#my mom got two apple trees like four days ago
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Second Chances (OT4)
Prompt for the 17th: Seeing your ex apple picking with their new partner at the same place you introduced them to and always went to together
I am once again asking Hallmark to let me write your horny, fall themed romances.
Duck’s been coming to the Kepler Orchards Fall Fair on and off since he was eight years old. In those days, his goal was picking enough to convince his mom to make Apple Pie or keeping Jane from wandering into the goat pens.
These days, his motives are a little less pure.
“I know you drag me outside on days like this just so I’ll cuddle up.” Indrid links their arms and shoves a hand into Duck’s coat pocket as they walk towards the rows of trees. Kids dart and weave around trunks, crunching up leaves as the clouds move into stay, rather than blowing away like Duck hoped.
“Promise I’ll buy you somethin’ hot from the cafe. And I’ll, uh, warm you up plenty later.”
“Mmmm, I look forward to it. And don’t let me forget, I promised Pigeon we’d put some of these up while we were here.” He pulls a stack of folded fliers for the haunted house volunteer sign-ups.
As they turn towards the red barn housing the cafe, Duck waves to a familiar figure waiting near the door. Indrid notices the same shape and perks up, waving as well.
“Hey Barclay, surprised you got the day off.”
“Mama kinda made me. And I quote ‘soon as October hits you ain’t gonna do anythin but plan holiday menus so and I need you feelin refreshed.’’ Plus I’m trying to show Joseph more of the town; It’s been two weeks since he moved down here and he hasn’t gotten out much. Oh!” he waves someone over, “you guys can finally meet him! Hey babe, this is Indrid and Duck.”
A tall man with black hair steps beside Barclay with a smile and turns to look at them.
Three years ago, Duck fell down an embankment at work. The result was nothing more than some bruises and a bad scratch on his right palm. It was the fall that sucked, the sensation that the world was upending over and over again and he couldn’t right himself no matter how hard he tried.
That’s how he feels the instant he sees Joe’s face.
“This was a great idea” Joe picks two more Granny Smiths and sticks them in the bag Duck holds out for him.
“Glad you think so. I, uh, I” he blushes, “I always worry when I ask you to do corny shit like this with me.”
Joe brushes a strand of hair back into place; he’s been wearing his hair slicked back more and more often and Duck would be lying if he said it wasn’t hot. Besides, it makes it even more fun to mess up when the other man is pinned to the bed.
“Firstly, I grew up in the midwest. This was as much a part of my childhood as it was yours. And second” he slips his hands into Duck’s front pockets, “I love doing things like this with you.”
Duck pecks him on the cheek before they continue to the next tree. This is the second time he’s brought Joe back to Kepler; the first was for his great-grandma’s 95th birthday, where his boyfriend charmed the entirety of the Newton clan in under three hours. He’s pretty sure that if he hadn’t brought him for Thanksgiving there would have been a riot.
At twenty-four he’s not getting the full brunt of the “when are you getting married” brigade, but he can feel them amping up to start it within the next year. He hasn’t gotten there yet; he’s had to do part time to finish his degree and Joe is still knee deep in getting the professional experience he needs to apply to the FBI.
Maybe someday. For now, he takes Joe’s hand and guides him deeper into the trees.
“I was gonna introduce everyone but I’ve got a feeling you two know each other.”
Joe’s fingers look ready to pierce his to-go cup as he says, “Duck and I used to date.”
From one glance at Indrid’s face, he can tell his boyfriend put the pieces together. From a similar glance at Barclays’, it looks like Joe wasn’t nearly so forthcoming about his past.
“More proof that Duck has excellent taste.” Indrid winks at Joe. It’s not suave flirtation so much as Indrid scrambling to change the course of an awkward conversation. When it does nothing to ease the tension he adds, “do you ever have one of those social interactions where you do not know what to do and then you’re in hell?”
“Oh, I’m so sorry” Joe holds out his hand for Indrid to shake, “I just, um, imagine we’re all a bit surprised by this turn of events.”
“Yeah.” Barclay’s eyes dart to Indrid’s hand and he chuckles a little, “uh, anyway, we should probably let you guys get in line before it’s around the building. See you around.”
“Nice meeting you Indrid. And it’s good to see you again, Duck.” Joe’s using his FBI voice, detached and polite, the tone slipping under Duck’s skin so that all he can do is offer a wave as they part ways.
As they take a spot behind a family dressed in matching overalls, Indrid moves from holding Duck’s arm to gently intertwining their fingers.
“Alright, sweet one, what aren’t you telling me?”
“Joe didn’t tell you in a vision just then?”
“There was one future with a longer explanation. But some things I would rather learn the direct way.”
Duck stops pretending to study the menu and looks at Indrid. This close, he can see his eyes behind the red lenses of his glasses. His gaze is completely present, completely patient.
Beneath the din of registers and coffee machines, he tells him the story.
—-----------------------------------------------------
“I’m sorry, Joe. I just…I can’t. I can’t do this with you.”
His hope is cracking into pieces, but Joseph is nothing if not persistent.
“Why?”
Duck leans against the kitchen table, “You really don’t know?”
“I know that I love you. I know that when I’m with you is when I’m happiest. I, I know that we’ve been talking about the future. Our future.”
His boyfriend sighs, looks up at the popcorn ceiling, “Yeah. Yeah we have. But here’s what I know. I know we ain’t fucked in close to four months. I know we ain’t been on a real date in even longer. And I know that I hardly see you, and when I do you’re this, this wilted version of the fella I used to know.”
“You’re right, I’m sorry, I know work has been crazy but once I get promoted I’ll be able to-”
“Stop. Just, stop right there. You said the same thing about gettin’ hired in the first place. Then your first promotion. Maybe you mean it but we both know how you get when you got a goal.”
His hope splinters like a sunken ship, and he flails for a piece to cling to, “What are you saying?”
“That my answer ain’t gonna change. And that I…I got some things I need to think about.”
Duck turns and walks out of the room. Joseph tucks the ring back into his pocket and drowns.
He knew it would happen eventually; Kepler is a small town and Duck had always talked about moving back there to work in the national forest he grew up loving. When Barclay mentioned a friend named Duck, Joseph hoped it was a coincidence while knowing all the while it couldn’t be.
He’s been here less than two weeks. Couldn’t the universe have given him a little time to recover from that major life change before confronting him with one of his biggest regrets?
Barclay is showering, so Joseph allows himself to open Instagram and bring up Duck’s profile. He’d found it a few years ago but forbid himself from looking. After this morning, he can’t bring himself to care.
Duck’s profile is mainly nature photos and pictures of friends. The first selfie he finds is back in June; a round face smiles at the camera as he sports a gray button up shirt patterned with little rainbow-colored bears. The top two buttons are undone and Joseph wants to reach through the screen and unbutton the rest.
He keeps scrolling, stops at a picture of Indrid and Duck together on a porch swing and the Lodge. The angle suggests Duck took it while Indrid napped on his shoulder.
ItsANickname: Happy three year anniversary, mothman.
Indrid is tagged and Joseph clicks through to a page featuring more bug than tree photos. There are many of Duck and of the same fluffy, orange and white cat that was in Duck’s profile. But his finger stops on the one of Indrid, seated behind a yellow and pink cake, dragging Barclay into frame for a hug. Joseph’s impressed; his boyfriend is notoriously camera shy.
Maybe it’s the power of being a former flame?
“He asks for that cake every year.” Barclay sits down next to him, smelling comfortingly of sandalwood, “and every year he’s so fucking happy to get it.”
“I can tell.” He sets the phone on his nightstand.
Barclay grabs one of the blankets from the end of the bed and unfurls it, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I wasn’t completely sure the Duck you kept mentioning was the same person and it still stings a little to talk about it. And, well, the way things ended doesn’t exactly show me in the best light” He takes Barclays’ hand, “I was so smitten with you I didn’t want to scare you off because the old me had a shitty work/life balance.”
The fact Barclay could easily point out Joseph had that same problem until three weeks ago but doesn’t is proof he loves him. And that he believes Joseph when he says he fought for more chances to see him.
Barclay lays down and opens his arms. Once Joseph is in them he whispers, “I get it. When we first met in person I was so afraid you’d spot all my flaws right away and never wanna see me again.” He kisses him, “I know I come across as a romantic, babe, but I’m not in denial about the fact the people I love have fucked up. You don’t have to hide shit from me, okay?”
Joseph holds him a little tighter, remembering where he is, “Okay.”
—--------------------------------------------------------
“Ooooh I have so many ideas.” Indrid drums on his thighs as the other haunted house volunteers find seats. It’s one of the few times when all the weirdos in Kepler come out. In his Cramps tank-top, mothman and bone tattoos on full display and silver hair hanging over his red glasses, Indrid could be their king. He’s also the hottest guy here, but Duck might be biased.
Joe walking in shouldn’t be a surprise; he loves Halloween. Honestly if he and Indrid ever form an alliance Duck’s apartment, the Lodge, and half of Kepler will be covered in meticulously planned yet vaguely chaotic Halloween decorations.
His ex gives them a slightly stiff wave as he settles in a chair on the opposite side of the circle. As Pigeon welcomes everyone and runs through the timeline and theme for this year, Duck can’t keep his eyes from wandering back to Joe. They’ve both aged but Duck never sees the kind of exhaustion in his own face that’s lingering on Joe’s. He’s in a navy button up and blue jeans, though when he adjusts to let someone by Duck spots UFOs on his socks. The fact he’s still wearing his hair slicked back fills Duck’s chest with an ache there must be a word for in German. Or maybe Japanese.
He’s stacking chairs while Indrid and Pigeon talk logistics after the meeting when a voice says, “do you need help?”
“I’m good, city mouse. I mean, uh, fuck.” Ten years apart should have killed that pet name, “No, Joe, but thanks.”
Joe runs a hand over his hair, “Look. I know this is awkward for both of us. I, I was sort of hoping we could get coffee in the next few days and clear the air.”
He could say no and Joe would back down. But he’d prefer to not spend the next several years in low level social hell.
“Log Cabin Coffee tomorrow? I can be there after work, about 5:15.”
Joe nods with noticeable relief, “I’ll see you then.”
—------------------------------------------------------
“So used to havin to wait for ‘Drid’s order.” Duck watches him tip half and half into his coffee cup before following him to a corner table.
“I’ve seen him order it a few times at the Lodge. I’m impressed. And a little worried about his heart.”
“Swear the fella really is part moth.”
“The name of his studio really is genius.”
Mothman Prophecies: Art Studio and Fortune Teller was one of the first places Joseph noticed on his drive back into town. He hadn’t realized then that the proprietor was as intriguing as it’s namesake.
Duck sips his black coffee. He looks how he always does in Kepler; calm, at home, unafraid. But Joseph sees the way his left knee is bouncing.
“Look, Duck, I…I guess I should start by saying I’m sorry. For everything. For choosing my work over you. For” he looks away, “for being so fucking caught up in myself I hurt one of the best things to ever happen to me.”
“I’m sorry, too. For, uh, for some of the things I said towards the end.”
“You were right about all of them.”
“That don’t necessarily make it okay.” Both hands close around his mug, “how the fuck did you end up back here?”
“I’d like to say that, when they told me they’d never, ever let me work the cases I wanted to, I left. That when they said they weren’t wasting all the training and time they put into me on a few missing hikers a year, I quit on the spot. But I didn’t. I stayed another four fucking months before they fired me because I couldn’t take the hint.”
“Christ, that’s fuckin’ bullshit.”
“Barclay offered to let me move in and I accepted. I know it’s a little fast, we’ve only been together a year and it’s been long distance but under the circumstances-”
“You don’t gotta justify stuff that makes you happy, Joe.” Duck’s right hand comes off the enamel, then retreats back, “Besides, I know for a fact you make the big fella so happy Mama was convinced she was gonna lose her best cook to the big city because he was gonna propose.”
“I’m extremely glad he didn’t do any of that. It’s a culture shock, living here, but at least he has a social circle I can cling to. If he’d moved to Cincinnati we’d be up shit creek.” He’s dying to change the subject and so he clears his throat, “enough about my predictable burn-out. How have things been for you?”
Duck leans back in his chair, “Good. Tourism board is listenin to some of my ideas to get the forest to be a bigger draw. ‘Drid moved in about a year ago. Folks passed away, Jane’s off on missions.”
Joseph waits but nothing else comes.
“I, um, saw a few pictures of your cat. She’s very cute.”
Duck smiles, “Yeah. Shelter named her Henny and her sister was Penny. Fitting, since she yowls like the sky is falling if she don’t get her way. Here,” he pulls out his phone, “look at this.”
A video starts, showing Henny meoqing at the camera. When nothing happens, she turns and trots across the floor to a pair of long legs in black pants. Bats at them once, twice, and then jumps halfway up them and begins climbing. Indrid shouts “OWmenace!” as Duck giggles behind the camera.
“Oh, and then two days ago she did this…”
The cat videos lead to a video of Aubrey’s giant rabbit, Dr. Harris Bonkers, followed by a video Duck took of one of her shows, followed by a video of him narrating as he walks through the trees.
“They want to get the forest on Tik-Tok to get more-” Duck looks up from the screen and freezes. Joseph cannot, for the life of him, remember when they got this close.
Before he can speak, Duck tucks his phone away but stays in his space.
“I, uh, I know we can’t exactly start over. But if you’re up for it I, uh, I’d really like to try bein’ friends.”
“I’d like that so much.” Joseph whispers.
Duck smiles his full, crooked, perfect smile, and Joseph pretends the warmth in his chest is from the promise of friendship and nothing more.
—-------------------------------------------------------------
“Joseph? Would you hand me that string of lights? Ah, thank you.” Indrid takes the coiled cord and ducks back behind the plywood. They’re working on a spooky forest scene for one of the transitional hallways of the haunted house. Indrid can make his own hours and Joseph is currently unemployed, which increasingly means the two of them spend whole afternoons planning out animatronic placement or going over make-up ideas. Joseph has some deliciously gory ideas for the zombie pen, if Indrid does say so himself.
“Do you want me to stand here so we can feed them back and forth?”
“Yes, please.” Indrid pops some lights into place, then passes them through, humming as he does. Through the various holes and gaps, he watches Joseph follow directions with eager efficiency.
He knows what Barclay says about him, but Indrid suspects it would not take much to make the other man into an obedient, well-dressed pet.
Indrid may be the only person on earth who knows how Joseph and Barclay actually met. Last winter, after far too many glasses of spiked eggnog, Barclay confessed that one night he’d been dying to put on a certain pair of underwear, but was still too shy to do it of his own accord. A few profile swipes and chats later, he found a special agent who happened to love big men in lacy things. It snowballed from there, a fact for which Indrid is glad, even if it meant Barclay’s occasional visits to his bedroom eventually ended.
“You know” Joseph says from the other side of the wall, “Barclay mentioned that you two were seeing each other before he and I became exclusive.”
“Indeed. Does it bother you?”
“Not at all. I’m mostly surprised Duck was open to it.”
“Them being friends and trusting each other helped a great deal. And I’ve found that as one gets older, one becomes more confident in oneself. Duck included.”
“I think I’m the exception to that rule. Thirty-five years and I feel like I’m holding onto my sense of self by my fingernails.”
Indrid finishes stringing the lights and steps from behind the panel. Joseph is untangling another string of eerie, green lights with the kind of concentration that comes from needing to distract yourself (Indrid knows it well).
“To hear Barclay tell it, there’s still a great deal to admire about you. And to hear him and Duck tell it, there always has been.” He touches Joseph’s arm, “If you ever feel out of place, come talk with me.”
“How did you-”
“I wasn’t always in Kepler. It’s a perfectly nice town but I know how hard it can be to adjust to it after a life in a busy place, even when you have people here you love. Now” he slips his arm through Joseph’s, who relaxes instead of pulling away, “let’s go finish the werewolf den.”
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“What did you see? When you shook Joseph’s hand that first time.” Barclay chops another apple, tosses it into the bowl with the rest.
Indrid sips his white chocolate pumpkin spice latte, “Do you want all the answers, or only the comforting ones?”
Barclay glances at the doors to the dining room; they’re both locked while he does his prep.
“All of them. Starting with the bad ones.”
“There aren’t any. Just…puzzling ones. Or, not puzzling, but surprising.”
Barclay chops two more apples before Indrid adds, “The four of us end up dating.”
“Fuck” he nicks his thumb and pulls it back, Indrid hopping over the counter to clear away the bloody cutting board, “don’t worry, it’s not bad.”
“All the same” Indrid holds out his hand and Barclay dutifully rests his own in it as Indrid fishes a bandage out of the first aid kit. It goes on a bit lopsided as he says, “you’ve thought about it, haven’t you?”
“A couple of times.” He blushes, “after it was just the four of us at game night I just, I thought about how nice it would be to all cuddle up in bed.”
“I have as well.” He touches Barclay’s face, “You know I care for you and want you. Joseph inspires some very similar feelings. And some new ones” That dazzling, wide grin, “he’s convinced he can work out the tricks I use to give accurate palm readings. I wonder how long it will take him to learn there’s only one.”
“If anyone can figure it out, it’s him.” Barclay holds Indrid’s hands, “do we tell them?”
“No. If there’s any outside pressure, even if it’s not really pressure at all, I suspect it will go wrong. So, potential polyamory later ” Indrid tugs Barclay’s apron, “pie now.”
—--------------------------------------------------------------------
He has no one to blame but himself. Weeks ago, when Indrid said they still needed a vampire and vampire hunter for one room, Duck and Joseph volunteered. At the time they saw it as a chance to spend more evenings catching up. And it is, the two of them hidden in an alcove, whispering between scaring groups of guests. It also means hours pressed close to–and pretending to bite– a body he firmly believes was made to be worshiped.
They did this last night and when he got home he fell asleep to the idea of Duck holding him against the wall and kissing him silly before passing him off to Indrid and Barclay to absolutely ruin. He spent today feeling guilty; he should count himself lucky he still has Barclay. Wanting Indrid, wanting Duck–the last person in the world who wants to entangle their heart with his own–is not only foolish, it’s utterly selfish and greedy. So he’s pulled back, only waved to Indrid when he got here instead of chatting with him and is keeping as much space between Duck and himself as possible.
The haunted house has two sets of admission hours; the late afternoon into early evening is for families. After dinner and into the later night is for adults only and is much bloodier and scarier. He helps Duck get the rig onto his neck that sends blood spurting when Joseph bites him, then steps back against the wall.
“Okay Joe, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit. You’ve been usin’ your professional voice all night and you’re acting like I got cooties.” Duck crosses his arms and Joseph curses whoever thought to put his ex in a long, brown leather jacket that shows off his arms.
“I’m just making sure you feel comfortable with me.”
“Feel com–Joe for fuck’s sake, aw fuck” the light blinks to let them know a group is about to come in.
They take their positions, Duck thrashing and screaming as Joseph pretends to bite his throat and blood splashes unsuspecting guests, distracting them so that Aubrey scaring them from a coffin around the next corner will be extra surprising.
Joseph moves away as soon as they’re clear, “Not everything is about you and me, Duck.”
“Dunno, this really feels like it is!”
“Would you please just drop it?” He hisses.
“Not until you stop avoiding an answer, fuck Joe you know I hate that.”
“I’m sorry but I’m not-”
Duck backs him into the wall, “What’s. Wrong.”
Panic, arousal, and frustration bubble up inside him, and as the light blinks again he does the first thing that comes to mind.
He grabs Duck, and bites down for real.
Duck just manages to sound like he’s in pain, cursing more than usual as the group hurries past. This time, when Joseph tries to move away, the shorter man grabs the edges of his cape and keeps him there.
“That wasn’t very nice, darlin. You know biting is my weakness.”
“I’m, I’m so sorry.” He stops, wipes fake blood from his chin, “actually, fuck that, I’m not sorry at all. I needed you to feel it too, Duck. The reason we can’t keep spending time together. I” he straightens his back, accepting his fate, “I’m falling for you all over again.”
A thumb brushes his jaw, an old, comforting gesture. The sign for “look at me.” So he does.
“I’m in the same goddamn boat, Joe.”
“Even after-”
“I didn’t leave because I stopped lovin you. I left because it wasn’t working. And I scared half outta my mind that it might work now.”
“Me too.”
“So then we face it together instead of tryin to pretend it ain’t happening. We talk with Barclay and ‘Drid and figure out if there’s even anywhere to go from here that’s worth going. But I need you to promise me you won’t leave me alone for that.”
“I promise.”
Duck touches his cheek as the light flashes, “Good boy. And no more biting without permission.”
“I won’t.”
The rest of the night speeds by, and when they finally emerge at closing time, Indrid offers him a hand down the back steps.
“Uh, sugar, me and Joe got somethin to talk with you about. Barclay too.”
Indrid smiles in that knowing way of his, “I see that. And you don’t need to look so worried, either of you. The future looks very bright.”
#OT4: Government Men and Their Cryptid Boyfriends#promptober 2022#Indruck#sternclay#agent stern/barclay/indrid cold/Duck newton#agent stern/duck newton#inclay
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My Most Favorite Animaniacs Episodes (also including songs) by Animation Studio
Original series (1993 - 1998)
TMS: Hello Nice Warners, Yakko’s World, Ups and Downs, Potty Emergency, The Brave Little Trailer, Roll Over Beethoven, Temporary Insanity, Noel, The Great Wakkorotti: The Master and His Music, Drive-Insane, Little Drummer Warners, LA LA Law, The Monkey Song, Hooked on a Ceiling, Pavlov’s Mice, the Wheel of Morality segments, The Senses Song, Piano Rag, Turkey Jerky, The Three Muska-Warners, No Place Like Homeless, The Flame, Clown and Out; the Tower Escapes, Chases, and Returns segments, A Christmas Plotz, Fair Game, Newsreel of the Stars, I’m Cute, Babblin’ Bijou, The Great Wakkorotti: The Summer Concert, Taming of the Screwy, Garage Sale of the Century, H.M.S. Yakko, Cutie and the Beast, the Mime Time segments, Cookies for Einstein, The Warners’ 65th Anniversary Special; Hot, Bothered, and Bedeviled
Startoons: Wakko’s America, Chairman of the Bored, Ragamuffins, Bully for Skippy, Dot - the Macadamia Nut, Wally Llama, Meet Minerva, Magic Time, Cartoons in Wakko’s Body, Slappy Goes Walnuts, There’s Only One of You, It, Plane Pals, …And Justice for Slappy, Critical Condition, Guardin’ the Garden, Windsor Hassle, Be Careful What You Eat, What Are We?, The Big Candy Store, Testimonials, the Randy Beaman segments, Meet John Brain, Meatballs or Consequences, Bumbie’s Mom, Karaoke-Dokie
Wang: Space-Probed, Go Fish, Soda Jerk, The Return of the Great Wakkorotti, Win Big, A Hard Day’s Warners, Battle for the Planet, Three Tenors and You’re Out, Mobster Mash, Dot’s Quiet Time, Hiccup, Gold Rush, The Sound of Warners, Yes, Always; With Three You Get Eggroll, Lookit the Fuzzy Heads, Super Strong Warners, The Party, Message in a Bottle, Take My Siblings Please, King Yakko, From Burbank With Love, the Good Idea, Bad Idea segments; Night of the Living Buttons, Fake, I’m Mad, Bones in the Body; No Pain, No Painting
Freelance: Chalkboard Bungle, Nighty-Night Toon, Moby or Not Moby, Survey Ladies, Of Nice and Men, Les Boutons et le Ballon, When Rita Met Runt, The Cat and the Fiddle, Katie Ka-Boom: The Blemish, General Boo-Regard, The Mindy 500, Animator’s Alley, Katie Ka-Boom: The Broken Date, Up a Tree, the Dot’s Poetry Corner segments
AKOM: Hurray for Slappy, Bingo, Raging Bird, Astro-Buttons, Multiplication, Noah’s Lark, This Pun For Hire, Dough Dough Boys, I Got Yer Can, Hello Nurse, Goodfeathers: The Beginning, Opportunity Knox, Boot Camping, White Gloves, The Girl with the Googily Goop, Mesozoic Mindy, Star Truck, Moon Over Minerva, Anchors A-Warners, Bad Mood Bobby, Back in Style, Dot’s Entertainment, No Time for Love, Jokahontas, Ten Short Films About Wakko Warner, You Risk Your Life, A Very Very Very Very Special Show, We’re No Pigeons, Kiki’s Kitten, Four Score and Seven Migraines Ago
Koko: Boo Wonder, The Carpool, Birds on a Wire, Cute First (Ask Questions Later), Here Comes Attila, The Sunshine Squirrels
Revival series (2020 - present)
Titmouse: WhoDonut, Math-Terpiece Theater: Apples, The Cutening, Hindenburg Cola, Manny Manspreader, Rome Sweet Rome, No Brainer, Bun Control, Mousechurian Candidate, Warner She Wrote, Teeniacs, Please Submit, Yakko’s Big Idea, Wakkiver Twist Parts One and Two, Talladega Mice: The Ballad of Pinky Brainy, Rug of War, How To: Brain Takes Over the World, Rejected Animaniacs Characters, Warner’s Ark, Equal Time, The Warners Are Present
Snipple: Gold Meddlers, Gift Rapper, Jurassic Lark, Fear and Laughter in Burbank, Good Warner Hunting, Suspended Animation: Part 1 and 2, Of Mice and Memes, Warners Unbound, Ex Mousina, Ralph Cam, Close Encounters of the Worst Kind
Digital eMation: Yakko Amakko, All About the Benjamin, Slappy’s Return, The Warner’s Vault, Mouse Madness, The Pinktator, My Super Sour 16, The Flawed Couple
Saerom: The Apology, WARnerGAMES: Parts 1 and 2, Christopher Columbusted, Wakko’s Short Shorts: Now Loading, Know Your Scroll, Santamaniacs, The Longest Word, The Hamburg Tickler
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Sorry about the rambling. I dunno why I wrote so much, but I don’t want to consign it to the draft folder purgatory I only so recently purged.
Today, in the grocery store parking lot**, a truck transporting hogs had broken down.
I dunno if everyone knows what these trucks look like. They are double decker things, these slivery crates with the animals packed in tight. When I was little, before the road was four laned, the trucks would come right through the middle of the town, reeking of pig shit.
Actually, those trucks and those too tiny pig lots local farmers used to have had me assuming pigs naturally stunk. When my little Ryoga showed up I assumed I was going to just have to endure a terrible stench out by the pool. It turned out that if you actually give pigs enough space they don’t stink at all! Who knew!
Anyway, as the trucker worked on his engine the giant cage rattled as hogs moved about. You could see them, the side of a pig, an ear, just glimpses through the gaps. Every now and then a snout would stick out, sniffing at the air. Despite the fact there was the occasional unhappy squeal, the pigs probably didn’t know they are on their way to die, only they were packed in tight in a metal box, and now that they weren’t being jostled around they were baking in the sun and smelling the same horrible diesel exhaust that was choking me.
My god, Ryoga doesn’t know how lucky he was when he ran away and found me! That would have been his fate. He would have been butchered years ago.
Instead he has his cozy house surrounded by trees. He has a human that feeds him twice a day, gives him apples, shares her oranges with him, gives him newspapers to thrash to death, rubs his belly, and frets if he pulls a muscle or catches a cold.
I was buying him fresh wood chips, hog feed, and apples on this trip, while I watched his cousins becoming agitated in a truck that started rocking. I’d be petting and scratching at Ryoga, snuffling back at him face to face just a few hours later. And they would soon be dying.
Look, I get humans are omnivores. I am too. But I can’t stand the thought of eating bacon, ham, etc ever since Ryoga entered my life. It’s no different than how most people would never seriously entertain the idea of eating dogs or cats. I see those pigs, and I see my “little one”.
Ok, Ryoga isn’t exactly little anymore(my tusky buddy weighs much more than me), but he’ll always be “my little one”, the scrawny, battered, little piglet the size of a cat that took Mom and I by surprise late one October day. He’s special to me, but maybe some of those pigs on that truck are smart or silly or cute or playful too. It was just insane luck that he escaped and found me.
At Walmart two people held up signs begging for money, one someone that looked decidedly sickly who said they were disabled, the other a frail old woman, hunched over. Both looked sad, ashamed, and exhausted as they struggled at different ends of the parking lot to keep standing.
So very little separates me from them, as my body breaks and my bank account dwindles. My home is dilapidated, but it is a home. Many of the things my family left me a broken, but some work. I have a very meager allowance to survive on, but it has so far been enough to not quite starve. But how long before I have no livable house and not enough money to meet basic needs?
And it occurred to me that I was like Ryoga. We both got lucky. And loved.
He doesn’t appreciate it, of course, and has no concept of the precariousness of existence. If I die before him, he is probably doomed.
I was like that once too. Taking my family and the life they offered for granted, intellectually getting I was lucky, but emotionally incapable of truly predicting the future that lay ahead.
Like most animals I have a terrible problem of existing too much in the now, and almost paradoxically that has gotten worse now that the reality of my life has proven the folly of such a life. The trouble is, once I started falling there is no time or energy for planning or preparing when everything has become about surviving. How an I exist outside the now, when every moment yanks me back with a new crisis?
Today I watched pigs in a truck, on their way to slaughter, and people that life has crushed desperately hoping for a moment of anonymous kindness from people that would rather not make eye contact. And I feel all the luck I have, and all the fear of how it cam so easily slip away.
**Super stressful shopping trip. I was trying desperately to get the essentials on my list yet still save enough I could pay a certain bill due this month. The good news is I succeeded. The bad news is I may or may not be able to buy groceries for myself again this month! LOL (Don’t worry. The animals come first. )
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a partridge in a pear tree -> a jersey under the tree | b. boeser
a/n: happy december 1st everyone and welcome to the first day of 12 days of christmas! as a reminder here is the whole list. these will be posted every other day through christmas eve. this one is where this whole thing started, a gift for my bestie bae, the apple to my peanut butter forever, @brockadoodles. i hope you like it most of all!
word count: 3,740
wine drink pairing recommendation: hot chocolate with lots of marshmallows
warnings: pregnancy. some seriously wholesome content.
You took a deep breath and pulled the sleeves of your sweater over your hands, then pushed them back up again when you started pulling at the threads at the edge. Your sweater didn’t deserve to take the brunt of your stress in that moment. You bounced your foot up and down nervously instead as you waited what had to have been the longest three, absolutely agonizing minutes of your life. When the timer on your phone went off, you lurched forward to grab it, turning it off, as your other hand reached for the small, plastic test. You took a deep, centering breath before glancing down at the word in the small window.
Pregnant.
You were actually pregnant. You knew everything had felt wrong for a few weeks now, food didn't taste the same or sit right, you were absolutely exhausted all of the time, and you had snapped at Brock a time or two for well-meaning actions. You knew something was wrong, but your mom had been the one to have to tell you to take a test before going to the doctor’s. You had told her it wasn’t possible; you and Brock were doing the opposite of trying since you had only gotten married over the summer. You agreed to wait. That single word, which came with a lifetime behind it, wasn’t in the plan for another few years, but it was here now and it would be your reality in seven short months.
How were you going to tell Brock?
You knew he would be overwhelmed, his eyes glazing over as the timeline of his life abruptly shifted forward several years, yanking him right along with it. You knew Brock though; you wouldn’t have married him if you didn’t know him as well as you did. You knew that glazed over look would give way into a smile so broad it practically broke across his face. The waiting a few years, the shattered plan, was mostly you with a dash of Brock trying to make you happy. If you suddenly changed your mind and wanted to try for a baby tomorrow, unnecessary now, he would’ve dragged you to bed that instant. In full truth, your husband had baby fever as soon as he slid the wedding band onto your finger, probably before that really. Brock was going to be over the moon. You didn’t have any doubts about it, you really just needed to get yourself on board with this more than anything, this new timeline.
You grabbed your phone, fingers hovering over Brock’s name in your contacts. You debated calling him then, letting the nervous words spill out of your mouth, letting him wash away your concerns with words of love and affirmation. But you knew Brock. You knew Brock wanted the cliché, cute surprise. His scavenger hunt of a proposal set the standard for how big news was delivered, a cliché bang of sorts. You were more of a whimper than a bang sort of person, but you could lean into the cliché of it all for him.
Instead of calling him, you dropped your phone into your purse and grabbed your keys, needing to make a last minute trip in order to make this happen before he got home later that day from his road trip for the Christmas break. Two stores and one confused holiday worker later, you had everything you needed for your last minute announcement, letting the excitement of the anticipation of seeing Brock’s happiness calm your nerves in place of him doing it in only the way he knew how. Slowly but surely, as you carefully wrapped everything up, you could feel yourself getting more excited, hands shaking a little as you wrapped. A family with Brock was always the real plan; everything else was secondary, including the timing of it all.
You and Brock had found each other by chance, a complete accident four years prior to the day actually. A department store the day before Christmas was a terrible place to be, but it was the only place in your area that said they had the last gift you needed before you could head off to spend Christmas with your family. You spotted it in the store, the last one on the shelf, and made a beeline for it. As your hand reached for it, a large hand reached for the item as well, grabbed onto it the same time you did. You both recoiled, and turned to face each other.
You would have been furious with him if it wasn’t for the everything about him when you saw him. Blond hair peeking out from a gray beanie on his head, blue eyes that reminded you of the sky the morning after a snowstorm, bright and beautiful, and a small baby in his arms who was already reaching out for your hair, even though he didn’t know you at all.
“Whoa, Easty, don’t grab the pretty girl’s hair,” he laughed as he intercepted the baby’s hand on its way to fist into your hair. “Sorry about Easton. His parents are trying to teach him not to grab, but you can see it’s not going well.”
He readjusted the baby in his arms, hoisting him up a little higher, before continuing, “I’m Brock, by the way, and this is my nephew, Easton.”
“Um, hi,” you mumbled out, tucking your hair behind your ear as a blush rose to your cheeks as you added your name at the end of your half statement. You had a warmer smile for Easton though. Brock, a terrible name for a cute boy who liked babies to boot, who on the other hand was trying to take your gift that you needed. He was on the naughty list for sure. “Hi there, Easton.”
“I see we like Easton best,” Brock laughed, picking up on the stark difference in the tones you used. “Look, you want that, right?”
Brock pointed up toward the shelf where the gift you desperately needed sat, taunting you, daring you to reach out and grab it. You nodded in response to Brock, unsure where he could possibly be going with this.
“How about I let you have that if you’ll grab a drink with me?” Brock asked you, completely stunning you in the middle of a department store in the middle of the holiday season, a lawless place where one should always expect the unexpected.
“I’m sorry?” you laughed, a look of disbelief clear on your face.
Brock let a lazy smile roll across his face, “I get a drink with a pretty girl for the price of a Christmas gift for one of my cousins who would probably break it the day after I give it to him? Yeah, I’m coming out on top here, if you say yes.”
You had said yes and the rest was pretty much history, an accidental meeting led to all of this, so maybe the accidental baby you were carrying just in time for Christmas was just the right thing for the two of you, a nod to your past in the setting up of your future. Just as you finished tying the bow around the box, the front door jingled, the sound instantly followed by barking from Milo and Coolie, and then followed by cooing from your husband at the pups.
“Hey bud, hey bud. Yeah, Dad missed ya too,” he managed to get out as he was being practically tackled by the pups, like they did whenever he came home.
You slid the surprise gift under the tree, tucking it in the back, before Brock could notice you were adding one more gift after you said you were done a few days ago. You lifted yourself off the floor, tucking the wrapping paper under the couch to hide it from Brock, as he rounded the corner into the living room. Brock looked at you like he always did, like you were his entire world, like you were his first breath of fresh air he’d had in years, like you were the living embodiment of a Christmas miracle. He shuffled across the floor to wrap his arms around your waist, and you gasped as he lifted you up. He laughed, but you were just panicking that maybe your stomach wasn’t as flat as you thought it was and he was going to find out about the biggest surprise he was ever going to get a little earlier than you wanted.
“Hey, baby,” he breathed out as he set you back down, tilting his head down in one another motion to capture your lips in a soft kiss.
“Hey, handsome,” you smiled as you pulled away from his kiss, a hand threading into the long strands of hair at the back of his neck.
Brock smiled down at you, and gave you another quick kiss before saying, “How were the last couple days? Were the pups good for you? Do I need to be bad cop with them?”
You laughed and shook your head softly, “Brock Boeser, we both know you’re not capable of being the bad cop with anyone, let alone Milo and Coolie.”
Brock was laughing as he kissed your forehead, “Sorry you’re going to have to be the bad guy all the time when we have kids. Whenever that is, no pressure.”
Your heart picked up in your chest and your breath caught in your throat. You tucked your face in his neck to try and hide the expression on your face, letting the ease with which Brock brought up kids calm you. He wanted this baby, even if he didn’t know they existed yet. Your nerves that maybe he wouldn’t want this baby were just misplaced anxiety coming from your own feelings about becoming a parent yourself; they weren’t about him. Brock was here, again, being your perfect partner, comforting you and assuring you, even though he had no idea he was actually doing anything at all.
Sliding into bed next to him later that night, his heavy arm slung over your stomach made you as nervous as when he picked you up earlier, even though nothing had changed since that afternoon other than everything that had already changed since the morning. Brock kissed your shoulder and relaxed into his pillow, letting his eyes flutter closed. He was out less than a few minutes after closing his eyes, as per usual. Your husband was a creature of habit, and you were about to throw the most welcome wrench into his routines that you ever could. Your nerves had shifted into ones of excitement, of wanting a beautiful thing to happen on the morning of Brock’s favorite holiday. You wanted to see him open that gift. You wanted to see the moment he realized everything was changing, the moment he realized he was going to be a father, the one thing he’d wanted for so long, under the lights of the Christmas tree, and the dawn of a winter Vancouver morning in late December.
All you had to do to get to that moment was sleep, but it was the one thing that eluded you most of the night. The combination of excitement, nerves, and the fact that this baby seemed to have the goal of making you incredibly nauseous all of the time, all working in tandem to rob you of sleep. You tossed and turned most of the night, and slept terribly when you did manage to sleep, but it was Christmas after all Brock didn’t feel any shame in waking you up when he normally got up. He woke you up with a soft kiss to your shoulder, and a comforting arm around your waist.
“Merry Christmas, baby,” he mumbled softly against your shoulder when you stirred.
“Merry Christmas, husband,” you breathed out and you felt Brock smile against your shoulder. He loved when you called him by his favorite title, his words not yours. “What time is this?”
Brock laughed lightly against your skin, “Early,” which was what he said when it was before seven thirty in the morning whenever you asked, “but it’s Christmas early, so it’s appropriate today.”
You groaned, making him laugh deeper in response, “Still not sure how I married an early bird?”
“But you love meeeee,” he muttered against your skin, voice soft with an edge of youth that perfectly fit the holiday, his days old stubble scratching across your skin as he talked. “And I love you so much.”
“I do love you,” you smiled as you spoke. “It’s the only reason I can tolerate you waking up this early on days that aren’t Christmas.”
“Well, today is Christmas, so we’re putting our matching pajamas on. I’ve got Milo if you take Coolie, and we’re opening some presents, baby!”
One torn set of dog antlers, one discarded set, two embarrassing adult pajama sets Brock loved so much, and two cups of coffee since neither of you could function without it, later, and you and Brock were sat by the Christmas tree together, legs crossed, each with your first present for each other in yours laps. You had an order in mind for Brock’s gifts, saving the last addition, the announcement of your new addition, for last. Brock usually just grabbed whatever was closest to him with your name on it and handed it to you.
“Sorry I still can’t wrap things,” was how he handed you the first one, snagging the box with his name on it off your lap in one smooth motion.
“Wouldn’t be from you if it wasn’t wrapped like you ran over it with your car first,” you joked.
“Ho, ho, ho,” he rolled his eyes. “So kind of you, wifey.”
“I’ve got to keep you honest.”
You smiled brightly at him, earning yourself a quick peck on your lips before he ripped into your impeccably wrapped present, sending bits of paper and ribbon everywhere. You eyed Milo carefully as he started ripping up some of the paper Brock had torn off the box, but he wasn’t creating more of a mess than Brock was making himself, so you let it slide under a watchful eye. Brock loved his first gift, and his second, and his third. You cried at the first, and laughed at your second, and your entire chest felt warm with your third thinking that Brock Boeser was made for Christmas. He was warm and unfailingly kind and hopeful in the face of absolute hopelessness. You didn’t really believe in the idea of the magic of Christmas, chocking it all up to people making the holidays feel special simply because they wished for them to be special, but you believed that sometimes people were greater than the sum of their parts, of even their experiences, of their very atoms. There was something else to Brock Boeser, something so indescribably wonderful, that had drawn you to him in the first place, and that reminded you of what people said was the magic of Christmas. It was pure and good and so astoundingly bright that you thought maybe Brock Boeser was made of stardust from better stars than anyone else you’d ever known and maybe Christmas was made for Brock Boeser instead.
You were just hoping that your little surprise was going to make this Christmas his best one yet, rather than derail Brock’s favorite holiday and every repetition of this holiday after.
“Okay, I know we said three gifts,” and Brock was already groaning as you reached for the small box you hid behind Coolie and Milo’s gifts at the back of the tree, “but I had to get this one. It’s technically not really for you actually, but it’s kind of for you.”
Brock gave you a curious look, eyebrows furrowing down and lips pursing, but you waved him off and shoved the pristinely wrapped box into his hands. You grabbed your phone and opened up your camera, knowing if you didn’t film this moment and it was as good as you hoped it would be, you would regret it for the rest of your life. If it wasn’t as good as you hoped, well, you could always delete it.
“Oh, we’re filming me open a present that’s only sort of for me?” Brock laughed as he asked the question and you just shrugged in response and waved him on. “Okay then, weirdo wifey.”
You rolled your eyes as he opened up his last present. Your breath caught in your throat as he popped open the tape keeping the lid on the box down. Your eyes bounced back and forth between his left hand and his right as he slowly pulled at the tissue paper, going painstakingly slowly for the sake of the camera. You groaned at his actions and whined his name, which just made him laugh, but at least he finally picked up the pace. You watched with your breath held and your body tense as his soft blue eyes looked over the contents of the gift. His brows furrowed together in confusion as his shaking hands picked up a small Canucks jersey, an incredibly small Canucks jersey that wouldn’t fit anyone in your household with your shared last name on the back.
“Baby, what is this?” Brock asked you, his voice tense, his emotions screaming behind the wall he’d haphazardly built to try and keep the hopefulness out of it, but it was seeping in through the cracks in streams.
You took a deep breath, your first one since he’d started opening the present, and whispered, “I’m pregnant, Brock. We’re having a baby.”
Brock’s bottom lip quivered as he looked at the small jersey in his shaking hands. His brows softened and his chest started to heave as his breathing picked up.
“You’re serious, right?” he managed to get out. “You’re actually pregnant? We’re actually having a baby?”
He lost his voice a bit at the end, pitch going so high that he thought you didn’t even understand him, but you were listening and watching every single facet of him right now to miss what he said. You nodded slowly, letting out an unsteady breath as you did. He wasn’t angry, not that Brock had ever been angry with you even once in all the time you knew him. He was far too patient and by the time his patience wore thin, he loved you too much to ever be angry with you. But you couldn’t place how he was feeling, the emotions flashing over his face in the faint light of the Christmas tree and the Vancouver sunrise too complicated and changing too quickly for you to understand.
You understood when Brock dropped the jersey and reached for you. It wasn’t really a reach. It was a tackle, your back ending up flat on the rug with Brock hovering over you.
“We’re having a baby!”
Brock’s voice shot up several octaves and decibel levels when he shouted. A wide, gorgeous smile broke out across his face, one so true and joyful you’d only seen it a handful of times before; when you agreed to be his girlfriend, when you agreed to marry him, and when he saw you walk down the aisle. But here it was again, his “overwhelmed to the point of absolute elation” smile. And with the Christmas lights making a halo of light twinkle around his head from your position on the floor, Brock looked like every bit of the angel he was to you.
“A baby, baby,” he breathed out as he slowly sat back on his heels, pulling you up with him, keeping your faces close. “We’re having a baby, baby.”
You nodded as his hand reached out to cup your face, “We’re having a baby, Brock.”
“Well, you’re having a baby,” he smiled at you softly as his thumb ran over your lips. “I’m here for physical, moral, and emotional support.”
“Thanks for acknowledging that I’m doing all of the heavy lifting here,” you laughed with a teasing roll of your eyes.
“Are you happy?” His question was so soft, so hesitant, you always didn’t catch it. “I know you didn’t want this for another couple of years and I just, I’m thrilled, I’m over the moon and the stars and the whole freaking universe that we’re having a baby, but are you happy?”
Hearing Brock’s words, feeling the steadiness of his hand on your cheek, and the excitement absolutely radiating off him, you knew you were happy. The prospect of becoming a parent was terrifying, especially when you hadn’t been trying to become one, but knowing Brock Boeser, the man you loved more than anyone else you had ever met, the man that outshone all the lights on the tree and the stars in the sky, the man that was made of brighter stardust than anyone else, the man that Christmas could only hope to be as magical as, was your co-parent. And what was there to worry about after that?
“I’m so happy,” you told him, your voice shaking as tears began to fill your eyes. “I’m so, so happy.”
Brock nodded as his eyes matched yours, glassy and threatening to overflow with tears as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. He slowly pulled back and lowered himself down, bending over until his face was in front of your stomach. Brock let out a long, slow breath before reaching out a hand to place gently on your still flat stomach.
“Hi, little one. It’s me, Daddy.” Brock’s voice cracked at the last word that left his lips and your first tears spilled over. “Your momma and I are so happy and so excited you’re on your way and we can’t wait to meet you. Thank you for showing yourself for Christmas. You’re the best gift I’ve ever received in my entire life. Can’t wait for next Christmas already, even though this one isn’t over, because you’ll be sharing it with us then. We love you so much, little one.”
The tears were flowing freely as Brock looked back up at you. There was so much to do, so much to plan, so much to figure out, but right now it was just you and Brock and your little Christmas surprise, the best gift you had ever received either.
“Merry Christmas, Brock.”
“Merry Christmas, baby, and Merry Christmas, baby.”
#brock boeser#brock boeser imagine#brock boeser fic#brock boeser writing#nhl fanfic#nhl fanfiction#nhl fic#nhl blurbs#nhl imagine#Hockey Fanfiction#hockey writing#hockey imagine#12 days of christmas fics
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Two beautiful people sent me an ask about my rivetra actors au, and boyyyy let me tell you, it was so fun making them again 😍 thank you to the pretty souls who asked this! 💘
The first actors au were from season 1 and 2, this one will focus on the filming of season 3 until the last season :) here you go!
more rivetra actors!au headcanon (some are nsfw-ish)
- Let me get straight to the point: lots of sex. Car sex. On-set sex. Dressing room sex. Name it.
- Both of them are aware that it was unprofessional, but there was a time when they did not see each other for more than a month because of their (especially Levi’s) busy and conflicting schedule, so when Petra surprised him on set, the frustration and longing just piled up and they had sex.
- Then it became a habit.
- And this habit, of course, didn’t go unnoticed by the other casts and even crews of the show. Armin heard them once, and the poor boy made a mental note to never ever come close to Levi’s room again.
- The older casts are fine with it since, you know, normal adult stuff. But for the love of the three Walls, can you lovebirds tone the moaning down? People are trying to get some sleep wtf.
- Levi’s make-up artist had to deal with the pain of covering his hickeys (courtesy of Ms. Petra Ral) every shoot. The ones on his neck, especially those near his adam’s apple were the most visible. And since Captain Levi rarely wore a cravat in season three, part one, it made the work harder for the make-up artist.
- As compensation, Petra always bought a special souvenir for Levi’s make-up artist whenever she flies overseas for her theater shows.
- For the premiere of season 3, Levi took Petra as his date on the red carpet. It was the first event they attended publicly as a couple.
- It was a big milestone for their relationship because they are both public figures. And we all know what happens when celebrities publicize their relationships, it is prone to issues and controversies.
- And you can very well guess that Levi Ackerman showing off his beautiful girlfriend to the press was big news. As big as the AoT premiere even.
- During the air of season three, Levi became more famous and he attracted many overseas fans as well as international actresses because of his brilliant scenes with Kenny.
- Although Petra is not the jealous type, she admitted that somehow it affected her when other international actresses expressed their admiration towards Levi. Some even said that Levi is their type and they are looking forward to working with him in the future.
- When Levi sensed this, he immediately headed to his IG and posted a picture of Petra with a very cheesy caption lmao. Forgive him, he's new to this kind of relationship.
- Did I mention he also posted a picture of them kissing in front of the Eiffel tower?
- Only a few know this, but the real Levi is one clingy boyfriend.
- He is very touchy when it comes to Petra. He just really loves holding her. Sometimes he just randomly hugs her, caresses her, nuzzles her. He just loves having skin-to-skin contact with her.
- His love language is actions and gestures.
- His favorite gesture to do to Petra is a back hug with his arms under her boobs. It was a soft gesture and it wasn't sexual in any way...until it did.
- More than half of their sex started with Levi touching Petra’s underboobs tbh.
- Sometimes Levi thinks that he's neglecting Petra and more than once he considered quitting the show business for her. But then he’ll see her smiling at him, and she tells him that she's very proud of what he’s doing and that she's happy that she gets to support him with doing the things he is really passionate about and just… all he could think of that time is that he wants to marry this amazing woman.
- He is also supportive of Petra’s theater actress career, of course. And he hates the fact that he needs to hide whenever he watches one of her shows since people eventually gather around him asking for an autograph and he feels that it’s rude for Petra. This is her moment and he doesn’t want to ruin it for her.
- Hence, his all-black and mysterious get-up whenever he watches her show.
- AoT season three was a huge success and plans for season four are already on the move. Casts were given a long break before the shooting began again and both Petra and Levi took this as a chance to bond together.
-Petra's favorite thing to do with Levi is playing with animals. She has a soft spot for animals, and she wanted for them to adopt a pet but she knew that the poor animal will only be given less attention because both of them are always busy.
-When Petra's theater world tour ended, she and Levi started living together. They didn't have the chance to do it before since they were both busy.
-Them living together is probably the height of their relationship. They fought, they had sex, they laughed, they played, they bathe together. They did everything together and it was a beautiful experience.
- For their third anniversary, Levi booked a vacation on a private island for a week. It was also their last bonding because Levi is going to start filming again for season four in less than a month.
- They did not communicate with anyone during that one week. It was just them, and they made the most of it.
- Mornings were spent for morning sex and breakfast in bed. Afternoons were for swimming, sleeping, cuddling, hugging, kissing, and every activity they could think of doing. They explored the island, they petted stray animals, they dived into the ocean, they build sandcastles, they ate different dishes, they had sex in caves and while swimming on the beach, they climbed trees, they bought souvenirs, and most importantly, they took many pictures together.
- Evenings were the most romantic of all. They had sex in the darkness of their own room while they hear the ocean waves crashed to the shore outside and as the sea breeze cooled their sweat-slicked skin. They took the time to explore each other’s body like it’s their last (because it will be in a matter of days).
- On their last night, Pet cried while they’re having sex. Levi’s face was buried on the crook of her neck and she was moaning one moment, and then the next she’s sobbing like a poor little baby.
- She said that she’d gotten used to life with Levi always by her side and she didn’t want it to ever change. Levi comforted her. He petted her hair, and he said that it’s going to be okay. He kissed her head, then her hair, her face, and her body. Then they had the most emotional and meaningful sex of their entire life.
- Levi started shooting again for season four. Petra, like the past seasons, visits him as much as she can. It was hard adjusting to this type of life again, but she’s a strong woman. And besides, she’s going to start rehearsing for another theater show again.
- They need to undergo medical check-ups before the casting and she found out then that she is pregnant with Levi’s baby.
- It freaked her out. She and Levi never talked about babies before since they’re busy with their careers, and their relationship has always been just the two of them.
- Levi was out of town for the shoot, and she didn’t want to tell him the good news on the phone so she patiently waited until he got home.
- He was greeted with a fancy dinner, and a “Welcome home, Daddy” by Petra. Levi thought that it was her being cheeky and naughty at first, but when dinner ended and she ran for her life to the sink, that’s when he started getting worried. And when Petra showed him the positive result in her medical check-up, well, let’s just say that on that day, Levi Ackerman received a good reminder of what he did to her on their vacation months ago.
- But seriously, he was seconds away from calling his manager and dropping his AoT contract just so he can take care of Petra and their baby. Petra said that it was fine, and she doesn’t want him to quit.
- Levi apologized to Petra many times because he wasn’t there when she discovered it, but she assured him that it was alright and it wasn’t his fault. God, he’s with the perfect woman.
- Since Levi is a big shot in the industry, he demanded control over his schedules. Honestly, he wanted to be at her side 24/7. He wanted to see her belly swell as months went by. He wanted to be the one to satisfy her midnight pregnancy cravings. He wanted to kiss her face and her belly first thing in the morning.
- He convinced Petra to move temporarily to the Ackerman family house where Levi’s parents are staying. Kenny and Mikasa also lived in the same affluent neighborhood. He had doctors, and helpers, and bodyguards hired for Petra. But she said that she’s too uncomfortable with many people around her.
- Petra and Levi’s mom build a bond of their own. She’d gotten to know more of Levi through his mother’s perspective. The older woman showed her Levi’s teenage room, his past awards, his photos, his audition tapes that weren’t out for the public, and she fell in love with him more.
- They had a super private wedding with their relatives and closest friends. Petra was six months pregnant by that time and season four is planned to air three months from now.
- So, you know about that one holy Rivetra panel where Petra is looking back to Levi? The reason why the scene was not in the actual show was that she is pregnant. That’s why the directors are forced to use old scenes from season one instead.
- Despite all the efforts of being private, paparazzi and the media still caught wind of the secret wedding, and rumors about Petra being pregnant started circulating over the internet. Levi shut down these rumors every time someone attempted to question him in his interviews.
- When the shooting ended, Petra was already eight months into pregnancy. As per tradition, the cast and staff held an after-party, but Petra was surprised when it became a baby shower for her instead.
- The baby was supposedly due in the third week of December, but Petra’s water broke around the first week instead and she started her labor. She ended up having the same birthday as their healthy baby boy.
- The baby was named River Ackerman. He was named after Levi’s role where he won the Best Actor Award when he was seventeen. It was also a tribute to Levi’s role in AoT since his name was sometimes spelled as ‘Rivaille’ on many occasions.
#this was so long oh boy#i love this au so much tooooo#y'all can send me more ask about this au if u want :)#rivetra#levi x petra#rivapeto#rivetra headcanon#rivetra actors au
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arrangements.
Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader
a/n: i LOVED writing this one, and i’ll have you know that the kitchen scene was taken directly from my life - when my yiayia passed, my theo came to stay with us and did the exact same routine my yiayia and i used to do in the morning so my mom could sleep in. when my mom woke up in a panic, she heard us in the kitchen and knew she could go back to sleep :’)
an ajf fic arc that happily stands on its own!
(the pieces stand alright on their own as well, for the most part!)
one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten | eleven
words: 1.8k
warnings: food mention
summary: “so long as we love we serve; so long as we are loved by others, i would almost say that we are indispensable; and no man is useless while he has a friend.” ― robert louis stevenson, lay morals
masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!
You pad down the hallway, fingertips gently pushing the cracked door to what was formerly Jack and Haley’s room when they lived with Jess. Now, Aaron and Jack take the room while you take the couch.
Nobody wants to be alone.
Jack’s awake, his eyes tracing the patterns in the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling.
When he sees you, he smiles and opens his mouth. You press a finger to your lips before pointing at Aaron, still sleeping. Be quiet, baby.
You step further into the room, leaving the door open, and gingerly pull the covers away from Jack so you can pick him up. He immediately latches onto you and you straighten, leaving the door cracked as you leave the hallway.
When you’re down the hall and past the arch of the kitchen, you can finally talk. “Alright, Jack. What do you want for breakfast?” You set him on the counter in Jess’s kitchen, ruffling his hair.
You’re exhausted, having barely slept last night, but Jess and Aaron have a whole day of planning and funeral arrangements ahead of them. Jack’s breakfast and morning routines are the last things they need to worry about.
He thinks for a minute. “Cereal.”
“Alright, bud.” You open the cabinet, displaying the options. “Do we want Cheerios, Frosted Flakes, or Kix? I think your dad has Chex in here, but -“
You make matching yuck faces.
“Yeah, I thought so. So what’ll it be?”
“Cheerios.”
+++
Down the hall, Aaron wakes in the guest room with a start, finding Jack’s side of the bed empty. He throws himself out of bed and only stops when he hears your voices in the kitchen.
“...Cheerios it is, then. Do you want to use your monkey bowl, or do you want to use a big bowl and we can share?”
He heaves a sigh of relief.
“Big bowl.”
You laugh a little, and it almost brings a smile to his face. “You sure? That’s pretty ambitious.” Nevertheless, he hears a light clink of ceramic as you pull one of the deep bowls from the cabinet by the sink.
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
He sounds exceedingly confident for someone who eats like a bird.
“Alright. Breakfast will be a team effort, then.”
Aaron creeps forward, surprisingly light on his feet, knowing there’s a place in the hall where he can see into the kitchen without getting caught.
You’re still in your pajamas and so is Jack. The boy watches as you pour a decently-sized bowl of cereal - just about enough for a four-year-old and a late twenty-something to share. Aaron’s eyes follow the casual touches you bestow as you set up, pressing your palms to the sides of his face and kissing the top of his head, running your hand over his shoulders as you pass him for a pair of spoons, helping him settle on your hip with one arm while you grab the cereal with your other hand.
They’re alright.
Without thinking too much more about it, he turns around and goes back to bed, flopping down like a bag of rocks and falling right back to sleep on top of the covers.
He’s too tired to do much else.
+++
You’re with Jack most of the morning, and you’re almost surprised Aaron hasn’t already been running around in a panic to find him.
After breakfast, it’s cartoons and then reading. He helps you fold the blankets from your makeshift bed on the couch - you make a game out of it before you settle down.
Aaron rises again to hear you reading The Giving Tree, and he does his best to swallow his tears. If he thinks hard enough, he can remember what that book sounds like in Haley’s voice.
It’s already harder than it should be. More than half his life knowing her, and he’s terrified of forgetting what her voice sounds like, what her laugh feels like in his arms, the exact color of her eyes.
“‘Then one day the boy came to the tree and the tree said, ‘Come, Boy, come and climb up my trunk and swing from my branches and eat apples and play in my shade and be happy.’
“‘I am too big to climb and play,’ said the boy…”
Aaron sits in the hallway, against the wall and out of your sight, and closes his eyes, listening to you read.
He took a shaky breath as you reached the end of the story. There were tears pressing in at your voice, but you did an excellent job of remaining steady as you continued to read.
“...’I don’t need very much now,’ said the boy. ‘Just a quiet place to sit and rest. I am very tired.’
“‘Well,’ said the tree, straightening herself up as much as she could, ‘well, an old stump is good for sitting and resting. Come, Boy, sit down. Sit down and rest.’
“And the boy did.” You pause, turning the final page. “And the tree was happy.”
There’s quiet for a moment.
“Why are you sad?” Jack asks.
“That story always makes me feel so much that sometimes the feelings come out of my eyes, but I’m not sad, bud. I’m alright.”
“Oh. Does that happen?”
You hum. “Does what happen?”
Aaron can almost see the thoughts working across Jack’s face. “Do sometimes you not know what you’re feeling when you’re crying?”
“Yeah, that happens, sometimes.” There’s a shift, and Aaron’s fairly sure you set the book down and brought him further into your arms. “The more words you know, though, the easier it is to figure out what you’re feeling.”
“How many words do you know?”
You huff a laugh. It almost makes Aaron smile. “I know a lot of words. Between me, your dad, and Uncle Spencer, we probably know all the words.”
Then, Jack screeches a laugh and Aaron knows you’re tickling him within an inch of his life.
That’s a good enough excuse as any to ‘wake up,’ I suppose.
He rises and wipes his tears away, mindful of his double black eyes and the cut across his nose. He probably looks a fright, but he can’t bring himself to care.
You look up as he rounds the corner and you offer him a small smile. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
You push Jack off your lap and he easily scrambles toward Aaron, who picks him up with only the smallest twinge of protest.
“Oh, be careful with Dad, honey.” You remind him, leaning over the couch.
Aaron kisses Jack’s temple. “You’re alright, bud. Just no jumping on me for a couple of days, okay?”
Jack nods, tucking under his chin. “We had breakfast.”
“Did you?” He asks, looking at you like he doesn’t know.
You nod. “I can put something together for you, if you’d like.”
“We’ve got to get going. We’ve got -” He stops for a second. “We’ve got things to take care of today, so we need to get Jack ready to go.”
Standing, you stretch and level him with an unamused look. “Nope. Not having that. I’m making you and Jess breakfast and taking Jack for the day so you can do what you need to do without worrying about anything. Just let me know when you’re done so I can have what I assume will be dinner ready when you get back.”
He raises an eyebrow, but it’s not as animated as his dubious looks have been in the past. Is it worth arguing with you?
You mirror his look. Is it ever?
He sighs and looks at Jack again, telling him that he’ll stay here with you while, “Aunt Jess and I run some errands. Does that sound okay?”
Jack looks over at you and you nod encouragingly.
“That sounds okay.”
His parroting draws the smallest smiles from Aaron, who kisses Jack’s temple again, breathing him in. You can’t even imagine what’s going through Aaron’s head right now. If it were you, you’d never want to let him out of your sight ever again.
When he sets Jack back on his feet, Aaron turns back, headed for the hall bathroom. You get Jack settled with the second round of cartoons for the morning, and make your way down the hallway.
Aaron’s leaning with his hands braced on the edge of the sink, staring straight down. “Hi.”
“Hey.” You stay put in the doorway, giving him some space.
He takes a shaky breath and lets it out heavily through his mouth. “I don’t know how to do this.”
“It would be absolutely batshit if you did, Aaron. You’re supposed to feel that way.”
He’s quiet, still.
“But you’re not alone. I’m here as long as you want, Aaron. I’m not going anywhere.” You step forward, slowly and deliberately so he knows you’re coming.
He loves you so much. Even though Jack’s in the other room, you’re the only one keeping his feet on the floor. He’d have let himself waste away without you here.
Jess does her best, but she’s trying to bury her sister. That, of course, comes with its own nightmarish baggage.
You wait for him, standing at his side until he can finally straighten up and open his eyes. They’re so tired. You wonder if the sleep he’s had has been any sort of useful.
He opens one of his arms, and you wrap yourself around him, your hands flat against his abdomen.
“I wish I could do more for you. For Jack.”
You can feel him shake his head. “You have no idea what it means to us to have you here.”
“I miss her.”
He heaves a sigh, and you’re glad to hear it’s deeper than a few days ago. He is, after all, still healing. “Me too.”
“Take your time today. I can always delegate tasks if you run out of energy and need to call it.” You stare at a random spot on the wall as you talk, your cheek pressed against him.
“What would I do without you?”
You shake your head. “I dunno. You’d probably spend less of your time annoyed at work, but the rest of it would be pretty boring.” You pause. “Your TMJ would probably be a lot worse, too.”
There’s no laugh, but you think maybe he thought about it. After a moment, “Thank you.”
I love you.
“Anytime.”
I love you.
+++
tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @hurricanejjareau @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @good-heavens-chris-evans @davidrossi-ismydad @angelsbabey @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @hotchsflower @ogmilkis @marvels-agents100 @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @dwellingsofrosie @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @buckybau @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @violentvulgarvolatile @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses @lcvischmitt @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @mandylove1000 @cevanswhre @qvid-pro-qvo @jeor @spencers-hoodrat @infinity1321 @zizzlekwum @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @this-broken-band-girl @reidtomestyles @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @winqhster @spencerelds @the-falling-in-the-danger @nattylite49 @crazyshannonigans @ambicaos @softbibxtch
#aaron hotchner x reader#hotch x reader#aaron hotchner imagine#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fanfiction#aaron hotchner#criminal minds#hotch#tali writes fanfiction#tali talks cm#aaron hotchner fanfiction#shut up tali#a joyful future fanfic
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Wild
Katsuki x Reader
You grew up in the wild and are going to teach 3-A some basic skill for a week. After the week of harsh training they have a week off, in which Katsuki goes to you every day.
Just some random fluff. That’s it
~3rd person pov.~
''Hey uncle Shouta.'' You say in a tired voice as you approach your tired uncle.
''Hey, you ready to teach these headaches some outdoor skills?'' He asks you.
''I guess.'' You shrug.
Shouta Aizawa is your uncle. Your mom was his sister, but she died a few years ago. You don't see Shouta often, seeing as you live in the woods. Your mom and dad lived there before they got you. Your dad went hunting one day when you where five and didn't come back. Your mom and you grew very close after that and the only male figure you have is Shouta.
He pays for your phone bills and anything else you need, seeing you don't have a job or anything. The only thing he asks in return is that you teach his class some basic skill for in the wild. You agreed, seeing you grew up in them and rule over the wolves there, so it's safe for them to train in the wild.
Right now it's that time again. For a week you'll train them and they'll have to listen to you. You try hiding it, but you actually like teaching the students. It gives you a chance to socialize with people your age. Right now you're going to teach 3-A, a class full of eighteen-year-old students, so they're your age.
''Lets get to it then. Wait out here until I tell you to come in.''
You nod at Shouta as he walks into the loud classroom. You can hear him silence them just by entering, causing you to snicker to yourself. You can hear him explain what they'll be doing over the week before calling you in. You open the big door and walk into the classroom to see everyone looking at you. You walk over to Shouta to see him sleeping on the ground.
''Of course you're sleeping on the damned floor again.'' You sigh before turning to the class. ''Hello, I'm (y/n) (l/n). Shouta is my uncle and I'll be teaching you guys some useful skills for when you are in the wild. Any questions?''
Everyone puts up their hands, causing you to groan internally. The introduction is going to take a long while. Scanning over the class you frown. Only three people didn't raise their hand. An ash blond guy, a half white half red haired guy and a purple haired girl. You shrug and point at a green haired girl.
''My names Tsu, kero. How old are you?''
''I'm eighteen. You.'' You say, pointing at a blue haired guy.
''Why aren't you in school?''
''Well, I grew up in the wild. That's also why I'm teaching you guys. My parents home schooled me and uncle Shouta provided the books needed. I'm just as smart as all of you. The only thing is that I don't have a degree. You.'' You point at a red haired guy.
''What's your quirk?''
''I can communicate with animals. I have it from my father, he could communicate with animals too. You.'' You point at an eager green haired boy.
''How does it work? Does it include all animals? Do you speak their language or does it sound like normal talking to you? How do you activate it?'' And so he keeps on muttering.
''Izuku Midoriya. Uncle was right. You can analyze my quirk later. Any other questions.....You.''
''Yaoyorozu, you said that your father could, as in past tense. Does this mean he's not around anymore?'' She asks, voice formal.
''He went hunting one day and didn't come back. It's safe to assume he's dead and has been eaten by the wild live. Yes.''
''Ashido. Do you ever talk to people your age?''
''I'm talking to you guys right now. Yes?''
And so they keep on asking some more questions. Mostly about your life and boring things. After an hour you grow tired of it and stop pointing at people.
''Well, I hope most questions are answered. Lets get going. Everyone put on your hero costume or your PE uniform. Meet me in front of the gate in fifteen minutes. If you're not there I will leave you behind.'' You sigh, walking out of the room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You sigh, only a handful of them are here. Midoriya, Iida, Yaoyorozu, Todoroki, Bakugou and Jirou are there to be exact. You grumble softly at that. Clearly they are not taking you serious. You turn your back to UA, put your hands in your pockets and look over your shoulder at the waiting students.
''Lets go.'' You mumble.
''Wait! We're seriously leaving them behind?!'' Midoriya exclaims.
''I told you I would. That you guys don't listen is your problem. I did tell you guys Shouta is my uncle. You could have seen this coming.''
They exchange glances and nod hesitantly, slowly following after you. As you all near the corner of the street you hear people calling over to you. You all stop and look behind you to see the rest of the class running over. You find it funny that they're all wearing their hero costumes, even though you gave them an option today.
''Why did you leave us behind?!'' Ashido asks.
''I told you guys I would.''
''We didn't think you were being serious.'' You hear a male mutter.
''Well I was. Now lets go. We are training for the scheduled time. It doesn't matter for me whether we stop at five or ten in the evening.''
Everybody nods as you start walking again. They whisper among themselves, mostly about you. You ignore them and head to the woods. People on the street look at you all curiously. It's not everyday you see twenty well know heros in training walking over the street, whispering among themselves while following after a random girl. As you all arrive at the woods you turn to the class.
''Okay, two by two and follow behind me. We're going to a clearing, but it's easy to get lost. If you do good luck.''
You turn away from them and start walking, not caring what they do really. They all scramble to walk after you two by two. More whispering can be heard from them, only about you this time. You grumble under your breath as you keep a steady, fast pace. Soon you hear rustling all around you, the sound following you and the class. You smile and glance at the bushes to see wolves everywhere.
As you reach the clearing you run to the middle, sitting on the ground and opening your arms. The class looks at you confused form the tree line. A lot of rustling can be heard as around fifty wolves run towards you. The students yell and scream at you to move, but you just smile and ignore them. The wolves jump onto you and make a huge pile, liking all the skin they can touch.
You giggle fondly at your friends as the students run over to you worried, yelling your name and trying to get the wolves off. Some start growling as the pile on you gets smaller and smaller. You sit up once the last one leaves you, seeing they knocked you over, and look at the students who are trying to shoo the wolves away.
''What the fuck do you think you're all doing?'' You ask, getting up and walking over to them.
''(l/n)!'' They all exclaim relieved.
You sigh and pet the leader of the wolf pack. It's a big strong wolf. His fur is black while his stomach and snout are white. His eyes are fiery red. Once you pet the wolf he relaxes and so do the other wolves. You gently press against his head, signaling him to leave together with the pack. The wolf gives you a headbutt and walks off, the other wolves following.
''You guys really need to start listening. I can talk to animals, remember. The wolves are on my side and listen to me. Now, stand in a line and actually listen.''
Everyone nods and gets in line, Iida yelling at them while they do. After about three minutes they're all in line. You smile and whistle. It's high pitched and shrill. Some students winch at the sound of it. You glance to your right and see the leader running towards you with two others. The leader is called Hugo, the female that's with him is Scarlet and the other boy is Lumine.
''Okay, since you're a rather big group these three and the others will help me. None of the wolves will attack you, but stay alert, sometimes they might. You never know with these goofballs.'' You smile, ruffling the fur of Hugo.
''Anyway. The goal is to reach the top of that mountain without getting seriously injured and getting lost. If you're not there in eight hours that's your loss. That means no dinner and escort to the place you'll all be staying. I will leave a map there for the late comers. Now don't eat anything from plants, it could kill you.'' Yu ramble, making a motion for Hugo to get the bags, Hugo, Scarlet and Lumine run off as you smile at the students.
''I'll provide every group with a bag. In it are two water bottles, some apples, first aid kit and a fire gun. Only use the fire gun when something is very wrong. As soon as one is fired everyone goes to where it was fired from. Don't freak out when the wolves come. They're there to protect you if you're being attacked and can't venture for yourself.'' Hugo, Scarlet, Lumine and some other wolves walk over with bags.
''For people with fire related quirks, don't burn down the woods please. Try not to use your quirk, only when necessary. Now, make groups of three or four and come get a bag here.''
Everyone turns to each other and start talking, making groups. Slowly people are coming to you to pick up a bag. You tell them to wait with walking off and everyone complies. Once everyone has a group and bag you motion for Scarlet, Lumine and the other wolves to leave. You look at the class as you pet Hugo.
''I'll leave first. My tracks will be removed, so don't think about following them. Ten minutes after I have left the first group will leave. Ten minutes later the second and so forth. If you don't comply the wolves will take action to make sure you do. Now, see you all at the mountain.'' You smile, running off.
Hugo follows you as you run through the woods. You climb into a tree and start jumping from tree to tree, parcouring your way to the mountain. It only takes you about an hour or two to get there. You know some secret passages that are hidden from sight that get you places fast. As you reach the top you sit down on a bench and scratch Hugo behind the ears.
''You can go and run around the woods, spook the students a bit. I'll make some dinner for them. Go on.'' You smile.
Hugo licks you and runs off at full speed. You smile before walking to the campsite that's a good thirty minutes away from the mountain top you told them to go. Well, it's not really a mountain top, more like a flat spot beside a cave on the mountain. You make some sandwiches for the students before heading back to the place you told them to go.
As you get there you sit down on the bench again and look at the dense woods before you. Everywhere you look are trees, close to each other. Sometimes a line of trees gone because of a river or small lake. You hear someone run up to you and spot Scarlet running over to you. You frown slightly and pat your lap. She puts her head on it and looks up at you.
''What's wrong?'' You ask.
''The students. They're all teaming up.'' She says.
''Hmm. Collect a few wolves and drive them apart by hunting them down.'' You smirk.
''Okay. I'll get some to help me.'' She grins.
Scarlet lifts her head from your lap and trots off, stance prideful. You giggle to yourself at her antics and continue looking at the woods and the birds and other wildlife. After a good half an hour you hear faint screaming and yelling coming from the woods. After a bit you hear something approach again. You look to your right and see Bakugou emerging from the treeline.
''Welcome.'' You smile.
''Fuck off. The extra's take to long. Ditched my group.'' He grumbles.
You scan him over and see no injuries of any kind. You do notice he doesn't have a bag however. You smile and get up, walking over to him.
''Follow me. I'll take you to the camp. You can drink and eat whatever you want. But please, don't leave the campsite just yet. The wolves are still on lower parts of the mountain and not here.'' You hum, motioning for him to follow you.
He does, not uttering a single word. As you both reach the campsite you let him walk around, pick a tent and eat and drink. You silently watch him as you scan the tree lines, expecting Scarlet or Hugo to come to you soon. Hugo because he's basically like your pet and Scarlet because you just gave her an order.
''You're something else.'' You hear a gruff voice say from behind you.
''I could say the same for you Bakugou.'' You smirk, turning to him.
''I know.'' He grins.
''Confident I see. I like that. Can come in handy at times. Means you won't hesitate.'' You say, walking past him to the table with food.
''I like your confidence too, extra.'' He grins, walking after you.
''You know Bakugou. Normally I don't like cocky people, but I got to admit. I might take a liking to you.''
''Normally I don't like people who fucking talk back to me either, yet I find myself drawn to you.'' He whispers softly into your ear as he wraps his arms around your waist.
''Hmm. I must say Katsuki, keeping secrets isn't your strong suite.'' You purr.
You met Katsuki years ago. You were seven at the time. He had ventured off deep into the woods while hiking. You had met him and you two started talking. After he left that day he would come back often, always meeting up with you. You had both kept everything a secret from everyone and started dating four years ago. Now a days Katsuki comes over less, but you two call and text.
''No ones here. What's to keep secret.'' He growls lowly, sending shivering down your spine.
''Damn you. You used one of my shortcuts didn't you?''
''So what if I fucking did?''
''Hmm, let me go Suki. The first people will start coming soon.'' You giggle.
''Stupid extra's.'' He grumbles, letting go off you.
''I know you don't like them. Now stay here with Scarlet while I go wait for the others with Hugo.'' You smile, spotting the two wolves standing close by.
Katsuki smirks and motions Scarlet to come over. Her black fur with a red glow to it shines in the sun. Her bright red eyes have a glint in them as she walks over to Katsuki. Katsuki sits down on the ground and Scarlet lays down beside him, head resting in his lap. Katsuki pets her while Hugo walks over to you.
The two of you walk to the spot you told everyone to go. You sit down on the bench and Hugo sits on the floor beside you, stance screaming authority. You smile and ruffle his fur before looking at the scenery again. Your mind wanders while you stare at it, memories flashing through your mind.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You get snapped out of your thought when you hear rustling and talking coming from the woods. You look to the right and see the class walking through the tree line. You smile and get up, walking over to them with Hugo following behind you. They all look tired and have scratches all over them.
''Welcome. Follow me to the campsite we'll be staying. Sharing a tent is necessary, but don't worry. You can pick yourself.'' You smile, heading towards the campsite. ''Hugo, go warn them.'' You smile.
Hugo runs off without a word towards the camp. You follow him with your gaze, a smile on your face.
''He seems attatched to you.'' A male voice says from beside you.
''Yeah. We're both leaders.'' You smile, looking beside you to see Kirishima.
''Have you seen Bakugou by any chance? He split up from us and we haven't seen him since.''
''He's been at the camp for a while now. Don't worry.''
''He has an advantage.'' Kirishima mumbles.
''How come?''
''He hikes a lot. Clears his mind as he always says when we ask. When he comes back from hiking he is always calm though, so I guess it works for him.''
''Yeah, hiking does wonders for the mind.'' You giggle.
The two of you talk some more as you all walk. As you reach the camp you see Scarlet and Hugo goofing around as Katsuki sits on a chair by the fire, grumbling to himself while he does. You giggle and turn to the class.
''There are sandwiches on the table same for drinks. When that's all settled you can pick a tent to sleep in. There is a change of clothes in the boxes by the fire. Look for whatever fits you. There is a river if you follow the path. Don't go without telling me please. Now do whatever you want.'' You smile, walking over to the grumbling Katsuki.
''Why you so grumpy?'' You whisper, sitting close by him, but not too close.
''The fuckers are here. Can't be close with you now.'' He growls.
''Don't worry. I know you're strong enough to keep acting for a little while longer.'' You smile.
''Yeah yeah.'' He grumbles.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The rest of the week you and Katsuki go to secret spots to just be together. As the week ends you all bring them back to UA and wave them goodbye before heading back to the woods. Katsuki and his classmates go back to the dorms and take long showers while talking about their intens week.
As they all meet up in the dorms that evening to talk about the weekend they all agree on one thing. Katsuki has taken a liking to you. While he was around you he wouldn't yell, walk off, curse that much or use his quirk. Things he does around everyone. They also noticed how you were softer on him and how you kept looking for him.
''We should set them up for a date.'' Ashido states.
''How are we going to find them though?'' Yaoyorozu asks.
''Simple, we go back to the woods. They are bound to find us. They said it before, the wolves are everywhere. And they won't attack us because we spend a whole week with them.'' Ashido says.
''How are we getting Bakubro to agree?'' Kirishima asks.
''That's what we have you for.'' Ashido smirks.
''I knew it.'' Kirishima sighs.
''You're the only one he doesn't blow up on that bad.'' Kaminari says.
''And who's going to get them?'' Sero asks.
''I haven't figured that out.'' Ashido admits.
''Well, Kirishima should go. If the wolves do attack he can protect us.'' Yaoyorozu says.
''I ain't going alone. Kami is coming with me. He can stun them.'' Kirishima says.
''Deal. Okay when is the date gonna be?'' Ashido asks.
''How about upcoming Saturday?'' Hagakure suggests.
''Works.'' Everyone says.
They keep planning before going to bed. It's Sunday right now and the upcoming week they all have off to recover from the intens week of training and to make sure they make all the homework. The next morning they all wake up at a normal time and eat breakfast together. After breakfast Katsuki goes up to his room and gets changed into his hiking clothes.
''Where are you going bro?'' Kirishima asks when he notices Katsuki walking to the big doors of the dorms.
''Hiking.'' Katsuki grumbles, opening the door.
''Can I come along? (l/n) said it does wonders to the mind.'' Kirishima smiles.
''No. It only fucking works when you're alone. Now fuck off.'' Katsuki grumbles, walking out of the dorms.
Once he's out of UA he runs to the woods and up to the cabin you live in. Along the way he spots Scarlet and grins at her. She runs beside him as they approach your cabin. As he spots it he sees you working in your garden with Hugo watching you. Hugo is your wolf and Scarlet his. For some reason the two of them really clicked.
''Hey Baby.'' Katsuki smirks as he walks over to you.
''Hey Suki.'' You smile, getting up and giving him a kiss.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next four days Katsuki goes to you everyday for the whole day. The class notices him going hiking everyday and grow suspicious. They decide to follow him this time. So when Katsuki leaves UA the Baku-squad follows after him. They notice he's going to the woods, pace a bit faster than usual.
They follow him into the woods and see him walking down a path they didn't notice before. They frown, but shrug it off. Their eyes widen when they see Scarlet walk up to Katsuki and casually walking beside him. Katsuki ruffles her fur with a bright smile on his face. After a bit he reaches your cabin and walks over to the door. The squad looks at him curiously.
''Oi!'' Katsuki yells, walking up to your frontdoor.
''Yeah, yeah. Give me a damned second Suki.'' You call out to him from inside.
After a few seconds your door opens and you give him a kiss, which he gladly returns.
''You know they're here right?'' You whisper against his lips.
''I don't give a fuck. They wanted to set us up for a date Saturday anyway.''
''Aww, you just ruined a free date.''
''Shut up.''
You giggle as you pull away from Katsuki, looking past him at his friends.
''Hey guys! Nice seeing you again!'' You wave.
#bnha#bnha fanfiction#katsuki bakugou#bakugou katsuki#class 1-a#katsuki x reader#bakugou x reader#fluff#aizawa shouta
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how sweet it is (to be loved by you)
summary: Although he would never admit it, Apollo really wants to impress Klavier by making dessert from scratch for their first date at his apartment, despite his complete lack of baking experience. With the help of his overenthusiastic sister (and no help from his mischievous cat), Apollo thinks he just might be able to pull it off.
word count: 4.8k | read on ao3
a/n: For @klapollo-week, day four of seven (prompt: "cooking"). All seven of my fics take place in the same continuity! However, each can be read as a stand-alone, with the exception of day seven being a sequel to day five.
This fic takes place at some distant point in time after Spirit of Justice where Apollo and Trucy have learned that they’re siblings, but doesn’t reference any specific plotlines otherwise. Fic title is from the song How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved By You) by Marvin Gaye.
“Don’t look at me like that, okay? I can feel you judging me, and I don’t appreciate it. I swear, I-I know what I’m doing! But it doesn’t help with you staring at me like you just know I’m gonna screw up!”
Mikeko blinked. “Mreow.”
“Polly, are you talking to your cat again?” Apollo turned to see Trucy walking towards him with huge bags of flour and sugar in her arms.
“Just a reminder - his name is Mikeko, and he’s an asshole,” Apollo grouched, hurrying over to help before she could drop everything on the floor. The last thing he needed was to get white powder stuck in his kitchen tile grout, again. There was a reason Ema wasn’t allowed to bring her forensics kit to his place anymore. “He peed on my rug the other day. I thought he was sick so I took him to the vet, and nothing. He’s an asshole.”
“You talk about your cat like you talk about your boyfriend, and I dunno which one’s worse,” Trucy mused, elbowing him playfully. “Though obviously, you love ‘em both, since that cat tree over there looks like it costs more than your TV. And, y’know, the fact that you asked me to help you bake for him! Er, your boyfriend, not your cat.”
“You don’t say,” Apollo said dryly, hoisting the bags onto the kitchen counter. “Klavier has an insatiable sweet tooth for a guy with a six-pack. I blame his parents and their baking habits.”
“C’mon, you love his parents,” Trucy giggled. She hopped onto the counter, nearly knocking the flour over in the process. Apollo shot her a dirty look that she blatantly ignored. “So, what’re we making? I’m surprised you asked me to help and then didn’t tell me what we were gonna do!”
“Sorry, sorry,” Apollo sighed, smoothing out the wrinkles in his apron. “We’re making, uh...bienenstich, or bee sting cake. It’s one of his childhood favorites, apparently; it’s got vanilla cream and…” He paused to glance down at the recipe on his phone. “...‘a crunchy caramelized almond topping’.”
“Sounds yummy!” Trucy replied, idly swinging her legs back and forth. Mikeko seemed very interested in chasing her untied shoelaces. “Seriously, though, why did you ask me? I mean, when I first started living with Daddy, I learned how to cook pretty fast, but I never really learned how to bake.”
Apollo softened. “I just wanted to hang out with you, Truce. That’s all.”
Trucy folded her hands over her heart. “Aww, Polly!” She then grinned devilishly. “Of course you did.”
“Now you’re an asshole, too,” Apollo informed her, kissing her cheek before turning back to the other side of the kitchen. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Mikeko, sitting in his sink, lounging lazily across every last mixing bowl he’d just washed. “Mik, what the hell - you were just on the floor a second ago, you - ”
“Meow,” Mikeko interrupted, his tail swishing nonchalantly through the air.
“...cool, cool.” Apollo wiped his hands, then proceeded to lift Mikeko right out of the sink and deposit him onto his cat tree. His paws were still damp; he mewled in protest. “Well, this is going about as well as I expected.”
“I’m excited,” Trucy offered, still beaming. “Let’s go!”
_____
Once Trucy found the appropriate playlist to blast on her phone (“Any performer worth their salt knows they need good background music, Polly!” “But...this isn’t a performance. Also, this is more Maroon 5 than I’m comfortable with.”), she got to work on re-washing the dishes Mikeko had ruined while Apollo shuffled around the kitchen, grabbing the rest of the ingredients. He’d bought quite a few items he didn’t usually have in stock, having next to no experience with baking. The recipe claimed bienenstich was easy to make, though he had his doubts when it came to his abilities - and his luck.
“So, how’ve you and Klavier been?” Trucy asked, drying the last of the spatulas. “Things must be pretty good if you’re baking for him.”
“Good, definitely good,” Apollo replied. “We’ve had a couple of hiccups, but nothing we’ve had to worry about, y’know?”
“Gee, how romantic,” Trucy drawled. “I was hoping for something juicier than that, Polly! Have you had any fun dates lately? Cute moments? Nice gifts? It sure was nice of his mom to send more apple strudels to the agency the other day!”
“Are you my sister, or a tabloid reporter?” Apollo flicked a spray of flour onto the front of her apron, ducking before she could retaliate. “Well, we had a good time at his parents’ house the other day. I made pretzels with his mom, and his dad had a ton of podcast recommendations for like, nerd stuff. We, uh...we even talked about Mom for a bit. They wanna meet her someday.”
Trucy’s eyes widened. “Really? When’s that gonna happen?”
“Not sure,” Apollo admitted. “But hey, do you wanna join us when it does? They’ve been dying to meet you, too.”
“Like you have to ask!” Trucy said brightly. She took a moment to methodically spread out all of their equipment across the kitchen counter, smiling in satisfaction when she was done. “There - we’re ready to go. What’s the actual first step?”
“The dough, it says,” Apollo said, turning back to the recipe. “We’re s’posed to mix the dry ingredients and wet ingredients separately. Although I guess the actual actual first step is measuring the ingredients.”
“I’ll do dry, you do wet,” Trucy replied, passing him one of the mixing bowls. “Y’know…‘cos you're such a wet blanket and all.”
Apollo blinked. “...okay, wow. We’re here to bake a cake, not roast me.” Trucy giggled mischievously, then got to work on measuring out the flour, sugar, yeast, and salt. Apollo, meanwhile, started with pouring the milk - easy enough - then stared at the egg carton and sticks of butter sitting in front of him. He’d never been intimidated by either before, but right now, he found them oddly daunting.
“Polly, are you trying to perceive the ingredients or somethin’?” Trucy asked, rapping her knuckles against the side of his head a little too sharply for his liking. “The cake isn’t a lie, you know.”
Once again, Apollo found himself looking at her incredulously. “Wha - th-that joke is older than you are!” Then, a brief swish of movement over Trucy’s shoulder caught his eye. “Wait…” Sitting on the opposite counter was Mikeko, who was innocently sniffing the bag of sliced almonds. “Mik - ”
“Mrrh,” Mikeko purred, his tail perking up at the sound of his name. He then flopped onto his side, rolling over to present his belly. “Mrrh?”
“Don’t ‘mrrh’ me, get away from there,” Apollo huffed, flapping his hands in Mikeko’s direction. He seemed unmoved. “Do you want me to lock you in my bedroom? Really? Is that what we have to do?” Sighing, Mikeko got up and hopped down from the counter, sauntering off to the living room with a sulky grimace. “Thank you.”
“You really do act like he’s human,” Trucy commented, watching Mikeko go. “Mr. Edgeworth’s like that with Pess, only he’s way nicer to her than you are to Mikeko.”
“Probably because Pess doesn’t sit on his chest in the middle of the night while he's sleeping and make him think he’s having a heart attack,” Apollo said wryly, reaching for the sticks of butter. If he let them sit out for too long, they were going to start melting. “How’s that whole...thing going, anyway? I feel like Mr. Edgeworth’s been visiting the agency a lot lately...only, nothing ever seems to happen.”
“Story of their lives, according to Ema and Aunt Maya,” Trucy said, rolling her eyes exasperatedly. “At this rate, I’m gonna get married before Daddy does!” She then smirked. “Or should I say, you’re gonna get - ”
“Hey, l-let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Apollo protested, his cheeks reddening. “How’s it going with the dry ingredients?”
“All done!” Trucy chirped, tilting her bowl slightly so he could see. “Wait, you still haven’t done the butter or eggs yet? Apollo!”
“Yeah, yeah, I was kinda busy dealing with that jerk over there.” Trucy glanced across the way to the living room; she could’ve sworn Mikeko was sticking his tongue out at them. Apollo then pushed the butter towards her. “Here - you do the butter, I’ll take care of the eggs.” The two of them worked in silence for a minute or so, the only sounds in the apartment being the crinkle of the butter’s parchment paper and the tap-tap of the eggs against the mixing bowl. It didn’t take long before their silence was broken. “...shit.”
“Eggshell?” Trucy guessed without looking up. “Sheesh, you really did need help. Here, give it to me!”
Apollo nudged the bowl in her direction, defeated, then wiped the sweat off his brow. “Damn, I didn’t think I was gonna be this bad! I made bread and pretzels with Klavier’s mom, and that went pretty well.”
“I bet it’s ‘cos she did most of the work,” Trucy teased. “Wait - Apollo, there’s more eggshell in here than actual egg!”
“I…” Apollo paused. “...have no excuses.” He then groaned. “Ugh, we still have so much left to do! This cake better be worth it.”
“It’s more like if you think your boyfriend’s worth it, and he is, isn’t he?” Trucy finished fishing out the last of the eggshells, then poked Apollo’s side with her yolk-covered finger. “So c’mon, let’s keep going. We mix them together, right?”
Apollo smiled softly. “Yeah. And hey, I’m...I’m really glad you’re here, Trucy. Thanks for helping me out.”
“It’s just baking, Polly, you don’t hafta be so dramatic,” Trucy said, though she was beaming regardless. “Now move it, or this cake’s still gonna be in the oven when he gets here!”
_____
A little over two hours later, Apollo jumped up from his couch at the sound of his doorbell. His face brightened when he saw Klavier on the other side of the door, dressed casually in an oversized hoodie and joggers. Klavier had been so particular about how he’d dressed for their first few dates that Apollo was always happy to see him in more relaxed attire. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”
Klavier raised an eyebrow. “You always greet me in the strangest ways, schatz. Did something happen, are you okay?”
Apollo let out an internal sigh of relief; Klavier had yet to notice anything off-putting at all. “No, no, I-I’m fine, just - i-it’s been a long day, and it’s good to see you. I mean, it’s always good to see you - usually good to see you, depending on what’s going on, ‘cos not gonna lie, you still pull the most inane crap in the courtroom, but, uh. It’s good that you’re here. Hi.”
Klavier’s eyebrows remained raised. “...hi. Anyway, I brought dinner and dessert.” He lifted the two bags he was carrying so Apollo could see. “As it turns out, our favorite Taiwanese place was having a promotion. Spend thirty dollars or more, we get free tofu pudding. Achtung, I love a good deal!”
“That’s not what your bank account says,” Apollo teased. “And, er, that’s great, and we should definitely eat it while it’s fresh, but I actually made dessert for us, too.”
“Really?” Apollo was starting to think Klavier’s eyebrows were never going to come back down. “What did you make?”
“No spoilers,” Apollo said, tugging on Klavier’s sleeve. “C’mon, get in here before my neighbors spot you. I swear, I heard one of them blasting Love With No Chance Of Parole the other night. If they find out you’re my boyfriend, I’m never gonna hear the end of it.”
“Finally starting to recognize my songs, are you?” Klavier chuckled, stepping into Apollo’s apartment. “I’ll make a Gavinners fan out of you yet, baby.” He then looked around, curious, as he took off his shoes. “Your place doesn’t look nearly as bad as you made it sound. It’s...charming.”
“Real diplomatic way of saying it looks like crap,” Apollo said wryly, closing the door behind him. He was well aware of his peeling wallpaper and cat-scratched furniture, his dusty windows and his water-damaged ceiling. “Wait until you have to use my bathroom. I swear the sink is haunted.”
“How comforting.” Klavier’s eyes lit up at the sound of tiny little feet padding over in his direction; he crouched down so he could be at eye level, one hand outstretched to beckon him closer. “Why, guten tag, kätzchen! I’m so glad I finally get to meet you.” Mikeko stopped dead in his tracks, eyeing Klavier up and down warily. Then, without another sound, he turned and walked away, tail swishing pointedly in the air. Klavier looked up at Apollo dejectedly. “Ach, what did I do?”
“Mikeko only likes me and tolerates Trucy,” Apollo shrugged, trying not to laugh at Klavier’s miserable expression. “I wouldn’t take it personally. C’mon, let’s eat!”
“I’m going to take it a little personally,” Klavier muttered under his breath, following Apollo across the open living space. It wasn’t long before they were set up at the dining table, working their way through their Taiwanese beef noodles, fried chicken, and scallion pancakes. Apollo hummed happily as he ate; he hadn’t realized how hungry he was or how difficult baking could be until now. “So, how was your day?”
“Didn’t do much,” Apollo said, shrugging. “Since it’s my day off, I just kinda - y’know, played video games, watched some TV. Re-organized my bookshelf for the millionth time. I still haven’t decided if my brain likes it organized by author, title, genre, or color.”
“You also made dessert, apparently,” Klavier replied. “Are you really not going to tell me what it is?”
“Curiosity killed the cat, and even though my cat’s an asshole, I prefer him alive,” Apollo said, playfully nudging Klavier’s leg with his foot. “You can wait thirty minutes, can’t you?”
“Ach, the suspense,” Klavier laughed. “Fine, fine. Can I at least ask why you decided to bake for us?”
“It’s the first time you’ve been to my place, so I figured I’d do something nice,” Apollo said, sniffing very slightly. The smell of burnt sugar was starting to waft into his nose; he crossed his fingers underneath the table in the hopes that Klavier couldn’t smell it, too.
“Er - are you okay, Apollo?” Klavier asked, lowering his chopsticks. “You’re...sniffling. I didn’t accidentally bring some pollen in here, did I?”
“Sniffing, not sniffling,” Apollo corrected. “There’s a difference. And nah, it’s nothing. Just wasn’t sure if Mik might’ve peed somewhere...as he does.”
“Ah, cats,” Klavier said, nodding sagely. “Don’t tell your kätzchen I’m more of a dog person, bitte. We’re already off to a bad start as it is.”
“Brave of you, saying that out loud,” Apollo remarked. “If Mik comes after you in your sleep tonight, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Klavier turned to look at Mikeko, who was currently on the kitchen counter, scarfing down his dinner. He lifted his head to make direct eye contact, chewing menacingly all the while. Klavier shuddered. “How about you, what were you up to today?”
“The most boring prosecutor’s office meeting ever, not that that’s anything new,” Klavier sighed, turning back to face Apollo. “And I had no cases to prosecute, so I spent my day wishing I was here instead. Even if you and Mikeko weren’t around, I’d rather watch your wallpaper die a slow death than listen to Herr Payne whine about his life while we’re all waiting for the coffee maker. I don’t see how it’s my or Herr Blackquill’s fault that he hasn’t had a raise in over ten years. If all he can brag about is making new defense attorneys cry instead of actually doing his job, then he should be grateful he still has a career to begin with, ach.”
Apollo blinked. “...huh. I guess I never really thought about the kind of office politics you have to deal with. Meanwhile, the only thing I’ve had to deal with lately is Athena nearly breaking Trucy’s finger during an arm-wrestling match.”
Klavier winced, popping a piece of chicken in his mouth. “Is that something that happens often?”
“More often than it should,” Apollo replied sagely. Klavier wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or slightly terrified.
After they finished dinner, Klavier insisted on helping Apollo with the dishes, seeing as how there was a huge pile of them in the sink, almost none of them from their dinner. Some were splattered with cake batter, others with vanilla cream. Thankfully, Apollo had already rinsed all the pans and utensils he’d used to make the topping, or else the sliced almonds would’ve given him away entirely.
“No peeking in the fridge or you’re not getting any,” Apollo warned, waving a spatula in his face.
“Are we talking about dessert, or...something else?” Klavier blinked innocently when Apollo continued to glare. “Ja, ja, I hear you.” He then paused. “Can I at least speculate? I have an educated guess.”
“You have zero patience sometimes,” Apollo complained, knocking his hip against Klavier’s, though with their height difference, it was more like his hip against Klavier’s thigh. “Let’s finish up here so you have nothing to complain about, alright?”
As they puttered around the kitchen together, Apollo had to subtly, but constantly direct Klavier away from the oven before he could see the remnants of a burnt pan still left on one of the stovetop elements; he hadn’t had enough time to completely scrub them away, though he had gotten rid of the worst of it. For once, he was grateful Klavier favored heavy scents, which seemed to be masking the smell for him.
“Mrrp.” Just as Klavier was drying the last of the plates, he felt something weaving between his ankles. “Mreow?”
“Have you changed your mind about me, kätzchen?” he asked, delighted. Mikeko aggressively smushed his face against Klavier’s calf in response. Apollo watched them both in amazement. “Is that a ja or a nein?”
“Mrrh,” Mikeko rumbled.
“Oh, this is definitely a trap,” Apollo warned. “He probably wants something from you, so don’t fall for it, Klav.”
“You talk about him like he’s an unruly witness on the witness stand,” Klavier said, amused. “He’s just a sweet little kätzchen, what could he possibly - ” Mikeko sneezed, violently.
“There it is,” Apollo sighed.
Klavier winced at the wet spot Mikeko had left behind on his sweatpants. “Achtung, gesundheit!” He then chuckled, shaking his head as Mikeko wandered off, clearly pretending nothing had happened. Either that, or he was embarrassed, though Apollo suspected it was more the former than the latter. “Like human, like cat, I see; it’s allergy season all around. Is it my cologne, do you think?”
“Might be,” Apollo shrugged, wiping his hands. “Okay, you big baby, are you ready for dessert now?”
“You’re acting like I’ve talked about nothing else,” Klavier protested, wrapping his arms around Apollo from behind and burying his face against Apollo’s neck. He then began pressing slow, deliberate kisses along the length of Apollo’s throat. His nose was momentarily filled with the scent of Klavier’s aforementioned cologne, the scent of sandalwood instead of burnt sugar. “I would love to have dessert, baby.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Then we can eat what you made after.”
“Why am I dating you,” Apollo groaned, lightly shoving him away. Klavier snickered, hopping up onto the kitchen counter. “Sheesh, you’re like a cheap Hallmark card and a bad pick-up artist at the same time.”
“Is there such a thing as a good pick-up artist?” Klavier mused, still grinning. “Anyway, I’m serious. Let’s see what you made for us, liebe.” Apollo felt oddly nervous as he opened his refrigerator and carefully pulled out the covered tray from the top shelf. He set it down on the counter, right beside Klavier, then went to grab plates, forks, and a decent-sized knife. “Ah, a knife! Was my prediction correct?”
“Can you let me live for two seconds, please?” Apollo grumbled, softening when Klavier leaned down to kiss him on the cheek. “Okay, okay, careful around the guy with the knife in his hand. I-I’m gonna take off the cover now.”
They both held their breaths just as Apollo lifted the tray cover, as overly dramatic as it sounded. The sensation was stupidly similar to how they felt during a particularly stressful trial. Klavier’s eyes widened at the sight before him. “...bienenstich?”
“Wait…” Apollo leaned closer. “...what happened?!”
The state of his bienenstich was...questionable, to say the least. To start, the caramelized almond topping, which had hardened nicely in the refrigerator earlier, now looked like it had been through an earthquake, full of little holes and fissures. The thick layer of vanilla cream between the two layers of cake was oozing out the sides, having somehow melted since Apollo put it in the fridge over an hour ago. Finally, most of the bottom layer of cake was soggy and crumbling apart, clearly thanks to the melting cream.
“You gotta be kidding me!” Apollo exclaimed, setting the knife aside and hurriedly digging his phone out of his pocket. “Here, I took a picture earlier, i-it - it looked perfect, I-I made sure of it - ”
“I’m sure it did, Apollo,” Klavier said gently, rubbing his shoulders in sympathy. “Let’s see your picture, then.”
Groaning, Apollo held his phone up to Klavier’s face. “Seriously, look. I took so many photos, I was gonna send ‘em to your parents and thank them for teaching me the basics...I even made the topping three times ‘cos I burnt the first two attempts!”
“Is that what that smell was?” Klavier shrunk at Apollo’s venomous expression. “Sorry, baby, I just - I didn’t want to say anything in case it was, you know, a weird apartment smell.” He then perked up. “But if you ask me...looks have nothing to do with taste. That goes for both food and people, apropos, though I consider myself blessed that you’re the very best of both.”
“Har, har...also, ew,” Apollo added, wrinkling his nose. “Well, let’s hope you’re right.” With renewed vigor, he picked up the knife once more and carefully cut two modest-sized pieces, transferring them to their respective plates. He passed one plate to Klavier, then, after they exchanged nervous looks, they both took their first tentative bites. “...oh.”
“See? It’s just as I said!” Klavier declared, grinning victoriously. “I’m not going to pretend it’s the most perfect bienenstich I’ve ever had, but - it’s good, Apollo. It’s really, really good. I wouldn’t have known it was your first attempt if I hadn’t seen it. Even then, it’s hardly a disaster. Just a bit, ah, lopsided.”
Apollo was quiet for another moment or so, letting the taste linger on his tongue. The texture was a bit odd, thanks to the half-melted cream and the soggy cake, but it was just as sweet and satisfying as he’d been hoping it would be. “...huh. So I guess we didn’t accidentally swap the salt and sugar like I thought we might’ve done.”
“We?” Klavier echoed as he took another bite, more generous in size this time.
“Yeah, Trucy came over to help me. Guess I forgot to mention that,” Apollo added. “We haven’t had much time to hang out outside of work stuff lately, so...I thought it’d be a fun afternoon thing. Kinda turned into a nightmare instead? Like, the smell of burnt sugar is everywhere for a reason. Don’t look inside my oven, please.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t,” Klavier laughed, delighted. “I can only imagine what went on before I got here, achtung.” It wasn’t long before he was scraping his plate clean; he was still eyeing the rest of the cake hungrily. He turned when Apollo made a mild noise of disgust. “Ah - what happened?”
“What always happens around here.” Apollo plucked a tiny, but obvious cat hair from the end of his fork. “At least I didn’t eat this one. I think I’ve consumed more cat hairs than I’ve had paying clients.” He then looked at Klavier with raised eyebrows. “You’re not expecting another piece right now, are you?”
“I like bienenstich, okay?” Klavier said defensively, though he finally got down from the kitchen counter so he could put his fork and plate in the sink, dropping a sticky-sweet kiss on Apollo’s cheek on his way over. “Danke, baby, that was really good. Can I take some back with me, bitte?”
“Of course, babe. I’m certainly not eating the rest of it by myself,” Apollo snorted, finishing off his own piece. He put his dishes in the sink, taking a moment to rinse off his and Klavier’s plates, then let out a relieved sigh. “Well, at least it tasted good, even if it looked like crap.”
“I know it’s pointless, saying this to you, but - don’t worry so much, hm?” Klavier wrapped his arms around Apollo’s midsection; before Apollo knew it, he was being lifted and set down onto the counter, right where Klavier had been. He rolled his eyes good-naturedly, bringing his hands to rest on Klavier’s shoulders, his legs wrapped loosely around Klavier’s waist. “I’m impressed, liebling, I mean it. I know Mama’s been teaching you how to bake, but for you to do it on your own time for us to enjoy...I should really step up my game here, don’t you think?”
“Hardly,” Apollo said, dropping his head to Klavier’s shoulder, pressing a kiss to Klavier’s neck. “Thanks, Klav. Glad you liked it.”
“Bitte schön,” Klavier replied, gently lifting Apollo’s chin so he could kiss him properly. They both tasted like vanilla and honey; Apollo pushed Klavier’s hair out of his face so it wouldn't run the risk of getting sticky. Mere seconds later, they were interrupted by a tiny, impudent meow. Sighing, Klavier reluctantly broke away so he could stare down at the culprit by his feet. “Can I help you, kätzchen? I thought we were cool...until you used my sweatpants as a tissue, that is. These are Moncler, I’ll have you know.”
“Mreow,” Mikeko trilled, tail thrashing violently against Klavier’s leg. Shaking his head in amusement, Apollo got down from the counter so he could pick him up and cradle him, rocking him back and forth like a baby. “Mrrp.”
“I’m kinda curious to see if he’ll let you pet him,” Apollo said. “You wanna try?” Klavier lifted a cautious hand, then slowly began petting Mikeko, taking care not to disturb the sleekness of his long, thick fur. Klavier let out a soft laugh when Mikeko began to purr, his eyes closing contentedly as he smushed his face against Klavier’s hand, just like he’d done to his leg earlier. “Hey, would you look at that - it’s a not-Christmas miracle!”
“I feel as if I’ve been blessed,” Klavier chuckled, rubbing Mikeko’s ears for good measure. “Have I passed your secret test somehow, kätzchen? Am I a good partner for your papa?” Mikeko mewled happily.
“I can’t believe you didn’t even do anything and he already likes you,” Apollo sighed. “Mik, I thought you were smarter than this.”
“I can’t tell if you want him to like me or not,” Klavier said dryly, dropping a kiss to the top of Mikeko’s forehead. Mikeko’s purr only seemed to intensify. Apollo rolled his eyes; now Klavier was just showing off. “So now that all of our bienenstich excitement is over, should we put a movie on, maybe try a small bite of that tofu pudding? I have a desperate need to cuddle after the day I’ve had.”
“Day you had?” Apollo echoed, neatly depositing Mikeko back onto his cat tree. “You said you had a boring meeting and no trials. How bad could it have been?”
“I had to listen to Herr Payne gush about his wife that definitely exists,” Klavier bemoaned, lifting the back of his hand to his forehead as if he were about to faint. Apollo was sure if he rolled his eyes any harder, he would sprain something. “Herr Debeste kept asking to borrow a pencil for some reason. I’m serious, baby, don’t laugh at me, he kept knocking on my door every thirty minutes - ”
“The only baby I see around here is you, baby,” Apollo teased, prodding Klavier in the chest. “But fine, fine, I hear you. You go sulk on the couch and pick out a movie while you wait. I'm gonna put the bienenstich back in the fridge and send your mom my pre-disaster pictures. Maybe she’ll have some advice for my next attempt.”
Klavier perked up. “Next attempt? You mean you’re going to make it again? Ah, ich liebe dich, mein schatz, mein süßer, mein - ”
“Oh my god,” Apollo groaned, sighing. “Maybe, okay? Maybe. I’m not making any promises, I don’t want my apartment to permanently smell like burnt sugar hell.” Still, Apollo found himself biting back a smile, kissing Klavier briefly before lightly nudging him in the direction of his living room. “...and I love you, too. Dork.”
_____
a/n: Welcome to my fourth entry for Klapollo Week 2021! Continuity-wise, this is the sixth of seven fics, but again, there is no need to read the others to follow each fic on its own. Mikeko being a jerk who only likes maybe three people at a time is one of my favorite random headcanons! I know I set a lot of my fics in Apollo's apartment (or Klavier's), but one of the main reasons that I do is for Mikeko and Mikeko alone. If you're looking for a Mikeko-centric fic (kind of), if you could read my mind is one of my favorite short-ish fics that I've ever written.
Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Likes and reblogs would be much appreciated. Hoping you’re all safe and healthy and doing well ❤️
#KlapolloWeek2021#klapollo#kyodoroki#klapollo fic#ace attorney#ace attorney fic#myfic#long post#almost forgot to post this oops lmao#also my day two fic hasn't been archived! guess i'll send y'all a quick ask later#i think i'd tagged something incorrectly so that's my bad
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hey hey hey august can I hear the wasp story?
THE WASP STOR(IES)
i will begin with a small bit of context. my mom used to be fatally allergic to wasps, specifically yellowjackets. i can’t remember what it was exactly but she had something done to make her not allergic to them anymore, or at least barely allergic. my dad has adhd and he also has a pretty skewed sense of danger; he’s very impulsive and these things combined have resulted in some... interesting... things.
THE FIRST (major) WASP STORY, aka my dad makes questionable decisions: part one
i can’t remember whether this was before or after The Wasp Incident but i believe it was before. at this point in time my youngest sister, squid, was probably four or five and EXTREMELY afraid of wasps because of something that happened when she was 2. at our old house, during the summer she wouldn’t go downstairs because wasps lived in our air conditioning and they’d get blown out into the main room down there. anyways. the rest of us didn’t like wasps either.
except, of course, my dad. my dad was and is not afraid of wasps.
outside my parents’ window was a massive wasp nest. one of the bowling- or basket-ball sized ones. mostly they didn’t bother us. my dad once stuck his hand in the nest just for funsies and only got stung like. 3 or 4 times. so. not too aggressive.
my dad, on this day, was leaf blowing our concrete patio. and the window was RIGHT there.
he wondered, what would happen if i stuck the leaf blower in here and turned it on?
so. he did.
we couldn’t leave the house for a day and a half. but the wasp nest was gone, at least, i guess.
THE SECOND (major) WASP STORY, aka my dad makes questionable decisions part two
this was maybe a year ago (so after The Incident). now there’s a kind of hornets called bald faced hornets. we were already familiar with them from The Incident. they’re mostly okay, because they won’t attack until you’re near their home (usually in a tree). but once they do, their venom is particularly painful. (unrelated but every year they’d eat any apples that fell to the ground and they’d get drunk cause the apples were a little fermented. it’s really funny.)
so in our cherry trees was a big wasp nest. we, of course, wanted to eat the cherries but me and my sisters were willing to just. not go near the tree; that particular tree did not in fact grow any cherries. my dad, being unafraid and bored, decided to find a way to get rid of it.
his original plan was to ‘just stomp on it.’ don’t ask me how that would work because i simply don’t know. he didn’t either. that was the end of the plan. notable problems include the fact that it was in a tree and the fact that it was full of wasps.
anyways. my mom told him that was not actually a good plan but tragically couldn’t convince him to just. leave it alone. the revised plan was to 1. go up a ladder to the nest. 2. cut it down with a... knife? saw? i don’t remember. 3. drop the whole nest + the branch into a bucket and finally, 4. shove a lid on the bucket real fast.
he didn’t even make it to step 2.
me and my sisters were outside, a fair bit away, watching. we knew it was going to be terrible and hilarious. and it was! i actually have the whole thing on video, somewhere; if i can find it and it doesn’t have anyone’s faces on it then i might post it here.
so here’s my dad, standing on a wobbly ladder which is right next to a very steep hill (our yard was essentially a downhill, a few feet of flat ground, and another downhill. good for sledding though). on the ground beneath him, the wasp bucket, and in his hand a dull serrated knife.
being who he was he decided to take a look at the wasps and stuck his hand right next to them. ‘oh,’ i hear him say. ‘these guys are aggressive.’
‘oh, they’re really aggressive.’ he drops the knife. the wasps come out.
we (me and my sisters) start running. behind us, my dad is yelling for us to get inside quickly and close the door because the wasps are CHASING him.
well. we couldn’t go outside that evening, but in the end the only consequence was my dad was in a lot of pain and had like, a fever and stuff from the venom (surprise surprise! they were bald faced hornets), and my cat acted drunk cause she got stung too.
pretty big consequence, let’s be real. i think my dad must feel pain less than other people, because... well. we all have learned th hard way how much bald faced hornets stings hurt.
THE WASP INCIDENT, aka a bizarre series of increasingly terrible misfortunes
the day of The Incident was perfectly normal. we went to a river with some friends, which was fun if a bit cold. i don’t remember the time spent at the river.
soon it came time to leave. we had planned on taking a picture together, but well, too bad. we would go home without it. oh, how i wish we would have gone home without it.
my sister, as mentioned before, was terrified of wasps. and there were a few wasps hanging around; we were near water, no big deal. if she saw one she’d scream, though.
into the woods we went, trying to find a place to take a picture (we stayed on the trail, though; there were some very little kids with us).
i clearly remember the moments before Disaster Struck. a 10 year old me found a beautiful flower. some cool mushrooms.
‘oh, here’s a good place for a picture,’ i hear behind me. the parents stood on the trail, while all the kids stood on a slope directly next to it. there was a nice log adding to the picture, it was very aesthetic, i’m sure.
suddenly, squid starts screaming. no big deal, she is five and screams a lot. she just saw a wasp, probably, or maybe hadden pinched her.
there was a little pinch on my leg. stinging nettle? maybe.
another. these hurt too bad to be stinging nettle. i didn’t know what was going on but we all ran down the slope faster than we’d ever run before.
i was feeling terrible pricks all over my body. please understand these were truly terrible. they were enough to bring me to tears with just one sting.
as everybody ran down the trail towards the cars and, presumably, safety, my mom ripped my shirt off for me because THERE WAS A WASP STUCK INSIDE MY SHIRT. once i got it out i understood what was going on - we were being attacked by wasps. everyone else was out of sight, around a bend in the trail, but i could hear their distant screams as i walked slowly and leisurely down the trail, in intense pain. i thought the trees were very pretty, and the sky very blue.
when i got to the parking lot i was met with the sight of my youngest sister, no pants or shirt on, crying hysterically and my friend doing the same. poor squid, five years old and deathly afraid of wasps, had been stung over 12 times by some of the wasps that personally i have found to be most painful. they’d gotten in her clothes.
the end of the story, right? you’re probably thinking. we go home, squid is even more scared of wasps, that’s it.
well, not quite. remember how i mentioned my mom used to be allergic to wasps? specifically, yellowjackets? and only yellowjackets?
as it turns out, bald faced hornets ARE yellowjackets. and in saving my sister from the wasps stuck in her clothes my mom had been stung six. times.
so. here we are. four parents, at least three crying children, in the middle of the woods 2 hours from civilization and, more importantly a HOSPITAL. someone camping nearby had benadryl but no one had an epi pen, and my mom was having an allergic reaction. she wasn’t going into anaphylactic shock, luckily.
but she still needed an epi pen, because she could.
just down the road was a boy scout camp, and for the first time we had good luck - there were people there. and a medical tent. we took her in, they were confused but they gave her an epi pen. i sat in the car with my friend, who was still crying. she gave me licorice. after an hour or so, my mom was fine. and we went home.
in the end everything was okay, and i have a fun story to tell. also happy to report that squid’s fear of wasps isn’t as severe these days, shes 10 now.
anyways. here are three of the reasons im not fond of wasps, and three of my favourite stories to tell friends (sorry to my irl friends who’ve heard this story SO. many times.)
#and here it is#in its full glory#took me like an hour to type out and idk if it comes across as well as text#ppl tell me i have a good story telling voice but idk if typing them out will be the same :///#soooo lmk how this was to read!!#also ty for asking bestie <3#i love telling stories!!!#my posts#asks#my stories#wasp story#ask to tag#wasp tw#allergies tw
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Carrion Flowers
Prologue
(yes, under the cut is some long-form original fiction, and yes, i am embarrassed about it, but it’s fine)
When he hears it was through the eye, he remembers that day on the lake.
It’d been cloudy for a week, but the skinny black kid in the dark suit wouldn’t have known the difference. The curtains had been replaced, and the windows and mirrors shrouded in heavy, black cloth. Pictures of his father in his cap and uniform were everywhere, each adorned with a black satin ribbon.
He hated it. The air was getting stale and hot in his lungs, and the black wool suit was suffocating. He didn’t understand back then why he and his mother had to set out white lillies and wear these awful clothes and shut out all the light. The two of them weren’t dead yet.
His mother wasn’t really meant to travel yet- especially not to a friend’s- but she hadn’t been meant to go the cemetery either. Regardless, she had followed the hearse with the men through all of Paris weeks ago, and she would help her son load his black wools and silk into a suitcase now. They both caught an early train out of the city, then a cab, and he was thankful for the sharp, cold smell of green earth and ozone.
When he arrived at the cabin, a woman he didn’t recognize threw open the door. She wore another black dress, like his mother’s, and they kissed each other on each cheek.
“Madame Stein, my love, je suis désolé,” she said, as if it were the easiest thing in the world. Since the funeral, he had seen many of his mother’s friends, but each carried the cold pity of a mourner, veiled beneath formality. With this woman, whoever she was, there was an instant connection. He saw his mother light up with warmth and comfort, and felt himself warmed along with her. His mother pulled him from behind her skirts and introduced him.
“Madame Hyde, c’est Jacque”, she said, and the other woman bent down to hold him tight.
“You’re so grown,” she said, “I haven’t seen you since you were in your cradle”. She stood, and a young boy, about Jacque’s age, emerged from the cabin behind her. He held a hand out for Jacque.
“Je m’appelle Cyrus!” He grinned broadly.
Jacque took his hand and shook it, “One of your teeth is gone”. Cyrus took his other hand out of his pocket, and placed the milk-white baby tooth in Jacque’s open palm.
“I was gonna leave it for the tooth fairy, but I want you to have it!” Mme. Hyde rolled her eyes, and Jacque’s mother stifled a laugh.
“Thanks,” Jacque said, and pocketed it.
“Shall we?” Mme. Hyde said, and stepped into the cabin. The hearth was roaring, and something must’ve been cooking in the heavy iron pot, because the smell was incredible. Jacque and his mother unpacked, and the first night, the two women made apple pie together. Jacque’s mother was rolling the pastry and the butter together when she started to cry, and she cried for a long time while Mme. Hyde held onto her. The butter melted out of the pastry, but they all ate the sweet, buttered, cinnamon apples out of a great wooden bowl, and his mother slept through the whole night for the first time since they’d gotten the news.
It was still raining the next day, so the two Madames sat by the hearth and stitched old clothes while the boys ate porridge.
“Mom, I want to show Jack the lake”.
“Alright dear, but take an umbrella, and lend Jacque your boots. It’s still muddy out”.
Cyrus took Jacque by the arm, and they set out together in the rain. Jacque held the umbrella while Cyrus talked excitedly about the games he’d play at the schoolyard, or facts he’d read about in books.
“Did you know? Sometimes a dragon isn’t actually a dragon, so instead they’re called wyverns,” Cyrus said “Weye-verrns” with the distinctive lull of an English accent, and Jacque wondered how long it’d been since he came to Paris. “They’re only called Dragons if they can breathe fire, and then they’re called ‘True’ Dragons, which I guess makes all the other ones ‘Liar-liar-pants-on-fire’ Dragons”.
“It’s not fire,” Jacque said beneath the hood of his black cloak, “Papa said it’s called ‘radiation’. They call it Wildfire because it spreads”.
Cyrus was dumbstruck. “Wow!! Really?? You must be so smart, Jacque!” Jacque had been praised a lot in the last few weeks by the mourners, but always because he was So brave or So strong or The man of the house now in a way that felt like You poor thing. It was nice to hear smart for a change.
When they got to the lake, it looked so high from the rain that Jacque thought it might spill over. Thick trees blanketed the banks from the rain, allowing only a few heavy drops to spill over onto the moss or the water, each creating a soft plonk.
“It’s pretty,” Jacque said.
“Have you ever skipped a stone before?”
“Um, no”.
Cyrus sorted through the mud for a while before finding a smooth flat stone, and tossed it into the clear water. Instead of sinking, it touched the water and flew, hopping three or four times before finally dropping down into the lake.
“Amazing!” Jacque picked one up and threw it, but it only made a splash. Without a word, Cyrus found another skipping stone, and put it in Jacque’s hand. He held Jacque’s wrist and moved the rock between his forefinger and thumb. Even at his school, Jacque didn’t often touch hands with the other students. They’d throw balls or play hopskotch. And of course, Jacque’s mother held his hand often, to cross the railway or walk to the store, or just to comfort him. But Cyrus’ hands were small like his own, warm, and rough from years of scrabbling up trees or over brambles.
“You have to throw it like this”.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” Jacque asked, “You just feel bad for me like everyone else”. Jacque pulled his hand away, and threw another rock straight beneath the surface.
Cyrus picked up another for him. “Am not,” he said, “Momma said you need some cheering up, s’all”.
“You do feel bad for me!” Jacque threw it, and again it failed to soar like the first one did.
“Do not!” Again, Cyrus put a flat, muddy rock in Jacque’s light palm. “And I know you’re sad. What’s wrong with feeling bad for you, anyways?”.
“Am not!” Jacque threw it, hard, but it missed the water altogether, clacking against a big rock on the shore, and ricocheting out towards the boys.
Jacque found himself crying. Hot, wet tears spilled down his cheeks, and he found his breath coming out in little hitching gasps before he knew why. Jacque wasn’t sad. He missed his dad, of course, and he wished his mom wouldn’t cry. But he wasn’t sad. So what was he feeling now?
Cyrus sat next to him in the mud. When Jacque looked up, he realized the rock had hit Cyrus, cutting his eyebrow. Blood streaked down his cheekbone, and his eye had already purpled and swollen shut. Even still, he smiled. Cyrus’ grin was so wide, it showed his gap tooth and curled his other eye up in delight.
“What?” Jacque muttered.
“When my papa died,” Cyrus said, “everybody told me I had to be big and strong for my momma. It took me a long time to cry. I thought I was dead too, because he was. But I felt better when I cried.”
Jacque laughed a little, sniffling. “You wanted to make me cry?”
Cyrus took the sleeve of his coat, and wiped one of Jacque’s tears. As they sat together, and Jacque finished crying, a cloud finally broke. Sunlight reflected from the shimmering surface of the lake. Cyrus’ hair and eye were dark, but in the light, Jacque saw their fiery warmth, each eyelash shining gold. Jacque felt the sun move over him, heating him to the bones.
That was when he first fell in love, Jacque thinks.
Years later, when a dragon had flown too close to Paris, the military police shot it down over the lake. The water was ruined, along with the rest of the countryside, and a few years after that, Cyrus joined the Dragon Corps. Jacque went to University, but they still saw each other often. Cyrus would sneak out of the barracks to visit, and to tell Jacque stories about the latest thing he had seen, or the place he had just been. Cyrus would tell him about being stationed in Italy. Verona had huge open-air cemeteries, he would say. You’re studying cemeteries, aren’t you, Cyrus would ask. I’ll take you someday, he’d promise. Now, this morning, his picture was in the newspaper.
It was through the eye, the newspaper said. That same eye Jacque had hit with his skipping stone, and that bore a mark on its brow from that day at the lake. That eye that shone gold in the sunlight, and that peeked out at Jacque, only Jacque, with a wry delight from beneath the military cap, making his chest ache.
It went through that eye, and lodged itself somewhere in the back of his skull. Jacque keeps rereading it, looking back at that picture. He must be reading it wrong. He feels dizzy, keeps expecting the words to change as they spin, but each time they stubbornly refuse. Pronounced dead at 4:32 this morning. Jacque doesn’t know what to do. Then, all at once, he does.
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About a boy- Epilogue
Word count: 2.3K
Warning: Feels, mentions of physical abuse and child-trafficking. Did I mention feels?
Characters: Dean and Sam, Bobby, Jody, Cas, Gabriel, Benny and others.
Summary: Dean Winchester has a secret. A secret that could really land him in trouble. He never expected to connect with anyone when he walked into the ‘Blue Stone Orphanage for Boys,’ but even then, the walls he has put up are slowly coming down. Now, a series of strange events are threatening to expose him. When everything starts falling apart around him, will he still be able to save the one person that matters the most?
A/N: This is it, guys! The end of the journey. Looking back, it feels pretty sweet to me. Thank you to everyone who read, liked and commented on the story. You guys kept me going! <3
My immense gratitude to @thing-you-do-with-that-thing and @deanssweetheart23 for beta reading this story <3 You both are absolute gems and I love you!
About a boy masterlist
One year later
11th September 1995
“You idjits!” Bobby yelled. “You two had one job!”
Dean came running around the corner hoping that his face wasn’t too red, or hair too messy. The one time he got lucky with Jessie Rosenberg, Bobby had to yell for him.
“What now?” He asked, crossly.
“Look at the fascia,” Bobby pointed. “I asked you to fix that thing two weeks ago. Does it look fixed to you?”
“Sam had exams! He barely pulled his head out of the books!”
“And you could have fixed it by yourself.”
Dean looked at the front yard. The tables and pretty lights hanging over the trees transformed it into something completely else. There were frilly table cloths and blooming, pale roses. Even the cars had disappeared. There were so many people milling around in pretty dresses and buttoned up suits. Looking at that no one would be able to tell most of them were cops. And none of those cops were inspecting the case of disrepaired fascia boards.
“C’mon, Bobby,” Dean said. “It’s your wedding. Shouldn’t you be dancing with your wife instead of yelling at unsuspecting boys? You don’t even care about awnings and fascia!”
Bobby wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He was actually looking a bit funny without the usual baseball cap and the jacket. Though Dean couldn’t say the formal suit look didn’t suit him. He was just not used to seeing it.
Bobby sat down on the porch steps. “Yeah, you’re right. I shouldn’t be taking it out on you. I’m just nervous.”
Dean sat down besides him. “Why’re you nervous? I mean you’ve known Jody forever.”
Bobby made a disgruntled noise. “It’s not that. Everything is moving so fast. You’ll be seventeen in a few months and then Sam will grow up, too. I’ve just gotten so used to you boys being around. Who knows what’s next. College? You both will move on.”
“Oh, come on!” Dean groaned. “Don’t go all sappy on me now. Not you, too!”
“Who else?” Bobby raised his eyebrow.
“Sam,” Dean sighed. “He’s having one of those days again.”
‘One of those days’ was the term Dean and Bobby used to describe Sam’s mood when he felt overwhelmed. During the first week, after Sam had moved in with them, little things startled him. Like how there were no restrictions about bedtime, or how he could choose what food he wanted, and when he wanted to eat. On the first Sunday, Jody surprised them all with movie tickets; Sam was quiet the whole way because he had never been to movies before. The next day they went out to eat. That was a rare phenomenon anyway, but Jody wanted to get to know Sam. Even there he hadn’t talked, barely eaten anything.
That night Dean had found him sitting on the roof.
“You know that Bobby would butcher you if he found you freezing your ass out in the cold, right?” Dean asked, easing himself down on the tiled roof.
“I’m being a shithead, aren’t I?” Sam said, hiding his face in his arms where they were resting over his knees. “Jody was being so nice, and I just… I screwed up everything.”
“You didn’t screw up shit,” Dean said firmly. “Jody is a lot tougher than you think. You didn’t hurt her feelings. Hell, you should have seen when she was getting to know me…. That was what being a shithead is like.”
“What did you do?”
“The usual. Threw bitchy tantrums, punctured her car and all that.”
“No you didn’t!”
The incredulous look on Sam’s face was hilarious. It was still taking some getting used to; thinking of him as Sam and not Will.
Dean put his hands out, gesturing a ‘yours truly.’ “Yeah, it was a total dick move. It didn’t phase her in the slightest.”
“Mhmm…”
“Don’t worry about it so much, Sam,” Dean said. “We know this is hard for you.”
Sam leaned back against the tiles, staring into the night sky. “You can actually see the stars from down here.,” he said wonderingly. “See that? That’s the first star of the constellation Orion.”
“I suck at stars,” Dean said, leaning back next to his brother. “You’ll have to tell me.”
They lay like that for a long time, Sam talking avidly about all the constellations he knew of, and Dean pretending that he did not.
Bobby gazed ahead into the yard, where Jody was laughing with Sam. He was dressed just like Dean in a matching tux; for the two groomsmen. Bobby’s eyes softened. “That kid really is something. Anyone would have lost their goddamned gourd after going through all that,” Bobby said.
It was an understatement. Sam had become the apple of every teacher’s eye. He aced his classes effortlessly and the town people just loved him. The little, stupid ray of sunshine that he was.
“C’mon.” Bobby said, a twinkle in his eye. “I’ve got something for you kids.”
“What?” Dean asked, getting up.
“Just c’mon.”
Ten minutes later, the four of them, Him, Sam, Bobby and Jody were walking towards the very back of the house. Jody was practically bouncing on her feet which was so uncharacteristic of her.
Sam gave Dean a ‘What’s happening?’ look.
Dean shrugged. He didn’t know either.
“Hey, Bobby, quick question,” Dean said casually. “Are you two gonna bury us in a corner of the property? Cause this sure looks like it.”
“Yeah, sure, smartass,” Jody grinned at him. “I’ll make sure no one finds the bodies.”
Most of the cars had been parked out here, clearing the front yard. Only one car stood out, parked separately. She was so sleek and slender, the black metal almost purred.
“Holy shit!” Dean whistled. “What in name of…”
“It’s yours!” Bobby smiled widely. “It’s a 1967, Chevy Impala.”
“Wait!” Dean said, the realisation suddenly hitting him. “This car is from that picture. The one with mom and dad.”
“It belonged to your dad. He called her baby.”
Dean looked at Sam who had the same awed expression on his face.
“Where was it all these years?” Sam asked.
“Parked at Rufus’,” Bobby said. “Been working on it as and when the money and time came by. I wanted it done before the wedding. He drove it back today.”
Dean ran his fingers along the side of her, and the car seemed to respond to his touch… hummed under it.
Bobby held out a set of keys. “What’re you waiting for? Don’t you boys wanna take her out for a ride?”
*********************************
2nd November 1995
It was a clear day. The sky was blue like in one of those vacation postcards. The engine was purring underneath him and a Led Zeppelin song was playing inside his car. Dean rolled the windows down, the air whipped Sam’s hair all over his face. He made a protesting sound and Dean chuckled.
This was perfect.
“You sure this was a good idea? Not the trip,” Sam said quickly. “Just sneaking out like this without telling Bobby?”
Dean rolled his eyes. Sam was ever the responsible one.
“Bobby will be fine. We’re almost there; and if we stick to the plan, we should be back home for dinner, and no one will be wiser.
Sam huffed. “I miss Cas when you get like this. He was the only one who could get you to listen.”
“Don’t you want to go?”
“Course I do. You know I asked for this!” Sam muttered.
Dean missed Cas anyway. Thinking about his best friend made Dean smile. Because of what he had accomplished- helped with exposing the trafficking racket- the state had given him a medal of valour, along with Benny and Gabriel. Deny had detached himself from the proceedings, asking Jody to never mention him in the official records. He wasn’t interested in medals and accolades. He had walked away with a miracle of his own.
The mayor, wanting to bask in the borrowed glory, had funded Cas’s education in a private boarding school for his last year of high school. From there, Cas had managed a full ride into the University of Texas. Benny had opted out to get a job under some chef… who knew he had that talent? And Gabriel was in the wind. Dean didn’t worry about Gabe, though. He would eventually surface as a millionaire in some years for all Dean knew.
Thinking about them always brought up bad memories along with the nostalgia. Memories about Andy and the Stynes. It was little comfort knowing that they had been put away for life… they deserved much, much worse. Dean was hopeful that other states might press more severe charges on the Stynes.
Despite what it had looked like, it turned out that Michael had been the only one who knew. His cronies had no clue what their dear leader had been upto. Dean couldn’t care less about what happened to Gary and others as long as he never saw their faces again. Michael had been tried as a juvenile, and the DA had asked for a reduced sentence on the grounds that he was the one who had finally led them to the warehouse. He would serve 3 years in confinement. Even after all this time, Dean didn’t know what to feel about Michael. He tried not to think about it much.
Cas though, called them at least once a week. More, if he could manage. He and Sam had road tripped to the University in the fall and spent a week with him. Cas had been ecstatic. Dean wasn’t surprised to know that his friend was majoring in sociology and behavioral sciences. If anything, he was proud. Cas would be spending the winter break with them in Sioux falls. Bobby had been cranky about having to repair their guest room, but Dean secretly knew he was happy for them all.
“We’re here!” Dean said, as they crossed into the town. Sam stared out of the window, palms flat against the glass.
Dean made a few stops to ask for directions, and then they were parked along the edge of the sidewalk.
“You sure you’re up for this?” Dean asked apprehensively. Nevermind that he was feeling heavy inside, he couldn’t let his brother see that.
Sam bit his lip, then nodded resolutely. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
They stepped out of the car, and Dean wrapped his arm over his brother's shoulder. He’d gained a couple of inches during the summer, so Sam was both much shorter than him, and mad about it. ‘I’m gonna grow taller than you, one day,’ he’d say.
Dean didn’t know exactly where they were, so he and Sam walked together, searching and reading.
“Dean,” Sam said in a small voice. “They’re here.”
The headstones were laid side by side.
Mary Winchester
5th December 1954 - 2nd November 1983
Loving Mother and loving wife
And
John Winchester
22nd April 1954 - 2nd Novemeber 1983
Loving Father and loving husband
Dean tightened his grip on Sam’s shoulder.
“I think they would be proud of you,” Sam said, not taking his eyes away from the plain grey stones. They had weathered with rain and time, the writing had blackened over the years.
“Hey, you’re the smart one,” Dean said. The corner of his eyes were prickling. “If anything, they’d have been proud of you.”
Sam shook his head ever so slightly in disagreement. “You saved my life. Twice. You found me and kept our family going. You’re a freaking hero.”
Dean blinked his eyes in succession. He didn’t dispute Sam’s words. Not because he believed them, but because he didn’t trust his voice to be steady. He hadn’t even thought of getting flowers.
“You think we should say something?”
Dean shrugged, he didn't know what to say and he was bad with words.
“Okay, I’ll go first,” Sam said, then kneeled by their mom’s grave.
“Hey, mom. Hey, dad,” he said in that soft voice of his. “It’s me, Samuel William Winchester. Though Dean just calls me ‘Sammy.’ It’s annoying. He’s annoying!” Sam laughed nervously, like he was afraid of what their mom would think about him dissing his older brother like that. “I didn’t think I’d ever get to see you, to sit besides you… to ever have a family…. I do now, and it’s the most wonderful thing in the world. But I miss you. I’ve always missed you even when I didn’t know who you were.”
Sam cleared his throat, “I guess… I guess what I’m saying is thank you… for giving me the best big brother in the world. Dean’s awesome. I love you so much. All of you.”
He looked up then, tears swimming in his eyes and Dean placed a hand over his head.
They stayed there for a while, soaking the moment in. When it was time to go, Dean touched the cold stones, first his dad’s and then mom’s. He brought the fingers to his lips and kissed them in a discreet gesture.
They walked back to the car in silence.
When Dean started the engine, Sam gave him a small smile. “Thanks, Dean, for bringing me here.”
“Course,” he said, eyes on the road.
Sam settled back against the leather seat and hit the play on music. The song continued from where it had stopped-
….Cause I'm back on the track
And I'm beatin' the flack
Nobody's gonna get me on another rap
So look at me now
I'm just makin' my play
Don't try to push your luck, just get out of my way
'Cause I'm back
Yes,…
“Let’s get back home now,” Sam said contentedly, tapping his fingers to the rhythm of the song.
Dean gave his brother a sideways glance. He had a small smile playing on his lips. In their dad’s old car, with his brother by his side, Dean was already home.
*********************************
Source for the gif used at the top
A/N 2: I cried while writing the epilogue, too! Especially the last part. When I started writing this series about a year ago, I did it as a challenge to myself... deep down knowing that this wouldn’t ever hit off on tumblr like my other series’ had. But I owed it to myself to write a story I believed in, and the love that you guys gave this series was so overwhelming. Y’all ROCK! :*
Please do tell me what you thought of the chapter?
Tagging for the last time:
@sdavid09 @deanssweetheart23 @blacktithe7 @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @cosicas-cuquis @chalicia @anathewierdo @mrswhozeewhatsis @protectteamfreewill @firefly124-writing @spnbaby-67 @hoboal87 @rizlow1 @donnaintx @starmission @gh0stgurl @tftumblin @emily-a-c11 @ericaprice2008 @jotink78 @charliebradbury1104 @ohgodwhybloggg @i-dont-get-cold @bobbie3939 @samsexualdeancurious @dancing-the-hellfire-rumba @cookiechipdough @wildfirewinchester
#dean winchester#dean winchester fanfiction#spn fanfic#weechesters#supernatural fanfiction#aab epilogue#Ana writes aab#anawrites#anawritesspn#q
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chapter one | welcome to new york
Sam made her way out of the house again, but that time with a towel slung over her shoulder; on her other shoulder was a canvas hand bag which held her brushes and her paints, as well as a few little white canvases. Those two little photographs tucked inside of her bikini top stayed in such a snug place that she almost forgot they were there by the time she had stepped out the front door back out to the hot sun. She slipped on her sunglasses once the bath of sunlight washed over her head and bare trim shoulders.
There was a pathway on the right side of the house, which led down to a little clearing; beyond that was a narrow pathway to the water's edge. She moved about the sand to keep it out of her little slip ons. It didn't seem that long ago, and everything from the past few years felt like such a flash and a blur. She could still feel them touching her and she swore that they both were going to be with her until one of them dropped dead. And yet they still slipped away from her, right through her fingers.
Sam stopped at the clearing for a second to adjust the towel on her shoulder, and to fix the lock of hair behind her ear. Too hot to do anything else. She knew there was a tree down by the waters to protect her from the sun.
Those photographs never budged from their hiding places in her bikini top. At one point, she took a look down at her chest and the pieces of yellow and blue fabric. Alex hidden away in the left, Joey in the right. That was exactly how she took them aside when it all started out. They were both on either of her arms and she managed to balance it all with her artistry and her social life.
It was a year ago when she met Joey and she was renting out an apartment in the outskirts of New York City. That was how it felt, anyways, as if it had just happened.
She had moved all the way out there from the second place she lived in following Lake Elsinore, Carson City, about three years before to live the artist life full time. A long way from home and yet she was willing to go forth with it all. Over two thousand miles and with the clothes on her back, Sam had settled into the neighborhood of New York City. It was some time later she met Alex.
And then she met Bill.
She went with Bill instead and there were moments wherein she questioned as to why she went with him instead of the two of them. She even spoke to one of her old friends before she left for the West Coast again, and Aurora asked her what had happened between her, Joey, and Alex. She replied with something that she couldn't exactly recall, but she went with him instead. He charmed her and tugged her away from them, at least that was how she saw it in hindsight.
There was a part of her that didn't want to think that, given her new home life. She was everyone's mom there in Lake Elsinore, and she was acting as Matilda and Cassie's mother. There was no way she could turn away from all of this. There was no way she could look at all of this and turn her back from it all, and head on back to New York City. For all she knew, someone had already taken her old apartment.
Aurora had begged her to return to the Big Apple, and yet she couldn't. Sam could still hear the tears in her voice. She looked down at the big rock on her right ring finger glimmered back at her like a hot ember from a fire. She couldn't return to that funky little neighborhood outside of the city.
She was stuck. She was stuck in a marriage that, deep down, did nothing for her anymore. And yet if she could bring Aurora and her fiance Emile out there for at least a visit, it would be a bit more bearable.
Aurora! She missed that whole circle of artist friends, but she missed her especially, because she was easily Sam's closest friend there in the City. Her jet black hair and her milky Japanese complexion, and the way in which she laughed that resembled to a pair of wine glasses tinkling together.
If there was any compliment she could give to her return to Lake Elsinore was painting and making art down by the surface of the waters. The noise of the city had fallen away into the silence of the mountains and the gentle white noise of the waters. And yet, she couldn't help but yearn for it all back again.
She recognized the willowy tree down by the water's edge, and she shuffled past a pair of low scraggly shrubs. Everything was so dry, even standing down there by the water; so dry that it made the crown of her head itch a bit. The hot sun beating down on the crown of her head didn't help matters, either.
She stepped over a dead tree branch and set down her hand bag on the smooth surface of the rock. She lifted her sunglasses up from her face and rested them atop the hot crown of black hair. Sam took a seat on top of the rock so the shade protected her from the hot sun.
She thought about Joey in particular, given he was the first one she met in the City. She set the canvas on her lap and rested the soles of her feet within the edge of the shade. One of the first things Joey had given her was a black and silver anklet, and she knew it was still in the jewelry box in the bedroom. She kept it tucked away in that little box and she wanted to keep it there forever. Keep it there forever, much like how that photograph of Joey had to be hidden away from the rest of the world.
Before she picked out one of the narrow brushes for herself, she reached into the right side for the photograph of Joey. It was so small, too small to do anything with, but it was better than nothing. It was better than having no way to see his round, sweet face and his black curls. The same went for the photo of Alex: she could see the gray sliver at the front of his head, the full tip of his nose, and his little Mona Lisa smile.
She had moved into that small studio apartment near the Bronx, about half a mile from the freeway. Nothing fancy, just a little two bedroom apartment with a view of the skyline from her window. Around then, she was still insisting on going by her full name of Samantha. The choice was either Los Angeles or New York, and she had been avoiding the former. Four years spent in Nevada and she vowed to never return to the Golden Empire. It simply didn't feel like an appropriate place for an up and coming artist, and it was all too familiar no less. It was that inner feeling about leaving home and traveling about the place, to see the world for herself and do whatever she pleased. The evening in which she was deciding whether or not to leave the little place in Carson City, she spotted the place in the listings and she knew it was perfect. She took the offer and she knew it was a new chapter for her.
Within a few days, she picked up everything she had and travelled that distance, alone. Even though her parents would show up within a day or so to help out with her settling into her new place, but she would go at it alone. The first plane ticket out to New York City and she found her rental car in the airport parking lot. She set one foot after the other down on the sidewalk before her.
It was a four storied little building of white stucco and with black trimming. It made her think of those old fashioned hospitals from the turn of the century. She strolled up the steps and made her way into the front lobby. There she met up with Emile St. Vitus, the landlord at the time. He was a young heavy guy with his disheveled black hair and his smooth milky skin.
“Samantha Shelley, right?” he asked her with an ever so slight Southern twang.
“That's my name,” she replied to him, and she couldn't resist the grin on her face.
“You got here pretty quickly,” he confessed to her as he rummaged through his black coat pockets. “I wasn't expectin' you for at least another few days.”
“It's just me,” she assured him; she knitted her eyebrows together at his feeling around for something. “What're you looking for?”
“Your key,” he replied. “It might be in back in my apartment.” He gestured for her to follow him back into that bottom hallway. She closed the heavy wooden door behind her, and it let out a sharp squeak all the while. That front lobby was cozy and narrow, perhaps no bigger for the width of a couch for someone to bring one in for their place. To her right stood a narrow stairwell with a wooden banister and steps covered in brand new dark carpet. The whole place smelled of lemons.
“Right this way,” he said to her again.
“Where are you from, by the way?” she asked him; she brought her head closer to his ear so he could hear her.
“Me?”
“Yeah.”
“New Orleans. I've lived in New York City, down in Manhattan, since I was five years old, though.”
“I was going to tell you—I like your accent.”
“Well, thank you. I haven't been in the Big Easy for a long time, but sometimes I'll slip sump'n out like 'darlin'' or 'y'all.'” Emile stopped before the third door on the left side of the hallway, and he took out the key from his jeans pocket. He pushed the door open.
“I'll wait right here,” she told him as she hung there at the doorway. It was a bit of a task, though, because of the luggage she had been carrying around for a time, but she was willing to let him delve around the place for that key in question. She adjusted the strap of her hand bag on her shoulder. Her bags rested down by her ankles, and the one holding her clothes stood further into the hallway; the inside of her fingers were tired from carrying them around.
“If you ever need anything, I'll be right in here,” he assured her.
“Sure, sure.”
Sam watched Emile shuffle through papers on the heavy dark wood coffee table. She glanced about the front room, which looked cozy and warm even in the face of the warm evening outside with everything closely knit together about the floor. One thing that caught her attention was the black crucifix on the opposite wall right in front of her. The body and arms of Jesus was lined with a tiny bit of gold leaf, but enough for her to see it from clear across the room.
The sound of someone kicking the bag full of clothes caught her ear. She turned her head to see a slender young guy with long jet black curly hair stumbling forth. He caught himself and stood upright. He turned around to show her his raised dark eyebrows.
“Oh, god, pardon me,” he said to her in a broken voice.
“Oh, no, it's okay,” she assured him as she dragged it closer to her feet.
“I didn't see it, I swear,” he sputtered.
“It's okay, I promise,” she reassured him with a wave of her hand to him. She noticed his large liquid brown eyes, his straight pitch dark eyebrows, and his prominent nose with a gentle kink in the bridge. He was rather handsome with his slightly rounded face and his chubby little apple cheekbones. All chubby and round in the face, but his body was slim and lanky, even delicate. His hands were large, almost like paws, complete with slender trim fingers.
She looked down at his sinewy thighs, clothed in tight black jeans; she dropped her gaze down to his knees, his slender lower legs, and his feet, the latter of which were donned in black Chuck Taylors. He had on a little black leather jacket with the zipper tugged part of the way down his chest to show off his olive green shirt.
“It's okay,” she repeated to him again. “It's not like I have anything fragile inside of there.”
“I hope not,” he said in a soft voice; he had bit of a New York accent, but it was a bit more distorted in comparison to the Brooklyn one. It almost sounded like he was saying “naw” when he said “not”.
“I swear,” she insisted.
“You swear? Like... fucking hell? Like that kinda swear?”
She giggled at that, but it also made her squirm a little bit. This strange man must have noticed the nervous look on her face because he swallowed and scurried away from her. She watched him go down the corridor, all the way to the very end. He ducked inside the room there and closed the door, and all Sam could think about was what she did right then. It was awkward, for sure, but he got a laugh out of her. The way he moved stayed with her: he shuffled about the carpet and he swayed his hips from side to side with each step. Or perhaps it was just her imagination and her aloneness talking and she fixated on something that could give her some kind of great reward.
Emile emerged from the other side of the front room with something silvery in his hand.
“Samantha?”
She turned her head and he stood before her for a second to hand her the key.
“The key was hidin’ behind the remote control, if you can believe that. Anyways, I’ll talk more later, but right now, I haveta run. I’m positive you know where your place is.”
“Oh, yeah, yeah. Thank you, too.”
“Absolutely!” He brushed past her and doubled back towards the front door. Once he was outside, Sam turned her head so she could look down the hall again. That strange man hadn't surfaced out of the room there at the end.
She sighed through her nose, and picked up her things, and doubled back to the stairwell; she kept the key nestled in between her right index and middle fingers. The steps creaked underneath her, even though she wasn't very heavy. She reached the landing to catch her breath. She was on the third floor, which meant she had to take that next flight of stairs, complete with all those things weighing her down.
She fetched up another sigh and picked it all up again. She lugged it all upstairs to that second studio on the right side of the corridor there; she set her things down and let out a low whistle. Once her heartbeat calmed down, she slipped the key into the hole under the doorknob. The small click was the sweetest thing she needed to hear. She let the door swing open before her so she could pick up her things yet again; she lugged it all into the apartment, complete with her nearly stumbling on her shoelaces.
Sam caught herself and set everything down on the floor, right up against the wall. She sighed again and looked about the spacious front room; on the far side of the room was a doorway and a closet; in front of her was another doorway. She poked her head in through that one to find the tiny kitchen combined with a little nook which, she knew could be the dining room. She doubled back across the floor to check out the other room, which she knew was going to be her bedroom; right in front of her was the bathroom. The whole place had that new room smell, and she knew the place had been repainted.
“Perfect,” she muttered to herself. “Home sweet home.”
The first thing she needed was a bed, even if it was just a makeshift bed like a spare cushion, or a few spare ones. She picked up her hand bag, and doubled back to the front door, and locked the place up for the time being. Moved to a new place and had no bed to sleep on afterwards.
Sam descended the stairs, and spotted that strange dark man at the front door. He watched her walk closer to him; his brown eyes fixated on her even though she was walking at a normal pace.
“Hey,” he said to her in a low voice.
“Hi,” she greeted back to him as she held onto the strap of her purse.
“I'm still sorry about earlier,” he blurted out with a bow of his head; she glanced down at his feet, right as he cocked his left foot inward a bit.
“I assure you it's okay,” she assured him. “Really, it was just full of clothes.”
“Well, and that stupid joke I said to you, too—” He shrugged his shoulders a little bit. “—I felt like I made you uncomfortable.”
“No, no—you got a laugh out of me. I promise.”
“Yeah, yeah...” He shifted his weight at the sight of her.
“I have to get a bed,” she told him.
“D'you just move in?”
“Just moved in. On the third floor.”
“Ah, that's cool! I was just helping someone move, too. Right down the hall here.”
“That's cool,” she echoed him.
“Yeah, it's—it's really cool.” He swallowed and shifted his weight again. She dropped her gaze to his chest and his stomach.
“So, uh... you got anyone comin' to help ya?” he asked her.
“My parents are coming tomorrow, but—I don't have any place to sleep, though.”
“True, true...” He lifted his gaze past Sam's crown of dark hair to the hall behind her. “...oh, there's Frankie!” She turned around to see the tall lanky guy with long nappy black hair down past his shoulders and thick bangs to accentuate his olive shaped face. He approached the two of them with a smirk on his face and his hands clasped together.
“Hey, Joey—who's this young lady?”
“I just moved in,” she told him as her heart hammered inside of her chest. “I—I need a bed.” She ducked past the guy in front of her, Joey, and headed outside before Frank could say anything. She headed down the front steps back to the sidewalk.
Alone in the Bronx, a girl alone in the brand new big city, but she spotted a furniture shop up the street. She hoisted her hand bag again and walked at a brisk pace down the sidewalk. She reached the crosswalk, right when the light turned red so she could stop and think for a second.
Sam looked back to the apartment building, and she thought about those two guys. It was just an awkward encounter, it was nothing she could think about too much. Although Joey was kind enough towards her that she could perhaps nod it off as nothing more. She couldn't think too much about that other guy, Frank, given she only looked at him for five seconds. But then again, it had to be from the fact she was a girl from the West Coast having relocated in the Big Apple.
The light turned green and she pressed onward across the dark pavement, right across the street. Another crossing. Another round of green lights. She reached the furniture shop there and ducked into the side with the beds. If she could climb into one of them and sleep there, she would do that.
She thought about her parents, and she wondered if her mother would help her pick out everything. An artist and often times she questioned her ability to pick out things that looked good. Her wardrobe was drab with lots of black, and her hand bag was a nice shade of soft beige. She eyed a little twin bed, the surface of which rose up to her waist. She set one hand on the top and put her weight into it.
It was the first bed and yet she was already sold on it. She reached down to check the price. Perfect!
And now something to put on top of the bed. She wandered through the room in search of sheets and a blanket. The place was bigger on the inside, much to her surprise.
She turned a corner and spotted Joey and Frank checking out towels. She gasped at the sight of them. Frank turned to see her with a stunned look on his face. Joey was saying something all the while.
“So, you've got—” He stopped in his tracks and turned to follow Frank's gaze. “—hey.”
“Hi?” she greeted him, and she couldn't resist the smirk on her face.
“Didn't expect to see you here,” he confessed, and showed her a smirk in return: she noticed a little gap on the right side of his teeth.
“Um, me, neither.”
“Guess we were right behind you,” Frank told her with a nod of his head; his accent wasn't nearly as prominent as Joey's distorted one; she spotted a piece of gum tucked on one side of his teeth.
“Yeah, I guess so, too. Um—” Her mind went blank and Joey ran his fingers through the roots of his curls, right on the crown of his head. “I—needed a place for my head.”
“I do, too,” Frank added with a shrug of his shoulders.
“Do you—do you need any help?” Joey offered her.
“Well—like I said, my parents aren't going to be here 'til tomorrow, so... yeah. I could use a hand.”
“Why didn't they come with you?” Frank asked her.
“I needed to put up the money and boogie out here quick,” she explained.
“You're not from around here, are you?” he continued, and he knitted his eyebrows together.
“It's okay, I'm not, either,” Joey assured her.
“California,” she replied, and they both gaped at her.
“Wow, long way from home,” Frank remarked.
“I was born near the L.A. area, but I lived in Carson City for four years. It was just—time for me to leave and start a new chapter, though.” She turned her attention to Joey. “You're not from here, either?”
“Sorta,” he clarified. “I'm from upstate. Frankie—” He gestured towards him. “—is from here in the Bronx so—ya got any questions, ask him.”
“And—if I head out to upstate, I can refer back to you?” she asked him.
“Absolutely!”
“Oh, yeah, you do anything upstate, Joey's your man,” Frank explained. “What's your name, by the way?”
“Samantha. Sometimes I go by Sam, though.”
“Sam, and not 'Tha?” Joey cracked.
“'Hand this over to 'Tha',” Frank joined in with a smirk on his face; that coaxed a giggle out of her. And then Joey's expression turned serious.
“So seeing as you're alone, let me reiterate—do you need any help?” he offered her.
“Do you guys wanna—help me?” She was taken aback by it. “You know, I don't want to impose.”
“You're not imposin',” Frank assured her with a shake of his head and a tucking of a lock of black hair behind his ear. “We're both moving so—you and I need all the help we can get. That's why we were both shocked to find you were here by yourself.”
“Movin' sucks,” Joey added. “Especially when you're going cross country like that.”
“Yeah, Joey moved from Oswego—his hometown—to be closer to New York City last year, to this little town called Kingston.”
“It's right up the road from here,” Joey pointed out, “like about an hour north from here. It was either there or to Camillus, outside of Syracuse, and it was like—I gotta be closer, you know?”
“Oh, yeah, yeah...” Sam's voice trailed off as she wondered why he had to be closer to New York City from an even more mysterious place such as upstate New York.
“But even though it really wasn't that far, it was hard,” Joey continued, “I was beat once I got settled into my new place. Like really, I lay down to go to bed and I was asleep before my head even hit the pillow.”
“That is tired,” she agreed with him; and she folded her arms across her chest, “you know, come to think of it—one time, my dad was helping a friend of his move to a new house—not very far, either, like to the other side of town—and he was so tired by the end of it, he actually fell asleep standing up.”
“Oh, well, I got nuttin' on him then,” Joey teased her, and that brought a little smile out of her.
“Anyways, I found a little bed for myself—over there—” She pointed to the other side of the room. “—by the beds. A little twin. Now I just have to find sheets and blankets and a pillow—you know, all that crap.”
“Hey, me, too!” Frank's face lit up. “You wanna do that together?”
“Sure, why not? I'm not very good at picking out things like that, though.”
“I'm not, either,” he assured her. “But—let's see where it goes, though.”
Indeed, Frank and Joey led Sam into the upholstery section of the shop to help her out, and also for her to help the two of them out. She lingered behind them as she searched about the shelves for anything that caught her attention: she slipped past the two of them so as to reach the end of the aisle with the bedding and the bed sheets. She gathered herself when she spotted a set of blue satin and a comforter that looked as though it was made of velvet. She tucked it underneath her arm and then searched about the shelves for a pillow.
Frank and Joey's conversation behind her caught her ear but she was more focused on finding a soft pillow, a soft place for her head.
Frank burst out laughing at something, but Sam ran her hand over the surface of a plush bright pink pillow. Like petting a cat.
“Oh, girly!” Frank remarked; she turned her head to find him walking towards her. “That's so girlish, it's badass.”
“It's soft, too. Think I'll take this one...”
She scooped the pillow off of the rack and tucked it underneath her free arm. Both her arms quivered with soreness from carrying such heavy bags down the block to her new place, but she was more than willing to carry her new bedding back to the front.
“Hey, Sam I am—” Joey called after her. She turned to see him holding up a set of black sheets next to his head. “—what do you think about this?”
She ambled over to him to check them out for herself.
“Black Egyptian cotton,” Frank added.
“Ooh, lovely,” she remarked. She noticed a pair of furled throw blankets tucked under his arms, one under each arm. “What you got here?”
“A couple of blankets that, I'm not too sure how to pair them with these black sheets,” he explained. He held up the brown plaid one under his right arm, followed by a black and white one from under his left arm.
“The one in your left hand,” she quipped within a second.
“You like this one better?”
“Yeah, it looks like it fits the sheets better,” she remarked.
“Alright! This was easier than I thought.” Frank set the other blanket back onto the shelf.
Sam didn't hesitate to return to the front of the shop. She told the young clerk she had picked out the twin on the other side of the room and she wrote down the number on a pad of paper in front of her.
“She also needs it tonight,” Frank joined in.
“Okay! What's your address?” the clerk asked her.
“I'm right down the street,” Sam replied, “that apartment building after the stoplight.”
“Blackwood Villas,” Frank clarified.
“Apartment thirty two,” Sam added.
“Okay... I'll get a couple of guys down there in a bit,” she assured her with a final scribble on the paper.
Once they had paid for their new bedding, Frank and Sam stepped back outside. Joey followed suit with a towel tossed over his shoulders.
“I needed a new towel,” he explained.
“Frankie couldn't get towels, but you sure could, though,” Sam cracked.
“Exactly! That's what he and I were talking about earlier.”
The three of them walked together back to the crosswalk and then to the apartment building; Sam continued to linger behind the them, but she still stayed close with them given she was the newcomer. Frank ascended the steps first and held the front door for both her and Joey.
“Well, thank you to you both,” she said with a tremble to her voice.
“And thank you,” Joey told her as he adjusted the towel over his shoulders like he had been sweating out the whole day.
“By the way—if you want or need anything, I'm right down the hall here,” Frank told her.
“I'm sure I'm going to need you,” she pointed out. “'Cause—you know. Moving sucks.”
“Movin' sucks,” Joey echoed with a shrug of the shoulders.
“What're you gonna do?” she asked him.
“I think I'm gonna go get sump'n to eat,” he told her. “I'll see you tomorrow, Frankie.” He turned to her with a nonchalant look on his face. “And you have a good night, too.”
“You, too, Joey,” Sam replied, and that was when the two guys from the furniture shop arrived with her new bed. “I'll be sleeping comfy tonight!”
"Oh, and by the way, welcome to New York," Frank declared. "Enjoy your stay!"
"I think I will," she assured him.
#chapter one#fever in fever out#fever in fever out fanfic#also on ao3#fanfic#fanfiction#anthrax#anthrax fanfic#joey belladonna#frank bello#long reads#text
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Purgatory Ch.1
Word count: 8500 (around)
Warnings: Creepy Capitals being Creepy Capitals...
Pairings: None yet (ship who you want)
The Conclave
In times I tremble, I hold onto my heart knowing their safety is more important than my own.
In krono mhe slipp lowa, mhe kep onto mi beeta knowing demens secur is masal imprativ than mi own.
Eulalia
The cityscape was unapologetically urban. There were no trees or city planted blooms, just monoliths of concrete and glass soaring out of the sidewalk in an exact grid pattern. At night it was beautiful in it's own way, there were so many lights. By day you relied on the sky to let you know that it wasn't a monochromatic world; just one in which the people were too busy for life. For over a generation progress had meant the teaching of specific skill sets to the children of The Felicity and The Hope Rises. In most parts of this city we only work and eat, there was no time to sweep fall leaves or plant spring flowers, so they eliminated them. It was sad how mundane and rigid life became. There was no beauty, hardly even enough to notice the blue above. With no more designers, our clothing and cars never change, there are five styles of everything in Ellis, but you’ll very rarely see different districts dressed the same way. In this way our city outperforms those in the region.
In the mind of the young outcast I used to be, it was like a story to me. One that became more and more like a nightmare as time ripped every shred of innocence from my life.
The coldness of the slate tile and it's dampness seeped through the thin polyester trousers my brother, Hami, had stolen from the market. With knees pulled tight to my pronounced rib cage I shivered in the early morning chill. In this poor light the roof-tops spread in every direction like great grey serpents with rectangular scales. Only the red brick chimneys ruined the illusion, but in this light they were just as monochromatic as everything else, the slate, the swirling smog, the streets that were never deserted, the unfriendly sky with its dense cloud robbing me of the sunrise. From here I could see what a maze this borough was, every house three stories and each joined to the next. The streets curved as if laid down on a whim a few centuries ago before anyone had conceived of a grid pattern idea.
There I’d stay while I waited for school to begin, in my ripped khakis and oversized faded maroon shirt. There I’d stay telling myself stories of brave heroes who had it all wishing I could be one of them. Hungry, cold and tired from all the city had to give me, was it selfish of me to wish this on the little girl in my class who called me by the wrong name telling me I’d live the rest of my life covered in mud and shit and drinking out of a clogged gutter?
From the Mass, you could see all the things to love about the city, and there was a lot to love about this city. It was one thing I loved about Capital Hill. From the high arches in the towering glass buildings to the balconies that look over the sea of homes and businesses. It was one of the things I never had back home. The views from here were stunning. I could see The Torch glistening in the golden rays of sunlight, and the sense of safety that fills me is almost overwhelming. “Miss Suarez,” I heard behind me as I felt the soft breeze hitting the apples of my cheeks. The stray hairs behind my ears flailed about behind my ears as I turned to face the intruder now standing before me. He practically filled the doorway, in his uniform that made him look more like a cinder block than a man. His half shaved black hair glistened in the light before he took a step toward me. “The work day is over for you. There’s gonna be a Conclave later this evening at The Torch.”
I tried to keep my face as neutral as possible, but judging by the way he held back his laughter I guess I failed. “What for?” I proceeded on as if I didn’t realise the cameras were there, and Seraphineas was living for it. Now it was his turn to roll his eyes as he chuckled boredly, “Maybe it’s another execution...or maybe they’re announcing a new system in place that only benefits them.” It was impossible not to hear the humour in his deep voice as he mocked the Capitals and the past Conclaves. Of course, knowing that he would never say anything like this in front of his other guard buddies really put a damper on things. He must’ve seen my fading smile because he immediately turned to walk me out. I slipped into the elevator, the wall of glass turned into a mirror. I see why people assumed we were related. We were both relatively tall, him at six feet and myself at almost five foot eight. Thin figures adorned with muscle that came from our unique forms of exercise. “The Conclave begins at five. You’ll be charted too so be careful.” Phineas warned me as we exited the elevator just before we parted ways.
Well, that wasn’t ominous at all. You’d think something like that would bother a girl, but no. I’ve lived in this city my whole life. A girl gets used to the threats disguised as requests. They don’t just crash suddenly before you like lightning in a storm, I’ve known them to be the sudden raindrop before a downpour. It reminded me of the unease I felt every time I entered The Felicity. The Capital Hill district was beautiful. With their grand buildings and picturesque views, it was easy to say how much nicer it was then The Barrens or The Shadows. It was just another monster behind the curtain. A puppeteer pulling the strings of laws and lives of the people around them. They were an oxygen mask filled with poisonous gas to anyone that wasn’t their own. Luckily, I was close enough for them to view my life worth saving if shit ever happened.
I was a Regal now. Almost thirty eight percent of the population, we were almost untouchable in the eyes of society. We were privileged and we knew it, most of us acting like assholes because of it. I knew better. I used to be part of the forty two percent of Ellis. In short, my family was living ration to ration, sick and in a small house that was barely standing. I had a mother who worked her ass off just to come home to four kids and a father I barely knew because he was off working the most shifts he could. Unfortunately, the whole family plan didn’t work out when my mother and brothers all got Galixx, leaving only my dad and I.
I think we lived because we weren’t always home. I was the only one who went to school. Maybe if they didn’t think to send me away, I could’ve been with them. Instead, I left for school everyday and came home one day to my crying mother holding my brother, Devis, whose face was covered with sweat, dirt and tears as he coughed up blood. I turned and ran outside my home and began screaming until I found one of the town guard. I don’t know who long it took me to find him but when we got back, my mother was wailing and begging for the guard to take me away as she started coughing between her sobs.
I went to bed that night with tear stains running down my face, and to make matters worse, I was completely alone. I didn’t call anyone, simply sitting in my room with my eyes screwed shut until I eventually dozed off.
I woke up the next morning with a guard outside ready to escort me to my new home. My new home in The Hope Rises. It was nicer than my old home there was also more room up here not that my dad would be spending much time at home. It didn’t matter though, I was never completely alone. We all had our own family, mine just came in the form of Tauriel.
She was at the root of most of my happy memories. From my first day of school when she braided my hair and told me stories from books she had read from before the bunkers opened. I’d spend some nights at her house doing homework. She never really paid attention to anything aside from Earth Class. It was considered a Rogue class, but that didn’t stop a few Blends from coming in. Maybe she was interested because of the books she read of mountains that reached clouds, or butterflies with bright wings and this class was the closest thing to actually learning about them. She just wanted a world beyond these walls. I understood that. It just made us better friends. Even when I changed districts, we were still inseparable.
But, as Murphy’s Law dictates, “Everything that can go wrong will.” It was one of those days where Tauriel’s mom and I were baking for some Capital party. One of the snobby events where they needed catering and waiters. Zenobia, Tauriel’s mother, had been working for hours and seemed glad to have the assistance of a twelve year old. I had been decorating the large cake when I heard screaming from outside. Zenobia quickly ran to the window and nearly passed out. I muttered ‘Tori?’ before I was out the front door, seeing three guards trying to cuff her and shocking her into submission. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Her mom asked, trying to make it for her child. “Your child hacked into a government system with intent to distribute information.” I saw red, almost jumping on the guard closest to me. “She’s eleven, you lunatics!” Her mother reached for her daughter and the guard holding her hit her in the stomach. Tauriel and I froze. I didn’t know where to look. From the guard beating Zenobia to the guards dragging Tauriel to a large truck and throwing her in. I took a step in Tauriel’s direction and regretted it instantly.
A loud clang echoed behind me and Zenobia was lying on the ground, the guard walking to the truck without a second thought. When I ran to the unconscious woman, the truck drove away and I was stuck. Do I run for help or do I stay with her? I couldn’t shake the memory of my mom and Devis and what if I could just have faster? I need to stay with her. I’m not risking it again.
“Miss Fa Suarez?” I heard a voice say from behind me. I only turn my head but I stay pretty much in place as the swaying of the shuttle brings me back to the world I should be in. “It’s your stop.” He looks concerned. In his words, I’m usually ‘sharp as a tack’. I walk to the front of the shuttle and reach into my pocket. He’s here everyday. From my six AM trips to The Felicity straight to my trips back home at eight PM. “Take a day.” I say handing him my fair, plus another tip for waiting for me to get off. He never accepts my tips, but that doesn’t stop me from stuffing it in the small basket where he keeps his personal belongings. “This is why I got you these. Tell that sister yours I said to eat.” He handed me four wraps. I nodded my thanks at the sweet old man. “My love to the greats.” He laughed at my words before watching to make sure I descended the shuttle safely.
I turned towards my building. A large gold bricked building not very many stories high, but it was honestly much smaller on the inside than one would think when examining the building from outside. The air was cold here, it always was. With Tauriel constantly in the garage and having several pieces of machinery, the cool air prevented her and I from becoming casualties of her rage. She only ever got into tinkering when she was pissed. Based on the loud echoing clanking I could hear echoing from downstairs, I figured she’d need time to cool off and maybe put down whatever large metal object was colliding with her desk. In any sense, we had to be at a Conclave in a few hours.
My room wasn’t very big, only enough space to place my bed and two drawers. The room already had a large closet in the back so it’s not like I needed much in here anyways. The bronze and turquoise lights that swirled designs in my room. The premise of light and shadow was always appealing to me, maybe because it accrued anywhere and remained a natural part of life no matter what district you lived in. I headed towards my closet in search of something formal for the Conclave. I was never one for overt femininity, having been taught at a young age to not give a crap about what I look like and to just get the work done. That being said, I always managed to find a dress or two that I really did like. Scouring through pieces of cotton and linen, I stopped suddenly when I saw it again. A distressed brown leather coat.
It was just a jacket. It was just a stupid leather jacket with a padded quilt patch on the left elbow and a crap ton of buckles. There were faded letters on the left chest and a sort of mesh material that would cover my knuckles. It was just a jacket, and I loved it. Like a hidden piece of me that I never really show. This jacket screamed Rogue in uppercase letters. I loved that, even though I hadn’t been a Rogue in sixteen years. It almost felt wrong to wear it sometimes. Like I was an impostor trying to pass as something I wasn’t. I wasn’t even close.
I always envied Tauriel in that regard. Despite living here in The Regal Ward, The Hope Rises, with me, she never seemed to fear being shunned for not attempting to fit into the higher classed district. Fiercely adorning leather and denim in her everyday attire, she looked more like a Rogue than a Blend. Then again, why try fitting in when the world already looks down on you. Being that Tauriel’s district accounted for only one percent, and having been around Rogues most of her life it was easy to understand why she might be more comfortable in leather and studs.
“Are you wearing that tonight?” I heard her ask behind me. I should’ve figured she was on her way up when the banging and crashing ceased. I was holding the jacket in my hands, my fingers running over the cuff. “No...it doesn’t go with anything I own.” I gave my reply, letting my eyes drift past the coat and toward some of the other items of clothing in the confined space. I grab an old dress. The ornate gold dress collar along the black halter top matched the asymmetrical leaves on the red rose skirt. If it still fits like I remember, it should stop a little above my knee. “I’ll be in the shower. Do you…” before I could even finish asking, she responded. “Yes.” And with that, I left.
I spent almost thirty minutes in the bathroom, I was wrapped in my robe with my hair soaking wet. In the mirror, I hold my own gaze for just a second before taking into account how tired I must look. The bags under my eyes were devastatingly prominent. I don’t look at myself often, too afraid to not recognize myself from the old photos I had hanging in my room, and I was right. My features are sharper now, more pronounced jaw, higher cheekbones, and my eyes look more almond than monolid. I look like my mom. Though her hair was shiny black and mine was dark brown and my eyes are slightly darker than hers, I can still see it sickeningly clear. I placed my hand on the scar on my neck, remembering where my birthmark used to be. Descended from Natives and Malaysian ancestors, teachers at school would tell me that the very DNA in my bones held more history than our textbooks.
I’d know. I read them all.
It wasn’t much but keeping my hair down with a braid securely clipped behind my ears, neither Tauriel nor I had any makeup so my bare face and simple hairdo, Just dry your tears and fake a smile. Nobody wants to see a Regal cry. “You know, your eyes are going to get all puffed up. Here.” Tauriel stood behind me clutching a bottle of eye drops. I smiled at my oldest friend before I slung my arm over her shoulder and we walked to her room. I could never imagine my life without her. At this point, she was all I had to live for.
My little sister. I would walk from Heaven to Hell (and everywhere in between) for.
Tauriel
I always hated Conclaves. They always seemed too public. Ironic when you think about it. The word ‘conclave’ actually meant private meeting so the large citywide events seemed like a lie. I felt almost pageant-ish, told to look my best because of how many “eligible bachelors” there were. I honestly just think it’s because the Capitals would never want to be seen with the lower districts in our ‘rags and cheap coats’. In my opinion, the clothes the lower districts could afford only seemed to make the Capitals look more classy, almost like they were subtly jabbing at us in a way that said “haha, even in your best you’re not at level with our best.” And if we were looking to impress the eligible, more attractive people, The Rogues held that trophy for decades. Honestly, the glassy dullness of Capitals creeped me out. I wasn’t the only one who thought that either, the distinct features of each district were almost immediately identifiable.
The Capitals, born and raised in Capital Hill (aka The Felicity) had the most interesting eyes in the world, very distinctive for their central heterochromic irises that housed multiple colours at a time. That and the fact that most of them were fat faced from being able to eat was a dead giveaway. They look like the Bill Nye bobblehead Eulalia had on her desk. Capital also wore their hair short. I never understood why, but long hair was a sign of rebellion against the “oppressive and derogatory order of the Capital men.” I’ll give you one guess what demographic was saying shit like that. I’ll give you a hint, they steal daddy’s cards and mommy’s rocks to go flirt with the Rogue boys much to the disapproval of the elders. Acting like they were edgy for going through the same phase as their mothers did, before they realize that Rogue men don’t give a fuck about rocks unless it gets them paid.
The Regals were similar, wearing their hair slightly longer. Most had extremely lean frames due to the training most of them worked for since the age of six to become a guard. The Regal Ward housed most of the idiotic soldier boys, I was honestly surprised when a Regal came along and decided that they would rather sell booze to the city rather than tote a gun and act like you owned the place. Most regal women (like Eulalia) studied for the higher grades, like doctors and lawyers. It was cool to see Regals, though. Their tag was their hair. Yes it was usually cut short but I think they made up for it with the silver that rimmed their hair from birth.
Rogues were almost unbelievable in their district appearance. They had all the most beautiful features from their naturally sharp jawlines with either dimples or freckles (sometimes both). The boys usually had long hair, mostly because the Government didn’t think it was a good idea to give Rogues and Infects access to sharp edged tools, partly because most of them thought they looked tough. They were all ripped, boys and girls from years of literal heavy lifting. I always considered myself lucky to be a Blend in that regard. We always got some kind of Rogue gene. I dawned dimples. My Jawline wasn’t as defined but I had that feature and I was glad I did. Eulalia was of Native descent so her bone structure resembled a statue carved of marble.
Eulalia kept fidgeting with the metal collar on her dress, her jacket fitting her narrow frame as the dress hung above her knees. I know for a fact how much she hated wearing tight, single layers. Regales often wore baggy jumpers with tattered looking overlayers. It was the perfect look for her. Mostly Regal but with an obvious Rogue history. “Hey.” I whispered, her head snapping down to me due to her not only being a few inches taller than me but in heels nearly the same height Seraphineas. “You okay?” I asked. The huge influx of people walking towards The Torch, once a mighty statue.
She always had this moment where she stands just out of view of the guard. The Conclaves would separate people based on district and having only recently (not recently) turned twenty one, the word Regal was now branded on her identifications, she still felt like a traitor for standing with them. She nodded, softly patting my hand before walking towards the desk. I did the same.
“Hold out your hand please.” A woman asked, holding a large glass plate with a few small censors out to me. It was cold under my palms as it scanned the fingerprints. My face appeared on a small screen in front of the woman. It must’ve had the words Bruise in big block letters because the demeanor of this woman changed as she stared me down. She quickly gripped my arm and clasped a large silver cuff on my wrist. Could she feel me rolling my eyes at this? I huffed a laugh at her attempt to be nonchalant. She has to know how obvious it is that she now fears a twenty three year old. I stared at the blinking light as I walked through the stone arch that led to the city center. The four sectors were at least proportional to the Districts population, Blends/ Bruises having the least amount of people. I stood in the back, my eyes glancing over to the Regal section where I attempted to find Eulalia. I can see Seraphineas walking down the row and walking towards the back of the section. The silver streaks in his shortened hair I can recognize immediately, even in the sea of silver headed citizens. He liked to dye his hair darker, I know he tries to keep his hair as neutral as possible as to not get busted right away when he gets sent undercover, but that only made the silver look like a slate blue.
The microphone screamed. A short, sickly woman stood on the stage with a tall, semi healthy looking man. They were Capital to the heights accord. The Jevons to be exact. They were the parents to three kids. Spoiled like asshats as most people like to call them. They come to the Mopes once a week. They go thrifting cause it sounds real fun and looks real cool when a Capital is down to get down, while they wear their false lashes that wave like flags to the men here. I can see their eldest, a girl by the name of Apathy and yes she lives up to her name. A narcissist who spends her time ridiculing the districts for the fact that The Felicity robs us blind. Places like The Barrens and The Bounds were trash holes where the people should bow down and kiss her feet. The only reason she even dares cross the boundary is to find a piece of ass they’d dump after a month anyway.
Even now, Apathy and Power (yes, Elodora and Zenier Jevon named their son Power) were basking in the spotlight of Capital glory, whilst Anarchy, the youngest, was staring off into the Regal section with her lower lip between her teeth. Apparently mommy and daddy’s speech was a bore. She really thought she was somebody though. Her honey gold tresses dangle to her lower back rather than the neatly buzzed pixie most of the women wore.
“We celebrate another year of safety and sanctity behind the walls of Ellis...” The woman on stage spoke in a shrill voice that instantly made my whole brain throb. Can this day get any better? Well yes actually. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the one and only October Vervent. I was nearly four years older than him and I'm thoroughly convinced he’s been taller than me since birth. I slowly weaved my way through the section to find the taller young man. I pat his shoulder causing him to jump slightly and smile almost immediately. His mother was a Rogue, just like mine. His jawline was more rounded, less sharp than most Rogues and Blends. He was of Chinese descent, which gave him shiny black hair that only cut off below his ears with a single streak of silver just behind his left ear. Just below but still in sight, was a tattoo that read “I CAN’T HEAR YOU.” Well, that’s one way to tell the world you’re deaf and mute.
I knew he had spent the better half of ten minutes reading the lips of the Jevons standing on the large metal podium. I turned to face him. He followed suit with an even bigger smile. I saw two small scars just above his ears. I’ll have to do something with that later. “It is our pleasure to present the recipients of this year's Grands.” Elodora continued with her rehearsed and very poorly executed speech. I normally would have stopped listening by now, but October needed a break from people being completely oblivious to his needs and the needs of people like him. I began signing to him, each word they said. “Mara Fox of the Barrens District. An extra one hundred was added to your wage, congratulations on receiving Dead Eye, Miss Fox.” A knew the name. I’m sure Everybody did. Every member of the Fox family walking the earth had naturally bright red hair. Mara was the only one with a fiery red.
She walked up on stage almost gingerly. The apprehension in her warm brown eyes as she twisted the material of her dusty rose dress, which was actually just an oversized T shirt with bleach stains and burn holes at the bottom. Her hair was in an updo. The front was twisted up to the right side of her head with a long braid that wrapped the rest into a sock bun. The smile on her face was fake. She usually had these deep dimples in her cheeks when she smiled. She was on the stage, the uncomfortable feeling that this was some kind of sick joke was evident by her wandering eyes. The part that made me sick, though, was when Zenier Jevon looked her up and down, biting his lip at the exposed fair skin of her legs. He stared at her almost greedily as he shook her hand. He was married with three demon children and was currently drooling at the thought of being with a twenty five year old on a public stage. A girl the same age as his youngest daughter with his wife standing right next to him as the creep caressed her hand. Were all men in power this fucking gross? She bid the couple a near silent thank you as she practically flew off the stage.
A low applause filled the room as she returned to her place with all the other Rogues and Infects. Everyone began to move out of the aisle, heading for the doors when, “The next recipient of this grand is…” What the hell? In the 23 years I’ve lived in the city and all the Conclaves I attended, there was never more than one recipient. Never has there been multiple. Ever. The crowds all stood frozen. Something wasn’t quite right about this. “...Eulalia Fa Suarez!”
Something definitely was right here.
Eulalia looked more confused than I thought she would. Her eyes narrowed as she slowly walked to the stage. She kept shooting questioning looks to both Seraphineas and I as she shook the hands of the Jevon’s on stage. Xenier had the fakest of fake smiles before he practically pushed her off the stage, where the crowd raised their hands in an awkwardly pushed applause. October and I didn't applaud though. I think he might’ve been able to sense my worry because even as I stood completely spaced out, staring at the empty space where Eulalia was standing not that long ago.
“The next grand being received,” I snapped out of my daze and signed to October. I know he was able to read lips but honestly he deserved all the help the world had to offer. “Thayer Michaels for bringing in the most food for the city!” Eladora spoke pridefully as the Rogues and Blends (Infects and Bruises included) either scoffed or dramatically rolled their eyes. Of course we did. Regals had the highest population and spent most days begging for scraps. Blends were treated just the same unless both parents were in the picture. Capitals were less than fifteen percent of Ellis and for some ridiculous reason, they deem themselves more important than every other district taking first picks of long hauls and leaving enough for them to have a chuckle watching the poorest of citizens fight for stale bread or and water rations.
I wasn’t complaining. If anyone deserved the grand, it was Mara Fox, EulaliaFa Suarez and Thayer Michaels. Mara Fox, when she wasn’t doing the wood work or in the meat room, spent hours teaching young Rogues how to read, giving them the education most of them had to give up in order to eat. Eulalia bought big portions of food and would walk the streets of the Barren giving food to families. She cries when she comes back and begs me not to ask about it. In guilt, she pushes to raise the ration fund for Capitals and Regals before she offers her leisure time (which she barely has) to teach kids in the neighborhoods that had no doctors basic medical skills. Thayer spent his time not hunting as a caretaker. He would walk October and a few other people to and from places, getting them groceries and even playing with them in parks. It didn’t need to be said that October was his favorite. October was partial to him too, if the smile that was currently on his face said anything as he watched the much taller, much older man walk on stage. He deserved it. All three of them did, but giving them grands to commemorate for all they’ve done almost exclusively for The Felicity made them seem far less noble.
At this point, for October, I tried not to focus on the fact that Eladore was eyeing Thayer the same way Zenier was eyeing Mara. What the fuck is wrong with these people?
When the Conclave ended, there was this feeling of unease. October and I still stood side by side as the Capitals made their way out first, not wanting to be surrounded by the lowest of lows for longer than necessary. They also just got to leave. Every other district was either held back to get your cuff taken off or you were waiting for someone who did. Yet another way to separate us and treat us like crap. All because I have a flashy red label next to my name. To hell with it all. I stood in the line watching as people existed around me. I never felt like I was existing anywhere close to them. Eulalia was having a conversation with October, Mara was having a moment with her boyfriend and Seraphineas is breaking up a fight. Oh this chaotic world of mine.
“You know,” I heard a deep voice behind me. An air of familiarity hit and shifted to my comfortable numbness once I knew who it was. “The point is for you to move up when people leave, right. Don’t tell me you grew attached to that thing.” Yup, same old Thayer. I took a few steps forward closing the gap between me and the tall Rogue girl in front of me. “Still not much of a talker, huh, Jailbait?” He said quietly enough so only I could hear him. Part of me wanted to clock him for bring up that stupid ass nickname. Another part wanted to give a smart ass reply. I was so in my own head, I missed the opportunity. “You always did prefer hunks of metal to people.” He bit. I just knew the bastard had a smirk on his face right now. “Hunks of metal don’t talk and aren’t nearly as narcissistic.” I responded, adamant on getting away from the prick.
I was never so glad to see a Capital in my life and this one was a real bitch. The younger woman had the angriest look in her eye when I walked up, not sure why. I don’t fuck with Capitals and the feeling was mutual. “Have you stolen any property not belonging to you during the conclave?” What the fuck was there to steal, all the shits a person could give? “No.” She sized me up before shooting a quick glance to Thayer, who was still behind me. “During the Conclave, did you skip a mandatory announcement for-” She looked at Thayer again, this time slowly taking in his features, “any reason of recreation?” Is she serious? I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, we ran off to tap dance on the Torch. I guess you caught us.” I could hear a few people snickering at my rebuttal. At least they have a sense of humour.
Eulalia
Tauriel looked about as comfortable as I thought she would. She had a scowl on her face as the attendant pried the cuff off of her wrist. “Ak heppia?” I called out to her. She turned to me with a small smile. She didn’t have to look up to see who was talking to her, I’m pretty sure only a handful of people still speak Dyselian. It made Tauriel feel safe, like people couldn’t poke their nose into our thoughts and conversations. She nodded slowly, she was alright but the exhaustion of having to deal with so many people was getting to her. “Mhe am heppia, mhe just desir to vette hadven.” I chuckled at that, because of course she just wanted to go back home. I honestly am not sure why she didn’t want to stay. Most girls would kill to get Thayer to utter a single word to them. Like most Regal boys, he was broad shouldered with rippling muscles that were obvious under any shirt and tall as hell. Who was I kidding, she'd rather break every bone than deal with her old tormenter again.
She walked over to Toby and I, glad to be with people she could actually tolerate. “U beso to gat allies!” I whispered, pinching her arm. She visibly cringed at the idea. “Mhe would rather pia in hutted.” she replied, turning to look at October. She quickly signed ‘Eula says I need to make friends.’ The taller boys tried to stifle his laughter before he signed ‘She’s right.’ Tauriel rolled her eyes before the two began to playfully bicker back and forth. I left them to their devices when I turned to notice Mara standing to the side waiting for Cecil to get his cuff off.
“Hey, Fox.” I said nudging the redhead’s shoulder. She quickly turned to face me, a smile quickly spread when she realized I wasn’t some other Regal. She whispered a quiet hello before turning to look at her boyfriend. It’s been a while since I’d seen Cecil but he grew up nice. He was now a little over six foot two, typical for Rogue males. “He asks about you two.” Mara stated seemingly out of the blue. I know she worried about him all the time, more so since he stopped coming over for exams. It was the same look in her eyes the night she called Tauriel and I to help him after a few guards thought it right to attack him. “You let him know it’s nothing for me to do an exam?” I asked as the freckled young man moved up in the line. Mara’s voice quivered as she nodded “Everyday. He doesn’t want to bother you, you being a doctor and all.” She smiled slightly when he waved our way. “He still working in the mines?” I asked. Mara scoffed, “Like he’d ever stop. Thick as he and his buddies are?” I couldn't help but laugh. Cecil definitely hadn’t changed. I nearly jumped out of my skin when the chimes rang throughout the city. Fuck!
“Tell him I say to give that shoulder a break every once in a while!” I say before I began running back to Tauriel and October. This wasn’t good. Tauriel looked ready to break something. Her fists were clenched so tight, I thought she'd pierce the skin. As quickly as I could, I signed to the two of them, ‘We need to leave. October, you’re staying at our house for tonight.’ Tauriel froze in place. I only sent her a sympathetic smile when October ran to grab his protector. Thayer had placed his hoodie over October as we all started to Tori and my building. We walked the back alleys and listened for the easy to identify marching of the guards.
I’m not surprised that Thayer is good at this. He was a hunter. Standing at nearly six six, he is both light on his feet and stealthy. I imagine his training was horrifying but I know for a fact that he learned his skills while he was in prison not when he got out. He had the same urgent distrust of his surroundings that Tauriel has whenever she leaves our house. What the fuck did they do to them?
Tauriel sneaks to the back of the building and then there’s silence. I held my breath as I waited for her. I smiled when I heard a whistle emit from around the corner. We were behind the building in a second as she held the window open. She turned to Thayer first, I know it was because he was the tallest and the window was a little more than seven feet above the ground. He went down feet first and let out a satisfied smirk when he landed. I sent October in next, only because I wanted him inside before any guards decided to check back here. I went next, grabbing onto the copper pole that hung above the window I quickly slid in. Thayer made sure to place me down on the concrete floor rather than actually let me jump. Tauriel came in and jumped from the window, closing it before the guards could see her.
We got inside just before eight. The second we entered upstairs from the basement, the alarms started blaring. They had placed a curfew after the Conclave. I can see Tauriel standing awkwardly by the door before she disappeared into the garage. October sent me a curious look and I was glad he didn’t hear what I assumed to be her shelf colliding with the ground or the string of Dyselian profanities. He didn’t need to witness that. Thayer seemed a little shocked at first but I guess he knew the feeling because he sent me a sorrowful half smile.
“Hey! Go lon out isei yella!” She reluctantly exited the garage with a kid bruise forming at her knuckles. She looked beyond pissed. “Mhe deid howa infolo! Mhe deid howa infolo it was a angaari!” She began pacing around. I sent a look to October who was all too quick to leave, practically dragging Thayer behind him as he headed upstairs. I could feel Tori’s blood boiling from here. “I knew they were up to something. I should’ve guessed there would be a trap too!” I said nothing. She was right about something weird going on. The Capitals never offered more money than necessary, they never offered grands and fundings to more than one person each. It’s fairly odd that three people won the grands and six won the funding.
We walked upstairs seeing Thayer and Toby looking for something to eat. Tauriel had walked into her room, closing the door behind her as I walked into the kitchen. October was stuffing his face with bread, not at all worried about anything today had to offer. Thayer on the other hand was standing against the wall, watching as his little brother consumed his food ravenously. I could see how hungry he was too. I tossed him a loaf of his own, standing next to him as we watched the near twenty year old fill himself while sitting on the floor. “You take great care of him.” I said quietly. Most people thought that Rogues like Thayer, tough guys who got into fights, were barbaric animals. They get told that they’re animals so much that they believe it so much.
He looked me in the eye before quickly averting his gaze to the floor. He shrugged off my compliment like it was nothing, but the itching of his lip and the dimple in his cheek let me know that he appreciated it. We sat in silence for a minute before I blurted out “Can I ask you something?” To which he laughed in response. He rolled his shoulders back and relaxed a bit. “Go ahead but I might not answer.” ‘Cheeky bastard’ I thought, rolling my eyes at him “It’s about Tauriel.” He got serious rather quickly at the mention of her name, standing up and staring at me in concern. “Sure, what’s up?” His voice dropped a bit.
“What was she like? In prison?” It hurt me to ask but I might learn something. I pretended not to notice the disappointment and guilt in his eyes even though his long hair had fallen in his eyes.He scratched the back of his neck before clearing his throat. “She was noticeable.” He smiled to himself. “When she got there, a bunch of guys sought her out as a punching bag. They learned pretty quick not to mess with her.” his voice carried such pride as he spoke it was kinda heartwarming. I knew this story. Some prick came in ready to throw punches on anyone in there, he immediately thought Tauriel would make a good target. Thayer got in the way just in time. It’s why he started calling her Jailbait. Easy pickings for a prison brawl. ��She was so fucking smart! So much smarter than the guards there. Smart ass got into her fair share of trouble. They threw her in the pit the first night!” That explained a lot. “She came back with a tattoo, we all did.” He mumbled, pulling down the neckline of his shirt to reveal his collarbone. Liberties lined his skin from his collarbone to his right shoulder. “What does “people are poison” mean?” I asked suddenly. He seemed caught off guard. “It means that most people will try to kill you before they actually help you.” He must’ve noticed my furrowed brow because he immediately nudged me with his shoulder “Don’t worry. It’s about Capitals.”
I scoffed. “You definitely sound like Tauriel. She always worries. Thinks they’re monsters that suck the world around them dry.” He laughed at the idea. “You think they’re evil too?” I asked. He shook his head. “I think they know not to poison the water they need to drink.” He says picking up October, who had fallen asleep on my kitchen floor with a half eaten bread roll in his hand. “You boys take my and Tauriel’s beds. We got a couch in the garage.” Thayer shot me a look of refusal. “Like you AND October can fit on the thing, go!” I shooed him away with a humoured grin plastered on my face. He put October in my room, I had a sneaking suspicion he would. “Any particular reason why you opted to take the room of a young girl, Mr. Michaels?” I heard him scoff. He looked up at me with a grin. “She fashioned her room like I did mine.” He responded. I shot him a curious look before it hit me. It looked and felt like a prison cell. That’s why it was always so cold.
I stood silently in the doorway of the garage. Tauriel, currently sitting on the floor fixing her busted shelf with her braid in a sort of bun, paid no mind to my existence as she worked. “You can come in here.” She mumbled under her breath before filling the shelf so it stood at its proper height. I sat on my bench, filled with some of my tools as Tauriel sat in hers. She was tinkering away at something.
When she was arrested, I became her only family left. I would call her everyday and visit her every chance I got, but these walls became so quiet when she went away. I would go to school, earn some quick cash from dumb kids then big bucks from dumb adults. I called her and taught her lessons over the phone and she’d be happy. When I’d go visit her, she’d keep her head down and speak slowly. There were times I’d wonder if she’d make it, but as time went on she became the queen. When she was finally let out, due to the ‘Liberty Act’ all occupants twenty one and lower got released at that point she was seventeen and only a fraction of the eleven year old I saw arrested over a decade ago for no real reason.
She came out with a tattoo, two Liberties on her waist and a new habit of looking over her shoulder at every turn. On her twenty first, when she was branded Bruise by the rule of the Capitals I noticed the scars on her back for the first time. She was wearing her hair up, similar to how it was styled right now, and her top tied around her neck leaving her upper back open. She said she wanted to see the rain so we figured out a way to do it. That year, she spent over a hundred days teaching me how to fix things. I guess when you have a tendency to break things you learn how to fix them.
“I saw Mara earlier. She and Cecil said hi.” I saw her break into a small smile. She adored the redhead, always finding humour in her quickly retorts and sarcastic remarks. “Tell them I say hi.” Tauriel went back to work in a much better mood. “You know…” I started watching Tauriel place an old pair of headphones over her ears. She nodded at me to continue. “With Cecil’s longer hair and dimples, he kinda looks like Thayer…” I held in my laughter when Tauriel’s face fell. She rolled her eyes dramatically before taking off the headphones. “Eula, sharp bone structure and long hair is kinda the norm. And don’t go ruining Cecil for me, he’s my friend.” She still laughed. It’s been years since I heard that sound.
I always loved the sound of Liberties in the morning. The sweet sound of their bird song that let me know I was still in the garage when I should’ve been sleeping hours ago. What did I care? I spent most of my nights on this very bench and often woke up with my head against the cool metal of my desk. I sit with my head in my hand for a minute or two before I actually stand. The boots I ditched last night were still on the floor by my feet, so I decided to leave them there and go eat. The fixed up headphones were around Tauriel’s neck, with a stray wire tickling the back of her head. “Need your room back?” He asked from behind me. I actually did but I wasn’t going to let him know that. I spared a glance in his direction, he almost filled the door frame. He was smirking at me. That devilish smirk, like I didn’t know that's not who he really was. “Is October awake, I need him for something.” I kept my voice cold as I spoke to the older man. He gave me that look, the same one he gave me in prison when he wasn’t overly trying to be a jerk or when he thought I wouldn’t notice. He gave me a quick smile before heading into my room for the sleeping twenty year old.
Toby came out rubbing his dark brown eyes. I pulled him into the kitchen as Thayer emerged. He smiled at his brother before pushing off the door post he was leaning on and going back into Tauriel’s room to get dressed. October kept looking around the kitchen for food as I placed a food bag in front of him. We went through the cupboards, grabbing things for the young man to take home. I knew it would be easier for me to stock my cupboards rather than Toby and Thayer to stock theirs. We were almost done wrapping the bread when the alarm blared throughout the city. “THAYER MICHAELS, REPORT TO THE HAULING STATION.” I nodded at October to continue, letting him know I’d be right back before quickly making my way to the hall where Tauriel was waiting outside the bathroom. When he came out of the bathroom, his hair was tousled and slightly damp. Tauriel wasted no time heading into the steam filled room, waving the soft white clouds from her face. “Sorry in advance. I used a lot of hot water.” He stated through the door to which Tauriel offered no reply. Whatever he did to get this reaction from her must’ve been bad. I saw a glint of that subtle irritation in his eyes, understanding too, but mostly just irritation. “Don’t worry, she likes to take cold showers.” He looked my way with a forced smile. I watched as he quickly put on his jacket and boots shooting me a questioning look. I chuckled knowing exactly what he planned to ask me. “I’ve got work in a couple hours, but Tori will watch him okay?”
He only stiffly nodded before opening the door and heading to the Hauling Station.
@jayloxoxo @thinkinghardhardlythinking @justagirlinafandomworld @mashedpotatowithcheese
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09. The Magical Realm
MK groaned as she slowly opened her eyes. She blinked in the bright light. She turned her head. Trees rustled in the breeze around her. She glanced around, trying to figure out what had happened. Wasn’t she just inside a moment ago? The whole event came back in a flash. Her family had been fighting a bear and she opened up a portal using a hat. The bear went in, but it dragged her and her mother in. MK tried to rise quickly, but only managed to get up slowly, her body aching from the fall. She turned around, trying to see where her mother and the bear had gone.
“Mom!” she called out when she couldn’t see anything. “Mom!” She reached into her pocket and pulled out her gun. She took a few steps forward before calling for Merida again. A rustling through the grass came from behind her. She turned around, just in time for Mordu to knock her to the ground and placed his huge paw on her chest. The gun flew from her hand. He roared in her face. She screamed.
“Get away from her!” Merida let loose an arrow. It hit Mordu’s side. He roared and backed off MK. MK rolled towards her gun and picked it up. Merida let loose another arrow. “Get out of here Mordu!” Mordu roared and rushed Merida. MK fired a couple of rounds into him. But that didn’t seem to stop him. He just kept barreling towards Merida. She fired another arrow before running. Mordu lifted his huge paw and swiped at her, sending her sprawling. Merida hurriedly got up, only to be pushed back down again, Mordu’s paw pinning her to the ground.
“Mom!” screamed MK. She shot twice into the bear, but he didn’t even seem to notice. He roared in Merida’s face, then opened his mouth wide as if to bite her head. A whip made of lightning wrapped itself around the bear’s stomach and yanked him off. He was rammed into a tree. A young man not much older than Merida and MK stepped out from behind a tree, lightning crackling around two pieces of paper he was holding.
“Oh no you don’t, not on my watch.” He grunted and sent two streams of lightning at Mordu. The lightning wrapped around Mordu again like a pair of whips, and the man used them to fling Mordu around like a wimp doll.
MK rushed to Merida and helped her up. “Are you alright?”
“I am now, thanks to that young man.”
“Wait, you mean you don’t know him?”
Merida shook her head. “No, we didn’t meet everyone before Mavis cast the spell.”
“Ah-ha!” The young man was smirking as Mordu limped off into the woods. “You just got Merlined.”
“Say what?” mumbled Merida.
A soft giggle came from behind another tree. A young woman stepped out. “It’s his catchphrase. Merlin’s his name, and I’m Snow White.” She waved.
MK gasped. “Wait? You mean there is a Snow White?”
“Well yeah, Ella’s Cinderella,” said Merida.
“Oh, that’s right . . . but her story is kind of different from what we’re used to. How is this Snow White’s story different?”
Merida pointed to the young man. “Are you a prince?”
He bowed. “Yes, I am, Prince Merlin, at your service.”
“Wait, what? Isn’t Merlin supposed to be an old dude?” asked MK.
“Say what? Is that how everyone knows me, as old?”
Snow White patted his arm. “And wise, too, dear, I’m sure.”
“Wait, Snow White and Merlin?” said MK. “Ok, yeah, this is definitely different from the regular Snow White story.” She glanced at Merida. “Even though, technically, you were Snow White, in a way.”
Merida chuckled. “In a way.”
“How were you like Snow White, in a way?” asked Merlin.
“I ate a cursed apple and could only be awakened by true love’s kiss.”
Merlin and Snow White glanced at each other. “Well you definitely had the apple, but they turned into shoes.”
MK blinked. “Ok, whoa, the apple turned into shoes? This definitely isn’t the regular Snow White story.”
“Like the regular Snow White story? What are you referring to?” asked Merlin.
“How does the regular Snow White story go? And, um, not to be rude, but, why are you wearing those clothes? Who are you, anyway?”
MK and Merida glanced down at their apparel before glancing at each other. Merida sighed. “I don’t know if you’ve heard of me, but I’m Princess Merida Dunbroch of Scotland. My husband is Hiccup Haddock the Third, Chief of Berk.”
Merlin snorted. “Is he short and annoying?”
Snow White swatted him. “Merlin! Be nice! You used to be a dwarf yourself, remember?”
MK threw up her hands. “Ok, hang on just a sec. Snow White’s apple turned into shoes and her prince was one of the seven dwarves?”
Merlin nodded. “Yup.”
“Ok, this isn’t the land of fairy tales, this is the land of messed up fairy tales.”
“And it’s your home as much as it is ours, you know,” said Merida. She turned to Merlin. “Thanks for saving us.”
“No problem, it is what I do. Is there anything else you might require my assistance with?”
“Yes, where are we?”
Merlin blinked. “Uh, this is Fairy Island.”
Merida blinked. “Oh, wow, never heard of it.”
MK glanced at her mother in shock. “You never heard of it?”
Merida shook her head. “Your father and I didn’t exactly have enough time to explore the whole world. There was Mavis, the curse, and you to worry about.”
“What curse?” asked Merlin slowly.
Merida sighed. “It’s the curse that’s kept everyone reliving the same day for the past twenty-six years. It was put into action by Mavis, the daughter of Frieda. As a matter of fact, we should be heading for the Wizard’s Tower. The instructions for the curse are still there, and we need some information.”
“Oh, well, I am an apprentice of the Wizard and we’re heading that way ourselves,” said Merlin.
Merida beamed. “Wonderful! We can talk about our stories along the way!”
Snow White clapped her hands. “That sounds great! I want to hear yours!”
“And I definitely want to hear yours. I’ve never heard of Snow White’s apple turning into shoes before.”
Merlin led the way, and the four chatted. It took a little bit of explaining, but Merida and MK managed to explain everything about the curse, where they had come from, and the world they come from. The biggest surprise, of course, was that MK was Merida’s daughter.
Snow White shook her head. “I still can’t believe it! You two look like you could be the same age!”
MK chuckled nervously. “Oh tell me about it, I’m still getting used to it myself.”
“So by kissing Jamie’s head, it sounds like you broke the part of the curse that repressed everyone’s memories,” said Merlin. “And you’re looking to find out why the rest of the curse hasn’t broken and everything returned to normal.”
Merida and MK nodded. “Yup.”
Merida paused and glanced up. “Wait, this isn’t the Wizard’s Tower.”
“Oh no, sorry, we have to get Snow’s father to charter a boat for us to get to the mainland. This is an island after all.”
“Oh, right.” The group walked into the palace where they met Snow’s father, King White, and the other dwarves, Arthur, Hans, Jack, Pino, Noki, and Kio.
Arthur grinned at them. “Well hello ladies.”
“Merida’s married,” said Merlin. The dwarves glanced at MK.
“Uh, so am I,” said MK. The dwarves sighed. “And that’s why we need your help.” Merida and MK explained the importance of their mission, and Snow’s father got the earliest boat out ready for them. They couldn’t leave until the next morning, unfortunately, but it gave them a chance to hear about Snow White’s and Merlin’s story.
“You see, the seven of us are known as the Fearless Seven, great princes who fight dragons and monsters all over the island. Well, one day, we defeated this dragon to save a princess.” Merlin let out a huff. “We thought, at first, we had saved a witch, because, well, she had green skin.” He winced. “It was actually the fairy princess, and, well, to teach us a lesson, turned us into dwarves.” He raised his hand. “I’ve learned my lesson. But, anyways, while we were trying to break our curse, Snow was looking for her father.”
“Hmm,” said Snow, “yeah, and the last thing I found was a note from him to look for the Fearless Seven. But first, I had to get past my stepmother and out of the castle to do so. That’s when I found out about the red shoes.”
#3 trip#a faraway land#big four#once upon a time au#mericcup#jackunzel#mandy#yeah#I'm going to give a brief synopsis of Red Shoes#but please#just go watch it!!#red shoes and the 7 dwarfs
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brvceselina replied to your post “I’m in a bad mood and I want to write fluff people Please send me...”
gotham!verse batcat where bruce tries to teach selina how to cook would be super cute :´) (maybe around s3??)
Baby BatCat | 2k | Fluff | Same universe as Four Names for Love | Read on AO3
Bruce looked over his table when he heard Selina stir, she had climbed over his window around eleven and basically ignored him, walking straight to the sofa and falling asleep face down almost immediately.
Two years ago, maybe less than that, Selina ignoring him like he was a piece of furniture would have hurt, but after living with her he learnt a lot, and that sometimes ignoring him would be her way to show intimacy. In her world Selina had to be always hyper-aware of her surroundings, ignoring something or someone meant carelessness, meant danger, meant harm or even death. He knew she could have crashed anywhere else, his house was far from being the more convenient place for her to take a catnap, far away from the dark alleys where she pranced. He always wondered how she managed to get to the mansion by feet. No wonder she was so tired.
She hummed softly, eyes still closed, he rested his chin on his hand, looking at her, the research all over his desk forgotten.
Selina sighed, one hand pushing her curls from her eyes.
“Stop staring, you weirdo.”
Bruce’s chair squeaked when he jumped surprised, he turned his gaze away and tried to mask his reaction with a fit of coughs.
“What?”
“Geeez.” She made in a judgemental tone, her eyes were open when he dared to look at her again, her face had a red mark made by the sofa, he felt a jolt of fondness. “I’m hungry.”
“I think there is still bouillabaisse in the fridge.”
“What?”
“Bouillabaisse.”
“Bless you.”
Bruce had to bite the insides of his cheeks to not laugh at the face she was doing.
“It’s soup. Fish soup.”
It might have been the light but she looked slightly green.
“Why do you choose to live like that, kid?”
“I thought cats liked fish.” He mumbled.
“What did you say?”
“Me? Nothing. What do you want to eat? I could make you a PBJ sandwich.”
“No thanks. Last time you gave me something made with a green bread and it tasted like dirt.” And yet she ate the entire matcha bread sandwich that he actually had made for himself before she invaded his house uninvited again. “Don’t you have any pizza?”
“They don’t deliver here and it’s” he looked at his watch “three a.m.”
She looked so sad he actually felt his heart break.
“We could make it.” He blurted.
She straightened her back, attention grabbed, but she still didn’t look convinced.
“Do you know how to make pizza?”
“You’ve eaten more complicated dishes cooked by me.” He retorted slightly offended.
“Yeah, but you had help from your butler before.”
“I did not!” Now he was far from being slightly to be full offended.
She stood up from the sofa and walked in his direction until she was leaning over his desk.
“Prove it, then.”
Bruce swallowed hard, Selina noticed that his Adam’s apple was beginning to show.
“Alright.” He stood up too and she drew back a step, he was a couple inches taller than her now, how the hell did that happen?
He had such a decided look on his face as he pushed his sleeves to his elbows and marched to the kitchen that she had to press her lips hard to stop the smile trying to colonize her face like he had done with her heart.
She jumped on the counter and watched as he separated the various ingredients from the cupboards.
“Regular pizza dough will take forever because you have to let it rise for at least an hour, so we’ll have to make a different version. It doesn’t taste as good.”
“As long it’s eatable… What will be the toppings? Do you have any cheese?”
“Let me see…” She averted her eyes blushing softly when he bended over to look farther inside the fridge and a silver of his lower back appeared beneath his ever-present black turtleneck jumper. “I think we only have feta… I think we could pair it with some cherry tomatoes, olives and spinach.”
“You are not putting spinach on my pizza.”
He sighed.
“I’ll put on my half of it.”
“As long as I don’t have to eat it.” She answered and then added in a lower tone “spinach on pizza… Ridiculous.”
Bruce pretended he didn’t listen, hiding his smile to not show how he actually enjoyed their banter.
“Right, I have everything but the tomato sauce, I think that’s on the pantry. I’ll be right back.”
Selina’s belly made a hungry sound. She took a piece of the cheese Bruce left on the counter. It was white and smelt more milky than greasy. She put in her mouth. It didn’t taste bad, but she still preferred good old yellow American cheese.
She was on her third piece when Bruce was back with a mason jar.
“It’s homemade by Alfred.”
Selina shrugged. It was all the same to her. She didn’t even was sure about the difference between tomato sauce, tomato soup and ketchup.
“Let’s get it started.”
“Are you sure you know you’re doing?”
“Yes. Do you want to learn?”
“I’m not really the cooking type…”
“Come on, Selina. It’s fun. I promise you.”
She still looked unsure but jumped off the counter and took off her jacket, hanging it behind a chair as she went to wash her hands on the sink. Selina’s body shocked against Bruce’s when she gave a little jump of surprise when she felt him tie an apron behind her.
“So you won’t get flour stains.” He said, so close and the goosebumps had nothing to do with her jumpy reactions.
Selina just hummed in agreement and Bruce walked away, she supressed the urge to sigh. Despite Bruce’s insistence that they were boyfriend and girlfriend now they haven’t kissed or done anything like that since the day on the roof, and it wasn’t like she wanted to. She wasn’t weird! But sometimes he would look at her and she felt heat brewing inside, or he would touch her hair softly or caress her hand and she would let him.
“Don’t you need to read from a recipe book or something?”
“Uh uh” he made absently organizing the ingredients before them in a line “I have the recipe here” he taped his temple “my mom taught me.”
“Oh…”
“She wasn’t the greatest cook, couldn’t make anything complicated or fancy, but she did a lot of voluntary work abroad before she married my dad. She joked that she was a chef in all kinds of college kid’s cuisine.”
He almost never talked about his parents, and she could only imagine how painful it could be.
“Bruce… You don’t need to do this. I can have the fish soup.”
“What? No. Let’s do it! It will be fun.”
Selina looked at him for a while, searching any signs of deceit, then she gave him a small smile.
“Show me.”
“First you have to mix the water, the flour and the baking powder for the crust.” He poured the water slowly in the bowl with the four and the baking powder “we start mixing with a spatula and then we can use our hands.”
“Urgh, it’s sticking on my hands!” She complained.
Bruce grinned.
“Needs more flour.” He poured a little more on her hands. “Be gentle. If you work the dough too much it will be too heavy.”
“Alright, geez.” Kneading the dough made her thing about her cats, how somehow they would offer her their bellies to trick her into petting them only to get a bite or a scratch.
“Now we use a rolling pin to stretch the dough.”
“Can you do that spinning thing with you finger like a cartoon?” She teased.
“I can try… But we might ending have to explain why there in dough on the celling to Alfred.”
“You mean you might have too.”
“Would you betray me like that, Selina?”
“You’re so naïve…” She said in a mocking baby voice. “it’s cute. But also dumb.”
He gave her a large smile.
“So you think I’m cute?”
She scoffed, but her face was bright red.
“That is what you get from what I said?”
“Well, you did say I’m cute.”
“I said that you ignorance was cute and also that you are dumb.”
“You say mean thing about me all the time, Selina, I filter most of it.”
She really looked amused by that.
“Where is this sass coming from?”
“I learnt from the best. Now, let’s put the dough on the pan.”
They giggled as they moulded the dough into a round shape, their fingers competing to press the loft material to the tin pan.
“What now?”
“Alfred’s red sauce.” He said struggling to open the lid. “This stuff is really good.”
Selina rolled her eyes and took the mason jar from him, opening effortlessly.
“It’s just tomatoes.”
“Nothing is only just, Selina. And Alfred this sauce from scratch, he even grows the tomatoes himself.”
“You can get ketchup for like tree bucks.”
“You will get it later.”
“Whatever. How do I put it on the pizza? Just pouring?”
“No, use a spoon.” He handed her on. “And spread it evenly.”
He watched transfixed as she worked. Her brows furred, the sliver of the tip of her tongue out in concentration.
“Done.”
“Now the cheese. I think we can just crumb it with our hands.”
They did the work and Selina stole a few more pieces. She was licking her fingers when he finished their task with the cherry tomatoes and olives, the spinach on his side of the pizza and sprinkled oregano.
“Now all we have to do it put it inside the oven and wait.”
“It wasn’t hard.” She admitted. “But I still think buying one ready is better. I don’t even have an oven.”
“But making it is more fun, isn’t it? And if you like it we can make more often when you visit.”
Maybe it was the way he looked at her, so hopeful, or how he went out of his way to make her happy, but Selina felt warmth pooling inside her. She welcomed herself into Bruce’s personal space and raised a hand to his chin
“You got a bit of flour…”
Bruce first looked at her with eyes opened wide, his eyebrows almost touching the roots of his hair, but as her hand lingered, he relaxed, and cupped her hand against his face, his lid trembling shut.
“Selina…” He sighed her name.
“Yes?” She answered softly.
He opened his eyes, still holding her hand.
“Can I?”
She swallowed hard and nodded wordlessly.
Bruce dipped to meet her in the middle, her lips were soft and warm as he pressed his against them gently. The kitchen was filled with the comforting smell of baking pizza. They parted and Bruce opened his eyes to find her, huge, green so dark. She threw her hands around his neck and kissed him again, it was different from the other times, she was tentatively moving her lips over his now. His hands went to her waist as he tried to keep up, but he was scared he would do something wrong and she would never kiss him again. When he noticed that he had been frozen she already broken the kiss again. Her brows furred in confusion, she was detaching herself from him when he leaned into her in a desperate move tried to capture her lips again, but his miscalculated move made their teeth clink painfully.
“Ouch.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!” He exclaimed horrified.
But when he looked at her she didn’t seen annoyed, and one hand even remained on his neck playing with his hair as she rubbed her mouth with the other before they exchanged a look and fell in a fit of giggles.
“Did I hurt you?”
“No, you dum dum. I’m fine.”
“I just… I have never…”
“I know. Me neither.”
“You know what would help?”
“What?”
“Practice.”
Selina playfully rolled her eyes and walked out from their embrace.
“Isn’t that pizza ready already?”
Bruce sighed.
“Yeah, I think so. Let’s eat!”
Selina smiled at her seven years old daughter as she devoured a slice of homemade pizza. Then rubbed off the flour stain on her chin.
“What is it, mommy?” Asked Helena noticing her mother’s eyes become distant and watery.
“Nothing, honey. I just remembered something.”
“Something sad?”
“No. It was something fun.”
“So why are you sad?”
“I’m not.”
“Mommy…”
Selina sighed.
“Alright. You will get it when you grow up but, sometimes, the nice memories are the ones that hurt the most.”
“Oh… Because you miss those times?”
“Exactly, you are very smart. Now, you can have just one more slice, you already had plenty and Holly will be hungry later when she comes back.”
“Can I call Babs?”
“Didn’t you see each other earlier at school?”
“Oh my god, Dick! No! Dad! Tell Dick he can’t put chocolate on the pizza!”
“It’s my pizza, Lena! You don’t have to eat it.”
“But you are desecrating the sanctity of pizza!”
Dick and Selina groaned.
Alfred who was sitting with his cuppa, watching and forbidden from helping snorted.
“Goodness, Miss Helena!”
“Ignore her, Alfred. She got her flair for dramatics from her father.”
“How come I am the one getting insults?” Mumbled Bruce “Dick is the one putting candy on pizza.”
“Thank you for defending me, B.” Said Dick in a mocking offended tone.
“See! Dad gets it!”
Selina smiled at Dick.
“I think Dick’s pizza will taste good.”
He hugged her by the waist grinning.
“So you’re both weird.” Said Helena failing in hiding her jealousy.
“Said the girl with spinach on her pizza.” Retorted Dick.
Alfred sighed loudly.
“Can you stop judging each other tastes and just finish this? You said you would make dinner tonight and I said yes as long as everything was clean afterwards, but I’m starting to think you will find a stupid reason to fight and leave my kitchen in chaos.”
“Geez, Alfie!”
“Yeah, you have such little faith in us, Al.”
“I just happen know each and every one of you very well.”
A little ball of dough hit Alfred on his forehead.
“Oops.” But Bruce didn’t look sorry at all.
“That’s it!” Said the butler getting up.
They all screamed and laughed as Bruce tried to run away from Alfred. Selina coming to Bruce’s aid and the kids taking Alfred’s side as pizza night turned into food fight night.
#brvceselina#batcat#baby batcat#gotham#selina kyle#bruce wayne#catwoman#batman#my fic#Four Names for Love
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Act of Courage (Noah/MC, Lucas/MC)
Summary: It shouldn’t feel like this, after all this time. We won, didn’t we?
No, Josh realized. We didn’t.
In which a survivor contemplates what was, what is, and what could have been.
ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24061654
@ladyseaheart1668, @marmolady, @it-lives-in-westchester
A/N: Between work, college, and my f*cked up head, finishing this up took a lot longer than it should have. I'm trying to make writing into my coping mechanism, so that I'll do it more, lol ;D
I have one more fic I promised on tumblr, an AME one I'm gonna work on. I'm also gonna try to go back to my ES novelization, so stay tuned for that for its continuation.
————————
The two of them were at Josh’s place, waiting for Ava, Andy, Dan, and Lucas. Lily was sick in bed and Stacy was visiting her grandma out of town, leaving Noah and Josh waiting for the four others while they drew figures in the dirt in the yard with sticks and talking about anything their minds jumped to.
“Hey, Noah?”
The boy turned towards his friend.
“Yeah?”
For a moment, Josh, who was as lively as ever seconds ago, was being uncharacteristically quiet.
“Do you…like anyone?”
“‘Like’,” Noah repeated. “Like I like you and Jane and the others? Or you mean like-like?”
“Um, yeah” Josh nodded, blushing. “Like-like.”
“Then no,” the other boy shrugged. “Stacy, Lily, and Ava are fun to hang around, but I don’t like-like anyone.”
“What about,” Josh began hurriedly, but slowed down. “What about boys…?”
“Huh?”
“Do you like-like any boys?”
Josh was beet red. Noah was just confused.
“No,” he shrugged. “I’m a boy. It’d be weird if I liked-liked a boy. That’s what my mom says though.”
“Right…” Josh looked hurt. “Right, forget it.”
Noah wanted to ask why his friend looked so sad.
He hated it when Josh got upset. Unlike Jane, who’d get mad, Josh would be quiet, pouty, and would go off by himself, refusing to ever acknowledge what made him upset in the first place.
But before Noah can say anything, the doorbell rang and their friends poured inside.
Noah forgot that Josh even asked him any question about who he liked.
It was something they’d both forget in the years to come, a memory of the conversation fading into a small feeling.
————————
After reading Lucas’s texts, Josh shoved his phone into his pocket. His smile started to fade as he continued down the road, focusing on his surroundings.
It really is a beautiful day, Josh mused.
And he hated it.
The sun shone through the trees in a way that reminded him of an image you’d find on a tourist pamphlet.
It made Josh think about how the only thing this town is good for is being fake.
Like how the town somehow fooled themselves into thinking everything was just a freak animal attack.
But the more he thought about it, Josh guessed he couldn’t blame the town for that. Having to deal with the truth might actually be more of a clusterfuck than it all happening.
It was all a question of why.
Why did this all happen to them? Why was he the one who had to find Redfield’s shack?
All he had to do was keep his goddamn mouth shut about some stupid fucking rock floating all those years ago…
It’s my fault.
Josh scoffed.
Like that’s big news.
And when it was time to pay the piper, Josh was too much of a coward to do anything…
Shoving his hands into his pockets, Josh forced himself to think about something, anything else.
His mind wandered from the date Lucas promised they’d have before he went back to his university, to that new video game Lily’s been raving about, Stacy’s latest Pictagram post about celebrating another perfect score on an exam, Ava’s latest binge on occult books in the library, Andy whining about how he just wants to be free of high school already, Dan’s updates on his new art blog…
…Noah crying, apologizing…
Josh wiped tears from his eyes as he kept walking.
————————
Noah always envied Josh.
He was a charismatic go-getter where Noah was shy and bookish. Josh always got stickers that came with having a perfect score on spelling tests, ones that Noah just passed by never more than five points. Josh was brave enough to make the first move in befriending him and Jane, and began their circle of friends the same way.
Noah not only hated how he was too wimpy to ever say any of this out loud, but also that he held this kind of resentment towards one of the best friends he’s ever had.
Noah hated how nervous he feels around Josh too. How he can’t help but constantly compare himself to him.
Josh was like the sun; radiant and bright and impossible to miss, and Noah had felt like the grimy earth beneath it.
But everything changed after Jane died.
Their whole group of friends changed. They started to see each other less and less, and eventually, they never saw each other outside of school.
Having different classes in middle school widened the gap between them, leaving silent nods as the last bit of interaction they had.
Soon, even those were gone.
Even after they all fell apart, Noah couldn’t help but notice Josh.
Before, Noah had always seen Josh happily chatting with at least one person.
Now, Noah never saw him hang out with anyone ever again. He was like the dusty remains of a star that went out.
There were times Noah wanted to reach out, to see if they could be friends again, to hang out, laugh together, be together-
-and Noah would stop himself when he came short of any reason Josh would want to talk to him.
————————
“You look like shit.”
“Hello to you too, Ava.”
Josh was semi-thankful that his shift at one of the town’s few fast food places started early in the morning. Only a handful of people stepped in here for breakfast, and none of them were impossible to deal with. So, for a few hours, Josh could enjoy a bit of peace before the lunch rush.
And it was always good to see a friendly face.
“Alright, fuck the pleasantries then.”
Usually.
Ava stretched her hand at Josh and waved it dramatically.
“In the name of the Dread Goddess Hekate, get me my usual.”
Josh punched in the register an order for an apple pie and a milkshake.
“That’ll be $2.78.”
Wordlessly, Ava hands him money and Josh went in the back to get her order.
“Talked to Tom today,” Ava said. “He looked really interested in the stuff I found in Cora’s shack. Maybe he can be my apprentice or some shit.”
“A witch’s apprentice?”
“Turned him down. Teaching is a rock bottom I’ll never hit.”
“Cuz the teacher’s at school we sooo great.”
“You get it.”
Josh finished up, pie in a paper bag and milk in hand.
“So, you talk to people,” she asked before he held out her order. “You’re social like that. Everyone’s gonna be at the memorial tonight, right?”
“Yup,” Josh nodded. “All seven of-”
Josh stops himself, remembering what happened to the seventh.
Ava’s face went steely, and for a moment it looked like she had a lot to say.
“Hand me my order,” she sighed. Josh obliged.
Before Ava walked out, she stopped and did a half turn. Josh sees several shifts to and from anger and sympathy.
“Tale care,” she said before leaving.
————————
Noah couldn’t remember the last time he and Josh talked.
So, when Josh sat next to him at the pep rally, he hoped his quietness came off as indifference, and hid his anxiety about the whole situation.
Josh didn’t seem to mind, since he started talking semi-comfortably. He was mellower and less gloomy than he used to be, and Noah felt the familiar jealously that was always the third companion amongst the two.
The pep rally ended after the blackout, Josh called everyone to meet after school, and four of them were stocking up on makeshift weapons.
When Josh told Noah that he won’t leave him again, he let himself believe it.
Noah halfheartedly thanked Josh, and for a second was afraid his sort-of-friend would take offense.
But instead, Josh smiled at him, and Noah felt like he was looking at sunshine.
A warm feeling bloomed in Noah’s chest, and it stuck around even when they were done talking and gone back to looking for weapons.
Noah remembered the warm feeling later on, when he noticed how Josh’s face was red when he was close enough to Lucas, how he stammered a bit more when the two were talking.
Noah wasn’t as dumb as he was as a kid. He knew that Josh liked Lucas. He also didn’t want to believe he was feeling jealousy, because of what it implied.
It wasn’t until during Britney’s party that Noah started to ask himself where these feelings for Josh came from. Was it sometime after everyone drifted apart, and their absence leaving an ache in his heart? Or was it before, when they were younger, innocent, and still friends?
After the party and after Josh revived his hope for the future (something he’d been doing well the past few days), his own personal devil reared its shadowy head, and signaled the end.
In the near future, while they were all forced to play the game again, Noah would wonder if anything could have happened to keep this whole mess from happening.
If he just told Redfield to fuck off, or just ignored him (no, her).
————————
“In school,” Andy said with a mouth full of pizza. “You froze up every time you had to present something. And up there, you didn’t break a sweat.”
Josh was taken by surprise when Stacy’s mom called him up to say a few words (he didn’t even think the town’s mayor even remembered his name). Surprisingly, where there was usually quick breath and sweating, there was just emptiness.
His mind flashed to Cora when he was up, about how she risked her life to help them and went to warn them while she was injured and dying.
And then it went to Noah.
He kept his part about Noah as brief as possible, and stepped down the second he gave his last “thank you”.
Josh would like to say that Lucas’s hug and quick kiss after the memorial made him feel better, but after talking about Noah, he couldn’t shake the feeling like he was betraying him.
“I get a lot of speech practice when dealing with customers from hell,” Josh finally answered, shrugging.
“You mean Ava?” Andy snarked.
“Andy, don’t be mean,” Lily scolded
“You think I take offense to that?” Ava grinned evilly. “I go there on the weekends.”
Josh finished his Graveyard, and turned to Lucas, right next to him.
“Bartender, one more.”
“One for me too,” Stacy smirked, wiggling her empty cup.
“I think you’ve both had enough,” Lucas said in mock seriousness.
“How can you stand to drink those?” Tom asked. “I almost hurled taking a sip!”
“That’s it, you’re dead to me,” Stacy pouted theatrically.
“Aw, come on,” Lily nudged Stacy with her shoulder. “We all just pledged our eternal devotion to each other five minutes ago!”
And just managed to avoid talking about Noah…
Noah could be here. Right now.
Maybe not here though. The others might still hate him, maybe not, but at least he’d be alive. Maybe everyone would even slowly come to stop hating him.
He could find a way to pay for culinary school. He could open up the diner he talked about…
And I wish I could just stop thinking about those last moments…
Josh has vague memories of blushing and being embarrassed around Noah when they were younger, but he didn’t think it had meant anything.
Every time Josh started thinking about his...crush, if he could call it that, he’d just start thinking of Lucas, and guilt of betrayal would stab at his gut.
Josh’s eyes drift over to Dan, who’s been silent the whole time, aside from giving halfhearted laughs and accepting Graveyard refills…
…along with bringing up the one who’s been on Josh’s mind for a while.
“Well…not the whole group.”
Josh remembered that this night would end, and that everyone would go back to dealing with their trauma.
Not alone. Please for the love of god not alone.
He felt like some kind of traitor again, for feeling this awful around people with whom he should be happy.
It shouldn’t feel like this, after all this time. We won, didn’t we?
He remembered the panic attack he talked Lily through by phone after Britney called him, begging for help. He remembered Ava’s blank face as the signs of a flashback started to show. He remembered the bags under Stacy’s eyes as she drank more coffee than was healthy. He remembered the late night texts from Andy faking small talk when he couldn’t sleep and needed some anchor to reality. He remembered the way Dan finally admitted with tears that he wasn’t fine, was anything but fine.
And he remembered seeing the thing that used to be Noah in the ruins, looking back at him with those white eyes before vanishing.
No, Josh realized. We didn’t.
————————
Seconds ago, Josh had gotten Noah out of Redfield’s (no, Jane’s) control as he was seconds away from being stabbed.
He goaded and taunted the monster they all feared since childhood, and fended it off with a whistle.
So this should be easy, right?
Taking Jane’s place so she could finally be free of the hell she spent nearly a decade in.
“I’m sorry, Josh,” Noah sobbed. “Please…please tell my mom-”
“Wait!” Josh said shakily. “It doesn’t have to be you!”
“Josh, please, it had to be me,” Noah begged. “Let me do this. Let me fix my mistakes.”
“NO!” he screamed. “Don’t you dare! Let me do this! Let me take her place instead!”
Except…
Josh didn’t say any of that.
He wanted to stop Noah, he wanted to so much, but no matter what, his throat wouldn’t obey.
When it mattered the most, all he could give is silence.
If the two of them were any closer, their faces would touch. Unfallen tears pooled in Noah’s eyes, filled with regret
Josh didn’t know what to do. He wanted to scream at Noah. He wanted to hug him and never let go. He wanted to punch him.
But Noah acted before Josh could.
His lips weren’t soft, but warm and gentle, and soon turn salty when tears hit their lips. Neither of them knew whose.
“I’m sorry,” Josh lost count of the number of times Noah’s apologized today. “I just…I needed to do that. Just once…”
Those are the last words Noah ever said as a human.
————————
The night ended with everyone promising to see each other tomorrow, and soon after that.
And so, here were Josh and Lucas, waiting together on a bench on the sidewalk for Josh’s mom to come pick them up and give Lucas a ride to his house.
Despite everyone parting with the unspoken promise of this goodbye isn’t for good, Josh couldn’t help that irrational fear that the opposite would be true, and they’d all fall apart over again.
“You good?” Lucas pulled Josh out of his thoughts.
“Huh?” he mumbled dumbly.
“You’re squeezing my hand pretty hard there,” Lucas shakes his hand holding Josh’s, and he finds out he’s right; Josh is squeezing Lucas’s hand like some kind of lifeline.
“Sorry,” Josh says sheepishly as he eases his grip, but Lucas gives a gentle squeeze, keeping him from pulling away.
“Hey, you’re alright,” Lucas says before Josh can apologize any more.
Josh smiled at him, not trusting himself to speak right now. Unfortunately, it just gave way to an awkward silence.
“Josh?”
“Yeah?”
“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Lucas asks.
“What…” do you mean, Josh wanted to say, but he just didn’t have the heart to lie to his boyfriend’s face.
“I know,” Josh sighed.
And he did. But that was a different story than being able to do it.
“I’m here for you. So is everyone else. And if something’s been on your mind, we’d all listen if you wanted to talk.”
Josh wanted to.
He probably needed to.
Josh remembered Dan, how he desperately needed someone to talk to, how he needed help, and what happened after he didn’t get it (it wasn’t his fault, it was mine).
But what could he possibly say?
Is it okay for me to have lingering feelings for someone else? Someone who betrayed us and led us to a monster? Someone who’s a monster now himself? Someone almost all of you understandably hate?
There’s no way he can bring that up. Not to his friends, not to his boyfriend.
“I don’t wanna talk,” Josh sighs. “Could we just…be here…? If that makes any sense?”
“It doesn’t,” Lucas jokes. “But it’s a good thing I’m a mind reader.”
Lucas put an arm around Josh, pulling him closer.
Josh rested his head on Lucas’s shoulder and closed his eyes, enjoying his boyfriend’s presence.
In the future, when Josh finally found it in him to talk, he’d be able to go back to the cabin. Against all advice, he’d look for Noah in the shadowy figure that haunted the woods. And he’d find him. And soon after, Josh would be able to help more people who were forced into a world of monsters like he and his friends were.
#playchoices#pixelberry#it lives in the woods#fanfiction#noah marshall#lucas thomas#ava cunningham#andy kang#stacey green#tom sato#lily ortiz#dan pierce#my fics
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