#Ryan would’ve eaten it up

[stagefoureddiediaz]

So we can all agree that Eddie’s s5 breakdown story arc was intended to actually be him repressing his queerness and got swapped out for his ptsd trauma instead right

#every time I think of something else that was meant to explore queer narratives I feel more rage #this one hurts the most I think - it could’ve been so so good #Eddie coming off the back of his ohhh moment in the shooting and spiralling about what it means and how he’s. it equipped to deal with it #leading to his breakdown - and then buck bring the one to break down the door - literally and metaphorically #like that could’ve been so epically good #Ryan would’ve eaten it up #😭😭😭😭 #fuck fox #I want to burn them to the ground #911 abc #eddie diaz

[en-hale-archives]

Me with You ~~

pairing ⑅ bestfriend!Jake x fem!reader

genre ⑅ friends to lovers, fluff, slow dancing, suggestive/smut

words/read time ⑅ 3.9k/12-19 mins

warnings ⑅ 18+ content, light cussing

synopsis ⑅ Jake is back in his hometown to spend time with his closest friend. During some fun and frivolous dancing, things start to heat up...

author's note ⑅ I’m really proud of how this story turned out. I'm not a huge fan of second person, so I wrote in first, but if anyone asks, I can copy and post again in second person. It's more fluff than anything, but it does get a bit steamier towards the end, so I’m just going to go ahead and put a warning.

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When the back door finally slammed shut and the cacophony of barks faded down the street, I could finally let out my sigh of relief that I had been holding in since this morning. I tapped on my phone. How many days had we been watching Mrs. Chen’s pets? And just how was I able to put up with hours of barking, the smell of fresh turd lying across the lawn, and dog walks till dark? Including their rigorous feeding times and bathroom breaks -- I’m surprised I haven’t exploded yet.

I had so much planned the minute they left my house, but instead, the sudden silence felt all too relaxing and I laid my head against the cold countertop. I could finally stop stressing, stop thinking, and stop worrying about reprimanding for chewing on my shoes or peeing in the house or the continued barking that never ended. I was free. I felt like I could’ve stayed laid on the countertop forever, drowning in the evening sun. Who knew watching five dogs would take such a burden out of a person. Jake and I had taken on the job of dog sitting for Mrs. Chen while she visited some family in Tokyo. We both switched off every other day; some of the dogs at my house and the others at his; until we realized it would be easier if he just spent the few days at my house as we co-doggy sat. He got up bright and early to take them on their walks while I prepared their highly detailed and specific meals. Then from there, we spent the rest of the day making sure they didn’t run off somewhere or cause too much destruction in the house. But alas, Mrs. Chen came back early from her getaway and picked up Toby, Caleb, Khao, Sofia, and Pickle on her way home. Although I was exhausted from watching 3-foot dogs all day, the pay was amazing for me, and it would help tremendously for all the online classes I was going to be taking next semester.

The warmth of the sun cast a comforting trance over my heavy eyelids, and soon enough I was fast asleep, standing in the middle of the kitchen with the soft sound of nothing surrounding me.

By the time I had fluttered my eyes open, I had realized I was now seated in my dining chair and a large black jacket was placed over my shoulders. I sat up and let out a yawn, wincing at the bright light coming from the tv and shaking my now numb arm awake. I must have been sleeping for a while because the evening sun had turned to pitch of black. The moonlight beamed through the window and danced along with the sways of the large oak tree out front. I stood up and walked over to the refrigerator in which I grabbed two water bottles and some leftover pasta.

I was sure that Jake hadn’t eaten since lunch, seeing as he only ate if someone sat food in front of his face. I dragged my feet up the stairs until I heard the slamming of a book and the fast typing of a keyboard come from the living room. I turned and looked behind me. Jake had settled his things on the coffee table and floor, large books, folders, and several amounts of crumpled up pieces of paper found their way around Jake, himself slouched up against the edge of the couch. He had changed clothes since the last time I had seen him, he now wore a plain blue shirt with grey sweats, his eyebrows furrowed as he worked hard on whatever he was getting at.

“Oh yes, I was starving!” Propping himself up on the couch, he took the plate of pasta. I placed the waters on the coffee table and settled comfortably on the couch beside him.

“I can’t say that I’ve ever seen anybody sleep standing up before. Look,” Jake took his phone off the charger. “I got a picture.” He pushed the screen in my face, and of course, there was my unconscious body laying on the counter, mouth open and all. I playfully pushed it back his way as his face lit up with a smile I was all too familiar with.

“What are you doing down here so late, it’s almost 12 in the morning,” I asked. Jake’s smile disappeared when he was reminded of the work he had been doing seconds before.

He let out a large huff of air. “Trying to get some words on paper but instead it turned into a paper massacre,” he jokingly replied, “sorry for the mess.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I replied, taking a swig of water. I was going to ask if he wanted to watch a late-night movie, or pull an all-nighter and talk endlessly until the sun rose, but I could tell by each passing second that Jake was worried about this, and he wanted the time he had now over the summer to work on his music. I wished I was motivated to work on my own music, but unlike Jake, I wasn’t in a globally popular boy band. My complicated best friend for over 10 years had been working his butt off since middle school. It was his annual time to sit back and relax while he had the time to, but instead, he chose to use that time to help watch a bunch of dogs with his hometown bestie. God, I loved him.

Jake pulled himself off the couch and right back onto the floor, leaving the rest of the pasta to me. He picked up his pen again and started scribbling down words as quickly as he could, trying hard not to forget the lyrics that had floated into his head. Until he stopped, closing his eyes for just a split second, and let out a powerful sigh. Crumpling up the sheet, he stacks it on top of the others in frustration and started frantically tapping his pencil against the table.

“Maybe it’s best to just try again in the morning,” I advised, taking a small bite of the pasta that was left by my side.

“How come I’m having such a hard time with this?” He gazed up at me frantically for a clue, as if I had the answer to fix a problem as big and as important as his was. I looked at his doleful eyes and the bags that were starting to grow underneath them. I couldn’t help but think, because I made you sit up and watch a bunch of dogs with me.

“Do you want me to see if I could come up with something?”

“If you want. But, hold on, I think my thoughts are coming back up.” He quickly grabbed another piece of paper, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

I tried my best to keep occupied by watching videos on my phone, but I found myself suddenly bored out of my mind. I laid out on my back and picked up one of Jake’s folders. Briefly looking through it, I couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous at the amount of fan art and letters, praising him and the other members. Followed with that were just more and more engene stuff, full of nothing but kind words and heartfelt messages. Part of me wished that I was able to travel with Jake and see the world like he was. How fun would it be to meet people that praised you? And how cool would it be to see that you had fans? I couldn’t help but plaster on a huge smile as I skimmed through some of the notes until I finally came to one with familiar handwriting.

Remember Me were the words written on the top of the paper in bold and bright colors. But the message written underneath is what caught my attention:

To the person that makes me the luckiest guy in the world, this song is for you. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, but please just remember me -- it was Jake’s handwriting.

I didn’t feel like I was breaking any crime reading his stuff until this moment, but curiosity killed the cat, and right now I didn’t mind being a feline. I checked to make sure Jake was still busy, and he was, almost like he had teleported into his own world. I quietly turned back to the sheet and started reading. It was about a girl, presumably his crush I’m sure. She was someone important to him, someone who made him love so much that it hurt. But this was far from a happy song, in fact, it was terribly heartbreaking. She didn’t understand his love, she wasn’t able to interpret it like he wanted her to. But he confesses that he was scared of what telling her would do, worried that she wouldn’t feel the same. So instead, it was like he was apologizing, and asking that she forgive him for not being brave enough to tell her, and if he did ever get the courage to, for her to remember him even if she wasn’t able to love him like he wanted her to.

The song ends like how the title began, and I find myself flabbergasted at the beautiful mixes of rhymes and metaphors that read like a poem. This was the first of Jake’s songs that made me feel this way, like I had just finished watching a tragedy movie with Ryan Renolds starring. I blink back the tears that I didn’t realize were forming. How come he never told me this? We never kept secrets from each other, like ever. It never mattered the subject or the severity, we had always promised that we would be open and honest with each other. I wish I would’ve known this sooner, maybe I could’ve saved him from feeling this way. And what girl could it possibly be? I knew for sure I was the only girl he was presumably close to; but was there someone else?

I glanced down at Jake, who was still in a focused state of mind with the pencil in his mouth and mumbling lyrics softly under his breath. I tried picturing my bubbly Jake writing these agonizing words and miserably failed.

Jake looked up at me as if he could feel my gaze on the back of his head. “I think I’ve found the chorus, but it’s the rest of the song I’m not able to get, and how come it’s so hard to find another word that rhymes with severe? Beer? Sphere? Revere? Appear? Gosh, rhyming sucks some serious ass!”

“This song is beautiful.”

Jake furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Huh?”

“This song I found in your folder.” I glanced back at it in my hand. “Remember Me.”

Jake’s gaze leaped from my eyes to the sheet, and I felt his body tense. “Where’d you get that from?”

“I was just going through one of your folders. Did you accidentally get it mixed up in your fan folder? Cause this is -”

“Did you read it?” He interrupted.

“Yeah, and it’s perfect.”

Jake glanced at me for a split second before turning back around, obviously uncomfortable. “I was watching one of those Kdramas you love so much and it inspired me. Could you help me rhyme with severe now?”

I knew Jake like the back of my hand, so I knew continuing on with this conversation would get him upset if he’s clearly avoiding it. But, I wasn’t going to just let him off that quickly. “Jake, come on, you can tell me anything. Who is this about?”

Jake looked back at me with a hint of something in his eyes, something I’ve never seen before, and something I wasn't able to decipher. “Nobody, I was just feeling really inspired, that's it.” His tone had switched from calm to agitated.

I give him my I’m-not-stupid look and he comes back with his own you’re-being-delusional stare. “It’s seriously nobody, truthfully and honestly.”

“Okay, okay I’ll back off.” I could tell he was starting to get defensive, and when he got like that, it took him at least a few hours before returning to normal. I watched Jake's Adam's apple move up and down, a way in which I could tell he knew I was not convinced in the slightest. “Well, sometimes we go through things that can remind us of situations like that, but not necessarily in that same exact context, you know? It has to be amplified for that audience appeal.”

“Okay...but have you ever felt this way before? Not exactly like how it’s written, but maybe somewhere along these lines?”

I thought I was going to get another vague answer, or worse, an aggravated one. But instead Jake looked down at his pencil as he tapped it along his wrist. “...maybe, but I think everyone can connect to the words in some way. I mean, everyone feels some kind of heartbreak in their life, right?” Jake's answer was still pretty vague, but at least I was able to get something out of him.

“Okay, but you know you can tell me anything, like, anything ever because you know that you’ll never actually have to feel this way, right?” I said, maybe too much in a hurry.

“Of course I know that.” He replied, giving one of his awkward grins.

“And if anyone has made you feel this way, then you know you can tell me that too cause there a sucker to lose out on a perfect person like you.” I teased in a sing-song way, poking his shoulder hard. Jake chuckled and poked me back.

A weird silence grew in the room, and Jake went back to trying to find rhyming words. I tried getting back on my phone, but I knew I needed to say something to let go of the tenseness in the air.

“Hey, crystal clear rhymes!”

He leaned his head back and looked up at me. “Nevermind, I give up for tonight.”

I could see the stress that played on his face. “Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah, but by the time I do, it’ll be too late.”

“What do you mean?”

Jake pulled his knees up to his chest and spoke. “This was going to go on our album comeback that needs to be finished in the next four months. By the time I think of something, it'll be too late and I’ll have to wait until the next four months. But by then, I'll have forgotten. This always happens and I have no idea how the hell to fix it.” I couldn’t tell if he wanted my help or just a bit of comfort.

“Did you try asking the other guys to see if they had any ideas?”

“Yeah, but they’re working on their own parts, I can’t ask them to do this too.”

“I’m sure they’d be willing to help if you asked,” I assured him.

“I know they would, but I just don’t want to. I always ask them for help, I thought being away from the studio and being back home would help my brainstorming abilities.” He gave a weary chuckle that almost sounded like a groan.

“Well, maybe tomorrow will come with better results.” I did my best to give him some motivation, but I could tell I was failing miserably at that too.

Jake watched as a car zoomed past the window, a low bass sounding off as it zoomed away. “I bet it’s easier to just listen to music than to try and come up with it. I remember when I would just blare NCT all day long and jam out in my room. It seemed so much easier back then to come up with stuff than it does now. I miss it.” He took a slight pause before continuing. “ Did you know that song you read was the easiest thing I have written in my life? I remember writing too. I just had this super weird feeling in my chest one day so I basically locked myself in my room and took maybe two hours and just wrote a bunch of words down and connected them to sound like a song. For once my mind had just gone blank and I couldn’t stop thinking and feeling that song, like I knew what it was supposed to sound like, I knew what the lyrics were supposed to mean. I just knew everything. And I miss that feeling, that feeling of like- '' He broke off his sentence when he looked back up to my eyes. It seemed like he was talking more to himself than to me. He swallowed hard and looked back at the pencil still in hand.

“Well, I'm sorry you don’t feel free anymore. I wish there was something I could do to make you feel like that again-”

“No, please don’t feel like that. It’s just something that had just recently started happening, something I really just can’t fix…” His voice gets softer and softer the more he spoke.

“Have you spoken to your manager about it?” I asked. “He’s super nice from what I understand. And he’ll probably have better answers than your friend who can barely play the piano, let alone produce an entire song.”

Jake laughed before I had the chance to. “ See, now you're underestimating yourself. Remember that song from freshman year? The one about-- what was his name, Josh?” Jake teased. I grabbed a pillow and slammed it into the back of his head. “Oh my gosh, I thought we promised we’d never bring it up again!”

Jake chuckled and laid his arm on the couch completely turning towards me. “How about we sneak out and go get ice cream and try to not wake up your mom in the process?”

I suddenly jumped to my feet when I have the perfect idea on how to cheer up the gloomy Mr. Shim. “Or, we could do something even better!”

“Urgh!” Jake groaned.

I grabbed my phone and hooked it up to the speaker. I was going to turn on his hit song Drunk-Dazed as a joke, but Jake needed this break from his career, so instead, I crunk up Beyonce as loud as it could go without disturbing my mom who slept upstairs. I turn back to Jake and reach out for his hands, already moving my hips to the music.

He shook his head and threw it back onto the couch as if throwing a temper tantrum. “I literally dance for a living.”

“Okay but this will be different, I promise.” I grabbed the piles of papers on the ground and threw them in the trash, I then pushed the coffee table near the wall and piled his folders and books neatly on top.

“Come on, cowboy!” I grabbed his hands and helped him up. He was reluctant to get up, but he threw one last groan before standing on his feet.

“This will get the brain juices flowing again!” I told him. I go back to my phone and switch it to one of my favorite Beyonce songs that she covered, At Last.

I sang dramatically to get Jake to smile, and luckily, it worked. I placed both my hands over his shoulders and swayed us back and forth, still miming the song as overly exaggerated as I could. Jake still couldn’t help but smile, and it didn’t take him long to join me in the rhythm and sway naturally with me. I learned at our middle school dance that Jake had perfect rhythm. He was able to impress the rest of the crowd when he busted out moves from BTS. Everyone was impressed, including me.

Now we were on a steady roll. I accidentally stepped on his feet a few times, but it was fine seeing as I was wearing foam flip-flops and he was barefooted. After a while, the song switched and played another of my favorites that didn’t match our style of dance, but we still moved slowly to the beat. Jake tried twirling me, but since I have two left feet, I almost ended up hitting the wall each time and Jake laughed loud at my clumsiness. The moonlight from the kitchen had now switched to the window in the living room. It gleamed through and glistened on Jake like a spotlight, just like the ones on the stage did for him. In a split second, I was reminded that he wouldn’t be here forever, just like he wasn’t here for the past year. I tried to not let it settle on my face that I was scared to see him go again, so I played up on the fun we were having now. Jake looked like he was at ease; finally, since he’d been here, he looked genuinely happy and I wasn’t going to ruin that.

After another handful of songs full of laughs and giggles, we were soon sweating and taking deeper breaths than normal. Each song was different from the one before, but it didn’t stop us from sticking to our style of dance. Even with the simplicity of the moves and the slowness of the steps, I had to take a minute to relax. I hooked my arms around his neck and rested my entire body on his. I could feel Jake’s own sweat seeping through his shirt, But I didn’t mind the wetness that was now attached to my cheek. I thought he would act awkward and ask for me to pull away, but instead, he gripped tighter on my hips and started slowly moving me side to side. I let out a long overdue sigh, trying my best to match the steady breathing of Jake’s with my own. It was actually therapeutic: hearing his heartbeat in one ear and the softness of the music in the other.

I tried to continue our steady breathing together, but his had picked up a bit, almost out of nowhere. I felt the heat of his breath on the nape of my neck, and it made my entire body tingle in a way it never had before. After this sudden feeling, I realized just how close we really were. His leg hair tickled my legs, I could feel the bone of his foot connecting to mine, I could feel his thin waist against mine as well. I felt like I needed to back up, but instead, I couldn’t and continued to sway softly against him. A few seconds later, Jake’s hands rose a little higher, planting themselves on my waist and tightening their grip as if they were trying to pull me closer than we already were.

The sensation hadn’t stopped though, it clung to my body like my damp shorts did on my thighs. Sooner or later I felt pressure on the lower part of my stomach and thought for sure that Jake was messing around and wasn’t feeling what I was, which indicated that I needed to pull back before this feeling became too much.

This is so embarrassing. I thought. How could I let myself feel like this? How was this in any way okay? I finally pulled back, the sensation becoming too unbearable, and glanced up at his face. His pupils were large in a way I hadn’t seen before. His mouth was slightly open and a drop of sweat slowly traced down his forehead, onto his nose. That pressure I was feeling on my stomach had now doubled in force, and Jake's face had switched from calm and subtle, to alarmed and panicked...

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(part 2 possibly...?)

Thank you guys so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Please, leave any constructive criticism you have on helping improve my writing!

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None of the images are mine, They all belong to their rightful owners :)

#jake x reader #jake smut #jake scenarios #jake imagines #jake suggestive #enhypen jake #jake enhypen #enhypen x reader #jake fluff #enhypen scenerios #enhypen suggestive #shim jake #kpop smut #kpop suggestive #jake sim #jake #enhypen #!kay! writer #enhypen hard hours #new writers on tumblr

[penguinwithitsarseonfire]

Dancing Round the Kitchen

Pairing: 13th Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 2,017

Warnings: None

Summary: To pass some time, you and the Doctor attempt to bake some cupcakes. The Doctor, however, has forgotten how flour works.

Request: We haven't gotten any 13 from you in a while! Can I request something domestic? Like baking with 13 or dancing with her? Anything you'd like!

A/N: Established relationship because it's something I've never written before, and sometimes ya just wanna bake, y'know?

The flour had gone everywhere. You watched as it billowed in the air, dancing among the orange light that was cast by the soft glow of the TARDIS’ crystals. It was hypnotic, in the same way that they described car crashes to be.

For a moment, you would even describe it as beautiful.

Then gravity kicked in, and the flour landed. It settled into your clothes and your hair, it created a sheet of white across the kitchen bench, over your tools and into your bowl, and it coated the floor.

You stared at the Doctor. She was clutching the flour container like had just caught a child. The lid had fallen off the flour container and had landed by the crack in the floor – the very crack that the Doctor had only just tripped over.

The Doctor looked like one of those cartoon people who threw flour on themselves to prove that they were invisible. The flour was dusted into her hair, across her clothing, and had scattered across her face. She went crossed eyed as she inspected her nose, where a small pile had, somehow, formed.

Head to toe, she had been covered in flour, looking like a snowman.

The Doctor looked from the container, to the crack in the floor, and then to you. “Sorry.”

You burst out laughing.

The situation was just so absurd that you couldn’t help it. She had just gone to grab the flour. One moment, she was walking towards you, flour in hand, the next she had suddenly jolted, the flour flying through the air as she had stumbled. It had been a sight, and not one you would soon forget.

There was a moment where the only sound was your bubbling laughter, echoing off the walls that were now layered in flour, then, just as swiftly, the Doctor joined in.

You went up to her, brushing some of the flour off her cheek with the pad of your thumb, your laughter going into a weak chuckle. “Oh Doc, are you okay?”

The Doctor let out a soft laugh. “What, me? Yeah I’m fine, peachy.”

You moved your hand up, brushing some of the flour from out of her hair. It poofed up into the air, before settling onto her shoulders. “I wish I’d filmed that,” you said wryly. “Ryan would’ve gotten a kick out of that.”

The Doctor gawked. “You would not show the rest of the fam.”

You gave her a teasing grin, still brushing off the flour from her person. You tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Would too.”

“That,” the Doctor said, and you got the sense that she would be pointing at you if her hands weren’t fill with the container. She paused for a moment, considering. “Y’know, I was gonna say that it was unfair, but, really, it’s completely valid of you.”

You gave her a soft smile and kissed her on the nose, then recoiled. You’d forgotten about the flour.

You eyed the container. “How much do you think is left?”

The Doctor hummed, inspecting it. “Maybe around 200 grams? Might be a little more, could probably stretch it out really, if we throw in some Norvadica power from Astrox.”

You squeezed her arm then ran back to the kitchen bench. You brushed the flour off of the recipe book, and read through the ingredient list. “This says 200 grams,” you said. “We can still make these cupcakes,” you turned to face her. “Without the nova-something powder from Astrox. I don’t know what that is.”

“Oh it’s an invention the Astroxia make in…” The Doctor hummed. “The 28th century. Replicates flour, helped end the Famine of Kings.”

You screwed up your face. “Famine of Kings? Sounds depressing.”

“Yeah,” The Doctor drew out the word and came up beside you. She scanned over the recipe page, then beamed.  “Brilliant.” She leaned over you, and, with a flourish, tipped the contents of the flour into the bowl - only for another plume of flour dust to coil into the air. She coughed into her elbow, wobbling backwards. “I forgot it would do that.”

You gave her a blank stare. “Even though that was exactly what happened 30 seconds ago?”

The Doctor gave you a look. It was one you chose not to interpret, because annoyed seemed like an understatement, but she didn’t look angry, either. You gave her an innocent grin. “Just saying.”

She huffed out a breath, and blew out a strand of hair that had come lose. You sighed, tucking it back in. The chain from her earring shone in the light. Somehow, it had remained unharmed by the flour explosion. You watched it for a moment, your fingers ghosting over her ear.

“Y/N?” The Doctor said, but her voice seemed far away. “Were you listening to me?”

You jolted slightly, suddenly registering that the Doctor was talking. You gave her a small, sheepish smile. “I wasn’t, sorry.”

The Doctor gave you a knowing grin, and clasped her hand around yours. “I was saying that we should throw some white chocolate chips in. Make them extra chocolatey.”

You nodded. It was a good idea – granted the Doctor’s ideas often were good, but still.

You glanced down at the recipe. “Okay, I’ll handle the dry ingredients so we don’t…” you trailed off, debating whether you should say it.

“So we don’t have another flour mess,” the Doctor said. “And I’ll handle the dry?”

You nodded to her, giving her a small smile. “Sounds like a plan.”

The two of you worked in tandem. You combined the flour, the two different sugars, the cocoa powder, the baking soda, and the baking powder together – not questioning why the recipe called for two different baking powders. It was almost like a dance, you and the Doctor navigated around each-others spaces with ease, as it you had always been doing so.

The Doctor was an enigma, sometimes. She was one of the most brilliant minds in the universe, could coordinate space armada’s, solve century old “unsolvable” maths problems, invent new chemicals as a side project, and yet, as she carefully measured out her own ingredients, you had never see her act with more concentration.

It was adorable, and, covered in flour, a look of absolute focus on her face, her earring glinting in the light, the Doctor looked mesmerising in a way you had never considered before.

You made a well in the centre of your bowl, making sure it was big enough to comfortable house the wet ingredients. Without a word, the Doctor was prepared with her own bowl, and she gently poured the mixture in. You gave her a small, delighted smile, slowly realising just how well you both worked together.

“How much does this need to be mixed?” The Doctor asked, looking to you, even though the recipe was closer.

Something in you warmed at that. The Doctor trusted you, in a way that was so innate that she turned to you first.

That was pretty extraordinary.

“Not too much, the just need a quick mix to combine the ingredients. You don’t have to beat the batter as hard because the cakes don’t have to work as hard to rise, as opposed to a big cake.”

The Doctor nodded diligently, and took the bowl, before frowning. “Okay,” she said. “This is different.”

You frowned, looking into the bowl. “What is?”

“The wet ingredients,” she explained. “They’re all in the middle. I’ve never done that before. Do I mix it differently?”

You knew it was probably overkill, but you couldn’t resist the chance to hold her. You wrapped your arms around her, getting flour all over her back, and rested your hands against hers. They were warm underneath you, and for a moment you revelled in the feel of it. You showed how to mix it, explaining the process to her as you did so.

“You introduce the dry ingredients into the wet ingredients slowly,” you said, and you moved your free hand slightly so you could grip another part of the bowl. “That way you don’t get lumps.”

“Oh,” The Doctor brightened, and she leaned against your front. “This is much more efficient. Is this why I always struggle with baking?”

Huh. You hadn’t thought about that – you actually hadn’t known she struggled with baking. You knew the Doctor was a good cook, it was essentially just edible applied chemistry, and you had eaten enough of her meals to know it was good, but baking wasn’t something you had ever really seen her do.

“Maybe,” you said, eventually. “Technique’s pretty important.”

She hummed, and rested her head against yours, still concentrating on mixing it. Eventually, it was mixed, and you had no reason to keep holding her.

You didn’t let go, though.

“And now we spoon it into the tray,” the Doctor said.

You rummaged for the white chocolate chips, which meant letting go of her so you could dust off the various bags that were still caked with flour.

The Doctor turned to you, affronted over the lack of contact, to find you holding up the bag of white chocolate chips. “Extra chocolatey,” you reminded her.

She grinned and you threw her the bag. With the same speed she gave to disarming bombs and writing out new code, she ripped off the top of the bag and poured all the contents into the bowl. She nodded in satisfaction, and mixed the chocolate chips in.

“Now they’re ready to spoon in,” you said, coming to her side and resting your arm against hers. Working together, you managed to get the batter in pretty quickly, with minimum spills, and soon the batter was in the tray, and the tray was in the oven.

“And now,” you announced, staring at the oven’s timer. It read 20 minutes. “We wait.”

The Doctor huffed, leaning against the kitchen bench. “I hate this bit.”

You gestured around the kitchen. “There’s stuff we could do. It’s only 20 minutes.”

“What could we do?”

You eyed the flour, which was still everywhere. “I guess we could clean?”

The Doctor screwed up her nose at the prospect. To be fair, there was a lot of flour. Then, she suddenly brightened. She held out her hand. “Come here.”

You took it gingerly, more confused than anything. “What’s up?”

You watched as she wrapped her other arm around your waist, pulling youclose. She started swaying side to side, and you let out a startled laugh. “We’re dancing.”

“We are,” she said with a small grin.

“There’s no music,” you said, still confused, but you let her lead.

Her eyes twinkled under the warm lights, and she twirled you around. “Don’t need it,” she said, and then, after a moment. “I’m with you, that’s enough.”

So you danced around the kitchen under the soft orange light, swaying to the hum of the oven, creating a distant melody that only you and the Doctor could hear. The pressure of her hand against your back was grounding, and you rested your forehead against hers.

The Doctor wasn’t good with words, she never had been, not in any face. But you thought, right here, right now, that this was her way of telling you.

In the way her eyes shone when she looked at you, as if you were brighter than any star she had ever seen. The way she held you as if you were precious, as though she cherished you. The way her smile was personal, like she gave it just to you.

She loved you, you knew she did.

So you danced with her, among the flour and the dirty dishes, with your heels clicking against the tiled floor.

You would still have to make the icing for the cupcakes, and you would still need to clean the kitchen. Store the dirty dishes into the dishwasher, find the homes for the ingredients the Doctor had haphazardly gotten out, and get rid of all the flour.

But for now, you danced, or swayed. Because you loved the Doctor.

And because she loved you.

#the doctor x reader #thirteenth doctor imagine #13th doctor x reader #thirteenth doctor x reader #13th doctor #Doctor Who #DW #Elle: Speaks #opening Elle's vault #vault fic

[artificialqueens]

Come Home to My Heart, Chapter 8 (Lemyanka) - Plastiquedoll

read on ao3 ✨| previous chapters

A/N: wow… I can’t believe there are only two chapters left after this one… that’s crazy. This little story is my baby now so I hope you enjoy it and thanks for reading it! <3

-8-

“Ouch!” Scarlett yelled as soon as Priyanka pinched her arm. “What was that for?”

“You’re friends with Lemon on Facebook? What the fuck?”

“Ah, yeah…” She rubbed her arm. “She befriended me a while ago.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? We live together.”

“I didn’t believe you’d mind and I thought she would add you too. I don’t know, I probably was high as fuck.” Scarlett sipped her Frappuccino.

“You, Kiara, and my mother back-stabbed me. I can’t believe it.”

“If it’s any consolation, she only posts pictures with her friends and when she’s at the dance studio… also, she spends an unhealthy amount of time rambling about The Sims.”

Seemed about right.

“I’m more worried about the pictures I appear as «tagged» on your page.”

“Yeah, you’re like a hot mess there.”

Priyanka and Scarlett went for a beverage that afternoon after stopping by the mechanical workshop to check on Priyanka’s car –it was still uncertain and the mechanic had ordered a few pieces that were supposed to arrive later that week- luckily her parents had lent her the family car for the afternoon.

Priyanka had ordered a strawberry smoothie but almost forgot about it. Her thoughts were somewhere else.

“Priyanka, are you there?” Scarlett called her.

“Yeah, sorry…”

“Girl, you’re like… gone.”

“What do you mean?”

“Uhm…”

Scarlett sat with her arms crossed and a smirk on her face. She had cut her hair recently and the tips of her blonde bob were perfectly symmetric, it was almost in discordance with her rock-star-punk-grunge aesthetic of ripped fishnets, piercings, and leather jackets but Priyanka knew her better, she was just a softie who had cried with The Little Mermaid.

Goddammit. Don’t you see the subtext of female liberation, Priyanka? She had said with tears in her eyes.

“Nothing… only that you’ve been distracted lately. How weird is it that this behavior coincides with the return of certain someone to your life? Odd, isn’t it?”

“Cut the sarcasm… I know what you’re implying. Lemon helped me out the other day only because that’s what any person would’ve done.”

“No, you’re overestimating human kindness. Trust me, spending your entire afternoon with someone to help them with their… how did she call it?”

“Jalopy.”

“I mean, accurate.” Priyanka stuck her tongue out. “What I’m saying is that’s a big gesture and you should take it as a white flag from her.”

“When you’re right, you’re right.”

“So… what are you going to do now?” Scarlett inquired.

“I have no idea… You’re the second person who said something like that. Denali thought she was provoking me the other night in the club –she’s out of her mind- but she also said that I should make the next move.”

“I agree.”

“But what if I make a fool of myself in the process?”

“That wouldn’t be a novelty.”

“Fuck you.”

Scarlett lighted up a cigarette.

Right at that moment, Boa walked out of the café with an Iced Americano in her hand, she spotted both girls sitting outside and approached them.

“Hey, you two! I was going to text you later today.” She greeted both of them.

“Hey, girl.” Scarlett waved.

“Hi, Boa! Nice to see you.” Priyanka hugged her.

“So listen, some of the girls –myself included- are planning a little day at that lake that’s like half an hour from here and since the more the merrier, maybe you’d want to join us.”

“Sounds cool. Do you have a date in mind?”

“We set Thursday but if any of you guys can’t we could change it.”

“No, I think Thursday is fine for all of us. Priyanka?”

Priyanka had her thoughts floating like a cloud.

“When you say «some of the girls»… you mean?”

“Tynomi, Kyne, me…” She began listing.

“Boa we’re looking for a name started with «L», five letters, common yellow fruit used often in the kitchen.” Priyanka elbowed Scarlett.

“Oh! Yeah… We’re trying to convince Lemon to go too. She wasn’t into the whole nature thing but…” She cleared her throat. “If we convinced some more people maybe she’d change her mind.”

“Great so we’ll be there.” Scarlett wrapped her arm around Priyanka. “Text me the details later.”

“Sure, see you on Thursday!”

“Bye…” Priyanka smiled and when the girl walked away, she immediately turned to Scarlett. “What was that?”

“«Thank you, Scarlett, you’re such a good friend» you’re very welcome, Priyanka.” She put out her cigarette. “I did what it had to be done.”

“I see… but what if Lemon doesn’t show up?”

“She will be there and even if she doesn’t we could still have a nice day on the lake or whatever. Jeez, do I need to give you a pep talk whenever we plan something?”

“We’ll need a car, I can’t borrow my parent’s car all week and you came here by bus. Can Juice drive us there?”

“Yeah about that… Juice broke up with me.”

Priyanka frowned. “I thought you guys weren’t dating.”

“We weren’t, that’s why she gave me an ultimatum.”

“And what did you tell her?”

“I said I’d think about it.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“She agrees with you, obviously.” Scarlett leaned back on the chair. “However, I never wanted to break her heart with promises I wasn’t sure I was going to fulfill. I never promised her more than what I gave and it worked for some time.”

“Until it didn’t…”

It wasn’t shocking for Priyanka, she had always known that Juice wanted more but Scarlett –being the stubborn she was- never was going to admit she felt the same way, instead, she acted reluctant whenever the idea of having a serious relationship was brought.

“Scarlett, are you sure this is what you want?”

“Listen, what’s the point of starting a relationship with someone who doesn’t live in the same city.”

“She lives literally half an hour from Toronto.”

“Besides, I don’t want to give my freedom away… I don’t see myself ready to be in a relationship and you can’t say anything, you haven’t dated anyone for more than three days.” Scarlett pointed.

“Well, you got me there but this isn’t about me… don’t you see it? You’re about to lose something real and why? Because you’re scared of admitting you want it too.”

Scarlett looked down. “She deserves better than me…” She whispered.

“You idiot, she doesn’t want better, she wants you and you alone.”

“I feel like you’re insulting me somewhere there but…”

“Scarlett, focus.”

“You’re right, okay? I’m scared, I don’t want to hurt her and I’m terrified I might be too stupid to make a mistake or something… and now I don’t know what to do, I’m not a romantic person, I know nothing about big gestures…”

“Maybe roses? Carriage rides? Singing songs under the starry sky?”

“Gross…” She paused. “maybe roses though.”

“You did set the bar very low so…”

“Oh, shut up.”

“C’mon, I’ll drop you at her house.”

After taking Scarlett back to Juice’s house for what hopefully meant there would be a reconciliation between them –Priyanka had her fingers crossed- in the meantime, she stopped by her brother’s house. She had promised one of her nieces she’d take her to rent some DVDs they would watch after dinner.

It took less than five minutes to lose her at the video store.

“Mel? Mel?!” She started looking around. “Where did you go?”

Priyanka heard her voice coming from one parallel aisle.

“You’re very pretty.”

“Aw, thank you…you’re very pretty too.”

Priyanka also recognized that voice.

“Are you lost?”

She felt undoubtedly relieved when she found her niece chatting with Lemon who had kneeled on the floor to be at the same height.

“What’s your name?” Lemon asked the little girl.

“I’m Melanie.”

“Nice to meet you, Melanie. I’m Lemon, like the fruit.”

“Nice to meet you… Miss Lemon.”

“Did you come here with your mom? With your dad?”

She shook her head. “With my auntie.”

“Ah, I see… What do you say if we look for your auntie?”

“She’s right there.” She pointed at Priyanka behind her.

Lemon turned around and met the brunette’s eyes.

“Oh. It’s you, auntie… I should’ve guessed.”

“The resemblance is uncanny, isn’t it?” Priyanka smiled proudly.

Lemon was wearing a yellow and white striped long dress with buttons in the front, white sneakers, and had her hair tied in a French braid.

“You really convinced your brother to name his daughter like two-fifths of the Spice Girls, didn’t you?”

Priyanka rushed and covered her niece’s ears. “Shhhh… He doesn’t know that yet. It took me seven of the nine months of my sister-in-law’s pregnancy to plant the idea… neither Ginger nor Emma were working, so it was down to Melanie or Victoria.”

Lemon chuckled.

The brunette released the little girl from her grip. “Mel, go pick the movie you like but stay close where I can see you, alright?”

The little girl nodded and skipped with joy toward the kids’ movie section.

Priyanka looked at Lemon. “What are you doing here?”

“Getting my nails done, obviously.” She had a DVD box in her hands.

Priyanka rolled her eyes. “Knowing you, it must be… let me see, either Legally Blonde, Clueless, something with Meg Ryan on it, or… Drop Dead Gorgeous.”

She showed the title on the box. It was Drop Dead Gorgeous, a movie Lemon worshiped for her love for beauty pageants and bizarre humor.

“Rita has never watched it, can you believe it?”

“And you’re looking for new ways to traumatize her.”

“That might be my mission on Earth all along, spread the words of wisdom that come from this film.” She tapped the box with her acrylic nails.

Priyanka peeped over her shoulder to check on her niece who was still deciding between two Disney movies.

“So… are you going to the lake thing Boa’s planning?” The brunette asked as casually as she could.

Lemon shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not that into nature and being eaten by bugs…”

“Oh, so she’s a city girl now.”

“Listen, I spent a good ten years of my life going camping with my dad and hating every second of it. I thought it was finally over when I moved.”

“The girls and I are going… and I’m sure we’re taking some type of booze with us, snacks, a campfire… It will be fun.”

Lemon tilted her head. “I didn’t know you wanted me to go.”

Priyanka felt the heat on her cheeks. “Boa said the more the merrier… plus my car is still at the workshop and Scarlett might have screwed up her relationship with the one person that has a car among us.”

“So you need a ride… that’s it?”

“Yeah… and it’ll be fun being all together again.”

“Sure… okay. I’ll tell Rita and we’ll be there.”

“Really?”

She nodded.

At that moment, Priyanka’s niece returned with a DVD of Brave in her hand.

“Are you dating my auntie Pri?” She asked unscrupulous and unfiltered like any six-year-old.

Priyanka’s mouth dropped to the floor.

“Mel! You can’t ask people… That’s not… You don’t get to…”

“But daddy said that you like girls and that if you were going to date someone it would be a girl… and she’s a girl.”

Logic.

Lemon covered her mouth with her hand, she was blushing underneath.

“Mel just because I’m talking to a girl it doesn’t mean that I’m dating her.”

“But she’s pretty… she’s prettier than you.”

“Oh, I like her.” Lemon giggled.

“Hey! You little brat, who’s the one renting movies with you.”

Traitors.

“Why aren’t you dating her, auntie Pri?” Priyanka covered the girl’s mouth.

She was asking the real questions.

“Okay, I think it’s time to go home. Brave, huh? Good choice.” She looked at Lemon. “See you on Thursday…?”

The blonde smiled. “I’ll pick you up.”

“Okay, great.”

“Goodbye, Priyanka. Bye, Mel.” She waved at them.

The girl barely had the chance to wave back since her aunt dragged her to the line of the checkout counter. She stared at Priyanka with her wide brown eyes.

“What is it?”

“You like her.” Mel said with a mischievous look on her face.

“Shhh… keep it low…” She looked around to check Lemon wasn’t around. “You can’t just say those things, Mel. Exposing people’s feelings isn’t right.”

“So you like her.”

“Jeez, calm down Regina George.”

“Who’s Regina Gorge?”

“It doesn’t matter… The thing is… Lemon and I are… friends? Just that, okay? We’ve known each other since we were your age and I don’t think she likes me that way.”

“Have you asked her?” Her niece inquired.

“Well, no…”

“Why not?”

“Because…” She was scared of the potential answer to that question. “It’s complicated… growing up is complicated.”

“I don’t want to grow up never.” She whined.

“Me neither.”

Priyanka took the DVD to register it and pay for it.

Brave, sure.

On Thursday morning, Priyanka received a call from Scarlett, she explained that things with Juice were smooth sailing and that –since they had left the problems aside- she was going to pick her at home. In the car, there were Juice, Scarlett, Kiara, Denali, and Priyanka whereas Lemon and Rita had relocated in a different car.

The day started on the wrong foot since that change in scheduling but Priyanka had the hope it could only get better from there. She had a full breakfast with her parents and then prepared her things in a backpack, including sunscreen, snacks, a towel, and things only her mom could remember to include –and that she yelled from downstairs to make sure Priyanka would remember.

Priyanka brushed her hair and tied it into a ponytail, then she put her turquoise bikini on –she liked how the color looked against her skin-, grabbed a pair of denim shorts with embroidered flowers and a white cotton tank top. She found a pair of aviator sunglasses on the drawer of her room that were definitely her sister’s –emphasis on the «were»- and with a pair of flip-flops, she was ready.

Boa had said that it was allowed to swim on the lake where the water was shallow and that there was a lifeguard just in case. The weather was in their favor, the day was all warm and sunny even when it started with a couple of clouds, it had cleared up since then. Her mother reminded her to take a light jacket with her because it could get colder during the evening.

Priyanka was about to argue with her when she heard the sound of the horn outside. She put the jacket on her backpack and said goodbye to her mom before opening the entrance door.

To her surprise, there was an egg yolk car parked in front of her house.

Lemon rolled down her window. “Get in loser, we’re going to a lake… for some reason.”

She had a pair of heart-shaped pink sunglasses resting on top of her head and a lollipop on her hand.

“What is this?”

“I told you I was going to pick you up.” She unlocked the passenger’s door.

Priyanka got in the car and buckled up. Her entire body was tingling.

“I thought you were sharing a car with the other girls.”

“Don’t change the plans I’ve already set, I’m a Virgo.”

“Don’t you have a bumper sticker with that written on it?”

“I’m glad someone has finally seen it.”

Priyanka threw her backpack on the backseat and noticed how empty it was.

“Wait, what about Rita? Wasn’t she coming with you?”

Lemon got the car moving.

“No, I pushed her down the stairs yesterday.” She said, dead serious. “I’m just kidding; I went to pick some things from Tynomi’s place, Kiara and she were speaking in French and got along well so she decided to go with them. Because of that, I have the trunk full with two coolers and their bags so –for their own good- I hope they gave me the right address.”

Just then it hit Priyanka it was just the two of them for the next half hour.

Lemon looked lovely with a yellow poplin puff-sleeve crop top with little lemons embroidered around the neckline and a pair of navy paper bag shorts. The strips of a bright yellow swimsuit could be seen underneath her clothes and she was driving with sneakers because driving with flip-flops is hell but overall the look screamed summer in the Italian Riviera with a glass of limoncello.

And well, Priyanka was gay and thirsty.

“Did you hear what I said?” Lemon asked raising an eyebrow when they stopped in a red traffic light.

“Something about music…?” It was a wild guess and she would be lying if she said her fingers weren’t crossed.

“Yes, can you put something on the radio?”

Priyanka scanned the CDs on the glove compartment and finally decided for the always great Good Girl Gone Bad –just because she wanted Shut Up and Drive to play while Lemon was driving- and because it had some iconic bops.

“Are you certain about the route we’re taking?” The brunette asked.

“What do you mean?” Lemon clicked her tongue. “I know how to follow directions. I also have a map… I’m a strong independent woman who needs no instruction on how to get to a stupid lake in the middle of nowhere-”

“Hello, my friend and I are lost; do you know which is the best way to get to the lake?” Priyanka had to pat herself on the back for that level of fake kindness, she even batted her lashes.

Lemon, on the driver’s seat, kept grumbling something in a low voice.

“Yeah, you’re almost there, it’s five minutes from here… you have to take the next entry to the left and then continue straight forward. You’ll be there in the blink of an eye.”

“Thanks, good man. We appreciate it.” She waved at the man at the gas station. Then she turned to Lemon. “You see? It wasn’t that difficult.”

“We were almost there.”

“Yes, except for the fact that we’ve been driving around in circles for the past fifteen minutes. I told you it was the right entry.”

Lemon huffed and puffed like a child.

Priyanka attempted to skip one of the songs but the blonde interfered by pushing her hand aside. Priyanka crossed her arms on her chest and pretended to be offended.

Just like the man had said, in no time they spotted the lake entrance.

Lemon sighed of relief while Priyanka cheered.

“Yay! We made it!”

Once they got closer, they agreed it was all worthy. The beautiful scenery of the lake with crystalline blue water framed by the rows of mountains covered in green and leafy pine trees left them in awe.

A figure waved at them –probably one of the girls- they were gathered in a small semicircle that resembled a beach with dirt and gravel next to a wooden port. There were other people around, families, some kids playing in the water, swimmers, boats, and canoes.

Lemon parked the car in an empty spot among others, some of the girls helped them with the coolers and the bags that were on the truck.

“Good night, ladies.” Scarlett mocked.

“You two finally made it.” Boa grabbed one of the coolers with the other girl’s help.

Priyanka was about to say something about their delay in the same joking tone but she caught a glimpse of Lemon, she was serious, noticeably embarrassed by the situation. So instead, she cackled and played it down.

“Yeah, can you believe I told her the wrong entry on the highway? Lemon almost killed me we were spinning around for like fifteen minutes, right?” She looked at the blonde and subtly winked.

“Ah, yeah…” Lemon’s eyes were big just like a deer caught in headlights, the tips of her ears turned red just like her cheeks. “But we’re here… so… it doesn’t matter.”

“Priyanka you dumbass, we’ve come this way before.” Scarlett nagged her.

“Oh, shut up… I forgot.” She picked her backpack and threw it over her shoulder. Lemon hadn’t moved. “Hey, let’s go. We have all day ahead.”

The blonde nodded and locked the car before following them to the port.

The view was even more breathtaking up close as the sunlight shone onto the waters of the lake, it also glinted on the gold rims of Priyanka’s glasses and bathed her completely in a warm sensation.

They were received with cheers –especially since they have the food on the coolers and it was almost noon-, she saw Kiara applying some suntan oil and chatting with Rita and Starzy over a small wooden harbor, as soon as Scarlett and Boa arrived with the cooler, the blonde started an argument with Ilona over the best way to ensemble a tent –and repeatedly called each other “sis”-, Kyne, Tynomi and Juice ignored them and started setting a grill.

“You didn’t have to lie to cover my blunder.” Lemon whispered.

“I know.” Priyanka stretched her arms. “I figured you’ve suffered enough for one morning. If you’re feeling generous you can get me a drink or something in return.”

Lemon scoffed. “Get it yourself.” She started walking to where Rita, Starzy, and Kiara were but before she was further in distance, she turned around. “Thank you, though.”

Priyanka smiled at her and then went to help the other girls with the food. They entrusted her washing the vegetables at some gazebo nearby with a little kitchen and a sink. Tynomi helped her peeling and cutting once she was done and then they prepared the skewers. Scarlett’s pyromania was helpful to light the fire, although the flame that rose in the air caused quite a fuss.

Right when Priyanka put the last skewer on the trade for Tynomi to take it to the grill, a paper cup with pink lemonade and ice appeared in front of her, Lemon held it steadily.

“Oh, hey there.” Priyanka took a sip, it was sweet and it had something that kicked in. “Thank goodness this has alcohol on it.”

“It’s vodka, careful with the empty stomach, though.”

“Signature cocktail?”

Lemon shrugged. “I guess it falls into the category of colorful and sugary.”

“I don’t know if it’s because it’s hot as fuck but this is actually delicious.”

“Of course it’s delicious, I made it.”

“That’s obvious; you can taste the modesty on it.” Lemon made a childish grimace. “Have you jumped in the water yet?”

“I just soaked my feet for a little.”

“And?”

“Cold like a penguin’s butt.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

Lemon took the cup back and drank a sip, her lip gloss stained the material. She kept biting her bottom lip as if she wanted to say something but she sneaked out to help Boa with something when Priyanka wasn’t looking.

In that part of the lake it was allowed to camp and there were several tents set around the land, there were also a couple of forest rangers roaming around –probably attracted by the fake fire alarm- but the girls had been clever enough to keep the bottles saved in the coolers.  They all ate vegetable skewers and hamburgers sitting in a big circle and drank beer and cranberry vodka in paper cups.

Someone had brought a radio and they all sang Stars Are Blind when it played. After having lunch they stayed there reminiscing and telling stories from school. They were all laughing and cracking jokes it took Priyanka by surprise when the story of her seven minutes in heaven was brought.

“More like seven minutes in hell.” She gagged.

She re-told the story for those who hadn’t heard it and then realized that Lemon was among those people. The blonde hadn’t said a word since she started her narration, in fact, she paid attention to every word that came out of her mouth. She didn’t laugh when Priyanka tried to minimize she kissed a guy she didn’t want to kiss or when she tried to use the humor as a shield as she had done before.

“What an asshole.” She said when the brunette finished the story. She was angry and it showed. She was so mad she had sobered up.

“Yeah… but on the bright side… that helped me realize things. It was enlightening, I dare to say… even when that closet was dark as fuck.”

“Still… I hope he chokes or something.” Lemon was fuming.

Later on, Ilona exposed Scarlett who had claimed to be in detention many times in high school when she was just in the library, studying. Even when she tried to argue, Priyanka caught her friend sitting right next to Juice as she tenderly held her and stroked her hand with her thumb. She assumed things were alright with them now and couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous of what they had.

Vodka, it’s me… I have seen what you did for others…

Lemon told a story about one time she got lost in the subway with their friends and they almost ended in Staten Island –Priyanka refrained from commenting on the fact that Lemon wasn’t good at following indications, indeed- and Denali, the only non-Canadian of their panel discussion mentioned it had happened to her as well.

“I’ll be in New York for a competition in a few months.”

“You should come to visit me.” Lemon smiled brightly.

“That would be fun… Priyanka could come as well.” She stared at the brunette who gaped at her in surprise. “And tell me, do you have any single friend?”

“I’ve got some… yeah. I could make some arrangements.”

“I’d love that.”

“Slut-Nali.”

“Proudly.”

Later during the afternoon, some of the girls were brave enough to try to dive in the shallow waters of the lake, Priyanka among them, and, she regretted the moment her body made contact with the glistening surface but once her body was fully immersed it was like a shot of adrenaline in her body.

She surely looked like she had seen a ghost when she emerged because Lemon laughed loudly at her. The blonde was cozily sunbathing on the shoreline at an unsafe distance for someone mocking the swimmers.

Priyanka moved her arms toward her.

“Don’t you dare… Priyanka, I swear to God if you even try-”

The cold droplets touched her skin before she could finish that sentence.

The blonde squirmed and squealed.

“Bitch…” She shook the water off her body.

“Who’s laughing now?” She moved like a fish in the water.

“You won’t be laughing when you need your towel to get out.” Lemon waved it like a flag.

“Listen, you…” Priyanka started walking out of the water, the other girl was already running.

It was way colder out of the water and it took the brunette a minute to get used to, get her flip flops, and chase after Lemon who still had her towel on her hands. She hid behind Rita and stuck her tongue out, the girl caught in the middle raised her hands in a sign of rendition. They were like a couple of kids. Priyanka was about to say something when Scarlett and Juice came near them.

“Hey, we rented a boat over there and we were wondering if you would like to come with us.” Juice grinned.

“I pass, I’m not going on a boat ride with these two.” Rita pointed at them, Lemon was still looking over her shoulder.

“Pri, Lemon? What about you?”

“Sure… it would be fun, as soon as this bitch gives me my towel back.” Priyanka cast an accusing glance at the blonde.

Lemon threw the towel directly to her face.

“What’s so thrilling about a boat ride?” She asked while Priyanka wrapped herself in the towel.

“You said the same about coming here today and yet you’re having a good time, right?” Lemon shrugged. “C’mon, I’m not going to push you in the water or something.”

“Now I know for a fact that you’ll try to push me into the water.”

“Are you possibly scared?” She taunted.

“I’m not scared of a boat if that’s what you’re saying.”

“It’s settled then, we’ll meet you in five minutes over the pier where the boats are moored.” Scarlett grabbed Juice’s hand and they walked away.

Priyanka put her shorts and sunglasses on; she grabbed her bag and hung it over her shoulder. She checked on Lemon when she was done putting clothes on too.

“Ready?”

The blonde hesitated for a moment. “I guess.”

“Listen, there’s really nothing to be scared of, we’ll get life jackets and everything.”

“That’s not- Never mind.” She shook her head and grabbed her things. “Let’s go.”

Juice and Scarlett were already waiting for them with their life jackets on, they explained to the girls how to put them on.

“You two get in the boat and we’ll untie the knots and push it in the water.” Scarlett indicated.

The boat was made of wood and painted in white with matching paddles, the name Perseverance was written in blue on one of the sides.

Lemon sat first and she helped Priyanka to get in.

“Did you know it’s bad luck to change a boat’s name?” She told Priyanka. “It’s said they always sink if you do.”

“We should double-check this isn’t repainted or something underneath, right?”

“Why? Are you scared?” Lemon mocked.

Priyanka elbowed her.

Juice was done with the knot and she jumped in the water to help Scarlett.

“Okay, one, two… three.” They pushed the boat that swayed a little with the waves before stabilizing.

“Have fun you two!” Juice waved at them.

“Wait…” It took Priyanka a moment before understanding what was going on. “Hey!”

“Oh my God…”

The girls behind were cackling as the boat was carried further by the water stream.

“I think we’ve been set up.”

“There might be a chance, yeah.”

Scarlett mouthed a soft «Sorry» but Priyanka knew she wasn’t regretting anything. This had to be planned beforehand and she had a vague idea what the point was. She stared at Lemon who had picked up one of the paddles and was examining it.

“Do you think we can go back?”

“I doubt that we can row against this current.” She declared after taking a look at how the water kept taking them away from the coast. “Our best chance is to let it drag us down to calmer waters where we can paddle from to the closest coast.”

“You really learned a few scout things when you were camping with your dad, didn’t you?”

“Aren’t you glad I did?” She smirked.

Certainly, Priyanka was glad because at least one of them had a clue of what to do and how to get them out of that situation but, at the same time, it meant that they were going to be stuck for a while in that boat.

As they started moving away from the coast, the silhouettes of his friends became blurry and they were surrounded by the vast scenery of the mountains and the woods. The sun was lukewarm and the little waves rocked the boat like a cradle, it was soothing.

Priyanka laid on the floorboards and looked at the clouds crossing the sky. Lemon watched the water around the boat to eventually join the brunette.

“This is nice,” Priyanka whispered. “I think it’s the longest we’ve been without arguing or bitching.”

Lemon chuckled. Priyanka looked at her and could see every detail of her face, the curve of her lips the little mole over them, the tip of her nose, the length of her lashes, the color of her eyes…

Suddenly she felt shy.

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that I can be an annoying bitch sometimes but you’re the one person that’s always there for me…” Lemon murmured.

Priyanka’s cheeks turned red. “What?”

“That’s the first line of the last e-mail I wrote for you after we… drifted apart.”

“I never received it.”

“I never sent it.” She fidgeted nervously. “I don’t know if it would have made any difference, you seemed pretty determined to me.”

So they were going to talk about it. It was the conversation neither of them had brought up for the longest time but it was there, lingering in the air like a dark cloud of unsolved problems.

“I needed to put some distance between us…” Priyanka felt the unavoidable knot on her throat like whenever someone touched the subject. “I wasn’t being honest with you… I was scared. You had these plans that didn’t include me in your future, I felt like I was being left out while my plans always included you.”

“Priyanka, I had to move forward to survive… Yes, I met new people, I made new friends and I set new goals but you were never out of the picture. It was difficult for me because I don’t know, you were always the one that everyone liked instantly and you made friends in a heartbeat without even trying it. Your friends were our friends because of that but when I was on my own… I feel like I’m more an acquired taste, people tend to like me better when they know me but until then…”

She sighed.

“I had these problems that seemed small in proportion and I didn’t want to become a burden for you, being so far away from each other. I just wanted to share the good parts. You were the only thing in my life that felt like a constant and then… you were gone.”

She looked at Lemon in the eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ve ever apologized for that. And just for the record, small problems, big problems… I should’ve been there for you no matter what. Back in the day, I don’t know… it’s not an excuse but I felt like it was easier to push you away and that you got to live a life without me at some point.”

“Why?” Lemon frowned.

“I don’t know.” Priyanka lied. “I didn’t want to be a burden either.”

“I’m sorry, too. I didn’t know what to expect when I saw you here but, these last couple of days I realized how much I had missed you. I wrote that in the e-mail too, I wish I had sent it.”

Priyanka’s heart skipped a beat.

“Me too.” The brunette spoke clearly. “I’m freaking proud of you and everything you’ve achieved… What I’ve heard because I didn’t befriend your New York friends on Facebook to find out.”

“They were my friends too. I didn’t add them only to stalk you or something like that. And, for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing amazing too… aside from that car of yours.”

“Laugh all you want but I bought that car to go visit you in New York someday.”

Lemon sat straight on the boat. “You were going to drive all the way there in that to visit me? That counts as risking your life, you know?”

“Well… yeah… that was the idea. I wanted to see you.” Priyanka sat down as well.

“Pri…”

“And you only came back for your dad’s wedding… why did you come back now? After so long?”

“My dad’s wedding was… an event. It would’ve been fun to have you there though, there was so much booze.”

“They can always renew their vows.”

Lemon laughed. “Well, and as I told you before, my mom was going on a cruise ship so I wanted to visit everyone here. The fact that it coincided with your visit was mind-blowing for me too.”

“Were you mad?”

“Yes, I was fuming.”

They both started laughing at loud.

“I’m not going to lie I did want to start a fight that day in the dining… and later on the club… and on the cereal aisle…”

Priyanka threw water from the lake at the girl’s face.

“Hey! Don’t!” Lemon shook her head. “I think it got on my eyes wait…”

“Oh no, sorry… I didn’t mean to…”

Priyanka got closer but at that moment the other girl counterattacked with some more water.

“Bitch…”

“You deserved it.” She cleaned some drops. “But I think it really got on my eyes, can you hand me my bag.”

Priyanka’s face was still wet but she did as she asked.

“Shit, my contact lenses are falling.” She looked through her bag until she found the container.

“Do you need help with that?”

“No, just a second…” She removed both contact lenses and saved them back. “Better.”

“I’m over here.” Priyanka mocked.

“Fine… I can’t see beyond my hand.”

“I know that.”

“Could you get me my glasses? They are there, somewhere…”

“Yeah, let me…”

Lemon’s bag had lip gloss, sunscreen, candy… transparent frame glasses.

“Here.” She put them in her hand.

“Don’t make fun of me.” She mumbled. “I never wear these in public…”

“Lemon, I’ve known you for ages I do remember how you look like with glasses on.”

Priyanka took them back and opened the temples before placing them gently on the blonde’s face. She adjusted the nose pads above her nose and removed some hairs out of her face.

“There,” She looked proud of her work. “See, nothing less than stunning.”

Lemon had a beaming smile on her face, she’d never look bad with or without glasses on.

She didn’t realize how close they were until Lemon batted her lashes. She could’ve kissed her right there but instead, she just moved away with her pulse running wild and her face feeling hot and no sunshine to blame for it.

The blonde extended her little finger as a white flag. “Are we good?”

Priyanka sighed with relief. “Best friends forever.” She sealed the pinky promise.

However, the word «friends» tasted bitter on her tongue.

“That’s right.” She was still holding their fingers together. “Priyanka and Lemon, Lemon and Priyanka.”

“You won’t happen to have something to eat in that bag of yours, will you?”

“I think I packed some Oreos this morning.”

“You’re my hero.”

It was almost sunset by the time they got back to the coast and they still had to border the lake to get back where the other girls were. Nonetheless, the setting of the sun was a spectacle they watched in awe as the daytime ended with the sun’s departure.

It was starting to get cold and Priyanka was the only one who had brought a jacket so she lent it to Lemon –it looked a bit oversized but she still looked good on it.

They walked for a little before meeting the rest of the group, luckily the place was fully enlightened and they had made sure they hadn’t gone too far to lose sight of the camping area. The other girls welcomed them back with a big cheer, some of them were already setting a little fire to toast marshmallows and sing songs with a guitar.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” Lemon headed to the public toilet while Priyanka joined the circle around the bonfire.

“So…” Denali sat next to her right away. “How did that go?”

“You knew.” Priyanka crossed her arms on her chest. “I can’t believe it, y’all helped to orchestrate this stunt.”

“…maybe. But it was for a good cause.”

“Which one?”

“Getting you a girlfriend.”

Priyanka rolled her eyes.

“I swear…”

“What happened over there?” Scarlett, Kiara, and Juice surrounded her like a group of teenagers.

“She doesn’t want to spill the details.”

“That’s because nothing happened and you should mind your own business.”

“What do you mean nothing happened? You two were there for like two hours.”

“We did talk about why we first fought and other things but it’s nothing close to what you think so you should drop it. I’m being serious right now.” She cleared her throat. “Lemon and I are friends… that’s it. Don’t try to push it further because it’s not going to happen.”

It was clear at that point that fixing their friendship was more important than risking her feelings; maybe she could tell Lemon one day and they could laugh about it just like they had done earlier but, at that moment, things were very recent and fragile to drop any more information into the mix. Priyanka wanted to have her on her life and she wasn’t going to lose her best friend over some unrequited love she had.

If she had dealt with it most of her life, she surely could do it again.

The girls protested but they sat back in their places. Lemon joined them shortly after, she sat next to Priyanka, the sleeves of her jacket looked like sweater paws on her.

“Hey, do you mind going back with the girls? I was talking to Rita and she’s kind of tired so I’m going home with her.”

“Oh, sure. No problem. Is she alright?”

“Yeah, just tired and maybe sunburn. I don’t want to drive when it’s too late either.”

“Alright. Are you still coming to dinner with my family? My mom said she’ll be waiting for you.”

“Saturday, right? I’ll be there.” She smiled. “I’m really glad we got to talk today, Pri.”

“Me too.”

She hugged her Lemon before she left; the blonde then greeted everyone else.

Priyanka watched in silence as the yellow car left the park.

Her heart shrunk, this was the right thing to do, they were friends again, and yet… she felt empty inside.

#rpdr fanfiction #lemon #priyanka #lemon x priyankya #childhood friends #friends to lovers #lesbian au #come home to my heart #plastiquedoll #conceit welcome #drcan #can1

[kathyprior4200]

Fishy Scientist

 “Baxter’s Birth”

February 20 1888 (Aquarius/Pieces) same year that Sir Pentious died

Lower Saxony, Germany.

 Robert Wilhelm Bunsen was a German chemist and created the Bunsen burner, a device that Baxter frequently uses in life and his afterlife. Baxter’s real name (fan made) Brenner means “burner” in German. Bunsen was a chemist role model for Baxter. Bunsen died in 1899, when Baxter was ten. Baxter went to the same university, University of Gottingen.

 Baxter: white skinned short man, short black hair, ocean blue eyes, later wears glasses, gloves, goggles and lab coats. Frequently wears a dark blue suit with a bow tie, white buttons, black shoes and a round matching hat. Freckles dot his cheeks.

In Hell, he is seen wearing dark gray lab coat with gloves, a top hat and esca light hanging from his head of blue/cyan hair. He has fins and cyan freckles.

 Father: Dr. Myron Fischer: tall man with black hair, black beard, glasses. Local fisherman, baker and later scientist after moving to the city. Showed Baxter concepts of a shrink ray, which Baxter would later use as a weapon in Hell.

 Mother: Maraia (star of the sea) Fischer: Bread baker, later nurse after moving to the city, studies germs and microbes, leading to Baxter’s obsession with studying small things. Instilled a hard-working, no nonsense attitude to her sons at a young age.

 Younger brother: Ryan Solis Fischer: musician (named after fan voice actor Ryan Solis, creator of Baxter’s Science Serenade). Ryan later went to Heaven and continued sharing his popular music. His parents chided him for not working hard like Baxter but Baxter always defending him.

 Baxter loves science and solitude but dislikes being touched due to a fear of germs and not being in control.

1893 age 5

Baxter is an innocent little boy who enjoys looking at fish and marine life. His father teaches him how to fish.

 At a young age, Baxter was struck by lightning and survived. The strike and his parents pressuring him to work hard led to his genius and obsession over his work. It also led to his stuttering impairment and OCD, which made him a target for bullying. Doctors nearly put him in an asylum after expressing so called “antisocial autism traits.” He was frequently poked and prodded by examiners, leading to a fear/dislike of being touched by others.

 1897 age 9

Baxter dissects fish and becomes interested in science. He does science fairs as a kid but is bullied at school because of his stuttering and being a nerd. He is pressured by his parents to achieve perfect grades all the time. When he misbehaves, he gets shocked by his parents.

 1904 age 16

Baxter was the leader of the scientist club and was working as an apprentice to a brilliant mind, a fellow mad scientist who got him interested in in-depth experiments and unethical practices. Baxter furthered his studies at the University of Gottingen from 1906-1909.

 Baxter soon fell in love with a woman researcher.

 Baxter triggered the pleasure and pain receptors of subjects and studied anglerfish intently, dissecting fish, rats and other animals. He was infamously known for producing chemicals later to be used in nuclear warfare.

 Over time, Baxter became more neurotic and isolated, wanting everything to be in its proper place. He became obsessed with small things, trying to make a miniature version of himself. He killed many victims via injecting diseases, chemicals, electric shocks etc. all “for the greater good” of progress.

 He fell in love with a woman but when she became repulsed by his methods, he grew bitter. His experiment gone wrong accidentally killed his mother, and his father never forgave him for that. The chemical that Baxter made were to be sued in the upcoming World War One.

 “Dragged Into The Depths”

April 14 1912 age 24

Baxter dies on a boat (The V.M. Angler) in 1912 (same day as the Titanic) after traveling to the United States in search of a more prosperous life. He was going to bring his dark experiments with him but the boat flooded in a violent storm. Baxter had been studying and abusing anglerfish in particular, trying to use their glow for light. Like calculating anglerfish, Baxter lurks alone in the darkness, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. When he ironically couldn’t swim, he sank to the bottom of the ocean and was promptly eaten by none other than a hungry anglerfish.

 Baxter died at the start of World War One and before World War 2 and Nazi Germany.

 Hell, 1912: “Fishy Fish Out Of Water”

Baxter arrives in Hell as a blue-teal anglerfish with female features. He can breathe underwater and turn into a giant anglerfish in his demon form. Baxter realizes that he is bisexual, showing a brief appreciation for Niffty and Sir Pentious. (Baxter has a secret on again off again crush on Sir Pentious, Niffty and Helsa…and even thinks Alastor is hot at times, though he denies it to himself.)

 Other demons are quick to bully Baxter, but he manages to escape. During an extermination, he grabs an angelic spear and uses its angelic energy to power up his inventions. Baxter travels underwater to Leviathan’s kingdom. Baxter would’ve been lost, but his family managed to get a position as researchers for King Leviathan, the gatekeeper sea monster. The king and one of the von Eldritch family members gives Baxter enough funds for him to build his own laboratory: Baxter’s Laboratory! (The von Eldritch members only helped Baxter and his family because they were Leviathan’s talented researchers)

 Baxter’s parents resemble fish in Hell (mother a pufferfish, his dad another anglerfish) and have new names: Myron (after Reducto) and Maraia (Star of the Sea). His father still fishes on sea and captures sea monsters for Baxter to study. Both his parents are still strict and distant from him.

 Like the anglerfish, Baxter resides alone in his dark underground lab, seeking victims to prey and experiment on. Ironically, he remains scared of drowning and being trapped underwater. Thankfully, his demon form allows him to swim and breathe underwater.

  1915: “The Coldblooded Madmen”

Baxter becomes an ally/rival to Sir Pentious. The snake almost kills him when the fish accidentally steps into his territory. In exchange for Sir Pentious sparing Baxter’s life in turf wars, Baxter helps Sir Pentious create his Egg Bois “They’re alive!” and they exchange inventions.

 Baxter grows tired of Sir Pentious’ old time inventions and Vox alerts him of newer inventions on Earth that he later incorporates over the years.

 1920s-1990s: “Xirxine”

At some point, Baxter joins forces with Xirxine labs and Annie the cold Zoophobia scientist, where they separately perform unethical experiments on other demons. (lobotomies, electric shock therapy, hunger prison studies, injections of drugs and magic etc.) They use their DNA samples to study all their powers and physical features. Baxter creates his shrink ray “Back off, I say!” as he shrinks demons to capture them and perform experiments on.

 2000s: “Potion Making”

After Velvet arrives in Hell, she orders Baxter to create potions, perfumes and drugs for her to sell on social media. Baxter creates drugs and poisonous chemicals. Baxter longs to create Hell into an underwater metallic paradise of his own making. He believes that everyone else is dumb and deserves to be manipulated. Baxter misses his parents but also doesn’t mind being alone…most of the time.

 2021:  “The Hazbin Hotel Episode 1!”

At some point, Baxter is tired of being watched and observed under the microscopic eyes of the tech Overlords and Sir Pentious. Baxter reluctantly goes to the Hazbin hotel for a place to stay, along with Mimzy and Crymini. He is genuinely curious and skeptical of whether Charlie’s idea of redeeming sinner could work. Baxter meets Niffty, Mimzy, Crymini and the other residents of Hazbin Hotel. Baxter then decides to create another lab…underneath the Hazbin Hotel!

 Baxter thinks Niffty is cute in her own way but isn’t interested in any romantic relationship. Niffty, however, follows him everywhere, much to his annoyance. Baxter isn’t happy when he’s forced to go to Charlie’s “group therapy” sessions instead of working in peace. Charlie says that Baxter needs to come out of his shell, make friends and use his experiments for good instead of evil. Baxter then studies everyone, taking notes and considering making A.I.s and more creatures in tanks. He writes down information about all their abilities. Baxter creates demon lab rats but is mad when Niffty eats them up as she cleans.

 Like Reducto from Harvey Birdman, and Fu from Dragon Ball Xenoverse, Baxter’s love of science can get him on the wrong terms with people. He wants to study Alastor’s dark powers and use them for his own gain but knows to stay far away from him. Despite being somewhat affiliated with the oceanic Von Eldritch family, Baxter doesn’t care much for Seviathan and Helsa. He doesn’t like them for good reason, they consider sinners inferior. Baxter knows there is tension between Vaggie, Seviathan and Alastor as they all fight over Charlie!

  2022: “Villainous Vs” “Back off, I say!”

After Baxter tries to take over Hell by spreading drugs and machines in Pentagram City, he is eventually apprehended by Charlie and company. Baxter’s parents, Niffty and others help him redeem.

 Baxter fights the Three Vs but Vox steals his technology, becoming a greater threat. Baxter and Sir Pentious are held hostage in their own inventions. Vox plans to broadcast their deaths on TV: Sir Pentious being crushed by machinery and Baxter being drowned and eaten by Vark, Vox’s pet shark!

 Thankfully, Charlie, Vaggie, Alastor, Husk, Niffty and Angel Dust arrive to save the day. This also takes place when Angel Dust tries to break free of Valentino and confront his father Henroin.

 Sir Pentious had wanted to be with the “cool crowd” and looked up to Vox as his crush. But once he was aware of Vox’s evil intentions, he and Baxter team up to help Charlie and the hotel.

 2023: “Plan to Eradicate The Sinners”

It is later revealed that Rosie, the Von Eldritch family and the angels all have a grudge against sinners and Charlie. They all view sinners as inferior to the Hell-Born elite. They view Charlie and her plan as a threat to the stable hierarchy and plan to crush her dreams with Lucifer’s help. Rosie and the Eldritch family are closely connected since Helsa often buys clothing and antiques from Rosie. Rosie stays on Alastor’s good side until later tricking him. (Alastor then knows what it feels like to be betrayed after he casually betrayed Charlie and her hotel). Rosie aims to make sinners her designer slaves, cannibal food and torture toys while Vox and Valentino plan to influence other demons via brainwashing. The villains all have a similar goal: stop Charlie from enacting her plan so they can remain in power.)

 Rosie makes a deal with the Three Vs, they would give each other money and Rosie would allow Vox and company to continue their media, provided they stay out of her way. Now Charlie and all the Hazbins must work together to fight the monopoly formidable foes. Lucifer orders them not to harm Charlie but they could harm anyone else if they put her in danger (aka Alastor). Of course, Charlie doesn’t want her dad to kill Alastor, so she and her friends have to redeem themselves and form other allegiances along the way. (Cherri Bomb, Molly (in Heaven with Angel’s mother), Alastor’s mother (in Heaven), Arackniss, Roo, Mimzy, Crymini, Baxter, maybe Sir Pentious, I.M.P. etc.) Charlie and company must stop the cannibals, Egg Bois, influenced/possessed demons of Vox/Alastor…without losing control of her power and giving into her primal Full Demon Hybrid Form. Baxter spends a lot of time helping Niffty and making chemicals to use against enemies.

 2025: “Heaven and Hell War Take Two!”

Baxter would eventually team up with Charlie and the others in the fight against the Von Eldritch family, the Three Vs, and the angels. Baxter would make inventions to fight the Exterminators, becoming less neurotic and more open to people.

  Baxter would eventually get redeemed and go to Heaven, but he wanted to go to Atlantis instead. Baxter considers building a rocket and flying through space to another world. He thanks Charlie for all she has done for him and he promises to use his experiments to heal and help advance Hell society…when he feels like it.

 Baxter and his family briefly go to Heaven and Baxter shares his work with Niffty by his side. Hell became his more familiar home and Baxter ponders the idea of reincarnation. If Baxter goes to Heaven, he turns into a human-like version of himself with white wings, a halo and features of an angelfish instead of an anglerfish.

#baxter #hazbinhotel

[cee693]

I Loved and I Loved and I Lost You.

Cee693

Summary:

The Paragon of Love deals with life alone at the Vanishing Point.

Notes:

Brief, based on how *awful* Barry looks in the new promo pictures.

This wasn't the plan.

Barry leaned heavily against the stone wall where he spent the majority of his days and used a shaky hand to pull out his cell phone.

His fingers moved unhurriedly along his phone screen. They had been in this place for a long while and he still didn’t understand its rules. The remains of the oculus that Sara was trying to get to--- well he didn’t know exactly what--- remained dark in spite of their tinkering, but his cell phone still worked as if he were still on earth. In cruel ironic twist, he could still even make calls. Not that there was anyone left in the galaxy to call.

Still, he dialed one number without fail every night before he fell into restless sleep. Of course there was never any answer. Her line never even rang. It just went straight to voicemail which he appreciated. All he wanted was the sound of her melodic voice apologizing for missing him, asking him to leave a message or try again later.

He always did.

But, that’s not what he was after right now.

The apology was for nighttime. The daytime was meant for her laughter.

He tapped into his own voicemail and pulled up the message he'd been playing on loop every day since they'd been in this place.

It was from a little over two years ago. He'd saved it to his phone back then after it'd come through.

Iris had called from the loft after work wondering when he would be home.

She didn't know he was already upstairs getting changed after a shower. He'd heard her leaving him a message as he crept downstairs to her.

Iris's back was to him and he tiptoed up behind her. He grabbed her sides and growled playfully in her ear and she shouted in fright.

The message muffled for a few seconds as she turned in his arms.

When the line cleared, it was to the sound of her lightly chiding him for scaring her.

That wasn't very nice. And to think I was excited to see you because I'd brought you a treat."

Barry remembered her sliding her arms around his neck and pulling him close to her.

"I don't even want it."

"Is that right?"

"You're all the treat I need."

Iris had chuckled breathlessly. "Alright, smooth talker. Slow down."

"Barry!" She laughed.

Barry's eyes shut in pain.

In his head he can see the scene. The setting sun sprinkling dusk in their apartment.

The golds and earth tones of the loft reflected the warm hues and glowed against Iris's warm skin. Her teeth blinding him as she laughed.

He’d stopped peppering her face with kisses long enough to ask what she’d gotten him.

Iris demurely reached behind her and grabbed a familiar pink bag.

Barry had grinned and taken the bag from her, recognizing the logo of their favorite bakery.

She stopped him before he could open it though. “Okay, I may have exaggerated to make you feel bad for scaring me. Maybe a more accurate statement would’ve been that I brought you the gift of leftovers.”

Barry peeked inside and saw that there was in fact only a half-eaten cookie sitting on top of a bunch of parchment paper.

Iris bit her lip when Barry looked at her quickly.

Amusement colored her face. "Sorry."

Barry tossed the bag on the counter and he'd tickled her then. Long and hard. And her laughter had filled his ears then just as sweetly as it did now.

She eventually escaped his clutches and he'd chased after her, not using his powers.

Her phone had dropped somewhere and with both of them occupied, neither noticed the call still recording.

Eventually, his voicemail ended her message, but before then he had a few glorious minutes of the faint sound of her laughter ringing somewhere from the apartment.

The recording ended too soon, just like it always did and he was once again in the morbid landscape of the Vanishing Point.

This wasn't the plan.

He grabbed his hair and used all his energy to keep the scream bubbling in his throat down.

He felt broken. Not like himself. Not like any human with a heart still beating.

He felt dead inside. Like his life force had left him long ago.

Like the Barry from 2024.

He thought he'd changed that future, but he guessed not.

Because this was who he couldn’t outrun. The person he would always become without her.

It was inevitable.

Though, he'd tried to fight it. Tried to put plans in motion to prevent it.

After Yorkin. After Savitar and the Speed Force, he'd sat Iris down and had a talk he needed to have more than anything.

"I know I've asked you for so much," Barry had started. "But, I need you to promise me something. And I need it to be a promise you never break. Okay?"

She had nodded slowly, unsure of what could be so serious. So vital.

"In sixty or seventy years, when it's time for us to go, let me go first," he requested.

Iris was at first taken back and then horrified. "Barry! What-"

Barry shook his head just needing her to agree. Not to question- or worse reassure- him.

He knew what he was asking.

"I can't do it," he told her seriously, trying to calm the tidal wave that had encompassed him ever since that first time he saw her die on Infantino Street.

"I can't. Not even for a second. I've been to hell and it's you dying and leaving me here. I can't do it again. So when the time comes in the far-off future, whenever you're ready, just hold on long enough for me to go first."

Tears had pooled her eyes and she swallowed hard at the thought, but she searched his face for a long pause and she saw that he meant what he said.

So, she nodded once and touched his hand. "I promise."

And yet here he was. In hell. Alone.

This wasn't the plan.

Iris was dead. Everyone- they were all dead.

He touched his wedding band.

He was a widower. He was all alone.

The other six were still fighting. Still trying to save the world. Hell, even Lex Luther had stepped up to the plate.

But, he couldn't. He wasn't who they thought he was.

He stood among them a fraud.

They were Paragons independent of the world around them.

Truth, honor, hope, humanity.

They chose to embody these things in spite of the world around them.

Their strengths came from within themselves.

His came from another.

Truth.

Destiny.

Honor.

Humanity.

Hope.

Courage.

Those things were inside of heroes. They were virtues that heroes found inside themselves when all else was lost.

Those things were innate.

But, love... Love was taught and love was found.

Love had a source. A center. It had a face. It had a name.

His Love had a name.

And she'd taught him everything he'd ever need to know about love. Boundless love. Unconditional love.

The source of his powers both as the Flash and as a Paragon was her. And now she was no more.

And his fight- his purpose- were no more too.

So he sat. And he grieved. And he raged. But, he couldn't help the others.

He couldn't pick up all the broken pieces of himself in time to be of use to anyone.

And, in spite of mostly bit tongues, he knew all the others hated him for it.

Well, not all.

Ryan Choi got it. Ryan left him alone. Ryan was all but leading the charge, never losing hope, but he understood enough of what Barry was feeling to show him sympathy.

While everyone else yelled in frustration or badgered him to do his part and try, Ryan brought him water and sat with him in silence at his favorite spot on the floor.

Ryan understood.

J'onn too.

Two men who had loved and lost and had no other choice but to keep breathing.

They got it.

Everyone here had lost family, friends, home.

But, losing your soulmate. Losing your guiding light - it changed your DNA.

He had lost everything.

This wasn't the plan.

He didn't belong here.

Truth.

Destiny.

Honor.

Humanity.

Hope.

Courage.

All meaningless words without love.

Above all else, Love was and always would be the driving force in his life.

When the truth was hard or hidden, Love made him see it clear.

When destiny showed him death and destruction, Love told him that there was another way.

When his morals wavered- when he was tempted to throw them away to save the day, Love reminded him exactly who he was. Love was his honor code.

Love was the center of his humanity. The thing that kept him grounded in a storm of the impossible. His lightning rod. Even before the speed force. Since they were kids. Love was what kept him alive in a sea of death.

Love was hope. Loving Love meant years of hoping they would one day be together. Years of believing in a happy ending.

Now she was no more.

This wasn't the plan.

What courage could be found here when he was only fearless with her? The thought of her is what made him keep going even when he was terrified.

It's what filled the cracks of broken bones long enough for him to hold his tired body up and persevere.

If anyone wanted to know about his courage, it was her. She was his courage.

He was a fraud.

She powered the hero. She sustained the man.

He was the face of the operation, but she was its soul.

And now she was no more.

His Iris.

He began to weep again.

It wasn't long before he heard commotion a ways away.

"---just give him some space."

"He's had all the space in what's left of the world! What about the rest of us? We've all lost everything. Not just him."

Batwoman, he recognized. She sounded angry. And Ryan who was holding her back sounded exhausted.

"Get the hell up, Flash!" Kate shouted angrily over Ryan's shoulder. "There's work to do."

It had taken a lot for the normally reserved and understanding woman to lose her cool. Days trapped in this place had done her in.

Or was it months?

Barry didn't know. He didn't count. He didn't care.

And Kate had put up with that apathy until she couldn't anymore.

"Pariah put us here for a reason! We're the only ones with a chance of saving the multiverse, but only if we work together. All of us!"

'Pariah,' Barry thought with a snarl.

If he ever saw that man again, he'd kill him with his bare hands.

Pariah could've saved them all.

Why hadn't he saved them all?

Why hadn't he waited long enough for Barry to grab Iris's hand? He could've brought her with him.

Pariah had saved the Paragons. The universe’s last hopes. But, those were just titles with no meaning.

If Pariah had really understood what it took, if he really understood just exactly what constituted as a hero, his golden streams would’ve flowed right past Barry and encompassed his wife.

Pariah had saved the wrong Allen.

And now here they were at the center of nowhere. Where nothing grows and nothing speaks, with no more of a plan than the day they'd arrived.

“Get! Up!” Kate gritted out. "Get up and try! Fight!”

The rest came between them, trying to calm Kate and throwing Barry looks that ranged from pity to disgust.

He was unmoved.

Barry watched silently as Ryan and Kara gently led Kate off somewhere. He could hear Kara's soft words of comfort.

And then he heard Kate whisper brokenly. “We all lost. All of us…, Sophie… I couldn't save her. I couldn’t…”

He felt the tiniest bit of intrigue before he felt nothing at all.

He hadn’t counted correctly, Barry realized. There weren’t only two others.

Kate understood too.

And he understood why she was so mad.

He’d had that fire right at the beginning. When they’d first arrived, before the finality of it all had settled in, he’d raged against the rest; yelled at them to find a way back to the Waverider.

But, no one had listened and they made him see why going back was impossible.

And then he grew silent and he'd found his favorite spot on the floor.

Once Kate’s outburst was quelled the others meandered off, back to whatever tasks they’d been busying themselves with.

And Barry was once again left to the quiet of his thoughts.

He was grateful.

His trembling fingers picked up the phone he'd put down and they swiped at the screen.

He opened up the folder of the saved voice recording and he pressed play once again.

#westallen #Barry Allen #Crisis on Infinite Earths #The Flash #Iris West #Ryan Choi #Kate Kane

[collecting-stories]

Kid - Carl Grimes

This isn’t based on any request. Just based on the idea that Carl has a crush on a girl in the group who is a little older than him and he desperately wants her to take him seriously. 

Kid - Carl Grimes x reader

It was increasingly harder to tell time these days. Weeks, months, years passed and all you could really do was guess. Was it Wednesday, had the New Year started, was Ryan Seacrest still alive? Not all important questions but they served enough to keep you occupied. Things in your hometown had gone mad when the epidemic first started. Whenever that was. You had to be at least eighteen now right? Maybe nineteen? Who was to say. The last birthday you remembered was spent with a very special trip to Nashville, to see a Taylor Swift concert. Was she still alive?

Your mom had surprised you with tickets two days before your actual birthday and you’d been so excited you had cried and then you cried again watching Taylor on stage. To be fair you were turning 14 and it was a very emotional time for you. A week later and the dead were walking and your mom was evacuating the house.  

And then somehow, through means that you glossed over whenever asked about, you ended up in Georgia, in a prison with a group of survivors that quickly became your family. Taylor Swift and birthdays and your mom and time were all part of some old world, one you couldn’t return to. And while all the other parts of life that you didn’t like were also gone you still missed sleepovers with best friends and ‘girl’s nights’ with your mom. Being at the prison was okay, and while it wasn’t teeming with kids your age there were a few. Beth was nice enough and Patrick was funny albeit a little more naive than anyone else living in the post-apocalypse.  

And then there was Carl.  

Despite what others had lost you and Carl gravitated towards each other, kindred spirits as Michonne had said, comforted by the knowledge that neither of you were alone in losing a mother. And that both of you had experienced the trauma of having to be responsible for your mother’s death. Carl had shot Lori in the head before she could turn, overshadowing the joy of his sister’s birth with the death of his mom. You had killed your mother right after you crossed the state line. You knew because looming above you was a sign that said ‘Welcome to Georgia’. A small herd of walkers had come out of the woods and when you tried to get away one of them grabbed your mother. Unlike Carl, you didn’t shoot your mother in the head. You shot her arm to loosen her grip when she wouldn’t let you go and then you ran, listening to the sounds of her screaming while she was being eaten alive.  

“This life is all about hard choices.” Rick had offered when he and Daryl had found you on the road. They asked their three questions and you told them what had happened.  

“She was bitten, I would’ve died if she didn’t let go. I didn’t want to die.” You didn’t cry as you relayed the story. The girl who cried at stupid teen movies and pop songs had stopped existing while you were still in Tennessee. This girl didn’t cry at anything.  

After the prison you found your way to Glenn and Tara and eventually back with the whole group. The only kids who survived, made even more blatant by Beth dying in Atlanta, you and Carl seemed to draw closer to each other. The three years between the two of you had never really mattered, even at the prison and especially now as you travelled toward D.C. Eugene made a lot of claims, most of them untrue, but all of you were hoping that this would be the last time you had to pick up and leave.  

Though things hadn’t been smooth in Alexandria when you first arrived, and trouble seemed to follow your group the way it did all those old school tv detectives, you still managed to settle into a life here. There were more kids but you had somehow graduated from that moniker. You started hanging around Rosita and Tara more, helping Carol with Judith, watching the wall with Sasha or Daryl. And Carl, who was still more skilled than you by your own admission, was expected to fit in with the kids there. Ron and Enid and the others.  

“They don’t do anything, it’s like...they’re living in a bubble.” Carl had complained after the first couple nights there.  

“That’s cause they are.” You laughed.  

The two of you were sitting up in his room, trying to manage a game of war while Judith napped in her pack’n’play. It was the only card game either of you could remember and Carl mentioned that his mom had taught him how to play.

“Yeah but, I’m not. I don’t wanna sit around and play video games and pretend that doesn’t exist. They’ve never even been outside the walls, except Enid. I don’t get why she wastes her time with them.” Carl grumbled. For thinking he was above being a teenager he sounded an awful lot like one.

“Sounds like xbox isn’t the problem.” You laughed, glancing up from your cards to look at him.  

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re jealous.”

“I am not.”

“Come on kid, you totally are so. Remember when Beth dated...whatshisname? You were so moody. This is literally the same thing.” You replied, “Is Enid cute?”

“I’m not jealous and don’t call me kid.” He pulled away when you leaned over to ruffle his hair. “Would you stop it!”

“Okay, okay.”  

“I’m not jealous.” He huffed, catching the look on your face.  

While Carl’s attention was seemingly focused on Enid you were trying to prove yourself to his father, doing whatever you could to help both inside the walls and out. You weren’t sixteen like the other kids in Alexandria, you were old enough to help, to be given responsibilities. You had been out there and survived and that gave you a sort of authority in a place with most people, even the adults, had never ventured outside the walls. With you helping and Carl off running around the woods with Enid it was only natural that the two of you drifted apart. Gone were the days of confiding in each other. There were no more late-night stops into the other’s room to talk or just sit together. No doing chores with each other like you used to at the prison.  

You didn’t really spend time together again until the aftermath of the herd and the wolves. While Alexandria tried to repair it’s broken parts you offered to help Rick look after Judith, take responsibility away from Carl so that he could heal.  

“Come on, there are literal dead people walking the earth Carl, I think we’re passed high school bullshit. No one is gonna treat you different just cause you’re missing an eye.” You pointed out as you sat in the infirmary with him, changing the bandage on his eye.  

Carl was holding his fringe out of the way so you could see his face clearly as you applied ointment around the wound. Your face was close to his and he was studying you as you worked. Noting any small imperfections in your skin. It might be the apocalypse but that didn’t mean you weren’t victim to acne and there was a small rash of a breakout on your jaw that Carl thought was kind of adorable. Even though you were probably annoyed with it. “You don’t know that.”  

“If anything they probably think you’re like super cool.” You replied.  

“No one thinks that.”

“Wrong again, I definitely think that. I’m sure Enid does too kid.”

“Whatever.” Carl rolled his eyes. Enid was alright and he liked hanging out with her, if only because she had been outside the walls too. But she wasn’t you. All Carl wanted was to get your attention and it seemed like every time he did it backfired on him. You were oblivious to him, no matter how hard he tried to get you to notice. Instead you thought he was interested in Enid and egged him on about her constantly.  

He tried in the weeks that passed to get your attention. Rick started to trust him more and more with things around the safe zone. But still he felt like he couldn’t get your attention. And when he could it never changed. That annoying moniker of ‘kid’ that you adopted at the prison stuck every time you said anything to him. The tag at the end of a sentence that he wished he could cut off. It didn’t seem like there was a way to change your perspective until he stowed away on one of Negan’s trucks.  

You were at the house with Judith when he was delivered back to the compound. The moment you saw him in the front yard you ran outside, leaving the youngest Grimes in her pack’n’play. The force of you throwing your arms around him as you collided with him sent him stumbling back a step, holding your waist in shock. He had finally surpassed you in height over the summer and had a good two inches on you so he leaned his head down to press his forehead against your shoulder while you held the back of his head with one hand.

“Carl.” Rick called his son’s name and the two of you broke away from each other.  

You didn’t see him again until later that night when you went up to his room, a deck of cards in your hands though you had no intention of playing.  

“Hey, can I come in?” You asked, leaning against the open door frame.

Carl nodded.  

“You scared the shit outta me today Carl...I thought you for sure...” Your voice cracked and you paused to stop yourself from crying, “just cause you haven’t died yet doesn’t mean you can’t. You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Hey, I don’t need you to lecture me too.” Carl replied, taking your admission of fear as scolding. “I’m sick of sitting here doing nothing. They killed Glenn and Abraham, they have Daryl! And we’re just giving them whatever they want.”

“Your dad knows what he’s doing.” You said, coming into the room and closing the door behind you so no one would hear you.  

“Oh yeah, Rick Grimes is so amazing. He knows exactly what to do all the time.” He replied sarcastically, glaring at you.

“I mean, Carl Grimes is pretty amazing too.” You joked, taking a seat on the bed.  

“I just wanted to do something.”

“I know. I was just...I was so scared Carl. We’ve lost so many people.”

“What’s another name on the wall?”  

“Hey! I made it this far because of you. Yeah, Rick and Daryl found me on the road but that would never have mattered if you hadn’t been at the prison. I survived because I had you.” You replied honestly, “you’re not just a name on a wall Carl...to anyone, Michonne, Carol, your dad, me especially.”

Carl leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours suddenly. Your eyes widened and just soon as he had kissed you he was pulling away, his own eyes wide as he stared at you in shock. “I should,” he stood up and rubbed his hands against his jeans anxiously before going to the door and opening it. “I should get some rest. Goodnight.”  

You nodded, your mind foggy as you stood up and walked to the door. You stopped in the doorway and Carl looked away, trying not to meet your eyes as you stood across from him. “Goodnight Carl.” You lean forward and kiss his cheek, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

When he closes his door he realizes that for the first time in a long time you didn’t call him ‘kid’. And he can’t keep the smile off his face as he shuts his door and flops back down on the bed.  

_

I adore Carl and am still bitter over his death. He’s a gem and I’ll fight anyone who says he’s a bratty kid. (that's my bratty kid thank you very much). 

taglist: @thinkingsofamadwoman @mixedwiththemoon @titty-teetee  @queenmissfit @marvelismylifffe @iluvmesomemarvelndc @absentmindeduniverse @his-paradox @gigilame @sabertooth-potato @enrapturedbythemoon 

#Carl Grimes x reader #Carl Grimes imagine #Carl Grimes fanfic #Carl Grimes fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead fanfic #twd fanfiction #twd imagine #twd fanfic #collecting stories imagine

[zukofenty]

off the grid

➜ Summary: The one where Katara is a spoiled heiress who manages to crash land on a (cute) soldier of one of the most dangerous nations in the world. 

“Get your face out of my vagina!” Katara screams at the top of her lungs. 

“Here’s a thought, get your vagina out of my face first!”

➜ Genre: Modern!AU, humor, CEO!Katara, Soldier!Zuko, Crash Landing on You!AU 

➜ Words: 10.3k

AO3 @zutaramonth

“Get your face out of my vagina!” Katara screams at the top of her lungs.

  “Here’s a thought, get your vagina out of my face first!” Zuko yelps, words gargling. He currently was being suffocated by the crotch at his neck. After Katara’s many screams, and a swift kick to his face, they both scrambled off each other, laying on the ground for a quick moment of relief. Her body is aching after throwing herself from the tree she was stuck in. 

  After realization set in that he was a soldier who was just nearly crushed to death by a cooch, and she was a woman who somehow crossed impenetrable borders, they swiftly were both upright. Katara in a fighting stance, and Zuko’s gun automatically pointed at the girl’s face. Her eyes nervously darted around, looking for any escape route in the expanse of wilderness and trees and furry animals she sure were foaming at the mouth, looking for a bite of gorgeous heiress who smelled of Chanel No. 5. 

  “I’m a bad bitch, you can’t kill me!” Katara screeches, taking off as fast as her Yeezys could take her. 

  “Um, yeah I can !” He insists, shooting into her general direction. He wasn’t trying to kill her persay. Maybe maim. (It just would’ve been a lot easier if she died). 

  “Fuck!” he screams, once the girl was out of sight. 

  Last week, Katara was cyberbullying Debby Ryan from the comfort of her penthouse. One of her larger concerns of the week was debating buying the rights to all of her Disney Channel movies, just because she felt like it. Then, she could post clips of her disturbing, Radio Rebel smile every day on Instagram without copyright claims and she could blissfully ignore Debby Ryan DMing her a defamation lawsuit. 

  She had money money . Like being able to turn on the AC during the summer type of wealthy. The type of rich that could sing John Lennon’s Imagine during any crisis and say that’s enough activism for today . After all, she was an heiress of one of the richest families in the Water Tribes—a nation at the forefront of nearly every cultural conversation. In the past, every other nation out there doubted their abilities based on size alone, underestimating the tribes’ growing force. Once a nation surviving on simply hope to prosper post 100 Years War, they were now a cultural powerhouse you couldn’t ignore if you tried. From their dramas, skincare routines, and exquisite cuisine (two-headed fish soup and all), the nation was suddenly the talk of the entire world. They thrived under people’s ignorant assumptions. Blossomed despite people’s mistreatment of them in the media. Soon enough, those who questioned their authority were begging for alliances. 

  Except for the Fire Nation. A nation stuck so determinedly in the past. Notorious for their inability to move on from the world of centuries ago. The world where the Fire Nation was a dominating force. While every nation competed to innovate, the Fire Nation seemingly refused to accept reality. Their borders were violently closed off. Their trade was limited to working with the Earth Nation every once in a blue moon. Refugees who manage to escape tell stories of a cruel life seemingly stuck in the stone ages. Their leader, Azulon, threatens to bomb somewhere, something, someone every other week, and every nation’s relationship with them has remained precariously in the air since then. 

  “What the actual fuck !” She screeches. “I thought this was one of those national parks joggers find bodies in, not the fucking Fire Nation !” 

  Dead or alive, people weren’t allowed to make it out of the Fire Nation. 

  Katara was a stubborn CEO. The kind to only accept things by her way, by her standards. Coming from money didn’t mean shit when you didn’t have the raw hunger she had. She wasn’t like many of her peers. She wasn’t content with just sitting back and signing a few papers once in a while so she could make it to her SoulCycle class. But, she’d like to think that’s what made her so successful for the last decade. Katara was insistent on testing her clothing company’s new batch of athletic clothing. She scaled a mountain range in the sweat resistant hoodie. She swam in Olympic sized pools in their innovative, competition ready swimsuit and swim cap matching set. Of course, it made sense to test their new paragliding uniform. At the time. 

  “ Don’t move. This field is full of landmines,” Zuko warns, putting out his hand to stop the shaking girl. He sees it in her eyes, the way she’s about to run after he’s managed to catch up to her, and unknowingly blow this entire shit up. “They’re grey and round, or shaped like a box that—” 

  “Like the one you’re stepping on, right now?” Katara smirks, hands coming to her hips to taunt him.

  He freezes, hands coming out to balance himself at the edge of the stream she’s managed to leap across. 

  “Again, I am a bad bitch. These won’t kill me. You won’t kill me.” She snatches his walkie talkie from his jacket’s pocket, and thinks about just taking it and letting the guy who almost fucking shot her suffer. She decides against it (she didn’t want to get on God’s, or Rihanna’s, bad side today) and sets it down on the ground in front of him. He’s left to watch her expertly leap around a few stray explosives. 

  “If ‘bad bitch’ means missing a few limbs, sure. Go ahead ,” Zuko baits. She happily gives him the bird, before running as fast as she could in her Yeezy Boost 350s. Running even when she hears gunshots whizzing past her. Running even when she sees a sign, warning about a field of landmines. 

  She runs until her vision becomes blurry, and all she can hear are little children chanting a song about the Fire Nation’s greatness. She runs, even when her body feels like lead, and her eyes are a hair’s breadth away from shutting. 

  //

  He doesn’t know why he helps her. Why he wants her to get out of here alive. Why he scoops her up once soldiers began flooding the village she stumbled upon. They were making sure everyone was doing their part in singing the national anthem before the enforced curfew. She should’ve been shot to death by now by his men, or at least mauled by a wild lion vulture. 

  He just doesn’t understand it. Their forces were meant to kill , trained to shoot anything at the border on sight. He doesn’t understand how this five foot nothing girl had outrun men who have trained in the military for nearly their whole lives. His army was sloppy that day. Most of them were still drunk off of whatever cactus juice and homemade wine combination the ladies at the local village had offered to them. Then again, it wasn’t every day someone decided to paraglide during the biggest storm of the decade. It wasn’t every day someone managed to cross into the Fire Nation, when no one wanted to be there for decades . 

  He doesn’t understand why he pulled her close to his body at the sight of the military’s trucks, and runs them into his house at the edge of the hill. He doesn’t understand why he spent the last three hours painstakingly cooking up noodles from scratch for her. She takes a quick nap on an old sleeping mat he found while he works diligently. His stomach protests the fragrant aroma. He hasn’t eaten a homemade meal in months. 

  “People literally steal and sell my pubic hairs on eBay. The average price is one grand for a single strand. I deserve better,” Katara says. He thinks it’s completely in jest. She cackles when he glares at her. The smile she sends him tries to relay that she's grateful, but he’s hardly swayed by her charms. Instead, he’s scoffing at the efforts.

  A first for her. 

  She’s used to getting her way, as an expert at manipulation. When you’ve spent your whole life ruthlessly competing to run one of the largest corporations in the world, you couldn’t afford to be sweet or gentle or genuine. You learned to work people, bend them to your will until they snap. Then, you move on. Find someone else, do the old song and dance again. 

  Before she could even lift a chopstick, Zuko quickly grabs the bowl from her grasp, a pout forming on his lips. While he was always taught to school his features, he always knew he was no good at it. 

  “I will continue to do what I’ve been doing for the last two hours, and just ignore everything you’ve been saying,” he mutters, sipping at the broth to her dismay. The second she walked in, she called his house “a hut with a dick in it.” When he instructed her to take a shit in the outhouse, she didn't speak to him for the next hour. He thinks he saw her tear up when he mentioned there was no Internet. He swears he was ten seconds away from busting a vein. 

  “ Ugh . Room temperature water?” Zuko guffaws once her nose crinkles up in disgust.

  He blows a stray strand of his hair away from his face. “There are no ice cubes.” She hates how everything he says is so matter of fact. 

  “Get some, then.” she says, as though it was the most obvious answer in the world. “I don’t drink ice cube-less water.”

  He just laughs. “Right, when we get any sort of electricity first, I’ll make it my number one priority to get a fridge that dispenses ice cubes engraved with your perfectly detailed portrait on them, too.” 

  Katara shoves at him, and he just stares at the spot on his chest she touched. “For future reference, I am vegan. Well, vegan adjacent. But still. The point is I am a delicate flower with an even more delicate diet. A delicate flower that’s used to caviar and organic shit and the rich people gluten-free bread you get from Trader Joe’s. So I’ll excuse it this time, but the next time  you make something please remember.” She follows up the command with a sweet smile, as though it made up for her demands.  

  The memory of her dodging bullets with a branch in her hair easily comes up in his mind. “Nothing about you is delicate.” Zuko barely budges when she tries reaching for the bowl again. 

  Katara gasps. “Even my bowel movements are delicate!” 

  He just snorts. 

  She’s annoying, he decides. All brattiness considered. Even with her tiny frame drowning in her dirty paragliding uniform, and a pout that has him wanting to laugh. The way she moves is dainty, with the self-assurance only those who grew up in comfort have. But, something about her eyes reveal something crueler, something so much more vicious underneath the soft exterior. 

  He was thoroughly out of options. While he has her holed up in his house until they decide an escape route, he feels his stomach churning at the thought of the Fire Nation’s regular surprise house inspections. Turning her over to the government meant a quick and easy execution for him and his men without question, and the potential to cause even more political strain with the rest of the world. Even if they do hand her to the government, there’s no telling what they would do to her. 

  He tries to blink the sleep out of his eyes, rubbing at them as thought it could end the nightmare he found himself trapped in.  

  For the last few years, Zuko’s life was a monotonous routine.  

  “Type 63 Rifle, Soviet SKS carbine,” Zuko breathes, ears perking up at the sound of the weapon. His hand comes out to halt the hordes of men. “One of us. Retreat,” he barked, arms  motioning for his battalion to return to their hidden positions among the dwindling flora and fauna. Months in his uniform without rest, months spent guarding the border to ensure no one left. 

  He doesn’t remember much about his life before this. He tries to forget, because it made him too sad. It made him want to do something reckless, to break something, to even cry , because he’s long forgotten anything but getting up, getting into uniform, getting into routine. 

  It was his duty, as the only son of the Fire Nation’s notorious military director. 

  He was trained to be a war wielding machine. To show no mercy. Men in the Fire Nation weren’t meant to be weak . They weren’t allowed to be soft. 

  His mother tried to get away from all of it. She tried as hard as she could to tell her children there was a life you could feel beat with all of your heart, as long as cruelty didn’t find it first. She knew Zuko wasn’t meant for this life. 

  Zuko knew, too. 

  He was never good at anything, never the best one growing up. While he excelled at delivering blows, or wielding his swords, he was always told his mind was a pathetic thing. Too brash, too naive. Azula was always the better one at that. At violence. She was their father’s right hand, her thoughts filled to the brim with genius strategy. Always one step ahead of everyone else, even as a toddler. 

  Zuko was content to be in the background, to be nothing more than a decoration when the family portrait needed to be taken. He wants to be selfish, to blame Azula for pressing pause on his life. The day she was assassinated was the day his dreams of forgetting the Fire Nation all but shriveled up. After all, tradition mandated the military director had a blood successor. 

  //

  “I am not going to put back on my dirty underwear after I shower! I am not a Bhad Bhabie type of bitch,” Katara indignantly spits out, crossing her arms over her chest. 

  Zuko rolls his eyes. Everything she says is confusing . 

  “Don’t act up while I’m gone,” Zuko begs. 

  “Like the City Girls?” 

  She feels her blood boil at his silence. 

  “Please tell me you’re lying. Please tell me you’ve heard of ‘Act Up.’ Please. Don’t let me down now.” 

  “I have no—” 

  “Seriously, where were you all summer? ‘Act up, you can get snatched up?’ Nothing? Nothing rings a fucking bell?” He can’t help but sweat.

  Even when he looked up whatever she says on his work computer (the only time people in the Fire Nation were allowed to use the Internet) he still can’t wrap his head around what exactly a Bhad Bhabie was.  

  “Then don’t wear underwear. I don’t know what else to tell you.” 

  She holds the landline phone close to her mouth, as if to make the message clearer. “Where will the pussy juices go then!” 

  Zuko hangs up on her, only to have her call him precisely 12 minutes later. 

  “My right nipple is chafing. What about my nipple eczema!” She protests. She feels her face shriveling up. Without her Yves Saint Laurent Firming Serum, she feels like a piece of her identity was missing. He had diligently informed her to use his sole bar of soap for all purposes before he left for work, and she nearly fainted on the spot. 

  “Tell it to go away, I guess?” Zuko suggests, trying his hardest to sound helpful. He tried leaving detailed notes on how to take a hot bath by pouring boiling water in his basin, and clipping the plastic shower curtain to the ceiling, trapping the heat in. He prays she hasn’t burned down his house, or someone hasn’t seen her through the gate.

  “I can’t!” Katara seethes. 

  Zuko rubs at his temples. “This was meant for only emergencies. Goodbye !” Zuko slams the phone, returning to his paperwork. He feels a hot blush spreading across his cheeks, and tries to bring his hand up to his face to alleviate the warm feeling.

  //

  She doesn’t know why he’s so nice to her. 

  When she’s all but threatened him and blackmailed his entire crew to keep their silence and help her escape.

  She simply laughs, the sound foreign to even her own ears. Her empty stomach painfully clenched in protest at the sudden sensation. It had to be some sort of sick joke. A sick fucking joke probably crafted up by Pakku! Or some of those man-children from the Northern Tribes who think they know a thing or two because they took a Marketing 101 crash course on Khan Academy! 

  She needed to get back for the big shareholders meeting. They were going to announce the new CEO of Moon Tech, the largest corporation in the Water Tribes. It was everything she had been working for her entire life. She couldn’t afford to miss it, lest it show any weakness whatsoever. As the most viable successor, she was sure all eyes were watching her every move. Yet, somehow, she managed to end up on the set of a period piece gone wrong. A miserable, yet probably Academy Award winning, period piece that smelled like moose knuckle pussy pickle. 

  She looked to the closed door, the flimsy thing separating the minute living room from his even smaller bedroom. She felt guilty for misjudging him upon their first meeting. 

  She thinks she feels more guilty for breaking his favorite vase. 

  “C’mon! That was my favorite ficus,” he grumbles, rubbing the spot on his head she broke the vase on. He avoids her gaze because she’s clad in one of his old dress shirts and nothing else, the thing coming to fall at her knees. If he blushes any harder, he thinks she might notice. Her hair is wrapped up in a messy updo and her face is scrubbed clean. The faintest tint of pink dusts across her cheeks. 

  “Sorry,” she whispers, hand coming to rub at the spot. She was nervous hearing someone wiggle the doorknob when he hadn’t come back well into the night. Why he had three locks on his door and used exactly none of them, she wasn’t quite sure. She thought she was being helpful by locking his doors. Until it was becoming apparent he didn’t care enough to carry his keys with him, and had an additional unlocked back door he was just attacked at. 

  He swats her away swiftly, body mechanically programmed to attack for coming so close to him. He’s body slammed bigger men for breathing through their mouths. But something stops him abruptly, and he stills when she comes closer, roughly grabbing at his head between her two hands, and bringing it to her eye level. “A slight bump will form, but it’ll go away faster if you soak some rice and press here,” she precisely finds the swelling area. He winces when he feels the pressure. 

  Her eyes are impossibly wide while she watches him, and he can’t help but shrink at her careful stare. This was the quietest she’s been since she crash landed. He feels unsettled. “I—I got you some stuff.” He places the bag gently in front of her, a now familiar flush coming to pepper his cheeks. “I’m going to go to bed now,” he lies, retreating to his room while still rubbing at his head.

  “Thanks,” her voice is barely a whisper, and stops him in his tracks. He turns to her, and her smile is so genuine. Her eyes are swelling with joy and it makes his heart ache. It seemed easier to talk to her that night than in the day. There wasn’t an impossible front to break open to see how she was feeling, the moonlight peeking through the cracks in the wall seemed to make her eyes wider, smile brighter even. Her guard is down and it makes emotions easier to decipher. 

  She thinks she can’t feel her face when she opens the bag. “I’m such a bitch,” she babbles to herself as she opens the boxes of shampoo, conditioner, and even signature Water Tribe moisturizers. Everything she complained about he managed to remember to a T. He even got her some traditional Fire Nation women’s outfits, even when she was only staying for the next couple of days. The tears pricking at her eyes feel foreign. She could afford private jets to fly to Beverly Hills and start a fist fight with Kim Kardashian just because she hit Kourtney in season 18. A couple dollars worth of smuggled products shouldn’t make her a weepy mess.  Somehow though, she feels herself unable to dim the smile plastered across her face. 

  Zuko wants to jump for joy. Though, he resists the urge when getting up too fast makes his head bump feel like it has a second heartbeat. He spent the better part of his evening at the open air marketplace a few blocks from the village. It was worth enduring the questioning glances from the shop vendors. Even when he felt like crawling in a hole and dying as he hastily gestured he wanted to purchase women’s underwear, it was all worth it when he’s lulled to sleep to the sound of Katara’s giggles. 

  //

  “I think he just smiled.” Mako whisper-screams. Nearly all the jaws in the mess hall drop open. 

  “You’re lying ,” a voice squeaks out. The dozens of heads seem to collectively turn towards their captain. Their stomachs churned at seeing living proof of the small smirk on his face. He’s distracted. Staring off into the distance, he’s just picking at the meager helpings of his lunch on his plate. 

  For all intents and purposes, Zuko was boring . He was a stick in the mud, the kind of guy you saw laugh once or twice a year for obligatory purposes, just to make sure everyone knew he wasn’t a robot assigned by the government to spy on soldiers. 

  He was a captain who delivered orders, and nothing more. A strict, by the book kind of guy. The team knew little to nothing about him. They weren’t even sure he used the bathroom like a normal human being (half of them were betting money on the robot theory). They just weren’t close like that. They weren’t the type of team to be able to joke around with their captain, share their stories, bleed their heart out on the military field. They knew the scar on his face meant he had pissed off some higher ranking officials who still possessed the power to firebend, a sacred art limited to the few. It meant there was more to the story than just a bumbling captain of a lower ranked crew. The most they got out of him was once in a while he would startle a young kid, who was just trying to get his mandated service over with. He’d clap them on the shoulder and would murmur a low “Good job.” (His definition of keeping up team morale). 

  He was efficient at his job, and good at keeping his men safe, rarely raising his voice to anyone except maybe himself. More than what they could say for other captains. He was hard on his men, but harder on himself. It was rare to see him doing anything but stress . 

  Smiling ? Simply out of the question. 

  He couldn’t help it! It was an automatic reaction to the morning he had. 

  “Thank you, for everything,” Katara says quietly, placing the tray of food on his night stand. She knew he had to get to the military base in the wee hours of the morning, and also knew she wasn’t going to wake up in time without her vibrating mattress alarm clock. So she pulls an all nighter, and tries to figure out how to use the tools and contraptions at her disposal. She didn’t mean to startle him, she swears. She has to stifle a laugh when he wakes up with a start. Eyes slowly peeling open, the eye crust obstructing his view. His hair is facing every which way. He looks younger, somehow. The messy hair, the wrinkled shirt, and drool he makes a quick job of wiping away. 

  “What’s this?” He peers up at her curiously, placing the tray in his lap. 

  “My labor of love.” She insists, sitting even closer to him on his bed. She thinks she likes it when he squirms under her gaze. For all the military get up with metallic shoulders, and the endless medals pinned to his uniforms, he was just a boy under it all. “I know, I haven’t been the most...easy guest to have.” She ignores his snort. “After all of this over, after the Fire Nation opens up its borders again, I promise you. I will pay you ten times what this hut with a dick is worth. Because…” she breathes in, looking unsure of herself. “I’ll never forget your kindness.” 

  “T—Thank you,” he stutters. He thinks they’re empty promises, but doesn’t try to question them too hard. It shouldn’t be possible for his heart to pulse as fast as it does, but it seems to be mesmerized by how much wider her smile was able to get. The noodles are misshapen, probably because of her inexperience with the old-fashioned machine. The broth is salty and makes Zuko’s throat beg for a glass of water. And yet, he slurps up the entire dish without complaint. 

  Anything to see her eyes light up. 

  //

  “The first boob I ever saw was in Titanic . Haven’t seen one since. Waiting for Titanic 2 to come out.” Mako says proudly, puffing out his chest. He hoped his extensive knowledge of non-Fire Nation films would entertain Katara. Zuko’s few trusted men (mainly the ones who were responsible for letting her escape in the first place) were instructed to keep her safe while he sorted out the plans for her escape. Iroh was able to set up a clandestine arrangement with a ship leaving the Fire Nation docks for their semi annual pickup of Earth Nation goods. They were hoping she could sneak through to the Earth Nation, and explain her situation with customs there. 

  “Buddy, I got some news for you.” Katara smirks, and the boys grow nervous. She was pretty. The type of pretty that made people stare, wondering if it was possible for someone’s eyes to twinkle in the sunlight. She looked like one of those celebrities in the movies he loved. Talked like one, too. In the Fire Nation, she was the type of pretty where guys would be bartering an entire village just to get a chance to look at her. Though, just from talking with her, she seemed like the type of girl who would hide in her house after gaining said village, just to spite them. 

  Mako was curious about the Water Nation. Their schools taught them that Azulon was an elite magical creature that somehow never needed to take a shit, and people in the other nations defecated three times the amount of Fire Nation folk. He always knew something was up. Everyone was constantly smuggling goods from all the other nations, especially from the Water Nation. There were automatic rice cookers that played a song when it finished making perfect rice, and little boxes that could play music when you press it. Mako always knew there was so much more out there than people in the Fire Nation could ever know.  

  She tells them stories of her life in the Water Tribes as they wait for Zuko, and she pointedly ignores the scoffs and disbelief. “There are toilets that shoot out water into your ass crack to clean it?” 

  “You can adjust the settings and everything!” She proclaims, pride filling every one of her words. “Warm, cool, even inconsistent spurts if you’re into that shit.” 

  They all make a noise of amazement. “That’s incredible .” She talks about sky rises, and business meetings with rich people, and showers that turn on with a drop of a hat. 

  “What’s a Rihanna again? Is that your God?” 

  “Yes.” Katara answers, with no hesitation. “See, she is the baddest in the land—” 

  “Wait!” Bolin abruptly stops her. “I thought that was your God...Megan Thee Stallion?” 

  “She’s the thiccest of them all.” Katara punctuated with a click of her tongue. “I thought we went over this!” 

  “Sorry,” they grunt, looking especially sheepish. 

  “What does she preach?” Kai inquires, eyes growing wide with delight. 

  Katara taps her lip, eyes coming up to the ceiling trying to concentrate. “She’s a goddess who empowers women! She tries to get everyone to build their knee strength. I think one of her sayings is ‘I need a Mr. Clean, make that pussy beam,’” Katara . 

  Zuko watches on, leaning on the door frame. He wants to hate the fact that he’ll miss her. 

  //

 Everything was supposed to be easy at this point. 

  “Don’t forget about me.” She holds onto his arm as they sit against the edge of the fishing vessel, the waves impatiently slapping against them. He was supposed to bid her farewell at the dock, but something in him wanted to guarantee she was able to get on the second boat to the Earth Nation. 

  He’s still clad in one of his more formal uniforms. He still feels the chill of the night scraping through the fabric of his double breasted blazer. 

  Katara openly welcomes the cold, after nearly sweltering to death every second she’s been in the Fire Nation. 

  He lets his smile reach his eyes. “How could I forget a girl who nearly crushed me to death with her crotch.” 

  Her guffaw has the captain, Jeong Jeong, even startled. “Right.” She looks off into the distance, and can’t remember a time when she’s ever been surrounded by this much water. “My name’s Katara, by the way.” 

  Zuko feels a pang in his chest. “Zuko.” 

  “Nice to meet you, Zuko,” she whispers, holding her hand out to shake his. It feels warm when he grabs at the dainty thing. 

  “I hope we meet again. Maybe, in another life, Katara.” 

  “Really?” For a moment, he hears a twinge of sadness in her voice. It could be his mind or his heart making it up, but he swears he hears it.

  “Really.” 

  Everything was going according to plan. Everything was supposed to go smoothly. 

  Until they’re both panic-sweating underneath the ship in its cargo hold, trying to come up with a plan to fend off the Coast Guard officers stopping all ships sailing past curfew. 

  “Do something! Doesn’t the military tell you to do something in this case? Or are you guys just trained in the art of being ugly and having anger issues?” 

  Zuko wracks his brain. “Why don’t you help me?” 

  “What happens if I don’t?” Katara angrily mutters. 

  “You’ll deal with the consequences,” Zuko shrugs, too entirely calm. He was a natural in intense situations, but even he could feel his hands shaking. 

  “That’s just diet ‘ I hope this bitch dies !’”

  “Oops,” Zuko sneers. 

  Katara huffs. “The fact that men can breathe just doesn’t sit right with my soul.” Katara wants to strangle him. 

  A lightbulb seemingly goes off in his head. Something Mako said about the non-Fire Nation  films and stories was always a fool proof “Get out of jail” card. 

  “Kiss me,” he says without any uncertainty. 

  “Are you huffing cactus juice, bitch?” 

  “Just do it!” Zuko practically screams when he hears the door opening. She presses her lips to his chapped ones, and his hands naturally come to her waist. He’s lost in the feeling of her plush lips, how incredibly soft her body was that he ignores the screams of Coast Guard officers. 

  “What the fuck was that!” They question Jeong Jeong, who simply shrugs. The officers promptly drop the cargo door in shock. 

  She slaps his face, his cheek already reddening in mere moments. 

  “What was that for?” Zuko grumbles, stroking his face. 

  “You’re a freak!” 

  He narrows his eyes. “I prefer a ‘you’re welcome,’ but that doesn’t seem to be in your vocabulary.” He felt like his entire body was tingling, but Katara could only focus on the fact he was swiping at his lips with the back of his hand. 

  “Hey! You should be thanking Rihanna you got a chance to kiss me! If you weren’t so colonized you would realize I am one of the most beautiful women in the world!” Katara petulantly reminds.

  “I think it’s because you got diarrhea all over my one of my favorite t-shirts that I am doubting that claim.” 

  Katara sulks, confident form shrinking. “I forgot to boil the water one time, sue me.” 

  He can’t stop his laugh from taking over his whole body. He’s about to help her up when he hears, “Open it up again!” 

  This time, Katara fully pushes him down among the boxes of cargo, straddling his lap, and violently mashes her lips to his. 

  “Get the fuck up here!” Someone screams. Katara lets up on the kiss so Zuko could peer up at the officers. He feels his ears overheating.

  “She’s my fiancé.” He hastily explains, once they were on deck. In between their masks, they stare down at Katara, who bites on her tongue, and puts up an act of a bashful bride-to-be. She holds onto his arm with a vice grip, ducking her head behind his broad shoulders. 

  “They were going on a romantic sight seeing trip,” Jeong Jeong provides, sweat beating down his back. 

  Katara nods enthusiastically. “We just couldn’t wait for the wedding to have a little fun .” She grins intenerally at their coughs of discomfort and Zuko’s bewildered gaze. 

  They check Zuko’s identification card, before nodding in understanding. 

  “Fine,” one officer bites out. He stares at Katara for a beat too long as though he’s reading her thoughts. It makes her uneasy. “Turn it back, and don’t come out past curfew anymore. They’ve implemented new standards for ships.” Jeong Jeong nods in understanding, and jumps to the helm in no time. But, Zuko could sense the panic vibrating off of Katara. 

  She turns to see the second ship waiting in the distance, her ticket to freedom a few feet away. 

  “We’re not done with date night!” She insists, coming out to try to stop the officer. Zuko holds her back, eyes pleading with her. “But—I—there has to be some other way.” She’s shaking like a leaf, even when Zuko throws his blazer over her bare shoulders. 

  //

  “I can’t believe I’m going to be stuck feeding him heartburn medication like they are tic tacs,” Katara says to no one. She’s pacing nervously around the living room, and Zuko’s trying his best to come up with something to comfort her. His head is in his hands, and he’s since loosened his top knot to let his hair fall. 

  “Katara, I am only two years older than you,” he gently reminds. 

  “...And then I heard dentures always smell no matter how hard you clean them.” 

  “Katara I swear—,” 

  She gasps. “Oh my god, we have to start thinking of retirement homes.”  

  Things were supposed to be easy. 

  A spontaneous house check was something the village’s residents were accustomed to. They gathered outside their homes as soldiers began rifling through their things. Parents simply stood about, discussing the new books they had to buy for their kids for the upcoming semester. 

  Nothing was entirely out of the blue. Yet, the elusive military captain just had to show up to the front of his house, hand in hand with a blue-eyed girl. 

  A gun was promptly pointed in her face. “Oh shit. Bitch, not this again.” 

  “This house was registered for one resident.” General Zhao’s lip curls. “State your name and occupation.” 

  General Zhao had overheard a certain military director’s son was busted trying to get some punani on the seven seas. 

  It’s not that he hated Zuko, per say. Their relationship was more of a “ regularly abusing Zuko’s privacy to fulfill a personal agenda because of the bloodthirsty desire for power ” type of thing. Normal things. Maybe , it was influenced by the fact he got wind of Zuko pressuring his higher ups to further investigate his sister’s assasination. He wasn’t entirely sure. 

  “Look here, I have information that could lead to the arrest of Nicki Minaj. So why don’t you, I don’t know. Let me go ! I promise I’ll tell you everything I know about Ms. Nincki,” she lowly breathes, a suggestive waggle of her eyebrows only making the soldiers around her even more heated. 

  “Shut the fuck up!” A soldier screams behind her, poking her head with the gun. Katara couldn’t help the whimper that passed her lips. For the first time in her life, she thinks she feels genuine fear. 

  Zuko pushes past the guards holding him back, throwing them to the ground. Without missing a beat, he takes her hand in his. “Get your fucking gun out of my fiancé’s face!” He roars. Gasps reverberate around the villagers. This was the loudest and longest they’ve ever heard Zuko speak. “She works for the government as part of Division 11,” he explains, letting his voice settle into its usual rasp. Everybody visibly recoils. 

  A highly secretive sector of the government virtually no one , not even General Zhao had access to. They were agents deployed in different nations, with the goal of collecting information about the culture. It would’ve explained Katara’s Water Tribe accent, and the lack of her identification papers. 

  General Zhao pushes past Zuko, staring him down and grumbling with his men following behind. 

  The women of the village instantly make way to collect around Katara. Noses turned up at her like she was shit on a brick. No, they couldn’t give a shit about her. They had rushed into their houses after the announcement, and came back to ply Zuko with trays of food. 

  “For our handsome Zuko finally getting hitched!” The fake smiles make Katara want to stab herself. She swiftly reaches for Zuko’s hand, much to his confusion, and lays her head on his shoulder. 

  “Baby, let’s go inside. I’m cold,” she feigns through her teeth. Her puppy dog eyes make him feel like he’s in high school. He numbly nods. 

  She thinks she hears someone’s grandma calling her a slut. 

  //

  “Pick your head up king, your hairline is receding,” Katara worries her lip at seeing his current state. She doesn’t think he’s slept all night, and he has papers and maps with highlighter marks and red circles all around him on his bed. 

  It’s been a few days since his big announcement to the village, and it feels better to be able to get outside. Breathe from the confines from Zuko’s dingy house. Even among the whispers and stares from people, the villagers weren’t all bad. The women sometimes drop by to invite her over to cook with them, and the kids bring her only the nicer rocks they’ve managed to dig through the dirt for. 

  “I just want to get you home.” He practically grunts. She’s holding a cup of tea for him, and he gulps it down as if it was Rihanna’s boob sweat. “I don’t want you to stay here for even a second longer.” 

  “Thanks!” Katara sends him a sardonic smile. 

  Fuck . He always knew how to put his foot in his mouth when he’s around her. “No, uh. Not like that. This place is a hell hole, and I just want you to get back. It’s not safe for you, for anyone here.” She pats his back gently when he starts choking on the tea, trying to get all his words out. He’s so sweet, the way he just quietly tries to draft out a plan while he thinks she’s asleep. She hears him curse whenever a pen snaps with the pressure he applies. With how many times he sighs through the night, she feels guilty. 

  She’s entirely too comfortable around Zuko, he decides. She lays in bed next to him and he hopes she doesn't notice the way he’s grown warm with her presence. He craves it too much these days. “You know what, the one thing I’ve learned through all of this is that the first thing I’m going to do when I come back is shutting down Chrissy Teigen’s Twitter.” 

  “Not visit your friends and family?” Zuko asks, amusement dancing across his features. 

  “That can come second,” Katara asserts. 

  Life wasn’t completely terrible. Sure, she cries the moment Zuko leaves the house because she’s sure she’s going to die in this shit fuck of place and never get to her money’s worth of her one year HelloFresh subscription. But she has complete faith in Zuko’s abilities. 

  “It’s like during The Amazing Race Season 17 when those two vegetarian doctors ate a goat’s head to win. I think their names were Kat and Nat.” 

  “The point?” Zuko tries his best to sound exasperated. 

  “The point is, I’ll learn how to adapt for the next week or so. I promise, it’s not all that terrible!” Zuko doesn’t trust her uneasy, twitching eyes, but nods all the same. 

  “Hold my hand, motherfucker!” She beams under the attention of the villagers, most of them scoffing when she does her daily send off routine. When Zuko leaves for work, she is insistent on performing their cute couple duties to piss off old people (her other favorite pastime). “Did you remember to bring your water bottle today, stupid bitch?” 

  “I think I’d like this more if you asked nicely,” he groused. He likes how small her hand fits in his, but he thinks he’ll boil shoelaces and eat them before he would admit it. 

  She’s made one friend, at least. Ty Lee, a girl whose parents are trying to marry her off by the next summer. The older women side eyed her just the same, thinking her big ole titties were too big of a distraction among the eligible men in the village. 

  “It came as a shock to us, we still think Zuko is a robot,” Ty Lee admits over a bowl of beef stew. Katara nearly chokes at the spice level. “It’s too bad you’re marrying a lower ranked officer. I know this guy who’s way up there! You could do so much better . I think his name’s Chan!” 

  “So, Zuko’s basically a nobody here?” 

  “Pretty much,” the girl states it like it’s a known fact. “He doesn’t do much, to be honest. But he’s all the old ladies’ favorites because he’s cute and moody . Fuck that, give me communication , you know what I mean?”

  Katara could already feel the cogs whirring to life in her brain. “Thanks for letting me know, Ty Lee!” Her chirpy tone has the girl smiling as well. Good, her acting skills haven’t gone rusty. “How come when Zuko makes beef stew, it’s never spicy?” She wipes her nose with a napkin Ty Lee had given her after noticing the impending waterfall of snot. 

  Ty Lee ponders it for a second. “Sorry, babe. This is the most mild recipe you can make in the Fire Nation. I didn’t realize you couldn't handle it. Maybe he’s just remixing a classic?” 

  Katara tries to hold back her smile. “Yeah, maybe.” 

  //

  “Babies are broke,” Katara glares at the child in her lap, who only curls in closer to her.  

  “Oh my god.” Zuko lets the little boy play with his hair when he wasn’t suffocating Katara’s neck with his other arm. 

  “They live in your head and your house rent free. And then they have the audacity to stare at you in their weak ass outfits,” she points out. They’re both squeezed together on a sofa barely holding itself together, and forced to watch over the birthday boy. 

  “Don’t be mad. It’s entirely your fault Chungha’s kid laughed so hard it barfed on you.” 

  Katara’s exhausted laugh makes Zuko forget his tiredness all the same. “Don’t call the baby an ‘it!’”

  Zuko lets the kid bite on his finger, and grabs him from Katara’s hands when he begins tugging on her dress straps. “I still can’t believe you taught Chungha’s daughter to ‘not be the bigger person, and punch a bitch!’ And Chungha still invited you to her son’s party.”

  “Talk shit, get hit. Basic stuff.”

  He had to admit, coming home and immediately being dragged to a baby’s birthday celebration was not how he saw his night going. Especially after hours of grueling paperwork. 

  “He’s two ,” Zuko lets out an annoyed huff.  

  “And what about it, bitch?” Katara growls. She has her hair in a complicated updo, complete with the Fire Nation hair ties he recently picked up for her. 

  He tries to hide the fact he enjoys this far too much. Domestic things. Things like coming home from work to banter with her. Cooking for Katara while she’s busy socializing with the older wives. He heard from Mako that Katara spends most of her day with the married women. Her plan was to try to move him up the ranks of the military ladder by getting to the lieutenant’s wives first. 

  When she’s home and finished washing up, she takes his dress shirts as though they were her’s and wears them to bed. After she’s passed out on the sleeping mat in the living room, he makes it a habit to carry her to the mattress in his room. 

  “My bad back likes the hard floor,” he would insist when she would protest. 

  He thinks he’s a goner when she even starts trying to make Fire Nation snacks for his lunches. He packs them himself, but somehow misses the minute containers that make their way into his pail. Even if the container somehow always breaks because she forgets to close it properly and he ends the day smelling like fish sauce, he likes it. 

  He knows he must be fucking crazy, pretending this was all real. Maybe he was delusional and reading too much into her actions. Maybe he was a fucking idiot. But for a moment, it was easy to pretend he’s a few months away from marrying a pretty girl. A pretty girl busy spending the night playing around with babies they could one day have together. 

  He shakes the thought from his head, physically moving his head to make it permeate even deeper. She was going to be back home, safe and sound soon. It was better not to get attached. 

  She makes it so fucking hard, though. Especially when she’s wiping away at the creases in his brow before bed. Or asking him through the closed bedroom door to tell her it’s going to be ok, to talk to her until she falls asleep because she likes the sound of his voice.

  //

  She’s a stone cold bitch. A bitch that could fight with her Swarovski crystal acrylics, and come out virtually unscathed. Someone needs to explain to her exactly why she was crying like a James Charles fake apology video for being a racist at the sight of Chungha’s kid bouncing about, flinging his boogers in her face.

  “Maybe if I pray to Azulon hard enough, you guys could have your own little bundle of joy soon!” Chungha exclaims, holding the baby as tight as she could.

  After all, when you almost lose a kid, every moment you’re blessed with their breath never feels like enough. You never want to spend another moment away from them. It’s a miracle his fever broke in time for his birthday. Their family couldn’t afford to go to the doctor, with hospitals being a four hour bike ride away. 

  “Yeah, sure.” Katara barely could hear her over Yoonjn’s gleeful squeals. 

  “I’ll tell Bomi to pray for you guys, too. After what Azulon did for her little Sana, you’ll be pregnant in no time!” 

  Katara just squeezes at the baby’s chubby cheek. 

  //

  “You’re going to kill yourself.” Katara flinches at Zuko’s voice piercing through the quiet night. He’s leaning up against the wall, and emerges from the shadows because he’s dramatic and needed the added effect. She doesn’t miss the way he limps while clutching his side. 

  “Shut up .” She throws her straw hat at the ground, and flings herself across the sleeping mat, face down. “I’ve had a long night.” 

  He wants to be angry with her. He wants to scream at her. He was livid . 

  “What if you got caught, huh? You could’ve been executed .” Zuko knew it wasn’t a coincidence. That the rumors of a spirit going around healing people in the village coincided with someone’s sudden appearance. He thinks the sight of Katara effortlessly waterbending is permanently etched into his memory. The way her face was blissed out, the element easily submitting to her every will. 

  Katara knows he’s just worried for her. She knows the occasional rustle of the branches was more than a breeze. But, all she sees is red. “Sounds rich, coming from you ! What’s your name again? Sorry, my bad. I didn’t know ‘The Blue Spirit’ was a silent vowel in the name ‘Zuko!’”

  He waits a beat, before turning to face her. She has his mask in hand, an angry glare screwing her features. 

  “How did you—who did—?” His brain was apparently as smooth as Howie Mandel’s head when he needed its help the most. At least he knows where his mask went. 

  “My mind is as strong as the Twitter men trying to get Doja Cat to show us her titties.” She rolls her eyes when she sees Zuko pondering. “You leave your Dao swords on display in the living room, and the mask is underneath your bed. I don’t know, let me ask the audience.” 

  “Oh.” 

  Katara flicks his forehead.

  “At least I’m not walking around with some face paint thinking I’m helping these people!” 

  She scoffs. “But I am! They’re too sick to afford medication. To even go to the hospital. If they make it, no one wants to help them! You’re telling me I have to just watch them die!” 

  Zuko sighs. “You’re giving them hope !” 

  “In this dumpster fire of a place, yeah! I fucking am! What’s wrong with that? Tell me!” She challenges. She comes up nose to nose with Zuko, eyes darting and impatiently waiting for an answer. 

  “What are these people going to do when you’re gone?” What am I going to do when you’re gone? “They think the Painted Lady is real !” 

  “Let them!” She huffs. “What about you, huh? Going around stealing from the rich to bring back to the villagers? You think you’re any better? You’re going to get killed!” 

  Zuko scoffs. “You’re missing the point. The difference between you and me? I’m perfectly fine with dying.” 

  Katara grabs his face in between her hands, anger vanishing. “Zuko, don’t say that.” 

  “Why the fuck not? Maybe I want to fucking die!” He shouts, ripping his head out of her grasp. “Maybe I’m hoping to get caught!”

  “...Why?” Katara croaks.  

  “ You don’t get it !” He screams. Time seemed to stop when tears fell from Zuko’s eyes. Even when he’s angry, he’s never been this loud with Katara before. He wants to take it all back, stop himself.

  She’s at a loss for words. “Zuko, I—”

  “This place is a fucking dead end.  No one’s going to save us. The Fire Nation doesn’t care about us. The Fire Nation could give less of a fuck. You can’t let people think there’s hope when it’s all a fucking lie !” He laughs, the bitter sound foreign to her. “You know, it’s normal to pray for an early death here. You pray that it’s painless. It’s easier to die than live every day trapped in this reality.” 

  He loses his grip on the countertop he was leaning on for support. Katara moves to catch him before he falls, and lays him as gently as possible on top of the mat. She makes quick work to heal the gash at his side. A result of following her during her rounds, and fighting off any robbers trying their luck in the night. 

  “I thought you were the Kris Jenner of the Southern Water Tribe?” He squeezes out, trying to get her to laugh. She’s touched he remembered her Kardashian-Jenner clan rants. (He’s been Team Stormi since day one.) Then again, he seems to remember every little detail about her. “A businesswoman, right? Didn’t know you were a master waterbender on top of all of that.” 

  She snorts, and wipes away her own tears before he could open his eyes again. “I was a paramedic. I wanted to run a clinic at one point.” Zuko winces at the intensity of the water cooling his wound. “Growing up, I hated the business world. It was all backstabbing and boring bitches. But sometimes, it’s easier.” She’s silent for a while, focused only on the healing process. 

  “I—I couldn’t save a lot of people,” her voice drops down to a barely audible whisper, and her brows furrow. 

  They’re shoulder to shoulder on the mat after she wraps up his cut. They’re staring up at the cracks of his ceiling. 

  “Do you ever miss it?” Zuko rasps. 

  “Bending?” 

  “Yeah.” 

  “Sometimes.” She lets silence fill the air for a moment. “ It’s second nature to me. Fuck, I was bending before I could even talk. Is it bad that I gave up on it? Is it bad it makes me sick to my stomach?” 

  Something she loved, she couldn’t stand to do again. 

  She couldn’t save her mom. She couldn’t save her niece. What was the point anymore? 

  He wraps his hand around hers. 

  //

  “What do you think we would have been like, in another life?” Zuko groans, laying down beside Katara. She’s sprawled out, still taking in heavy breaths after breaking into an intense run. His side still aches. He thinks his arm is broken from fighting off the soldiers while carrying the dozens of survivors. 

  The captain in a nearby village was sentenced to a public execution later in the week. He wanted to go out on his own terms and take his village with him, too. Trying to sacrifice people to the Gods above for forgiveness, he set the place ablaze. 

  It’s too bad The Painted Lady got wind of it first. 

  “Hm?” Katara hums, healing a cut on her face. “I’d like to think Katara in another life got to be normal. Like just owning a Chevy and living life without ever having to acknowledge Timothee Chalamat’s existence type of normal. She’s happy. She doesn’t develop an addiction to Prozac. She probably has a small white dog named Mochi that can fit into a knock-off Fendi purse.” 

  “Really? No butt-warming toilets in her life?” 

  “Nah. She could be the Mayor of Boo Boo the Foolville without any consequences.” She can’t recall a time when she’s felt so free. When her words flow out without carefully being measured. The stars feel like daylight. The expanses of the village’s nearby river tugging at her heart strings. “She could bend without constantly thinking of what could’ve been.” 

  “Zuko in another life would’ve been a piano player.” It still stings. Thinking about the future that could’ve been. 

  “Not a full time Blue Spirit?” She teases. 

  “Full time Blue Spirit doesn’t pay the bills, surprisingly.” 

  He turns his head and sees her nose crinkle. He’s sure it should be illegal for someone to be this beautiful. 

  “This kid I healed, he made his own Blue Spirit costume. He’s been wearing it every day, and treated it like it’s this season’s Versace,” Katara murmurs. He laughs, loud and unbridled. 

  “Yeah? I saw a bunch of little girls with their Painted Lady dolls.” They were holding onto them until their knuckles turned white, even with Zuko dangling them from his shoulders.

   Katara’s heart swells. “I think I’m going to cry.”

   Zuko nudges her shoulder with his when he hears her mock-sniffles. 

  “Did you know I told this guy ‘it’s time to evacuate!’ while he was mid-masturbation.” 

  Katara’s stomach is starting to hurt with how hard she’s squealing. “You’re lying ! Please, say sike!”

  Zuko throws his hands up. “I couldn’t make this up even if I tried. He was all like, ‘You mean time to ejaculate!’” Zuko finishes the story in a dude-bro voice. 

  At this point, Katara was shaking uncontrollably, and it’s infectious. He can’t help laughing, too. 

  A beat of silence passes between the duo, too distracted by the night sky. 

  Zuko rubs a hand over his face, determined to stay awake to see her fall asleep. 

  “What would Zuko and Katara have been in another life?” Katara whispers wistfully. 

  He glances over to her, eyes heavy. “I think being us would have been easier, in another life.” Her light snores fill the air. “At least then, I could be by your side.” 

  He nudges her head until it fits securely in the crook of his shoulder. 

  //

  “Sit there and look pretty!” 

  “No!” 

  “All I’m asking you to do is sit and blink!” Katara had run into a kid with a smuggled polaroid camera trying to snap photos of her. In return for not slicing open his urethra with a dull butter knife, she was trying to force him to take photos of Zuko. After all, she wanted a memento of her time with him. 

  The teen was nervously glanced between the two, the camera shaking in his grasp. 

  “I think I’m going to go find my mom…” 

  “Pussy bitch!” Katara screams at the running boy. 

  “Old ass hoe!” He yelps back. 

  Zuko knew it was a mistake taking Katara to the night market. As a celebration of the Mid-Autumn Festival, curfews were relaxed. The marketplace opened up to sell street food into the night. There’s singing, dancing, laughing, drinking. A night to forget, a night meant for happiness. 

  He thinks it’s ridiculous. The way she doesn’t notice the way guys look at her. He’s spent the better part of the night standing in front of her if any man was brave enough to glance in her general direction. At night, she was in her element, her smile was a blinding thing that made his heart race. She doesn’t pay any mind to anyone staring, to anyone trying to get her attention. She’s just taking in the little moments around her, eyes so bright and stares so wide. Like she’s afraid to miss a single detail with just a blink. 

  “Your breath smells like stupid bitch,” Katara points out after what had to be his 20th grunt of the night. She’s sure he’s holding her close to make sure they still played a newly engaged couple. She relishes in the attention all the same.  

  “Sorry.” He sulks like a child, and it makes Katara want to hug him. 

  She pecks his cheek and he freezes. “Look! He bought his girlfriend that potato on a stick thing!” 

  Zuko rushes off without any hesitation. 

  He picks the fire flakes off the potato slices before handing it to her. She practically inhales the snack, and he frets. He thinks she’s about to stab herself with the skewer. “Oh look!” She points to another couple, while pouting. “He won her a stuffed dragon.” 

  Zuko couldn’t stand to see her upset, even for a second. 

  When she’s hugging the plushie close to her, Zuko throws his arm around her. She stops in her tracks. “Oh my god! Is that ice cream—” He runs to find the vendor without even thinking. 

  “Number 43!” The vendor yelps. Zuko instantly recognizes the greasy teenager picking up the order in front of him.

  “Give me the photos you took of my fiancé,” he says, panting. He practically ran at lightning speed to catch up to the kid, who intentionally rushed off after feeling Zuko glaring him down from a distance. The boy feels his bladder shaking.

  “But—but you didn’t want a photo! You—” Zuko’s best menacing scowl had the kid scrambling through his pockets. “She could do better, you know!” He petulantly points out, before throwing the photo in the air and taking off. 

  Zuko lets himself smile after tucking Katara’s picture safely into his wallet. He knew he told himself he wouldn’t get attached. Not his fault she’s cast him under her spell. 

  //

  He’s pouting. She’s struggling not to laugh in his face. 

  “This is mine, now.” He indignantly rips the toy of her hold, squishing it to his chest instead. 

  “Why?” she questions. 

  “If you want one so bad, ask Chan to win you one.” She straight up guffaws in his face. Zuko had caught Chan hugging her out of excitement. Ty Lee finally agreed to a date with him, all thanks to Katara meddling. 

  “I can’t believe you’d cheat on me!” Zuko scowls. He’s more cute than terrifying, and Katara just rolls her eyes. “I thought I was the only one you call ‘babe!’” He tries protesting. 

  Katara snorts. “That was short for ‘beyblade.’ Let it rip, motherfucker!” 

  “Am I not a good husband-to-be? Is that what it is? Do you feel neglected, babe ?” He’s just fucking with her at this point, his childish pout threatening to bleed into a full blown laugh. He’s biking them back home, with Katara seated at the front on only a towel. She misses her Tesla. 

  “For starters, your toes look like gorilla knuckles. They look like they could wrap completely around a baseball.” 

“Hey!” 

  “Be honest. Has anyone ever sucked your toes until you creamed yourself?” Katara’s favorite pastime is making Zuko blush. 

  She turns back to him to see his reddening face. “Oh my god! Look at how cute you are! I think my stomach has the butterflies!” Zuko just grows positively crimson at her mocking tone. He’ll blame the warming weather, though. 

  “Kill them. I won’t treat you right,” Zuko murmurs. Katara just swats at his head. “Didn’t I shoot at you? Love yourself, Katara.” 

  Once they reach his house, she jumps off the bicycle, and grabs Zuko by the shoulders. “Hey.” 

  “What?” He can’t help being mesmerized by her eyes. 

  “I think I’ll miss you,” Katara breathes. 

  “You have to leave first for you to miss me.” Zuko wraps her up in a tight hug. 

  He feels selfish when he wishes moments with Katara could last a lifetime. 

#zutara fanfiction #zutara #zuko x katara #zutara month #zutara month 2020 #may 13 #hidden #zutara month part two

[writingismyhappytime]

Marry Me (Part 9)

Ricky horror x Reader

Warnings: Language 

That's it, you're dying.

You have never felt so bad in your entire life. You were fine yesterday, out living your best life, working on cars, giving your guys a hard time --- then bam! This morning you feel like death and you're fairly sure if you even smell food you're going to barf.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," you wheeze from behind the bathroom door, your voice muffled and weak. "Go to work."

Ricky frowns where he stands in front of the kitchen sink, stirring the creamer into his coffee slowly. He's pretty sure Chloe gave you her virus, although she's apparently fine according to the doctor and is now spending the rest of the week with her mother. You, however, sound like you're suffering immensely.

You haven't eaten anything this morning, or had anything to drink, but you'd looked as pale as a ghost as you'd made a mad sprint for the bathroom five minutes ago and have yet to emerge. You sound terrible, if he's being honest, and he doesn't quite want to leave you by yourself. He had plans on going to the studio today for some recording, but he kind of hates to leave.

"Do you need anything?" He calls.

"No."

Huh.

Ricky sips his coffee. He could leave, give you your space to suffer alone, maybe that's what you prefer. He knows he feels that way, he'd rather suffer in silence and have some space to himself, but... well, he doesn't want you to get dehydrated. He could leave, get you some medicine, bring it back so you have it. Maybe get some Gatorade or something, electrolytes right?

"I'm heading out, I can grab you some med ---."

"Just go!"

Okay, yep, he's leaving, you definitely do not want him around. He hastily grabs his coffee, making a quick dash for the door and locking it behind him before he starts down the narrow steps. He glances through the paned glass of the office into the garage, seeing two of your guys already inside and getting things ready for the morning.

"(Y/N)'s sick, she probably won't be down today," Ricky says as he exits the office, shutting the door firmly behind him. Should he really leave you alone, not at your best with these men working on cars? "You guys got the shop, right?"

"Yeah." One of your guys says after a moment, eyeballing Ricky. They're still not too sure about him, showing up out of nowhere marrying their boss and moving in so quick like that. He doesn't talk to them much, he always looks uncomfortable, which makes him suspicious. "She good?"

"Stomach bug is all." Ricky shrugs his shoulders. "She should be fine."

He'll bring you some medicine back, ensure that you eat/drink what you can. He sort of feels bad that Chloe is the one who gave it to you, her mother should have picked her up from school instead. He has to do something to help you feel better.

~~~~~~~~~

Ricky: Do you need anything?

You: Not since you texted me an hour ago no

Ricky: I just feel bad since Chloe made you sick

You: I would've wound up sick anyway dont worry about it

Ricky: Are you drinking anything? Keep hydrated

You: k

Oh geez.

"She just k'd me," He says dismally as he sits on the sofa beside Ryan, who has his guitar resting in his lap at an angle as he tries to perfect the placement of his fingers. "Do you think she's alright?"

"I mean, your kid gave her the stomach virus from hell, I don't think she feels too good." Ryan replies after a moment, cutting his eyes at Ricky beneath long black lashes. "Plus you're bugging her. Let her have some rest, I'm sure she needs it."

"Is Ricky in the doghouse already?" Vinny asks where he sits across from them, the table separating the two couches in the studio. He's absently tapping his drumsticks against his thighs, playing out the beat in his head as they wait for Chris to stop recording in the studio. "Like you've barely been married a month, dude, that must be a record."

"I'm not in the doghouse," Ricky grumbles, clicking his phone screen dark. Chloe hugging him around the neck is his background, her matching eyes bright and cheeks glowing pink. It's one of his favorite photos of them, which reminds him --- he needs to text her mom and check on her too.

He's surrounded by sick women.

"Well, you'll probably be snoozing on the couch tonight if you got her sick," Vinny replies, shrugging his thin shoulders. "Bring her back some stuff when you go home. Her favorites, just no hot food that'll upset her more."

Yeah, nothing scented.

"Is she pregnant?" Ghost asks, his head slowly appearing from behind Vinny where he'd been trying to take a nap on the floor adjacent to the couch; he had a long flight, any sleep, no matter the location, is appreciated. "Like, you're sure she's not carrying another Olson?"

"I'm sure," Ricky rolls his eyes, feeling the heat crawling up his neck; the guys have no idea the two of you haven't slept together, and probably never will. It's not the kind of marriage that's... normal, by any means. He just hopes that it works out, since his court date is at the end of the week, and he's done so much to get this far. It'll have to be enough to get him fair custody of his kid, Claire can't use the excuse of an unstable home life anymore.

He's a musician, but he's not a bad father.

Ghost frowns, slowly disappearing from sight to return to his nap.

"Maybe I'll get her some egg drop soup, that should help, right? It's mostly broth." Ricky says thoughtfully, trying to think how to help. "She loves Italian, but that's not going to help her right now. Man, I feel so bad. She had to pick Chloe up from school and take care of her, and this is what she gets for it."

"The fact she picked her up and didn't bitch about it is good," Vinny offers with a shrug of his shoulders. "I mean, she's just her stepmom. Why couldn't your ex get her?"

"She couldn't get off work. She sent her boyfriend but (Y/N) already had her at that point, and I don't want that guy going to our place." Ricky huffs; he doesn't even want Claire's boyfriend knowing where they live. He doesn't realize he says "our" place rather then "your" place, but Ryan cuts his eyes at him again, his fingers pausing on his guitar strings. "I wouldn't feel comfortable with him being able to stop by whenever he wants. I mean, there's always people at the shop working, but still."

"Is it weird being married to someone who knows more about cars than you? You're the dude, you're supposed to know this stuff." Vinny asks curiously.

"Not really. I know more about music than her, makes no difference. I know how to change a tire now," Ricky shrugs, a little embarrassed. You actually took the time to make sure he knows how to do it so he's not stuck again, you sort of guilted him by stating he should know how, what if he has Chloe with him and a tire goes? "So it's fine."

Vinny drops it, turning his attention to his phone as he leans back into the cushions. A few minutes later he heads into the studio when Chris yells for him, the lead singer trying to perfect everything for the new song.

"So how are things?" Ryan asks after a moment, brushing black hair out of his eyes. Ricky hasn't come over in a bit, not since he picked up his last box of things. He used to stay over pretty frequently, he didn't stay every night at your place, considering it's just a sham and he doesn't like the mattress in your spare room. "Does it seem like smooth sailing?"

"I guess," Ricky sighs, rubbing his weary eyes. "We're getting along just fine, I think we're going to be good.  Her and Chloe get along fantastic."

"They always have, but she's been in Chloe's life for as long as she can remember. It's not like you brought a complete stranger in."

"Yeah. I just hate... that, well, all this, has affected (Y/N) so much," Ricky grumbles, still aware of Ghost napping behind the sofa. He doesn't want to say too much and give anything away, but it's been a while since him and Ryan have been able to talk.

"You married her, you knew it would change everything. Marriage isn't something you can pretend didn't happen."

"I know." Ricky is aware of all of this. "It's actually not been the worst decision I've ever made. Under the circumstances, we're gonna have to make this work. I can't back out of it, I have to do this right."

"Second time's the charm, right?" Ryan sighs, and Ricky sends him a look.

"Second time?"

"Nevermind. I think Chris wants you," Ryan gestures with his guitar, not wanting to continue the conversation. Ricky sighs as he stands, lifting his guitar off its stand and heading for where Chris stands behind the glass panel at the microphone, gesturing with his hand at Vinny who is holding his drum sticks in the air like someone has a gun on him.

Recording must not be going well.

Ryan glances over as Ricky's phone lights up, displaying your name across the screen. Ricky is busy, Chris would murder half of them if Ryan barged in trying to announce he had a phone call, so he lets it go to voicemail.

He hesitates as his phone suddenly buzzes, and he raises a brow as he sees you're calling him instead.

Interesting.

"Hey, (Y/N)," He says lightly as he answers, wondering what's so important that if Ricky didn't answer you would call him. You could always just text your husband so he gets it later.

"Ryan," you sound absolutely terrible. like you're three days with no sleep and have smoked six packs. "Are you with Ricky? He said he had," you pause to cough, "to go to the studio today."

"Yeah, he's recording at the moment. Do you need something?"

"No, but Claire called me looking for him, apparently Chloe got her sick and she needs Ricky to pick her up and bring her back."

"What?" Ryan frowns. "Why can't she just take care of her? You're sick too."

"I don't know," you sound frustrated. "But Claire doesn't want me to come over and get her, I think she's afraid to let me know where she lives."

"Afraid you'll beat her up for bothering you, maybe. How did she even get your number?"

"Probably from where I called her seventeen times the other day when Chloe was sick and no one would answer the school." You reply, sighing. "Will Ricky be long? Claire was having a meltdown on me, and she usually just reserves those for Ricky."

Oh, so you've picked up on that.

"Uh... he just went in, so it's gonna be a while."

You groan, and it sounds like you sit down heavily. "Shit. Fine. I'll get Chloe."

"Are you sure you're up for it?"

"Not at all, but he's busy. He has to work, and I guess I signed up for this," you grumble. "Just let him know when he's done Chloe is staying with us again."

"Can do," Ryan almost feels bad for you, you don't sound like you're in any condition to go get the little girl. "Why not have Claire just meet you here at the studio? It'll take her an hour to get here, so it'll give you time to be here and Ricky time to stop recording. We gotta finish this song up today for the deadline," he adds, just to let you know why it's so important Ricky can't leave at the moment. If they don't get it done today, their producer is going to flip his lid.

"I mean... I guess I can. Can he meet me in the parking garage so security doesn't think I'm like a bag lady or something trying to get in?"

"I'll let him know."

"You're a blessing, thanks Ryan."

~~~~~~~~~

Ricky is going to have a meltdown. He gave Chloe back yesterday, this poor child who needs rest and care, and now her mother is pitching a fit because she's sick? You're sick! He doesn't care if she loses a leg, he doesn't have time for this!

He can't take care of Chloe right now, and you shouldn't have too!

"Claire, you don't even look sick," he hisses under his teeth as she stands in front of him, Chloe asleep in her carseat, the doors of the vehicle shut so she can't hear her parents fighting. He's trying to keep his voice low so he doesn't wake her, and you're not here just yet. "(Y/N) has the same virus, Chloe will literally get it right back!"

"Ricky, I can't take care of her if I'm sick too!" Claire replies just as snottily, and she does have dark circles beneath her eyes she tried to hide with concealer. She looks fine to him otherwise, if not maybe a little thinner then usual, but he's not about to make her feel good about her weight. She's trying to sabotage him this week, isn't she, because of the hearing? Well, she's not going to get under his skin! He's going to be on point for that court date, and he's going to make sure the custody is fair!

"Like hell, you expect (Y/N), too? I'm working, I can't take off right now!"

"Well, you married her, she seems competent." His ex retorts, crossing her arms. Ricky glances around, but the parking garage is fairly empty on this level other than their cars this early in the morning, so there's no worry about anyone overhearing them despite the way their voices echo in the enclosed space. "She's a tough bitch, I'm sure she'll be fine."

"Watch your mouth, Claire. You don't get to insult her." Ricky snaps, narrowing his bright eyes. "Don't be pissy just because she doesn't let you have your way all the time." His eyes flick to Chloe, but she's still sleeping. "This is shitty of you and you know it."

"You have no idea what's going on in my life, Ricky," Claire snarls, bristling in front of him. Her finger suddenly stabs into his shoulder as she speaks, causing him to take a step back. "You don't know what I'm going through right now, I'm doing my best!"

"If you would talk to me, I would know, but you keep me in the dark about everything!" Ricky responds, refusing to let her guilt him. She always did that before, made him feel like the bad guy and that everything was his fault. When he finally lost his cool, when he couldn't take another moment of it, she could never see what she did wrong to set him off or maybe she didn't care, he's not sure. They just couldn't make it together.  "If you need help or something, you need to tell me."

It's like nothing has changed.

"My life is none of your goddamn business, you're not going to try to control it. Chloe is your daughter and your responsibility too, you're not going to get out of keeping her. I need you to take her today, Ricky, I can't be around her when she's sick!" Claire presses forcefully, and he hears just the lightest bit of panic in her undertone.

"I have no issue with taking her, that's not a problem. I love having Chloe around, you just spring it on me when I don't expect it! If it's going to be like this, I'll just take her for the rest of the week, instead of her having to go back and forth."

Claire hesitates, but before she can say anything else you're pulling up beside them, slowly putting your car in park. You can tell they're fighting, you could from their tense stances the moment you saw them. Conveniently you still have Chloe's carseat in the back, so you're ready to take her without having to get anything from Ricky's vehicle.

You wonder what you just drove up on.

"Oh, there's your wife," Claire sneers, clenching her fingers tightly, able to see the size of your wedding ring where she stands. She has nothing against you personally, you're just fine, but she can't miss an opportunity to snap at him. She shouldn't have had a child so young, but she loves her daughter, it's just --- maybe when Chloe is older they'll get along better, but right now... she has a hard time even looking at Ricky.

She's just tired, all the time, and he doesn't make it any easier on her.

"Hey," you say awkwardly as you get out of the car, noticing the tension thick in the air. You're sure Ricky is going to tell you all about it later, but maybe they won't keep fighting in front of you.

Claire cuts her eyes at you, and alright, you do look like you feel bad. You're wearing a dingy gray t shirt and blue jeans, hair in a bun, no makeup --- actually, now that she thinks about it, that's typically how you look. She always suspected you two would end up sleeping together, she doesn't believe in platonic relationships, but married? You're too... tough for Ricky, in her opinion.

"Chloe's been asleep, she'll stay that way on the ride home." She mutters, turning away from Ricky. She tugs open the door, and after a moment Ricky goes to unbuckle his daughter from her carseat, replying gently to her soft, disgruntled mumbles as he has to lift her out. Her arms wind around his neck, and he picks her up easily, noticing she's still in her Paw Patrol pajamas. He quickly switches her between cars, making sure to grab her bag of extra clothes to toss in the seat beside her before shutting the door as quietly as he possibly can.

You don't say anything as you lean against the hood, your face a little pale as you debate how bad it would be if you threw your guts up all over his ex-girlfriends car. If she got close enough you could aim for her, but honestly, you're not that petty.

"I'll take her for the rest of the week." Ricky says to Claire as he comes to stand at your side, crossing his tattooed arms. "I'll see you on Friday at the courthouse."

"You don't have to keep her all week ---." Claire starts immediately, but he shakes his head.

"I'm keeping her. I'm not doing this back and forth with you, there's no point. You don't want to be around Chloe when she's sick, fine, I'll keep her until she's better. Sound fair?"

Wow, Ricky sounds pissed. You know you're annoyed, but he actually sounds angry. Your eyes flick up to him almost in surprise, and you reach forward thoughtlessly, placing your hand on his arm as if to remind him to tone it back a few notches. As much as Ricky denies it, you think Claire has some medical stuff going on, she's just not wanting to tell him about it, for whatever reason.

They were always bad at communicating.

Ricky exhales heavily, feeling your touch against his arm, reminding him not to lose his cool. There's no use in losing his temper, it's done anyway. Maybe it'll just be something else he can use against this woman when it comes down to it.

"I'll see you Friday," he mumbles, turning away from her. Claire presses her lips into a thin line, her eyes flicking back and forth between you and Ricky before she turns sharply and gets into her car. You see her look back at Chloe where she snoozes before slowly starting to back up, her fingers clenched tightly around the steering wheel.

"Ricky, don't be so mean to her,"  you say after a moment, biting your lower lip. "I really do think she's sick or something. Maybe her immune system is bad, and ---."

"Don't make excuses for her, (Y/N)." Ricky interrupts you, tired of fighting. He just wants to go upstairs and finish up the song before Chris and the producer rip him a new one, and he doesn't want to argue with you.  You're his saving grace right now. "If she's sick, she needs to tell me, not hide it. I don't see why she would anyway."

He's going to feel like such a dick if she is, but it's not his fault if he doesn't know! He's not sure why you're on her bandwagon anyway, you've never liked her. "She didn't look sick at all to me. She probably just wants to get her nails done. Ow! Why'd you hit me?"

"You're being a jerk," you mutter, sending him a look where you lean beside him. "Claire doesn't look well, you're just mad at her and ignoring it. You guys seriously need to work on your communication with each other."

"I'd rather eat a sandwich in hell than speak to her again."

You roll your eyes; men are so fucking stubborn.

"I'm going home," you sigh, not going to bother with trying to convince him to see the error of his ways; when he's in a mood it's like talking to a brick wall, usually he has to stew over it for a while before he sees sense. "When will you be back?"

"Around six, maybe. Do you want me to bring dinner?"

"Liquids only, please."

"Okay." Ricky glances over, seeing Claire is about to leave the parking garage. Her car is idling, and she's looking down like she's texting before she pulls out into the road. Maybe she's clearing her schedule to take a vacation with this stupid boyfriend of hers, both of them going to enjoy their free time together while he has to take care of their sick child! "I can do that."

"Thanks." You pat him as you walk by, still feeling nauseated but not quite so bad. You've had so much medicine you're pretty sure you could swim in it, although you really just want to get some sleep. Chloe has the right idea with taking a nap.

"Hey, (Y/N)?"

"Hmm?" You glance at your husband as you tug open your door, the car keys still waiting in the ignition. His eyes flick over your shoulder before he steps to your side, his fingers curling around the top of the door. "Can I kiss you dramatically so Claire sees it and thinks we're madly in love?"

"Only if you don't mind the threat of getting a stomach virus and spreading it to your entire band." You reply, doubting he'd want to do that. You don't really feel like kissing anyone, although he is lucky you brushed your teeth before coming over. You'd sort of drug yourself down the stairs to your car, mumbling incoherently at the guys in the garage as you passed them.

Ricky shrugs his shoulders, as if the consequences don't matter before he leans over the car door, his lips sealing firmly over yours. You blink in surprise, hesitating before leaning back, breaking the kiss.

You know you made fun of him initially about his kissing technique, but he's not bad at all. Just a brief kiss like that, how warm his lips are, how soft, well... you like those. They're simple, but they get the point across.

You sort of wish you'd agreed to have kissing as a more regular addition.

"I'll, I'll see you at home," you mumble, turning away from him. You guess maybe it is a good thing you're keeping sex out of the equation, because you might have issues with getting attached; you were never much of a "friends with benefits" kind of person anyway. You like for it to mean something, not just be casual. It's been such a crazy two months, planning the wedding, being married, Chloe being over... you feel like you know Ricky a lot better.

He's a good dad, he cares --- in some way he reminds you of your own. Your dad died a few years ago due to a heart attack, and you miss him dreadfully. Your mom died when you were young, so it was just the two of you, and he did his best raising a little girl. You know he loved you, read your princess stories to you, kept you fed and taught you everything you know about cars.

Ricky is so good with Chloe, he's attentive, although he does spoil her a bit, but that's just a dad thing and because he doesn't get to see her often. He just... you just wish he could get along with Claire better, all of this wouldn't be an issue if they weren't at each other's throats all the time.

It's fine if they're not together romantically, but they should at least pretend to coexist for their daughter's sake. That's your opinion, which doesn't mean much, and it's none of your business anyway.

You're just his fake wife.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Sorry I'm late," Ricky says apologetically as he sets the bags of food down on the counter, glancing around for his daughter. He's an hour later then what he said he would be, but they had a lot of work to do to get everything finished in time. He was more behind than the rest of the guys, he's been so preoccupied he hasn't been showing up like he should.

"It's alright, she's just slept on and off all day. I gave her some more of her medicine, which apparently conks her out, so she'll probably be up at 3 AM." You comment, pursing your lips. You wonder if you should take it, if it would give you as hardcore of a nap as it does her. "Food is appreciated though, thank you."

Ricky bobs his head, leaving you to unpack the soups he brought as he goes to peer into the spare bedroom. It's dark inside, the curtain drawn, but he can see the bundle of blankets that is his child. She doesn't stir at all when he opens and closes the door, so that's good.

"How are you feeling?" He asks you, leaning back against the couch to kick off his sneakers, letting them drop to the floor. He shirks out of his jacket, letting it rest against the pillows; you always keep the apartment a little warm in his opinion, but he's not about to mess with the thermostat.

"A little better." You say, pleased to find the soup. For some reason egg drop soup always makes you feel better, despite it has grease and the like in it. You could literally drink it right out of the container, but that might be rude. "How did work go?"

"Took forever, but we finally got it done in time. I was behind on my parts with everything going on," he sighs, running his inked fingers through his black hair, which is getting a little long. "But the song is done, we hit the deadline, that's all that matters. Chris can take the diabolical arch out of his eyebrows now."

You snort, lifting the lid off the soup and grabbing two bowls. "Hungry?"

"Starving. I also got spring rolls if you can stomach those."

Your weakness. You love those just as much as you do breadsticks. "I love them, but I might wait for the time being."

"Okay," Ricky gratefully takes the bowl you offer, following you to sit down on the sofa. You have a small kitchen table, but he's never known of you to use it. You sigh as you snuggle down into your pillows, propping your feet on the coffee table and holding the bowl close to your lips.

"Thanks for getting this."

"No problem. You're sick because of me, so I might as well take care of you. I can draw you a hot bath next, add some bubbles to it, light some candles."

"Are you trying to make me feel better or get laid?" You send him an amused look, liking how his cheeks turn a bright pink. He's so easy to embarrass, you can't help yourself.

"Hilarious."

You chuckle, taking a few sips of your soup, loving the warmth and taste of it. "That Chinese place in the best in the world, I'm sure of it."

"Nah, there's a great one in California I'll have to take you too."

"Well, doesn't California have like Chinatown? So of course it's going to be good."

"True. But we should go, you'd love their food. Even better than this."

"Nothing is better than this. Plus the likelihood of me going to California? My shop would burn to the ground," you snort, shaking your head. "I'd come back to a shell of a building."

"Your positivity is so becoming."

You cut your eyes at him, tempted to bump his bowl just to be mean, but you let it go. It's been a rough day, plus with the level his blood pressure probably went this morning,  you don't want to rile him up too much. So you finish your soup in silence, staring at the TV but not really seeing what's playing. Chloe gets up only a few times to use the bathroom, eat a single spring roll, and go back to bed.

"I'm pretty sure she ate that with her eyes closed and still asleep."

"She's good at multitasking."

"I notice when she's sick she doesn't want to stay in the same bed with us," you say after a moment, curled up beneath your blankets now, your legs pulled under. "The other night she never came in once."

"Probably didn't think about it," Ricky yawns, stretching his arms back along the sofa. Your eyes flick over his tattoos, the sleeve, the words on his fingers. You wonder how badly it has to hurt to get his fingers tattooed, that has to be sensitive. "She just likes the attention, I think, and waking up with us."

You guess.

You kind of think she's getting a little old for it, though.

You stifle a yawn behind the blanket, and boldly shift until you're leaning up against Ricky, enjoying the warmth radiating off his body. You feel cold, and he's always like a furnace. His eyes flick down to you as you let your head rest against his shoulder, his arm dropping to curve around you hesitantly.

This is new, is it because you feel bad?

"We can change the channel if you want," you say after a moment, carefully curling your fingers into his black t-shirt. "I know you're not really into this show."

"It's fine, I don't mind. You're trying to catch up, right?" he doesn't care, he's not really been watching it. He was kind of debating on getting a springroll, but now he doesn't want to bother you and make you move. He can smell your shampoo, the lotion you use every morning that reminds him of brown sugar --- women and their scented stuff. He actually doesn't mind going places smelling like glazed cinnamon donuts or whatever it's called.

You snuggle into him, and after a few minutes you're dozing, your eyes closed. He absently toys with your hair, letting it drop lightly through his fingers as he watches your show. He has no idea what's going on or who the characters are, you're several seasons ahead of what he'd seen of it, but the music isn't terrible.

He props his chin on his hand, tired himself. It's been such a long day, he's been worrying about Claire and Chloe, about you. You're sick, Chloe's sick, Claire is possibly sick --- he's not sure what he's supposed to do. If the mother of his child is not good, she needs to let him know so he can help out. He's not trying to steal her daughter away from her forever, he just wants to see her more often.

Well, lately he can't really complain, he's got her pretty much half of every week. He doesn't mind, it's kind of nice, especially having little family moments with you. Sometimes he worries that's it's not good, that he's not keeping the necessary barrier up to keep it from getting too personal. You're just friends, and it's just a guy thing for him to think sometimes there could be more. How can he not the more he gets to know you?

You can know someone, but when you start living with them, everything seems to change. You know their bad qualities --- like how you would rather leave the sink full of dishes and wait until the laundry is piled to do it --- and their good qualities. You genuinely care and you'll help someone to the best of your ability, you're great with his daughter, patient, and you offer him advice he should listen to more often. Sure, you do kick in your sleep, often smell like grease, and curse a lot more than he thinks you should, but... he can overlook all that.

You're actually one of the best people he knows. Living with you has been fine, he hasn't been back over to his old house in a while. He's still kind of fretting over the fact he's paying rent somewhere he's not staying, but he can't just ditch out on Ryan --- if only you could have reasonably moved in with him instead. But at least here Chloe has her own room, sort of, whereas she didn't at the house, even if it's smaller.

Ricky's actually not minding the soft mattress as much anymore either. Everything here is becoming familiar, homey, and you didn't care that he hung up his posters or photos, or that some of his things are lying around the livingroom. He should move his shoes, you'll trip over them in the morning since you never look where you're going, but he'll do that later.

You mumble in your sleep, shifting closer, your arm slipping around his waist. He hesitates, sinking down a little more comfortably in the cushions, propping his feet on your scarred, messy coffee table. It's kind of nice to have you like this, it's... it doesn't feel fake at all.

Little things like this, when no one is watching and neither of you are having to put on a show, he likes it. It's comfortable, natural, like it's supposed to be. Sometimes he kind of worries he's getting too okay with this, he knows it's going to end.

He's not sure when, and that makes his chest pinch a little. He likes being married to you even if you're not sleeping together. His life hasn't changed that much, except he likes coming home to find the apartment warm, no matter who gets there first. You always greet him when he walks into the garage, even if it's just you waving your wrench in acknowledgment.

He presses his lips into your hair, sighing.

Did he fuck up by marrying you?

[ask-the-kings]

The woman I never met

Whenever it was Mother’s Day, it felt like her emotions were on repeat: the sadness of not having her mother, the longing of wanting a mother, and the ever longing disappointment of never knowing who she really was. 

While she now has a father figure in her life—which she’ll be eternally grateful for— the mother role still lay vacant, and despite hating not having a mother she really didn’t want that to be filled. Unlike the case with her father, this was a role not to be touched. With her father, she needed to have a better figure in her life, but with her mom...she just didn’t want to taint the things Ryan said about her. Quinn didn’t want someone to try and fill the void and end up leaving a scar or not live up to the expectations she has. With what and how Ryan speaks of her, the expectations are unbelievably high—just as they were with Pops (who had undoubtedly surpassed her expectations and more, but we’re not talking about that until Father’s day).

Mother’s Day was obviously not the happiest day for her, but it also didn’t ruin her mood unless she thought about all the sad times. It’s not as if she were jealous of all the other people who had mothers to turn back to, or angry that she didn’t have one: she wasn’t that kind of person. No, it was more of sadness and loneliness that she went through from time to time. 

Her childhood helped her think of her mother more often than she really wanted, but at times when she wanted to imagine, she let the thoughts overflow and flood her mind. She thought and imagined what her childhood would’ve been like if she were still there had she not died of childbirth. How one of the hugs Ryan so praises would feel, what food she could’ve eaten, and what life she could’ve led. The big and little things she thought of, even if it did hurt her a little in the end. Imagining could be dangerous, but Quinn couldn’t help it when she got too stuck in her mind. 

Quinn has never once seen a picture of her mother’s face. Her dad had destroyed every picture there ever was of her mom, so the only way she knew how to imagine her was of Ryan’s description. Ryan was bad at explaining, just knew that she looked like her mom's younger self, so it was a shame when Quinn tried imagining her and it only came out as a muddled image of herself. It kind of dampened her mood every time she thought of it, but there was nothing she could do when all the pictures had turned to ash. She didn’t think it now, but when she was younger she had secretly hoped Ryan had somehow found and kept a lost picture that luckily evaded the fire. Unfortunately, it was deemed all pictures were lost. 

Didn’t keep Quinn from imagining what pictures there were. 

Quinn was not a good drawer: she could hold a gun or sword perfectly steady but the minute she holds a pencil to paper to draw, her hand shakes. Still, she drew what she thought her mother would do to compensate for no pictures. Some would be of her smiling at the ‘camera’, while others seemed like she didn’t know a ‘camera’ was pointing at her. She knew the drawings looked nothing like her because, well, she literally didn’t know, but she liked to blame it was just her bad drawing skills and that she really did know what her mother looked like. It was sad but sometimes that was all she could cling onto. She stopped doing it after lying to herself for so long, but the concept she cherished. She knew years back she tried to keep them but by the time she hit twenty they were probably long gone. She didn’t and wouldn’t try it again: it would hurt too much now to go back into that habit. 

Quinn didn’t try to talk about her much to Ryan, the only sibling to ever interact with their mom. While there was the kind of hurt of not knowing a parent, she could only imagine the pain of having one ripped from you at such a young age. There were times when she was younger, mostly when she first turned a teenager, that she just needed to know what her mother was like and that was the year they talked most about her. As time went on, however, there were only snippets of conversations of their late mom: she quickly realized how much it hurt Ryan to talk about her so she didn’t do it often. 

But it was days like today where they allowed themselves to hurt so it could pass, where they allowed themselves to focus on the pain, and where they allowed themselves to continue to move on. It was no secret or realization to them that their mother dying was the beginning of their hell childhood—the only person who could’ve prevented the years of abuse—so they dedicated this day more for mourning than anything else. The one day where they could be heartbreakingly open about the pain they suffered, and the only day they allowed it to show. 

#mother's day #she is darkness [Quinn] #angst #writing

[lololova]

Prompt: Beckett calls in sick, Castle goes to find out what's wrong with her. S2

––––––––––––––––––

Castle stands in front of her door, contemplating whether it's really his place to visit her like this. Then again, he can't just leave her! They said she was sick. She's never sick! Even Esposito and Ryan says so. Coming in that morning he'd been surprised hearing she'd called in sick. Montgomery had said he could stay if he wanted to as long as he didn't piss off Ryan or Esposito. Which he kind of did since he'd immediately started questioning them about Beckett's health. She hadn't been sick in the two years he'd been shadowing her and that fact alone hadn't even occurred to him. How the hell has she never been sick? Or has she but never told him? Maybe she's been sick but taken the pill and gone to work anyway. Who knows?

As he's standing outside of her door he's still thinking about whether she's going to be pissed about him being there or if she will actually accept his help. They've grown closer ever since that offer of three more Nikki Heat books. He feels as though she genuinely would've missed him if he'd gone off with the 007-offer. She's looked at him differently. He hopes it's for the better. Hopes he's seeing right. But those looks doesn't necessarily mean she'll be happy he's here now.

With another deep intake of air he knocks on the door and awaits. And waits. And waits. Suddenly he gets a frightening vision in his mind. What if she's tripped and hit her head?

Just when he's about to consider kicking in the door, or try to pick the lock, the door slowly swings open.

"Castle?"

Her voice is an immediate tell her nose is stuffed, her eyes are puffy with tiredness and her cheeks are a bit flushed with the fever she evidently has.

"What are you doing here?" She sniffles and if it hadn't been for how worried he is he would've found her adorable.

"They-eh said you called in sick," he says, dumbfoundedly.

"No shit, doesn't explain why you're here," she sneezes and picks up a tissue.

True. "I was... worried. You're never sick."

Castle tries to act as normal as possible, as if it's not at all weird that he shows up without calling or anything first. Beckett puts her hands around her chest, as if she's cold, and moves to the side as she nods her head for him to walk inside. He doesn't hesitate, because if he does he's afraid she'll change her mind.

"I'm not never sick, Castle," she sighs. "It just doesn't happen very often." She shrugs her shoulders and but he can see that simple movement made her cringe. She looks exhausted.

"Have you eaten anything today?" he questions, looking at her weakened body. He can tell she doesn't have the strength she usually has by seeing the small wobble in her legs.

"Don't worry about that," she says, waving her hand in front of her in a dismissive matter.

It doesn't take him two seconds to think before he opens his mouth again. "I'll make you my famous chicken soup. Let me see."

As he roams her kitchen for the ingredients she tries to argue but doesn't have the strength to do that either. Triumphantly he starts with the soup when he, with his most surprise, has found all the ingredients he needs. He takes note of her wandering away from the kitchen, probably due to being too tired to shoo him away, and he sees her slump down in her couch. As he prepares the soup he continues to steal glances of her, watching how she wraps herself into a soft blanket and puts her head against the armrest. He can even tell when she starts to drift away, breathing deep and sound asleep as he pours all the ingredients together in order to put it on the stove. She must have a really high fever to let her guard down this much when he's in her apartment. While the soup gets heated up he carefully tip goes over to her, very gently laying his wrist against her forehead to feel it is indeed very warm. She doesn't move a muscle. Which both worries and relieves him. He doesn't want to get shot at due to crossing any lines but at the same time the fact that she's not really on guard makes him wonder how bad of a fever she really has. He walks back to check the soup to find it ready and so he starts looking through her cabinets until he finds a bowl and a spoon. As soon as he's found it he pours the soup into the bowl and starts walking back to the couch. He sets it onto the table before he sits down on his knees, placing himself in front of her and his hand gently touches her arm.

"Kate?" he whispers. "The soup is ready."

Her body squirms a little as she hums her confusion. When her eyes flicker open they look at him with surprise embedded in the green flecks of her hazels.

"Castle? What're you doin'ere?" she mumbles and he has to refrain himself from stroking her cheek the way his fingers want to.

"I made you chicken soup, it'll make you feel better," he turns slightly in order to take the bowl with said soup.

"Not hungry," she rumbles and he's starting to realize he might have to feed her to make sure she eats.

"Come on, you need to eat." She closes her eyes with stubborness. He sees no other way. "If you don't eat yourself I'm going to feed you," he threatens and her eyes immediately pop open, narrowing.

"You wouldn't."

He smirks, knowing it would work. "I will." He picks up the spoon with some chicken on it and starts moving it towards her mouth. To his outmost delight she sighs but shrugs herself up a bit until she's halfway sitting up. To his outmost surprise she doesn't take the spoon from him but simple pulls the blanket closer around her as she opens her mouth. He doesn't hesitate despite his surprise and immediately feeds her, once again wondering how high her fever actually is in order for her to allow him to do this. Without another word he keeps feeding her, and she lets him, until the soup is all gone and that's when he notices the reddish color on her cheeks. She's blushing. He's not sure he's ever seen her blushing before, and he's not sure of the why. But he's curious. Not only because she's blushing but because the fact makes his insides tingle with a small excitement he's not used to.

"Thanks, but you don't need to waste more time on me, Castle." She's not looking him in his eyes and he suddenly gets the feeling it's because she doesn't want him to see how badly she wants him there. He's got nowhere to be anyway.

"Don't be ridiculous," he says and her eyes immediately snap to his in a surprised manner. "Who's gonna be your home-sick-buddy?" he questions and he can swear he sees the corners of her lips twitch for a smile.

"My home-sick-buddy?" she asks and he sees it's getting harder for her not to smile.

"Yeah, you know, 'oh no I'm home sick I don't wanna be alone, oh look I can call my buddy and we can watch tv together all day'," he makes the most dramatic impression of a teenager he can muster and she actually starts laughing. Kate Beckett is laughing. At him. He made her laugh. He can't stop the warm feeling from spreading inside his body as he feels pride overwhelming him.

"You're an idiot," she shakes her head before she starts coughing. This time he can't help it but reaches out his hand in order to softly rub her back, trying to soothe her body in the only way he can.

"Well," he swallows hard, "I'm your idiot."

He only mumbles it but can see by the way her eyes flicker to him that she's caught on. Not meeting her eyes he's just waiting for the 'get out' to leave her lips. It would come just any second now, and she'll demand him to not return to the precinct ever again. He won't survive it, but he will listen to her this time. He's decided that if she doesn't want him there, for real doesn't want him there, he won't push anymore. A small movement peaks his interest and he looks at her just in time to see her teeth sink into her lower lip, her eyes looking at him shyly before she once again pulls the blanket closer to her body and relaxes into the cushions of the couch.

"Yeah you are." He only just hears it before she nods towards the empty space beside her. "If you're gonna be my home-sick-buddy you should sit down and get ready, because there's no way I'm changing the show I'm watching."

Castle doesn't hesitate before he sits down beside his partner, tries his best not to make it more weird than it technically already is. "Which show were you watching?"

"If you laugh, I'll kick you out," she threatens as she pushes the button to light up the small tv in front of them.

He looks at the screen and states, "Temptation Lane. Interesting choice."

He's not sure, can't be sure without reading her mind, but in his peripheral view it looks like she's satisfied with his reaction. As if the reaction had been the first test out of many to see if he would accept her as she is. He couldn't dream of a world when there would be anything of her that could push him away. He was there to stay. As long as she would let him.

The End

#Caskett #Castle #Beckett

[iminyourhandskara]

A Second Schott At Love - Chapter 2.

It seemed like Friday night couldn’t come soon enough, for both the couples: Kara and Mon-El had a really good feeling about it, while Eve and Winn were a bundle of nerves. Winn kept texting his friend asking for an opinion on which flannel shirt he was supposed to wear, meanwhile Eve begged Kara to go shopping with her, she wanted to look her best, even if Kara repeatedly told her that her usual style would be perfect for the date, she didn’t need new clothes. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell me anything about Winn?” “I want you to find out yourself at the date, directly. And I don’t want you to run out of questions, you’re welcome.” “I hate you for being so right.” Kara smirked, as they walked to another shop, looking for a blouse that matched her pencil skirt: Eve was lucky that her style was so similar to her friend’s.

“Can you tell me more about Eve?” “I really don’t know what to tell you, since our only date was ruined by yours truly by talking only about..” “About?” “Uhm, listen, I need to tell you something, but promise me you won’t tell anyone yet.” “Of course, I promise.” “Well..Kara and I are dating.” Winn gasped, “Since when?” “Valentine’s day, more or less.” “NOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “What?” Mon-El cringed thinking he had hurt his friend’s feelings in some way. “I owe Alex 30 dollars, I told her you would get together after Valentine’s day. She bet that you would get together on Valentine’s day..” “Okay, wow. But Kara hasn’t told Alex yet, so you can spend that money on the date first.” “So..you blew your date with Eve because you couldn’t stop talking about Kara? How does she not hate you both?” Mon-El chuckled, “I don’t know, but that surely means that she has a big heart and doesn’t hold grudges, she’s very supportive.” “I feel a little less nervous now..If she met the me from last year, things would’ve gone in the exact same way. Don’t worry, I’m over her! Anyway, I’m really happy for you both, truly.” Winn put his hands on Mon-El’s shoulders, then he hugged him. “Thank you so much, I hope you find the same happiness I have found with Kara.” “Fingers crossed.”

 It was finally time to go at the restaurant, Kara and Mike planned to go a little earlier than Winn and Eve, but obviously, they couldn’t let themselves be recognized by their friends: they “borrowed” a short red wig and fake moustaches from the DEO and prayed they looked somewhat believable. Winn arrived perfectly on time, he seemed pretty nervous for this date; Eve got there just a few minutes later: “It’s showtime!” Kara whispered to Mon-El from the nearby table.

“Hey, I’m Winn, you must be Eve, right?” ‘Why am I even saying this, I know it is her!’ he thought. ”It’s great to finally meet you, Winn.” They shook hands. “You look really, really pretty.” “Oh, thank you so much.” Eve blushed so hard, as if she’d never gotten a compliment before. Winn walked her to the table and moved her chair to let her sit, “Thank you.”

“So, have you ever eaten here?” “No, no, it’s my first time here..in a place like this.” Winn confessed. “I read the food is delicious: you know, I always try to check reviews before I go somewhere new, not that I don’t trust Kara—“ “No, I totally get it, I do the same thing with books and movies.” “That’s nice, I really enjoy books and movies as well. Especially books, since I also studied literature.” “Right! I forgot you attended Yale, that must’ve been incredible.” Winn’s eyes lit up, he could feel the conversation flowing naturally.

The waiter arrived to take their ordination, but then they picked up right where they left. “Yeah, I’ll admit that was a really challenging part of my life, but I’m really proud of all the amazing things I’ve learned. What about you?”

“Eh, I didn’t have the best family growing up, I was pretty lonely until I moved here from Newark, five years ago. Then you know, I met Kara and James and.. CatCo was pretty fun: I’ve had great moments there, even if Cat didn’t get my name right once.” “Typical Cat Grant.” They laughed together. “I came up with the theory that if she gets a name wrong, it means she actually likes you: she always knew my name perfectly, but she always called Kara “Keira”, and you?..” “Will, I think?” “..so she definitely liked you more than she ever liked me.” “That actually makes a lot of sense, wow. You’re smart. Also in a non-academic-cool kind of way.” “Well..” She tucked a hair strand behind her ear.

Besides them, Kara smiled widely with pride at the match she’d created, “I think they’re getting along really well..” “I think so too..but we’ve finished eating like five minutes ago, shouldn’t we go?” Mon-El feared being caught. “Ugh, just ten more minutes!” “Okay..okay.”

 “You mentioned books earlier, and I’m really dying to ask you a question, it’s kind of a deal breaker for me.” “Shoot.” The blonde was curious. “You’ve read Harry Potter, right?” “Oh my gosh, of course! That’s actually where I got this passion for literature.” Winn made an exaggerated sigh of relief, “Good, that’s good. What’s your house?” “If it wasn’t already obvious, Hufflepuff, but with a hint of Slytherin. You?” “Gryffindor! Should I be worried about that ‘hint’?” Eve chuckled, “I don’t think so, but let’s just say you don’t want an enemy like me.” She raised her eyebrow and smirked. “Do you have a favorite Disney movie?” She continued changing the subject. “That’s a terribly difficult question to answer, I think I’m gonna say Aladdin, though.” “Why?” “I don’t know, orphan that has nothing and then has everything, great friendship and love stories, amazing songs I’ll admit I still know by heart..” “Oh, don’t worry I know every Disney song by heart. Everyone.” “And what’s yours?” “Beauty and the Beast: I’ve always seen a little bit of myself in Belle, and God knows how many Gastons I have met in my life..I was also in love with her yellow dress. I hate to say it but I was kinda disappointed by the live action trailer. I still love Emma Watson, though.” “Yeah, same for me..What was your first job? Did Disney or Harry Potter influence you there as well?” “Ha, not at all. I don’t know if you’d count it as a job, but I got my first money from my roommate in college.” “What? How?” “Let’s just say, she’s made a bunch of bad decisions in high school and she’d pay me to cover her Ryan Seacrest tattoo when she had to go out with her boyfriend.” “Wow, and I thought that my Hot Topic experience was odd..” “Yeah, my experience is definitely unique..I really like your shirt, by the way: blue is one of my favorite colors.” “Seriously? Well then, I’m your perfect guy, since 90% of my wardrobe is blue.” Winn didn’t even have the time to cringe at what he said because their food had arrived, so they started eating in a comfortable silence and Eve didn’t seem shaken by his sentence: truth was, Winn and Eve had a lot of spontaneous chemistry and their date was slowly climbing up to be on top of their charts.

“Do you want a dessert?” He asked shyly. “I have a better idea..the food here is delicious, but the portions are kind of..” “Small? Agreed.” “Oh, good. I thought you were gonna think I was an insatiable monster.” Winn chuckled at Eve, “Not at all! So what’s your idea?” “Big Belly Burger?” “Yes, yes-yes-yes-yes! I haven’t been there in a while, actually. Let me go pay.” “No, we can split.” “Nuh-uh. But you can buy me chicken nuggets later.” “..Okay, deal.” Eve finally gave up with a sweet smile.

 “Okay, I think we can go now, they’re leaving too.” Kara whispered to Mon-El, “I think they had a nice time.” He replied. “Yeah, I think so too: I can’t wait to hear their point of view tomorrow.” She let out a little squeal and Mon-El shook his head at the adorable dork that he was lucky enough to call girlfriend. A few minutes apart, the two couples left the restaurant; one was headed home, the other wasn’t.

Winn sneaked a few looks at Eve as she looked outside her window, observing the life around them, the atmosphere of a Friday night in National City: she was really beautiful, her smile was so contagious and she made him feel good like he hadn’t felt in years. Suddenly, Eve turned around and caught Winn staring, but he immediately looked back at the road, embarrassed, though it was too late now to be unnoticed: however, she didn’t seem to mind at all, on the contrary, she smiled at him before looking outside again. Now, they knew they both felt happy with how the night was proceeding; “we’re here.” Winn parked in the almost deserted lot: they were lucky that the Big Belly Burger was open 24 hours. They took two burgers, fries, the aforementioned chicken nuggets and two milkshakes: apparently, they both loved junk food and they had a lot of appetite, even if it was almost midnight. Eve talked a lot, yet he loved listening to her opinions and thoughts on a lot of things, Winn was absolutely fascinated by this tiny but mighty woman. On the other hand, he made her laugh a lot: she felt like she didn’t have to keep her guards up and she was free to be herself, it was like she had known Winn for years and truthfully, Eve already cared about him very much.

“I have to say it, this has been the most fun date I have ever had, so..thank you.” Winn confessed, as he finished his chocolate milkshake. “Definitely. Even if my stomach will probably hate me for all this food, I had a great night with you.” “I gotta thank Kara and Mike, because they totally made up for the crappy date I’ve had the past weekend.” “Agreed.” All the bad experiences they’ve had in the past were just a blur now, it was just them now, sharing a happy moment that would’ve hopefully turned into something more. “I almost forgot to ask..can I have your number? I..I would really like to hang out again.” He scratched his cheek. “I was just gonna say the same thing, of course.” As Eve typed her number on his phone, Winn had a really wide grin on his face, but he didn’t care at all: he did the same thing and then they walked outside the door.

They almost dreaded the ride back to her place, they didn’t want this night to end, even if it was just the beginning: he turned on the radio, at a low volume, but both of them found themselves humming to the songs. “That’s my building.” Eve pointed, Winn stopped the engine. “Again, thank you so much for everything. You’re a really great guy, Winn.” He wasn’t used to compliments, so he remained speechless for a couple of seconds: “Thank you, Eve. By the way, you’re incredible, I don’t know how anyone could ever screw up a date with you.” There it was, another joke that wasn’t even a joke but made her laugh, always so effortlessly: Eve grabbed Winn’s coat and pulled him to her, catching him by surprise, but in a positive way; he gladly returned the kiss. “Wow.” Was the only thing he managed to say after that. “I..I couldn’t help it.” She tucked her hair behind her ears, before opening the door, “goodnight Winn.” “Goodnight Eve.”

He watched her walk away, and still dumb folded Winn muttered to himself. “Damn, that girl really knows how to make an exit.”

#schottmacher #schottmacher fanfiction #schottmacher ff #eve tessmacher #winn schott jr #karamel fanfiction #karamel ff #karamel fanfic #kara danvers #mike matthews #kara zor-el #mon-el #kara x mon-el #winn x eve #eve x winn #mon-el x kara

[minminlifeu]

alpha presenting

#watcher #ryan #knot festival @/boysenberry’s #i would’ve been eaten up alive if i didn’t make a bare minimum of one omegaverse joke after consuming an entire piece of media filmed at a location dubbed knott’s boysenberry #they kept saying knot so many times in this video #one time while holding corn dogs

[candymayvary]

For the headcanon spelling: Ryan and Hyun if you have time of course :)

Questions here!

Rayan

R: What are their hands like?

I kind of picture Rayan’s hands to have some signs of wear and tear, like maybe a little on the rougher side with callouses. Whether that comes from work or something else, it’s just something that kind of stuck. Also, I do actually imagine him having pretty decently sized hands too. You can take that as an innuendo or not, but it’s one of those things that’s only noticeable when close enough.

A: What are/were this character’s best subjects in school?

Despite the art, and maybe the history exactly, I think Rayan would’ve been the all rounder, really, with everything else. Like, decent enough to maintain high grades, but not enough to especially standout in anything.

Y: What is one question they’ve always wanted an answer to?

“Will this be worth it?”

A: What are/were this character’s best subjects in school?

Subbed for G: How do they flirt?

I think if Rayan was actually straight up interested, he’d be pretty direct with flirting. Maybe ease whoever it is into it, with the smile and the eye contact, and the open body language that just begs for people to lean in in response. Also, taking into account that he can apparently charm an entire room into silence just by power of voice alone, I don’t think he’s unaware of the affect he has on people. If someone came along and caught his attention, I think Rayan would make them the absolute centre.

N: What do they usually eat for breakfast?

Rayan is probably that One Teacher who gets up and has muesli with berries and yoghurt with an apple afterwards and some orange juice. That one teacher who has some sort of shit together. That, or he’s an absolute wreck who has never heard of the concept of breakfast in 20 years.

Hyun

H: What is their deadly sin?

I wanna put Hyun’s down as gluttony, as we seem him overdo it anyway. I mean, you can slip lust into it as well, as it’s that blind motivation that caused him to go out of his way to make sure Candy was the only applicant, but I lean a little more towards gluttony. Hyun seems to be a glutton for attention, punishment, indulgence... Just my interpretation so far, anyway.

Y: What is one question they’ve always wanted an answer to?

“Will I get another chance?”

U: What’s their voice like?

I kind of pictured his voice at a relatively inviting pitch, not too deep, but can easily drop and rise depending on the highest emotion. Controlled and careful, Hyun maintains a calming drag with letters, keeps a pretty steady pace no matter what, and I wouldn’t put it past him to be able to just completely break all that in the presence of partying.

N: What do they usually eat for breakfast?

Breakfast is whatever he can get in before classes, or it’s whatever is available on break when working. Breakfast is a social construct, and can be eaten at any time of day, if one has enough confidence.

#*replies #*ask meme #mcl rayan #mcl hyun #i assumed you meant rayan #and also hyun is a starving student #breakfast is a construct meant to limit students and make them feel bad #for skipping the ridiculous requirements AND #still have enough time to get somewhere #puh lease #Anonymous

[creativitytoexplore]

A Piece of Your Mind by Ryan Collins https://ift.tt/3487o58 Ryan Collins' character tests the limits of his colleague Randy's whacky conspiracy theories.

"It tastes just like chicken, they say," Randy said as he climbed back in the truck. "What tastes like chicken?" I asked even though I was pretty sure I didn't want to know. "Cats." He pulled the door shut. The old delivery truck rocked and squealed. "Who says that?" "The fucking orientals, man. Who else?" We just dropped off a pallet of restaurant supplies to The Golden Dragon, an all-you-can eat Chinese buffet - a damn good one - on the west side of Burton. I nodded at the hunched over old man who'd just signed for the delivery. He was still looking over the invoice. "Mr. Xiu told you that?" Randy winced. "Naw, man. He wouldn't tell me that. I'm talking about people on the internet. I'm telling you, check out my message boards, man. You'd learn some shit." He punched in the delivery as complete in our tablet and poked his chin at Mr. Xiu. "You ever eat there?" It'd been a long time since I'd eaten at any Chinese buffet, but as far as I could recall, I hadn't eaten any cats. "Nope." "You'll never catch me dead in there." "You think there was any cat meat in the pallet we just gave him?" Randy considered it a moment before shaking his head. "They wouldn't order that shit through us." I nodded like it all made perfect sense. "I guess not. Say, how do you go about ordering cat meat?" Randy looked at me like I was the biggest fool on the planet. "They got markets for that shit out of China, man. Jesus, ain't you listened to nothing I've said? There are black markets that traffic in all kinds of crazy shit. Shit you wouldn't believe. Fucking cat meat ain't nothing. I'm talking freeze dried mammoth and human baby parts." He tisked and shook his head at me like a disappointed parent. "What does baby taste like?" "Pork." "Pork?" He made a face like I'd just farted. "Fuck, man, I ain't never tried any. I'm just telling you what I've read." "On the internet?" He pursed his lips. "The dark web. Order anything you want. Just like Amazon, man. You can read reviews of all that shit. I heard one said baby is better than heritage-raised pork." "You read that?" "Not me personally. I don't get on the dark web. I ain't got my VPN set up right just yet. Fuck, the FBI and DHS are already watching me. I don't want to give them a reason to knock on my door." Mr. Xiu, satisfied with the invoice, gave us a wave and a warm smile. Randy and I waved back. He fired up the old box truck. It roared to life like some ancient monster. "So how do you know about the review, heritage pork and all that?" He backed up the beeping truck, craning his neck from side to side to see out the sideview mirrors. "Cold Truth." "The podcast?" "Fuck yeah! Plus, there's a contributor to my message board who's on the dark web all the time. He backed it up. One-hundred percent verified, my friend." I shrugged. "Can't argue with that."

I had spent the last three days descending the deepest depths of Randy's paranoid world. I'd come back to Burton after having been away for a long time and got a job with Burton Distributing as a delivery driver. The boss had teamed me up with Randy so I could take over his route, the West Burton route. Randy had been driving for almost twelve years and was getting ready to take over the coveted Uxbridge Campus route. Soon, he'd said, he'd have nothing but pedestrian traffic and pretty college girls to deal with. Randy seemed normal enough, at first. Just an old, lanky dude whose white hair had stopped growing on the top of his head but didn't want to quit growing down the back and sides. He was thin as a flag pole, the denim coveralls the company gave us hung off him like a hospital gown, and those big eyes that popped out of their sunken sockets gave him the look of a mad scientist. At first, it was cordial between us. We shook hands and shot the shit like a couple of normal human guys. He asked me where I was from, and I told him I'd just gotten an apartment out in Fairview. He'd lived in Burton his whole life and never married. "I can't put nobody at risk," he'd said. I didn't know what that meant at the time, but I figured it was just a line he gave to cover the fact he'd never met anybody. He seemed like kind of a loner. I asked about friends and family, nothing too prying, just small talk, and he'd spilled out his whole life story - deadbeat dad he never knew, an overprotective mother who'd passed away eight years prior. He'd lived with her up until the end, taking care of her and the house as she lost her mind and memory. By the end, she didn't even remember his name, but he still kept on mowing the grass and fixing the gutters. No real friends, either, save for some crazies on the internet. I was well on my way to feeling sorry for the old, lonely fucker. Then we stopped for lunch. "Hey, man," he said, swinging the truck through the trailer yard of a tool and dye company we'd just delivered a couple pallets to. "You hungry? We can stop up here at the Dixie Diner for lunch if you want." "Sure, we can stop for lunch. I packed mine though." "Packed your lunch?" He said it like he didn't understand the concept. I shook my book bag. "Yeah. I'm a serial packer. I could grab a coffee though." He narrowed his eyes. "You got allergies or something?" I didn't know where this was going. "No." "Vegetarian?" "Not really. It's just cheaper, you know." "So you don't like to eat at restaurants, huh?" By his tone, I was starting to think maybe Dixie Diner was owned by a cousin or a close friend. "I mean, it's not a principle or anything. I just like to know where my food comes from. A lot of the stuff you find in restaurants is mass-produced, factory farm stuff." I thought for sure I'd pissed him off somehow the way he chewed his lip. "Look," I pleaded. "I'm not a snob or anything. I mean, I have a weakness for junk food just like everybody. I just got to work up to it first." Silence. I shouldn't have said junk food. I figured this is where things got weird between us. And it was. Just not like I'd expected. "I hear you, brother," he said. He dug around in the breast pocket of his coveralls. Whatever he got a hold of in there, he kept it concealed in his fist. "You can't trust none of the shit the government tries to give us." I kept my eyes on his clenched up fist. "I didn't say nothing about the government. I was talking about factory farms -" "It's all the same shit, man. The fuckin' USDA, Monsanto, Big Agra, they're all heads of the same hydra. They're just trying to fill us up with their GMOs and mind-control shit. Fuckin' sterilize the population." I laughed and he gave me a look that could have sliced my head off. "I mean, yeah." I swallowed. "I'm no fan of GMOs. Know your farmer, right?" "You fuckin' got that right. You can trust the folks at Dixie, though. They're good people." He tapped his temple. "In the know." "That's a relief." He glanced at me sidelong, like he was sussing out whether or not I was a spy. "You know about Baiyao?" I did not, but something told me I was about to hear all about it. "A little." He stuck his fist out. I flinched, but he just held it out there. It took me a heartbeat to realize he was offering me something. He was puzzled by my hesitation. "Come on, man. I wouldn't do you wrong." He could have dropped any damn thing in my palm, a dead mouse or a used snot rag. Considering how things ended up, it would've been better if it had been some regular kind of weirdness. Instead, he dropped a little green capsule in my palm. I brought it up close to my face to examine it. It was homemade, just a little capsule that looked like I could have pulled it apart. Inside was a greenish brown powder, like cumin or coriander. "Baiyao root," he said, proud as shit. "It's kept me alive this long. You should try it." I had lots of objections to just popping an unidentified, homemade pill into my mouth, but I was starting to feel like bringing that up just now was not the safest of ideas. "What is it exactly?" "Herbal compound. One-hundred percent natural and organic." How to tell him that didn't answer shit? "Randy, rattlesnake venom is one-hundred percent natural and organic. That doesn't mean I'm about to start taking venom tablets." "What the fuck you talking about? It's a dietary supplement, man. You don't eat snake venom. Everybody knows venom's topical, just for lotion and chapstick." "Right." "I just take one pill for breakfast, one for lunch and eat a light dinner and it keeps all that toxic shit from taking hold in your system. I steam-distill all my water, too. Can't trust that municipal stuff. Too much fluoride and who knows what else?" I held the pill up to the light, stalling in every way I could think of to keep from taking it. "Where do you get it?" That was the first time I saw him smile. He looked like somebody stretched a piece of leather over a skull. "You heard of Arthur Stone?" I suppressed a sigh. "The podcast guy?" "The fucking Truth Bringer, you mean! Yeah, he ran an episode a few years back about Baiyao -" "Uh, let me guess, he sells it on his website?" "That's right. He's got a supporter out in China that hooked him up with one of those traditional herbalists they got over there. Fucking Communist Party's been trying to shut him down for years. And you know what that's about, right? Word is Baiyao also interferes with all the RFID trackers the communists are using to track people over there. It's only a matter of time before they catch up to him. That's why I've already got my stockpile at home." "That's good, man," I said. As discreetly as I could, I slipped the capsule in my pocket. I've still got it in my trophy case back home. "That's real good."

Over the past three days, I'd learned more about how this world works than I ever thought possible. There were the obvious ones: 9/11 was of course an inside job orchestrated by Bush 2 and oil sheikhs in Saudi Arabia; school shootings were false flag operations conducted by the Obama Administration; Soros and his gaggle of demons; and Islamists meant to justify the disarmament of the American People; the flu shot was just Big Pharma's way of making us all sick so we'd spend more on healthcare; the fluoride in the water was not really fluoride, it was a radioactive isotope used to sterilize Christians - but then sometimes it was fluoride because fluoride was used to activate the 'gay gene' in adolescent boys. "That's why so many young people are going fag and tranny and everything in-between," he said. "You can't blame them. It's the fuckin' government, man. Population control." I enjoyed prodding him on. I felt like an 18th-Century sailor fathoming uncharted waters. There be dragons and krakens and unimagined horrors in the depths of his delusions. I brought up JFK just for fun, and I wasn't disappointed. "Man, JFK was fuckin' amateur hour. The government and the mob were like a bunch of blind babies stumbling around in the dark. I mean, look how sloppy that shit was. Everybody and their brother can see the official story is just a crock." He lowered his voice, the way he always did before he dropped the real shit. "Now, if the Big Guys had really been involved, nobody'd know anything other than the official story." "The Big Guys? What, like the Illuminati?" He grinned like an imp, tapping his temple. "I guess you could say that. The Illuminati, the Freemasons, all of them answer to The Big Guys." He waggled his eyebrows and pointed up to the sky. I couldn't help myself. I feel bad about it now. "Aliens, you mean?" He pursed his lips, nodded slowly. "The goddamn Grays. Those fuckers are behind everything since the goddamn Tower of Babylon." "Babel," I said by reflex. "You got it!" We pulled up to a place that made custom signage for businesses. It was my turn to take care of the paperwork so I got out and walked around to the back of the truck. When I was sure he couldn't hear me, I burst out laughing. "Aliens," I whispered, wiping tears from my eyes. "The shit people believe these days." Despite his bigotry and paranoia, I started to feel a little sorry for Randy. He was a deeply lonely man who'd lost most everything in terms of personal connection. In a way, I could relate. I'd just made a huge change and was still adjusting to a new situation. I didn't know anybody in Burton, and I wasn't the best at making or keeping personal connections. Yet here I was poking fun at this old man who genuinely thought he was doing some good by sharing his truth with some young guy he'd decided to trust. It was obvious the guy just wanted someone to share with, some real, warm body to bounce his crazy ideas off. He was out of his mind, but at least he wasn't being a dick to the guy sharing a cab with him. That was all on me.

"Take everything that just happened with the coronavirus. I mean, you know what that was all about?" We were at a rest area off the interstate. It was a nice spring day so I'd asked Randy if we could stop so I could eat my lunch at one of the picnic areas. He'd already taken his Baiyao root, so he just watched me eat my quinoa and kale salad and went on and on. "I mean, I thought I did." He scoffed and crossed his arms. "Man, ain't you been listening? The official story ain't never the real story." He watched the interstate traffic hissing by, shaking his head like he'd never been so disappointed in anything in his life. "You heard of 5G, right?" I covered my mouth with my hand so no quinoa spilled out. "Like for cell phones?" "Yeah, cell phones, data, all that shit." "It's supposed to be super-fast. Should let you have autonomous cars and stuff like that." "Yeah. Robot cars and a fuckload of leukemia." I stopped chewing. "That's right! Chinese government developed the technology, promising all this stuff about data speeds and high-speed connectivity for everyone all over the world. Truth is, it's all about making their enemies weaker. It's a radioactive weapon, man. They put those towers up and anyone under eighteen will start getting sick. Eats up your insides with cancer and shit. Bet you didn't read about that in The Atlantic." "But what does that have to do with the coronavirus?" He slapped the table. "What doesn't it have to do with it? Jesus, man, where did the coronavirus come from?" "China?" "Of course it did. They fucking engineered it, man!" "But, I thought 5G was what was making people sick." "Would you listen? They let the virus out on their own people, scorched earth-style. It was all a cover so they could just say it was a natural thing, nobody could help it. Their people get sick, spread it around the world, our people get sick and the governors and the president all shit a brick and tell everybody they got to stay home and it's a fucking two-for-one Chinese buffet: not only does everybody get sick, so it thins us out a little, but it also tanks the economy, makes China a little stronger." "Didn't it tank their economy, too?" "Who gives a shit? They all knew what was going to go down, so they shored up their markets." "That doesn't sound right -" "The point is, while we were all locked up inside our houses, essential businesses were all allowed to keep going. And what's an essential business?" I said nothing. What was the point? "Utilities! That's right, man. We were all inside watching that fuckin' tiger documentary, meanwhile you got all these unmarked white vans putting up 5G towers all over the country. The coronavirus was a cover for them to put up their cancer towers, man. Right under our fuckin' noses." "Randy," I said with the same tone you might use with a kid whose pet just died. "Come on, you don't really believe that shit. I mean, a lot of people died from that virus. Don't you think that's a little ... disrespectful?" He shrugged. "A lot of people are going die from all the cancer raining down on us, too. Won't you ask the Chinese if they think it's disrespectful." I started packing up my lunch. "I just mean - don't you think if the Chinese wanted to put up cell towers they would just put them up? Why all the secrecy? It's not like our government is exactly unfriendly to big corporate operations." He flinched. "You can't just do this shit out in the open, man. If the people of this country knew what I know, there'd be riots in the streets, a goddamn revolution. You think the Powers That Be want that?" I found myself in a precarious position, like a glass blower who's trying to apply enough pressure to shape the piece without shattering it. "Would they, though?" "Would who what?" "The people. Would they really riot in the street? I mean, if recent history is any indication, the people of this earth have been almost eager to give up more and more of their freedom to authoritarians. Shit, throw some cheap, high-speed internet on top of it and there'll be people lined up around the block ready to slice off a finger or two for good measure." He made a face like he'd tasted something bad. "Don't kid yourself, bud. There are powerful people spending lots of money to keep all this under wraps. Why don't they talk about this stuff in the Lame Stream Media? 'Cause they don't won't you to hear about it." I should have just dropped it. I only had one more day of training left with the guy and then we'd probably only ever see each other at the time clock. Why pick a fight? I didn't think I'd change his mind about any of this stuff, but sometimes my curiosity just gets the best of me. I had to see how his brain sussed this stuff out, how he parsed the real world with all these narratives in his head. What kind of cognitive processes were going on in there? "Randy," I said. "They don't talk about it because it ain't happening." A long pause, then he stood, snatching up his thermos of steam-distilled water. "I thought you was alright. But you ain't ready." He stormed off toward the truck. I sighed and started after him. "Randy. Come on, man. Don't get all pissed off. I was just talking. I didn't mean nothing by it." The truck roared to life. For a second, I thought he might just leave me there. When I climbed in, his jaw was working and he was gripping the steering wheel like it was my neck and he was wringing the life out of me. "I'm sorry, man. I wasn't trying to tease you." "Fuck you, man. You're just like everybody else, like them politicians and newspaper people. I oughtta give you a piece of my mind, brother - give 'em all a piece - but don't nobody want to listen. Not even my own mother would listen. I'm trying to help people, and they just spit in my face." He let go of the wheel and looked out the window away from me. "How can you say it ain't real when the evidence is right there?" I thought a long time before I made up my mind to answer him. Part of me still wishes I'd just let it all drop. Randy would've been better off if I had. Hell, maybe I would've been better off, too. "In science there's this idea called falsification. What it means is you come up with an idea about how you think something works and then you set out to prove yourself wrong. That's how you find out if things are true. It's a lot easier to come up with stories to explain things. Humans see patterns everywhere. You look hard enough, you'll see evidence all over that proves you right, but you got to ask yourself what would it mean if that story were untrue. Like, if this podcast were true, why wouldn't the government shut it down? It ain't hard to shut down a podcast." His chest was heaving, and I swear there were tears in his eyes when he said, "Because if they shut him down, that would just prove he was right, and you know it would." I tried using his own logic against him. "Okay, but what about The Grays?" I tried my best to keep a straight face. I think I did. I didn't want to hurt the old dude's feelings. "According to you, they could just wipe all our memories, right? Why even let anybody know about any of it?" He gargled up some disgust from the back of his throat. "The Grays can do whatever they want." I shook my head and gazed out the window to the bright blue sky. "No. They can't." I could feel the weight of what I was about to do to this man pressing down on me. Yeah, he was a kooky old fart, but he wasn't mean. He was just a well-meaning, lonesome man who didn't have any friends and looking for some meaning in life. Here I was, less than a week in town and already falling back in to my old ways. "Randy, these conspiracies are just a way for you to make sense of the world. I mean, you got it all figured out from the sounds of it. If all this crazy shit about 5G and RFIDs is true, if these podcasts and message boards are full of inside secrets, then, buddy, you know The Truth, and you can use that knowledge to protect yourself. "But ... if it's all made up then that means a lot of bad shit just happens in the world for no good reason and you ain't got no control over none of it, and that's fuckin' scary, man. I feel you." I gave a little comforting squeeze to his shoulder. "But that don't make it true." A long time passed before either of us spoke. He just kept working his jaw and fighting back tears. The way he clenched his fists, I worried he might take a swing at me. But I knew inside he was boiling over with doubt and conviction and fear. I guessed, he'd been at this threshold many times in his life. He knew what direction to go, but he also didn't want to leave that warm bed of certainty and understanding. Finally, he looked me in the eye, boiling over with rage, and said, "I sure do hope you're proud of yourself, man." "Nah," I said, my voice all full of disappointment. "I'm not." For what it's worth, I think Randy was on his way to changing his mind. It's a shame I had to kill him. I paralyzed him first by pinching the appropriate never clusters on his neck and shoulder. His eyes sprang wide before he let out a little sigh and went rag doll limp. I cradled his head in my hands and lay him gently in my lap. He was still alive at this point, and that's critical. You don't want to deny the brain any oxygen before the transfer. I detached the proboscis from my soft pallet. It unfolded from my mouth like the leg of a giant spider and plunged into into Randy's skull, sliding with ease into the space between his left eye and the bridge of his nose. He gargled involuntarily as the last of his gray matter transferred from his skull to my internal storage sacs. I tell you what, that's bioengineering perfected! Now, before you hate me too much, you should know once I'm done here, I'll upload a digital copy of Randy's mind to our quantum archives back home. His unique way of looking at things will probably make an interesting case study for some xenoanthropoligist someday. After I retracted my proboscis, I glanced around the rest area to make sure no one was watching. The vaporizer gave off a bright flash, and I didn't want to attract any attention. And once the last of Randy's atoms were dispersed, I slid into the driver's seat and backed the truck out of the parking spot. The Grays, I thought, chuckling to myself. Those dumb shits couldn't find their assholes with both hands and a map. The idea they could orchestrate any kind of conspiracy was laughable, even if my people hadn't already taken them out. I'd already taken too long for lunch, and didn't want to push my luck any further. I checked my blind spots, threw on my signal and pulled the truck out on to the interstate, merging with the rest of the traffic.

#FICTION on the WEB short stories

[icelovesfire]

zenmasters week 2017 ** day 7 - alternate season 8

This was a dismal, unfeeling place, he thought with a glare. Sometimes people got good news behind those doors, but more often than not, they learned their stable world was suddenly off its axis and everything they had cared about only mere hours earlier was now meaningless. And his chick was behind those doors. 

Or, well, his former chick, he reckoned. He knew she hadn’t slept with Kelso - the man in question would’ve gloated about it to him nonstop if he had, instead of the continuous string of denials that he had heard on replay for a month, until he successfully shut Kelso up. But they hadn’t been in a good place even before he stormed out of that shitty motel, thinking his girl cheated, chased down Kelso, got drunk and drove to Vegas - on the way to Vegas, anyway, as there’d been a major car pileup blocking the highway and he turned back around to sleep the night off in Kenosha. 

He wished he could do it over, reverse the El Camino, walk back into her motel room, leave before Kelso came in and decided it was a great time for a burn - moron. Or, better yet, rewind further and stop her before she even left Point Place. But how could he? A. He was pissed at her for throwing him that damn ultimatum, B. He was pissed at her for making him think she left when she’d been hiding in the basement all that time and C. He always knew she deserved better than being stuck in a shithole like Point Place, Wisconsin, and he wasn’t about to ask her to give up her golden opportunity, especially not for him. 

He looked up briefly as the doors swung open, unconcerned as he knew it wouldn’t be for them. He was shocked to see that a beaming Kitty Forman was running over to their group, waving around and shouting excitedly, a doctor at her heels. 

“She’s awake! Jackie’s finally awake!“ 

He felt his heart constrict and his throat go dry. Jackie had been in the hospital for almost three months since the accident - the doctors said she was lucky to have lived at all. Kelso was much luckier; he’d gotten a few broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder, landing himself in a hospital bed for a week, not that Kelso was complaining much when a certain gorgeous brunette stayed by his side to nurse him back to health - the same brunette the goof was already thinking of proposing to. 

He blamed himself, if he was honest. Kelso hadn’t wanted to spill at first, but he’d managed to pry it out of him that Jackie insisted her ex-boyfriend take her back to Point Place immediately so she could explain what he was doing in her room half-naked with only a towel and a bucket of ice. They hadn’t counted on the icy road in-between Chicago and Point Place, or the drunk asshole careening around the shoulder. And they certainly hadn’t planned on the road trip cut short, or returning to Wisconsin on gurneys. 

He knew now what Jackie had hoped to explain. Kelso had driven to Brooke’s place, seen her with another guy (who turned out to be Betsy’s teenage babysitter that Brooke was writing down a phone number for; Kelso was really such a moron,) drove to Jackie’s motel room for a comforting shoulder (he’d clearly forgotten his fling with Angie already) and saw the El Camino when he returned from the ice machine after spilling ice down his front and swiping a towel from a nearby laundry cart. And then Kelso had decided to burn him by pretending he and Jackie were about to have sex. Idiot. Worse, he had fallen for it. Who knew what could’ve happened if he’d made it to Vegas that night? 

“She’s awake?!” asked his redhead best friend as she jumped to her feet. Donna had ditched the blonde hairdo when she started college in Madison last month, saying she wanted to concentrate on her studies instead of try to keep her coloring intact. Apparently, being a blonde was a lot of hard work. 

“Yes! She’s awake!” Kitty said, smiling at all of them. 

“Can we see her?” Fez asked, stuffing his half-eaten Milky Way into his back pocket in his excitement. 

“You can,” Kitty nodded, “but only a few at a time.” She hesitated. 

“Kitty, what’s wrong?” her husband asked, frowning. 

“Nothing, nothing,” she assured. “Well, maybe something. Jackie might be a bit…off.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Fez asked before he could voice the question.

“She seems to be a tad bit mixed-up.“ 

“What?” Donna asked, with a frown of her own. “What do you mean?“ 

"Well,” Kitty said, grasping for the right words, “the doctor asked all the normal questions they ask when a coma patient wakes up and she had…well, frankly, weird responses." 

"Miss Kitty,” Fez said, “Weird how?”

She shot a look in her son’s direction. “He asked her the year and she said 1980." 

He balked. There were still several months until 1980, and three months ago, it’d been an even longer duration. How did she get 1980? 

"There’s another thing,” Kitty said, turning to Donna. “Have you been seeing anyone since my son left?" 

"What?” Donna asked, startled. “Of course not. I could never move on from Eric that quickly, and I’ve been spending all my time studying." 

Kitty smiled. "Oh, good. Just checking." 

"Why?” the woman who had nearly become her daughter-in-law asked. 

“Jackie was asking for a Ryan - no, Roger - oh, Randy! That’s right, a Randy Pearson? She said you were dating him, but had just broken it off." 

"Randy Pearson?” Donna asked. “Isn’t that the guy who’s more obsessed with his hair than Kelso is?" 

"Hey!” Kelso said. “No one’s more obsessed with their hair than I am.”

“Hyde, wasn’t that Randy guy in the store the other day?“ his sister asked.

He nodded. "He keeps coming into the store, pretending he knows all about music, but then goes in the corner and listens to the Styx all day. He thinks he’s funny, but he really isn’t." 

"I’m definitely not dating that guy, nor have I ever,” Donna told the woman who she knew would one day become her mother-in-law. 

“Glad to hear it,” Kitty said. 

“Although you deserve better than Eric,” her husband said. 

“Hush, Red,” Kitty replied. "Charlie, she thinks you’re dead,” she continued, as tactfully as one could be when informing someone that another person had dreamt up their death.

“Dead?” Charlie asked. “The only dead I’ll be is when Dad figures out what happened in his warehouse. Then I’ll definitely be dead.”

“What happened in the warehouse?” Red asked.

“Nothing,” Charlie said.

“Can we see her now?” Fez asked again. 

“You can, but…she’s made a few strange requests." 

"Well I’ll see you all later,” Donna said, heading in the direction of her best friend. 

“Not you, Donna, sorry, dear. She specifically doesn’t want you." 

"What?” Donna asked, clearly upset. 

“She says and I quote, ‘that lumberjack chose the stripper skank over me!’”

“The who?” Donna asked. 

Kitty looked uncomfortable, but continued. “Michael, she said you can come in, as long as you don’t propose to her again." 

Kelso’s eyes widened as he vigorously shook his head and frantically explained to his girlfriend that he never proposed to Jackie. 

"It’s true. He hasn’t,” Fez said. 

“Red, she would like to see you, and you too, Bob. And her boyfriend…” Kitty trailed off, trying to figure out exactly what to say next. 

He made a move toward the door, before Kitty stopped him with an apologetic look. 

“Not you, Steven, sorry. She’s rather angry with you, I’m afraid." 

Well, he probably deserved that. 

"But I’m pretty sure I would know if you had run off to Vegas and married a stripper." 

Now it was his turn to be shocked. "Wait, what?" 

"That must be the stripper skank she thinks I chose over her,” Donna said, slightly less confused, but only slightly. 

“But you said her boyfriend could go in,” he told his surrogate mom. 

“Right. That. Erm - you see - her boyfriend is allowed in - Fez.”

He swiveled to glare at his foreign friend. “What the hell, man?! Jackie cheated on me with you?" 

Fez held his hands up in surrender. "All that time in bed has made her crazy! The most action I’ve ever gotten from Jackie is that time she ate popcorn off my lap so I kissed her!" 

"I oughta kick your ass for that,” Donna murmured. 

He tried to keep his calm exterior. “Then why the hell is my girlfriend asking for her boyfriend who she claims is you?" 

"I’m telling you, it’s all that bed rest!” Fez said. 

Angie looked at her brother. “Well, you didn’t leave her on the best of terms." 

He glowered. "So she makes up some fantasy in her head about dating Fez?”

“To be fair, she probably couldn’t control her dreams while she was in a coma,” Brooke said. 

“Well, she’s not in a coma anymore,” Fez said. “I’m going in there and straightening this out." 

"Like hell you are,” he said, blocking Fez’s way. “But I will.”

#70sedit #hyde x jackie #zmweek17 #that 70's show #zenmasters #*amat #amat: series #amat: primetime #amat: 70s #amat: ships #amat: otps #amat: zenmasters #stories #btz