#PLUS NICKEL FINALLY APOLOGIZED | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lloydskywalkers · 3 years

Note

let me just start out by saying i love ever single one of your stories!!! i’m pretty new to the show and your works just add so much more feeling to everything and it’s sooo good!!! i don’t know if you ever do requests or not, so don’t bother with this if you’re busy!! but if you ever get a chance could you write smthg abt Jay and Kai? their friendship is so underrated but so good and i live for the moments in the show when Kai’s big brother instinct(tm) kicks in for him as well as Nya and Lloyd

aH thank you so much!! i’m so glad to hear that :D and this isn’t...exactly what you asked for, but Kai and Jay have this fun of dynamic that reminds me a lot of me and my brother, and i’ve been tossing around little bits of interaction between them for a while now, so i tried to make something coherent out of those :’D

Jay likes to think he’s pretty good at the whole compartmentalizing thing, for the most part. Mainly because he actually knows what it means, and it is not, for instance, locking your team up in a literal compartment while rushing off to fight the other compartment that is your resurrected homicidal father into submission.

“That was one time,” Lloyd will grumble, as if he’s only almost-died once. And then Jay will flinch, because that’s where his compartments come into play.

(Nadakhan gets one, Unagami gets another, the whole fun-times adoption reveal another, and everything else can get stuffed into the metaphorical attic since they won’t pay rent.)

Unfortunately, the attic is where the bad stuff lives.

Metaphorically.

If Jay had a nickel for every time he almost lost all of his friends, he’d have two nickels, plus another nickel for Cole falling into the fog, and another for Lloyd getting crushed by a roof, and another for Zane blowing up, and another for Nya in that awful dress with paling skin as her breathing stutters and the light in her eyes draining and —

And Jay is way, way too familiar with how it looks when his family dies, and all the nickels in the world won’t help that.

So while Jay likes to think he’s pretty good at compartmentalizing, he also thinks he’s got a valid excuse for the way he reacts when Lloyd goes down in the fight that afternoon. Sure, some vague part of his mind remembers that they’ve got a plan they’re running, and Lloyd should easily be able to handle a tiny little stumble — but Jay’s mind is stuck in glaring oranges and health bars, the unsteady gasping noise Lloyd had made before he went down, dissolving into digitized cubes just like everyone else, and Jay—

Jay can’t handle that, compartments or not, so he clears the space between them in a heartbeat just in time to take the bullet that comes hurtling Lloyd’s way.

It’d probably be a very noble and touching scene, if one) Jay didn’t make a hideous squeaking noise when it hit because bullets hurt, and two) the bullet would have missed Lloyd by a good two feet anyways.

Ah well, he thinks, as everything devolves into panicked yelling. It’s the thought that counts.

Except thoughts do not count when Kai is involved, apparently. Or any of the rest of the team, for that matter.

“What is wrong with you?” Kai hisses right in his face, eyes wild and sparking. “I was covering Lloyd, what were you doing?”

“Filling in for you, obviously,” Jay retorts. He has an excellent followup to that, real snappy and all, except that’s the moment Kai’s hand clamps down on the bullet wound in his arm to stop the bleeding, and Jay ends up stifling a shriek instead.

Great, he thinks, fighting back stinging tears of pain as he tries not to take Kai’s apparent wrath too personally. At least Cole looks worried, along the the rest of the team, who are dutifully concerned for his wellbeing like proper teammates should be.

“He’s going to need the hospital,” Zane informs them, his voice a lot steadier and calmer than his words make Jay feel. Zane’s eyebrows furrow as he studies his arm. “Stitches, probably.”

Jay swallows, trying not to curse. There’s a sharp scream as Nya finishes taking out another attacker just beyond them, and Jay figures that’s good enough.

“Okay,” Lloyd says, squeezing Jay’s wrist briefly. Either in comfort about the stitches or thanks for trying to cover him, Jay’s not sure. It’s a nice gesture, nonetheless. “Kai, Cole, can you get him there while we finish up? Sooner the better.”

Cole gives a sharp nod, and offers to take Jay from where Kai’s got him in a death grip. Kai shakes his head, and Jay’s stomach sinks. Sure enough, as soon as they’re clear of the scene, Kai starts going off.

“What did you mean, ‘filling in for me’,” he grinds through his teeth, clearly not about to let this go.

Jay bristles in response at his tone. “I meant,” he bites out, through a hot flare of pain in his arm. Kai’s always merciless with the bandages, even when he’s not in a mood. “That you weren’t there. So I covered.”

He should leave it at that, but Jay’s in a foul enough mood to finish with a condescending, “You’re welcome.”

Kai’s expression grows thunderous. “You didn’t need to. I was right there, you shouldn’t have — you weren’t needed, you should’ve held back.”

Jay feels his chest go tight. His head is clouding with anger, and the pain in his arm isn’t helping, but — ‘you weren’t needed’? Kai really didn’t skimp on the jerk juice this morning, did he.

“Oh, like you could’ve done so much better,” Jay glares. “Lloyd would’ve been toast by the time you got to him.”

“I could’ve made it!”

“Yeah right—”

“I would have, and I wouldn’t have gotten hit!” Kai snarls back. Something in Jay snaps. Or maybe it’s just the steadily increasing blood loss, but of all the nerve—

“Well you didn’t, ‘cause you weren’t there!” he snaps back. “You were too slow, which is real funny since your brain is too!”

It’s not his best comeback, he’ll admit, but Kai looks as if he’s about to light him on fire, if he weren’t stuck carrying Jay like the cover of some awful romance novel, blood getting all over his uniform as they both scream at each other. Maybe Jay will get lucky, and Kai will combust, and they’ll both go up in flames before they can remember that Cole is right there watching them.

“Cut it out, now!”

Oops, too late. For all the incensed authority in Cole’s voice, there’s still a traitorous falter that lets them both know they’ve screwed up. They fall silent, the atmosphere heavy with the lingering tension and new sense of guilt.

And the disgusting sound of Jay’s blood leaking through the makeshift bandage and hitting the ground, truly revolting, he hates blood.

“Just…no more. Please, shut up until we’re at the hospital.” Cole marches forward, snatches Jay from Kai’s arms, and proceeds to beat the fastest route to the hospital at a militant pace.

Jay still looks like some helpless romance cover heroine, dangling from Cole’s arms like he is. It occurs to him that he doesn’t even need to be carried — it’s his arm that’s hurt, he can still walk—

But any protests die rapidly at the look on Cole’s face. And at least this way, Jay thinks sullenly, he can fixedly ignore Kai.

Then again, Kai’s got a killer glare, and Jay’s always been garbage at ignoring people when his feelings are hurt.

* * * * * * * *

Despite the fuss everyone makes, Jay’s arm really isn’t that bad. They hook him up with some pretty sweet meds so he remembers zero of the actual arm-fixing, and he wakes up just in time to complain about being held in the hospital for ‘observation’ or whatever.

“It’s to make sure there’s no infection, or that you don’t rip your stitches out,” Nya tells him pointedly. Jay cringes under the look she gives him at that last part. Geez. You get kicked in the stitches one time after sneaking out early and suddenly no one’s got any faith in you. Typical.

“Why couldn’t we have just gone to medbay,” Jay grumbles. “Pixal gives way better stitches than this, anyways.”

“Gun wounds get hospitals,” Nya reminds him. “And it’s not fair to put that kind of pressure on Pix when we can avoid it.”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

Nya glares at him. “It most certainly was that bad.”

“Oh, so when you get your arm crushed by a car, it’s fine,” Jay glares back. “But when I get a tiny little bullet nick, it’s that bad.”

Nya rolls her eyes, ignoring him. “Just think of it this way,” she says. “Now you have a little more time before Lloyd starts weeping apologies all over you.”

“Aw, no,” Jay groans, leaning back in the hospital bed. “Tell me he’s not blaming himself, Nya.”

“I think we had a promise about not lying to each other, or something,” Nya says, sympathetically. She winces. “Pretty sure he made the connection, too.”

Jay frowns. “What connection?”

Nya shifts, her eyes darting from side to side. “The, uh, the whole…Prime Empire, thing.”

Jay stares at her for a beat, trying to reconcile his blatant shock with the roiling nausea at the mention in his stomach. Nya looking at him all kind and sympathetically isn’t helping, either, because she might have made it down to the final two, but she was never all alone, and the reminder that she’d have been fine if Jay hadn’t gotten her killed twice is—

Bad. Real bad, not good, zero out of ten stars. Maybe he can take a bullet for Nya, next, and that’ll — that’ll help things, maybe. Equivalent exchange? Restitution? Some kind of fancy word that means Jay swears he’s gonna make it up.

In the meantime, he smothers the rising sickness in his throat and sinks lower into the bed, sulking. “It’s too easy to recognize trauma in this team.”

“I hear you,” Nya sighs, wearily. She nudges his shoulder, rising from her seat near the bed. “Speaking of. Someone’s got something they want to say to you.”

It takes Jay a second, but his eyes widen as Nya heads for the door. “Wait, wait wait wait, don’t you dare—”

“Love you,” Nya says cheekily, before taking her merry leave of the room. There’s a brief scuffle from outside, and the sound of Kai yelping, before Nya shoves him through the door, slamming it shut behind him with a damning click.

For a second, Jay’s tempted to hit the ‘call nurse’ button as hard as he can, in some desperate attempt to escape. Then he gets a good look at Kai, who’s turned a pale, queasy color that frankly looks awful on him, which is saying a lot ‘cause there isn’t much that doesn’t look good on Kai, but the expression he has on now—

Aw, man, now Jay’s feeling guilty and it isn’t even his fault. Stupid moral conscience center, he curses himself.

“So, uh…” he begins, because far be it from him to let this kind of awkward silence stretch on any longer. “Nice, ah, weather we’re having?”

Kai doesn’t respond, staring fixedly at the floor, and Jay sizes up the ‘call nurse’ button again. Just for the both of their sakes, of course.

But then Kai takes a deep breath, blows it out, and rocks back on his heels, fiddling with his hands. “I, um. I’m sorry.”

Jay’s jaw drops open. Which is probably an overdramatic move, all things considered, but unless he’s suddenly lost the ability to understand words, Kai just apologized to him.

Kai apologized. To him.

It’s not that Kai apologizing is some great big deal — Kai might have his pride, but he’s also an intuitive and good-hearted person who knows when he’s messed up. But to him?

Jay knows how he and Kai work. Kai knows how he and Jay work, and he’s breaking the rules. Because Kai and Jay don’t apologize to each other. Unless it’s some awkward expression of sympathy, they’ve never needed to. They fight dirty, aim for each other’s kneecaps, swear eternal vengeance and hatred at each other before storming off, then an hour later Jay’s bounding into Kai’s room to show him dumb meme videos and neither of them even remember what they were fighting about.

Acknowledging said fight with something as gushy as apologizing is not only useless since they both forget what they’re apologizing for anyways, but also useless because it’ll take too much time, and counterproductive on top, because it’ll most likely end in another fight about who apologized better. So for Kai to walk in and say sorry—

“Oh no, who did you kill?” Jay says, paling.

Kai spears him with a look, but it’s so pathetically watered-down and miserable that Jay forgets to glare back.

“Sorry, sorry,” Jay mutters. “I just—”

“No, no, I’m the one who’s sorry,” Kai interrupts. He hesitates, then sighs. “But that’s fair. I — I was unfair. To you, back there. Like, really unfair, in a bad way, ‘cause you were shot and I know you meant well, but you—”

Kai gestures wildly with his hands, his stream of words cutting off. Jay is left to stare open-mouthed at him again. Babbling like this is Jay’s thing. Kai is breaking all the rules today, huh.

“I just…” Kai trails off, ducking his head. “I don’t like watching you guys get hurt. I don’t — I don’t like watching you get hurt. And I get scared, but it comes out angry, and then I make a mess of things so I’m — sorry. Really sorry, for biting your head off.”

He exhales, a little shaky, fingers balled up in tight fists as his head hangs low, refusing to meet Jay’s eyes. Something softens in Jay’s chest, like gooey melting butter or something else equally pathetic. But it’s rare that Kai vocalizes this stuff, despite the fact that Jay knows he cares, and it’s nice to hear it, so he figures he’s entitled to all the butter he wants.

Jay’s own gaze falters, and the something starts to twist. He bites his lip, tugging half-heartedly at the bandages around his arm.

“Well,” he pauses, thinking of the way his brain had shifted to autopilot when he’d watched Lloyd falter, the razor-sharp shard of terror that always splinters through him when any of their teammates come too close to the awful images of death left in his head. He swallows. “I guess I don’t really have any room to talk,” he murmurs. “Be pretty dumb if I blamed you for that.”

He’s preparing to sink back into his own well of self-pity and loathing, resigned to spending the next few hours until they check him out of the hospital replaying bad memories in his head, when Kai’s next to him all of the sudden, shoving him over on the hospital bed.

“Hey, hey, what’s the big idea—”

“Move, c’mon. You don’t need that much room, you’re a stick,” Kai grumbles, before grinning brightly in success as Jay makes him space. The contrast in expression is enough to startle Jay into silence, and Kai takes advantage. “I know that look. But you already got shot, so you gotta cheer up now.”

“So you’re forcing me into cheerfulness by stealing my hospital bed,” Jay scowls, but the sting is lost in the sudden surge of affection as Kai elbows his way on the bed with him, a steady warmth by his side.

“I’m gifting you my presence, you should be celebrating,” Kai huffs, as he pulls his phone out. “Now stop looking so sad and watch this video I got of a bunch’a geese chasing Zane at the park the other day.”

“You’re such a jerk,” Jay says, but he’s already snickering as he leans his head against Kai’s shoulder to get a better look.

He’s forgotten to tell Kai he forgives him, but like most things between them — Jay doesn’t really need to say it out loud.

#answered #ninjago #my fic #kai smith #jay walker #tumblr pls format right for once #Anonymous

268 notes · View notes

flamingfandomtrashcentral · 4 years

Note

You're so cute when your struggling? With Overlord or Tarn please? 💕

This probably isn’t exactly what you wanted, but I hope you can still enjoy it

Overlord and Tarn

Coming back online after being knocked unconscious was never a pleasant experience. There was no telling what kind of situation you would find yourself in, nor what state your body would be in. Best case scenario: you wake up in the care of your allies. Unlikely, given that you were alone. After that, being where you were when you passed out was the most realistic good option. That wasn’t the case though. Instead of the desolate, battle worn building you had been scouting, you now appeared to be in a clean room. Possibly on a ship.

You could feel someone tinkering with your head. Perhaps, this was the best option after all. Maybe one of your friends had rescued you, and had just taken you somewhere you didn’t recognize! Or maybe your processor was damaged. Could be, you think you can remember the structure crumbling down onto you.

Not wanting to wait for the answers to come naturally, you try to move your head to see who’s helping you. A bad decision, it turns out. Moving when someone is tampering with the inner workings of your mind is not a pleasant experience. The pain is instant. As is the yelling of whoever was back there.

“Nah-ah-ah, no moving! What is wrong with you? You feel someone trying to fix you and you just thrash about???” You barely moved your neck, but you decided to keep that to yourself. The mystery bot finally revealed themselves, sharply leaning over your head to look you in the optics. A green minicon was now giving you a dirty look.

“Uh... sorry?” You’re not sure what she wants, but you feel an apology is your safest option.

She sighs, going back to whatever it was she had been working on, “I suppose this is what I get for not strapping your head down too, but it kept getting in the way. Just hold still, would you?” Too? You experimentally tried to move an arm, only to find it locked in place. It makes sense, she can’t have you rolling off the table while she’s got your head opened up, now can she? Who knows what would come flying out if that happened.

It’s not long before two sets of footsteps approach the room you’re in, but that’s not what really catches your attention. It’s the arguing that does.

“Why are you still here? I did not invite you onboard, nor do you have any reason to stay.” He huffed in annoyance, “Just leave, this is most unnecessary.”

“My, my, someone’s in a sour mood today. Did you burn through your last t-cog already?” Another voice chimed in, this one not nearly as deep as the first.

You heard the minicon mumble something about them being a bunch of sparkling just before they entered. The door was to your side, so you could kinda see what was going on through your peripherals. The purple mech held out his arm to block the bigger blue one, trying to close the door on him before he could come in. Didn’t work, he just forced his way in. The purple mech being no match for him in terms of strength, apparently.

“You do not need to be in here!” The purple one hissed. “It’s because of your brutish ways that they’re even in this state. You had no reason to topple over that building other than simply wanting to.”

“I’ll admit it was unnecessary, and I wanted to apologize to them.” His voice was dripping in mock concern, even you could tell he was full of scrap and you didn’t even know who it was.

The other guy didn’t believe him either, if the bark of laughter was anything to go off of, “Oh, that is priceless! Overlord apologizing. I didn’t realize you were abandoning the cause to become a comedian.”

Your spark faltered. No. There’s no way you heard that right. Nuh-uh, no way, he did not just say that name. You still couldn’t see their faces due to how you were positioned.

“Speaking of odd behavior,” hopefully-not-really-Overlord’s voice was tight, but still retained an air of condescension to it, “you’re awfully concerned about them, Tarn.” Oh Primus dammit. “Taking the time to patch them up when you should be hunting down your next target, that never happens.”

Your increasing panic successfully tuned out whatever else they were saying. This is it, this is how you die. No doubt you’re being kept here so he can kill you later. You hadn’t exactly been a model Decepticon in recent millenia you’ll admit, but it’s not your fault the movement took a turn for the murderous unexpectedly! Plus all your friends were in it, and you didn’t want them to judge you, so you just kinda stuck around... passively... hiding from any and all conflict. Primus you were going to die here.

The sound and feeling of your head being snapped back together pulled you out of your dread. It caught their attention as well.

“Are they well, Nickel? This brute didn’t cause any permanent damage did he?” Tarn asked, sounding bizarrely invested in your well being. A psychological torture tactic, probably. Make you feel like you’re in the clear, only to rip you apart later.

“Yes, yes, they’re fine,” Nickel waved him off dismissively as she lowered herself to the ground. “They’ve also been conscious for all of your bickering.” With that, she took her leave, not even bothering to undo the restraints. No need to untie someone that’s about to die, you grimly accept.

Now that you’re able to move you head freely again, you slowly look up to see the towering figures of two of the most feared Decepticons. Their red eyes cut right through you. A small, naive part of you that thought you still had a chance urged you to do something, anything. You wiggle helplessly in your restraints, hoping that maybe they’ll be somewhat weakened from the previous victims. You have no idea what you would do if they did snap, but you’ll cross that bridge if you ever get to it.

Overlord smiled at you, an experience you never wanted to have, “You're so cute when your struggling.”

W h a t ?

This made everyone freeze, Tarn looking at Overlord with pure disdain, while you looked to Primus for answers you’re not even sure you wanted.

Tarn seemed beside himself at the statement, “What is wrong with you? You crush them under a toppled building, and now you’re flirting with them?” He placed a servo on your shoulder, an action probably intended to sooth, but all it did was make you shudder.

“Please, don’t act like you weren’t thinking the same thing, I saw the way you were eyeing them when we got here. At least I’m actually taking the initiative.” Overlord snickered at the strangled noise that came out of Tarn at this accusation.

“Do not put words in my mouth! I would never say something so- so crude! If I was trying to charm them, I would say something much more eloquent,” Tarn was desperately trying to regain some sense of dignity after Overlord’s comment.

They continued going back and forth, critiquing each other’s “courting methods”. Not that you were paying attention anymore. You were just hoping they’d hurry up and kill you, anything was better than whatever the frag this was.

#tarn #overlord #imagines #transformers imagines #transformers #mtmte #idw #yandere #not really though i went way off the tracks with this one sorry anon #hope it's still good at least!

170 notes · View notes

keelywolfe · 3 years

Text

FIC: Welcome to Backwater ch.18 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Stretch has already dealt with the local sheriff about his adventures in the local woods. Seems like Edge might have a thing or three to say.

~~*~~

Read ‘Electric Boogaloo’ on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

It was funny how some things become automatic. Stretch was still thinking about Buford when Edge came into the store not long after the sheriff left. Still thinking about those strange white eyes of his, wondering at exactly how much he could see. How much, how far, how deep did it go. Stretch knew a little something himself about seeing a bit too much.

Still, habits were habits. Even though his mind wasn’t necessarily working in the here and now, Stretch automatically stood up straight and greeted Edge when he came in, customer service skills were a heck of a learned trait, even if he was the only one who worked here that had them.

“morning, hey, what’s up? what do you—" need, he didn’t get to say. He barely had time to notice that Edge didn’t look like his normal gorgeous self, hips notwithstanding. Sure, he was wearing his normal motorhuckle gear and he was walking like he was on his way to kill Captain America. But he looked pale, his skull chalk-white and stark, his eye lights faded to a shade closer to dull pink.

That wasn’t what cut off his ‘can i help you’ spiel. Nope, that was Edge stalking right over to the counter and around it into the register area. Stretch found himself roughly pulled into Edge’s arms and held in a painfully tight hug that nearly threatened to crack ribs.

Okay? This was new but fuck it if Stretch wasn’t going to go for it. He wrapped both arms around Edge and squeezed back, relished the feel of that long, lean body against his own, even buffered under a layer of leather. “um. hi?”

Edge said nothing, only held on, with all ten fingers digging in through the back of Stretch’s t-shirt and damned if he was gonna try fight his way loose. Was it his imagination or was Edge shaking a little? Or maybe that was the earth moving under his feet because Edge smelled so good, no bone cologne could compare. Like spice and woodsmoke, like the heavenly pies he made for Mama’s.

Nothing to be done for it, might as well dive into the deep end and see if he could drown. Stretch closed his sockets and basked in it, reveled in it. Maybe this was some weird frosting on top of an already bizarre cake but Stretch really wanted his slice.

After a minute, Edge was showing no signs of letting up and much as Stretch would’ve been perfectly fine standing like this all day, probably he should say something. It’d be pretty hard to run register if he was stuck to Edge like a conjoined twin and considering that they were sort of the same person, maybe better not to risk it.

It was just a damn shame that Stretch was so shitty at digging beneath the layers of other people’s traumas. Hell, he could barely take a shovel to his own.

He managed to work up enough air to wheeze out, “is…something wrong?” A horrible thought occurred. What if he wasn’t the only person the lady ghoul went to visit last night? Maybe she took the nickel tour of the woods, maybe Buford’s all-seeing eye blinked and missed something. “is frisk okay?”

“Yes,” Edge choked out. His voice was muffled into Stretch’s shoulder. “Everything is fine.”

Stretch shifted in his arms and only managed about an inch in any direction. “don’t take this the wrong way, but as fine as this feels, you don’t seem fine.”

That didn’t get any reply. Instead, Edge loosened his grip just enough to press his face into the hollow of Stretch’s collarbone where he inhaled deeply, mouth opened as if he wanted to taste whatever scent gathered there, get the whole experience.

Um. Holy shit. Okay, well, that was a fetish Stretch never knew he had, and if he wasn’t pinned like a sardine in Edge’s kung-fu grip, he might’ve honest to angel flailed at the feel of damp, hot breath against his clavicles. Every time Edge decided to go through his scratch ‘n sniff routine, it sent willie wonkers tingling right up his spine and right down his pants. All he could do was grit his teeth and stare blankly up at the ceiling as he tried desperately not to embarrass himself any more than the usual.

Finally, all too soon, Edge drew away. He took two steps back, putting some distance between them. He seemed almost embarrassed now and Stretch could only reluctantly let him go.

He was really, really grateful for his work apron right about now; good for catching dust and gook, with a side bonus of hiding inconvenient boners. Hopefully it wasn’t the not-at-all-a-pencil-in-his-pocket that chased Edge away. “not that i mind, like, really not, but you think you could let me in on what that was all about?”

“I’m sorry,” Edge said, stiffly. He crammed his hands into his jacket pockets and looked anywhere but at Stretch.

“uh, nope,” Stretch shook his head, “no apologies, hugs are free real estate.” He’d been this close to Edge before a couple of times but always before there had been distractions. Now looking at him was the distraction and Stretch let his gaze linger on the razer-sharp lines of his cheekbones, the tight narrowing of his eye sockets. The crack that ran through his left socket was obviously old, the edges worn relatively smooth, smoother than their owner.

Edge still didn’t look at him, not directly, anyway. A flick of his eye lights towards Stretch, then back away as he said, tightly. “We came very close to losing you last night. It was…upsetting.”

Oh.

Well, good news traveled fast, didn’t it, basically at the speed of light around these parts. He wondered glumly if Red was in his apartment busily composing a profanity-laden symphony titled ‘I Told You So.’

“How did you know?” Stretch sighed out. Maybe Frisk was tuned in to the local airwaves or Edgar Allen might branch out into branches instead of corn gossip.

“Buford,” Edge admitted. “He is the town constable, he looks after the town. Literally, in his case.”

Also had a big mouth, seemed like. “yeah, uh, he showed me his eyes.”

“Did he?” Edge seemed surprised, then pleased. “He usually wears his sunglasses. He rarely takes them off when he’s on duty because outsiders tend to find his eyes unsettling. But yes, it’s his duty to watch out for problems and he does it well.”

Stretch nodded slowly, “must be tough on him sometimes, seeing all that.” He had a little personal experience in that.

“Buford does his duty,” Edge said with a certain finality. Welp, looked like that topic was done and Stretch was fine with that since Edge was starting to look a little calmer. His eye lights weren’t on Stretch’s but lower, focused more on the mouth region and when Stretch flicked his tongue across his teeth nervously, those crimson lights went heavy and dark.

To his disappointment, Edge didn’t go for Ginormous Hug 2: Electric Boogaloo. Instead, he reeled back, shaking himself visibly and turning towards the door. “Well. I only wanted to check in on you, I should be going.��

“wait!” Stretch blurted and Edge hesitated, raising one browbone. “don’t go, not yet.”

He waved a hand in offering at the stool behind the counter and after a moment of hesitation, Edge stepped around the dog and took it. Mutt never stirred, burrowed down in the blanket Red had laid down for him, snoring away. Good thing they hadn’t been in the market for a guard dog.

Stretch hopped up on the counter to sit, (hey, his butt was cleaner than the whole store had been when he first got here) and wondered what the hell to do now. He’d wanted Edge to stay and now he didn’t know what to talk about. Every other chat they’d had was about some kind of Backwater weirdness, the peanut butter and pickle sandwich version of a conversation. He wasn’t sure he even knew how to have a white bread and butter chat.

Edge seemed to agree. He swiped a finger along one of the shelves behind the counter and checked the results, finding it to be relatively dust-free. “The store is looking much better since my brother hired you on.”

“yeah,” Stretch latched on to that topic gratefully, it was marginally better than bringing up the weather. “try to keep up on it. he’s paying me well enough for it, plus room and board, figured i can do my mr clean impression.” He gave the top of his skull a pat. “i’ve already got the bald part down.”

Edge made a rough, scoffing sound and even that was somehow delicious in that voice of his. “I suspect most of what fills up your board comes from my kitchen.”

Stretch suspected the same but leapt to his landlord’s defense, anyway, he owned Red that much and more. “hey, red is a damn fine microwave wrangler when he puts his mind to it.” Okay, so that was less of a leap than a trip and miss, but he’d tried. Maybe better to steer the topic boat out of the rapids and into calmer water. “my bro likes to cook, too.”

“Is he very good?” Edge leaned forward curiously, propping his chin up on a hand.

Woah, wait, abandon ship, that was not calmer waters, that was a storm a’brewing, a freaking typhoon. “good is relative,” Stretch said stoutly.

“Ah,” One corner of Edge’s mouth curled up into a smile. “Rest assured, I would never force you to disparage your brother’s cooking. If it’s any comfort, my recipes were somewhat unique when we first came here as well. Like the garden, it took some time for my skills to come into bloom.”

“seriously?” There was a little too much naked relief in that one word but fuck it, Blue wasn’t here to hear it, “so how many years until he’s less ‘nailed it’ and more ‘chef’s table’?”

That half-smile widened. “Time is also relative, as are brothers. How is your brother, I’m assuming he’s still back in Ebott. Have you spoken to him since you came here?”

Welp, he’d avoided the storm only to end up in shark-infested waters, wasn’t that just his luck, “sort of,” Stretch hedged.

Edge’s teeth parted in a silent ‘ah’ as he successfully decoded that message. “You texted him. Well, that’s better than leaving him completely in the dark.”

“i think he’s doing okay. he was even before i left.” He really hoped so, but then, Blue settled in easily enough from the start. From the Human’s perspective, his bro looked a little like he’d stepped out of some kind of cartoon. He was small and adorable, his starry eye lights in his huge sockets were as cute as if Disney blessed him from beyond the grave. Stretch didn’t begrudge his brother for that, ‘course he didn’t, but that didn’t make his own experiences easy cheesy. “frisk was pretty right about ebott. when it comes to monsters, it sure isn’t backwater.”

“I’m sorry.” Said with enough quiet sincerity to make Stretch shift uncomfortably.

He shrugged weakly. “eh, not your fault.”

“No, but I can still let you share your pains.” Edge reached up and took his hand. He rubbed a scarred thumb gently over his knuckles and Stretch caught his breath. “You know, I used to dream about coming to the surface. Back in my world, in the Underground. Frisk told you that it was a place of LV, not love. My brother and I spent much of our time there simply struggling to survive.” The reminiscence in Edge’s voice held no hint of fondness, but there was a certain faint wistfulness. “I had such grand dreams of what the surface world would be like back then. Hope was difficult to come by in my universe, I never truly believed a human would come and when they did, well.” Edge chuckled and there was the fondness missing from before. “Frisk was not at all what I imagined.”

“did the surface world live up to your dreams?” Stretch asked, curiously. His own dreams of the Aboveground were shaken to their foundations barely an hour into the sunlight, when the first Humans to arrive greeted them not with welcome, but with automatic rifles.

“In some ways,” Edge said. “Mostly, it’s very different from what I imagine. But like Frisk, not necessarily in a bad way.”

“ebott is sure fucking different then i imagined,” Stretch only realized how hard he was squeezing Edge’s hand when both of their joints popped. He loosened his grip, then pulled away entirely, picking up the pen from the counter to fiddle with; at least if he broke that, he’d be the only one stained. “doesn’t matter, anyway. i’m not there right now, am i.”

“Indeed not. You’re here, and Backwater is probably as different from Ebott as it is the Underground.” Edge stood in a jangling, creaking rhapsody of leather and buckles. “On that note, I do need to get going.”

Stretch stood too, hopping down from the counter. Much as he’d like Edge to stay, he did have some work to get done and who knew what Edge needed to get back to. “thank you for checking in on me.”

“Of course.” Too fast for Stretch to do more than blink, Edge leaned in and Stretch stood frozen as he pressed a chaste kiss to his cheekbone, the delicate scrape of his teeth almost ticklish against sensitive bone. He pulled back before Stretch managed to gather up all his scattered wits, and his smile was the soft, real one as he said, “I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.”

“soon,” Stretch parroted dumbly. He stood there like an idiot and watched Edge leave, only coming back to himself at the jangle of the bell over the door. Then he cursed himself, roundly and in every language he knew, including modified flamespeak. Smooth moves, there, Marvin Gaye, couldn’t even turn your head for a real kiss? Just stood there with crotch plug store book and didn’t even try to kick it up a notch? But he’d gotten one hell of a hug and a hand fondle, that was worth nearly getting eaten by Lady Cthulhu out there.

Well, almost.

“mind not getting your sop all over my counter?”

Stretch whirled around, barely managing not to trip over his own feet, to see Red standing in the hallway entrance. He was leaning heavily on his cane with a brutally unimpressed look on his face.

Fuck.

“i’m sorry—” Stretch began and faltered, unsure of what to say. He’d tried to listen to Red, he really had. He’d warned Stretch against starting anything with his bro from the beginning, offered plenty of warnings against rebound fucks and people getting hurt, and Stretch had tried. Except he hadn’t, had he, not really, and he could try to blame Edge’s hips and that gorgeous voice all he wanted; in the end, it was his fault, just like everything else. He hadn’t really been fighting that hard, why would he, it wasn’t like he wanted to win.

Red only sighed heavily and waved him off. “ain’t nothing to be sorry for. toldja before, i ain’t worried about my bro. you’re the one keepin’ me awake at night.”

“speaking of worrying,” Stretch took a deep breath before plunging forward, away from the sharks and heading into the shallows where the piranhas swam. “look, before anyone else decides to spill the beans, i need to tell you something.”

Red held up a hand and Stretch fell silent. “lemme get my coffee first.”

Coffee sounded better than it had any right to and, in his chest, Stretch’s soul gave an uncomfortable lurch like it could hop out and get a cup of its own. Hopefully, he asked, “can i get some?”

“yeah, sure,” Red turned back towards the apartment and tossed back over his shoulder, “whatcha want in it?”

“honey?” May as well dream big.

“yeah, darlin’?”

What? ”No!” Stretch blurted. “I mean…I didn’t…”

“yeah, yeah,” Red snickered. “i gotcha, brat.”

It was both entirely too long and much too quickly that Red made his way back with two heavy white mugs that looked as if they’d been stolen from Mama’s diner. He handed one to Stretch and settled in to lean against the counter, sipping from his own. “so, this about why you and my bro were cozying up behind the counter?”

“uh, sort of,” Stretch hedged. He stalled by taking a sip of his coffee, glorying in the thick, over-sweetened brew. “he came by because buford got a hold of him.”

Red lurched upright as if someone goosed him right on his tailbone. Hot coffee sloshed over his hand and he hissed, shaking his wet, stinging fingers as he demanded, “he did what now? what the fuck happened?”

“it’s not that bad.”

It was a weak attempt at best, not that it mattered. Red didn’t fall for it in the slightest. He didn’t move, there was no noticeable change in his breathing or posture, but the sardonic humor that seemed to cling to Red like another shirt evaporated entirely and left behind nothing but cold sincerity. “buford don’t exactly text, he don’t get ahold of anyone unless—” Red stopped and gave Stretch a coolly assessing glance that he squirmed beneath. Quietly, he said, “kid, what did you do?”

“i didn’t do it!” Stretch blurted and no amount of defending himself to his own brother or even the Ebott police could have prepared him for this. “the dog ran off, but i didn’t go into the woods! not until—there was this…this thing!” Stretch gestured wildly, trying ineffectively to convey with skinny bone hands the shadowy, awful creature that lured him into the dark last night. He couldn’t hold back a shudder of revulsion, simply thinking about it was filling him with a renewed sense of horror. “it looked like a woman and then it didn’t, she was singing, she was doing something, and i couldn’t stop myself, i couldn’t even think!”

He stopped, panting, and Red said nothing. He only stood there statue-still and Stretch would have given about anything for the door to open, the bell to jangle as someone looking for a fresh supply of ass wipers broke that awful silence.

Desperately, Stretch pressed on, letting out a nervous laugh. “anyway, i’m okay. she didn’t touch me or bite me or anything. i got out okay.” He didn’t mention the bone dragon, wasn’t even sure why, but Red was still frozen and silent over hearing about one terrifying encounter, maybe better not to mention two.

“red?” Stretch tried, hating how his voice sounded so small and forlorn. In a dismal corner of his mind, he was already mentally packing his bags. He couldn’t go back to Ebott, not now, not yet, but where else could he go, what other job could he possibly find? Maybe a waiter at Mama’s or maybe the thrift shop needed a helping hand. He didn’t know. The little money he had wouldn’t last long and definitely not in a bigger city. He didn’t really have any options, no choices at all.

He jerked back as Red suddenly jolted into movement, limping around the counter without his cane. He staggered almost drunkenly and then swung around to violently ram his fist into the first rack of the shelves. The wooden frame rocked and groaned, scattering boxes and cans to the floor on either side. A small bag of cornmeal fell and burst open, scattering dusty yellow across the floorboards.

“i…i’ll just…” Stretch couldn’t say go, he couldn’t, saying it would make this real, and he couldn’t let it be real. He took a step towards the hallway, tasting heavy tears on the back of his tongue.

Red’s voice stopped him, “kid.”

Stretch stood there and watched Red wrap both arms around himself. The fingers of one hand were streaked with marrow, he’d probably cracked his phalanges, but Red only shuddered faintly, drawing in a long breath and letting it out in a shaky rattle as he said, “if i’d’ve known she was awake, i woulda warned ya.”

Oh.

Oh, that made a terrible amount of sense and it didn’t make Stretch feel one fucking bit better to realize that Red wasn’t mad at him.

“it’s fine, red,” Stretch said, gently. It was hard to bank his own fears, but he managed, “it’s not your fault. i’m okay.”

Red heaved out a hitching little sigh and Stretch didn’t need Buford’s powers or his own magic to see that Red didn’t believe that, not even a little.

“okay,” he muttered under his breath, low and indistinct, “okay, okay.” Then louder, “okay, kid, get on out of here.”

“you’re firing me?” Stretch blurted, horrified. He’d begun to believe it was all right, more fool he, hadn’t he had the rug ripped out from under him enough times by now, when would he ever learn?

“what?” Red said, aghast. “fuck no! take a little time off, is all, after a shitty night like that, you need it. go see a movie, ‘wizard of oz’ ’s playin’, think it’ll be right up your alley.”

Relief left him weak, but he made no move towards the door. “but. your hand?”

“what about my hand?” Red raised his browbones and his hand at once and Stretch stared at the clean, pristine bones in confusion, what the fuck, he was sure he’d seen—

“okay, but,” Stretch still didn’t want to leave, some part of him vaguely convinced that if he left he wouldn’t be able to come back, like this shabby little store was some kind of fae place. “here, let me clean up.”

“i can fucking clean,” Red said impatiently. “been doing it since long before you got here.” He hooked his perfectly unbroken thumb at the door, “now, git! scoot!”

It seemed better not to comment on Red’s cleaning skills. Stretch hung up his apron and obediently scooted while Red limped over to the broom.

Outside, the temperature was just above a swelter. Stretch headed towards the theater even as the kids pulled up by the shop and dropped their bikes to head in, about five minutes too late.

Red had the right idea, he decided tiredly. A movie sounded like a good idea right about now. If, that was, he could stay awake through the opening credits.

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #underfell sans #welcome to backwater

29 notes · View notes

obxdrewseph · 4 years

Text

Hard to Love - Rafe Cameron

Description: Pushing away people came easy to you. You pushed away your friends when they urged you to get out more and you pushed away your family when they urged you to eat more. You felt like a burden to everyone and you didn’t want that. You were hard to love with your harsh attitude and pickiness. Once Rafe Cameron, your new friend and classmate, tries to convince you to give him a chance, you wonder what it would mean to be a girlfriend-- someone who gives love and receives it... you wonder: are you even capable of being loved?

so this is sort of a continuation of High Maintenance, but also can be read as a standalone? I thought it would be interesting to explore the romantic relationship that didn’t get to develop in that fic ... so here ya go! :D

--------

Being your friend was hard, but being your boyfriend was much harder (not that you had one yet, just for future reference).

Being your friend was hard because you cancelled plans last minute because of chronic pain/aching or because you were going through a depressive episode that made you unable to socialize.

No one talks about the mental side of physical pain.

Trust me, you wouldn’t be nice either if you were hungry half of the day and in pain the other half.

You didn’t want your diet to define you, yet it was like you revolved your entire life around your meal times.

You pushed your friends away who wouldn’t do enough research on your condition. You obviously didn’t expect them to look up everything about it, but when they gave you food you couldn’t eat or asked you to go on hikes you couldn’t trek without feeling dizzy (or even fainting), you couldn’t help but distance yourself.

You didn’t want to share all your negativity with them; they didn’t deserve that.

You were used to being the rock of your group; not exactly the mom friend, but the happy, funny friend everyone went to for a laugh or to have fun. You weren’t the one with problems. You didn’t get to be that person.

You didn’t want to be that person.

“I’m a fucking idiot!” You shouted at no one in particular.

“We know!”

You glared at the girl standing in the hallway who happened to be your best friend and your house mate. You and 3 other girls decided to stay in apartment together for your freshman year and you never regretted your decision. You could never live in the dorms with people making noise all day and night.

You were already agitated all the time.

“Go away, Ames.”

The girl sighed.

“I made some rice krispies. Do you want some?”

Yes.

“No. I’m not hungry.”

That was a lie.

“Ok, well then why are you so upset today?”

You paused, wondering if you should confide in her. Despite you guys being best friends, you never truly felt like you could confide in anyone. It was a fucking miracle that you spilled so much to Rafe Cameron, a boy you never thought would become one of your best friends. You honestly thought he would leave you the second you got off that wooden bench, yet you two hang out all the time.

You decided to give her a lighthearted version of what you were feeling.

“I’m not it’s just... random question: am I high maintenance?” You asked finally.

The girl snorted.

“Yeah, everyone knows that.”

Your heart sank. You were starting to hate that joke. You knew you had a lot of dietary restrictions and people had to work around what you ate, and before you didn’t mind that, but now you hated when people did that for you.

You just wanted people to stop asking you out to eat or asking you to hang out. You just wanted people to leave you alone.

“Fuck you.” You said laughing, it was fake. But she didn’t need to know that.

“Whatever, is that all you wanted to ask?”

“Nope, I wanted to ask are you still having your bachorlette party next Saturday?”

“Yup, you better be there! No ditching me for whoever old lady author you wanted to see.”

You bristled at her harsh tone and flinched when she slammed your door shut so that you couldn’t argue with her.

You heard her soft footsteps fade away which allowed you to slip back into your negative feelings.

All you could think about is that if your best friend didn’t even want to deal with you or fully understand you, how could anyone else?

---------

“Hello~ Earth to y/n?”

A black line skitted across your face, snapping you out of your trance. You swatted at the pencil floating in front of your face with an angry look.

You were currently in the library, working hard on your essay that seemed like it would never end.

“What do you want?” You snapped.

You were in the middle of focusing your attention on a small dot at the back of the room. You did this to try to take your attention off of the discomfort in your stomach. You wouldn’t exactly call it pain, but it didn’t feel great.

The poor boy’s eyes drooped at your anger.

“Um, sorry you just were spacing out.”

“Well, don’t interrupt my space outs.”

“Got it.”

Why were you being so mean? You never were like this before you got diagnosed. You were so irritable all the time and felt anger build up in you faster than expected.

It wasn’t fair to the boy sitting across from you.

Rafe Cameron.

The boy was dedicated, you could give him that.

You didn’t expect much from the obviously Southern boy who sat next to you in a Shakespeare class. You felt like you were sitting on pins and needles until Rafe started talking to you; you didn’t know why you took a male-dominant class. You weren’t used to talking to guys so often, but you wanted to push yourself. Get out of your comfort zone you embraced so much in high school.

After he apologized for being a dick about eating standards, you easily started to fall for him a bit more.

But that didn’t matter.

His feelings wouldn’t last.

They never did.

“Um, are you okay?” Rafe finally said. You wanted to snap at him once again, but when you saw his concerned blue eyes, you lost your bite.

You forced a smile. “I’m fine, just a bit tired.” If you had a nickel for every time you gave that excuse, you’d be a billionaire.

“Oh, then we should finish here.”

“No!”

You said abruptly. He lifted a brow.

“No?”

When he saw your face turn a soft pink color, his eyes lit up and he softly bit his lip. He knew what he did to you.

“Um... no, it’s ok. I can still study. I’m ... I’m mostly just upset because I wanted to go to this book signing that’s like a week from now, but I have to go to my friend’s bachelorette party. I really love this author, but I won’t get to see her and she rarely goes on tour... But it’s fine, I’ll get over it and studying helps me keep my mind off things.” You shrugged.

Yes, your friends were getting married that young. You simultaneously loved and hated your friends. You seemed to always be dropping things you loved for them, but you knew they wouldn’t do the same for you.

Your friends were great to live with, harder to be friends with. Plus, two were avid bakers and another was an aspiring chef. You hated all of the temptations of their baked goods.

He laughed at your nerdy confession which rubbed you the wrong way. He stopped laughing when he saw your dark expression.

“Sorry, I was only laughing because I totally get that. There are some authors that just leave an impact on you and you would die to meet them. And plus, those parties are lame. All they do is drink and drink and drink, which you can’t do because it’s not on the low fodmap diet.”

Well, boy definitely did his research.

“Exactly! Finally, someone who understands.” You turned your head away so he wouldn’t see you blush-- it wasn’t because you were shy, but it always happened when you got excited about something.

He nodded and saw your head wobble. A sharp pain fluttered through your head. You probably needed to eat something.

“Are you... hungry?” The boy said hesitantly.

This got you in the mood to be mean again.

“No, I’ll tell you when I get hungry, Rafe.”

The bite in his words made him move away from you. You hated this. You wanted someone to comfort you, but you pushed everyone away.

Self-sabotage was your middle name.

--------

You felt a warm hand softly tap your shoulder.

“Library closes in less than 10 minutes.” Rafe whispered to you.

Shit, I fell asleep.

You lifted your head and saw the once full library empty out.

“Shit. I fell asleep.” You said your thoughts.

Rafe chuckled. God, you loved his laugh so much.

“Yeah, I know. You look cute when you sleep.”

You smiled, but can��t believe you fell asleep in public. You weren’t the type to let your guard down so easily. When did you get this tired? When did you become this weak?

You felt your stomach rumble silently, signaling your hunger.

“Um, do you wanna get out of here and get some food?”

You began to say no, but he stopped you.

“Ok, let me ask that once again, do you want to get out of here and I can cook you food?”

You felt anxiety build up in your chest. You never trusted other people to cook for you. You had this irrational fear that people would deliberately try to sabotage your meals, but truly people just didn’t know what you can and can’t eat.

“Uh... you know.”

“Yes, I know, strict diet. I’ll look it all up to be safe.”

You were going to say no, but you wanted this so badly. You just wanted to hang out with a really cute and nice guy without feeling abnormal. It was almost 11pm, but you weren’t going to pass up the chance to hang out with him.

“Ok, take me to your place.”

-------

His apartment was dark and organized. You tried not to laugh at the display of books on the ground... you definitely needed to get him a bookshelf.

“Do the books feel better on the ground or something?” You teased.

“Yup, they need their sleep too.”

He nudged you on the shoulder to let you know he was joking.

“Oh, and watch the hiking supplies. I went last weekend and haven’t had time to clean it up since I’m going on Sunday again.”

Hiking...

“You like to hike?”

The boy nodded, his face brightening. “Yup, I’m an outdoorsy kind of guy. Love hiking, going to the beach, sports, all that jazz.”

You nodded, not relating to any of that.

You looked around, but realized there were only two doors, and one leading to the bathroom.

“Oh, you live alone?”

You fiddled with the hem of your shirt nervously.

“Yeah... is that ok?” He asked softly.

Yes, yes, it’s more than ok.

“Of course! It’s just I don’t know many sophomores who live alone.”

What you meant to say is you didn’t know many sophomores who could afford to live alone. JJ always joked about Rafe being rich, but you weren’t aware of the extent of his wallet.

He chuckled. “Yeah well, it’s easier to focus on my studies this way. No distractions.”

You nodded. You would live alone if you could afford it.

“Got it. Perfect for the ladies too, right?” You winked.

Rafe choke on air. You enjoyed flustering the usually confident Mr. Cameron.

“God, um, I don’t know how to respond to that.”

You shrugged. “Can’t deny the facts.”

He gave you a gentle look. “Y/n, you’re the first girl I’ve had in here since my last girlfriend.” Your jaw dropped.

“Really? You haven’t had a single girl in here for... a month?”

“Unless you count my little sister, then yup.”

“How does a guy as hot as you not bring a single lady friend here for over a month?” He let out a strangled laugh.

“You think I’m hot?”

“I know you’re hot. And you know you’re hot.”

The pink blush that formed on his face made you want to run over and kiss his cheeks.

But friends didn’t do that.

“Well, I guess... I guess I’ve been waiting for the special girl to come along.”

He gave you a look you couldn’t quite decipher.

“Yes, I’m the most special girl in your life, right?” You teased, trying to be nonchalant about the tension in the room.

He just smiled at you.

“So! What are you cooking?” You said, changing the subject.

This distracted him. “Well, I have leftovers from yesterday... I have rice noodles with chicken broth--”

“Um, I can’t eat pre-made chicken broth.” You interrupted before he could get too excited. Thankfully, you hadn’t gotten your hopes up about eating much at his place. People could rarely accommodate to your needs.

“Oh don’t worry, I made the chicken stock last night with... a real chicken. So it’s not out of a box.” He opened his fridge and you saw a cooked chicken that was sitting there. “See?”

You paused and evaluated the situation.

“So... you made chicken pho?” You said blankly.

He blushed. “Yeah, yeah I did.”

You thought back to that night. That night when you confessed to him your deepest and insecurities.

You yelled at him about how you basically only ate Asian food exclusively.

“Did... Rafe... Ok, if I didn’t know any better, I would say that you expected me to come over today. Unless you just happened to have IBS friendly food.”

You were joking, well half-joking. You guys always met on Thursday nights to study, so he knew you would be hanging out then. You hated the excitement and fondness filling in your chest; it would be only a matter of time before you pushed him away. Or until he left. Whichever came first.

His face was red now. “Um, I may have anticipated it.”

Oh God, your heart was so full right now. You didn’t even want the food anymore, you just wanted him.

But he had put great effort into this. You had to eat it.

“Thank you.” You whispered.

He shrugged off your words. “It’s no biggie, I know I see you Thursdays and we always study pretty late.”

You set the table while he dipped the noodles in water to cook them. He made two bowls, one being larger than the other. He remembered that you rarely ate big meals.

As soon as he set your food down, you realized he had to watch you eat. And you had to make conversation while eating. You hated talking and eating.

And you got a lot of gas while you ate. Shit. This was a bad idea.

You pushed those thoughts aside and took a sip of the soup.

It was amazing.

“This is really good.”

He smiled widely. “Thanks, I tried my best.”

Thankfully, you didn’t have to talk much while you ate. The TV served as a good distraction to that. When you finished your bowl, you waited for the pain to hit you. You felt your stomach gurgle around and you clenched your fists to avoid the pain.

You had good and bad stomach days. Some days you could go the whole day without feeling any pain, but then you had days where you ate any food and felt a mild discomfort and had to lay in bed.

You felt a mild discomfort, but it faded quickly enough. Thank God, a good stomach day.

After you both finished eating, Drew put both the bowls in the sink. You tried to do the dishes, but he wouldn’t let you.

“Thanks for the meal again.” You said, anxious to leave.

It wasn’t eating that was the worst part of IBS, it was the anxiety afterwards. You were always nervous that your stomach would flare up hours after you eating, which it sometimes did if you ate something not IBS friendly.

“You’re always welcome here.”

You checked your phone. “Um, it’s getting late. I should go.” You turned to leave, but he caught your wrist softly.

“Wait, y/n.”

You stopped and turned to face him. He looked nervous as he was still holding your hand gently.

“Yeah?” You tried to say casually, but you were now extremely anxious for a reason besides food.

He let go of your wrist to brush his fingers through his hair. You loved his messy hair.

“Um, ok, well... ok I’m just gonna say it.”

“Say it then.” You said out of habit. He glared at you, but you knew he didn’t mean it.

“Fine, well, you’re... you’re really fun to hang out with. Do you want to... go out with me sometime?”

“We go out together all the time.” You said stupidly.

He let out a strangled laugh. “Yeah but... like ... as a date.”

Your heart stopped.

“A date.”

“Yes, a date, if you want.”

A date? What could you both possible do on a date? You hated eating at restaurants, you can’t go hiking or backpacking because who knew when your symptoms would pop in and you were stuck on a mountain with no bathrooms and nowhere to sit. Not to mention, you didn’t eat much so you got lightheaded easily. You weren’t compatible. You would just be a burden to him.

“y/n?” You almost forgot you were in the middle of a conversation.

You looked up at his pretty blue eyes that were full of hope. You couldn’t do this to him. You couldn’t hold him back like that.

“I... I’m sorry, Rafe... I can’t.” His face fell. “You’re an awesome guy, I swear to God you’re the best guy I’ve ever met. But... you just... we’re just... we’re just different.”

That was a cop out answer and you knew it.

“Different.” He echoed.

You nodded.

He paused, like he was wondering whether to keep talking to you or just kick you out. You wouldn’t blame him if he chose the latter.

He then laughed bitterly.

“That’s bullshit, y/n and you know it.”

His harsh answer stunned you.

“What are you talking about?” You bristled. Now you were irritated.

“Oh, c’mon, you know I like you, and I know you like me. You can’t ignore what we have.”

“We’re just friends, Rafe. Just friends.”

“But I want more.” He said sadly.

You were on the brink of tears too.

“I do too.” You blurt.

“Then why-”

“Because Rafe! You want to go out and do things. You want to treat your girlfriend like a princess-- you’ve said that to me before. And you just can’t do that for me because it’s not possible.

He scoffed. “What do you mean by that? You think you’re undeserving of love? Are you trying to say ‘it’s not you, it’s me’?” He was angry, and he had a right to be. You were running him in circles and you felt bad.

“That’s not it! I just--” You felt your legs becoming weak, you could never stand for too long, especially in a heated conversation like this.

“Y/n? Do you need to sit down?”

You nodded as he was already guiding you to his couch.

“Finish what you were saying earlier.” He said softly. God, you hated how kind he was to you even during an argument. You were trying to push him away!

“Right, well, I don’t think I’m undeserving of love, but it’s too hard to love me.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means, you don’t know how to love me! You can’t take me on dates-- I hate eating at restaurants which is a normal date, so you can cross that off your list of fancy dinners or whatever. I can’t go hiking because what if my stomach starts to hurt on the mountain? And you just fucking saw me getting woozy standing and talking for you too long while arguing. I’ll just be a burden to you.”

He grabbed my hands and forced me to look at him.

“Listen to me. You will never, ever, be a burden to me. Got that?”

His voice was low and pained, like it hurt him for you to think about yourself like that. You didn’t need his pity so you pulled away from his hands.

“You don’t deserve someone who can’t do all the things you love.”

“Relationships are all about compromise, y/n. I can do those things with my friends.”

You shook your head.

“Rafe, you’re a great guy. Too good if I might add. And I’m so picky about everything. When I’m mad at you one day and you want to make it up to me, you can’t buy me chocolates or ice cream or whatever. For anniversaries, you can’t just take me out to a fancy restaurant. There might be a day where you run out of tricks and you’ll realize how hard it is to love me.” You laughed bitterly.

“I can learn what makes you feel good. I can learn how to love you--”

“You can’t learn how to love me! I don’t even know how to love myself!” You shouted.

A deafening silence washed over the room.

I don’t even know how to love myself.

The honesty in your own answer made you cry.

How could anyone love you when didn’t even know how to love yourself? You didn’t even know how to make yourself happy. You didn’t know how to spoil yourself. You lived your life just to get by.

How sad.

“I’m sorry Rafe, I just can’t do this.”

This time, he just nodded.

He’d already given up.

----------

Around two weeks had gone by since Rafe asked you out and you embarrassed yourself. You had never been the type to be so negative or so insecure. You hated what you had become.

You hated how you felt some sort of relief when Rafe let you go. He grabbed you an uber and you went home.

You both were ignoring the obvious conversation that needed to happen, but it was better this way. You were back to being the chatty girl in his English class and he was back to being the guy who laughed at all of your jokes. Normal. Everything was back to normal.

“Sup, y/n, how’s it goin’?”

You tried not to look surprised as JJ Maybank said hi to you.

You two weren’t exactly friends, but you were friendly to one another. Yes, he could be a dick sometimes, but he was clueless about it.

“Oh hey, it’s going good so far. How about you?”

“He and his ‘girlfriend’ got into a fight yesterday and needs advice.” Pope blurted. You tried not to laugh at the bluntness of his friend.

JJ hit the boy. “Dude!”

“Hey, she was going to figure it out soon enough. You can’t shut up about it.” Their banter was always fun to watch.

“What are you guys talking about?” Rafe asked when he sat down.

“JJ got into a fight with his ‘girlfriend’”. You made sure to use the same air quotes like Pope.

“Yes, thank you for embarrassing me further.” You shrugged.

“It’s not like Rafe knows her.”

JJ sighed and adjusted his hat to hide his tired face.

You grew soft on the poor guy. “What kind of advice do you need, JJ?”

JJ looked at you with sad eyes, but hopped right into his story.

“Well, so this girl I’m into, she’s this big city girl. Grew up in Los Angeles, and you know me, I grew up in a small town in Alaska. We’re just so... different. She likes doing all this city girl stuff like going to the malls and just walking around a crowded town which is so different from me who didn’t even have a big mall where I was at and you could walk miles without running into another person.

“I just don’t know how to keep up with her all the time... and she’s rich so she has to go to these fancy events. She told me I had to dress up if I wanted to meet her parents.

“And she doesn’t like to be on the water ‘cause she gets seasick. And I practically lived on the water when I was in Alaska! What should I do?”

You paused, taking in his situation.

You heard Rafe scoff.

“Dude, it’s fucking obvious. Man the fuck up and buy better clothes and learn how to hold all of her shopping bags. Isn’t it obvious?”

JJ nodded, like this made sense.

You nudged Rafe harshly. “What are you talking about? JJ, you guys sound really different, you have to ask yourself: do I like how I have to change myself to be with her? Am I ok with that? Am I ok with sacrificing things I love to be with this girl?”

JJ nodded, soaking in your words.

“Relationships are about compromise.” You rolled your eyes at these familiar words. “If you really like her, you are going to be willing to change.”

“You shouldn’t have to change for someone else.”

“Everyone should change, it’s good for the soul. Staying static is boring.”

“Guys, guys,” JJ stopped you and Rafe.

“Ok, I get both points. But, I do really like her. I’ve been pining after her for a while now and... and I don’t know, I just want to win her heart over. She’s already starting to push me away because she also doesn’t want me to change who I am. But I’m willing to put in the extra effort.”

“See? Putting in extra effort to impress the girl he likes, that’s what you should do.” Rafe commented.

You grit your teeth.

“I agree, JJ, you should always try to be better in a relationship. If she’s pushing you away because of her own fears, that only means you need to work harder.” Pope noted.

“Or maybe she’s right, maybe you shouldn’t push people to make them feel like a burden to you. Maybe she just wants the best for you because she obviously knows you very well!”

“Maybe he wants to challenge himself because he wants her to feel safe and comfortable around him!” Rafe raised his voice.

“Maybe he just wants to do that because of his ego.” You said with an equally angry tone.

“Or maybe he wants to do that because he loves her!” Rafe slammed his hands on the desk and suddenly the room was silent.

“Um... are you guys good?” JJ whispered, his problems now forgotten.

--------

Because he loves her.

Loves her.

Love.

Was Rafe still talking about the hypothetical JJ in this situation or was he talking about himself?

Because you knew you were talking about yourself.

Was he doing the same?

You sprinted out of that classroom once your professor dismissed you.

“Y/n, wait.”

You paused outside the door. If you left, it would make you look mighty suspicious. If you stayed, then you could pretend everything was ok and that the “argument” you just had wasn’t about yourselves.

You decided to make a run for it.

Unfortunately, Rafe jumped in front of you before you could leave.

“Y/n, please. Talk to me.”

“What? There’s nothing to talk about. JJ can make his own decisions. What a handful of a girl, right?” You tried to step around him, but Rafe kept blocking you. “Move-”

“We need to talk and I have a class soon. Meet me at my apartment when your classes end, ok?”

You hesitated, but the desperation in his eyes made it hard for you to say no.

“Ok.”

-------

Rafe’s apartment wasn’t too far of a walk from campus, plus you took the bus for part of the way. You secretly ate a bowl of rice with beef and broccoli before going just in case he didn’t have any more pho left at his apartment.

You felt your heart beating out of control as you plucked up the courage to knock on his door.

“C’mon, you can do this.” You whispered to yourself. You raised your hand to knock, but the door flung open.

Rafe had been back for a while since he was a morning person and finished his classes before noon. You on the other hand, finished classes at 5pm. No hate in the game, this was college.

You took in his appearance and looked him up and down.

He was wearing gray sweatpants with a white tank top and a red flannel over it. He looked too good right now for being casual. Fuck.

You gulped. “Hey.”

He gave you a tight smile. “Hey.”

You both stood there awkwardly.

“Can I come in?”

“Oh shit, yeah, of course.”

As you stepped into the well-lit apartment, you noticed he was sweaty; it seemed like he just got done with working out. All you wanted to do was to take off that flannel and see what he was hiding underneath.

“Did you just come from the gym?” You asked nonchalantly.

He raised a brow at your random question, but nodded. “Yup.”

You both stood in silence for a hot minute, the tension filling the air. You noticed his eyes trailing down your body; you knew you wore tighter clothes up top to try and impress the boy. You didn’t think it would work... but it did.

“Oh fuck it.” You spat. His eyes grew confused at your sudden outburst, but when you took 3 large steps and grabbed his face, they widened.

“Can I kiss you?” You whispered.

“Please.”

And then you kissed him.

His lips were soft, but his hands were rough on your body. He pulled you close enough so that your chests touched, making you groan at the contact. He deepened the kiss, teasing you with his tongue.

“Rafe,” you chanted. You didn’t know what you were asking for, you just wanted him.

He smiled, moving to kiss you all over your face and your neck. He smoothly pulled you into his bedroom.

His bedroom was bare; only a bed sat in the middle and one desk to the side of it. You didn’t care, as long as there was a bed in there, that’s all that mattered.

Except you happened to miss a large box near the side of the bed that almost made you hit your head on the wooden floor.

“Oops.” Rafe caught you before you fell.

“Sorry, I forgot to move those.”

Before he could move them out of sight, you noticed something familiar looking.

“Wait... are these--?”

“Wait-”

You picked up the box before he could stop you. You grew confused staring down at the object inside of it.

“Are these... what I think they are?”

He ruffled his hair and nodded, trying to hide his red face. “Um, yeah. It’s... yeah.” He finished lamely.

You looked down and gently traced your fingers across the extravagant book covers. When you looked inside, they were all signed by your favorite author with a cute message. You felt tears well up in your eyes.

“You went to the book signing.” You said numbly.

He nodded hesitantly. He wasn’t sure how you would react. “I did...I wasn’t sure which book you liked from her so I got all 3.”

He played with the bottom of his flannel, anxiously waiting for your next move.

You set the books down and pulled him in by his shirt.

“Kiss me.”

He paused, but only for a moment before he stripped off his flannel.

Yes, finally.

He laughed. “You’ve been waiting for this to come off?” Shit, you said that out loud.

He wasted no time pressing his lips to yours. You clung onto his neck, not being able to get close enough to him. Kissing was great, it was fantastic even. But you wanted more. You gently lifted your hips to meet his, rocking back and forth experimentally.

He groaned at your movement. “Baby,” He whispered.

You thought you would hate that pet name.

You didn’t.

“Yes?” You teased, planting little kisses on his neck, his collarbone, right under his ear. When he didn’t answer, you tugged him back down to you by his hair.

You’re sure you had been making out for at least half an hour at this point when suddenly he lifted his head up.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

And you meant it.

-------

You woke up in the morning with the best sleep you’ve had in years. You immediately turned to your side and saw Rafe still fast asleep. You saw his bare chest move up and down, up and down. It was hypnotic.

You gently moved your fingers across his chest, soaking in the smoothness of it. The feeling of soft pleasure woke Rafe up. He smiled when he saw your mischievous look.

“Good morning, gorgeous. How’re ya feelin’?”

“Hmmm, alright.”

He gently kissed your shoulder blade. What a tease.

“Only alright?”

He tried to pull the blankets down to uncover your naked body, but it was the morning and you were still shy.

You laughed at his attempts to turn you on.

“Stop, Rafe, you horny ba-”

He then leaned in closely to you and whispered in your ear.

“If I knew getting you books would get me laid, I would’ve done it years ago.”

You laughed.

“You didn’t know me years ago!”

He gave you a crooked smile.

“Plus, my love language is receiving gifts, so you got lucky.”

He shrugged, but his eyes softened when he stared at you longer.

He pulled you down for another soft kiss. You wanted more, but he pulled away before it could get too racy.

“Told you I would learn how to love you.”

#outer banks #rafe cameron #obx #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #obx fanfiction #obx writing #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron scenarios #this is the most dialogue ive written i think #this was the most challenging fic to write LMAO #hope u like it ! :D

94 notes · View notes

babyspiderling · 4 years

Text

Jack Kelly X Reader-Marry You

Alright, this was requested by Anon, ”Jack Kelly x Reader where he proposes on the spot without any of them being prepared on it happening? Probably after some event where Jack realized that “damn I really want to spend my life with her”... Like an emotional fight or dreams come true! Ya know? Real fluffy!!”. I did take inspiration from this scene, but switched it up for our bb Jack “Cowboy” Kelly.

I wake up before the sun and dress quickly, racing to the butcher as he receives his shipment for the morning. “Good Morning, Mr. Johnson. How’s today's shipment coming along?” He smiles at me and finishes bringing it all inside. “Alright Rose, come on in and get your meat. I’ve got a box of chicken for you, plus the extra wings.” Nodding, I follow him inside, careful to keep the blood off the one nice skirt I own. He ducks behind the counter and pesents the white box tied together with twine. “Thank you so much Mr. Johnson. Take care of yourself, and tell Mary I said hello!” With a wave I make my way back to the house, avoiding the cops and hurrying to make breakfast in time. As I near the house, I hear Jack and Crutchie up in their “Penthouse” I gently open and shut the door and enter the kitchen. I start up the furnace and change into my newsies outfit while it heats up. Rolling my sleeves I pull out the wings that Mr. Johnsons had thrown in. Sprinkling salt and pepper on the skin, I place them all in a buttered pan and place it in the oven. I tidy up and put the rest of the kitchen in the small ice box the house had. As the wings finish cooking, I wake up the boys, waking up Romeo and Racetrack, asking them to wake up the other boys while I grab Jack and Crutchie. Climbing up the fire escape, I hear their muffled conversation. Knocking on the ladder, I peek over the top of the roof. “Boys, breakfast is ready. You’d best get down here quick if you want something in your belly before the bell rings.” Nodding, I help Jack lower Crutchie down to the window. The boys are all awake by the time I get down, as well as dressed. “Alright boys, wash-up so you can get breakfast before heading out.” I pull the pan out of the oven to cool as the boys line up for their breakfast. One by one I pass out the wings as they race out the door. Noticing two left once it is Crutchie and Jack’s turn, I quickly give Jack a peck on the cheek and wink at Crutchie to distract them. The boys leave, breakfast in hand, I drop the pan in the sink and race after them, wanting to get to the newsstand in time for the bell. I get into line for my papes, and the boys compliment me on my cooking. Winking at Jack, I flirt up Morris to get a couple extra papes for my trouble, and two new boys show up for papes. We sell papes until 5, when I head home to prepare dinner for my boys. We make a fine dinner out of a chicken and potatoes. We joke and play around with each other until it’s time to head to bed to do the same thing tomorrow morning.

I wake up and shred the leftover chicken for sandwiches, and follow the boys to the gate to get the headline. Les and Davey apologize for being late, mentioning their mother. Race snaps back, but one of the younger ones step in. “Y/N is like our mother. She cooks for us, she tucks us in and wakes us up, she loves us. She’s the closest thing to a Mother I’ve ever had.” Grinning, Romeo throws his arm around my defender. “Yeah? And who’s the Father then, huh? Can’t have no mother if you don’t have no father.” Pipsqueak simply says “Jack!” and walks up the gate. I’m standing in shock, warm and cold at the same time. I’m flattered that Pipsqueak sees me as a mother figure, I do my best for these boys left without a nickel to their name. But Jack as the father… I love Jack, he looks out for the boys like I do, but what would he say about this? As the Headline is unveiled, a murmur of shock ripples through our group. “60 cents per 100?” “This can’t be right!” As the murmurs turn to talk and talk to shouts, it all fades away. How am I going to feed my boys? I already am blessed that Mr. Johnson gives me extra bits and pieces when I buy the chickens, I can’t ask him to go any lower. And the boys, they won’t be able to spend their money on clothes or put anything in the pot for heat and rent. Lost in my panic and racing thoughts, I don’t notice Jack put up a fight, rallying us around him. “They can’t do this to us, we’re a union now boys! And Y/N!” I head home to think things through and plan for what just happened. As I retreat back to the house, I hear Jack and the other boys convince the scabbers to drop their papes and join the fight. I cook and clean the rooms, thinking all the while. I mend pants and shirts while pondering if we’ll even survive a month.

I finish pulling dinner out of the oven, and the boys file in one by one. We sit around the table, the energy a weird limbo of elation and sobriety. The boys were excited for the strike, but knew the cost if the strike didn’t go our way. Clearing my throat, I ask if we could say the Lord's Prayer. A couple boys nod, but most look at me in curiosity. I swallow and start, “Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen.” We all prepare for bed, bidding each other a good night, and I sit in my bunk and pray. “Our Lord in heaven, please look after my boys. Protect us from the threat of poverty and destitution.” Pipsqueak climbs into bed with me, asking to pray again. Another one of the younger boys climbs in as well. “Please Y/N? You pray so well.” More and more boys climb in, and when there is no more room, they sit around my bed. “Ok, how about we do a nightly prayer. Repeat after me. Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray thee, Lord, my soul to keep; If I should die before I wake, I pray thee, Lord, my soul to take.” As we say amen, I give each of the boys a goodnight kiss. As the lines dwindle, Jack and Crutchie are the last to receive a goodnight kiss. I kiss Crutchies head and nudge him towards his bed. When I turn to Jack to give him a kiss, he grabs my face instead, kissing my forehead and telling me goodnight. I bury myself in the blankets and try to rest for the new day.

New day, same headline. Newsies still need to pay 60 cents per hundred. Finally, we have enough of the treatment and chaos is everywhere. I watch in slow motion as Romeo gets backhanded by a cop. People are fighting everywhere. Oscar corners me and goes to throw a punch, and is ripped away by Jack. “Thanks hon!” We fight in tandem, working and throwing punches at everyone in sight. He shouts for me to duck, knocking out someone behind me. He helps me up and smirks. “Hey, what do you think about marrying me?” I turn with a punch to face him, “Seriously? Right now?” Rolling his eyes he responds, “No, just someday soon though. I mean the boys see me as their dad, and you as their Mother.” “We will talk about this later Jack Kelly.” I hear Crutchie screaming for help, being dragged off by his bum leg. I run and pry the bull off Crutch, and shove the boy at Jack. “Take him and go, I’ll get the rest of the boys.” I turn and shout to the rest. “Boys, back home! Meet Jack back at the house, I’m right behind you.” As they run off, I make sure everyone made it out. As I turn to take the alleyways back to Jack and back to my family, two bulls block my path. They grab me and haul me to the refuge kicking and screaming.

During my time there, I became a mother to those kids as well. We said our prayers and I tucked them in at night. Every night I pray for Jack and my boys, that they’re safe and they’re fed. I’m not there for even a few days when I’m taken out of the overcrowded room I was shoved into. We walk to the courtyard from the day of the strike, and I see my boys, I see Crutchie alive and well, and most importantly, I see Jack.

Once I am officially released, I run towards him, jumping into his arms. After setting me back down on solid ground he kneels down and pulls out a simple band. “Y/N, I love you, and I meant what I said earlier. You have been so good to these kids, to me. What I’m trying to say is… Y/N, will you marry me?” Crying I nod. “Yes. Yes!” He slips the ring on my finger, and our lips meet as the boys, and even governor cheer for us. We did end up getting married a couple years later, but that is a different story.

#jack kelly x reader #jeremy jordan x reader #theatre x reader #newsies x reader #jack kelly imagine #newsies imagines #broadway imagine

126 notes · View notes

ssttitdramon · 5 years

Text

Ham Sandwich Boys

Ramón Morales x Male!Reader

Request: Would you be comfortable doing a Ramón x Male reader? If so, can you write a out them running from town to town to escape the draft and they meet the gang and the gang defends them as boyfriends? Maybe?

- Request? Here are the rules -

Word Count: 2,706

Warnings: Mentions of homophobia.

Note: I’m scrapping canon beginning and I twisted this up a bit, hope you still like it! (Sorry this took forever to post! Thank you for your patience!!)

“Gimme another.” Ramón asks, holding out his palm. You fish out a nickel from your jean pocket and handed the coin to him. You listen to him insert the coin and push a button, starting the washing machine.

“You sure you’ve got the right socks in there?” you nudge his shoulder, remembering the time Ramón had accidentally let a blue and orange sock into his sister’s white clothes pile. The wash was stopped quickly, but not before completely ruining his sister’s new First Communion dress. Ramón laughs at the memory, his first genuine laugh in days and it made you feel so relieved.

He turns to you and leans back against the machine, “Shit, my mom sent me to work with my uncle for two weeks to buy her a new dress. Remember that? I was too exhausted to hang out or do anything cause I would come home late every night.” he beams.

“I thought you hated my guts, all because you were too embarrassed to explain what happened.” you both laugh at your naive 12 year old selves. That summer when Ramón ruined his sister’s clothes was also the summer the two of you had met at a flea market, neither having a clue of just how important you’d be in each other’s lives as you grew up together.

From the corner of your eye, you notice a newspaper flap down and ruffled back up to the face of its reader, sitting only four machines away from the two of you. You turn your head slightly, noting she was a skeptical old woman, her beady blue eyes examining the closeness between you and your boyfriend over her newspapers. Ramón notices too, “Hey, why don’t you buy something to eat at the diner we passed by earlier? I’ll meet you by the car, yeah?” he quietly suggests, dark eyes urging you to get out.

You sigh and nod, quick to leave the 24-hour laundromat before attracting any more attention. After briefly questioned by the town’s police chief earlier, the two of you were on edge, but not unaccustomed to this sort of small town demeanor. In two towns you’ve driven through, Ramón was directly warned of sticking around after dark when they’d see he was alone. In three others, you were followed and watched. If there was any slight affection shown between you two, you’d be shunned and driven out before matters turned violent.

As you get closer to the diner, you watch a group of kids run out of an alley behind a german shepherd with a baseball in his mouth. They run in between cars, yelling at each other to catch the dog and apologize to annoyed drivers. You stop as you watch them corner the animal into the entrance of a hair salon, not noticing the two boys who stopped to watch the commotion next to you. “I don't know why Henry always lets his dog out this time of day.” the voice from behind you startles you.

You turn around to see two boys, the taller one punching his friend on the shoulder. “Oh sorry man, we didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” the curly haired boy apologizes.

“It’s okay.” you offer a tight-lipped smile to both.

“Cool, I’m Chuck and this tent pole calls himself Auggie.” he points a thumb at his annoyed companion, “You’re not from around here, are you?” he continues.

“Chuck, you don’t have to interrogate the guy seconds after meeting him.” Auggie complains and sends you an apologetic look.

“Nah, it's fine. I’ve been on the road with a friend and we stopped here for a bit.” you explain, shoving your hands into the pockets of your jacket.

“See Augs? Been telling you we should go on a road trip.” Chuck glares at his friend.

Auggie rolls his eyes, “As if your Elmer’s Glue mom would ever let you leave town without her.” he grumbles, dodging Chuck’s jabs at his face immediately after.

You laugh, “So uh, do you guys have any recommendations from this place?” you point at the diner behind them.

“Oh, you should try out their ham sandwiches, the greatest thing ever.” Chuck advises as the three of you walk inside.

Auggie pushes the menu to your hands, “I’d say you avoid the onion rings here, I don’t trust them.” he points to the bottom of the paper.

Considering the boys’ serious opinions about the food, you head for the counter and ask for two ham sandwiches, a side of fries and two drinks. Chuck orders a chocolate milkshake, much to the disappointment of Auggie and they begin to bicker over who’s really eaten what before. After checking the clock on the restaurant’s blue wall, Chuck reassures you about the quality of the sandwiches one last time before rushing out behind Auggie, the two needing to go “meet someone for something tonight”.

After getting your food, you walk to Ramón’s car, only to find it empty. You peer inside the laundromat, still unable to spot the boy. You hear a familiar whistle to your left and see Ramón walking over to you from the end of the street. “Almost started to freak out, thought something happened to you or maybe you got lost.” you mention, handing him his drink.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about,” he reassures you, “plus, I found this cool tree.” he motions you to follow him. Ramón leads you through two blocks before stopping at the edge of town, overlooking the woods.

“Ramón, this place looks like its where people dump bodies.” you joke, bending down to survey an old fox hole underneath the roots of a tree.

“If we see one, we’ll just get haunted for the rest of our lives together, alright?” he smirks and points to a tall tree several feet away. “That’s the one I’m talking about.”

The branches of the tree in question twist in all directions, some long enough to swoop down and nearly touch the ground. You watch as Ramón sets his drink on one of the large branches, positions a foot against the thick trunk and begins to climb the old tree. He makes his way to a third branch and sits, “Toss me the bag.” he waves his hands.

“I swear if you don’t fucking catch it…” you mumble and give him the stink eye, tightening the rolled top of the paper bag. You hold your breath and throw the bag up, surprised when he actually manages to catch it.

“You guys always doubt me on whether or not I can catch stuff.” he complains, already munching on a fry.

You put your drink where Ramón put his and begin the climb up. “Yeah well,” you huff, hands on the rough bark, “nobody…” you pull yourself up, “does after you let-”. You almost lose your footing, but you’re able to hold yourself steady after finding a knot, “-after you let that stupid water balloon slip and got all of us in trouble.” you continue, catching Ramón roll his eyes. You finally manage to sit next to him and find half of the fries gone.

“This stuff’s good.” he comments halfway through his sandwich. You bite into yours and nod, mentioning the two boys who recommended it.

The two of you finish your food and look down the street as people walk about on their typical Thursday afternoon. The sunset on the opposite side of Mill Valley reminds you of the one you'd both watch together back home. Your heart twitches at the thought of home, but you shake it off before you get your head stuck in it for the rest of the night. You don’t realize how exhausted you are from driving last night until you lean back against the tree trunk and immediately feel your eyelids get heavy. You ask Ramón to wake you up in 20 minutes and nod off.

Nearly an hour later, you wake up to darkness and bitter wind. You feel Ramón’s head on your lap and a stick digging into your back. “Hey,” you whisper, “wake up, we fell asleep.” you run a hand through his hair.

Ramón slowly sits up, “Ah, we gotta go dry the clothes.” he yawns and rubs an eye. The two of you gather your trash and carefully make your way down the tree in the dark. You grab Ramón’s arm when he nearly stumbles on an exposed root, then you hear it. Footsteps behind you.

You turn your head, seeing nothing within the trees with whatever light the moon offers. “Come on, we gotta get out of here.” you rush out, focusing on the quiet street ahead of you. The street wasn’t as busy as it was earlier, you can see only a few people mill around and several cars driving through. Ramón mentions leaving as soon as the clothes were dry, which makes you dread being on the dark road again.

The laundromat is also nearly empty when you reach it, with only two women gossiping by their dryers and a toddler fast asleep inside a basket. You and Ramón take out the clothes from the machine and make your way to a dryer when you notice her again, the same old woman eyeing you over her newspapers. Ignoring her, you stuff the clothes inside the dryer and start the cycle.

The gossiping women soon leave with their clothes and the sleepy child. This left you and Ramón alone in awkward silence with the old woman, the only noise coming from the dryer and the buzzing of the fluorescent lights above you.

“I’m gonna go to the restroom, you okay here?” Ramón asks, also growing wary of the old woman. You give him a thumbs up and slide down against the set of dryers behind you, which at least put the suspicious woman out of sight.

As soon as Ramón is gone, you hear something small drop and roll. From the rows in front of you, you see a penny roll towards you and hit your shoe, landing with Lincoln’s head up. You pick it up and hear the old woman cough, rattling her newspapers. Next, her chair groans and creaks. She coughs again, this time seemingly closer. You look up and see her cold eyes stare at you from behind the row of washing machines. She shuffles closer, her nose coming into view along with the dry skin of her pale cheekbones peeling off. The old woman coughs again and raises her thin eyebrows.

“You’re quite the handsome young man, aren’t you?” she utters, her voice sounds as if though it droned from a radio.

You’re at a loss for words, “Knew a fella who looked quite like you.” the old woman continues. She begins to walk down the row, her unblinking blue eyes stay on you. The buzzing lights above you flicker momentarily and you can hear the newspapers fold and unfold in her hands. “Oh yes,” she hisses, “I believe he went missing about forty years ago.”

You stand up when she gets to the end of your row of dryers. “Would you like to see where I last saw him?” she asks, seemingly upset when you shake your head. Behind her, Ramón exits the restroom and freezes in place, his eyes dart between you and her. He slowly makes his way around the old woman, “You know, he was also accompanied by a pretty boy, just like him.” she drawls and points at Ramón.

Ramón walks back to you at a gradual pace, not wanting to take his eyes off of her. She lets the newspapers fall to the beige tile floor. The front page slides to Ramón's feet. Looking down, you take into account the front headlines screamed of an Indiana coal mine disaster, killing 51.

“1925…” Ramón whispers, you look back to the old woman who was now only a few feet from Ramón.

She grins, “Let me get that.” and bends down, bony arms reaching for the worn paper. You grab Ramón's arm and pull him back when the old woman stays in the angled position, her long nails raking over the paper. You hear a resounding crack throughout the laundromat. You look around thinking it came from one of the machines, but bring your attention back to the old woman when you feel Ramón’s arm shake under your hand.

Her shoulders twitch, her hands shake and she emits another loud crack from her body. She moans, her spine visibly begins to twitch and she stands upright, her eyes trained on you again. The old woman moans again and her open jaw becomes loose, exposing what seems to be multiple rows of teeth inside.

The lights flicker again, “We gotta get the hell out now.” you tug at Ramón's sleeve. Without hesitating, the two of you run for the front door, the sound of feet hitting metal following close behind you.

You feel nails snap at your ankles and three hands on your leg yank you down. Ramón, who has made it outside already, seems to struggle in opening the jammed door. His fists begin to hit the glass, accompanied by a string of incoherent spanish cursing. The flickering lights inside the laundromat go out completely with a loud crackle. The only source of light is a street light that pours into the business, giving you some clarity of the hissing four-armed abomination of what used to be an old woman, still tugging at your leg. “You won't get to hear my story.” it garbles, eyes rolling back.

“Fuck-” you kick at it's face twice, “your story.” you scramble up and out of the laundromat, running straight into Ramón's arms. There's no time for an embrace as it drags itself right behind the two of you, hot on your heels.

You both head for the car, but with the slicing at your bloody ankles, it won't give either of you a chance to get in. The two of you decide to run down the now-empty street, heading for the woods. “Don't ya wanna hear what I'll eventually do to you fellas?” it yowls.

“You won't do shit!” you hear a voice behind you, immediately followed by the sound of metal hitting flesh. You and Ramón stop and turn around to see two kids in Halloween costumes. A spider holds a metal bat and swings at the monster again, while a clown rushes to both of you. You recognize the clown as one of the kids you met earlier, his face full of concern and fear.

“Auggie?” you ask, feeling Ramón's hand on your shoulder.

“No time to explain.” Auggie blurts and motions to his friend beating the convulsing monster. Ramón joins him, he takes out his lighter and drops it on the distorted body. It screeches and crawls off to the woods in flames before Chuck can get another hit.

Ramón pulls you closer and hugs you, “You okay?” he whispers into your shoulder.

“Yeah I'm good.” you reassure him and hold him tight.

You pull away from Ramón and turn to the two boys in costume, “What was that and how did you find us?”

“We've heard about this bitch crawling around Mill Valley, but we thought she was just a legend until now.” Chuck explains, baseball bat set on his shoulder.

“Also, we were walking home from our friend's house, then we heard him yelling.” Auggie points to Ramón.

You introduce Ramón to the two and introduce Auggie and Chuck as the “ham sandwich boys” -much to their amusement.

“Alright, you two need to leave, something tells me it'll come crawling back for you.” Auggie says in all seriousness.

“What about you two?” you ask. They couldn't leave, but you were already considering staying to fight the thing off with them.

“We've got a friend who kinda knows all about monsters. She’ll love to take a crack at this one here in town.”

This makes Ramón turn to look at you with eyebrows raised, “Well we got saved by a clown and a spider, think they got this handled?” you ask, making him laugh.

“Dude, I’m a pierrot.”

“Yeah and I was supposed to be Spider-Man!”

*Feedback is always appreciated!*

#ramon morales #scary stories to tell in the dark #ssttitd #ramon morales x reader #chuck steinberg #august hilderbrandt #mine #so sorry for the long wait!!#ending is not that great but i hope its good enough!

29 notes · View notes

headquarters90 · 6 years

Text

New Beginings - Part 5

Parings: Damian Wayne x Reader

Word Count: 1624 words

Warning: Mentions of violence? (I mean, Joker’s in this sooo but I suck at describe fight scenes)

A/N: This is looooong overdue and I apologize with how long this took. School and work has been crazy. Going to try to get right back into things but it might take awhile. Thank you for your wait and enjoy! The series is almost done!

Requests are always open!

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

“Has anyone seen Miss. Y/N?” Alfred questioned as he stepped into the bat cave with pursed lips. “She said that she’ll be back and I was hoping before dark but that doesn’t seem to be the case.”

“Y/N’s missing?” Damian asked.

“Not missing. She’s in town, said she was looking for a job and didn’t know when she’ll be back.”

“We’ll keep an eye out for her when on patrol, Alfred,” Tim promised and Alfred nodded.

“Uh, guys, you might want to see this,” Barbra stated over their earpieces and the five of them - plus Alfred - looked at the screen that now displayed the Joker with three people tied to a chair behind him.

“That’s not good,” Bruce muttered.

“Oh dear. There’s Y/N.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, birds and bats, it seems that your regular tv broadcast is no longer scheduled to play! Instead, you’ll be watching a tv game show hosted by the one and only, Joker!” The Joker exclaimed as you let out a quiet groan, your eyes slowly blinking open. “Let’s meet the contestants, shall we?”

You watched as he made his way towards the person on the other side of the room. He looked to have dark hair and brown eyes, fear shining through them. You had no doubt that you were showing fear too. The only ones you were sure wouldn’t would be the ones that fight against him.

You watched as the man trembled as told the city who he was. Aaron Nickels, an unsuccessful banker with no family but a dog at home.

Jennifer Davis, a soccer mom with two children – a boy and a girl – and a working husband.

“And last but not least!”

You jumped as his hands clasped onto your shoulders, a shaky breath leaving your lips as he squeezed them tightly.

“Tell them about yourself!”

“My…My name is Y/N Y/L/N and I…I have no…no family,” you got out and he made his way to stand in front of them.

“Now, it’s time for the fun part!”

You tensed at the sound of his laughter, your eyes falling to the ground as you took a deep breath.

“Such a pity that dear old Aaron didn’t make the cut,” Joker tsked as he shook his head. “Leaving Y/N as the victor but where the fun if you don’t add a twist!”

You heard the struggle and grunts of others from behind you and you closed your eyes in despair. You didn’t want others to be brought in. You didn’t want them to be murdered just like the other two. This wasn’t fun at all and there were people at home, watching this. Some in horror and then there were the sickos who enjoyed these things. Where was Batman? Robin? Nightwing? Red Robin? Red Hood even? Was anyone even trying to get to them?

“Now, I have to say. Two of the three was randomly selected for this game show. Isn’t that right, Harls?”

Harls? Harley Quinn’s here too? You thought, gulping.

“That’s right, Puddin’! Seems like there were some employees of yours that didn’t listen well to the rules,” you heard her say before she stepped out of the shadows.

Employees that didn’t listen well? Two of the three randomly selected? You thought to yourself, turning your head in time to watch the bags on their heads disappear and a gasp left your lips.

There sat your parents, glares set in their eyes as they looked towards Joker.

“Now, you’ll answer the question or…”

You closed your eyes at the sight of the barrel of a gun pointed at you.

“This daughter of yours gets it.”

You winced at the familiar scoff of your father.

“What daughter?”

While you thought your parents hated you, this made you reconsider everything. Were they doing that because of who they worked for? Or did they truly feel that way towards you?

Gasping, your eyes shot open in pain, finding yourself looking at Joker’s chin. You were going to die in the hands of this insane man and no one was trying to help you. You knew you didn’t matter. Your parents drilled that into your head since you could rem-

“Bats! There you are! I was wondering when you’ll show up!” Joker let go of your hair and your eyes landed on Batman and his partners – that’s all you could think of to call them.

“Let them go, Joker,” Batman demanded and you shut your eyes tight as fighting broke lose around you.

“Get them out of here, Robin! Nightwing!”

You heard someone call out before you felt someone breaking the rope that was tying you to the chair.

“I have the other two,” you heard another person that sounded eerily similar to--No, it couldn’t be, could it?

Feeling someone help you up, you finally opened your eyes to see Robin standing in front of you and you furrowed your eyebrows at the familiar eyes before gasping as he wrapped an arm around your waist and you were suddenly going through the hole they created when they showed up.

Once you two were on a secure part of the roof, Robin let go of your waist, turning to face you with those familiar eyes.

“Are you alright, ma’am?”

You could tell he was trying to change the octave of his voice. It sounded too forced to be nature. Your eyes roamed his face, your eyebrows furrowed, as you thought before your eyes widened in realization.

“Damian?” You questioned quietly and he blinked at you before bobbing his head in reply.

“How’d you-”

“Nightwing’s voice was too similar to Dick’s, your hood isn’t up, and the mask doesn’t hide much. Your eyes are easily recognizable and your – erm – facial features are too,” your voice slowly got quieter as you realize what you were saying.

You had basically just admitted to staring at him to the point you could recognize his facial features.

“Everyone okay over here?” Dick’s voice drifted into your ears and you turned towards him, tilting your head to the side. “What?”

“She figured it out,” Damian voiced and Dick nodded his head.

“Not bad, N/N, not bad.”

You snorted at the statement before falling silent. The household that took you in saves hundreds every night.

“We should get you back. Alfred was worried,” Damian spoke and you glanced over at him. “It took us some time to figure out where Joker was hiding you. Did you know the other two sitting next to you? The ones we saved?”

“My parents,” you answered, scrunching up your nose. “Apparently they worked for the Joker. Glad I left when I did. They no longer have a daughter. I guess they aren’t my parents anymore.”

“That’s okay. You’re part of our family now.” Dick placed an arm around your shoulder before pursing his lips. “Take her back, Little D. I’m going to see how the others are holding up.”

Damian nodded and the two of you watched as Dick made his way back to the others before Damian turned towards you.

“You’re going to want to hold on tight.”

You sat across Alfred who was scowling you slightly for being out as late as you were. He let you off the hook mainly because Joker had gotten ahold of you but other than that, he wasn’t too pleased. It was different than how your…sperm and egg donors would have reacted. They would have been pissed and grounded you. Alfred was worried and concerned for your wellbeing.

You knew it was that and not the other way because he had made you some hot chocolate – he had asked what you had wanted – to calm your nerves. He had even prepared you a small meal to eat to get something in your system.

“Thank you, Alfred,” you spoke suddenly and he furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at you.

“For what, my dear?”

“Caring.”

You watched as a small smile found its way onto Alfred’s lips as he nodded his head.

“Of course. Someone has too.”

You knew that staying at Wayne Manor, everyone would think that Bruce had adopted another child but you more felt that Alfred was the one to be the one to have adopted you. He had found you after all. It wasn’t Bruce that day out in the rain. It was Alfred. You wouldn’t mind having Alfred as your adoptive father either. He did end up raising Bruce.

“Dick told me that the two that ended up next to you were your parents. Do you wish to see them?” Alfred questioned and you shook your head. “You sure?”

“Very,” you answered, “they didn’t care much about me anyway.”

A yawn soon left your lips and Alfred gave you a soft smile before he stood, gathering the dishes in front of you.

“I believe it’s time you went to bed, Miss Y/N. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, Alfred.”

“Goodnight, my dear.”

Standing, you made your way out of the kitchen, rubbing your eyes. You weren’t sure if you’d actually get any sleep. After the events of tonight at least.

Damian had left not long after dropping you off on the steps on the Manor, saying something about how he still had to patrol the area with his father after the Joker incident. You were slightly upset. You wanted to ask questions but at the same time, with how Damian was with you, you doubted you would get any answers from you. You had a better chance getting them from Jason than you did him.

Stepping into your room, you furrowed your eyebrows as you saw Damian come through the window.

“Damian, what are you doing?” You questioned and he turned towards you.

“You’re not asleep?”

---

Taglist:

@castellagreen @kazuha159

#dick x reader #dick grayson #jason x reader #jason todd #tim x reader #tim drake #damian x reader #damian wayne #batfam #batfam imagine #batfam x reader #imagine #one shot series #dc #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth

77 notes · View notes

wlwhc · 6 years

Photo

A to Z Fluff - Lena Luthor

—————————————————————-

(A/N):

FINALLY SOME LENA FLUFF

I apologize for the low quality of this thing, I’m doing my best at writing on my phone since Tumblr on my PC does not let me post anything, Idk why

I also have to put the codes like and you guys know I write long things so…it’s making me crazy, sorry for any grammar mistakes to JUST SORRY FOR EVERYTHING OKAY?

—————————————————————

A= Attractive.

what do they find attractive about the other

Your hands, off all things, this angel find your hands to be the most attractive part of your already unbelievable attractive body. Is not just because she’s a thirsty gay, is also because she finds your hand movements to be as graceful as art itself. You use your hands a lot to be express yourself, from a simple point of view to a delicate touch that reminds her how much you love her, she loves your hands.

—————————————————————-

B= Baby

Do they want a family? Why? / Why not?

Y E S. But not soon, she would love have kids with you, two or three as much, but she doesn’t want to rush things and she has the company and too much work, she likes her work, so she want to have a family with you when the right time comes, and she knows she’ll have time for you and the baby(ies). *whispers* and she wants a girl

—————————————————————-

C= Cuddle

How do they cuddle?

The tighter you hold her the better. She will be so close to you, she just loves to dive into your arms and forget about the world and the weigh of the company on her shoulders. A lot of neck kisses oh my god, this girl, she just can’t help it, she will see a little bit of skin and she’ll have to kiss it!

Also, don’t even try to get up from that couch or she’ll murder you with a glare, or she’ll do grabby hand and will pout and you’ll probably die from so much cuteness.

She’s really needy for affection, most of the times she’s between your legs or sitting on your lap, either way, she will always manage to hide in the crook on your neck if she gets sleepy, and she’s always holding your hands.

—————————————————————-

D= Dates

what are dates with them like?

A lot of laughs and gossip. You want dates for her to be fun, so you always manage to make her laugh and complain about her Co-workers if necessary, she loves the awful nicknames you give them.

“so, it’s monkey ass face bothering you again? ”

“no, this time is Assbut”

“ugh freaking Assbut, he’s worst than coin face”

But there’s also heavy flirting and a lot of compliments, specifically from her part. A lot of lips bites too, thirsty gay mode on.

—————————————————————-

E= Everything

You are my ____ (e.g my life, my world)

“You’re my everything, I see you everywhere I laid my eyes to, I hear you in every melody, I don’t how you did it y/n, but I’m immersed in your world, and I don’t think I can get out of it”

—————————————————————-

F= Feeling

When they did know they were falling in love?

She noticed it, it was subtle almost non-existing but it was there, her smile was bigger when you were around her, her body would nonchalantly get closer to you like a magnet, she knew what was happening… And she didn’t hold back.

—————————————————————-

G= Gentle

Are they gentle with you? if so, how?

She’s such a sweetheart. She’s really sweet and soft with you, even when she has to be firm or spat the truth at your face she will do it with a soft voice, never raising it or looking threatening.

—————————————————————-

H= Hand/Hold

How do they like to hold hands?

It’s subtle, sometimes people misread it as a common thing because she will hold your hand mostly to drag you from place to place on the company. But you know that is not actually it, she is not a big fan of PDA.

She loves to hold your hand while she’s taking with you, softly caressing it with her thumb.

—————————————————————-

I= Impression

First Impression/s

Stunning, you are stunning and oh my she was dying to talk to you. She nervously aproches you, your eyes focus on your project, clearly interested on whatever thing you were writing down. She clears her throat, calling your attention, and when she started talking to you asking about your project, she was stunned. You are not only gorgeous, but smart too!

—————————————————————-

J= Joker

Are they into pulling pranks?

Yes, that devilish smirk of her should be enough for you to noticed when she is going to prank you. From little jumps scares, to dyeing your hair, but nothing that may hurt you, it’s just to get revenge on something or just to have some laughs.

—————————————————————-

K= Kisses

How do they kiss?

Extremely good, she will kill you, or revive you, she has no in between. Sometimes she will suck the life out of your tiny body with those hungry kisses that will also make you weak, or will revived you with those sweet sweet kisses where you are sure angels are singing and bells are ringing.

She is a sucker for lip bites, so be prepared my friend, she will eat you. A hand in your neck, so she can deep the kiss, another hand either on your waist or hip, she’ll grip you tightly. Her lips are so fucking sOFT.

Will absolutely don’t give a damn sometimes and make out with you on her office, sometimes neck kisses will be involve and she LOVES, Neck kisses.

—————————————————————-

L= litttle things

what little things do they love/notice?

You stumble over your words everytime you’re excited. And she can’t help but love it, she thinks is adorable.

Another thing she noticed is how handworker you are, you even spend more hours working that her. And even though she’s your boss, she can’t get you out of your office, too busy with your project. She sees your passion and interest in your project, she loves it. Because no matter how tired you are, you always smile at her at the end on the night when she asks you about how’s your project.

And a thing that she loves, is how protective you are, even though you said otherwise. You show this with little gestures, a lunchbox on her office, giving her your jacket when it’s raining, arguing with anyone that dares to throw dirt on her name. You care, she noticed that you care.

—————————————————————-

M= Memory

they favorite moments together

That moment after falling asleep. A lot of things can happen, but the best thing is that it’s just Lena and you, no one else to bother, just your girlfriend and you. Lena adores this moment, when she can kiss you and talk to you with the comfort of her pajamas and bed.

—————————————————————-

N= Nickel

Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?

“Aw what a cute Puppy-LENA PUT THAT MONEY DOWN”

“but I want to buy it for you!”

She is rich, she is in love, she will spoil you to death, I think that there’s no need to explain this. Whatever you want, look or even just thought about, you will have it, no discussion.

—————————————————————-

O= Orange

what color reminds them of their other half?

Your favorite color

—————————————————————-

P= Petnames

What pet-names do they use?

Dear - Babe - Love -Sweetheart - Baby - Dr. Y/L/N (kinky cinnamon roll)

—————————————————————-

Q= Questions

what are the questions they’re always askin?

Have you eaten yet?

Being a scientist and working for such an important company plus you being very passionate about your work, would always lead you to forget about taking care of yourself, your take more care of Lena that yourself. So Lena has to remind you to take a break, just like you do with her. The biggest problem with you is food, sometimes you will forgot to eat, so Lena is always asking you if you had something to eat.

—————————————————————-

R= Remember

Their favorite memory of each other

That moment when it was just you and her, alone, in a blanket fort at 4 am after she had a nightmare, product of the countless times when she almost faced death. She needed to get herself out of that dark world, so you build a blanket fort, drag her inside and begin talking about future projects she wanted to do, needless to say, she forget all about her nightmare, and got consumed by your voice, messy hair and paper mess.

I know a look people will think this is not romantic or shit, and you’re right, but it was what she needed, no sugary words or endless promises about keeping her safe, she needed someone to be there for her. You didn’t got scared or pity her, you were there for her, and you know when she needs to be hold and when to be distracted. You are her friend, not only her beloved, and that’s something she hadn’t figure it out yet… Until that day.

—————————————————————-

S= Sad

How they cheer themselves / each other up

Disney marathons + cuddles

Lena loves it, sometimes you’ll have to sneak some alcohol to the mix but sometimes is not even necessary, your warmth is enough for her.

She will cheer you up with kisses, cuddles and going out to do something out of the ordinary to make you forget about whatever had upset you.

—————————————————————-

T= Talking

what do they love talking about?

Science. You’re the only one that can understand her, and geek out with her. From Stars Wars conversations to the theories and number and oh my lord she won’t stop geeking.

—————————————————————-

U= Universe

Use a metaphor, what are they to each other? (e.g he was the universe, ever-changing and mysterious)

“She is made up of words that not anyone can understand, her mind is a dictionary of sadness and headache, her heart is a poetry book for the hopeless, she is the prettiest song, the most meaningful haiku, nd the longest novel, It takes a while to read her, Seconds to love her, And a lifetime to forget her”

—————————————————————-

V= Very___

they thoughts about each other (e.g she’s very smart, he’s very stubborn, they’re very annoying)

she’s can be very childish with you, you’re very fond of her, she’s very soft with you, you’re very smart

——��——————————————————-

W= Why

Reason why the love each other

You’re her everything. You’re not just a lover, someone to hold at night, you’re also her friend, and even though she has Kara, is still weird for her to have friends, and now she has you. You’re there for her, good times and bad times no matter what happens you are there, you listen to her and also know when to keep your mouth shout, but most important, you don’t have doubts about her, about the weight on her shoulders, about her turning “evil” , you trust her with your life, and that…that made her dive into you, that made her heart feel safe.

—————————————————————-

X= Xylophone

What’s they’re song?

Coldplay - Something just like this

Url: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FM7MFYoylVs

—————————————————————-

Y= You the ___ to my ___ (e.g the cookie to my milk, the macaroni to my cheese)

You’re the force to my Jedi

—————————————————————-

Z= Zebra

if they wanted a pet, what pet would they get?

#lena luthor #lena luthor imagines #lena luthor imagine #lena luthor x reader #lena x reader #katie mcgrath #supergirl #supergirl headcanons #supergirl imagines #supercorp #a to z #fluff #fem!reader

800 notes · View notes

wordshakerofgallifrey · 6 years

Text

original “Found You” beginning

a lovely nonny asked me what the original beginning for Found You was, and I am pleased to say that I did not delete it!

so under the cut is the original beginning before I added Jack’s perspective. there’s a lot from here I really liked, but in the end, I loved the beginning I ended up writing a lot more.

It wasn’t always the same, each life they were reincarnated into.

Sometimes they were royals, forced into an arranged marriage. Sometimes they were both struggling to get by. Sometimes they met as kids and grew up together. Sometimes he found her first. Sometimes she did.

Sometimes they didn’t find each other at all.

*~*~*~*~*

What started as a bet between her and Darcy turned into a wonderful, slightly terrifying, discovery.

Darcy had bet she couldn’t name ten women who wrote “real” news before World War one.

“Real news, Darcy. Really?” Katherine crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at him.

He held up his hands defensively. “I’m sorry, Kath, but it’s just a fact that women in that time mainly wrote society pieces. They didn’t write hard-hitting news. I’m not saying I agree, but…”

“Fine,” she rolled her eyes. “I’ll take your bet. What do I get when I win?”

Darcy considered this. “If you win, I’ll drive you to work for a week—” Katherine raised an eyebrow again “—two weeks, plus bring you coffee every morning. And if I win…” he sat back, eyes narrowing as he thought. “You take all my messages, schedule any of my appointments, and take notes for me in staff meeting. Two weeks.”

Katherine leaned forward on the table. “You play chauffeur, I play secretary?”

He nodded. “But,” he held up a finger. “You only have a week.”

Nodding slowly, she agreed. “Deal.” Katherine spat in her hand and held it out for Darcy to shake.

Darcy wrinkled his nose. “Kath, that’s disgusting.”

“That’s business, Darcy.” She proffered her hand again. “Come on, Darce. You know the rules. Spit shake or it doesn’t count.” They’d been doing it since they were kids, and Darcy always hated it.

But rules were rules, and Darcy was nothing if not a rule-follower. Katherine knew that. Sighing, he, too, spat in his palm and shook her hand.

It seemed so innocent at the time.

*~*~*~*~*

The first few were easy. Nellie Bly, Margaret Fuller, Ina Eloise Young. She could name them in her sleep. Eliza Lynn Linton, since Darcy allowed her to include European writers.

That’s when it got tricky.

Katherine managed to get a list of eight women before she went where she swore she’d never go again, not after she finally made it out of the intern pool.

The archives in the basement of the Sun’s office.

It was dark, fairly dusty, and freezing. Boxes stacked up a dozen high with faded labels on the front. About halfway into the room, she found a box with June 1914 written on the front.

“Well,” Katherine muttered. “Have to start somewhere.”

Two hours later, she was hungry, cold, had only found one other name, and was seriously beginning to think that being Darcy’s secretary for a couple of weeks wouldn’t be that bad, when she opened a box that said July 1899.

NEWSIES STOP THE WORLD was the headline on top.

“The whole world?” Katherine asked aloud, disbelieving. Skimming through the article, she caught the name ‘Joseph Pulitzer’. “Oh. The World. Clever.” She moved her eyes back up to read the byline.

Katherine Plumber

“Weird…” What were the odds she’d find a fellow journalist with the same name? “Now, Katherine Plumber, was this ‘real news’?”

She read the article again, something about the newsies in New York going on strike, refusing to sell papers until Pulitzer and Hearst brought the price of the newspapers back down. A group of kids with barely a nickel to their name formed a union to fight against two of the biggest media tycoons of the day.

“I think that counts,” Katherine declared, flipping to the page that was paper-clipped to the paper. “‘Newsies Banner’,” she read aloud. “Also Katherine Plumber. ‘In the words of union leader, Jack Kelly’… Jack Kelly?” Why did that name sound familiar?

Katherine looked back at the stack of newspapers she’d gathered. Flipping through one of them, she landed on a cartoon of Theodore Roosevelt. In the corner, there was a scribbled J. Kelly.

There were a thousand J names, but it seemed unlikely that this was a different Kelly that had been mentioned in the Banner.

“Wait…” Flipping back to her list of journalists, she read the last name on the list. “Katherine Kelly… Any relation?” Looking back at the copy of the Sun, she scanned the photo of the newsies union, wondering which one of the boys could be Jack.

She paused at the young man standing in the middle, glaring at the camera. He had dark hair and an even darker scowl. Katherine was sure she’d never seen him before—how could she, if he lived in 1899?—but there was just something about him…

“Jack?” she whispered.

Suddenly, she was slammed with an onslaught of mental images. Not images, per se, more like… memories.

Crumpled papers fall from above. The start of their strike.

He’s an incorrigible flirt.

She pretends not to love it.

A rooftop kiss, filled with hope for beginnings, fear for endings. She wonders if he’ll leave her.

Victory. They win. He’s staying.

“For sure?”

“For sure.”

Her eyes flew open. “What. The. Hell?” she whispered.

Katherine couldn’t explain the way her heart was pounding, why her hands were shaking, or why she felt such a strong connection to some other Katherine Plumber and this Jack Kelly.

Shaking her head quickly, she picked up the copy of the Sun, the Newsies Banner, a handful of articles she’d found by Katherine Kelly, and shoved them all in her bag, stood and got the hell out of there.

*~*~*~*~*

Her deadline came and went without her noticing.

She spent the weekend thinking about Jack Kelly. She just… Couldn’t get him out of her head. Some seventeen-year-old kid, who was alive nearly a hundred years ago. Sure, she supposed he was handsome, but it was more than that. It was like… she’d been missing something her life, and suddenly found it, but didn’t know what it was.

It reminded her of a story her sister used to read her, a story about people who led multiple lives. Who came back time and time again as different people. And, sometimes, they had someone who came back with them. You could never have one without the other.

Could she and Jack…?

Katherine couldn’t shake the feeling that it could be possible.

And it was driving her crazy.

Finally, Monday rolled around again, and she had to face Darcy.

“Good morning, Katherine,” he greeted her when she walked into staff meeting. “Should I have picked you up this morning, or will you be taking notes for me?”

“Later,” Katherine insisted, hoping she didn’t appear as frazzled as she felt. She pulled her laptop out of her bag. “I have to show you something.”

“Like, my schedule for this week?” He teased, sitting next to her.

“Darcy.” Her tone made it clear this was the end of their conversation. Thankfully, he took the hint.

“Alright, people!” Their boss, Bryan Denton, walked in, calling for order. “Let’s put out a paper.”

After the meeting, Katherine made a detour to her desk to drop her bag and turn on her computer. As her computer booted on, she pulled out the articles she’d—well, stolen, for lack of better word. She was driving herself insane, staring at them over and over. Maybe Darcy could be of some help.

Once she’d logged in and cleared any important emails, Katherine crossed the floor to Darcy’s desk. He leaned back in his chair as she approached.

“Hey, Kath. Are you okay?”

“Look at this,” she placed the paper in front of him in lieu of answering. “Katherine Plumber. Same name.”

“So?” Darcy shrugged. “Is she one of your ten journalists?”

“Well, yeah. But that’s not the point. Katherine Plumber only wrote two ‘real’ articles. But then…” she put down a couple more articles from later editions of the Sun she’d found. “See? Katherine Kelly. She wrote about local unions, a couple of investigative reports.”

Darcy peered over his glasses at her. “I’m still not following, Kath.”

“I think she’s the same person. See, Katherine Plumber was blacklisted for writing the Newsies article. But then, she married Jack Kelly, the Newsies union leader… I think.” She pointed him out in the photo. “Katherine Kelly was never blacklisted, so she published under her married name.”

Instead of being impressed with her findings, Darcy had the audacity to look smug. “Well, if she’s the same person, then you only found nine female journalists and I win—”

Katherine slapped a hand down on his desk. “Darcy! That’s not the point!”

The smug look dropped from his face. “Then what is?”

“Darce… I think she’s me.”

Darcy rolled back in his chair. “You lost me again.”

“Do you think… it’s possible that…” Katherine wasn’t sure how to ask the question without sounding crazy. “Do you think reincarnation is possible?”

*~*~*~*~*

Katherine took her lunch early, feeling suffocated in the office. Darcy hadn’t believed her, not that she really expected him to. But she’d hoped for a little support.

He thought she was just tired, overworked. He told her she was reaching. “It’s just a coincidence, Kath,” he said. “You weren’t a reporter in 1899. You didn’t marry this Jack Kelly.” He went so far as to retract the bet. And while she was grateful she wouldn’t have to be Darcy’s secretary for two weeks, Katherine did not appreciate him treating her like a child.

It could be possible, right? That she and… Jack had met each other in different circumstances, in different lives? She couldn’t remember much—the memories from Friday were already fading. Struggling to recall anything, Katherine crossed her arms, and put her head down, taking a left outside the building and making her way down the busy sidewalk.

She’s not sure how long she walked, wrapped up in her thoughts, before she knocked shoulders with someone walking opposite of her.

Turning to apologize, Katherine looked up into the face of Jack Kelly.

“Sorry, miss,” he said, before shoving his hands in his pockets and continuing on his way.

She’s in Medda’s theatre, reviewing the show.

She’s in Jacobi’s, asks him about his union and his strike.

She writes her article, worries it’s not good enough.

She celebrates their front-page story with the other Newsies.

She encourages Jack to go back to the strike, to not give up, to fight for Crutchie.

She’s in her father’s office, holds back tears when she sees the betrayed look on Jack’s face.

She’s in the basement of the World, printing the Banner.

She’s in Newsies Square, basking in their victory.

And, just like that, every other past life is flashing in her mind’s eye.

***

Wanna Razzle?”

“Razzles are for kids,” she tries to say snootily, but he sees through it.

“Exactly.” He pours the candy in her hand, and she pops it in her mouth. They stick their tongues out at each other, giggling at the bright red color the candy turned them.

“Arrivederci.”

“Au revoir.”

***

“You’re a regular Prince Charming, aren’t you?”

“I have a name, you know.”

“Nope.” Names are dangerous. If she knows his name, she’ll get attached. She can’t afford to get attached. “Charming suits you.”

***

“I guess we surprised everyone.”

He laughs. It’s bittersweet. “I guess we did.” She drops her head to his chest. She can’t believe he’s leaving. “I’ll never be sorry,” he says softly.

She looks him in the eye. “Neither will I.”

***

And a dozen others, flickering past one another, blurring until she couldn’t see straight. Until she could only think one thing.

I have to find Jack.

#i def could've included a spit shake #still angry @ me for that #but anyways #found you #monstrosity fic #disney writes stuff #anon #pls come talk to me XD #i have many feelings about this monstrosity

5 notes · View notes

ukulelewrites · 7 years

Text

Epiphany

A/N: omgomgomg after a billion years I finally finished my first full length fic *applause* Anyways ty to the beautiful network of people that are the #1 hype squad @smols-n-tols. I hope you guys enjoy~

Pairing: NCT’s Ten x Reader

Genre: Angst/Fluff/Slight Humor? Just Another Soulmate!AU ™

Word Count: roughly 4k

It was the way your heart ached when you knew: another break-up, another death, another affair.

You learned of this defect when you were younger. You’d hear your mother talk quietly to your grandmother about it, about how her daughter had La Douleur Exquise. Your soulmate in your past life rejected you; the heartbreak he bestowed upon you stayed with you into your next life and the life after that. The ache only ends when they finally accept you as their soulmate. The probability of finding your soulmate in the world is one out of seven billion. Of course the rules of the universe do not punish you for not finding your soulmate; it only punishes you when you’re rejected by them. The ache only appeared when you were near someone else with a broken heart.

You remember passing by the golden couple in senior year and feeling the familiar ache. You remember staying at your aunt’s house after your uncle’s funeral and feeling sharp pangs in your chest. The pain amplified with the severity of the heartbreak. That golden couple was just another ill-fated high school romance, doomed from the start. However, your aunt and uncle were soulmates; they were tied together by the numbers written across their right wrist, their soulmark. The six numbers were simple; the first two showed your soulmate’s birthday, the next two was your soulmate’s birth month, and the last two were the ending two numbers of their birth year. 270296. Those were printed in red ink across your wrist, a constant reminder of your past’s rejection.

You blew another bubble towards the toddlers that waddled around you. It was your town’s annual spring carnival, and your friend roped you into helping her out. She sat at the picnic table turning children into tigers and pandas while you entertained the little ones with bubbles and the occasional fairy tale. It was your fourth telling of Cinderella when your friend closed up shop for lunch. Her shirt was stained with blobs of paint, her face covered in splatters of glitter, and flecks of paint found their way to her hair. “Do you think any of the food trucks have anything for three dollars and a nickel?” she asked as she counted the loose change in her palm. You paid no mind to what she said as you were too preoccupied with the ache in your chest. At this point in time, you couldn’t help but muse at the possibilities. Another unrequited love? Another failed teen romance? The possibilities were endless, especially with the amount of people around you. “Another heartache?” your friend asked with a wry smile.

You kept your sleeves pulled past your hands. It was freshman year of high school, and after the hellhole of middle school, you weren’t showing your mark to anyone. You didn’t even understand why they wanted to see; multiple people share the same birthdays. Their soulmate might not be the stoner that sat next to them in class, but it could be his salutatorian twin brother. Your parents made it known that even if they share birthdays; you will know. They say it’s the magnetic pull that person has on you. Your soulmate will pull you in, and you will pull them in. At least, that’s how it’s supposed to go. You kept your head down, keeping your eyes on the tattered bio textbook. If you stayed quiet and didn’t anything too drastic, no one will notice you. No one will notice the red numbers on your wrist. You were so engrossed by your thoughts that you didn’t noticed the girl that slipped into the stool next to you. “Hello!” she said before snapping her gum, “I’m (F/N).”

It was that day when you found solace in someone else. She would hover around you in the classes you shared, and she found her way at your lunch table halfway through sophomore year. It was the first time you had someone you could call a friend. It was a Saturday night in junior year when you showed her your mark. You expected her to apologize or to look at you in disgust, like all those other people did before, but she didn’t. She gave it a once over and then proceeded to ask for more popcorn. It was that moment when you realized you found your best friend.

Your t-shirt clung uncomfortably to your back as you waited for your pink lemonade. The boy who took your order kept on banging his head on the window whenever he stuck his head out to call out numbers. “96! Order 96! One pink lemonade!” he called out. You wove your way through the crowd that was gathered around the cart and handed him your ticket. “Yo, Y/N, is that you?” You looked up to see Johnny Seo, the boy who sat behind you in AP Chem senior year. Also the boy who happened to be your best friend’s soulmate. “Yeah, (F/N) is over there by Taeyong’s truck if you want to see her before she’s taken away by the toddlers again.” He playfully sent a glare towards the food truck across from his. “Ya know, the name Dungeon Truck might scare some customers away, but look at our food! Pink lemonade, grilled cheese, smiley face tater-tots, it’s all for the irony. Right, Hansol?” The blonde stuck his head from behind Johnny and gave a quick nod before returning his attention back to his grilled cheese. “Your food is bomb, Johnny. But, TY Truck has Taeyong and Jaehyun. You can’t really beat that. Plus Winwin’s ice cream truck is doing really well too!” Kun perked up from behind Johnny before being swatted away from your view by the latter.

“When all the boys of Nu Chi Tau decide to compete with food trucks, you know the popularity of the spring carnival skyrockets,” (F/N) absentmindedly said as she dug her spoon into the scoop of chocolate ice cream that sat between you two. You can tell she was watching the flock of girls that swarmed around Johnny’s truck; she absentmindedly swiped her thumb across her soulmark. “Eh, he knows you’ll kill him if he tries anything,” you said while sipping at your drink. The ache was coming back. You looked around you and only saw smiling faces, and you hoped to god this ache wasn’t because of (F/N). Luckily, Johnny came over to steal your best friend away, and the pain was still there after they left. “At least, they’re in love,” you wistfully thought to yourself, “but why does it still hurt?” You stood up, hoping for some form of relief, but it got worse. “It’s fine; I’ll be fine,” you repeated as you cleared off the picnic bench. You decided to go back to the face paint tent and find solace in the toddlers. (F/N) was already there by the time you got back, and she was lovingly painting a dick on Johnny’s face. The toddlers weren’t back yet, thank god. You quickly approached the loving couple.

“Oh, (F/N), I forgot to introduce you to my friend. He just moved back here, and he’s rejoining Nu Chi and-” Johnny was cut off.

“That’s very nice, sweetie, but I need to finish this before the kids come back.”

You didn’t want to interrupt the moment between them, but the pain was too much. “(F/N)-”

Johnny interrupted you, “Hey (F/N), my friend is right behind (Y/N)! Did you guys meet alrea-” You fainted before he could finish his sentence. The last thing you remembered was a pair of arms catching you before you could hit the ground.

You opened your eyes to the familiar sight of your dorm’s beige walls. (F/N) was pacing around the room. You lifted yourself off of the bed, “(F/N), are you okay?”

She whipped her head towards you, and her eyes grew comically large, “You faint in the middle of the spring carnival, and you’re asking if I’m okay? You’re really something, (Y/N).”

“It’s nothing bad. My heartache just got really bad, and it probably got too much and- How did I get back to the dorm? You aren’t exactly the strongest person in the world.”

“Oh, Johnny’s friend brought us back to the dorm because my boyfriend couldn’t leave Hansol alone in the truck to talk to customers,” she rolled her eyes at the last half of her comment. She then smirked. “You know, his friend is really cute by the way. Like, he’s a definite 10.”

You snorted, “You know I’m not interested in dating anyone.”

“Who said you guys had to date? A simple, nice-” You threw a pillow at her face.

It has been two days since the spring carnival, and (F/N) is still talking about the friend. “He’s a definite 10, like-” You slammed your book shut and shot her a dirty look before storming out of the library. She knew by now that you had no interest in dating; you weren’t interested in the fact they’ll run off once they see your wrist. The makeup covered up the ugly red numbers well, but you knew if anyone got too close, they’d see it. Then, your heart started aching again. This one just as intense as the spring carnival one. You tripped over your own feet and landed hard onto the sidewalk. You ignored the curious glances as you curled up into a ball and let out a cry. “It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it-” those thoughts kept playing through your head, and another cry parted your lips. Then you felt a hand on your shoulder; it made another ache shoot through your heart, but you felt warmth from it. The person was trying to help you up. “No stop, it hurts, it hurts, IT HURTS!” your mind shouted out. You were sitting upright now and from behind your hair you looked up.

He looked so kind. Your eyes couldn’t help brim with tears again. Your heart ached so much, but you couldn’t help it. He was ethereal. You couldn’t help but want him, even if it tore your heart apart. The way he tilted his head; the way his nose sloped cutely upwards; the way his- no, stop, please stop. Your heart ached harder the more your thoughts wandered. That was when you knew; he was your soulmate. That was when you jolted to your feet.

You booked it. Your legs and arms pumping hard, carrying you anywhere, anywhere but there. The ache was dulling the further you got away, but the tears kept on coming. You ended up in front of the Nu Chi building. The door was always unlocked, so you barged right on in to find your source of comfort. “Yuta!” you called out as you walked up their stairs, but your legs were too weak at this point. You fell down onto the steps and let out another sob, “Yuta, I need you.”

“(Y/N), are you okay?” he was dressed for soccer practice, but he stopped his tracks when he saw you there. “C’mon, let’s go to my room.”

He wrapped you up in the fuzzy blanket and gave you a box of tissues. “What happened?” That was when you told him everything he missed out on while he was away: the spring carnival, the friend, the heartache, the whole soulmate thing. He sat the on the floor listening to everything. He didn’t care that the sun was down now, and coach was gonna be on his ass for missing practice because you were here. You were there upset and crying on his bed; there was no way he could leave you alone during all of this. He remembered when his soulmark turned blue; his soulmate died, and he’d never meet her in this lifetime. He remembered every emotion he went through, and there was no way he’d let you go through that.

“If he’s a member of Nu Chi, then he’d be back home soon. You should probably head home soon,” Yuta said as the noise level downstairs went up.

“Are you making me walk home alone, in the dark, in this state?” you pouted from your blanket fort.

He wavered for a minute, “Fine, I’ll walk you home, and maybe I’ll figure out who it is. If we’re talking newer members that recently came back or joined, Mark, Winwin, Donghyuk…”

Your heart came back to kick you in the ass. “God fucking damnit,” you uttered. The ache amplified as the footsteps towards Yuta’s bedroom got louder. You shut your eyes shut and pulled the blanket closer to yourself. Yuta’s eyes widened in realization. The door was thrown open, and he was there. “Yuta, I was- Hey, you’re the girl from earlier…” he was cut off by your very dramatic reenactment of the spring carnival incident.

“It’s Ten, isn’t it?” (F/N) when she noticed that your eyes were open. Yuta must’ve taken you back to your dorm.

“Yeah, it’s the 10 out of fucking 10 guy you were talking about-”

“His name is Ten; he just returned from some dance competition in Thailand, and he’s your soulmate,” she blurted out in one breath. Disbelief was written all over her face. You scooted over on your bed to make room for her. The two of you laid side by side, trying to decypher the situation.

“You know, if he’s your soulmate, and he accepts you. Doesn’t that mean this whole heartache thing goes away?”

“If he accepts me. Remember, he rejected me in the past; he can do it again.”

“But that was a past-him. This is present him; who happens to have a black soulmark, so he doesn’t know about any past rejections. This is a chance for you to get rid of this stupid curse and to finally have a soulmate that, you know, reciprocates.”

“How can he accept me if I can barely be near him without passing out?”

“Skype? Snapchat? You use technology more than I do!” (F/N) threw her hands up into the air.

“I know, but still, online relationships don’t work out most of the time. Plus, won’t he think something is weird if I live on the same campus as him but only want to see him online?”

She paused for a moment, “True, what if there’s a way to hold off the pain?”

She had dragged you to some voodoo bullshit shop tucked away in some back alley. “(Y/N), Em here will help you with everything. After all, she was the one who directed me to Johnny,” (F/N) said with a satisfied look on her face.

“No, (F/N), 10 shots of tequila and a lap dance directed Johnny to you.”

“Same difference, Em was the one who told me to go to the party. She said, ‘Don’t fret over mistakes, instead live freely and release your bad vibes.’ I totally failed my internship interview that day, but she told me to go to the party instead of moping in my room. I went to that party instead and met my soulmate!”

“Or you took some lady’s hella broad advice and coincidentally met your soulmate at a party. You could’ve easily gone out with me that night to release your ‘bad vibes.’”

Before (F/N) could reply, a small woman came out from the back room. She quickly went up to (F/N) and engulfed her in a hug. “My beautiful child, have you come here for me to read your fate again? I assume all is well with Mr. Tall & Handsome?” She topped it off with a wink. Yeah, you had to get out of here.

“And who is this lovely lady?” she said as she sauntered up to you.

“I’m (Y/N), and this is a mistake. I really should get—” you were cut off when she suddenly grabbed you by the arm and pulled your wrist closer to her. Her thumb swiped at your wrist until the makeup came off, revealing your glaringly red soulmark. Her eyes widened, “He has found you. No, you have found him. He must know of this,” she rubbed the soulmark again. Her grasp on your arm loosened, and she hurried into her backroom. (F/N) gave you an “I-told-you-so” look. The woman came back out and tightly wrapped red string around your wrist; she then covered it with black fabric. “This will lessen the pain. Replace the red string every week or so.” (F/N) hurriedly grabbed your arm and yanked you out the door while shouting goodbye to the little lady.

“There’s no way in hell—”

“Shut up, it’s going to work, and you will finally have some bombass dick in your life.”

It was the night after your meeting with the small lady, and (F/N) decided to put the bracelet to the test. That was how the two of you ended up outside of Nu Chi, ready for a typical frat party. The slight ache in your chest was still there, but was overshadowed by the rapid thumping of your heart against your ribcage. A slight lightheadedness overcame you as you walked up the steps. (F/N) wrapped her arm around your shoulders and maneuvered you through the crowd. She led you to the basement where Johnny sat, nursing a cup of liquor. Ten was nowhere in sight. “Johnny!” (F/N) exclaimed as she plopped down on his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. You awkwardly stood in the center of the room, “So Johnny, any pledges worth noting?”

“You hoe,” he joked, “Nah, well, Ten returned from his dance competition, but I bet you he’s banging some chick upstairs now.”

“How, er, lovely. Anyways, where’s the liquor?”

Johnny absentmindedly waved his cup towards the stairs, “Don’t get too shit faced!”

You maneuvered around the dancing bodies towards the kitchen. Yuta was standing at the counter mixing hell knows what into his cup. “(Y/N), you actually came tonight!”

“I decided not to hole myself up with my textbook for once,” you shouted over the music. He gave you your own cup and guided you to the backyard.

“So, Ten’s your soulmate?” he asked after the two of you sat down on the grass.

“I guess so, but it doesn’t really mean anything at this point. Like, he might not even feel that connection thing between us.”

Then a voice came from above, “Hey Yuta, got any cond—oh, you have company.”

You looked up to see Ten sticking his head out the window and couldn’t help but notice the curtain of pink hair that fell beside him. You bit the inside of your cheek in annoyance at the slight ache that ran through your chest. Yuta carefully looked over to you before replying, “Second drawer from the top in my bedside drawer!” You chugged down the rest of your cup.

Yuta kept you away from the liquor after you drained two cups in the matter of minutes. “Okay, (Y/N), I’m going to leave you here for a second. Don’t go near the bar, or I swear to god…” he shouted over the music. You leaned against the wall and fiddled with the hem of your shirt. Suddenly, the ache returned. You looked around but didn’t see him anywhere. You tugged irritably at the band of fabric around your wrist. “Useless piece of shit—” your muttering was cut off by a slight brush against your shoulder. Suddenly, a surge of warmth and ease moved throughout your body. A tingling sensation surged over you, and you, embarrassingly enough, let out a low moan. “Uh, hey, are you okay?” someone said to you as their hands tried to help steady you. Another wave of euphoria washed over your body; you slowly peeked your eyes open to see Ten peering down at you. His eyes widened in realization, “Hey! You’re that girl that keeps passing out whenever I meet you! Glad to see you in a conscious state, I’m Ten.” He extended his hand; you eyed it warily before grasping it firmly. You quickly regretted it as more warmth washed over you; a whimper barely escaped your lips before you grimaced, “Nice to meet you too.” Soon the pink haired girl appeared behind him, whispered in his ear, and whisked him away.

“So you’re telling me that instead of feeling pain now when you’re around him, you feel euphoria?” (F/N) asked bewildered. Some nearby students glared at her; the librarian shot her a glare.

“Well technically, I have to touch him to-” a quick glare cut you off, “Yeah, it’s euphoria now instead of pain.” Right as you said that, a sharp pang returned to your chest, then the pink haired girl walked quickly past you, tears streaming down her face. You then noticed a guilty looking Ten sitting two tables away from yours. (F/N) nudged your foot, sending you a look, “Go talk to him.” Anxiety soon gnawed at your stomach, “Ya know, (F/N), I don’t feel well right now, I’m just gonna lea-” she glared at you, “Okay, okay, fine, I’ll talk to him.” You stood up and collected all of your books before making your way towards his table. “Um, hey, Ten. It’s Girl Faints-A-Lot,” you cringe internally at the poorly chosen nickname, but your anxiety softened at the light chuckle he emitted. “Girl Faints-A-Lot, huh? What about your real name?” he motioned for you to sit across from him, which you gladly took, and as you were organizing your pens, you told him your name. “(Y/N), hm, doesn’t quite roll off of the tongue like Girl Faints-A-Lot, right?” he was smirking at you now, and you couldn’t help but physically cringe at the name again. “Please don’t ever, just, no. I want to take back that entire statement now,” you said as you buried your face behind your face. Ten grabbed your hands and pulled them away from your face, causing a warmth to run through you, “I don’t know, (Y/N). I thought it was pretty cute.” He then released your arms from his grasp and walked out of the library.

The next time you saw Ten was at a small get-together at Nu Chi’s house. (F/N) casually plopped herself down on Johnny’s lap, and you took a seat on the floor nearby Ten’s feet. With a strong sense of courage, and before your shame could sink in, you leaned against Ten’s leg, sighing as the warmth washed over you. Then you felt a hand rest itself on your head before it ran through your hair; you couldn’t help stop the smile that crept itself onto your lips. You heard a low chuckle from behind you, so you leaned your head back to see Ten smiling down at you.

You don’t know how it happened, but slowly the relationship between you and Ten began to blossom into something a little bit more. However, as the affections increased, whatever magic that was in the bracelet was beginning to wear off. At first when the pangs came back around Ten, you brushed it off as another break-up within the frat. However, one night when you and Ten were alone in the library cramming for the final, the pangs came back full force, causing you to lurch forward in your seat. Ten quickly grabbed your hand, “(Y/N), you okay?” You waved him off, giving an excuse about a cramp before packing up your things and running out of the door.

You sat in front of Em, fidgeting in your seat under her scrutiny. “So the bracelet stopped working?” she questioned. You quickly nodded, “Everything was going fine, but then one day it just, poof, went back to normal.” She hummed under her breath as she scoured through her bookshelves trying to find something to explain it. She then caught sight of a small leather booklet laid haphazardly on the top of a pile of junk, grabbing it quickly, and flipping through the pages. “Ah hah!” she exclaimed before rushing towards you, “He is in the stage of falling for you! The bracelet stopped working because you don’t need it anymore. Just get him to fall for you full-heartedly, and you’ll be free!” You sat there in silence, absorbing the newfound information, “But Em, how am I supposed to get him to fall full-heartedly for me if I can’t even approach him?” She waved you off as she went to her backroom, “That’s not my problem, darling. Don’t you kids have, what’s it called? Snapcat?”

After days of avoiding Ten, you realized that running away from all of this wasn’t going to fix your situation, so that was how you ended up in Ten’s room fiddling with the ends of your hoodie. “I’m sorr-” you started, but Ten quickly enveloped you in his arms; you tried your best to fight off the wince. “God, as long as you’re okay,” he murmured into your hair. You could’ve stayed like that forever, but you came here with a purpose, so you nudged him off of you and, with a quiet voice, said, “You don’t have to care so much, Ten. Our whole thing is only temporary until you meet your soulmate.” The end of your sentence trailed off, and you tried to ease the tension in the room with a half-hearted laugh which quickly died off when you saw the expression on Ten’s face. “I don’t believe in that stuff, (Y/N),” he said, stone-faced. You looked at him questionably, “What do you mean? Everyone believes in it even if they say the-” your voice caught in the back of your throat when you finally realized something you should’ve noticed a lot earlier; his wrists were bare. Absolutely zero ink of any kind adorn his wrists. At that realization you stood up with shaky legs, “Oh well, I’m so so sorry. I just thought, I don’t know how to say...Ten, you’re my soulmate.” After you finished those words you bolted out the door, fearing rejection once again.

“Order 96! Order 96!” the barista hollered from behind the counter of the college’s cafe. You handed her your ticket and took your drink, giving her a quick thank you before you headed for the door; however, your steps stilled once you heard a familiar voice call out your name. “(Y/N)! (Y/N)!” You knew it was him, so for the third time in your life, you ran out the doors away from him. However, this time, he ran after you. Ten caught up to you quickly and stopped you. You winced at the increased intensity of the pain, but something in you couldn’t make you pull away. You heard Ten panting softly as he turned you around to face him. “(Y/N), I talked to (F/N), okay? I know you suffer from La whatever something in French, okay? But I want you to know that I love you, and I’m not saying this out of sympathy or whatever other bullshit excuse you made up in your head to justify you avoiding me. I’m saying I love you because you stay up til 3am helping me study for my Econ final which you’re not even taking; I love you because you never complain whenever I have dance practice until dead into the night and have to cancel our date plans, yet you still show up to my studio with snacks and drinks, and lastly, I love you because you’re you. Okay? I don’t know how stupid past me must’ve been to reject the most amazing woman to have entered my life. Well, after my mom, but you know what I mean.” You stood there in awe, trying to run his monologue through your mind. Ten was growing antsy at your silence, “Oh screw it.” He pulled you closer to him and pressed his lips firmly against yours. Your eyes widened in shock before fluttering closed, and in front of the cafe, with a hot chocolate with one hand, you felt the pangs in your chest melt away into warmth.

#nct #nct u #nct ten #nct fic #nct scenarios #nct ten fic #nct ten scenarios #ten #ten chittaphon #ten scenarios #ten fic

202 notes · View notes

lumiolivier · 7 years

Text

Chapter Twenty-Six: Serving My Nickel

Word Count: 6174

Chapter No. 26/?

Notes: I was going to have this up earlier, but an anxiety fit and a depression spell fucked that up for you. I’m sorry. Also, there’s a bit of violence in this chapter. Just so you know. Also! There’s a little bit of fan fiction in this chapter, too! For Free!. A part two of the first part that you can find here.

Chapter Twenty Five: Hello Kitty

I’m up way too damn early…and empty. Five o'clock, how I hate you so. I’m not even working at the café anymore! Come on, body…But I didn’t really have much of a problem with it. I knew what was waiting for me down the road. I didn’t even bother with a shower yet. Instead, I threw my clothes in an overnight bag and took off for Julian’s. I opened his front door and threw my bag on his couch. When I peeked into his bedroom, Julian was nowhere to be found. Where the hell did he disappear to?

Oh well. I pulled his blankets over me and made myself comfortable. He’s still here. His car was anyway. His keys, phone, and wallet were still on his nightstand. I did hear the shower turn on. At least someone didn’t come and steal him in the middle of the night, so that’s a plus. I rolled over and shut my eyes for maybe a minute or two. Next thing I knew, a warm body pressed up against my back.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” a pair of lips grazed my temple.

“Good morning,” I rolled into Julian’s chest, “Tell Griffin to fuck off and stay with me.”

“I’d love to,” he assured, “Believe me. But I can’t do that. You know better. I’d like to keep my Crunchyroll premium account and the couple of subscription boxes I get once in a while. Not to mention, I got a thing tomorrow.”

“Friday already?” I groaned.

“It is,” Julian held me tight, “And I can’t wait for you to see what tomorrow holds.”

“You could just tell me now,” I suggested.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he poked at me, “I’d love to stick around and cuddle, but I have to go do your old babysitting job.”

“I do not miss that,” I drawled, “Kyle being a pain in my ass is no longer my problem.”

“No,” Julian grumbled, “It’s mine. I’ll see you when I get off, ok?”

“Ok,” I sighed out as he pulled the blankets back over me.

“Might not have gotten to tuck you in last night,” he gave me one last kiss, “But I’ll be damned if I don’t get to now.”

“Are you sure you can’t stay?” I whined.

“Positive,” Julian cradled my face in his hand, “Go back to sleep. And when you wake up, get some work done. I want a notification in my email saying you updated today.”

“I will,” I shut my eyes again.

“I love you, Mimi.”

“Love you, too,” I fell back to sleep. Sleepy time. Nighty night.

I fully believed Julian’s bed had magical powers. No one could convince me otherwise. Never have I ever slept so hard and so soundly since I started sleeping here. Five stars on Yelp. However, when I woke up, I had to knock that rating down a star. Woke up alone. Dislike. Four stars. Until I walked into the living room. Three stars. Can’t tell Julian and Paul were playing last night. Controllers thrown haphazardly on the living room floor. Dorito crumbs and empty soda cans everywhere.

How did I not see this when I came in? In my defense, I was still half dead when I came in, but still, this was ridiculous. I love Julian with all my heart and Paul was getting there, but I never would’ve guessed two adult men were playing video games in here last night. I couldn’t leave it like this. I had an update to work on, but there was no way I could do anything in a painfully and unnecessarily cluttered workspace. And I’m starting with these damn cans.

I busted the tabs off and threw them in the key bowl. One never knows when these come in handy. I’ve heard of cosplayers using them for chainmail. Although, the average person uses them for hangers. That’s the beauty of being a creature like myself, like Julian. One learns to MacGyver like a machine. Once the cans were taken care of, I swept the Doritos in the living room. At least there’s no carpet to contend with.

I put the controllers in the drawer of Julian’s entertainment center and was finally left to create. All I needed was a quick booting of Julian’s laptop. I’m sure he didn’t mind. I just wish I had saved the beginning of the Free! fic on the site. Unfortunately, I didn’t have that much foresight. When I started writing it, I didn’t think I’d start dating someone. Let alone a Julian.

I could do this. I had to post this one-shot today. If I didn’t, I’d self-flagellate to atone for the great sin that would be. It had been so long since I worked on it, I didn’t even remember what was happening. I knew the mermaid was in Rin’s bathtub. Haru had a shit fit about getting a mermaid tail. Rin yelled at him for being weird. Maybe I’ll skip to the part with Rin’s sister Gou.

“We can’t leave her here, Rin,” Haru pouted, “You think we should take her to the pool?”

“Because taking her into public would be a great idea?” Rin sassed, “No. We’re not taking her to the pool or anywhere until she gets her land legs.”

“I’m sorry,” Naomi apologized with such a sadness in her voice, “I didn’t want to be this much trouble. Maybe my father was right and I should’ve stayed in the water.”

“Your old man sounds like a smart guy,” Haru grumbled.

“Haru,” Rin snapped back.

“I’ve always dreamed of the surface,” Naomi sighed dreamily, “I heard of my older sisters coming up when they came of age. They’d meet people and fall in love. One of my sisters married a human and never found water again. I miss her…”

“What’s her name?” he tried to comfort her.

“Elizabeth,” she smiled a little, “She and I were quite close when she was under the water. Our mother got caught in a fishing boat when we were young, so Elizabeth practically raised me. I’d give anything to see her again.”

“Anything?” Haru grinned darkly, “Would you give your tail for it?”

“Haru,” Rin gave him a swat upside his head, “We talked about this.”

“But he’s right, Rin,” Naomi admitted, “I’d give my tail to see Elizabeth again. I’d rather have my legs, so she and I could never be apart again. I could meet her husband. Maybe she has children. I’d love to meet them, too.”

“Maybe,” Rin took her hand, “Haru, I need you to do me a favor.”

“What?” Haru looked over at him with great skepticism.

“I need you to call Gou,” he begged, “I’m sure she could help.”

“Gou?” Haru whined, “I can’t call Gou. She’d get a nosebleed. You know she’s nuts for me.”

“Please?”

“Dammit!” Haru stormed out of the bathroom, already dialing Gou’s number.

“Um, Rin,” Naomi chimed in, “Who’s Gou?”

“My sister,” Rin settled her, “Once you make it out of my bathtub, you’ll have to blend in with regular humans. And we still have to find Elizabeth, right?”

“That’s right,” her face lit up, “Maybe she’s around here. You found me on these shores. Maybe Elizabeth is here, too.”

“How can we tell humans from mermaids?” Rin asked, “Is there a way?”

“A mermaid can sense another mermaid,” Naomi told him, “I can tell you who’s naturally born human and who isn’t.”

“Ok,” he still tried wrapping his head around everything that’s happened, “We should get you a wheelchair, though. At least while you have your tail. You can’t walk yet.”

“I haven’t tried,” she slapped her tail on the side of the tub, “I washed up on the beach and you’ve carried me everywhere. Maybe if I try…”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Naomi,” Rin stopped her, “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Gou’s on her way,” Haru came back into the bathroom, “I didn’t tell her Naomi was a mermaid. All she knows is your girlfriend needed some clothes.”

“You told Gou she was my girlfriend?!”

“I had to get her off my back somehow!”

“Please,” Naomi shut them up, “Don’t fight.”

“Thanks, Haru,” Rin scoffed, “Now, I have to deal with that fallout.”

“Rin!” Gou squealed through her brother’s apartment, “Where are you?”

“That was quick,” Haru chuckled under his breath.

“Rin!” her voice sang.

“Play nice,” Rin shoved his finger in Haru’s face, leaving the bathroom to contend with his sister, “Hey, Gou.”

“When did you get a girlfriend?” Gou freaked, “I thought you were doing the whole unattached thing.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Rin clarified, “She’s this girl I rescued on the beach this morning. It’s been a long, taxing day.”

“Haru!” she squealed, “You’re so mean! You lied to me!”

“A little secret between you and me,” Rin smirked, getting his revenge, “That’s almost like him telling you he loves you.”

“What?” Gou’s heart stopped, “Really? You’re not just saying that, are you?”

“No,” he assured, “That’s the way Haru is.”

“Where is he?” Gou asked.

“In the bathroom with her.”

“Haruka!” Gou snarled, storming to the bathroom, “You two timer! You can’t be with a girl in the bathroom! That’s just weird! What the hell is going on in here?!

“I probably should’ve told you,” Rin braced himself, “Gou, this is Naomi. She’s a mermaid.”

“Hi,” Naomi smiled sweetly, “You’re Rin’s sister?”

“Yeah,” Gou gave her a mistrusting look, “Of course he’s cheating on me with a mermaid.”

“Cheating on you?” Haru worried, “We’re not together, Gou. No matter what Rin said.”

“Sure,” she nodded in disbelief, “Our love life can take a backseat for now. Rin, how do you end up with a mermaid?”

“She washed up on the beach,” Rin explained, “She’s looking to find her sister.”

“She can’t walk on land, though,” Gou pointed out, “She’s got a tail where her legs should be!”

“Rin,” Naomi interrupted, “I really want to try walking.”

“You think you can?” Rin wondered, a little nervous.

“I can try,” she shrugged, “Maybe you could help me out of the tub first?”

“Sure,” Rin took her hand and sat her on the edge, “Are you ready?”

“I just move one side of my tail like…this…” Naomi twitched her tailfin, “And this one goes like this…”

The scales on her bottom half started fading away and her tail split in two. Rin held Naomi’s hands, helping her walk, “You got it. Just keep moving.”

“Is this walking?” she wondered, her legs taking shape and her fins becoming feet.

“This is walking,” Rin beamed. He couldn’t have been prouder, “You may want to take it easy your first time out of the gate.”

“Does this mean you’ve lost your tail?” Haru sounded so disappointed.

“Not permanently,” Naomi promised, “All I need to do is jump back into seawater again and my tail comes back. Then, once I return to land, I’ll have my legs. I guess it took me a minute to get mine. Let’s go outside. I want to feel the sun on my skin and see so many new things.”

“Sure,” he agreed, “We can go outside.”

“And we can look for Elizabeth?” she hoped.

“Of course,” Rin nodded, “One step at a time, ok?”

“Ok…”

I’d say that’s pretty sufficient for a day’s work. A good cliffhanger to pick up with another one. Dammit. I wanted this to be a one-shot. Looks like it’s having multiple chapters. I needed to get back to my house and put the first half on my flash drive. That way, I can upload today. My numbers were starting to fall a bit. Although, before I do that, I should probably write a proper send-off.

Author’s Note: Hi, guys! This is going to be a multiple chapter series. In all honesty, I wanted to see Rin with a mermaid. Next chapter, I’m sure we’ll have more hijinks and shenanigans. I’m sorry this wasn’t up sooner, but things have been a whirlwind lately. I’m sure you’ll see soon enough. See you later!

That should be good and vague enough to get the reviews in. Although, my viewers were pretty good about my privacy. Just like how I was with theirs. If they wanted to come to me with their problems, I kept them to myself. I loved each and every one of my fans like they were my own. On Mother’s Day last year, I had people telling me I was more of a mother to them than their own. So, I had to satisfy the masses. And if I were to quit now, I think that’d crush them all. That’s why I keep going.

I’ve thought about giving up the fan fiction racket so many times. Mostly because it wasn’t getting me anywhere and it was a waste of time. But I was venting these things to a fan of mine once that I had gotten pretty close with. She told me to write one more chapter. Just one. Like it was going to be my last. That so-called final chapter intended to be my swan song ended up spawning a million other ideas for it. And I never looked back.

I ran back to my house to set up my flash drive, keeping my fingers crossed no one was home early. Julian’s right. He’s my mistress. Only instead of worrying about my husband, I was more scared shitless of my parents pulling in at the wrong time. They thought I gave this up. They didn’t know I was still writing fic or cosplaying or obsessively watching anime or ordering figurines on Amazon at two in the morning because I couldn’t sleep. Hell, they thought I got involved with children’s community theatre! They still thought I had a job! But here I was. I got the first half of “Heart of the Ocean” off my computer and went back to Julian’s.

Part one, successfully uploaded. Not even three o'clock. Good for me. In that case, I should probably shower and get dressed today. I wasn’t even sure who I grabbed before I left this morning. I checked my overnight bag and pulled out a purple tank top. Already loving it. Black leggings. Promising. A beaded bracelet in various shaded of blue. Alright. And a light blue hoody! I grabbed Haru! Perfect! And a little silver dolphin to go around my neck. Cute and comfortable. And I had a short, black wig, too! I really could go full Haru.

I got in and out of Julian’s shower and went on a walk. What’s with me visiting the boyfriend at work lately? Then again, it was a Friday afternoon. I had an outstanding date with a young lady on a regular basis. Like Julian tucking me back in bed this morning, I’ll be damned if I miss that just because I didn’t work there anymore.

I walked into the café like I owned the place again and stood at the counter, waiting my turn like a civilian. Once I got to the front of the line, Julian stood behind the register, “Hi. What can I get for you?”

“I only get one thing, Julian,” I smiled, “What do you think that is?”

“Oh, shit,” he put two and two together, “The hair threw me off. I’m sorry, baby. Green tea? Honey?”

“Please.”

“So,” Julian looked me over, “Haru?”

“Yep,” I nodded, feeling my wig slip a little. I thought I had pinned it better between the netting on the wig and my wig cap, “You get your email yet?”

“Did you post?”

“Yes, I did,” I beamed, “I’m proud of me.”

“I’m proud of you,” he awed, “Do you want anything else?”

“No, I’m good,” I sipped on my straw, “I haven’t missed her yet, have I?”

“No,” Julian eyed the door, “But throw your hood up, keep your head down. Griffin’s coming.”

“Good call,” I did as I was told. I’d rather swallow thumbtacks than see Griffin. At least I was a little unrecognizable. Thank you, Haruka Nanase. I grabbed the register table and watched the shit show unfold.

“Russell!” Griffin chimed, “How are things?”

“Super,” Julian matched his enthusiasm, “Same old, same old, Mr. Griffin. Nothing exciting.”

“Not with that kind of attitude,” Griffin scolded, “What’s with you being so negative?”

“I’m sorry,” he slapped a fake smile on his face. I could see the vein sticking out in his neck, “I’ll be better.”

“Just out of curiosity,” Griffin wondered, “Has Mimi been back in here?”

“No, sir,” Julian shook his head, “Haven’t seen her since Tuesday.”

“She said she was moving,” he rolled his eyes, “Yeah. Maybe from her parents’ house to a box.”

“Excuse me, sir,” Julian stopped him while I set up the video camera on my phone. Something in my gut told me that things weren’t about to get pretty, “But that’s selling her a little short, don’t you think?”

“That’s going to be the next step,” Griffin went on, “There are a few strip clubs in Kansas City. Maybe I should stop by one of them and visit her at work.”

“At least she’s making money,” Julian grabbed a hold of the counter, keeping his anger under control. He wanted to call Griffin every name in the book in as many languages as he could. And I couldn’t blame him! This asshole thought I was stripping! Even if I was, there’s no way in hell I’m giving him a dance, “A job’s a job.”

“But one so unsavory?” he cringed, “Besides, she doesn’t have the body for that.”

“I don’t know,” Julian gritted his teeth, “I always thought she was pretty cute.”

“Oh, yeah,” Griffin confirmed, “She’s got a pretty face, but that’s about it. But if the opportunity arose, I wouldn’t say no to her in the car broke down, needs to use the phone sense.”

“With all due respect,” Julian’s lid was about to blow and I was about to throw up, “I really don’t appreciate you talking about her like that. I’m sure I’m not the only one. Probably not even the only one in this café.”

“Everyone’s entitled to an opinion,” Griffin shrugged. But people seem to forget there’s a difference between having an opinion and being a dick on purpose, “Besides, there are three people in here. What are the odds that one of them cares enough about her?”

“One in three,” Julian glanced over at me from the corner of his eye, “I’m pretty sure this particular customer wouldn’t appreciate it either. Aside from me, of course.”

“Who are you?” Griffin looked over at me, making my skin crawl.

“Who else?” I threw my hood down and peeled my wig off, “You really think I have that low of self-esteem?”

“Well, well, well,” Griffin sounded like a shitty movie villain, “Look who came crawling back. Ready to apologize and beg me for your job back?”

“I didn’t come crawling back to anyone,” I snarled, “And I’m not the one that needs to apologize. I was completely in the right. Did you see me grabbing all over you?”

“Excuse me?” Julian chimed in, “He was doing what now?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, “I’m not apologizing for anything. I could yell so many different things at you at the top of my lungs, but quite frankly, you’re not worth it. So, no. I’m not begging you for squat. I have one that I love very much and I’m loved for more than my body. Which is perfect the way it is, thank you very much.

“Really?” Griffin chuckled, “You have the audacity to come in here and say that to me?”

“Is it true that I quit Tuesday?”

“No,” he hushed me, knowing damn well I did, “I fired you.”

“I told you I was quitting because of a better opportunity,” I explained, “You told me I wasn’t going anywhere. True or false?”

“You weren’t going anywhere.”

“You,” I pointed toward Julian, “Did I get a better opportunity?”

“Yes, you did,” Julian confirmed.

“Did I not have plans to move?”

“Yes, you did.”

“Sure,” Griffin rolled his eyes, “Take her side.”

“The right side,” I defended.

“You don’t even have the right to be here,” he snapped, “If you quit, then why would you want to come back here so bad?”

“Because it’s a small town and I’m short on options,” I argued, “I have the same right as anyone else.”

“I picked a bad time to come in here, didn’t I?” Veronica…Dammit. She didn’t need to be here.

“Go back to class, Roni,” I demanded.

“How cute,” Griffin awed sarcastically, “You’re trying to protect her.”

“Of course I am,” I said, “I care about her and her well-being and she doesn’t need to see this.”

“What?” he chuckled, “You being the bitch you are? Trying to be all tough? Trying to stand up for yourself? Adorable. I should throw you out on your ass right now. If you were my kid, I’d be slapping the shit out of you right now.”

“Was that a threat?” I asked.

“It was a certainty,” Griffin promised, “You asked for it, sweetheart.”

I sent Veronica some mental telepathy to grab my phone while Griffin pulled his hand back. As much as I didn’t want this to happen, I let Griffin whip my hand across my cheek. Damn. Mother fucker had a mean swing. I saw Julian jump across the counter as I dropped to my knees, but I stopped him, “No.”

“No?!” he squeaked.

“No,” I gave him my Haru wig, fighting the sting on my face, “Hold my flower.”

“You sure?” Julian worried.

“I’m sure,” I got back on my feet, “Trust me.”

“Alright,” he let me go, “Kick his ass, baby. I got your flower.”

“What did I walk in on?” Veronica freaked a little.

“Justice,” Julian assured, keeping her back, “Tap me in if need be.”

“I got this,” I threw a heavy fisted right hook to Griffin’s jaw, letting out all the aggression I’ve kept inside for way too long.

“Where the hell did that come from?!” Griffin screeched as I got on top of him, “Someone call the cops!”

“I’m not your princess,” I threw another few blows to his face, “I’m not your girl. I’m not your anything. You didn’t deserve me and you’re a sad, miserable man. The hatred I have for you would be enough to put me in an early grave, but you’re not worth it. You sicken me.”

I got up and spat at his feet. As soon as I walked outside, two nice police officers waited at the door to put some shiny bracelets on my wrists and in the back of a squad car. I guess someone did call the cops, but I wasn’t worried. Little did Griffin know, not only did I have a support system to bail me out, but I had evidence and witnesses. If he was smart, which God knows he isn’t, he’s not pressing charges.

“Ms. Shepherd,” one of the younger cops came into the interrogation room.

“That’s me,” I chirped like nothing was wrong. Just had been served, “But you can call me Mimi.”

“Hold on,” he looked me over, “Mimi Shepherd?”

“Yeah.”

“I think we went to high school together,” he assumed, “Are you from Lenexa?”

“Born and raised.”

“Yeah!” he sang, “You were dating Miles Mills, weren’t you?”

“Were,” I cringed, “But yeah. What’s your name?”

“Robbie Day,” he told me, “I hung out with Miles a lot.”

“Robbie!” I remembered him. Out of all of Miles’ friends, he was the one I wanted to punch less, “Hi, honey! It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, it has!” I’ve never been so relieved in my life “I know I should be asking about the café incident, but how’ve you been?”

“I worked the café,” I explained, “But my boss is a sexist pig and I got a better job, so I quit.”

“Do you have any proof he’s a sexist pig?” Robbie asked.

“My phone,” I pointed out, “As soon as I knew he was coming in, I turned the video camera on. I also have two witnesses that saw Griffin hit me first along with a threat before the actual hit. Not only that, but I have in the same recording some lewd and disgusting remarks he made about me.”

“Do you know where your phone is now?”

“Either Veronica or Julian’s got it,” I figured.

“I need full names.”

“Either Julian Cooke Or Veronica Masterson has it,” I clarified, “Julian was also a witness to the atrocities that happened to me.”

“Alright,” he nodded, “I’m in your corner, Mimi, but unfortunately, we’re still going to put you in a cell for a bit.”

“Day,” another cop came in. One that I knew. Craig Ford was a good dude. He’s known me since I was in the womb, “She’s made bail.”

“Already,” I gasped, “That was quick.”

“You got someone you can call, Mimi?” he asked, “A friend? Your parents?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, “I got someone.”

“Go take care of her paperwork, Day,” he let Robbie go.

“But sir,” Robbie stood, “She was acting in self-defense!”

“Robbie,” Craig gestured to the door, “Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on her. Go run paperwork.”

“Yes, sir,” Robbie followed orders, “It was good seeing you again, Mimi. Despite the circumstances.”

“Thanks, Robbie,” I smiled.

“You don’t strike me as the violent type, Mimi,” Craig sat across from me, “When my guys told me they brought you in, I thought they were screwing with me. What happened, peanut?”

“Jeffrey Griffin is a disgusting human being,” I snarled, “He backhanded me, so I fought back.”

“He did what?” Craig’s eyes turned red.

“Is the red mark proof enough for you?” I wondered, “It still feels pretty warm, too.”

“You want me get you some ice?” he offered.

“No,” I brushed him off, “I’m fine. Sure, it hurt like hell, but I’ll live. You should see the other guy.”

“I did,” Craig told, “Black eye and a couple chipped teeth.”

“Damn,” I grumbled, “I was going for broken nose, but I guess chipped teeth will do.”

“This is serious, Mimi,” he giggled a bit.

“Sorry,” I joined him, “I had to make light of a dark situation.”

“Hey,” Craig gave me the biggest hug, “It’s alright now. We’ll take care of it, ok? Come on. I’ll walk you to your cell.”

“Such a gentleman,” I reveled in his embrace. Craig was practically family. If getting Robbie as my interrogating officer and Craig taking care of me wasn’t a good enough sign that things would be ok, nothing would be.

However, I still had to spend time behind bars. Because of one asshole that wasn’t worth the hassle. At least it was only me in here. Yet, no one gave me a harmonica. I feel so let down. My image of sitting in jail was forever shattered. But I sat and twiddled my thumbs, waiting for someone to come and pick me up. Come on, Julian. I know you’re the one that paid my bail.

“Mimi,” Robbie came and got me, “Ride’s here.”

“Awesome,” I got up, “Is it either my mom or my dad?”

“No.”

“Dark hair, pretty eyes, glasses?” I assumed.

“Yep!” Awesome. Robbie led me out to reception. I was about to walk out of here a free woman and with a well-deserved sense of justice.

“I’m in town for two whole hours and I have to bail you out of jail?” a familiar voice chastised, “Honestly, Mimi. Glad I got off the crazy train before this happened.”

That voice…I knew that voice. That voice sent my stomach into instant knots. I spend maybe forty-five minutes in jail and kicked the shit out of Griffin. I didn’t even have an adrenaline buzz anymore. But just one voice was enough to make me want to throw up violently. And it was his.

“There you are,” Julian pulled me into his arms, protecting me from…That, “You alright?”

“I’m fine,” I buried my face in Julian’s chest, “What are you doing here?”

“Who do you think paid your bail?”

“Julian?” I looked up at my boyfriend, my heart in my throat, “You didn’t take care of that?”

“When I got here,” Julian told me, “I had the money to get you out, but they told me it was taken care of.”

“You forget who the chief is? Your name came up on the scanner.”

I was ready to punch another face in, “I appreciate it, but please…Leave me alone.”

“I came back to see you. You can’t even bother to say hi?”

“Mimi,” Julian asked, “Who is he?”

“He’s my Roxanne,” I kept my voice down, “That’s Miles.”

“Oh!” he chimed, “You’re her ex-boyfriend!”

“Guilty,” Miles shrugged. I didn’t want to see Griffin today, but out of everyone in the world I didn’t want to see, Miles was at the top of the list. If I never saw him again, it’d be too soon, “Mimi, who is this guy?”

“I’m Julian,” he held me a little tighter, “I’m her current boyfriend. I’ve heard about you.”

“Julian,” I stopped him, “Please don’t.”

“What?” Julian chirped, “I’m sure he’s a good dude.”

“Yeah,” Miles nodded, “I’m a pretty decent person. What have you heard?”

“Just the way you ended things,” Julian threw his arm around me while the three of us left the station, “What was that reason again?”

“She wasn’t the girl I thought she was,” Miles explained, “It was a little much for me to handle. Have you seen her body pillow?”

“Body pillow?” Julian toyed with him, “What body pillow?”

“Did you get rid of your weird body pillow?” Miles shot me a look, “Congratulations, Mimi. She used to have this body pillow.”

“Miles…” I winced.

“She’d sleep with it every night,” he went on, ignoring me completely, “Some guy half naked, pulling a glove off with his teeth. It’s forever burned in my brain and just...weird…Then, I saw the stuff in the closet and I wasn’t having it, so I left.”

“Her little quirks like that made you leave?” Julian asked.

“You two must not have been dating long,” Miles figured, “Wait until you go to her house. Check under the mattress and the closet. Unless that’s all gone, Mimi.”

“Miles,” I repeated myself, “Please stop.”

“Just saving him time.”

“It’s funny,” Julian giggled a little, “We’ve been dating almost a month. I’ve been to her house. Hell, even stayed the night once or twice. I’ve seen her costumes and Sebastian. All her little quirks are what I love most about her.”

“Good for you, man,” Miles gave a sarcastic thumbs up, “You want a medal?”

“No,” Julian let out a little sigh, “I already got my trophy. She used to be yours. You wanted to get out of here, right, baby?”

“Yes, please,” I begged, almost desperate at this point, “It was nice seeing you, Miles.”

“You, too,” he parroted, “You haven’t changed a bit.”

Those five words hit me harder than I thought. A year and a half I don’t see Miles and the first thing he does is pay my bail? Maybe he was hoping I had changed and came around to the thought of the silver spoon life. Miles’ dad was the chief of the Lenexa Police Department, but his mom was born into old money. His dad took the cop job for something to do. While we were together, Miles wouldn’t hesitate to spoil me. It was like having my own personal member of the Ouran Host Club. Only Miles couldn’t even aspire to be like them.

“Well,” Julian broke the uncomfortable silence, “Since my little hardened criminal has served her nickel, you want to into Kansas City and get dinner?”

“I’m not a hardened criminal,” I giggled, rolling my eyes at him, “I spent an hour and a half there. I wouldn’t call myself a hardened criminal. Think you still have a job?”

“Doubtful,” Julian shrugged, getting off on the interstate, “I’m sorry. I never got an answer out of you. Just assumed it’d be a yes.”

“Yeah,” I let him go, “I could stand the road trip.”

“Here,” he rolled his windows down, “Something tells me you could use a jam.”

“God yes,” I confirmed, “Loud music and some time to forget the world.”

“Well then,” Julian gave me his phone, “Take your pick.”

“Ok,” I scrolled through his music.

Wow. Julian’s playlist was pretty diverse. A lot of anime themes. Surprise, surprise. Miku’s entire catalog. Yet another shock. A lot of the other vocaloids. But then, he had a lot of normal shit, too. A lot of Death Cab for Cutie. A little Postal Service. Some Owl City and Jack’s Mannequin. Some of Andrew McMahon’s solo stuff. A few harder bands, both old and new. Then again, there were also a few video game soundtracks and the Studio Ghibli soundtracks. Too much to pick from. Let’s pick one we’ve never heard before, “This one.”

It started with a weird mix of banjo and guitar. Ok. It sounded kind of weird, but I liked it. Julian looked over at me with a little smile on his face, “Excellent choice. You don’t strike me as the City and Colour type, though.”

“I’ve never heard it before,” I admitted.

“Listen closely,” he took my hand.

“I wish I could do better by you ‘cause that’s what you deserve,” the singer melted out of Julian’s speakers, “You sacrifice so much of your life in order for this to work. While I’m off chasing my own dreams, sailing around the world. Please know that I’m yours to keep, my beautiful girl.”

In that sweet, heartwarming moment, I wanted to cry. And it only got worse as the song went on, “What was this called again?”

“It’s ‘The Girl’ by City and Colour,” Julian gushed, “I love this song. Just wait, though. It’ll pick up and be a little less melancholy. I found it about three months ago. I was in a bar in Nashville, Tennessee, of all places. This came on and I fell in love with it. And with the band. They’re not bad. Most of their stuff is acoustic like this, but this song? I told myself if I ever decided to get married again, I’d want it played at our wedding. First dance.”

“If that’s going to be me,” I caught myself, “Not saying we’re NEARLY ready for that yet, but I’m just saying if it’s our wedding, I had something else in mind.”

“Oh?” I had his interest, “And what would that be?”

“Really?” I smiled, “You have to ask?”

“Is it the theme to Fruits Basket?” he assumed.

“Right church, wrong pew,” I corrected him, “Anymore guesses?”

“I’ll get this one,” Julian thought a little harder, “Monochrome Kiss?”

“No,” I shook my head, “I don’t want to be thinking about demons and earls making deals during our first dance at our wedding.”

“Alright,” he guessed again, “I got this. It’s an orchestrated version of ‘Again’ by YUI.”

“No,” I was ready to beat him with a wrench, “Not the Fullmetal theme either.”

“Well, shit, baby!” Julian whined, “I got nothing. Is it from an anime?”

“Yes,” I nodded, scrolling through his Ghibli collection, “But it’s not from a series.”

“I got nothing,” he gave up, “What is it?”

“This one,” I started playing the theme to Howl’s Moving Castle, ‘The Merry-Go-Round of Life’. It had been my favorite Ghibli theme for as long as I could remember. I just thought of Howl and Sophie in an abandoned ballroom, walking through the air, dancing the most beautiful waltz on the ceiling. And it made my heart feel so full.

“Oh my god,” Julian smacked his forehead on his steering wheel, “I feel so stupid. Howl’s Moving Castle, though? Really?”

“Yeah,” I beamed as Joe Hisaishi’s glorious creation played around us, “You can’t tell me it’s not a beautiful song because I’d break up with you over that.”

“It is,” he agreed with me, “It’s a beautiful piece of music. There’s no doubt. First dance, though?”

“Yes,” I put my foot down, “If it’s not ‘The Merry-Go-Round of Life’, I swear to God, Julian, I will raise hell.”

“Alright,” Julian settled me, “That’s fine with me. But ‘The Girl’ will happen. Sometime in the night. It will happen.”

“Fine,” I agreed, “I’m glad we got that out of the way now before it actually mattered.”

“And if we do end up getting married,” Julian teased, “We can look back on this moment with fond nostalgia. The day you got arrested for punching your former boss. Maybe even our former boss.”

“How romantic,” I giggled, laying my head on his shoulder, “Thank you, Julian.”

“For what, koibito?” he wondered, pulling into the Haven Tavern parking lot.

“For taking care of me,” I wrapped my arms around his.

“My pleasure,” Julian stole a quick kiss. Dinner?”

“Starved.”

#Sorry for Being a Closet Otaku #nanowrimo 2016

1 note · View note

the-resident-wallflower · 3 years

Text

I haven't updated in a hot minute.

I've been in my house a total of 4 months as of last week. The house is nickel and dime-ing me all the way to the bank - but I expected this.

This weekend has been so busy and it's barely Sunday. Thursday, the contractors finally came out to do my driveway. Of course, it poured all Friday so spots need to be redone... Friday, I had to pick up mine and Kat's dresses from David's bridal. She had to come with. Then we dropped off her Chromebook to her HS as she's graduating next weekend. Then we finished up what we needed to do (I took a long lunch) and on her way home, she had to get a Covid test before she could go to Prom which is today. After all that, I still had to go to Mariya's to help her do the final things for her Wedding Shower that was Saturday (today since I haven't slept). Then I had to get some HVAC work done (more on that later) and then the shower at 2. I left at 7 and am exhausted. I've only stayed up so I can relax instead of sleep. It was mentally and emotionally exhausting.

Rachel made several comments about how I was complaining too much about being a bridesmaid. I literally made a comment that being in two weddings is expensive and thought they'd understand because they're both in two weddings PLUS their own. I guess because I'm not getting married, I'm not allowed to do anything. I'm trying so hard to ignore her comments. She then said that I was being rude and I felt compelled to apologize to Mariya since I wasn't sure if it was a thing or not. It's not. Anytime I gave a suggestion, she had to disagree. Like it's her mission in life to belittle me. I thought we were just having a light hearted convo - apparently not. THEN she made a comment about me asking when we had the room at the restaurant till. I was complaining and being rude. BITCH, I am chronically ill. I am always in pain and after 4 hours (at that time) of all the nonsense and the 5 the day before, I was exhausted and my head was hurting really bad. But of course, I'm just malicious and trying to be rude/mean.

Mom cried at me on Friday. I was venting about having to pay to get into the wineries because I don't like wine. I don't feel I should I have to pay to go since I won't drink it. But I paid and just made sure it wasn't like that at every place. My mom immediately insinuates that I'm going to ruin the trip by being miserable. And she cites that I didn't want to do the winery in Georgia either - bitch, I was the one who found all the winery options after you so graciously bestowed that responsibility onto me because you didn't want to call them to ask about your own damn allergy. Then she moves on to say that she can't talk to me about anything without me getting mad - not true. And that there's a problem with it. I just can't tell her anything because she judges me. The last time I told her about something I was doing (dating Mitch) she made several comments that led me to really cut down on what she's allowed to know. She doesn't deserve a front row seat when she's just going to judge me and be cruel. And then try to manipulate me by crying about it. I'm not here to deal with them anymore. I've done a very good job at keeping my life separate from hers because she's made it clear she doesn't want to know. She just wants to judge me. My own father told his friends brother (who put me in contact with HVAC guy) that he told me I shouldn't buy this house. I am a full fledged adult and I LOVE my house. Fuck off.

In lighter news, the HVAC guy, Tyler, asked me on a date - we're going out Sunday at 7ish. He's picking me up. He came by the first time with Joey (dad's friend's brother) and we didn't talk much. When he came for the repair, we got to chatting about tattoos before he left. I friended him on fb. He had another small thing to do and came back today to do it. Before I knew it, it was 1:26 and I needed to be at the shower at 2...We had chatted at least an hour and he asked me to dinner before he left. He's picking me up and planning it so I'm pretty excited about that. I need to remember to pick up some cash for a tip.

Ruby accidently killed two baby buns this week while digging out their nest - I should say she gravely injured them beyond saving and I put them out of their misery since they were in fact, breathing. A cat got another one last night. I have a box over them and a gate around them, Mama is still coming back for the remaining 5 so that's nice. They're gonna make it if it kills me.

#the many adventures of emily #I hate my life sometimes

0 notes

goldeagleprice · 5 years

Text

Letters to the Editor (February 5, 2019)

Photo of proof Morgan suits silver dollar collector

Thank you for the images of the proof Morgans in NN Express.

Just purchased my final Morgan dollar, an 1894. This was a collection over many years from several vendors.

Recently I replaced some earlier coins with higher grades. Majority are Mint State.

Spread is VG8 to MS66.

I now own a set of all years and all mints and have a couple overstrikes.

Enjoy reading NN and the various articles about coin collecting.

The best part of collecting is browsing NN and determining how much it would cost to fill in the missing coins.

I have the leisure of taking my time to plan what coin to search for.

Hate getting the cold call from a coin dealer – with the deal of the century.

I have hung up the phone more than once when the dealer won’t take no for an answer.

Spent a lot but pleased with my collection.

Name withheld

Improve 70-point grading and skip 100-point scale

I’ve spent the past couple of weeks catching up on my printed numismatic periodical reading (I find the digital editions inconvenient) and am a bit perturbed by the proposal of a 100-point grading system.

I have to agree with most responses I have read in that the only beneficiaries of this change would be the third-party grading services. In my opinion, and I apologize if this was mentioned by anyone else in the Express edition of Numismatic News, there is a simple solution to this without abandoning the already non-fully utilized 70-point scale. The ultimate goal appears to be a way to differentiate MS and proof coins that are inferior or superior within each numeric grade of 60-70. This being the case, why don’t they expand on what some are already doing with the plus or star designation?

I propose putting a minus behind the numerical grade for inferior coins in the grade and a plus for the superior coins. An example of this would be MS67- or MS67+, respectively. To differentiate coins graded with the new method, they could put a large dot, vertically centered after the numeric grade, for a coin that is spot on for that grade: MS67. That way, all newly slabbed MS or proof coins utilizing the new methodology would be identifiable from the older slabs, and there would be no need to send in your old slabs for regrading unless you desire the new designation.

Jonathan Capella Clinton, Iowa

Mnuchin note found by reader in California

On Jan. 13, I received a note in change at a Panda Express restaurant in Palm Springs, California. Series 2017 $1 Federal Reserve Note (B-A block).

Mark Saladino Palm Springs, Calif.

War nickel shows up in change from gas station

Today I received in change from a gas station in Weston, Wis., a 1943-P Jefferson War nickel. I grade it as a weak F-20. Full rim obverse and reverse. The obverse has some detail in the hair and knot in hair. Reverse columns and triangle weak, no steps.

Ed Flanders Weston, Wis.

Editor’s note: This was the rare one in the circulation finds era. Congratulations.

Full roll of Mercury dimes obtained by reader at bank

Nothing special but what nice find! Went to the bank today to cash my paycheck and the bank manager says, “Hey Earl I saved a roll of old dimes for you. A guy brought them in yesterday and I kept mem for you.” I thanked him and gave him $5. 1943s, 1944s, 1945s, and one 1942. Whole roll.

Now I know why I boil peanuts and give them to the bank tellers every fall. The 1942, unfortunately, is not a 42 over 1. Still a very wonderful day.

Earl Bell Mississippi

Another no to idea of 100-point coin grading scale

I have been reading articles on this topic, and I am totally against the new point system. Though I have about 50 -60 PCGS and NGC holders, it’s not so much about the money (except for the insurance) for re-certification but about the time and hassle to send them in and the time to wait for them to come back. I could be spending more time reading or going to coin shows to buy more coins!

Steve Cheaney Northvill, Mich.

Address letters to Editor, Numismatic News, 5225 Joerns Drive, Suite 2, Stevens Point, WI 54481. All letters must be signed and include a return address. Numismatic News reserves the right to edit all letters. E-mail should be sent to [email protected]. Include your city and state in your email.

This article was originally printed in Numismatic News. >> Subscribe today.

If you like what you’ve read here, we invite you to visit our online bookstore to learn more about 2019 U.S. Coin Digest.

Learn more >>>

NumismaticNews.net is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to Amazon.com and affiliated websites.

The post Letters to the Editor (February 5, 2019) appeared first on Numismatic News.

#Precious Metals

0 notes

theconservativebrief · 6 years

Link

Lee Israel had tasted success. Her career as a freelance journalist started in the 1960s, and she’d also published two successful biographies: one of actress Tallulah Bankhead in 1972, and one of journalist and game-show panelist Dorothy Kilgallen in 1979. The latter had even been a New York Times best-seller.

But her third book — a biography of cosmetics mogul Estée Lauder published in 1985 — didn’t do as well, and Israel found herself falling on tough financial times. Those were only complicated by her alcoholism and what her 2015 New York Times obituary described as “a temperament that made conventional employment nearly impossible.” To cope, she turned to a life of crime.

Sort of.

It wasn’t that Israel became a hit man or a bank robber; her misdeeds were smaller and more specialized. Beginning in 1990, she started forging letters from literary figures like Dorothy Parker, Noël Coward, and Lillian Hellman, selling them to rare book dealers — with the help of her friend Jack Hock — for several hundred or even several thousand dollars. She also stole original letters from archives and libraries, forged copies, replaced the originals with the copies, and then sold the originals to dealers.

In 1992, she got caught and later pleaded guilty in federal court. Her days as a forger were through. But in 2008, she published a barely contrite memoir about that period in her life, entitled Can You Ever Forgive Me? It received only middling reviews, but that didn’t stop Fox Searchlight from picking it up for adaptation. The new film that’s based on it did much better with critics during its September festival run in Telluride and Toronto.

Starring Melissa McCarthy as Israel and Richard E. Grant as her partner in crime, Can You Ever Forgive Me? feels like a buddy caper, and it’s often very funny. But it has a dark side, too. Directed by Diary of a Teenage Girl’s Marielle Heller with a screenplay by Nicole Holofcener and Jeff Whitty, it’s about loneliness and anxiety, about having barely two nickels to rub together, about panicking over a situation you feel powerless to fix.

The film often seems almost too strange to be based on a true story, but it’s entertaining and surprising, and it follows the story of the real Lee Israel closely. Here are five interesting tidbits about the real story of Can You Ever Forgive Me? and the woman behind it.

Melissa McCarthy playing Lee Israel in Can You Ever Forgive Me? Twentieth Century Fox

Israel forged and sold over 400 letters throughout her “career,” but as the movie shows, she was especially proud of her Dorothy Parker letters — no wonder, since imitating Parker’s distinctive sparkling wit so well that it fooled Manhattan’s literati was quite an accomplishment.

In one of the letters, “Dorothy Parker” writes: “Alan told me to write and apologize. So I am doing that now, while he dresses for our Turkey dinner with the boys across the road. I have a hangover that is a real museum piece; I’m sure then that I must have said something terrible. To save me this kind of exertion in the future, I am thinking of having little letters runoff [sic] saying, ‘Can you ever forgive me? Dorothy.’”

Then “Parker” signs off with that phrase.

The “Alan” in the letter was meant to be Alan Campbell, Parker’s husband and Hollywood screenwriting partner. And later, Israel found the sign-off she’d invented for Parker to be the right title for her own memoir — even though the memoir itself showed she was less repentant and more pleased with her own ingenuity.

You can read the full letter here, on NPR’s website.

Though the cat had been to the vet for tests, Israel couldn’t come up with the $40 she had to pay to get the results back — a dilemma that’s depicted in the film.

But Israel just so happened to be working on an article about comedienne, singer, and actress Fanny Brice for Soap Opera Digest. So she went into Brice’s archives, stole several letters, slipped them into her shoe, and sold them to Argosy, a rare book store.

She made $40 for each letter, which — as she told NPR in 2008 — meant that “for the first time in a long time, I had some jingle in my jeans.”

She got her cat’s tests back, too.

Melissa McCarthy as Lee Israel in Can You Ever Forgive Me? Twentieth Century Fox

In 2007, Alfred A. Knopf published The Letters of Noël Coward, edited by Barry Day and described as the “first and definitive collection of letters to and from Coward.” The book was acclaimed by critics, who praised the collection for how it captured the clever wit of the playwright, director, and actor.

But it contained two letters that were written by Israel, not Coward.

“It was very good Coward; it was better Coward than Coward. Coward didn’t have to be Coward. I had to be Coward and a half,” she told NPR. In one of the fake letters, “Coward” describes Julie Andrews as “quite attractive since she dealt with her monstrous English overbite.”

Perhaps ironically, it was Israel’s epistolary impersonation of Coward that eventually tipped her hand. Israel’s version of Coward often made campy references that alluded to his homosexuality, but as Israel later explained, Coward “came up in a very difficult period to be homosexual. It was a jailing offense. So it would have been very unlikely for Coward to put all these kinds of campy [references] into any kind of correspondence that went out into the world.”

Some dealers smelled a rat, and one in New York �� who had previously purchased several of Lee’s Parker forgeries — blackmailed her, demanding $5,000 if she didn’t want him to testify before a grand jury. That’s when she stopped forging letters and instead began stealing originals, making copies to replace them, and then selling the originals.

Not much is known about the friend, Jack Hock, who helped Israel. In her memoir, she describes him only a little.

So to portray the character, who plays a significant supporting role to McCarthy’s, the actor Richard E. Grant read what Israel had written about the real-life Hock to complement the way the screenplay fleshed him out. “Lee Israel’s memoir was astonishingly scant on detail about him, which tells me how eccentric she was — thinking that she was the only person involved in this story,” Grant said when I interviewed him about the film.

McCarthy and Grant as Lee Israel and Jack Hock in Can You Ever Forgive Me? Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation

There were only a few details to go on, according to Grant:

He was from Portland. He was blonde, was tall, was charming, had died of AIDS at the age of 47 in 1994, used a stubby cigarette holder because he was a chain smoker but thought he wouldn’t get cancer by using that, had been in jail for two years for holding at knifepoint a taxi driver in a dispute about a cab fare, which absolutely fit the bill. That is as much as I knew to go on.

And also the fact that she praised him, because once she had been rumbled by the FBI and couldn’t go out and sell these letters anymore, she got him to do it. Where she thought he might predictably get $500 or $600 for a letter that she conjured up, he came back with $2,000 or more. That was testament to how good he was at scamming or schmoozing people.

By the time Israel was being blackmailed by the dealer in New York, her relationship with Hock had deteriorated. He was in prison for robbing a cab driver at knifepoint. But when she concocted a plan to swap original letters for copies — she needed $5,000 to pay the dealer — he wrote to her that he would probably be on probation soon because he had AIDS.

He did get out, and Israel and Hock struck a deal under which Hock would sell the originals, since Israel was by then a sketchy figure among dealers. He’d get 50 percent of the take, plus expenses. Israel wrote in her memoir that she eventually realized he’d been skimming money off the top of the duo’s sales, too.

“Grifters’ habits die hard,” she wrote.

The FBI did finally catch Israel, stopping her outside a deli one day while she waited for Hock and saying that one of her customers had told them everything. Even then, though, they seemed a bit in awe of her skills as a literary mimic.

The lead investigator on her case, Carl Burrell, had retired from the FBI by the time Israel died in late 2014, of complications from myeloma, at the age of 75. But in her obituary, he called her “brilliant,” saying that his favorite letter of hers was an impersonation of Hemingway: “He was complaining about Spencer Tracy being cast as the main character in The Old Man and the Sea. ”

She pleaded guilty to one count of conspiracy to transport stolen property in interstate commerce in June 1993, and was sentenced to six months’ house arrest and five years’ probation. She was banned from stepping foot in many libraries. Hock received three years’ probation and died in 1994 at the age of 47.

Melissa McCarthy as Lee Israel in Can You Ever Forgive Me? Twentieth Century Fox

According to Israel’s memoir, she did not attend the alcohol treatment program the court ordered her to participate in, and her friends and acquaintances from the later years of her life remember that she drank copiously. Actor Bob Balaban, who executive produced Can You Ever Forgive Me? and became a friend of Israel’s late in her life, recently remarked (during a Q&A following a festival screening of the film) that she would often show up at a lunch meeting early so that she could have a drink before everyone else arrived.

But she did eventually get a job, as a copy editor for Scholastic magazines in lower Manhattan — a position with benefits that included, among other things, veterinary coverage.

Burrell said in Israel’s obituary that even though many of the original letters Israel had stolen were ultimately returned to their rightful places in libraries, some of her forgeries are probably still in circulation.

That thought would have pleased Israel, who was proud of how aptly she’d reproduced the voices of some of the most vibrantly clever writers of the 20th century. In her book, she wrote, “I still consider the letters to be my best work.”

And eventually, even her own name, when attached to the letters she forged, could add value. “It has come to my attention that some of the letters are now on the market as Lee Israel’s forgeries,” she told NPR in 2008. “My work has received some attention and marvelous reviews, and people have liked the letters. And so they’re salable, apparently.”

Can You Ever Forgive Me? opens in theaters on October 19.

Original Source -> 5 fascinating stories about Lee Israel, the real person behind Can You Ever Forgive Me?

via The Conservative Brief

#IFTTT #The Conservative Brief

0 notes