#also i did manage to keep my teeth!! i pestered three different people about it today to make sure i went home with them
my wisdom teeth surgery went well today!
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KABILANG BUHAY
× A TRESE ONESHOT ×
[Crispin x Ghost!Reader]
📝 Summary: Your demigod husband remembers you—everything about you—and how much he absolutely loved you. He remembers everything, including the memory that hurt the most.
📌 Warning: Contains fluff, angst, character death, and mentions of violence (because an angry Crispin being the son of a wargod is bound to shed some blood somewhere). Masakit po talaga 'tong songfic na 'to, trust me. If you don't want to get hurt, scroll awaaaay. Pero if you want maximum 1000% ultra heavy pain, then listen to the song below on repeat while reading, too.
Song: Kabilang Buhay by Bandang Lapis
(word count: 5,642)
"Masasayang mga araw na kasama kita."
Warm. Crispin always remembered you to be so warm—every single part of you. The heat of your skin against his whenever he held you, that whimsical sparkle in your eyes whenever you saw the little joys in life, that sprightly curve of your lips whenever you two teased each other, and the radiance he saw from you whenever you were around the people you loved.
In his eyes, there was always a halo around your head or a beam of light following you around. Perhaps he was biased; perhaps he saw you through rose-tinted glasses, but it didn't matter to him. To the demigod, you were everything he ever wanted.
You were the one.
You were also one of the sweetest people he'd ever met. Every morning without a fail, there would always be a hot cup of kape and a plate of pandesal on the table—not only for him, but for everyone else in your little family, too. Alexandra, Hank, and of course, his younger brother Basilio. Even before you became his girlfriend, you'd treated them as your own loved ones.
That was the day he knew you were truly the one for him. The one who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. The one he wanted to build a home with. The woman he wanted to marry and have children with, if you were okay with it (when that conversation came, you said you would be happy and honored to be his wife).
Crispin said it was the other way around. It was he who was fortunate and honored to be your husband. You'd laughed in response, kissing his cheek. There were no fancy rings or a formal, elaborate proposal involved, but that day—he remembered clearly that you had that conversation on a chilly December 1st, 9:24PM, right before you two went to bed—was an unspoken promise.
You two would be inseparable and together 'til death do you part.
Going back to that coffee and bread, he always wondered how you managed to keep it so fresh (you said it was a secret, but later on you spilled the beans to him after him pestering you). Even if he woke up at noon because of missions with his bossing and his brother, palaging mainit ang kape at pandesal. You must have had some sort of superpower you weren't telling him (you rolled your eyes, telling him that superpower came in the form of a microwave).
"Paglalambing at kulit mo na hindi nakakasawa."
He was by no means clingy or touch-starved, but whenever he was around you, he had the need to at least hold you in any way. Sometimes, it was the usual PDA (Basilio and Maliksi teased him about it, but he didn't care if it meant having some sort of contact with you; Alexandra just let it be because she knew how much you two loved each other). In public, you guys toned it down—settling with holding hands or you just linking your arm through his. If he was driving the car, his hand would either be innocently resting on your thigh or your hand which was on your lap. If you were the one driving the car, then it would be your hand on his thigh or his hand. He loved to draw circles on your skin whenever he was daydreaming or starting to doze off, too.
You as a couple often expressed your love for each other in different ways, and not just by saying it out loud. One thing Crispin adored the most about your relationship was the way you voicelessly said "I love you". If it wasn't clear enough that acts of service was one of your love languages, then he could understand that you loved him back through three taps.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
At first, he had no clue what it meant. You just kept doing it whenever you were near him, on whatever body part you could touch. If he was driving? Tap, tap, tap on his thigh. If he was the one cooking? You'd hug him from behind and then one of your fingers would go tap, tap, tap on his waist. If you were eating together? You'd take his palm then just... tap, tap, tap while chewing on whatever food it was you had in your mouth.
He recalled that afternoon you guys were eating at a simple Japanese place. While you slurped up some of the wheat noodles and the savory soup, you were excitedly doing a little happy dance as you ate—the one you did whenever you ate something you found yummy. Frankly, Crispin found it endearing. He, too, was guzzling down some of the ramen when you reached out for his hand then laid it on the table palm up.
With a mischievous smile and your puffed up cheeks looking like a chipmunk from the noodles you'd gobbled up, you gently tapped his palm with your index finger, that same glint in your eye whenever you did that gesture.
"... Anong ginagawa mo, mahal?" Crispin chuckled, a brow raised. He found it cute but he had no idea what it was supposed to stand for.
"Wala lang," you mysteriously answered in a muffled voice, swallowing.
"You know, you shouldn't talk when your mouth is full," he pointed out, amused. You snorted, gulping.
"Not my fault you asked a question, Crispin," you retorted, shoving in another bite of noodley goodness with your chopsticks. You did a mini-wiggle when the umami flavor exploded on your tongue (the ramen was bussin', bestie). Ratatouille would be impressed!
"But seriously, what does the tap stand for?" your boyfriend wondered. You did it again. Tap, tap, tap.
"Isn't it obvious?" you smiled. He then sweat-dropped.
"Wait, keep smiling," Crispin leaned over the table, removing a tiny bit of the dahon sibuyas stuck on one of your front teeth with his nail. He then popped that finger into his mouth, making you blink at the action.
"Ay, may naiwan pala. Hehehehehe." With how long you two have been dating, you were no longer embarrassed if you did get anything stuck in your teeth and he had to get it out (it's happened in more occasions than you could count). You did the same to him (and trust me, you were way past the stage of getting grossed out from the gross habits couples did). At least you two were a hundred percent comfortable and open to one another, right? Sanaol.
Crispin nodded, going back to eating his noodles, "Okay, back to the topic. What does this—" He tapped your palm the same way you did. "—even mean?"
Your grin just grew wider then you whispered into his ear, "I love you."
"... I love you, too," he answered automatically, still not understanding. "But what do the taps mean? You keep doing it and—"
You did it again on his hand.
"I." Tap.
"Love." Tap.
"You." Tap.
At long last, that look of realization came upon his features, "... Aaaaaaaaah."
You chuckled, all brightness and merriness from your revelation to the man you loved. "Gets mo na, mahal?"
He scratched the back of his head sheepishly, "Oo, mahal. Hehe."
"... Can we order another bowl of ramen? Please?" With those puppy-dog eyes? Crispin could never resist. He'd rip the world apart for you and build it back up from scratch if you wanted him to.
That was how deep his love was for you. Kapag nagmamahal ang isang diyos, walang imposible... 'di ba?
He was already raising a hand to call for a waiter, "Sure. Basta maubos mo."
"... And if half lang maubos ko?"
He sighed, "... Edi ako kakain sa anong maiiwan." What was the saying whenever you found your soulmate? Oh, yes.
True love is getting fat together.
Maybe it was true for both of you.
When you two exited the ramen place, you patted your bloated tummy. "Haaaay, busog na busog si food baby," you sighed in happiness, adjusting the the top of your high-waisted skirt to loosen it up for more space. You elbowed him slightly, wiggling your eyebrows at him and mimicking Kylie Jenner, "Soooo, I'm thirty-four weeks today."
"'Luh, ang drama mo," Crispin snickered, poking your rounded side playfully and making you pout. "Nagdadalang tao ka pala, ha. Ako ang tatay pero hindi mo sinabi sa akin na buntis ka." He wouldn't lie, but thoughts of you being pregnant with a child warmed his entire being. Mini-yous and mini-hims running around.
What a dream.
"Nagdadalang tae lang po, manong," you stuck your tongue out at him, then stopped. He stopped walking, too, looking at you questioningly.
"What? What's wrong?"
"Mahal?" you paused. Gulugulugulugulu. Oh no. Mayday, mayday!
"Did you forget something at the restaurant?" he asked. You shook your head in response, telling him there was an emergency.
"... Mahal, natatae ako."
"Like, now?" You nodded at him with wide, doe-like irises. His eyes crinkled, finding the situation hilarious. "Really? Oh shit. Literally. Is this because we were talking about poop?"
Crispin could only cackle as you rummaged through your bag for some wet wipes (and the situation led to you two running around the mall like psychos looking for the nearest restroom—grabe ang cold sweat mo, sis; it was that type of pooping session).
As he waited outside the women's comfort room, he found himself smiling like a weirdo from your date today. Nagdadalang tae o nagdadalang tao, he wouldn't love you any other way.
"Punong-puno ng ligaya ang ating pagsasama."
He found himself unconsciously doing the tapping to you, as well. Tap. Tap. Tap. He only now realized how many times you've been saying "I love you" everyday. Usually, you'd only verbally say it out loud three times: in the morning waking up, whenever he left for a mission, or the times you went to sleep together (because of the nature of his work, it was uncommon, but if he was at home during the night, he'd make sure to say it to you). But now that he knew what the taps meant, he counted them for one week from Monday to Sunday.
You were sitting on the couch, on your stomach and sprawled vertically over his lap. He was watching a basketball game on television while you were on your phone, scrolling through Facebook. It was all quiet until he tapped his finger thrice on your calf. You beamed, rolling over to face him then gently tapping his cheek three times—not with your fingers, but with your hands, smooshing his cheeks then pecking his lips.
"Fwifee-hweif," he said. You tilted your head at him, letting go of his cheeks.
"What was that?" you curiously inquired.
"Fifty-eight," Crispin gave you his signature flirty grin. "You tapped me one hundred seventy-four times today. And one hundred seventy-four divided by three—because I love you has three syllables—is equal to fifty-eight." His affectionate gaze to you softened. "Mahal, you've told me I love you fifty-eight times today."
You just hugged him and hid your face in his neck, "I love you, too, manooooong."
"... Wanna watch a K-drama tonight?" he said, his voice rumbling through his chest as you laid your head on it.
"Mmhmm."
You guys ended up binging Scarlet Heart Ryeo and bawling your eyes out (Crispin cried louder than you, actually, and the box of tissues was passed back n' forth between you two).
"Punyeta, walang Season Two?" Crispin cursed, blowing his nose.
You hiccupped, shaking your head and scrolling through the categories, "W-Wala e-eh, m-mahal."
"Seryoso ka ba?" he gaped, wiping his tears after wiping yours. "That's how it ends?"
You nodded, sniffling, "Uh-huh."
The next morning, when all of you gathered in the kitchen for breakfast, Alexandra and the others could only stare, nagtataka kung bakit namamaga ang mga mata niyo (yeah, they were swollen as hell).
"... Anyare sa inyo?" Alexandra quizzed. Hank, while pouring everyone some juice, had a worried look on his face, too.
"Nag-away ba kayong dalawa, Kuya?" Basilio questioned. You both shook your head simultaneously.
"Hindi," Crispin shortly answered, exhausted from crying with you all night.
"Nanood lang kami ng K-drama," you supplied, as worn out as your boyfriend was.
"Aaaaaaah."
"Na parang wala nang sisira ng lahat."
The date always held some significance to him, not only because it meant only a few days before Christmas but also because it was the day you promised to one another that you'd be endgame.
December 1st.
It would repeat in his head over and over again until the day he died.
The two of you were lying in bed, the cold night air entering through the open windows. You were leaning on his chest in-between his lap, reading The Count of Monte Cristo. He noticed that your expression often shifted between being giddy to being angry or smug at what was happening to the main character.
"... Mahal?"
"Yeah?" you responded, not taking your eyes off the novel. You flipped another page.
"What kind of ring do you want? Para alam ko kung magkano ang iiponin ko?" he quietly asked, his thumb caressing your temple. Normally, men wanted this to be a surprise or didn't talk about this but he only wanted you to have something you'd cherish for the rest of your life. You tilted your head back to look up at him. "Do you want those with the big gems or the smaller and simpler ones?"
You gazed back at your novel, then sat up and closed it, turning to look at him. "Crispin." You took his hands in your own (he tapped it thrice, making a teeny smile creep up your lips). "Hindi ko kailangan ng singsing."
His eyes grew wide, "... Are you sure? You don't want to be formally married?"
You frantically shook your head, "Nooooooo, noooo! That's not what I meant, dummy. I just wanted to tell you that I don't need an expensive ring to be yours." You kissed him. "And to be your wife."
"Pero—"
"Mahal, if we ever do have kids, mahal ang gatas, diaper, at tuition," you childishly told him. "Kung magpapakasal tayo, I don't need a huge proposal or a big wedding. Let's put the funds away for a house and for the future, 'mkay?"
"... But you won't have a ring," he sulked.
Getting an idea, you hopped off the bed and open your cabinet, finding a piece of durable string on one of your shirts. With a strong tug, it came off. You walked back towards your boyfriend, flopping back down then looping it on your left ring finger. You held your hand up to him, "There. I have a ring now, see?"
Crispin had never ever loved anyone as much as he did right now. There was a nagging feeling at the back of his head, though. "... I feel like I've seen this in a movie before, mahal."
"Duuuuh. I got the idea from the Count of Monte Cristo. Mercedes promises herself to Dantes with a string ring! Sorry nalang if copyright infringement ang ginawa ko, hihi." You showed him the book you were reading, the smile not disappearing from your face. Feeling ecstatic, he kissed you passionately right on the spot.
"Ipapangako mo sa akin na magsasama tayo nang walang hanggan?" Crispin whispered against your lips. "Magpakailanman?"
You kissed him, rolling your eyes, "Oo na, Crispin. Corny mo talaga, manong. Such a hopeless romantic, like me!" Another kiss. "I'll stay with you forever and ever and eveeeeeer and grow old with you. We'll get that rest house in the mountains, travel the world together, win the lotto, and do anything we want!" you declared determinedly.
"Promise? Talaga?"
You grinned, wriggling your little finger, "Pinky promise."
He linked his pinky with yours, "Okay. Pinky promise, wifey."
"Okaaaaay, hubby," you quipped, settling down and snuggling into him.
9:24PM, he saw the digital clock display before he pulled the covers over you both, keeping you warm and safe in his arms.
"Bakit pa dumating ang oras na ito?"
"Mahaaaaal, pauwi na ako. Huwag kang mag-alala," you quietly told Crispin over the phone. He was on another investigation, but while their bossing was speaking to Captain Guerrero and Lieutenant Tapia about the case, he used the spare time he had to check up on you.
You had been buying groceries, but knowing you, Crispin had a feeling you had gone to do some other errands.
"Pauwi ka na? Meaning, you're driving home?" He sighed, "And why are you whispering?"
"... Ehehehe," you nervously giggled.
"Anong ehehehehe?" the demigod asked you, suspicious. "Mahal, saan ka na ba talaga?"
"Nasa banko pa ako. Oopsies," you admitted shamelessly. "But I just finished paying the bills. I'm actually walking away from the counter now and—"
You suddenly stopped talking. For a second, the son of the wargod thought that the signal had gone bad.
"Mahal?"
Your voice had gone distant, but it seemed like it was talking to someone else. He strained to hear what you were saying.
"Hey, hey... shhhh, little one, huwag kang umiyak," he heard you say. Your voice seemed so far away. You seemed like you were trying to shush a person. A kid.
"I want my mom!" a child wailed.
"... Langga, come here. At huwag kang masyadong maingay." If it weren't for his heritage as a god, he would have barely been able to hear what you said.
Were you comforting a kid? Awww. He was about to just end the call then text you instead when another much louder and crueler voice could be heard over the phone. No, there wasn't only one voice. There were more.
"Mamatay kayong lahat! Balang araw, hindi na mga tao ang mamumuno sa mundong ito!"
Then there was a sound that was unmistakably a gunshot.
"Nabalitaan ko na wala ka na."
Bang!
His blood went cold. Almost every day he handled firearms in his line of work, so of course he knew what it sounded like. The shrieks and terrified shouts came after the gunshots.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The last thing he heard were more gunshots, then the call ending.
He had never sprinted to Alexandra so fast before, frantically begging her to let him use the Dragon's Gate to teleport to wherever you were, even if it made him physically sick and nauseous.
Crispin didn't give a damn what happened to him, as long as nothing happened to you.
"Hindi ba't sabi mo hindi mo ko iiwan?"
It all happened so fast. One moment he was silently praying to Bathala for your safety while looking for you in the chaos. The next? He was scouring through the overwhelmed emergency room of the nearest hospital, where it was flooded with victims from the mall shooting.
It was a mess, with bleeding patients on the floor as nurses tried to assist. Others were seated on monobloc chairs that had been quickly put on the corridors. There was an overwhelming number of patients taken to the hospital either through ambulances or police cars themselves. It already began to stink of death, and Crispin hated it. His bloodlust as a wargod was creeping up his veins from the stench and his inner fury, but he held it in. He needed to find you first.
Behind him, Alexandra and Basilio were searching for you, too. When he told them what happened, they didn't hesitate to help and be transported to the mall as quick as possible. Captain Guerrero had already dispatched units after hearing what occurred (there was also an alarm that had blared in the station—a bank employee must have pressed an emergency button or something).
Surprisingly, in the midst of the havoc happening inside the hospital, he found himself walking towards the Trauma Bay of the hospital like a magnet. He had no idea where he was going, but he just kept going, and he stopped by a less crowded hallway. If he just went straight forward, he would be entering an operating room.
"Excuse me, coming through! Make some way!" It was a doctor who yelled from behind him. He turned around.
"Hindi papabayaan na ako'y mag-isa."
And as if time went by slower, he found you on a stretcher, being wheeled through the corridor as a nurse was on the bed with you, performing CPR. He saw the amount of blood gushing out of the bullet wounds on your body; one on your back, another on your stomach, and a third on your thigh.
Crispin couldn't help but run after them, asking one of the health professionals what was happening to you, "Nurse! Nurse, is she going to be okay!?"
"Are you her family?" they quickly interrogated. Alexandra and Basilio rounded the corner right as the nurse asked him that. Both held their breaths when they saw the tormenting state you were in, unconscious and on the brink of death.
The eldest demigod frenziedly nodded, "Yes, yes! I'm family!" He glanced at your bleeding form, and his heart clenched seeing the string ring on your finger, a bit of blood splattered over it. "I'm... I'm her husband! Asawa ko siya!"
You weren't formally or legally married yet, but to his eyes (and many of the others who knew you both), you were practically husband and wife.
"Good," the nurse said as they rushed you into the O.R., stopping Crispin from entering any further. "Sir, we need you to tell us your wife's name and her health details, please. She has to be operated on as soon as possible. We need her age, blood type, her comorbidities or allergies, if any..."
Crispin knew them all. He'd memorized them. And he told the nurses everything they needed for the operation. As long as it saved you, he'd say anything. Do anything.
"Hindi ba't sabi mo sabay tayong tatanda?"
It was a grueling operation, he could tell. Crispin had been pacing continuously in the waiting room, not even daring to sit from how anxious he was about you. Hank had come instantly to the hospital after hearing, and now there were three seated and extremely worried people watching him panic outside the operating room.
"God, please let her be okay," he continued to mumble to himself, fiddling with his fingers. "Please, please, please..."
"Kuya, umupo ka muna," Basilio tried to convince his brother.
"Oo nga," Hank frowned.
"You've been standing for five hours," Alexandra gave him a saddened look. "You should rest."
The older demigod shook his head, "I can't, bossing. Hindi pwede. Not until I know that she's okay."
As if on cue, the head surgeon came out of the operating room. Crispin nearly jolted and would have grabbed the man's collar had it not been for Alex and his brother holding him back, calming him down. No one could tell what he was about to say until he removed his surgical mask.
The four occupants waited for his response, antsy. The tension in the room was so thick it could be cut with a knife.
"Doc? Is she okay? Is she gonna be alright?" Crispin asked, troubled out of his mind. Alex's grip on his arm tightened, and so did Basilio's hold on his shoulder. "Doc, please say somethi—"
"... I'm sorry," the surgeon shook his head, a somber look on his face.
It was like the universe stopped for the demigod. The two people holding him were the only ones to support him when his knees buckled.
"We did everything we could. She lost too much blood, and the bullets hit too many vital organs," the doctor explained forlornly. "We performed CPR and a cardiac massage on her for thirty minutes, but she did not make it through the rest of the operation."
The words just echoed emptily through Crispin's ears.
"Bakit bigla ka na lang nandiyan sa kabilang buhay?"
When he entered the morgue alone, he didn't know why but he was expecting you to be sitting up and smiling, almost hearing your teasing voice telling him it was all a cruel prank. At first, that was what he saw. He saw the love of his life, soft skin flushed and curled up lips filled with so much love directed at him. He saw you radiant—glowing; that familiar twinkle in your magnificent eyes. He reached out to hold your left hand, awaiting its warmth.
Awaiting the three taps.
The taps that would tell him "I love you" and "I'm okay".
Crispin even waited a minute. Maybe you were still there, hanging on. Maybe... just maybe... you were fighting.
"Mahal?" he croaked out, squeezing your hand.
"Paano na ang lahat? Paano na ako, tayo?"
Those three taps never came. One minute. Five minutes. Ten minutes.
Only then did he really see you. The illusion all came crashing down.
Now your skin was so cold. So lifeless. So... opposite from what you were when you were alive. You were pale. Your lips were tinted blue. You were so still. So deathly still. Not one movement.
It freaked him out.
He couldn't believe it was you on that metal table—it didn't look like you. Where was the halo he always saw around your head? Where was that beam of light following you around?
His rose-tinted glasses suddenly became grey and dull. Taking your left hand, Crispin felt his heart shatter even more when his hand brushed the string ring on your finger. They had cleaned you up and made sure there was no blood left on your body, but nothing could remove those tiny, miniscule splatters that stained the string.
Remnants of what happened today.
You never did remove it. Even when showering or swimming or washing the dishes, you'd joked to him.
"See? 'Di ko nga kailangan ng singsing. Mas maganda pa nga 'to, eh. I can wear it all the time! Matibay pa!"
Crispin could nearly hear you, but it was all just a memory in his mind. God, he didn't want to forget your voice. Your laughter. Your cries. You whispering to him how much you loved him. He couldn't. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he did.
Both of you didn't even get to say "I love you" one last time. But reality was harsh, and this wasn't a movie where the leading characters could have a lengthy monologue confessing to each other as the dramatic scene was drawn out from seconds into minutes.
There were no camera angles, no music, no time left, and no happy endings. Everything was raw. Real.
"Hindi ba't sinabi mo sa akin na sabay tayong mangangarap?"
"Mahal," his voice trembled as he held your icy hand to his lips, kissing it. "Huwag mo akong iwan. What about us? Our dreams? Andami pa nating pangarap, 'di ba? Mga gustong gawin?"
No response.
"Tatatanda pa tayo, 'di ba? Bibili pa tayo ng bahay na nasa bundok... then we'll travel the world together, right? We've... We've saved up half of the funds! You... You can't leave now..."
Silence.
Crispin felt tears dripping down his face. He hadn't noticed he was crying. Only with you could he be a sniveling mess—around the others, he always had to be the kuya. The responsible one. The oldest one. The loyal bodyguard.
With you? He could be anything and you would never judge him.
Even when you were dead, he was still a sniveling mess in your arms.
"Sabi mo gusto mong manalo sa lotto," he choked out, cupping your cheeks. It was so strange to him; how colorless they were compared to how... spirited you were in life. "I'll do that... I'll make that happen. Just please... please come back to me. Gagawin ko ang lahat... bumalik ka sa akin, mahal. Mahal..."
Crispin told himself nothing was impossible when a god loved someone, yet now all this god could do was be paralyzed by his despair.
"Bakit bigla kang lumisan nang hindi man lang nagpaalam?"
They say there are five stages of grief. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. People don't talk enough about how they weren't actually stages. They were just five emotions and there was no particular order they came in. They would come and go, and that was how dealing with loss really was.
Today, as he was cradling his departed soulmate and the only woman he knew he'd ever love this much—reduced to tears while nursing his broken heart—he was feeling denial, bargaining, and depression all at once.
Only then did he allow himself to feel anger—just pure, unadulterated fury—when Alexandra let him and his brother unleash their bloodlust to the guilty aswang clan that had been the culprits of the mall shooting. The bank robbery.
He had his vengeance.
The son of the wargod nearly became a god of war that night, coming home soaked in the same crimson that dripped off his guns. He swore to himself he'd rip the world apart for you and build it back from scratch. Thus, Crispin was merciless to those who murdered you and all those other innocent humans.
He took his time watching the life dissipate out of their eyes, especially since he didn't see yours before you died. They were already closed when he got to the hospital too late.
Denial, anger, bargaining, and depression. He'd felt all that as time passed, on and off.
Acceptance? That last stage? That last emotion? Crispin never did really get to that point. Perhaps he would. Perhaps he wouldn't. Only more time would tell.
"Isang malamig na hangin ang yumakap sa akin."
The demigod sat under the tree that shaded your gravestone, a bouquet of white and red roses beside him while he relaxed on the grass. It was a classic symbol of true and everlasting love. That was the vow you'd made to one another, right?
December 1st.
It had been one year since your death. Wasn't it funny how the fates worked? Two years ago, on this very day, you two promised each other that you'd be together forever. He said that this day would be memorable to him until the day he died because technically, it was your engagement slash informal wedding anniversary.
Then one year ago, you had been shot trying to protect a child from those armed aswang. You saved the kid, alright. Crispin even made sure that the little boy, one of the lucky survivors of the shooting, wouldn't be targeted by the aswang. He ensured your sacrifice wouldn't be in vain. But what was supposed to be a marriage anniversary turned into your death anniversary.
December 1st.
The day would indeed be eternally ingrained into his mind.
But now, he could only dwell on nostalgia as he crouched and cleaned your gravestone, polishing it after removing all the grass and dirt. Engraved on it were the words beloved friend, sister, and wife.
Wife.
He really should have married you before you were declared dead. It didn't matter now; you would always be his wife, even in death.
On the left side of your gravestone was his mother's tombstone. He did the same, cleaning it and polishing it. When he was done, he tapped your gravestone thrice, "Una na ako, mahal. Paalam din, Ma. Baka hanapin pa ako ni bossing."
Tap. Tap. Tap.
He jerked, swerving around and standing up. He swore someone just touched his shoulder and—
Whoosh!
"Parang isang pahiwatig na magpapaalam ka na."
A gentle breeze came from behind him, where the tree was. Once more, he turned around.
Crispin didn't know what to do.
He thought he was dreaming, but he wasn't. He knew he wasn't. Not with the way your hand rested on his cheek. Not with how warm you felt.
Despite seeming almost transparent, you looked absolutely radiant, more so than when you were in life. If he was biased before about you having a halo and a beam of light following you around, now he wasn't (because you really did have a golden circle on your head and a candescent glow behind you).
You didn't speak, but again, you tapped your index finger thrice on his cheek. He was too stunned to react to the featherlight touch you had. It was almost nothing, but it was there. A ghostly tap, tap, tap.
"... Mahal?" he whispered.
You joyfully beamed at him (God, did you look divine), then planted a fragile kiss on his lips. You settled down on the roots of the tree and patted the patch of grass beside it. He sat down slowly. When he did, he removed his black gloves while you intertwined your hand with his.
On his left ring finger was a string ring made from that old shirt of yours. The same one you improvised your string ring from. It was how Crispin always remembered you and how he brought your memory everywhere with him.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The triple tapping. Perhaps it was your way of wordlessly saying you loved him while simultaneously bidding him goodbye as a ghost. He didn't know. You couldn't speak (or he couldn't hear you), so you did what you could.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Just that gesture every once in a while as you quietly listened to him tell you about his day.
When he had to leave, he saw you there by the tree, sitting and waving at him. The next time he came to visit, you were there. Always there, waiting.
And when you weren't, after a couple of decades, Crispin knew that it was time for him to let you go.
To let himself move on.
But that didn't mean he stopped hurting or stopped loving you. He could never stop loving you. Never.
Kahit kailangan ka niyang bitawan upang makapagpatuloy ka sa kabilang buhay, habangbuhay kang minahal ng isang diyos ng digmaan.
× AUTHOR'S NOTE ×
Nasa mood kasi akong manakit ng tao (because ngayon ko lang pinanood ang mga pelikula ni Rico Yan & Claudine Barretto after his death; ang pait eh, right person but wrong time). Medyo sadista pala ako, haha. Ayun, pati ako umiiyak habang nagsusulat nito. Even when I was showering, I was still crying and blowing my nose out. Sana nagustuhan niyo kasi pati author niyo nasaktan sa ginawa niya. 🥲😅
And that tapping gesture was inspired by a random Reddit post I saw years ago. As someone whose love language ain't saying stuff out loud, that just really called out to me. Acts of service kasi akin, eh.
Anyways, I finished writing this at like, 12AM. I'll just edit the typos and errors tomorrow because I want to get this oneshot off my chest. Goodnight! 😂💤
Comments and constructive criticism are welcome! Likes and reblogs are very much appreciated, too! (Yes, you may also rant at me for this.) 💙
TAGLIST: @belladaises @binibiningbabaylan @4kodzuk3n @sparklingmallow @severuslovebot @holyshxtangel @marinac15 @space-flamingo @pippethealien @kashasenpai @disappointmentpastry @hornehlittleweeblet2 @seijohoe @monimiin @ibelievein2dmensupremacy @tinybonksharkcop @hannalogies @banisuoh @genshin-idiot @lemonnie-kimmie @haliya-mori
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Idk I’ve been feeling pretty down lately. Something cute, angsty, and smutty with a jealous Merriell Shelton and fem reader ?? You can have fun with it
Doux Comme Des Bonbons
Pairing: Snafu x Gender Netural! Reader
Summary: Snafu has a tendency to always wound up into trouble. Regardless, you still manage to put up with him.
Word Count: 3.5k
Warnings: Implied sexual harrasment, jeleous! snafu, cursing, fighting, but very minor!
A/N: Of course I can! I feel you, hope this cheers you up! ❣️✨ I’m sorry this came so late. I’ve been studying for a few tests. I promise to work on a few requests this weekend though! I love the requests though, keep them coming in! This one was a little longer than expected. Snafu is my favourite himbo. The title translates to “as sweet as candy” bc this is fluffy-is. Anyways, hope you enjoy!
Masterlist
“Snafu, he’s just a classmate!”
Snafu slammed the door to your apartment building. If school and work weren’t hard enough, this had been your breaking point. As much as you loved your Cajun boyfriend, he was an absolute handful. It was like taking care of a manchild who you loved one minute, the next you wanted to scream in his face. Whenever things were peaceful between you, it was bliss. Endless worship, cuddles, cute french nicknames, romantic and steamy nights. It was anything a partner could ask for.
But when all hell would break loose between you two, it would be full-on discord.
“Classmate ma’ ass. Prissy lil’ fucker. I’ve seen ‘da way ‘dat preppy boy looks at you.” Snafu annoyingly badgered. He followed you around your apartment. Stopping at the kitchen counter, you spin on your heel to look at him straight in the face, a hand on your waist and an angry pout proudly displayed on your face. “ ‘Dat Chris or whatever his n-”
“Chad. His name is Chad.” You corrected.
The Cajun groaned as his calloused hands grasped onto the counter. He was extremely aggravated with hell in his eyes. “Whatever. I don’t like ‘yah hangin’ ‘round him. Chad kept starin’ at you like you were a piece of meat. Tried to fuckin’ steal ma’ seat next to you! ‘Dat lil’ sunva gun tryin’ to sit next ‘ta ‘ma Cher!”
Chad wasn’t someone you considered a friend or acquaintance. He was someone who was in your lecture who happened to be one of your friend’s inner friends. Whenever you would go to study, Chad would always tag along. He mainly wouldn’t study and would pester the hell out of you. He had even followed you to Snafu’s jeep, which proceeded to Snafu almost running him over. Thankfully you had convinced Chad not to press charges.
There was no denying he was a total asshole. He wore the brighetst polos, cheated on every test, and did whatever he pleased. Snafu was convinced that his parents paid his way into college. It baffled you how you’re best friend could even consider someone such as Chad a friend. His whole purpose of being alive was to annoy you. Snafu surely didn’t care for him. But you only had the class for another two months, and then you would be rid of Chad.
Two months had gone by and Chad’s advances had begun to slowly die down. He was aware that you were dating Snafu, who he deemed a man out of your league. It was true, but you loved Snafu with every part of your soul. Snafu was not your everyday boyfriend. It was like dating a man child off of his ADHD medication. He was a somewhat (but still young) man who worked in lumber, a little rough around the edge with a thick Cajun accent. You were a teacher’s pet with a kind heart and gentle presence. When your friend Eugene had set you up, you’d never thought it would work. But date after date, the two of you only grew closer. Within three months, you had moved into Snafu’s apartment since you could barely afford to live in a shitty dorm. When Snafu had offered his home to become your home, you knew you had fallen in love with him. As much as Snafu was the occasional pain in the neck, he was yours and you were his.
Also in those two months, your professor had invited you to a semester party after you had finished up exams. The university you attended was celebrating his retirement and had invited the whole school. Not wanting you to be alone, Snafu tagged along. He looked amazing that night; his wild curls tamed with copious amounts of gel, a white collared shirt, and dress shoes that were crisp. It would have been a lovely night if Snafu had simply kept his mouth shut, which he struggled with.
-----
Walking arm and arm with your Cajun boyfriend, you were literally the belle of the ball. The amount of compliments you had received on your outfit was impressive. You had to thank your friend for the simple, yet elegant outfit.
One of your classmates had stopped to compliment your outfit. After a short discussion, you and Snafu continued your way to your assigned seating. Smiling at one of your classmates, Snafu pulled you in closer to his body.
“Relax Snaf,” You smiled as you leaned your head onto his shoulder. “Don’t get your panties in a twist.”
“Whaddya talkin’ ‘bout? I’m fine. Justa’ lotta guys comin’ up ta you-I don’t blame them ‘doe. But if the-”
“Y/n!”
Snafu was cut off by your friend Hana. Best friends since birth, the two of you were inseparable. Same neighborhood, same high school, and same world-renowned university. Hana knew you better than your own parents at times. You left Snafu’s link to go give her a hug. Hana walked over and gave Snafu a pat on the back, knowing him quite well. You could tell she was a little standoffish with him since she thought he was way out of your league, but was glad to finally see you happy.
“Someone's looking dapper tonight!” Hana commented, patting Snafu’s shoulder. Snafu chuckled and nodded back, complimenting Hana’s (hideous) pink coral slacks. You saw Snafu’s confusion at how bright the pants were. Hana, even if she was your best friend, was a drastically different person from you. “Glad you brought him along, y/n. You guys look so cute together!”
Snafu stood right beside you. Feeling a firm hand on your waist, he looked over and gave you a devilish smirk. “Hana, my cher right here is ‘da real belle of the ball? They don’t even have to try-they just always look flawless.”
While being flirty, Snafu’s sweet side was starting to break through. The three of you chuckled as you gave Snafu a peck on the cheek. Cooing into his ear, “Merriell Shelton, you’re one heck of a kiss up.”
“What? I’m only speakin’ the truth.” He defended.
Hana smiled along at that, giving you a small wink. “Snafu is only speaking the truth. You guys are looking for your table?”
You nodded in response. The banquet hall was small and full of people. It was also dark which made it near impossible to find your assigned seating.
“We’re actually at the same table! Allow me to lead the way.” Hana stated. Snafu and you followed here through the crowd to the table. It mainly contained your classmates and a few of their families and friends. Everything was at peace until you saw a flash of a preppy patchwork suitjacket. It took a minute to process before it hit you and Snafu.
It was the one and only Chad.
Chad had been conversing with his friends.Upon seeing you, he let out a bostieorus laugh with his other preppy friends. Snafu felt immeidntly threatened in his presence, his hold tigenthing at your waist. He was trying to act tough but came off more as a child who’s favoruite toy was going to be taken away. As Chad stood up to come greet himself, you leaned over with your teeth gritted into a smile.
“Don’t say a damn thing. I can handle this.”
The tension between Chad and Snafu was evident. Here Chad was a young and egotistical frat boy who thousands of girls would squirm after. Here Snafu was, a bug-eyed Cajun with a heavy accent and one hell of an attitude. Chad still seemingly wasn’t over the fact that he was almost run over one time by Snafu. He even lightly joked about it, which didn’t sit well with any of you. This only caused Snafu’s burning hatred for Chad to grow even more. Chad was the gasoline and Snafu was the flame. Unfortunately, you and Snafu were placed right next to Chad and his friends. Hana was right next to you and knew that this wasn’t going to end well with the prepster and Cajun. Snafu would swing around the cheap whiskey in his cup and glare down Chad whenever he would even dare look at you. You hated the fact that Snafu was acting like this just because of Chad. The inner immature child in Snafu was beginning to show when Chad began to talk politics. It led to a passive aggressive agreement before you became the mediator before someone got a black eye.
Chad was busy talking to his goons when Snafu turned to you, a hand on your thigh. You placed your hand, squeezing it as you leaned in. “Bab-”
“I don’t like him. Prissy little bitc-”
“Merriell!” You scolded. “Langug-”
Snafu smirked as he leaned in to whisper into your ear. “I ain’t a Proctologist, but I know an asshole when I see one. Do people think he’s straight? With those pink tight pants, it’s sendin’ another message.”
A snort escaped your mouth as you leaned into the Cajun’s shoulder. He did have a point though. What did people see in Chad that was so attractive?
Snafu noticed that you were amused by his humor. That devilish smirk you knew all too well was plastered on his face. “We should bust outta here, ditch the party and go back home. Watch a ninety day fiance. I like what’s on ‘da outside, but i wanna see what’s on ‘da inside…”
Snafu’s fingers crawled closer to your stomach. You bit your lip in response, your cheeks burning. It was so hard to resist him all dressed up and neat. Two could play this game.
“What the hell am I ever gonna do with you, Merriell Shelton?”
“Beats me, (Y/p) (Y/l/n).” He purred into your ear. It was definitely starting to become harder to resist him, especially when he called you by your professional name. But you had to contain yourself and watch over Snafu for another hour.
Your professor had walked over, interrupting your intimate moment. It was mostly for the better. Snafu had a chance to talk to your professor and learn more about the class you had been taking. He chatted up a storm with Snafu, who seemed integrued. Snafu wasn’t one for learning whatsoever. But anything that his partner would do was of interest. Your professor had even complimented Snafu saying that he had found a lovely partner. As he walked away, Snafu stood by and grabbed your drink to go get a refill. You attempted to get up but Snafu put a hand on your shoulder, holding you down.
“Sit down, darlin’.” He stated, saying a hard d in his creamy Cajun voice. “I’m takin’ care of my smart lil’ student.”
The next few events happened too quickly for you to process. Once Snafu had left, Chad had scooted into his seat. You could smell the vodka on his lips. He began to be his typical self, but got much more invasive of your space. You mostly ignored him as he talked about how rich his family was and his summer house on Nantucket. Hana wasn’t there, so you were stuck until Snafu came back.
Chad began to insulet your boyfriend. It started out as nothing more than a drunken rant, but things slowly came to tug at your heart. He began to make fun of his appearance, calling him “bug-eyed” and “dirty looking skin”. He made fun of his work occupation, outfit, almost anything and everything about him. It was definitely an uncomfortable situation. Where the hell was Snafu?
The breaking point was when Chad had wrapped his arm around you, asking you “What the hell do you see in that loser?”
The next events were full of discord. Snafu had come over, furious. He had yanked Chad out of his chair, yelling in his face. Chad began to cry, threatening to sue you and Snafu. He had also thrown pathetic insults at Snafu, which only made Snafu’s burning hatred brighter. Everybody had their eyes on Snafu, you, and Chad. Embarrassed, you grabbed Snafu and dragged him out of the venue. It was best for the both of you to leave before the police were called. The last words you heard before leaving were Chad’s drunken cry.
“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer next day! Hope you both get evicted from your shitty little apartment! You people are so evil!”
------
“You could have just ignored him!”
“Like hell! He had yah’ hand ‘round you, tryin’ to s-”
“Oh for the love of god!” You cursed. “I could’ve handled that on my own. You didn’t have to yank him out of his chair!”
“I did have ‘ta! He was assaultin’ you! You’re my c-”
“Merriell, do not cher me. This is serious,” You hissed. All you wanted to do was go to bed and escape this horrible nightmare. “He could charge you for assault. Even if it was minor, you did try to run him over with your car. There’s no way you could stand a chance against that. If you had let me handle it, it wou-”
Snafu raised his voice, “Y/N! HE WAS HARRASIN’ YOU! TRIED TO PULL DOWN ‘YER PANTS! WHAT ‘DA HELL DID YOU THINK I WAS GONNA LET HIM DO? YOU JUST NEED TO FUCKIN’ LISTEN SOMETIMES!”
His sour tone definitely made your whole body go numb. When Snafu raised his voice, you knew he was mad. He was usually pissed off at the world, but it was chilling to hear him scream. His eyes widened as the gel in his hair began to wear off; his unruly curls began to show. You stepped back, feeling tears sting at your eyes. Snafu, upon seeing this, freaked out. He had been irritated the whole night. The last thing he wanted was to see you all upset. Your lip began to quiver as warm tears streamed down your cheeks. The Cajun’s face softened, walking over to apologize. He had fear all over his face. You were the person he loved the most yet at times he had no idea how to comfort you. Emotions weren’t his speciality. He grew up greedy and selfish since it was all he knew. When he had met you, Snafu had truly changed. He didn’t know how to describe it, but you had made him a better person. You gave him hope that the world wasn’t such a shitty place.
Turning around, you walk upstairs and block out everything. Your eyes are full of tears, blinding your vision. Snafu followed after you, begging for forgiveness. He was like a lost, heartbroken puppy. Instead of heading towards your shared bedroom, you decided to hide away in the bathroom. Slamming the door, you back into the wall and slowly slide down. All you wanted to do was just let your emotions loose and not have to think about absolutely anything. You just wanted to be alone with your tears and nothing more.
-----
The tears eventually stopped with your vision cleared. You could feel the dry makeup under your eyes. Your arms and legs felt numb as you were backed to a wall, staring into the shower. What did your professor think? It was horribly embarrassing for you. There was no way you and Snafu could win a lawsuit against Chad. He knew the power he had over the both of you. It was going to be an absolute nightmare. Hana was most likely blowing up your phone with notifications. What di-
Your thoughts went away when you heard the bathroom door open. It was the one and only Snafu who had the look of a sad puppy. He normally wasn’t this soft, but his face was ridden with guilt. You didn’t even react when he walked over and sat right next to you, his thigh right next to yours. Staring at the wall, he let out a sigh. His big blue eyes were right on you.
“Cher,” His fingers trailed onto your chin as he gently turned your head. Your face was destroyed with ruined makeup. It looked like he wanted to say something, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Guilt was all over his face. But there was no time to be whining, all he could do was attempt to make things right.
“Come on,” Snafu cooed. Grabbing your hand, he gently led you up to look in the mirror. This was the second time you saw yourself in the mirror that night. You looked like you had been hit with a tornado. The once neat outfit had been wrinkled, your neatly gelled hair wispy and falling apart, and your face covered with runny makeup. Snafu had gone through the cabinet to grab some makeup wipes. His fingers titled your head to him as he ran it gently over your face. Instead of fighting back, you let him remove the makeup from your face. He made sure to clean off every little bit from your foundation to your lipstick. As he reached your eyes, he peeled off one of your fake leashes and jumped back.
“Sacre bleu!” He cursed, throwing the eyelash into the sink. Snafu was a man who was scared by nothing, except for a fake eyelash. You bit your lip, trying to hold back a chuckle.
“ ‘Da fuck is dat thing? Fuckin’ spiderweb lookin’ bitch. Looks like it has a damn life of its own...” Snafu ranted as his words slowly turned into french. He turned over to you, biting your lip as you held back a laugh.
A smirk appeared on his face as he placed his hands on his hips, “You’d wear this shit?”
“Hana gave them to me.” You shook your head, smiling. He did have a point; they looked like spiderwebs. “I know, they're ridiculous.”
You felt Snafu’s calloused hands grab your waist and halt you on top of the bathroom counter. “Well atleast you make them look hot. Speakin’ of hot, you looked amazing tonight…” He looked down before looking right back into your eyes. “Listen, I’m sorry darlin’. Just seein’ him bother you made me livid. Ain’t no one gotta treat my cher like ‘dat. Especially ‘dat vineyard vines lookin’ prissy.”
You let out a sigh, leaning into his shoulder. “God, his suit was awful…”
“Fuckin’ blindin’. Like, pick a struggle with ‘dat middle part and layerin polo shit…”
A snort escaped your mouth. Snafu wasn’t wrong; Chad looked even worse than he usually did. It was always bright, blinding colors matched with even brighter, more hideous clothes. Snafu’s hand gently caressed your hair as you leaned onto him.
“By the way…” You cooed into his ear, “I’m not condoning what you did, but hearin’ you rip Chad to pieces was kinda hot...”
“Want me ta’ do it again? I’d love to see his little face all scrunched uppa’ ‘gain.”
“God no,” Shaking your head, your hands fiddled with his unruly curls. “If you do, i’m gonna take away all your cigarettes. We can’t handle the lawsuit that’s coming.”
“Y/n, hate to break it ‘ta yah, but I’m not a rule follower. Can I atleast run him over with ‘ma car? Or steal his trump sign?”
“Snafu Shelton, what the hell am I going to do with you?”
Snafu wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. He held on tight, like a child holding a teddy bear. “Stay with me. Right here, right now.”
You smiled into his shoulder as the two of you were wrapped in each other's arms. Snafu was certainly a handful, but you loved him more than anything in the world. He was truly willing to do anything to protect your honor and make you happy. That was a true man, not a boy.
“Ok, your chokin’ me Snaf.” You stated. Moving his arms, Snafu looks at your eyes as you rubbed them. “What time is it?”
“Ten? Darcey and Stacey are on.” He said, grabbing your hand as he led you out of the bathroom into your bedroom. “We can poppa’ few beers and order from Shanghai.”
An relieved sigh escaped from your mouth. Alcohol and chinese food were the perfect cure to a horrible night. “Thank freakin’ god. Anythin’ to forget this god awful night.”
You walked away to throw on your sweatpants and one of Snafu’s flannels on. Suddenly, his hand grabbed yours as he pulled you back to whisper into your ear. “Can’t wait ta’ see you outta’ dat pretty lil’ number ‘ya got on.”
An over exaggerated gasp escaped your mouth as you playfully (gently) slapped his face. A snarky laugh escaped his mouth. You rolled your eyes as you walked over to change. “Keep it in ‘ya pants, soldier.”
“Sorry. Whenever I see yah, I lose control darlin’.” Snafu smirked devilishly. “Can’t help it that you're smart n’ sweet. Just like candy.”
“Seriously, what the hell am I going to do with you?” You repeat yourself as you finish changing. It baffled you how you could handle Snafu. He was a manchild at times.
The Cajun grabbed your waist and began to tickle you. You fought back as you held back your giggles. Carrying you to the bed, he laid you down as the two of you held each other. His hand drew careless figures into your back as you nestled your face into his neck. He placed a kiss into your face, gently sighing into it.
“I love you, y/n.”
“Love you too, you dirty bastard.”
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Chapter Two: Welcome Back
A/N: FINALLY, i am so sorry this took so long but I have been so busy with work but here is chapter two. Also do you guys want a taglist, i have gotten some questions about it? Thanks to my hype girl and bestie cortney for reading this and just being amazing @pogue-writings
The silver fork in her hand had become something more similar to a toy as she used it to poke around the remnants of food. In a matter of minutes after they arrived in the Great Hall, Ophelia had managed to fill her stomach with all different kinds of foods. Around her sat people in the same robes as her, tints of green all over the fabric, most of them were still devouring the pastries that floated above the wooden table. One of her cheeks rested in her hand as she watched headmistress Mcgonagall make her way onto the podium, she drew breath, and it was almost like she blew out a candle because suddenly the fiery conversations were silenced.
“Welcome back to all of you who have previously wandered these corridors, and to those of you who are here for the first time, welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Here you will learn valuable skills, but most importantly, you will make great friends and these people might even become your family.” The headmistress did not pause, but these words, they brought Ophelia back to the time when she first set foot in the Great Hall.
Her bottom lip was stuck between her teeth, and she tugged it whenever they announced another name to go up to the sorting hat. On her right side stood the Cameron siblings, Sarah and Rafe. Ophelia had known them since before she learned how to walk, but lately, things seemed to be changing. Sarah and Rafe were drifting apart, he was becoming angrier and she was becoming more rebellious. It seemed as though those feelings would match and build their bond, but they did not. So when it was Rafe’s turn to go up on the podium, he didn’t spare Sarah a second glance, but when he sat on the chair with the hat on his head, his eyes watched Ophelia.
Later that evening she sat beside him, at the Slytherin table, and from afar she watched how Sarah made new friends, wizards, and witches who proudly wore the Hufflepuff badge. Rafe was indulged in a conversation with two other first-year Slytherins that had joined them, Topper and Kelce. And even if though they had just met, the two of them looked upon Rafe with a sort of admiration. Something that would turn dangerous in the long run, but for now they were just four kids sitting at a table, sharing nervous laughs and experiences from Ollivanders.
Four had turned into three and now Rafe, Topper, and Kelce were a trio of teenagers that laughed too loudly and mocked the first years. While Ophelia sat on the other side of the table, desperate to avoid them even if it meant sitting beside exciting first-year students who bugged her with hundreds of questions about life at Hogwarts. She didn’t want to answer their curiosity because she doubted her experience would be something to look up to, did they not understand that her sitting with them showcased enough about her life here?
She missed the ending of the headmistress speech, meaning she also missed the fact that they were supposed to make their way onto the dorms.
“Lia, we have to go.” Standing in front of her was Topper, his prefect badge shone in the light from the candles hovering over them, just as hers did. A small sigh escaped her lips as she followed him to the front of the masses of Slytherin students, as prefects it was their duty to show them to the rooms. The responsibility of having to do this along with one of her former friends had been a weight on her shoulders since last year when she excitedly went to the prefect meeting expecting one of the preppy Slytherin boys but instead saw Topper leaning against the wall.
“Listen up!” He yelled, gathering the attention of kids with clueless and curious eyes, he looked over at his companion, gesturing for her to continue.
“Yeah, so we are your prefects, we are here to keep you in check and occasionally help you if you don’t get on our bad side. Follow along and we will take you to the common room, be aware of your surroundings, shit moves around here.” Heads bobbed up and down as the kids nodded in understanding of what she was saying, Topper just shook his head at her.
“You seem to have grown more hostile during the summer.” He said as they started walking, causing her to roll her eyes at him. She did not want to have a conversation with him, not now and not ever. Sometimes she wished people were like chalk if they were she would be able to just wipe them away. Perhaps there would still be small remnants of them left, but she could live with that. But people were not like chalk, so she had to walk beside them and force herself to make conversation.
“Happens when you spend the year around snakes.” He stifled a laugh at her comment and shook his head once again. “So I assume you still don’t wanna start hanging out with us again?”
She said the password and let at all the first years inside the common room, urging them to remember the password if they did not want to sleep on the cold floor. Some of them ran inside, while some of them wore cautious expressions as they examined the room. It also seemed like a few of them had already made friends, which brought Ophelia back to the day she had lost hers.
As always these last three years she was sitting on the damp grass alongside her small group of friends. Kelce and Topper were laughing at something Rafe had said, they always did. The admiration they held for the blonde boy with the sometimes vicious smile had not faltered even though it had been three years. She, however, had stopped being impressed a long time ago. Summer was near, and she almost wishes she could pull the break closer to her. Things were not the same anymore, the comfort she had found in intertwining her fingers with Rafe’s was long gone. Instead, she found herself flinching away whenever his hands brushed past hers.
“Look at him, pathetic if you ask me.” She looked up from the torn pages of her book and watched as Rafe scrunched his face up in disgust.
“Stop it.” She muttered, trying to avert his attention from the poor boy walking a couple of meters away from them. Rafe did look at her, he watched her for a long time, taking notice in how she bit her lower lip whenever something interesting occurred in her book. He noticed the contrast when her bright red nails brushed her dark hair from her face.
Rafe Cameron was fully aware that Ophelia no longer watched him the same way, and maybe it was just that that urged him to hex that poor second-year, making him stumble and lose all his stuff. Rafe did not stop there, he could never just leave it, he continued and continued until there was almost no way back. His black-haired friend tried to stop him as he whispered spells that sent the boy flying into the lake, but he continued.
“Stop, you are drowning him!” She screamed, kicking and scratching at the arms that held her back. They were Topper and Kelce’s of course, restraining her so that Rafe could have his fun. He let go of the boy who came out of the water gasping for breath, his eyes were red and tears were mixing with the water he had almost lost his life in.
“See he is fine, stop being so overdramatic Li.” The boys let go of her as he said this, seeing that her anger must have washed away, Rafe was done after all. But she was not, Ophelia grabbed her wand, marched over to the boy who used to make her heart skip an extra beat, and pointed the wand directly at his face. He was still smiling, he was yet to understand that he had just lost her. He had let her slip through his fingers, like sand she had escaped his vicious grip.
“You are foul and evil, and I will no longer tolerate it by being in your presence. I hate you, I hate you, I hate.-” She pushed at his chest with her palms, pushing him further away from her. But she paused to turn around to look at the two other.
“I hate all of you.” She screamed, anger laced her voice as she whispered spells that made their textbooks burn into ashes. The only thing she felt comfortable doing before she gave them one last glance, and left her friends.
As that memory resurfaced, she looked at Topper, she was still disgusted by him but she had learnt to tolerate him. He was easier than Rafe, but thankfully he had stopping pestering her last year. They were sixth years now, and she would not let herself dwell over them anymore. She had swore to herself that this year was gonna be different, and maybe it would, if she just let it be.
“No Topper, I will not start hanging out with you again.” She finally answered, and he nodded, clearly not surprised by her answer. “But I’ll still see you at the prefect meeting later I guess?”
Ophelia sighed and rubbed her forehead, of course, the annual prefect meeting. “Yeah, see you there.” She mumbled before walking up to her dorm, Topper said something she did not hear nor did she care enough to go back and ask him. She disliked the prefect meetings, mostly because they always took place right after arrival and that was when she felt like being in bed for the rest of the week. At least she had about an hour to unwind before she had to be in a room filled with preppy and stuck up witches and wizards who took their responsibility way to serious. Oh well, she would just have to wait and see how it went this time.
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76 on the prompt list :>>> excited to see what u come up w/
Anon, your faith in me was truly misguided. I saw this prompt and went, “ooh, ok, let’s do some heartfelt angst,” and then as I started that my brain went, “nah, this instead.”
And by this, I mean “domestic & married Reddie being gross and in love and having a drama queen for a kid”
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Prompt: 76 – “It could be worse. They could be dating.” “Wait. They are?!”
Summary: “Our daughter is dating a nose-picker?!” Eddie says it with the disdain of someone describing a serial killer.
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Richie kicks the door closed with his foot, already slipping it halfway out of his shoe. He dumps his duffel on the floor, which Eddie’ll chide him for later. That’s a problem for future Richie, not present Richie, who’s running on pure caffeine after his non-stop flight from Atlanta to LA.
The distant thump of 80s music lures him to the kitchen. Eddie’s humming along to the radio as he rinses lettuce for one of his seasonal salads. Richie would bet his life it includes pine nuts.
Padding quietly across the hardwood, Richie warps his arms around his husband from behind. “Honey, I’m home!”
Eddie jolts, relaxing the minute he feels the frame of Richie’s glasses against his head. “Jesus,” he sighs, dropping to a whisper. “Jack, what’re you doing, you know my husband’s coming home today!”
“Jack?!” Richie squawks, twisting him around by the lapels. “As in, our mailman?”
“Oh, whoops,” Eddie feigns shock, the facade lasting all of a second before he throws his arms around Richie’s neck, swooping in for a kiss.
Richie moans, a little satisfied hum against Eddie’s lips. “Where’s my other sweetheart?”
His husband adjusts his shirt where it’s riding up, due to his Richie’s wandering hands. “Moping,” he explains, delicately.
“She’s seven. What does she have to mope about?” Richie deadpans. His mouth twists into a grimace. “Wait. Are you trying the tuna casserole recipe again?”
Eddie whips around. “What the fuck’s wrong with my–?”
“Nothing!” he answers quickly. Eddie narrows his eyes, wielding the salad-spinner like he wants to use it on something besides leafy greens. “So what’s eating my little Spaghetti-o?”
“Mrs. Diaz separated her from her cubby-buddy, Jonas,” Eddie informs, eyebrows rocketing to his hairline. “Apparently they were too disruptive as a pair.”
“Jonas? Isn’t that the nose-picker?” He regrets this observation as Eddie gags over the croutons.
Everyone has a thing, a thing that trips the gag reflex. Many things bring out that response in Eddie, yet none so viscerally as his aversion to snot, boogers, and the like. Ever since they were kids, it was the surefire way to make him heave. Even if the snot in question was connected to their child.
So when it came to boogers, Richie was the go-to parent, while Eddie graciously agreed to handle the diaper meltdowns. After all, the key to a successful marriage is compromise. Compromise, and lots of Clorox wipes.
At the school’s Christmas pageant last year, the boy standing next to Nina started digging for gold halfway through Twelve Days of Christmas and found a nugget before they hit two turtle-doves. Poor Eds nearly hurled in Richie’s lap.
“Don’t remind me,” Eddie shudders. “Anyway, she’s heartbroken over it. As soon as we got home she ran to her room. I tried to talk to her when I brought her a snack and she asked me to please give her time.”
Richie imagines that coming out of his seven-year-old’s mouth and snorts. “Sorry,” he adds. “Not funny.”
Eddie ducks his chin to hide his smile. “Even for her, it’s a tad overdramatic,” he admits, glancing up at Richie through his lashes. “I didn’t have the heart to pester her, but, maybe since you’re home…”
“I’m on it!” Richie stretches the lingering kinks out of his neck. “I’m a world-famous comedian back from a sold-out show. Cheering our daughter up should be a cinch.”
“Mhm,” Eddie intones, not sounding very confident. Which, rude. He seems rather distracted by the length of Richie’s biceps as they stretch over his head. His eyes gleam with an anticipation that has nothing to do with salad. Richie’s got the same itch crawling beneath his skin and he’s very eager to scratch it. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and the dick grow harder.
His knocks at Nina’s room are ignored, so Richie gently pushes the door open to peer inside. At the sight of his daughter curled up on the bed, he breaks into a smile.
“Eyyy, there’s my girl!”
Nina raises her head from the pillow, uttering a curt, “Hi, Dad.”
Well, that’s far less enthusiasm than he was expecting. Considering he was gone for almost a week. Nothing like a child’s indifference to keep you humble.
“Aww, sweetie, what’s wrong?” His ears perk at the soft croon of Whitney Houston in the background. “And … what the heck are you listening to?”
“Playlist,” she mutters, blindly flinging an arm toward her device. She’s got it open to his Spotify.
Richie should probably delete the app from her tablet, like, yesterday. If she ever stumbles across his “Songs to fuck Eddie to” playlist he’ll have to commit samurai-suicide.
However. Given this playlist is called “Sad love songs to cry into your Chipotle burrito,” Richie has a better idea of what type of crisis he’s dealing with here.
“Sooo, uh. Your daddy told me. You and Jonas, you two are…?” He winces at her lip-tremble, which confirms his worst suspicions. “That’s rough, kiddo.”
“I’ll never be happy again,” Nina sniffs miserably. “I love Jonas and now we’ll never see each other!”
“You are still in the same class,” Richie points out.
She whirls on him, eyes flashing lividly.
“We sit by last names! His is at the beginning, mine’s at the end!” With more venom than a child should be capable of, she hisses, “I hate the alphabet.”
“O-Kay,” says Richie, truly at a loss. Luckily, she doesn’t seem inclined to talk about it anymore. Instead she stuffs her face back in the pillow, not quite fluffy enough to absorb her lovelorn sigh.
He pets her hair, curling it around his fingers, until the sniffles eventually dwindle. “Do you want us to make you a special dinner? Anything you want,” Richie cajoles.
Nina thinks it over, tilting her cheek enough to say, “Can you ask Daddy to make tuna casserole?”
Richie blanches. “Wha– Why?”
“I want my belly to feel as bad as my heart,” she mumbles.
He manages to keep a straight face as he bends to kiss her brow and leaves her to sulk, but it’s a close call. When he reports back to the kitchen with his news, there’s no tact necessary.
Eddie laughs ‘til he’s out of breath. “It isn’t funny,” he repeats, slightly winded.
“Of course not,” Richie agrees, failing to stifle his own grin.
“I love her, I’m sorry she’s hurting, but she’s so–”
“Theatric?”
“She gets that from you,” Eddie accuses.
“Excuse a moi?” Richie balks. “This, coming from the guy who kissed me out of the deadlights like some low-budget horror rebut of Sleeping Beauty?”
“What, should I have let the clown eat you?” Eddie glances his way, slyly. “I was referring to middle school. When you spent an entire night cranking your mom’s Bonnie Tyler records because I said you kind of looked like a frog, and you remembered how three weeks ago I told Bev I’d never kiss a frog even if it turned into a handsome prince?”
“Fucking Stanley,” Richie huffs. “I swore him to secrecy. We spit on it and everything.”
Eddie rolls his eyes. “At least for Nina, it’s only a crush. It could be worse,” he scoffs. “They could be dating.”
Richie tries to school his expression, he does, but – the thing is. After spending almost their whole fucking lives together, minus those twenty-two years of amnesia in between, Eddie can spot his tells from a mile away.
“Wait. They are?!” He slaps a hand over his mouth, aghast. “Our daughter is dating a nose-picker?”
He says it with the disdain of someone describing a serial killer.
“Ugh, Rich, that–ew! What if they hold hands after h–he–”
The suggestion of it alone has Eddie bending over the sink.
“Babe, c’mon.” Richie soothes a palm up-and-down his spine. “You’ve drilled the importance of hand-washing into Nina since she could walk. I doubt she’s carrying around any clingers.”
On cue, Eddie lets loose another dry heave.
“Will you stop?” he groans, glaring over his shoulder at Richie. “This is awful. Literally, of all the kids in her class, why this one?”
“You’re blowing this way out of proportion,” says Richie, though Eddie’s eyebrows beg to differ. He loves his husband, deeply, irrevocably, but he’s also one of most ridiculous people on the planet. “Remember, we like Jonas? Jonas is nice! If a little unsanitary… He’ll grow out of it, though. Like I did.”
The words leave his mouth before his brain can flash any of the red warning signs. Slowly, ever so slowly, Eddie turns. They lock eyes. His gaze brims with the horror of this realization.
“Are you saying,” Eddie begins, dangerously low, “that you used to pick your nose when we were kids a-and then, you’d touch me?”
“Used to?” Richie grabs the fleeing Eddie and hauls him back before he really does leave him for their incredibly buff mailman.
“Babe!” he chuckles. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding, I swear! I swear on Ben’s chiseled abs!”
“Disgusting, you’re disgusting,” Eddie grumbles, wriggling in his grasp. “Let go of me, don’t even think of touching me with–”
All of a sudden, Eddie squeals, wracked with a full-bodied spasm.
“With what?” Richie taunts, continuing to tickle him. “With these filthy, boogery fingers of mine?”
“St–op!” Eddie wheezes. “I’m gonna piss my pants!”
“Don’t exploit my pee kink,” he snaps, which only makes Eddie wheeze harder.
“I’ve had my fingers in your ass,” Richie reminds. “In fact, you love my fingers in your ass.”
Whether from embarrassment or exertion, Eddie flushes. “Fuck you, that’s extremely different!”
“You’re right, it’s probably more disgusting.” Teeth skirting over his earlobe, Richie leans down, his voice a sultry hush, “Because I like to use my mouth there, too.”
Eddie muffles a moan into his fist. “I see what you’re doing,” he grits out. “And it won’t work. No way I’m sleeping with you now, nose-picker.”
Richie makes a wounded noise, clutching him more firmly to his chest. “Please, Eds, baby, I can change! I’ll go to meetings, therapy– I’ll never stick my finger anywhere you don’t want again!”
“I don’t know if I can ever look at you the same.” Eddie’s reply cuts off into a giggle as those fingers attack his flank. “Seriously, Rich, I am going to–!”
They’re interrupted by the violent swing of Nina’s door against the wall.
“Will you two keep it down?!” she shouts. “I’m trying to mourn!”
The door slams shut again. They gawk at each other in silence. Finally, Richie pools enough blood into his brain to speak.
“Are we terrible parents?”
Eddie kisses the underside of his chin. “Ask me that when your semi isn’t plastered against my ass,” he says, flatly.
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@trashmouth_tozier
Hi my name is Richie and I’m a recovering nose-picker. Ages 3 thru 9 were rough, but with the support of my dear husband, I’ve managed to keep my fingers clean. Hope my story can help inspire someone else xx
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Bev: why did Eddie ask for the number of my divorce lawyer ?
Bev: nvm I saw your tweet
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Am I projecting my own snot-induced gag reflex onto Eddie? Yes. Do I still believe my characterization was spot-on? Yes again.
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Kat had never thought of herself as a lucky person. Every time her and Shane would hunt for four leaf clovers she came up empty handed. Every guess made on the number of jelly beans in the jar was always wrong. Every competition entered she never even placed top three.
But Kat had learned a lot of things in the past few months of her life, mainly that her luck dispenser must have been pretty clogged up for 22 years because all of a sudden she was getting lots and lots of it.
Within a week she went from your average every day girl in a banana costume working her ass off to sell smoothies to Karen's and Chad's, to being mentored by her role model, Avery Wilshere, and winning One in a freaking Million.
It really was insane to look back on all the progress she had made within such a short amount of time.
One of the biggest milestones she had overcome due to her rise to fame was getting all of her firsts out of the way. Her first kiss, first boyfriend, first time... Her relationship was supposed to have been a fake one, but nothing she did with Raleigh Carrera was fake, not to her. And it turns out, it wasn't fake for him either. He was the first person she ever fell in love with.
And now, after the American portion of her world tour, things were starting to set in a bit. She still loved the performing and music writing, but it had become an obligation rather than a passion. Meeting fans and being able to inspire people was a dream come true, but the invasiveness of it all made her a bit uncomfortable sometimes. She loved Raleigh with everything in her, but the fact that they couldn't really be together was getting to her.
Like on one of the supposed best nights of her life here she was getting upset over a post of Raleigh and Yvette, his newest "girlfriend" and also runway model, kissing in front of the car he just bought her. Kat told herself not to let it bother her, she knew that Raleigh really did care for her and that being a playboy was sort of his thing.
She bit her lip in annoyance, leaning against the bathroom sink and staring into the mirror. Kat definitely wasn't as skinny as Yvette as the haters she had managed to collect very kindly pointed out to her. It was also brought to her attention that her teeth weren't as white as Yvette's, her hair not shiny like Yvette's, her skin not flawless like Yvette's...
"Katherine?" the posh voice of one of her closest friends (and also an extremely famous singer/ her ex-celebrity crush) Avery interrupted the critical inspection.
She turned, shoving her phone in the pocket of her black corduroy jeans in what she hoped was a subtle way, and quirked an eyebrow at him as he walked into the girls bathroom without any sort of reservations.
"Avery," Kat folded her arms across her chest an put on an over exaggerated british accent, "I'm not quite sure if you've noticed, darling, but this is the ladies restroom."
The accent elicited the usual reaction of the eye roll, head shake, and smirk which brought Kat a little joy. Even though she wasn't pretty like the girl her boyfriend was spending all his time with, at least she could make international pop-star Avery Wilshere laugh.
"Kat, darling," he replied with an equally obnoxious british mockery, "I'm not quite sure if you've noticed, but the party you're currently hiding from is missing its hostess."
She inhaled and counted to ten nice and slow. Fiona had an "end of American-start of European tour" party thrown and Kat could not feel any less festive if she tried. All she wanted to do at the moment was pout about her boyfriend making out with the hottest girl in the world.
Avery put a comforting arm around her shoulder, "there's two options here. One, you tell me what's bothering you and I do my best to comfort you. Two, you don't tell me what's bothering you and I pester you until you do."
"There's nothing wrong, Avery." Kat sighed, half trying to convince herself.
He replied with a disbelieving scoff. She planned on being offended by this but the second she met Avery's eyes she knew that there was no way she was going to be able to lie to him, his blue eyes saw straight through her.
"Okay okay," she held up her hands in surrender. "I just... I'm am feeling a little self conscious after seeing this." She slid the phone out of her pocket, not having to do anything more than turn it on for the post to be on the screen.
Avery took the phone, brows quirking up as he took in the picture. When he glanced back up at her, Kat just shrugged. She couldn't help her feelings of inadequacy, but she also couldn't help but feel a bit silly in them when she saw Avery's face.
"Katherine," he muttered, reaching out to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You know as well as I do that Raleigh and this Yvette girl are in a contractually beneficial relationship. It's not real like what the two of you have."
The bit of confidence in her relationship brought tears to her eyes. At least someone had some confidence in it. She certainly didn't at the moment.
Avery hummed disapprovingly and wiped away a tear with his thumb. "Why don't you head home for the night. It's your last night in New York for a while after all."
The simple display of kindness brought the opposite response of the intended one, Kat leaned into Avery's embrace and let of a choked sob, wrapping her arms around his middle and nuzzling into his chest. She was glad that someone was here for her.
She wished it could have been Raleigh that was rubbing a gentle pattern on her back... but he was off with Yvette, probably breaking into abandoned buildings and racing together on his motorcycle through the streets of New York. Avery was next in line as her assigned emotional support while Raleigh was off with his true love and Shane was back home visiting family.
The bathroom door swung open, a drunk partygoer with hot pink hair and a gold slinky dress stumbled in, her heavily lined eyes went wide at the sight Katherine Fairfield crying in Avery Wilshere's arms.
The two made their quick escape after Avery made a show of being charming and polite as usual. Fiona sent Kat home the second she saw her puffy eyes and mascara tracks. Zadie was mad that Kat let said mascara track all the way down to the white cashmere turtleneck sweater she had so carefully picked out.
None of that mattered though. Once she was in the back of the limo she was free from the pristine appearance she was supposed to be upholding as a rising star. Hank was probably one of her biggest supporters and he knew when she needed a bit of privacy so he had the divider up. She was alone for the first time in a while in the back of that limo.
She cradled her head in her hands as she tried her best to rationalize her feelings. Avery acted as if she was being ridiculous, but Kat did have some self respect! Why was she letting herself believe in love when the boy who gave her that belief was running around with a different stunningly beautiful girl every other week! Sure, they face timed a lot and whenever fate allowed it they spent actual time together, but didn't she deserve better!?
But so did Raleigh...
He deserved to have someone in his corner offering him genuine love and support. Every part of his life was fake but at least he had her.
Kat wished she could believe what she was telling herself, but hadn't she and Raleigh gotten together after a fake relationship!? What was stopping him from liking one of these other girls better than he liked her!?
She was just so confused...
"Shit!" Kat jumped at the shrill sound of her ring tone.
She wiped at her eyes as she brought the phone the phone up to her ear.
"Hello?" she asked, realizing how dumb it was to not check caller id first. She was a celebrity after all. It could be a stalker, or someone calling to point out all her flaws, or demand money, or-
"Katherine what's wrong?"
Her racing mind was brought to a stop by Raleigh's worried voice. She wanted to be relieved, she had thought that maybe talking to him would bring her some sort of peace but all it did was make her feel nauseous.
"Princess?" Raleigh asked, still concerned.
Kat cleared the sadness out of her voice. "I'm okay Raleigh. I just really want to know how your date with Yvette went? A brand new car. That's pretty big."
Although she was able to keep the sadness out of it, she was doing an awful job of keeping the bitterness away.
It was silent on the other end of the phone.
"It's just... if I'm going to be your girlfriend I want to feel like I am. Right now I feel like a complete idiot while you're off with a new model every week."
The silence persisted for a moment, well, until Kat sniffled trying to keep herself from crying.
Raleigh sounded surprisingly panicked for someone quite as unflappable as himself when he finally spoke. "Kat, I'm on my way to your apartment right now. Let's talk about this face to face. Please don't cry." A note of desperation rang out near the end, making Kat cry even harder.
"Raleigh I can't keep feeling like second best to you. Every time you get with someone new, everyone compares me to them. And how do you think I come up? I'm always the uglier one. How do you think that makes me feel!?"
"Kat, you're not making any sense right now! Let's wait to talk about this till I'm there!" Raleigh practically begged.
She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, thought it didn't do much to fix the mess of makeup. "Raleigh I-"
"Please," he whispered, his voice sounding strained. "If I've ever been good to you, even just once, please just wait until I'm with you."
Kat took a deep shuddering breath. She knew that she loved Raleigh and that she shouldn't allow her insecurities to get in the way. She would be home in ten minutes and then she and Raleigh could talk in person. And even if it was just for them to break up, it would be better to do that in person rather than on the phone.
"Please."
She brought her phone away from her ear and looked down at Raleigh's contact photo. A rare moment where the camera didn't catch him smoldering. He looked completely carefree, his thick brown hair sticking up in all different angles as he sat perched on the end of her bed, a goofy grin on his face because she caught him in the middle of putting his shirt back on. Kat smiled softly at it despite her confusion.
She really did love him.
"I'll see you in bit, Raleigh."
She let her phone drop to her lap as she ended the call. She didn't even know what she wanted when all of this was over!? It was clear to her that she still loved him, that picture of him on her bed brought back the warmth and pure joy she felt when she was with him. Did she even want to break up with him or was that just her insecurities talking?
Fiona would tell her to drop his ass. That she deserved someone who would understand her busy lifestyle and who would take it like a women. Hank would tell her to do what was best for her, that she deserved to feel like the queen she is. Zadie probably wouldn't care too much, though Kat knew that definitely wouldn't take shit from anyone.
But what would Shane tell her to do? Or Avery?
Shane would support her with whatever she decided to do, that her feelings are valid. Avery would do the same of course...
But what was she going to do!?
Kat jumped as the car door opened and took a second to collect herself before taking Hank's hand and stepping out of the limo. She scanned the street for Raleigh's motorcycle and sighed in relief when she couldn't see it.
"Here kiddo." Hank held a tissue out to her and she took it, not meeting his eyes as she dabbed at her face.
"Word of advice Katherine," Hank said as he held out his hand for the used tissue.
She shoved it in the pocket of her jeans, placing her hand in his rather than the tissue. Hank smiled softly at her and squeezed her hand as he moved to rest his sunglasses up on his his head.
"Do what's right for you. Not him. Not the fans. You. You're all that you have at the end of the day, and when the right person comes along, you'll have them too. Don't force yourself to be with someone who makes you cry like this."
Was Raleigh the right person? Or was he the wrong one? She just didn't know!
Hank put a comforting arm on her shoulder as the roar of a motorcycle made its way up the street. Kat felt the pit of dread in her stomach grow at the sound.
There was no putting off this conversation. She had never been this close with someone and so, naturally, she had never felt the heartbreak she was inches away from feeling.
Time seemed to slow as she turned to watch Raleigh drive up to her. The limo driving off was just white noise behind the motorcycle engine. Funny. She didn't even realize Hank had walked away?
Everything was a blur but Raleigh as he rushed over to her, her heart pounding a mile a minute in her chest. Of course he hadn't been wearing a helmet. She really should force him to wear one.
He stopped short in front of her, reaching out for a moment as if he wanted to touch her before forcing them to stay at his sides. Kat's heart hurt at his desperate look but she was feeling too dizzy to dwell on it.
She placed a hand on his wrist, shaking as she did. “Can we go inside?”
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I feel bad for my lack of updates lately so....
Here! I wrote this in @nonbinarydisaster ‘s dms because we were talking about an rk1k wedding, I neatened it up as much as my exhausted brain let me but it’s still very much a rough fic, regardless I offer it up to you readers for staying loyal during my hiatus <3 enjoy! Full story under read more! Warning for vague descriptions of coatroom sex ;)
EDIT: forgot to mention but Nathan is what we call Nines and Serenade is an old oc from a different fic
“So, you freaking out yet?”
Connor turned to Hank, stopping with his constant struggle against the bow-tie that won't sit straight and the mirror that shows off every flaw of his suit. His partner was leaning in the doorway with a glass in hand, eyeing him up with a smile. Connor decided to deflect.
"Drinking already?" he asked, turning back to the mirror and fussing over his bow-tie again. "I'm not even married yet and you're already celebrating."
"It's a coke," Hank said, rolling his eyes. "But I'll be hitting that open bar as soon as you say 'I do' make no mistake about that."
Connor smirked, trying to fall back into the classic Hank and Connor banter instead of thinking about saying 'I do.'
"You're definitely freaking out, stop that," Hank sighed, setting his glass aside and slapping Connor's hands away from his tie. He straightened it effortlessly, and moved on to the rest of Connor's suit running his hands over it to smooth it out. "You look fine, Connor."
"I'll be having words with the tailor," Connor huffed.
"And those words will be 'thank you for dealing with my constant pestering,'" Hank said. "You're just nervous, the suit is fine. Lay off it before you work it to shreds."
Connor sighed and took a seat in a nearby chair. He could hear North and the others setting up downstairs, the balcony hid none of the sound even if the curtains hid the reception hall from sight. Connor is tempted to pull back the curtains and watch everyone work, but North gave him strict orders to stop bossing them around and go relax before the ceremony. He was supposed to be having a drink and taking some deep breaths, instead he was staring at his reflection and trying not to bolt.
"What if he deserves better than me...?" Connor said, wringing his hands and looking up at Hank with hunched shoulders and an uncertain gaze.
"S'not about deserve," Hank said, taking a sip of his drink. "He's stuck with you now, and he's happier for it. If you're both happy then stop worrying about deserve and just get on with it."
"As always, your advice brings me relief and confusion," Connor replied dryly, causing Hank to laugh.
"Kid, you've got a good thing here," he said. "Don't ruin it with fear. Just remember, you two have known each other years now. This day isn't a big deal, it's not even 'making it official' it's just a party and some words..."
"And an open bar," Connor remarked, earning another laugh.
"You two are together already, and this day is nothing more than a celebration of the fact," Hank said. "Just ignore all of us and tell him how you feel, alright?"
Connor takes a deep breath, feeling his overworked systems cool as he nods. "Thanks, Hank."
"Hey, it's what a dad's supposed to do when his kid gets married."
Connor heard Hank get choked up at that, and looked at him curiously. He saw Hank quickly wipe at his eyes and the sight made Connor beam.
"Are you...?"
"No, fuck you," Hank sniffed. "I'm gonna go get another fucking soda. I'll see you down there."
Connor let him go express his feelings in private, feeling bolstered by the teary eyed paternal joy.
When North comes to get him, bring him to his place, his anxiety is greatly lessened. It's still there of course, it stays with him the whole while Hank leads him up the aisle to wait for Markus's approach. It only vanishes when he sees him.
Markus looked good in clothes he fished out of a junkyard, so of course he looks breathtaking in an eight hundred dollar tux. Connor forgot himself for a moment and rushed down to meet him halfway, and only realized what he was doing when the crowd rumbled with laughter at his hurried kiss to Markus's temple. He blushed, but Markus laughed and kissed his hand, and then it was just the two of them again.
Markus held Connor's hands and promised him his love, his attention, and to stop splattering him with paint when he's in his good clothes. Connor promised Markus his love, his protection, and to lay off the schedules. A little bit. A slight reduction of about 13%
.
Markus laughed a lot, his mismatched eyes crinkling in mirth and everytime he laughed Connor lost himself a little to this man he was going to be with forever. When they're told to kiss, Connor doesn't need to be asked twice. He dips Markus, who is clearly surprised by the passion, but gets his revenge by dipping Connor right back. Connor hears Hank and North wolf-whistle and sees Simon crying and clapping when they pull apart.
"I love you... so much," Markus breathed into his ear, something just for them to share.
There's a lot of applause, and eventually the wedding party all trails out. Nathan took his best man duties very seriously. It didn't matter that Connor never assigned one best man, just asked Nathan and Hank to be there for him (Markus claimed North or else she'd be on his side too), in Nathan's mind it was his job to part the crowd of well-wishers and get Connor and Markus to their table. He might have stood there like a bodyguard all night if Simon hadn't dragged him off to their table.
"Would you like something to drink, Mr. Manfred?" Markus teased. Connor tilted his head.
"I think I would, Mr. Anderson."
They had never decided on abbreviating or just keeping things as they were. Considering last names were a novelty for androids anyway, they had the luxury of time to decide.
Markus, as it turns out, didn’t even need to go get drinks because North kept the champagne and thirium coming with dutiful attention to their empty glasses. Connor also spotted her and Hank making mixed drinks of their own invention whenever they thought Connor was not looking, dumping mini bottles into already potent glasses. Connor let them have their fun, maybe it was the champagne making him dizzy or maybe it was Markus's hand on his leg but he couldn't really seem to care about anything but the man at his side right now.
They dance, and it's all careful programmed steps and showing off for the crowd. When they're alone they let their bodies move as they will, but both Markus and Connor like the way people ooh and aah at how they can move with precision and grace so they put on a little show.
The dance floor quickly fills up, Hank takes North for a spin and Connor is surprised to see Nathan is convinced to dance at least three times by Simon, Markus, and Serenade. He shoots his brother a smile, and is pleased to see him scowl back with a faint blush as each dance partner makes him loosen up and have fun for once.
Hank managed to give a speech with minimal tears, though he did wave his glass around a lot. North cut in on his time, stealing the microphone and calling Connor "her main bitch" and Markus "the best ex turned friend a bot could ask for." Connor pretended to boo them away, pleased at the middle fingers they flashed him and embarrassing stories they told. Nathan gives a much more formal speech, but by the end of it he's crying a little and Connor has to come hug him until he's less overwhelmed. Nathan holds him tight and swears a Hankish amount of times.
Eventually, Markus's hand on his leg grew higher and higher, and both androids found themselves flush with alcohol and newlywed passion as they snuck off to be alone.
"And where do you think you two are going?" North asked, making them both jump with surprise in the nearly empty hallway.
"...breath of fresh air?" Markus says just as Connor says "looking for Hank."
"Hank's sobering up in the bathroom," North said, jerking her head in the direction of the coat closet.
"So, you better take that instead. I'll play lookout for exactly fifteen minutes and then I'm going back to drinking the old man under the table."
Connor doesn't care whose coats they're sending scattering to the floor when he pushes Markus up onto a counter. He pulls his husband's tie free with his teeth and... oh, his husband. He likes the sound of that.
They make love, Markus with a hand over Connor's mouth to keep him quiet, both of them grinning like idiots when they aren't pressing kisses to exposed skin or gasping for breath.
Connor remembers saying "mine now," a few times, much to Markus's delight. He's embarrassed post orgasm, but Markus just laughs and peppers his face in kisses.
"And you have the papers to prove it," he ribbed playfully while Connor covered his face.
"It's the champagne talking," he groaned.
"I sure hope it's not, Mr. Manfred," Markus said, kissing Connor deep.
"We've used up our fifteen minutes, Mr. Anderson," Connor reminded him as Markus pulled Connor's lip with his teeth.
They leave the coatroom wearing each others ties and tucking their shirts back in. Their first argument as a married couple is spent giggling as Connor demands Markus fix his sex mussed hair, as he is too wasted to do so properly. Markus refuses, says he looks cute and that he wants people to see. Connor says that's a terrible idea, but flushes proudly regardless.
"Connor!" Hank says when they come back to the party, throwing arms around both grooms. "Markus! I'm so fucking happy for you two."
"I'm pretty happy myself, sir," Markus laughs, before North drags Hank off again. Connor and Markus take their seats and watch as Nathan is mobbed by children who all want a turn riding on his shoulders.
"You think he's next?" Connor asked, gesturing to Nathan.
"He's good with kids, not long before someone snatches him up," Markus said with a chuckle. "I know a dozen or so androids begging for the chance."
"Well they'll have to get my approval first," Connor huffed. Markus kisses him, and Connor kisses him back and it's been minutes before they stop kissing and laughing so caught up in the moment.
"Eat your cake, you were so excited about it," Markus teased.
"No," Connor growled, nipping at Markus's ear.
"Eat your damn cake!" Markus laughed again, dabbing his finger in some icing and smearing it on Connor's lips. Connor licked it off, and pretended to scowl at Markus, all the while just taking him in. He was so beautiful, Connor just wanted to stare at him forever.
Connor’s not entirely sure how they got home when he wakes up the next morning. He’s dimly aware of him and Markus arguing over who got to carry who over the threshold, and the ensuing wrestling turned affection that came from it. Other than that the night has blurred into North’s loyal drink refilling and Markus’s beautiful eyes.
Connor turned in bed to look at the android in question, finding him slumbering peacefully in rest mode. He took note of the ring on the hand splayed across the pillow, pride and joy both rising in his chest as he eyed it over.
“You’re staring pretty hard,” Markus mumbled, not so asleep after all. Connor laughed sheepishly, snuggling closer to press a kiss to Markus’s nose.
“How do you know what I’m doing with your eyes closed like that?” he said.
“I’m your husband, I know everything,” Markus said back, yawning to cool biocomponents warmed from inaction under a warm blanket.
“That so, Mr. Anderson?”
“It is, Mr. Manfred.”
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Impassive
Genre: Fluff
Characters: Baekhyun x You
His hands were all over her while hers were exploring his back. They couldn't keep their hands off each other even after months of dating. What fun they had while making out? They were simply draining out each other's energy. Basically, they were eating out each other's faces. Finally ( to your relief), they pulled out of the sloppy kiss and stared into each other's eyes. They kissed each other again before smiling. Their business was irking you. It was as if you were invisible. You slammed your fists onto the table making both of them come back to earth. Hana fell off the couch while Suho looked at you in anger. It wasn't your mistake that you are single and have no one beside you to eat his face.
" You cockblocker. " Hana stomped towards you and hit you on the shoulder making you wince. " It's not my mistake that my best friends were making out on the couch when I entered the apartment ." You shrugged your shoulders and grabbed an apple from the kitchen counter. " We need to change the passcode now Suho ." Hana joked and straightened out her dress.
" Yeah definitely ." Suho hugged you and grabbed the apple from your hand to eat it. " So how's work? " Suho questioned and sat on the couch patting the space beside him to sit. " Exhausting as always. I don't know what grudge my boss is holding against me ." You sat on the couch and draped your legs over Hana. " I think this is universal. Even my boss is so arrogant and grumpy and blames me for every mistake. I don't even understand what my fault was. Even if it was, it isn't like that I can be flawless ." Suho sighed and scoffed.
" Before I forget, how's the research going? " Suho works as a scientist and his researches are always intriguing. He had excelled in science and was consequently hired by the best research department. Also, he had always been the one to help you in science; if it wouldn't have been for him, you surely would have been living as a beggar. " It's going good, smooth sailing for me. We have created a new species of robots now. They can be induced with human emotions now. We've been working on crafting their human counterparts. "
" That's so cool. " You gasped in surprise and made yourself more comfortable by snuggling closer to Hana. " How about your research? " Hana questioned and sipped her coffee. " What research? " You faced her and furrowed your brows in confusion. " Research about Jake. How did it go last night? " You gulped and faced towards the ceiling thinking about the events that happened last night. " It was fine. So, how are the wedding preparations going? " You faced Hana and smiled. She rolled her eyes and kept the cup beside her ." Emily, you are avoiding the topic again. Did you scare him away like you did to the other boys? " She looked at you through her narrowed eyelids. You sighed and nodded your head.
"Emily. Why are you doing this with yourself? " She snapped at you. " Why don't you give him a try? He is a nice guy. Not only him but also all the other guys I set you up with were nice. I don't know what's wrong with you ." She continued. " Look at me, Emily ." She shook your shoulders. You sighed in defeat and looked up to meet her gaze. " Why are doing this? " You could see the concern in her eyes and you felt bad. Being your childhood best friends, Suho and Hana did everything to make you happy. Your parents were divorced and since then you had been living alone. The only people you could count on were them. They set updates for you since they implied you should find someone to love you and spend the rest of your life with him. This idea itself scared you to death.
" I-It's just that I'm not ready for a serious relationship. I really ain't a ' lovey-dovey' girl and I want to be independent. I just want to live comfortably for the rest of my life. For me, love is an abstract idea that I'll never understand and you know why. I just want to be alone forever, moreover, I have you guys. I appreciate whatever you guys do for me, I know you want the best for me but I don't want this ." You explained and rest your head back on the couch.
" But you should give it a try for just once Em. Who knows, maybe your perception would change. I mean, look at us-"
" But-"
" Please give it a try for once Emily. For yourself, for us. We want you to come to our wedding with a date. " Suho and Hana looked at you with pleading eyes which made you melt. How did they manage to do this?
" You win, bitches ."
" Why are we here Hana? " You curiously asked her as you clung to her in the elevator. You had been here many times before but today, today something felt different. You could smell the metals, the odor of the chemicals reached your nose making you feel a nauseous as you entered the Research And Development Department. " Just wait and see ."
"Hana! You didn't answer my question. " Your eyes searched for Hana while she only smiled. What was so special here anyways? Except, she got to see her boyfriend. " You'll see. Don't worry, you'll love him ." Him. Okay, who is this ' him'? " Good evening Ms. Emily ." Chanyeol greeted you. The tall robot bowed his head and you couldn't help but feel amazed every time his body formed a perfect ninety-degree when he bowed. Chanyeol was a robot who helped Suho and the other scientists in their work. Since he was creating his body proportions were perfect. He was tall, his body as hard as a metal, and his teeth ...they were whiter than a dove. The smile on his face never disappeared and he joked a lot too. You had seen many robots around, all your neighbors were robots as a matter of fact, but he was the most handsome among them.
A premonitory chill crept up your spine as you neared Suho's cabin. You turned on your heels to go back but your best friend pulled you back. Using the IDs you entered his cabin. Hana kissed him and he hugged you. " Just a second ." Suho went outside the cabin and some robots that seemed new to you ( the last time you had visited was months ago ) brought water for you. You gulped it down in a minute, your hands sweating profusely.
After a few minutes, Suho entered .....with a robot following him. You couldn't help but stare at the robot. His hair styled as comma and raven black. His skin was nothing but metal, making him look hotter. "Emily, he is Baekhyun. Scientifically, he is called ROB-1275. Of course, I have created him, for you. He'll be your boyfriend. He has got various modes like-"
"Wait, what ?! " You cut him off. You knew it. You saw this coming. There is this robot-mart your neighborhood, where people can buy robots. They can choose their husbands, wives, friends, boyfriends, well any kind of robot they want. You acknowledged this idea but the idea of dating a robot was gross. Of course, this robot is hot and handsome, but you cannot devote your time and attention to a machine which doesn't have any humane emotions. " Can we three talk, alone? " You requested the robot who looked at you briefly before moving out of the cabin.
" Okay. I hate you two. Setting me up with a robot, it's too much. I know that the government has now legalized and approved relationships with robots but it doesn't mean that I'll date a robot. " You yelled. " Emily we had no choice. You have rejected many men that we had stick to robots now. Moreover, you're looking for a fling right? He is just right for that. He'll be there with you for just six months 'cause he a limited edition robot. When his work will be over, so will be his purpose and he'll come back. And why does it matter? He's just perfect. He's the first robot created with some human emotions and also since he's a creation, he's perfect. " Suho explained to you and grabbed your shoulders.
" Just feel what happens when one is in a relationship. If you still wouldn't be convinced, we'll never pester you about your love life ." Hana insisted and you just nodded your head. You sighed and sat back on your chair.
"Fine. I'll do it ." You mumbled and looked down at your feet.
Little did you know, your life is going to change.
You stared, correction glared at him from head to toe as you grabbed the packet of chips and stuffed some in your mouth. "So, your name is Baekhyun? " You inquired. "Yes, Ms. Emily ." He answered with his robotic voice and looked into your eyes. " Why are you calling me Ms. Emily? It makes me look older, call me something else ." You ordered him and he nodded. " What about Sweetie? " Your jaw dropped and you found heat rushing to your cheeks. You found the chips hard to swallow as you started coughing. " Here \. " He handed you water which you gulped down in one go. Woah, robots can be cheesy too. You cleared your throat and looked at him. " Emily would do. " You resumed eating chips and shamelessly stared at him. "So, what can you do? " You propped your head upon your palm as you observed him. " I can do the house chores, I can drive and I have all the qualities of a perfect boyfriend. I have various modes like cuddly mode, sexy mode, fun mode, emotional mode, fight mode, period mode, whipped mode, dance mode, and can't keep my hands off you mode. You can give me orders like you can ask me to cook for you or hug you. You can kiss me or have sex with me if you're wondering. All these modes are activated automatically depending on the environment. My job is to make you happy. " He explained and you couldn't help but blush and be stunned at how he could just be frank about everything.
" Can you play games? "
" Of course. "
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
"Here, take it ." You tapped the hologram continuously and tried fighting your enemy but it didn't work. The robot was way smarter than you. He used the karate function defeating you and draining your character's energy. " You're good ." Being a ridiculously good gamer, you were amazed by his skills. Of course, he will play good, he's a robot for Pete's sake! "Thanks, Ms. Emily ."
" It's Em-." You were interrupted when your phone rang. You clicked on the respond button and soon Hana and Suho's face appeared before you. " Hey Em. Oh! Hi, Baekhyun ." Your friends excitedly waved at both of you. "Wow! What did you two do? Your hair is all disheveled and your shirt is all creased. You are sweating too. What nasty business did you two do? Emily, I didn't know you would have sex on the first day ." You friend spoke breathlessly. You rolled your eyes at her and propped down on the couch.
" We were just playing games. We didn't have sex. Tell them Baekhyun ." You explained and looked at Baekhyun. "Ms. Emily is right. We were playing The 427-Artificial Intelligence game. We haven't made any kind of intimate contact with each other, unintentionally or deliberately, yet ." Yet! What's that supposed to mean ?!
" Em , you're playing games with him ?! What is wrong with you? Baekhyun, take her out on a date. RIGHT NOW! " And then she cut off the call after rendering you deaf after shouting so much. " Places best for a date ." You heard Baekhyun speaking to himself and just then a screen before him and pictures of many different places appeared on it. " Where do you want to go Ms. Emily? " Here he goes again, but then you just felt tired to correct him. " You decide. I'll just go and change ." You stomped towards your room to change into a nice attire.
" Best places to take your grumpy girlfriend to ."
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
" Your choice is good ." You confessed as you looked around you. Everything was beautiful. Both of you had just arrived at the Sky Rose Garden and it was the best decision ever. " Let's sit there ." He went ahead and pulled back a chair for you. This gesture made you blush, you felt special; you felt loved. " T-Thanks ." You stuttered and looked down.
Soon, you ordered coffee and talked about various things. You told him that you worked as a designer and also held some dance classes on Saturday. You also told him about your recitals that were organized every second Friday of each month. He told you some stuff about robots and its modes. You enjoyed the talk. You were surprised that you did enjoy this.
Both of you decided to leave after watching the sunset. You stood and watched the beautiful red sun, shining brightly and preparing to leave. Baekhyun stood beside but then he walked towards you and stood behind you. " Where are you-" Your words were swallowed in a gasp as you felt two strong arms wrapping themselves around your waist. " This is a function of the cuddly mode. Also, I did some research on boyfriend and discovered that hugging your girlfriend while watching the sunset is romantic ." He explained and pulled you closer and rested his chin on your shoulder. You couldn't find a correct response to this stimulus. You just stood there motionless, listening to your heartbeat which was faster than its usual pace.
This was the first time a boy had made you feel so vulnerable to love, so vulnerable.
" You shouldn't have touched my stuff without asking me !" You yelled at him and stomped into your room, slamming the door shut with anger. It was embarrassing. It had been a few weeks since he had been living with him and he did all the house chores while you were away. You had finally learned to accept and today it all got ruined. He washed your clothes without even asking you and it included your lingerie. The worst part is that he told you about it when your colleagues were with you. You confronted him all your friends had gone back.
This was your first fight.
You didn't let him enter your room and stayed inside. You felt guilty for once when you saw him sleeping on the couch but you shrugged off the feeling. You let this continue for a week and ignored his every attempt to talk to you. Well, until.....
You stretched your arms and decided to wake up since it's late. Though it's a Sunday, it was too late to be sleeping now. You opened the door and your jaw dropped in surprise. The breakfast was already arranged on the table and Baekhyun was standing beside the table, holding a bouquet in his hand. Petunias. They were your favorite.
" I'm sorry Ms. Emily. It's against my ethics to upset or disappoint you in any way. It wasn't my-" He stopped speaking when you hugged him tightly. Though he didn't have to wear any cologne and smelled like metal, you didn't want to let go. " Let's just stay like this for a few minutes ." You murmured and snuggled closer. " Okay, Ms. Emily ." He spoke and hugged you back. " And stop calling me Ms. Emily or I'll break up with you ." You threatened him to which he apologized numerous times and promised to call you Emily.
Dating a robot isn't that bad.
" Which mode is this by the way? "
" Apologizing mode ."
You didn't understand why they had to call you. It was quite unusual on their part to do this. You were more than unwilling to attend this ' family meeting ' now. You hated your parents. They couldn't live with each other in peace; whenever they were together, they would always fight and complaining about each other's flaws. Living in an environment where two people were ready to cut off each other's throats, you surely couldn't live a pleasant life. You never got to experience a normal childhood. Yes , you admit it that you also dreamed about your husband , how he would be taller than you and how he would just make you feel special with his kisses and hugs and how he'll scoop you in his arms and twirl you around in his arms but then, after watching your parents ....you couldn't just believe in true love .
" Let's go ." You walked into the restaurant with Baekhyun. You were planning on introducing him to your parents today.
"Hey, sweetie ." Your mother called you and your dad waved his hand at you. You tried to smile at her and went to her table and sat down with Baekhyun sitting beside you. " Oh ! We have a new person, here ." She cooed making you blush a little. " Hello, Sir and Ma'am. I'm Baekhyun, Emily's boyfriend ." You couldn't help but smile upon hearing those words.
"Emily, can we talk to you for a second? " You nodded your head and asked Baekhyun to wait.
" What happened? " You crossed your arms over your chest. "Emily, we have decided to marry you to my friend's son Jay. " Your dad spoke which made you stare at them in confusion. " A robot, seriously Emily? You could get better stuff out there. " Your mother scoffed and caressed your hair. " Although I do not like that Jay guy much at least he's better than that robot guy ." Your mother grumbled. " What do you mean Jay's not good? " Your dad snapped at her. Here, they go again.
" Come on, admit it. He's too skinny and weird ."
" Oh really! Then what about you ?"
Your mother stood up from the chair and scoffed in disbelief. " Are you really going to be like this? Then -"
" Can you two please shut up? " You couldn't bear it anymore and shout. You balled your fists and breathed heavily. " Have you both for once thought about me? Can't you two stop fighting for a second? Why can't we live like a normal family? Do you know how much I had to suffer because of your fights and your imbecility? You know what, I'm never going to marry that Jay guy and I'll make my decisions myself ." You declared and grabbed Baekhyun's hand dragging him outside the restaurant. You ignored all the stares that you received from the people and robots in the restaurant and stomped out.
" Let's go back home ."
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
Both of you kept quiet during the ride. After arriving at the apartment, you went to the bathroom to shower and get rid of all the guilt. Baekhyun was concerned about you and didn't know how to approach. He noticed how gloomy you looked when you came out of the bathroom and sat down on the bed, not even caring to dry your wet hair. You hugged your knees and rested your forehead on your arm as the tears rolled down your cheeks. You had expected all this to happen. You had seen it happen every time from your childhood to your adulthood. Did they even love you? You wanted a family of your own too but what if it turns out like yours? This fear had clung to you and made you hostile to love.
Baekhyun rose up to his feet and walked towards you. His hand changed into a hairdryer which he used to dry your hair. You looked up at him and he flashed you his grin. " It's hot ." You muttered which made him stop. Quickly grabbing a towel, he gently rubbed your hair with it. " You don't need to do it. I'll do it myself ." You tried to grab the towel from his hand but he refused to give you the towel and continued doing his business. You sighed in defeat and let him do the thing. " My job is to make you happy so tell me your problems. I can find solutions for them ." He spoke and you stared at him. Is it wrong to say that you could see the sincerity in his eyes?
"There is no solution to my problem. We can't change people, especially, my parents. They just keep on arguing whenever they meet. I have been witnessing their fights since I was 10 years old. I just kept myself shut in my room and eventually, I got used to it. Even after getting divorced, they couldn't help but fight again whenever they met. I just don't know what to do ." You sobbed and rested your chin on your arms. " What to do when your girlfriend cries? " You heard him say and a screen appeared before him. " Make her laugh ." He read and immediately his chest changed into a television. Some videos of Tom and Jerry were being played on it which made you smile. A smile formed on Baekhyun's face watching you being happy.
" It's enough. I've laughed too much now ." You asked him to shut down the television. He spread his arms making you confuse but then he pulled you towards him. You were quite shocked by his action but immediately hugged him back. He pushed you gently towards the mattress and hovered over you. He rolled down beside you and pulled you closer, your head on his chest.
" I Love You ."
" Were you programmed to say so? "
"Yes. "
" Want to hear a relaxing song? " You nodded your head and as if on cue a soothing song reached your ears.
You had never slept so soundly before.
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When They Had Nothing - Part 3: Friends for Life
Pairing: Stucky (Eventually)
Warnings: Fragile Health, The Cyclone (yes that’s a warning - ask Steve), Puking (Blame Bucky for that one), Character Death.
Word Count: 3500ish
A/N: This is my new Stucky series. It starts with the boys as kids in Brooklyn and follows CAFA but from Bucky’s POV rather than Steve’s. I am sooo excited about this series which I have been working on for about 6 months as it’s written for @cabigbang
Art Inspired by WTHN by: @ischa-posts - thank you so much for taking the time to create art for my series!
Betaed by: @blacktithe7 @emilyevanston and @ifyougetkilled-walk-it-off - Thank you so much for all your help!
***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***
MASTERLIST - CABIGBANG MASTERLIST + AO3 LINK
April 26th, 1935
“Come on! You can’t back out on me like that! It’s tradition by now,” Bucky practically whined, giving Steve a small push. They were walking home from school for the last time that summer. Every year for the past 3 years they had gone to Coney Island the first weekend of their summer break before picking up whatever odd job they could to help out their parents. Money was tight. More so for Sarah and Steve than Bucky’s family, but that didn’t mean times weren’t tough all around.
“Buck. Mom is sick. I can’t go this year. You know that” he sighed, before coughing as the dust from one of the passing cars hit them. Bucky noticed. He always noticed, but he also never pointed it out. Steve was treated as either a victim, small enough to pick on or a patient that needed looking after by just about everyone else. He didn’t need that from Bucky too. If Steve needed his help he was there, but coughing fits and heaving for breath Bucky usually pretended to ignore.
“I told you Mom said Sarah could come to stay at our place for the weekend. It gives us your place to ourselves too,” Bucky smirked, causing Steve to roll his eyes at him. Bucky was good looking and charming. He didn’t have to try hard to get girls’ attention, while Steve either didn’t seem very interested or have the same luck Bucky did.
Having a place to bring girls wasn’t Bucky’s real plan though. As fun as it was seeing how far they let him go with them without being forward, Steve was way more important to him. Sarah wasn’t getting better. She had good days, but other’s the tuberculous almost prevented her from getting out of bed. Bucky worried about Steve being in the house with her. He didn’t exactly know how the illness worked, but Steve managed to pick up just about every bug as long as people just sneezed within a mile of him.
It wasn’t even about that either though. Steve deserved a break from it all. He deserved a few hours to forget his mom was sick and that they had to struggle to get by. Bucky wanted him to have a good time, just like they used too before Sarah had started coughing blood.
“Bucky…” Steve began protesting in that voice that made him sound twice his age, and now it was Bucky’s turn to roll his eyes.
“Stevie…” Bucky mimicked sending Steve a smirk, and much to his relief, it broke the younger boy into laughter.
“You’re not giving up are you?” Steve sighed, and Bucky grinned, wrapping his arm around his shoulder, leading him down the street.
“Nope. We’re going,” he answered, knowing the battle was won. Steve needed a day away from everything as much as Bucky wanted him to have it.
They did go too. As soon as Bucky got home he arranged with his mom and dad to have Sarah picked up the following morning. She, like Steve, didn’t take kindly to needing looking after, so Winifred planned a weekend for them, pretending to have some changes around the house she needed Sarah’s opinion on.
Steve had become like family to the Barnes, much like Bucky had to Sarah. Just like Bucky’s place used to have been Steve’s getaway while his dad was alive, Steve’s had now become Bucky’s. At the Rogers’ there was no one making remarks about his grades or what he should be doing with his life. There were no remarks about wasted time or not being enough. There was warmth and hugs when Bucky brought Steve back home after having saved him from yet another beating. There were smiles and teasing. There was freedom for Bucky to be who was and accepted or even loved for it. Bucky didn’t just worry about Sarah for Steve’s sake. He worried because he loved her too. She was family, too.
So the next morning, after finally shaking his little sister that had insisted on coming, Bucky headed out the door with Steve after hugging their moms goodbye. Bucky kissed his sister’s cheek before he left, promising her a trip for the three of them before summer was over. A promise that made her face light up before hugging him goodbye, knowing that her brother didn’t make promises he didn’t intend to keep.
“We could have brought her with us you know?” Steve said, looking over at Bucky as he let himself fall down in the train seat next to Steve. Bucky just rolled his eyes, giving Steve his trademark grin.
“Nah this is our tradition. Besides having her pester mom and dad for money to go too will earn us an extra trip, just like every year,” Bucky laughed. It was Steve’s turn to roll his eyes, but he didn’t object.
It wasn’t really why Bucky never wanted Rebecca to come with them on their first trip of the year. He loved his sister, and unlike a lot of other older brothers, he didn’t mind having her tag along most places. Coney Island, or at least this first trip of the summer, was different though. It was the first trip that he and Steve had taken together that required a bus or train ride. It was theirs. Something they did together and Bucky wanted to keep it that way. He liked having something with Steve that was just for the two of them and no one else.
This year was different though. Steve was quieter, and no matter what Bucky tried he didn't seem to have fun. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, and he didn’t talk back as much when Bucky got snarky with him.
Normally by this time, Bucky would have found a couple of girls he tried to halfway impress and halfway talk Steve up too. It never felt completely right, but not wrong either. Bucky wasn’t even sure why. When he was his own the nagging feeling was never there, only when Steve was around. The truth was he preferred spending their time alone together, but he also knew Steve. He was too shy to walk up to a girl on his own, so it was Bucky’s job as his best friend to help him out. Right?
Today that wasn’t Bucky’s concern though. It was just to get Steve to let loose and have a good time. He wanted him to smile and have some fun. Steve carried the weight of the world at times, but Bucky would happily carry him if it helped ease his pain a little.
“Let’s go on the rollercoaster.” Bucky tugged Steve’s arm, grinning as Steve’s eyes widened. They had been to Coney Island as kids with their families, and Sarah had given Steve strict orders to never ride the Cyclone. Sarah however, wasn’t here now, and for 2 years the boys had followed her orders while coming here on their own. Maybe it was time to break a few rules.
“Have you lost your mind?” Steve looked up at the wagons with screaming people rushing past above their heads, and Bucky threw his head back in laughter.
“Oh come on Stevie. Live a little!” Bucky met Steve’s doubt-filled eyes, raising his eyebrows and smirking, knowing just how to get him to finally cave. “You’re not making me do it on my own are you?”
Just like Bucky knew he would, Steve had taken the challenge with a groan, following a laughing Bucky to get in line for the hell ride. Bucky knew the little trick had gotten Steve’s mind off home as his eyes warily followed the movements of the line and the carts rushing by above their heads.
Bucky, however, started to rethink the sanity of his idea as he and Steve got strapped in. He looked tiny next to him, but the look of absolute determination pushed Bucky’s doubts away. The world might have seen Steve as just small and fragile, but Bucky knew he was so much more than that. He was tougher than most kids. Not physically but mentally. If he decided he could do this, Bucky knew he didn’t have anything to worry about. Even if he still did a tiny bit, he would never let Steve know that.
As soon as the ride got going Steve was cursing Bucky out with every jerk and bump, and it was all he could do not to laugh as the two of them were tossed about and into each other. He laughed even if he felt as if his bones were rattling and teeth almost broke as his mouth was forced shut a few times. Honestly, he was just lucky his tongue didn’t get in the way because then he might have lost it.
Bucky felt a bit like hammered meat as they got off the rollercoaster, but he was still in good spirit. Steve, however, was pale as a ghost as he waddled off, heading towards the nearest trash can. He, however, missed reaching it by a few feet before he bend over, emptying the content of his stomach onto the pavement. Bucky knew he should feel horrible, but the thing was he knew Steve better than anyone. He knew the levels of his breathing and how sick was sick enough that it was cause for concern. This was not it, so rather than pitying him and rushing him to sit down, Bucky stuck the hands in his pocket and walked up beside him, trying to hold back his laughter as Steve looked up at him, glaring in anger.
“You might wanna pay attention to where you are aiming pal. I’m not sitting next to you on the train home if your shoes stink of puke,” Bucky snarked as another flood came through Steve’s mouth.
“I hate you,” he grumbled. “You’re such a jerk!”
“Well you’re a punk,” Bucky laughed, helping Steve into an upright position. “Let’s get you something to drink to get rid of that taste, huh?”
As soon as Steve had regained some strength and gotten some food and liquid back into his system, he cheered up just like Bucky knew he would. He was proud that he had done what some of the other boys at their age didn’t even dare. He was back to his old self-laughing, talking and getting into trouble with some guys that were cutting line. Guys Bucky naturally ended up having to fight off when Steve got knocked on his ass, but he didn’t even care. Not this time. Not as long as Steve had gotten out of his head and was himself for a few hours. Seeing Steve relax and smile was all that mattered. That had been the entire purpose of their trip after all, even if Steve didn’t know it.
October 17th, 1936
The past year had been rough. Steve had barely started school before he had dropped out. He had to work so he and his mom could keep the apartment. She still did odd jobs, but the hospital had fired her for being a health hazard. Neither Steve or Sarah would take up the Barnes’ offer to let them move in with them. They knew money wasn’t flowing as easily through Bucky’s home as it had in the past either, but more than that, the Rogers’ were stubborn. They wanted to do things on their own, so even if Steve was sad he had to leave school he still did it.
Bucky, Rebecca, and Winifred did their best to help them out the best they could. They brought by whatever food they could spare. Winifred and Rebecca helped around the house with various chores, and Bucky brought by school books for Steve to look through. He spent hours going through notes he had taken in class with him during his sleepovers before they fell asleep close together in Steve’s bed. Bucky drifted off listening to Steve’s breathing, worrying about every little irregularity. They were normal for Steve. Bucky knew that, but seeing the decline in Sarah’s health scared him. He didn’t want to lose Steve. He didn’t know what to do without him. Truth was, people thought Steve needed Bucky to look out of him and to fight his battles, but Bucky needed Steve just as much. He reminded him of all the things he could be and always supported him in making the right decisions. So seeing Sarah getting sicker and sicker, knowing how susceptible Steve was, scared the living shit out of Bucky.
Even George worried about the Rogers’ and drove Sarah and Steve too and from the hospital whenever either of them needed it. Steve and Sarah were grateful for the help even if taking it also slightly embarrassed them. The Barnes’ didn’t take no for an answer. Sadly no matter how much they helped, Sarah kept getting sicker and sicker. Right up until that October day when the Barnes’ all gathered at her house. Bucky was sitting at the foot of her bed with teary eyes as he watched Steve hold his mom’s hand, saying his final goodbyes.
Bucky quickly dried his eyes as Sarah’s eyes sought him out, meekly raising her hand for him to take it. He got up to sit by her side, opposite of Steve. Sarah smiled weakly, looking at the two boys.
“I was given one beautiful, perfect son, but along the way, I gained another. Promise me you’ll look out for each other,” she forced out her words, between fits out coughing.
“I promise,” Bucky’s voice was thick with grief as he spoke, but Steve barely managed to get out the words.
“We will.”
Sarah heard them, giving the boy’s hands a gentle squeeze before her eyes slowly closed, and she drew her last breath. Bucky wasn’t sure how he gathered the strength to get up and around the bed in time, but he did. He caught Steve before he fell to the floor; crying.
Bucky stayed on the floor with him, his arms wrapped around his best friend as he let him pour out his grief. Bucky’s heart was breaking, but as much as he loved Sarah, he knew it couldn’t compare. Not only did Bucky still have a mom he loved very much, but Steve and Sarah had been through so much more than most. They had leaned on each other through Joseph’s abuse. Sarah had been at Steve’s side every time he had almost died as a child, and Steve had been at her until her last breath. Bucky couldn’t begin to understand, and still, somehow he did. He did because he knew and loved Steve. He also knew he would die before he broke the promise he had just made Sarah.
The Barnes’ kept Steve close the next few days until the funeral. Steve decided to follow his mom’s wishes and have his parents buried next to each other. Bucky didn’t understand. He knew Steve put a lot of weight in his mother’s memories of the man she had known before the war, so he let it go. It wasn’t his choice anyway. His only job right now was to make sure Steve made it through okay.
Steve barely noticed the world around him for a while. He was still the same polite boy Bucky had grown up with, but the light in his eyes was gone. Bucky knew he felt as if he had nothing. He just wished he knew how to make him realize that it couldn’t be further from the truth. Come what may, Steve would always have him, just like Bucky knew he would always have Steve.
The funeral was tough on everyone. Sarah was a respected and loved woman. A lot more people than Bucky had anticipated showed him. People from the hospital, stores where she shopped, and random strangers she had helped with what little she could. So many people that Steve somehow managed to escape Bucky’s sight. Winifred was as unhappy about that fact as Bucky was. His parents had hoped to drive him to the cemetery and bring him back home with them for at least a few days. Bucky had no objections to sharing his room with Steve. If his parents wouldn’t have offered on their own, Bucky would have asked if he could let Steve stay at their place anyway.
He still had every intention to when he crossed town, heading towards Steve’s apartment. Everything was still empty and quiet when he got there. Steve wasn’t back yet, and Bucky knew he had probably taken a longer route home to clear his head. He could wait however long it took for him to get there. So instead of going home, Bucky headed to the sidewalk, sat down against the wall and waiting for Steve to get back home.
Memories of a childhood spent together filled his thoughts. He could no longer remember a time when Steve wasn’t there. All his best and worst memories held his best friend. He was the happiest when he was with Steve, and no matter what, Bucky wasn’t going to let him think he was alone in this.
“Bucky,” Steve greeted, pulling Bucky from his thoughts, and he looked up as Steve passed him heading for his apartment, knowing Bucky would just follow him. He did. Starting a conversation was hard though. Steve hardly ever shared how he felt and Bucky didn’t want to push him. He just wanted him to know he was there for whatever Steve should need.
“We were looking for you after,” Bucky spoke quietly. “My folks wanted to give you a ride to the cemetery.”
Steve didn’t look at him. He just continued his path up the stairs to the apartment followed closely by Bucky.
“I know. Sorry… I just… I kinda wanted to be alone,” Steve walked with his head down and hands buried in his pockets. It was the pain in his voice as much as his word that cut Bucky’s heart. He didn’t want him to be alone. He wanted him to know he never would be alone. He didn’t say anything though, and even if the pain was evident on his face for a moment, Steve’s back was turned so he didn’t see.
“How was it?” Bucky asked instead, not really knowing how to get to the point he wanted to make, but he would get there. He had too.
“It was okay. She’s next to Dad,” Steve answered even if Bucky already knew. The repeating of facts made Bucky sigh silently, before putting on his brave face. He had never treated Steve as if he was fragile and broken. He wasn’t going to start now either. They would get through this together without changing who they were.
“I was going to ask,” Bucky tried to sound a little more chipper, wanting to trick Steve into thinking the offer was just going to be another fun thing to do together like when they were younger.
“I know what you are gonna say, Buck,” Steve interrupted, but Bucky didn’t let him. He just kept talking like he always did when he was trying to convince Steve to do something he was hesitant about.
“We can put the couch cushions on the floor like when we were kids.” Bucky nudged him, hoping some of what was Bucky’s happiest memories would trick Steve into agreeing. He watched his friend search for his key for a few seconds, but he already knew he wasn’t going to find it. Winifred had locked up, leaving the key was the Rogers’ always left it.
“It’ll be fun. All you have to do is shine my shoes and maybe take out the trash,” Bucky continued to halfheartedly joke. He still pretended none of this was a big deal as he kicked over the rock where the key was hidden, handing it to Steve. “Come on?”
“Thank you, Buck,” Steve nodded slowly before looking up at him. “But I can get by on my own.”
His words cut Bucky deeper than anything ever had before. He hated Steve couldn’t see it wasn’t about that. It wasn’t about Bucky thinking he couldn’t do it. He just didn’t want him too. He didn’t want Steve to be alone when he could be with him.
“The thing is…” Bucky shook his head slightly, trying to find the right words before his voice softened. “You don’t have too.”
Bucky took a step forward. looking into Steve’s pain filled eyes as he laid a hand gently on his shoulder. “I’m with you till the end of the line pal.”
Bucky could see the tears pool in Steve’s eyes as he took a deep breath, nodding. He was agreeing, and Bucky breathed a sigh of relief. He was never going to break that promise either. No matter what the two of them were to face from here on in, they would always have each other.
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More Than Friends
by: achievingelysium
Summary: A classic, two-part throwback to "mortals-meet" fics. Part one: Annabeth's having a no good, very bad day. Percy swings by to help. Things go about as well as can be expected. Post-TLO, Annabeth's POV. / Part two: Much to his friends' chagrin, Percy tends to show up late to class and flakes out on a meetup, until they meet his elusive girlfriend. Post-HoO, mortal's POV.
Read on AO3 | FFN
Her phone buzzed.
Buzzed, then buzzed again.
Annabeth snarled under her breath, eyeing the teacher whose back was turned to the class, and then snatched the phone from her pocket. Whoever was texting her had better have something important to tell her, or gods help her—
It was Percy.
Despite herself, Annabeth smiled. The annoyance didn't fade—no, from this morning to that stupid brat earlier—she'd just about had it with the day. She'd only come back to school for a week, but already she ached to leave and go back to camp where she belonged.
Percy, 11:14 AM
hows it going babe
me and grvoer r headed for the beach
Percy, 11:16 AM
wait
grover and i?
You, 11:17 AM
you got it.
Annabeth ducked her head and grinned. She caught Lydia's attention in the seat next to her, her friend's eyes widening almost comically as she leaned over to see.
"You're texting in class?" Lydia hissed.
"Shh," she whispered back, batting Lydia away. Still, the girl was hooked, far too interested in what Annabeth was doing.
There was a noise from the front of the room, and the two of them froze, glancing up.
"False alarm," Lydia whispered as Ms. Martin kept writing on the board.
"You should all be writing this down," Ms. Martin said. "See, this is why you guys aren't doing well. I can only do so much, but if you want to learn, you have to be paying attention in class. It's not as hard as you think it is. Is anybody writing?"
Annabeth gritted her teeth, glaring across the room before looking pointedly at her open notebook. Scrawled on the page were notes, though Annabeth hadn't finished writing down everything. Her dyslexia wasn't helpful, nor was the way Ms. Martin organized her thoughts on the board, completely different from Annabeth's.
There was a general grumbling from the class. Furtive glances were cast around the room.
"Yeah, if only she would teach us," Michael muttered from two seats up. Annabeth and Lydia snorted.
It was no secret that no one in their school liked Ms. Martin. She was a hit-or-miss teacher, and she often berated her students on their less-than-stellar work in her class—even though that had always been a result of her teaching.
"There she goes again," Lydia said, sighing as she jotted down another line.
Annabeth wasn't paying attention, though.
Percy, 11:18 AM
soo? good day
[IMG _FILE]
look at this cool shell
grover said the pattern makes it look like its frowning but i don't see it
You, 11:24 AM
tell grover I don't see it either.
also today's been awful
Percy, 11:24 AM
what
wht
why
You, 11:25 AM
ugh
Helem got mad at me this morning.
Again.
*Helen
Percy, 11:25 AM
she's too hard on u
I thought u 2 were getting better
You, 11:26 AM
yeah
but last week I took off my necklace so I could go shower
she almost threw it away. didn't know what it was
Percy, 11:27 AM
she WHAT
You, 11:27 AM
I guess it's not totally her fault but
she should know by now right
not to touch my stuff I hate it when people touch my stuf
*stuff
and I got really upset about it
Percy, 11:29 AM
u didn't tell me :((
ims orry
You, 11:30 AM
its fine now I guess
I got it back
forgot about it when you called a couple days ago
Percy, 11:31 AM
what were u saying about this morning
You, 11:32 AM
UGH
You, 11:32 AM
I came home yesterday
[Unsent]
You, 11:32 AM
went back yesterday at 2am because I ran into a couple monsters
took care of everything but I got a little blood and monster dust on the carpet and in the bathroom
was too tired to clean up
got yelled at this morning for it
Percy, 11:33 AM
ur fine right?
ugh it wasn't ur fault
You, 11:34 AM
I know she hates monsters and really wants to look out for the boys but
she just
and earlier I saw this girl talking about this kid in the bathroom
and she was so rude I
Percy, 11:35 AM
did u get in trouble
You, 11:35 AM
almost did
I was about to punch her I was so mad
and now I'm in English and I hate English and Martin
Percy, 11:42 AM
hey…
u have lunch next period
i'll swing by with grover and take u out
we can get those curly fries u like
Annabeth groaned. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate Percy, but her friends had been pestering her about her boyfriend since she'd gotten back to school.
They were just scraping two months from the war; Annabeth had decided to go back with Percy and Sally's encouragement. She'd missed about a month—school had started late August, but Annabeth had wanted to spend more time with the other campers and with Percy before leaving.
Now Annabeth was currently drowning in work to catch up, but Percy seemed to have managed just fine starting in mid-September. He'd gone back to Goode, surprisingly, and had bounced between home, school, and camp.
They had some kind of parent-teacher conferences this week, or maybe a holiday, which meant Percy had four days of weekend instead of two. It made Annabeth insanely jealous.
Percy, 11:44 AM
so what do you say
Percy's text brought her back to the present. Lydia had gotten back to leaning over, but Annabeth blocked her friend's attempt to read the screen, furiously typing back.
You, 11:44 AM
no you cant my frien
[Unsent]
"Miss Chase. Miss Faris."
Annabeth's fingers froze over the keyboard just as her heart stopped. She fumbled to turn off her phone, looking up to see Ms. Martin with crossed arms.
"Ma'am," she replied, feeling her heart start to pound against her ribs. She cast a frantic look towards Lydia.
Monsters, Titans, fire-breathing Chihuahuas… Annabeth had seen them all. Still, there was something about teachers that sent them to a completely different level.
The class had gone quiet, broken only by Jay.
"Ooooh," he sang quietly, and the class tittered.
"Would you like to share what you're looking at instead of what you should've been learning in class?"
Annabeth ground her teeth together. She needed to text Percy back to tell him not to come, wanted to keep talking to him, wanted desperately to leave the classroom and find something she could break. The anger and annoyance that had hounded her came back; Percy had been cooling it off, but now something had snapped again.
"Learning," she said deliberately. Someone audibly sucked in a breath at her tone.
Ms. Martin arched an eyebrow.
"Indeed, Miss Chase. Something you would know to do if you want to do well in my class."
This was dumb. This was dumb, and Annabeth hated it, hated the way her skin was crawling like spiders were climbing across her front. She hated Ms. Martin with her stupid voice, who'd failed her first assignment even after Annabeth had worked on it for three days straight.
Hated the way the teacher was looking at her, like she was dumb.
"Maybe if you were teaching us something, I'd pay attention," Annabeth said hotly, standing up. Her fists clenched at her side.
The classroom, which had been filling with whispers and murmured conversation, went silent. Lydia couldn't seem to decide if she wanted to gape at Annabeth or cower in her seat with the way Ms. Martin was glaring at them.
Ms. Martin strode forward.
"Phone," she said, holding her hand out. "I want to see you after class."
Annabeth glanced at her phone, shutting it off and handing it over. They stood off for another moment before Annabeth forced herself to slowly sit down.
It wasn't worth it, she reminded herself, but a little part of her whispered that it had. Ms. Martin had turned around, marching back to the front of the classroom. People had erupted into conversation.
"Girl," Lydia exploded once she'd sat down. "Wow. You… wow."
"Shouldn't have done that, should I?" Annabeth grumbled, sliding lower in her seat.
"Maybe," Lydia offered, "but that was the most badass thing I've ever seen. Just wait until lunch. Everyone's going to be all over you."
"Oh, gods," Annabeth said. She covered her hands with her hands for a moment and then lowered them, sending a satisfied grin at her friend. "Well… I guess that was a pretty good line, huh?"
The remaining time in English passed quickly. Ms. Martin went back to lecturing them, occasionally interjecting with a comment about their work ethic as she glared vaguely in Annabeth's direction. Everyone went back to taking notes, but there was a restless energy that lasted until the bell rang.
"Dismissed," Ms. Martin called, and the students surged for the door, yelling over each other and chatting. Lydia shoved her stuff into her bag.
"I'll save you a spot," she told Annabeth. She glanced at Ms. Martin. "Good luck."
Annabeth took her time putting her things away. She wasn't a terribly organized person, but today she made sure everything had a place. While she worked, she reminded herself that she couldn't afford to have Ms. Martin hate her. Any more, and she'd be failing English.
Not to mention phone calls. The minute Helen heard a word about what had gone down, she'd go off on Annabeth. What little relationship they'd been carefully building would come crumbling down. She'd be the unruly, good-for-nothing demigod.
She took a deep breath and forced herself towards Ms. Martin's desk.
"I'll have you remember that I tolerate no disrespect, Annabeth," Ms. Martin said. "I don't like it when any student uses their phone in class, and if you have constructive criticism, I'd like you to bring it up to me in a more helpful way."
Annabeth held her tongue. She could tell Ms. Martin meant it, but it didn't make Annabeth feel any less unhappy.
"I'm… sorry," she said.
Ms. Martin made a noncommittal noise. "Are we on the same page?"
Annabeth glanced at the clock.
"Yes, ma'am."
"If this happens again, Annabeth, I can call your parents." Here, Annabeth's lip curled in distaste. "And I will send you out of class. You know that."
"Yes, ma'am."
Ms. Martin sighed. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, and though Annabeth didn't like her one bit, she thought maybe she was starting to understand where the teacher was coming from.
"It won't happen again," Annabeth offered quietly. She wanted to leave and slam the door.
"Be sure of it." Ms. Martin nodded, reaching over to a drawer and handing Annabeth's phone over. "You can go."
Annabeth left without saying goodbye, darting out into the hall and sighing.
"That could've gone better," she muttered, heading towards the cafeteria. She was five minutes late, give or take a few—the lunch line would be packed, and she'd have to wait longer to get food.
Annabeth stopped, suddenly remembering why she'd gotten into trouble in the first place. She checked her phone and found a number of missed texts and a call from Percy.
"Oh, gods."
"Annabeth!" a voice yelled before she could check it.
As she pushed her way towards her friends at the table in the corner, she caught sight of a small crowd. Over the din, she could hear a loud voice chattering away.
"What's Beatrice up to?" Annabeth said, sliding into her spot. Lydia lit up.
"Annabeth! You made it out alive!"
"Lydia told us all about it," Samarth said. He passed her a soda can. "Bought this from the vending machine as a gift, you brave, brave soul."
"Uh, thanks," Annabeth said.
"I still can't believe you said that," Jay crowed. "Did you see the look on her face?"
"What'd she say? Spill."
"It was fine," Annabeth muttered. "So what's all the commotion about?"
"Oh," Lydia said, slamming her water bottle down in excitement. "Queen Bea found a new guy to drool over."
Annabeth wrinkled her nose. "I'm sure."
Beatrice was nice enough, but she reminded Annabeth of Aphrodite kids. Cool, but sometimes overwhelming… and maybe a little too obsessed with getting a boyfriend.
She was pretty forward and could get a little bossy, hence the nickname Queen Bea. Still, the few times she'd seen her outside of being boy-crazy had admittedly impressed Annabeth. She was driven and smart. Med school, if she remembered correctly, though Annabeth never knew if that was her own ambition or if maybe she was fishing for a good-looking doctor in her future. Probably both.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Annabeth yelped, pulling her phone from her pocket.
Buzz.
"It's her boyfriend," Lydia said immediately. The table oohed.
"It's not," Annabeth said, hitting reply. It was Percy.
Percy, 12:21 PM
hey its lunch but i don't see u
i could use some help
um
u can probably tell where i am theres kind of a crowd
is this normal
"Shit," Annabeth said. No doubt the "new guy to drool over" was Percy.
"Annabeth?" Jay called after her as she crossed the cafeteria. "Woah, wait, did we upset you?"
She shoved through the crowd, and there he was.
"Look, I'm sorry, I'm just here to find someone," Percy was saying. Beatrice was unsurprisingly talking to him, too close for both Percy and Annabeth's liking.
"Well, you found me," Beatrice said. She leaned a little closer. "Wanna go to lunch together?"
"Uh," Percy said. He looked nervous, eyes darting around the group of people surrounding him. There weren't actually that many people, maybe twelve in total, but they were all excitedly chattering about the new guy. With their small school and class size, everybody knew everybody, and anyone remotely new got people excited.
He tried to step away.
"I'm sorry," he said again. "I'm gonna go."
"Hey, wait, what's your name?"
"Percy," he replied. He was starting to get jittery, Riptide appearing in his hands as he twisted the cap like he did when he got nervous. "And I'm looking for—"
Annabeth finally pushed through.
"Looking for me?"
Percy and Beatrice both turned at the sound of her voice.
"Annabeth," Percy said, obviously relieved. She'd been his best friend for years, knew the way he ticked, knew what every look meant. It made her stomach flip when his eyes lit up, his lips lifting in that crooked, troublemaker grin.
He held out his hand, and Annabeth took it.
"Oh my God," she heard distantly. "That's gotta be him. The boyfriend. Samarth, get a picture."
Annabeth wasn't paying attention.
"Hey, Percy," she said, not fighting as he wrapped an arm around her and daring to press his lips to her forehead. She closed her eyes for a moment. "What are you doing here?"
He grinned, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Curly fries, remember? I promised."
"Do you two… know each other?"
Beatrice looked like her dreams were being crushed slightly. Annabeth felt bad, then remembered she'd been flirting with her boyfriend and felt a little better.
Before Annabeth could open her mouth, Percy beat her to the punch. "I'm Annabeth's boyfriend."
It was a little silly, but it made her smile. Every time she got to call him her boyfriend, it sent warmth through her body.
Annabeth ducked her head to hide her blush, and Percy tightened his arm around her.
"Oh," Beatrice said. "Um. Sorry."
Now she was blushing, looking a little embarrassed.
"It's cool, I guess. Flattering, but I'm taken," Percy said. "Uh, sorry?"
Annabeth couldn't help but roll her eyes. Her friends took the moment to press in like predators hunting prey.
"So you're Annabeth's boyfriend," Lydia said triumphantly. She was grinning as she stuck a hand out. "Nice to meet you."
"That's Lydia," Annabeth said, sighing. They'd never let her get the end of it. "Samarth and Jay over there."
"Oh, man," Jay said. "Liv is going to be so mad she missed this. Uh, nice to meet you, man."
Percy shook hands with Jay, then Lydia, then Samarth.
"I guess Annabeth talks about me, huh?"
"Oh, she never shuts up," Lydia said. Annabeth kicked at her ankles.
"Lydia!"
"Really?" Percy asked, grinning. He slipped his arm down from around her shoulders, grabbing her hand instead. Her face burned.
"No," she grumbled.
"Kind of," Samarth said. "I think Lydia talks more than her, though."
"What? I'm interested."
There was a beat of awkward silence before Lydia blurted, "How'd you guys meet?"
"Oh, um," Percy said. "We met when we were twelve. Went to the same camp, and we got looped into some of the same, er, camp activities together."
"Arts and crafts?"
Percy was grinning again, and it was infectious. "Something like that."
"Cool," Jay said. "I got shipped off to summer camp a few times, too, but my summers were never quite as exciting as Annabeth's. Any way I can get in?"
Annabeth pursed her lips. "It's one of those you gotta apply at, but it's a little hard to get in. Pretty specific requirements."
Percy laughed. "You're not wrong."
"Guess I'm not going."
Percy shrugged and raised an eyebrow. "Maybe. You never know."
"You're from New York, right?"
"Yeah, but I'm on break, so me and another friend came down for a visit. Then Annabeth said she was having a bad day, so I thought I'd come pick her up to get some food."
Jay poked Samarth. "Why don't you ever do that for me?"
Samarth only squinted back. "You're the one who can drive."
Percy glanced over at Annabeth, and she squeezed his hand.
"Missed you," she said quietly, stepping closer. "It's been weird being here."
"Hey, San Fran's pretty nice."
She looked away. "You know what I mean, Percy. I don't get to see your stupid face around."
He leaned their shoulders together. "Missed you, too."
Percy turned to the rest of the group. "It was nice meeting you guys, but I think we gotta go. Fries don't buy themselves."
There was a chorus of "You, too"s as Percy led Annabeth away.
"Mortals, huh," Percy said. "Cool bunch. Though I'm interested in what you've had to say about me, Wise Girl."
She shoved him. "Come on. Let's get some fries."
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Play It Again Pt. 2
uuuuhhhhh here we go again sorry. I wrote this all in the span of two ish days? so if there’s a shit ton of errors lemme know. also, if you want to read it on ao3 because that’s ur jam, you can do that here
enjoy! or don’t im not ur dad
The sun was as it should be in the wasteland; high in the sky with an intent to kill rather than sustain. McCree squinted at the brightness, using a hand to shield his vision as he transitioned from Doc Amari’s low-lit home to the harsh burn.
The town, Goodsprings, wasn’t much. It was a decent size, but only because the occupied houses were few and far in between, the rest of the buildings crumbling husks from a time before him. The ones still standing looked about ready to join them when the next hard wind rolled by, what with the recent-looking patchwork and lopsided foundations. Still, they had a stubborn quality to them, something that was mirrored in the people McCree caught sight of milling about. No one smiled when they looked his way, but they were friendly enough; quaint like their town.
Goodsprings was not the place one expected to get murdered, that McCree was sure of.
Gravel crunched underneath a single tire, drawing closer to where he stood on Doc Amari’s doorstep. The figure approaching him was shadowed at first, as it had its back toward the sun, but McCree didn’t need much of his eyesight to distinguish the bot. When it wheeled to a stop at the foot of the walkway, he was able to make out the cartoonish features of the grinning cowboy on the bot’s screen. He’d never seen a unit like this one, he was sure, but before he could question it a voice emitted from the bot’s speakers.
“Howdy, partner,” it exclaimed, it’s southern drawl more pronounced than even McCree’s. “Might I say, you’re lookin’ fit as a fiddle.” McCree could do nothing but stare for a moment, watching the bot roll back and forth to maintain its balance in near awe. When the silence droned on for too long, the bot spoke again. “Ooh, maybe not. Well, ‘least you’re on your feet, partner, that’s all you coulda hoped for after the deviltry you were in.”
“Beg your pardon - sir," he apologized, adding the last part in an awkward haste. “I ain’t never seen a robot like you before, is all.”
“You haven't? Well, I'll be! I’m a Securitron, RobCo security model 2060-B,” the bot told him, sounding far too pleased with himself with the chance to relay that information to another. “If you see any of my brothers, tell them Victor says howdy.”
McCree nodded once with an easy grin. “I’ll be sure to do that, sir. Do you know where I’d find the town’s saloon?”
“Well, sure, friend.” Victor made a swift, two-point turn to face the road behind him and gestured toward it with one of his long arms. “Just follow that there road and it’ll be the last building on your left.”
“Much obliged.”
“Plannin’ on havin’ a few drinks before you leave?” Victor asked conversationally when McCree made no move to follow his directions. “Reckon you’d be on your way to find the rascals that shot ya, didn’t expect you to stay in town much longer.”
“That’s the plan. You wouldn’t know anything about them, would you?”
“Just that they’re a shady lookin’ bunch. I was out for a stroll when I saw ‘em at the ol’ bone orchard.”
McCree felt his brow furrow. “You were there that night?”
“Sure was,” Victor confirmed, voice as cheerful as ever, like they weren’t discussing McCree’s attempted murder. The strange tone of the conversation had McCree feeling uneasy but anything the bot knew was valuable, so he asked him to continue. “I heard ‘em causin’ a commotion, but I laid low since they had numbers on me. They ran off after a time, so I got to dig you up and see if you was still kickin’. Turns out, you were, so I hauled you off to the Doc right quick.”
So it was Victor who had initially found him in his grave. McCree had been under the impression that Amari had been the one to drag him out despite never being told so. “Well,” McCree said. “‘Spose I should be thankin’ ya for saving me.”
The bot waved him off. “Don’t mention it! I’m always ready to lend a helping hand to a stranger in need.”
“You’ve been more than a help, Victor,” he assured him. “I’m gonna make my way over to the saloon now, but it’s been a pleasure speakin’ with you.”
“Happy trails,” Victor responded in kind before rumbling back down the road.
McCree watched the dust trail he kicked up in his wake and frowned. It was odd, he thought, for any robot to be rolling around in a small town like Goodsprings, let alone one as strange as Victor. There was a chance he could belong to one of the settlers, built and maintained by a person with time on their hands. McCree looked around him again at the Bighorners and the farmers tending to them. No, they were not the industrial type of folk. He didn't think Victor was any type of dangerous, or else he doubted he'd still be rolling around town, but there was something curious about him.
=+=
McCree found Hana Song where Doc Amari said he would: in the back of the Saloon leaned up against a dingy pool table. He nodded politely at the woman behind the bar and made his way over to the girl, but only barely crossed the threshold of the back room before a deep snarl held him in his tracks. An impressively massive dog slunk from around the table, head low and teeth bared with its wide eyes locked right on McCree. He grimaced at it; he didn’t want to have to kill a dog.
“Meka, stay,” the girl commanded. The dog immediately withdrew, and even lolled out its tongue, appearing like a totally different creature from the one that threatened him a moment ago. Hana offered him a smirk, which he guessed was meant to be apologetic. “Don’t worry. She only bites when I tell her to.”
He raised a brow but otherwise kept his expression neutral. “Well, that’s good to hear. Doc Amari sent me after you, said you’d help me get by in the desert,” he explained, still keeping one eye on the dog, Meka, but only because she was sat at an odd angle to gnaw at an itch on her leg.
Hana nudged her to get her to quit. “Yeah. There’s a some things I could probably teach you. After getting shot in the head, there might be a few things you’d need help with,” she laughed.
“There sure is, miss.”
“Meet me outside behind the saloon, then. I gotta go grab something.” She whistled shortly, grabbing the attention of Meka, who’d continued to pester with the spot on her leg. “C’mon, Meka.”
McCree followed her out back, but stayed behind as instructed. He leaned against the fencing and tried to ignore the way his fingers itched for something to do. Was it unorthodox to ask a doctor for a pack of smokes? Maybe there was a store he could visit before it got too late.
With no desire to let anxiousness jitter his bones, he immersed himself with the Pip-Boy on his wrist. It didn’t take long to get used to the constant weight of it like he thought he would, and it was relatively easy to get the grasp of. He transcribed the note Doc Amari had said she found on him while he waited, as paper didn’t tend to hold long during travels. It was the only tangible piece of evidence that tied him to the woman who'd shot him besides the scar itself; too important to have ruined.
He read it over carefully, hoping to find some clue as to why someone would try and kill him for what he had been carrying. It seemed horribly insignificant of a package to be worth stealing. It was oversized for a poker chip, yes, but it still wasn’t a great amount of platinum. There were more valuable materials to pillage in the Mojave. McCree was sure it was the caps in the job. He remembered it was the reason he took the job as gladly as he did, and the 250 cap bonus upon delivery was the metaphorical wax seal. Except, McCree thought, the woman didn't seem short on money, unless she made a business of murdering couriers on the job for their pay, which he would have heard about. There had to be a reason for his attack, but no matter how many times he read over the delivery order, he couldn't put it together.
Hana and Meka returned with a crate full of empty bottles and an extra rifle. The glass clinked together when she dropped them by McCree’s boots and she shouldered off the rifle, handing it to him without preamble. “A 9mm is only going to get you so far in the desert,” she explained, and then proceeded in balancing the bottles on top of the fence. “It’s not much, but it’s something.”
She wasn’t wrong; the rifle was not much at all. It was practically held together by duct tape and McCree could tell it was prone to jamming just by looking at it. He had dealt with worse, though.
Once enough bottles sat in a precarious line, Hana stepped back a good three yards and beckoned McCree to follow. “Go ahead and take some shots. For me, it’s always easier to aim when I’m crouched; gets you steady and all. The sights might be a bit off, the gun’s probably older than me but - “
She jumped slightly when three of the bottles popped to pieces at a rate that few could manage with the busted old varmint rifle. After blinking, she turned her gaze slowly to McCree and regarded him with a raised brow, like she was ensuring it had been him to shoot the bottles and they hadn’t just been blown off from the wind. “Why didn’t you just tell me you knew your way ‘round a rifle before I set up all those and went on my spiel?”
“Didn’t wanna be rude, miss.”
“Well, what does that make you now, after wasting both of our time?” She smirked again, her tell that she didn’t intend for McCree to take her seriously. “Tell you what, to make it up to me, why don’t you help me clear out some geckos at the watering hole? There’d be caps in it for you, and some more practice with that rifle.”
=+=
The geckos weren’t much of a scare. Hana explained that they weren’t a rare occurrence, either. The creatures looked to be about waist high and awkward on their feet, but they moved quick enough by the looks of it. Their teeth were probably the worst about them, but McCree didn't expect to let them close.
Hana splashed some water onto the dirt when they’d been hugged close to a rock just in front of the nest, dipping two fingers into the new mud and drawing two, reddish streaks across each of her cheeks. “Alright,” she said, raising her own gun, looking as giddy as Meka at the opportunity of action. “You take the first shot.”
Unbeknownst to McCree, she had kept score of how many of the oversized reptiles they’d downed each. She let him know, when they reconvened at a nearby campfire, that he had lost by a five ‘tile gap. By then, the mud on her cheeks had dried, so it cracked and chipped when she grinned at him. “Don’t worry, I’ll still pay you, even if you lost. Nobody’s beaten me before, anyway.”
Hana Song wasn’t odd by the Mojave’s standards, but McCree wouldn’t think of her as unforgettable, of that he was sure.
The sun had sunk low by the time they made it back to Goodsprings; less people out and the roads were warmly-lit from oil lamps set in the windows of homes. Victor still rolled around, busy with trekking up the hill with a windmill and wooden crosses sat atop it. McCree watched him as they walked.
“That’s Victor,” Hana said when he stopped responding to her idle conversation with his one-worded answers.
“We’ve met.”
“Odd, ain’t he? Trudy says he’s creepy, but I don’t know. He doesn’t do anything.”
“Where’d he come from?”
She shrugged, “No one really knows. People say his owner used to live here, but we don’t know if they died or just left him when they ditched town.” McCree grunted. Hana seemed satisfied enough to change the subject. “I’m gonna head back. If I missed anything good on the jukebox, Meka would be pissed. You should stop by. Trudy would chew me out if she knew I didn’t send you her way; she likes meeting new people.”
“Sure thing, miss,” McCree said.
The door to Prospector Saloon swung open when they made it to the entryway, crashing loudly against the siding of the building. A man stepped out, cursing thickly under his breath, but his mouth snapped shut when he caught eyes with Hana. He glowered, but mostly withered under the girl’s hard stare, and McCree raised a brow at him. He was dressed like he was ready for a fight, heavy padded vest strapped to him, but upon closer inspection, McCree thought he must’ve already been in one. There were stains on his pants, rich and dark; blood. He didn't seem to be the Goodsprings type.
The man hurried passed them, holding their stares uneasily until his back was to them. He continued down the street briskly, and McCree just barely made out the N.C.R.C.F. printed in bold, white letters across the shoulder of his riot vest.
Hana scoffed and shook her head, looking irritated by the encounter. Before McCree could ask her what exactly had happened, she practically stormed inside the saloon with a quick, “ Good luck, McCree ”, Meka at her heels.
Once he had collected himself, he made his way inside, shutting the door behind him. The same woman was behind the bar still, looking a little miffed herself. She was straightening her short, cropped hair in a huff, but there didn’t appear to be any evidence that there’d been a real scuffle. McCree decided he wouldn’t bother her further on broaching the subject of the man; based on her and Hana’s reaction to him, he was not well liked. That was enough for McCree.
She seemed glad for the distraction, because the tenseness in her features eased a little when he took a seat at the counter. “You’ve been causin’ quite a stir,” she told him, more of an accusation than a statement. “Glad I finally got to meet you,” she added on anyway. “Name’s Trudy, welcome to the Prospector Saloon.”
“Thank you kindly, ma’am.”
“Don’t mention it. Can I get you anything?”
McCree opened his mouth, but the request of beer got caught in his throat. He wouldn’t call himself exceptionally knowledgeable in the medical field, but even he knew that drinking wasn’t the smartest thing to do a day or two after getting shot in the head. “Nuka-Cola,” he said, “if you got it, ma’am.”
“Sure thing.”
The bottle she served him wasn’t cold, and it was flat like most cola one would find in the wasteland, but it was as refreshing as anything. He laid down the two caps for it on the counter and sipped from it slowly, enjoying the music that drifted in from the back room. Trudy sighed, still looking weary, and slid an ashtray from the other side of the bar closer to her, pulling a pack of cigarettes from a pocket in her dress. She flicked at a rusted flip lighter and sighed again at the first drag, seemingly out of relief this time. McCree watched on enviously as the smoke curled around before her before it dissipated.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Trudy said, starting to back away. “It’s probably rude of me to smoke in front of you after the injury you had, isn’t it?”
He doubted that a little secondhand smoke would affect whatever healing process was left for him. Drinking was different, it did something to the brain. Smoking was just the lungs. That’s what he told himself, at least. “It’s only rude if you don’t share, ma’am,” he said back, mostly joking but a little hopeful.
Trudy laughed, lucky for him, and offered him the pack, which he took from, then her lighter. He thanked her, breathing in the stale smoke. It was good, but the taste was off, something that didn’t have to do with the age. Still, it held him over, and his shoulders felt less stiff.
“Speakin’ of my injury,” he started, ashing off the cig into the tray, “I’m trying to track ‘em down, the men who shot me. I was hopin’ you could help set me on my way. Know anything about ‘em?”
“Not much, other than they’re a bunch of freeloaders who expected free drinks out of me. I got them to pay, though.” She smiled a little, smug, but it turned sour in the next second. “Of course, one of the Los Muertos did knock my radio to the floor by accident .” She rolled her eyes, leading McCree to believe that that wasn’t the case at all. Mournfully, she eyed the radio on the counter behind her. “It hasn’t been working since.”
McCree furrowed his brow in solidarity of her mood and set his cigarette between his lips, gesturing toward it. Trudy handed the radio off to him and watched absentmindedly as he popped the back casing off and began to fiddle with it. “Who’re the Los Muertos?”
“As far as I know, they’re enemies of the NCR. Don’t know too much, they mostly stay in their territory up in the northwest. The two that was with the fancy woman, they were probably just hired guns.”
McCree grunted. “They didn’t say where they were goin’, did they?”
“They seemed to be havin’ some kind of argument about it, but the ringleader - fancy girl in the checkered coat - she kept shushin’ them.” Trudy looked up in thought, tapping her cig on the ashtray rhythmically. “From what I remember, it sounded like they’d come in from the north through Quarry Junction. If that’s the case, I can imagine why they didn’t want to go back.”
“Why’s that?”
“The whole area is full of critters that just get pissed off if you shoot ‘em. People treat it like it’s radioactive - which it probably is, for all I know.”
After making sure everything was secure with the innards, McCree slid the casing to the radio back in place and flicked it on. Frank Sinatra’s voice crackled from it before the frequency settled, his notes coming out smooth. Trudy smiled at it happily, taking it from McCree and set it back in its spot on the counter. “So where were they headed?”
“I didn’t hear exactly,” she said “but the leader was talking about the Strip. If she wanted to get there and avoid the 15, she’d have to go east. Take Highway 93 up.”
McCree finished his drink and thanked her, leaving with a few bottles of Nuka-Cola on the house for the fixed radio. Once back out on the porch, he pulled up the map on his Pip-Boy and found the stretch of road he’d have to walk to find his way to the woman in the checkered suit. He hesitated before he powered down the screen, then flipped on his own radio.
He set off under the stars, the tinny, rumble of a man as his only company on the road.
Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to our program. This is Mr. New Vegas, and each and every one of you is wonderful in your own special way. I’ve got news for you. Troubling news from Primm, as merchants report a large presence of armed and unsavory figures patrolling the town. Residents are nowhere to be found. More news for you: A package courier found shot in the head near Goodsprings has reportedly regained consciousness, and has made a full recovery. Now that is a delivery service you can count on. That’s the news. This is Mr. New Vegas, filling in for Mr. New Vegas. Mojave, mo’ problems.
Am I right?
this was meant to be a series of one shots. I’m not exactly sure how I’m planning on keeping this going but it’s for sure going to be a slow burn lmao
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Rec-your-own (fanfiction edition)
Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favourite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers.
Thanks to @emilyweepsforpilfrey for tagging me- I mean I won’t tag more people because I think you’ve covered that and I don’t want to pester people but here we go! Time to actually look through all the fanfic I’ve wrote so far!
A Second Chance to be Good (Doctor Who: Twelfth Doctor/ Missy, Missy/ Female OC, Female OC/ Male OC, Bill/ Many girls)
Pretty sure all my favourite things are things I’m working on because I liked the ideas enough so hey- here’s a load of my own fics I’m going to recommend which I rarely update and I write selfishly because I like them.
Anyway!
A follow up of another fic I wrote called One Last Chance to be Good (and it’s tiny universe of shipping moments which I didn’t want to put in the main story because it wasn’t originally going to ship them but hey!) except way more interesting with a better plot, more sex, more emotions and apparently I ship everyone together (possibly- depends how the characters go) except Bill with guys (because ew). It’s pretty much me going ‘hey- my character has unfinished business here with this new canon of Missy ‘dying’ so I have to a) fix that death and b) make time loops happen.
And hey- lookie there- spoilers for bits I haven’t written yet! Let’s stop there before I spoiler more bits for anyone who actually does want to read it!
Favourite part (so far): “Put them in the sink if you aren’t going to finish your own.” She says, gesturing to the drinks as she stands, “I’m calling him now and then we’re going straight away.” Florence says, already half way through the doorway.
For seconds the Doctor stares at her, bewildered with the speed with which the woman reacted and planned.
Then, slowly, he stands and makes his way to the sink to wash out the pair of mugs.
I can’t decide if I find the image (of the Doctor doing something domestic because a short human he barely knows asked) hilarious or sad because it speaks of his desperation and utter out-of-depth-ness that he wouldn’t even question it.
Shift (Doctor Who: Twelfth Doctor/Missy, Bill Potts/Missy (possibly if I keep going??))
I guess technically this one is finished unless I find the time to write more because I 100% could. I wrote the premise down the evening of The Pyramid at the End of the World which is why it’s AU because although I had my suspicions I thought it was interesting and then found it again quite recently. It’s the only way I could realistically pair Bill and Missy so I would quite like to work on it eventually, haha!
Favourite lines: The Mistress feels her heart warm, hope blossom there in conflict with her old memories and self.
“Thank you.” She whispers, pressing her hand against the glass, opposite the humans.
“Bill.” She finishes, eyes intent on the young woman’s.
To Lose (Doctor Who: Twelfth Doctor/Missy, Missy/Simm!Master, Simm!Master/Twelfth Doctor)
Missy’s redemption outing falls apart in a different way than the Doctor could have ever expected. Featuring broken Time Lords and their problematic love for each other.
Favourite part: "Just kiss me." And she does, arching up to press her open mouth to his, desperate for the validation of contact.
Her hands grip tightly at his shirt front. The Doctor stands, fists clenched and eyes averted. He wants to pull her from her previous incarnation's grasp and take her away- to the Tardis- safe.
The Master does not react.
The Mistress pulls away, fingers tightening against his shirt. She bows her head to his chest, trying to choke back her crying.
"You really are so desperate." He utters, tilting her head back to look into her eyes.
He crushes his lips against hers. She parts her lips obediently, eyes closing tightly as he grips her face, tongue moving over hers. Even as he kisses her, as unrelenting as she kisses others, she cries.
The Master pulls away and lays her down again. He blows out a breath, eyebrows arching upwards.
"Well I really wish I didn't have to be you." He says with a grimace, standing again.
The Mistress clenches her teeth and rolls over again, wracked by sobbing.
"Why did you do that to her?" The Doctor bites out, finally striding up to the Master. There is only inches between the Mistress and her past incarnation but the Doctor steps into that space regardless.
Road Trip (Doctor Who: Heather/Bill)
I really, really, REALLY can’t wait to get back to this!
This is unashamedly crack with my signature ‘I can’t leave emotions alone!’ moments. Premise is that Bill misses the shuttle’s ladder and the Masters shoot off into space with Nardole- these three then have to deal with each other (Missy feeling like she has to bow to her past and having a very damaging relationship with him when she isn’t at her most stable which makes things worse with Nardole who feels sympathy for Missy and wants to help her because he sees she’s getting better but he is terrified of both her and Simm!Master and knows that Simm!Master would happily kill them both to alleviate boredom and Simm!Master hating Nardole for not being him or the Doctor and Missy for being ‘weaker’ and having ‘given in’ to the Doctor which he sees as pathetic). Also featuring the Doctor as ‘that old relative whose gay space grandaughter randomly visits from time to time with her cute space girlfriend’ and Bill and Heather as universe honeymooners.
Favourite part: The Master forces the handle and they shoot off, just managing to blow up the wall in front of them before they crash. The Mistress shrieks in excitement, arms in the air as they smash through layer after layer of metal, only picking up speed.
"I think I'm going to be sick." Shouts Nardole helpfully, "And I don't even really eat anymore." He adds as they force their way through yet another floor.
In a flash of flesh tone a human farmer yells at them angrily, waving a pitchfork.
They keep going, crashing through level after level, leaving smoking craters throughout the ship.
The Master laughs as the android holds on for dear life, the chair creaking beneath his fingers.
The Mistress laughs at the thrill of travelling again- they're going so fast! It's exactly like a roller coaster with more destruction.
Then they're in space.
All three of them look at each other in shock as they shoot through the side of the ship and out into the universe.
Eventually they slow, the Master easing back from the pedal before they shoot straight into a star.
"I think I misjudged." He says evenly.
Comfort of Understanding (Doctor Who: Twelfth Doctor/Missy, River/Twefth Doctor, River/Missy)
I could so happily write more of this!! I think I just ship Missy with everyone really if my brain finds a way to let her connect.
Missy believes the Doctor died facing the Cybermen and leaves to grieve only to be found by River who doesn’t know the Doctor is dead. Somehow River helps ease the pain even if Missy can’t tell her what she believes.
Rive is just so warm and lovely and beautiful and precisely what this version of Missy needs. Actually- thinking about it- I bet River would have been at least as good as the Doctor (maybe more?) for helping Missy try and redeem herself except the whole thing about Missy and the Doctor being childhood friends which is why the attachment and trust and love is there and they’re willing to help each other but food for thought I guess?
Favourite part: “You know.” She mumbles, placing her trembling hand back in her lap.
Quiet comes between them once again.
Footsteps.
A set of dull thumps as the woman clad in worn leather and tight jeans sits beside her.
Warmth, emanating from her.
“You’re the Master. Aren’t you?” Asks River, “He did this to you.” She clarifies.
Missy nods, incapable of words.
“Kind of.” She admits when she can speak, words she didn’t know she had thought, “I asked him.” She says. The Mistress doesn’t look at River but feels River’s gaze travelling across her.
What does she see?
A mass murderer? Her husband’s friend from college? A broken old woman?She wants to ask but she doesn’t.
A hand slides around her shoulders, containing the shaking and the Mistress feels herself lean into this strange woman- one of the Doctor’s wives.
“What do you mean kind of?” Asks River.
The Mistress closes her eyes, listens to the beating of River’s single heart. Her arm is warm around her.
She finds her words.
“I used the name Mistress to fool him. It stuck and changed with me as I changed. Master feels-” The Mistress struggles with the emotion.
“Like it doesn’t fit. Like clothes you wore in another body when you try them on again.” River says, understanding implicitly.
Missy nods.The woman’s arm squeezes her shoulder lightly, a comfort.
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