped out, wandering back to the old house. Red was sitting on the floor, staring at the spot where the portal had been. Vee gently scooped up the bird. “We’ll get him back. I promise.”

Red chirped sadly, hopping back down out of her hands to sit on the ground again.

Vee tugged the training wand Hunter had given her out of her pocket. It glowed blue, and she sucked the magic out of it. She hadn’t needed it to hide from Belos. But she could use it to save Hunter.

Now there was just one more person she needed.

Xxx

Vee strode into the museum. “Hey!”

Jacob jumped. “What are you doing here?” He glanced behind her. “Your—your friend isn’t here, is he?”

Vee felt tears prick at her eyes, but she blinked them back. “He’s… not here right now. I need your help.”

“My help? Why would you need my help?”

Because you’re stupid, and loud, and prideful and the perfect distraction.

“Because you’re right. Because witches are planning an invasion of your world, and I’m a rebel against them, but I need someone to help me take down their leader, and you’re perfect.”

Jacob stared at her, his mouth hanging slightly open. “You’re… you’re a rebel?”

“Yes. Against the beings that want to conquer your planet.” Vee swung the key back and forth on its string. “I can get you inside the witch emperor’s castle. All you have to do is kill him. Protect your planet.”

Jacob made a grab for the key, and she swung it up, catching it and holding it tightly. “Uh-uh. I control the portal.”

“Why?”

“Because you need someone on this side to keep it open,” Vee lied, “Now, are you going to be a hero and defend your home, or do I have to find someone else?”

Jacob shook his head. “I’m coming! I’m coming.”

“Good. Meet me at the abandoned house you were watching, and I’ll open the portal. The fate of your world rests on your shoulders, Jacob.”

Vee strode purposefully out of the museum, making sure she was out of Jacob’s range of hearing before sighing. “Now I just have to figure out how to open the portal.”

She jogged back to the old house, where Red was still waiting, and held up the key. “Hey. Any chance you know how to use this?”

Red fluttered up and pecked at the eye.

“Hey! Don’t break it!” Vee examined the key. “Now how do I…” she pressed gently on the eye of the key, but nothing happened.

Vee stepped to the place where the door had been.

And was met with resistance.

“Huh?”

Vee clicked the key, and the resistance disappeared. She clicked it again. There was that strange wall again.

Or maybe not a wall. Maybe a door.

Vee put her hands on the solid area, feeling for a knob. “Come on,” she muttered, “You have to be around here somewhere!”

Red fluttered up onto her shoulder, chirping. Its eyes glowed, and suddenly, there it was.

The door.

It looked like the sketches Hunter had left behind, but instead of huge eye on the top, there was a keyhole.

Vee gasped. “Oh! You need a palisman to get in! So no one but a witch could get in from this side! That’s clever!”

She heard clanking, and turned around to see Jacob, in all of his armor. Wow, he really looked ridiculous.

“Where’s the portal?” he demanded.

Vee reached up and inserted the key into the lock, twisting it with a quiet click. A doorframe filled with a golden curtain of light appeared, the key at the top of the doorframe. She gestured to it. “The emperor wears a golden mask with deer horns. You’ll know him when you see him.”

Jacob gulped, then plunged through. Vee briefly considered that she should feel guilty about sending him in to face Belos with absolutely no idea what he was up against.

Eh.

Red tried to dive into the portal after Jacob, but Vee held a hand up, blocking the bird. “I know you want to see Hunter, but I need you to stay here and watch the portal, okay? Make sure no one comes for the key. I’ll bring him back. I promise.”

Red ruffled its feathers unhappily, but perched atop the doorframe.

Vee pulled on the magic she’d absorbed from the wand, shifting to match the look of a coven guard. Then she crept through. She could hear Jacob yelling and clanging his way down the hallway, and the sounds of other coven guards chasing after. Perfect.

Vee slipped unnoticed through the hallways, her nerves spiking. Everything about this place was just one bad memory after another. She spotted a singular guard outside of a door, and sidled up to him.

“Um—” she squeaked, “hello? I, uh. I’m a bit lost, I just transferred here. I’m… I’m supposed to go on guard duty for… the golden guard?”

The guard heaved a sigh. “Finally. I thought I would never go off-duty. It’s just so boring, you know? It’s not like he can escape.”

“Oh. Yes. T-totally.”

“Right. See ya, new guy!”

The guard waved and strode off. Vee shuddered. He seemed so… normal. Like his job wasn’t locking up and hurting innocent teens.

She waited for him to disappear down the hallway, then turned the knob of the door, pushing it open. The room was well lit, surprisingly.

Vee almost wished it weren’t.

Hunter was buried all the way up to the nose in a mountain of some kind of… slime that shifted and moved. His eyes were blank—no pupils, no irises, just eerily glowing white.

“Hunter?” she whispered.

He didn’t respond.

Vee crept forward, poking the slime with one finger.

It glowed blue, and Vee gasped. The whole thing was magic. “Hang on, Hunter, I’ll get you out of here.”

Vee wrinkled her nose and put her hands on the slime. It glowed, and she inhaled, sucking up the magic. She almost immediately gagged. There was something wrong with this magic. It tasted rotten.

But the mountain had gotten just a little bit smaller, so she braced herself, and started eating the magic again, suppressing her gag reflex.

The mountain shrank smaller and smaller, and the slime receded from Hunter’s face. He fell forward, and Vee lunged to catch him, her stomach writhing like she’d just eaten live snakes. “Hunter?”

The eerie glow faded from his eyes, replaced with his usual magenta eyes.

“Hunter!”

He just stared blankly up at her, shivering violently. Vee hefted him in her arms, glancing both ways out into the hallway before starting down the hallway. Maybe it was the huge size of the coven guard she’d shifted into, but he seemed smaller than he ever had back home.

And then there were his eyes. They were so… bleak. Hopeless. It was like he couldn’t even see her.

Vee made her way back to the room with the door, occasionally ducking into other rooms or behind statues to hide Hunter.

She heard a clank, clank, clank behind her, and Jacob came tearing back, screaming. Wow, he could run fast, even in all of that armor.

The meaning of why he would be running like that hit her, and she sprinted after him, bolting through the doors to the room.

Only for several guards to be standing in front of her way out. Jacob was nowhere in sight—they must have let him through the portal. Vee skidded to a stop. “Oh. Hey. Uhhhhhhhh…”

“We have a traitor!”

“That’s no traitor,” Belos’ voice hissed behind her, “That’s a dangerous creature, masquerading as one of our own.”

Vee’s veins turned to ice, and every bad memory from her time locked in the dungeon flashed through her mind at lightning speed.

She didn’t see him move, but suddenly Belos was right in her face. “I’ll be taking Hunter back, now. You don’t know what he needs.”

Xxx

“Mom—I’m okay. Really. It was just a fall off of a wall, and a little bit of light torture, and a blow to the head, and a fall from the sky—I’m fine, really.”

Camila finished applying band-aids to all of Luz’s scratches, her chest tight. “A blow to the head? I’m going to call a doctor.”

“I’m okay, Mom! Really! Hunter gave me these painkiller things, and they really worked, but I think they’ve worn off now, and I know I promised I’d stay here, I know, but we have to go back for him!”

Camila sat down next to her daughter. “Okay.”

Luz stopped, mid-rant. “Wh-what?”

“Okay. I’m going to get Hunter. You stay here and rest. How do I get there?”

“I…” Luz’s eyes teared up. “I don’t know! I couldn’t get the portal open from this side, and Mom, it would be too dangerous for you to go!”

“If it’s too dangerous for me, do you think I’d send my little girl in? I failed Hunter—I let Belos take him. So I’m going to get him back.” If we can get the portal working, if he’s even still alive. Camila shook her head, trying to chase away the niggling doubts in her head. No. She was going to rescue Hunter. No matter how far she had to go.

“He was so miserable, Mom,” Luz whispered, “But he’d just… given up.”

Camila’s heart seemed to tear itself in two. He’d gone back to protect them—and had given up on seeing them again. Camila glanced around the room. “Where’d Vee go?”

Luz clammed up.

“Luz? Do you know where she went?”

“I’m… not supposed to tell you?”

A bolt of panic shot through Camila, and she jumped to her feet. “She opened the portal, didn’t she?!”

“I don’t know—I know she was going to try.”

Camila raced for her purse, throwing a few things in. “I’m going to find her, and maybe Hunter if she’s managed to open the portal. Luz, you stay here. You’re not in any state for a rescue mission, kay? Just trust me to bring him back.”

Luz nodded. “I trust you.”

Camila ran out the door, racing up the path towards the old house.

Please be okay.

Xxx

Vee clutched Hunter tightly, his body quivering so hard she thought she might drop him. A surge of anger rushed through her. “What he needs?! He doesn’t need this!”

Belos shrugged. “He got to be too much of a hassle to keep awake. It was simpler for everyone if he just went to sleep until I needed him. Less painful for him as well—but apparently, you just want him to suffer needlessly. Now, little basilisk, give him to me and I might consider letting you go.”

Vee backed up. “No!”

“HEY!”

Vee jumped as she heard Camila’s voice. She whirled around to see her adoptive mother standing over two unconscious coven guards, holding Luz’s baseball bat. “Camila!”

Camila glared at Belos. “Get. Away. From my. Kids.”

Belos disappeared, reappearing next to Camila and plucking the baseball bat out of her hands. “Oh? How interesting. Are you going to make good on that threat to end me, little human?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” Camila whipped out a can of hairspray and a lighter. “Adios, Belos.” She held the lighter up to the hairspray, and clicked them at the same time. A jet of flame shot out, lighting Belos’ robes on fire. The emperor stumbled back with a shriek, and Camila pushed past him, grabbing Vee’s arm. “Let’s go!”

Vee shot through the portal, Camila not far behind. Vee reached up and twisted the key back out of the portal. The curtain of light closed on Belos’ howl of rage.

Camila whistled. “I cannot believe I just did that!”

“That was—it was scary, but it was amazing, and…” Vee glanced down at Hunter, and the euphoria died away. He was still shaking, still blank-eyed. Red fluttered down to his shoulder, nudging his face and warbling softly. Hunter didn’t respond.

Camila put a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s get him home,” she said softly.

Vee trudged back up the path to her own home, struggling to squeeze through the door. She gently sat Hunter on the couch, shifting back to her usual form. Eating that cursed prison might have been disgusting, but it had given her a huge backup magic reserve—she’d be good on magic for a while yet.

“You’re back!” Luz limped down the stairs, freezing when she saw Hunter. “Oh—oh, no. Hunter?”

He didn’t respond, just kept staring ahead with those dull eyes. Camila wrapped a blanket around his shivering shoulders, taking his hand in hers and giving it a squeeze. “Oh, Hunter. What happened to you?”

“He—he looks kind of like Matholomew did when he got out of detention,” Luz said softly, “Vee, what—”

Vee twisted her hands. “I—there was this cursed mud, and it made his eyes go all creepy—maybe I shouldn’t have taken him out? Maybe it was supposed to run its course and I made it worse by taking him out early?”

Camila squeezed her shoulder. “You did what you thought was best,” she said softly, “We have him back, and that’s—that’s what matters. We can fix this. He’ll wake up.”

Vee blinked back tears. “But—what if he doesn’t?”

What if I was too late?

Xxx

“H-hey, I’m gonna… gonna put on some Stephen Universe? Hunter? Remember, you liked that?” Vee rubbed her arms. Rain had been gently pattering on the windowpane, but it was starting to pick up. “You did. We watched it together, and I liked Amethyst, and you couldn’t pick your favorite character, remember?”

Hunter still just stared forward, wrapped up in his blanket like a burrito, and Vee sat next to him with a sigh. Red hadn’t moved from his shoulder since they’d gotten him back two days ago—and Hunter himself hadn’t budged, either—he didn’t eat anything, he didn’t sleep, as far as Vee could tell, he just sat there, staring into space. Red chirped softly, nuzzling Hunter’s face, and then hopped over to Vee, giving her big, worried eyes.

Vee cupped the palisman in her hands. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, “I don’t know how to get him back. I don’t know if he’s just in shock, or if this is something that the curse does, or…”

The rain was picking up, wind howling against the window. Vee slid off the couch, setting Red on the floor and digging out birdseed for the palisman. She sat back down on the floor next to the cardinal. “You’ve got to eat something, right?”

Red warbled sadly, and fluttered back up to Hunter.

“I know. I miss him, too.”

Lightning flashed, followed by a crack of thunder, and Vee yelped, putting her hands over her ears.

She heard a rustle and a little whump, and then something warm settled over her. Hunter’s chin rested on her head, his arms flopped over her shoulders so that they were sharing the blanket. Red chirped happily, and Vee froze, her heart thumping hopefully in her chest.

“Hunter? Camila! Camila, Luz, I think he’s waking up!”

Another peal of thunder crashed, and Hunter hugged her just a little tighter. Camila came thumping down, Luz not far behind. Vee didn’t move, holding her breath, worried that if she moved and disturbed him, he’d go back to the way he’d been, barely daring to hope...

xxx

Camila rushed into the living room, where Hunter was flopped over Vee, wrapping her in his blanket. He was still blank-eyed, but his brow was furrowed, like he was trying to remember something. Camila gently cupped his face in her hands.

“Hunter?” She asked softly, “Mijo?”

He blinked, hard, like he’d just woken up. “C-Camila?” His eyes filled with tears, and he fell back, letting go of Vee. The basilisk tackled him in a hug.

“Hunter!”

Camila wrapped her arms around both of them, squeezing them both tight. “Oh!”

His shoulders started to shake. “It was s-so dark,” he whispered.

Camila squeezed just a little harder. “I’ve got you,” she promised. She let the two of them go, and Vee wriggled under the blanket, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with him as the thunder cracked. Luz sat down next to Camila.

“Hey,” she said softly to Hunter, “Thanks.”

He sat bolt upright, making Vee yelp. “The key! Belos!”

Vee held up the portal key. “Oh, you mean this? Don’t worry, Belos can’t get to us.”

“Vee managed to open the portal,” Luz supplied, “She went in after you!”

“And then Camila came for both of us,” Vee finished, “She lit Belos on fire, it was awesome!”

Hunter looked up at Camila, his lip quivering. “You… you fought for me?”

“Of course I did. I said I would, didn’t I?”

Tears rolled down his face, and Camila wrapped him up in a hug. “Hey. Heeey. You’re okay now.”

“I kept—I kept making him mad—and it—and I—”

Camila rocked him back and forth. “Okay. Ooookay. I’ve got you.”

“I couldn’t get out—it was all dark, and blank, and I just kept sinking, and I couldn’t do anything, and I was drowning, and—” Hunter buried his face in her shoulder.

Camila cradled his head in her hand. She could feel a lump on the back of his head, like he’d hit it, and she hadn’t failed to notice the bruises that hadn’t been there when he’d left. A tide of anger swept over her, and she started regretting leaving the Boiling Isles quite so soon. “You’re safe now, Hunter. I promise. Belos can’t hurt you anymore. And if he even thinks about it… well, I have no qualms lighting him on fire again.”

Hunter slumped against her, and she scooped him up, Red fluttering around the two of them. “Okay. You need some sleep.”

“He can take my bed,” Vee offered, “I’m too wired to go to sleep, anyway.”

Camila gave her a grateful nod and carried Hunter up the stairs. He was already asleep by the time they got to Luz’s room, his breath coming in soft little puffs. She nestled him in the bed, pulling the covers over him.

“Good night, Hunter.”

Xxx

Hunter was woken up by the sun.

The sun.

How had he slept this long?!

He bolted upright, nearly scraping his head on the ceiling. Wait. What?

Everything that had happened, came back to him in a rush, and he flopped backwards, running his hands through his hair. “Oh.”

Lying here, in the Noceda house, he could almost imagine that going back to Belos had been nothing but a bad dream.

But it hadn’t been. He had some very real bruises to prove it.

He shuddered, remembering the cold, acidic feel of Belos’ curse.

But then Red soared right into him, singing brightly, and he could almost forget it had ever happened.

Almost.

Hunter’s hand closed around the pin on his cloak. He ripped it off, tossing the cape to the floor, followed by his armor. He didn’t have to wear it anymore. Ever. Belos had no way to get back to him.

Belos had no way to get back to him.

The enormity of the statement caught up to him, and he ran his hand through his hair again. “He can’t come back for me,” he whispered, “I—I don’t ever have to see him again!”

Red chirped in agreement, and a bewildered laugh escaped Hunter’s mouth.

No more running errands for Belos.

No more worrying about what would happen to Red.

No more fear that an attack would hit, and he’d get hurt.

Just Camila and Vee and Luz.

Hunter shuffled down the stairs into the kitchen. “Good morning!”

“You’re cheerful.” Vee grinned. “Afternoon, actually.”

“Really?”

Luz nodded. “Mom said we should let you sleep. Speaking of my mom, she said something about how she shouldn’t have forced me to promise not to go back to the Isles—she doesn’t want me to keep trying to use that key, because it’s too dangerous to get into the keep, but she hasn’t outright said I can’t go back if I can find another way.” Luz glanced around. “I miiiiight ask to borrow Red at some point. If that’s okay with the two of you. I need to let Eda know I’m okay.”

“Luz, are you plotting something behind my back?” Camila came bumping down the stairs, holding a brightly wrapped parcel. “Oh, hey! You’re up!” She thrust the parcel at him. “That’s for you! I actually got it before… but that doesn’t matter, you’re here, I have it, everything’s great.”

Hunter gingerly took the package. “What… is it?”

“It’s a present,” Vee explained wisely, “It’s a surprise. You open it up.”

“Did it… come like this?”

“Nope, Camila wrapped it.”

Hunter squinted at the package. “But… now I’m just supposed to open it?”

Vee nodded. “Yep.”

“Then what was the point of wrapping it up?”

Luz nudged his shoulder. “It’s fun!” Her face dropped. “Oh my gosh, you’ve never gotten a present before, this is so sad. Okay. Just trust us, it’s fun.”

Hunter stuck his tongue out at her, and pulled gently at the paper, trying to unstick the tape.

“Rip it!” Luz demanded, “Tear it open!”

Hunter glanced back at Camila. “But you worked so hard to—”

She laughed. “You’re supposed to rip it, mijo. Go ahead.”

Hunter tore at the paper. It was… oddly exciting.

The wrapping had contained a set of clothing, jeans that actually looked his size, a t-shirt, and a hoodie that looked just a little too big—therefore, exactly the right size.

Hunter turned the fabric over in his hands, tears bubbling to his eyes. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Vee pushed him towards the stairs. “Go see if it fits!”

Hunter scooted up the stairs, closing the door behind him and switching clothes. The rest of his uniform joined the armor and cloak in a pile, and he tugged the hood of his new sweater up, retracting his hands into the sleeves. It was soft, and comfy, and he felt like he could just melt into a puddle right here.

He shuffled back downstairs, and Camila clapped her hands. “Ooo, good, it fits! Look at you!” She grabbed her keys. “Okay, Hunter, Luz, in the car, both of you are coming with me to the doctor’s office, I want both of you checked out for concussions.”

“Mooooooom,” Luz groaned, “I’m fiiiiiiine!”

Hunter let Camila shoo him into the car, stepping out into the bright sunlight (hadn’t it been raining last night?). Warmth spread all through him, banishing the last of the lingering coldness Belos had left behind.

Camila looked back at him as she turned the car on. “Everything good?”

Hunter took in a deep breath, burying his face in his new hoodie. He was back home—this time to stay. “Everything is perfect.”

#whoof almost didn't update today #anyway one happy ending as promised #now back to our previously scheduled angst #toh #the owl house #toh fanfiction #toh hunter #camila noceda #vee noceda #luz noceda #my writing

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fijiangecko · 4 years ago

Text

The Gr8King

Camboy!Oikawa Tooru x Fem!Reader

+9k words

MDI, Explicit, Smut, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers

Read it on AO3 here

Finding an apartment for college was one of the hardest things you’d ever done. Searching endlessly through ads, you ciphered through countless creeps and dingy houses that were not up to code. Up until the second to last week of summer break, you had no where to stay, but a friend of yours from high school said that he knew a guy looking for a roommate within your price range.

Thanking him a million times, you met up with Tooru Oikawa the next day at a coffee shop and got acquainted. You found him charming, and something clicked between you two immediately, a spark if you would.

Two days after you met him, you were moving in. And very quickly after that you met his best friend; the three musketeers were together at last. Hajime, Tooru and yourself were always together and you all got along extremely well.

You were a middle ground between the two, somewhere between the lines of rude and flirtatious, but it made for some fun nights out. Hajime and yourself are even better friends than Tooru and you, but both of you agree that it’s because of the mutual “hatred”. He became your best friend in a matter of weeks, and people often assumed you were a couple. Every time, it was quickly denied as either of you stated that you would rather shoot yourselves than hook up with one another.

Fast forward almost a year later, and the three of you are sitting on the couch, watching some shit alien documentary Oikawa put on in the background.

“Do you think we should buy a bigger TV, Y/N-chan?” Tooru asks you while shoveling some noodles in his mouth.

“Dude, it’s fine. I mean if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it? Plus, I don’t have the kinda cash for that at the moment.” You stand up, stretching slightly while reaching out to Iwaizumi, seeing as his bowl is empty. “Unless you wanna pitch in?” Laughing softly, he places the bowl in your hand and shakes his head.

“No chance in hell I’m helping you losers buy a bigger television for your apartment.”

“Well that was uncalled for…” Oikawa quietly mumbles. “But! I think I’m just gonna buy a new one. You don’t have to worry about the money or anything. Think of it as our one year anniversary gift!” He wiggles his eyebrows and bumps his elbow into Iwa’s side as you roll your eyes and walk to the kitchen. You’re just glad that you make it to the sink before he can see the bright red on your face.

You weren’t sure when this started, but whenever Tooru teased you, a rush of blood would flow through your system. You’ve known each other for years at this point, and nothing like this has ever happened. You’ve noticed that he’s been building more muscle, almost like he’s glowing. You’re unsure, but not upset.

“How the fuck can you afford that? You’re at practice all the time, and you don’t have a job.” You turn around after washing the dishes, leaning into the counter as you speak.

The two men quickly share a glance before Oikawa speaks. “I have my ways.” The flirtatious tone in his voice lures you in, wanting for the subject to change, and you give in to the pretty boy's ways.

“Whatever Flattykawa.” He sticks out his lip and pouts as you insult him. “I’m gonna turn in for the night, I have an eight thirty lecture and I still have to meet with a TA beforehand.” A yawn escapes your mouth as Hajime stands up from the couch, making his way to you and wrapping his rather large arms around your frame. The man has always been a walking space heater, and you place your arms around him. He rubs his hands on your back before saying goodnight and walking back to the couch. Tooru is still pouting, head turned to look out of the window as he sees his best friend hug his crush. The slight twinge of jealousy lasts for a brief moment, going away as he whispers a brief goodnight to you as well.

A week or so has passed since that night, and things are still the same between yourself and Oikawa. He did end up buying a new t.v., and you got the “old” one for your room. Not only that, but he’s been receiving packages all the time. Almost everyday he gets something shipped to the apartment, and you can’t help but wonder where the fuck all of this money is coming from.

It’s none of your business Y/N. If Tooru’s rich, then there’s nothing you can say about that. He’s just a little luckier than you are, with money, talent and looks he’s practically got no issues… Your thoughts run on and on as you sit at the bar, distracted from the homework on your laptop screen. It’s roughly seven or eight at night on a Monday night, meaning Oikawa’s home since it’s his day off. He doesn’t like being bugged when doing work of any kind, and tends to stay in his room until he’s finished doing whatever it is he’s doing. It was an agreement you both made when you first moved in to learn each other's boundaries and respect privacy at all times.

Your phone dinged on the other side of the counter, and you quickly picked it up to look at the notification. At the same time, Tooru walks through his bedroom door and into the kitchen. His unruly hair was even more disheveled than usual, and his shirt was nowhere to be seen. It’s a rather common occurrence for him to be shirtless, but it’s been happening more and more. Unaware of your gaze, he continued looking for a snack like nothing mattered. You glanced at him quite a few times, admiring the light viel of sweat covering his chest and the soft breaths as he took a few deep inhales.

Not taking any chances of being caught, you went back to checking your phone and saw a text from the group chat you had with a couple of gal pals. They were asking about going to brunch tomorrow and you quickly responded that you were down to clown before placing the phone back on the counter.

“What’s up Tooru?” Your eyes settled back on his frame as he turned to you, a smile grazing his lips. He liked it when you called him by his first name. Not that he’d tell you, but he thought it was cute that you only called him that when you two were alone.

“Nothing much Y/N. Looking for something sweet to eat…”

“Hmm, if I recall you’re the one who ate the last of the rice krispy treats.” You cocked your eyebrow, smirking at his over exaggerated reaction.

“And?” He placed his hand over his heart, “Just because I ate one of your rice krispies treats, and it happened to be the last one doesn’t mean I don’t deserve something sweet.”

“Riiiight, so by one do you mean five? Because I did take the trash out of your room the other day, and there just so happened to be some more wrappers in your bin.”

“Y/N. I would never, and when I say this, I mean never eat all of your snacks. I can’t believe you would accuse me of such a thing.” Oikawa sassed you back, feigning innocence.

“Mhm.” You hopped out of your seat and walked to your room.

“Where are you going?” He calls out, a little dumbfounded that you up and left.

“Hold your panties dude, I’ll be back.” He crosses his arms and leans into the counter as he waits for a few seconds. He can hear your footsteps coming back to the kitchen only a minute or so later, and suddenly a chocolate bar comes flying at him. It hits him square in the chest, but he catches it as it falls.

His lips stretch out into a genuine smile, looking between you and the chocolate. “I love you Y/N,” Tooru says in a sing-song voice, but rips open the wrapper as he speaks. Once again, his words cause a sudden blush to cover your face and you practically run over to your laptop to use it as cover.

“Whatever Tooru.” He chuckles while getting something to drink, and you see that the group chat has popped off during your short encounter. Decisions had been made in a small amount of time, but now you have plans tomorrow.

“What’s got you so happy?” He says, mouth full.

“Oh, just going out with some friends tomorrow. Haven’t seen them in a while so it’ll be fun.” You don’t bother looking up as you type.

“So I won’t be getting a breakfast special?”

“Are you saying you like burnt toast and crispy eggs?” A soft laugh fills the space when Tooru throws the wrapper in the trash. He pads over to the living area and plops down onto the couch.

“Vegging out for the rest of the night?” You call from the kitchen, still engrossed in the group chat.

“I think so. I’m all caught up with everything and a new episode of that alien series came out yesterday.” A hum in affirmation leaves your lips before sitting down next to him.

The rest of the night is quiet as Tooru watches his show and you text your girlfriends, both of you content with being next to one another in comfortable silence.

“So Y/N”, one of the girls smacks her lips once she places her champagne glass on the table, “You and Oikawa together yet?”

A blush erupts over your skin, and wanting to hide you start to shield your face into your shoulder. “No,” you mumble while the girls laugh at your reaction. They’re some of the only people, mind Hajime, that know about your crush. It hasn’t been that long since you’ve developed these feelings, but it’s starting to have an affect on your dynamic with him.

“Well,” another one of your friends starts, “I think you should hop on it girl. He’s fine as fuck, and I can’t help but imagine what he can do with that body-”

“Alright!” Your best friend breaks up the conversation, seeing you get more uncomfortable by the moment. “We don’t need to talk about Oikawa’s anything right now, but I am curious about him buying new things for your guys’ apartment all the time.”

“I don’t know guys. I think he’s just rich, or something,” you shovel some of your food into your mouth, speaking in between bites. The girls look around at each other and shrug it off.

“Maybe he’s got a side business.”

“Or he’s a sugar baby!” They all laugh, minus you who takes the idea seriously.

Maybe he has a sugar mommy or daddy… I mean, he’s got the looks and personality… You pick at the food on your plate as they continue their conversation.

“I would kill to be a sugar baby,” one of them whined, “Then I could sit around and do whatever I wanted.”

“You mean you could sit around and watch porn,” your best friend interjects. Silence fills the space before another round of laughter erupts from the table.

“Okay, but hear me out…” Another girl whispers under the hollers that can be heard across the restaurant. “I started watching this camboy the other week and it’s really hot.”

“Oh, like the guys who jack off on stream?” They sip out of their champagne glasses.

“Yeah, but when you donate money you can request or get things out of it. The guy I’ve been watching has been doing stuff with some vibrators lately, and I can’t get enough.”

“So,” you look up at them all, placing your fork down, “there’s just this whole category of porn where people do what you want.” They all turn and nod, almost eagerly.

“Did you not know about this Y/N?”

“I mean,” you could feel the heat rise on your face again, “I’ve heard of people jacking off on streams, but I didn’t know it was that popular…” Some of them laugh softly at the notion, but others try to explain further.

“You know, you might like it. I can send you the guy's username I’ve been watching. He streams every Monday for sure, and a few other times during the week. I’ll just text you.” She winks and the rest of the morning is just catching up with everyone.

Over the course of the past few days, your curiosity grew about cam culture and what it entailed. It’s been over a year since your last relationship and it has taken a toll on your sex drive. You aren’t about one night stands or friends with benefits, so you just stick to watching, listening and reading porn when you need to get off, and as the days went by you needed the release.

Making sure your room was locked, you opened your phone and searched through the texts to find your friends suggestion.

“Gr8King”, you whisper to yourself while typing the name into the search bar. The livestream pops into frame and the man is fully clad in a slutty maid outfit, teasing his own nipples with his fingers while he speaks ever so softly into the mic. His head is above the screen, allowing you to only see his mid and lower body down to his calves. He’s lean and toned, and you can feel your own arousal growing at the sight. The notification tones going off every few seconds, hundreds of people donating and thousands watching as he moves a hand slowly down his torso, grabbing the hem of the skirt.

“Should we move on to something more,” he moves closer to the mic, breathing softly and talking in a deeper tone, “sensual?” The vibrations from his voice cause chills to run down your spine. You run a hand over your clothed sex, dying for friction while clenching your thighs.

The skirt comes off, falling to the ground and it leaves him bare on screen. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath it, and his cock is already getting hard. The tip is red, leaking with precum as he moves his hand up the shaft, rubbing the head with his thumb and smearing the liquid around.

Messages increase from the viewers, begging him to do something more, but he stays in his position. “I can’t do anything until the masters say I can,” he whines. Never in your life did you think that you would have a thing for guys in maid outfits, but what was left of the outfit and him calling the audience “master” fueled your curiosity.

That’s when you realize the small animations on screen. Based on the donations, there’s a vibrator going on and anytime someone donates they can change it, and if they exceed a certain amount they get called “master” for the night. More people donate, rapidly changing the speed and he bucks his hips into his fist, moaning breathlessly. “Not- not so much,” he releases his hand except for the pointer finger, running it with a feathery touch from the head to the base. A larger notification shows on screen, a “master” donating a rather large sum of money. Once again, the chat waits in anticipation to see what he’ll do next.

“Looks like master wants me to fuck my dirty little fleshlight while the vibrator gets turned up all the way.” He turns to find what’s necessary, and you stare at the screen, biting your lip.

Am I really enjoying this that much? Your eyes are glued to the screen, waiting in anticipation for what’s about to happen. He returns to the frame, toys in hand and resumes the broadcast.

“How could I deny my masters when they’ve given me so much? I need to be a good boy for them..” he purrs into the mic, teasing the head of his cock on the entrance of the clear fleshlight. The vibrator goes to max, and he shoves the toy down his length, moaning viciously.

Embarrassment floods your system as you listen to this random person whisper sinful things into your ear as he reaches his peak. It’s definitely foreign to you, but the throbbing between your legs makes you want to watch more.

Watching the “Gr8King’s” streams becomes almost routine over the next few weeks. You convince yourself that it’s healthy for you to jack off whenever he streams, but deep down you know it’s just an excuse to stare at some guy guy's body while he talks dirty. In fact, this past week you’ve found yourself wanting to donate for the first time, but you don’t have money to just throw around willy nilly so you just lurk.

The stream boots up, this week being just a normal show where he takes suggestions from any amount. You settle into bed, getting prepared for the night’s activities while listening to the voice call you pet names like “cutie”, “gorgeous” and countless others.

It was a stressful week full of work and school, so you decide to take the time now to really let loose and let him guide you to your climax. He talks about nothing in particular, but does as his audience wants while moaning and playing with himself, leaving you panting on your bed, waiting to release at the same time.

Taking all the time in the world, he edges himself multiple times. You can barely hear his words as you desperately try to keep up, but you can feel the knot grow even further in your lower body. After teasing for almost fifteen minutes, he starts to whimper, begging the audience for relief. The way he speaks into the mic is weirdly familiar, just a few phrases here and there catch you off guard, almost as if you know him. This feeling is quickly washed away from the growing knot in your stomach. The audience give into his pleas immediately and you feel the shock waves of pleasure wrack your body. The high washes over and you pant to regain composure. After lying on the bed for a few seconds, you lazily get up and wash up very quickly before hearing a short growl come from your stomach.

Making something quick, you watch some TikToks on the couch as you eat, too entranced by the memes to see Tooru walk out of his room. Once again, he is shirtless, but he spots you on the couch before entering the kitchen.

He slows his pace to admire your flushed skin and glow as you laugh. His heart beats quickly, and he targets the fridge. You can hear him in the next room over, but you don’t bother to call his name, figuring he would join you shortly.

A few moments later, you hear his bedroom door shut and you’re left alone. “What the fuck?” You check the date on your phone, making sure it’s Monday. He usually watches his alien show with me on Monday’s since we can hang out… With a frown, you turn on the t.v. The newest episode plays out as you mindlessly scroll, wondering what was wrong with him.

Two days later, you finish watching a stream, taking longer than usual to clean up and head back out to the living room, wanting to clean some before Hajime comes over. Much to your surprise, it’s being worked on by Tooru, who’s wearing a muscle tank top and some running shorts. He’s panting quietly as he bends to pick up various pieces of trash, but it leaves you stunned.

When did he get so buff? You peered at his abs and pecs through the large slits on the sides of his shirt, but he turns and catches you staring.

“What’s up, Y/N-chan?” He’s got a sly smirk plastered over his face. Your reaction is involuntary heat takes over your body. Without saying anything, you turn and go back to the safehaven of your room.

Tooru is also stunned over your movements, expecting some kind of sassy retort. Then his phone dings in his pocket. Still freaked out over what happened, he checks his messages and sees you’ve texted the group chat you both have with Iwaizumi.

[I think I’m sick, so you guys have fun tonight <3] His brow furrows; now he’s just confused.

“The fuck did you say to her man?” Hajime shoves a piece of sushi into his mouth, talking between chews. Tooru and himself sat at the counter, talking over some movie that all three of you were supposed to watch.

“I made a joke about her staring at me since I was wearing workout clothes, but I thought she was gonna just punch me or something.” He places the chopsticks down on his plate and tries to think. A light goes off in his head, Hajme can see that, but the look is quickly replaced with one of defeat.

“Imayormaynothavebeenavoidingherforthepastfewdays.” All at once, Oikawa speaks in a rushed and hushed sentence, hoping his best friend caught on.

“Excuse me: what.” There’s no playful tone in the air. Hajime popped that balloon and glares daggers into that thick skull of Oikawa’s.

“I,” he plays with his hands, “may or may not have been avoiding her over the past few days.” The first go around was quieter, but Iwa hears it more clearly, finally understanding what’s going on.

“You’re a fucking moron, you know that right?” Hajime places his utensils down, “I’m not going to get in between whatever’s going on here, but you both need to figure shit out. You can’t just avoid her all of the sudden. Not that she’s said anything to me, but she might be going through something and having one of her best friends just avoiding her out of the blue might not be the best thing for her.” Oikawa’s eyes widen at the words of wisdom. He makes a mental note for later, and the night goes on with the two men watching Godzilla for the 100th time.

Monday afternoon rolls around, and Tooru walks through the door of the apartment, finished with his classes. You’re making some tea to get some homework done, and he marches into the kitchen, raiding the pantry and fridge.

“You okay man?” Your brow pops up in concern. He didn’t have practice today, so why was he acting like this?

“Huh?” He turns with some food stuffed in his mouth. After swallowing, he answers, “Yeah, I’m good. Just wanted to talk with some friends on chat tonight so I wanted to eat quickly.” Hesitantly, you nod, returning to your laptop on the counter. What you couldn’t see was how his heart rate picked up after seeing you in the kitchen. He’s been wanting to confront you about his sudden absence in your life, but everytime he sees you he gets extremely nervous and bolts.

Tooru finishes up with whatever, and practically runs to his room, slamming the door. He scolds himself quietly behind the closed door for not saying anything to you.

Rude. You focus on homework for another thirty minutes or so and check the time, knowing that your weekly ritual is gonna be starting in the next fifteen minutes or so. Packing everything up, you move into the bedroom, checking the lock on the door for the thousandth time before settling down.

In minutes, “Gr8King” appears on screen, this time in a sports uniform. He starts out like normal, teasing the audience with his voice, running his hands along his body as countless people donate and chat in real time.

Just as he’s about to take his jersey off, a notification dings somewhere off camera and he tenses. “Excuse me cuties,” in a rush, he moves out of frame, slightly knocking his camera from it’s normal setup.

In the background, you spot a poster on a wall that’s eerily familiar. It’s light blue, with a man jumping high, arms reaching back as he prepares to attack. A net is settled before him as a volleyball is high in the air. There’s words in a foriegn language, except for the large letters at the bottom of the poster: “Argentina”.

This causes you to stop what you’re doing. You’re not entirely sure why, but the poster pokes and prods at the back of your mind. It’s a thorn you didn’t know you had.

Why does this guy have an Argentinian volleyball poster? The live stream continues in the background while your eyes haze over. Why does this bug you so much? It’s not like I know the dude, but he did seem familiar in a sense...

That’s the last piece. Everything falls into place as you hastily slam the laptop close. Your breaths are heavy as you finally understand. He’s not fucking rich, he’s a fucking camboy! Your fingers run themselves through your hair over and over as your brain tries to process what’s happening.

I’ve been watching Tooru fuck himself for weeks and had no idea. I was watching the guy I’m crushing over please himself for thousands of people, and he’s just down the hall. What the fuck. You try to stop fidgeting, but your anxiety starts to spike.

“Maybe it’s not him. Maybe this is just a weird fucking coincidence that some streamer has the same schedule as Tooru and the same volleyball poster,” legs pacing around the room, you try to rationalize the situation. Talking out loud helps you realize what’s happening, but you speak quietly to ensure he won’t be able to hear you. Your heart is hammering in its cage, the rapid beating making you dizzy.

Before making any hasty decisions, you walk out into the kitchen and grab a glass of water. “Maybe it’s just a coincidence…” You pull out your phone, turning the sound all the way down and go back to the stream. You don’t actively watch, bouncing your leg as you lean on the counter, and wait for it to end.

You realize it might be a while, and you creep through the hallway, wary of the floorboards that creak and press your face onto his door, listening as closely as possible. Very softly, you can hear moans and grunts, but no actual words. Maybe he’s just working out...

The stream is still playing on your phone, but you return to the kitchen. Not much later, it ends and you wait patiently, timing everything from when it ends. Preemptively, you fill an extra glass with water and set it down. Five minutes pass, and Tooru walks out of his room, sweaty and shirtless. He turns the corner, taking the glass with a small thanks before going to the living room.

The timing makes sense. If he’s the Gr8King than it would make a lot of sense...

[Hajime we need to talk] you type and send before returning to your room, avoiding Tooru. He notices your disappearance and frowns, debating on fetching you. He misses the time you two used to spend together, and he scolds himself further for not bringing it up.

Taking a deep breath, he tells himself to “man up” and sends, [hey, i'm here for you if you need me :)]. He presses his lips into a line before hitting send and placing the phone on the couch next to him.

“So what’s up? Not to be rude but you never wanna go to the juice bar…” Hajme laughs lightly, hiding how nervous he is to be meeting up with you.

“I need to ask you something,” you sip the green smoothie, smacking your lips in disgust at the flavor. “And I need you to be honest with me.” Making eye contact, you set the cup down on the table.

“Y/N you’re freaking me out,” he meets your eyes and clenches his jaw.

“Well,” the blush rises in your cheeks, “I always joke about where Oikawa gets his money,” Hajime tightens his grip on his own cup, but remains silent. “I thought it was weird that he got packages all the time when he was either at home or at practice. Then I realized when he was at home, he’d lock himself in his room.” Your face is bright red and you take a deep breath in. “A friend of mine suggested something to me a few weeks back, and when I looked into it I saw something I don’t think I should have.” You look up at the ceiling, avoiding Iwa’s strong gaze. You don’t say anything, trying to think of a way to ask in the least embarrassing way possible.

“What is it Y/N?” He speaks with a small voice.

“Istooruacamboy?” You whisper, still looking up. Hajime’s face also breaks out into a blush, but he chuckles at the events. His chuckles grow into full on laughter as he buckles over and you’re stunned into silence. This continues for a few minutes until he calms himself down, wiping a few tears from his eyes while he looks up to you.

“I can’t believe you found out by watching him.” Some would say it’s impossible, but your face turned two shades darker as you slap him on the chest.

“Fucking asshole! You fucking knew, didn’t you?!” You punch him in the bicep for good measure as you scold him. His laughter is brought back while sipping on the rest of his drink.

“He started after the first semester of school, just trying new things. He told me it was interesting to him, and I said I wanted no part. He hated working at that sports store, you know that, and when he started to get popular there was no going back.” You sit silently, letting him explain. “I hope you don’t think that he’s like, sex crazed or anything… He’s just doing it for the money as far as I know and he likes being able to work from home.” He smiles, acknowledging his friends work but finishes his drink in silence, waiting for a response.

“I don’t think any different of him,” you shake your head and begrudgingly take another sip. “I just- It’s hard for me to take in? I think? Like, I wanna be supportive for him, and I’d like to think that I am but that doesn’t change that I want to be more.” Hajmie nods in affirmation, already knowing that you have feelings for your mutual best friend.

“I'm gonna keep saying it, just tell him. Tooru’s a good guy, and you two deserve each other.” You bite your lip and keep silent. “But first you should tell him that you know about the cam stuff.” Iwa is nonchalant about it all, and grabs your cup, finishing off the drink.

You sit on the couch, bouncing your leg but keeping an eye on the package that sits on your lap. It was something for him, but you don’t open it. You just sit there, eye’s on the door, waiting for him to get home from practice.

This is a stupid fucking idea, I should just go back to my room. Your leg bounces faster, and the anxiety bubbles in your stomach. You have no idea what’s gonna happen when he steps through that door, but you were set on telling him tonight.

Just then, the sound of keys entering the lock draws you away from your thoughts, the handle jiggling slightly before it turns and Tooru steps through. He’s dressed in sweats and a tee, hair damp from a shower and a gym bag hanging from his shoulder. He kicks his shoes off and enters the living area, setting the bag down without noticing that you’re watching his every move. Moving into the kitchen, he still doesn’t acknowledge that you’re there as he grabs a glass of water and walks back down the hallway to his room.

“Tooru!” You don’t know what you’re doing, but you need to get this over with. He stops his movements, and pulls an earbud from his left, looking at you with concern.

“Yeah?” He’s unsure what’s causing your outburst, but then he notices the package sitting in your lap, hands softly grasping it to keep its place in your lap. A wave of panic settles down his spine as he slowly spins around and walks to the couch, taking a seat on the other side from you. His eyes are glued to the package, but he notices that it isn’t open.

“I have something I wanted to tell you,” you start softly, placing the cardboard box between you both. He gently sets the glass of water on the glass coffee table and folds his fingers together, settling them on his lap.

“And what’s that?” He’s still shaken, but looks into your eyes.

Your heart starts to pound. What if this is a mistake? He looks like he’s about to throw up. Shaking the doubt from your head, you take a deep breath and hold your gaze. “I know what you do.”

His head cocks to the side, taking in your words. “I’m sorry Y/N, but what does that mean?” He hopes you aren’t alluding to what he thinks you’re getting at.

Another deep breath and you start again, “I know why you spend so much time in your room.”

Tooru’s face flushes with color, the pink hue finding its way onto his skin and he laughs anxiously at your words. “I don’t think I follow.” He’s trying to change the subject, hellbent on finding a way out of this. “Are you saying you know that I masterbate Y/N?” He’s trying to tease you, hoping this conversation would stop and you would hand him his package and be on your way.

Cue your face turning red, but you huff in annoyance, throwing the box at him. “Yeah, if you mean that you’re streaming it.” He catches it and looks at you, eyes are blown wide, and he realizes this is the worst timeline to be alive in. You, on the other hand, are annoyed that you had to say it out loud and stand up, folding your arms and staring him down. “I don’t care, but I wish you would’ve said something to me. As your roommate and your best friend,” ouch, that hurt, “it would’ve been nice to know.”

With that, you march into the kitchen, looking for a way to cool off, but a pair of arms sneak around your waist as you rummage through the freezer.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything,” he mumbles into your hair. The close contact wasn’t abnormal, but it never felt like this. Your body heats up when his breath hits your skin, but you remain in your place. “I just- I didn’t know how you would react and Hajime kept telling me to talk to you about it, but I always get too nervous to bring it up.”

You spin around, his arms still on your hips, and watch his face carefully. He looks concerned still, but there’s a small pleading in his look. “And why were you nervous?”

Tooru’s face turns a shade darker, “It’s just weird, I guess. You’re one of the only girls in my life that I'm kinda serious about I didn’t wanna loose you if you thought that I just thought about sex all the time.”

Was that a confession? Your head starts to spin when he realizes what just happened.

“I MEAN, uh, you’re one of the only girls that I consider a big part of my life, you know?” He’s frantic and stumbling over his words, but you stay absolutely still. His grip on your hips loosens, he wants to run into his room but sticks it out to see what you do.

Instead, you surprise him by nuzzling yourself further into his neck. “You’re very important to me too, Tooru.” Your voice is soft, and muffled against his neck but he smiles into your head, living in the moment. He wraps his arms around your frame, squeezing you tight against his firm chest.

“I’m kinda serious about you too…” The statement was almost lost to the hum of the a.c. unit, but Tooru caught your words and he stiffened up. You stay exactly as you are, praying to whatever god is out there that this all works out in your favor.

It takes a few seconds for him to come back to earth, realizing how hot your face is against his skin, but once he regains consciousness he chuckles. The vibrations ripple through your body, as you both remain in one another's arms. Your first thought was that he was laughing at you, and the panic settles under your skin. He can feel you start to pull away, but tightens his grip on your body, effectively trapping you in this position.

“Iwa-chan’s right, we are idiots.” Everything is so confusing. Does he like me back? Is this a joke? What does Hajime have to do with any of this? Countless thoughts along these lines run through your head, and Tooru knows this. “We’ve both been pining over each other for months.”

His words process with high speeds as you pull back. He had loosened his grasp, but his hands remained on your sides as you both stared into each other's eyes. You search his for answers, while Tooru finds comfort in yours.

He laughs breathlessly once he can see your body relax, and he dips down to meet your lips. Tooru’s movements are fluid, moving both hands up to your jaw while tilting his head. You gasp once his soft lips meet yours. They taste like his dumb chapstick that he carries around everywhere.

Tooru takes it slow, moving at your pace while humming into the kiss. Pulling back after a few seconds, you lean forward to catch his lips before he detaches himself. Rubbing a thumb on your cheekbone, he flashes the most brilliant smile. In the year you’ve known him, this is the most genuine and beautiful thing you’ve ever seen him do, and you can see it in his eyes.

“Y/N,” his voice is ever so soft, gliding in the air from his lips to your ears. Tooru’s eyes hold nothing but adoration in them as you stare into each other's eyes. “I don’t want to be serious with anyone but you.”

The bright blush returns to your cheeks, the warmth between your two bodies rising exponentially. His thumb doesn’t stop moving across your cheekbones. He's in total bliss as nothing in the world could matter more than what was happening at this moment in your shared apartment.

You smile up at him and grab onto his hand that's stroking your face, and just hold it closer to your skin. After a light squeeze, you both shift positions to hug once more, Tooru's arms latching around your waist and yours around his neck.

"Thank you," he states, the world muffled from your hair as he has lodged himself in the crook of your neck.

"For what?" You mumble back, rubbing an arm up and down his neck.

A deep chuckle causes your body to rumble, and a soft breath cascades down your neck before he pressed feathery kisses behind your ear. They're lighter than air, but you can sense he's holding back a bit. "For not being upset with me, for putting up with me, for accepting me, for everything." His whispers are woven into your skin, goosebumps rising up and down your spine as he speaks.

You push yourself further into his chest, a silent affirmation that everything is okay and will be okay. He smiles as he continues to press his lips to your neck, humming in the silence.

After a few minutes more of embracing one another Tooru pulls away, hands grazing your hips as he stares deeply into your eyes. His chocolate iris’ swirl with several emotions as you take in the vulnerability. You have only known Tooru as the charming, flamboyant character he puts on around almost everyone else. Maybe once or twice in your year of living with him have you seen this side of him, in which he offers himself as he is, not as who he wants to be perceived as.

Tooru presses a quick kiss to your lips and puts some pressure on your hips, signalling he wants to move. You both relocate to the couch, where he traps you in his arms and lap.

“I’m curious,” you reposition to look up at him, but he chuckles at your wide and curious eyes. “How did you find out about my streams?” A teasing grin makes its way on to his lips and your brain short circuits.

“Uh.. about that…” You purse your lips, looking anywhere but him, embarrassed of the insinuation of your actions.

Tooru breath fans against your neck, his face dipping down into that crook once more while letting out a low laugh. Sparks fly between you two when his lips brush your ear. He whispers, “You’ve watched me, haven’t you?”

With lightning speed, you snap your face to match his, but he’s quick to recover the initial shock with a deep kiss. He cranes his neck to further the kiss, pulling at your bottom lip with his own. Still startled by his teasing, you give in easily to his antics and within seconds his tongue has entered your mouth.

A low growl escapes him all while you succumb to his movements. His hand snakes up your side, settling itself on your rib below your breast. Tooru rubs his thumb in that spot, but you are lost in his taste to feel his hand.

You start to move in sync with him, moving together and letting each other take the reigns. Oikawa adores your feisty spirit, and when it starts to show through your movements, it only excites him more. You explore his mouth with your tongue, and suck on his lower lip as he slowly moves his hand back down your sides to cup your ass.

Now that you’re in control of your actions, you feel his hand stop right above your butt, almost as if he’s asking permission, but you grab a hold of his wrist and shove it down. That hand lets go of his arm and down to the hem of his shirt. A few fingers make contact with his toned stomach, and he shivers at the cold sensation.

“Impatient much?” Tooru repositions you so you’re straddling him. You don’t break off the kiss and place your hands on either side of his face, the tips of his hair tickling your fingertips. His large hands grasp under your thighs as he hoists the both of you up and off of the couch. Hastily he moves down the hall and into your room, busting through the door and gently he places you down on the edge of your mattress.

You pull away, breathless and stare into his eyes once more. The tension in the room is thick, but warm and comforting. He smiles at the look in your eyes, knowing that you’re in no way anxious of what’s about to happen.

“Are you sure about this Y/N? We don’t have to do anything before the first date.” His smile is intoxicating, and he doesn’t want to pressure you in any way.

“I want you Tooru, I’m good,” this time you rub a thumb across his cheekbone in reassurance. Smiles on both of your faces, he dips back down to capture your lips and push you onto your back.

Your mattress is firm underneath you, the bed frame shifting under the weight of two people. The cold sheets scrunch under your back contrasting the warm embrace of Oikawa as he dips down on top of you, running a hand through your hair.

“Do you trust me?” He speaks while hovering over your body. You push yourself up to meet his lips, giving him a quick peck on the side of his mouth. “I’ll take that as a yes then.” You laugh and lay back down, pulling the front of his shirt to pull him down with you.

Tooru laughs into the kiss, pressing his chest into your own. All of his kisses are electrifying, the spark runs up and down your spine while you both like with one another.

You take the next step and tug at the hem of his shirt while wrapping your legs around his lower half. His skin raises in temperature but he follows suit, practically tearing the fabric off of himself. You watch Tooru get shirtless and fully take in his figure.

It's not like you haven't seen him like this, but this is the first time you've ever actually took a good, long look at Oikawa's figure (knowing it was him, at least). He works out regularly for volleyball and maintains a good diet, and it shows. His chest is firm when you place a hand on it, and his abs create a valley down his stomach.

As you feel him up and down, Tooru stares at your face as it scrunches curiously. "Like what you see cutie? It shouldn't be anything new."

You blush but smack his chest in retaliation. A low laugh escapes his lips, but he sneaks a hand to the bottom of your shirt, poking a few fingers into your stomach in a wordless question of what to do. You squirm in your position and he helps remove your shirt.

Arms cover your chest instantly as you realize you're wearing one of your older bras that isn't the most flattering thing on the planet.

Noticing the shift in tone, Tooru gently unfolds your arms. "None of that Y/N." You don't put up any resistance as he speaks sweet and salty worlds into your ear. His hands are coarse and rough, calloused from years of training but he untouched you with a softness, almost as if he was handling a dove.

He kisses your neck making his way down your chest while reaching underneath you, unclasping the bra and throwing it onto the floor.

With your breasts exposed, Oikawa pins your arms on either side and continues down your clavicle, down through the valley between your chest. You whimper when he suddenly takes one of your nipples into his mouth, gently biting and sucking of the soft bud.

Instinctually you squeeze your thighs together, but he stands between them and he hums into your breast, knowing you're starting to grow impatient. Tooru's other hand moves to the opposite breast, kneading it in his palm.

A soft moan escapes your lips and you roll your hips into his, shock waves of pleasure wrack your body while your cunt starts to throb.

Oikawa moves further down your stomach, reaching the button of your pants. He peers up at you, pupils dilated and hungry. You nod and lift your hips while he removes both the pants and panties you were wearing.

He stands at the edge of the bed, removing the rest of his clothes and let's his cock spring free. It's red at the tip, which reaches up to his abs from being hard.

Tooru’s hips meet yours, laying his long cock over your bare stomach while rubbing soft circles into your thighs. “Look at how deep I’m gonna be inside of you cutie.” A quiet whimper leaves your lips, wrapping your legs around his waist in a silent plea. His eyes burn into your skin.

“Tooru, please…” The desperation in your voice only spurs him on as he drinks you in, lying bare, begging for him. It’s everything he’s ever wanted, and his dick hardens further at the sound of your voice.

A switch flips in his brain once you swirl your hips, and a smirk pulls at his lips. He leans forward, pressing his body into your, getting dangerously close to your ear and fanning hot breath over your skin. Chills erupt from the sensation and make their way across your body, causing a whimper to involuntarily escape your mouth when his hot skin presses into your cold chest. “What do you want, Y/N?” Tooru’s voice is quiet, but the vibrations from his words have an effect on your body you thought wasn’t possible. He presses feathery kisses into the sweet skin on your neck, causing you to tilt your head.

“I want-” Your voice is breathless as you search for words. “I want you to-” Suddenly, he slips his dick in between your folds, slowly moving his hips up and down, getting himself ready with your slick. The electricity of his movements force a moan through your throat, Oikawa relishing in the sound of your voice as he uses his thumb moves to apply pressure on your clit.

Still breathing hot air onto your neck, he mumbles, “You want me to fuck you, is that it?” Your eyes shut as a thousand tiny confirmations leave your body, physical and not. He revels in the moment, realizing the control you both have over each other. He can’t help wanting more of you, all of you. Your aura is intoxicating, and Tooru feels drunk off of your presence.

“Please.” He continues grinding his length down your folds. “Just fuck me already.” Your voice is raspy, pleading for movement, connection, anything. Arms folding around his neck, you grind harder into his cock while he continues to rub the sensitive bud.

“So impatient.” His voice is dark, sultry and enticing. It draws you in, leaving you stunned and you can’t think straight anymore. “I bet you’ve wanted this. Watching me stream, you got to see all of me little cutie,” Tooru readjusts himself, placing the tip at your entrance, drawing circles with it. “Now I get to see all of you.”

He slowly pushes forward, letting his dick get sucked in to you as you cry out at the contact. Oikawa starts to lose himself at the feeling of your pussy when it twitches. His eyes never leave the sight of his cock disappearing into you.

You take a moment to breath as his hips lay flush with yours, but you take action and raise your hips. He hisses at the movement, not expecting you to set the pace so quickly.

Snapping out of it as you move your hips back, Tooru moans loudly and grabs one hip and leans over you, placing his other hand next to your face. His face gets inches in front of yours, matching your movements and leans in to take your lips once more.

His hips move back and forth, building up speed through both of you ravenous moans and whimpers. Through the sounds and movements, you feel his cock penetrate you with endless force, as if it fits perfectly inside of you.

You moan his name as Tooru pounds into you, scratching at his back from the waves of pleasure. Feeling you clench around him almost teasingly, the hand on your hip moves to your clit, and Oikawa starts to rub circles.

"Fuck Tooru!" You press your nails harder into his skin and he growls at the sensation. You can feel yourself getting close, the knot building larger with every second.

He pulls back from your lips and looks at your face. Your eyebrows are scrunched and your eyes are shut. The way his hips move is better than you could’ve imagined, even more sexual than his streams. Oikawa shifts his position to hit you deeper, his dick just barely hitting your cervix.

"I'm close," you mumble from bruised lips. He can’t hold himself back much longer and his thrusts become erratic. Tooru plants his lips on your ear, speaking a thousand words to you which you’re unable to hear. His thrusts and deep and fill you to the brim. The pleasure becomes too much for you to be able to focus and with one thrust you tense and the knot snaps.

He moans your name loudly when he feels your walls clench down on him. Swiftly, Tooru pulls out and finishes on your stomach, white ropes decorating your soft skin.

His head is still next to yours, but you’re both panting. It takes a few seconds for both of you to come back to your senses, but he prys himself up and off of you, looking down on his work. “You’re gorgeous Y/N, just fucking stunning.” He admires your glowing form while you stare at him, a smile adorning your features.

Oikawa moves first, placing another soft kiss to your lips before going to the bathroom for a warm towel. You lay in bed, just thinking about everything. How did I get here? You never thought that watching camboy porn would ever lead to you getting with the guy you’ve wanted for a while now, but if it works out then it works out you guess.

He returns a few moments later and cleans you up, throwing the rag with the rest of your clothes and climbs into the sheets, maneuvering you onto his chest where he cuddles you and runs a hand through your hair.

You close your eyes, breathing onto his bare chest and take in the beat of silence. You can’t see it, but Tooru looks down at you and smiles. You’re finally his. He can finally hold you in his arms and give you all the love he thinks you deserve. His heart swells at the notion, and makes a mental note to thank Iwaizumi later in general since he feels in a giving mood.

Oikawa feels your breath even out, your chest rising and falling in a slow pattern. Your senses are drifting from you, but you’re able to make out a few things before you pass out. Tooru places a kiss on the crown of your head, pressing his lips into your hair and he whispers something before you completely fall asleep.

“I love you Y/N.”

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faeerrie · 3 years ago

Text

The Catalyst (MirageHound) - Ch.1

No one quite understands Elliot and Bloodhound's friendship, but that's okay. Well, it's okay until the APEX hosts a public tournament to find the new champion and the new guy just happens to be a little bit obsessed with Elliot.

Found on Ao3 here! -----------

The young brunette sprinted as fast as he could bring himself to, feeling, more than hearing, the bullets flying past his head. Finally finding some cover, he slid behind a wall that was probably only standing by the grace of the gods. He took this chance to catch his breath and reload his guns.

He pushed himself as flat as possible against the wall, hearing the footsteps get closer and closer, waiting for the perfect moment. As soon as it sounded like they were about to turn the corner, he pushed himself off the wall, shotgun raised into the chest of his assailant.

“OH SHI-” The blast and splatter of blood ringed through the area.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he looked through the temporarily dead woman’s gear, pocketing some ammo and shield batteries. I wonder who all is left? He looked around the area that seemed deserted, nothing but ruined buildings surrounding him. Can’t be too many . He stopped hearing the seemingly never-ending explosions that he was lucky to evade not too long ago.

eeeeeeeeeeeeeee

He cursed and jumped back as soon as he heard that dreaded high-pitched pinging sound. But it wasn’t fast enough, no one had been fast enough.

The sound of a large explosion rang through the air, its source being the spot he was standing just moments ago. Now, he was laying on his side, shields definitely completely broken, and leg probably broken, from being thrown several feet by the force of the blast.

He scrambled for a syringe, panic setting in when he saw the outline of the figure coming through the cloud of dust. Giving up with the syringe, he dragged himself backwards until he hit another wall. He forced himself to look up, to meet the eyes of his competitor.

“Your fuckin’ insane, man! Your first explosion killed both your teammates!” The accused casually waved away the dust from in front of his face.

“There’s nothing against it in the rules.” There was something about how this guy said those words that terrified him more than the whole tournament itself. He said it so casually, almost like the fact bored him. It made him believe, with his entire being, that the man standing above him would not hesitate to shoot the gun he was holding in his face, even if they were outside the boundaries ensuring their safe revival.

“Y-you’re si-” BANG! Everything goes silent.

“...about damn time.”

An announcer’s voice filled the arena.

“And there you have it folks!! Out of nowhere, we are treated to a spectacular display, a fitting end to our tournament! With not a single previous ranking win, our new champion is none other than Alex Wade!!”

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

Elliot had stopped listening to his manager about 3 minutes into her finding him as soon as he entered the event hall, despite his best efforts. The conversation started with her discussing the purpose of the event- the formal introduction of the new champion. Okay, sure, probably important to know. But then she started going into a “game plan” for the night and he just couldn’t help but zone out. It was most likely the same as always- throw on his trademark “Mirage” smile, mingle with the sponsors, playfully flirt with the fans, avoid any booze-influenced fights, and just ignore the way his heart was racing, how sweaty his palms were, and how much he’d rather be working on a new suit, maybe in peaceful silence alongside Bloodhound, just enjoying each others’ presences and- okay real it back in. How ironic was it that a champion either loved or hated for his charm (his Witt? Okay, bad joke..) and swagger also had crushing anxiety. You could even say that his persona was a …Mirage . Okay, even worse.

“You looked troubled, brother!” Elliot just about jumped out of his skin at the loud words.

“Oh, hey Makao, I’m fine, just speaking to…” he turned to gesture to his manager, who was long gone, probably getting a head start at the bar. He scratched the back of his neck, slightly embarrassed.

“Relax! The night is young and you look good! I look forward to meeting our new friend!” Makoa was like a breath of fresh air. He genuinely was kind and treated everyone like family. It wasn’t a persona, it was just him. Elliot beamed.

“Thank you! I, uh, worked really hard on this one.” He gestured down to himself. He was particularly proud of this version of his costume. The reds and golds accented his skin tone and he felt like a superhero. The black fabric under the metal armor fit his body like a glove. He smiled at the defender.

“You look good too! What do you call this one, again?”

“Ah, I call this,” He grinned and banged his blue and gold shield reminiscent of a lion, “the ‘Imperial Defender’. But we all look good tonight.” He shuffled to the side, revealing other fellow champions observing the scene, either seemingly bored or amused. Renee was in her “High Class” variant of her costume, something that worked perfectly for events like, and Ajay looked effortlessly comfortable yet regal in her “Guardian Angel” getup. But then his eyes hit Bloodhound.

Even though they were just standing there, arms crossed, a scowl somehow conveyed through their body language, they looked amazing. Normally, the tracker would wear whatever they found comfortable, or one of their variants, but nothing really dressed up. During one of their recent training sessions, they had complained (or at least the Bloodhound equivalent of complaining) that their manager had finally put their foot down and demanded they wear something formal-like at these events, but Elliot hadn’t imagined that they would pull it off so well!

Their usual tan jacket and pants were replaced with a violet leather version. They were sporting matching gloves with what appeared to be stones on the knuckles. It was accented with a black belt, black lining on the inside of their thighs, and black and gold boots. Their head-piece was also mostly black, but with a golden respirator and glowing blue lenses. Even Artur appeared to have his feathers groomed.

Noticing his gaze, Bloodhound shrugged and shook his head, silently warning him not to make a spectacle of it all. Rolling his eyes, Elliot walked over.

“Houndie! Buddy, you look great! I have to say though, it’s weird to see someone else tell you what to do.” He heard a silent huff.

“My manager was…. insistent.”

“Well I’ll have to thank her some time, you know, for taking some of the attention off of me. It’s hard being the best dressed, sometimes. Just sometimes.” Bloodhound just levels a look at him in response, unimpressed.

“One of these days, hun, they are going to stab you and none of us are going to be surprised.” Ajay laughed at him, hands on her hips.

“Nah, we’re besties, right Houndie?” Elliot casually rests his elbow on the other’s shoulder. “Right?”

Bloodhound says nothing and just walks away, probably to find a quiet corner to get through the night. Elliot could truly see why others would think this way, but he knew a smirk was hidden beneath their mask. Bloodhound wasn’t very forward in their affections or trust. Hell, they barely talked casually with many of the other champions. Somehow, however, Elliot managed to earn their trust and, he hoped, their companionship with his ability of just being persistent in his goals.

He felt a connection the moment they teamed up, and made the decision right then and there that they were going to be friends.. A few months later, Elliot assumes he was successful, though he's not entirely sure how. They trained together now, sometimes ate together, borrowed each other’s work stations, hell Bloodhound knew about his worries about his mother and anxiety. In return, he got to see a side hidden to most others. He saw the intense focus they put into working on their tech, the tenderness they showed Artur, the sheer care they feel towards everyone, even if they might not display it, despite their snarky attitude at times. He knows and treasures little facts about them like their favorite color and food, that their home planet was Talos and Artur was named after a loved one long gone. It might not seem like much, but it was so much more than he ever thought he would get. Elliot was especially a fan of when, during training, Bloodhound was kind enough to show him pointers with sniper rifles, moving in close, adjusting his stance and arms, close enough to see the outline of their eyes through their goggles, able to smell the-

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!” Once again, Elliot started at the sudden loud voice. Looking around, he saw that the announcer was on stage and his companions seemed to have left him to his thoughts. He sighed and went to grab a drink, ignoring the analyzing look he knew Bloodhound was giving him. He was zoning out more and more. Sometimes, it just happens, but recently his thoughts had been wandering to Bloodhound more often than not. Which was.. Not surprising. He was old enough to not deny his budding feelings towards the champion. He was also old enough to recognize the futility of them. He had just gained their trust. The lack of threats when he rested his elbow on them earlier proved that. He didn’t want to push it. Usually, he was good when it comes to suppressing those feelings , but it appeared that he was reaching his limit. He grabbed the neon drink handed to him by the bartender and looked to the stage.

“THE APEX GAMES ARE ECSTATIC TO ANNOUNCE OUR NEW CHAMPION, THE WINNER OF OUR RECENT TOURNAMENT OPEN TO THE PUBLIC FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER, CATALYST!”

A young man walked on stage, shyly waving to the audience as it cheered. Elliot cocked his head as he observed him. This would be his new coworker and opponent. He didn’t look half bad, even if his costume was a little bland. His sandy blond hair rested at his neck. On his freckled face rested a pair of goggles. His garments appeared to be nothing special, just a black jumpsuit you’d see a mechanic wear, but knowing the games, it was probably augmented in some way. On his hips were a pair of what looked like some kind trigger. The new champion seemed visibly nervous as he scanned the crowd, obviously ignoring whatever intro he was given, fiddling with his fingers.

Eventually, he made eye contact with Elliot. Elliot knew what it was like being up there- and how nerve wracking it could be with all those eyes on you. He gave the newcomer his best grin and thumbs up. As soon as he saw Elliot’s encouragement, he instantly stood taller and he seemed more at ease with a large grin on his face. It was weird how much it affected him, like he was a new guy. Eventually he was handed a mic.

“Hi everyone! I’m Alex, but you’ll grow to know and love me as Catalyst!” Weird, why did that sound so familiar? “I’ll do my best to bring an exciting game to watch. I know you’ll all want to meet me, but don’t worry, we have all night!” Was that a wink? Wait, is this MY speech from when I was introduced? As the crowd erupted, Elliot looked around to see if anyone else was noticing this. None of the other champions either seemed to notice or cared. Huh. Maybe this isn’t so uncommon or I’m just mistaken. Maybe I’m overthinking it, as usual.

He does notice, however, the circling motion his manager was making as well as her mouthing the word “Mingle!” Okay, work time. He takes a deep breath, throws on a smile, and casually walks over to the nearest sponsor. “Michael! How’s the family doing?...”

From the other side of the room, Bloodhound stood silent, leaning against the far wall, observing how Alex had his eyes trained on Elliot, seemingly unwilling to let him out of his sight.

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

There's chapter 1 for you! I am taking free requests at this time for multiple fandoms!!

#miragehound #apex legends #ao3 #apex mirage #apex bloodhound #mirage #bloodhound #elliot witt #apex fanfic

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everlarkficexchange · 4 years ago

Text

Written by: @alliswell21

Title: One of Us

Prompt 145: She moves in with her aunt and uncle when her parents dies in a small town. After suffering through trama, Katniss slowly starts to get better with the help of her family (aunt, uncle, cousin) and the Mellark brothers. But when things starts happening to her and the people around her, it’s revealed that she and almost everyone in the towns are apart of the werewolf pack and that one of the Mellark brothers is her mate. #werewolves [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Rated: G for general audiences.

Tags: Canon Divergent!AU; Modern with a dash of Supernatural; Grief/Mourning; Feeding as a Language of Love.

Note: This is my final submission to this year's EFE challenge! Yay! I really am grateful to @xerxia31 and @javistg for their continued support of this fandom and for hosting once again this event. You are such amazing people, and I’m absolutely honored to be part of a community with people as amazing as you two are! Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for keeping EFE alive!

@animekpopxx, thank you too! You feed my muse! And you give me Werewolves!!!!

This story was a bit of rushed job, though, and there’s more of it, I mean... we haven’t seen them turn into wolves yet!!! 🤣 I just didn’t have time to edit the complete fic before the deadline, but if you’d like to read the finished product, keep an eye out for it on AO3. I’m fairly sure the rating will keep, but we will see.

Kpkpkpk

There’s nothing but the sound of crickets and frogs filling the vast darkness of the night.

It’s another moonless night out here in Panem… or is I like to call it ‘the middle of nowhere’. It’s weird, how dark nights feel here, there’s barely a start peeking tonight, but in a strange way, I like it.

Sitting on my aunt and uncle’s porch to watch the infinite dark ahead while listening to the nocturnal critters it’s about my favorite thing to do… it’s what did used to do when we came here for long summer stays, anyway. He used to say he felt at peace and relaxed, connected with nature. Too bad it took him to be gone, for me to appreciate what he meant by that. So every night I come out here and sit in the steps hugging my knees, staring at nothing but the deep, black night surrounding the cabin, whisking my dad was sitting next to me.

Tonight is different than usual, though. It was raining until recently, and the smell of wet earth is so familiar my chest feels tight and my throat is knotted.

“Petrichor, Katniss,” I mumble the words noiselessly, “is the smell of rain, hun. It smells the same everywhere in the world.”

I lean my chin on my knees, wishing I could go back to feeling numb like when my parents just died. But thinking of the word petrichor, while smelling the thing, is bring forth a plethora feelings and memories I don’t know how to handle.

Dad used to love Scrabble, crossword puzzles and trivia challenges. He tried to get me interested in those games, teaching me words and their meanings, every time he had a chance.

I wish I had been more enthusiastic about learning the darned stuff; it would’ve meant an extra moment spent with Dad, and less regret to feel right now.

An involuntary whine leaves my chest. It hurts to think about it, and not for the first time, I dig my nails into my skin to keep myself rooted in place, and not tear running into the void.

I feel like I’m spiraling out of control, I fear this time something will break in my head and I’ll do something crazy, like scratch my skin away and run wild into the woods, like a beast… but the overwhelming thoughts gets halted when I hear soft noises from out in the distance.

It’s like the crunching of footsteps on the gravel at the mouth of my aunt and uncle’s property. It’s too dark and isolated here, deep into the country. I’ve seen big wildlife roaming around: deer, raccoons, coyotes and even a lynx. But the longer I hear the noises, the more certain I am I’m being stalked by something big and fast.

My heart beats erratically in my chest; every hair in my body stands on point, fear is clawing its way up my chest and into my throat, my eyes feel about to pop from my skull, and then I’m disentangling my knees from my arms, standing up as tall as I can— which isn’t saying much—and then I call into the night, “Who’s there?!”

I hear a faint disturbance of air, and then…

“Good evening, Katniss!”

Slowly, from the shadows, a blonde head pops, eerie for a second. Broad shoulders follow, and then a torso. Before the rest of his body comes visible into the light of the porch, two more blonde heads come into view, flank the first person on either side: Shoulders, torsos, Jean covered legs… The three Mellark brothers make their way leisurely towards me.

I nearly faint from relief after the rush of adrenaline pumping in my veins. Going through so many emotions: grief, sorrow, dread and relief, so fast in such a short amount of time has left me winded and unsteady.

I lose my balance, but one of the boys— Peeta, the youngest— breaks ranks, and rushes to hold me upright.

“Are you okay?” He asks softly, helping me sit back down on the porch steps. I lean my head against the main post.

“I’m okay. Just a little lightheaded,” I try not to glare. They gave me a fright, but I doubt they did it on purpose.

It’s something I’ve learn over the years. People in Panem are kind of quirky.

“Sorry we scared you,” Peeta offers, sheepishly. “We wanted to check up on you, and bring you something…” he looks up at his two older brothers and Rye — the middle one— steps forward, holding up a brown, paper bag, with little greasy spots on the sides.

I can guess what’s inside. They’ve been bringing me cheese buns almost daily, since Peeta found out they’re my favorites.

Rey hands the baggie to Peeta, and the latter offers it to me with a soft smile.

“Thanks,” I mumble, gratefully. I can smell the cheesy, yeasty treat through the bag; I can feel the warmth of the buns too! “While I love freshly baked cheese buns, you guys didn’t have to make this trek just to bring me a treat… on a dark, moonless night no less,” I fix them with a glare. “How did you even get here anyway? You couldn’t have walked and I never saw a car coming?”

My aunt and uncle’s cabin is at least 4 miles from town, and surrounded by woods; but then again, most houses in this weird little place are built in similar locations. It seems the townsfolk take their privacy extremely seriously.

“We rode our dirt bikes,” chimes Rye in, cheerily. “Not much light on those bulbs, though, but it’s okay. Our night vision is prime!” He gives me the A-Okay gesture.

“Rye,” the eldest, Bannock, warns lowly. Baring his teeth.

Rye shrugs and slips his hands on his Jean pockets.

I swear Rye hisses something like “it’s true” under his breath, but Peeta has been rubbing my back with the tip of his fingers all this time, and I’m getting drowsy, so I may have imagined the whole exchange.

“You should eat those while they’re still warm,” Peeta murmurs close by my shoulder.

I nod, and open the bag, releasing all the delicious smells of the buns, while Peeta massages my shoulders, encouragingly.

I must be really out if it tonight, because outside of my family, I’ve never been comfortable with people touching me… but, my family is all gone now, and I can’t go through the rest of my life without human touch, can I?

Grief stricken me out of nowhere, and barrels through me. I gasp at the acute pain in my soul at the loss of my parents. But in an instant, I’m enveloped in strong, thick arms, warm and steady. I’m sobbing into a hot, solid chest, covered in the softest cotton I’ve ever felt.

“Shush… I’ve got you, Katniss. I’m here for you,” Peeta whispers soothingly into the crown of my head.

He smells so good; like cinnamon and dill, from the bread he must’ve made this afternoon at his family’s bakery.

It takes a few minutes for me to get a hold of myself, and embarrassedly push out of his embrace, “I’m sorry,” I mumble, mortified.

Bannock presents me with a handkerchief, and I take it gratefully to wipe off my face and nose, before returning the soiled square of fabric to him.

I’m not sure why the Mellark brothers are being so nice to me. I’ve never been around them more than a handful of days over the past few years, when we came to see Dad’s remaining family outside mom and I, his half brother, his wife and their child.

I don’t know the Mellarks all that well, but in the handful of weeks since my parents’ funeral, the three brothers have been incredibly attentive and generous to me. Peeta more than the other two, but I don’t mind… I like him best anyway.

“It’s okay to cry and be devastated, Katniss.” Says Bannock, sagely. “You’re going through the worst time of your life, and we care for you… like family.”

“Oh,” I sit straighter, blowing my nose. I feel a little strange hearing him say that, “thank you? I appreciate your kindness,”

He nods, “Peeta’s right, though. You should eat the cheese buns before they go cold.”

“A full stomach always helps me feel better,” Rye adds, patting his belly, and smiling at me.

My stomach growls, as if to show agreement. I am hungry. I didn’t touch my supper earlier. I pick up the bakery gingerly, and pretty much shove my nose into it. The steam curls out of the baggie, filling my nostrils with the delicious smells. I pluck out a bun and practically inhale it in a second; quickly followed by another one. My third cheese bun, I decide to savor, slowly.

The Mellark siblings just hang around while I devour my treats.

The front door opens just as I’m wiping my hands on my leggings. My aunt’s head peeks out of the door.

“Oh, why hello everyone!” She greets, as bubbly as always. She’s wearing a dark purple wig, to match her dark purple outfit.

“Good evening, Effie,” says Peeta, standing from his squatting position next to me. “We brought Katniss a gift,” he points at the now empty bag in his hand.

“How sweet of you, Peeta!” my aunt gushes, “thank you for checking on our girl, and making sure she’s put something in her tummy before bedtime!”

I roll my eyes. Aunt Effie keeps treating me like a kid. I hate it. I’m 17 and mourning, not a freaking baby!

“It’s no problem at all, Effie! We were just on our way home anyway.”

“Well, it’s always nice having you boys over,” she offers, “but it’s getting late, and Primrose is already in bed, which is why I came out here to begin with, to let Katniss know that her sister was already asleep, so she’d know to tip toe back inside when she was ready to go to bed herself,” my aunt smiles.

I feel a slight pang of guilt; I’ve been wallowing in my own sadness this evening, and missed tucking my sister in to sleep. She’s the only person I’m sure I love, yet tonight I’ve let my own misery drown me.

“Don’t mind us, Effie,” Says Bannock, “We were about to leave…” he pauses and then calls a meaningful, “Peeta?”

“I’m going to wish Katniss a good night, and then we’ll go,” he says.

Not for the first time, I wonder if Peeta has a crush on me? I wouldn’t know he did, even if I wasn’t feeling so rotten inside. I’m not very good at flirting… but with Peeta it is different I think. He’s so nice to me, he’s taken up asking if I’ve eaten that day and if I haven’t, he feeds me something from his family’s bakery without charging me… it’s like he actually cares for me and my well-being, and his brothers care, because he does. It’s mesmerizing at times.

Peeta looks me in the eyes, “Are you ready to go inside?” He asks, offering his two open palms to me. He helps me up from the floor, and then smiles sweetly. He doesn’t let go of my hands while we stand facing each other.

Then something strange happens. Peeta doesn’t blink, as his clear-blue eyes bore into mine, and then his pupils blow out full, until only a ring of deep, glowing azure remains for his irises, “Sleep well, Katniss,” his voice sounds deeper and warmer than usual, “Rest and have a relaxing, dreamless night. Remember what I said: we are all here for you, to help through this hard time… alright?”

I feel groggy, “Yes, Peeta,” I mumble feeling my eyelids getting heavier.

“Oh dear, can you please instruct her to walk herself to bed? She might look lithe, but I promise, her little body is as heavy as any of us,”

Huh? What’s aunt Effie going on about? I don’t understand.

Peeta chuckles, squeezing my hands warmly in his, “You heard Effie… don’t fall asleep until you’ve gone into your bedroom and change into comfy pajamas.”

I nod, “Okay,”

“Good night, Katniss, I’ll be back tomorrow. Try to eat something on your own, I know you’re sad, but you need your strength for when the solstice comes.”

What a weird thing to say! Everything is strange here though… so I nod and march inside the house, mumbling my good nights to everyone and rubbing my very sleepy eyes. Once I’m in my sleep clothes, I lay in bed, and try to ignore the yearning of having Peeta rubbing my back like he was doing while I ate my cheese buns.

I sigh and go to sleep, a weird thought pops into my mind: “I’m so lucky to have such a sweet, caring mate. Peeta Mellark. Can’t wait to be bonded with him,”

#alliswell21 #animekpopxx #prompt 154 #Springtime Edition 2021 #submission

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averytiredfanfictionwriter · 4 years ago

Text

The Immortals- Chapter Two

Chapter Two is up! I hope you guys liked the first chapter. Comment if you want to be added to a tag list for the series, and I’ll add you. Also, reblogs and comments are very much appreciated! And as always, if you want to read this on Ao3 instead, here’s the link. And the chapters have been going out a day or so early on there, so if you want you can subscribe to me on there and be ahead of everyone else reading the chapter. But yeah, enjoy the chapter guys! Trigger Warnings/Content Warning: Nothing

Chapter One | Chapter Three

“Phil, I think we need to have a talk about Techno.” Ash says gently, watching as Phil visibly tenses at the mention of his adopted son.

“There’s nothing to talk about. Not right now at least.” He says sternly, but Ash merely waves off the statement.

“I think I should take him away from here. At least until I can teach him how to not give in to the voices. Because you and I both know he hears them. We need to teach him how to control them, before he kills Wilbur- or one of us.”

Philza finally looks away from the sink where he was washing the dishes. “And where are you going to take him where he won’t be a threat to anything that breathes?” Phil yells angrily, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration.

“Anywhere, as long as he’s with me. He needs guidance, and more than you can provide Phil. He needs to learn from someone who suffers from hearing voices just like does. Who can’t help their destructive powers but learned to control them. Phil, he needs more than he can get here. And it needs to be somewhere where Wilbur and Tommy aren’t. Please, he needs this. Let me do what’s right for him.” Ash yells, the action shocking Phil who’s never seen the older woman so much as raise her voice.

“Okay. Just, be careful.” He whispers, pulling her into a hug.

“I will, I promise.”

Well, that was a fucking lie, Ash thinks as she and Techno dodge the arrows currently being fired by another mortal behind them.

“Come on, I think I see a tunnel over there!” She yells out, running to the right with Techno following after her.

She was correct, stumbling blindly inside for a second and then falling down completely as her partner fell down on top of her.

“Ouch,” she hisses, feeling him immediately get off of her and hoist Ash to her feet.

“Sorry. Where do we go now?” He asks, a hint of nervousness present in his voice.

“Our only choice is wherever this leads to. Let’s go. Watch your step, we don’t know what might be down here.” Ash mumbles, latching a hand onto Techno’s wrist and slowly starting to make her way down the tunnel with the younger boy in tow.

It’s been a year since she and Techno left Phil, and they’ve been in more situations like this than they can count. And honestly, they’re living for it. The fast paced action, the fighting, the sleeping under the stars- Ash finds herself reminiscing on her old traveling companion, wishing for his company once again as she runs through the dark tunnel of life, both literally and metaphorically.

Ash and Techno break through the end of the tunnel finally, finding themselves in what is pretty much the middle of nowhere.

“Uh, where are we?” Techno asks, his grip on his sword tighter than it was before.

“I don’t know. But keep an eye out. The grass is awfully tall.” Ash finds herself wishing more than ever that Dream was with her, his sharp eyesight was always extremely useful and she misses the advantage it brought in unfamiliar places.

“Okay.”

The two walk through the field, trying to stay as silent as possible in the dry grass, but failing miserably. The sun sets to their backs, illuminating the grass in a fiery orange and red glow.

“Let’s stop here for the night. I don’t think anyone’s going to find us here.” Ash says quietly.

They step into the dark cave, checking that there’s nothing in there and then starting a fire deeper inside.

“Yesterday, when we were at the town's library, you said that no one can see you. Why not?” Techno breaks the silence.

“Well, Phil told you about the three immortals that created all three dimensions, right?” Techno nods. “Well, I… am one of them. I created the End dimension, and the creatures that live there. My friend, Dream, created the overworld, and all its creatures, and then… god… what was his name,” Ash thinks for a moment, unable to remember the name of the third person that was with them,” I don’t know. But a third person created the nether dimension. Us and the mortals got along great, but then the immortal children were starting to be born, and they were full of anger and spite for us three. They waged wars against us, burnt down entire countries, killed countless mortals, all to try and get to us. Well, one day the mortals all came to an agreement, and decided we needed to be locked up or killed. Me and Dream managed to escape, and watched as the mortals tortured and killed the immortal children. We lived on the run for a long time after that. I met your father when he was a baby. He'd been left on the side of the road, and I raised him until he was 18, but we lost contact soon after. Then about 100 years ago, we found each other again and stuck together from there.” Ash finishes, staring into the fire in front of her.

“What happened to Dream?” Techno asks, his usually monotone voice now full of curiosity.

“I don’t know. We got separated one day and I haven’t been able to find him since. I’ve looked everywhere since that day, but there’s nothing- no trace of him anywhere. Well, you need to get some sleep. I’ll take watch tonight.” Ash says, letting the fire dim a little bit as she makes her way to the front of the cave.

“Hey Ash?” Techno asks from inside.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think the mortals managed to kill him?” He asks.

“No. They can’t. If they had, I would know. His powers would have been given to me and that’s not exactly a painless process. Besides, me and Dream are true immortals. We can never die.” No matter how much we might want to, she finishes in her head, sitting down on the cold stone and staring off into the clear night.

#dream smp #dream #philza #technoblade #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #technoblade x reader #dream x reader #sbi x reader #sbi inc x reader #jschlatt #philza x reader #The Immortals-dsmp #lizzy writes

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quartzwriting · 4 years ago

Text

Stephen, Peter, and Morgan

Pairing: Doctor Strange X Fem!Reader

Description: You and Stephen often watch Peter and Morgan, cuteness ensues in the New York Sanctum! And you leave him with them for a few hours, how does he handle?

Warnings: Non

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: Originally posted to Quotev / One of my favourite things to add to my Stephen X Reader pieces is to throw Morgan and Peter into the mix!

Masterlist | Fic Reading Recs | Ao3 | Quotev | Coffee

Silence fell through the hallway, even though you swear you heard a scrambling and an echo of a quiet giggle. Crossing your arms, and with a smirk, you continued your way through. You crept past relics and bookshelves, old paintings and large windows, your feet making zero noise against the floorboards thanks to a little spell you cast.

Today, the Sanctum was not a place of study, or a training ground, but a playground for hide and seek.

You made a left turn and entered your favourite open room, the one that had that beautiful window with the symbol of the New York sanctum. Keeping your ears open, you walked between a set of shelves. You ran your hand across the spines of the books as you passed. There were no signs of the little rascal anywhere. Until you looked a little closer, and saw a little detail that you might have easily missed if you were not paying attention enough.

A little shadow. It was peaking out from behind one of the nooks between cabinets against the wall, thanks to the perfectly placed window right behind.

You smiled, and kept taking soundless steps around the room. You had her, now you just had to catch her. You had a few options, but you decided to use your magic to give yourself a small advantage. Using a quick, short ranged teleportation spell, you popped out of nowhere right in front of her.

"BOO!"

The little girl let out a playful scream and jumped out of her hiding place and ran. You tried to grab her but she was too fast. She ran down the nearby stairs and into a new hallway, and you got an idea to capture her. You raised your hand and conjured up a portal with your sling ring. Morgan did not notice, and she ran through the portal and right back to you thanks to the loop you made. You scooped her up while she laughed.

While Pepper is away on a Stark business trip, Morgan needed someone to watch over her. Pepper said she didn’t fully trust Peter to watch her alone, you cannot leave those two alone for even a second without the eruption of chaos. So you volunteered and agreed to letting them both stay a few nights in the Sanctum.

Stephen did not agree with the idea at first. Too many precious breakable relics, he said. Possible dimensional threats could happen when they are here, he said. He also likes his peace and quiet, and you knew that the combination of Morgan and Peter would result in some loudness echoing down the halls. But you managed to convince him, you knowing Morgan since she was very small and having bonded with Peter more since the snap was reversed.

Everything would end up fine, and it would be fun. You would not let anything go wrong.

You finally let her go and she looked up at you with a scrunched up nose, "That's not fair, you cheated!"

"I did not!" You crossed your arms around your chest.

"Yes you did! You used magic." She copied your arm movement with mockery.

"It's not cheating because I didn't use it to FIND you, but to catch you instead." You explained.

"It's still cheating, and I can't do magic so its not fair." She mumbled.

"Maybe one day I can teach you some magic,"

"REALLY!" Her eyes lit up like lights on a Christmas Tree.

"When you're older." You said instantly, and she pouted.

"Where's Peter?" She said it in her cute voice, where sometimes her Rs turned into Ws, so it sounded like 'Petew'.

"We need to find him now." You grabbed her hand and lead her to a new hallway. "Come on, Maguna." That nickname is what Tony used to call her, and now only you and Peter call her that.

"OH PETER!"

"SHHhhhhh! You're gonna give us away!" You hushed her as you both went to look for the webslinger, she giggled.

The two of you made your way to the foyer, eyes darting everywhere in search of Peter. Instead of a spider, you found Stephen in the little seating area next to the fireplace off to the side, nose deep in a book as always. Morgan dashed down the staircase and right up to him with a smile. "Mister Strange, have you seen Peter around."

She and Peter are the only ones who call Stephen 'Mister Strange', and not be corrected to 'Doctor'.

Stephen looked up from the pages of his book and smiled at her, "Sorry Morgan I haven't."

She grumbled, "He's too good at hiding!"

"Well he is a spider," Stephen said closing his book and setting it on the coffee table. "so he can hide in places that you can't. He's a sticky one."

With that, Stephen pointed upwards with a shaky hand. Morgan followed her gaze up. Sure enough there was Peter hanging all the way up from the top of the tall ceiling on a web string.

"I see you Peter!!!" Morgan shouted, pointing at him.

"Dang it Mister Strange! Why did you give me away?" Peter yelled back, beginning to descend from the ceiling.

"Did you two break anything?" Stephen said jokingly, but you knew he was being slightly serious.

"No!" Morgan exclaimed, "I'm careful."

"Peter is more likely to break something than Morgan is," You pointed out, holding back a smile while descending the stairs to join everyone.

"Hey!" Peter said in defence, and you stifled a laugh.

"Alright you two, I'm getting a little tired of hide and seek. How about we do something else?" You suggested.

"OH! We can watch a movie, I got lots of good ones on my laptop." Peter said.

"Can we build a fort for the movie?" Morgan asked with puppy dog eyes.

"Sure we can. There's some extra blankets in the library so it might be best to do it there." You said.

"Sweet! Morgan lets go!!!" Peter bent down so he could let her climb onto his back, and the two run up the stairs to go make their fort.

"No running!" Stephen called after them, and you saw that he was trying to hold back a smile.

You laughed at the sight. Even though those two were a handful, non stop energy and somehow constantly hungry, you loved their company.

"Are they behaving?" Stephen asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Of course they are." You replied, "I wouldn't let them in here if I didn't trust them."

"It's not just that, but what if something comes up? What if there is an attack?"

"There won't be, and even if there is I'll protect them. It's what I promised Pepper." You said, then you looked down. "It's what I promised Tony." Your heart ached a little, you missed Tony. Surprisingly, you saw a lot of him in Morgan's developing personality. You were sure that when she grew up, she's be just like her dad.

"Alright." Stephen nodded. He stood up from the couch and made his way over to you to place a kiss on your forehead. "I trust you of course to watch over them, and the Sanctum. Cause if they break anything I'm gonna have to reconsider their stay here." You laughed a little at that.

"Hey, guys." Peter called out to you from the banister at the top of the stairs, "There's a beeping sound up here."

You raised your eyebrows in thought, and you instantly dashed up the stairs with Stephen following close behind. You followed Peter back into the room with the window, now a sunset displayed beyond the glass.

“What’s that noise?” Morgan asked. She pointed out the sound and saw a flashing blue light coming from the side of the room.

“There’s a call coming in.” You said, walking up to the device that rested on the table. Natasha gave this to you, it connected to the communication channel that let you talk with everyone else, you used it to check in on everyone across the universe back when Thanos won.

You accepted the call, and a glowing blue projection appeared.

“(L/N), do you copy?”

“Yes Rocket, I hear you. What’s up?”

The Gaurdians were now projected into the Sanctum. Quill, Rocket, Nebula, Groot, Mantis and Drax. You were close with Rocket and Nebula from those five years, and you battled alongside everyone before.

“We could use some help." Peter Quill said, "We responded to a distress signal, and we found a planet that's in complete chaos. There's like chucks coming out if it an everything. Anyways, the attackers look like they're using magic."

"What do you mean?" Stephen placed himself next to you so he was now in the projection on their ship and they could see him.

"There's these guys with powers that resemble what you can do. The sparkly stuff. We thought it was best to call you in. Things keep coming out of portals and this planet is about to erupt into war if we don't stop them. Maybe even collapse in on itself." Rocket explained.

You tilted your head in confusion, "I thought humans from earth were the only people in this dimension to use our type of magic."

Stephen's eyebrows furrowed in thought, "I don't know, maybe they had human influence. Does Kamar Taj know about this?"

"Whatever it is, we need some assistance." Nebula said. When you first met her, you never though a sentence like that would even come out of her mouth, her asking for help.

"Its too large scale for us to handle alone. Thor is unavailable right now and you guys are our best bet." Quill explained.

“We would come check it out, but we’re a little occupied at the moment-“ Stephen was going to go on but was quickly interrupted.

Parker poked his head in front of you and into the view of the projector, “HI GUYS! HI PETER!!!”

“Hey Peter,” Quill laughed. “You two babysitting?”

“Yeah.” You replied, Morgan now in front of you to say hi as well.

"Aww, a child." Mantis cooed, smiling at Morgan and waved to her.

"You are watching Stark's children." Drax said.

"Oh um Mr. Stark isn't my dad." Peter Parker pointed out.

"Yeah, but if you need help we can send in some sorcerers from another Sanctum. Maybe we can give London a call." You suggested.

"But we rather have you two," Rocket said, "I can't stand those other sorcerers, they're too serious, Plus you're the best their is."

"Maybe I should go," Stephen said.

"I'll go, you watch the kids." You said, and before he could protest, you switched your civilian clothes for your robes with a quick spell (Morgan looking up at you in awe). "Guardians, I'll be right there. I'm gonna stop in Kamar Taj first to see if they have picked up anything on this. Be on your ship in a few."

"Sounds good, thanks (L/N)." Rocket said, and with that he ended the call.

"When will you be back?" Morgan tugged at your robes.

"Soon, I won't be long." You smiled at her.

Before you left, you gave hugs to Peter and Morgan, and a kiss on the cheek to Stephen. You held up your sling ring and opened a portal to Kamar Taj.

"Be careful." Stephen called. "and take the cloak."

The cloak of levitation flew into the room and right up to you. You caught the collar in your hand and slung it over your shoulders in a swift motion.

"I will." You replied and jumped through to your unexpected adventure.

“Mister Strange? Can you teach us how to do that?” Peter asked.

“No.”

“Aw...”

~~~

You stepped through your slingring portal, and heaved a heavy sigh. That was a crazy term of events, and working with any of the guardians was an experience in itself, let alone them all together. It turned out that the attackers of that planet were using the same kinda of sorcery you used. You helped stop the invasion, and passed on the information to the other sanctum masters.

Making your way through the Sanctum, dusting off your robes and rubbing your face off of dirt, you went to find Stephen and the kids to let them know you were back. Soon you heard voices, and followed the trail towards the kitchen. You heard laughter, and wondered what was going on. The voices started to get more clear.

"How long do we have to wait?"

"Twelve minutes."

"In the meantime we can clean up this mess we made. (Y/N) might freak out if she sees the kitchen looking like this."

"Peter made most of the mess!"

"I did not!"

"But you're the one who spilled the flour everywhere!"

"And you were trying to eat the chocolate chips!"

"Just help me clean up you two."

You slowly peered through the doorway, careful not to be seen, and saw the three of them surrounded by baking supplies and covered in flour. They all looked so happy, even Stephen looked like he was enjoying himself. There was laughter in his voice as he helped the kids tidy the place up.

"Hey uncle Stephen, where are the cloths?"

"In that cupboard, Morgan."

You're heart melted.

"Looks like you guys are having fun." You finally decided to stop watching them without their knowledge.

"What? We wanted cookies." Stephen said innocently.

"You're back!" Morgan cheered.

"How did it go?" Peter asked.

"Went well! I stopped a planet from blowing up and stopped some alien sorcerers, so I say it was a success." You answered, walking up to the counter and surveying the mess they have created.

"You're all dirty." Morgan looked up at you. Dirt covered your face and your robes, a few cuts on your skin, and hair untidy in its french braid. "Are you hurt?"

"No I'm okay." You reassured her.

The little girl scurried over to grab a cloth and came back. She gestured for you to lower to her height, so you knelled down and she wiped your cheeks and forehead.

"There!" She said, "All clean, and there's cookies in the oven for your after mission snack!"

You smiled, and got up to stand beside Stephen, "They give you any trouble while I was gone?"

"Not at all." He replied, still gathering some of the dirty dishes.

"Never knew you were good with kids, uncle Stephen." You laughed.

He shrugged with a smile, "Me either."

#doctor strange x reader #doctor strange #doctor strange fanfiction #doctor strange x you #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange #peter parker #morgan stark #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #reader #reader insert #benedict cumberbatch #mcu

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fjoresterthoughts · 3 years ago

Text

It calls me

@fjoresterweek 2021 - Day 4: Modern AU

[AO3]

Jester wakes up to her shoulder being shaken, and all she wants to do is push her face further into the pillow. She can feel the cooler air outside of her warm blankets, and the thought of leaving the cozy warmth is incredibly unappealing.

“Jessie, wake up.” she hears Beau whisper, and Jester finally opens her eyes. The room is surprisingly light, and for a minute she worries she overslept - but the clock beside her bed says it's still very early.

“What’s up?” she mumbles in response, still incredibly sleepy.

“School’s cancelled. They called a snow day.” Beau says, and Jester shoots up.

“Really??” She exclaims as she runs to the window of their shared bedroom, and sure enough, the snow that started last night had continued heavily all through last night, and had no sign of stopping. The sun wasn’t quite up, but the white of the snow gave everything a soft brightness, including their room.

Beau grins. “Yeah, I was really hoping they would. I do not want to go to my morning classes in this.”

“Beau, you never want to go to your morning classes.” Jester says, and checks her phone for the cancellation confirmation emails from her professors.

“True.” Beau confirms as she searches her side of the room for a pair of socks.

Jester pulls her pair of unicorn slippers from underneath her bed. “Let’s go tell Fjord!”

“Shouldn’t we let him just sleep in?”

Jester shakes her head, already heading to the door. “No, he’ll freak out and think he missed his class. Besides, I’m too excited and I wanna tell him.”

Beau and Jester step out the door of their shared room, and walk down the hallway of their apartment to Fjord’s room. They had gotten a two bedroom apartment near campus at the start of the school year, and it had been the best. The three of them met during orientation and had stuck close together ever since.

Jester knocked gently and pushed the door open to Fjord’s room, who was still fast asleep in bed. His room is much smaller - barely any room for his twin sized bed, his little desk, and a dresser. With Beau and Jester sharing a room and needing space for two beds, they had taken the larger one.

“He looks like a supermodel even when he sleeps, it’s not fair.” Jester whispers to Beau, who just laughs.

This makes Fjord stir, and as he’s slowly opening his eyes, Jester practically jumps on his bed, with Beau following.

“It’s a snow day!! It’s a snow day!!” Jester cheers, and Fjord groans and flops back down after the initial shock.

“For real?”

Beau holds her phone up to Fjord’s face. “Yeah, check it out!”

Fjord looks, and then smirks. “Oh, nice. Also a text from Yasha came down when you were showing me the email.”

Beau pulls her phone back quickly and Jester screeches, trying to wrestle the phone to see.

“Ooooh, what did she say, Beau?”

Beau jumps off the bed. “Fuck off!”

“Fjord! You saw it! What did it say?” Jester asks, still sitting on Fjord’s bed but watching Beau with intent.

Beau turns and walks out of the room. “Fuck you guys, I’m making coffee!”

“Can you make me some too?” Fjord calls out to her, and she affirms but grumbles something about him not deserving it.

Fjord gives a knowing smile to Jester. “I have a feeling that Beau’s not going to spend her snow day with us.”

She grins and wiggles her eyebrows. “She’s gonna spend it with Yasha?”

Fjord makes the same expression back at her, and then starts to get out of his bed. “I’m gonna go use the bathroom before Beau claims it.”

Beau does in fact, eagerly take up Yasha’s offer to spend their snow day together, leaving Fjord and Jester in the apartment by themselves with nowhere to be. Jester makes a suggestive joke about her and Yasha staying warm, and when Beau throws one back at her and Fjord, she blushes and is incredibly grateful Fjord is out of earshot.

Jester insists that her and Fjord start their day off by making snow angels and playing in the snow. With them both being west coast kids, neither of them got to do this as children very often. After Jester’s fourth snow angel, she reaches her hands up to ask Fjord to help her up, but instead purposely pulls him down into the snow and their snowfight commences. It mostly consists of snowballs, but tackling is fair game and Jester eventually wins when she makes a running jump onto Fjord’s back, knocking them both to the ground and he falls face first into a snowdrift. Shivering, and with their fair share of snow down their shirts and backs, they finally decide it’s time to go inside and change into warm and dry clothes.

Breakfast comes next, and it’s the perfect day for pancakes and hot chocolate. Jester would argue that every day is good for pancakes and hot chocolate, but there is something special about a gigantic stack of decked out pancakes and extra marshmallows in your mug on a snow day.

“Fjord,” Jester starts, biting into the very last of her pancakes, “Do you want to watch a movie?”

“Sure. Can I take a shower first though? I’m still kinda cold from the snow you put down my shirt.” He replies, and takes their dishes and puts them in the sink.

“Of course! I might take one too, I think my hair is a little frozen.”

Fjord interrupts her before she can continue. “Dibs on having a shower first! I don’t want you to steal all the hot water.”

Jester laughs and calls out to him as he walks down the hall. “Think about what movie you want to watch!”

After they both have their showers, Jester pulls the duvet from her bed onto the couch and grabs herself a bowl of caramel popcorn, much to Fjord’s dismay.

“Aren’t you still full from breakfast?”

Jester shrugs. “I mean, kinda, but I really wanted popcorn.” She tosses some into her mouth. “I’m assuming you don’t want any, then?”

Fjord shakes his head, and settles onto the couch under the blanket. “Nope! Besides, I wouldn’t have caramel. The original salt and butter is the way to go!”

“Suit yourself! You’re missing out.”

Fjord turns to her and turns the TV on. “So, what movie do you want to watch?”

“Oh, I’m good with anything. You?”

“Is it weird if I say I want to watch something that takes place somewhere warm?”

Jester laughs. “Of course not!”

Fjord looks a little sheepish. “I just got warm again. I’m not as good against the cold as you.”

“Want to watch Moana?” Jester suggests with a smile. She knows it’s secretly one of Fjord’s favourite movies.

He grins. “Always.”

They’ve both seen this movie a million times. They sing along to every song, Jester a bit louder than Fjord, and they quote the lines along. Fjord does end up stealing some of Jester’s popcorn, and Jester knows when in the movie to subtly pass tissues over to him because he always ends up getting choked up.

What Fjord doesn’t expect, is that Jester has slowly been inching closer to him. He’s not sure if she is doing it subconsciously or not, but he selfishly likes it. He knows he’s had a crush on Jester for ages, and isn’t entirely sure if she likes him back. Beau has called him out on it, getting tired of the underlying romantic tension, but he’s terrified that if she doesn’t like him back, he’ll ruin the entire house dynamic. He knows he needs to tell her. He’ll tell her at the end of this semester - that way if she doesn’t like him back, she has an easy out if she wants.

“Fjord?” Jester quietly says, and Fjord forces his attention back to her and the movie.

“Yeah?”

She snuggles in closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. “I bet it would be fun to go wayfinding. Or even just sailing.”

Fjord raises an eyebrow at her. “Oh yeah?”

Jester hums. “I think it’d be fun. Maybe one day we could go.”

“Well, maybe eventually I can buy or rent a boat and we can sail our cares away. I’ve got some experience, I can show you the ropes.” He replies softly, almost wistfully.

He feels Jester smile against his shoulder. “I hope so. I’d really like that.”

She then pulls herself even closer by casually draping her legs across Fjord’s under the blanket, almost sitting in his lap. He pauses for just a moment before wrapping an arm around her, gently tucking her into his side and she happily melts right into him. His heart is fluttering about in his chest, and any thought of the outside cold is far, far away from his mind.

It’s much later in the afternoon when they’re working on their papers and readings in their respective rooms, and Fjord hears Jester bounding down the hallway, calling his name repeatedly and incessantly. Before he can even ask what’s up, she appears in his doorway.

“Fjord! You’re not doing anything for reading week, right?” She asks, almost breathlessly.

“Uhh, no? Probably just ending up being an awkward third wheel to Beau and Yasha when I’m not working, why?”

Jester is practically bouncing. “Wanna fly back home for the week? To the coast?”

“What?!” He says in absolute shock. “What do you mean, I don’t think I can afford-”

Jester interrupts him. “No, no! I was just talking to my dad, and…” She takes a breath. “So, after watching Moana I kinda missed home a bit? Like being by the ocean and beach? I mean this snow has been super fun and I love it, but I kinda miss home a bit, too, you know? So I’m on the phone with my dad and I told him I was maybe wondering about coming home for reading week in a month, and he offered to pay for my ticket! And THEN said I could bring a friend too if I wanted.”

Fjord’s shock has only grown. “That’s expensive! We can’t accept-”

Jester cuts him off again, trying to calm him down. “It’s ok, it’s ok! One of the tickets is through his like, flying points! And he has to make up for all the birthdays and holidays he missed when he wasn’t around. Do you want to come? We’ll stay with my mom so we don’t have to worry about a place to stay.”

Fjord is truly stunned, still processing. “I mean, if he’s sure… that’s very generous of him.”

Jester jumps up, and throws her arms around his neck, giving him a little kiss on the cheek. “Wonderful! I’ll go let him know!”

Fjord blushes. “Thank you. For inviting me, and tell your dad I sincerely thank him.”

Jester beams, and starts singing “You're welcome!” as she walks down the hall back to her room.

Fjord leans against his desk and places his head on his hands, still making sense of what just happened and what’s ahead of them. Jester’s (potentially) mob boss father just paid for their plane tickets to go home and they’ll be staying at Jester’s famous actress mother. But more importantly...

He’s going, with his crush, on a week’s trip back home with just the two of them. Who just gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Surely everything will go just fine.

#i wish tumblr formatting would let me make actual spaces between sections #anyways let me know if you like it (and agree that fjord would love moana)#fjoresterweek #fjorester #critical role #critical role fanfiction #fjorester thoughts

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neakco · 4 years ago

Text

The Lost Temple Ch.6

Ao3 First Previous Next Masterlist

They may be trapped underground and separated from their friends, but at least they found the temple. Right?

Ch.6 Treasure?

Tim took no time in grabbing a light from his utility belt. He was about to look around for Marinette, he knew he saw her land okay, when his radio cracked to life.

“Rob, are you and the lady okay?”

“Yeah, we’re fine, but the ground seems to have collapsed. Think you can make an entrance with out touching the ground?”

“Probably, but from what I see, that cave in is all that’s keeping the roof above you from collapsing as well.”

Tim swore before finally looking to Marinette. She was looking around with a large spotted lantern, where the hell had she gotten that? Just something else to figure out later.

“Impulse, report. Where's the target?”

“They walked directly to you guys before the ground started shaking. I lost track of them after that. The magic telling me to go away is weaker but I think the ground swallowed them.”

Directly, that made no sense. How did they know? He was sure there weren’t any trackers on him or Marinette, well none he hadn’t placed. They only ones that had been alone at any point were Bart and Adrien. He trusted this Bart but the timing had been wrong for it to have been Adrien. The only thing he could think of was that someone must have been nearby and when the magic weakened they were spotted.

“Impulse, I need you to pack up camp and ready our escape. I have a feeling we're going to need it.”

“On it.”

He walked closer to Marinette after that to try and discern what she was yelling at the ceiling…or maybe why.

“We're fine for now. We can always try and find this treasure and look for another way out.”

“Hate to intervene, but Impulse Reports that the enemy was last seen heading straight for us before being swallowed by the ground.”

He watched her face very carefully for any sign of betrayal. He was quite happy to see surprise, confusion, and anger flash through her eyes in a blink of time.

“No more choice.” She muttered suddenly before turning back to the ceiling and exclaiming, “Change of plans Chaton. Destroy it.”

Tim was about to ask for an explanation when he heard Kon swear before a large part of the ceiling just disintegrated.

A boy dressed as a parody of Catwoman graceful spun through the air before his staff extended to catch him and lower him down. Tim started to get into a defensive stance when Marinette disappeared in a flash of pink light and was replaced by a girl in spotted spandex.

“Surprise.”

Just like that everything clicked into place. Every small piece he had filed away as celestial weirdness made sense. Marinette and Adrien were Ladybug and Chat Noir, heroes powered by small gods. He remembered Diana warning them years ago that these heroes were the cosmic balance of the universe. Shit. “This is a Miraculous temple.”

Kon, who hand finally landed next time him actually gasped in surprise, he probably still remembered Diana's threats.

Both Parisian's had flinched at his words. Finally Ladybug sigh as Chat tossed his hands in the air, “Of course you know that! I swear you know everything.”

“Explanations later Kitty. We need to find this treasure before those others. They are likely somewhere in this temple and we don’t know if they are still tracking us somehow.”

Tim nodded. “You’re the embodiment of good luck and this is your temple, where are we going?”

He watched as she looked around before she saw or felt something they couldn’t and took off at a sprint. Tim had thought her fast before but now she moved as if even gravity didn’t slow her. In this labyrinth of stone it took everything he had to keep up.

Then the walls opened to reveal a beautiful chamber untouched by the ravages of time. There was no dust, no moss, every surface shone as if freshly polished to perfection. At the end of the room there was a glowing pedestal with something floating above it.

Kon laughed, “You guys think this is it?”

Tim smiled, “That or a trap.”

Marinette glanced back to the American heroes, “It is both.” She stepped forward a bit to grab Adrien's tail. “There are spells here to set off traps if any kwami come to close.”

She could see Red Robin studying them as they detransformed. “Just what is a kwami?”

“We are not a what, we are a who.” Marinette turned to see the tiny horse-like Kwami scolding Red Robin.

“Kaalki, that's rude, we talked about this.” Tikki came flying over to pull the other Kwami out of Red's face.

She could hear Plagg pulling a tin of cheese out of Adrien’s small bag and inhaling it. She sighed. “I promise I will explain when we have time. Can I ask you two to stand guard while we try to disarm the traps?”

Superboy shrugged and looked to Red Robin who in turned took a slow breath before nodding.

“If you are sure you have it handled.”

“If it comes it I can just toss Adrien as hard as possible towards the scroll.”

Superboy turned quickly towards Adrien at that, “you’re okay with that?”

Her loyal kitty smirked, “If it keeps working why should I ask her to stop?”

“You know what, never mind, you both need therapy.” He turned back towards the door.

“Bold of you to assume we haven’t tried it.” She laughed as she and Adrien started to poke at the pedestal.

She saw him stiffen slightly out of the corner of her eyes as Plagg landed on the poor man's head. She didn’t think much of it until she Plagg spoke up lazily.

“If I were you Pigtails I would hurry it up a bit. You are going to have company soon.”

She tried, but it was like a tangle of threads and wires. She needed to free one specific cord but to do so she needed to untangle several others. It was a nightmare and only went as well as it did because she had practice every time Plagg had gotten into her yarn.

Adrien grabbed the item on her signal and revealed it to be a scroll. They exchanged a worried glance before quickly opening it . She started to tremble, and she saw her kitty pale.

The scroll contained a spell to control the minds and will of Miraculous users.

“Those old bastards,” Adrien hissed, “We do this job and it isn’t just worries we won’t have anymore.”

Just as she opened her mouth to try to reassure him a bullet flew past her. Looking up she saw a magical nexus confining Superboy and Red Robin nowhere to be seen, she felt him though, to her left. He had melded into the shadows.

“Drop the scroll and we let you go peacefully.”

Superboy seemed to growl, “Just why should we believe you?” She could see him straining against the magic. Just a few minutes longer and he could break free, it was meant to hold Kryptonians.

“We were hired by the Order of Miraculous. “ That had her attention, did those old men really… “Only a member of their order can use the power in that scroll, so no point in you keeping it.”

Adrien was muttering quiet curses as he roughly shoved the scroll into his bag.

“If what you say is true then we should be allies. The Order are the ones that hired us as well.”

The man laughed and she spotted a couple of his men with artifacts she recognized. They hadn’t been tracking them, they had been tracking magic, and her presence had amplified it enough for them to get a signal.

Tsk, “You really shouldn’t have said that girly.”

Oh good villain monologue, she liked those, gave her time to plan.

“Them monks warned us of some pretenders.”

She saw the magic on Superboy about to snap and smiled to Adrien.

“See, we’re to kill you on sight.”

“Spot's on!”

“Claws out!”

Just as they transformed the magic bindings snapped and the resulting light was enough to temporarily blind their opponents.

The men began to fire blindly but bullets were a poor weapon choice against the three powered heroes, one of which was completely invulnerable.

She stuck an arm out to stop Superboy from attacking as a small part of her prayed Red Robin was okay in this chaos.

Calmly through the storm of bullets she walked forward until she was close enough to grab Chat Noir's hand. They hadn’t done this often and never before had they used it on so many.

“I am Destruction, a true Guardian of the Miraculous. For your crimes against us your memories shall be destroyed.” He began to glow a powerful green.

Bullets were still being fired, magic artifacts were being triggered, but all dissolved in the green light.

“I am Creation, a true Guardian of the Miraculous. Since you were tasked to preform your crimes by others you shall be granted new memories to replace those destroyed.” She began glowing a fierce pink.

Then they spoke as one, “We are the chosen balance, our will is universal law.”

Their lights flared, combined , and took over the room. When it faded the men were gone and their transformations had faded.

Then their legs gave out and left them leaning on each other just to remain upright.

“Life with you is never boring M'lady.”

She chuckled before looking up to see Superboy and Red Robin staring.

She was glad that Red was okay but she couldn’t help but wonder where he had appeared from.

“What the ever loving fuck was that?” Red was pacing now. Is it bad she found it cute? “What did you do to them? What are you two?” He stopped and pointed at Adrien, “And what the hell is on that scroll?”

Adrien, her ever loyal yet sometimes useless kitty, just started laughing. She kind of wished he would share the joke, she could use the pick-me-up.

“If you stop yelling and sit so I don’t have to look up at you then I will gladly explain.” Was that a little harsh? Probably, but she was at the low end of energy now.

He took a deep breath before crouching like a gargoyle. It wasn’t quite sitting but she would take it. Superboy sat next to him, he looked a little lost. She would probably feel bad later.

“That was a ritual that can only be preformed by two guardian's that hold the black cat and ladybug miraculous. It works by temporarily combining the powers. This can in theory be done by one person wielding both miraculous , but that tends to throw the world into disarray, possibly even ending it.” She could remember that Wonder Women had warned the Justice League about the wish and its consequences so the concept shouldn’t be new.

“As for the men, they should be back at their camp. Any memory of finding us or the temple have been replaced by now. They will remember finding nothing but overgrown rubble.” She paused to take a breath and muster all the remaining energy she could into sounding confident. “As for who we are, we are Ladybug and Chat Noir, The true guardians of the miraculous and the gods inhabiting them.”

“And the scroll?”

“The scroll contains an ancient spell meant to be used if a miraculous user goes bad. It can take away the will and control the mind of anyone is possession of a miraculous.”

“Actually, it is dust.” She looked back with more energy than she thought she had to see Plagg with a beaming smile.

“You owe me so many Cheese pastries for this Pigtails. I have a list.”

“we can discuss it once our family is safe.”

Superboy cleared his throat to get their attention, “I don’t mean to be a downer,” he spoke softly, “but I think your light show sealed us in. I can’t see the hole he created anymore.”

Of course, to alter the memories they also had to alter reality, if someone was to come back there really would be nothing but overgrown rubble to find above ground. “Kaalki, may you please bring us to Impulse?”

“Is he famous?”

If she had more energy she might be angry, why couldn’t the tiny horse bend her weird rules just this once?

“Technically we all are.” Red Robin smiled at the kwami, “Impulse, Superboy and myself are member of Young Justice and known the world over.”

She was so thankful to the man for saving her an exhausting argument.

“Oh wonderful, It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Kaalki and I look forward to meeting this Impulse.” The kwami flew in an excited circle before addressing Red Robin again, “Would any if you happen to be unattached and looking for courtship?”

“Not now Kaalki!” Why? Why did all the kwami like to embarrass her?

“Very well my guardian. Please make note that I believe the red one to be most suitable for you.”

She felt her cheeks heat up and hoped it was dark enough that no one other than Tikki or Adrien could tell.

“The portal Kaalki.”

Portals opened up under all of them and dropped them from the ceiling of the escape vehicle. She wasn’t sure if it was an airplane or a weird space ship, but she did know that Kaalki was not getting any sugar for a long time. The kwami had purposely dropped her on top of Red Robin.

She knew she should get off the man but she was completely out of energy now. She thinks she managed to apologize but honestly the only thing she could think while drifting off to sleep was that all in all everything was working out okay.

Just the epilogue after this. I hope you have enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing.

Taglist @toodaloo-kangaroo

#maribat #timari #the lost temple #timinette #adventure #some humor #betrayal #rin writes

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i-like-plan-m · 4 years ago

Text

the wind on another star

[On Ao3]

Lan Zhan wondered if pirates, of all things, were going to succeed where dozens of far superior fighters had tried and failed to kill him before.

The wide open void of space mocked him. Millions of escape routes within sight, and all worthless to him with a sabotaged hyperdrive and navigation system. The Hanguang-Jun was stranded in the middle of nowhere and caught in the crosshairs of a rather established band of mercenaries who doubled as pirates when they were between paid jobs.

Lan Zhan stood at the helm of his wounded starship and watched the empty escape pods drift away with so much fury he half expected them to explode.

Su She had conned his way onto Lan Zhan’s ship, hacked the navigation controls to drop them out of hyperspace and straight into the heart of a company of heavily armed mercenaries, and taken the only escape pod that he hadn’t already ejected into space.

Lan Zhan’s crew was trapped. Lan Zhan was trapped-- his ship’s weapon systems were mostly offline, brought partially back to life only by Lan Jingyi’s sheer desperation and skill. It wasn’t nearly enough to keep a dozen fighter planes and two cruisers at bay.

“Ambush,” Mianmian said tightly from beside him. “This was carefully planned, Captain.”

“What did we ever do to piss off these guys?” Lan Jingyi asked over the open comms, an edge of panic to his voice that made Lan Zhan’s mouth twist. It was his fault that his cousin was here in the first place, after all; he’d offered him a position on his ship due in part to Lan Jingyi’s skills and also to get him out of Lan Qiren’s hair. Apparently a too-clever, loud mouthed teenager trapped in the peaceful City of Clouds in Gusu had driven everyone up the wall.

He’d reminded Lan Zhan of Wei Ying-- the irrepressible character, the frequent mischief, a voice that ricocheted off of steel walls like a blaster shot. He was joy and humor and noise, a welcome change from the solemn silence aboard the Hanguang-Jun. It made him think of things loved and lost, bittersweet memories that perhaps made him more lenient with Lan Jingyi than his family would approve of.

And Lan Zhan had brought him straight into a trap, likely to be picked off by power hungry mercenaries or held as a hostage.

Even as the thought crossed his mind, the control panel beeped urgently, warning him that the cruisers had locked their missiles onto the Hanguang-Jun.

So they had decided to kill him after all.

His brother would be devastated, Lan Zhan thought distantly.

“I’ve still got the sonics,” Mianmian said, strapping herself into the copilot’s seat and reaching for the weapons controls. As his security expert and weapons master, Mianmian had seen them through insurmountable odds before; she remained as cool as ever under the flashing red warning lights. “I can pick off the missiles as they come, unless they unload several at once on us.”

“Can we use them to hit first?” Lan Jingyi asked, breathing heavily as he worked in the overheated mechanical room. “No one in the galaxy can counter Lan sonic tech.”

“They’re out of range,” Mianmian said regretfully.

“They haven’t attempted to hail us?” Lan Zhan asked, staring the largest cruiser down as it loomed over them in a blatant attempt to intimidate them. He suspected there was more at play here-- cruisers like this cost serious money, and even if simple mercenary crews got their hands on one, they didn’t keep them long. But two? Lan Zhan knew a set up when he saw it.

Lan Jingyi-- their mechanic and communications officer, because he was “skilled like that”-- made a sound of disgust. “No. So much for intergalactic law, right?”

“So many for just us,” Mianmian said, scowling out the front shield. “That’s half a damn army out there.”

The Hanguang-Jun had a reputation, though. Lan Zhan and his tiny crew went where the chaos was, and recently they’d taken on a number of jobs that had required the full force of their combined skill and strategy to survive. Except they’d not only survived, they’d demolished multiple bands of the rogue mercenaries that wandered the galaxy, terrorizing the helpless colonies too small or poor to defend themselves.

Someone had been paying attention, it seemed. And they had gone so far as to plant a spy-- Su She, hired only a week ago as extra support-- to lead them to an ambush in the middle of nowhere.

No one would know of their deaths for some time; the largest cruiser had an active jammer to block any distress signals, and Lan Zhan wasn’t due for a check in with his family for weeks.

He regretted the deaths of his crew. His friends. The loss his brother and uncle would soon face. And, privately, Lan Zhan regretted that he would never find Wei Ying. The bright, brilliant boy who’d vanished entirely after the Sunshot Wars, wherein the galaxy had come together to bring down Wen Ruohan before he could harness a sun’s energy to demolish entire planets.

So much left unsaid. But Wei Ying had broken the Wen remnants out of a prison world and disappeared into the darkness between the stars. No one knew where he’d gone. If he was alive. If they’d ever see him again.

Lan Zhan, it seemed, would never find out.

“Our shields?” He asked quietly, gripping the sleek rail separating the pilots’ seats from the rest of the control room so tightly his knuckles were white.

“In tatters,” Lan Jingyi said, trying to sound brave and landing somewhere around apprehensive. “I’m doing my best, Captain, but…”

“It’s alright,” Lan Zhan said gently. “We will try the sonic cannons.”

Mianmian’s eyes flickered to him, but she kept quiet. They both knew it would only take one missed shot to destroy their ship, and they were laughably outnumbered. But the comms were open and Lan Jingyi was listening intently from the engine room, so they kept their mutual understanding nonverbal.

“Well. It’s been an honor, Captain,” she murmured, too low for the comm line to pick up.

“For me as well,” Lan Zhan said, and dropped his hands to the pilot controls. He would try to help Mianmian dodge missiles as best he could, despite the futility of the situation.

The beeping became frantic, screaming in urgency as the second cruiser locked onto them. The cockpit was dim, lit only by the flashing warning lights that cast them in hues of red.

They waited, braced for the first burst of light that would signal a dispatched missile, surrounded on all sides, caught in a killing field with no way out.

Three bright souls on the cusp of darkness, facing a death that would leave them floating adrift in the eternal expanse of space. Not so terrible an end, he supposed, for a crew of wayfarers.

Mianmian suddenly jerked in place. “What the...?”

Lan Zhan’s attention snapped to her, wondering if he’d missed the beginning of the execution. He followed her baffled gaze, and then froze at the sight of a mid-sized, battered red cruiser dropping out of hyperspace, right on top of the armada.

He knew that cruiser. Had seen it only once, when a small collection of Wen prisoners had boarded it in the midst of a fierce storm with a slender, defiant figure guarding their escape.

The Yílíng Lǎozǔ drifted casually along, drawing the attention of the armada when its heavy artillery cannons dropped into active position. Half of the mercenaries turned their starships around to face the new threat.

“Is that who I think it is?” Mianmian whispered. Lan Zhan could not answer, though the hope in her voice matched the rising sun of his own.

“Is what who you think it is? What’s happening?” Lan Jingyi asked. They didn’t answer, too focused on the Yílíng Lǎozǔ and its unhurried course through the mercenaries’ ranks. Neither took much notice when he skidded into the cockpit to join them, breathing hard with wide, fever-bright eyes.

MianMian made a noise low in her throat when one of the cruisers disengaged their missile lock and turned it onto the Yílíng Lǎozǔ. “They’re going to get blown into pieces, why aren’t they moving out of range?”

Lan Zhan didn’t even notice the moment he stood, so tense his bones felt as though they’d shatter into pieces at a single touch. Wei Ying, what are you doing?

As if in answer, the largest cruiser angled to give chase to the Yílíng Lǎozǔ-- and exploded so abruptly and violently that Lan Zhan nearly staggered back in shock. Mianmian swore in mingled fear and delight, and Lan Jingyi exclaimed similar feelings at the top of his lungs.

“They dropped mines, did you see that?” She asked, leaning forward with bright eyes. “Completely off the radar-- we didn’t get so much as a blip, and this radar’s the only damn thing that is working on this ship.”

“Wei Ying has always been inventive,” Lan Zhan said, chest tight with something huge and undefinable.

“Fucking brilliant is what he is,” Mianmian said, and then made a face. “Don’t you dare tell him I said that.”

That implied Lan Zahn was going to see him, which promptly overrode every other thought in his head and made him feel as though he’d been struck in the head with a Lan sonic cannon.

Debris from the destroyed cruiser littered the battlefield, briefly hiding the Yílíng Lǎozǔ from sight.

“They won’t fall for that trick twice,” Mianmian muttered, leaning forward. “Careful, now.”

And then, so suddenly Lan Zhan and Mianmian made twin noises of shock, the starships closest to the Hanguang-Jun exploded. He thought at first it was another trick with the mines, but--

A ripple of darkness rocketed past the nose of their ship, far too fast to track. It was utterly undetectable except for the trail of destruction it left behind. The starship moved at impossible speeds; not even the Nie’s most advanced fighters could move like that, and they were the foremost engineers in the galaxy.

It took another moment, during which starships blew up like a pre-planned chain reaction, for Lan Zhan to realize there were two of these ships-- starfighters, combat aircraft built for speed and stealth. They worked off of each other like they were a hive mind, targeting clusters of enemy ships and annihilating them with some unknown invisible weapon that pulverized the ships into fragments.

A series of explosions along the remaining cruiser nearly tore it in half. Lan Jingyi whooped as it careened wildly out of control and erupted into blinding light.

Lan Zhan’s focus, though, was drawn inexplicably to the shimmer of darkness flitting through the ranks of the armada, slipping into impossibly narrow spaces, performing acrobatics that only someone absolutely fearless would even dream of.

Wei Ying had always taken “attempt the impossible” to heart.

“Look!” Lan Jingyi exclaimed, pointing outside their windshield to a furrow in the black void of space. A third ship, this one hovering just beside the Hanguang-Jun as a clear threat-- come any closer, and you’d be decimated like the rest of the ruined armada. Lan Jingyi waved, and the ripple of black dipped low and then back into place.

“What kind of weapon is that?” Mianmian wondered, watching in awe as a single shot from one of Wei Ying’s starfighters dissolved a starship into particles.

Lan Zhan remembered Wei Ying’s theories on dark matter, and he wondered.

It did not take long for the battle to end. None of the ships even had a chance to escape, and any that tried were chased down within a few heartbeats and destroyed.

The communications system blipped as the two starfighters finished off the remaining enemies. Lan Jingyi looked at Lan Zhan in question, who nodded and waited for him to open the channel to say, “This is Lan Zhan, Captain of the Hanguang-Jun.”

“Hello, Captain,” someone replied. A young man, by the sounds of it, and politely cheerful. “Our captain has asked me to escort you to the Yílíng Lǎozǔ, if you are amenable.”

That was almost certainly not the way Wei Ying had likely worded it. Lan Zhan found himself wanting to smile. “I am amenable,” he said. “My ship is badly damaged and in need of repair.”

“We can help with that,” the boy replied, and was then interrupted by a voice that made Lan Zhan’s stomach swoop violently.

“Lan Zhan! Are you really going to let me put my grubby hands all over your shiny ship?”

He closed his eyes, emotion swelling in his chest. “Wei Ying can put his hands on anything of mine he wishes,” he said calmly, and meant every word.

He heard a squawk, a faint crash followed by an angry beep, and then a third voice calling in concern, “Wei-gongzi!”

“I’m fine, Wen Ning,” Wei Ying said hastily. Lan Zhan eyed the small piece of debris spinning away into the void, as though it had been clipped by the wing of a starfighter, perhaps.

“Ah,” Wei Ying laughed. “Lan Zhan, I didn’t expect you to have jokes now! I’ve missed a lot, it seems.”

“I have missed more.” Too much, if Wei Ying had made advancements like this; he’d clearly discovered some secret to the universe and left the rest of them far behind.

Lan Zhan had let him slip between his fingers once before. He was tired of being left behind.

“Wen Qing is bringing the Yílíng Lǎozǔ to you,” Wei Ying said with more warmth than Lan Zhan deserved. He had, after all, let Wei Ying down all those years ago. “I’ll see you soon, Lan Zhan.”

“Soon,” Lan Zhan agreed, and let the comm line fall to silence.

Soon. He felt his heart skip a beat in anticipation. Soon he would be face to face with Wei Ying again, the boy he’d loved and lost before he truly understood the potential for what it was, too busy being offended by the concept of his own stupid infatuation.

Soon, Lan Zhan thought again, and his tiny, hopeful smile was witnessed solely by the blanket of darkness and the glittering, luminous lights of a nearby star. A secret of his own, held between him and a universe full of possibility.

#my fics #my writing #the untamed #wangxian #wei ying #wei wuxian #lan zhan #lan wangji #space drama #lan jingyi #mianmian #luo qingyang #wen ning #wen qing #wen yuan #a yuan #lan sizhui #mdzs #ficlets

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jobrookekarev · 4 years ago

Text

I Choose You and Our Baby Too

Chapter: 1/1

Words: 3700

Summary: “Are you out of your mind? We're not making a baby,” Jo said as her laughter paused and she smiled. “Because we already made one.”

‘I Choose You’12x03 AU where Jo is pregnant.

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy.

Relationship: Alex Karev/Jo Wilson.

Characters: Alex Karev, Jo Wilson, Stephanie Edwards and Arizona Robbins.

Rating: General Audiences.

Additional Tags: Fix it, AU, Fluff, Babies, Pregnancy.

Read at AO3

Read at FFN

AN: This is one of my favorite Jolex episodes!

……………………………………………………………………

“Oh, wow,” Stephanie said, genuinely speechless for the first time that Jo can remember as she reacted to the news of her pregnancy. “When did you find out?”

“This morning,” Jo said as she leaned against the counter, remembering the pregnancy test she had taken before work.

She had known something was off for the past week and then she didn’t get her period. Jo had tried to ignore it for as long as possible, that’s how she found the papers for Alex and Izzie’s embryos. After that, she couldn't ignore it and took the test. The positive pregnancy test and the papers were a double whammy that left her breathless.

“How do you feel?” Stephanie asked, worried for her in a way she usually wasn't.

“Like I want to puke,” Jo said, looking down at the sink in front of her. Morning sickness she had morning sickness.

“Are we keeping it, the pregnancy?” Stephanie asked, leaning back a little as she thought Jo might vomit.

“Yes, I want to,” Jo paused, she had asked herself that same question that morning. It wasn’t like last time, she was safe and her baby's father was a good man. She knew that when she told him what she wanted he would step up and be a father, but it was all so soon.

“So we’re happy about this?”

“I want to be, but it’s so unexpected and I’ve barely had any time to wrap my head around it.”

Stephanie paused and tilted her head. It seems like she had a string of endless questions. “What did Alex say?”

“I haven't talked to him yet.” Jo sighed as she looked down, thinking she might actually puke now. She told Stephanie first because Stephanie was her best friend, her person and Jo knew that she would know what to do or at least how to help her come to terms with it.

“You have to talk to him, today,” Stephanie insisted, Jo knew that she was right, but telling Alex would just make it all too real.

“Why today?” Jo asked looking back at Stephanie. “It's not like I wanted this to happen.”

“Jo, you have to talk to him,” Stephanie said firmly.

“I know.” Jo sighed as she turned away from the mirror and grabbed her lab coat before walking out of the bathroom.

She knew that telling Alex would be a good thing, but the paper gave her more questions than she knew what to do with, she had to know how he felt before she told him and she had to know about the embryos. Jo was so deep in thought as she walked through the halls of the hospital that she jumped when Stephanie locked arms with her.

“Look, I know I said that if you let Karev throw a baby in there, I would never forgive you,” Stephanie said, referencing their conversation a year ago. “But I do forgive you and I'm here for you.”

“Thank you,” Jo said with a nod, she took a deep breath as they walked forward and Stephanie squeezed her arm.

“Come on, I'll put you on my service today, nothing too hard, Chief's orders,” Stephanie said with a smile as she led them down the hall.

……………………………………………………………………

“Hey,” Alex said as he got on the elevator and greeted Jo before turning around and looking up at the floor signs.

“Hey.”

Alex did a double take when he saw her expression. She stared at him, but her eyes were glazed over and her lips were parted in a frown. It was the expression that she had when something was wrong and it always set his alarm bells ringing.

“What's the matter?”

“Nothing,” Jo said, blinking and shaking her head as she turned to look straight ahead. Alex let it go for a moment, knowing she would talk when she was ready and she did, turning back to face him. “Do you want to have kids?”

“I... I don't, uh... know.” Alex faltered over his words. Her question threw him for a loop and he wasn't sure how to respond. “Uh, yeah. I uh, do you... now?”

“Or ever? I don't know, just is it something that you want?” Jo said with a shrug as she tried to seem apathetic about it, but Alex could tell that she was serious. “Yeah, now, or ever. God, Alex, it's a simple yes or no question.”

“What the hell is going on?” Alex asked, he watched her face go back to that expression and he regretted being so blunt with her as she got squirrely.

“Nothing, I just,” Jo sighed, shaking her head. The elevator bell dinged as the doors opened and she walked away. “Nothing.”

Alex knew that she was lying. He had messed up when he floundered with his answer. She wanted something more definite, a yes or no. Alex went to go follow her, but the elevator doors closed in his face. He went to the next floor and then took the stairs back down. Alex looked around and he didn't see Jo, but he did see Stephanie at the nurses’ station.

“Edwards where’s Jo?” Alex asked, putting his hands on his waist.

“She is… not here,” Edwards said slowly and he could tell that she was trying to come up with something he would believe.

“I can see that,” Alex said, before shaking his head and rubbing his hand over his face. “Look, I just want to talk to her.”

“Jo’s not feeling well. I'll probably send her home, but she's in the Residents Lounge right now,” Edwards said as Alex nodded and let her go.

He considered going to the Residents Lounge and seeing if Jo was okay, but Robbins paged him to the NICU. He decided to give Jo a little bit of space and go home that night to check on her. In the meantime, he went to the NICU to see the twins and to talk to Robbins. She would know why Jo was being all weird about kids.

……………………………………………………………………

“Little girl's going into renal failure.”

“Boy's lungs are crapping out fast.”

“Maybe we'll get lucky and the parents will be a match,” Arizona said as she grabbed a fresh pair of gloves.

“Jo hit me up about having kids today out of absolutely nowhere,” Alex said, as he hung the bag of fluids. “Is that what happens? You shack up, and then suddenly your ovaries go into overdrive?”

He didn’t understand it. Things were great, they were in a good place. They just finished the loft. They were establishing their home together. He was happy just the way things were and so was she, or so he thought. He knew that Jo sometimes needed a little extra reassurance about her place in his life, but this wasn’t it. This was baby talk and Alex was nowhere near ready for that.

“Aw, I think you'll be a good dad,” Arizona said with a smile. “Your babies will be so foul-mouthed and dirty and cute.”

Alex smiled and shook his head. Arizona was right, his and Jo’s kids would be cute and foul-mouthed and he did want that, someday. “I just didn't think we were there yet. I don't know if I am. Definitely didn't think she was.”

Arizona gasped, her smile falling as she froze. “Alex.”

“What?”

“What if you're already there?” Alex’s face fell and he looked up as Arizona continued, her voice getting lower as she spoke. “What if she's asking cause she's already knocked up, and she's just testing the waters?”

“Why would you even say that?” Alex said panicking as he thought about it.

Jo couldn’t be pregnant, could she? They were so careful with contraceptives, Jo was on the pill and they both worked to ensure she took it every day at the same time. He knew there was a chance, a 1% chance, that the pill wouldn't work, but he didn’t think.

But Jo was tired, she had been sleeping in more the past few days. Her breasts were sore, she had complained when he touched them last night. She was feeling nauseous and had been picking at her food the last few days. Alex knew she was due to get her period this week and had stocked up on her favorite snacks, tampons, and pain meds. He had washed her favorite blanket and the cover for the hot water bottle and she had curled up on the couch with both last night. He thought she just had PMS, but the symptoms also aligned with Jo being pregnant.

“We tested the parents,” Warren said as he and DeLuca walked over to them. “The results are back.”

Alex shook his head. Jo and their potential baby would have to wait while he tried to save the twins. He would go home tonight and talk to her, but in the meantime, he worried.

……………………………………………………………………

Jo heard Alex put his keys and coat on the hook by the door, but stayed curled up on the couch. She took a deep breath and looked down at her notes. This was it. She knew she had to talk to him tonight.

“Hey,” Alex greeted her with a simple acknowledgment.

“All nighter?” Jo asked, still looking down at the notebook in her lap.

“Yeah, and I need to go back. I just need a couple of hours of sleep,” Alex said, as he sat down on the bench at the end of their bed and rubbed his face.

“Can we talk?” Jo asked, she was hesitant as she turned her head to look at him.

Alex dropped his hand from his face and rubbed his hands on his jeans. It was what he did when he wasn’t sure what else to do. “Yeah.”

Jo nodded as she got up and came over to him the piece of paper in her hands.

“Okay, yeah. Are you…”

“I found this,” Jo said, handing him the piece of paper. She had to deal with this first before she told him. She had to know if he had kids, if he wanted kids with her. “I was unpacking, I, uh, wasn't snooping. I know it's kind of none of my business, but I picked it up, and then I just couldn't put it down.”

“Oh, okay, this.” Alex nodded as he read over the paper as if it was nothing.

“You have babies?” Jo asked, she knew he didn't seem like the type of guy that would have a secret family or have kids he didn’t see, but she didn't know what to think when she found the paper.

“No, no, these are embryos,” Alex said with a chuckle.

“With Izzie?”

“Listen, Izzie wanted to freeze her eggs. She needed them fertilized. I did it, she froze them. That's all.”

The way Alex talked about the embryos was as if they were nothing more than the piece of paper he was holding, instead of a dozen frozen embryos in a lab somewhere that Izzie could use at any time. It was like a second shoe just waiting to drop and destroy the life that she and Alex had created together.

“That's all?” Jo asked a little astonished at how little he cared about this.

“Yeah, then she left me. That's all, you can toss it.” Alex said, handing her the paper.

Jo took the paper back and looked down as Alex took off his other shoe. “So, you wanted to have babies with her?”

“Yeah, I, I don't, I don't know. I mean, that was, that was a hundred years ago.”

Jo watched Alex fumble over his words as he looked up at her before going over to the fridge and grabbing a water bottle.

“I'm just asking because when I asked you if you wanted to move in with me, you said that you did and that you could picture a life with me, but you never said anything about babies. You said, maybe we could get a dog,” Jo said as she followed him into the kitchen.

“Do you want a dog?” Alex asked, looking confused and it killed her.

“No, I want to know what we're doing here.” Jo insisted. She had to know what he wanted, what his intentions were with her before she told him. Because if this wasn’t what he wanted then it changed everything. “I love you, and you love me. I know, but when I look ahead,”

“Why are we looking ahead?” Alex interrupted, but Jo continued.

“If you had or maybe you do have, for all I know, a bunch of Izzie babies walking around with your face on them,” Jo said, closing her eyes for a moment, waving her hand around.

“And why are we doing it now?”

“And, and I'm just the ‘let's get a dog’ girl? I'm wondering what you think we are, what you want.”

“Look, I didn't have babies with Izzie. My role in that whole thing was with a cup and a magazine.”

“But you would have,” Jo stressed, trying to get him to understand her perspective in all this. “You wanted to. She was worth it to you, but when I ask you if you want to have babies, you're all, ‘I don't know, yes, no, maybe, uh…’”

“She was my wife. We were married,” Alex said, slamming his hand down on the table.

“That's my point,” Jo said, raising her voice. “What am I?”

“She had cancer. She didn't even know if she was gonna be able to after the radiation,” Alex said walking away from her and going to sit down on the bench at the end of their bed.

“No, don't do. What, I have to get sick to figure out if you're gonna go all in with me?” Jo asked, watching him put his shoes back on as she crossed her arms. “And now you're gonna go.”

“Yes, and you're right, it's kind of none of your business,” Alex yelled as he put his coat back on. “And I'm not doing this! I'm not talking about babies that I didn't have with Izzie or may or may not have with you. I have two real babies I'm responsible for at the hospital right now. I have enough kids to take care of.”

Jo put her hand over her mouth as she turned away from the door hearing it slam shut. It hurt to hear Alex say that and to watch him walk away from her. Callie once said that when dating Alex Karev, Jo would always have something to be mad about and she was right. Usually, Jo took her anger out in the OR helping Torres break and fix bones, but her pregnancy left her exhausted. All Jo wanted to do was curl up in bed with Alex. Instead, she was in the Loft all alone.

She felt like she had more questions and answers about whether he was all in or not because he did have a baby with her. Soon the baby in her belly would be a baby in her arms and she didn't want to keep fighting with Alex. So she put the paper away and went back to studying. Tomorrow the twins he was taking care of would be in their parents' care and Jo would still be pregnant and she and Alex could talk about it then.

……………………………………………………………………

After a day like today, the only thing that Alex wanted to do was go home, grab a beer, sit on the couch, and watch whatever sports team was playing. Or at least that’s what he used to do, but now he had Jo. Things were different, a good kind of different. He would go home and they would try not to make a disaster out of dinner. Then he would wrap his arms around Jo and pull her in to sit next to him on the couch. They'd argue over what to watch before they settled on something, but it wouldn’t be long before they started kissing and tearing each other's clothes off. At last, Alex would crawl into bed with her and kiss her one last time before he fell asleep. That was how he loved to end his days and he wanted to spend the rest of his nights like that.

With how things had ended last night, Alex knew he had to make it right with her. Jo was the best thing in his life and he wanted a life with her. Alex wanted a family and he wanted kids, not with Izzie, with Jo. She was worth fighting for, but he hated fighting with her because it meant he couldn't go home and sleep in her arms. He never wanted to spend another night without her next to him. This life, this family with Jo was what he wanted.

Alex opened the door to the Loft and walked over to stand at the end of the bed for a moment thinking of what to say. Jo was studying, monopolizing the whole bed with her books, and notes, and multi-colored pens, that wouldn't all get picked up and would definitely end up poking him at four in the morning.

“You okay?” Jo asked, not looking up from her notes.

“Yeah,” Alex said, waving his hands around and trying not to feel or look like an idiot. “Look, about last night.”

“No,” Jo said interrupting him and cutting him off. “You said it's none of my business, so, it's...”

“Well, it's not,” Alex said, putting his hands on his hips and trying not to fidget with his hands or his words. “And it is, it's. Look, I get mad and, and you get squirrely.”

“I do not,” Jo said, throwing her notebook and pen to the side.

“No, you get squirrely when someone says they're gonna be there, and then you think maybe they won't. That happens. You're allowed.”

“Okay,” Jo said, putting down the rest of her books and leaning forward to listen to him.

“I'm not going anywhere. And if, if,” Alex trailed off as he struggled with the words, and took a deep breath. “Having a kid is what you want, then I can be ready.”

Jo raised her eyebrows and tilted her head as she looked at him. Alex took this as a sign to keep going and pulled his T-shirt out from where it was tucked into his pants.

“I'm ready. I mean, let's do it,” Alex said as he rushed to undo his belt and his pants, pulling them down and letting them drop to the floor. Standing there in his boxer briefs, his pants around his ankles he smiled at her and tilted up his chin. “Let's make a baby, right now.”

Jo burst out laughing, her hysterics surprised him as he stared at her. Usually, when Alex dropped his pants, Jo would smirk and jump his bones, not laugh at him.

“Are you out of your mind?” Jo laughed as she smiled for the first time that day. “We're not making a baby.”

Despite how happy Alex was to see her smile he was a little confused. He thought this was what she wanted. He thought that this was what she had been alluding to wanting yesterday.

“We're not making a baby,” Jo said as her laughter paused and her smile softened. “Because we already made one.”

Jo let her words hang in the air as Alex stood there with his pants down, staring at her. He blinked once, then twice before he tried to take a step towards her, only to get caught in his pants and tripped. Alex caught himself and jumped forward until he could jump on the bed and pull Jo towards him. Her smile was gone and she stared at him with her lips slightly parted. It was that unsure expression again and this time when he saw her face his heart broke.

“We made a baby, you're pregnant?” Alex asked, trying to wrap his head around it.

At first, he thought she wanted kids, then he thought she was pregnant. Then he thought she was just mad because of the embryos, because she wanted to know what their future would look like, and now she was telling him that she was pregnant. The day had been a roller coaster of emotions, everything with the twins. After saving Emma Kiefer and holding Daniel Kiefer as he died. Alex made a decision, he wanted a family with Jo. Yet here she was, having been carrying their baby all along.

“Yes.” Jo breathed out, her breath hot on his cheeks.

“We made a baby,” Alex smiled as wide as he could. He let the excitement fill his voice as he placed a hand on Jo’s stomach. It was still flat like it always was, but she was pregnant.

“We made a baby, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you for the past few days. I just, I wanted to make sure you wanted one too,” Jo explained, in a whisper, still a little hesitant.

“We made a baby,” Alex said again, still in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Jo said, tilting her head as she watched him take it all in.

“If we're gonna do this I promise not to get mad if you promise not to get squirrely,” Alex nodded, he knew that he had to do right by Jo and their baby. “And we’re both going to talk things through like adults, no more misunderstandings.”

“I promise,” Jo said, a smile blooming across her face.

“Okay,” Alex said, smiling as he leaned in to kiss her belly. “Hi baby.”

Jo put her hand on the back of his head running her fingers through his hair and Alex looked up to see her eyes watering as she smiled down at him and he sat up and kissed her lips. This was what he wanted, a life, a family, a baby with Jo. It was all supposed to be with her.

#alex karev #jolex #grey's anatomy #stephanie edwards #arizona robbins #otp: home and heart #grey's anatomy fanfic #my writing #my work #my fanfiction #jo wilson

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cozy-the-overlord · 4 years ago

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Dances and Daggers

Summary: The Summer Festival is upon Asgard, as is the tradition of the dagger ceremony, where each unmarried gentleman chooses a lady to bestow with the honor of carrying his dagger for the night. As Prince Thor’s betrothed, Teki’s only goal is to accept his dagger with grace and hope that her violent stepfather doesn’t find fault with her in the process. But Prince Thor is unpredictable, and when he ignores his engagement on a whim Teki finds herself in a desperate situation. Luckily, Thor isn’t the only prince in Asgard…

Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character

Chapter 15: The Truth

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Word Count: 3,000

Chapter Summary: Teki finally gets answers.

A/N: The beginning of this chapter turned out decidedly more Mockingjay than I intended ... that wasn’t on purpose, but I guess it’s fine. Also, we’re nearing the end, guys! I can’t believe we’ve only got three chapters left :(

Thanks for reading!

TW: Mentions of violence, child abuse

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae @moumouton4 @berriemalfoy @whatafuckingdumbass

if you want to be tagged, feel free to just send me an ask/message! :)

Read it on Ao3!

Teki had wings.

Big, beautiful wings, more ornate than any butterfly, sprouting from her back and extending high above her head, a kaleidoscope of different colors swirling around her as she soared higher and higher into the paint-splattered sky. She flew with the ease of one who had flown all her life, drifting down the air currents and landing to rest on a gossamer cloud, so high in the atmosphere that when she peered over the edge she couldn’t even see the ground.

It’s real! she thought as she floated so far above the world, I’ll have to tell Brant!

For a while, she was safe on her cloud, breathing in the crisp air of a world beyond concerns, her gorgeous wings basking in the glow of a billion little stars.

Until she wasn’t.

Without warning, the cloud dissipated from beneath her and she was tumbling head over heels down to the fast approaching terrain, nothing to grab on to, nothing to stop it. Her wings turned to dust at her side. Gravity cackled as her final scream ripped from her lungs.

Her eyes popped open. Her vision was awash with a burning orange light, but she didn’t need to see to feel the cold metal pressing around her neck. In a rush, she remembered Osvald’s hand at her throat, squeezing tighter and tighter. She clawed at the metallic piece, gasping in a frenzy, but it didn’t budge.

What did he do? What did he put on me?

A figure appeared in her periphery, hands reaching out towards her throat. Teki shrieked—or she tried to, at least. The sound that came from her mouth was rough and weak, more like a harsh gasp than a proper scream, but the effort of it seemed to tear her vocal chords to shreds. She coughed uncontrollably, even as she writhed away from the reaching hands.

“Lady Tekla, calm down, you’re safe.” The figure held her wrists down, pulling them away from her neck. “Don’t try to speak. Just breathe, my lady. You’re in the healing ward. You’re safe.”

Gulping, Teki laid back. She was in the healing ward, wasn’t she? She recognized the golden lights on the ceiling. The woman sitting next her was draped in blue robes, smiling reassuringly. But… why was she here? In all the times Teki had gone to the healers after something Osvald had done, she had never stayed longer than a few hours. Her hands returned to the metal thing at her neck.

“What—” she rasped before the healer hushed her once again.

“Don’t try to talk,” she said firmly. “Not for a little while. Not until your throat has been healed. Your injuries were severe enough that we were concerned about overwhelming your body if we attempted to heal them all at once. We decided to focus on your ribcage first.”

Teki’s hands flew to her abdomen. The burning pain that set her chest on fire was nowhere to be found. She heaved a sigh of relief.

“We’re going to give you a bit of time to recover from the exhaustion of the healing before we work on your neck,” the woman continued. “Until then, you’ll have to wear this brace, to keep things from getting worse. You understand that?”

Teki jerked her head, as much of a nod as she could manage. A part of her brain still felt as if it were floating in the clouds. Had that all been a dream? She couldn’t wait to tell Brant about—

Brant!

She shot up again, this time coughing out her brother’s name. Once more, the healer shushed her, pushing her back into the pillow.

“Brant is fine,” she assured. “He just had a bit of a bump on his head, but he recovered .” She pulled the covers back over Teki’s chest. “You’re very lucky your stepfather got there when he did.”

Teki froze. What?

The healer didn’t seem to notice her bewilderment. She only patted her knee. “I’ll be back to check on you in a bit,” she said. “Try to get some sleep.”

She watched the woman in blue walk away with a tightness wrapped around her heart. Of course her mother would never tell the truth about what happened inside their apartment. But Teki could only ponder what possible story she had told instead.

Luckily, this wasn’t a mystery for long. Her mother came to visit that afternoon, seemingly with the sole purpose of coaching her on what to say happened.

“You opened the apartment door to find an intruder,” she whispered huskily into Teki’s ear. “He demanded you bring him all the jewelry in the apartment. When you refused, he attacked. You screamed, Osvald ran in, and rescued you and Brant. The intruder fled. You understand that?”

Teki only stared blankly into the distance. It was just a lie, just another lie she had to tell to maintain her mother’s dream. Really, it was no different than what she had been doing her whole life. But there was a sour taste in her mouth that had nothing to do with her injuries. She wanted her to paint Osvald as the hero. She wanted her to be thankful for him, to praise him…

Her mother bristled at her silence.

“You realize how important this is?” she hissed, leaning in. “If the royal court thought there was something wrong with our family, they’d throw us out. Void your marriage contract, take our apartment, and abandon us. Do you know what I’ve had to do to get us to this point?”

Empty vials flashed through her mind.

I have an idea.

Áslaug huffed. “Are you truly so selfish that you’d destroy all of our lives—you’d destroy your brother’s life—just because you don’t want to do something?”

Teki turned away, as much as she could with the brace. Including Brant was low and her mother damn well knew it. Had she always been this manipulative, and Teki was only now seeing it?

With a sigh, her mother rose. “I have to go,” she said emotionlessly. “I hope you feel better tomorrow.”

Teki watched her glide from the room without a sound, the picture of dignity. There was something different in the air, something heavy. Even as Teki tried to relax into her pillow, it weighed on her chest, pulling her deeper and deeper away from the golden lights, until the glow of the healing ward had been replaced with something far more prismatic.

The Rainbow Bridge still gleamed at night, but it was a quieter sort of gleaming. There was no horseback riding this time, no princely arm wrapped around her waist, just Teki and her unhurried step, her shift fluttering around her knees in the spectral breeze.

The path to Himinbjorg was miles long, yet Teki crossed it barefoot in a heartbeat. A figure stood in the center of the golden dome, a horned silhouette that seemed not to have budged one bit since the last time she had walked through those doors.

You’re not asking the right question, he had said. She had stormed out in frustration. What question could he want? What question could possibly be more direct than “where is he?”

But now, she understood. When Heimdall turned, his armor glittering with the reflection of the moon-kissed night, she spoke before he could even open his mouth.

How did my father die?

The gatekeeper said nothing. He lifted the great sword and settled it into the mouth of the platform as the lightning crackled. Around them, the Bifrost whirred to life, burning brighter, brighter, brighter…

Teki blinked when the light holding her in place dissipated without warning, washing her surroundings away with it.

She was standing in the living room. Her living room, on the first story of her family’s apartment. And yet, it was different. The olive curtains hadn’t yet been changed to garnet, a decision that followed Teki’s engagement announcement. The couch hadn’t yet been reupholstered. Instead of her mother’s liquor cabinet, a piano lay nestled in the corner.

The dinner table was set for two. On one end, her mother fussed with the cutlery, her silky hair running down her back in an elegant braid. She ran her fingers across the rim of her goblet, expression distant and unreadable. She perked up when the stairs creaked, someone shuffling down from the upstairs bedrooms. The man turned the corner with a casual stride, pushing the hair out of his muddy brown eyes with hands that Teki had once covered with hers, long ago when she would curl up in his lap on the piano bench and breathe in his soft melodies. Her heart caught in her throat.

Daddy…

She tried to run to him, hug him, call to him, please, but she remained glued in her spot on the other side of the table, her voice frozen in her throat. The scene before her had already played out. Teki could only watch.

Still, her eyes burned with pinpricks of tears as he stood just beyond her reach. Daddy, her mind cried as her father surveyed the room, Daddy, I’m right here.

Steinn didn’t hear her. He stopped just before the table, eyebrows raised as he studied the display before him. Her mother beamed up at him with her angelic grin.

“Good evening,” she smiled.

He hesitated for a moment, searching her face for... something. Teki wasn’t sure what. Nor could she tell whether he found it there.

Still, he sank into his seat. “Good evening.”

Áslaug reached for the plate of bread without taking her eyes off her husband. “Is she in bed?” she asked conversationally.

He nodded. “Yes. Fast asleep already.” A smile ghosted at his lips as he cut his meat, mirrored on Teki’s face. Me! He’s talking about me! “It was a big day for her.”

Her mother shook her head. “You spend too much time in town with her.”

“At least I spend time with her.”

They lapsed into silence. Steinn fumbled around with his food, very pointedly avoiding his wife’s gaze. Áslaug didn’t move. She seemed to be waiting for something.

When that something never came, she inhaled with artificial cheeriness. “How’s your writing coming along?”

“Well enough.” He took a gulp of his wine, then with a sigh turned to look at her. “Áslaug, you’re wasting your time.”

She cocked her head, still smiling. “Am I?”

“I’m not signing off on that proposal.”

Teki’s mother huffed. “I don’t understand why not. You’re always so concerned with Tekla’s well-being. I can’t imagine anything that would better safeguard her future than a marriage to the future king.”

He groaned. “You want to force a lifelong role on to her before she can even write her own name—”

“You’re being dramatic!” she snapped, waving her hands above her head. Teki flinched. “What if she wants it? What if she wants to be queen? What if we’re depriving her of a dream?”

“She’s a child. Right now, her dreams consist of flower picking and extra slices of cake.” Steinn rolled his eyes, taking another sip of wine. “She’s not capable of making that decision yet, and I have no intention of making it for her.”

“You are making it for her! You’re taking away her chance at royalty—”

“And you’re taking away her ability to control her destiny. Are you truly so desperate to mother a queen that you’ll run the risk of forcing her into a position she doesn’t want, married to a man she doesn’t love, trapped for the rest of her life?” He laughed bitterly, wiping the sweat from his brow. “I thought you of all people would understand what that’s like.”

Áslaug glared at him. “My father worked hard to get this offer from Odin. Do you know how many strings he had to pull, how many favors he had to cash in to—”

“I couldn’t care less.” Her father’s cheeks were flushed. He wiped his brow again before continuing with conviction. “She’s my daughter. I won’t agree to it.”

“Very well.” The statement was resigned, but her mother stared at him with a sort of barely masked excitement. His hands were trembling.

“Are you feeling all right, Steinn?” she asked, leaning forward delicately on her knuckles.

Her father looked up abruptly. “What?”

“How are you feeling?” Áslaug leaned her head to the side. Her voice was still innocent, but her smile was quickly morphing into a smirk. Teki’s stomach gurgled with dread. “A tad warm, perhaps? Chills? A bit of a headache?”

Steinn’s eyes widened. He jerked away from the table. “What did you do?”

“Nothing much.” She pulled the empty vial from within her dress, rolling it between her fingers. “Just gave your wine a bit of flavoring. Embers of Frost. It’s all the rage, I’m told. The woman I got it from said it would be lethal in half an hour.”

It seemed to dawn at him all at once. In a panic, her father stumbled to his feet, knocking the chair over in his haste to reach the door. Teki whipped back to her mother, who seemed unbothered in her seat, a smug grin on her face.

The door swung open before Steinn had the chance to twist the knob. Teki’s blood ran cold as Osvald stepped into the room, calm as can be as he blocked the exist, his eyes glittering like volcanic rocks. Her father lurched backwards.

“Steinn,” Áslaug called out from the dinner table. Her voice dripped with false regard. “I’d like to introduce a dear friend of mine, Lord Osvald Audinson.”

Her father surveyed his successor with wild eyes, sweat dripping down his temples. “Which one are you?” he asked.

Osvald grabbed his shoulders. “The only one that matters.”

Teki nearly screamed when her stepfather jerked him to the side, but instead of tossing him into the wall, he simply steered him back into the table and plopped him into his seat like a rag doll. Osvald remained standing behind the chair, a villainous snake posed to strike. Steinn’s collar was soaked. He shook profusely as his wife stood.

“Now, my sweet husband, I do have the antidote right here”— Áslaug brought out the burgundy vial, shaking it between her fingers like a toy rattle. Teki’s father lunged for it, but Osvald yanked him back, holding him to the chair—“which I would be quite happy to share with you if you would just be so kind as to take my dictation for me.”

He was gulping air now. “What dictation?”

Áslaug pushed aside the dinner plates, sliding an inkwell and a sheet of blank paper before him. “We’re separating, darling. You’re dissolving this marriage right here and now so we can both move on with our lives.”

“All this for a queen?” he panted, leaning against the table for support. “You’ve gone mad!”

“And you’re going to be dead soon if you don’t do what I say.” She tapped the page. Reluctantly, Steinn took the pen in his shaking hand. “Now, write this: I, Steinn Kjellson…” She went on, reading from a folded page in her hand as he struggled to keep up with her words. When she got to the part addressed directly to Teki, he stiffened.

She rolled her eyes. “What’s wrong now?”

“You—” he choked on his words. “Áslaug, please. You think about her—Teki—you take care of her—”

He sounded so broken. Teki tried to reach out to him again, blinking the tears from her eyes. How many times had her mother tried to tell her that he left because he didn’t love her? Because he didn’t want to see her again? And here he was, even at the end, begging for her safety and her well-being.

I’m sorry Daddy, she sobbed in her silent prison. I love you so much. I’m sorry. She prayed that somehow, he could hear her.

But he only groaned when Osvald smacked the back of his head. “You’re running out of time, friend.”

Straining, Steinn finished the last few lines.

Teki’s mother scanned it, nodding approvingly. “Good. Now sign it.”

He did so, a scribbled signature that left him absolutely breathless.

“There.” His skin was slick with sweat, his chest heaving up and down as he collapsed into the chair. “The antidote. Please.”

She turned the vial between her fingertips, picking at the wax holding the cork in place. A horrible smile stretched across her cheeks.

Teki knew what was coming, but still she shook with silent sobs. Don’t do it. Mama, please don’t do it…

“I think not.”

Steinn shrieked in horror. “Áslaug!”

“You made your bed, darling.” Her mother turned to walk away. “Now sleep in it.”

Her father sat there for a moment, eyes bugging out of his head. One last gasp, he lunged for her mother across the table. He didn’t even make it out of his seat before Osvald had him in a chokehold.

Teki couldn’t look away fast enough.

She screamed at the sickening snap, at the thud that echoed through her bones as her father fell to floor. She was still screaming when the scene faded away into the night as she came to, thrashing in a knotted mess of bedsheets and nightclothes, her throat burning something horrible as the harsh sound ripped from within.

They killed him! They killed him!

Besides her, someone made a gentle shushing noise she barely heard over the sound of the blood rushing to her head. Cold hands hovered at her side, holding her flailing arms to the mattress.

“Teki,” a familiar voice whispered, tinged with fear. “Teki, it’s all right. It was only a dream. You’re safe.”

The sound cut through her panic like a silver knife. Teki turned to the right, wondering if she was still somehow trapped in her mind. But there was nothing imaginary about the emerald eyes that shone through the dark.

Her heart leapt.

Loki.

#loki marvel #loki fanfic #loki x ofc #dances and daggers #dances and daggers chapter 15 #the truth #cozy writes

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keelywolfe · 4 years ago

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FIC: Just Swimmingly ch.4 (BAON)

Summary: Jeff doesn't know where they are or where they're going, but he knows one thing. It's probably not good.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Additional Tags To Come

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

By the time the van came to a stop, Stretch still hadn’t woken up. Not that it mattered very much, there wasn’t a thing Jeff could have done to change their situation. At the moment, they were very much outnumbered, overpowered, and even if he’d had a clue where they were, it wouldn’t have done them any good. Before they dragged him out of the van, one of the thugs yanked a bag over his head. Blinded, he struggled to stumble along as two guys pulled him out, trying not to cry out as they led him barefoot across crumbling asphalt into a building with rough carpet.

He kept as quiet as he could, trying to not only listen in case they said anything useful, but also for Stretch, praying to a God he hadn’t spoken to since he was fifteen and his father threw him out that they didn't hurt Stretch. Jeff could survive a few bumps and bruises, but he didn't know how much Stretch could withstand. Intent was key when it came to Monsters, he knew that much, and these guys seemed to have plenty.

At first, he tried to keep track of where he was being led. An impossible effort when the twists and turns of being dragged along left him too disoriented to know his way up or down. They seemed to walk forever until his captors suddenly stopped and Jeff was shoved down into a chair. Rough hands grabbed at him, rope suddenly binding his wrists and ankles. He didn’t struggle as he was tied, only tried to tense his muscles as much as possible, some shitty internet meme he vaguely remembered reading said that it could help slip free later.

Turned out memes weren’t the best source for escape plans. When they were done, Jeff subtly tried to move and the best he could manage was a painful rope burn. The ropes felt like they were wound through the slats in the chair and unless Houdini decided to make good on his possible return from the other side, Jeff was going nowhere fast.

He could hear their captors moving around, muttering too low to be understood and the other sounds might have been more rope. Tying up Stretch, maybe, he hoped that’s what it was; at least if they were together, that was something, hell, that was everything right now.

The bag suddenly getting ripped off his head made him gasp, flinching from the glaring light pointed directly into his face. Squinting, he could barely see the shadowy figures standing behind it, but he was sure he could see a cell phone pointed in his direction.

“Say your name,” a rough voice demanded.

“Andy—” he began automatically. “No, Jeff, I’m sorry, Jeff! My name is Jeff!” There was nothing else and Jeff shifted, grimacing as the ropes dug in. It was on the tip of his tongue to go on, to blurt that he worked in public relations, that he was nobody important and not worth ransoming. He bit the inside of his lip to keep those rambles from pouring out. Partly because it was probably stupid to tell kidnappers your value or lack thereof, and partly because of Edge. He’d always told them to never offer more information than was necessary and yeah, he’d been talking about board games at the time, but Jeff doubted that Clue was where Edge learned that particular rule. If these assholes wanted more info, they could damn well ask.

Either his name was all they wanted or they already had whatever other info they needed. Jeff didn’t even have a chance to try squinting through the too-bright light when one of them came towards him and yanked the bag back over his head. He sat there, sweat beading on his face and his own breath threatening to smother him as he listened to their captors moving around next to him.

“He can’t talk,” one of them said disgustedly. “He’s still wasted.”

Stretch. That meant he was right next to him, thank fucking god.

The rough sound of a slap made Jeff tense, protests bitten off when the same voice cursed and there came the sound of someone rubbing their head, “What the fuck, man!”

“That’s exactly how we want him, dumbass! He doesn’t need to talk, all they need is a good look at him. Come on, they’re waiting.”

Footsteps and then the sound of a door closing. Jeff strained to hear if anyone was still in there with them around his own breathing loud in his ears, his pulse thundering. There was nothing, no shuffle of feet against the floor or the creak of a chair. Jeff waited a little longer, curling his chilly toes against the rough carpet.

Nothing. Jeff took a long, slow breathing, trying to calm his racing pulse. He needed to be cool right now so he could try to think of something. Even if the Embassy was willing to give these assholes whatever they wanted, they sure as hell couldn’t count on that saving their lives. He was no strategist, his degree was in sociology, for fuck’s sake, but. Stretch always called him Handy Andy and it made him feel like someone different, someone braver who could stand up to a violent asshole on a bus and help Stretch with crazy experiments involving swinging bottles of Diet Coke rigged with automatic mentos dispensers. Jeff might not be the best for this situation, but Andy was sure as hell gonna try.

“Stretch,” Jeff said softly. He waited for someone to shout or a slap followed by a demand that he shut up. When none came, he went on, soft and urgent, “I know you can't hear me, but, just in case you can. It's gonna be okay. I know you're big on promises and I'm promising you right now we're getting out of this. I promise you." If he could glean anything of what Jeff was saying, he hoped he could hear that much. At least maybe he wouldn't be afraid.

"i sure hope so, i didn't get this far in life to get dusted by a low rent group of third rate scooby doo level villains. seriously, they tied us up with rope, were they out of packing tape at ‘kidnappers ‘r’ us’ or were they just eager to try the knots they learned in boy scouts before they got kicked out."

Okay, that wasn’t quite the last thing he’d expected, but it was close.

"Stretch?" Jeff gasped out. He couldn’t see a damn thing through the bag, but he could hear a muted popping sound. Suddenly, the bag was gone, far gentler than before and then he was blinking up into Stretch’s smirking face.

Jeff looked around a little wildly and next to him was another chair, the still-tied ropes hanging from the rungs in loose coils.

“yeah, sorry. i woke up back in the van, didn’t want to tip them off. wherever they buy their roofies must not have given them a dosage chart.” Stretch settled his hands on Jeff’s shoulders. “hold still, this is a lot easier than fighting with knots.”

It was the gentlest and shortest teleport he’d ever felt. Only a brief disorientation and when his vision cleared, he was sitting on top of the ropes that had just been binding him.

Jeff scrambled to his feet, swiping his sleeve across his sweaty forehead. Holy shit, maybe he should take up praying again more regularly, this was the fastest service he’d ever gotten. “Can you get us outside?”

His heart sank as Stretch shook his head. “that's gonna be a no. with the bags on our heads, i couldn't see where we are. shortcutting is tricky, it's dangerous to teleport blind. that's how you end up stuck in walls or halfway inside a table or some shit.” Stretch waved a slender hand at the chairs. “dangerous, not impossible. a few inches above where i was sitting was a pretty safe bet to get out of the ropes, but anything else is more likely to get us dead than on the street.” He frowned, glancing around the room thoughtfully. “plus, i'm not going anywhere without a little intel. they’re fucking idiots, but they knew enough to drug me and how to do it. that's not information you can just look up on a wiki-how.”

“Okay,” Jeff took a deep, steadying breath. "So, what do we do, then?” He glanced at the door. “Can you pick locks?"

"sure,” Stretch said absently. He was looking around the room. It was a storage room of some sort, there was more dusty furniture aside from the chairs, including a rickety desk, and metal cabinets lined the walls. “but i can't do much about the door being barred. i heard something get braced against it when they went out.

"Oh. Right."

“yeah,” Stretch agreed, “at least one of them has a brain cell or two rolling around up top, enough to get them this far. but the road trip is over and it’s time to pay the tolls.” Stretch shook his head disgustedly. "first rule of kidnapping is never leave the kidnappees alone. seriously, i'm getting my cues from netflix and even i know that.”

His eye lights paused in their survey of the room, brightening. Jeff followed his gaze and saw in one corner there was an honest to god old-fashioned rotary telephone pushed into the far corner of the desk, nearly buried under the clutter.

"can't be that easy, can it?” Stretch marveled. He picked it up the handset and held to his skull, then sighed unhappily. “nope. no dial tone, no surprise there, no one has a landline anymore. don’t you worry though, little phone.” Stretch gave it a soft pat. “you’re gonna be real useful in just a minute. seriously, this is just embarrassing. my first kidnapping attempt and they locked us in a room with an entire arsenal.”

“I must be missing the vendor in the corner willing to hand over gear if we do a mission for them,” Jeff joked weakly.

“everything is an arsenal if you’ve got the skills.” Stretch rummaged through the desk and came up triumphantly with…a paperclip? He set it on the desk, adding a pencil, some scotch tape, and what looked to Jeff like an old tube of superglue. “kidnapped by the ebott equivalent of the america’s dumbest criminals, fuck me. edge is going to be up my ass for a month.”

“I don’t think you’re giving him enough credit.” It was easier to be calm in the face of Stretch’s ease. “I think six months is the bare minimum.”

“i really wish you weren’t right.” Stretch glanced around the room again, this time directing his gaze upward. “hm, that’ll work.” Tall as he was, the ceiling was still out of reach even for him. Stretch pulled one of the chairs over, ropes trailing behind it like tentacles, and stood on it, reaching for the smoke detector. Jeff could only blink in confusion as he yanked it right off the ceiling.

"You're going to burn down the building?” Jeff asked. Not that he didn’t trust Stretch, but, uh, that seemed extreme for a first escape attempt. “That’d get us out, but I don't think we'll be any more alive."

"nah, just need some parts,” Stretch jerked his head towards the door. “keep an ear on the hallway, will ya, in case they remember that leaving us alone is probably stupid."

“Got it.” Jeff went to the door but before he could press his ear to it, Stretch called his name.

"hey, kiddo, i'm gonna get us out of this." Stretch offered him a familiar, lopsided smile. "i know i don't look like much, but i've been known to keep my head in a bad situation."

"You already saved me once,” Jeff said honestly, "why wouldn't I believe you now?"

Stretch’s pale eye lights flickered with memory, his expression briefly tightening. How did he remember that horrible night in that parking lot, Jeff wondered, what nightmares haunted Stretch’s sleep? He knew something happened after the ambulance took him away, but he’d never heard the entire story. After he’d been released from the hospital, he’d been wrapped up in healing enough to start his new job at the Embassy and as time passed, he hated to ask, didn’t want to dredge it all up again, not when everyone was slowly getting past it. Besides, the others had their own shit to deal with, what with the attack in California and everything happening in Ebott. His trauma was his to handle and that was the end of it.

At the desk, Stretch got to work, humming the ‘mission impossible’ theme under his breath as he dissected the phone and smoke detector with a makeshift screwdriver made from a bent paperclip taped to a pencil. His hands were as deft and easy as any demonstration he’d done for the local kids and Jeff could only marvel at his ease.

“How can you be so calm?” Jeff blurted, wincing even as the words escaped. He hadn’t meant to say it, didn’t want to distract him. Stretch only flicked a glance his way, both browbones raised.

“me?” Stretch snorted, “i am not calm. beneath this gorgeous cookie crust exterior is a honey pie of a person who would start shitting themselves if i could grow the prerequisite equipment. but we're gonna be okay.”

“How do you know?” Jeff hated the faint pleading in his own voice, he shouldn’t be distracting; Stretch was as stuck here as he was and with his HP, it was even worse. He was supposed to be the one helping Stretch, he’d promised, and the best he could do was lookout.

“you seriously think red isn't already on it?” Stretch asked and as terrifying as Red could be, thinking about him right now eased some of the aching fear that was settled in Jeff’s stomach. “all he needs is a clue and we’re gonna get him one. i only hope he can keep edge from razing the city and salting the earth beneath it until then. people might be a little tetchy about that and i’m not even sure you can come up with a press release that’d cover ‘sorry about starting city-wide armageddon, my bad.’”

Before Jeff could think of a reply to that, either an agreement, or a protest that a little chaos could be excused considering the circumstances, he heard footsteps coming from down the hallway. Panicked, he hissed out, “They're coming!”

“fuck, okay, okay.” Stretch scrambled over and set some kind of contraption on the floor near the door that was all waggling wires and circuit boards. He grabbed Jeff by the wrist and dragged him along. “over here, come on, this a harder trick, but you can do it. i need you to hold as still as you can. if you move, they might see you, you get me?"

Jeff managed a hasty nod as Stretch shoved him into a corner, cramming them both in tight, out of the way. "don't move, don't talk,” Stretch reminded him, a low murmur close to his ear. The slim, bony arms around him were comforting and even knowing that Stretch couldn’t physically protect him, having him towering overhead as he caged Jeff against the wall felt oddly safe.

Then something happened. He didn’t know how to describe it. It felt like a heavy curtain fell over the world, everything going distant and muffled, even his vision greying like he was about to faint, only he’d never felt so awake. There was a sudden popping explosion as the door swung open and collided with Stretch’s contraption, but it sounded miles away, the kidnappers’ curses as muffled as if they were speaking from another world.

He didn’t move, held perfectly still even as that curtain slowly grew claustrophobic, nausea starting to churn. Jeff closed his eyes, swallowing convulsively and just went he thought he couldn’t stand it a moment longer, that he either needed to move or he’d start screaming, it was suddenly gone and Stretch was stepping back.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Stretch was pale, sweat showing visibly on his skull. "are you okay?" Stretch asked.

“Me?” Jeff blurted. He caught hold of Stretch’s arms to brace him as he wobbled on his feet. “I’m fine, what about you!”

"i’ll be okay.” Stretch wiped his face on the sleeve of the crummy shirt he’d been forced into with a grimace. “i pulled us halfway into the void. it works, but it burns a lot of juice. the assholes booked it out of here, but more importantly, they left the door open."

The door was opened, they could leave, and yet, Jeff found himself blurting out, “They’ll get away!”

“no,” Stretch said grimly. “they’ll look for us first, thinking we couldn’t have gotten too far. these guys aren’t gonna ditch and run that fast, they know too much. think about it. drugs work on monsters but how do they know what kind and how much? lucky for me, skeleton monsters are different. our systems are finicky, we’re hard to drug. whoever tipped them off about how to roofie me didn’t know that.”

His sockets narrowed suddenly, Stretch turning away to look in the rusty cabinet next to them. “oh, honey,” he said gleefully, “jackpot.”

Jeff joined him, peering into the cabinet as Stretch cautiously wrenched it open. “What did you find?”

He held up a bottle of bleach and said, smugly, “just some nice, normal household chemicals. they can be lots of fun if you know how to mix 'em up and i'm a one hell of a bartender. but first.”

On the desk was another little contraption that was mostly wires and tape. Stretch picked it up and walked over to squat next to a wall outlet. Carefully, he pushed it into the socket. There was a sputtering spark and a tiny red light blinked to life.

“there we go.” Stretch stood, dusting off his hands. “i don’t even want to think about how pants-shittingly angry edge probably is right now, but we can’t let them get the ransom that asgore is probably going to pay and we sure as hell can’t let them get away.”

He grinned then, wickedly sharp for all that his teeth were blunt. “so, how’s about we have some fun, yeah?”

Jeff nodded determinedly. Fuck, yes. If he was going to add to his repertoire of nightmares, he was damn well going to make sure someone else paid for it, in spades.

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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subtlereferencetomyinterests · 4 years ago

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Hypothetically,

Ao3, MasterPost

Relationships: Romantic Intrulogical, Platonic Logince

It is about! Damn! Time! That I wrote some Intrulogical! Also, y’all already know my stance on platonic logince,,,, guys they ARE best friends i’m sorry I don’t make the rules.

Warnings: Angst (with a happy ending). mentions of stuff like autopsies and nuclear explosions in the context of like experiments- they do stuff in The Imagination, basically. Panic attack (?). Hurt/comfort. Pretty heated kissing; It’s more intense makin’ out than I usually write but it isn’t anything explicit at all, don’t worry! ADHD Remus and Autistic Logan. Cursing- like So Much Cursing. Mentions of space, deep sea, etc. Food mention.

Word count: 6,769

There was a conundrum.

A., Logan needed to use the Imagination. B., He could not use it on his own, considering that he was Logic. C., Roman was nowhere to be found. The answer to what was frustrating Logan at that moment would be all of the above.

To be clear, he didn’t like going into the Imagination. It was simply the only suitable place to perform his ‘experiments’. His very necessary, very distracting experiments. But, as stated, Roman was God-knows-where doing God-knows-what.

Logan sighed at the door, as though it was the inanimate structure’s fault. The cracks gleamed obnoxiously bright, golden light pouring out from behind the door in a somewhat eerie manner. It was a nonsensical, unrealistic, completely insignificant place, and he wanted in.

Logan was contemplating asking Janus for help (lies took imagination, right?) when, out of nowhere, an arm was thrown around his shoulders. Literally an arm, disembodied and oozing sick-smelling blood onto the carpet. Ah. Wonderful.

“Hello, Remus,” he pulled the appendage from around him, holding it at arm’s length (no pun intended, dammit).

“Hi!” Remus took his arm back and reattached it with a disturbing crunch, a grin stretching his face. He sidled up to Logan, imitating the side’s stance in front of the door.

“Can I help you with something?” the logical trait tilted his shoulder away from where Remus had pressed against him.

“Not unless you’re willing to get really messy- but I can help you!”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re implying.”

The Duke rolled his eyes, promptly flinging the door to The Imagination open. An encompassing energy radiated into the common room, corrupting the usual neutrality of the space. It didn't last long before Remus grabbed Logan’s wrist and dragged him along through the entryway, movements as sporadic and fast-paced as everything else about the creative.

“It’s not very logical to just stand there staring at the door all day, in my opinion. I dunno what you need Imagination for, but whatever it is, I can help! My half is much more interesting, anyway.”

“Oh,” Logan blinked, narrowly ducking his head under a branch as he was pulled forward, “Thank you, I suppose.”

He politely didn’t mention that he doubted Remus’ capacity for helpfulness. Beggars can’t be choosers, after all.

The door from the commons was quite a walk from the darker half of The Imagination, but at the pace its owner had them going they were there in minutes. The border was marked with tangles of densely thorned shrubbery, which parted for them, as if they sensed the approach. Logan just barely avoided snagging his shoe on one as they passed.

There was forest, twisted and shadowy, for only a minute. After that, they were in a city, with tall buildings and winding streets and dark alleys. Another switch, they came into what seemed like an amusement park. Nothing was consistent in theme, and none of the scenes held up for more than a minute or two. Remus shook his head and tisked. With a snap, a good portion of the ever-changing scenery was erased, leaving blank white space. The Duke turned to look at Logan with a satisfied smile.

“Ta-da! What do you need?”

Logan blanched for a moment, surprised at Remus’ willingness to completely delete Imaginings without a second thought. It usually took Roman ages to find a spot that he was okay with giving up on for Logan’s “projects”- which he always had thought was a little silly, seeing as he could bring it back when they were done. The change of pace was a pleasant one, though, so there was no need to dawdle for long.

“I need a miniature fully-functioning model of our solar system. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Oh, totally,” Remus waved his hand and the request appeared suspended in the air, spread out to be the size of a dining table. All was accounted for- sun, moons, eight planets plus pluto- orbiting and spinning around each other. Imagination, by nature, had no real limits, but the detail was still a sight to behold every time. Logic smiled, surveying the set-up, before gesturing to the edge of their blank section.

“Thank you for the help, you may go.”

“May I now?” Remus conjured a seat for himself, staring at Logan with his chin resting on his hands, “You’re not even going to tell me what this is for? That’s just rude.”

Logan glanced up from the tiny earth he was inspecting, tilting his head to the side in confusion.

“You are welcome to stay, if you wish, but your brother usually leaves at this point. He says my experiments are-” he summons his notebook, “‘Bore-ifying’, which I assume is a portmanteau for ‘boring’ and ‘horrifying’.”

“Roman’s a big baby!”

Logan shrugged, not disagreeing, and resumed his careful observation of the tiny model earth. Remus made no move to go, wheeling his chair even closer. The scientific side carried on before his new audience of one, hovering a hand over the little planet. Abruptly, it stopped spinning. Logan made a gesture with his hand that magnified the model significantly.

The results were immediately catastrophic. Logan jotted a few observations down in his notebook, watching closely at the ways torrents of wind ripped up trees and buildings. In the back of his mind, he was faintly impressed by just how well-rendered ‘Dark’ Creativity’s earth was, down to the individual humans, brutalized by the storms.

“Whoah, what the fuck?!”

Logan looked up briefly to see Remus craning his head over the destruction of the stilled planet. His eyes were wide and bright with curiosity.

“Oh- I should probably explain. I come here, usually, to run some improbable scenarios as a sort of stress-reliever. Specifically, this one is what would happen if earth stopped spinning on its axis. As you can see, due to the earth no longer rotating at its usual speed, the wind would continue on at-” he cut himself off abruptly, sensing the beginnings of a ramble, “I’m sorry, I’ve been told that I have a tendency to ‘go off’ when a subject particularly interests me.”

Remus rolled his chair even closer, looking much like an excited animal (more so than usual, anyway).

“Well then, go off! Don’t leave me hanging! Is that really what would happen, just if it stopped?” He gestured enthusiastically to the way that the oceans had begun to crash against and consume shorelines. He looked interested- genuinely interested.

Logan bit back a smile. He didn’t have to be told twice.

It was one of those particularly restless nights. For no foreseeable goddamn reason, Logic’s mind had become alight with enough half-formed thoughts and barely sensible ideas to fill a very, very weird book. The Imagination did wonders when he got like this, but it usually wasn’t two in the morning when he needed to use it. That wasn’t to say the circumstance was unheard of, but all times prior he could push the urge to investigate away with the reasoning that he could just ask Roman in the morning, and that the Creative side needed his ‘beauty sleep’, as he called it. There wasn’t anything he could do about that, was there?

Tonight was different. Logan could hear the occasional snap or tear or cackle from the room across from his. Remus’ room.

It had been less than a week since The Duke let him use the darker half of the Mindpalace, and that was pretty much the only meaningful interaction they’d had in as many days. They weren’t close, Logan wasn’t even sure if they were friends (not that he was a good judge of that, given the first time Roman referred to them as ‘besties’ he had all but cried), but Remus was at the very least an option. He was also unlikely to mind, given that he was already awake and had exhibited excitement previously.

Logan made up his mind after yet again failing to fall asleep. Quietly, he opened his door and took the few short steps across the hall, raising his fist. Remus’ door was open before his second knock.

“Oh, hey! What are you doing, coming knocking at this hour?” he didn’t even try to whisper, accompanying his statement with an over-exaggerated wink. Logan didn’t waste his time trying to shush the side.

“Good evening, I hope I’m not interrupting anything-”

“You know I don’t mind your ‘interruptions’, Twunk-y Megamind!”

“-But I was wondering if you would… Help me, again. I seem to be having a hard time getting to sleep, and I think that getting out some of my ideas could help.”

Remus’ face lit up dramatically.

“Oh hell yes! Are we gonna blow up more planets?”

“Something like that,” he kept his voice monotone, disguising the relief and hint of pride at such a positive reaction.

“Well, come on!”

Logan let himself be dragged into Remus’ room, barely having time to make note of the surprisingly organized layout before he was pulled through a sleek black door.

“But you have to tell me about it,” he ordered, twisting them through narrow paths in his half of The Imagination. Logan suppressed a smile.

“If you want to hear it, then I’m happy to.”

Without warning, they stopped the breakneck pace that Remus moved at. The trait seemed appeased with their surroundings, though as far as Logan could tell it was just another piece of ever-shifting ominous landscape.

Remus snapped his fingers. The scene remained intact.

“Sorry,” he glanced around nervously, “Things get stuck in my head sometimes. Can’t get ‘em out. I’ll get it, I just-”

“It’s no trouble.”

Logan rolled up his sleeves. He didn’t like using his ‘abilities’ much, as every side had some set of special skills, and all of them were much too ostentatious. But they were helpful, at times. He waved a hand, gesturing carefully so that he didn’t dismantle any more of The Imagination than was absolutely necessary. With a small stutter, the landscape shifted to a blank slate.

When he looked back up, Remus’ expression was not unlike that of a Cheshire cat.

“What was that?”

“I am Logic, therefore it follows that I am the antithesis to any Imagination creations. It’s very easy to erase them with just a bit of rationality.”

“No clue what a lot of those words meant, but it’s still cool that you can destroy shit.”

Laughing was unbecoming, to say the least, and so the logical trait tended to avoid it at all costs. The snort that escaped him was entirely involuntary.

If Remus noticed the noise, he said nothing about it. He was too busy bouncing from foot to foot, expectantly waiting for instructions. Logan cleared his throat of the outburst and clapped his hands together.

“Alright, let’s start with something simple…”

At his request, Remus would construct immaculately detailed creatures, settings, and models, watching gleefully at the ordeals Logan put each one through. They tested various and progressively elaborate ways to sink populated cruise liners, they simulated the effects of falling from the Empire State Building, dissected approximations of obscure marine animals (a shared special interest of theirs, apparently), and any of the other unrealistic questions that occurred to the typically rational Logic.

The only way to get such questions from his mind, he’d found out a long time ago, was deconstructing them one step at a time, to see them in their full ridiculousness.

It was also, he was coming to realize, incredibly fun.

Before the two knew it, the already late hour had turned unreasonable. Logan blinked owlishly at his watch, distracted from the tiny supernova that he’d created.

“Oh, I must have lost track of time,” four in the morning. Four in the morning!

“Aw, does that mean we’re done?” Remus whined, yet he still began unmaking his small star system.

Logan was suddenly very aware of the heaviness of his eyelids and a rubbery feeling in his limbs. God, was he tired.

“I’m afraid so. I really should’ve gone to sleep hours ago.”

“Fine,” Remus dragged the word out with a groan, “But let me know next time you wanna fuck with space, or deep sea stuff, or anything like that.”

Next time.

As much as Logan adored Roman, there was something very nice about having the more grim brother help him out with these experiments. For one, his creations were often much more accurate to the real world- likely because gore and destruction were that much more impactful when they were realistic. For two, he actually seemed to enjoy the work.

Logan’s deliberation was brief.

“I will.”

As it happened, the night spent delving into dozens of ideas had purged Logan’s need to use The Imagination, for the time being. Clearly, Remus was not patient enough to wait for him.

He popped up, unannounced, in Logic’s room.

“Lo!!!”

The trait in question fell out of his office chair in a very undignified way. Not that there’s a particularly dignified way to fall out of a chair, but if there was, this definitely wouldn’t have been it. He ‘ate shit’, as the saying goes.

Out of pure embarrassment, Logan made no move to get off the floor.

“Hello, Remus,” he greeted, “How may I help you?”

The Duke laughed raucously, sprawling into the now-unoccupied chair and leaning over him.

“You’re a riot, Dork,” then, added with glittering eyes, “Did you break anything?”

“No. Given that I am metaphysical, I’m not sure that I have bones.”

“I have bones!”

“Are they your bones?”

“They are bones and they are in my possession, yes.”

Logan let the subject drop and repeated his first question.

“Right, I forgot! I have an idea for an experiment!”

Logan thought that, despite his mild humiliation, it would probably benefit the conversation if he wasn’t lying on the ground, so he stopped doing that. Brushing mostly imaginary dust from his clothes, he shot Remus a bemused look.

“That’s nice. But I was asking you why you were here.”

The Duke’s face fell, almost imperceptibly.

“I thought you’d wanna know, because of what you said last time. Isn’t this, like, a thing we do now? You know how shit works, and I know how to make that shit, and then you can tell me about it!”

Oh.

“Remember when you were talking about radiation the other day? You can’t just say stuff like that and then not expect me to want to try it out, so really this is on you. It’d be dumb not to let you in on it.”

Oh.

He’d been listening to that rant? Moreover, he’d remembered it, and now had his own ideas and follow-up questions about it?

Logan felt light-headed.

“You’re probably too busy with work, huh? I guess my explosions don't have to be accurate, if you’re set on being boring,” Remus’ tone was nonchalant, but he was obviously lingering for attention. Logan then remembered that words are a thing, and people use them to communicate.

“No! I mean, yes- I mean, I’m not busy. I can join you, I- I’d like to, even,” the intelligent side heard a small voice in his head, his own miniature Virgil, screaming- what the fuck was that, get it together, Jesus, because he, despite what his fellow sides insisted, was absolutely nonfunctional when trying to form a friendship.

Remus didn’t seem to notice or care much past his own cheer.

“Cool!” he, yet again, wasted no time in seizing Logan’s arm and yanking him away, “I wanted to see what would happen to animals and plants and stuff bunches of years after lots of radiation! Do you think they’d mutate? Get all twisted and fucked up so that they aren’t even recognizable as, say, a dog?”

Logan considered the question as he was led through the Mindpalace.

“Well, nothing would be able to live there at all. Additionally, anything within a little under a mile of the nuclear fallout- depending on a few variables- would be completely incinerated upon impact.”

“Like, flesh-melting incinerated?”

“More like vaporized. The fireball would burn 10,000 times the heat of the sun.”

Remus went starry eyed, bringing them to a halt a mere five feet from the door.

“I wanna see that,” he waved his hands around at their surroundings, “Can you do the white-out thing?”

Logan, much less hesitant than last time, obliged. A small smile escaped him at the wondrous look on The Duke’s face. It was another form of expression he didn’t particularly care for, but containing his emoting was more trouble than it was worth by now. He couldn’t find it in him to care much either, for once.

“Where do we start?” Remus prompted.

“You tell me. I will help you make it as accurate as possible, and provide any insight that you want, but it is your idea,” and he wanted to hear more about those ideas. Odd and violent, mesmerizing and clever. There was so much that he wanted to hear about, to talk about, to puzzle out together.

Logan couldn’t remember the last time he’d had someone to share such interests with. Maybe, despite how deeply he cared for his ‘family’, as Patton called them- maybe it was never.

Remus chattered as he worked, disrupting the train of thought. Logan almost tuned it out- after all, everyone had grown perfectly used to The Duke’s rambling- but he caught himself. That was hardly how he should treat the side that was so strangely considerate to him, wasn’t it?

Logan listened from then on. He began to add on to the conversation, corrections and elaborations and actual questions, because he actually didn’t know some of it. He didn’t regret the choice.

By the end, Remus and Logan were sitting together in the smoldering ruins of their make-believe test town, exchanging notes for different variables they could use in the next trial. They only stopped when Logan was abruptly summoned away by Thomas. He excused himself, a bit apologetic, promising to visit again soon.

As he helped Thomas (with what really should have been a simple task, honestly), Logic wondered briefly about the origins of the hollow feeling that grew in his chest. Something distracted, longing, and unfamiliar.

And then the oven caught fire, and the only thing he felt was annoyance with the man that he was somehow a component of.

So, that was that- Logan and Remus were friends, now spent regular time together, and shared interests. By all accounts, it was a simple and obviously positive development.

But then there was Roman.

“What’s wrong with my work? You’d really prefer whatever edgy 12-year-old DeviantArt account nonsense that he thinks up?”

Logan set his book down with a sigh and looked over to his doorway, where Roman stood with his hands on his hips.

“Come in, Roman, and thank you for knocking,” he snarked. The Creative side made a vaguely sassy noise, trotting right in and flopping backwards onto the bed. Without closing the door, the monster.

“I thought that building your Weird Science contraptions was our thing.”

Logan made a show of standing up and manually shutting his door before responding.

“You don’t like my ‘contraptions’, as you call them.”

“Yeah, but I still made them for you! Because we’re friends, but I suppose you’ve forgotten all about that!”

He really should have expected the melodrama. And yet, Logan had lived in a delusional world where he didn’t care about the most Extra being on earth.

With an eye roll, Logic dropped down beside Roman on the bed- though he wasn’t half as flamboyant about it.

“I can have more than one friend.”

“Yeah, but I’m supposed to be your favorite! We’re supposed to hang out together! Do the friendship bracelets I made mean nothing to you?”

He flung his arm across Logan’s chest, a ‘friendship bracelet’ clearly visible on his wrist (a loose usage of the term, given that it was a solid gold band with inlaid sapphires, because of course it was).

Logan held up his arm as well, showing that his (silver with inlaid rubies) was still very much in use, despite his distaste for jewelry.

“We hang out plenty. It wasn’t my intention to hurt your feelings by spending time with your brother. My reason for doing so is that he seems to take active enjoyment in building and learning about these things with me. He also makes very good conversation, in regards to the more, ah, eccentric experiments.”

Roman tossed his head to the side to watch Logan with narrowed eyes. After a pause, he linked their arms at the elbow.

“Yeah, you would think that. You’re secretly just as much of a weirdo as him.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Oh please, I can barely keep up with a word that either of you say,” Roman headbutted Logan’s shoulder in what was likely another of his odd displays of affection. He let his head rest there for a minute, a rare instance of peace before he inevitably resumed talking.

“Anyways-”

“Anyway,” Logan corrected.

“Anyways, if you nerds wanna talk about your weird, creepy experiments, then I guess that’s fine. But he isn’t allowed to co-opt anything else that we do together that we both actually like- no making fun of movies together, no Crofters jams, and no poetry-slash-rap battles.”

“Of course not, Roman. You will always be my favorite person to disagree with.”

“Love you, too,” Creativity bumped him again, then sat up to stretch. Logan snorted a laugh and considered shoving Roman off the bed, watching as he raised his arms up and straightened his back. Before the trait had the chance, unfortunately, his friend was already standing.

“Leaving already? Weren’t you just going on about spending time together?”

“Nah, that was all I wanted to yell at you about for now. I’ve gotta go help Pat with dinner.”

“Well, don’t let me keep you.”

“Thanks, I won’t.”

“I hate you.”

“Ditto.”

Halfway out the door, Roman threw a glance over his shoulder.

“Oh, and whatever you two end up doing, do not give me the details. Please.”

Okay, finally, that really was that. Friendship established, blessings given, the end. A simple symbiosis.

Logan was thinking about the practical uses of medieval torture devices? Remus. He wanted to see exactly how long it would take your average healthy adult to succumb to drowning? Remus. Logan wanted to just rant, about anything and everything, his brain moving a mile a minute? Remus. They spent an inordinate amount of time together.

Occasionally, when he didn’t even have the energy to converse, he would sit down with a book in the commons when he knew Remus was there and let the trait’s never ending word-vomit wash over him. It was an odd sort of intimacy, but that fit within the theme of their dynamic. Like he said, simple symbiosis.

And that was when the not-very-platonic fondness grew. And Logan, to his own surprise, allowed it to.

After deep consideration he had seen no reason not to; Remus wouldn’t judge him, not ever. It put a name to the hollow longing that occurred whenever he, eventually, had to get back to work and part from their talks.

He hadn’t sorted out what to do about the feeling yet, but he felt no urgency.

Logan’s book lay forgotten in his lap, that morning being one of the quiet ones as he reflected on his unfamiliar emotions. It was almost nice, letting such affection curl up in his chest and settle there.

His contemplation was broken by a sharp jab to his shoulder.

“Are you listening to me?”

He tilted his head at Remus.

“Sorry, I got distracted.”

“What were you thinking about?” his eyes lit up, very obviously hoping for it to be something disgusting. Logan glanced away, given that he didn’t even like eye-contact in the best of circumstances.

“Nothing important. You have my attention now.”

Remus rolled his eyes with a huff, apparently genuinely irritated.

“Well now I forgot what I was saying.”

“Let’s backtrack: what were you talking about before?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s fine, we can talk about something else.”

The irritation had grown to something unrecognizable to Logan- frustrating, given how closely he tried to study body language. He felt a stab of guilt as Remus stood up from his spot.

“It probably didn’t matter. I’m gonna go annoy Janus.”

“Oh,” Logan’s voice was small, “Alright, then.”

He was already gone.

That was… concerning. Not to mention bewildering; Remus didn’t just pass up opportunities to talk! He didn’t just leave, not even when he wasn’t wanted! Logan really hadn’t thought his zoning out would earn such a reaction.

But he was far from perceptive about emotional problems. There was no way to know if it was anything to throw a fit over. For all he knew, it was just an off-day. He couldn’t always expect his friend to be rambunctious and energetic, even if that was a big part of his personality.

The issue would likely resolve itself.

The issue did not do that. It did the polar opposite, speeding from mildly concerning to downright frightening at a whiplash-inducing pace.

Remus barely asked questions and almost never offered insight, as he usually did when they spent time together. In fact, his contributions had become rare and unenthusiastic enough that he could have passed as neurotypical, however disturbing the thought was. And that was when they did end up spending time together, which was becoming less and less often, much to the dismay of one significantly smitten smart side.

Something was very clearly wrong with Remus. Not the demented, destructive, mildly endearing and unhinged sort of wrong. It was the wrong sort of wrong.

Logan was hesitant to confront him outright. After a couple weeks of careful consideration, a more subtle solution occurred to him, as he idly flipped through a very graphic murder-mystery late into the night. Something bloody, and awful, and very much Remus’ taste. He set the novel down, knowing full well that his friend would be wide awake as he made his way across the hall.

“Remus?” he knocked at the side’s door, wearing a smile much wider than he usually liked. He was more than willing to express exuberance, if there was even the slightest chance that it would be infectious.

The door decidedly did not fly open. Rather, after a good deal of wrapping at it, Remus slowly pulled it back and poked his head out.

“Oh. Hey.”

Logan didn't dwell on the concern that reaction brought. He had something that would cheer Creativity up, of that he was sure.

“I have a test tonight- it’s going to be very messy,” he began, searching the impulsive trait’s eyes for any signs of interest. There was the slightest glint, but not much more.

“So, you want me to make stuff for you?” His speech was monotonous.

“Yes, that was the idea. It’s going to be gory.”

Hardly a reaction. All Remus did was open the door the rest of the way to allow Logan inside. Clearly, he had underestimated just how poorly his friend felt.

“Alright, I’ll set it up for you. Just don’t take too long, I was actually hoping to use my part of the Mindscape today.”

Logan nodded, very taken aback. He couldn’t ignore the slight hurt at the cold, dismissive tone (the irony of that wasn’t lost on him).

They stepped foot into The Imagination and immediately Remus stopped, destroying whatever had been in front of them- which was usually fine, it was just how he operated, but normally out of enthusiasm, not apathy. Maybe this was more than could be fixed with some blood and guts.

“What do you need?”

Logan conjured a tiny notebook, giving a tentative smile. Still, he was giving this plan a shot.

“Operating table,” one appeared before him, sleek metal with rolly legs, “A standard set of surgical tools,” he looked up to gauge Remus’ interest, but his expression still hadn’t changed as he continued to create, “A human corpse, and then we can get started.”

With a wave, a perfectly generic body fell onto the table, but Logan’s attention remained on The Duke.

“Great, have fun, let me know when you’re finished.”

Logan faltered, watching him turn to leave.

“You- you aren’t going to stay and do this with me?”

“You want me to?” Remus crossed his arms over his chest and fixed Logan with a gaze that could (figuratively) wilt flowers.

“I- Yes? If you aren’t at all interested right now, then I can save this experiment for another day?” Yeah, this wasn’t working, but Logan had no backup.

“No, no, don’t wait for me, you’ve already got everything you need, right?”

“I mean- technically, yes, but it- it wouldn’t be the same.”

Remus cackled, sounding quite like the cartoonish villain that he often acted as. It hurt to listen to.

“So that’s what this is about! Let me just fix you up, then!”

He snapped, and a blank humanoid form appeared at his side. It tilted its faceless head curiously at Logan, who recoiled.

“Not good enough? Is a hunk of nothing too unrealistic for you?” he snapped again, and the being suddenly transformed to match its creator exactly.

Nearly exactly: it wore an enthusiastic grin, eyes wide and sparkling, rather than the steadily building fire that raged in real-Remus’ eyes. It spoke in a disgustingly cheery tone.

“Wow, tell me more! Show me that again? What happens when you do that? You’re just so interesting, Lo!”

Remus watched the creation, a look of one part pride and a million parts resentment.

“Is that what you want? It’s just like me, but without any of the hassle of being another person that you have to deal with! And this one, you really can get rid of whenever you want, isn’t that great?”

Logan looked between the two, a fearful understanding creeping up his spine. There was something he was missing here, wasn’t there?

“No,” he muttered, half to the fake-Duke and half to the real one.

“No?” Remus spat, circling his mirror, “No, of course, you’re so right. This isn’t nearly enough.”

He made an elaborate gesture, and about a dozen more Creativities appeared, surrounding them. Logan stumbled back from them, nearly tripping on the operating table that they’d previously made. When he looked up, the real Remus was approaching him with an expression that fought its way between guilt and indignation. It was all at once heart-wrenching and frightening.

Logan tried to right himself, tried to look unaffected and certain of himself, as he raised his voice. He would not let this go a step farther, despite his confusion.

“Stop,” and with that, a wave rocked across The Imagination, and all was erased. In the aftermath he stood before a teary-eyed Remus (just the one, though), uncharacteristically looking like a stiff wind would knock him right over.

“What’s wrong? I gave you what you wanted!”

Logan reeled.

“Why would you think I wanted any of that?”

“You wanted an experiment, I gave you one! You wanted a willing audience, I gave you twelve! But I guess I just get everything wrong, right?”

“You know that isn’t true,” Logan felt choked, his words clumsy. It was foreign and horrible and disgusting, but he’d trudge through it all if it meant fixing whatever he’d done wrong. It couldn’t have just been him losing focus once? Could it?

“Oh, of course, I do just enough to be useful. So I’ve got that right; I’m a good utensil. Is it so much to ask that people would care about me, not just what I can do?” he posed a rhetorical oozing with vitriol, but it quickly evaporated into something much more desperate, “What if it’s my fault? It was my idea, I wanted to help. I don’t know why I thought you’d care past all that, did I give you a reason to? I can’t remember. It might make more sense that way, if I were the problem, wouldn’t it?”

Logan was running out of time to fix this, watching Remus curl in on himself, barely keeping from falling to the floor. He had no clue how The Duke had reached the conclusion that he didn’t care about him! They spent nearly all their free time together: sitting next to each other just to have the company, throwing each other tricky and often troubling questions to answer, constantly toiling away at things in The Imagination. Sometimes, they didn’t even need to talk, they just worked together in rapt silence; Remus did the creating and Logan arranged his work just so, and- Wait. Wait. Wait.

Logan didn’t need to talk, or touch, for that matter. Perhaps it was a mistake to presume the same for such a needy, affectionate, boisterous side?

No, not perhaps, it was a huge mistake. A major fuck-up, if you will.

He’d thought, if the blunt side had needed such comforts, surely he would initiate it? He hardly shied away from anything, except, well.

Except. Feelings.

God, he was the dumbest smart person in the world.

“Oh, Remus…”

The Duke’s head jerked up, continuing his back-and-forth of desperation and rage.

“I don't need your pity!”

Logan sighed, twisting the end of his tie in frustration.

“That isn't what I'm offering,” he took a breath before continuing, linking the words together so it would come out right. “I'm so sorry, I didn't take into account how you would interpret our interactions. I thought it was obvious that I cared for you, that I didn't need to say it outright. Clearly… I was wrong. So, if you need more than what I previously expressed- which I'm now realizing was very little in the eyes of someone who is not me- then I am happy to provide that for you.”

Remus was shaken, a good deal of his ire slipping away. Whether that was good or bad remained unclear.

Before it could be overthought, Logan crossed the remaining few feet between them and brought his arms around The Duke in his loose approximation of a hug. The trait froze, but he didn't pull away.

Physical affection, check.

“I value your companionship more than I'm entirely sure how to verbalize. You understand me in a way that most others don’t seem to. While your ability to make detailed creations is very helpful, it is hardly the only thing I appreciate about you.

“For one, you make me laugh. A lot. More than I'm used to. Additionally, you can easily match the pace with which I speak, or change topics! And, you are so much smarter than you make yourself out to be,” Logan finished the spiel with a smile, genuinely proud at his ability to articulate such… sentimental things, with relative ease. Words of affirmation, check.

He snapped back to attention when Remus brought shaking hands up to Logan's chest. For a moment, he worried that Remus would shove him away. The fears dissipated when all he did was bunch the front of Logan's shirt in his hands and hold on tight.

“Do you mean that,” his volume was low, “Or do you just want me to calm down?”

Logan tightened his grip around him and, following a motion that he'd seen Patton employ many times to great success, he rubbed up and down his back.

“I understand that it might be hard for you to trust me, but I promise I'm not lying to you. I would have to be pretty awful to do something like that, wouldn't I?”

Hesitantly, Remus nodded against his collar. A good sign, but there was one thing left he had to say.

“And- If you need further convincing- then you should know. I love you.”

Remus stilled. He then unfisted his hands from Logan's shirt. It was an anticipatory second before he threw his arms around the logical trait and finally returned the hug. His hold was crushing, and it was the most comforting thing that Logan had ever felt.

They were okay.

“I'm sorry I-”

Logan didn’t let him finish the apology.

“Don't be. You didn't know how I felt, because I hadn't communicated it in a way you understood. That is hardly your fault.”

Remus nodded again, remaining much quieter than he’d probably ever been in his entire existence.

They held each other for longer than either would like to admit, speaking softly.

“Thanks,” was muttered against Logan’s shoulder.

“Of course. Just so you know, I'm more than willing to do this again whenever you need reassurance.”

“It might be a lot,” his tone was turning more mischievous, more him, “Are you sure you can handle that?”

“Absolutely.”

Logan hardly minded having an opportunity to gush about Remus to Remus. Not to mention, the physical affection was even nicer than he'd imagined it being. And oh, had he imagined it.

Remus' face returned to his usual ever-present zeal, and he ended their hug to bounce in place.

“Great! I'm good now! We can get on with that autopsy you wanted to show me- there better be buckets of blood!”

Logan shifted his weight.

“Maybe we should save that for another day.”

“Oh,” Remus' face fell the smallest bit, “Okay.”

Logan was quick to amend:

“By that I mean, I have something better in mind.”

Remus curled himself up in Logan’s lap, his eyes barely focused on the TV as the side carded his hands through his tangled mop of hair. Final Destination 3 played on the television (he had assured Logan that they didn't need to see the first two, and he was mostly right), serving as an excuse for the two to drink in each other's company.

It was right in the middle of a particularly graphic rollercoaster scene that Remus took Logan's hands from his hair to hold them, twisting around to face him.

“Is something wrong, Remus?”

“You told me you loved me,” he stated blankly.

“Yes, I did.”

“I didn't say it back!”

“No, you didn't,” it hadn't been the most important matter at the time, really. “You don't have to say it. It's perfectly okay if you don't feel the s- Mmph!”

Remus smashed their lips together, holding the sides of Logan's face (disrupting his glasses in the process) and pulling him forward harshly.

Logan, for less than a second, was floored. And then Remus tilted his head to deepen the already heated kiss, and the situation properly clicked. Logan reciprocated, slightly uncertain in his movements, wrapping his arms around the other’s waist.

Remus smiled against him. He nipped at Logan's lower lip with sharpened teeth, eliciting a very embarrassing yelp. Logic let his lips part in response as his thoughts grew fuzzier by the second.

The (somewhat clumsy) open-mouthed kiss lasted right until they absolutely had to break, separating for air. Neither moved very far, letting their foreheads rest against each other and all but panting for breath.

“I love you so fuckin' much, nerd,” when Remus spoke, their lips brushed ever so slightly, “Just so you know.”

“I picked up on that, yes.”

“A little clarity never hurts, right?”

Logan chuckled at the reference to his own sentiments, but the sound was abruptly cut off when Remus kissed him properly again.

When they broke apart, he explained how 'stupid-cute' that laugh was. And Logan, only half-joking (since when did he joke at all?), said that he’d have to do it more often.

Banter came easily to them, despite the raw undercurrent that still laced their conversation. Although, neither of them had ever found it difficult to talk; talk about the first thing that came to mind and the last thing that would come to anyone’s mind, talk about exceedingly simple nonsense and topics so intricate that they wound up sounding like nonsense, just talk.

So things would stay mostly the same. They would ramble to each other when no one else could stand to hear such disturbing things. They would sit, working side by side, running through plans and ideas and results at rapid-paced speech. They’d speak, and they would listen, when even their closest friends couldn’t manage such patience.

Only now, sometimes the rushed words might turn soft. Now, all that ranting might be more substantial than anyone would at first see. Now, they’d still listen, but leaned close together, gazes impossibly fond.

But then, on occasion, they would find that there were things far more fun than talking to do together.

@shrimp-crockpot

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