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pixla · 3 years ago

Note

I think I've already asked, but I forgot, can you do a MadThomas hot? Well hot 🙈

Two fics in two days, never been heard of

Another chance

Mad Thomas x fem!reader

Summary: you and Thomas were childhood friends but drifted apart until the full moon party when he catches you on your way

Warnings: sex (outdoors), swearing, alcoholism, dick Thomas as usual, slight angst, angst to smut (feel free to tell me if there’s anymore)

Word count: 1.5k

You had known Thomas since you and your mother first settled into union, you, only a few years old. The two of you often found yourselves playing games in the grass behind the church or when you became older, playing in the river that neighboured the settlement within the woods.

It was only when he found comfort in ale and beer rather than you. The first time you found him drunken and collapsed on the floor was a few days after your 16th birthday. You were on your way home when you spotted a figure laying still on the ground beside the outhouses. Usually you would assume it to be someone like mr.Fier, but you knew well enough from the size of the man it was not him.

You nudged the shoulder of the man, rolling him onto his back. “Thomas?” You stepped back “what on heavens are you doing?”

The man stirred awake looking up at you through squinted eyes. “Y/N.. you look- you look pretty..” His words were slurred and almost inaudible.

“Thomas. Are you drunk?!” You furrowed your eyebrows looking down at him. “What would your father say! Get up. Now!” You demanded him.

Gripping the wood of the outhouse he tried to steady himself, his drink still in his hand. “Come here.” You sighed, taking his arm over your shoulder. “If anyone sees us, you're dead Thomas.” You whispered trying to lighten the mood.

“Why would that be so bad now?” He tilts his head closer to yours. “Don’t you know, people predict us to be wed.”

Did they really? You had never heard of this. Well of course you heard perhaps the small comment talking of your fondness or one another, but nothing near to the two of you getting married.

Thinking back to it, you probably shouldn’t have said what you had, but in that moment you felt as though you had nothing to lose. So what if he didn’t say what you had hoped, it wasn’t as though he would remember. “And what do you think about this?”

You felt your cheeks flush at the sound of your own words. “Hmm, wouldn’t you like to know, girl.” He leans in, his breath tickling against your neck.

“As if, Thomas-“

“Hey now, don’t be so defensive, if you really want me to be honest, it wouldn’t be my worst choice.”

The moment felt surreal, was this some kind of confession? Either way, there was nothing to stop how giddy you felt, apart from him regurgitating his drinks all over your shoes, that was sort of a mood killer.

—

Unfortunately, that wedding never came, and that drunken state never left.

Everyday walking through union you’d have to face that version of your future that never happened. “Now where are you off to, girl.” Tommy strode up to you, following beside you as you walked. “I’m off to give my mothers gifts to the millers, and you Thomas?” You avoided eye contact.

The man thought for a second. “Nowhere special. Besides, I’m surprised to see that you’ve not been wed yet, such a young and pretty face, put to such a waist.”

“Quit it Thomas.” You spat, quickening your pace as the man's words soon became cruel and condescending as they always did.

“Hey!” He yelled after you, but you gave him no attention back, reaching the miller's house.

—

The full moon party soon approached, only a few hours away, after nightfall. They happened every so often, but you were frilled every time. It was a night where there’s no elders, no union and no morals. It was a time where you were finally free.

Watching out your window, you waited for the sun to finally set and for your family to finally rest.

Finding the time to be appropriate, you dressed yourself with your cloak and fled.

The night spring air was cold to the skin, sending a shiver down your spine as you clutched your cloak tightly around your body.

“Now, where are you off to, girl?” A voice rang out from behind you. Turning, you found yourself face to face with none other than Thomas.

You furrowed your brow glaring at the man. “I could ask you the same thing.” You crossed your arms.

“Fair enough.” The man shrugged resting against the outhouse wall. You noticed the way he was acting was, well, normal. “You’re not drunk?”

He froze. “No..no I’m not, would you prefer me to be?”

Maybe his tone wasn’t just apparent when he was drunk. “I’m glad.” Your voice quietened, your tone more serious. “If only you’d stay like this.”

He scoffed, walking up to you. “Would that keep you happy?” His hand travelled up to your jaw, you not even thinking to stop him.

You felt as your body became hot from the smallest touch. “Yes.” You let out a breathy response.

You watched the moonlight trickle across his features. “Can I kiss you?” He whispered, giving you a small nod in response.

His lips were dry and chapped, but you couldn’t get enough, the feeling intoxicating. You jumped as you felt his hand run down you back, groping your lower half. “Thomas!” You pulled away. “You shouldn’t, we’re in public.”

“Since when has that ever been a problem for you?” Your hand went to slap him but he grabbed your wrist, holding it in the air. “Don’t act like I’m lying.”

“Curse you Thomas, curse you! You said you loved me, yet you left me! All you’ve ever done is hurt me Thomas!”

He paused, letting go of your wrist, a pained expression in his eyes. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Well you did.” You say bluntly, your eyes tearing up. “Do you get it now?”

He stepped back looking at you, the realisation of how much damage he really caused hitting him at the sight of tears rolling down your cheeks. His hand reached out to you only for you to step away. “Enough Thomas!” You reached your hand up, finally slapping him across the face, him accepting the act of violence.

Before you could tell again, he grabbed your wrist pulling you close to him, his lips hitting yours. You were angry, but you couldn’t resist. You channeled your frustration into him, kissing him messily.

“You’re insufferable.” You whined into the kiss as his hand reached up pulling your shirt undone. He smirked, his hand travelling down to grab your behind.

You gasped as you felt him pick you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he slammed you against the back of the outhouse. You felt his hand ride up your thigh, his lips attaching to your neck, pressing not so gentle kisses along your collarbone.

“Thomas.” You breathed out as you felt his hand dive fully under your dress. With one hand, you too reached down, pulling at the man's waistband. “Thomas hurry.” You muttered the man releasing you to undo his belt, throwing it to the ground.

Undoing the button he hitched down his trousers. Eagerly, the man gripped your thigh lifting it, level to his hip. Reaching down, you took him in your hand, aligning him with your entrance. Following your advancement, the man used his spare hand to grab your hip, pushing into you slowly.

“Shit.” Thomas groaned at the sensation, furrowing his eyebrows. “Language.” You let out a breathy laugh. “I doubt those morals overpower the sin we are committing right now.” He lent in kidding you again. “I wish I could’ve given you everything you deserved.” He said in between slow gentle thrusts. “I ruined myself. I ruined you. And I’m so sorry.” He kisses along your jaw.

“Oh, Thomas.” You frowned, rubbing the man's neck. It was hard to forgive him. Everything he had done. It wasn’t something you could just leave in the past, but you were willing to give in for just that moment. “It’s..okay.”

He lifted his head. “I just want another chance.”

You probably shouldn’t have said it but it’s all you could bear to utter. “Okay.”

You felt as the man's pace quickened, his hips rutting against yours. “God Thomas, I’m close.” You whined into the crook of his neck, your nails clawing into his back. “I need it please.” You threw your head back, hitting it against the outhouse wall but all you could think about was Thomas and how he made you feel.

“Don’t worry, me too.” Thomas whispered into your ear placing gentle kisses down your neck as his thrusts hardened.

Rubbing circles into your clit, you felt as you reached your climax, your arms wrapped tightly around Thomas’ neck as you did so. You felt your thighs twitch as he pulled out, him readjusting his pants.

“Y/N”

“Yes?” You looked up, fixing your dress.

“I love you.”

You reached up, placing a small kiss on his lips. “Okay, thomas.”

#fear street #fear street 1978 #fear street 1994 #fear street 1666 #tommy slater #fear street x reader #tommy slater x reader #mad thomas x reader #mad thomas

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kiribaku-queen · 4 years ago

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The Blood King and his Queen [6]

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Romance, Angst, Drama

Word count: 2.2K

Summary: From being a mere servant girl to marrying the scariest prince in existence, your world changed right before your eyes. Exchanging places with the princess, you knew, wasn’t going to be easy. But could you have found love on the way? Or was it never meant to be?

A/N: I really need to stop writing so late at night... I finish writing sometimes at 2 or 3 in the morning but I have to wake up at 5:30!! God, why do I do that to myself?! But its all worth it because I love reading your comments and seeing your likes and shares <3

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You waved your arms in the air, signaling to his men where you were. How worried and concerned they looked couldn’t be explained with words. It was like they didn’t even look at him as their prince. They viewed him more as a close family member than their future king.

Everyone crowded around Bakugou wanting to be the one to help him up. But ultimately, it was Kirishima and Sero who supported him, one on each side as they helped sling his arms over their shoulders. Bakugou growled in pain every time he moved or took a step. Your eyebrows furrowed in concern and you couldn’t take your eyes off him. You deeply wanted to help him, but what more could you do? Sure, you helped stop the bleeding a little bit but surely there was something else you could do. You wanted to be the one he leaned on. You didn’t want to feel useless. And it was frustrating because you knew you could be of more help. You didn’t want to look like a princess who didn’t know how to do anything.

Mina happened to glance over at you while you mentally criticized yourself. Your hands were balled up in fists in front of you, your pouty lips were quivering, and you couldn’t take your eyes off the wounded prince. Mina’s eyes softened. She came up to you, took your hands in hers, and gave you a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry about that drama queen. He’s going to be fine. He can handle a small cut like that. He’s not called the infamous Blood Prince for nothing,” Mina assured you, making you feel a little bit better but no doubt, still worried.

You all stopped to rest about that ambush. No one else was hurt and nothing had been taken, just a few broken carriages but that’s all. One soldier was setting up a fire to heat up some drinks, two of them were looking at a map and depicting which route was safest to cross, and another was tending to Bakugou’s wounds. Thankfully, there was a whole cart of medicine. They applied medicine skillfully to his cut. This must happen a lot that they know exactly what to do without a doctor. You could only watch as you sit next to him, your eyes never leaving his cut. As his soldier was about to cover his wound back up, you held your hand out to stop him.

“May I?” you offered. The soldier was taken aback at the request, not expecting you to offer your assistance but gladly let you after seeing your determined face.

“As you wish, princess,” he backed off to leave the rest to you. You took hold of the bandages and began to wrap them around his torso.

“You let me know if it starts to hurt again,” you demanded as you finished wrapping him up.

“I’ll be fine,” he grumbled. You didn’t like his answer so you tightened your knot a little too tight for his liking and he winced in pain.

“I’m serious,” you pouted. Bakugou could laugh at your reaction but decided against it.

“Is her highness upset with me?” he questioned and you couldn’t hold back your thoughts.

“How could you get hurt like that?” you exploded. “You had me so worried. What if you had gotten killed? What would I have done then? You shouldn’t let yourself get distracted, especially not because of me.” You were scolding him but Bakugou’s lips turned into a deep frown. He grabbed you by the wrists, making you face him.

“Surely her highness isn’t saying that she is not of importance?” his deep voice whispered, raising one eyebrow in curiosity. Having his face so close to yours made you flustered.

“Well…” you tried to say but couldn’t finish.

“To me, you are the most important person here. I would battle a hundred swordmen and lose all my limbs if it means that you are safe,” he said, seriously. Your lips parted in surprise by his sudden confession. When Bakugou snapped back to his senses, he was the one to become flustered this time.

“B-Because you are the future queen… o-of course,” he tried brushing off, looking away like it was nothing. Any feeling of happiness that you had slowly turned into disappointment. Of course, he was only protecting you because he thinks you are the princess, his future bride. If it was you, you were sure he wouldn’t be saying these things. But you tried to not let it get to you.

“Bakugou, princess!” you heard Sero’s voice behind you. You both turned to see Sero running towards you with two cups in his hands, careful not to spill its contents. “Freshly made. Drink it before it gets too cold.” He squatted, carefully giving you both a cup.

“Thank you,” you gave Sero a smile.

“Ah, also,” Sero stopped to pull out a map from his back pocket. “Kirishima was looking at the map again and if we go through this route, we can probably avoid any more bandits.” He said while showing Bakugou the new route.

“Can we still make it there in two days time?” Bakugou asked.

“Yes sir,” Sero said confidently.

“Good man. We’ll leave in 10,” Bakugou gave Sero a nod of approval. When he left, Bakugou attempted to get up from his position. He held onto the tree for support and grunted in pain as he started to stand.

“What are you doing?” you questioned, puzzled on what he was doing. Instinctively, you grabbed hold onto his arm to help support him.

“Leaving. I have to make sure everything is intact,” he said and still tried to stand tall. You pushed him back down and shoved the cup back in his hands.

“At least finish this. I’ll go do it for you,” you say. Before Bakugou had the chance to refuse your offer, you were already on your feet, running to the group of soldiers. Bakugou watched while you were frantically making sure that you had all the supplies and checking everything like he would. Although, being a rookie, you were bad at your job. The soldiers laughed, making you feel embarrassed yet welcomed by them. They told you everything you needed to check so that next time, you could do it yourself. With a smirk, Bakugou watched in amusement.

You traveled on the new route Kirishima had set for you all. But because it wasn’t the normal road they took, it was a bumpy ride with the ground being uneven. You thought you would be fine continuing on, but you became a little jumpy due to the recent events that just happened. Every snap of a twig or rustle of the bushes, you turned your head to make sure that no other bandits were sneaking up on you.

“Scared, princess?” Bakugou whispered in your ear. You huffed and crossed your arms.

“No,” you denied.

“Like I said, I’ll protect you no matter the cost,” he reminded you. He was loud enough for his other soldiers to hear. Mina gushed over his comment while the others had their mouths wide open. Bakugou? The Blood Prince? Saying these romantic remarks to a woman? Now this was a new sight to see. Kirishima, on the other hand, was smiling softly at the new couple. He couldn’t wait to see your relationship bloom into something beautiful.

Being that the road you were on was so uneven, you had to hold on tight so that you didn’t fall off the horse. At one point, the horse became scared, lifting on his hind legs. You gasped out loud and closed your eyes to brace yourself for a fall. But Bakugou had swooped his arm around your waist and stabilized both of you to stay on the horse.

“See, gotcha,” the prince teased. You covered your face so he couldn’t see how flushed your face was. Bakugou chuckled because he knew. He could tell you were flustered and that’s the exact reaction he wanted to get out of you.

As promised, in two days time, you made it to your next destination. What you saw wasn’t a lively town, filled with vibrant colors and a chorus of people. There were no food stands that sold a variety of foods and desserts. No whiff of saliva-inducing smells. No entertainment on the street for you to enjoy.

You saw a poor village; with run-down houses and starving people all over the streets. The atmosphere turned sad, like a gray cloud was constantly over this place. The life out of this town was completely sucked out. The image was so heartbreaking that you could break down in tears this very instant.

“Bakugou,” your voice cracked.

“I know,” he said, just as sad and disappointed you were, probably even more. “This is the other side of the kingdom that no one gets to see. Most of this kingdom is living in poverty. Everyone knows of the more lavish side, but in reality, what you are currently seeing is most of my kingdom. There are two completely different worlds here but no one, not my brothers not the kind, is doing anything about it. I don’t even know how to fix it.” He explained. You reached a certain, open area and Bakugou got off, so did every soldier. They began unloading all their supplies. You could see a line starting to form not far from you guys.

“And this is the only way I can think of to help,” he said, offering his hand to you. You took it, hoping off the horse.

“How often do you do this?” you ask, still in shock with what you were seeing.

“Every month or so? I try as often as I can,” he replied as he also started unpacking the crates from the cart. Food, medicine, spare clothes, they had it all. The realization hit you. So that’s why they packed so many things in the beginning. It was for his people. His men were almost done setting up, getting ready to pass out rations to his people. But you were standing to the side awkwardly.

No. There was no doubt in your mind that you wanted to help him. You moved to stand next to Bakugou, proactively helping to pass out food rations.

“You don’t have to do this, you know. Aren’t you embarrassed as a princess?” Bakugou asked without sparing you a glance.

“Never. I want to help,” you said as confidently as you could, giving him eyes of determination. Bakugou finally looked at you, his heart skipping a beat again. He coughed, beating on his chest a few times.

You smiled at everyone who came in line, welcoming them without a single judgment. You looked down the line and all his soldiers were doing the same thing. They do this so often that the people recognize them and are laughing and having a good time. For living in such poor conditions, their spirits weren’t down.

After every single person had gotten their rations, you thought the work was over. Oh, how you were wrong. Once that was over with, his men started carrying out more things from the crates. This time, it was wood. They were going to help repair some homes. You were going to find Bakugou but immediately turned around when he took his cape and you saw him completely shirtless.

“You can sit this one out princess. This’ll get a little messy,” he advised. But you shook your head, still facing away from him.

“No, I want to help!” you were still determined. He chuckled at you.

“If you want to help, you’re gonna have to face the other way,” he pointed out. You took a deep breath and had the courage to face him. But only, your stare was straight down at the floor instead of him. How could you? With him being shirtless and all. Was that even necessary?

Bakugou took an axe and started chopping some wood. Your job was to bring the chopped wood to his soldiers who were the ones building the houses.

You eventually got tired bringing the wood back and forth, so you took a seat next to Bakugou who was nonstop chopping wood. The sweat was glistening his body in a godly matter. You couldn’t take your eyes away from his chest, that was heaving up and down. And then add some sweat? Phew, it made you feel hot.

“How long as this been going on?” you started a conversation.

“Ha?” he turned to you, not expecting you say anything so he was a tad out of it. “Ah, all my life.” He said. He decided that he’ll take a break too. He put down the axe and sat down next to you.

“If my father didn’t lie, these people probably wouldn’t be living like this,” he commented.

“Your father lied?” you asked curiously. Bakugou couldn’t believe that he was actually saying this, but he felt comfortable enough with you that he did.

“When he became King, he promised that he would protect every life in his kingdom. But look at all these people. They are suffering and dying because they are not getting the help that they need. And my father is neglecting them! He is a liar who couldn’t commit to a promise!” Bakugou started getting heated up. “That’s why I hate liars. I’ll ruin anyone who lies to me.”

And when he said that, your heart physically dropped.

A/N: Can I just say, you're gonna LOVE the next chapter. I literally just know it because I LOVE IT!

Also, does anyone else just read these chapters and think of it as an anime? No? Just me? Honestly, if I'm the only one that does this I'm gonna feel like such an idiot.

If you want to be added to the taglist, please comment or DM me and I'll gladly add you!!!

Tagged: @superblyspeedydragon @melasnchz-things @animexholic @bkgwrites @sam-i-am-1025 @apexqueenie @katsukibabe @germfart3 @tspice283 @angie-1306 @bakugous-trauma @bakugousmrs @random-fandom-girl-24 @monetfatalia @triviajeongin @readingslumpfanfic @softredrobin

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bnha bakugou #bakugou imagine #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha imagine #bakugou angst #bakugou romance #bakugou fluff #bnha art #bakugou drama

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mymelodyheart · 4 years ago

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Miles Between Us Chapter 10 ~The Art of Non-Communication

WARNING: MILD SEXUAL CONTENT

Previously in The Mediation

"Three million pounds for a house!" Jenny broke through his reflection. "Doesn't it make ye wonder what else she inherited?"

Jamie looked at the paper again. That's what the house is worth? Ach, Christ! Even the Oxford gossip found its way to Broch Mordha. He knew Claire would be mortified if the news of her assets became everyone's favourite topic of conversation.

Folding the note, he handed it back to his sister. He shook his head at his sister. "Not a word about this to any of yer mates!" he warned her. "Or else ..."

Jenny's eyes widened. "What do ye take me for?"

"A babble merchant," he ribbed, unsmiling. "Now, let me be."

"Ye're no' angry at me still, are ye?"

"No," he sighed. "I'm just exhausted."

"Can I do anything for ye?"

He puffed out a breath. Jenny was looking at him earnestly, and he knew she only wanted to reach out. "Aye, in fact, ye can. Ye can arrange that appointment with the therapist for me."

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

AO3 link

Tumblr link

Jamie was removed from the noise of Lallybroch's homely routine when he stepped inside the shower that barely allotted for his breadth and height. He stroked the erection he'd been sporting since he'd woken up from his dreams of Claire, his elbow occasionally hitting the wall. If he kept this pace up, there would be some damaged tiles to answer for by the time he finally climaxed.

Creamy pale skin and amber eyes seeped through his mind, and he stifled a groan, the throbbing flesh in his hand swelling to the point of anguish. It was the reason he'd escaped to the shower when his dad had woken him, the image of Claire still vivid and the need to spill urgent. But the act of pleasuring himself was tainted with guilt. It didn't feel right using the memory of them together to find completion when he'd left her on her own. Not only did it make him a sick lecherous human being, but his action defied all reason and logic.

Anyone in their right mind wouldn't be depriving themselves if they had what he and Claire had, but instead, here he was, on self-imposed retreat, his hungry thoughts reliving that time she'd been on her knees taking his entire length in her sweet, sweet mouth. Depravity kicked in, and his body responded to the memory in a fast, fluid rush. Every moral compass he'd had, went from dried cement to loose sand, and nothing could contain the rampant desire to relieve the pressure between his legs.

He propped his left hand on the wet wall and quickened the pace of his strokes, the tight fist travelling from the base of his hardness to the engorged tip.

"Christ," he gritted, hoping he could finish without the repercussion of self-loathing and feeling like an unredeemable bastard.

Ye left her! In tears!

It's for her own good. I'm taking steps to make myself better ...for her.

What if she gets sick and tired of waiting for ye to sort out yer issues?

No, no ...she understands.

Ye havenae called her.

I'll see her after the therapy, for fuck sake.

Guilt made him want to dim the image of Claire sucking him, but the heavy sack hung between his thighs wouldn't be wheedled into emptying without envisioning her.

He was so close. He replayed Claire's most recent voice message in his head, her voice husky and yearning. She must have been in bed wearing nothing but his shirt. I love you, Jamie. I wish I could hold you right now and ease your pain.

"Ah, fuck!" Jamie groaned as convulsion racked his body. "Christ, Sassenach." His seed spurted from his cock in what felt like an endless surge of the tide. Back and forth until he was compelled to release his flesh to brace himself with both hands on the tiled surface while the remnant of his release washed down onto the shower floor.

The water had turned tepid by the time reality came streaming back in. Steeling himself, Jamie waited for the chitter-chatter in his head to start reprimanding, telling him what a sick bastard he was, but nothing came. It was quiet. Notably quiet, in fact, and the prolonged silence was too unusual for comfort and almost deafening. The voices had been his life long companion, and it seemed like someone had muted the noises. The only sound he heard was the sound of his breathing and the shower spray hitting the surfaces.

He almost jumped at the loud rapping on the door. "Jamie! Ye're gonnae be late for yer therapy appointment," Willie called out, impatience lacing his voice.

He blew out a breath. "Two minutes!" he shouted. Damn it!

"Two minutes," Willie repeated, and he strode off, the sound of his heavy footsteps making creaking sounds on the wooden floor.

Therapy! He wasn't looking forward to it, but if it would mean bringing him closer to living a normal life with Claire, he'd take his chances. He had his future waiting for him in his cottage, and God knew what was going through her mind with his prolonged absence. There's a possibility she could decide right there, and then, she'd had enough, and he could be returning to an empty home. Fuck that! No' gonnae happen.

Wrenching a curse from the depths of his soul, he grabbed a towel and dried himself in record time. No more messing about. It was time to regain back the rein to his life. After his therapy, he was returning back to his Sassenach.

..........

Jamie hadn't replied to Claire's multiple voice messages, so she'd stopped sending them, thinking he needed a break. If it hadn't been for Willie checking up on her, Rollo needing to be walked and her own work keeping her busy, she would have gone out of her mind.

She found solace in knowing he was safe with his family and sorting out his issues and tried not to dwell on the theory that she might be the reason for his worsening condition; otherwise, it would mean giving up on them and walking out of his life for his own good. They'd both had a traumatic start to childhood. If anything, their shared experience should bring them together ...well, at least she was hoping that was the case.

As long as she was busy, she was absolutely fine. But it hurt being apart from Jamie. The minute she unwinded from her daytime activities, the feeling of abandonment crept in, and she felt lost and empty. An all-consuming gloom would lurk, overwhelming her, and tears would start to fall. It had been only two days since Jamie left, but she was already fearing she'd return to London without seeing him again. It's just not fair. It was as if the universe was conspiring to keep them apart, and if that was the case, they'd never really had a chance from the start. Such thoughts would lead to a part of her wishing they'd never met because it was like being shown what happiness with someone you love could be, only to be yanked back out of reach.

She glanced out the kitchen window and realised it had begun to rain, the grey skies echoing her sombre mood. Frustrated, she mentally shook herself. There were a lot of things to do, and her uncle would be arriving in a couple of days. She hadn't mentioned anything to him about what had happened with Jamie, but that was a worry she'd have to deal with later. Because of all days, Tom Christie had called earlier, arranging to meet with her this afternoon to further discuss his book's publication. She hadn't anticipated meeting up with him for another week or more. Maybe it was a good thing he'd decided to show up. It would certainly be a much-needed distraction from the growing worries she had of Jamie. But first, she needed to book a bed and breakfast room in the village centre, a request her uncle had explicitly stressed as he didn't want to stay in Jamie's cottage to watch them canoodle, as he'd gruffly pointed out. But Claire highly doubted there would be any danger of his uncle witnessing that anytime soon.

Grabbing her coat and bag, she headed out. She was just stepping across the threshold when she caught sight of Jamie's sister walking towards her. What is she doing here? The last time she'd seen Jenny was when they were first introduced, and back then, she hadn't failed to notice the lukewarm reception. She'd tried her best to dismiss it as overly protective sibling behaviour. But something had been niggling in her mind lately ever since Willie mentioned Jenny's meddling with Jamie's love life.

Bracing herself, she forced a smile. "Hi, I'm just on my way out. Does Jamie need some fresh shirts?" She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "I can quickly grab some if that's what you came here for."

There was an awkward silence. "I ...ah, I'm here to see ye." Jenny held up a plastic container. "Oh, and ma made these ... it's rhubarb pie. And she's asking after ye."

"Oh, that's thoughtful. How are ..."

"Do ye have a moment?" Jenny interrupted out of the blue.

Claire paused. Though feeling like she was in this weird bubble filled with fog and not in the mood for small talk or niceties, she stepped back and waved Jamie's sister in. "Sure. I suppose I can spare a few minutes."

Jenny nodded gratefully and stepped inside the cottage. Claire watched her cross the room to place the rhubarb pie and her shoulder bag on the dining table. She started to wring her hands, possibly because she'd realised Claire wasn't going to initiate the talk.

"Jamie is taking steps to get better," Jenny began, facing her.

"I know."

"Of course, you do."

Claire tamped down the urge to roll her eyes. "From what Jamie's told me, that's what he's been doing all his life, hasn't he?"

"Yes, that's true."

She sighed, impatience beginning to creep in. "Jenny, why are you really here? Please let's not pretend that you like me. You practically ignored me when we first met, and you've made no attempt whatsoever to get to know me. I am not expecting us to be the best of mates just because I'm with Jamie, but I do expect manners. So, I am asking very kindly if there's a reason for you taking over my precious time, please spit it out."

Jenny's eyebrows hit her hairline. "I ...uh ...I came because I wanted to see you. To check if ye're alright."

"Willie's been doing that but thank you anyway." She had no time for pussyfooting around. Pulling her coat tighter around her, she made a move to leave. "Well, I need to get going. Please thank your mum for me for the pie. I'll have it later with coffee when I return. And regards to your da as well." She pulled the door open.

"Wait ..."

"Yes?"

Jenny let out a rickety inhale. "I'm sorry, okay? I came to apologise. You're right. I was downright rude." Her lips barely moved when she said the words. It was as if it's taking a lot out of her to admit to her faults. "I have no right to meddle in my brother's affairs, moreso make ye feel unwelcome when ye're the one Jamie wants to be with." Her shoulders lost most of their tension, but the lines of her body were still strained tight. "I was worried about my brother making trips to London, and ye ken the reason why. I thought by not acknowledging ye, ye would eventually go away for good. I ken it was wrong. I shouldn't have behaved the way I did."

"But making me go away wouldn't have made a difference to his condition. Jamie would have continued to have those panic attacks."

"I ken," Jenny shrugged. "It was a dumb move, and I feel stupid for it. I realise that now. I dinnae ken what I was thinking. I'm so sorry, Claire. Can we start all over again and be friends?"

Claire felt a spark of sympathy for Jenny. In that brief moment of admission, she'd kind of started to like the girl in front of her. Though she knew it would take a while before they could converse without feeling awkward, at least this was a start. Claire smiled genuinely for the first time. "Of course. I understand now why you felt the way you did." She glanced at her watch. "But in as much as I'd like to continue this bonding, I really need to go. I have a few errands to run. Shall we talk another time?"

"Oh aye, I completely forgot ye have someplace to go." She whipped around to grabbed her bag but knocked it to the floor instead, spilling its contents. "Ach, so clumsy of me," she muttered, getting onto her knees. "Ye go ahead, Claire. I have a spare key. I'll lock up once I'm done,

Claire immediately crouched down to help, grabbing feminine bits and bobs that were scattered on the rug. "Two pair of hands are always quicker getting the job done," she assured her.

"Aye, I guess so," Jenny mumbled as she skimmed the area with her eyes looking for anything she missed.

Claire scooped the loose pennies that had rolled off and slotted them into Jenny's bag. Then she picked up a slip of paper and was about to hand it to Jenny when she realised it was a newspaper clipping with her surname printed on it. Curious, Claire unfolded it and was surprised to see it was a small article from Oxford Mail about her family home, including a small line mentioning her as an heiress. Though she was aware of the article's existence, she was shocked to see it in Jenny's possession. What is Jenny doing with this?

Blood drained from her face when she recalled Willie's story about Jenny playing matchmaker between Geneva and Jamie. Didn't Willie say Geneva comes from a well-off family, Jenny's perfect solution to Lallybroch's financial problem? Claire skimmed the familiar article once more, the worth of her property jumping out of the paper: three million pounds. A sudden sharp pain slammed into her chest.

Claire held up the newspaper cutting to Jenny's face. "Why do you have this?" she whispered through numb lips.

Jenny's face was white as a sheet. "I ...it was given to me."

"Is this the reason why you're suddenly nice?"

"No!" Jenny licked her lips, thoughts racing behind her blue eyes. "I swear to God, I meant what I said earlier ...that I’m sorry. It has nothing to do with ..." She waved a hand towards the paper Claire was holding. "...that."

Claire scrambled to her feet. "You're sorry?" Her voice was high-pitched and unnatural, but she couldn't help it. There's a rumbling earthquake beginning to take place inside her. "When did you start feeling sorry, Jenny? After you read this?" She crumpled the piece of paper and threw it on the floor. "Did you really want to be my friend? Or was that all hogwash too?"

"Claire, please." Misery slashed across her face. "I realised my mistake when Jamie took off with his car the other night, and Willie spent hours looking for him. My parents, husband and I were up, and we were worried sick. My constant meddling has made him fled and taken him away from ye." She wrung her hands together. "I was a bloody idiot for thinking I was doing what's best for my brother when, in fact, I was making things worse. And Jamie's now miserable because he thinks it's all his fault when really, it's mine. Ye have to believe me when I say that piece of paper was given to me. I never sought it myself. It was handed to me."

"Good God, are you listening to yourself?" Her voice had been reduced to a whisper. All she could see was Jamie's guilt and tortured face that day when he'd told her about his fight with Jenny. His pained expression before he'd sped off to the night and her fear of the unknown. The many times he'd excused and apologised for his sister's behaviour because he thought Jenny was doing it out of love when Claire could clearly see it was all out of selfishness. "Let me get this straight ...you only recognised your mistake because you became worried sick after your brother took off. Are you even aware that you've been treating him like an imbecile all this while as if he can't decide for himself? This was never about him, Jenny, is it? You're only thinking about yourself. The other night scared the bejesus out of you because you knew well you were part of the reason he took off. Tell me this ...how does it feel like to be riddled with guilt now, huh? Try multiplying that guilt by a thousandfold and remind yourself that's what Jamie feels every day of his life. And if you think saying sorry will make things right again, you need your head thoroughly examined. Jamie loves you despite all your meddling, and you unashamedly continued to manipulate him. So excuse me if I have trouble believing a single word you're saying now. Because you know what the bloody hell this looks like? Your apologies to me sound like you're trying to manipulate me as well. And all because I happen to own an impressive three million pound property."

"No!" Jenny shook her head in despair. "Everything else is true ...but not that about yer property." There's a tremor in her voice and shame in her eyes. "I stopped by yesterday to apologise to ye, but ye werenae home, and when Mrs Fitz from across the road saw me, she handed me that newspaper clipping. I swear to God, Claire, I came to ye even before I knew ye had that property."

Claire couldn't stand there and listen anymore, not after what she'd gone through the last couple of days. She needed to let all her frustration out, or she'd implode. "I don't trust you, Jenny. If drivel could bounce, you'd be in the bloody orbit by now. Unfortunately, that won't happen, so I'm out of here. I can't stand being here any longer." The words exploded out of her and popped in the air like bright red fireworks.

Jenny fell back a step and gasped. Claire was shocked too with the words that came out of her mouth. But she took that opportunity to rush out of the cottage, not caring if it was still raining, only focusing on getting as far away from Jenny as possible.

She'd just crossed the street when a vehicle screeched to a stop and reversed. Claire kept on walking, still reeling from her conversation with Jenny.

"Miss Beauchamp?"

She stopped and glanced into the Land Rover window that stopped by her side and noticed a familiar face. "Yes?"

The man tipped his baseball cap on his head and smiled. "It's me, Tom Christie."

"Oh ... it's you ... you're early!" was all she could say, too surprised for words.

"Actually, I'm on my way home to change clothes before our meeting. Do ye need a ride? I noticed ye dinnae have a brolly with ye, and it's raining."

Claire glanced back at the cottage and saw Jenny standing at the doorway, looking at her with that still ashen face. She'd heard rumours in the village about Tom being a ladies' man and knew what it would look like to Jenny if she got into the Land Rover with him. But she didn't give a flying fig. Let her gossip! Smiling, she nodded at Tom. "Yes, please. To the village centre if it's no trouble."

He grinned. "Nae bother at all. Hop in."

..........

"Remind me again why I'm here," Willie mumbled under his breath as they followed a young woman down a long hallway lined with modern paintings. "I thought I made it clear it should be Claire attending this therapy with ye. In case ye need reminding, I got our business to run."

Jamie sighed. "I'd rather ye're here. Ye ken my condition better than anyone."

"Is it Geneva ye're worried about?" his older brother asked in a low voice.

"God, no. I'd be more worried if Jenny came with me. Christ, she'd been pushing Geneva and me together for as long as I can remember. I ken the lass took a fancy in me, but that's all it ever was. I'm just concerned it's gonnae be weird since we ken each other."

Willie glanced at him with understanding. "There's nae avoiding it, lad. We live in a small village, and everyone knows everyone. It's the bane of living in such a place. We just have to make do with what we have."

"Aye, that's true."

The young woman in front of them turned. "The last one on the right," she smiled, pointing at the white door. Jamie wanted to say he knew his way around and that it was the same office as his former therapist but decided not to and returned her smile instead.

With Willie close behind him, he stepped forward and knocked lightly against the door. A feminine voice answered from the inside, "Come in."

Pushing the door open, they were greeted by a familiar, cosy space and Geneva, dressed in a black pantsuit with her hair done in a bun. She was sat in a dark leather armchair, looking them over with her transparent-rimmed glasses. If she was surprised to see Willie with him, she hid it well.

"Mr Fraser, it's nice to see you again." Smiling warmly, she stood up and held out her hand for him. Taking it, she gave him a firm handshake before doing the same to Willie and motioning them towards the over-size beige leather sofa arranged in the middle of the room. "Please take a seat." Like a couple of schoolboys, they both did as they were told.

"Before anything else," she began, looking at Jamie. "I have you here for one on one therapy. Is there a reason why you brought your brother with you?"

Jamie cleared his throat and licked his lips. "I, ah, wanted him here for moral support."

"Fair enough. So what can I do for you?" She smiled, crossing her legs and reclining back into her armchair, a clipboard resting on her thigh.

Jamie anxiously glanced at Willie, but his brother only shrugged. "I dinnae ken where to start. Ever since yer predecessor left, I havenae been to therapy because I didnae feel comfortable seeing a therapist who knows me on a personal level. It kinda feels odd."

She steepled her fingers together, her blue eyes narrowing on him. "I understand this is out of your comfort zone and probably, for some, highly unusual. But I'd like to make it clear that I take my job seriously, and I hold myself to the highest professional standard. Whatever friendship I have with your sister will have no effect whatsoever on what would transpire within these walls. If you wish to proceed, please take a few deep breaths and just forget that you know me. In here, I am Dr Dunsany, and you are Mr Fraser."

Jamie considered her words as she waited patiently for his reply. After a minute of contemplation, he finally nodded and took a few cleansing breaths. "Fine."

She smiled. "So, first things first. What prompted you to finally see a therapist?"

He leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together. "I'm in a serious relationship." Jamie thought he saw an ever so slight arching of her eyebrow but immediately dismissed it as his imagination. "And my condition and the panic attacks are hurting our relationship. I figured in order for us to move forward, I needed to take steps in getting better."

Geneva picked up her clipboard and started scribbling. "What do you believe your girlfriend thinks about your condition?"

Jamie smiled briefly at the thought of Claire. "Weel, she's very understanding and very patient, and she's taken my condition in a stride. Like the rest of my family, she thinks I'm suffering from suppressed guilt and emotions."

Geneva paused and closely appraised him. "Why do you think she thinks you have suppressed guilt and emotions?"

His heart began to increase its pace, and his throat tightened. "Because we were both there when her parents died. She was able to move on, but I couldnae," the words came out rapidly.

A whoosh of breath came from Willie.

"Why do you think she was able to move on and you couldn't?" she pushed, seemingly unaffected by Jamie's revelation.

A bead of sweat formed on his forehead. "Because it's my fault that she grew up without a family."

He heard Willie's breath hitch, but Geneva ignored his brother.

"And why do you think it's your fault?"

His mouth became dry, and his tongue thick. "I didnae run fast enough to get help when their car crashed. If I had, she wouldnae be orphaned today. If I was stronger, I wouldnae have needed to run off and get my godfather, and I could have pulled the door open myself and saved her parents as well."

"You look like a strong man, Mr Fraser. Why do you think you needed to run and get help to pull the door open?"

"I wasnae big enough back then. I was only ten." He dropped his head into his hand. "And she was so wee ...crying for her ma. All I could do was hold her."

He started to hyperventilate as the image of Harry staring at him through the window, sprung to life. It was the last image he saw before the car had exploded.

Sensing his discomfort, Geneva stood from her armchair and retrieved two bottles of mineral water from the mini-fridge, handing them each to the brothers. They both gratefully accepted, taking large gulps.

When he got his breathing back under control, she proceeded. "I understand now your frustration at not being big enough to carry the task out yourself and why you had to get your godfather." She scribbled a few more notes on her clipboard. "I'm going to go back to the question you haven't answered yet. Why do you think your girlfriend was able to move on from her parents' death?"

He squashed the empty bottle of mineral water. "She was too young then to understand any of it, just a wee bairn when it happened."

"And so were you."

"She was five, and I was ten. I was old enough to be able to do something about it, but I couldn't."

"Your godfather, who was old enough and stronger than you, was unable to do anything further. Do you think it was your godfather's fault?"

"No! Of course, not. He tried his best. We got her ...Claire, who's m-my girlfriend now, out first and my godfather made me take her to safety. But the car caught fire, and it exploded."

"So it's not your godfather's fault, and yet you think it was your fault."

"Yes!"

"Why would you think, after all the efforts you and your godfather have done to try and save your girlfriend's parents, it's still your fault?"

"It was the way he looked at me."

"Who looked at you?"

"Claire's father. Just before the car exploded."

"How did he look at you?"

"He was just staring at me."

"And you can't get that out of your head?"

"No."

A mild frown of concentration descended across Geneva's face as she flipped through the notes on her clipboard. She reached out for a manila folder on a coffee table by her side and browsed through it too. "This is a great start, Mr Fraser," she continued. "From what I've here in your history with your former therapist, this is the first time you've ever talked about an experience from your childhood. This is highly interesting. Care to tell me why you've never talked about this before."

"It's a memory that I've forgotten, and it's just resurfaced recently."

She arched an eyebrow. "How recently?"

"A few days ago."

"Can you remember what triggered the memories to come back?"

"The night I met my girlfriend's uncle on video chat."

"So, prior to that night, you had no recollection of the forgotten memory, is that correct?"

"Aye."

"Why do you think your girlfriend's uncle triggered all the memory to come back?"

His fingers began to pick at the water bottle label. "He looks exactly my girlfriend' father."

A long silence ensued.

Geneva placed the clipboard by her side and uncrossed her legs. "That will be all for today, Mr Fraser. We've covered enough to have something to work on."

Jamie's head shot up. "So that's it? That was quick," he pointed out, glancing at his watch.

"Oh, we're far from done, Mr Fraser, but you've revealed more than I anticipated, so I decided to stop while we're ahead. Thank you for answering all questions as openly as possible."

"So what's yer diagnosis?"

She tilted her head to the side. "I believe you have a lot of misplaced guilt about your past that may be hindering you from moving on. So ...what I would like you to do is ...I want you to think about how you want your future to look like. Think really hard and try to dig deep. Next time we catch up, we'll discuss everything in details." She stood up, and Jamie and Willie followed suit. "I'll see you next week. My assistant will write down the date of our next meeting. You can pick up your appointment card on the way out," she smiled, opening the door and ushering them out.

The brothers walked out quietly together, both lost in their own thoughts.

"That wasnae too bad, was it?" Willie asked as they stepped out of the building.

Jamie shook his head. "No, no' at all." His head was still buzzing from the session, so he didn't really have much opinion to offer.

"Perhaps next time, ye can bring Claire with ye."

At the mention of her name, he pulled out his phone from his back pocket. He'd silenced it all morning as he'd prepared himself for the therapy but was disappointed to see there was no new message from her. "She hasnae messaged."

"I'm no' surprised. You havenae been returning her calls. And ye have no excuse, lad, because I left ye a charger at Lallybroch."

Jamie followed his brother close behind as they made their way to the car. "How do ye know I've no' been returning her calls?"

"She told me."

"How is she?"

"Find out yersel'."

A familiar bright red Fiat slowed down next to them just as Jamie was about to get into the car, and Ian, their brother-in-law, poked his head out of the window. "Hey, lads, guess who I just saw back in town?"

The brothers looked at each other and shrugged.

When Ian stalled, Willie blew out an impatient breath.

"Out with it!" Willie grumbled. "I've been away from work for far too long already."

Ian grinned. "Yer pal Christie."

Jamie waved a hand in the air in dismissal and turned to open the car door, not particularly interested in hearing the latest coming and going in Broch Mordha. "I'm pretty sure the lassies will be thrilled he's back."

"Aye, ye're probably right, but I dinnae think ye'd be too pleased to hear if one particular lass is enjoying his company."

Jamie whipped around. "What do ye mean?" He sounded like someone just launched a flying rugby pass onto his stomach.

"Saw Claire and Tom through the window of Slater's Arms. Probably sitting down for late lunch."

His heart and brain must have swapped places because suddenly, his heart seemed twice as heavy, and his brain thumped against his skull. "M-my Claire?"

Willie tipped his head like he's on the brink of calling Ian an eejit. "Hold up, this could all be just an innocent thing. Wasnae Claire supposed to be meeting with someone from here for some book publication?"

"Nae way!" Ian shook his head. "Christie doesnae look like the type to string a sentence together, never mind write a book."

"Alright," Jamie breathed, propping his hands on the edge of the car's roof. His brain was barely functioning because it was knocking against his temple, making him see red. He'd completely underestimated his ability to let her go, thinking he was doing it for her own good. Claire hadn't called today because she thought he'd given up. Ah, shite! He felt he was going to be sick. "I need to go and see her. Now."

"Fuck!" Willie muttered. "I'm coming with ye." Then he bent down to Ian's eye level and pointed his index finger at his brother-in-law. "Next time, run this kind of info by me first."

Ian smirked. "Fine. But I'm coming too. I'm up for seeing a bit of nefariousness."

Jamie was already in the car, fastening his seat belt. "Let's go!"

Dear Readers,

Whew, that was a long chapter. I'm literally drained; nevertheless, I'm feeling a sense of satisfaction that I can post it today. My eyes are wonky, though, from editing, and I was about to go through it again when I thought, ah bugger it, I will do the grammar check tomorrow.

Before I say nighty-night, thanks for your feedback from the previous chapter, and I'm looking forward to what you think of this next one. I know it's slow going, but I really wanted to cover as many plot holes as possible. Slowly but surely, I'm getting there. Anyway, take care always and keep spreading kindness and love. Until the next update, much love! X

#melodyheart #wonderwall #milesbetweenus #ClaireBeauchamp/JamieFraser #claire beauchamp #jamie fraser #outlanderfanfic

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halloweenhoneylover · 4 years ago

Text

the closing shift

summary: coffeeshop au babey!! spencer and reader are nerds in love who also work at the campus cafe together (spencer reid x fem!reader)

word count: 2.7k

author’s note: this one’s for u, anon!!! sorry if this is lame, i normally don’t like coffeeshop au’s but here we are. also a warning: there is a lot of doctor who junk in here and also it’s incredibly self-indulgent but i don’t care :)

“So what you’re saying is you don’t like the power of love and human goodness?”

Spluttering frustratedly, Spencer frowned at you, “Of course, that’s not what I’m saying. I just think that the special effects were cheesy and the plot was sometimes a little silly!”

You narrowed your eyes at him for a moment before relenting with a sigh, focusing back on the counter you were wiping down. “Okay, fine. I’ll admit that the Slitheen really did not look good, and that maybe ‘Love and Monsters’ was one of the stupidest episodes of television I’ve ever watched, but you have to admit that Ten’s monologue in ‘The Satan Pit’ was one of the best pieces of writing in the whole show. ‘If I believe in one thing, I believe in her?’ How were you not screaming at your TV when you watched that!”

Spencer lips curled into a small smile as you continued rambling and absent-mindedly cleaning the counter. You were not doing a very good job, but he wasn’t about to stop your spiel. It wasn’t often he was on the receiving end of a ramble, and as someone who was frequently told to shut up, he would never interrupt, especially when it was about his favorite show. Especially when it was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. No, he’d sit quietly and listen, thank you very much.

“Okay,” she brought her full attention back to Spencer. “I’ll forgive you for your horrible offence. If you take back what you said.”

She looked so intently in his eyes, so sincerely his knees wobbled a little. The full force of her attention was like the sun. He felt warm inside and out, but he might be burned from the intensity of its direct glare.

“Fine, season two of Doctor Who is not a complete abomination.”

The corner of her mouth quirked up in a satisfied smirk. “Well, thank you, Dr. Reid. I appreciate the kind words.”

He nodded, turning to the back room. He’d almost made it through the doorway before he muttered just loud enough for you to hear, “But season eight is better.”

A melodramatic gasp, and he felt a rag hit the back of his head, and he chuckled.

“You take that back, Spencer Reid!”

Making his way further in, his fingers found the knot behind his back, quickly untying and shrugging off the apron. “(Y/N), I only speak the truth. I’m a man of science, and science says that season eight is simply superior.”

You laughed along with him, murmuring grievances against this idiot genius. You reached behind yourself, fingers fumbling with the knot. After a couple unsuccessful attempts, you huffed and asked, “Hey, Spencer, do you think you could help me with my apron? I tied the stupid thing too tightly.”

He gulped, mumbling a sure thing in a way he hoped was nonchalant, but knowing himself, was anything but. Walking up behind you, he felt himself involuntarily shudder at your proximity, and he said a silent prayer to a god he didn’t believe in to try to keep his cool. You felt his fingers brush against your lower back, and you tried, gosh, you tried so hard to not audibly gasp (you’re not sure you succeeded). The brief contact unfortunately flooded your mind with thoughts about his long fingers that you had often admired (discreetly), and you thought about what it’d be like for him to touch you and for him to mean it, and you nearly passed out. The silence was deafening, which was funny because it seemed like you two could never shut up around each other, and the one time you needed to fill the tense air with something, there was nothing.

Finally finished with the knot, Spencer softly tapped your back twice with his index. “All done.” It came out as a whisper. He couldn’t have managed more.

“Thanks!” You spoke at normal volume and tried to put you back into regular conversation, but breaking the eerie quiet, it sounded like you were shouting.

He shot you a tight-lipped smile. “Are you all good to close up?”

“Yeah, I can hold down the fort,” you said rather breathlessly, returning his smile.

Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he pushed open the back door and waved. “See you Thursday!”

“See ya.”

As soon as the door shut, you heaved a sigh of relief and let the tension out of your shoulders, staring at the ground. You dug the heels of your palms into your eyes. Why did you freeze up like that? Why was it weird when he left? Why did you like him so much?

———

Thursday was Spencer’s favorite day of the week. The dining hall stocked chocolate donuts with rainbow sprinkles on Thursdays. He had his chemistry seminar with his favorite professor on Thursdays. Caltech’s chess club met on Thursdays. He worked his shift at The Campus Grind on Thursdays.

(You worked the same shift at The Campus Grind on Thursdays.)

Did Spencer really need a job? No, his education was entirely paid for by the school because when you have a child prodigy on your hands, you should try to keep them. And he lived in on-campus housing and ate on campus, and he didn’t have a lot of other expenses. But his advisor told him that he might get something out of doing a job that didn’t require 100% of his brain power, might get to rest his mind for a couple hours every week. He might also make a friend.

What he had not anticipated when he started at one of the various campus cafes was meeting you. He showed up to his first shift and nearly choked when he saw arguably the most beautiful girl he had ever met in the backroom putting on an apron. Your eyes lit up when you saw him. “Hey, you must be Spencer! I saw our names together on the schedule a couple times, looks like we’re gonna be work buddies!”

By the time you turned back to speak to your guys’ new manager, he noticed his jaw was completely slack, and he hoped his mouth had not been hanging too long. He also blacked out too long to ask for your name, which he was internally hitting himself over. And he hazily drifted through the training, his mind barely focusing on the coffee. To say he was distracted by the girl next to him and the way she smelled like coconuts and cotton was a major understatement. Times like these were humbling for a twenty-year-old with two and a half PhDs.

He could barely recall anything that happened until they were cleaning out the espresso machine together silently, and he was struck with a sudden need. “Hey, I never caught your name…”

“Right! My name is (Y/N),” she answered, offering him a grin.

“It’s nice to meet you, (Y/N).”

Neither spoke after that, both working quietly next to each other. Spencer sighed internally, he wasn’t sure what he expected, but he hoped they wouldn’t spend the semester in silence. And like some higher power was listening to his wishes, you turned to him, “So, Spencer, what are you majoring in?”

Hesitant to scare you off, he tiptoed around the subject. “Right now, I’m studying chemistry.”

“Right now?”

He glanced over at you, and despite knowing you for the entirety of ten minutes, he couldn’t deny you or the inquisitive gleam in your eye even if he wanted to. And he didn’t want to. “I’m working on my PhD in chemistry. I already have two in mathematics and engineering. Oh, and I have two BA’s in psychology and sociology.” He couldn’t help but feel a little guilty at the dumbfounded look on your face, and he swallowed harshly. “Um, uh—what uh, what are you studying?”

You let out a brief laugh, and for a moment, he cringed, wondering if you were laughing at him. But just a look at you and the tenderness of your features, he knew he had nothing to worry about. Blowing a puff of air out, you grinned gently, “Well, your PhD’s are putting my bachelor’s to shame, so I’m not sure I want to say.”

“No, I’m sure whatever you’re studying is cool,” he reassured you.

Pleasantly surprised by the humility of your new genius coworker, you continued, “I appreciate it. I tend to err on the side of the humanities, not much of a STEM gal myself, and right now,” you both chuckled at your little joke, “I’m studying history and political science.”

“So am I standing in the presence of a future lawyer, or maybe the next president of the United States?”

“Good question, but I’m not sure. Would you vote for me?”

Squinting at you for a moment, he nodded slowly, “Yeah, I think I would. You’ve got a kind face.”

You raised your eyebrows at that, trying to suppress a blush. “A kind face?”

“Yeah,” he hummed, eyes flicking over your face. You felt shy under his gaze; it’s not everyday a hot genius boy stares you down and tells you you have a ‘kind face.’

Ducking your head, you fought a smile. “Alright, I’ll take it.”

And from then on, something clicked. You and Spencer talked for hours and hours during your shifts, joking and teasing (and grinning and blushing). He looked forward to working because that meant a chance to see you. (Except for Mondays, that was the one shift you didn’t have together, and it made Spencer want to scream. The dude he worked with, Andy, was nice enough, but the hours seemed to drag on when he didn’t have you to discuss weird sci-fi movies with.)

He was particularly looking forward to this Thursday because he knew you had a big presentation in your class about African revolution, and he wanted to hear all about it. In the brief moments of spare time at the cafe, he had helped you prepare and had listened to bits and pieces of it. This morning he’d sent you a quick good luck! text, to which you’d responded with thanks!!! and a stream of various heart emojis. He had learned early on that you were very fond of emojis, but it never stopped his heart from skipping a beat when you’d send him little hearts and smileys.

Entering the back room, he set his backpack on a hook and started to get ready for his shift. He gave a quick wave to the people from the last shift as they left, and he felt a little worry boiling in his gut because if they had left, that meant you were late, and you were never late. He wondered if something had happened in your presentation, and he was filled with dread. Solitarily manning the counter, he was ensnared in his thoughts; he couldn’t stand the idea of something going wrong and you being upset, so upset that you couldn’t come to work. He shifted uncomfortably, hand itching to grab his phone and send you a text to see if you were okay when he heard a door slam and a shriek from the backroom. “Spencer!”

Immediately, he ran to the back, expecting the worst, and he nearly fell over when you ran at him full-speed to launch into a hug. “Oof—” He recovered though, catching you, and he wrapped his arms around you so tightly and cradled the back of your head in his hand. His heart stuttered. He could get used to this.

You buried your face into his neck. “Oh, Spencer, you won’t believe it. My presentation went so well! My professor held me after class and told me I was one of his brightest students, and oh, I just don’t believe it!” He felt your face warm against him as you gushed.

“I believe it, I don’t doubt it for a second. You are so smart, (Y/N). I’m so proud of you. You deserve it.”

Breathing him in for just a moment longer, you finally released him, and both of you thought how everything feels a little emptier now that you weren’t holding each other. He couldn’t help but beam at you, though.

“Really, (Y/N), I’m so proud of you.”

“Hey, I can’t take all the credit! It’s all thanks to you being patient enough to hear me blabber on and practice, so thank you, Dr. Reid.”

He got incredibly flustered at the title and hesitated over his next words before settling on a soft anytime. And he meant it.

———

The rest of your shift that day was less eventful. You recounted some of the highlights of your presentation, to which Spencer listened with rapture. There was some discussion of who was at chess club today and if anyone there was a true match for Spencer (no one was). You played your favorite game called “Who Can Make the Most Disgusting Drink Out of Four Ingredients?” (You won with a mixture of coffee, coffee grounds, an excessive amount of salt, and raspberry syrup. (Ew, (Y/N) why is it grainy?)) And now nearing midnight, you sat at one end of the bar reading your textbook while Spencer cleaned up various mugs and napkins. He snagged the broom from the backroom and began sweeping. With a quick glance up at you focused entirely on your book, he smiled softly. Pieces of your hair had drifted out from behind your ears and framed your face, and the apples of your cheeks were flushed. To put it simply, you looked ethereal, and Spencer didn’t think it should be possible for someone to look so beautiful at the end of a long day, but here you were, always defying expectations. He thought you looked like someone from those Renaissance paintings you loved so dearly, but he knew that even if someone tried to commit your grace to canvas, it’d be to no avail. He was sure no one would be able to do you justice.

Looking down at the floor he was supposed to be sweeping, he let his thoughts wander farther. He thought about what it would be like to hold you everyday like he did today. He’d be the luckiest man on Earth, that’s what. For so long he thought about asking you out, but then he knew that someone like you would never be interested in someone like him. But then again, you were the impossible girl. You never did quite what he expected. And he never expected you to be into him. So maybe for once in his life, he’d go out on a limb and ask you if you wanted to go get dinner with him sometime. He’d take you to the Indian place on 12th that he knew you loved, and you’d sit in the oddly formal, always empty restaurant and laugh and giggle together because that’s what you always did together, and then maybe, he’d invite you back to his place, so you could watch Doctor Who, or maybe do other things (like hold hands), who knows?

He found himself praying to that god he didn’t believe in once again to find the courage as he finished up sweeping, and after he put the broom away, he walked up to you with butterflies running rampant in his stomach, so he could barely muster a glance at you. But he was going to finally do it.

“(Y/N), I —”

And that’s when he noticed that you had fallen asleep on your book. It had been a long day for you. He felt his heart grow tender and soft and if someone poked it, it very well might explode. His thoughts strayed to your conversation the other day and the quote you loved so much. I've seen fake gods and bad gods and demi-gods and would-be gods, and out of all that, out of that whole pantheon, if I believe in one thing, just one thing, I believe in her. He takes a step or two closer, and brushing a lock of hair behind your ear with the gentlest hand, he thinks, yeah. I believe in her.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #do people read things at 2 in the morning?#lets hope so!#bc that's the only time i write :)#my sleep schedule is not :) good :)

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years ago

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PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 7

Rating: Explicit.

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV. There is violence in this chapter.

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: *chants* BRUCE FLUFF BRUCE FLUFF BRUCE FLUFF. *sings* they're ain't no big thing just show them a little swing. Beneficial Cucumber. Author's notes are spoilers without context at this point... Y'all-

My beta, @miscmarvelwritings . We make the best duo. I am her dumb of ass and she is my gay. I love her.

Tony was elbow-deep in a robot when I came out of the elevator, Peter holding up the spare part needed, hovering next to the engineer. Without preamble, I was directed to help and dutifully fulfilled Tony's requests. Nothing indicated that my evening stunt ever happened besides Pete's faint blush; I might as well have written it off to the tank top hugging the upper part of my body in all the right places.

I was disappointed, I won't lie to myself - I expected Tony to tease me at least a little bit, snark something vaguely lewd and move on. But the engineer was quiet today, eerily so, almost to the point where it seemed he was ignoring me on purpose. My pride didn't let me begin any of our usual banter so I frowned in silence, making the appearance of a very focused person. Bolts and screws - most interesting things in the world!

As usual, I clocked out first around eleven thirty, leaving Pete and Tony some time to discuss their secret science stuff. Usually I would be exhausted by this point which left little to no room for jealousy but that night, emotions hit me like a freight train and it took me every ounce of my willpower to head out to Bruce's for the inevitable "I'm disappointed in you/Fuck safely" round of brainwashing.

My brain kept returning to the downwards tilt of Tony's mouth and the somber mood around him. I hated seeing him so...unhappy and tense.

The moment I set step in Bruce's lab, I saw the man's back hunched over a tube, I felt the same energy coming from him. What a fucking day! The sigh that left my mouth was resigned. "Bruce?"

A couple of seconds passed before he turned. He attempted a smile but it didn't reach his eyes at all. "Hi, Princess."

I cocked my head in defeat. "If this is the part where you lecture me, let's get over it. Or even better, you say nothing and we carry on," I pursed my lips, inspecting my nails in favour of actually facing the scientist.

I heard the click-clack of his instruments being placed on the table and the soft taps of his shoes against the tiled floor. His arms reached around my shoulders before I could even attempt to pull away, one of his broad palms tucking my face into the crook of his neck.

"I'm not mad, baby girl," He told me quietly.

I felt some of the tension dissipate, wrapped my arms around him, coming to a realization the man was all but melting into me.

"Just stay safe, alright? I don't want you to get hurt," With the same quiet tone, Bruce gently shushed my worries away. "If something is wrong, you can come to me. You know that, right?" He sounded painfully hopeful as he withdrew just enough to capture my face in his hands, forcing me to look him in the eye.

Something about the look in his eyes made my heart ache. I didn't have the heart to refuse, nor did I want to, so I nodded. Promptly, I was embraced yet again, his lips resting on the crown of my head, both of us swaying gently.

I've never wanted to cry so badly in my entire life.

"I'm a fuckin' mess, Bwucie, you haven't got a clue what you've gotten yourself into," I settled for a round of self-deprication instead. Bitter as it was, it was the barenaked truth.

"Then you're a beautiful mess," I could feel the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. So I smiled, too, obscured by his lab coat.

As much as I didn't want to leave the embrace, like, ever, I had to get home before one o'clock - before mother went to bed, zonked out on Valium and Ambien from the endless supply closet courtesy of my dad. "M'hafta go home," I mumbled.

Bruce sighed deeply. "I'll grab one of Tony's cars and drive you," He went over to remove his lab coat as I gaped. "I'm a forty-five year old man, I can drive." He chuckled humorlessly.

"Tony won't mind?" I asked the first question that popped into my mind to attempt dispelling the awkward moment.

"Trust me, he won't mind at all," Bruce mumbled darkly. I wondered what's up with that but the immediate future for me was already planned out: I was really looking forward to going home, crawling into bed with my clothes on and having a good old fashioned cry.

We made quick work of locating a set of keys and peeling out of the garage in Tony's shiny Audi R8, tires squealing on the wet pavement. It had stopped raining sometime during my robot building but the city was still filled with puddles. I could smell the moist, decaying leaves through the tiny gap of the window, the city was drowning in autumn like I was drowning in my own cluelessness.

The adrenaline rush, the weight of Tony's foul mood, the grief and pleading that radiated off Bruce mixed into a horrendous cocktail of misery and pain. Too much pain for my little, weak, dumb heart to handle. And all these people out in the streets, dressed to the nines despite the disgusting weather - laughing, hugging and drunkenly giggling, it was like salt on my wounds, rubbing it in how much of a good time they were having.

"This your house?" Bruce pointed at the black, high gate of the entrance to my garage.

"Yeah, it's a bit much," I nodded absentmindedly, seeing Bruce's eyes bulge at the sheer size of my estate. My mother wouldn't settle for any less than the best so having a monstrously huge (for NYC) home was what she got. Dad just signed the checks.

Bruce hummed.

I made a face, reaching for his warm hand and giving it a squeeze. "Thanks, Bwucie," Smiling at him, I used up the last of my good mood to show the gratitude he deserved.

He pulled me into a tight hug right over the middle console. It wasn't comfortable by any means with the numerous buttons and switches poking at the soft of my stomach but there was nowhere else I'd rather be than in his arms during that moment. The breaths that left me felt like they were punched out of my chest cavity by steel-toed boots.

"Good night, Princess. Sweet dreams." He kissed my cheek, lingering just a tiny bit.

I did the same, rubbing softly against his stubble and giggling at the ticklish sensation. "Night night, Bwucie."

I waved at him again as I unlocked my front gates and watched him speed off from behind it, obscured by the shadows of the decorative trees growing right behind the fence.

Bruce's face had morphed into something akin to torment or suffering the moment I disappeared from his immediate eyesight and it baffled me to no extent. I ransacked my brain left and right, searching for a reason I might have inadvertently caused him to feel that way but found none. The only logical reason was that he was just lonely. He didn't have many friends from what I gathered and if judging by the proud tone in which he spoke of Will-Mr Davies today, he desperately needed some other company than his teammates. I wish I could have helped.

Mother was nowhere to be seen when I entered the house so a beeline for my bed was successful. The ugly, loud, dry-heaving sobs weren't in any shape or form attractive or acceptable to show to anybody but me so when they forced their way out of me, the pillow keeping me company. I cried as for everything that was happening to me as much as I sobbed because of the self-pity I was indulging in.

It was pathetic, really. My mother would scoff and my father... Well, he'd offer me to 'cheer up, throw a party, do normal teenager stuff'. The bottle of wine I kept in my closet was empty in no time: I justified that as a single lady in a big city, I was entitled to relax once in a while.

Who was I lying to? I downed a bottle in twenty minutes just so I could fall asleep and begone from all this bullshit for a while.

On Monday, I anonymously submitted the documents pertaining to Thompson's behaviour to the school board and to a local newspaper that was known to dabble in socialite gossip. Next day, an investigation was promptly launched and important-looking people started to appear in the hallways, going in and out of the principal's office. Flash was pulled out of class by two police officers: at this point, half the student population was unashamedly filming it on their smartphones, me included. With grim satisfaction, I sent the video directly to the group chat with an added message of "so long, fucker".

Steve didn't even remark on my profanity, just sent a thumbs up.

It really fuckin' blew up the next morning. The news was plastered across every paper, every social media site - "Midtown Principal's son arrested for grand theft auto and assault", "Midtown Principal Being Investigated for obstruction of education" and other ridiculous headlines that had me, Bucky and Natasha in shit-fits.

Flash returned to school on Wednesday accessorized with a pretty ankle monitor and a sullen frown. During lunch, he sat only with two of his closest minions instead of the chatty group he was usually seen with. Everybody avoided him like the bubonic plague, even teachers ignored him.

With the final bell, me and Pete went on to look for Happy outside the school territory.

I was spending nearly every evening at the tower either in Tony's or Bruce's lab or sandwiched between Wanda and Bucky on the couch, gossiping while TV shows mutely played in the background. I had found a second friend in the face of Winter Soldier who, much like me, spent a lot of his days occupied by the internet or in a general state of confusion. Bucky was charming, funny and very flamboyant. I enjoyed the no-nonsense attitude and zero fucks that he gave the world in general.

The moment I stepped on the other side of the gate, I immediately knew something was wrong. Peter squirmed uncomfortably beside me, looking frantically in every direction, trying to spot Happy's car in vain.

"Ay, Parker," The familiar obnoxious voice of Peter's bully reached our ears. "You wanna tell me how you got your grubby little hands on that file?"

Thompson had brought back up with him, the idiot that he was. He was standing off to the side, leaning against the fence while five older boys surrounded us in a tight circle.

"Leave us alone, Flash, you're already in trouble," Peter tried reasoning with the bully meanwhile I... I was searching for a cleaner, dryer spot to dump my $1500 bag onto in preparation for the inevitable. I was no stranger to swinging my arm - as a frequent house party guest, I've had to fend off enough unwelcome advances. I've been told I have a mean, mean right hook.

"Bold of you to assume Peter would actually steal something," I stated in a bored tone once my bag was out of the way and Pete was standing securely behind me. I wasn't afraid of Flash, mostly because I knew he'd step back for the fear of retaliation from my family was usually too much.

"Oh, look at that, the weirdo is talking," Thompson mocked, getting up and standing right in front of my face. "You know, I don't get why the likes of you have to go to school with us, normal people. See, Peter here might be a little wimp but at least he won't shoot up the whole school one day because his daddy didn't love him enough," Thompson decided to test his luck. To finish his epic tirade with a flourish, he spat on the ground next to me.

I snorted. "Wow, that's an awful lot of smart words for someone as dumb as a doorknob," I shook my head in disdain. "Look, either you go now or I'll sue you so far up your ass, you'll be sucking dick in prison just to get something to fill your stomach with." And wow, that comeback was really, really good. I was proud of myself.

I saw pure rage mar Thompson's already ugly face into something demonic and ducked at the last moment, feeling the blunt sting of his knuckles connect with my left cheekbone. Reflectively I swung, too, decking him straight in the nose with all the rage and despair that was burning deeply inside of me at that time.

I heard gasps all around me as the students whispered, shouted and cheered at Thompson's confused form hitting the ground. He held his face and his palms were stained a deep crimson; I felt something warm on my face, copper in my mouth.

"Does anybody want some of that, too?" My tone was icy. I shrugged off the hand that landed on my shoulder, glaring down one of the boys who came with Thompson.

"Shit, cops, RUN!" One of the students suddenly shouted and just like that, both me and Flash were surrounded only by a handful of students who had filmed the entire incident on camera. God bless technology!

"Uh, I think you're bleeding," Pete timidly remarked from behind me, hand still awkwardly outstretched towards me. He cast a guilty look to the side where Happy was running towards us, phone held to his ear, no doubt already on the line with Tony and the rest of the Avengers. Shit, fuck, SHIT. I didn't plan for this!

The police officers called an ambulance for Flash and took my statement while I was holding my bleeding nose up to the sky, much to the officer's dismay. Happy had passed the officer his mobile phone and I briefly heard Tony's voice saying that I will be taken care of in the tower's medical suite - and let's face it, no cop will go against Iron Man's charm and wit.

As an eighteen year old, I could refuse the on-site medical assistance that the city provided and my parents weren't required so I was let go after my statement was taken and my injuries photographed.

Not that the photoshoot really was required. Multiple people had the incident on video, from multiple angles. It was an open and close case. I called my mother in the elevator (she didn't answer) and left her a voice message with the bare facts of the situation and my current whereabouts.

Seeing the whole team assembled in the living room, some nervously twitching, some anxiously pacing, I couldn't help but let out a slightly hysterical giggle. "Oh my god, guys, I'm not in a coma, stop acting like I'm in a coma!"

Bucky was the first to approach me, carefully hugging me and steering me towards Bruce. He looked a bit rough, green-ish? I guess. But the first aid kit was already on the table and Stephen Strange was hovering nearby.

"You decked the sucker real good, doll," Bucky's Brooklyn accent made his speech less intelligible but he definitely got all the cookie points for the heat and the passion.

"Ditto. Should've kicked him in the balls, too," Natasha smirked and Steve mirrored her smirk with a darker twist.

"I'm going to sue him so darn far up his ass," Tony seethed, looking absolutely livid.

"Don't worry, mother's got it handled," I obediently laid down on the couch, staring up at Bruce's wide eyes and Stephen's focused face.

"You are fearless and fierce, dear lady," Thor boomed from somewhere.

All of this was making me... Emotional. I just punched a piece of human garbage, it was not a big deal, okay? He had it coming. I chuckled uncomfortably, wincing when Bruce began dabbing at the dried blood on my face with a piece of gauze soaked in alcohol. "Petey, you alright?" I asked, worried about the sudden onset of silence from the usually chatty boy. He mumbled something. "Speak up, I can't hear shit with all the ringing in my ears."

That earned me a worried look from doctor Strange and a frown from Bruce.

"I should've protected you-I mean-it's not that you can't do it yourself, or because you're a girl, it's just-I," he suddenly stopped.

"Go ahead, kid," Tony urged him with unmistakable kindness in his voice.

"You see, I'm-I'm actually Spider-Man and I'm afraid to accidentally kill someone, 'cause I'm really strong." Pete blurted out.

I had to replay his words several times in my head to get to the gist of what he was actually saying. Shy little Peter? Spider-Man? So that's why he was such a fucking pacifist? I mean, it made perfect sense if he really was strong enough to lift cars and hold together collapsing bridges like I'd seen on YouTube.

"Huh," I stated after a brief pause. "I guess I did double the work today, dumped out some trash and prevented a potential murder. I'm on a roll and I deserve chocolate cake," I rambled to distract myself from the incoming dull headache and the sting of the alcohol against the split skin of my cheek.

Strange chuckled, looking, possibly, the happiest I've ever seen him. Bruce giggled too. A tiny bit.

"Friday, order the biggest, most expensive chocolate cake that can be delivered in... Two hours," Tony immediately spoke up.

"Cake," I mumbled happily, a strange drowsiness overcoming me, making my eyelids droop. "Hey-mmm, doc?" I slurred, seeing Stephen's face fall. "M'think m'concussed, f'king 'ell!" The snort that left his mouth was absolutely hilarious; I started giggling, too, startling Banner into action.

He picked up his phone, saying something I didn't understand at all.

"Y'kno," I had this totally bright idea I absolutely NEEDED to share with everyone. "Y'kinda look like the guy... Wha's'is name... Bendy-snap Crum-ble-sticks? No, wait," Snorts and giggles began to resonate through the room as the amount of Doctor Stranges suddenly multiplied by two. He was a WIZARD, that was so cool! "I think... Mmm, yes... Benadryl-Claritin? No-no-no, 'das meds," Woah, a lot of people were there and they were suddenly all laughing. I wondered what was so funny. It was hard to think with so many people laughing; my temples were pulsating uncomfortably. "Wait, I know, I know!" There were wheezing noises now, noises that distinctively reminded me of Tony and Wanda and Bucky. "Bubble-butt Coitus-snack!" I triumphantly exclaimed, finally happy to have gotten it right.

The laughter turned into truly demonic cackling, surrounding me, they were so loud I almost managed to get fully afraid. And then, I passed the fuck out.

TAGLIST IS OPEN Y'ALL.

@another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem

#tony stark x reader #tony stark x y/n #tony stark x you #bruce banner x y/n #bruce banner x reader #Bruce Banner fluff #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange x you #Stephen Strange x y/n #doctor strange x you #doctor strange x reader #bun writes #party favours #IN THIS HOUSE WE PROTECT PETER PARKER WITH OUR LIVES AND FACES

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dialovers-translations · 4 years ago

Text

Diabolik Lovers VANDEAD CARNIVAL ;; Ruki Route ー Chapter 2

ー The scene starts on the Carnival’s venue

Yui: Come to think of it...You said you don’t know what the ‘Queen of the Carnival’ is about either, right?

Ruki: Yes. I was aware of the existence of the Carnival itself, but never had I heard of there being a Queen.

Yui: You knew about the Carnival already? But you’ve never come here, right?

Ruki: It’s my first time visiting. However, I read about it in Eden in the past.

Yui: Eden?

Ruki: It’s the castle us siblings lived at during the time we had just been turned into Vampires. It is what we would call the place.

Amongst the literary collection at the castle, I found a book which had information on the Carnival and read it.

I believe the book mentioned that the Demon World’s Carnival is set up to resemble similar festivities in the human world.

Back then, I never even fathomed I would one day be able to enjoy it myself, of course...

I suppose you can never predict the future.

However, thinking back to it now, I am fairly certain nothing was written about a Queen.

That bothers me.

Yui: ( ...I’ve gotten a little anxious. I wonder what the Queen’s duty is? )

( I just hope I don’t get myself involved in anything strange or scary... )

Ruki: ...

Oi, Livestock. We’re gonna take a small break. I’m sure you’re exhausted too?

Yui: Eh? Why would you suddenly bring that up...?

Ruki: There’s a perfect shop over there. Let’s go.

ー Ruki walks away

Yui: Eh? Uhm, Ruki-kun!?

ー The scene shifts to Cafe ‘Tarte Tatin’

Waiter A: Welcome!

Yui: ( This is...a cafe? It looks normal from the outside... )

( But all the customers here are Vampires, right? It’s honestly kind of amazing... )

Ruki: Do you have any spare tables?

Waiter A: Yes, for two, right? Please wait one secーー Ah...

...Pardon my rudeness, dear customer. However, does that lady over there happen to be a human...?

Yui: ( He noticed...My scent should be suppressed by the drug though... )

Uhm, I...

Ruki: If I say yes, would that pose a problem?

Waiter A: I-I never claimed as much but...

Ruki: Then why ask that question?

Waiter A: U-Uhm...

Manager: ーー Pardon me, customer.

Is my waiter causing any trouble?

Ruki: Yes, he made a statement as if this place picks its customers, you see...I was hoping to inquire him about his true intentions.

Manager: ...Is the lady over there a human?

Yui: ( So they really do notice. I wonder if the medicine hasn’t taken full effect yet...? )

( Ruki-kun was so kind to tell me to enjoy myself too, but like this... )

Ruki: Let me tell you, she is no ordinary human.

She is special. One chosen by Karlheinz-sama, that is.

Waiter A: By Karlheinz-sama...!?

Manager: This human is...?

Ruki: If you reject her entrance, you are basically going against that man’s wishes too.

Manager: ...

...Prepare a table on the terrace.

Waiter A: Eh? ...Are you sure?

Manager: I shall permit it. ...They are very important customers after all.

Please excuse our rudeness, dear customers. We shall prepare everything right away, so please wait one second.

Ruki: Sure.

Yui: ( You know... )

Ruki: Why are you looking at me like that? If there’s something on your mind, tell me.

Yui: N-No...

( Ruki-kun is very reliable, it’s at times like these that I realize how lucky I am to have him on my side... )

Ruki: ...Yui. You should learn to be a little more assertive.

Yui: Assertive?

Ruki: You need to learn to voice your own opinion.

Nothing good comes from being too timid.

You are the chosen Eve. Have more confidence. Be proud.

If you stand there cowering, (1) it has a negative impact on me, the person by your side, as well.

Yui: ...Right. I’m sorry, Ruki-kun.

Ruki: Of course, I know that is simply who you are. Therefore, I’m not exactly blaming you or anything.

I do like that side of you too after all.

Yui: Eh...?

Waiter A: My apologies for the wait. I shall escort you to your seats.

Ruki: Let’s go.

The terrace is a VIP seat. Try and keep your head up high, so you seem fitting of sitting there. Understood?

*TIMESKIP*

Waiter A: Here’s your coffee, cafe au lait and tarte tatin.

*Thud*

Yui: Wah...Looks delicious! Take a look, Ruki-kun!

Ruki: Oi, don’t make too much of a fuss. Did I not tell you these seats are special? You’re embarrassing us.

Yui: Ah...Sorry.

Ruki: Remain calm when eating. Right now you are reminding me of Kou or Yuma.

Yui: Yes...Well then, I’ll have a bite.

*Cling*

Yui: Nn...Delicious!

Ruki: I see.

Yui: You won’t eat anything?

Ruki: No. Watching you eat something so sugary sweet is more than enough for me.

Yui: However, it actually isn’t too overly sweet, so won’t you try some as well?

We’re here together now anyway, so just one bite, okay?

Ruki: ...If you insist, I suppose I will. Give me some.

Yui: Yes! I’ll ask the waiter for a fork...

Ruki: No need. You are already holding one in your hand, no?

You can use that one.

Yui: B-But, then I’ll have to...

Ruki: What? You can’t...?

Yui: It’s not impossible but...

Ruki: ...You won’t claim it’s embarrassing, right?

You’ve already directly accepted my fangs with your body, yet this much is enough to make you feel shame?

If you don’t like the idea, you don’t have to share with me. I’m not that interested after all.

Yui: I do think it’s embarrassing, but I want you to be able to have a taste as well.

Ruki: Hmph...In that case...You know what to do, right?

Yui: ( Uu...I guess having him on your side can still cause trouble at times... )

*TIMESKIP*

ー They leave the cafe

Waiter A: Thank you very much for your visit!

Yui: That was so good! I’m glad we came.

Ruki: Yeah.

Yui: Say, Ruki-kun. Where are we headed next?

Ruki: Wherever you want. We are just killing time until it’s time after all.

*Clap clap clap*

Clown A: Gather around, everyone! A spectacular show is about to begin!

Everyone interested should head to Saint Nore Park right away! A fun time awaits ahead!

Yui: Saint Nore Park...? I wonder what kind of show they’re talking about?

Ruki: Want to go take a look if you’re curious? We still have time.

Yui: Yeah!

ー The scene shifts to Saint Nore Park’s venue

Yui: What a crowd...I guess the show will take place around here?

Ruki: Oi, Livestock, don’tーー

*Thud*

Yui: Ah...!

Female Vampire D: Watch your step! Be careful!

Yui: S-Sorry...

Ruki: ...Haah.

*Rustle*

Ruki: Don’t wander around without permission from your Master. Who do you think has to go through trouble if you were to get yourself lost?

Yui: Sorry...

Ruki: If you truly feel guilty, make sure to stick by my side from here on out. I don’t want to get into trouble either.

Yui: Y-Yeah...

( However, aren’t we a little too close right now...? )

ー The crowd cheers

Magician A: This concludes our marionette act.

We had some close calls with the threads getting entangled, but those kind of ‘small’ incidents are part of the act’s charm!

Yui: ( That’s not a laughing matter...! )

Magician A: Well then, let’s move to the next show time!

I need an assistant for this next act...So could I ask for a volunteer?

Yui: Fufu, this kind of stuff often happens, huh?

Ruki: Usually the assistant is decided upon beforehand though.

Yui: Oh come on...

Magician A: Hm...Let’s see...Ah!

Yui: ( ...Eh? Did our eyes meet just now? )

Magician A: The young lady over there. Would you be willing to help me out?

Yui: ( I knew it...! )

Ruki: ...Are you referring to her?

Magician A: Why of course! I just felt like this is fate.

I feel like my act will definitely succeed if she helps me out. Unlike the one from before.

Ruki: ...I’m sorry, but I can’t hand her over.

Magician A: Eeh? Please don’t say that...Say, young lady? How do you feel about this?

Yui: Me? I...

Selection

→ I want to give it a try

Yui: I guess I kind of want to...give it a shot.

Magician A: See? Did you hear that?

Ruki: ...You fool.

Yui: Eh...!?

( Is he upset...!? )

→ Ask Ruki-kun (☾)

Yui: Ruki-kun...What should I do?

Ruki: ...If you want to try it, you should.

Yui: Thenーー

Ruki: Which is what I’d love to say. But I cannot give you permission this time.

Yui: ( He seems really insistent about it... )

Is there a specific reason, Ruki-kun?

Ruki: ...You know very well that you’re surrounded by Vampires right now, don’t you?

Vampires don’t die so easily. Therefore, even if they make a small blunder, they can just cover it up as being part of the show.

If anything, I heard that sometimes they will mess up on purpose to get a stronger reaction from the audience. I assume that was the case in the previous act as well.

Even if it is something which could usually cost a person their life, for a Vampire who doesn’t die very easily, they can simply laugh it off.

However...You are different. If a mistake were to occur, you’d die.

How could I let you go through with this...knowing very well that is the case?

Yui: ( Come to think of it...Earlier everyone laughed when he said there was a close call as well. )

( If an incident were to happen again while I’m helping out... )

Ruki: Do you still want to give it a try after hearing all of this?

Yui: ...I don’t...

Ruki: Figured as much.

Magician A: Hello? Have you made up your mind?

Ruki: It was obvious from the very start. She can’t help. If you need someone to assist you, you’ll have to try your luck somewhere else.

Magician A: Not even a little? All she has to do is stand there.

Ruki: The answer is no.

Magician A: ...I suppose you leave me with no other choice then.

ー The magician pulls Yui his way

*Thud*

Yui: Ow...!

Ruki: ...Oi!

Magician A: Oh come on, it’ll be over in the blink of an eye.

Yui: ( This person is incredibly strong...! )

P-Please stop...!

Magician A: Don’t be scared. Even if a mishap occurs, we don’t die, do we?

Yui: ( He’s mistaking me for a Vampire!? Because my scent has faded due to the drug...!? )

Ruki: Oi! Let go of her right noーー!

*Thud*

Ruki: ...!? What are you two doing!?

Clown A: No, no...You shouldn’t interfere with the show!

Clown B: We know that you’re worried about her, but this is all for the sake of the Carnival, okay? Can’t you work with us for a bit?

Ruki: Cut the crap!! Kuh...!

Magician A: Well then, everyone! Please behold! What I would like to demonstrate on this lovely little lady isーー

A knife-throwing show!!

Yui: ( Knives...!? )

Magician A: There are three numbers written on the target behind her. I shall throw the knives towards those in order.

If I manage to hit all three without messing up...I would very much appreciate a grand applause from you all!

Yui: ( No way...The number behind me? They’re near the face...!? )

No! Ruki-kun...!

Ruki: Kuh...! Let me go...!

Clown A: Ah~ Yeah, yeah, stop moving!

Clown B: Don’t worry, it’ll only sting a little at worst.

Ruki: ...Only sting a little, you say...?

...Don’t be ridiculous!!

Magician A: Well thenーー Starting with the first one!

Yui: ...!!

ー She closes her eyes

Yui: ( Ruki-kun...! )

Ruki: ...Yui!!

*Thud*

ー She opens her eyes again

Magician A: ...Oh dear?

Clown A: Oh my! Such strength!

Clown B: There were two of us, but he still escaped our grip.

Ruki: ...Are you okay, Yui?

Yui: Ruki-kun...

( I had my eyes closed so I didn’t see what happened but...Ruki-kun saved me...? )

( ...The knife hit exactly the place I was standing up till now...!? )

( If Ruki-kun hadn’t come to my rescue, right now, I would have been...! )

...! Ow...!?

Ruki: Oi, what’s wrong? Don’t tell me, did the knife...!?

Yui: I’m okay...Seems like it only scraped my arm...But, it’s bleeding...

Spectator A: ...Hm? This scent...

Spectator B: A human! There’s a human here! But, this is...!

Spectator C: What a delicious fragrance! It’s coming from that young lady...!

Ruki: Che...Oi, press down onto your arm! We have to run!

ー The two of them run away

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) Literally he says that she is ‘making her back round’, implying that she is standing somewhat leaning forward as if you are trying to make yourself small, with your head bowed downwards.

← RETURN TO CHAPTER 1

→ PROCEED WITH MAIN STORY [CHAPTER 3]

→ SUB-SCENARIO #1 [W/REIJI]

→ SUB-SCENARIO #2 [W/ KANATO]

→ SUB-SCENARIO #3 [W/ AZUSA]

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #ruki mukami #vandead carnival #diabolik lovers translation #vcrukichapter2

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there-must-be-a-lock · 4 years ago

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Not Your Average Love Story (SPN x CM)

Sam Winchester x Spencer Reid

Word Count: ~3490

Warnings: Show-level violence, but that’s about it! It’s bizarrely fluffy.

A/N: My first square for @cmbingo: “meet the parents.” This is essentially a rewrite of Supernatural 12x01, “Keep Calm and Carry On,” except Spencer and Sam are adorable dorky murder boyfriends.

Thanks to @fangirlxwritesx67 for the read-through!

When Spencer realizes he’s in love with Sam, he’s on a plane, hoping to make it to Kansas before the sun goes dark.

He looks out the window at the too-orange light, thinking, this is a weird twist for a love story. He turns that thought over in his mind and realizes: love.

Oh.

It takes him by surprise, for some reason, but only for a second. He’s starting to get used to surprises.

* * *

Spencer has always been self-aware enough to realize that his intellect and his lack of social skills would not make it easy to strike up a traditional relationship. Then, of course, you factor in his obsessive tendencies, his attachment issues, and the stresses of his job, and it’s not actually surprising that he made it past the age of thirty before he fell in love for the first time. Considering how that ended, it’s definitely a surprise — if not a minor miracle — that he’s made it this far with Sam.

Then again, nothing about their relationship has been predictable. Spencer never guessed he’d meet his future partner while dissecting a dessicated brain.

Ever since Spencer Reid met Sam Winchester, his life has been one surprise after another.

* * *

The third unanswered call makes him nervous, but he figures Sam must be asleep, or at least he should be asleep. If Spencer finds himself doing ninety mph in his tiny rental car, it’s mostly because Kansas highways don’t seem to follow the usual laws of physics. They’re flat and endless and eerie in the grey pre-dawn light.

The moment he opens the door, Spencer knows something is wrong. He spares a wishful thought for his Kevlar, and then he draws his gun, falling automatically into the too-familiar stance as he silently descends the stairs.

There’s blood on the floor.

This doesn’t surprise him in the slightest.

* * *

Spencer tends to spend a lot of time visualizing hypothetical problems and their solutions. He’s good at imagining all the potential outcomes of a particular scenario and calculating their likelihoods based on given variables. He frequently does this at night, instead of sleeping.

In other words, he worries a lot.

If he were in a normal relationship he would probably worry about normal things. For example: whether Spencer was misreading the situation, whether it was okay to run a thorough background check on them, and what to wear on a date. What would their first argument be about? What would their parents think of him? What would his mom think of them?

About thirty-six hours after they met, Sam saved Spencer’s mom from a wraith; first impressions don’t get much better than that.

The normal worries were rapidly eclipsed by Sam-specific worries. For example: what if he got cursed, what if he got possessed, and were there angels or demons after him this week. Why couldn’t Dean either drive a little slower or get a car with less antiquated safety features? How would Spencer help if Sam got hurt on the job? Should he tell the B.A.U. what he’s been learning about the supernatural?

He does end up telling them everything; Sam and Dean show up at a crime scene, Hotch almost arrests them, and it turns out that one of the serial killers they’ve been hunting for a decade is actually a skinwalker.

But the point is that when Spencer sees blood on the floor, he isn’t surprised. He’s visualized this scenario — and several hundred variations on it — before.

* * *

He hears a raised voice in the library and takes the steps two at a time. There are two complete strangers there, a blonde woman aiming a gun at a man, and Spencer’s training kicks in before he can figure out why she looks familiar.

“Federal agent, hands in the air,” he barks.

He can see the split-second when the woman thinks about turning her gun on him, but she seems to think better of it, and she sets the gun down slowly before putting her hands in the air.

“Who are you?” the man demands. “What did you do with Sam?”

“What — Sam?” Spencer asks, panic rising in his throat. “Spencer Reid, FBI. Who —”

“You’re Spencer?” he asks, brow furrowed.

Spencer realizes: “You’re Castiel.”

“Whoa, whoa, hey, gun down,” Dean interrupts. “It’s okay! She’s okay, Spence!”

“Dean? You’re alive?” Castiel grabs him before he can say anything else.

Spencer lowers his gun slowly. He’s starting to hyperventilate. He wants to know how Dean is still alive, yes, but he’s watching the way they embrace, the smile on Cas’s face and the way Dean’s shoulders seem to drop like he’s relaxing for the first time in a long time, and all he can think about is —

“Can somebody tell me where the hell Sam is?” Spencer asks, voice cracking embarrassingly.

“He’s not here,” Castiel says.

The woman looks between Cas and Spencer, eyes wide, and it’s not clear who she’s talking to when she asks, “Who are you?”

“He’s my —” Dean starts.

Cas cuts him off by saying, “He’s Sam’s —” at the same time Spencer blurts out, “He’s an angel.”

“Come again?” the woman asks, and when she sees the way Dean shifts nervously, she adds, “Not that, I don’t care about — you said angel?”

“Angel. You know. Wings, harp.”

“Not actually,” Spencer tells her, just as Cas scowls and says, “No, I don’t have a harp.”

“Cas, Spencer,” Dean says, and he pauses, swallowing hard. “This is Mary. Mary Winchester.”

Spencer and Cas speak in unison again, Cas in a gruff monotone as Spencer’s voice goes squeaky: “Your mother?”

Of all the things Spencer has worried about, he never thought he would never have to worry about making a bad first impression on Sam’s parents. Sam’s parents are dead.

Except… apparently not. Apparently Sam’s mom has been resurrected, and Spencer just pulled a gun on her.

“Nice to meet you,” Mary says softly, with a tentative smile.

For a second he freezes, staring at her, and his mind starts racing, recalculating, replanning, getting his worrying done after the fact, and Spencer has no idea what to say. He never made a plan for this.

“Nice to meet you,” he responds, flushing. “Um. Sorry about that.”

“I’d have done the same thing if I were you.” She smiles, and she doesn’t look much like Sam, but the kindness in her eyes is so very familiar. Spencer’s breath catches.

“She’s not kidding, shoulda seen the way she pinned me when I tried to introduce myself,” Dean grumbles. Then he turns to Castiel and says, “Tell me what happened to Sam.”

As Castiel starts to explain the details, Spencer calls Penelope.

“FBI, office of the brilliant but under-caffeinated,” she says, slightly less chirpy than he’s used to, and Spencer realizes how early it is. Oops.

“It’s me.”

“Oh! Boy genius! They did it, huh? Hotch called us back in, like, as soon as the sun came back on, because apparently criminals don’t stop just because the world is ending, or whatever, but he wanted to give you a day at least — hey, are you okay? How’s that handsome lumberjack of yours?”

“Sam’s missing,” Spencer says without preamble. “I need your help.”

It takes Penelope approximately a minute to find the car and identify the driver, but the identity of his passenger is a little more elusive. She types away, keys clattering ceaselessly in the background, as Spencer yawns.

“Got it! Okay, I have a cell number. If you call her, I can track it. You ready?”

“Dean, give me your phone?” Spencer asks, holding out a hand. “You stay on the line with Penelope. She can tell you as soon as she gets the address.”

“I can make the call,” Dean says. “I want to have a word with this bitch.”

“Dean,” Spencer snaps. “First of all, I’m the only person here who’s trained in hostage negotiation. Finding people is literally in my job description.”

“This isn’t a fuckin’ bank holdup, this is my brother,” Dean retorts. “It’s my job to take care of him.”

“If you call her a bitch and start in on your threatening macho bullshit, she’s going to hang up, or worse, she’s going to believe you, and then she’ll be trying to get you before you can get to Sam. I know how to talk to people like this. If I can convince her I’m scared, that I’m not a real threat, she might give something away.”

“But —”

“Secondly, the only people who know you’re alive are in this room right now, which means you’re our best chance to take her by surprise when we get there, so shut up and let me do my job.”

“You really think you can find him,” Dean says, and it’s not a question. He holds out his phone with a look of begrudging respect.

“Yes.”

Spencer thinks, I have to.

* * *

People aren’t all the same, but if you could quantify the concept of normal, if you could look at it statistically, most people would fall within the standard deviation. Most of their lives take an even, predictable shape, Spencer thinks. There are plenty of other people like them, and they seem to fit with each other, too, interlocking in an easy way that Spencer has always envied.

Spencer’s got all these awkward uneven edges and strange angles. He’s not normal, and he’s always known that.

For a long time, he doesn’t think he’ll ever find someone who’ll fit easily, not without changing him, trying to reshape him in some way. He doesn’t want to change, but he gets lonely. Most people (friends, let alone lovers) don’t last long before they get sick of his quirks. Some try longer than others, but one way or another, there’s always some jarring part of him that doesn’t match what they want.

What if they like to sleep with the windows open, even in the winter? Or if they sleep with the air conditioning cranked up in the summer? Spencer knows he should be better about compromising on little things like that, but he really prefers things a certain way. He knows it’s neurotic. He can’t help it.

Spencer is used to people staring blankly when he starts talking, but at what point will it drive someone away? When will they stop pretending to care about his Doctor Who opinions? When will they get bored of his info-dumping?

And then there are the really difficult questions. How does he tell someone he used to be an addict? What if he doesn’t want to tell them about being kidnapped and tortured? What if he does, and then they start asking questions? How does he explain his PTSD, or his nightmares, or his bedtime routine of triple-checking every lock and setting his gun within arm’s reach?

At first, when he met Sam, Spencer worried about arguments and parents and all the other normal things, but more importantly, he worried about himself. He wondered which of his irregularities would finally make Sam give up on his attempts to fit Spencer into his life.

Neither of them sleep much, but when they do end up sharing a bed, Sam has his own routine; while Spencer checks the locks, Sam draws warding symbols, lines each window and door with salt, and sets his gun within reach. He likes the windows closed and the thermostat above 68, because, he explains simply, “Lucifer runs cold.”

Speaking of Lucifer. Sam understands addiction, kidnapping, torture, PTSD, and nightmares, and he doesn’t ask Spencer to tell his stories before he’s ready. Sam has stories of his own.

Sam also has his own Doctor Who opinions, and those opinions were the cause of their very first argument. Sam is wrong, but Spencer loves that he cares enough to argue.

The first time Spencer started rambling about serial killers, he noticed Sam frowning and cut himself off, embarrassed, ready to apologize. Sam just pulled out a journal and asked him to repeat what he’d said, so that Sam could do more research on the subject later.

Sam doesn’t expect him to change. He doesn’t try to re-shape Spencer. His life is just as weird, and by all logic they shouldn’t fit, but they do. And Spencer doesn’t feel any less himself, but suddenly he realizes that he must’ve changed along the way, because he can’t imagine his life without Sam any more; if they can’t find him, his absence is going to tear Spencer apart.

* * *

It’s a tense car ride, to say the least.

Hell of a first impression, Spencer thinks again, glancing at Mary’s pale, worried face in the rearview.

Castiel and Mary are in the backseat, and they’re trying to make small talk, but Castiel seems to be about as good as Spencer at the whole “casual conversation” thing. Sam’s told him so much about Castiel, Spencer feels like he knows him, but they’ve never actually crossed paths before.

And then there’s Dean, who’s got his jaw clenched, staring straight ahead. Spencer gives him directions, and he grunts or nods, but he doesn’t say anything else.

Dean intimidates the hell out of him, but they’ve always gotten along fine, maybe because Spencer’s never yelled at him before. He’s very aware that arguing with Dean Winchester is usually fruitless at best (and deadly at worst), but he’s never been good at holding his tongue when he’s upset.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer manages to mutter eventually.

“Huh?” Dean looks at him, frowning.

“About earlier. I didn’t mean to — um.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Dean says gruffly.

“I was upset. I’m sorry.”

Dean shrugs, and he hesitates before adding, “You were right.” He looks as surprised to be saying it as Spencer is to hear it.

Spencer blinks at him a couple times before hurriedly saying, “Turn left. There.”

Cas and Mary are having a quiet conversation about the weirdness of technology, and Spencer is about to join them when Dean speaks up again.

“Garcia — she said something funny.”

“Uh oh.”

Dean snorts. “Nah, not like that. Before she hung up, she told me not to worry. Said of everybody she knows, Sam probably has the second-best odds of escaping any poor sap who tries to abduct him.”

“Second best?”

“That’s what I said. But apparently that title belongs to you.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it. All I can do is talk myself out, he’s stronger.” Spencer gives him a crooked attempt at a smile; it feels awkward on his face, but he means it when he says, “He’ll be okay.”

* * *

The funny thing is, Spencer has been in this situation before.

When it was Maeve, though, he panicked, because all he could think about was how she must feel: scared, helpless. Spencer has too much empathy sometimes. Imagining Maeve’s helplessness made him feel like he was drowning.

This is different. He’s not exactly zen about the whole situation, of course; it feels like a piece of him is missing, but he’s clear-headed, because he knows that Sam is anything but helpless. He trusts Sam to take care of himself.

Aside from the supernatural element, Sam’s job is astoundingly similar to Spencer’s, and he’s astoundingly good at it. The Winchesters have consulted on a couple cases, now, for the B.A.U. (Spencer’s still not sure how Hotch manages the paperwork) and they try to find cases in the same general area as wherever Spencer winds up, so they’ve gotten to work together a few times. Sam’s sheer competence at his job might be the most attractive thing Spencer has ever seen.

Spencer used to imagine a quiet, mundane romance. He always just assumed he’d find someone whose life was more normal than his, and he was resigned to the stress it would cause in a relationship. He’d forget to call, he’d miss dinner, he’d have to cancel plans and be absent from so much of what constituted a normal domestic life, and his partner would be left at home, alone, all too aware of how much danger Spencer could be in, helpless to do anything about it.

Instead, Spencer found Sam. Spencer never has to feel guilty about missing dinner, because Sam isn’t at home worrying about him. Sam is out there saving the world.

Sam is not going to wait for Spencer to rescue him; he might not even need rescuing, at this point. Instead of worrying about what Sam is doing and whether he’s scared, Spencer can focus on his own plan.

* * *

He and Dean circle slowly around the house. They spot the entrance to the basement, and Dean almost runs right to it, but Spencer grabs his arm and points to the sigils around the door.

Spencer notices movement through a window next to the back door, and when they creep up to get a glimpse inside, he sees two women. One is the blonde — the brains of the operation — and the other is stockier, clearly the muscle.

After a quick conversation in whispers and gestures, Dean sneaks around to the side of the house opposite the basement, and a second later Spencer hears him shout. He waits a couple seconds and glances in the window again, and sure enough, the bigger woman is gone while the blonde is watching something on a computer monitor, looking agitated. Security cameras, maybe.

Spencer is about to go inside when he sees the blonde start, look around, and grab a cattle prod. Then she’s hurrying toward a door, sliding back a heavy deadbolt, and Spencer sees a dark stairwell that must lead to the basement.

He slips through the door and follows her.

For a split-second, the scene in the basement almost stops his heart. Sam is lying on the floor, completely still, his head surrounded by a puddle of blood.

But before Spencer can really process what he’s seeing, let alone react, Sam is in motion: lashing out, grabbing her by the throat, shoving her against the wall. Spencer descends the stairs quietly with his gun at the ready, trying not to make any noise that might distract Sam right now.

Sam doesn’t need his help. There’s blood on his damp clothes and his arms are shaking as the blonde goes limp in his grip, but he’s alive; he doesn’t need Spencer’s help, and Spencer isn’t the slightest bit surprised.

When Sam turns and sees him, he doesn’t look surprised either. He just smiles, all dimples and sparkling eyes in spite of his obvious pain as he limps over.

“Sorry that took me so long,” Spencer says casually, trying to control his grin. He doesn’t want to holster his gun yet, so he keeps it trained on the woman and hugs Sam one-armed.

Sam wraps his arms around Spencer, holding on tight. Spencer rests his forehead on Sam’s shoulder, taking a second to breathe as he feels missing pieces sliding neatly into place.

“Love you,” Sam says, and the words sound like a sigh of relief. He pulls back, and he looks surprised, like he didn’t actually mean to say that out loud.

Spencer’s about to reply when he sees the woman struggling to her feet, reaching for her cattle prod, and so instead he says, “Look out.”

Sam steps sideways to give him a clear shot. Spencer shoots her in the thigh and she screams as she falls to the floor.

“See how you like it,” Sam tells her, with a vicious little smile.

“I love you too,” Spencer blurts out.

For a second they both pause, grinning at each other like idiots, their surroundings forgotten.

Then there’s a sound from overhead, and Sam asks hurriedly, “The other one. Did you take her out already?”

“Dean’s got her,” Spencer tells him. “We should check on him, then we can come back down and deal with — Sam?”

At first he can’t figure out why Sam’s mouth drops open like that, shocked and disbelieving. Then he remembers.

“Dean’s alive?” Sam asks, a smile spreading slowly over his face. Spencer nods, wrapping an arm around Sam’s ribs, supporting him as he limps gingerly toward the stairs. It feels like he’s forgetting something.

There’s another noise, and then Mary is in the doorway, looking down at them.

Oh.

Sam turns to Spencer silently, like he’s waiting for confirmation that she’s real.

Spencer nods. “Yeah. So — um. Surprise?”

Sam doesn’t actually seem all that surprised, because… of course he doesn’t. He blinks at Spencer a couple times and then he grins.

“You met my mom before I did,” Sam says, breathless and amused, and grabs the banister to haul himself up the stairs. Spencer laughs and follows him, smiling to himself.

It’s not your average “meet the parents” scene, but somehow, it fits Sam and Spencer perfectly.

Nothing about their love story has been normal. Why start now?

#cmbingo21 #criminal minds #supernatural #sam winchester x spencer reid #spencer reid fic #sam winchester fic

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elliewritessometimes · 3 years ago

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IT’S @mattieswheelers BIRTHDAY!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOVELY WE LOVE YOU SO MUCH

beCAUSE of this, myself and @notsomightymightytiger decided to steal tea leaf’s time travelling mattie au and create a whole entire fic with their ideas and also a design that @ari-is-anxious did a while back!! hope you enjoy aaaaaaa <3333 aLSO stabbies try and spot as many starboard references as you can heheheh

this can be read on ao3 here if you prefer the format :)

tw: swearing, murder (it’s minor and resolved tho jsgh), religion (nicco my love read with care), blood, i really hope i haven’t missed anything please do let me know if i missed anything

Mattie had always been able to time travel. For as long as she could remember, her walk-in wardrobe had been lined with silver metal and held no clothes at all. As a child, this made it all the more exciting, though as she grew older and actually started to want to own clothes, it became a little inconvenient. She supposed all great inventions came with some kind of sacrifice.

Her uncle had made the time machine as a gift when Mattie was born. Her parents, like any basic adults, assumed the wardrobe-sized box was simply a toy and had taken no interest in it. Mattie, from the age of about three when her curiosity had really set in, was the one who discovered that the machine was in fact a working portal and not just a children’s toy. Since then, she had been happily travelling time and space during the darkest hours of night.

(You may have entirely valid concerns about a three year old having full access to time travel - luckily, not just for Mattie’s safety but also that of the entire human race, her uncle had set what were effectively child locks on a lot of the controls. These were diminished the day that Mattie turned thirteen. Uncle Calvin had always been a little weird, but he certainly wasn’t heartless.)

Usually, Mattie’s time travel didn’t affect her life. Sure, it made for some pretty awkward conversations as Mattie spurted some knowledge which could never have been explained through a textbook, but those could often be blamed on watching too much Horrible Histories as a child (“Mattie, I swear to God, you’re so bageling British, and yet you’ve never been there, I don’t understand.” “Horrible Histories is a masterpiece! You’re just jealous that you’re too American to have seen it.” “Actual asshole of a child.” “Farrah-!”).

It was going well until Mattie’s freshman year at Giles Corey. And then three of her fellow highschoolers were murdered. And suddenly Mattie had a way to prevent that from happening.

In some stroke of luck, she passed out at the sleepover and didn’t find out about the murders until she was sitting in the back of a cop car, driving to her house to pick up her things. She remembered thinking how weird it was that she wasn’t being taken straight to the station, but brushed that away in favour of ‘going into her wardrobe to change out of her bloody clothes’.

The time machine was cold like it always was and that forced her out of her muddled state quickly enough. She thought back to the victims. Chess. Farrah. Clark. Snapping on her goggles, she pressed a button, whirled backwards through time and space, and appeared at the gate to Riley’s neighbour’s house.

She really wished that she had actually changed her outfit - the damp blood turned cold with the breeze and sent shivers up her spine. The smell perhaps or just her sudden appearance startled the neighbour’s dogs into a frenzy. A figure, Chess, unharmed and merely confused instead of terrified, stood up from Riley’s bench, calling into the darkness. Mattie’s breath caught in her throat. The second figure, knife glinting in the dim streetlight, slipped out of the back door. Their red hair shone in the reflection of the knife with a sick kind of beauty.

Mattie could have stopped them there, taken the knife from the assailant’s grasp, prevented the tragedy of the evening. But she didn’t. She just watched.

Three minutes later, after arriving back in her present time and pressing yet another button on the wall of her closet, she watched the same scene unfold in the bathroom with a much younger victim. Twenty minutes after that, the third attack. This one was different though, an accident.

Still a little desperate and overly conscious of the police officer standing guard outside of her bedroom, she reappeared in her wardrobe, putting on a jumper before turning back time a little further. She appeared in a gymnastics centre as a girl around Mattie’s age did wolf turns on a beam. A coach entered the scene from the sidelines as the girl stopped spinning, her distinctive plait falling still against her back. Something in Mattie ached at the sight of Chess so lively and innocent, willing to give up her life for her dream of succeeding in her sport. As the two wandered into a side room, picking up water with a smile, Mattie edged forwards, collecting soft gym mats as she went. Within minutes, the area surrounding the beam had been double layered with cushioning, and Mattie could only pray that her plan would work. She’d seen enough YouTube videos to know what happened next.

Chess emerged again with her coach, hopping back up onto the beam with practiced ease. Again, Mattie was forced to just watch as she went down into her wolf turn, then rose up, did a split leap across at least half of the beam, and jumped into a twist to land on the floor. It was a messy landing, the gymnast’s ankle caving in on itself, knee twisting unnaturally in the air, before coming down hard onto her side. But, unlike in the previous videos, there wasn’t a resounding crack, only a weak cry of pain as Chess stumbled back to her feet.

Mattie grinned despite herself as snippets of conversation drifted her way.

“-not broken, don’t worry-”

“The Olympics seem out of the picture…”

“Get her a drink to numb the pain! Yes, limeade’s perfect-!”

Mattie arrived in her room again with a whole plethora of new information just inserted into her mind like it had been there all along. There was no longer and never had been a police officer outside her door. Her shirt was clean, her head undamaged. Chess didn’t go to the Olympics, but still did gymnastics in her spare time as her knee made a full and quick recovery. Farrah wasn’t dropped. Riley, in some weird twist of fate, went to the same therapist as Mattie. Life was… good for the Giles Corey Tigers.

Across town, the sleepover was still going ahead as normal. From what weird memories she just gained, Mattie knew that the team was at a rocky patch, their personalities still clashing in any iteration of the evening. But, with some relief, she knew that it would never in this timeline be bad enough for murder to even be considered as an answer. Her phone buzzed. The lies came easily as she covered up her mysterious disappearance from the sleepover she should currently be at.

Reese (school): Where are you???

Mattieeeee: I went home :( not feeling good

Reese (school): :((( that sucks

Mattieeeee: Ikr. I think it was the ice cream.

Reese (school): I told the others

Reese (school): They all say get well soon apart from Kate and Cairo who actually agreed on something for once haha

Mattieeeee: What did they say skjghdjh

Reese (school): “Tolerate the lactose, Wheeler.”

In her short-but-actually-quite-long-given-all-the-time-travel life, Mattie had witnessed a number of key historic events (and had caused about 85% by some small accident, but that’s a story for another time). The one which ended up unveiling her secret to someone in her actual life occurred overnight one February. Or maybe July. Depends. Time is weird.

She stepped into a small room, luckily through the doorway and not awkwardly through the window, as done many times before. A man sat hunched over a desk by the window, dressed in brown and using a pen-but-not-really-a-pen to craft a page of writing. From Mattie’s extensive historical knowledge, it could have been anywhere from 1000 BC to the 16th century.

“Hello, excuse me,” she began, “But I’m a little lost.”

The man startled, his not-really-pen skidding across the page and leaving a trail of thick ink in its wake as he blinked at her in the doorway. “Who are you?” He seemed perplexed as to how a young girl was standing there, in the opening to his room, in clothing not of any time now or before.

Something that Mattie had realised after travelling not only to different times, but also to a vast number of different settings around the world, was that somehow, she was never stumped by a language barrier. Instead she was always able to fluently converse with those she met in what appeared to her as American English. It was really weird; she tried not to think about it too much or it made her head hurt. She’d also learnt that it was best not to explain her full situation to her companions, becoming accustomed to pulling the classic ‘I’m not here, you’re just dreaming’ excuse. So that was exactly the tactic she applied here. “A dream figure. You don’t need to be afraid.”

The man narrowed his eyes, glancing down at the paper and then back up to Mattie’s face. “That’s a good line.” He scribbled her words down onto a scrap piece of papyrus. “Maybe I can use that later.”

Mattie grinned, sensing her chance to fuck up history just a little bit. “What are you writing?”

“How the world came to be,” the man explained. “God.”

“Ah, of course. The Bible, huh?”

“Pardon?” The scribe locked eyes with Mattie for the first time, confusion etched clearly on his face. She shook her head in response, having learnt that it was hopeless trying to explain events of the future to people who could never even begin to imagine the future that she came from. Seemingly satisfied, the man continued. “As the vision you are, I wonder if you’ve been sent to answer my queries.”

“Of course. Go ahead.”

“I’m struggling for a name. Not for the book itself, but just for this chapter.”

Mattie smiled as wisely as she could. “What do you have so far?”

“‘Generational Crisis’. The chapter describes how our world came to be - the creation of natural elements, the first humans, the beginnings of emotion. ‘Generational’ as it shall be carried on for generations, and ‘crisis’ as it’s a huge event, a crisis for the higher powers.”

Mattie choked. Her mind imagined a world where the entry chapter to the Bible was named as so, and it was a world of chaos and highly differing language choices. “That is very wise, sir. I have one suggestion: how about shortening it? Make it snappier, more catchy. I’m thinking…” She paused, feigning deep thought, “‘Genesis.’”

The man gasped, scrawling her word down at the top of the papyrus. “Genius! Thank you, child. I should write your name in my finished book, to show my gratitude for your kindness.”

“Mattie, sir, Mattie Wheeler. It’s been lovely to meet you and see your studies.” Over the centuries, Mattie had learnt to leave those she met with some kind of reassurance as the humane aspect of her hobby. “Before I go, I may be a dream spirit, but I can assure you that the work you have done right now shall be greatly appreciated for thousands of years to come.”

“You really are a wonder, perhaps a child sent from the power above.”

Unthinking, she snorted, replying, “Oh, boy, you are not ready to hear about Jesus.”

“Jesus? You mean my sister’s husband? I do hear some curious rumours about the man…”

Mattie hid her laugh behind a hand. Of course, this was hundreds of years before Jesus Christ came to be thought of. “I know, right? Jesus? More like JeSUS.” The scribe didn’t reply, mind clearly tired of its confusion and instead turning back to something it knew well. He picked up his writing patterns again. Mattie turned away, back to the doorway. “I will leave you to your writing again. Sleep well.” Leaving a small vial of dissolved sleeping pills on the desk, she stepped out of the door.

The only class that Mattie knew she would see Eva in was Religion. They didn’t actually share the class, but Mattie’s Religion teacher was Eva’s form tutor and the older girl often used the classroom as a quieter study area for her free period. Not that Mattie would call a class of thirty sophomores particularly peaceful, but apparently she hadn’t heard the noise of the senior study area, you genuinely don’t understand, last week Jacob Thomas tried to make toast using the sun on a desk and then, bam, the entire of senior year are creating chants about sun bread, it was so weird, Mattie, I transferred to a school of crackheads.

After her travel to the 7th century AD, Mattie sparked a sudden interest in her Religion classes. Eva, being the older sister that she was, watched closely as the sophomore stayed behind after class to search the Bible for something in particular.

“What’re you looking for?”

“Nothing!” Mattie didn’t look up from fervently turning the pages.

“Well, that’s a fucking lie.” Eva perched on the side of a desk, sliding across to snatch the book out of the younger girl’s hands. “Why the hell are you looking at what is essentially the movie credits for the Bible???”

Eva watched as Mattie bit her lip, eyes darting around the empty classroom. She thought for a long moment, visibly debating points in her head, before leaning over the top of the book to run her finger down a list of names. About a third of the way down the page, she stopped. Eva’s eyes followed her finger as it drew a circle around a certain name. Matte Wheyler

“See. I was looking for that.”

Eva didn’t say anything for a while. Mattie waited with baited breath as Eva’s brain tried to make sense of what they saw. “Mattie Wheeler, what the bagel.” It didn’t bother to even be a question.

“It’s a really long story.” Mattie slumped onto the desk as well. “Hey, did you know that ‘Genesis’ would have originally been called ‘Generational Crisis’ if it wasn’t for me?”

After a glance at both of their timetables, they decided that their next lessons (biology and latin respectively) were worth missing. Instead, they stayed seated on a desk in the Religion classroom, as Mattie explained in detail how her name came to be in the Bible. It was refreshing to finally spill her secret after fifteen years of complete silence, and Mattie wondered vaguely in the back of her mind if one day Eva might be able to share in her time travelling adventures. That might take a little more explaining though, because Eva sure did have a lot of questions.

“So, you don’t change anything?”

“Not anything major. Like, I can’t stop Hitler or anything, that would change too big an event. Little things, however, like names and stuff, it’s fun to mess around with. Ever wondered why the Italian city, Pisa, has its name? I delivered pizza to the guys who were kind of like the government at the time of its naming. Hence, the Leaning Tower of Pizza.”

Eva cackled. “Wait, what?! God, dude, that’s nuts. What the fuck.”

“What can I say, all I really want in life is a little bit of chaos and also mozzarella sticks.”

Mattieeeee sent a photo.

evanescence: is that??? abraham lincoln????

Mattieeeee: Abraham Lincoln was an otter.

evanescence: how so?

Mattieeeee: Point one: look at him.

Mattieeeee: Point two: no seriously. Look at him.

evanescence: oh my god

evanescence: i cannot believe you have a literal selfie with abraham lincoln that’s fucking wild

Mattieeeee: Perks of the job :D

evanescence: literally hire me i want a selfie with cleopatra

farrah o’satanic ritual: yall i got out of the shower like an hour ago and i still haven’t changed

Imposter: What can I say, bath robes are in fashion rn

farrah o’satanic ritual: ive told you before clark stop pretending you know how to dress

Mattieeeee: Farrah did you not die in the shower?

katherine: ????mattie???????

farrah o’satanic ritual: no?? i didn’t

SmileyRiley: dang it

katherine: riLEY-

caicrow: riley i thought we’d moved on from murder

Imposter: Plot twist: Mattie was the murderer all along

katherine: CLARK-

Mattieeeee: oops-

It wasn't meant to happen, she swore up and down it was a mistake. A true and honest accident. And it kinda was? I mean Mattie hadn’t intended for the scaffolding on the new tower being constructed in Pisa to wobble, she’d already fucked up Pisa once in her career, but… Well, that's what she got for letting loose Giles and Corey (her occasional time travelling companions, who also happened to be cats) in the middle of a Italian city in 1252. She could have sworn the catnip was safely concealed in one of the pockets inside her jacket (which was filled with all sorts of trinkets from her travels in the space-time continuum), yet somehow the two had still gotten into it. She guessed that's what she got for not hydrating-feel-greating and eating-to-defeating.

An old citizen eyed her suspiciously, taking in her struggle with the two cats. Or maybe she was just more focused on Mattie’s goggles - she doubted anyone in 13th century Pisa had seen such a bold fashion statement before. The tower continued to lean in the background.

Finally, Giles and Corey settled down, each in a pocket of her trench coat. Mattie breathed a sigh of relief, which only got halfway out of her before she was sucking it back in as the old lady from across the street began to approach her.

“Young lady.”

Mattie smiled sheepishly. “Hello, ma’am. Is everything alright?”

The lady looked mildly amused. “I couldn’t help but notice your two cats going mysteriously close to the tower before it started collapsing. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

“Oh, no, ma’am. My cats are very well behaved.” Giles gave a resounding yelp at exactly the wrong time. A hiss from Corey echoed from the opposite pocket.

“Well,” the lady grinned, “If that’s the case, why don’t you leave the animals with me? You seem fairly preoccupied with the tower - perhaps you can try and assist its reconstruction?” She held out a hand.

Mattie thought for a moment and then handed across the two cats. “Thank you ever so much, ma’am. I’ll try and be quick.” The woman nodded and Mattie sped across the square to the drastically swaying tower.

When she arrived back at the woman’s table, there was a second lady in animated conversation with her. As Mattie approached, she stood up to take her leave, pressing a kiss to the first lady’s hair as she left. Something was definitely fruity there.

“All fixed!”

“I’m glad.” The woman nudged the cats back to their owner, looking intensely over Mattie’s shoulder to the stabilised tower. “It certainly looks sturdier.”

“I should hope so.”

The woman narrowed her eyes. “Sometimes,” she said, staring pointedly at an area on the structure, “I think about crabs.”

“Oh?” Mattie tilted her head. “Do you?”

“Yes. And often when I think about crabs, I think that they shouldn’t be in Pisa, and they most definitely should not be crawling over the tower.”

Mattie gasped and followed her gaze, muttering curses under her breath. “I didn’t realise I’d brought a whole crab with me! I thought I’d taken the sea life off the rocks!”

The woman chuckled. “You seem to be a strange character. Child, where on Earth did you find not only rocks large enough to support a tower, but also a live crab in Pisa?”

Accepting her fate, Mattie decided to tell the truth. “They’re from Egypt.” At the woman’s questioning look, she expanded, “I’m a traveller of sorts.”

“Oh. Well, child, you’re a gift of a traveller. Brightened my day. Italy these days is far too serious. Maybe we should put more crabs on the leaning tower, huh?”

Tucking her cats back into their respective pockets, Mattie allowed herself to laugh. “Maybe we should.” With a nod and a smile, she wandered off, eagerly awaiting her portal.

“Why were you in Egypt anyway?” Eva asked as Mattie recounted yet another of her time-travel-gone-wrong experiences.

“Library of Alexandria.”

“Oh, yeah, because that explains so much.”

“Shut up.” She rolled her eyes. “It was 48 BC, Caesar was burning shit, this random Roman dude set fire to the library.” She pulled a book out of her backpack. “I saved this and stashed away a few of the slabs of rock. And apparently a crab.”

Eva took the book in awe. “Jesus Christ… This thing is, like, thousands of years old…”

“I know, right? Weird.” She watched as Eva flicked through the pages, tracing her finger over certain words or illustrations. “But it was such a beautiful library, I couldn’t let it just burn. So, I retaliated. Burnt the house of the soldier who set the original flame.”

“Mattie!”

She shrugged. “Setting someone’s house on fire is a survival skill.”

“Oh my God.”

“I would have done something more dramatic, but I had to get home. I had a cake which would need to come out of the oven.”

Eva laughed, the sound echoing around the empty classroom. They were skiving class again, this time PE, the one class they had which coincidentally fell at the same time for both year groups. “How are you so normal in school, but so badass when you time travel?”

“I dunno. All I can say is that cake and spite are my only motivators.”

“You’re like a superhero. ‘Time Travelling Mattie: The Only One Who Can Lead A Dual Life Successfully’!!!”

Mattie blushed, shrugging. She definitely needed to take Eva with her one day. A superhero duo. “Okay, that name needs some work. How about: ‘Sanchez And Wheeler, The Ultimate Time Travelling Duo’?”

“I think I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah?”

Eva nodded, shaking her hand like they were signing a business contract. “Yeah.”

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laulink · 4 years ago

Text

Nuts and Dolts wedding

A.N : SO, after the FUCKING HEARTBREAK that was V8C5 and ESPECIALLY its end, I was in pain. So much pain. For Penny, for Pietro, for Ruby, for EVERYTHING. Then I saw a post in which people wondered if Pietro and/or Penny would survive this clusterfuck and the person who had reblogged put in the tags something like “yes they will both survive and Pietro will live to walk Penny down the aisle” and I needed that so much. I didn’t even know but I needed that SO MUCH. So I decided to put it into a fic to (hopefully) alleviate some of the pain of my fellow fans. Enjoy !

On a sunny spring day, a red-headed woman sat in a house in the middle of the woods, twiddling her fingers while watching the hands of the clock advance, inexorable, not knowing whether she wished time would stop or advance faster.

It was the first time she’d ever felt like this. She could only guess the cause of her torment : Penny was nervous. She didn’t even know why ! This day had been planned very carefully, Weiss, Yang, Winter and even Nora, in her own way, had helped iron out every little detail and made sure everything would go well. And she had no reason to worry about Ruby either ! She knew her fiancée looked forward to this day just as much as her, she wouldn’t change her mind at the last minute.

Penny pinched her cheeks in a -vain- attempt at calming her nerves. Everything would go well. She had no reason to be-

“Hey ! Don’t mess with your make up !”

Weiss’ hands slapped at her wrist to get her to let go of her cheeks. Penny held her hands up in a show of surrender, a small, apologetic smile accompanying them.

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t realise.

- Nervous ?” Winter asked, still focused on braiding Penny’s hair.

- A little,” Penny gave a small smile to hide her growing unrest. “I don’t know why though !

- Don’t worry, it’s normal,” reassured Weiss while picking up a brush and some make-up to fix the spots Penny had messed up. “This is a big day for you and Ruby. I wish I could say “the most important”, but considering, well…

- The actual war you two took a part in,” supplied Winter.

- … yeah, that. Anyway, this is the day you’ve waited for for months, years even, so of course your nerves would act up. Being nervous, excited and anticipating what it will be like is perfectly normal.”

Done with her task, Weiss set down the brush and make-up and went around Penny to help Winter give her hair the final touches. At the same time they finished and told Penny to look at herself in the mirror, the door to the room opened-

“Hell-”

-and was slammed shut in the visitor’s face.

“Weiss !” Penny exclaimed, surprised at her friend’s sudden violence. The young woman crossed her arms, but the glyph holding the door in place didn’t disappear.

“What ? We can’t risk it being Yang, or Nora, or Ruby !

- I understand why Ruby can’t see me since Winter told me about wedding traditions, but what about Yang and Nora ?

- Those two wouldn’t hesitate to take a picture to show Ruby. They would think it a smart way to bend tradition.

- Come now, you’re being a bit unfair,” Winter admonished her. “Let’s start by seeing who this guest is.”

The two sisters went to the door, Weiss grumbling about Yang and Nora absolutely being this ridiculous. Carefully, Weiss opened the door just a crack to see who was on the other side.

“Oh, it’s just you.”

Then she opened the door wider, enough to let her brother Whitley come into the room. He was massaging his nose, which appeared to be a bit red.

“Just you ?! Is that really all you have to say to the brother you nearly disfigured ? On the day of a wedding no less ?!

- What about it, you’re not the one getting married.

- You little- !”

Whitley balled and raised his fists, as if to fight Weiss, something they’d grown to do regularly since their reconciliation after the war, but he didn’t make another move, just looking angrily at his sister and gritting his teeth while Weiss gave him a smug grin. Penny giggled as she realised Whitley had stopped himself because he didn’t want to mess up the maid of honour’s appearance.

The sound grabbed Whitley’s attention who turned his head toward Penny. His eyes went wide and his jaw dropped, leaving his mouth slightly open. Winter smiled at his reaction and asked him :

“So, what do you think, brother ? Is Penny ready to get married ?”

Whitley nodded eagerly, a big smile breaking over his face.

“Definitely ! Ruby is one lucky woman, that’s for sure !”

Penny blushed at her friend’s comment. It still felt a little weird, having people genuinely compliment her on her appearance. The military had designed her to be “cute” and “friendly-looking”, since she was supposed to be a protector for all of humanity and make people feel at ease around her, but she had almost never heard anyone compliment her looks before meeting Ruby -her father being an outlier and therefore not counted- and the comments she had heard had not always been very kind. Some of them had been uttered by the Schnee siblings’ very own father, “Jackass” as Yang liked to call him, so she had been a little anxious the first few times she had interacted with Whitley, the only one of the three who she hadn’t met before her first meeting with Jacques. Luckily, he was nothing like his father, contrary to the rumours she had heard about him, and they soon grew close and became friends.

“Not that I doubt you, but I would appreciate looking at our Princess of the day myself.”

Penny’s smile widened as she heard the familiar voice. Whitley smiled too while jumping out of the way to let Pietro Polendina enter the room and gaze upon his daughter.

*********************************

Pietro had always been a bit of an utopist, certainly a big optimist, yet even him wouldn’t have believed, 5 years ago, that he would one day see his biggest dream come true : seeing his daughter, radiating happiness in her wedding dress, about to go get married to the love of her life.

Even if he had, his imagination could have never created something as perfect as the picture he had before him : his baby girl, now a beautiful woman, in a green, sleeveless dress, holding a bouquet of red roses similar to the ones adorning her hair that had been braided into a crown, her usual pink ribbon attached to it and falling down her back, green earrings completing her outfit. It made her look like a Fairy Queen right out of one of those old stories he used to hear as a child.

“Dad ? Is something wrong ?” Penny asked, visibly worried.

Pietro shook his head, only now realising he was crying. He wiped off his eyes and smiled at his daughter.

“Nothing’s wrong, darling. I am just so, so happy for you.”

Penny’s smile returned, fond, accompanied by a small blush.

“Thanks, Dad.”

An alarm started right next to him, coming from Winter. She took her scroll to shut it and told them :

“It’s time.”

Pietro nodded, then turned to Penny and extended his hand toward her.

“Ready ?”

Penny took a deep breath, then gave a resolute nod as she put her hand in his.

“As I’ll ever be.”

********************************************

The clearing Penny and Ruby had chosen to hold their wedding looked like it had been brought right out of a fairy tale. It was just a normal clearing on Patch, but Weiss, Yang and Nora had completely transformed it in just a few days ; beautiful patches of flowers on the edges, flowery arches leading up to the altar, elegant wooden benches on each side of the aisle and an impressive gazebo on the far end to hold the party after the ceremony.

As Pietro and Penny approached, the band started playing the wedding march. Pietro could see Ruby tense up near the altar and turn her head toward them so fast he feared she would tear a muscle. Thankfully, she seemed to be fine… or too entranced by the sight of Penny to notice anything else, not even her sister and maid of honour poking at her side. Sneaking a glance at his daughter, Pietro noticed she was in much the same state : though all their friends and family members had gathered to witness their union, Penny didn’t spare them even a glance, entirely focused on her bride to be. It felt as though the two of them had locked themselves in their own little world where no one else existed, like they so often did. Still, Penny had no problem walking toward the altar and her future wife with him, advancing to the rhythm of the music.

It was only hitting him now : he was walking his daughter down the aisle, on her wedding day, toward the person she had chosen to be her wife, to build a family with. Pietro felt the tears rise to his eyes again, but he held them back ; he didn’t want to miss a single second of this moment.

After a minute that had felt endless and, at the same time, much too short, they stopped before the altar. Penny and Ruby’s gazes were locked together, love plain in their eyes, almost overwhelming, even for an onlooker. Pietro took a second to notice and appreciate that Ruby had chosen to wear a pink bow-tie, the Polendinas’ unofficial emblem, with her black, red and white suit to mark her entrance into their family, much like the red roses in Penny’s hair were a sign of her entrance into the Rose family. Then, he took Ruby’s hand, startling her, and placed Penny’s in it. Both women smiled warmly at him and he squeezed their joined hands between his own.

“I am so happy for you two. That you found each other. That you supported each other through everything the world threw your way. And that you will now get to spend the rest of your hopefully long lives together.”

There was so much more he wanted to say, but he figured he should keep some of it for his toast at the party. Ruby and Penny seemed to understand his feelings though, as their smiles widened and they bent down to hug him.

The moment ended as Winter cleared her throat from behind the altar, the position from which she would officiate the ceremony, then looked at them expectantly. Pietro chuckled and let go of his girls, squeezing their hands one last time before going to take his seat and let the ceremony begin.

*************************************

Later that night, as the band started playing the music of the first dance, Pietro took the measure of the blessing this day had been. Everything had gone perfectly ; the ceremony had been beautiful ; Penny and Ruby’s smiles as they pronounced their vows had almost blinded him ; their friends’ toasts had made everyone cry tears of laughter and happiness ; no one had burned anything down (though the night was still young, so he didn’t want to get too ahead of himself with this one) ; and now, his daughter was dancing in the arms of her new wife, moving to the sound of the soft music in the middle of the flowers, right under the moonlight.

Everything was perfect.

… or so he thought until he noticed small, vibrant green lights ignite in the air around the newlyweds. Everyone started murmuring as the lights multiplied, gliding along invisible waves, their light reflecting off the couple’s wedding rings and giving the scene an ethereal feel.

Ruby and Penny noticed the small lights and smiled at each other, visibly delighted. And then it dawned on him.

Fireflies.

He never knew why, but the small bioluminescent bugs seemed to hold a special place in the hearts of the young couple. Whatever memories were already associated with them for Ruby and Penny, Pietro had no doubt this one would be among their dearest.

The two women’s new life together was off to a great start already and, as they kissed, surrounded by the light of the fireflies, Pietro made a wish that the rest of their existence continue to be filled with love and happiness.

That was his new biggest dream for the two of them.

#rwby #ruby rose #penny polendina #nuts and dolts #mechanical rose #my writing

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princesspiratecat · 3 years ago

Photo

The Rise and Fall of the Shepard Family Part 22: Spring, 1083

(This is a long one, but hopefully worth the read!)

Part 1& Part 2

Part 3 & Part 4

Part 5 & Part 6 & Part 7

Part 8 & Part 9 & Part 10

Part 11 & Part 12 & Part 13

Part 14 & Part 15 & Part 16

Part 17 & Part 18 & Part 19

Part 20 & Part 21

Never before had Gwendolyn felt so happy as she did when her sister had arrived to visit her at her little hovel. She hadn’t been able to stop the tears from flowing, and soon both of them were wiping them away.

After the servant had left, Gwyn had demanded to know everything, but Gwendolyn didn’t know where to begin. There was so much to tell, and all of it pained her to speak of.

“Is this really where you are now residing? This little hovel?” Gwyn turned a discerning eye towards the house as they walked nearer to it, and Gwendolyn felt herself blush with shame. She had tried to keep it neat and tidy, but there wasn’t much she could do without a proper set of tools. The hovel was just too poorly constructed for even the most basic of shelters. It felt like a blessing when the weather had finally turned and she no longer had to worry about rain falling on her bed. She could only hope it would not snow or rain again.

“I’m afraid so. The day of my birthday Marcelle hastily had my bags packed and drove me here in a covered wagon. He told me this would be my new home after we arrived. I should have suspected something that morning based on his behavior.....but I fear, I blindly trusted him.”

“Do not blame yourself. How could you have known what he was going to do? This has taken us all by surprise. When I found out you had been sent away, I could hardly believe it. It is Marcelle that must take the blame, not you.” As they reached the front room, Gwendolyn stoked the fire and began to prepare a meal, as the sun would be setting soon and she imagined her sister must be hungry. She immediately noticed how much food there was in the basket, and it was of better quality than what she normally was given.

“What do you mean, us? How did you come to find out that I was here in the first place?” They sat down to a nice hot bowl of soup Gwendolyn had made from a fat hare she had caught yesterday.

“I didn’t. Francine wrote about a month ago, and the letter had been given to me by Oswin.”

“Oswin? You mean, Oswald’s younger brother?”

“The very same, yes. I had thought it strange that she hadn’t invited me to visit her for such a long time, but in the letter she explained that she had suddenly been forbidden to see me by Marcelle, yet didn’t say why. In her next letter, she told me that the engagement had been broken off, and you had been sent away, but that she didn’t know where you had gone. When I confronted Aélfgiva about seeing you, she said she would talk to Marcelle. Not long afterwards, he wrote to say that a servant would fetch me in the morning to take me to you, and here I am.”

The humiliation that Gwendolyn had endured upon being sent off was awful in and of itself, but the idea that her entire family was now somehow tainted, and not good enough to associate with any of the Allards, hurt her even more. “ I had not thought that my exile had been extended to my entire family. This is worse than I had imagined.”

“What exactly did he say to you? How did he justify his actions!? How could he bring you to this shithole, in the middle of a forest?!”

Slowly, Gwendolyn revealed all that her sister did not yet know. She tried not to dwell on the parts of the story that were especially painful, and rushed through his unkind words when he had dragged their family down to the mud, implying that they were nothing. She found it was nearly impossible for her to say the exact words he had said about their father, because the loss of him was still fresh pain for both of them. But somehow she got through it all, and then shared how she now viewed everything.

“This hovel....this dung heap of a house, is his feeling about me, about us- made manifest and clear. But it’s worse than our house was. It’s worse than anything I’ve ever had to endure. And I was left alone to fend for myself when the snow storm came. I had to find food for myself, otherwise I would have starved.”

There was such anger on her sister’s face at hearing those words. “What about your dowry?! We had so many excellent animals. Surely it was worth more than this!”

“Oh Gwyn.....don’t you see? This is my dowry. This hovel is now all that I have....” Putting her troubles into words made them all the more real and soon Gwendolyn could not stop the sobs from violently shaking her body again. She got up and leaned her head against the counter, as the tears just kept on coming.

Gwyn said nothing, but silently cried as well.

“I’ve been clinging to the idea of Frances for months now. And I cannot understand why he hasn’t come to see me, even if it’s just to say goodbye. Am I really so terrible that I do not deserve such simple consideration? How can I be his future bride one day, and the next not even fit to say a single word to him? I cannot make sense of it......” she was sobbing so hard now that she could not continue.

“Oh, please don’t upset yourself further. I do not believe Frances has any idea where you are”, said Gwyn. That got her attention and her head snapped up.

“What!?”

“I do not believe any of them know. Marcelle must have kept it a secret from all of them, because if one of them knew, they would all find out. Frédérique would never keep a secret like that from her brother, nor would Francine. The letter that she sent made it clear. He could not write to you, so she wrote to me. And that is why Marcelle forbade any of them from speaking to any of us.”

“I had not considered that. But....you must be right.”

“Perhaps that is also why Marcelle sent me a map and allowed me to see you. He still thinks that his children will blindly obey him. Indeed, he must feel very comfortable with that idea, which is why he didn’t think it necessary to keep you and I apart any longer. If his children don’t speak to us, he has no reason to continue punishing you.”

“Yes. He may also not want to be seen as the type of man who punishes two young girls who have done nothing wrong. I noticed how he sent a lot more food, of higher quality this time around. He even sent linens. He has never done that before. He wants to appear the good benefactor still- at least to you and Aélfgiva.”

After a long silence Gwendolyn gained some composure of herself and sat down by the fire again, staring into the orange flickering flames. It gave her some relief to know that Frances didn’t know where she was, and perhaps hadn’t given into his father so easily. Everything her sister had said made perfect sense.

“I like to think that Marcelle has some heart left. I like to think that he still cares about us. Only his pride got in the way", said Gywn. Her sentiments may have been true, but Gwendolyn no longer wished to think about him. It was now time to turn their minds to the task of getting her out, and how they would accomplish that.

“I must speak with Frances. I must. I have had so long to ponder the situation, if I don’t get any answers, I fear I will lose my mind and go mad.”

"Of course you shall. And I will assist you in any way that I can.”

The next morning they poured over the map and calculated that Gwendolyn had been taken over twenty miles from the Allard estate to the hovel, which was in the middle of two very small villages that neither had heard of. Having no money and few resources, the main obstacle in her leaving would be where she would go. She could not stay at the orphanage, and of course going back to the estate was impossible.

“If only you had parted on better terms with Oswald, then perhaps we could ask his family”, Gwyn said.

“What better way could there have been? Oswald did not want to break off the engagement for any reason. I tried to spare his feelings as best as I could, but given that I hadn’t seen him for so long....it was difficult. I realized that day that he had changed beyond recognition to me, and I no longer knew him.”

“You have been engaged most of your life to someone, and yet still remain unmarried. Do you not ever wish you had married Oswald instead? At least you would not be alone now.”

Gwendolyn’s features clouded into sadness, as she had realized the same thing her sister spoke of from the very beginning of her troubles. Her life seemed to consist of always waiting, always hoping, always dreaming of having a family of her own and finding that she belonged somewhere, and she resented it.

“Maybe, but would I have been happy? What Frances and I had was real, and what Oswald and I had was a youthful fancy. I know that now that I am older. I can never go back.”

When they tallied up their resources, it was decided that Gwyn would return home when the servant came to fetch her, as was planned. She would then combine the meager allowance she and Edith were given at the orphanage, and income from the pelts of the animals Gwendolyn had caught, and try to procure a horse. Then she would ride back and come and fetch her sister, then they would ride to Grimsby. She would speak with Frances at any cost and Gwyn agreed that it was imperative that she do so- even if it meant further punishment from Marcelle.

The next morning was a cold one, and snow began again to fall upon the ground, but only lightly. Despite the foul weather she knew she would have to shelter herself from, she felt better than she had in months.

“You have Mama’s strength, and you will get through this. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

She tenderly embraced her sister goodbye, and watched the wagon grow smaller and smaller as it slowly disappeared down the road, which was beginning to freeze. She sat down upon a log and got lost in her thoughts, contemplating how happy the visit had made her. It had brought her comfort, relief from her loneliness, and hope all at once. She was lucky that she still had some family left, even if they were orphans now. I’m not alone. I have the love of my sisters.

She turned to head into the house, but then heard a horse in the distance and stopped to listen. It was the sound of a single horse, and she wondered if something had gone wrong with the wagon. Was her sister in trouble? The sound grew closer and closer, and she headed back down the path to the road, shivering slightly in the cold. But it was not the servant or her sister on this horse. It was Frances.

#sims 2 stories #sims 2 challenges #new foundations

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writingwhimsey · 3 years ago

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The Tiger and the Oda Princess Ch. 2

Chapter 2

I woke the next morning with the sun shining through the window. The first thing that came into focus was my left hand, resting on Shingen's bare chest. I smiled as I saw the wedding ring there, meaning it really did happen.

It was then that Shingen brought his hand up to take mine and bring it to his lips. I looked up at him as he did, my head still resting on his chest. I could see the love and happiness in his eyes. "Good morning my beautiful wife." He greeted me.

"Good morning, my handsome husband." I replied, feeling my lips curve into a big smile.

"That was definitely a much better night than the one before." He said. "And this morning is even better than yesterday morning."

"I much prefer falling asleep with you and waking up with you than without." I agreed, nestling into his embrace more.

"And I will see to it that we never have to part even for a night again." Shingen said, kissing the top of my head.

"Of course, that one night apart was worth it to get to wake up this morning as your wife."

Shingen's fingers were under my chin then, pulling my lips up to his. "You've no idea how happy that makes me." He said, his warm breath washing over my lips.

"I might have an idea." I replied. "Because I think I'm just as happy about it as you are."

Shingen was then capturing my lips in a passionate kiss as he rolled us over so that he was now hovering above me, his strong powerful body enveloping me. I moaned into the kiss and soon we were letting the passion carry us through the rest of the morning.

At some point we finally pulled ourselves from the futon to eat and get ready for our trip. We were taking the entire week to spend together, our honeymoon. We took our trip to a neighboring village where Shingen had gotten us a room at a hot spring.

During our days there, we would explore the village and pick up a few treasures along the way. We picked a few things to send to give to our friends when we returned and a few things for us to remember the trip. We ate some of the best sweets at the local tea shops.

Our evenings were spent in the throes of passions...and our mornings, too. So we really only ventured out of our room in the afternoon hours. Not that either of us minded. We were happy being together and celebrating our marriage. Celebrating Shingen's health and our future together.

We returned home a bit reluctantly after our week together. I leaned into Shingen as we rode from the small village back to Kai. He let go of the reins with one hand and wrapped it around me. "It's almost a shame to have to go back." I said.

"I agree." Shingen replied. "We won't have that kind of time alone together once we get back."

"Is that why you're making sure we go extra slow?" I teased, as the horse was going at a very casual pace.

"Am I that obvious?" He asked with a smile.

"Perhaps only because I feel the same way." I replied with a sigh.

"But we still have the rest of our lives...and we will have tonight in our own bed."

A thrill went down my spine at the seductive promise in his voice. I turned my head and gave a kiss on his neck. "I like the sound of that."

I felt Shingen shiver at the touch of my lips. "Ava..." He breathed, his warm lips at my ear.

I smiled up at him, coquettishly. "Shingen..."

He was then making a sudden turn and stopping once he was satisfied with how deep in the forest we were. The next thing I knew he was dismounting and tying up the horse before taking me down and I was lying back on the grass, my strong, handsome, sexy husband over me.

We were kissing, my lips eagerly parting and welcoming his tongue inside. His hands pushed up the lower half of my kimono before his fingers slipped inside. I moaned into the kiss and arched my back, pressing myself closer to him.

Soon I was consumed by the fire within me and his fingers just weren't enough. "Shin...gen...more...I want...more." I rasped out.

"As my wife wishes." Shingen replied before entering me and filling me completely.

After our forest floor dalliance, we cleaned up and straightened each other's hair and clothes before setting out back to Kai. When we finally arrived, the sun was starting to go down. Yukimura, Sasuke, and Kenshin were there waiting for us along with the maids and a few of Shingen's vassals.

"I told you they would be late." Yukimura said, looking at Sasuke and Kenshin.

Kenshin sighed and passed some coins to Yukimura.

"You guys bet on us being late?" I asked, shaking my head.

"I knew you would be." Yukimura said. "You can't keep your hands off of each other for one minute. I'm really surprised there's not five or six kids running around here yet."

"Yuki, how many times do I have to tell you, I can't help myself. A goddess as beautiful as Ava must be worshipped." Shingen said.

"I think you really failed in his education if he thinks we've had enough time for there to be five or six kids running around." I said, trying to ignore the burning heat in my cheeks.

"It does take nine months." Sasuke agreed, his tone purely scientific.

"Oh, whatever." Yukimura said, his face growing red now. "Just come on. We're having a banquet to celebrate you guys coming back."

"A nice welcome home, then." Shingen said, smiling.

One month later...

I was sitting on the veranda looking out over the beautiful fall colors in the garden. I was sketching a new design, feeling inspired by the colors in the changing leaves. Shingen was inside working on some trade negotiations for Kai.

The fall air was crisp and had I not been borrowing one of Shingen's haoris I probably would have been a lot colder. There was just something so refreshing about fall and the chill in the air, though. It wouldn't be long before winter was setting in though.

Winter would mean much longer and colder nights...though those were perfect for snuggling with Shingen. "I brought you some tea, my lady."

I looked up at the sound of Otsuna's voice and smiled at her. "Thank you. A cup of hot tea sounds perfect right now." I said.

"You shouldn't sta out here too much longer though. You'll catch a cold and I would hate for my lady to be sick." She said. She was then turning to head back inside.

I reached over and picked up the cup of tea from the tray and held it just under my chin. I let the steam from the cup float up over and warm my face. The tea was very aromatic and it soon reached my nose.

Normally, I loved the smell of tea and Otsuna made some delicious tea. However, as soon as the smell reached my nose, my stomach began to churn at the thought of even taking a sip of this tea.

I set the tea cup down and steadied myself, trying to calm my stomach. It was too late however and so I was rushing over to a tree in the garden and emptying the contents of my stomach.

Once I was finished, I steadied myself and then headed inside to get a drink of water and clean myself up a bit. It seemed once I had thrown up, I was mostly feeling better. There was still an uneasiness in my stomach, but it wasn't something I couldn't tolerate.

"Probably just something I ate." I muttered to myself. "I'm sure I'll be fine by tomorrow."

I decided not to tell Shingen or anyone else. I didn't want anyone to worry. Shingen had enough to worry about with his trade negotiations to prepare for the winter. Then of course we had just about a month until Shingen's birthday. I was working with Yukimura and some of Shingen's other vassals to plan him a big birthday party.

It was the first time we'd be celebrating his birthday together. It was his first birthday back in Kai. And most importantly it was the first birthday he would get to celebrate in health, not wondering if it would be his last. It was definitely a big deal and I did not have time to be sick.

I heard the temple bells chiming, signaling the changing of the hour. I checked my reflection to make sure I was presentable and didn't show that I had just tossed my cookies. Then I headed to meet with Yukimura to discuss the party for Shingen.

"You're running late." Yukimura greeted me when I met him in one of the spare rooms of the castle.

I gave him a sheepish smile. "Sorry, I lost track of time sketching." I lied.

He eyed me suspiciously. "Uh-huh." He said. "You feeling okay?"

"Just peachy." I answered, smiling brightly. "Now, come on we have a party to plan."

We sat down and started getting a basic plan together for Shingen's birthday. We were planning a large banquet with music and dancing. We had also planned to invite Kenshin and Sasuke, "We just can't let Kenshin know about the music and dancers." Yukimura quipped.

"We'll just buy extra sake." I replied. "And get an extra barrel or two of pickled plums."

"And I'll probably have to agree to train with him...again." Yukimura said with a sigh. "But it's for Lord Shingen's birthday."

"You're such a big softie, Yukimura." I teased.

"Am not." He replied. "You vile enchantress."

"Hey, I thought we were past that stuff...you big lunkhead."

Yukimura smiled at me. "Now I know for sure, you're feeling alright."

"What are you talking about?"

"The whole time we've been in here, I noticed something seemed off...but if you're gonna call me a lunkhead, I think you're alright."

I shook my head. "What? Were you worried about me?"

"Only because you're so important to Lord Shingen."

"Admit it, I've grown on you." I said, teasing him again.

"Maybe like a tiny bit...and only because of Lord Shingen."

"Sure." I replied, smiling.

We finished working out more details before parting ways. I decided that if Yukimura had noticed that something was off with me...especially because when it came to women he was as observant as a brick...that I must not have done as good a job cleaning up as I thought. I decided to take a bath, thinking the nice warm relaxing water might help me feel better before Shingen joined me for dinner.

"I really don't want to worry him. He has so much other stuff to worry about right now." I muttered to myself.

I went to our room and gathered up some clothes and bathing supplies. That was when I noticed the little "notebook" I had made to keep track of my cycle. It was quite vital to keep track of in this time period. With the supplies of the times, I really didn't want to be caught off guard.

Picking it up, I looked at it and that's when I noticed it. I was due to start two weeks ago. It wasn't entirely unusual for me to skip a period, especially if there was anything stressful going on, like planning a big event, like our wedding and now Shingen's birthday.

However, the fact that I threw up earlier made me think this wasn't just one of those skipping times. I smiled, knowing how excited Shingen would be when I told him the news. He had been talking about wanting a family with me since we got back from the future. He seemed especially excited about having a little girl.

I looked down at the list in my hand. I thought about the other times I had skipped. I started thinking about the possibility that I was wrong and all of this was a fluke. I could have eaten something that made me feel sick and just happened at the same time I just happened to skip.

"What if I'm wrong? Or what if I'm right and something happens?" I asked myself. "Shingen would be so disappointed." I didn't want to get his hopes up if I was wrong.

I looked at the notes I'd made and saw when my next period was due. It would be before Shingen's birthday. If I skipped this one and continued with the sick feeling, then I was probably right. If I was then that would be the perfect thing to surprise Shingen with on his birthday.

"The only problem will be continuing to hide how sick I feel until then if I am right." I muttered to myself. But I knew I could do it. I would wait and if I was right, I had the perfect birthday surprise for my love.

Over the next two weeks, a I waited for the expected date of my period, I continued to fight the sick feeling. I was also feeling utterly exhausted no matter how much sleep I got. It was getting diffiult to hide how I was feeling, but I did my best. I just stuck with eating light foods, breads, noodles, chicken, light veggies, and a few fruits seemed to be okay.

It was a good thing that Shingen was being kept busy with his work. While I missed him during the day and would have much enjoyed having him hold me when the morning sickness was getting to feel overwhelming, I didn't want him to worry. Him being busy made it a bit easier to hide it from him. Now keeping it form everyone else was getting difficult.

I was on my way to meet with Yukimura and the other vassals to work on planning Shingen's party, when an overpowering wave of nausea hit me. I ran to the most discreet place I could find and was throwing up in a pot, which I made a mental note to clean up when I was done.

"Ava..."

I turned my head then to see Yukimura standing there, having just witnessed me tossing my cookies. I didn't know what to say. I was stunned. I thought I had hidden myself well.

"I'll go get Lord Shingen." He said, which brought me out of my thoughts.

"No! Don't do that!" I found myself shouting at him.

Yukimura turned to look at me surprised. "You of all people are wanting to hide being sick from Lord Shingen?" He asked.

"I just don't want him to worry." I said, sticking as close to the truth as possible.

Yukimura knelt down beside me and pulled out a hand towel, holding it out to me. "Here." He said with a sigh and shaking his head. "He'll kill me if he finds out I knew and didn't tell him you were sick."

"It's nothing." I told Yukimura. "I probably just ate something that didn't agree with me is all."

"Probably trying to keep up with Lord Shingen on how many sweets he eats has gotten to you." He quipped.

"Probably." I agreed.

"I won't say anything as long as you promise to go take it easy for the rest of the day." He said.

"Sure, just as soon as I clean this pot up."

"I'll take care of it." Yukimura said. "Don't be such a dummy, okay...and think about saying something to Lord Shingen. You know he'd take care of you."

I smiled. "I know, but he has other things to worry about. Besides, I'll be back to myself tomorrow."

"Just go get some rest. We've already got most thing planned for Lord Shingen's party anyway. I think the guys and maids and I can finish the rest of the planning, okay?"

"Okay." I agreed.

I headed to the room I shared with Shingen and grabbed my things. I took another bath, wanting to get cleaned up. I didn't want to lay down and go to sleep just yet. I knew if I did, I would sleep until Shingen returned and he would be worried that I was asleep so early.

I grabbed my sewing basket and got to work on the commission I had been working on. It had been the two weeks that had passed and my period still hadn't shown up. I was now two months late. I think it's safe to assume that I really am pregnant. I thought as I continued to sew. Not to mention that my symptoms were continuing to get stronger.

I let out a yawn as I continued to sew. I smiled thinking about how happy I was. I then started to think about how I was going to tell Shingen. We were having the banquet on his birthday. The day before his birthday, I was getting him out of the castle and out of Kai so that Yukimura and the others could get things ready without Shingen knowing...or at least we hoped. It was very hard to keep surprises from the spy master that Shingen was.

I could feel the happiness flowing through me as I imagined his face when I told him the news. I could see the big smile on his face and easily picture him as a loving father. He had such a big heart and he was a true romantic. It was hard not telling him now, but this allowed me to be extra sure and to really surprise him for his birthday.

As I sat there thinking of the perfect way to tell him, I could feel the exhaustion that had started to become my constant companion creeping up on me. "Maybe I can just lay my head down and rest my eyes for just a few minutes." I muttered to myself before letting out another yawn.

I put in a loose stitch to save my place and then set my work aside. I leaned forward on the table, crossing my arms and resting my head on them. I closed my eyes and soon I was fast asleep.

It was hours later I was waking up when I felt my weight being shifted around. "Hmm..." I muttered sleepily.

"Shh, go back to sleep my love." I heard Shingen's deep voice tell me.

I opened my eyes to see that I was in Shingen's arms. He had picked me up and was carrying me to the bed. "And miss seeing you?" I asked.

He smiled at me, as he laid me down in the futon. He was then lying down beside me, pulling me close to him. "For you to fall asleep in the middle of your work like that, you must be tired. Have I been keeping you up too late, my princess?" He asked, his hand lovingly stroking my cheek.

I leaned into his touch and smiled. Well, this is a result of our late nights. I thought, but kept that hidden. "Our late nights are my favorite part of the day." I told him.

Shingen kissed my brow. "Still, maybe I should end my days earlier so I am not keeping you waiting for too long."

I smiled at him, happy that he was willing to adjust his busy schedule just to spend more time with me. "You don't have to do that. I'd hate to get in the way of your work. I know what you're doing is important."

"There is nothing as important to me as you, Ava." He told me, hugging me tighter to his chest. "Besides, I am being a little selfish here on this, too."

I looked up at him. "Oh?"

He gave me a handsome grin. "You see I have this lovely new wife and being with her is all I think about. If I could, I'd spend all of my time with her...every last second."

I stretched up to kiss him. "I love you, Shingen...and your wife feels the same way about spending time with you."

"I would hope so." He said, kissing me back. "And I love you, too."

Read Chapter 3 in the link below!

https://writingwhimsey.tumblr.com/post/656169043293847552/the-tiger-and-the-oda-princess-ch-3

#ikesen shingen #ikesen #fanfic #romance #chapter 2

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wolfnitewrites · 3 years ago

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The Story of Will Martinez

About me: Hello! My name is CJ, and I am a high student that loves to write. (You can skip this part btw) Thank you for clicking on this story out of all the other ones here, out on Tumblr, it means a lot. If you happen to like this shortish story, please follow or whatever because I hope to post a lot of stories I make in my spare time on here! I want to become better at writing, so if anyway has any tips for me to become a better writer and help me fulfill one of my dreams of becoming an author, shoot me a message (I’ve only been on Tumblr for about 5 minutes so idk if u can send messages). If u read this, then thank you. ONTO THE STORY.

“Ughh.” I thought to myself. At least I thought I did because everyone was staring at me. We are in a huge math test and obviously, no talking.

“Why is everyone looking at me?” I asked everyone in the classroom. I just say stuff aloud without thinking about it. I used to write down or record myself complaining when I was mad or upset so I could just get it out of my mind. That was a while ago. Looks like I have never gotten out of the habit of speaking my mind, literally. Then reality hit me, maybe everyone in the class had heard me sigh.

“Mr. Martinez!” Yelled my math teacher Mr. Mitchell. “You know there is no talking during a test. Go down to the principal's office now or I’ll escort you there myself.” Mr. Mitchell was the oldest teacher in my school, and the strictest. He used to scare me when I was walking down the hallway in sixth grade. Even now, I’m in eighth grade I’ll admit he does sometimes give me the creeps. Every night, my friends and I would talk trash about him at the skate park after school.

“Go now!!” Mr. Mitchell yelled again.

“Ok, ok, ok.” I answered with a little attitude.

“I'm going alright.” I swiftly left that classroom planning on never returning there ever again.

“Alright,” I whispered to myself. “I got two options, go down to the principal's office and get yelled at loud enough so the whole school can hear. Or do my other option which is just camp in the bathroom.” Then I realized something. For some reason Mr. Mitchell makes sure the office knows you're going down there. Not going down there can cost you another week or two on top of my detention I am going to get. He makes it obvious that he calls the office though. To my knowledge and personal experience. He’s the only teacher that does that sort of thing.

When I got near Ms. Silver’s office, she was already waiting for me. She was new to the school and looked pretty young, maybe in her twenties or thirties. Although she was pretty short, maybe 5 feet tall. She also had the bluest eyes a human could ever see on another human. She didn’t look like a principal at all. She looked like a laid back english teacher.

“Will Martinez?” Ms. Silver said to me. She didn’t sound like she was unsure about who I was. She sounded like she knew exactly who I was.

“Uh yea, I’m Will.” I spoke in a frail voice. I have never spoken so weakly before. I usually just speak normally, not like I was a nervous wreck.

I walked in her office and there was artwork everywhere. It looked like she made them herself though. You can see progress in her paintings. Some not looking so good, and some looking like a professional artist made them.

“Mr. Martinez!” She yelled so loud that I think the whole school heard that. “How dare you disrespect your teacher and his test!” Ms. Silver turned from a sweet looking teacher, to a horrifying monster you would expect to read about in the Goosebumps books. See, I'm used to hearing yelling from Mr. Mitchell, but nothing this intense.

“Mr. Martinez!” she yelled once more. I'm getting the vibe from her that she absolutely loves yelling at kids.

“I am going to ask you one more time, why were you disrespecting your teacher and his test?” I couldn’t bring myself to say anything, my throat felt like there was something clogging it or something. I’ve never felt this way before. Before I knew it, I was turning pale and sweating. My stomach was knotting up and I felt like I was going to throw up.

“I-I,” I said in an effort trying to get words out of my mouth.

“I didn’t mean to disrespect anyone or anything.” I don’t know what it was, but at this point in time, I was petrified of her. Just looking in her general direction scared me, so I just started looking at the artwork. Well, that was until she grabbed my face and made me look at her.

“Answer me!” She begged for an answer, but I couldn’t talk. The pain and clogging in my throat is getting unbearable.

“Okay, you can go.” She said. “I got everything I needed from you.”

“Are you going to tell my parents?” I managed to get those words out. “Get out of my office before I do it in front of you.” She responded. I felt relieved and started to walk out. After my brain finally processed what she said, I started panicking. She meant she was going to call them, but not when I was in the room with her.

“Crap, what do I do now?” I asked myself. I wasn’t thinking rationally anymore, I was picturing my parents beating the crap out of me if they knew what I did. To think of it, asking one question led to this. I started wondering why my school was so strict with everything.

“Just asking one stupid question surely doesn’t lead to this in other schools. Right?”

Chapter 2

After my panic attack of what just happened, I just decided to wait out the day in the bathroom. I was frightened of just the thought of going home. I would always get beat and cut by my parents. I always came into school with small scars and bruises on my body. I tried my best to hide them from everybody in my school. More times than I would like to count, people asked why I was so cut up. They never got their answer. It didn’t help that my parents picked me up for school.

“What would happen if I just ran out of the school before the day was done” I thought to myself.

“Maybe Terrance won't mind if I stay at his place for the foreseeable future.” Terrance always skips school to play video games, or sleep. Without thinking, I bolted out of that bathroom and into the hall. Sweat was already streaming down my face for some reason, the cool air of the school pressed against my body trying to keep me inside the doors. I run faster and faster until, BAM. I crashed into the doors not knowing that they are locked during the day. Ms. Silver heard me bang on the door and came running out of her office. After regaining my balance I immediately started to run again.

I remembered that there are doors near my classroom, all I have to do is run fast enough so the kids in the classrooms can't see that it's me running through the halls of the school like a complete lunatic.

I bashed into the door. It had opened. I saw the school's security running through the doors as well.

“Wow they really don’t want me to leave.” I said under my breath. Without hesitation started running in the direction of Terrance’s house. All I was hoping for is Terrance to awake and ready to talk because there is one thing I have been keeping from everyone.

Chapter 3

When I got to Terrance’s house, there were no cars in the driveway, but that didn’t stop me from knocking on the door. I suddenly felt sick again, like I was going to throw up. There was sweat streaking down my face from running so much.

I was standing outside of Terrance’s door trying to summon the courage and strength to just hit the door with my fist.

“Ok.” I said, “All I have to do is knock on the door, like I have done countless times before.” For some reason, today felt different from every other time I went over his house. It was really quiet, too quiet. Too quiet. There is almost always some form of complaining coming from the house.

“Here goes nothing, literally.” I said to myself trying to get myself to knock on the door. Surprisingly, Terrance opened the door.

“Hey, why aren’t you at scho-.” Terrance was cut short because I immediately grasped him in a hug. That hug wasn’t the type of hugs you give your best friends when you haven’t seen them in a while. It was the type of hug where they immediately know there is something wrong. That was the first time I have actually hugged someone. It felt good. It felt like someone cared about me and was worried about me. I didn't want that.

“Will?” Terrance asked. “What's wrong?”

“Could I come in first?” I asked him, almost starting to tear up like crazy, but I held myself together.

“Yea sure, come in” Terrance said. I could tell, Terrance was worried about me. He only wears one face when he's around Randy and I. Reckless. This was a different face, it was his caring and worried face. I’ve never seen it before though. I don’t think Randy has even seen it. We both sat on his bed and there was a moment of silence before Terrance asked,

“Will, what's wrong? You are never like this.”

I was always very hesitant about answering this question. Mainly because I didn’t like the answer I would have given. I tried to summon the remaining strength I had left in my body. I have never told anyone the truth about how I was feeling. I was too embarrassed about all my feelings.

“The truth is.” I wanted to just stop answering and restart the day over again but I was already too deep in to change the subject.

“The truth is, I had very bad depression basically my whole life. I couldn’t tell anyone because I felt people would just stay away from me and ignore me, thinking I’m a loser who is nothing but a sad, pathetic loser. I feel like it has gotten worse between my house, and school. My parents have been,” I was wondering why I couldn’t stop myself from talking. I felt like I was talking way too much. “My parents have been hitting and cutting me. It just happened all of a sudden, and I have no idea why. That’s why I always have bruises and cuts all over my body. They don’t give me rational answers anymore.” I was out of breath from talking so much. I couldn’t stop myself from talking, I wish I could’ve. I looked at Terrance’s face. He looked like he was thinking about everything I just said.

“Will.” Terrance said to me in a reassuring voice. “I promise you, everything will be alright. Randy and I will always be here for you no matter what you are going through.”

“Thanks Terrance.” I responded.

“Is that why you ran out of school?” Terrance asked.

“Yea, at least I think so.” I responded. I was caught off guard by that for some reason. I knew that question was coming, I didn’t know when. So I made the mistake of letting my guard down.

“Ok.” Terrance started speaking all of a sudden. “I'm sorry but I think you should go, my parents are going to me home soon and I have to be prepared to tell them why I skipped school again. Without saying anything extra, I walked out of his house.

“Where am I going to go now?” I asked myself outside of Terrance’s. “I can’t go back to my house because I don’t want to be killed, literally.” It’s the sad truth, but at least it's the truth, my parents will kill me if I go home. I have to think of something.

On the walk home I was thinking about a way to deal with my horrid parents. There were about five hundred different ideas, but I didn’t like them. There was one in particular that I have thought of doing in the past. Calling the police on my own parents. I always seemed to talk myself out of it. They were my parents after all, and they were basically the only family I had left. This time was different though, I felt, vengeful. It’s a feeling I have never felt before. I haven’t felt something new in a long time. The only two emotions I have been a custom to is pain and depression.

I kept trying to talk myself out of calling the police on my own parents, but at this point, nothing could change my mind.

“Ok.” I said trying to build up the courage to take my phone and just dial 911. “It’s so simple. All I have to do is press the nine once and then, one twice.” I said once more trying to amp myself up to try and press three numbers.

Chapter 4

“911 what’s your emergency?” I was nervous, like at school, I couldn’t speak at all. I have never talked to anyone associated with the police before. The police dispatcher sounded very calm, like he has dealt with this type of situation a million times.

“Uh, hi” I said in a really frail voice. “My parents have been beating and cutting me badly and I have no idea how to deal with it anymore.” I started to cry while on the phone. I haven’t cried in years. Real crying. I have always teared up, but never cried. I absolutely never explained to people what my parents do to me, especially strangers.

“Alright, where do you live so we could send an officer there.”

“66 Abbey Road.” I replied. There was pain in my voice, like my soul being stabbed over and over again. It wasn’t a good feeling. Not in the slightest.

“Alright, an officer will be there no less than ten minutes.” She said. I didn’t even say “thank you,” I couldn’t. How could I say thank you. I just called the police on my own parents.

“There is no going back now.” I whispered to myself. When I started toward my house, my legs were getting heavy, like it was my body telling me to not go near that house. My head was getting light, and my eyes started to water.

“What’s going on with me?” I asked myself expecting an answer. I never got one. Why was I trying to get closer to that house to the house that I was trying oh so desperately to avoid. I will never know. The closer I got to that house, the worse I felt. With every step, the closer I was to collapsing.

I was in front of the house. That was the worst mistake I have ever made. In front of my view, an overly large house. With two faces in different windows, looking at me. At first I had no idea I knew they were, but upon looking closer. They were my personal devils in my makeshift hell. My Mom and Dad.

My heart beating faster and faster, quivering more and more violently. I couldn’t stop myself from feeling all of these things. I usually could stop myself from feeling anything. It was like a light switch. I could flip it to turn off my feelings. This time was different . I felt weak and helpless. I couldn’t control anything in my life anymore. It was a weird feeling but I didn’t care. That was the least of my worries. The biggest of my worries was the two demons that live in my house.

I walked up to the door, put my hand on the doorknob, then. I felt a glimmer of hope. I heard the sirens of the police. That was my hope. My final hope. They were seconds away, for once in a long while.

“I could take a couple seconds in my personal hell.” Oh I was wrong. When I walked through the doors of hell, “WHAM!” My Dad's belt came flying across my face.

“WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING!?” He was yelling, if you could call it that. It was way louder than yelling, but a little quieter than screaming. I could barely feel the belt across my face. I was already a custom to it. Maybe too custom to it.

“SKIPPING A MATH TEST THEN RUNNING OUT OF SCH-” before he could even finish his thought, he was taken down by a police officer. My Dad's yelling was so loud that no one couldn’t hear anything in their surroundings. My face was so red, it was like when I was embarrassed by something.

“Are you ok kid?”

“Yea, I think so.” I answered the cop. My face was turning numb. I couldn’t feel a thing.

“What's going on down here?!” My mom stormed down the stairs. She only saw me though. She didn’t notice the cop right in the living room. She took the nearest belt and started using it, but improperly. Again, thirty seconds later I was getting beat again. This time I didn’t care as much. The cop saw it start.

Both my Mom and Dad where in handcuffs and getting led to the cop car. I felt, happy. For once it was something different besides pain and pain only. I started to lounge on the couch, then the cop came up to me.

“Hey I need to talk to you, before you relax too much.”

“Yea sure what’s up?” I was very confused why he needed to talk to me. I had done nothing besides call the police on my own parents. Maybe that was the reason, to ask why I called the police on them.

“Since you are only 14, you obviously can’t live by yourself. So uh, do you have any family in the area that could take care of you?” This was another topic I often avoided. The rest of my family, the ones who cared about me, disappeared. No one knows, even the police who are great detectives, couldn’t figure it out. It would’ve been nice to have like an Uncle you could talk to, or a cousin who was your closest friend. They are all gone though.

“Uh, no. They all died, well I’m guessing they did.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. When we get down to the station we’ll ask you Mom or Dad if they know anyone who could take you in.” His voice sounded like he hated saying that sentence. He was only telling me the truth though. I couldn’t argue with that at all. He was telling me the truth.

“So what is going to happen to me then?”

“Well.” The cop went on. “I’ll let you stay here, for the night. If your Mom or Dad doesn’t find anyone to take you in, then you’ll be put into an orphanage.” I couldn’t believe anything he was telling me at this point. How could I. This had to be a nightmare. It wasn’t, it was real life with a real human being telling me the real, painful, truth. This was horrible.

“Uh, okay, lets just hope that they can find someone.”

“Yea, let's hope.” The cop responded. His voice sounded comforting. Just what I needed to hear funny enough.

He started towards the door.

“See ya kid.” The cop said before leaving the house.

I heard the car start, then drive off.

“What am I going to do now?” I panicked. I took my phone and tried to call Terrance.

“Oh please pick up,” I pleaded to the phone. “Pick up. Pick up. Pick up!” There was no answer, just the answering machine that answered if no one picked the phone. I immediately went to call Randy. He always picks up no matter what. He could be inside a volcano being burned alive, and he’ll still pick up the phone.

“Hello?” Randy picked up the phone, he sounded tired though. I would’ve felt bad if the orphanage wasn’t on my mind.

“Randy something good, and bad just happened.”

“Why what happened?” He always sounds very interested whenever either Terrance and I say something remotely interesting, he zones back in. Then asks five-million questions about that subject. He was the only one who had known about my parents beating the crap out of me every other hour of every day. Well until I told Terrance.

“I finally broke, I called the police on my parents.”

“Wait, what do you mean? Why did you call the police on your parents?” It seemed like. he had completely forgotten about what I told him about my parents.

“Well, I called the police on them because they were hitting me and cutting me every other hour, glad to hear that you forgot.”

“Oh no, I didn’t forget that, it just doesn’t seem like you. Calling the police on your parents.” He spoke, but not like he was happy, like he usually does. It sounded like he was concerned about me, it sounded like how Terrance sounded when I told him about everything.

“Yea, but that's not the worst of it though.” I spoke. Suddenly my tone had changed from confused, to scared.

“Go on.”

“If my parents don’t find someone to take me in and obviously, take care of me. They are going to put me into an orphanage or something like that.” I had already forgotten where I was going if my parents don’t feel like finding someone to take care of me.

“Oh my god, are you sure or was he just saying that?” He said, I could tell he was quivering. His voice sounded very shaky. He was as hurt by that as I was, maybe more. If that’s possible.

“Yea, I’m sure.” I didn’t know what else to say, my brain was turning into a foggy mess.

“Oh hey Will, my parents need me. Uh I’ll be right back. Ok?”

“Uh yeah that's fine.”

Chapter 5

It was like an hour back before I started to consider hanging up on Randy. I honestly can’t believe I didn’t hang up before then, but thank god he came back to the phone.

“Hey, sorry I took so long. Oh wow that was about an hour.” Randy caught me off guard. I was just wasting my time watching TV, not expecting Randy to come back to the phone. Funny enough, he did.

“Oh, uh it’s fine, I think haha. Wow, I can’t believe it’s already 10:30.” I usually go to bed around nine o’clock. It wasn’t my choice though, it was my Mom and Dad’s choice. I was fourteen, and I still had a nine year olds bedtime schedule. I have to admit, it feels good that I don’t have to go to bed.

“So if you don’t mind asking, what did your parents want?” I asked. He was gone for over an hour, so I want an answer why he didn’t come back faster. I obviously didn’t say that, but I was certainly thinking about it.

“So, in theory. If you could have the chance to live with my family, would you.” He asked. I could tell Randy was very nervous asking that question. I get why though, asking your best friend to ask to move in with them.

“That’s random. Before I answer, why do you ask?” While I was asking that I think I already knew the answer. My parents called Randy’s parents, asking if I could live with them.

“Well,” Randy started talking, but I was too excited to think or listen to what Randy had to say. Then I started thinking, why did my parents call Randy’s house, if they didn’t care about me in the slightest. Maybe they did, they just didn’t know how to say it. But then why did they keep hurting me. Nothing made sense, but I didn't care. I will be living with Randy, one of my closest friends.

“My Mom wanted to know why I got a 60 on a math test. Then I just told her what type of position you were in. I told her that your parents are in jail, but you had no one to take you in. Long story short, I offered if you could live with us. Obviously, she was very uncertain about having you living with us. It took a whole lot of convincing, but they said yeah. Well, a lot more than just ‘yeah,’ but whatever.” Randy said that all in one breath. By the end of that paragraph, he was trying to get his breath back from talking so much.

“That’s great news, well for me haha. Are you sure your parents allowed this.”

“Come on, Will. You know me, I tell no lies.” I couldn’t believe this in the slightest.

“I’m going to live with, Randy.” I thought to myself.

“Hey, I’m tired. I am going to bed, my family will be picking you up around one o’clock.”

“Okay, thanks Randy, well I guess I should get to sleep also.” I said before passing out on the couch.

Chapter 6

When I looked at the clock in the living room,

“Oh no.” I said looking at the time. “Is it really almost one o’clock?” I was in disbelief that I had slept for fourteen and a half hours. To be honest, I still can’t believe that. In the back of my mind for the whole time I was waiting for Randy, one thing was just floating around. What will Terrance’s response to this whole situation be? I chose not to worry about it too much though.

I quickly packed all of my clothes and a few other things like headphones and chargers into a bag that was too small. I didn’t care in the slightest. I looked at my phone, the time read one o’clock.

“Randy should be here any second now.” I assured myself. I was nervous the whole time I was awake, but as soon as I saw one o’clock on my phone. It was like I was back outside my house trying to get the courage to walk inside as if it was yesterday. Which it wasn’t, it was a brand new day. A fresh start.

When I heard that doorbell rang, I almost killed myself by running down the stairs so fast.

“Well, this is it, a fresh start at life.” So many emotions that were completely new to me flooded my mind. Most importantly, happiness. I took one good last look at my now old house, and opened the front door to find Randy holding a huge suitcase.

“Uh, Randy. Why do you have a suitcase.” I said utterly surprised to find him holding a suitcase the size of him. I had no idea they made them that big, I guess I was wrong.

“It’s to transport your belongings to my house of course! What are you stupid or somethin?”

“I have no idea anymore Randy.” I spoke softer than usual, but I don’t think Randy noticed.

“And uh, I have everything here, in this very small bag.” I pointed to the bag that was on my back. My parents barely bought me anything, and I am just lucky I got food to survive, clothes and a phone. Well that’s just great to get from parents who don’t like you in the first place.

“You’re joking right? Your parents barely bought you a couple pieces of clothes and can barely working phone?” Randy’s voice sounded like he was sorry for me. His eyes looked like he wanted to ask me how I survived for fourteen years. He remained quiet though.

“Yeah, it’s the sad truth, but it is the truth. I barely came out of this year alive though. This year was the worst one of my life.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that Will.” Randy just looked at my body now, especially my face.

“Were there that many scars and bruises on your face, and your body?” He started to quiver as if he could feel my own pain. A friendship becomes special when he can feel what you're feeling. That’s what just happened, another person feeling what I was feeling. We started towards Randy’s house. My new house. Randy said something fairly interesting.

“You know Mr. Mitchell right?” Randy said slowly. Why was he asking me this, when he’s my homeroom and math teacher.

“Duh, how could I not, he’s my homeroom and math teacher.” I responded in a tone that implies he was sorta wasting my time.

“Ok, so there is something that is always moving in my backyard, and it’s not an animal. I think it’s Mr. Mitchell.” Randy said, terrified. Something was clogging my throat just then, like someone was in control of my body, preventing me from speaking. I have no idea what this feeling was, but I absolutely hated it. We walked the rest of the way to his house in complete silence until I got the urge to say something.

“Maybe we could prove it’s Mr. Mitchell.”

“Yeah, how are we going to do that. We are only 14 years old.” Randy was right, we couldn’t do that. We were stupid middle schoolers. Couldn’t even try to pull off trying to steal something from the corner store.

Chapter 7

“It has been a couple years since I have written here” I whispered to myself looking at my old diary. It was covered in dust. I opened it and the last entry was November 5th, 2015.

“Wow, five years.” I immediately started to wonder why I stopped writing in the diary. I looked around on the page, not reading it and I saw water stains. They were small stains, tooked like someone had taken an eye dropper to it. It was weird, but it got way weirder. I read that page.

“November 5, 2015, that’s the date that my family died (present parents excluded).” I felt sick, like I was going to throw up. Those water stains weren’t eyedrop drops, they were tears, my tears.

“Why can’t I remember any of this? That time of my life is completely blank.” Then I started to do what I do best, panic.

“RANDY!” I screamed. I usually have no one to talk to, but since I'm now living with Randy, I finally had someone to talk to.

“Yea, yeah I’m up.” Randy said, trying to mask the fact he fell asleep at eight in the afternoon.

“Hey Randy, Please tell me you weren’t sleeping.”

“Of course not, why would I.” Randy said, trying so hard not to close his eyes for longer than a second. It was funny, seeing a fourteen year old falling asleep at only eight o’clock in the afternoon.

“Whatever, well I found my old diary.”

“Wait, for real.” Randy sounded really interested now, as usual.

“Yeah, It was in my bag, I have no idea how It got there though. I don’t think I even packed it.” I completely forgot that I had a diary to begin with. For some reason, I can’t remember anything that had happened before 2016. I didn’t really take note of it though. I just passed it as another way my brain hates me, not letting me remember anything important.

“Well, how did it get there then?” Randy sounded as surprised as me, maybe more. He always made a bigger deal out of things than needed.

“Well, what are you waiting for, read the page. If you dare. Haha.” Randy said that. He didn’t expect me to actually start reading the page. Well, I was going to until we heard rustling outside my room window.

“What’s that?” Randy asked. We both went to the window.

“Ha, maybe it's an animal.” Randy said stupidly.

“What type of animal would be out at this time of night, that could make the leaves rustle.” Sometimes I can’t believe how stupid Randy could be. It amazed me how small his brain could be.

“Wait.” Randy had turned pale, like he had just seen a ghost. He pointed to a shadowy figure in the distance. It was a human, it was standing on two legs. It’s clothes were worn out, almost ripping. Jeans so torn, I was surprised they were still in one piece. It's very messy hair, looked like it hadn’t been washed for at least a couple years.

The human looked our way, I could tell Randy was as terrified. For once, I was more horrified than Randy.

“Will, it’s looking at us. It is Mr. Mitchell!” Randy was paralized, he could barely move, so was I.

“Holy crap, why is he in your backyard?” I wanted to start yelling, but I couldn’t.

“We gotta get out of this room now!”

“Good idea, really good idea. You know what that’s the best idea you have ever had.” I responded to Randy’s great idea.

Mr. Mitchell looked like he was carrying two human-like objects. I looked closer before running out of that room. I saw two small children. I immediately started running, but Randy must’ve accidentally locked the door. I pounded and pleaded on the door. I heard running to the door. Randy was too late, Mr. Mitchell had grasped me. I felt bad for Randy, he saw his best friend get taken away from him.

Chapter 8

“Oh good.” A familiar voice filled the room. I must’ve passed out when Mr. Mitchell had taken me hostage.

“Took long enough to wake up.” I thought that it was a cop speaking to me, going to start asking questions on who kidnapped me. Oh how wrong I was. I was in a bomb shelter type room. Then I saw him, Mr. Mitchell. I looked around the room, it was very large. Maybe the size of a lunchroom. There was science equipment everywhere. It looked as if he was doing experiments. There was liquid in large containers in all corners of that room. I saw children. Hanging from the ceiling, but not by their feet. I couldn’t believe what was happening.

“Are you going to kill me?” I summon the energy left in my body to start speaking. It was very soft, but at least I could talk. Mr. Mitchell didn’t respond. He took a bottle of the liquid from one of those corners.

“Let’s see if this version works.” Mr. Mitchell was shoving a test tube down my throat and made me drink the mystery liquid. It tasted like drinking ocean water. It was absolutely disgusting. I would’ve thrown up, but I was using all my energy in my body just trying to keep myself breathing. I looked at myself, I was hooked up to a computer of some kind.

“Dammit!” Mr. Mitchell yelled out. “Looks like you’ll end up like everyone else who didn’t pass the test. He looked up at the children on the ceiling.

“So you are going to hang me?” I asked

“What, hang you, hahaha.” Mr. Mitchell sounded, not like a human. An animal who evolved to look like a human, but wasn’t human.

“You deserve something way worse.

” What could be worse than being hung?” I thought to myself. Mr. Mitchell pulled something out of his desk drawer. It was shiny. Looked like something that would be in a fancy kitchen, but this wasn’t anything like a kitchen. I took another glance at the object Mr. Mitchell was toying with his hands. It was a knife. Then I realized what he was going to do to me. He was going to stab me. It was one thing I haven’t felt yet. I honestly thought I was going to experience it way sooner than today.

Mr. Mitchell took the knife, and slowly put it to my side. As anyone could imagine, it hurt worse than getting hit in the face by a belt at full force. I felt the knife going further and further into my body, then it got pulled out. I heard a door cave in.

“Police put your ha-” The cop didn’t even finish his sentence before tackling Mr. Mitchell. He had him handcuffed then called for a paramedic.

“I need a paramedic here at 10 Howard Drive this instant. I felt the blood gushing out of my body.

“Help me!” I said, trying to yell out. The cop came running towards me, he applied as much pressure to the stab wound as possible, but it wasn’t enough to slow the bleeding. I started to feel weaker than I did before, I started to get tired. My vision started to get foggy when I saw in the very far distance, paramedics.

I woke up later that night. Well, I think it was night. I didn’t even know how long I was sleeping. My memory was foggy, I barely remembered what happened the day I got kidnapped.

“Is anyone here?” I asked aloud. A doctor swiftly came into the room. He looked like he had been up for hours, there were bags under his eyes and he was a little clumsy walking in the room.

“Oh finally, you are up.” He sounded relieved that I was awake. Maybe there were several police officers wanting to talk to me or something.

“There are some people here to see you, they say their names are Randy and Terrance.” For some reason I was sorta disappointed to learn that police officers have not come to see me about all what happened.

When Terrance and Randy walked into the room, I could tell something was wrong. What did the doctors say to them, if they said anything at all. I did feel sick, however. It wasn’t like a sick feeling I get when I come down with the flu. It was different, very different. Every once in a while, I could feel my stomach, like almost move. It was a weird feeling.

“Is everything okay?” I asked Randy and Terrance. They weren’t acting like themselves. They didn’t answer me, they just looked around the room. It looked as if they were avoiding looking me in the eye’s. They studied what machines I were hooked up to, but never looked at me. Randy had tears forming under his eyes, same as Terrance. Terrance never shows his tears, I didn’t even know that guy cried.

“Guys, what’s wrong.” I asked in a worried tone. I was scared they knew something about my condition or something. Something I didn’t know about myself.

“Nothing is wrong, we are just worried about you, that’s all.” Randy spoke. Immediately after he spoke, Terrance hit him. It was like he didn’t want me to know anything.

“What do you guys know?” I asked a couple times. I still got no answer. They were both tearing up at this point. It was funny. I had just got maybe three days worth of sleep, and I still felt tired. It felt like what I was feeling in that bunker, but not as severe.

“How long was I out for?”

“About 4 days.” Terrance said. It sounded like he was going to start crying while replying to me. I finally put the pieces together. I was dying. Whatever Mr. Mitchell gave me, it didn’t do what he wanted to do what he intended. It was instead poisoning me, killing me very slowly.

“Randy, am I going to die?” Randy looked at me, then smiled. He didn’t have to answer. His smile gave me the answer really quickly.

“Let’s go Randy, can’t let my mom think we forgot about her.” There they went. As quickly as they entered, they left.

Chapter 9

Weird, looks like Will was keeping track of what happened in a journal. Wow,

he’s a really good writer. I'm not as good as him. I haven’t properly introduced myself yet, so sorry about that. I am Randy, Will has mentioned me a lot here actually. Anyway, I know I have marked this down as “Chapter 9,” but it isn't really a chapter. It is really to tell you what happened to this awesome writer. Almost a day after we left that hospital room, Will passed away. It was about a year after his death. I think it was a day later, maybe a week. Anyway, I am just finding this notebook. I knew he liked to read, but never thought he liked to write. Wow I am getting off topic really quick. Anyway, The teacher who did this to Will, Mr. Mitchell. He had been put into a maximum security prison. Terrance took it really hard though. He was never the same after Will’s death. He was almost never at school. When he was he always wore black clothes. He used to wear jeans and a blue t-shirt no matter the temperature out

I think I am going to try and get this published. At least try and share It to my whole school. That’ll be hard to do, but it’s worth a try. I think Will would’ve asked us to get this out to the public. Or at least hinted to it.

“If you can still hear me buddy, just know we all miss you.”

THE END

#my writing #writing #fiction #thriller #easy to read #SHORT STORY #first post

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shuuenmei · 4 years ago

Text

resolution

BEFORE WE BEGIN:

Admittedly, I didn’t want to reveal this at first but after some thought and discussions, I decided to publish this out. This contains a big part of what I plan for Yuu (Rei) and how “black or white” will run in the future, and because it’s potentially very long, I’m placing this under the cut.

The sound of the clock ticking is the only thing keeping her company as she searched through the library.

Not this book, not that book, not this one either.

She doesn’t know how much time has passed, but she doesn’t care.

She had to keep looking.

She refused to stay helpless and vulnerable like how she nearly died from those vine thorns-

She find herself idly touching onto her neck now covered in the bandages to hide the tiny scars from those thorns.

There’s so many things happening in such a quick span of time she finds herself unable to properly react and adjust how to adapt and survive.

“You were on a near dangerous spot, pup.” The words of her homeroom teacher rang when he was called by the headmaster to check on how severe her injuries were shortly after they brought Riddle back to his senses.

Of how she was lucky to have escaped strangulation when the vines enclosed on her neck.

Of how she nearly died from blood loss due to the thorns piercing her skin.

And the situation now truly sunk on her that she could have truly died not long after arriving in this world.

A deep, deep part of her mind screamed, feeling that for the first time, she wanted to live and survive.

To struggle for survival than to succumb to the temptation of sleeping forever, never waking up.

I don’t want to die I don’t want to die-

“That’s quite a heavy stack of books, little one.”

She couldn’t help but jump at the voice calling her from behind.

Her head turned to see who it was that spoke.

“You surprise me Lilia-san.”

The older student gave out a light hearted chuckle in response.

“It’s good to see you.” He greeted before he wondered. “Now what brings you here to the library?”

“I wanted to look up something.” She answered.

She made up her mind after her homeroom teacher’s diagnosis of her state.

She honestly still feel sluggish from the injuries she had and Professor Crewel issued a permit to Coach Vargas to excuse her (And by extension, Grim) from physical education class until she is fully recovered.

With much time to spare after the rather disastrous duel yesterday, she decided to head over to the library.

There’s something that she wished to know about and if she can’t find what she’s looking for... she’ll just have to make do.

“That’s quite a lot of books you were holding.” He pointed towards the stack of books she was holding.

“It’s fine Lilia-san, I can handle this.” She shook her head as the two started to walk their way towards the table where she placed her bag and some of the books she had borrowed earlier.

“I heard you and your friends called for a duel with Riddle yesterday.” Lilia started once he was seated.

“Ah, so everyone heard about it?”

“It’s quite impossible to not know it, little one.” The old fae chuckled.

She numbly nodded, her hand idly reaching out to her neck as if there is lingering pain sticking to her neck like a phantom.

The fae’s magenta eyes looked at the covers of the books she had brought, now placed on the table.

“Hmm, interesting choices you have there.” With an ever present smile, he used magic to make the heavy books float to his way.

“The Origin of Magic, History of Magic Tools... they all seem to cater towards a specific time frame, to an even older time...” The fae soon implored as he placed the books down. “What has brought you to wish to learn such a subject?”

She pondered for a moment.

Should she speak about it?

She may have only known about Lilia for a few days, a week, even. But she felt that she can truly trust this older student and ask for his aid.

The Headmaster doesn’t seem too keen in watching over her own well being and had a very hands-off approach.

He’s not the kind of person she’d trust her worries of.

In contrast, Lilia, in his own way, had been helping her from the start.

The Headmaster may have tried, but seeing first hand at how he seems to be giving a hands-off approach, how she was told that the Headmaster wouldn’t have rushed her to the infirmary and call for Professor Crewel immediately until the fact that she is nearly dying from blood loss truly sunk in, with the rest of Heartslabyul having to urge him out to get her the aid she needed.

(There’s something about the Headmaster that reminded her of an ill memory of the past, but she has yet to recall the full context of it all.)

Lilia, from the way he speaks and how he treated her, makes her think of the senior as an almost father like figure.

Doting yet keeping a firm watch of those he consider his children.

So she took her chance and spoke quietly.

Of the events that led to Riddle Rosehearts overblotting.

________________________________________________________________

“...I see. That explains the bandages covering your neck.”

She nodded.

“...But pray tell, what convinced you to search for a specific time frame involving magic in the days of old?”

She didn’t say a word to Lilia, deep in thought, trying to think of an answer.

It was a spur of a moment and she couldn’t help but be curious.

Curious to know if there is a point of time where people are not naturally born with magic.

Maybe those of old do magic differently than those who lived in the present.

She also vaguely remember of a story she once read of how people of the past request the world to lend their energy to use magic.

If such method also exist here, does she have a chance to survive?

So she won’t be so weak, helpless and vulnerable like today-

Still, there’s a chance that she won’t be able to find what she searched for.

But nevertheless, she doesn’t want to give up so easily and find a way so she can survive in this unfamiliar world.

She needs to see the end of the tale that she is entangled in no matter what.

She found her answer.

“...I just don’t want to stay weak and helpless as I am right now.”

She spoke and continued.

“After I was told of how I nearly died... I felt myself getting reminded of how easily vulnerable I was as a magicless person.”

She clenched her right hand to a fist, her nails dug onto her skin deep enough to hurt.

“I’m an easy target to the whole school as the lone magicless person. Regardless of how I’m actually capable of being able to fight back, all my skills... they had limits. I can’t always depend on my new friends all the time, and eventually, I’ll run out of options and will get badly hurt like how I did today.”

She had decided, her resolution to her decision firm.

“So I plan to look for an information that can potentially help me survive against other students who would try and target me for as long as I’m here. I refuse to be an easy target just because I’m the lone anomaly of this school.”

That’s all that there is to it.

She wanted to survive longer in a world where she is placed in between many prideful magicians who could potentially end her life with their magic if they so wish it.

Maybe she won’t be a burden to her new friends that way.

She felt Lilia’s silent gaze at her prickling, almost like he is scrutinizing her.

“Do you have an empty paper available to use?” Lilia questioned after a moment of silence.

“I can tear one page off, but what do you plan to use with it?”

Lilia smiled. “You’ll see, little one.”

Despite the fae’s cryptic reply, she obliged and brought out one of her spare notebooks, ripping one of the papers out and handed it to him.

“May I borrow a writing pen as well?”

She wondered where this is going but gave the fae one of her blue pens in the pencil case.

Lilia draw a large set of letters enough to fill a whole paper that is set in a landscape like orientation.

When he is finished, he threw the paper above him and spoke out what sounded like a magical chant in a language she couldn’t recognize.

In response to the fae’s chant, the letters written in the paper glowed, almost like magic, and then the paper shifted it’s shape, shredded into small parts and then rained down on the table, small cuts formed at the empty space of wooden table besides them, as if the paper has turned into small shards of blades.

“Oh, I still had it in me to use them.” Lilia mused at the sight as the papers soon disintegrated into dust, residual magical energy following it. “Well, I shall repair it soon enough lest that young librarian aim for my neck.”

As Lilia reached for his magical pen and used his magic to fix the table, she felt herself feeling awed at the sight of the paper turned to small sharp shards.

“That was just a normal pen right...” She utter out.

She had to wonder how it was possible.

All that the fae did was just drawing rune like letters onto the paper...

“Indeed it is.” The fae answered her.

“I simply use the paper as a medium and the letters as a gateway for magical energy to enter the medium and give form to what the medium will function as.”

The fae’s serene smile remained ever-plastered on his lips. “Simply put, what I did is request for the world to lend me their magic through a medium.”

“...So you used the world’s magical energy instead of using the one that most magicians are born with?”

So such method existed here...

“Bingo, little one.” The fae gave out a good natured chuckle. Elaborating. “Before wands and magical pens came to be, people of days old once used to ask the world to do magic for them. However, this method had since been considered obsolete as society advances due to how many requirements it takes to actually use the world’s magical energy.”

He put the magical pen back into the pockets of his vest. Concluding. “For you, someone who is inherently magicless, this should be the perfect method for you to defend yourself should any of the other students dare to attack you with magic.”

Her eyes lit up. Feeling a glimmer of hope at the senior’s words.

“Are you sure you don’t mind teaching me?”

“Why of course not.” Lilia smiled at her. Reasoning.

“You are but a young lady thrown into an unfamiliar place with little to no contact of anyone you are familiar with, and no way of being able to return to whence you came from. You also happen to be placed in a school of prideful, magicians who can get easily provoked with little prompting, and can potentially harm and give you fatal injuries should they wish to do so. Anyone with a child of their own would worry for you.”

His smile then curved to a frown. “Though I supposed Crowley doesn’t seem to be that keen in regards to your safety following today’s events.”

After what happened yesterday, and of today, she felt what little trust she had on the Headmaster start to crumble.

She can’t completely trust the man anymore after today.

Not when he’s all too content to leave her to fend for her own self outside of providing her the basic necessities and the like.

(Deep down, that unpleasant feeling, almost like seething anger, of a memory she has yet to recall of people acting like the headmaster echoed in her mind)

She soon felt a hand on her head.

She was brought out of her thoughts as she realized that Lilia is patting her.

The gesture felt familiar to her.

Like a parent’s firm hand, guiding and assuring the child.

“The weekend is soon and it’s best that you recover first.” Lilia let his hand go as he advised her.

“I shall be free to teach you how to utilize the world’s magic to aid you for Monday, Wednesday and Thursday after school in the library. Is that an alright time for you?”

“...Yeah, that’s a good time.”

She felt herself smiling wide, almost genuine, grateful for the senior’s help.

“...Really, thank you for this. Lilia-san.”

The Diasomnia vice dorm head smiled back. “It is of no trouble, young one.”

Yep, this is what I planned for Yuu (Rei) in light of Heartslabyul and onwards. She doesn’t stay magicless for long.

This was inspired by the formalcraft concept from the Fate series, where you make the world do the magic for you. Think of it as not using your own MP in video games and use a specialized item that does the magic in RPG games.

Yuu (Rei) is still magicless inherently. So the method only makes her a magician by a technicality. Rather than making her an actual pure magician overnight.

As for why I went this route for Yuu (Rei):

1: The SI in Yuu (Rei) only know Twisted Wonderland based on Pre-release trailers and as such, has zero expectations of what the game would actually be. She doesn’t know that the game was meant to be a Joseimuke genre game with RPG, action and rhythm game mechanics mixed in, and only know based on what she could remember of the original stories the Disney movies are based on and the Disney movies that she remember watching, outside of what she remembers of the Pre-Release trailers. As far as Yuu (Rei)’s impression of the game’s story goes, she thought that she is in an FGO-esque Shounen genre story. So it’s either she stays magicless and die quickly, or survive and get stronger.

2: While yes, it’s established that it’s against the rules to use magic on others for personal fights, the main story proves that a good portion of the NRC student body WILL use magic on others when prompted. Unlike Ace, Deuce and Grim, the canon MC is completely defenseless. Despite Yuu (Rei)’s friendship with the ghosts and her own physical skills in Kendou, every single one of them has limits. Lando isn’t always guaranteed to tag along with her 24/7, someone will use magic to destroy the makeshift sword she had first before beating her down and giving her fatal injuries via magic. Additionally, Ace, Deuce and Grim won’t always be with her, so she’ll eventually run out of options to defend herself. At the end of the day, the real world doesn’t give a damn about what narrative importance you have in the grand scheme of the plot you’re involved in. Yuu (Rei) might be lucky this time, but the same can’t be said for the future.

...Welp.

Anyway, long story short, this is where Yuu (Rei) fully diverges from the canon MC.

I’m also going to start talking, writing and/or drawing stuff for things I plan for “black or white” in the future from here on out so do look out for those!

#Shuu's fics #black or white (fanfic)#Twisted Wonderland #Man it feels refreshing to finally get this out #It's nerveracking but exhilirating...#Of things to come

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notveryglittery · 4 years ago

Text

misc royality #3

summary: patton and roman talk after “putting others first” words: 2k / ship: royality warnings: might come across as a little harsh towards deceit but that’s definitely the author′s bias versus how the characters feel. uh, outburst of emotions, hiding one’s feelings. lmk if there’s anything else. author’s note: BEFORE YOU READ, PLEASE UNDERSTAND THAT THIS IS UNFINISHED!! I DO NOT HAVE PLANS TO FINISH IT!! it stops at a point that can be considered a happy ending, in my opinion, or at the very least hopeful and heading towards resolution. i started writing this on may 11 and have since read too many posts about the episode/royality during or after the episode/etc to feel happy with where i was going here. it has not been beta’d. i hope you enjoy regardless <3

— — —

Okay, so that had gone… about as terribly as it could have.

To be fair! … To be fair, things had been alright for a bit. Patton had genuinely been trying not to force his opinions on anyone else, Thomas had been open to hearing from both of them, and Roman had done his best to reign in the insults. He thought he’d done a pretty good job, standing up for himself while making sure still to support Patton. It hadn’t been easy, sure, wanting to mention how attending the wedding had been a waste, and how they’d have been better off at the callback, and how he wished their court scenario had gone differently, but that… That was all water under the bridge. The bridge might have needed some work, admittedly, given that Roman could feel the heat licking at his heels, but that wasn’t something he could worry about right now.

Right now, all he could worry about was figuring out where he stood on this good versus evil scale. Heh… scale. Yeah, thinking about the reptilian rapscallion was not going to improve his mood. Roman sighed, pushing a hand through his hair, and kicking his boots off the moment he arrived in his room. They disappeared under the bed, which was going to be very annoying when he couldn’t find them tomorrow, but whatever, that was a problem for future Roman. The only problem current Roman had was trying to understand the line between right and wrong.

It was wrong to laugh at Deceit’s name, at… at Janus sharing something important and then throwing it right back in his face. It was right to be selfish, but only sometimes. It was wrong to put others before oneself, but only sometimes. It was right to lie to spare someone’s feelings…

Roman couldn’t remember that being a part of their discussion but like hell he could forget that he was no longer Thomas’ hero. He wasn’t even sure if it would have hurt less, had Thomas been honest about it.

Maybe Janus was wrong, a small traitorous part of him hoped. Maybe something got lost in translation.

Yeah, and maybe he hadn’t been tricked before. He had to keep his guard up now more than ever… Regardless of whether Patton and Thomas trusted Janus, Roman couldn’t… Not after he’d been fooled so many times already.

He’d just been considering disappearing into the Fantasy Realm for an arduous adventure, something to take his mind off of things until he could better process them, when there was a knock at the door.

“Ro, honey?”

Flinching at the simple sound of Patton’s voice was definitely something worth being concerned about, but he shoved it into the pile of things he’d deal with later. Instead, he fluffed his hair and straightened his sash and put on a smile. It stung a little bit, to do so, when all he wanted was to cry, but maybe this wouldn’t take long.

“Evening, buttercup~” Roman sang as he opened the door, “to what do I owe the pleasure?

If Patton seemed put off by his cheery attitude, he didn’t show it. “I wanted to check on you. I know I’m feeling pretty rough after all that. Are you doing okay?”

“First of all, lovebug, you’re always pretty, so jot that down.” Roman was quick to remind, “as for me, you needn’t add anymore stress to your plate by worrying over this silly old prince.”

The smile that twisted Patton’s lips at the compliment was quickly replaced with a pout. He put his hands on his hips and leaned in closer. “Now Roman, you aren’t just some silly old prince. You’re the most handsome prince in the world. I think you’re very sensible and wise.”

“Logan’s room is two doors down.”

Patton scowled. “Is that a self-deprecation in my house, mister?”

Roman pretended to check his fingernails, feigning disinterest. “Technically not your house so… no, not really.”

Patton pulled away. “Is there something you’d like to get off your chest?” His tone was sincere and Roman wanted to scream because he wasn’t sure he could believe it.

“I don’t know, maybe the suffocating weight of having to be perfect for you all? Or could it be the overwhelming guilt at constantly failing to succeed in the only thing I’m good for?” Roman ignored the way his breath hitched, curled his hands into fists to resist tugging at his hair. “It might just as well be the stifling reminder of how easy I am to manipulate! Gee, Patton, I wonder what I could possibly have to be upset about!”

“Oh.”

Roman reeled back, as if he’d been slapped. Immediately, he was sure that he’d overstepped, that he’d fucked up, and that Patton was going to reprimand him for being whiny and dramatic.

“Oh, okay. Okay, hold on.”

Before Roman could realize it was happening, Patton had stepped through the door. He was trailing his fingers through the air, using the power Roman had allowed him over the room to better suit… whatever it was he had planned.

“Forget I said anything,” Roman said, voice catching. He stayed put, gesturing back out to the hallway. “I’m sure you have much more important things to handle.”

The setting sun normally filled the room with a light that was sometimes glaring due to the wall of floor to ceiling windows, but Patton had lessened it by creating sweeping lace curtains. It seemed softer now, warm and gold, almost as if everything wasn’t actually sharp and broken.

“The only thing I care to handle right now,” Patton said, approaching him, “is you.”

He closed the door before taking Roman’s hands in his. Patton’s skin was soft against Roman’s callouses, from years and years of learning how to play instruments and how to sword fight and how to work himself to the point of pain and then to grit his teeth and keep going. He tried so damn hard, all the time. What even was the point?

“Can we have an open, honest talk, please? I want to understand what’s going on.”

Roman laughed, though there was no humor to it. He yanked his hands free. “Sure. Let’s start with that ‘we love you.’ Finding it real hard to believe there was any truth to it.”

Patton looked hurt and some tiny terrible, vindictive part of Roman thought good. He hated himself for it. He let his arms fall to his sides and brushed by Patton.

He took a seat at his desk, which usually doubled as his vanity, and tried not to look at himself in the mirror. Instead, he grabbed the nearest notebook and pen, and began writing. It didn’t matter what made it from his brain to the page, just that it did, and that he had something to do with his hands and his thoughts. It was quiet for a couple of minutes but Roman knew Patton hadn’t left, for the simple sensation that came with another side being in his room. After a little while longer, Patton moved, and Roman heard the shift of blankets. He was glad, at least, that he was being given some space.

“Feel free to stop me at any point, okay?”

Roman gave him a noncommittal shrug.

“I think I know where things got messy. I really have been blind to so much. Sweetpea, I had no idea how badly Janus had been misleading you. And for such a long time… I can’t change the past but I hope in the future, I can help to protect you from these sorts of things. You keep us safe from so much, Roman. You deserve to be kept safe, too.”

Roman’s vision blurred. With shaking hands, he wiped the tears away before they could fall. He waited until the trembling subsided before speaking. “That’s very kind, dearheart, but I don’t need protecting. I can take care of myself.”

“That doesn’t mean you should have to do it alone.”

“It’s the only way I know how,” Roman said with a hollow laugh.

He finally looked up from his notebook and into the mirror. His eyes were rimmed red and he could see Patton in the reflection, twisting his hands and frowning. The glass went black at Roman’s will and he shoved away from the desk. He turned and took in his room to see what else Patton had done with it. Along with the curtains, he’d added extra strings of fairy lights and piles of pillows on the bed. Now that he was paying attention, Roman noticed the wood floor had been swapped out for plush carpet. It was all exceedingly comfortable.

Lacking the energy to go through the whole process of undressing, Roman snapped his fingers and changed into clean pajamas. Patton smiled hesitantly and did the same. A box also appeared beside him.

“I want to show you a few things. Can we cuddle?”

Roman wasn’t sure how he’d react to being touched right now but there was only one way to find out. They situated themselves in bed, sitting up against the wall with pillows at their backs. Patton stacked the extras at their sides and under their arms; Roman brushed a hand through Patton’s hair as he placed the box on top of his legs. It was cardboard and had been colored all over, decorated with stickers and glitter. On the lid, Roman’s name was written in bubbly rounded letters, surrounded by stars and hearts.

“What’s this?”

Patton opened it and reached in, blindly taking something out. It was easily recognizable for the big font written across it. Christmas Carol. The I was dotted with a star and the O wore mouse ears. Each of the C’s hosted Santa hats and beards.

God, that looks ridiculous. What were you thinking? Roman thought. All the time he’d spent had been a waste once it had become clear how little the others cared. The blatant disregard for their parts and who all they belonged to; that wasn’t even covering how they’d torn him down for (admittedly, he understood now) Virgil’s single line.

“You worked so hard on this, remember?” Patton said, voice heavy with nostalgia. His expression was fond. “It was so much fun to sing.”

“Oh, definitely. Everyone changing the lyrics was my favorite part.” Roman snapped, taking the script and throwing it across the room. There was no noise indicating that it had landed and he assumed Patton had returned it to the box.

Undeterred, he reached in again and this time, it took Roman a moment to realize what it was. A copy of the cast list from the final high school play Thomas had been in. He’d scored the lead role. Roman had been ecstatic; he’d ridden that high for weeks afterwards. Memorizing the lines had been effortless and it’d been so easy to play their part. All of the late nights after rehearsal, 2am at Denny’s, syrupy sweet memories full of laughter and friendship. He took the paper delicately from Patton. Thomas had even gotten it laminated, so that nothing bad could ever happen to it.

“That was a really nice day,” Patton said quietly. “And every day after that. Going over the lines with you felt like such a big deal. I thought I was so clumsy but you still picked me.”

“You were so supportive.” Roman muttered, trying not to trip over the past tense.

The sound of sloshing liquid suddenly had Roman looking to Patton, confused. There was a snow globe in his hand, which he held out on his palm so they could see the scene inside. It was of Elsa and Anna, the former creating the snow flurry that would bring Olaf back to life.

“I promise you that I still am,” Patton told him, in a tone so genuine that Roman wondered how he could ever doubt it to begin with. “You create such beautiful, wonderful, amazing things. I’m proud of them all.”

He tilted the box so that Roman could see better into it. It should have been filled to the brim, with the number of trinkets inside, but it looked well organized. He couldn’t even begin to guess how many scripts, stories, and pieces of artwork Patton had collected.

“Is this a Mary Poppins bag?” He asked teasingly.

“Yes,” Patton responded seriously.

Roman watched as he stuck his hand in and passed all the visible clutter. His arm disappeared up to the elbow as he stuck his tongue out in concentration. Roman found it utterly adorable. When Patton apparently found what he was looking for, he gave a victorious cheer and yanked hard. Somehow, nothing else was jostled; it all sat safely, nestled together with the utmost care.

In Patton’s palm now was a sunset pink orb. It shimmered regardless of light or motion and despite not holding it himself, Roman felt warm from its presence alone.

“What’s that?” He spoke quietly without realizing it, as if any loud noise would shatter the moment.

“I have one of these for every Occasion. They aren’t always this pretty.” Patton’s smile went a little sad before he continued. “It’s important to remember, regardless. Sometimes, it’s just a few minutes. Other times, it’s a whole day.”

#sanders sides fan fiction #royality #royality fan fiction #roman sanders #patton sanders #putting others first #dani writes

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