#anyways ive been thinking recently that i hope i end up with a deep voice too

[peachscribe]

peach’s summer book list

i had a lot of fun compiling the list of books i read during the 20-21 winter, so i decided i would do a summer one as well! i still have a lot of books i own but haven’t read, so im definitely not lacking in material

if you didn’t see my winter list, how my book list works is basically like this: i read a book that i own but have not previously read, write a short summary immediately after finishing the book, write down my thoughts on the book, and then provide a rating for the book. i also might include background info on why i read this particular book/feelings about the author, but that depends on the book. that’s how each entry works

without further ado, let’s get started!

1. Grasshopper Jungle by Andrew Smith

okay so i absolutely adore another book by andrew smith (written after grasshopper jungle) called the alex crow. it’s one of my favorite books of all time, so naturally i wanted to see if grasshopper jungle would make me feel similarly. just like the alex crow, grasshopper jungle’s plot is. so fucking weird. it stars austin szerba, a teenage polish kid who lives in ealing, iowa, and is often sexually confused regarding his girlfriend shann and his best friend robby. and in ealing, iowa, austin and robby accidentally and unknowingly unleash an unstoppable army of huge six-foot-tall praying mantis bugs that only want to do two things: fuck and eat. and i just have to say: andrew smith’s got an absolutely dynamo writing style. alex crow is similar, where it’s a book about kind of everything all at once, framed in a moment centering around teenage boys. it’s fantastic, and it’s more than a little gross, and i love it. this book made me feel so many things, and i thought austin was such an amazing narrator and main character to identify with. this book has it all: shitty teenage boy humor, fucked up science experiments, and poetic imagery that will make you want to cry. and explicit lgbt characters.

412/10 andrew smith what do you put in your water i just want to know

2. Burn by Patrick Ness

patrick ness has written a plethora of some of my favorite books (such as a monster calls, the chaos walking trilogy, and the rest of us just live here) so when i saw this one in the store i knew it would be a great one. burn is an alternate history fantasy that takes place in 1957 frome, washington, during the height of the cold war, and it begins with a girl named sarah and her father hiring a dragon to help out on their farm. but there’s not just dragons, farm living, and cold war tensions; there’s also a really shitty small town cop, a cult of dragon worshippers and their deadly teenage assassin, a pair of fbi agents, and a prophecy that sarah’s newly hired dragon claims she’s a part of. i think eoin colfer’s highfire was on my winter list, which also featured a story that included dragons and shitty cops, so when i first began burn i thought it was funny to have two books that had both things. you know, if you had a nickel etc etc. but that’s really where the similarities end because burn is entirely it’s own monster (dragon). burn is entirely invested in its world, and its fascinating. not only that, i had no clue where the book would take me next. there were so many surprises and amazing twists that honestly just blew me away. this book also includes beautifully written complicated discussions on family, race, and love - it features interracial and queer romances as the two most prominent romance plots which was such a nice surprise from a book i wasn’t expecting to have that kind of representation. this book is witty, fast-paced, and a very heartening read - i absolutely adored it.

9/10 dragons and becoming motivated by the power of love and friendship are so fucking cool

3. As Meat Loves Salt by Maria McCann

i hate this book! as meat loves salt is a historical fiction novel which takes place in seventeenth century england, which is going through a grisly civil war. the protagonist, jacob cullen, is a servant for a wealthy household and is engaged to another servant in the house. but due to certain events that are almost entirely jacob’s fault, he flees the house and is separated from his wife. from there, he joins the royal army and meets a kind soldier, ferris, and the two become fast friends. jacob and ferris’s relationship begins to bridge past friendly, and jacob struggles with his homoerotic feelings as well as the growing obsession and violence inside him. also, they try to start a colony. listen, i don’t know how to describe the book because so much happens, but it basically just follows jacob and all the terrible decisions he makes because he is, truly, a terrible person. ferris is kind and good, and jacob is scum of the earth. he sucks so bad. the entire time i was reading this book (which took absolutely so long), all i wanted was for jacob to just get his ass handed to him. i wanted to see him suffer. and it’s not like i just personally don’t like him - i believe the book purposefully depicts him as unsympathetic even though he is the narrator. i did enjoy the very in depth and accurate portrayal of what life would’ve been like in seventeenth century england, and i think it was interesting to read a character that is just the absolute worst person you’ve ever encountered and see him try and justify his actions, so if you enjoy that kind of thorough writing, then this book would be perfect for you. however, i did not see that bitch ass motherfucker jacob cullen suffer enough. i’d kill him with my bare hands.

2/10 diversity win! the worst man on earth is mlm!

4. This Savage Song by Victoria Schwab

i know ive had a friend tell me how great one of schwab’s other book series is, but truthfully i bought this book because the cover is sick as hell and it was on a table in the store that advertised for buy two get one free, i think. something like that. anyway, this savage song takes place in a future in which monsters, for whatever reason, suddenly became real and out for blood in a mysterious event nicknamed the phenomenon. august flynn is one of these monsters, but he takes no pride in that fact and only wants to feel human. kate harker is the daughter of a ruthless man and is trying her hardest to be ruthless, too, but deep down she knows it’s just an act. their city, verity, stands divided, and kate and august stand on either side - but when august is sent on a mission to befriend kate in the hopes of stopping an all out war, the lines begin to blur. this book rules. august and kate are such interesting and dynamic characters, and the narrative is familiar while still being capable of twisting the story around and taking the feet out from under you in really compelling ways. this savage song is part of the monsters of verity duology, and i can’t wait to dive into how the story continues and finishes.

11/10 sometimes you can judge a book by it’s cover

4a. Our Dark Duet by Victorian Schwab

this is the sequel and finale for this savage song and i’d figure i’d update everyone: fantastic ending, beautiful, showstopping, painful.

12/10 loved it and will definitely be keeping an eye out for schwab’s other books

5. White is for Witching by Helen Oyeyemi

oh boy. okay. white is for witching is about a house, and it is about the women who have lived inside of it. when her mother dies abroad, miranda silver begins to act strangely, and there’s nothing her father or her twin brother seem to be able to do about it. she develops an eating disorder and begins to hear voices in the silver family house, converted to a bed and breakfast by miranda’s dad; and she begins to lose herself in the house and the persistent presence of her family legacy. white is for witching switches perspective dizzingly and disorientingly between miranda, her twin eliot, miranda’s friend from school named ore, and the house itself. this story is a horror story as much as it as a tragedy as much as it is a romance as much as it is a bunch of other things. oyeyemi brings race, sexuality, nationality, and family into this story and forces you not to look away. this book is poetry.

(like i mentioned briefly, this book heavily deals with topics of race and closely follows miranda’s eating disorder. read responsibly, and take care of yourselves)

15/10 this book consumed me and i think i’ll have to read it another 10 more times to feel it properly

6. These Violent Delights by Chloe Gong

okay. okay. strap in for a ride. these violent delights is a romeo and juliet style story, taking place in glittering 1920’s shanghai. the city stands divided - not only between the foreign powers encroaching on chinese land, but also between the scarlet gang and the white flowers, who are at the height of a generations-long blood feud. juliette cai, heir to the scarlets, has recently returned from four years abroad and is determined to prove herself ruthless enough to lead. roma montagov, heir to the white flowers, is standing strenuously on his place as next in line due to a slip up four years prior and is desperate to keep hold of his title. and in the midst of juliette and roma’s burning history with each other threatening to combust, an unnatural monster lurks in the waters of shanghai, loosing a madness on scarlets and white flowers alike. this book has it all - scorned ex lovers, political intrigue, deadly monsters, and all set on a glamorous backdrop of the roaring twenties. i absolutely was enraptured by this book and the way it plays around the story of romeo and juliet so well that it easily became it’s own monster, but with the punches and embraces of something classically shakespearan. gong does just an absolutely breathtaking job of fitting this fantastical story amid the larger world of shanghai and the real life historical events that had shaken the city to its core. completely immersive and outstandingly heart racing.

17/10 i was chewing on my fingernails for the last thirty pages and will continue to do so until the sequel is released (our violent ends, 16 nov 21)

7. The Antiques by Kris D’Agostino

you ever heard of the american dysfunctional family story? this is most definitely that. at the same time george westfall’s cancer takes a turn for the worse, a hurricane hits the east coast, and suddenly all at once the issues of his health, the hurricane, and all three of his children’s achingly dysfunctional adult lives are crashing into each other. reunited by george’s death, the westfall siblings have to face their grief, each other, and the problems in their own lives they attempted to put on hold while planning their father’s memorial. this is a nice story about grief and loss and love and somehow finding the humor amidst it all.

(this book does include a depiction of an autistic child who does experience several pretty bad meltdowns due to ignorant people around him not understanding how to cater to his needs. im not an authority on what depictions are or are not harmful, but i do believe this depiction is ultimately loving and well-intended.)

7/10 it made me laugh and cry and was generally one of those books that somehow hit you close to home

8. Fierce Fairytales by Nikita Gill

fierce fairytales is a poetry anthology that reimagines classic fairytales from a modern, feminist viewpoint, acknowledging that the line between hero and villain, monster and damsel, are not as clear cut as the classics try to make you believe. this book also includes illustrations done by the author herself, which i think is really cool. my personal favorite story reimagining was the story of peter pan and captain hook, called ‘boy lost’ which looked at how peter and hook’s relationship began and rotted. all in all, i think this collection of stories had a lot of important things to say and said them in frank, easy to understand poetry and prose.

7/10 beautiful message and pretty prose, but at times a little cliche

and that’s all from the summer! my fall semester starts tomorrow, and overall i feel very good about all the reading i did this summer. i even read four other books not on this list for work! so i definitely feel like i made the most out of my time, and im really glad i was able to read so many stories that made me feel a variety of different things

thanks so much for reading this list, and let me know if you read or have read any of these books and tell me what you think of them!

happy reading<3

#book recs #book rec #book rec list #grasshopper jungle #burn #as meat loves salt #this savage song #monsters of verity #white is for witching #these violent delights #the antiques #fierce fairytales #just like my winter list i did write ever review immediately after finishing the book and i think. #i think here you can really tell what my immediate reactions were based on how the review is written fbfjfjd

[dancingazaleas]

𖨆. 05 / all for us

summary: after the recent incident, you don’t feel a real reason to live. so why try to live?

note: this was supposed to be longer, but i loved how it ended. i’m also a suffering from headaches again. please be patient with me. also, PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS IVE LISTED. this is a DARK chapter.

taglist: @the-sun-baby @voltairelesecond @baelo80 @uniquepickle @ascybous @saturnalya @messyhairday-me @stupid-stinky

word count: 1.4k

warnings/notes: cursing, suicidal thoughts, self harm, attempt of suicide, dark, panic attack

YOU lay on the floor of your closet once again, the scratchy carpet being the only thing that provided you with warmth. the only person you'd seen for the past few days was erwin. anytime he'd even mention levi, you'd beg for him not to see you.

you groan quietly, deciding to go lay in your bed for a while so your skin won't keep itching. your foot chills when it touches the hardwood floor of your room, and it distracts you from the task at hand.

you're dizzy now, only being able to focus on your foot. it didn't help much since you collapsed onto your side, breathing heavily through your nose as you stare blankly to the wall. you haven't stood up for hours, opting to leave the closet only to go to the restroom.

you blink while getting back onto your feet, hand pressed against your head as if you were soothing it. you decide to go to the bathroom, if you go now that means you won't have to go later.

you watch your hands afterwards, tired eyes watching your reflection in the crystal clear mirror.

your face was bruised, you have a black eye and a deep cut on your cheek from levi's wedding band.

you look back down to your hands, wanting to focus on something else in order to soothe yourself. you don't bother to dry your hands off with a towel, opting to shaking them around in the air.

your feet drag against the floor as you jump into your bed, body smoothly sliding across it so your head rests against a pillow. you curl up under the covers, genuine warmth crashing against your body for the first time in days. it's almost overwhelming, but you can't find it in yourself to care.

you watch a movie to help pass the first hour and a half of you being outside of the closet. you play another movie for background noise, getting off of your bed and walking to the bookshelf.

you grab a black book with white font, grabbing a smaller blanket and throwing it over your lap once you sit in a chair.

you’re going to read some of this book and then retreat back to your safe space whenever they come to feed you.

even though you’re reading the story, you can barely comprehend the words along with the plot line. everything seems to be a jumbled mess inside of your mind, so much that it makes your head hurt right behind your eyes. time stretches longer than you meant for it to as you keep rereading all the sentences, hoping to gain at least a tiny bit of understanding.

you’re attention is taken away by the sound of the door opening and closing. you’d been so focused you hadn’t even noticed that someone was coming to see you. and not only was it someone, it was levi.

the book falls out of your hands and onto the floor, eyes wide as you stare at levi with fear.

he’s holding your tray of food for lunch, which you don’t think you’ll be eating today since it’s not erwin who’s going to feed you.

levi tries not to get irritated at the way your body is trembling. he hasn’t even said a single word and you’re already cowering.

when levi steps closer, you jump out of the chair and into the corner furthest from him. you cry out for erwin, for help, anyone that will be able to take levi away from you.

it startles levi for a moment, but it’s soon replaced with frustration as he makes another step.

you scream while tears gush out of your eyes, nailing planting onto the wall you’re up against. levi angrily puts the tray of food down onto your windowsill, metal and glass clinking against one another in unsynchronized harmony.

for whatever reason, it has you screeching with you dropping to the floor and cover your head with your arms. levi’s worried and goes to make a move towards you, but you’re too frightened to think.

your screeching has his head pounding, so much that he’s silently praying that erwin would just come in already.

“i’m—i’m trying to fucking help!” he barks at you, stomping his foot onto the hardwood flooring.

you jump once more, protecting yourself more than before.

levi goes to scream again, but he’s interrupted by the door to your room slamming open.

erwin’s there, half dressed and messy hair while his eyes frantically scan the area. his eyes widen at the sight of your cowering, quickly rushing over to you to sit in front of you.

“what happened,” he asks levi while cautiously pressing a hand to your knee.

“i just walked in and she just went batshit,” levi says with exasperation, confusion and anger flashing on his face.

“get out. you scare her,” he orders with furrowed brows, stroking the skin of your kneecap with his thumb.

levi scoffs but listens anyways, shutting the door behind him.

“my love, everything’s okay. it’s just us now,” he murmurs sweetly, managing to coax you out of your panicked state just a bit.

“us? j... just us,” your voice is shaky as your hand absentmindedly reaches out for erwin.

“yes, just us,” he confirms with a smile, managing to gather you in his large arms.

you continue to cry, only this time you can breathe.

“can’t be with ‘im... i’m scared,” you admit while attaching yourself to erwin, “so scared.”

shushing you, he coos, “you can, i believe in you.”

wrong choice.

“no! no! NO,” you start to trash in his arms, once again entering the almost inconsolable mind state.

since he wasn’t expecting your panicked reactions, you manage to kick him in the chest and push him away. his body bangs against the stool of your vanity, knocking it onto his side with a loud crash.

levi runs back inside, watching how you jump to your feet and over to your vanity. erwin manages to scoot further away from you, slightly unsure of your next move.

you’re sobbing uncontrollably as you slam your fast into your vanity’s mirror. it’s so clean, not a smudge on it. not even a speck of lint. it’s perfect.

the shards cut your hand, but you don’t care, too high on adrenaline. levi and erwin go to disarm you just as you manage to grasp a particularly large and sharp shard of glass.

the moment it’s in your hand, you raise your opposite wrist to the glass while screaming at the two men.

“NOT ANOTHER STEP,” you cry as you push the glass against your skin, freezing both levi and erwin, “not another fucking step or i kill myself with this shard right fucking here.”

“(name), my love, it’s alright! it’s okay! no one’s going to hurt you,” erwin barely moves an inch while he pleads, but you don’t care.

“I SAID NOT ANOTHER STEP!!” you roar while slicing the glass against your skin, blood immediately pouring from the new wound.

dark red paints the glass as your finger swipes against the blood by accident.

“get out,” you whimper, “just leave me alone to die, please.”

“we can’t do that,” levi says calmly, accidentally taking a step out of instinct.

it feels comparable to flour whenever the blade slices through your pretty skin. it burns and you know that you might end up having to get stitches from just how deep it is if you want to live. and considering you can only really get stitches from hospitals, you say your goodbyes in your head.

“if you can’t do that,” your vision is starting to grow hazy as your breath comes out ragged, “then, i’ll just kill myself right here, knife at the vein.”

this is the only way you’ll be free again. the only way you’ll be away from them. the only way you’ll probably ever get to see your friends again.

your hope has dwindled into nothing. you know you cannot get away, not in a million years. now, there’s only one way to escape. death.

and by god if you let one of them slaughter you.

and so, you slash your arm once more right against the vein. blood oozes from the wound with ease while your eyes roll back and your knees hit the floor. the last thing you see is erwin and levi running towards you with panicked looks on their faces. it almost makes you laugh.

you hope to see them in hell.

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #levi ackerman #snk levi #aot erwin #dark content #erwin smith #commander erwin #erwin x y/n #erwin x levi #snk erwin #erwin x reader #attack on titan erwin #erwin x you #levi x you #levi x y/n #levi x reader #shingeki no kyoujin levi #levi attack on titan #levi aot #sorrels.allforus💒

[random-imagines-blog]

Sideways {Andrew Garfield x Reader}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 1811 Summary: Andrew gets a call that no one wants to get. Especially from their own child. Warning: Contains hospital, miscarriage and talk of pregnancy.

The best part about your job was that you could do a lot of it online, and could travel with Andrew when he went abroad for his different acting gigs. This was one of the last times that you would be able to go, since it was the Summer and your daughter was going into first grade, and you wanted to keep her in one place to keep her adjusted. Still, he was going to appreciate all that he could get. And every minute that he wasn’t needed on set, he was going to take you and your child together to go and explore. He’d been here in Vancouver before, but you hadn’t, and he was eager to show you what he had learned about on his last trip here. But for now, he was stuck in the studio, getting fitted for one of the ‘special’ outfits that he was going to be wearing for this film.

He was laughing with the wardrobe stylist, joking about something that happened with the director on the first day here. They had pranked him by bringing in a bunch of extras and announcing them as the main cast. The director had sputtered, and not wanting to be rude, had to excuse himself to make ‘script adjustments’. Once he had realized that it was all a prank, he saw the funny side, and all tension and nerves around the team had dissipated. Andrew had been in on it and thought that it was hilarious, especially since he had been dressed as one of the camera-crew. Best acting he had ever done, the director had said to him.

“There’s a call for you, Mr Garfield,” His assistant said, popping up beside him. She was a small, older woman with a very no-nonsense air about her. She hadn’t appreciated the prank, because it meant that she missed out on a few hours of work. “It’s urgent.”

“It is?” Andrew asked, wondering who it could be. You only texted him during work hours, and he’d give you a call at lunch once in a while, otherwise he would wait to tell you about his day once he got home. That way his little girl could listen in and chime in whenever she wanted as well. “Excuse me,” He told the woman who was measuring his shoulders to make an adjustment to the suit. She nodded, and helped him to remove what he had on of the costume, then he changed quickly then finally accepted the phone from his assistant.

“This is Andrew,” He said, just in case it was an urgent professional call. He could hear a commotion coming from the other end of the line. There were men talking, and then a loud siren. Ambulance, not fire truck or police. He knew the difference, having always stayed in hotels in busy cities.

“Daddy?” The six-year-olds voice came through, and Andrew felt his heart sink from his chest down to his knees. He looked at his assistant who looked more solemn than usual. And maybe even a little bit concerned. “Daddy - it’s Mommy.”

“What’s wrong with mommy? Tell me everything - and where are you going?” He took his wallet and keys from his assistant, who had been holding onto them during the fittings.

“Where are we going?” Andrew heard her ask someone, and a man said something in response. “Vancouver General,” The little girl repeated.

“I’ll meet you there, okay? Stay with one of the paramedics until Daddy gets there. I won’t be long.”

-

It took him half an hour to get to the hospital, and that was with light traffic. He cursed the studio for being so far away, but he knew it was just the stress. His daughter wasn’t able to give him much information, just that you had been in the bathroom, crying in pain, and then told the little girl to call 911. They had taught her the emergency number for every country that they stayed in, just in case. It was good that she knew, but he hated that she had to use it.

You had been feeling fine that morning, he recalled. You went to the hotel restaurant for breakfast, had a simple meal of oatmeal and fruits. He was thinking that perhaps you had food poisoning of some sort? He hoped it was something as simple as that, though you wouldn’t have called 911 over something so trivial.

He parked, then ran into the first entrance that he could find. It was emergency, and they gave him directions to the fourth floor. He noticed from the signs around the elevator that it was to ... to a pregnancy floor?

He saw his daughter first, sitting on a bench, reading a book, swinging her legs back and forth since they weren’t reaching the ground. There was a paramedic sitting with her, but not saying anything. Just keeping an eye on her, which Andrew was thankful for. His footsteps brought their attention, and the little girl jumped to her feet. She had been crying, Andrew could tell from the puffiness of her cheeks. She ran towards him, and he leaned down to catch her in a hug. “Daddy! I called just like you taught me to!” She pulled your phone out of her pocket, it looked so massive in her little hands, and she held it up to show you.

He knew the password, there were no secrets between you two. You knew his as well, but neither of you ever went snooping. In fact, this was the first time that he had used it. He saw indeed that your first call of the day was to work, and then 911, and then to him. He turned the phone dark and put it into his own pocket. He scooped up the girl and held her in his arms in a giant bear hug. He looked at the paramedic over her shoulder, took a step towards him and held his hand out. “Thank you so much for staying with her-”

“It’s no problem,” He said, getting to his own feet. “We had to resupply the ambo anyway. And - the doctor said that your wife was stable. I’m sure she’ll be out soon.” He shook Andrew’s hand then excused himself to go back to work, and Andrew sunk down on the recently vacated spot on the bench, still holding his daughter on his lap. There wasn’t much that he could do except for wait for the Doctor, which didn’t take long. The commotion that your daughter made had gotten their attention.

“Hello, Mr. Garfield?” The Doctor said, coming out of the room. She reminded Andrew a lot of his assistant. Same motherly face, same solemn features. Andrew nodded to the affirmative. “Your wife is going to be just fine, though her body had gone through some trauma. She’s going to need to rest, take it easy for a couple of weeks at least.”

“What happened?” He asked, his voice shaky with relief that you were going to be fine. Still, this had seemed to come out of nowhere. And the fact that you were in the pregnancy wing made him nervous.

“Your wife had a miscarriage, Mr. Garfield. She was three months along,” The Doctor’s voice was straight to the point, no emotions at all. She must have to deliver news like this all of the time. “She claims that she didn’t know that she was pregnant, so she is feeling rather fragile. I’d like to keep her for overnight observation, just to be careful.”

Andrew swallowed, but nodded. There wasn’t any other reaction that he felt like he could have. He could only hug his daughter close, thankful that at the very least, he had her. “Can I see her?” He asked the Doctor, who nodded, and motioned towards the open door that she had just come out of. Andrew got back up to his feet, and walked in, still holding his daughter, who was being unusually quiet. He realized as he walked into the room that she had fallen asleep.

You hadn’t, however. You were laying in the hospital bed, hooked up to machines, getting fluids, staring straight ahead of you blankly. Andrew hummed to announce that he was there, and you snapped out of it, your eyes meeting his. They were still filled with tears on your end, while he was still comprehending the news.

“Hey baby,” You said, weakly smiling. Andrew smiled back, and set the little girl down on a chair, where she curled up immediately and continued to sleep away. All that worry and excitement must have exhausted her. He then went to your side, taking hold of both your hands, being careful of the IVs.

“How -” He said, shaking his head. “How did this happen?”

“I don’t know,” You said, blinking away tears. “I didn’t even know I was pregnant. I swear, I wasn’t keeping anything from you. I had my period and no other symptoms. I mean, I thought I gained a little bit of weight but I thought that was just all of the cake,” You somehow managed to laugh though it didn’t sound sincere. “The Doctor says that happens sometimes.”

Andrew would never dream of accusing you of cheating. The two of you stayed in the newlywed stage of your marriage, remaining sexually active. The math added up enough, three months, you two were definitely intimate three months ago.

“How do you feel?” Andrew asked, caressing the top of your hands with his thumbs. “And not just physically.”

You took a deep breath in and then a deep breath out. “I’m devastated,” You admitted, finally admitting your own truth. Tears were fighting to come out and you had stopped the battle, letting them descend freely. “When I heard that I miscarried - I realized... I want that baby. I want to have another one with you and we just lost our chance.”

Andrew felt the same wave of depression overcome him. In an alternate universe, he could just be finding out that he was going to be a father again. He had to be strong for you though. He could let out his emotions when you got home. You were too vulnerable right now.

“We’ll have more chances,” Andrew said, leaning forward and kissed a tear off of your cheek. It tasted salty, it lasting on his lips for a long while. “I’ll gladly give you another baby.”

You chuckled at that, though you were still crying. “You just like the act of making one, mister,” You squeezed his hands. Andrew laughed as well, and nodded.

“Can you blame me?”

#Andrew Garfield #Andrew Garfield x reader #Andrew Garfield oneshot #celebrity #celebrity oneshot #request #oneshot #one shot #x reader #andrewg

[abbynx]

La Squadra Housemate, College AU Part 1

Genre: Platonic

This has been in my drafts in like... forever and i got sick staring at it. Enjoy the culmination of my delirium induced by sleep depravity!

It was one of those days again. The empty feeling settling between your chest, as you resume to your daily activities, head on autopilot because that's just how repetitive your days were, just slaving away in your desk, be faced with things to do such as the essays, the math equations, essay analysis... The lessons and lectures were different everyday, and yet all the same. You didn't even cared to take a break anymore, knowing full-well of the works which awaits you so why delay it? It's not like your homemade snack will make you feel any better. 

Another term paper finished, time to pass it tomorrow and have the professor tear it in front of you just in case you had a minimal typographical error, before you resort to picking it up to see where the hell did you go wrong. It ached the first time, but as time goes by, you just simply move on and comply, hurting inside but what's the point of getting it all out? A waste time, that is. You've been over it and quite frankly, it was getting so excessively pointless. 

Setting the paper aside, you went to get a hold of another one of the work next in line with a sigh. Exhaustion lingers on with the emptiness within, powered by forced determination to finish everything within your plate and burn yourself out in the process. I mean, isn't this the way to success all of them have been saying? If you resume to do this and go through the route of life, then you'd end up walking everywhere with an IV tube up your arm. 

There was a knock at the door you didn't hear and acknowledged, until the person from the other side of the door lets himself in. 

 "Hey Y/N, I said Illuso made some overcooked crap downstairs. Get your ass down and take a break." Sorbet would usually leave upon relaying the message in mind, but he remained standing by the doorway anticipating for your response, an acknowledging nod would be enough to send him on his way but your unresponsiveness prevailed.

 "Y/N! How many times do we have to call you, huh?! Get your ass down or we'll eat without you!!!" Ghiaccio's shrill voice boomed from downstairs, prompting Sorbet to wince and lift a finger up to his ear to plug it up. 

 "Go ahead, I'll catch up later." Your recent attitude alone has gotten all of your housemates concerned but they let you be because days like these were inevitable amidst the hectic days in university, but it's been weeks since you let your works take a hold of your reigns. 

 "Oh no, you don't. you're not sneaking in the kitchen at three in the morning to eat cold pasta. Come on now, take a break for once." Sorbet approached you, hand on your shoulder. "It's been weeks since you took your sights off those damns books. Just eat, okay?" 

 "I don't know, Sorb's... I have things to do and get done-- you know that, right--?" 

 "I know and it's tiring. Come now, just take a break for a moment. I promise you'll feel better." 

 For a moment you contemplated and reconsidered rejecting his offer, seeing his point but you were in dire need to be responsive with your work. You took a deep heave of breathe, lifting your palm up to cup your forehead, thumb brushing over your temple pulsing with headache you've yet to soothe. He's right, you haven't eaten anything at the duration of the day, as you've barely left your study desk in your room.

 "Okay. Just wait a moment, I'll be there--" Sorbet interjects sharply by pulling you by the wrist before you can touch anything on your desk, knowing full-well you wouldn't leave it alone unless someone were to physically drag you off it.

 "Ah Y/N, good to see you out of your cave." Proscuitto remarks with slight scrutiny, setting a plate on your usual spot on the dinner table. 

 "What's taking you too long anyways? Are you--" Formaggio positions his hand above his crotch, making a jerking off motion, which warrants him a smack from Sorbet. 

 "They were studying, you perv." The dark haired housemate narrows his glare at Formaggio as he seats himself on his usual spot, beside his boyfriend Gelato.

 "Says the one who got caught jacking it off in the hallway." Illuso scoffs, leaning his back against his chair. 

 "Oh yeah?" Formaggio challenges, leaning on the dinner table, clenching on his fork. Before anything can escalate, Risotto clears his throat. 

 A small laugh slips from your lips as you pulled yourself a seat between Ghiaccio and Melone. For a moment you forgot about the paperwork waiting for you back in your room, but it can wait. It's not like they'll leave. Sorbet was right, a quick break or two will make you feel better. 

~0~

 Sorbet bit his lip to fight his anxiety back, his clammy hand hidden at the depths of his shallow pocket to feel around its content whilst Formaggio starts the game. Here's to hoping nothing too terrible happen. 

 "I'm passing this phone to someone with the shortest temper." Formaggio bites his bottom lip in front of his front camera, rubbing his chin before passing the phone to Ghiaccio. 

The cerulean blue haired narrows his gaze at the phone owner, before recording himself. "I'm passing this phone to someone who's too obsessed with themselves." 

 Illuso raises his brow at the current phone holder, a hand instinctively landing atop his chest, before he gets ahold of the phone and pressed record once again, "First of all, I'm not obsessed with myself and second, I'm passing this phone to someone who planted a fake positive pregnancy test in the bathroom for fun." 

 "It was for scientific purposes!" Melone exclaims, before claiming the phone. "I'm passing this phone to someone who dropped their cookie but instead of throwing it out, gave it to me and watched me eat it." The lilac head playfully tosses the phone back to its owner, in which he catches it just in time it hits the wall. 

 "Pfft, it's your fault you fell for it." Formaggio cackles. "I'm passing this phone to someone who belted out G10 in the shower when the lights blacked out." 

"You're never gonna let me live that down, aren’t you?" Pesci reaches for the phone with red in his cheeks. "I will be passing the phone to someone who's the sanest in this household—"

 "BOOO! BORING!" 

 "Oh shut it," Sorbet smacks Formaggio, before collecting the phone from Pesci's grasp. "I'm passing this phone to someone who thinks pineapple on pizza is superior." He rolls his eyes, before passing it to his boyfriend. 

 "Um, sir— it does taste great! You're lucky you're cute, otherwise I would've torn you apart." Gelato snatches the phone from his boyfriend before focusing on the camera. "I'm passing the phone to someone who doesn't know how to cross the road because they're scared." 

 "Ugh, rude!" You took the phone from the blond with a roll of your eyes. "I'm passing the phone to someone who left me on the other side of the busy highway to cross a busy road." 

 "You were too slow, that's why. I'm passing the phone to someone who screamed at us for a solid minute, accusing that one of us stole his glasses whilst his glasses rested on his head." Risotto hands the phone to the person who has yet to receive the phone. 

 "I'm passing the phone to someone who burned the whole kitchen at three in the morning because they left to stove on to cook peanut butter because we ran out of peanut butter." Prosciutto hands you the phone.

 "I'm passing the phone to someone who was petting and cooing at a pile of laundry thinking it was a cat." You glared at Prosciutto, before passing the phone to Formaggio. 

 "What? It was finals and I barely got any sleep!" He whines, before sighing. "I'm passing the phone to someone who has been passed around like this phone." 

 A choked gasp pried itself away from your throat as soon as he hands you the phone with a grin. "Well I'm passing the phone to someone who accused me for taking their red lacey thong but it turns out we own the same product." 

 "Wow, you're bold, I like you." Melone chuckles, before taking the phone. "I'm passing the phone to someone who was hungover during finals and managed to pass." 

 "Pretty impressive if I do say so myself." Sorbet smirks at his achievement, proudly reaching for the phone. "I'm passing this phone to someone who faked smoking at a party to impress a girl." 

 "Well I don't smoke! I don't like how it tastes!" Pesci insists. "I'm passing the phone to someone who got out of the house with his shirt inside out and backwards and didn't realise it until he was going home." 

 "I'm passing this phone to someone who cried when I pranked him with a fake electric razor." Melone smirks as he passes the phone to Illuso. 

 "I'm passing the phone to someone who's first instinct to nonchalantly say 'Nice' before going back to his business after receiving a nude pic from his then girlfriend." Ilusso gives the phone to Ghiaccio.

 "I'm passing the phone to someone who doesn't pick their hair clumps in the bathroom after taking a bath, clogging the shower drain." 

 "Well, I'm passing the phone to someone who screamed at the professor after he said Venice." 

 "I'M PASSING THE PHONE WHO THINKS IT'S OKAY TO SAY VENICE INSTEAD OF VENEZIA!" 

If it weren't for Illuso's quick response, the phone would've crashed against the wall and permanently putting it into a broken state. "Heh, okay then. I'm passing the phone to someone who has been with my man Gelato through thick and thin." 

 Sorbet gulps, his heart hammering in his chest as he reaches for the phone. His hand that has been hidden in his pocket since the very start of the game finally came out, with a small, black velvet box. Gelato glances at his longtime boyfriend, confused for a moment until the blond saw the little box resting within Sorbet's grasp. In shock, the blond's hands shot up to cover his lips and nose, his onyx gaze watering. Everyone in the room has their thoughts race rapidly with incoherent thoughts. 

 "I'm passing the phone to whom I want to marry and be with for the rest of my life, because without him I feel so empty and alone." Sorbet hands the phone to his longtime boyfriend, before taking a knee and opening the box. "Will you marry me?" 

 It would be a miracle Gelato would come to thank later as he didn't know he would still be able to respond despite being so deep in cloud nine. The entirety of the squad stood behind Sorbet at the edge of their seats, watching their carefully crafted plan unfold before them. 

 "Oh, yes. YES!" With the key word uttered, the once tensed room burst into excitement, jumping and screaming whilst the couple slipped on each others engagement rings before engulfing each other into a passionate embrace.

 "WHOOO YEAH! THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING 'BOUT!" Formaggio cheers amidst the screams of excitement. 

 "Oh you guys, c'mere!" Sorbet caught you and Risotto's necks, before pulled in for a hug. Soon the others joined in for a group hug, almost squeezing the couple in the middle but it was all so worth it.

#la squadra x reader #college au #platonic #housemates

[mozart-the-meerkitten]

*almost forgets to post the whumptober story she did for today*

But I did not! So here’s the next installment in the adventures of Oliver, the main character from my sci-fi story. Takes place shortly after the last one, ft. Oliver and the captain of the spaceship, Nancy.

Warning for past child abuse.

“Scars Come with Living”

           “Captain, I need to speak with you about that little boy.”

           Nancy looked up from her most recent report and regarded her chief medical officer. “Ah, Tracy. Yes, I was going to ask you about him anyway. I only saw him for a few moments when he was brought on board. How is he?”

           Tracy looked concerned and Nancy’s heart sank a little. She hoped the boy was alright. He was a ragged, scrawny little thing, hardly more than a skeleton, but she had seen fire in him, even if had been buried under layers of abuse. She had liked him immediately.

           “He is… doing well, considering his condition,” said Tracy. “He shows severe signs of malnutrition, and he is dehydrated and completely exhausted. Beyond that though he shows obvious signs of… physical abuse.”            Nancy stiffened. “Such as?”            Tracy took a breath. “Scars. On his back, chest, arms, neck and legs, new and old. There are also some fresher wounds that seem to have been given to him no more than three days ago, not to mention bruises and injuries from his escape. Additionally he has recently bruised or broken several ribs and they have not been healing well.”            “Ah,” Nancy forced her jaw to unclench. “Anything else noteworthy?”            “There is the emotional mental side of things as well,” said Tracy. “He is very shy and reserved, he frequently flinches as if expecting blows, and he seems to fear authority figures,” Tracy tilted her head. “So I think you should come and visit him as soon as possible to start allaying those fears.”

           Nancy took a deep breath and nodded. “When would be a good time?”            “Tomorrow morning, I think, if he’s awake. He needs rest, he’s clearly exhausted, poor thing. He’s been too nervous to sleep though, and when I tried to get an IV in him he had a panic attack. I sent Milo to him with some broth, I thought a familiar face, and another child, might help.”            Nancy nodded. “Thank you for the update, Tracy. I will plan to come by late tomorrow morning.”

****

           Nancy slipped quietly into the medbay. Tracy stood at the far end of the room organizing some shelves. Closer to the door was a bed that had been pressed up against the wall with a tiny figure sitting on it. The boy was every bit as ragged as Nancy remembered; torn clothes, bone-thin frame, dirty face, and hair that was still bright orange in spite of the abuse it had been through.

           It was like looking back in time at her younger self, except she had been scrappy and angry instead of timid and scared (at least outwardly, inwardly she had been just as afraid as this poor boy was).

           He hadn’t noticed her yet, so she took a few more steps into the room, letting her boots hit the ground a bit harder than normal, and giving a small cough as she walked.

           His head whipped around toward her. Wide eyes regarded her with something like terror, and he shrank back against the wall.

           Nancy walked over to him, keeping at least four feet between them, and knelt down. “Hello,” she said in her softest, gentlest voice.            He was no longer looking at her face, instead staring down at the floor and shooting nervous glances at her.            “My name is Nancy,” she said. “Do you have a name?”

           “O-ol-liver,” he managed after a moment.            Nancy’s heart broke a little. “It is nice to meet you, Oliver. Do you like our ship?”            “I-it’s big,” he said quietly. “And c-clean.”            Nancy smiled. “Good. That means my cadets are keeping it in order. You met a few of them, didn’t you? Milo and Weston, was it?”            Oliver nodded.            “Were they kind to you?” Nancy prompted.            “O-oh y-yes, they- yes,” Oliver nodded quickly, and looked up at her for just a second, which Nancy counted as a victory. “They were v-very kind. M-Milo brought me f-food.”            “Good, good, I’m glad to hear it. Now, Oliver, I have a question for you.”            He looked worried again. “Y-yes?”            Nancy took a breath. She hadn’t discussed this with Tracy, but after seeing the boy like this she couldn’t just leave him in such a state. “Would you like a bath?”

           Oliver tensed a little. “A b-bath?”            “With warm water, and soap,” Nancy clarified, fully aware of what kind of baths he had probably had in his life.            “O-okay.” Oliver eased himself off the bed and stood quivering in front of her. To see what he would do, Nancy laid a hand on his back to guide him, and he flinched. She shut her eyes and gathered herself as memories slipped unbidden into her mind of wild hair and kind green eyes and gentle hands and loud laughter, and a soft voice reserved just for her.

           Someone had cared about her then, when she was wild and angry and scared. And now her chance had finally come to be the carer instead of the cared for.

           Dora would be very proud.

****

           Oliver had never had a bath with warm water and soap before, but he decided it was the nicest thing that had ever happened to him- even better than the soup yesterday. Nancy talked and hummed as she helped him scrub the dirt away, and gradually he felt calmer around her. He had been terrified to strip down (nothing good ever came of that) but she had simply stared at him a moment, then helped him into the bath.

           And the water was wonderful. It made all of his aches and hurts fade away. He wanted to stay in it forever. Even when Nancy cleaned his hair she was gentle, not like Stormy’s mother who scratched her fingernails against his head when she combed the dirt out. Nancy even helped him clean his face without getting soap in his eyes.

           He didn’t ever want to leave, but, still unsure of boundaries and consequences here, he got out when Nancy asked. He stood shivering for only a moment before the softest thing he’d ever felt was wrapped around him.

           “Is this a blanket?” he asked, regarding the blue fabric in awe.            “It’s a towel, sweetheart,” said Nancy.            “A towel?” Oliver gaped at it. He had never had a towel before, only rags and old blankets and burlap sacks. He hugged it around himself and decided that, even if they did decide to beat him, this place was much better than the slave compound.

           “Now we need to find you some clothes,” said Nancy. “I’ll send Tracy to dig some out, we have lots of extra children’s clothes with all the cadets on board, and the children of the crew. Might not have anything that will fit you just right, but it’ll be better than the rags you were wearing.”            “Th-thank you,” said Oliver, trying not to let his mouth hang open. Clothes?? He got clothes too?? This place was amazing! Maybe if he was very, very good they would let him stay.

           He hoped so.

****

           It was all Nancy could do not to stare when she got Oliver’s ragged clothes off him. Tracy had been right, he did have a lot of scars. Far too many scars for so young a child. Along with that he had bruises around his ribs, and along his arms. There were still-healing cuts that looked like whip lashes on his back that she was very careful of as she cleaned him off.

           He didn’t play in the bath like most children would, but he did sink into it and gradually relax. He ran his fingers through the water and poked at bubbles experimentally. He seemed genuinely peaceful, and she hated to make him get out, but the water had turned brown from all the dirt she’d cleaned off him and it would start to get cold soon. And Nancy was certain that the last thing this child needed was a chill.

           She got him out and wrapped a towel around him, which fascinated him just as much as the bath had. He rubbed it between his fingers and hugged it around himself, eyes wide.

           “You can sit down, if you’d like,” said Nancy.            He looked at her nervously again, but slowly sat.

           Nancy thought for a moment, trying to discern how to pry without upsetting the boy. “Did you have a family where you came from, Oliver?”            “N-no. Just my friends,” he said. “S-Stormy’s m-mother said we’re orphans.”            “I see,” Nancy nodded. “Do you remember your parents?”            Oliver looked down. “N-no.”            Nancy had expected as much. “But you had friends?”            “Y-yes. S-Stormy and Silas. Silas is my best friend, w-we take care of each other.”            “That’s good, it’s good to have someone to help you when you need it.” At least the poor child had friends. Sometimes that was all one needed to survive.

           Oliver seemed to be steeling himself for something. He shot worried glances at her and grew tense again. Nancy waited, afraid that if she tried to prompt him he would freeze.

           “A-actually,” he said finally. “I r-r-ran away s-so I could g-get help for him. I h-have to g-go back and r-r-rescue him or he’ll, or h-he’ll…”

           Oliver shut his eyes and squeezed himself together, shuddering. Nancy felt her heart sink.

           “H-he’ll die,” whispered Oliver. A sob escaped him and he curled himself into an even tighter ball. “I n-n-need- I h-h-have to g-go back.”

           Nancy leaned forward and gently, firmly, rested a hand on Oliver’s shoulder. The boy jerked and looked up at her with wide, tear-filled eyes.

           “Oliver, little one, I will do everything in my power to help your friends,” she promised. “If I could turn the ship around this second and go back for them I would, but we have just been called out on a mission some ways from here, and I don’t know how long it will take us to complete. It is- it’s an emergency, a ship has vanished and we have been called to try and find out why.” Because we’re considered the most expendable ship in the fleet, she added silently.

           She wasn’t sure how he would take this news, and was a bit surprised when his mouth fell open and his eyes started to fill with hope instead of tears.

           “Y-you’ll help us?” he asked in an awed whisper.            “As soon as I am able, yes,” said Nancy. Mentally she was cursing the commanders in charge of the fleet and their politics. If it weren’t for them a faster, closer ship could have been sent to investigate, and she could have easily turned her ship around and mounted a much-needed rescue mission (she would have anyway, but if she disobeyed such a direct order her ship would be taken from her, and then she wouldn’t be able to help anyone).

           But Oliver didn’t seem to care. His eyes were filling with tears again, and he was shaking. “Thank you, thank you thank you thank you!”            She smiled at him. He looked very much like he wanted to hug her, but was too anxious. For her part she didn’t want to startle him, so she moved her hand around and rested it on his back, gently pressing one arm against him.

           “You are very, very welcome, little one.”

#whumptober2021 #no. 16 #scars #recovery #oliver #nancy #past child abuse #sci fi story #oliver's friend has a name now! #everyone on this ship meets oliver and immediately adopts him

[flying-nightwing]

Act IV: The Finale

Hi people! Finally the last part of this short serie! Honestly I had no expactation for it but I think it might slither into my all time favourite things I’ve written. I won’t lie, I think I’m in love with this last chapter. I feel like it’s the part we really understand both characters and their motivations in relation to each other. Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! 

Edit: I realize I have kept this gender neutral! so I change it on the infos on the first part and this one

Parts 1-3 in Masterlist!

Pairing: Tim Drake x gender neutral reader

Word count: 3456

Warnings: language, mention of violence (non-graphic)

“... And this is why I have taken the decision to repeal the vigilante act. All measures taken by the city and GCPD to collaborate with vigilantes on the matters listed are to be repelled at this instant. We will no longer tolerate criminals telling us how to protect our city and all arrest mandates out for vigilantes are to be reactivated--”

Tim passed a hand in his face after Bruce turned off the TV. There was some serious tensions going on in the batcave, especially after this gruesome live tape of the mayor, visibly held hostage in some kind of basement, delivered the new order to cancel all the work they had achieved to at least stop the cops from trying to hunt them down instead of focusing on actual crime. 

The first thing he had done once he came back to the cave was to research you in any database he could hack into. He started in the state registry, knowing you had told him you had been an orphan. He had no idea what was a lie and what wasn’t in what you had told him, but that was apparently true. The picture attached was a younger version of you, that was clear, but any update on your whereabouts stopped at age 11. Then, he tried to look for a driver’s license, passeport, any ID documents you could have. He also hit a dead end with that too, so he looked into less savory types of repertories. 

He finally found you in the mercenary databases, with a clear, recent picture and your… Impressive record. As he scrolled down your list of confirmed hits, he felt his stomach sink further and further. Marco Rizzo, the philanthropist, the kidnapped mayor, and it went on and on. What truly put him on the floor, however, was to see your credentials. You were Falcone’s main gun and you had trained under various mentors including Slade Wilson, out of all people.

You were the real deal and he had let himself fall for you, hard.

He felt stupid now. Did you even know who he was at night? Had you gone to him to throw him off your scent? Even after discovering all of this about you, a part of him still hoped you had no clue. It would hurt less to know it was a coincidence you bumped into each other rather than a calculated move from you. 

“So… Your date uh?”

Tim cringed when Bruce spoke up. It was even worse to hear it out loud. 

“I don’t wanna hear it” He mumbled, keeping his eyes dead set on the wall. He knew he had acted irresponsibly, he knew he should have seen the signs sooner, he knew he should have remained alert and not let himself be charmed by you, or let himself be sidetracked from his mission. It was a rookie mistake. 

“Talk about sleeping with the enemy” Damian snorted from behind them. Tim turned around, glaring at him. He was sitting in a computer chair, casually eating noodles with chopsticks and watching the exchange like it was a movie. Of course, the demon had spied on the conversation.

“Damian!”

“What?” He looked at Bruce, shrugging nonchalantly.

Bruce sighed, shaking his head. He returned his attention to Tim again. “What do you want to do now?”

Tim didn’t reply straight away. He was conflicted, angry, sad, disappointed; he had rarely felt such a cocktail of emotions like that. On one hand, he wanted to wallow in self pity. It seemed like the one thing left to do, as life finally sent someone he could see himself get with but made them the exact opposite of what he stood for. But he couldn’t, he had to put a stop to this madness. He had to confront you. 

“We’ll need to set a trap” He finally spoke, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “A contract that can’t be refused, draw them out. I’ll take care of it, it’ll be better that way”

“Are you sure you’ll be up to it?”

“Yes” Tim snapped, and Bruce took a careful step back. “I won’t be fooled twice. I can do it”

“Alright, just making sure” Bruce wasn’t convinced, but he still trusted his son. He knew he'd do the right thing if push came to shove. “What did you have in mind?”

Tim took a deep breath. “50 millions for a bullet in Bruce Wayne’s head”

---

It was too good to be true, and your suspicions of foul play were confirmed when your eyes spotted the red and black sticking out of the grim portrait of Gotham’s roof tops.

You knew something was up when you were offered a 50 millions solo contract. You usually went out for 15 millions for high profile targets, but curiosity got the best of you. The only thought of potentially pocketing that much money was enough of a motivation for you to at least find out what was up. But now, it was clear it was a set up as Red Robin himself was waiting for you. It was too bad for the money, but the prospect of facing a real Gotham vigilante for the first time was exciting. 

“I’ve beaten you twice already” You smirked. “You called me for a third?”

A scowl set on his masked face. “Trust me, there won’t be a third” He spoke up in a gravelling voice. “Either you come with me here and now, or we do this the hard way”

“Oh, now you’ve got me interested” You teased as you circled him. “Do tell me more about this hard way of yours”

He deployed his staff. Your eyebrows raised at his challenge. “You’re arrogant” He stated. He wasn’t wrong. “It’s gonna be your downfall”

“... Or not” You shrugged, not stopping your assessment of him. “Still waiting on the monologue detailing your plan to stop me, by the way”

“There isn’t one”

He lunged. He did it so quickly and smoothly you almost didn’t see him move. Your reflexes allowed you to roll out of the way just in time, and the way the staff collided with the cement told you it wouldn’t have been a long fight if that had hit its intended target: you. You looked at him and you regained your footing, reevaluating the situation. You were skilled, but you doubted it would be enough to go toes to toes with Red Robin, now that you had had a glimpse of what he could actually do.

You raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Catch me if you can”

Before he could process your world, you turned around and jumped off the building, landing on the roof a dozens of feet lower. You didn’t waste time taking off, knowing he would be right behind you. You ran across the rooftop and leaped off the ledge and above the alley to grab onto the fire exit on the next building over. You hurried to climb it, ending up on yet another rooftop. You ran alongside the pool and jumped over the tables, kicking them back to try and slow down Red Robin, who was little by little gaining on you. Fuck, he’s fast, you thought. You weren’t even tempting to look back, but you knew with the sound of his footsteps alone. 

You hadn’t planned on him being able to follow you that easily, not even cursing behind you as you took another jump over a considerable gap between buildings. You were fast, faster than most. Making exits had always been your strong suit, whether it was on foot, by car or otherwise. However, the only times you had faced him were when you had a rocket launcher as a deterrent or when you were driving an actual race car. Now that the field was levelled, you didn’t have the advantage anymore. You knew you wouldn’t be able to outrun him if you kept going on that way, so you had to change your strategy.

You took a sharp turn to the left and grabbed a clothesline, pulling out a knife from your belt and severing in behind your grip. You took a good running start and let yourself fall on the building on the other side of the street, pausing to glance at Red Robin standing where you had just been seconds ago. He was trying to find another way to cross, but there was none and even he couldn’t make that jump. You gave him a wave and a wink before taking off again. However, on the corner of your eyes, you still could see him tracking you relentlessly, not letting you get away so easily. 

You jumped over an alley, and instead of landing on the next roof, you aimed for the first balcony from the top. With your shoulder first and your head tucked in, you went straight through the sliding door window and rolled on the landing to smooth your fall. You glanced beside you at the terrified man in his underwear who was cowering on the couch and looked behind you, shrugging.

“Sorry for the mess” You didn’t wait until he replied to walk out the apartment. You jogged down the stairs, knowing Red Robin would have lost your trace now. Or so you thought.

You halted your steps when you noticed him waiting at the bottom of the staircase and leaning on the rail with a nonchalant expression, like it had been easy to predict you would come out that way. He returned the little sarcastic wave you had given him minutes earlier, making your face fall. You turned around and climbed back the steps back to the first floor, barging in and running across the hallway until you reached the window at the end. You took the time to open this one, seeing as he had not yet reached the floor. You slipped through it and climbed down the wall to land into the back alley. You were about to head for the streets when an already too familiar red and black figure blocked your way.

You took off in the opposite direction, well, until you came face to face with a brick wall. There was nothing to climb onto, no fire exit to use, no way to get away. You closed your eyes and cursed under your breath as footsteps reached you. He wasn’t in a hurry, his pace was tauntingly slow and confident he had you trapped. You recomposed yourself before turning around to face him.

“You forced me to make a mistake” You stated with a sigh. “Impressive”

“Told you” He said, taking a step toward you. “Arrogance did end up being your downfall”

“I don’t suppose we could have a rematch, uh?” You tried, smiling coyly. “That staff didn’t seem such a bad idea in hindsight”

“If you thought you could win then, you wouldn’t have dragged me into this pointless chase” He scoffed, and your eyebrows raised. He was right, but damn. “Unless you want a beating at that too”

“Ouch” You chuckled. “That really hurts my pride”

“Good” He smirked. “Now that you know you won’t get away from this one, just do the logical thing and surrender. There’s nowhere to go”

You held eye contact for a moment before slowly raising your hands. “Alright” You complied with a nod. “You earned that one”

He took careful steps toward you, alert to whatever quick move you would do. But you could recognize when you were beaten, so you didn’t plan any surprise move. Getting caught by a vigilante was an eventuality, even you knew you wouldn’t escape them forever. You just didn’t think it would have been this soon. He grabbed your wrists, and once he was sure he had you solidly enough, he twisted your arm behind you and pushed you rather roughly into the brick wall.

“Woah there champion” You coughed out in surprise. “I feel that spark between us, I really do, and I admit I am partially to blame for it, but I’m kinda seeing someone? And I’m really into him so if you could just. Stop manhandling me that way, that’d be great”

You felt him take a considerable step backward, and his grip on your arm dropped. You frowned, carefully turning around to face him. You didn’t understand why he had let you go, and his blush combined with his bewildered expression only made you more confused.

“Okay, what is going on, now?” You asked, not taking your eyes off him. It was like he was a completely different person now, and you couldn’t point out exactly why it was suddenly so familiar. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, jeez”

“I’m not” He defended too quickly, his voice wavering. Your eyes squinted even more as you took one step forward. He didn’t move, it was like he was frozen in place. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over for you”

“Uh” You took another step, and he squared up, trying to cover the fact he had totally lost his edge over you. You could have made a run for it, you knew it would have been ridiculously easy at that moment to evade him, but something held you back. You scrutinized him, your head tilting to the side. He gulped, and suddenly it all pieced together. That reaction to your flirting, you knew it all too well. Your eyes widened, before you gave him a sympathetic smile. “You know, while this mask does suit you, I prefer to see your eyes, handsome”

His muscles tensed for a second or two, but his shoulder sagged soon after. He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “How long have you known?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean, how long?” You asked. “Thirty five seconds ago”

“You didn’t know before?”

“Uh, no” You replied. “What does it matter?”

“You… You didn’t go on a date with me to distract me from your trail?”

“No, I went on a date with you because I like you?” You raised an eyebrow. “I would have been way more careful with my lies if I had known, fuck I was so obvious, no wonder you figured it out. Besides, I just told you I’m really into you--”

You were surprised by the sudden movement of his arm that sneaked behind your neck and brought you flush against his lips. Okay then. You returned the kiss without hesitation holding on to his shoulders under the sheer force he was applying against you. It was a lot different from the shy boy you had met at the racetrack, but then again, he was Red Robin right now, more so than Tim Drake. You could have never connected the two if it hadn’t been from your flirting from up close. Before you knew, he tore himself from you and jumped back like you were actual fire, cursing under his breath. You blinked slowly at his sudden absence from your immediate vicinity, then rolled your eyes. Dramatic much?

“What is it now?”

“You’re still a criminal” Now he refused to meet your eyes. 

“Are you-- Is this because of what happened in the alley the other day?” You sighed, throwing your hands up before letting them fall back and slap on the side of your thighs. “I’m sorry, okay? I wouldn’t have ran you into the garbage pile if I had known it was you. And I wouldn’t have threatened you with a rocket launcher either-- Shit okay I see your point, I’m really sorry about that too”

“No!” He yelled. “I mean, yeah, kind of. But you kill people for a living, I can’t--”

“What does it change?” You asked. “You liked me before you found out. You were about to hand me to the police, I still like you! In fact, if you could ram me into the wall once again like you just did, I wouldn’t--”

“Please stop talking”

You grinned. “Does it turn you on?”

“Y-No” He replied, correcting himself last second. You raised a subjective eyebrow. “Stop that”

“Stop what?” You asked innocently. “I’m just saying it’s on the table. If I had known it was you when you did it, I would have enjoyed it so you’re welcome to do it again”

“Do you ever stop flirting?” He deadpanned. He crossed his arms against his chest, but it definitely didn’t have the intended effect. Instead, you just checked him out even more, since his muscles were very well defined in that suit. You liked it.

“With you? Not a chance, handsome”

And here came the blush again. He looked away and gulped, ignoring your self satisfied smile. You could do that all day and never get bored of it. Still, you regained a somewhat serious expression for the conversation that was inevitably coming.

“So now what?” You spoke up. “You give me to the cops? We pretend nothing happened between us? Because I’ll be honest with you, I don’t want that. I meant it when I said I liked you”

“My job is to stop crime, and the people who commit it” He began with a sigh. “I just can’t ignore the fact that you are one of the bad guy”

“That’s valid” You nodded slowly. “But this is just a job. I don’t do it for the power trip of taking people out, I do it because I’m good at it, and because I like the money that comes with it. Although, I’ll admit I do enjoy making dramatic exits from time to time--all the time”

Tim snorted. Of course you liked your exit, that had been obvious from the start. But even if he did not agree with your job, or with the lack of morals that came with it, he had to recognize the difference between you and the typical Gotham criminal. From what he had found out so far about you, you never caused casualties in any of your contracts. You always kept the mess to a minimum. You were a far cry from the Joker or Poison Ivy, for that matter.

Even if you couldn’t see his eyes clearly, you could just see the gears turning in his head. Would it be so bad if he let you go? What if he kept seeing you? He could agree with you on one thing: behind his reluctance because of your job, he really didn’t want to pretend nothing happened. He liked you a lot, and it absolutely frustrated him that the one god sent person he instantly clicked with was on the other side of his moral spectrum. 

“Tell me” You said softly, bringing back his attention to you. “If you had never found out about my job, would you have asked me on a second date?”

“Yes” He didn’t hesitate in his answer. It was like you could read his mind, reminding him of how well you fit together. He wanted both to scream and to kiss you again. 

You took a deep breath, letting him think some more. You could very much suspect the news of your activities was harder on him than his were on you, so you understood the need to let him a little space while he figured it all out. You had half expected him to go ahead with his initial plan though, so you prepared yourself mentally for him eventually binding your wrists and dragging you to the nearest precinct. 

That’s probably why you were surprised when he took a step aside, no longer blocking you from leaving. You didn’t move, only stared at him.

“I won’t give you a free pass if I catch you doing shady stuff” He sighed, gesturing to the exit of the alley. “ But for this time, I guess I’ll see you next time you do something stupid”

“Not before?” You raised an eyebrow. The corner of his lips slightly lifted.

“Maybe before”

“Is that a yes on the second date?” You asked, hopeful. “7:30 next Friday at that lobster place you mentioned?”

“Will you be working that night?”

“I won’t!” You hurried to confirm. “I swear I won’t”

He let out a long sigh like he was reconsidering his entire life. “What the hell, sure”

“Great!” You grinned wide, stealing a quick kiss on his lips. 

“Go, now” He ordered, gaining back his more authoritative vigilante voice. Oof, that was hot, you thought, but you kept it to yourself for once. “Before I change my mind”

“See you on Friday, handsome!”

He watched you run out of the alley, finding himself suddenly excited at the prospect of seeing you again, whether it would be as Red Robin or as himself on a date with you.

#tim drake x reader #tim drake x you #tim drake imagine #tim drake fic #red robin x reader

[set-phasers-to-whump]

scars and stories

prompt: scars

whumpee: nick burkhardt

fandom: grimm

hi! this fic is weirdly not very whumpy...it’s much more like...Thinking and Talking and not hardly any pain at all which is So not my brand but this is how it ended up. i hope that you like it despite the fact that, for a fic written for a whump event, it’s really not so whumpy at all lol. (title from champagne for my real friends, real pain for my sham friends by fall out boy)

Renard has been at the hospital for six hours now. At first, it had been stressful, but he’d had company. They’d all shared in the anxiety and the fear of Nick being in the hospital - again - with a very large, very bloody stab wound in his stomach. And then a nurse had come out and they’d all stood up in unison, and he’d given them one look and taken a step back like he was worried they were going to attack him, then delivered the good news. Nick was okay, stable, and sleeping. And then the bad news - visiting hours were up. 

Renard had managed to talk his way into being allowed to stay until Nick woke up (one of the perks of being a police captain), and the rest of the group had insisted that he provide them with updates as they had made their way out the doors. They’d also half-bullied, half-begged the hospital staff to let them stop by an hour before the visiting hours resumed the following morning. 

And now, Renard is here, by himself, sitting in a chair while Nick sleeps in the hospital bed next to him. It’s odd seeing him so still, paler than normal with several small cuts and scrapes on his face and an IV in his arm and a pulse monitor on his finger. 

“He’s alright. I know you’re well aware of that, but it’s worth repeating, anyway. He’s a real fighter,” says a voice from the doorway. Renard looks up in surprise, instinctively reaching for his weapon until he realizes it’s a doctor. In fact, it’s the doctor who is responsible for stitching Nick back up. He relaxes, slightly sheepish, and lets the man continue.

“He’ll have another new scar to add to the collection, though it’ll hardly be his worst. I have to say, I’m…well, impressed sure isn’t the right word, but…I’ve worked on plenty of cops before. Your detective here has more scars than any of the others, and I’ve operated on lifelong officers, thirty year veterans, the works. Detective Burkhardt has them all beat.”

Renard doesn’t know what to say in response to that. It’s not surprising that his young detective - young Grimm - has scars - he’s been shot and stabbed and in countless fights, and frankly he’d be more surprised if Nick didn’t have scars. It’s more the fact that he apparently has so many - enough to impress a doctor who creates scars for a living. 

And what’s more, Renard realizes, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen any of these supposed scars. Nick is virtually always wearing long sleeves and pants, and his face and hands have somehow avoided being badly hurt. 

Before he can do too much more thinking on the fact that he’s worked with Nick for years and never seen any of his scars that he can recall, the doctor says, “I’ll be on shift until four, if you need anything.” He leaves the room, giving Renard a wave goodbye, and then he’s alone again.

Renard gives Nick another once-over. He still looks as pale and vulnerable as before, and his right arm is poking out from under the blanket with an IV sticking into the skin. He doesn’t want to touch the arm and risk pulling the needle out, so he instead carefully untucks Nick’s left arm from the blankets. Just to see if the doctor had really been telling the truth (though there’s not any reason for him to have lied). 

There are a couple of scrapes, clearly from this most recent fight, and a few small, faded scars. Most of them are short, thin. Grazes from knives, maybe. There’s one near the inside of his elbow that looks like a bite. He’s about to push up the sleeve of the hospital gown, where he can just see the edge of what looks like something jagged and deep and painful on Nick’s upper arm, when Nick moves and makes a soft noise, and he quickly pulls away before Nick can wake up and ask him what exactly he’s doing. 

Nick wakes up slowly, blinking around and looking down at himself and the hospital bed, clearly completely confused. He winces softly as he sits up, putting a hand to the spot on his stomach where Renard knows several fresh stitches are holding him together.

“What…?” he asks, voice soft and scratchy, as his eyes finally land on Renard. 

“You were stabbed,” Renard reminds him. He passes over a small cup of water that had been left for him by a nurse at some point. “You lost quite a bit of blood. You were in surgery for awhile, and you’ve been asleep for the past few hours.”

“Oh.” Nick looks at him with a kind of questioning expression, and Renard pretty easily works out what it means. 

“It’s the middle of the night. The hospital staff allowed me to stay, as a police captain, but visiting hours are long over.”

There’s a look of…surprise, mixed with something like gratitude, on Nick’s face. 

“Why?”

Renard shrugs. “It’s confusing enough waking up from surgery after being stabbed. And more confusing if you’re completely alone.”

Nick hums softly in response, his eyes starting to close. Renard doesn’t want to keep him awake, but he is also a bit curious, and his detective is…uninhibited, thanks to the pain medicine he’s currently on, and he may not get a chance to ask again. So he goes for it.

“The doctor who operated on you told me you have more scars than anyone he’s ever seen.”

That wakes Nick up. His eyes open fully, and make contact with Renard’s. “What?”

“I’ve just…never seen them. You’re always wearing long sleeves, and we’re not exactly the kind of people to talk about…anything like this.”

Nick shrugs like it doesn’t matter at all. “Yeah, I’ve got scars. Part of the job.”

“Which job?”

“Both, I guess. Mostly the Grimm stuff. Y’know, my Aunt Marie was covered in scars. I never knew until a doctor told me, when she was here, before she…”

Scars run in Nick’s family, Renard realizes. Physical, emotional…being a Grimm takes its toll over the course of a life. Has already taken its toll on the man in front of him, who has only been a Grimm for a few short years. 

“How bad are they? The scars.”

Another shrug. “Some are big. Mostly they’re small. I don’t know, I don’t pay much attention to them.” Nick looks down when he says this, his left hand picking at the edge of the blanket. “Guess this will be one of the big ones.”

“It will,” Renard agrees, matter-of-fact. The injury itself had been bad, deep and long and jagged, and he’s sure the new scar, right across Nick’s stomach, will serve as a very prominent reminder of this particular event. (He’s also pretty sure it won’t be the only scar - getting stabbed tends to leave more than one kind of mark, but that’s a talk for another time). 

“Do you have any scars?”

Renard shrugs, not entirely surprised that the conversation is now turning towards him. “A few. Mostly from my time serving as an officer. One or two from Wesen-related incidents. Nothing close to what you have, though.”

“It is kind of a lot, isn’t it?” Nick asks, and he sounds as though he’s never really thought about this before. As though he’s always accepted this - this pain, these scars - as something that is simply a part of his life. The thought makes Renard equal parts angry and sad, and he looks away from Nick for a moment and decides to change the topic of conversation to something a bit lighter. He’s hounded Nick with enough questions for now, he decides (though he also decides that they will be picking this topic up again at a later date).

“How’s your -” he starts, looking back at Nick. Who has fallen asleep again, still pale and not himself, but peaceful, now, too. “Never mind,” he finishes. Lighter topics of conversation can wait.

Renard stands from his seat by the bed, and before he can think the better of it, reaches out and pulls the blanket tightly around Nick, tucking his left arm back beneath it. He lightly touches the side of Nick’s face. “Sleep well,” he says softly, then sinks back into his chair and waits for the morning to arrive. 

thanks for reading! hope you liked this despite it being not my usual sorta thing lmao. anyway i wanted to write this when i rewatched the first couple eps and a doctor asks nick if he knows about aunt marie’s scars. it got me thinking like, nick should have scars too what with all the shit he’s had happen to him. so i decided to write it and give him some :) may revisit this concept later...who knows.

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump24 #emotional whump #i guess #grimm #nick burkhardt #my writing #i say things #scars #another fic title i have been waiting to use forever lmao #tbh tho i am very very much out of my emo phase fob still goes Hard

[happykawa]

[ goldfish ] t.k

afsghjkdls ive got some writing juice i gotta use before it expires shdjhskj everyone’s 18+ and in college and this isn’t proofread sorry if its long

You help clean the volleyball court as the rest of the members pack their things. Today had been a fairly good day for training. Everything went smoothly, well, as smooth as things could go in the team. 

You say your goodbyes to your seniors before you head the opposite way with Tadashi and Tsukishima. 

“Say, y/n-chan,” Tadashi starts and you turn to him.

“Hm?”

 “How’s it going with your crush?” Tadashi asks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Tsukishima remains nonchalant, though he does turn to you.

You feel your ears turn pink and you look away, afraid your eyes may reveal something clandestine.

“Nothing, still. I haven’t gathered up the courage to confess.” You chuckle nervously, rubbing the back of your head. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Tsukishima look away in disinterest, and you feel your heart break a little. Just a little though.

Tadashi sighs. “Maybe if you just told us we could help you!” He pokes your side with his elbow.

“N-no, no thanks. I feel like that would just make things even more complicated, and I wanna do it on my own terms.” You give Tadashi an apologetic smile, letting your eyes glance over to a certain blond for a split second.

That was an understatement. Telling Tadashi would make things much much more complicated, considering your crush was none other than the snarky blonde on the opposite side of your small group.

“Okay, I can respect that.” 

The rest of the walk is silent, and Tadashi eventually branches off to his street, leaving you alone with the one and only Tsukishima.

You could never really pinpoint when you started having a crush on Tsukishima. Next to Tadashi, you’ve known him the longest, so it’s definitely hard to say when it exactly started, given all the time you’ve spent together.

However, if you were asked, you’d probably say sometime before high school. When you realised it, you were terrified to say the least. Falling for the crankiest person you know isn’t exactly ideal.

Furthermore, Tsukki never really showed interest in romance, so for all your years of friendship, you don’t know anything about his preferences or his tells.

Recently, you’ve grown hyper aware of your emotions, due to spending even more time with him as an assistant manager of the volleyball club. It’s quite the miracle that you’re not a tomato now given your close proximity to the him. 

“Oi, don’t think too much, you might use your last brain cell.” A cool voice breaks you out of your reverie.

You huff and pout. “Tsukishima, you’re so mean. I have more than one brain cell you know. I can afford to think.”

“I’m surprised you even have one left, with how you were looking earlier with physics.” He snickers.

You slap his arm. “Well not all of us have an unlimited supply, you know. I have to make do with what I have.”

“Two brain cells?” He snickers once again.

You roll your eyes playfully. “Yes, thank you very much.”

“Both working?”

“Okay, now that’s just mean.” You cross your arms over your chest. “I can’t help it if one of them decidedly thinks about–my crush.” You quickly save yourself the slip up of nearly saying ‘you’. You give yourself an internal pat on the back.

Seeing as you’ve entered the topic of your ‘crush’, you take the rare opportunity to subtly ask him about it. “Say, Tsukishima, if a girl were to confess to you, how would you want it to go, ideally?”

“I’d want her to make me king of the Japan, before gifting me with an Ankylosaurus army to take over the world with. Maybe a torture chamber for the king and the shrimp.”

You scoff. “That’s ridiculous, you can’t even ride an Ankylosaurus, how the hell would you use it to take over the world?”

You hear what you can only think of as a chuckle from Tsukishima. “It’s more plausible than the question you’re asking me. Of all the people, really. Do I look like a person who cares about that stuff?”

“Well, I just thought, you’re a guy, you ought’a know, right? I’m sorry for assuming the best of you.” You huff out again.

“It doesn’t matter anyway, it’s all gonna end the same anyway.”

“How’s that?”

He smiles positively, and your heart is filled with hope, confused hope, but hope nonetheless. 

“I’d happily reject them.” 

Your face falls. “You really are a horrible person.” You grumble.

“I don’t really care for romance. I think it’s useless and burdening, all that obligation and responsibility and for what? Just so you can feel validated by another person? I can do that for myself, and it’d be cheaper too. Plus, it’ll save me from all that nasty crying once we break up.” He replies coldly, and you feel your heart shatter. 

The way he says it doesn’t help. He says it with so much disdain that you can’t help but think about how stupid you are for thinking that that you could ever have a chance with him.

You manage to keep your tears in and your face straight. You can’t look him in the eyes without bursting so you opt for the road ahead of you instead. You feel relief as you catch sight of your house in the distance.

The walk there is filled with nothing but uncomfortable silence. Tsukishima has his headphones on and his face is the same.

‘So that’s how he feels…’ You can’t help but replay his words over and over in your head, and you feel your heart break every time. The only thing keeping the dam together was the embarrassment you now you’d feel if it were to break right now. 

With your house only a few paces away, you quicken your steps. “See you tomorrow, Tsukishima.” You manage to say goodbye without stuttering and you don’t dare look back, for fear that he’ll notice the welling tears in your eyes.

‘…useless and burdening…’

‘…it’ll save me from all that nasty crying once we break up…’

 You run through the door. Too focused on not sobbing, you don’t notice how Tsukishima’s gaze followed you as you ran, nor the concerned look in his eyes.

Turns out, you may have lied to Tsukishima. You didn’t see him the next day, or the day after that, or the rest of the week for that matter. Well, technically, you did. But you avoided all interaction with him at all costs. 

What he said really stung, and while you know it’s not really his fault maybe his parents’ but that’s for another story and it’s not exactly fair to just start ignoring him altogether, it’s also not fair that you fell in love with possibly the world’s most emotionally unavailable man but you aren’t complaining are you? Okay, maybe you are, but that’s besides the point. You’re not ready to face him yet, and you won’t until you are.

The classes you had together were spent with you surrounded by many other people. During volleyball practice, you always arrived when they were deep into training, and you left early as well, with the excuse of having to take care of your brother. You stopped walking home with Tadashi and Tsukishima.

Even during their breaks, you’d be so engrossed in something, be it homework or strategy that they couldn’t even disturb you, which they found strange since you never really were the most diligent student (read: you’re a known lazy ass).

All of the members, save for one particular blonde, tried to talk to you, but you simply waved it off as stress from school. None of them believed you, you know, but they got the message and decided against bothering you for more information.

It’s Saturday and your solid plan of sleeping in is effectively ruined by your phone ringing.

“I swear, I turned off all my alarms, who the fuck calls at–” you glance at your clock, “–six o’clock on a Saturday morning.”

You groan and grab your phone. For a moment you consider throwing it against the wall and going back to sleep.

“Hello, you’ve reached the Devil, how may I help you?” You croak. “Oh, you want to go to hell? Why, stay on this line and you will soon!” You hiss out and look at the caller ID.

SnarKei ([phone]

Okay, you admit, you feel a certain satisfaction at snarking him. Just a little.

“Aw, did someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?” He replies in a mocking cutesy voice. “Did the inevitable happen? Have you already been rejected?”

That stings you, and you mumble to yourself. “Something of the sort.” You’re not sure if he hears you though, and you really don’t care. Nope. Not. At. All.

You are met with silence, so you assume that he didn’t hear you, or else he most likely would have poked more fun at your still-bleeding wound.

“What do you want, Tsukishima?”

“Of course you’d forget. You have the memory of a goldfish.” Tsukishima comments bluntly. “We have Saturday training today, goldfish.”

“This early in the morning? Why don’t I remember this being announced?” You yawn and get up from bed.

“Yes, this early, because a big match is near. And you’d remember if, aside from your goldfish memory, you’d actually stayed until the end of training to hear announcements.” You can practically feel Tsukishima looming over you with his scary deadpan.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Tell coach I apologise for being late. I’ll be there in–” You yawn once more. “30 minutes.”

“Make sure you shower well. I can smell your stink from here.” Tsukishima’s infamous smirk pops in your mind and you subconsciously sneer. 

“You’re just smelling yourself.” You retort and end the call. You feel your heart ache, and sigh. At least it’s been reduced to a dull ache now, however troublesome.

‘I’m sure I’ll get over this. Maybe in a week or two.’  You think to yourself as you enter the shower.

You believe you just lied to yourself.

You hear no sound from the gym, and the lights are off. 

You check your watch just to be sure.

7:30 am

‘Okay, what the hell?’ You peek through the windows, maybe they’re practicing with the lights off? That wouldn’t explain the lack of squeaking shoes and balls dropping, though.

“You’re late.”

You jump and turn around. You’re ready to grab the pepper spray in your right boot when you identify the would-be-predator as Tsukishima.

“You scared me.” You breathe out, putting a hand on your racing heart in an attempt to calm it down. It doesn’t stop racing though.

Tsukishima feigns hurt. “What, with my beautiful voice?”

You roll your eyes and fight a smile. “Why’d you tell me there was training?”

“Because otherwise you wouldn’t have come and I wouldn’t find out why you’re avoiding me.” He states it as if he were talking about the weather, rather cheerfully. But you sense the hostility behind that cheerfulness, as any person would.

“I don’t know–” You start talking, but you stop as Tsukihima walks slowly towards you. He stops when he’s only a step away, and you’re suddenly extremely aware of your closeness and his unjust height advantage.

“…what you’re talking about.” You continue in a smaller voice, feeling yourself overwhelmed by Tsukishima’s presence and size. 

He continues to loom over and look down on you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You tentatively look into his eyes, and immediately look away. His golden-brown eyes are intense, and you’re scared that if you look for a second more you won’t be able to look away.

“Because I don’t like liars.”

You snort instinctively. “That’s ironic. Part of your role is deceiving.”

He shrugs. “Deceiving and lying are two different things.”

“Lying is deceiving.” You point out. You don’t notice that you are able to meet his eyes as you challenge him.

“But deceiving is not always lying.” He smirks back, and the two of you get into a staring contest.

You stare into his eyes and you feel yourself getting lost. You look away first, afraid of what might happen or what you might say if you don’t. You fail to notice his faltering smirk.

“So, I assume you didn’t just bring me here for semantics?” You cross you arms over your chest. Your previously calmed heart starts racing again.

Tsukishima takes a small step closer, and you instinctually take one back. “I told you, goldfish, I want to find out why you’re avoiding me.” 

His gaze never leaves your face, and you’re painfully aware of it, so much so that you will your eyes to look at anything but his. You’re tempted to look back, but you know once you do, all your walls will fall.

‘This is so unfair.’ You think to yourself as you start over-analysing Tsukishima’s shoes.

“Why don’t you look me in the eye? Afraid of what you might say?” He taunts you. He’s testing waters, and by the looks of it, he know he’s hit the bullseye.

“N-no. I’m perfectly confident with my words, thank you.” You reply, swallowing the bile in your throat.

He scoffs. “Prove it. Look at me.”

You feel your ears tingle and you attempt to resist, but your pride doesn’t allow it. Reluctantly, you meet his eyes, and you immediately regret it.

They’re fierce and intense, his golden eyes, even more so than before. Your breath is taken away and you forget what you were about to say. 

“Let’s try this one more time,” Tsukishima takes another, larger step forward, and you take one back, or at least, attempt to. Your back hits the wall, and before you know it, you’re cornered. His places his right arm next to your head as he leans over you. You can almost feel his minty breath on your face.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice that he doesn’t place his left arm on the other side.

‘He’s giving me a way out.’ You think, and you can’t help but internally smile. He doesn’t want to force you into anything you don’t want, but he’s putting pressure on you. You bit your inner cheek in an attempt to ground yourself.

“Why have you been avoiding me since we last walked home together?” His voice is softer this time, but his intensity doesn’t waver. An emotion flashes in his eyes, you’re not sure what it is. Uncertainty? Hurt?

You swallow the bile in your throat. You feel like you just ran a marathon and your face seems to think so too, if the rising heat in your cheeks is anything to go by.

“I–I…” You fumble around for words, unsure of what to say. The golden irises staring into your soul surely isn’t making it any easier.

‘So much for my two working braincells..’ You say to yourself.

Your brain nearly overheats in attempting to make an excuse. Instead, it settles for giving your irrational courage to confess once and for all.

Knowing what you’re going to say, you are unable to look him in the eyes and deflate

“I was hurt…” You whisper softly, feeling the tears well in your eyes. “…by what you said.”

“Why?” He asks, quieter this time. 

You sigh defeatedly. There’s no point in delaying it now. You feel all the “healing” you went through in your time away dissipate into thin air. The once dull ache is now a stabbing pain in your chest, but you soldier on. 

“Because I like with you. And I idiotically thought that maybe you felt the same way. Yes, it’s dumb. You don’t have to reject me, I know what your answer is, you’ve made yourself perfectly clear about it and–” 

You’re interrupted by a pair of lips pressing against yours. It takes a second for it to register. Until it does.

You hear yourself internally screaming as Tsukishima slowly rises from his awkward position and straightens his back, forcing you to turn your head upwards and tip toe. 

Tsukishima realises this and smirks. He straightens up even more, just a touch too high for your lips.

You don’t even notice that your eyes are closed until you open them to see Tsukishima’s annoying smug face.

“I never grasped how small you are until now.” He teases, and you feel his cool breath brush against your skin.

You’re too flustered to make a retort, and you’re pretty sure your face is red. You take another moment to let the previous events sink in. 

‘Tsukishima…. Kissed… Me…’

He snorts. “Have your two braincells short-circuited?” He gazes down on you, and you see, behind his teasing, is genuine worry.

“You kissed me…” You blink multiple times, and a smile forms on your face as Tsukishima raises a brow. “…first.”

A giddy smile takes over your face, because of the fact that you just stated and the fact that Tsukishima is blushing right now. For once, you aren’t the one avoiding eye contact.

“You kissed me first.” You teased, tipping your toes even more to get a closer look at his blushing face.

“Only because you were putting words in my mouth and you wouldn’t stop.” He mumbles, giving you a sideways glance before looking away as he blushes even more,

You giggle. “Technically, I was putting your words into your mouth. Besides, what was all that ‘I don’t care for romance’ stuff you said?” You poke his warm cheek playfully.

“It’s called lying. And techinically, you confessed first.” It’s your turn to blush and Tsukishima’s to smugly smirk as he pokes your cheek back.

“So, what does this mean? And since when did you figure it out, given this whole set-up?” You mumble, fiddling with the edge of your white shirt with a red “shut up” written on it.

“It means I like you back, even if you have a goldfish brain, goldfish. And you weren’t exactly subtle with the way you got upset last time.” He pokes your cheek once more. His face is back to it’s regular nonchalant state, but you see a twinge of playfulness in his eyes.

You cross your arms over your chest and pout, sneering at him. “I don’t have a goldfish brain. How could I forget something that never existed?” 

“You can’t. Who said anything about training not existing?” He raises a brow.

“Didn’t you call me here to get me to confess?” You deadpan at the memory. “Coward.” You mumble under your breath.

Tsukishima smirks. “I did. But there is training, just not for the university.”

As if on cue, you hear a loud bickering noise.

You both turn to the source and find the old Karasuno team, complete with Hinata and Kageyama bickering.

You beam at the sight and turn to Tsukishima. You nearly tackle him into a hug, regardless of how he may feel about hugs.

He looks away with a light blush dusting his features once more. He uses his free hand to pat you on your head.

“Happy birthday, goldfish.”

fagdhefjks;laLKSJH i dont think i captured tsukki well here, and the part feels rushed. sorry for that idk where this went gg

#tsukishima scenarios #tsukishima imagine #tsukishima kei #tsuki #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu!! #haikyū!! #haikyu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu tsukki #haikyuu reader #hq imagines #hq #hq tsukishima #hq images #haikyuu headcanons #tsukishima kei x reader

[freddiesaysalright]

Peace Like a River Part 10

A Gwilym Lee x Reader Story

Summary: Reader is a stand up comic with a pretty dark past. She has a three new lights in her life: her daughter, Violet; her anonymous correspondent, Dear Friend; and Gwilym Lee.

Word Count: 3.4K

Tag List: @psychosupernatural, @someone-get-a-medic, @bensrhapsody, @deakyclicks, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession, @minigranger, @simmisblog, @assembledherethevolunteers, @lookuptotheskiesandsee, @readinghorn, @riddikuluslypotter, @doingalrightt, @misslolasworld, @lemurian-starship, @ravenedges-lies, @painkiller80, @imgonnabeyourslave, @crazyweirdocalledfriday, @ixchel-9275, @sincerelygmg, @lv7867, @unicorn-princess-1999, @delilahmay39, @chlobo6, @dragon-out-of-water, @radio-hoo-ha If you’d like to be added let me know!

A/N: Alright!! This is more of a set for the coming chapter, but still lots of great stuff! We meet Y/N’s new assistant and find out what happened between Stacy and Henry! Also, Gwilym is maybe catching on!!!! Y’all enjoy :)

Part I  Part II  Part III  Part IV  Part V  Part VI  Part VII  Part VIII  Part IX

Part 10 here we go!!!

You read his letter over and over again. The whole trip home to Los Angeles, you pondered how to respond. What should you say? Should you come clean in the letters? Would he believe you if he did? Then, there was the matter of his confession and what he said.

Dear Friend. I’m afraid our correspondence must soon come to an end. I’m sorry if this comes as a shock to you, but I’ve met someone. As much as I’ve cherished getting to know you, and connecting with you over our shared interests, the person I’ve come to love is now in front of me. I always could picture a life with you. But she is the one person I cannot imagine my life without. 

That being said, my invitation to meet still stands. I’d like for both of us to have some closure, so we won’t spend our whole lives wondering. If you’d prefer to let things lie, that would be alright, too, but I hope you’ll agree with me and have a proper conclusion. Let me know what you decide. Sincerely, Dear Friend.

Your mind raced with everything you had to consider. The time to come clean was upon you. When and where to do it appropriately was the only question left to answer. You knew Gwilym loved you. It was right there in black and white. Crystal clear. That made you so happy you could burst into song and dance. But, a fresh wave of guilt came with the demise of his relationship to Dear Friend.

He told you he was in love with her. Did any of those feelings still linger? How much did he still care? Enough to still want to meet, that was for sure. But he was also willing to just let it go. For you.

Part of you was a little offended. Could he really not even entertain the idea that you were the same person? He told you how alike you and Dear Friend were - which was obvious to you - but had it even crossed his mind? You had to talk to him and find out where his head was at and what he hoped for from all of this.

The only problem was that when you got back to LA, you were busy. You were shopping for Violet’s Christmas gifts, interviewing for a new assistant, your agent was hounding you about a film role she liked for you, and you were trying to squeeze in time to even just tell Gwilym you missed him. Texting was okay, but you missed seeing his face and the sound of his voice.

The only person who probably missed him more than you was Violet. She was pretty depressed, despite being excited for Christmas. Usually, she was in bed when you had time to call or FaceTime with Gwilym, so she missed a lot of it. The moments she did get to talk to him were brief, either in the car or over breakfast before your busy day.

You had booked your trip to London already. You’d be flying in on the twenty-first, just days before Christmas, and you’d stay through the New Year. Violet was incredibly excited. So much so, she was literally counting down the days with an Advent calendar. She had asked you to circle the day you were going to see Daddy, and you obliged.

One week before your departure, you interviewed a final candidate for your assistant. It was a man a little younger than you, named Adam, and his resume was impressive. It was all a matter of what you and Violet thought of him. You were conducting interviews at your house, and when the doorbell rang, she rushed to answer it.

“Hi!” Adam said brightly, smiling at her. “Are you the one hiring an assistant?”

She giggled. “No, silly, it’s my mommy!”

“Of course!” he said dramatically, gently hitting his forehead with the heel of his hand. “I am silly. You just seemed like such a busy girl.”

You grinned. He was already on the right track.

“Adam?” you said, coming to the door.

“Miss Y/L/N?” he returned, extending his hand.

“Y/N,” you told him, shaking it. “Come in, please.”

He followed you into the kitchen, Violet on your heels. She took to Adam quickly, whereas the others seemed sort of put out by her. It was refreshing.

“So, tell me why you left your most recent job,” you said as you took a seat across from him at the table.

“Things weren’t working out with her,” he said.

“Can I ask why?” you wondered.

He took a deep breath. “I might as well tell you so I don’t run into a similar issue. I have a boyfriend. I just came out earlier this year, and she didn’t agree with my ‘lifestyle.’”

You frowned. “That’s terrible. I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

He shrugged, but the corners of his mouth turned down in a way that told you it bothered him more than he was letting on. 

“It’s okay.”

“It’s really not,” you said. “But just so you know, it makes no difference to me.”

He forced a smile. “That’s a relief.”

“So tell me about your strengths as an assistant,” you said.

He immediately straightened up and grew more positive. He was an impressive person, and throughout, he was considerate of both you and Violet. You allowed her to ask questions too, only they tended to pertain to things like if he liked chocolate, and if he did, whether or not he would share with her on the occasions that he had any. He assured her that he would.

“Well, I believe those are all my questions,” you said with a chuckle. “Anything else from you, Vi?”

“Will he come with us to see Daddy?” she wondered.

“Daddy?” Adam questioned.

“My boyfriend,” you said. “He lives in London and we’re going there next week for Christmas.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Sweetie, Adam probably has his own family he wants to see during the holiday,” you explained to your daughter.

“Actually,” he said. “My boyfriend is traveling with his family, and I don’t really speak to mine….” he trailed off.

“Oh, you’d really like to come?” you wondered. “But it’s Christmas, you shouldn’t have to work.”

“I’d love it actually,” he said. “I hate the idea of spending another one by myself.”

You smiled. “Alright. I’ll get you a ticket.”

“And I’ve already got a passport,” he returned with a smirk.

That afternoon, you got a call as you were starting on dinner. You were shocked at the name on the caller ID. It was Stacy. Curious, you answered.

“Hello?”

“Y/N?” she said, and you could hear that she had been crying.

“Stacy,” you returned coolly. “What do you want?”

“Well, um, I just spoke to Henry and he dumped me,” she said. “I was just wondering if you’d talked to him or...well…”

You sighed. “No, I haven’t.”

“Really?” she pressed. “He didn’t even give a reason, so I thought…”

“You really think he’d start listening to me all of a sudden?” you replied. “If he ended it, it’s because he didn’t feel it anymore or he couldn’t use you anymore. In either scenario, you’re better off, believe me.”

“Alright,” she sniffled. “I guess I’ll leave you alone then.”

“Goodbye, Stacy,” you said, and hung up.

You were conflicted about how you felt about this new development. You’d resigned yourself to the fact that Stacy would stay with Henry, and you hated the potential harm that could come to her, but you did what you could. The fact that Henry broke up with Stacy despite how the meeting went pissed you off a little. It meant his threat was empty. He was going to leave her anyway. You’d put yourself and your family through that whole ordeal only to find that he was bluffing. He’d used your vulnerability. Of course he had.

Then again, part of you was glad for the confrontation. You no longer feared Henry. Punching him had pretty much rid you of any remaining fear. Gwilym had jokingly named the punch The Defibrillator since you’d struck two spots in the chest at the same time. But in all seriousness, you felt that sense of overcoming your past which had haunted you. Shedding that shadow. That counted for something. You just hated that you’d frightened your daughter and put Gwilym in danger.

You looked out into the living room and watched Adam playing with Violet - she was introducing him to all her stuffed animals - and smiled. The part of your life with Stacy, Henry, and even Dear Friend was done now. You just had to take care of that last bit.

After dinner, you put Violet to bed and Adam offered to help with the dishes in exchange for you feeding him. When you came back down the stairs, you found him at the sink. He had a strangely guilty look on his face.

“What’s up?” you wondered.

“Girl, do you know what year it is?” he returned.

Your brow furrowed. “What?”

“You’re still writing letters? In this day in age?”

Your cheeks went pink.

“You saw my letter?!”

“I didn’t snoop or read it!” he insisted. “It was on the counter and I got water on it. It looked important so I dabbed it with a rag and saw it was a real handwritten letter and suddenly it was the early twentieth century.”

“Come on, everyone likes getting mail,” you argued.

“He’s not overseas fighting World War I,” he retorted. “Slide in the DMs like everybody else.”

You rolled your eyes.

“So, it’s your boyfriend you’re writing to?” he asked.

“I thought you said you didn’t read it,” you said.

“Okay, but I have eyes, so I caught a few things,” he shot back. “Are y’all breaking up?”

“No,” you told him. “He doesn’t know he’s writing to me.”

“O...kay…” he began. “We don’t have time to unpack what you just said to me, but luckily, we have a very long plane ride coming up soon.”

You laughed. “Alright, I’ll explain everything then.”

You helped him finish the dishes and then he left. You went to your desk to write back, but then you got another call. This time, the name thrilled you. It was a FaceTime call from Gwilym.

“Hey, baby,” you said as you picked up. 

“Hello, love,” he replied. “How are you?”

“Good!” you told him. “I hired a new assistant today.”

“That’s wonderful,” he said. “What are they like?”

“His name is Adam…”

You told him about it and then he caught you up on the goings on in his life as well. When you came to a lull in conversation, you decided to bring up what had been weighing on you.

“So, there’s something we haven’t talked about,” you said. “I forgot about it after everything that’s happened, but it’s important.”

“What is it?” he wondered.

“Are you sure you have time to talk about it?” you asked. “Isn’t it like four in the morning there?”

“Yeah, but I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “It’s why I called. Let’s talk about it.”

You took a deep breath. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about...Dear Friend.”

“Oh,” he said, and his face fell. “Yes, I figured you’d have questions. Things with her have not been romantic in nature for some time.”

“How do you feel about that?” you asked.

“It’s sort of sad,” he began. “I feel I sort of lead her on only to disappoint her. In a way, I felt I was being unfaithful. But...I couldn’t help what happened between us. As soon as I knew how I felt about you, I told her.”

“And...are you still writing to her?”

“I wrote to her just before I left New York,” he said. “That’s when I explained everything. In the spirit of honesty, I should tell you I’ve still asked her to meet. I want to have proper closure with her.”

You nodded. He frowned.

“You’re not surprised by that?” he questioned.

You blinked. “Oh! Um, no, I am. Sorry, it’s just a lot to process. Do you...do you still care for her?”

“It’s more of a friendly feeling now,” he said. “Because my feelings for you formed. Although honestly, it began to feel like you two were the same person at times. So I felt really conflicted.”

Tell him! Your mind screamed at you. Tell him now, you coward!

“Funny,” you said weakly.

“Do you want me to call it off?” he asked. 

You considered it. You wondered if calling it off would make it easier. But you also didn’t want him to wonder. An idea came to you. You weren’t sure if it was the noblest thing, but damn, it was romantic. And if anyone deserved a little romance, it was Gwilym. Especially after everything he’d endured with you and supported you through.

“No,” you said. “I want you to get what you need out of it.”

“That’s...surprisingly understanding of you,” he said.

“Gwilym, I love you,” you told him. “I only ever want you to be completely happy. If meeting her will help you, then I’m gonna be supportive.”

“I appreciate that,” he said. “More than you know.”

“I love you so much,” you said again.

“I love you too,” he replied with a small smile.

“Are you okay?” you wondered. 

He looked almost sad. Disappointed.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, but you could tell something was off.

“Gwil,” you pressed.

“I suppose I’m just...I dunno...a bit sad,” he admitted.

“Why?”

“I’ve been writing to this woman for over a year,” he said. “I really...I really thought she was it for me. Happy as I am to have found you, I feel terrible that I’ve hurt her. Or will hurt her. It’s the end of something special.”

You wished you could tell him you were feeling the same way. Even though you knew, it felt sort of bittersweet. All the excitement and mystery would be gone.

“And it sort of makes me feel like the whole thing was just a fantasy,” he said. “That I couldn’t truly love someone without meeting them despite all the ways we connected. It makes me feel so foolish to have believed in it at all.”

Your heart ached for him.

“You’re...you’re not foolish,” you assured him. “You’re a romantic. If it helps, I don’t think what you shared with Dear Friend was just a fantasy. Feelings like that are real and can affect you. You care enough for this person to hurt for her now that it’s over. That’s real.”

He sighed and didn’t answer.

“Besides,” you went on. “Who cares what it means to others as long as you know what you meant to each other?”

His eyes went wide and he gaped at you.

“Y/N -”

You yawned before he could ask the question you’d planted in his mind.

“I’ve got to get some sleep.”

“Hold on - Y/N -!”

“Good night, Gwil!” you chirped. “Love you!”

You waved to him and he sputtered to keep you on the phone, but you hung up, smirking. You wanted to surprise him, but it couldn’t hurt to drop a hint. Giggling to yourself, you began your reply letter.

Dear Friend, you began. I’m not at all surprised by the news you’ve met someone. I’ve had my suspicions since you stopped writing “I love you” before the end of your letters. Let me first say, I completely understand. We can’t control who we fall in love with. I’m happy for you. Second, I also would like real and complete closure. Let’s try to meet again. I promise that I won’t run away this time, no matter what happens or who shows up.

You arranged to meet him on Christmas Eve at eight o’clock in the evening. The place was a park near Gwilym’s home, which you found after some meticulous Googling. You sealed up the envelope and addressed it, one last time. That familiar bittersweet feeling returned. This was the last letter. The end of Dear Friend.

This time, however, you weren’t scared. You had overcome more in the past few weeks than you had ever expected. You were proud of yourself. And you’d found Gwilym’s love amid all of it. It no longer felt uneven. You no longer felt unworthy. Gwilym loved you, and you believed him when he said it. No one could make you feel inferior to him. Not even yourself.

The next day, you went to put the letter in the mailbox just as Adam showed up for work. He laughed as he watched you put the flag up and everything. He got out of his car and you ignored his smug look.

“Letter writing is a lost art,” you said. “Now come inside and help me answer some emails.”

Chuckling, he followed you in. Violet gave a shout of delight at seeing him again.

“Good morning, Mister Adam!” she cried.

“You can just call me Adam, sweetie,” he said. “And good morning.”

“Want some pancakes?” she asked.

He looked at you to be sure there were enough. You nodded.

Well, sure,” he said, sitting down beside her.

You fixed him a plate before joining them with one of your own. Your phone rang and it was Gwilym, FaceTiming again. You answered just as you swallowed a bite of pancake.

“Morning, baby!” you said, leaning closer to Adam and showing Gwilym. “This is Adam, my new assistant!”

“Hello,” Gwilym said politely.

Adam turned his eyes on Gwilym and then choked on his coffee. 

“That’s your boyfriend?!” he cried. “That’s a real person?! He’s so handsome!”

Gwilym blushed. “Oh, my, that’s very kind of you.”

“He’s coming with us to London,” you said to Gwil.

“That’s great!” Gwilym said. “Listen, darling, I wanted to ask you something -”

“I wanna talk to him!” Violet whined. “Mommy, let me!”

“Hold on,” you said, looking at Gwil. “Violet wants to say hello.”

He chuckled. “Yes, of course.”

You propped your phone up facing Violet, who beamed.

“Hi, Daddy!” she said. 

“Hello, angel!” he returned. “How are you?”

She started jabbering away to him. Adam leaned over to you.

“Goddamn, Y/N!” he whispered. “That’s her dad?”

“Long story,” you said. “But no, her biological father isn’t in the picture. It’s sort of funny she just called him Daddy one day and it stuck.”

Adam glanced at the phone, where you both got a glimpse of Gwilym smiling at Violet.

“Shit, I’d call him Daddy too,” Adam muttered.

You snorted and burst into a fit of giggles. 

“Adam!” you scolded playfully. “You’re taken! And so is he!”

“I can look at the menu without ordering!” he argued, laughing. 

You enjoyed your breakfast, keeping Gwilym on the phone so it was like he was there with you. You missed him so much. You longed to reach over and take his hand. To feel his warmth and affection.

You could tell he wanted to ask you again about the reference to the letters, but it wasn’t a good time with Violet and Adam there. He was clearly disappointed when you did have to hang up and start with your day.

“Okay, so your first order of business is the movie role your agent has sent you…” Adam checked his laptop. “Four emails about. Literally in the last half hour.”

“Yeah, she’s pushy,” you sighed, picking up the plates to put them in the sink. 

“People stop doing that when you answer them, you know,” he returned.

You bit your lip. While it was tempting, the movie would begin shooting in Los Angeles within the year, and you weren’t sure where you’d be. You hoped you’d be in London, where your heart was.

“Turn it down,” you said.

“Are you sure?” he questioned, blinking with surprise. “It’s a big role.”

“I don’t have time,” you said with a shrug. “There are more important things I want to focus on.”

“Alright, I’ll let her know,” he assured you, already typing his message.

You smiled. It felt right. You needed to start thinking about what your future with Gwilym would look like. For you, he was also the one person you couldn’t imagine your life without. And thankfully, you wouldn’t be without him for much longer.

#gwilym lee #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee imagine #gwilym lee x you #gwilym x reader #BoRhap #BoRhap cast #borhap boys #borhap imagine #borhap cast imagine #borhap cast x reader #borhap boys imagine #borhap boys x reader #Queen #queen imagine #Brian May #brian may x reader #brian may x you #brian may imagine #peace like a river series #queen imagnie #queen x reader #queen x you #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody imagine #borhap au

[human-trash-fire]

Beautiful Disaster: Chapter 5 (Pynch Soulmate AU)

Alrighty my loves, this chapter has been a labor of love from the beginning. As you continue reading you will see art pieces and each is correlated with a song (those will be at the end), and references yet again will be made to the EMFS playlist (Ronan’s rehab playlist- I’ve actually made it on spotify! you can find it here)

As usual you can find this story on Ao3 @ glam_reaper 2 if you’re interested <3

TW: Mention of suicide attempt, a panic attack though not super descriptive, cannon typical language.

Iv.

You,

I made a friend last week.

I know for most people that wouldn’t be a big deal, but I assume by now You understand what that means for someone like me. I guess “friend” may be a generous term? I don’t know if we are there yet, Blue definitely disagrees with him “on principle.” 

You see, President Cellphone as she calls him, or Richard Campbell Gansey III (I know, what a douchey fucking name) is all boat shoes and privledge and perfect teeth. Gansey isn’t someone I’d normally associate with mind you, Henry kind of met my quota for rich extroverts in the inner circle, and yet…

So, here’s the story. I’m writing my last letter right? And I was so fucking lost. I decided to walk home from Nino’s- I thought maybe it would help me settle. And there, right around the corner is this fucking ‘73 camero. It should have been beautiful, really.. A classic like that? It’s a dream to look at. Only this fucking thing is the UGLIEST color of candy orange you could ever imagine… And it’s blowing smoke all over the damn place. I was honestly going to leave boat-shoes to call his daddy or mechanic or what have you, but he looked so confused. I offered to help him out and was able to get it running long enough to get to Boyd’s.

I expected him to just drop off “The Pig” (the car) like any normal person and come back for it, only I apparently made “quite the impression.”

Gansey ended up staying with me, prattling on about his Masters History program and some welsh king the ENTIRE time I worked on the damn car. At first I was tuning him out, but without realizing it I became completely entranced by the whole story. I’ve never seen such passion for anything, and I have VERY spirited friends.

He has one of those voices you know? The kind that can stop a room, raise an army, lead a nation. The kind that demands to be heard without ever having to raise itself.

That’s Gansey though.

I think he’ll be good for me, I don’t think he’d give me much of a choice in the matter though to be honest. He kind of adopted me this week? That should bother me and yet, being around him is just… It’s being included. It’s a sense of purpose.

I think he needs it too, he doesn’t seem to talk about negative things but you can tell, he’s haunted by something. That’s what solidified it for me really. He may be a senator’s son but he’s seen some shit. 

I wish you could have met him, I wonder if you would have been as intrigued by him as I find myself. 

Blue is being a total idiot about him, but I’m about 82% sure it’s because she is into him. I know for sure the feeling is mutual. It took Gans approximately 15 minutes after meeting Blue to ask me for her life story, offend her beyond measure, and then haul ass out of Nino’s. It was the first time I’d seriously laughed in so long. Have you ever been second-hand embarrassed for someone? It was that. 

I’m going to wrap this up now though, I need to head to Nino’s for my shift, Blue’s working so of course Gans is stopping by. He said he’s bringing one of his best friends with him, some dude named Noah. Apparently he’s pretty cool, so I’m moderately less apprehensive. He said he wished he could bring his other best friend/ his and Noah’s third roommate but the guy is staying with family for a few months or something. Idk? He doesn’t talk about the other roommate much. I honestly don’t even think he’s ever said his name. Who gives a shit though, I can barely handle one new friend, let alone a 3-pack of Ganseys. Good God… I hope Noah isn’t another Gansey…. Fuck.

Welp.

Here goes nothing.

*****

It started with a not-so-subtle idea from the esteemed Dr. Allen. “Show me what happened.” Ronan was never great with words before all this, and since… When he spoke it was usually a litany of curse words. So Dr. Allen had suggested art. In the weeks since his entombment in this fine rehabilitation center, Ronan had kind of already been doing what he was being asked to do now. Though, he didn’t mention it to Allen. He’d spent countless hours sketching his life, the whole thing, in snapshots inside that beautiful leather sketchbook Gansey had given him. 

He started at the beginning, pictures of Aurora and his brothers, the Barns, his father playing guitar by the fire. He drew their family vacations, the cows he used to sneak out and sleep beside when he was a child, the feeling of winning the Tennis State Championship when he was 15. He drew the bad things too, his nightmares, his drug-trips, that old stained couch in the basement of Kavinsky’s house. He put every piece of himself, all 22 years of memories down in that book, woven together with song lyrics in the margins. 

So when Dr. Allen asked him to look specifically to his addiction and create, he didn’t see a problem. He needed to return to school with a series anyways, Declan had called to inform him that strings had been pulled to allow him to finish his final semester at Georgetown, but he needed to walk in with something to show at the January exhibition. Two birds, and all that.

He settled on 7 pieces, each done in oils on canvas, each accompanied by a song. 7 moments in the life of his battle with addiction, from the beginning to now. With each stroke of his brush he felt infinesmally lighter, pouring his grief into the images before him. 

It started with “The Fall.” His father’s murder in reds and greys; fracturing lines and deep shadows. He mixed his paints with tears and used his heart to drag color across the canvas. For the first time in years, Ronan allowed the memory to consume him. He’d re-lived it plenty of times in his nightmares, but this was different. His hands shook, jagged strokes of anger and confusion bleeding through. He painted the brief moment, the final moment, when his world was whole before his teenage mind finally realized what it was he was looking at. His last free breath. And he painted his screams, the cacophony of pain, endlessly mixing with sirens until his vocal chords gave out. 

He drowned the canvas in un-kept promises and hung it out to dry with childhood dreams.

Then came “Chasing the Void.” It was a story told in stark lighting. High beams on a backroad, swirling smoke and broken bottles. It was white glasses and white-powder lines on shark-nosed hood. It was going 115mph, bones rattling with the beat of the bass in his sound system. Ronan painted a black tattoo, used the blood on his knuckles to tint bloodshot eyes. His brush moved with his mother’s disappointment and his brother’s anger. Whimsical lines and Gansey’s head shaking when he found Ronan passed out yet again. He painted the highs and lows when sobriety reminded him that he hated the face that stared back at him in the mirror. 

Each new piece he added to the collection was brought to Dr. Allen’s office. Together they worked through each memory associated with the piece and slowly Ronan felt the weight on his chest lighten. 

Gansey visited every Monday and Friday like clockwork. He kept Ronan apprised to all the goings on of Monmouth and updates on Matthew and Declan. Ronan never asked for them, but he appreciated it regardless. His current obsession though seemed to be a new friend, Adam something. He had been going on for 30 minutes now about how this man single-handedly raised the Pig from the dead. Ronan tuned out most of the conversation, but nodded at what he assumed were appropriate moments while sketching.

“Ronan, are you even paying attention?��� Gansey asked, irritation only slightly evident.

“Mmm?” Ronan hummed. “For sure. Pig. Smoke. Some new guy.”

“Essentially. I was saying that Noah and I are heading to his second job, the man works 2 jobs and is getting a masters can you believe it? Anyways Nino’s, so Noah can finally meet him and Blue. Have I mentioned her yet?” 

Blue? He thought. Who the fuck names their kid Blue. “Once or twice.”

“Well they both work this afternoon, so I assume we’ll just hang there until they get off. Then maybe grab a bite. I wish you could come, I’m sure you’d get along nicely with Adam.” Gansey said, choosing to ignore the previous sarcasm and barrell on. Excelsior. 

“Doubt it.” Guy sounds like a douche.

“On that note, thank you for another lovely visit. I’ll see you Monday, Ronan.” Gansey gathered his coat and made his way to the door with a final wave.

Ronan waved back with a single finger and a saccharine “Bye, Dick.” Then shoved his Airpods back into his ears and lost himself in the EMFS playlist.

*****

As Adam gathered the tub of dirty dishes from above the trash and made his way back to wash them, he was lost in thought. These last two weeks, recent events, had been so much and yet he strangely was beginning to feel some semblance of peace. He knew that Blue had wanted him to write letters to help him cope. If he was admitting to it helping, he also needed to be honest with himself in noting that it may have been hurting just as much. He was falling in love with a ghost. A figment of his imagination that he could tell his every secret too, someone who listened without judgment; Someone who never asked more of him than he could handle. It wasn’t healthy, wasn’t what Blue had intended, of that he was sure. But, if it brought him peace and allowed him to sleep without seeing cold, dead eyes, then what was the harm?

He rinsed the mugs and plates loading them efficiently into the dishwasher, and dried his hands. As he moved to toss the towel into the bin, he heard the bell chime above the cafe door. He made his way slowly to the front, knowing that Blue was currently handling the register meant that he didn’t need to rush. On his way down the hallway he stopped to straighten a missing cat flier on the community bulletin board, taking a moment to snap a picture of the cat in question so he could be on the lookout, then continued toward the front; eyes glued to his phone.

He rounded the corner towards the coffee bar to the tune of laughter, it seemed Gansey had arrived. His eyes found Blue first. For all her insistance that she loathed the man in question, she was positively glowing, head tossed back in a hearty laugh. Lost in the bubble of charm Gansey operated in. 

“-And so I asked him, mind you I’ve had a lot to drink at this point, ‘Hey senator, why do you fucking hate poor peo-‘ Oh! Adam” Ganseys story of embarrassing his mother at one of her Republican fundraisers interrupted, as he caught sight of Adam sliding behind the bar.

“Hey Gans,” He smiled. 

“My apologies, this is Noah.” Gansey stepped to the side to reveal the man in question, and Adam’s breath stopped. 

There, eyes blue and wide with shock, mouth agape stood the man from the alley. The one whose scream still haunted Adam in the dark, solitary hours of sleep. The one that began his every nightmare of that night.

He was different now, tears weren’t pouring from his eyes to dance across the plains of his smudgey face. His blonde hair free of blood was slightly tousled, and his clothes were clean, albeit a little disheveled. 

“No,” the word was a broken noise, barely a word at all, closer to a sob. Gansey and Blue looked frantically between the two for what seemed like an eternity before Noah spoke.

“It’s you…” 

“Who? Noah, you know Adam?” Gansey’s voice was quietly confused.

Adam began to shake his head slowly, increasing with speed as his breath finally returned to him; Erratic and wild. Crocodile tears blurred his vision, and he finally croaked a simple question, “What… What was his name?”

“Ronan.”

“Oh, god” Blue breathed. 

Adam ran, desperately fleeing the scene and chorus of his name called from the front. Ronan, his name was Ronan. Adam couldn’t breathe. His pain fresh, an un-mendable wound reopened now that he had a name to grieve. He paused, only long enough to grab his messenger bag from the back, and took the alley door. 

Then he ran, faster than he’d ever remembered running. Tears turning the colors of the world around him to a haunting watercolor. His breath came in painful stabs, each beat of his bleeding heart an excruciating truth.

He somehow made it back to his apartment. The moment the door closed behind him he fell against it and slid to the floor. Ronan Ronan Ronan-

“R-Ronan.” He spoke the name the first time aloud, the feeling of its weight on his tongue was an answer to a question he’d been asking for a month. For a lifetime.

Adam didn’t know how long he sat on the floor, grief taking time and twisting it in on itself. An amalgam of pain, hopelessness, and questions. Gansey, Gansey knew Ronan, knew Noah. Noah the boy he’d last seen carted away in the back of an ambulance covered in red red red. Noah, who’d screamed for help like the world was shattering. Noah, who’d clung tightly to the shredded arms of a bleeding man in a dark alley.

Help me, his mind screamed, his internal voice morphing into Noah’s from that night. 

Help me, I’m not okay…

A key twisting in the lock above his head brought his attention to the present. Adam pushed away from the door, and waited as Blue made her way into his dark apartment. Night had fallen sometime since he’d been here, on the floor, lost in the alley. Lost in a name.

“Hey,” she whispered.

“Th-that was-”

“I know. Noah told us after you left. Adam, there’s… Adam. I need to tell you something.”

It was a concentrated effort to drag his gaze from the space between their bodies on the floor to meet her eyes. Lights from the street poured through the window in the living room, painting Blue’s honey warm skin in a haunting glow. He couldn’t bring himself to ask, so he waited. He watched. She brought a trembling hand to his, her brown eyes lined with silver, she squeezed.

“Adam, he’s alive.” 

A sob born of heartbreak and pain tore from his chest, he couldn’t form words. He broke then, completely and wholly. Blue came to cradle his head against her chest as he cried. Every hope he’d killed since the alley came barreling to the surface; All the pain and confusion, love and questions, beating like waves against the shores of his mind. Some minutes later he finally raised his head and met Blue’s eyes, her smile was wet and broken. He dragged his hand under his nose, across his eyes, and finally found the word to the question he needed to ask. “How?”

So Blue told him. Apparently, him finding Noah and Ronan in that alley, the tourniquet he’d made of his scarf, that extra minute he’d bought him had been enough. The doctors were able to stitch his wounds, and though it had been a close call, he’d pulled through. She explained that he’d had a hard life, though Gansey wouldn’t give details because he insisted those were Ronan’s to share when he was ready. He did however give her basic facts. Ronan Niall Lynch is an artist, a senior at Georgetown. He’s an orphan, and a brother. He’s an addict in recovery at a facility in Arlington, and Gansey’s third roommate. 

Blue explained that, when Adam was ready Gansey and Noah wanted to meet with him, to talk more. She offered to accompany him when that time came, but they all agreed they wouldn’t push him until he was ready. “Thank you,” he’d said to Blue. For getting the information. For telling him. For allowing him space. She understood that his history made this difficult, an addict for a soulmate was something he would need time to process. She eventually asked if he wanted to be alone and when he’d told her “yes” she kissed his forehead, and made her way to the door.

“Adam,” she paused, and he looked up. “We’ll wait on your text okay? Whenever you’re ready. But please check in so I know you’re safe.”

“I will.”

With a perfunctory nod she slid back out the door. 

Adam spent another minute in silence before dragging himself from the floor. He made his way in a daze to his desk and he collapsed into his chair. Slowly, he pulled out a blank sheet of paper. 

His hand shook.

He took a deep breath.

He wrote.

V

Ronan,

You’re alive…

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

Art Pieces and their correlating songs (linked):

“The Fall”  The War- SYML

“Chase The Void”  For What It’s Worth- Malia J

#bd au #pynch #pynch fic #Adam Parrish #ronan lynch #ronan x adam #blue sargent #gansey #richard campbell gansey iii #gangsey #soulmate au

[mcuamerica]

Hii can I have a Steve x Reader with these prompts 1, 5, 10, 14, 15 Can it end in fluff :>>> thank youu 💞💞

Summary: A mission goes wrong, but what makes it worse is the fight Steve and you have right before the team leaves.

Pairing: Steve x Fem!Avenger!Reader

Warnings: violence/injury, angst, fluff

Words: 1910

A/N: Prompts are in bold. I’ve been thinking about this all day and I’m hoping that this plot is good lol. I didn’t think this was going to be as long as it is but it is so... Also, don’t ask who this villain is because he is kind of based off of Mysterio but he isn’t Mysterio...  I hope you enjoy it! Request a prompt from this list.

(gif credit here)

“You can’t be serious, Steve.” You groaned, slipping on your mask. “Why do you think I like Sam or Bucky? They’re my teammates. And you are my boyfriend.” You put on your gloves and made sure that you could move properly in your new suit. 

“I’m your teammate too, (Y/N). Doesn’t mean anything. You spend all last week with Buck making your new suit, and Sam helped train with you too. You barley came over to my room when you were done too, so I’m feeling a little left out.” Steve went over the past two weeks of your life, starting to get on your nerves. 

“Because they’re my friends, and Bucky’s suit has all of the same things mine does, he was helping me upgrade it. You were in mission briefs all week, what else was I supposed to do? I needed to train and Sam wasn’t doing anything. You know he’s good at combat.” You told Steve, trying to get him to calm down. He seemed a lot more jealous recently, but you two didn’t spend much time together in the past few weeks. It just made it worse that you were spending that time apart with his best friends.

“You could’ve waited--” He started but got interrupted when FRIDAY called out that you were approaching the jump point. “We’re gonna finish this later.” He told you. 

You narrowed your eyes and crossed your arms, looking over at the mission sheet. “Wait, who’s partnering with who?” You asked, surprised he didn’t pair the four of you up earlier. 

“There’s three of us, choose one,” Steve said, crossing his arms to wait for your decision. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You muttered, looking to Steve and then to his two best friends. “Steve-” 

“Come on, we can go in together. It’ll be easier to carry her rather than metal arm over here.” Sam said, putting on his goggles. 

Steve looked to you and hummed, opening the drop door to the jet. “Okay then,” He said and Bucky followed him out of the jet. You groaned and walked with Sam to the drop door. 

“Don’t let me fall,” you said before Sam took you down to the building’s roof. You got to a hatch and opened it, following the plan that you had gone over on the way here. 

It was all going fine until you heard a large boom come from the room over, followed by a wave of smoke and fire. “Sam!” you called out, asking if anyone was in there through comms. When you only got static, you walked slowly towards the door. You put your hand on the handle and turned it, silently thanking Tony for making your gloves heat-resistant. “Steve? Sam? Bucky?” You called out, wandering throughout the smoke-filled room. 

“Oh, sweetheart, this is so unfortunate.” You heard as the voice filled the room, the smoke dissipating around you. “You fell for it, I didn’t think a super spy would be coaxed by a false explosion.”

“Then why did you…”

“I wanted to test it, and now you’re not going to get out of here alive.” The voice said, a man appearing from the door. “I hear you’re pretty important to Captain Rogers, so maybe I’ll use you to lure him here...” You looked around, seeing multiple exits you could take, realizing that you weren’t even tied up. You could easily get away, especially since he was doing a classic villain monologue. You slowly made your way over to the door you had come from, only to have it disappear as soon as you touched it. 

“Oh, you really thought I would say all of that without having you tied up? You passed out the second you walked into the room.” The man said, walking in front of you. Your eyes widened, trying to get out of the restraints. “Maybe you need to be a little more battered to make it seem direr.” He spoke, creeping towards the chair. 

You cringed as you tried to get out of the restraints and they tightened around your arms. “You’re insane, you can’t hurt me.” You tried to stall him, get him to talk more as you thought of a way out. You didn’t feel the comms in your ear anymore, which meant he must’ve taken them out when you were passed out. 

“Oh, of course, I can. I have all these tools here.” He said, bringing over a tray. You tried to think back to the multiple ways that Nat taught you to get out of this situation, but every time you tried something, another restraint tightened or you got shocked. This chair you were stuck in was near impossible to break, which made it worse when he neared your body with a weapon that made you struggle even more. 

***

“Now go on, call out to him,” The man said, holding the knife up to your throat. 

You winced as you shook your head, trying to get the breath to tell him that you weren’t going to do anything. You felt the knife break skin, giving it a small cut but nothing compared to the other injuries on your body. You felt your broken ribs, sprained wrist, the cuts and bruises on your face, a busted lip. Anything from the waist up probably didn’t look good, since he couldn’t do much with your legs tied to the chair. Your ankles, however, most likely had terrible bruises if not burns on them. “Call out to him.” He said again, not asking but telling. 

“St-Steve.” You called, using the energy that you had left. He had turned up the smoke in the room again after he put on a mask to cover himself. It was draining your energy quicker than the blood loss could. The man grabbed the comms and told you to say it again, and when you did he crushed it underneath his foot like some kind of further torment. 

“And now, I get to watch as the two of you claw for life.” He said, laughing as he walked out of the door. You heard a ringing as the door shut, followed by a real bomb going off. 

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)! Are you in there? Are you hurt” Steve called out once the dust subsided. You could hear the building rumble as you tried to get out of the restraints again. 

“I can’t breath.” You said, wincing at the pain in your lungs as you inhaled the smog around you.  

“Alright, alright just hang on. I’m coming for you, don’t move.” He called out, making his way through the wreckage. 

You tried your best to stay awake and conscious, but the blood loss and the smoke was starting to be too much for your body to handle. It was going to shut down to preserve your life any minute now. 

You felt your eyes well up with tears not only because of the amount of pain you were in but because you were thinking this may be the last time you see Steve. And the last thing you did before this fight. 

“Hey, (Y/N) I’m right here.” He said, covering his nose with his sleeve to keep him from inhaling the smoke. He held up his shield and cut the restraints from your ankles and arms, giving you a small amount of relief. 

“St-Steve... The building... It’s gonna…” You started but he cut you off. “You gotta save your energy okay? I’m gonna get you out of here.” He said, wrapping his arms around your waist. You let out a cry of pain and clutched onto him. 

“Broken... Ribs..” You muttered, shaking your head in the slightest way when he asked if he could carry you. 

He set you down on the ground in what seemed like a stable part of the building, for now, to try and help with the pain so he would be able to carry you out. He pulled out the shot that they were given in case something like this happened, putting it into the side of your arm. “I wish I could do more but until this kicks in, we can’t go anywhere.” He said, sensing that if you were put in any more pain you would pass out, possibly not wake up again. 

“Just smile, I really need to... see your smile... right now.” You muttered with staggered breaths, eyes opening and closing in a slow tempo. You could see the water build up in his eyes as he gave you a small smile, shaking his head. 

“You have a long time to be able to see my smile, doll.” He said, cupping your cheek as gently as he could. “You smile now, please. Just stay awake.” Looking into your eyes, he leaned his forehead against yours. 

You gave your best attempt at a smile, but it came out as a pained cringe. You grabbed onto your stomach and winced, clenching your jaw from the agony caused by your rib cage. “I can’t…” Your voice faltered as your hearing started to change into a constant ringing. 

Steve’s muffled voice was the only thing you could hear as you lost consciousness, “Don’t close your eyes on me...” 

***

It had been days, too many for Steve’s liking, that you had been asleep. Bruce said that it was a miracle you were still alive. Partly because of the shot Steve gave you that kicked in right in time to keep your vitals strong enough to get you to the med bay in time. It still didn’t help the fact that you were in a bed with a heart monitor attached to you, an IV in your arm, and a cannula around your head to give you stable oxygen. 

Steve barely got sleep, staying by your side until Bucky had to drag him out so Bruce could run a few more tests. He had finally fallen asleep at your bedside just as you woke up. You took a few shaky breaths as you opened your eyes, the low beeping of your heart pulling you out of the deep slumber you were put in. You looked over to see Steve clutching your hand in his as his head was on the bed. You didn’t know how much time had passed, but you could tell he didn’t get enough sleep anyway. You tried your best to not wake him, but he had barely fallen asleep and was on edge already. 

“(Y/N)?” He asked with a sleepy voice, seeing that you were awake. “(Y/N)!” He said happily, raising his head to yours and kissing your forehead. “You’re awake. God, you’re awake and you’re okay.” He said and squeezed your hand, making you wince at the amount of pressure he applied. “Sorry, sorry.” He said and loosened his grip. 

You gave him a small squeezed, raising his hand and kissing the back of it. “There’s the smile I wanted.” You said, giving him one that he wanted as well. 

You heard his soft chuckle, the sound giving you a small amount of energy you needed to lean up and kiss him softly. “You know that you’re the only man that I love right?” You whispered against his lips. 

He hummed and nodded, leaning his forehead against yours. “I don’t think I’m ever going to doubt you again.” He assured, wrapping his arms around your to pull you into a soft embrace.

#steve rogers x reader #captain america #steve rogers #captain america x reader #steve rogers imagine #bucky barns #sam wilson #kaithezaftig #mcuamerica #katie answers #request #prompt request #ask

[bluepenguinstories]

Remoras Full Chapter IV: Funiculì, Funiculà

It’s been over a year and a half since the incident. To think that so much time passed and yet I find myself unable to say “a lot has changed since then.”

Still, as my therapist often told me, it was all a process.

That I had a therapist was, in of itself, a process. One which took much deliberation. Sensible or stubborn, I refused to seek help from my old place of work, and instead sought out a private therapist who would come visit every other week. There were other places I could have gone, I realize, but I was just too afraid to venture outside. Even with the idea of a brighter future ahead, I was just so afraid of the outside world and its potential to be cruel.

Our most recent session in particular was rather devastating (but each one was, just as it was devastating to have an earnest conversation with anyone) and left me drained afterward. It had went something like this:

“I thought things would be better from here on out,” I told her, who sat across from me on the sofa, and jotted notes down as I spoke. “Like, I was finally free – and I am, don’t get me wrong. But in spite of that, I’m still so scared that there are still people out there who mean to do me harm. Or that I may snap and cause them harm. I feel like such a mean person, but I don’t want to be.”

“There are scary people out there, for sure,” was her reply.

“That’s all? No ‘but’?”

She shook her head.

“But I don’t want to live in fear!” I protested.

“It’s normal to have such a response to the outside world, given what you’ve been through.”

“It’s just...I feel so weak, you know? I feel like I used to be so strong, but now I can hardly do anything. This was supposed to be the start of better things for me, but instead I’m finding it difficult.”

“It is difficult, and the start of better things often are.”

“But it feels like I’ve regressed, rather than moved forward.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I break down easily. I think about how I used to act and it appalls me. But at the same time, I miss aspects of who I was. How I could keep in all these feelings and keep a face of someone calm. I would do whatever I felt necessary in order to do the things I wanted in my life. But...I knew it was coming to an end, even then. I just couldn’t sustain myself that way. I was starting to give up. Even back then, I missed who I was before that: someone who could fight and say whatever was on her mind. I thought I accepted the idea that if I were to die the next day, I would be content, because there nothing else I could do.”

“But here you are. You’re still strong. You need to see that just because you’ve dealt with traumatic events in your life doesn’t make you weak.”

“I know, but I don’t want to be this way.”

“Battles often aren’t without their scars.”

“I guess…” I looked away for a bit. The apartment really was small. There were so many thing I still didn’t feel ready for, yet I wanted to dive right into them. “Is there nothing I can do?”

“I wouldn’t say that. It may be difficult, but I think you can live a better life. You’ve already made so much progress, I hope you see that.”

My initial thought was to ask “such as?” Instead, I thought about what kind of progress that could be.

“Yeah. I moved into a new apartment. I still don’t feel like I can work a job, but I’ve started to cultivate some plants out on the back deck and I think I want to have an orchard eventually. This apartment is really just a first step. I want to live away from the city, have a garden in a remote area, growing my own fruits and vegetables. I’m not sure if, or when, it will happen, but at least I have someone who supports me.” I took a deep breath. “I managed to seek therapy. Talk to someone other than who I live with.”

“I’m glad you acknowledge that.”

“Yeah, I, I just don’t know,” my voice started to crack. Come on, hold back the waterworks for just five minutes. She’ll be gone soon. “I want to be able to go outside without being so afraid.”

“You don’t have to go into crowds, you know. Even just going to the back deck is something.”

“Yeah, but what if I need to, like, to get groceries or something?”

“Hmm…” She pondered, tapping the end of her pen against her chin. “Maybe you could start slow. Would it help if you held your wife’s hand and took a walk around? You don’t have to go very far.”

“Yeah, I think that could work. I’m afraid of crowds, but I think I could even visit her every now and then at the Saturday Market. She’d probably like that. I think I’d like that, too.”

“Oh yeah, you told me about that last time.”

“I’m the one who encouraged her to do so, since she’s always making things, anyway. It’s surprising, but enough people like what she does that we’re able to pay rent with the earnings.”

Why is it so surprising? You wouldn’t have encouraged her if you didn’t have confidence in her skills.

“That’s great. See? That’s a strong thing right there.”

“Mm,” I looked down. “I guess. It’s just hard. Like I’m learning to be the person I want to be.”

“Life is a constant learning process.”

There were other talks after that; back and forths about mindfulness and acknowledging each moment. By that time, however, I had already zoned most of it out and was just nodding along. I was too emotionally drained. She could tell as well, so we wrapped up our session, arranged a time for our next session, and I saw her off.

Then, I leaned my head back on the couch. One problem that never got brought up was a recent development: gaps in my memory have started to resurface. Things from long ago, and even things that by all accounts, I should’ve remembered. Like the early days with the one who I would end up spending the rest of my life with. Speaking of, I decided to text her:

Me: I’m done with my session jskjsksjksjskjskjs

Then I passed out.

I woke up to feel someone nudging me.

“Oh my! I thought you were keysmashing but turns out you fell asleep with your thumbs on your phone!”

I rubbed my eyes as I groaned. “Therapy is exhausting,” I informed her, my voice groggy.

“Uh, yeah? Everyone knows that.”

“How did I ever manage it?”

She shrugged. “Beats me. You were never that good at it.” “Hey!” I retorted.

“Well, okay, you were good at making people think you were good at it. You did what you thought would help with what little knowledge you had. Presentation counts for a lot, so your colleagues probably never thought to question it.”

“Why did you ever let me go through with it?”

“I think I said at the time that you didn’t have to, but you were pretty insistent.”

Sounds about right, given what I knew about myself.

“It’s not fair,” I grumbled. “I always end up crying during these sessions. I bet therapists never cry.”

“How much you got?” She took to a sly expression. “I bet they do. They probably wait after the session and then bawl their eyes out.”

We both laughed at that remark.

“So what’d you two talk about, anyway?”

I crossed my arms. “I don’t really want to rehash it.”

“Okay, fine by me! But I’ll be around if you do.”

“...It was just about how I’m scared to go out in public and she suggested you come with me and we could hold hands.”

She gasped. “You just breached confidentiality! You have to go to jail now!”

“What?! No! That’s not how that works!” I protested. “It’s the therapist who can’t talk about the things said without express permission from the client! I volunteered that information to you!”

“Nope. Do not pass go. Sorry, babe. I don’t make the rules. I’ll miss you, but I promise to write.”

“Oh my god! You’re too much!” I burst into laughter.

“So, wanna try it?”

“Hm?” I looked at her.

“The handholding thing. Sounds fun.”

“We’ve held hands before. Practically all the time.”

“Yeah, but wanna do it...therapeutically?”

“Yeah. I think it would help.”

“And, y’know, if it helps, I could sit in on one of your sessions sometimes. Hold your hand while you tackle tough emotions.”

To that, I shook my head. “This is something I want to confront alone.”

“There you go again, bein’ all stubborn. That part of you’s never changed,” she wagged her finger.

“Well, if you want, you could sit in on me...in the bedroom…” I covered my hands over my face. “That was phrased weird. I can’t do suggestive talk.”

She rolled around the couch in hysterics, laughing it up.

“Will there be biting?” She asked, once she finally calmed down.

“Lovingly.”

“Yay!”

We walked together into the bedroom and curled up, our legs tangled in each other. She tittered, ran her fingers through my hair, and smiled. That she acted so giddy every time we would lay together made it so that I couldn’t help but smile as well. First, we started off by kissing, arms wrapped around each other, then we sat up; I watched as she unbuttoned her blouse, and I, in turn, slipped out of my shirt.

Everything was going well, with me giving her light pecks across her neck, down her chest. But then, from the corner of my eye, I saw the scar on her shoulder and remembered the cause of her injury.

“I’m sorry,” I pulled away. The tears were already starting to work their way down even though I knew she didn’t think ill of the whole thing. “I don’t think I can continue.”

“Aw, it’s okay.”

Instead, I leaned in close, and she held me tight against her. The image would have been an odd one, had I the ability to see outside of myself. Although I was taller, often times I thought of her as the bigger person.

“Would you like to take a nap?” She asked.

“Not yet,” I muttered.

“Would you like me to take over and help you feel better?”

Weak, I nodded, then I leaned back and let her shower me in affection and pleasure. It felt wrong, selfish of me, not to reciprocate, but it was just like that: images of the past come to mind and sometimes they affected me, while other times I was able to take a more active role and exist in the moment.

At least there was no desire to be aggressive. No itch for greater and greater levels of intensity. Instead, I could take my time and let it come in its own time. There would be another opportunity to bring her pleasure later in the evening. For the time being, I found myself brought to a high, and then, as I reached my peak, I fell back. She kissed my cheek, then, snuggled up to each other, we both fell asleep.

Needless to say, there were still a few difficulties to overcome. It was all an adjustment process, I knew that. But I didn’t want to find myself so needy that I couldn’t do the most basic of things, like going outside in public, unless she was around.

So a few days later, I got up out of bed, after having slept in. She had already left earlier in the morning to go work at the Saturday Market. While home alone, I bathed, then slipped into a bath robe, made myself a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast, and after, took to the couch and read a book.

Around noon, I began to grow restless. I knew that if I just waited a few hours, she would come back home, but that wasn’t it. I wanted to try going out on my own. After changing into a tie dye shirt and jeans and slipping on some shoes, I inched toward the door, my heart pounding all the while.

Once out, I started to feel more and more agitated. I wasn’t very far from home, but the thought that there were other people nearby already got to me.

“Not much further. I don’t need to go far,” I told myself under my breath. But each step, I thought to be more daring, and soon, I was near where the crowded streets began. Soon, the sea of others’ voices drowned out my own thoughts and both my mind and my heart were racing. I was about to turn back when one voice stood out among the others.

“How long does it take to do such a simple assignment? ‘Divide and conquer’, she said. Well, I’ve already taken care of my targets, so what’s taking her so long?” Came a low and icy voice, from someone who sounded rather annoyed.

Assignment? Divide and conquer? Targets? This isn’t good; I’m having irrational thoughts of what the implications of those words could mean.

I looked around to find whose voice that belonged to, and at last, I saw her: someone about as tall as I was in stature, with a thick red vest, who stood in the middle of the sidewalk, as if everyone around her didn’t exist. She shivered, was hunched over, and seemed to be typing at her phone.

Images of that incident flashed in my mind, but rather than run away and cower, I found myself approaching her, and then the words escaped from me:

“Rhea? Is that you?”

“Huh?” She turned around. It was more clear that it wasn’t her from up close: she had darker hair, almost blackened, but with a hint of red to it. “Do I know you?”

“I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else, but you couldn’t be her, since she died.”

“I see. That’s rather strange to come up to strangers and mistake them for dead people,” she remarked as she slipped her phone back into her pocket. Beside her were a couple of bags. “Do you do that often?”

“No, I –”

“Also, I’m Remora. Not whatever you just said.”

“Sorry. Really.”

She went back to her phone. “Seriously? She still hasn’t replied?”

“Um...may I ask what’s wrong?”

“Just my partner. We were going grocery shopping and we decided to split the list, but she’s taking forever. I’m considering just leaving without her.”

“Partner? As in couple?”

She glared, almost a scowl.

“No.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

I considered walking away, since I had already troubled that Remora person enough, but I figured she was frustrated and I thought I could try to help diffuse the situation.

“Are you in a hurry?” I asked. “If not, maybe you could find something to do in the meantime.”

She looked around, her arms still huddled as she shivered, then returned her gaze to me. “No. None of these things are perishable. What would you suggest?”

Crap. I just put myself on the spot. Great.

“Well, you could, uh...sit at a park, maybe?”

“No.” She shot me down. “Hm…who are you, anyway?”

That took me by surprise, but I told her my name.

“I see. Do you want to get a drink?”

“Like, at a bar?”

“No, at the denist’s office,” she replied. Okay. I could tell when someone was being sarcastic.

She waited for a response, but when I didn’t know what to say, she spoke again: “yes, I meant a bar.”

“Maybe I should let my wife know first. I don’t know.”

“Do you need your wife’s permission to do everything?”

“It’s...It’s not like that!”

“Well, are you coming or what?” She tapped her heel.

“Y-Yes!” I didn’t know why, but I felt like I should accept the offer and hang out with her.

She started to walk off and I hurried behind, my eagerness to interact with someone other than the person I lived with outweighing my anxiousness of being out in public.

“Sorry again, by the way. You really did seem like her from a distance, you even talk and act a little like she did.”

“People don’t come back from the dead, Vesuvius.”

“Right! I know that!”

“Pick up the pace,” she instructed. I didn’t know what it was about her, but there was something there that itched at me, as if no matter how hard it was to think otherwise, it really did seem like I was face to face with Rhea with the key exception being that we were doing something so normal as going out drinking together. It both excited and terrified me.

At the bar, we next to each other at the counter. Few other occupants resided; it must have had to do with the time of day.

“Get me a cold one,” she told the bartender.

“A cold what?” He replied.

“I don’t know. Whiskey? Vodka? Does it matter? Something strong and cold.”

Just like you?

“What about you, missy?” He turned to me. That annoyed me. ‘Missy’.

“Miss is just fine,” I replied. “I’ll just have a pomegranate martini.”

“My bad, miss.”

“Good. You’re sticking up for yourself,” she commented.

That took me by surprise. I turned to her. “I try my best. People scare me, but I still need to assert myself.”

“It might irritate other people, but that shouldn’t matter,” it sounded like she was agreeing with me. “Others can deal with it, if it’s what matters to you, you should speak up about it.”

“Um, thank you?”

“Just stating facts.”

Well, in that case, I prefer Ves.”

“What?”

“My name.”

“Oh. Then why didn’t you tell me that was your name?”

“Vesuvius is my name, it’s just that I like Ves more.”

“All right, then. Ves it is.”

“Thank you.”

She shrugged. “I’m just here to kill time. I can spare a few courtesies.”

Right, and I was just there because I mistook her for someone who used to want me dead and who I, in turn, caused her death. But yeah, let’s just say we were both killing time and I wasn’t nervous as all hell.

I turned to her and noticed her arms crossed as she rubbed her hands against her upper arms while her back was hunched over. Her back was hunched over and I watched her take labored breaths.

“Are you all right?” I asked her.

“It’s the atmosphere,” she replied, brisk and low in her tone.

“You were shivering when we were outside, too.”

“I’m not used to the climate, that’s all. I live up north.”

So that’s what it was. For a second, I thought…Ah. Here I was, sitting next to someone I had just met and all I could think about was someone I barely knew for three days before said person died. To think that the time we met was so short, but I found myself so affected by her. Not to mention, how we were enemies.

“What? Why are you crying?” She sounded genuinely surprised. I reached for a napkin to wipe my eyes with.

“Sorry, I...sometimes I cry when I get sad,” I tried to explain.

“Isn’t that normal for most people?” She gave a perplexed look.

“Yeah, I suppose it is,” I replied with a soft laugh. “I’m just not used to it.”

“I see. Why is that?”

I shrugged, then tried to explain.

“Much of my life was spent on edge. Either fighting, running, or hiding. After a while, it started to weigh on me. So I kept my emotions hidden and laid low. My pain, my rage, I just held it down and instead carried a calm demeanor.”

Our drinks arrived. Hers, a glass of whiskey (not just a shot glass, either, a rather tall glass) and my pomegranate martini. I took my finger to the rim of my glass and licked the sugar off of it.

“Mm. Yeah. That’s no good. Holding in emotions is unhealthy,” she replied after downing her drink.

“What about you?”

“I don’t have many emotions to begin with. Not much to hold in.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why? Doesn’t bother me.”

“Maybe so. Sorry, you seem okay, but I still can’t help but think of this other person. I guess I’m still not over her.”

“What was she to you? An ex or something?”

“Not exactly. She tried to kill me.”

“Huh? What was her reason?”

“Well, she was hired to do so and she said I was a threat to humanity. Truth is, I could see her reasoning, being that I was pretty sick at the time and it was affecting people around me.”

“You’re better now, though, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Good.”

There were many things that filled my mind then. The events of those fateful few days – how I attempted several means to give myself a better life, but they ended up only making things worse for me. Then, I found myself saying:

“I know we were enemies, but it seemed like she was just as exhausted of fighting as I was. Even if circumstances led us to being opposed to each other, I really wish I could have gotten to know her better. Maybe I could have helped her somehow.”

She took another swig of her drink, then wiped her mouth with her sleeve and set the glass down.

“Sounds like it was for the best. Everyone has their own ideas of a ‘happy ending’. Sounds like that was hers.”

I wanted to say how it was she died, but I knew it would have been incriminating. Especially in a public place.

“I take it you killed her, huh?”

“Wait, what?” I blinked.

“If you two were enemies and she’s dead, that’s how I imagine things went down.”

“Yes, but I didn’t want to. I just think she wanted me to. At least it seems that way.”

Remora looked like she was about to speak up again, but then we both heard her phone buzz. She pulled it out from her pocket.

“Oh. Great. It’s her.”

“Your partner?”

“Hold on.” She began texting. I could hear her say under her breath what she was typing. “You do not need a sombrero. That is not why we’re here.”

Cue a few seconds later, she jolted, as if she was getting pissed off.

“No. You don’t need a set of neon green throwing knives, either. What’s taking you so long?” Then she glared at me. “See what I have to deal with?”

The phone buzzed again, and again, she recited what she was typing.

“How is that relevant?”

Puzzled, I leaned over. She must have noticed, so showed me the conversation. The first thing I noticed was the contact name, which simply said ‘Pest’:

Pest: Someone’s selling sombreros! I want one!

Me: You do not need a sombrero. That is not why we’re here.

Pest: Send me money so I can buy some neon green throwing knives! I need them to look badass! ;_;

Me: No. You don’t need a set of neon green throwing knives, either. What’s taking you so long?

Pest: I just realized that my name is so close to ‘dementia’! I need to change my name! D:

Me: How is that relevant?

Pest: YOU MAY AS WELL PUT EBONY DARKNESS IN FRONT OF MY NAME AKSJKSJFSKJF ;_;

I blinked. That sure was something.

“I can see how your guys’ personalities clash.”

She shook her head. “Too high energy for me.”

“Hey, I’m married to someone who’s high energy.”

“Married couples annoy me.”

I looked down at my drink. Still hadn’t even given it a sip. Maybe I just wasn’t in the mood for it. Shame, too. It probably tasted great.

“Hey,” she poked me. “Give me your address.”

“Why?”

“So I can tell her to meet me there.”

“Oh. Uh, I guess that’s fine. She’s not dangerous, is she?”

Remora laughed. “She’s only a danger to herself.”

“That’s a relief.”

I wrote down my address on a napkin and passed it to her. Remora went ahead and texted it to her, then she ordered another drink.

“We’re not gonna head over there?” I asked.

“Knowing her, it’s gonna take another hour before she shows up.”

“Oh, well in that case…” My thoughts drifted once again to Rhea. “Can I try something out?”

“What?”

“Can I pretend it’s Rhea sitting next to me? I know it sounds weird, but I think it would help me move on.”

“Sure, if you think it’ll help.”

“Thank you,” I cleared my throat. “Okay, here goes…”

I thought of the right words to say, as if I was having a conversation with someone I could never have. How would I address them? I figured starting with their name was a good starting point.

“Rhea,” I began.

“Yeah? What is it?” Remora replied.

“What?” I paused.

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to pretend to be her or not.”

“You can respond if you want. I’d mostly like it if you listened.”

“Okay. Go on.”

“It just pains me to know that there’s so much about you I’ll never know. Like what life must have been like for you. I know you gave off the impression of a cold and merciless mercenary, but for whatever reason, you showed me mercy. Even though I killed your partner, Douglas Fir. I still wish I hadn’t done that to him, even knowing how he terrorized my home, I’m still disgusted at myself for that.”

“Eh, he had it coming,” she replied.

“What?”

“Oh. Nothing. He just sounds like a sleazy guy. Carry on.”

“Now that I think of it, it wasn’t that you simply showed me mercy. You offered me a choice I could not accept. When I refused the first time, you tried to stop at nothing to kill me. When that didn’t work, you decided to try to talk with me and see if you reach a different solution. I don’t really understand why. You could have killed me while I was recovering. I wish I could have known what it was.”

She didn’t respond that time. I continued.

“You knew about me through files written on me. Could deduce my personality just through a few sentence descriptions. But I, even from what little I saw of you, still didn’t really know you. I knew you had a condition. It fascinated me, truth be told. Thoughts like ‘I wonder what it is that made you this way’. Even if I knew, I don’t think I could have helped you, as much as it pains me to say. Whether it was a physical or mental condition, I don’t think I would have known what to do. Whether or not there really was a cure, it didn’t seem like something I could have figured out.”

“Why should I feel sympathetic when our roles were more antagonistic? I cannot say. Maybe I saw us as kindred spirits, in spite of our roles. To me, it looked like you were in pain, just as I was. It may have been expressed differently, but I still sensed a pain, a certain tiredness in you. I think that’s what affected me so deeply about your death.”

“I wonder...did you really mean it when you said I was a disappointment? I know, such a strange thing to dwell on.”

She took another drink. “If you want my opinion, the only person you should worry about disappointing is yourself.”

“Well, I’m rather remorseful of how I used to act.”

“Hmm...Remorseful...Gah! I should’ve changed my last name, too! I just couldn’t come up with a pun, so I decided to leave my last name as is!”

“...What?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Remora waved her hand away. “Just frustrated. I could’ve worked with that! I only chose this name because I saw a remora at an aquarium and they seemed interesting.”

“Wait, is Remora not your real name?”

“It is. I just had a previous name. I liked to work with name puns. Giving myself this name, it felt like a sense of freedom for me.”

“My birth name was Etna,” I told her in an attempt to relate.

“Yeah, but your name is Ves. Just as mine is Remora. We don’t need to worry about past names.”

“Yeah, but what about past actions? Experiences?”

“You said you acted with the intention of being happier. Well, are you happier now?”

I had to stop and think. Was I? In a way, I had made myself unhappy. But through that, I was able to experience what I had been missing for so long, so in that sense, I found it worth it.

“Yes. It’s taken me a while to get there and it’s still a long journey, but I’m in a much better place now. It’s just been a slow process.”

“Good. That’s all you need to worry about. Is making sure you keep moving forward and realize that the journey has been worth it.”

“What about you?”

“Eh. Same. It’s an adjustment, but I’m open to it.”

“That’s good. I’m glad for you.”

“Why? You just met me.”

“I don’t know. I just feel like I’ve known you already.”

She pointed at my glass. “You haven’t finished your drink.”

“Oh. Lemme do that right now,” I held up the glass and downed it in one big gulp.

“Isn’t that the wrong kind of drink to be chugging down?”

My head was already starting to feel funny. “Yes. I. Think I’m ready to go home.”

“Oh, bother,” she held her palm to her forehead and shook her head. “Are you going to be all right?”

“I should be fine.”

Besides the fact that I felt like I was going to collapse on the sidewalk.

“Here, let me walk you home. That’s where I’m meeting my partner, anyway.” She slipped a hundred dollar bill on the counter, then stood up.

Before I could object, she carried me on her shoulders as I felt myself start to get drowsy.

While we walked home, through my sleepy voice, I continued to try to strike conversation with her.

“Do you and this person live together?” I asked.

“If you’re referring to the grocery partner, no. We just happen to work at the same place and the manager asked us to go shopping here.”

“Oh? What do you do for work?”

“I work at a restaurant. I never thought I’d see myself doing that kind of work, but it’s better than my old job.”

“What was your old job?”

“I killed people.”

Ah, for whatever reason, that didn’t sound so bad. Probably because I was just hazy enough that I didn’t think much of it.

“I used to work as a therapist, myself. But I think I did more harm than good. It’s a real shame. I think I’ve done better for both mine and others’ mental health since I quit,” I droned on.

“Sometimes you just gotta say ‘fuck work’,” she replied.

“Yeah,” I agreed, then smiled. “Fuck work.

We arrived, and she let go. I managed to stand on my own. Already, I felt more clear.

“Say, would you like to meet my wife?” I asked, rather on a whim.

Remora looked around, then shrugged. “Sure. She’s still not here yet.”

I went up to the door, unsure if she had come home yet. I could have texted her, but I figured if she didn’t show up after I knocked, I’d have my answer. After my knock, she came up right away.

“Oh hey, look at you! You’re outside on your own!”

I nodded, a bright smile upon my face. “Actually, I ran into someone.”

“Oh? Who?” She leaned her head over. After she gasped, she turned back to me. “Is that the weird stalker lady?”

“No, but the resemblance is uncanny,” I whispered. “She’s friendly. Her name is Remora.”

“Oh!” She shoved past me and ran out to see Remora up close. “It’s nice to meet you!”

“Why?” Remora asked in response.

“Because if Ves says you’re friendly, you must be friendly!”

“You’re cute,” Remora stated. It could have been interpreted in a sarcastic manner, and yet it came out so plain as to be nothing more than a general statement.

“Thanks! So are you! So is Ves!”

Remora looked like she was about to get a word in, but before she could, someone came running up with a backpack on and a shopping bag in their hand. I focused on the figure, she was someone small, didn’t even look five feet tall. Her hair, dark green and wavy. Plus, she wore a sombrero over her hair. The creature didn’t notice my wife and I, and instead focused on Remora.

“Found you! And look! I got it! There was a dollar on the ground and I was able to get it! Still missing the throwing knives, though…” She looked down at the ground, as if she suffered a great loss.

“Good for you. Did you get the groceries?”

“Of course! They’re in my backpack! What have you been up to?”

Remora pointed her thumb toward me.

The girl (pardon me for referring to her as “creature” just a bit ago) looked over and gasped. “I was too late! You seduced them both!”

“What are you talking about?” Remora asked.

“Or...maybe it was those two who did the seducing!”

“I’m lost.”

Me too. Did I know her? Did she know Juniper and I?

She took off the sombrero and set it on the ground, then reached into the shopping bag and pulled out a blonde wig, then placed it on her head. The wig in question had pigtails. With furious motions, she pointed at my wife, then herself, then looked up at Remora and opened her mouth, but didn’t make a sound, just had it open wide as if she would have yelled had she made a sound. But as she looked at Remora, she continued to point at the woman beside me.

“What is she doing?” Remora asked Juniper and I.

We both shrugged.

“I think it’s called pantomiming?” Juniper suggested. “I’ll be honest, though: I was never that good at charades.”

“Yeah, me neither,” I admitted.

The girl looked furious, took off the wig, then undid the pigtails and tried to straighten up the wig. Then, she took out a pair of glasses from her pocket, put them on, and then put the wig back on. This time, she chose to point at me, just as furious.

Her finger, at first at me, then back at the one beside me, then she faced her thumb at herself.

“Is she your guys’ daughter?” Remora asked my wife and I.

We both shook our heads.

She tore the wig from off of her head, threw it on the ground and stomped on it.

“I can’t believe you guys!” She yelled at last, as I assume she had been holding it in. “That’s my cousin!” She faced Remora, then pointed once again at my wife. “Juniper Bark!”

Wait. Something dawned on me. But before I could say it, Juniper spoke up instead.

“Oh, I remember you! From the wedding, right? Demetria!”

“Bingo. And I came to stop you!”

“From what?”

“From stealing Remora! I saw her first!”

Juniper clapped. “Good job!”

Demetria blinked. “Oh. Thanks. I mean, I’m not actually into her. I just think she’s cool. Yeah. That’s all.”

What was with her demeanor? At one point she really was high-energy, like the impression of her I got from Remora suggested, but now she seemed stunned.

“Uh, well, anyway,” She looked away, embarrassed. Of her previous actions? Hard to say. “Juniper, your brother’s still a doctor, right?”

“In a sense!”

“Is he here? Can I talk to him?”

Juniper shook her head. “He lives at the same apartment he did before, Vespiquen and I just moved to a new one. Why do you ask?”

“I wanted to ask him what the condition was when you see this tall, strong lady and your whole personality changes and all you can think about is being in her strong arms and how hot she is. I was wondering if he could diagnose me.”

Juniper put her hand over her mouth and had a devilish grin on her face. “Ohoho, I can tell you that right now.”

“What? You can?”

“Mhm. I’m afraid it’s terminal.”

“What?!”

“Yup! And there’s no cure!”

“That’s horrible!” Demetria cried out.

I nudged Juniper and gave her a glare.

“Oh, all right,” Juniper relented. “I diagnose you with gay.”

“I can’t believe you! You had me in quite a shock! I’m going to remember this!”

Although the focus had been on Demetria, I shifted my attention back to Remora, to which a scowl was forming on her face.

“Ves.”

Startled, I asked, “what is it?”

“Does the name ‘Clara Waters’ mean anything to you?”

I took a minute to think about it, but then it came.

“Actually, yes. That was one of the names Rhea had used.”

“Figured as much,” the last syllable on her breath had a tinge of a snarl to it.

“Which city was it that she died in?” Was the next question from her.

“This one. Why?” She seemed to be piecing something together.

“I see.”

“Is there something that I’m missing, here?” Demetria looked at all three of us.

“Demetria,” Remora growled.

“Eep! Was It something I did? I’ll behave!”

“Can you wait for me at the airport?”

There was a definite anger to her voice, though it didn’t sound like it was directed at Demetria, but someplace else.

“Oh. Yeah. I can do that.” Demetria picked up both the bag with the wig as well as the bag of groceries that Remora had carried just a bit ago. “Um, see you later?”

Remora nodded.

I opened my mouth, curiosity or concern having overtaken me. “What is this about?”

“I’m about to find out. It was nice to meet you. Now I must meet a corpse.”

“Huh?”

“This was never about grocery shopping and the fact that I didn’t figure it out sooner disgusts me.”

That didn’t clear anything up for me, but what was clear was that she was about to take off.

“Um, before you go…”

“Yes?”

“Would you like to be friends?”

“Why?”

“I think it’s what Rhea would have wanted.”

It felt rather manipulative of me; a dirty trick. Even if that was the case, I just couldn’t bring myself to tell her that the reason was that I saw it as a second chance for me. To befriend someone so similar to Rhea.

“What does this person’s wishes have to do with me?”

Oh no. Her words sounded hostile. But then, she let out a sigh.

“All right. Fine. I’ll put your number in my phone.”

“Ooh!” Juniper jumped up. “Me too!”

“Ladies, one at a time.”

After she entered our names into her contacts, we waved goodbye to her. It was somewhat of a relief to see her off, just as it was to meet her in the first place.

“So, that was interesting, huh?” Juniper observed.

“Mhm. Didn’t expect to run into Demetria, either. I thought she was pursuing her Master’s degree. Maybe she graduated already.”

“Oh! I didn’t even think about that!”

Juniper locked her fingers within mine, and the two of us went back into our apartment. The day had turned out to be quite overwhelming, though a large portion of it was a good kind of overwhelming.

Once we were both on the couch and curled up next to each other, I pieced something together of my own.

“Remora really was Rhea.”

“Huh?” Juniper looked up at me.

“Well, not the one that we knew. If I had to guess, I’d say it was similar to how I met another you once.”

Though such a thing wasn’t something I expected to encounter ever again. Still, there was no doubt in my mind; Even if I had deduced without total confirmation, since I believed I had an answer as to why I thought of Rhea so much around Remora, I also believed that was all the more reason to treat her as if she were someone new.

#wriitng #remoras full #old friends #enemies to friends #some minor reveals #stories #vesuvius #remora #rhea #demeter #lgbt #wives

[sam-lives-story]

#SamLives - Chapter 8

“Bump In The Night”

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Also find the latest chapters of this story on [Archive Of Our Own]

October 24th, 2015

Jack had finished recording for the day, and he was more than ready to head to bed. A yawn escaped him and he stretched both arms over his head, arching his back against his desk chair. He felt a few joints pop as he did so. Oof…he’d been sitting for too long. Maybe it was time to invest in one of those standing desks…?

The Irishman stood and ruffled his hair - vibrant green, which was a very recent change for him - to try and get rid of the dent left by his headphones. He took his time in turning off his equipment and shutting everything down before leaving the room. It had been a good recording day. He’d managed to finish Fran Bow today as well, and holy hell if that hadn’t been a good game. He already knew he was going to miss playing it. A soft smile graced his features and he strolled down the hall toward the bathroom, scratching the back of his head. Yeah. Fran was fun. He hoped he got the chance to play another game he could do voices for. Maybe for Undertale? That was one he’d been looking at starting soon too…

A noise from his bedroom made him pause outside the open door, his eyes flicking between the bedroom’s handle and the closed bathroom door further down the hall. What was that…?

The noise didn’t repeat, so Jack ducked his head into his bedroom and turned on the light, frowning. Blue eyes searched the now-illuminated space…and…oh. He rolled his eyes. There was a pile of Sams that he usually kept at the corner of his dresser, stacked up in front of the mirror above his sock drawer. They were from fans, from his community, all sent to him from all over the world. It always made him smile to see them and it made him want more and more to try and go to a convention, so he could meet people face-to-face. He hadn’t been to many yet.

Anyway, he normally kept the Sam pile stacked on the corner of his dresser, but at the moment most of them were on the floor. Not that it surprised him. They were all round, so if one toppled, it was basically expected that a whole bunch of them would roll off the edge too. Ah well. Jack padded across the room in socked feet and crouched to pick them up, stacking them in his arms one by one, standing once he’d gather them all. He dumped them onto the dresser again with the intent of - maybe - straightening them in the morning. Then he turned to the door, ready to leave it at that.

Which he would have done…if it weren’t for the fact that he saw something move out of the corner of his eye.

Jack paused mid-step and glanced over his shoulder again, more tense than before. What was that? He narrowed his eyes at the pile of Sams…and that’s when he saw it. One of the Sams moved. Jack blinked and his breath hitched. What the hell…? He crouched in front of the dresser and he stared at the one he thought had moved. It was about the size of a normal eye, maybe a little bigger…and it was almost shiny. Not plush, like the rest.

Jack blinked.

Sam blinked back.

“fUCKIN’ JAYSUS–“

In his haste to scramble back from the dresser, Jack tripped over his own feet and ended up sprawling backwards across his bedroom floor. He shuffled backward until his back was pressed against the front of his nightstand with the knob from the drawer digging into his shoulder blade. What. The fuck. What the fuck. What the FUCK?!

“Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry—!”

Jack was breathing heavily and his eyes were wide as saucers…but the tiny, scared voice he heard in the back of his mind made him pause. It was unfamiliar yet familiar all at once, unknown but a friend. He swallowed thickly and sat up a little, shifting to his knees.

“…h-hello?”

A small squeak sounded from the other side of the room and Jack saw the Sam pile twitch. He took a deep breath. Jack had an odd feeling that he knew exactly what was going on, as ridiculous as it sounded in his head. This…this was absolutely impossible, but at the same time…it was the only thing that made sense. He stood up slowly.

“Sam?”

It felt stupid, saying it out loud. He was talking to a pile of plushies, why should he expect a response? But then…

“J-Jack?”

Jack took another, shaking breath and inched forward across the bedroom. Sam - real, living Sam - was sitting between a giant Sam plush the size of a basketball, and a few smaller ones that had been hand-knitted by fans. He was shaking where he sat, his optic nerve - tail? - curled around his front as if to protect himself. His eye - pupil? Iris? He was an eye - was wide and it was clear that he was scared, nervous.

Sam looked just as scared as Jack felt, if not more so.

“Y-Yeah,” Jack breathed, nodding. “Yeah. Jack, that’s…that’s me…” He took a few more steps closer to the dresser.

Sam squeaked again and wiggled backward across the dresser’s surface, only unable to go very far because of the giant plush behind him. Jack gasped softly and shook his head, a sudden protectiveness surging through him.

“No…no no no, it’s okay, I’m sorry!” He held up his hands and stopped right in front of the dresser. He crouched until he was more at eye-level - literally - with Sam. “Sorry buddy. Did I…scare ya?”

Sam blinked up at him - how the hell did he blink without having eyelids? - and seemed to nod. The little eyeball had yet to stop shaking. He stared at Jack for a long moment, neither of them saying a word, both of them watching the other. It was Sam who broke the silence.

“…not mad?”

Jack was still trying not to think too hard on the fact that he was hearing a voice in the back of his head and instead just shook his head, a soft smile playing across his lips.

“No, o’ course not,” he spoke softly. A quiet chuckle left him. “Why would I be mad?”

“You…shouted.” The words sounded whispered in the back of his mind and Sam hid behind his tail. Optic nerve? …tail. Jack decided it was a tail. Definitely. That made it cuter.

“Well ya did scare the ever-livin’ shite out o’ me,” Jack admitted with a sheepish smile. He rested his chin on his arms on the edge of the dresser. “Can’t say I’ve ever seen somethin’ like you before.” A pause. “…and I still can’t decide if I’m dreamin’ or not.”

A small, almost childlike giggle came to life in his mind and he couldn’t help the affectionate chuckle that left him at the sound. Sam peeked out from beneath his tail, his expression seeming more cheerful than before, if not a little nervous still. (How did an eyeball show emotions? It was so strange to watch…it was like his iris and pupil moved in a way that they shouldn’t, like they were his sole form of facial expression and they morphed to match his emotions. It was weird as fuck…and so damn cool.)

“If you’re dreaming then so am I,” Sam giggled. He seemed to slowly become more comfortable and he let his tail drop away from his ‘face’. Pupil? Iris.

“That’s exactly what dream-Sam would say,” Jack teased. Teasing and joking. His default.

While it wasn’t the best way to face a problem, it sure made him feel a hell of a lot more comfortable in the face of such an uncertain situation. He glanced toward the still-open door, then back to Sam. What would Sam do if he left to brush his teeth? Would he even still be here at all? Or would this all turn out to be some hallucination brought on my his sleep-deprived and caffeine-fueled state of mind…?

“Jack…?”

“Hm?” Jack blinked his thoughts away and dragged his eyes back to Sam, who kept glancing up at him and away again with a nervous look in his eye. “What’s up?”

“Can I…sleep with you, on the bed? I’m scared…”

And, shit, if that wasn’t the most adorable and precious thing he’d heard in his life. His heart melted and an adoring smile flickered to life on his face. Forget brushing his teeth. One night without clean teeth wouldn’t kill him.

“Of course you can,” Jack nodded, and after a moment’s uncertainty he reached toward Sam. The little eye shrank in on himself nervously, and Jack instantly paused in his motions. He thought about it…then he turned his hand over, palm up. And he waited. He didn’t move, didn’t breath. Sam eyed his hand with uncertainty at first. Jack could almost feel his apprehension, his nervousness…or maybe he really could feel it? It was the same feeling he got when Sam was talking to him, a little nudge in the back of his mind. Jack didn’t have long to ponder it however, because as soon as he felt it, it was gone again. Sam jumped lightly onto Jack’s palm - eyeballs could jump? Who knew? - and he wrapped his tail around one of Jack’s fingers, holding on.

Sam felt almost as one might expect a sentient eyeball to feel, Jack supposed. Smooth, almost soft. Not slimy though. Just…smooth. Like he was holding a baby. A very green, very tiny baby shaped like a ping pong ball.

…yeah, great metaphor Jack. You should definitely give up YouTube to become an author. Definitely.

But beyond that, Sam was surprisingly warm. It was almost comforting, and as Jack carefully carried the little eyeball over to his bed he couldn’t help but wonder why he had even been scared of the little guy in the first place. Come on, it was Sam he was talking about here. He’d never pictured Sam as anything other than friendly and sweet…so why would the real deal be any different?

Forget the fact that Sam shouldn’t even exist at all, because Jack was still wholly convinced that this was just a very realistic dream.

Resigning himself to sleeping in his t-shirt and boxers, Jack tipped Sam onto the other pillow and shucked off his jeans, slipping into bed and flicking off the lights. He felt Sam bounce across the covers a few times before snuggling in near his chest…and as Jack closed his eyes he could have sworn he heard the little eyeball purring.

What a weird dream.

When Jack awoke the next morning, it was to glass breaking somewhere in the apartment. He sat bolt-upright on the bed, eyes flying wide and pulse racing. What the hell…? His gaze flickered rapidly around the room, taking in the scene. The Sam pile on his dresser was still in disarray from last night, but a quick search of his bed didn’t offer him any proof that Sam himself had ever been there. The little eyeball was gone, and for a brief, relieving moment Jack could almost convince himself that it had all been a very realistic, very strange dream.

Almost.

Except for the fact that not too long after he had been awoken by shattering glass, a small, distant voice had started murmuring in the back of his mind in a quick, panicked tone.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no…!”

Jack swallowed thickly. Either this was a very long and very convincing dream…or what he had witnessed last night had been far from fiction. His eyes fell on the barely-opened bedroom door and they remained there, locked on the sliver of light between door and frame. Wake up. Wake up, Jack. He had to wake up…

The Irishman reached across his own body with a shaking hand to pinch at his arm.

The fact that he could feel the pain from it didn’t lessen his fears whatsoever.

Jack took one breath, then another. Sam’s voice in the back of his head was still distant and equally panicked. Obviously something had happened out there…so Jack dragged himself out of bed and shuffled across the bedroom to figure out what had been broken. It was more of an afterthought than anything else that had him stepping into his slippers. Just in case. The hallway beyond his bedroom was illuminated by white ceiling lights, lights that he only now realized he had never turned off last night. He made his way down the hall and turned left at the door to his recording room, passing it by in favor of heading toward the main part of the apartment. The hallway opened out into the living room, and beyond that was a half-wall and a doorway that led to the kitchen.

The kitchen. That’s where Sam’s voice was coming from, Jack realized, because as he drew closer to the doorway the small voice in the back of his head grew slowly in volume, just like it would if Sam had been speaking aloud. God, this was still so strange…

“Sam?”

A squeak sounded from somewhere in the kitchen - an actual squeak, not one in his mind - and Jack ducked through the doorway, looking around. Broken glass sparkled against the edge of the counter and the kitchen floor, the remains of what Jack could easily make out as a glass from the cupboard above the counter. Blue eyes raised slowly until he spotted Sam.

The little eyeball was hiding just barely out of sight on the bottom shelf of the cupboard, his tail tucked around himself and his entire being shaking. He had his eye closed tightly and he looked so very scared. Jack didn’t say anything for a moment.

“…Sam? What happened? You okay, buddy?”

“Sorry sorry sorry sorry–”

“Hey, woah, Sam. Calm down!” Jack stepped carefully over the majority of the glass and reached up, gently lifting Sam out of the cupboard and cradling the little eyeball close to his chest. It was almost automatic, but at the same time he was a little nervous. He didn’t know how to handle the little guy just yet. How gentle did he have to be? Would he hurt Sam if he wasn’t careful? Sam squeaked at being picked up, but he didn’t seem hurt. Just…scared. He buried his ‘face’ into the blue and grey fabric of Jack’s t-shirt, hiding.

“What th’ hell were you tryin’ to do?” Jack asked, glancing at what remained of his glassware. “Those things are heavy for ya. You could’ve gotten hurt!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t…d-didn’t mean to break it…just wanted water…”

“Nah, it’s fine, I have more glasses. But you – wait. Water?” Jack asked stupidly. He stared down at Sam’s shaking form for a moment. “Ye mean…to drink?”

“Uh-huh.”

“But you don’t have a mouth.”

The words sounded idiotic leaving his mouth. But really, could you blame him? How the hell did an eyeball drink water?

“I don’t…um…need a mouth.”

“…uh…” Jack blinked blankly at Sam, then sighed. Okay. Sure. Whatever. Sam existed, and that was insane, so why the hell would he need a mouth? He didn’t need a mouth to talk, he’d made that quite apparent already. “…yeah, sure. Hang on…”

Jack reached up into the cupboard and pushed a few things aside, pulling out a small plastic bowl instead. Just in case. He filled it most of the way one-handedly and stepped over the broken glass again, sitting the bowl down on a part of the counter that wasn’t littered with sparkling debris. Sam perked up and shifted in Jack’s hold, peering over the edge of Jack’s hand with a wide eye. He looked back at Jack with something akin to wonder in his gaze, as though Jack helping him was an absolutely magical moment.

“Thank you!”

If Jack hadn’t already fallen into total adoration when it came to his odd little eyeball son, those two words would have finally tipped him over the edge. He chuckled and carefully set Sam on the counter beside the bowl.

“‘Course, bud. No problem.” He smiled softly. “Now stay away from the broken glass, alright? I’ll get it all cleaned up. Don’t want ya hurtin’ yourself, right?”

Sam giggled. Cute kid.

The glass didn’t take long to clean up, not really. It was only a cup. Jack figured Sam had been trying to get it out of the cupboard and it had fallen. How he had even gotten up there was a mystery to Jack, but he could ask about that later. For now he was still processing the fact that Sam was definitely very real, and definitely sitting two feet away on his kitchen counter. Jack leaned the broom against his sink and let his eyes linger on Sam for a moment, the little eyeball splashing happily in the plastic bowl.

How was it possible that Sam even existed? Sam was a fictional character, an imaginary, personified version of his own infected eye from childhood. Sam wasn’t even named until after Jack had been doing YouTube for a few years. It was realistically impossible.

Sam wiggled in the bowl, and Jack now realized that half the water was gone from the container. How…? He paid more attention, and this time he noticed that every so often Sam would close his eye and it looked almost like the little eyeball was taking a breath…then the water would go down a little bit.

“How’re you doin’ that?” he asked, more bluntly than he meant to. Sam blinked his eye open and spun around in the water to look up at Jack.

“Doing what?”

“Drinking…sorta.”

“Oh, um…” Sam blinked and looked down at the water he was sitting in. He was quiet for a moment, thinking, then he looked back up at Jack. “I don’t really know. Kinda like…um…a sponge, I think?”

“A sponge.” A smile twitched at the corner of his lips. “Maybe your name should’ve been Sam Septicsponge instead.”

Sam giggled in the back of Jack’s mind and the YouTuber found himself chuckling as well despite himself. A sponge. So Sam basically absorbed water in order to drink it. That was so fucking cool…and so fucking weird.

It was official. He was gonna need coffee for this.

Oddly enough, going about his usual morning routine with Sam around…wasn’t that strange or different. He made his coffee and some breakfast and sat down to watch some television, all the while thumbing through his social media to catch up on what he’d missed while he was asleep. Sam had hopped up onto his shoulder to go along with him when he left the kitchen, and the little eyeball just ended up curled up on the couch beside Jack while he ate his food. At one point a single Cheerio fell off his spoon onto the tabletop and Sam had perked up, curiosity getting the best of him as he bounced up onto the table. He poked at it with his tail and rolled around it, eyeing it from all sides, then Jack watched in odd fascination while Sam “ate” it. The little eyeball got right up close to the piece of cereal and rolled over it, and it sort of…disintegrated and faded into the green surface of Sam’s…eye. And it was gone. Eaten, apparently.

Jack had to force himself to stop staring after that happened.

Recording was almost the same as before, except now there was a green eyeball sitting on his desk beside his keyboard and beside another fan-made version of Sam that he kept there for fun. Jack had to work a little harder than usual to keep his focus on the game in front of him, especially when he was hearing occasional reactions from Sam in the back of his head. At first he was almost worried that people would suspect something was up, that he wasn’t quite as into his recording as usual…but he brushed it off. It was Trollface Quest. It was a goofy little game, and if anybody did think he was acting out of the ordinary, it wouldn’t be that big of a deal, would it?

At some point between recording Trollface Quest and starting up Undertale for the first time, Jack noticed a bit of silence in the room that hadn’t been there before. It took him a moment to realize what the difference was.

Sam. Sam was fast asleep on the corner of the desk, his tail curled around him and his eye closed. Despite himself, Jack felt a small, affectionate smile find its way to his face.

At the start of all of this - in the moment of panic last night, when Jack had seen Sam come to life for the first time - he had been so scared, so panicked. So downright terrified. But now, only half a day later…he was beginning to think that he shouldn’t let himself worry. He shouldn’t let himself be so frightened. This was Sam, after all. Sam, who he had created himself…Sam, who he had always pictured to be a friend of his. Sam wouldn’t hurt him. He never could. The poor little guy had been so scared when he’d first shown up too, as though he thought Jack might throw him out or try to get rid of him. And he was depending on Jack, now.

Having Sam in his life, Jack realized, would be a lot like having a pet, and a lot like having a kid. Sam felt like something in-between the two. A familiar, his mind supplied. A friend he could count on no matter what.

Jack took off his headphones and stood up from his seat, slipped around the blue curtain he had hung up for recording and crossed the room. He picked up the shirt that was still lying there in a crumpled heap from - what - two days ago? - and brought it back to the desk. It only took him a few seconds to wad it up into something akin to a nest, and when he moved Sam off of the hard desk surface and onto the more comfortable bundle of fabric, he heard Sam let out a little contented sigh in the back of his mind.

Yeah…yeah, this could work. This could be really, really good for him, for both of them.

Five minutes later found Jack with his headphones on and his recording in progress, and when the screen appeared for him to name his character in Undertale, he only had to glance at the little nest on the corner of his desk to know what name he would choose.

‘Sam.’

Present Day

Outside the cafe, Jack hit ‘end’ on his phone screen and tucked it into his pocket with a shaking hand, having just finished his call with his mother. He took a slow breath and closed his eyes, focussing on the feeling of Sam’s tail brushing against his fingers from inside his hoodie pocket, focussing on his calming connection in the back of his mind. Sam had been a constant in his life for going on two years now. The thought that the same thing that brought something so pure and happy into his life, could also create something as horrible as Anti…? He shuddered and pushed the thought away. Sam was different. Sam was his friend, his companion. Sam was family.

The Irishman collected himself and stepped back into the cafe, his eyes already seeking out Mark at their table. The other YouTuber looked up from Tim’s pet carrier the moment he saw Jack approaching.

“Want me to hold onto your phone still?”

“…y-yeah. Yeah, actually…that…thanks…” Jack couldn’t get the phone out of his hand quick enough. His breathing and heart rate only began to settle back down to normal once the device was out of sight in Mark’s pocket. He closed his eyes and his free hand tightened into a fist against the tabletop.

“Take a breath, Seán,” Mark said calmly, evenly, a smile in his words. “You did good. How’s your mom?”

“She’s–” Jack broke off and forced himself to breath. Just...breath. Ma. Think about her, not about– “Sh-She’s…” He cleared his throat, forced his fist to uncurl. The action made him wince, his neck still sore from what Anti had– “...she’s good. I told her I missed her, told her to say hi ta Gizmo for me.”

“Did you tell her what happened?”

“Eh…” Jack shrugged sheepishly. “Not...exactly. She hasn’t seen the stream, an’ I warned her not to watch it. I don’t want her seein’ that. She doesn’t watch my videos anyway, but still. Better ta warn her away. An’ it’s not like...not like I can jus’ tell her about my evil alter-ego. I doubt she’d believe me anyway.” A mirthless huff of laughter escaped him. “A few years ago, if anyone had told me I’d be in this situation...shite. I’d call ‘em mad...but I s’ppose after Sam...it’s easier to believe impossible things now, yeah?” He chuckled weakly, and Mark let out a knowing hum.

“Mhm...yeah, I guess so.” A pause. “Have you talked to Robin?”

Jack’s head jerked up, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Not since before the–” The stream. He cleared his throat with a wince. If Mark was suggesting he make another phone call...frankly, he wasn’t sure he had that in him today. “...d-didn’t you talk to him?”

“Well yeah,” Mark nodded, shrugging as he slipped some crackers to Tim. He glanced up to Jack again with a gently pointed look. “But I didn’t tell him the details of what happened, remember? I didn’t tell him what’s really been going on. I think you should do that yourself.”

Jack swallowed, the action catching on a lump in his throat. Tell...Robin? Well, sure, Robin needed to know eventually but...but couldn’t it wait? Or...or better yet, couldn’t Robin just figure it out from the clip on the stream? Or twitter posts, or YouTube comments, or - or–

“You do know you eventually have to tell him everything that’s been happening, right?” Mark’s voice cut through some of his rapidfire thoughts, and Jack flicked his eyes upward toward his friend for the briefest of moments before fixating on the tabletop. “And I mean everything. He’s your closest friend on this side of the world, and your editor. Might not be my place to say so, but he deserves to hear the full truth from you , not draw conclusions from some fanpost on Twitter...or secondhand rumors from another YouTuber.”

“I know,” Jack nodded stiffly, running his free hand through his already-unruly hair while his other continued to seek comfort from just knowing Sam was nearby. The eyeball nuzzled up against his palm inside the hoodie pocket. “I know, I know he does, I know I should tell ‘im but…” He made a pained expression and his fingertips ghosted across the bruised skin of his neck. “...but how do I…how do I explain any of this? How do I apologize for lyin’ to him and hiding all this from him? I...I trusted him with Sam, I should have trusted him with this. And - and - and beyond that–”

It was more than just keeping secrets from his friend. It was more than just not wanting to use his phone right now. It was more than that, because the mere thought of having to explain everything...of having to verbally repeat what had happened in his recording room, what had been happening for weeks...it felt like he would be reliving the moment again. He’d been trying so hard to avoid even thinking about what had happened in too much detail. Explaining all of it, everything, to Robin–

The Irishman’s thoughts were a loud and frantic blur, a quiet panic settling into his chest, just like it had that morning when Mark had brought up the events of the stream. His knee was bouncing beneath the table and his hand - the one not fixated on keeping contact with Sam - had found an imperfection in the table’s surface, his fingers fidgeting and his nails picking at the odd little crack there.

“...beyond that,” he continued hoarsely, “how do I tell him my evil alter-ego came to life and attempted to...to k-kill me, live on camera in front of thousands of people? How do I explain that? How do I – god, the reason I hid it from him in the f-first place, was ‘cause tellin’ somebody else what was h-happening would...it would’ve made it so much more r-real. But then - then the stream happened, and...fuck, Mark. How do I–”

Jack’s voice broke and he ducked his head, fighting back tears he didn’t know were welling in his eyes. He heard Mark’s chair scuff against the cafe floor and felt a warm presence near his right side. He didn’t dare look up.

“I won’t make you tell Robin the truth if you really don’t want to,” Mark told him, and Jack saw the taller man crouch down beside his chair out of the corner of his eye. He felt a warm hand on his shoulder. “But you should try. Maybe not right now, but soon. Robin should be in the loop about all this. I mean, c’mon man, if I tried to keep something like this from Amy or Kathryn - shit. I don’t think I could do it.” It was quiet for a moment, and Jack was vaguely aware of the fact that many people had left since he’d gone out to make his phone call. “I can try and help explain it to him if you want. I’m literally going through the exact same bullshit right now. Minus the attempts on my life, but you know what I mean.”

“You’d do that?” Jack asked, glancing to the side to catch Mark’s gaze. The American’s expression was warm and reassuring, just like his tone of voice, and Jack couldn’t help but feel at least a little hopeful thanks to his friend. Mark smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the motion.

“Hell yeah I’d do that,” Mark nodded. “But you’ve gotta promise me something.”

“What?”

“I wanna see Sam fly.”

And Jack was giggling, the laughter echoed by Sam in the back of his mind. Leave it to Mark to turn a serious situation into something funny and lighthearted.

“Heh...sure. It’s a deal.”

[A/N] So…how about them Egos, huh? ^^ Dude Jack has been going NUTS with the videos recently! I’m happy to see both him and Robin having so much fun with the new, creative content. Good for them! On another note, apologies that this took so long to get out! I had this chapter written a week and a half ago and I honestly forgot to post it. So here! But just a note, future updates WILL be slow. The first few were out with only a day between them, but it’s harder to find time to write now. I’m not giving up on this though! I have ideas! Just you wait and see! <3

Also find the latest chapters of this story on [Archive Of Our Own]

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[Chapter List]

#SamLives #Sam Lives #Jacksepticeye #Sam Septiceye #JSE #JSE Fanfic #Jacksepticeye FanFic #Markiplier #Jack #Mark #Sam #Robin #Chapters #8 #Bump In The Night #Green Bean

[dreamss-of-boston]

Rise - ch5

ahh i totally thought i posted this here earlier but i completely forgot! theres more levi in this chapter, i feel like ive been neglecting him lately haha thank u for reading! love u bye

-the discussion-

link on AO3!

A thick silence filled the room; Hange sat back, proud of herself, and of the fact that Sonya was speechless. Her jaw hung open, her gaze dropped to the table in front of her.

“Capture… one of those… things?” She said quietly.

“Yes!” Hange said. “Imagine how much we’ll learn! We might be able to dissect it, maybe even develop some kind of communication with it… the possibilities are endless!”

“We’ll need to establish an area to hold it, first.” Moblit interjected. “We can’t just keep it in the dining hall or something.”

“Obviously, we will set to work on building an area to hold the titan starting tomorrow.” Erwin said calmly, taking a sip from his tea. “We should take all necessary precautions, and then some.”

While the officers sat and discussed the matter nonchalantly, Sonya was thrown into a state of panic and anger. How dare they? How dare they think that they could capture a titan and treat it as if it were something fascinating, something valuable to learn from? How dare they even give it the respect of a caged dog? Capturing a titan was too humane, in Sonya’s eyes. While the officers seemed to be relatively unbothered-- rather, quite excited-- at the prospect of capturing a titan, Sonya couldn't believe what she was hearing. How could they open the gates to their home, and willingly usher in evil? All she could think of was how easily Anna’s body was ripped in two, as if she were a stale piece of bread…

“Sonya.”

Levi’s voice beside her brought her up to the surface. Sonya’s breath hitched as she turned to look at him-- he was gazing at her intently, studying her, while the rest of the officers chattered on.

“Sorry.” She said instinctively, rubbing her forehead. No-- she shouldn’t be sorry. She needed to speak up for Anna.

Sonya set her jaw, and lifted her chin bravely to glare straight at Erwin. “Commander,” She said.

Erwin and the others stopped speaking politely, and turned to Sonya.

“Yes?” Erwin said.

“I don’t think this is right. At all.” Sonya was incredibly tense, but she needed to keep her composure in order to get her point across. “I think capturing a titan is too humane. Those… those monsters have killed so many of our comrades, and you want to-- to chain one up and hold a magnifying glass up to its eye to see if it blinks?”

“Now that I think of it, I’ve never seen one blink…” Hange muttered under her breath.

Sonya huffed in annoyance. “Not only is it wrong morally, but lawfully-- I mean, isn’t that violating of one of those treaties, or whatever they’re called? Isn’t it illegal to do anything that puts humanity at risk? Wouldn’t you agree that capturing a titan, bringing it here, where there’s thousands of humans…” Sonya had to take a deep breath. Her voice was getting louder, and she was visibly becoming more upset. After a moment, she continued. “I just don't think it's wise to capture a titan with our present set of tools. We should advance our own technology or something, maybe make specialized equipment before we jump into a situation like this.”

Erwin sat, gazing at the table thoughtfully in silence. The rest of the officers looked rather stoic, processing all of what Sonya said. Timidly, she glanced at Levi out of the corner of her eye, because she found that she cared what he thought. To her irritation, he looked neutral as ever, not betraying a single emotion.

“You may be right.” Erwin finally said. Sonya didn't hide her surprise in her face, as she stared incredulously at her fair-haired commander. “This is a gamble. Not only will securing the titan in a safe place be challenging, but the act alone of capturing a titan will be an incredible feat, requiring large amounts of skill.” He folded his hands, perching them under his chin. “However, the only way we have made any progress in the past was by taking risks. By gambling. The modern navigating system we use today with our flares outside the walls was once a gamble-- and while the risk we took still resulted in multiple casualties,” He glanced for a moment at Levi, “ultimately, it paid off.” Levi stared at Erwin for a moment, and Sonya wondered what the unspoken line of communication was.

Erwin rose, placing his hands on the table. “It was smart of you to think of the lawful implications of what we are doing-- for once, we cannot move under the noses of the Military Police or the Noblemen, as the attention on the Survey Corps has been heightened due to our higher than normal mortality rate recently. Therefore,” He looked up, and hooked Sonya with his piercing stare. “I am assigning you to visit the Capitol with me, Hange, Levi, and Moblit to submit our formal proposal to the parliament.”

“Wh-- huh?” Sonya said, completely blind-sided. “Why?”

“It will be beneficial to have your viewpoint coming from our side-- a new recruit who doesn't agree with us.” Erwin said matter-of-factly.

“The Military Police will love you.” Eld said with a smirk.

Sonya sat, left with her mouth gaping for the second time that night.

“Well! That settles it.” Hange said with a smile. “I’m starving-- let’s go to dinner!”

And before she knew it, the officers were up and exiting the little kitchen, chatting about this and that as if a serious discussion hadn’t just taken place.

“Are you gonna sit there with your mouth open the whole night?” Levi asked irritably, nudging her arm as he stood up, taking a last swig of his tea.

Sonya jumped a little, becoming irritated with herself that she had been caught off-guard too much recently. With a sigh, she stood, joining the Captain in the hallway leading to the dining area. She wasn’t feeling very hungry after the discussion she had stumbled upon; all she really wanted to do was curl up under about a million blankets and sleep for a few days.

“Sonya,” Levi said quietly, stopping her in her tracks. Sonya turned to see Levi staring out of the window to their right, looking at nothing in particular. The setting sun cast that same golden hue from the day before, when she had heard him say her first name for the first time. “Think what you want. Trust your gut-- it might not always be right, but in the end, the most valuable thing is that you decide for yourself how to think and what to do. However,” with a huff, he crossed his arms. “When it comes to Erwin or Hange… you can trust them, too.”

Sonya didn’t say anything; she simply took in the sight of the man considered to be the most skilled killer in all of humanity. He stood before her with such ease, and he spoke with such assurance-- while Captain Levi was rightly recognized as terrifying and cruel, Sonya had seen nothing but compassion recently. She liked having small moments with the Captain-- it made her feel less alone.

“I’ll trust them,” she said finally, “because I trust you.”

That caused Levi to hook her gaze with his own, and for a fleeting moment, Sonya thought she saw-- was that gratitude? While holding eye contact with the dark-haired man was intimidating more than anything, she felt like it was the most natural thing in the world; she could do this for hours.

Before she got completely lost in the moment, Sonya remembered what she had bought in town.

“Oh! Levi-- erm, Captain.” She quickly corrected herself, smiling nervously as she reached in her bag, pulling out a white handkerchief. “I saw this in town; thought you might need a new one.”

Levi looked down in surprise, staring at the piece of cloth. Sonya couldn’t believe she had surprised him with nothing more than a handkerchief, and when his gaze shot back up to meet hers, she saw that he looked confused more than anything. Did he really forget what had happened yesterday?

Her green eyes held his dark grey ones for quite some time-- neither was sure how to break this interaction off, but neither of them really wanted it to end. She felt her insides coil tighter the longer they held eye contact, and finally, she looked away with a nervous laugh and a dopey smile.

“Well, anyway, I hope you like it.” Sonya wasn’t sure what to do with the handkerchief, but paused, and decided to do a very Herschel-like thing. Why? Just for the fun of it, she reasoned.

Sonya reached down, bravely grabbed Levi’s hand, and placed the handkerchief in his grasp, slowly folding his fingers over the cloth. She looked him in the eyes once again, and found that once her gaze met his, he raised his eyebrow ever so slightly. Was that… a challenge? For her to do something more? She felt a warmth begin to spread from her gut, blossoming throughout her nerves. Sonya was a coward; she gave him a little smile-- and before he could say or do anything, she swished down the hallway fast enough so that he didn’t see her blush and smile even wider to herself.

[-]

“I think it's amazing!” Ada Klaufman exclaimed, rubbing the window in front of her with vigor.

Sonya, Ada, and Mabel Schmidt were assigned with cleaning the west of HQ's windows for the start of the afternoon. Their morning had started with breakfast, and then they were summoned to the courtyard for an announcement from Commander Erwin. The soldiers had chattered amongst themselves about what the meeting could possibly be about, while Sonya knew with a sort of sense of dread.

The night before, she had been trying to convince herself to come around to the idea of capturing and aiding in the keeping of a titan, but each time she thought of the grotesque lips masking dangerous teeth, the stench of rot steaming from their hollow bodies, the dead, hungry eyes…

She could feel nothing but rage for titans at the moment. In some rational part of her mind, Sonya was thinking that capturing a titan would be a means to an end: a relatively small action taken to ensure the safety and survival of mankind. If they had a titan within arms reach and were able to study it and take it apart, surely they could learn some sort of new information about them. She knew that, in some way-- but for now, she was choosing not to accept it.

Outwardly, though, Sonya chose to display herself as neutral. That tactic had saved her many times in the past, as she had never gotten on anyone’s bad side. So, as Erwin gave the announcement of the upcoming expedition to the soldiers in the courtyard, she kept her face as stoic as possible while the soldiers around her visibly reacted, either murmuring their doubts or declaring their pride. The conversations and debates about the upcoming expedition spread among the soldiers, and it was all anyone seemed to be talking about.

And, as Sonya, Mabel, and Ada cleaned the windows, they took part in the conversation as well.

“I think we should be careful.” Mabel said while she scrubbed at her own window pane. “If we get too hasty, who knows what could happen?”

“Well, worst case scenario is the titan breaks free and eats everyone, then somehow finds a way to open the gate and then let all of his friends in.” Sonya joked-- but Mabel and Ada didn’t laugh. In fact, they stopped their actions cold to look at Sonya as if she were insane.

Ada coughed to clear the tension. “Uh… Hey, Sonya, I heard Captain Levi gave you the day off yesterday?”

“Yeah,” Sonya smiled. “I went into town and I got this.” She gestured to the red ribbon currently securing her chestnut curly hair in a bun. Despite how tightly she put her hair up at the beginning of every day, it always found ways to slowly poke out and around her head, giving the skilled soldier an heir of constant messiness. Which, given the state of her living quarters, wasn’t an entirely false look.

“It’s pretty.” Mabel smiled, and shot a playful look at Ada. “Ada was just asking because she’s madly in love with the Captain.”

Sonya involuntarily let out a loud laugh.

“What?!” Ada almost shrieked, gripping her cleaning rag with ferocity. “I told you never to tell anyone!”

“Sorry!” Mabel laughed. “I just thought Sonya ought to know, so that she doesn’t put the moves on your man.”

“I don’t think anybody can succeed in putting any moves on Levi.” Sonya laughed. “He wouldn’t know how to respond to anything!”

“I bet Ada would know how to seduce him-- she’s probably imagined it a million times.” Mabel grinned.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up.” Ada was now hiding her face in her hands, the only thing visible being her strawberry blonde hair in two braids.

“Your ears are as red as your hair!” Sonya could barely hold it together, seeing Ada in such a state.

“Tell us, Ada, how would you woo the Captain?” Mabel put the back of her hand on her forehead dramatically, and leaned into the stone wall of HQ. “Ohh, he’s so strong! I have the perfect wooden box for him to stand on so that he could kiss me!”

“He's not that short!” Ada protested, putting her hands on her hips, thus exposing her cherry red face to the delight of Sonya and Mabel.

“Oh, Captain Levi!” Sonya joined in, and dropped her rag on the floor. “I seem to have dropped my towel…” and she leaned down, legs straight, arching her back to stick her ass out suggestively in front of Ada while she retrieved her rag. Mabel was currently on the floor in hysterics, but not just because of Sonya’s antics.

“Ahem.”

Right behind Ada was the one and only Captain Levi, with a perfect view of… everything Sonya and Mabel were doing.

Sonya, of course, couldn't recognize the Captain based on the clearing of his throat alone, but she had a pretty good guess of just who was behind her, because the universe really loved fucking her over lately. She held her breath, and slowly stood up, suddenly feeling very small. Mabel's stifled laughter was the only sound in the hallway as Sonya turned around to face the Captain, who, she was surprised to find, looked painfully bored.

“Are you brats finished?” He sighed.

“Yes.” Sonya mumbled.

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow, and turned to peer out the window. “I can hardly see through clearly.”

Mabel groaned, grimacing as she glared up at the ceiling.

“S-sorry, sir.” Ada said timidly. “We'll get right on it.”

Levi glanced at Ada, who shrunk under his stare. “Don't be a dumbass,” he said, turning to look at Sonya, “and drop your rag on the floor. It can't be good for the windows.”

“You're right, sir.” Sonya sighed-- he would not call her a dumbass and get away with it. “I have just the solution!” She exclaimed proudly, and right as she said that, she could tell that Levi had already guessed what she would say next, as he shifted from bored to straight up miffed. “Want me to spit on it?”

#levi x oc #levi fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction #snk fanfiction #aot fanfiction

[majesticmarais]

Ok, so ive had this really sad concept in my head for a while... You and Jonah have these cute lil rings for each other, they arent promise rings, but might as well be. Then he becomes distant and blows you off a lot, and you notice he left his ring on his bedside table for a few days; it takes a lot from you, but you take yours off and set it next to his, then he decides its time to pull his head out of his ass and make things right.

This…..this is so sad. You’re cruel in the best way!!! ;) love you I hope this is good!! I wanted to make it kind of a sad ending because idk wanted to switch it up from the usual quick forgiveness

You rolled over to an empty bed, the spot where Jonah always was was empty in his wake, the bed sheets smoothed over perfectly on his side.

The two of you hadn’t had a morning together in what felt like forever, and every day felt like Jonah was getting further and further away from you.

You rolled out of bed, deciding to give Jonah a call once you had taken a shower and eaten breakfast.

“Hey Y/n!” he exclaimed, wherever he was causing a lot of background noise.

“Hey, Jo, where are you? Missed you this morning,” you muttered, staring down at the ring on your finger that Jonah had gotten you a while ago.

“Oh I’m out with the guys, I left early,” he replied.

“Weren’t we supposed to go out today? Lunch date, remember?” you reminded him.

“Sorry Y/n I’m already with the guys, we can do it another time,” he said in a gentle tone, making your heart sink in disappointment like it had been a lot recently.

“Sure, I’ll leave you to it,” you said quietly, trying to hide the sadness in your voice but probably not doing a very good job.

“See you later,” he said before hanging up, not even ending with an “I love you” like he always used to do.

Jonah had been blowing you off a lot lately, and pulling himself away, but you didn’t understand why and he seemed to be oblivious to it. You tried talking to him about it but never got any real response in return.

You tried to push the thoughts out of your mind, jogging upstairs and flopping down on the couch, mentally brainstorming on what to do today since you were on your own.

You sat up, and noticed something glistening in the yellow light of the sun shining through the open window, Jonah’s ring on his bedside table.

You reached over and picked it up, rotating it between your thumb and index finger as you examined it, an uneasy feeling washing over you when you realized he had never left it at home before. It almost never came off.

“Maybe he just forgot,” you whispered to yourself, putting it right back where you left it, forcing the tears back.

*

Jonah’s ring stayed on the bed side table the following few days, and you didn’t have the courage to mention it to him. 

You tried figuring out whether or not he did it on purpose, if he simply forgot or if he really just didn’t feel the same way that he did before.

You stood in front of the table, staring at the ring still on your finger as you rotated it, sliding it off gently as you kept it in your hand.

You had worn the ring every day since Jonah had given it to you, and he had done the same with his until recently, and you didn’t want to think about what that meant.

You let out a loud sigh as you set yours down next to his, walking away immediately, shutting the door behind you, leaving something so symbolic behind, mentally telling yourself not to go put it back on. If Jonah was going to take his off, so would you.

You wiped a tear from your eye, leaving the house alone, wondering if Jonah would even notice that you had put your ring with his.

*

Jonah sat on the edge of the bed after noticing that your ring was placed next to his, his head in his hands.

His heart raced as he worried about what you would say when you got home. The thought of you leaving broke his heart, and he didn’t know how to fix it.

He slid the ring back on his finger, muttering to himself as he realized how stupid he was, and how special and important this was to you, and how he just let that fly over his head.

The door opened and his head shot up, waiting for you to enter the room, racking his brain for how to apologize, searching for words to say, anything to make you stay.

You jumped back a little at the sight of him, not expecting him to be there, the ring placed back on his finger with yours in his hands.

“You took it off?” he asked, his eyes glossy as he looked up at you from his side of the bed.

“You took yours off first,” you mumbled, kicking your shoes off as you avoiding his stare.

“I know, Y/n, I’m sorry I don’t know what I was thinking,” he tried to apologize, knowing he wasn’t doing a very good job.

“Well if you were trying to hurt me even more than you already were than you did a good job, Jonah,” you snapped.

“What-no, Y/n I would never try to hurt you,” he defended, standing up and walking towards you.

“Then why have you been so distant Jonah? Blowing me off, having nothing to say? That was bad enough but then you took the ring off and I know it sounds so stupid but I really thought it meant something to you, Jo,” you ranted, his nickname burning your throat as it left your mouth.

“It does, Y/n, I’ve just been so caught up in doing stuff with the guys and everything that I haven’t thought about it. I know it’s not an excuse and I’m so stupid, I didn’t think it would upset you that much and I just didn’t really think,” he started, taking a deep breath as he desperately tried to redeem himself.

“I love you so much and I guess I became distant because I figured you would always be there, that I would be able to come home to you anyway. Everything was just so permanent and my head was so far up my ass that I forgot the main person I have to be there for is you,” he finished, his voice cracking as he reached for your hand, jumping back when you pulled away.

“I feel like you don’t love me anymore,” you mumbled, tears stinging your eyes as you finally admitted to what you had been holding in for a while.

“Y/n I love you more than anything. I’ve just been stupid and I haven’t been thinking and pushing you away and I-I’m so sorry,” he pleaded, wanting to reach for you again, to go back to how things used to be.

“I think you should stay with the guys tonight, I need time to think,” you said, looking down at the floor, trying to hide the painful expression you knew was spread across your face.

“Y/n please no, we can work this out now,” he begged, putting the ring back on your finger gently.

“I need time before we talk about it, Jo. I love you but I can’t forgive you right away,” you replied sternly, wanting to melt into a puddle at his feet like you always did, but you knew you had to stand your ground.

“Okay,” he said in a defeated tone, “I’ll give you time. I’m so sorry, Y/n, I promise you I’ll fix this.”

“I love you,” he added as he walked out the door, his hand hovering over the handle, wanting to run back in and kiss you, but knew things like this couldn’t be fixed like a Disney movie.

“I love you too,” you whispered, not sure if Jonah could hear it, but really hoping that he did.

Tags: @lilah-or-lily​ @justlovingjack​ @averysgarl​ @dailydoseofherron​ @whydontwefanficsrec​ @superseavey​ @itslikeatimelapsebaby​ @vxxn128​ @im-on-something-different​ @crobynbesson​ @thatshiscigar​ @averythingzachherron​ @heyowdw @wdwfluff @aesthetixavery

#jonah marais #jonah marais imagine #jonah marais blurb #jonah marais x reader #jonah x reader #why don't we #why don't we imagine #why don't we blurb #why don't we fanfic #wdw #wdw imagine #wdw blurb #wdw fanfic #imagine #blurb #fanfic #fanfiction #zach herron #corbyn besson #daniel seavey #jack avery #limelight

[quicksilverslover]

Missed Opportunities - Pietro Maximoff x Reader

Three times Pietro missed the opportunity to ask Y/N out and one time he didn't.

Word Count: 1.4K+

Welp. I am pretty new at writing, and my English is... A complicated mix of British, American-ish and Rubbish lol, so I beg your forgiveness for the silly mistakes (like prepositions and such)! Hope you enjoy!

Tagging @thedevilwearsvibranium because I tried a thing (?!¿¡) and she gave me a few tips which I used wised wisely (?!?!?) :^)

x

i.

Late.

He was late.

Pietro wasn't even paying attention to whoever was in front of him. He was just thinking about the Chemistry class, of which the professor was kind of intolerant about punctuality. So yes, of course he had (literally) run into someone, dropping all of their books.

“Er… I am sorry, I…” He started, but shut up as he saw who the person was.

Pietro couldn't believe his luck.

Did God hate him or something?

He had just bumped into Y/N, the girl he'd been eyeing for two months now.

“It… it's ok, Pietro…” She smiled kindly, hypnotizing him to lean down and help her grab the books. He absolutely forgot he was late for Chemistry.

He'd been head over heels for her since the day they met. Okay, maybe not since their very first meeting, but he developed a crush on her pretty quickly.

Pietro returned the Y/N’s books and picked up his own, smiling at her and trying not to look like an idiot. “I'm really sorry, printesa.” The (h/c) girl returned his smile. He then took a deep breath and…

“By the way, I was wondering if-” “Oh.” She cut him, looking at the books on her arms. “This one is yours.” She picked the first book in the pile and handed to him. Pietro read the big word “Chemistry” and felt the blood drain from his face.

“S-Sorry again, Y/N, I'm late for class!!!” He ran past her like a missile, mentally slapping himself for missing the chance to ask her out.

ii.

“Pietro, are you even paying attention?” Y/N asked, waving her hand next to his face. Said boy realized he'd been staring at her without even blinking. He quickly made up an excuse. “It's… This is boring, printesa! Can't we take a break?”

“But we barely went through the first part- ah, forget it…” She sighed in exasperation, yet ended up smiling slightly at Pietro. “You're incorrigible.”

He just chuckled back. Y/N had been meeting with him in the library so she could help him study subjects in which he had difficulty.

That's how Pietro’s sapiosexuality took over his heart and he ended up being a mess around Y/N, which was totally out of character considering his usual flirty behaviour towards everything that breathed. And she seemed just not to notice it. His sister had told him a million times to ask her out and he’d never found the right opportunity to do so.

Well, why not now?

“So, Y/N, how about-” He paused at the vibration of a mobile phone. Y/N’s. On the screen it read “Mum”. He saw her frown at it. Of course she did. It was recently found out by Y/N (and eventually her closest friends, including Pietro) that she was adopted. It was very fresh, and therefore a delicate matter.

“I… I have to pick this up.” She said, trying not to let her voice fail. She grabbed the insistent vibrating mobile phone and whispered an “excuse me for a moment” before leaving the library momentarily.

In Pietro’s defense, the blame was on the circumstances. But he missed his chance again, nonetheless. Even after Y/N came back, she was clearly not in the mood for chit-chatting. And obviously, he respected her, so they just resumed their studies awkwardly.

iii.

To say that Pietro was popular with the girls is an understatement. He was physically attractive. He had a foreign accent (everyone loves foreigners). He was good at sports.

That meant, like in every cliche movie about teenagers, that he was a girl magnet.

Except for the one he actually liked.

x

“You're an idiot.” Wanda said in Sokovian, crossing her arms in disbelief. Pietro was flirting with Amanda, one of the cheerleaders of the football team when his sister arrived. He didn't really mean anything serious with the cheerleader, everyone knew he only had eyes to one girl.

The twins often talked in their native language so no one would understand them. And one of the most frequent subjects was Pietro’s ridiculous lack of attitude towards Y/N. “What is it now, sister?” He rolled his eyes, watching as the girl excused herself.

Wanda discreetly pointed at the nearest grandstand. There sat Y/N herself, wearing earphones and and reading a book. He gulped, again, not believing his luck. When she noticed Pietro’s not so discreet staring, she waved, smiling coyly, as if not very comfortable about something. She had obviously seen the previous scene.

“Go talk to her! If you didn't just screw up any chances you have, of course…” Wanda said, a fake sweet smile on her face as she also waved to Y/N, before giving her brother one last look and leaving.

Pietro knew Wanda was right. Even though everyone knew about his appealing demeanor, Y/N was the last person he wanted to see that. What if she never gave him a chance, for being afraid he wouldn't take her seriously or cheat on her? Of course he would never do that, but he could never tell what Y/N actually thought of him in that aspect.

All those thoughts dragged him down. Yet it didn't stop him from going to sit next to her. “Buna dimineata, printesa~” He gave her his best smile, watching as she marked the page of her book before closing it and removing the earphones.

They talked about several subjects and, eventually, “dating” popped up. He thought about asking Y/N out right then, but dismissed it as a bad idea (and timing). She had seen Pietro flirting with Amanda, so opening up with Y/N about his feelings could be misunderstood and she could think he was a womaniser or something.

So he missed that chance due to pure paranoia and stupidity.

+1: iv.

God seemed to notice Pietro’s struggle after all.

He forgot his scale ruler at the library. It was late afternoon, so he didn't expect to be more people than the library lady. But there was one bookworm that looked up from her notebook and glanced at Pietro, who felt his heart melting. She sent him an inviting smile, and he approached her after retrieving his material.

They talked briefly about what she was studying. And, with that, he found out that Y/N had the habit to study his subjects besides hers, so she could help him later. He had thought that Y/N simply knew everything. Not that she made such effort for him.

And he knew he was screwed. At this point he was probably in love. He tried to act normally, I swear he did. But in the end he earned a laugh from Y/N. “Pietro, you are being a mess. Breathe.” She said among giggles. Well, he was already in hell, might as well dance with the Devil! Looking down, he somehow managed to answer.

“... That is... Because... I like you, printesa. A lot.” He took a deep breath, honestly not knowing what to expect. So that was the sensation of telling someone his feelings and finding himself before the possibility of being rejected. It was the first time for him.

A thousand thoughts ran through his mind, before Pietro finally looked down at Y/N. She was grinning playfully, not surprised at all. “Yes, I know~”

What?

Pietro must have been looked stunned, because she was giggling now. “Believe it or not, it's really easy to know when you and Wanda are talking about me. Plus all the staring, stuttering, blushing...~”

Heat rose to his cheeks. Pietro gave Y/N a seemingly confident smile, trying to hide his utter embarrassment. “I guess you were smarter than us, huh~” he muttered, smirking at himself. Now the big question was: would she return his affections?

“So…” Pietro almost couldn't hear himself. His heart beated faster than a hummingbird's. “Do you wanna go out with me?” He raised both eyebrows, uneasiness practically dripping from his mouth. But he still managed a shy, loving smile.

He only relaxed when Y/N touched his hand, taking it gently. She bit her lip before replying. “Of course I do. I would love to, actually.” She said that so easily, so honestly. “I haven't said anything before because… I was a bit affected by that thing with my parents and-”

For impulse, Pietro approached Y/N before she could finish and finally locked their lips, being corresponded immediately. Right now, neither of them were thinking about anything else in the world.

And all his worries vanished.

x

What the bloody hell was this ending :B

Anyways, I hope you like it more than I did xD

#marvel #maver avengers #avengers age of ultron #age of ultron #pietro maximoff #quicksilver #pietro maximoff x reader #quicksilver x reader #pietro maximoff imagine #quicksilver imagine #5+1 things #except it's 3+1 #3+1 things