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artificialqueens · 3 years

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Me and You Together, 1/? (Taywhora) - Ortega

fic summary: The cardinal rule of having flatmates is that you Do Not Catch Feelings For Your Flatmates, because everything inevitably goes to shit and gets made horrifically awkward. A’whora and Tayce both know this, but being in first year of uni and making good decisions have never really gone hand in hand.

a/n: i honestly have begun this wip with glitter and jesus. i have no idea how many chapters it’s going to have or what exactly the plot is going to be…all i know is that it’s fwb (flatmates with benefits) to lovers taywhora with a background love triangle involving Ellie bc she’s my fav. pls enjoy and pls leave me love because i am a keyworker so really one comment = one 6pm clap xo

P.S. the Friday mentioned in this fic is the one A’whora’s obsessed with and was dancing to on her insta…not the popular Rebecca Black song. also 100 points to anyone who knows the song Lawrence and Ellie get excited about in the club.

content note: they’re freshers at uni in the UK and this country has a binge drinking problem xo. please don’t expect any of these girls to be acting responsibly. if you think you might be influenced by a fic talking about alcohol, smoking, sex and drugs, this might not be for you luv xo

December- Fell in love with her in stages

A year ago if you had asked A’whora what she was doing on a Tuesday night, the answer would’ve been mundane.

Homework, maybe, if she could be bothered. She could always copy it from Mocha in registration, after all. Making tiny outfits for Barbie dolls out of fabric scraps, very probably; she hadn’t stopped doing that just because she was older, the only difference from when she was nine was that she didn’t make her Barbies talk anymore. Invariably she’d stay up til’ well past her bedtime, earphones plugged in to her laptop and trying not to sing along to the playlist of dance music she’d spent a year cultivating. She’d poked fun at her Mum for still giving her a bedtime at the big age of eighteen, but she’d maintained that while her girl was living under her roof it would be bed by eleven on a weeknight and out no later than three on a weekend.

These rules, however, were quickly disposed of as soon as she’d got the keys to her uni flat. As soon as she’d found out her other flatmates were just as riotous and chaotic as she was and loved a night out just as much, her weeks had been filled with nights she’d never forget in bars she couldn’t remember, heads against speakers and sore feet from heels and ridiculous pre-drinks with even more ridiculous cocktails.

One such cocktail is the one her flatmate’s making for her now. Ellie doesn’t have any of the professional equipment a usual bartender would, but that doesn’t seem to stop her- the messy countertops are a treasure trove of obscure liqueurs and alcopops, and Ellie twirls a yellow-blonde curl around her finger before giving a gasp of satisfaction as her hand settles on a sticky green bottle.

“One shot of apple soors, half a can of blue Monster, top up the rest with vodka,” she explains as she works with the various bottles and cans quickly, pouring into the pint glass they’d stolen from one of the pubs on a bar crawl during Freshers Week. She hands it to A’whora with a cheeky, mischievous grin on her painted face.

A’whora sniffs her glass and feels her nose wrinkle up involuntarily at the concoction her flatmate’s poured for her. “Els, if I drink that I’ll die.”

Ellie, to her credit, simply gives a snort of disapproval in response. Her pink acrylics click against the quarter bottle of vodka as she tightens the lid and replaces it in their freezer, all shiny and slick with frost. “Well if you are gonna take three hours to get ready then you’re gonna have to deal with the consequences of playing catch-up, babe.”

“Bitch,” A’whora jokes, rolling her eyes before sipping from her glass. The mixture makes her screw her face up so she takes another sip, then another until the weird sour-sweet-burn in her throat becomes more like a cocktail than cough syrup.

“Good, right?” Ellie prompts her, leaning against their kitchen counter proudly.

“No,” A’whora deadpans, causing her friend to burst out laughing. Then, realising something, she cocks her head. “Wait a second. What the fuck did you call the green drink?”

Ellie frowns. “Soors.”

“…Sourz?” A’whora says back to her, already giggling at the difference in dialects.

“Don’t play the pronunciation game with me, bitch.”

“Oh, I absolutely will when you’re just saying it wrong.”

“Lawrence!” Ellie shouts through to their other flatmate, sitting on the sofa and frowning at the bluetooth speaker as if it’s personally committed some crime against her. Ellie holds up the bottle as Lawrence snaps her head round, dark curls flying over her shoulder. “What’s this?”

“Liquidised heartburn,” she says instantly. A’whora snorts as Ellie rolls her eyes.

“Fuck’s sake. What’s it called?”

“Soors,” Lawrence shrugs back at her, and Ellie gestures triumphantly at A’whora who can only pout in reply.

“Listen, I can get Tia, Bims and Tayce through here and they’d all outnumber you, so. Shut it.”

“Yeah bet you’d love to get Tayce through here, A’whora,” Ellie smirks, raising both her eyebrows at her in an infuriatingly smug expression.

A’whora is clamped for a couple of reasons, the first being the God-awful nickname all her flatmates use against her. She’d managed to acquire it the first time they’d all played Never Have I Ever together and A’whora had drank for pretty much every situation or scenario presented to her. Before she’d known it, her very lovely, very Disney Princess-esque first name had been replaced by a pun that Bimini had come up with in the midst of their third rum and coke, and thus Aurora was dead and A’whora was born.

The second reason for her silence is a result of the mention of one of the girls she’s living with. A’whora had never really expected to develop a crush on any of her flatmates, which had been a ridiculous thing to assume- given the fact she’s attracted to girls and was going to be living with other girls, the odds would dictate that at least one of them would be her type. Luckily, though, she hasn’t developed any feelings for any of them. At least, that’s the lie she’s telling herself, as the cardinal rule of having flatmates is that you Do Not Catch Feelings For Your Flatmates because everything inevitably goes to shit and gets made horrifically awkward.

Tayce is different to Ellie, Lawrence, Tia and Bimini, though. None of the others get A’whora so flustered when they speak to her, none of the other others get her heart racing so fast it threatens to fly out her ribcage. She doesn’t feel the same sense of dizzy joy when she’s alone with any of the others: only when Tayce makes dinner with her, or when she comes to her room at ten at night for chats, or when they play Tayce’s stupid video games together and she beats her way-too-many-consecutive-times in a row to be considered fair. A’whora has tried to explain it away as just wanting to be liked, just wanting to be good friends, just just just until she can’t justify her own excuses any more and has instead resigned herself to repressing the feelings she has for her friend. The tension between them is building, though, and it’s only a matter of time until something happens.

“BITCH!”

A’whora jumps a little, flinching as she realises she’s gone too long without a comeback. Ellie’s expression is expectant and impatient as she clicks her fingers once, twice, three times in her face.

“Shut up, Ellie-phant,” A’whora manages to mumble almost incoherently as she turns on her heel, walking through to the living room area to sit with Lawrence and join her on her quest to making their speakers work.

Their flat is an odd one. The front door leads to a prison cell-style line of equally pokey rooms- Lawrence’s, Tayce’s, A’whora’s, Bimini’s, Ellie’s and Tia’s respectively- and two bathrooms. Then another door opens out onto two hobs, endless cupboards and grimy, cluttered countertops, and a scrub of shitty green carpet and three worn out red-purple sofas that look as tired as Bimini does when they come home from a random afterparty just as A’whora leaves for lectures. It doesn’t in any way look like a normal flat, but A’whora supposes they’re about as far away from normal as a sentient slice of cheese.

“Oh babe, you must be crushing crushing. I don’t think I’ve heard you come out with a comeback as shit as that in the whole four months we’ve lived together,” Ellie continues the conversation, buzzing behind her like an annoying fly.

“It wasn’t shit, it was good!”

“Lawrie, what’s a good comeback to me calling A’whora a whore?” Ellie appeals to her friend again.

“Rich of you to be calling anyone a whore. You come from a long line of whores. You’re a whore, your maw’s a whore, your maw’s maw was a whore. There’s cave paintings of your ancestors wi’ twelve dicks in their mouths. There’s tapestries of them gettin’ shagged left, right an’ centre. There’s clay sculptures of them being whores. Pipe the fuck doon,” Lawrence reels off, Ellie growing more and more breathless with hysterical laughter beside her and A’whora falling into giggles too.

“Well this was a weird time for me to enter the conversation.”

A’whora feels her heart lift and her face light up when she turns around and sees Tayce walking through to join them, the posture of a model with her fingers curled elegantly around the stem of a wine glass. She flicks her long, dark hair over her shoulder as she sits down on the small sofa beside A’whora, and she wonders how Tayce can sit in a way that makes the stained, battered, scratchy upholstery seem like the set of a high fashion photoshoot.

“Just talking about you,” A’whora sticks her tongue out at her, laughing at the way Tayce reels in fake horror and Lawrence explodes with laughter across from them.

“The valour, the bravery and the backbone,” Tayce grumbles, rolling her eyes. Her gaze rests upon something behind A’whora- the back of the sofa. Maybe there’s a new rip in it, God knows how that can have happened. She holds back a gasp, though, when Tayce reaches out and runs a gentle finger down her spine against her bare skin; an advantage of the sparkly backless cowl neck top she’s wearing that she hadn’t known existed until now. “Speaking of backbones, you’re such a skinny minnie.”

“Did you go to the school of backhanded compliments?” A’whora teases, deflecting from the way her heart’s still thrumming in her chest at the contact.

“Shush, you. You know you look bloody gorgeous,” Tayce says back to her, and even though there’s a laugh to her voice A’whora knows she means it. Her heart’s still going like a train but she can chalk that up to the half can of Monster Ellie’s dumped into her drink, so when she mutters out a thanks hun, same to you she hopes it doesn’t sound as insincere as it feels.

The thing is, she does look gorgeous. She’s dressed in a black lace bodysuit with straps that criss-cross up the back and a tight leather skirt that makes her legs look even longer than they already are. She’s opted for heels like A’whora has (unlike Ellie and Lawrence who have designated night-out trainers stained with spillages of drinks gone by) but hers have straps that are laced all the way round her calves and tied with a knot at the top. Everything about her outfit makes everything about her look outrageously good, and A’whora thinks it should be illegal for anyone to be this ethereal.

Tayce looks as if she’s about to fire something back at her judging by the little smile on her face but she’s interrupted by an outrageously loud boom from the speakers, as something that could be Lady Gaga but is too deafening to be deciphered screams through it. As the girls all flinch there’s a frantic diminuendo that comes from Lawrence mashing the volume button until the pitch is finally bearable and they can all take their hands off their ears.

“Lawrence, did you get the speakers working?” Ellie quips sarcastically, to which Tayce and A’whora burst out laughing and Lawrence almost elbows Ellie off the sofa opposite.

In the melee A’whora almost doesn’t notice Bimini and Tia come in, and they look ready to start the night if a little panicked.

“What the hell was that?” Tia asks quickly, opening the fridge and grabbing her bottle of premixed Malibu and pineapple before perching herself on the couch beside Ellie. “I thought part of the building had exploded.”

“Nah that was just my vagina, babes,” Lawrence says offhandedly, the others either screeching with laughter or groaning in anguish. Bimini crosses the room with their selection of drinks cradled in their arms and budges Tayce and A’whora up with an oi, oi!, A'whora’s pulse thudding at her wrist as a result of her close proximity to her crush.

No- her friend. Her friend who’s never going to be anything more than that.

With the six flatmates assembled, drinks poured, and tunes on, their pre drinks can begin. Pres at their flat often look like drinking games, yelling along to early 2010s pop, tipsily booking taxis and then touching up their makeup in the waiting time before they arrive. Tonight is no different; they bicker about where they want to go and eventually decide on the union because although it’s “too het” according to Ellie, it’s admittedly cheap and a good night out. A’whora chips into the conversation every five minutes with shady, catty jokes that Tayce howls at and leans into her side and clutches her arm or her hand or her thigh.

The contact is nice. They’ve reached that stage of their friendship where they’re touchy and close a lot of the time- A’whora’s constantly playing with Tayce’s hair and Tayce thinks nothing of just walking into A’whora’s room and getting under the duvet with her. They throw their arms around each other and bump shoulders as they walk and touch legs on the sofa, much like they’re doing now. A’whora has never been a cuddly type of friend- to be honest, she still isn’t- but there’s something about doing all this with Tayce that she doesn’t mind. It’s a comfortable kind of intimacy, a knitted blanket of sorts, but it’s a fragile space for Tayce to occupy too and A’whora knows it’s risky to let her rip a wall down she’s never been aware of til now.

The night rolls along and with every refill of A’whora’s glass the music gets turned up a little more, a little more, a little more until they’re all having to yell over each other as they play wiggly wiggly woo, who’s most likely to. It’s all fun and games until it gets to who’s most likely to sleep with a flatmate, and there’s a confusing mess of finger-pointing where Lawrence points to Ellie, Tayce points to Lawrence, and Bimini, Ellie and Tia point to A’whora.

“Fuck off, why’s it me?” she screeches in outrage, trying to cover up the fact her cheeks are burning and that Tayce seems suddenly all too close to her.

“Because! It’s you! It’s A’whora!” Bimini laughs, their accent making them seem all the more mischievous and shit-stirring.

“Well! If I’m sleeping with a flatmate that must mean one of you’s gonna be involved, doesn’t it?!”

“Right, sorry, yeah,” Bimini nods understandingly, before immediately switching to point to Tayce. There’s an arena-crowd roar that erupts from the others, one that makes A’whora laugh and blush scarlet at the same time. She sneaks a look at Tayce, who’s regarding her with much the same expression.

“I’m down if you are, hun,” A’whora jokes-but-not-really, shaking Tayce’s arm as if it’ll take away from the weak joke she’s trying to make. Tayce only shoots her a wink with her tongue trapped between her teeth.

“In your dreams, love.”

A’whora’s glad of the others laughing so she can pretend to join in, occupy herself with something other than the overwhelming urge to reply to Tayce with exactly.

The rest of pres fly by tipsily and incoherently. They get a noise complaint from the weird flat underneath them which seems solely comprised of six boys who never go outside, which prompts them to book taxis even though the union is only about a ten minute walk away. A’whora helps Tia re-glue on her eyelashes in a rush and Bimini spontaneously fills a hipflask with Ellie’s apple sourz, “for the road”. When the taxis roll up outside Lawrence hurries them all out the door with the urgency of a mother of five, and before long they’re standing in a queue around the block, Bimini and A’whora sharing Tia’s huge puffer jacket because neither of them thought to pick up coats in their haste to leave.

Tayce pulls a packet of cigarettes out of her pocket, flips the little cardboard lid of them open and offers them round to the others. A’whora takes one because Tayce is offering, and really Tayce could offer them grenades with the pins pulled out and A’whora would accept if only to get her smile flashed at her again or the chance that their hands might touch during the transfer. A’whora thinks Tayce is every public health campaign’s worst nightmare as she watches her hold the cigarette between her index and middle fingers, wrap her lips around the end and inhale. Her cheekbones are razor-sharp as she drags then lets the breath go, red lipstick on the paper and the smoke curling up into the sparkly, dark night sky.

She is beautiful.

It’s because she’s beautiful that A’whora shouldn’t be surprised by the events that begin to unfold as they enter the club. Ellie immediately makes her way over to a booth, picks up the little sign that says it’s reserved and chucks it onto the dancefloor to get trampled underfoot and covered in sticky cocktail spillages. Tayce’s round is first because she lost Ring of Fire back at the flat so she goes over to the bar for shots, promising she’ll be only a couple of minutes and the others believing her; the way she looks ensures she never has a long wait time at the bar.

So they wait. And they wait. At first they don’t even notice how long they’ve waited- the tunes are good and loud and so they all yell along happily. Until Lawrence turns to the others with narrowed eyes.

“Here. Where the fuck is Tayce? She’s been ages.”

They all scan the bar, and Ellie suddenly points dramatically over to the other end of it. “Oh!”

Because Tayce is standing at the bar with no drinks and no interest in any of the bartenders taking drinks orders. She’s talking to a tall blonde with a dazzling smile and a low-cut crop top, and something inside A’whora burns and sinks at the same time. Tayce is allowed to be talking to a pretty girl. She’s not not allowed to. But it doesn’t make her any less jealous of the attention she’s giving her.

It’s a horror movie she can’t look away from. She’s aware that Ellie has gone to get the drinks instead, but that’s all she can absorb from her surroundings. She tunes out of the conversation at the table as she continues to watch the two of them interact. The girl’s got muscles, and her hair falls in neat waves on her shoulders, and she’s smiley and charming and doesn’t talk much, preferring instead to listen to Tayce. A’whora is different. A’whora is constantly on transmit; loud and opinionated and gobby and, okay, sometimes a little bit judgemental. She can’t do charming and demure. She can’t be what Tayce is very clearly interested in.

A thud next to her causes A’whora to whip her head round, tearing herself away from the scene playing out in front of her and ripping the plaster off.

“Fuck’s sake. Jaegerbombs with Red Bull? Puh-rison!” Ellie half-whines, half-shouts.

“Red Bull is the standard, not everyone can have the same taste in energy drinks as a sixteen year old virgin gamer,” A’whora narrows her eyes, gratefully accepting the drink from her nonetheless and shotting it back as if it’ll help blind her, or perhaps forget what she’s seeing.

“God. Who pissed in your coco pops?” Ellie fires back, rolling her eyes dramatically.

“Bold of you to assume anything specific has happened to make her this bitter, mean and salty,” Tia jokes from A’whora’s side, and as the others scream and laugh A’whora in turn fixes her with a glare, wishing momentarily she had laser beams for pupils.

“Ooh, that’s made me want a tequila,” Lawrence cries enthusiastically, too loud even from the other side of the booth.

“Eh, excuse me! I just got you a Jaegerbomb, finish that first,” Ellie chastises her like a world-weary parent, pushing the glass towards her friend and sliding her hand over the table, sticky with the ghosts of questionable drinks’ past. A’whora has to snort at her tone.

“Yeah Lawrence, finish your Jaegerbomb or you won’t get any dessert. Listen to your responsible Mum whose eyelash is coming off.”

A big roar of laughter flies up from the others, and it’s Ellie’s turn to glare at A’whora this time. She looks as if she’s about to say something back when Bimini sniffs their glass and frowns.

“Is Jaegerbombs vegan?”

Everyone apparently wishes to ignore the lack of grammatical sense to their sentence, and it’s Lawrence who responds first. “They’re vegan in the same sense that bleach is vegan?”

Bewilderingly satisfied, Bimini raises their glass to the middle of the table and the girls join them, cheering as they all clink them together and chuck the drinks back. The fact A’whora can’t join in leaves her eyes to fall on Tayce and that girl again. Tayce is smiling and it’s the brightest thing in the club, laughing as the girl flips her hair and touches her hand and tells some joke that’s obviously not as funny as anything A’whora could say. She wonders if she’s ever made Tayce smile like that. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but she can’t remember.

“You know they used to use Jaeger as cough medicine? And for ages it was drunk by, like…old Tories who went on deer hunts,” Tia reels off excitably, and A’whora can’t help but roll her eyes affectionately at her friend’s bizarre general knowledge. “There’s this rumour that it’s got deer’s blood in it.”

Bimini splutters, coughs, and chokes all at once. As Lawrence slaps their back entirely too roughly in a way that’s about as helpful as a water gun at a house fire, A’whora can’t help but turn to face Tia incredulously.

“What the fuck did you say that for?!”

Tia shrugs, too tipsy to register A’whora’s disbelief. “Fun fact.”

“You didn’t think to pipe up with that when Bims was asking if it was vegan?”

“It’s just a rumour!” Tia says defensively, then turns to Bimini to check they’re okay. A’whora huffs in exasperation, folding her arms and throwing her back against the supposedly cushioned walls of the booth. As she stares straight ahead and ignores the fuss her friends are making, her eyes fall on Tayce again and her heart hurts more than it should to see her with her phone out and the girl beside her doing the same. They’re so clearly swapping numbers. They’re allowed to swap numbers. It’s not like A’whora’s got dibs on Tayce, it’s not like she’s got any right to feel a burn in her stomach and a flame in her heart and a feeling of something slipping away.

“Right!” Lawrence all but yells, forcing A’whora to tear her eyes away. “I’ve finished my Jaegerbomb, Mum, can we get tequila now?”

Ellie sighs. “Fine! But you’re buying me this one, bitch.”

“I’ll come with,” A’whora says, thinking she’ll need at least ten more units of alcohol to stop feeling feelings.

“We’re going for a boogie, catch us up,” Bimini decides, as Rhythm is a Dancer blasts on the overhead speakers and Tia lets out a whooo! that’s way too white for a mixed-race girl.

So they move, A’whora bum-shuffling her way out of the booth and following Lawrence and Ellie, her feet sore in her heels. She purposefully blocks Tayce out of her peripheral vision as she leans against the bar, but she’s only separated from her by about six people also waiting and if she tilted her head forward she could definitely catch her eye if she wanted.

“Rhythm is a dancer, two for one at Asda,” Ellie sings along, bopping her head enthusiastically. A’whora laughs weakly, her proximity to Tayce and that bitch she’s talking to entirely too distracting.

“Shut your hole and tell me what you’re wanting,” Lawrence orders her. Ellie drums the palms of her hands against the bar as she semi-shouts sambucaaaaa, and A’whora asks for a vodka. She’s aware she’s mixing entirely too many spirits and her hangover tomorrow will be potentially life-threatening, but she doesn’t care.

“Tayce is still there. Should we shout her over and see what she wants?” Ellie suggests, craning her neck. A’whora firmly shakes her head.

“She’s wanting that baby Hulk she’s been talking to all night, apparently,” she all but spits, shocking herself at her venom. It’s clear she shocks the girls as well, and Lawrence turns around and simply raises her eyebrows at her.

“Men’s dress trousers in a hotel.”

A’whora can only blink. “What?”

Lawrence pauses for dramatic effect (or perhaps that’s just the Jaegerbomb making its alcohol content known). She points a finger at A’whora, then finishes whatever point she’s making. “Pressed.”

“Purrr!” Ellie laughs in agreement, grabbing A’whora’s shoulder and shaking it in an action that’s probably meant to be gentle but almost shakes her bone out of its socket. “Oh my God, that totally explains why you’ve been such a bitch all night.”

“This wee cow’s been a bitch her whole life,” Lawrence joins in. A’whora knows she’s got a proper face on by now, Dot Cotton licking piss off a nettle, but she can’t help it. She hates being wound up and she makes this perfectly clear to her friends via her furious silence.

“Nah, but tonight she’s a jealous bitch,” Ellie sticks her tongue out at her, and A’whora huffs.

“I’m not jealous!” she lies. “I’m just pissed off that she comes on a night out with us and she spends it talking to some random bitch she barely knows instead of her friends.”

“Wait. Oh my God, do you fancy Tayce?” Lawrence asks, a bull in a china shop on cocaine. Before A’whora can defend herself Ellie barks a laugh.

“Aw Lauzza, come on to fuck! Have you ever walked in when it’s been just the two of them? They’re so fucking flirty it’s disgusting.”

“DISGUSTEN!” Lawrence shouts, and it goes about ten percent of the way to drawing A’whora out of her mood.

“I don’t flirt with Tayce! I don’t fancy her either!” A’whora cries, exasperated. She realises too-late that her volume may have been too loud, but when she looks over at the topic of conversation again she’s both disappointed and relieved to see that she hasn’t registered a thing. “Anyway, you know you can’t shag your flatmate. It’s like the first rule of having flatmates. It would just make everything awkward.”

“That the only thing stopping you?” Lawrence looks at her pointedly.

“The bartender’s free,” A’whora glances just over Lawrence’s shoulder, and she turns around so fast it almost makes her feel dizzy. While Lawrence orders it leaves Ellie to turn to A’whora and pat her hand sympathetically.

“Why don’t you just go up to her?” she suggests. “I mean would it be so bad if you did just shag and get the pent-up tension released and then you can both just move on? I mean it’s not like you want to be her girlfriend or anything.”

A’whora presses her lips together and doesn’t reply. Her silence seems to communicate too much as Ellie’s mouth drops open a little and she fixes her with a pointed stare. “Oh, A’whora.”

“Look, I don’t know,” A’whora rushes to defend herself, her words spilling out over themselves in the way they sometimes do when she’s tipsy. “Like obviously she’s gorgeous but also, like…I do like her as a person as well, and I like being around her and just enjoying her company-”

Ellie splutters a giggle. “Enjoying her company, are you eighty years old in a care home?”

“I’m gonna slap you in a minute, shut up!” A’whora laughs incredulously. “But, like, I just…I don’t know if she likes me back like that, you know?

Ellie frowns. “I think, then, my advice would be…don’t shag her if you don’t think you can keep it to just that. ‘Cause obviously you don’t want to end up getting hurt.”

“Right, yeah,” A’whora replies, nodding.

If she’s honest, she’s disappointed. Obviously she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to sleep with Tayce- because fucking look at her- but just like Ellie said, she knows she would end up getting hurt if anything happened between them. Tayce would probably consider it a one-time thing and A’whora would be let down, or it would turn into some long, drawn-out friends with benefits scenario that would probably make everything worse.

The thing is she can only repress her feelings so much and tonight she’s feeling like one of Ellie’s cans of Monster that Tia shook up as a joke and ended up spurting out its contents so violently that there’s still a green-blue stain on their kitchen wall. A’whora’s way too close to telling the girls about every time she’s pictured her and Tayce falling asleep together and waking up together, every time she’s imagined them planning actual dates, every time she’s wanted to kiss her on the sofa- not necessarily even a kiss kiss but just a peck on the cheek, a soft one pressed to the crown of her head, a little one against their knuckles as they hold hands.

It all sounds ridiculous and silly and way too high school. Nothing seems to work the same at uni. Everyone just seems to shag, hook up, kiss strangers they’ll never see again in the shadows of grimy clubs. Everything seems to happen when everyone’s drunk. Everything’s done out of lust rather than love. Everything is so short-term because you can’t plan for the long term if you wake up and don’t remember the night before.

A’whora loves uni, but she doesn’t like that.

Besides, she’s already done all that in high school anyway. Sixth form had been like a crash course in freshers’ week; if she wasn’t drinking in parks or going to house parties she was sneaking into nightclubs using a fake ID that even Stevie Wonder could’ve seen right through. She’d half-heartedly slept with boys and figured out she liked girls when a sleepover after a party took a turn. She’d tried smoking and she came to the conclusion that she didn’t like it enough to buy her own cigarettes, she’d tried mandy once and that was once too much for her. All of that has prepared her well for uni- she’s street smart and has her head screwed on (for the most part- she’s still testing her limits as far as alcohol’s concerned). But feeling like she’s feeling for Tayce is uncharted territory, and out of everything she’s already done and experienced A’whora finds it hard to believe there’s not an age limit on this sort of thing because it all feels more risky and dangerous than smoking roll-ups in a children’s playpark at one in the morning ever did.

A wayheyyy! from Lawrence cuts through her thoughts and she accepts the shot she’s holding out to her, wordlessly clinking it together with Lawrence’s and Ellie’s and slamming it back as if it’s some form of medicine she desperately needs.

“It’s so weird that you don’t do the whole lime and salt thing,” Ellie wrinkles her nose at her friend, who in turn punches one of her own tits with what seems to be pride.

“‘Cause I’m made of strong stuff, babes. Right, what’s the conclusion on this one? Does she fancy Tayce or no?”

“Surely this is a bathroom stall conversation?” A’whora pouts, annoyed that her feelings for Tayce have been brought back up.

As Ellie relays to Lawrence what she’d said to A’whora, A’whora momentarily wonders if she’s in control of anything in her life any more.

Lawrence nods when Ellie’s done. “Smart advice. ‘Cause it would make things awkward for the flat. ‘Magine trying to make a Pot Noodle in the middle of a live-action episode of Eastenders.”

A’whora screws her face up in confusion. “All episodes of Eastenders are live action?”

“Y’know what the fuck I mean,” Lawrence rolls her eyes in exasperation. “Well we’ve given you our blessing and basically we represent the whole country, so. Go for it.”

“Thanks, Nicola Sturgeon, good to know I have your approval,” A’whora smirks at her, amused. When some Becky Hill song comes on over the speakers she takes it as her cue to smooth down her skirt, flip her hair over her shoulder and rest her little shot glass back on the bar. “Right, we going to have a dance or what?”

As she takes her friends’ hands they all but strut over to the dancefloor, and A’whora can see Bimini and Tia pulling shapes that they probably think make them look mysterious and sexy but actually just make them look as drunk as they no doubt are. Before A’whora can push through the crowd, Lawrence tugs her and Ellie back a bit.

“Here, I think I’ve remembered something Tayce told me once, if this is of any use to you?” she begins.

All of A’whora’s nerve endings light up like one of those colourful optical fiber lamps she had when she was small. Her eyes have clearly flown open and her mouth’s dropped slack without her even having to try, so desperate is she for what Lawrence is about to tell her. Ellie’s beside her equally expectant and anticipative, and Lawrence laughs at the pair of them before she continues.

“It was the pair of us and Tia…Christ, when was it…cannae mind. Think you’d gone home for the weekend and Ellie was doing something wi’ Bims…anyway, coupla’ bottles of wine in and we start playing wee stupid games. We’re doing snog, marry, avoid and Tia gives her…fuck, cannae even remember. Let’s say it was Ellie, Bimini and you. Now I can’t remember what she said for the other two but…” Lawrence pauses dramatically, and A’whora is a hair’s breadth away from practically begging her for the information she’s taking so long to impart. “…she said she would marry you because then she’d get to shag you more than just once.”

A’whora doesn’t think her eyes can go any wider but she somehow manages it. She doesn’t really know how to react but Ellie’s doing enough screaming to suffice for the two of them.

“When the fuck were you gonna tell us that?! Fuck, I can’t believe you never told me that! When did this happen?!” Ellie practically screeches in her face.

“Telt you I cannae mind! Maybe like…a month ago? I don’t know,” Lawrence supplies unhelpfully. Usually A’whora would try to rip the piss out of the way her accent’s gone ten times more Braveheart than usual after her series of drinks, but all she can think about is what she’s been told and, well…she can’t help the butterflies in her heart and the way a satisfied, triumphant grin spreads slowly onto her face.

Ellie’s equally as excited beside her. She whacks A’whora on the arm as she squeals with enthusiasm. “See! Now we know she likes you too!”

A’whora feels as if she’s made of glitter and confetti as she spins around in the direction of the bar. Her heart gives a dip on its rollercoaster of emotions as she sees that Tayce has somehow caught the attention of a different girl- long, dark hair and a blue and orange outfit and a mouth that’s moving at about a mile a minute.

There’s a second before A’whora makes to turn away in disappointment when Tayce’s pupils suddenly flick over to rest on her. Tayce’s self-assured expression and body language seem to falter when she catches A’whora’s eye, and she shoots her a little smile that- if A’whora didn’t know the girl better- she’d say was shy.

“Now the challenge is actually getting a chance to talk to her,” A’whora pouts. Chatting up Tayce and maybe getting to fall into bed with her really isn’t a time-sensitive issue; it doesn’t need to happen tonight, but A’whora’s had a chaotic combination of alcohol that makes her think there’s really no time like the present and hey, maybe this is her one and only chance.

“Well, we can keep an eye on her and when she’s free, then that’s your chance,” Ellie smiles, supportive and excited.

“What chat-up line are you gonnae use? I’ve got a cracker you can have if you want,” Lawrence insists, and A’whora and Ellie share a doubtful look.

“Go on.”

“What did one haggis say to the other haggis?” Lawrence begins. Without giving the other girls a chance to interject, she finishes. “…’Gonnae shaggis?’ ”

“And on that note,” Ellie shakes her head and rolls her eyes, taking both of them by the hand and pulling them into the crowd to join their other friends.

It’s amazing how easy it is to forget about the object of her affection chatting to random girls on the other side of the room when Bimini’s grabbing her and almost launching her across the dancefloor with their euphoric pogo-ing along to each and every song that gets played. The five of them drunkenly bum-ba-ba, bum-ba-ba along to Head & Heart and cheer for Tia when she does Nicki’s rap in Swalla without even stopping for breath. A’whora laughs in confusion with the other girls as Lawrence and Ellie get way too excited, squealing and clutching each others’ hands when some clubland tune that’s apparently much bigger in Scotland than it is in the other three corners of the UK gets put on, the lyrics of which seem to consist solely of the words up-up-up and awayyy. Bimini and Lawrence collect more drinks from the bar and A’whora very nearly knocks Ellie’s out of her hand when Friday comes on and she punches the air.

And then Tayce is on her own.

A’whora’s heart almost siezes up with how fast it jolts into full-blown palpitations because this is the moment she can finally go over and talk to her, the chance to turn their friendship into maybe something more even if that something more is only a random hookup after a night out, but it only takes the time for her to shake Ellie’s arm and point in Tayce’s direction for her to see that, yet again, she’s been approached by someone tall and confident and stunning and everything that A’whora wishes Tayce thought about her.

Her face falls and Ellie snaps her fingers in her line of vision, forcing her to look at her and the motherly expression of tough love she’s wearing.

“Hey. When has anyone ever stopped you getting your own way?” she yells at her over the music, and A’whora laughs half in amusement and half in agreement. As she falls silent, Ellie jerks her head towards the bar. “Go get her, bitch.”

It might be the alcohol, but it hits A’whora with a ironically sobering clarity that Ellie’s right.

So she takes a breath in and struts confidently over to the bar, practically able to feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins (although that could well be the caffeine from the second Jaegerbomb she’s downed this evening with Bimini’s encouragement). She smooths down her skirt so the split runs up the front of her thigh and not the side, adjusts the neck of her top so it’s framing her chest the way she wants it to. She could be nervous but the combined alcohol she’s drunk so far this evening pushes that feeling to the back of her head, replacing it with all-consuming confidence that she can feel from the inside out. She looks good, better than good, and she knows she can flirt even though she’s never really tried to flirt with Tayce. Well, never intentionally.

Okay, that’s maybe a lie.

The realisation that she’s actually going through with this is enough to make her want to freeze to the spot but by some miracle she’s still walking forward until she’s three, two, one steps away from her flatmate and the girl at the bar with too much plastic surgery and hair the shade of a vomit-coloured highlighter pen. A’whora wedges her shoulder in between the pair of them, hears the girl give a little tut/sigh hybrid from behind her but A’whora’s not really interested in bickering with her, not when Tayce’s eyes have fallen on her and she’s looking at her, really looking at her with a little playful smile on her painted lips.

“Hey baby boo,” Tayce says by way of a greeting, and A’whora feels her heart melt just a little. She’s being adorable, but she’s not going to let that damage her confident, composed exterior. Until Tayce follows up by running a hand down her arm and lacing their fingers together. “I haven’t seen you all night, I missed you.”

With that, A’whora feels the little cocky smirk she’s wearing break out into a shy grin, one that she hopes doesn’t look as ridiculously goofy as it feels. “Well. Maybe you would’ve seen more of me if you hadn’t been playing Take Me Out with half the bloody girls in here.”

“Who, me?” Tayce gasps, clutching the gold chain around her neck and pretending to be affronted. A’whora doesn’t mean to roll her eyes but she clearly does, and the small giggle she draws out of Tayce as a result makes it almost worth it. The squeeze Tayce gives her hand turns that almost into a definitely, as does what Tayce follows up with. “You’re cute when you’re jealous, you know.”

“You’re cute…all the time,” A’whora claps back, wishing she had some sort of drink in her hand to press against her face as she feels her blush start to bloom across her cheeks.

“I know, babe, that’s why I’ve been getting my drinks bought for me all night,” Tayce winks.

If Awhora uses that as a signal to pull her bank card from her bra, that’s nobody’s business but her own. The way Tayce’s gaze flicks to her chest lights a match in her heart. “Well…let me buy you one and then you won’t have to miss me so much.”

Tayce’s awed smile spreads slowly onto her face and they agree on tequila shots, the phase of the evening where they were nursing their drinks left firmly in the dust as the bartender hands them a salt shaker, two little shot glasses and two wedges of lime. The way Tayce’s tongue slides over the side of her hand before she sprinkles the salt and the way their eyes meet as she licks it up makes A’whora’s mouth dry, so the tequila’s welcome for a split second before she remembers why she hates it, the flavour and sheer strength of the alcohol akin to being hit by a truck.

As she grabs desperately for the lime like it’s an oxygen mask on a crash-landing plane, Tayce laughs and shakes her head pityingly. “You always end up ordering tequila and you always, always hate it.”

A’whora blinks as she composes herself, gives a little shiver of recovery. She cocks her head at Tayce inquisitively. “I didn’t know you remembered that.”

Tayce looks to the ground as she smiles, tucks a piece of her long hair behind her ear. It’s endearing and soft and it makes A’whora panic, so she presses her lips together and raises an eyebrow at Tayce questioningly. “So, how’d your little episode of Blind Date go anyway?“

"Gosh, you’re really pressed about this, aren’t you?” Tayce’s eyes are narrow as she smirks at her, and now it’s A'whora’s turn to look embarrassed. The soft laugh Tayce gives is reassuring so A'whora’s gaze drifts back up again and their eyes meet as she speaks again. “Well, there was, uh…blonde lady. Blonde lady with the muscles and the eyeliner. God, what was her name?”

“This is off to a flying start.”

“Kameron!” Tayce yells in her face as she remembers. It makes A’whora snort with laughter, something that’s probably wildly unattractive but she knows Tayce has seen her do it before. “And then there was, uh, Priyanka. I remember her name because she kept telling me every two minutes. That was a wild conversation.”

“Uh-huh. Who was the bitch I elbowed out the way?”

Tayce smirks at her, wobbles a little in her heels and steadies herself against the bar. “That was…Detox.”

“Radox?”

Tayce splutters. “Detox!”

“Should’ve called herself Botox, would’ve been nearer to the mark,” A’whora turns up her top lip. Tayce explodes in an outraged laugh beside her, clutches her wrist in a way that makes A’whora hope she won’t be able to feel her rapid pulse.

“Says Aurora Georgia Boyle, who asked for lip fillers for her eighteenth and was actually allowed to get them!”

“Don’t full name me, piece of shit!” A’whora gasps in mock-offence, shakes herself away from Tayce’s grip but finds her inexplicably nearer to her than she was before. She’s not necessarily complaining, though, because her whole left side is against Tayce’s right and there’s some form of other-worldly magnetism that seems to keep them pressed together. It makes her heart flutter so she tucks a section of hair behind her ear before she frowns. “I never told you that. How come you know that?”

“You did tell me! Back in freshers week! You just don’t remember,” Tayce giggles, poking her cheek with one acrylic nail. It should hurt more than it does. Maybe it does hurt and A’whora can’t feel it. She’s had a lot to drink.

It’s the alcohol she blames when she hooks an arm around Tayce’s waist, tilts her head and drops her volume to a murmur. “You seem to remember a lot of things about me.”

Tayce’s eyes widen just that little bit. “Well you’re a bit of an unforgettable person, really.”

Her words make A’whora’s heart light up so much that she can feel herself glowing from the inside out. She brings her other arm around Tayce in a tight hug, her hands joining at the small of her back, and Tayce mirrors her so they’re both anchoring each other. It’s hard for her to remember whether they’ve ever shared a hug like this before. It seems too intimate for friends, but A’whora doesn’t mind.

“Tayce.”

“Rory,” Tayce replies, mimicking her whine and the way she draws her name out. A’whora likes the nickname she gives her probably more than she should; she supposes it’s because only Tayce uses it and because it’s rooted in her actual given name.

A’whora pouts, squeezes Tayce’s waist. “I missed you tonight, you know.”

“Missed you too. Missed you so much,” Tayce murmurs back.

She’s already said it, A’whora knows she’s already said it, but with the way they’re both gazing at each other it seems to mean something more, something different. It’s ridiculous- they’re both drunk, and famously no good decisions have ever happened when two people have had this many assorted shots, but somehow it feels like all of this is just right.

A’whora drops her head to rest it on Tayce’s shoulder and she feels her arms tighten around her in response. Her lips graze her neck as she murmurs against it. “Not leaving me again.”

There’s a pause where she can’t really see Tayce’s expression or how she’s reacted. Her heart freezes, and the terror and reality of having crossed the line between friendship and whatever the hell this is suddenly consumes her whole body. She’s relieved, then, when Tayce eventually mutters against the crown of her head.

“All yours, baby.”

And she presses a kiss to her hair. Just like A’whora’s been dreaming about for so long.

She feels giddy and dizzy with absolute euphoria, so it’s that she blames when she puts her lips against Tayce’s neck again and plants one, two, three little kisses there in quick succession.

“Tayce,” she whispers again. She doesn’t really know what she wants to say or how to say it, but she knows she doesn’t want to go back to the dancefloor, and she doesn’t want to be with their other friends. She just wants her and Tayce together for however long she’ll let it be that way, and she doesn’t even care about the busy bar or the drunk students that bump into them every so often or the stares from the rowdy group of rugby lads that would usually make her feel intimidated, but not when she’s with Tayce.

When she’s with Tayce everything seems a little bit better somehow, just by her being there.

So maybe it’s that, or maybe it’s the tequila, or maybe it’s the feeling of having Tayce’s arms around her that makes A’whora tilt her head back up again and meet Tayce’s waiting lips with her own. There’s none of the usual hesitation or awkward pause that comes with kissing someone new because really the amount of times A’whora’s imagined this, dreamt about it, thought about it in daydreams that completely unhook her from reality, it’s as if it’s happened before.

Nothing has prepared her for the real thing though. How Tayce brings a hand up to rest at her jaw and how the other stays placed against the bare skin of her back, warm and supportive. How the both of them sway a little, unsteady in their heels as if they’ve been knocked for six. How Tayce’s body is close against hers and A’whora pushes a hand in her hair in an attempt to somehow bring her even closer. How kissing Tayce leaves her breathtaken and satisfied yet somehow amplifies her feeling of longing, because the more she gives to her the more A’whora wants and with every second that Tayce’s lips are on hers she can only feel the heat that’s pooling in her stomach growing more and more intense.

When Tayce pulls away and A’whora can only catch her breath, she fixes her with a lazy, half-lidded smile that makes her insides turn to melted honey.

“That was nice,” she blinks, and she’s a second away from kicking herself- because, really?- when Tayce giggles softly under her breath. She brushes a little piece of A’whora’s hair off her face, and the gentleness of the action throws her a little. A’whora brings her arms up to loop around her neck, and she leans in close again. “I wanna do it again.”

“I want to do…a lot of things. With you,” Tayce says, casual and chill as if her words haven’t just sent A’whora up in flames.

“Like…?”

“Like…maybe come back to mine and I’ll show you, baby.”

The whole moment’s perfect enough for A’whora to almost overlook the blunder Tayce has just made, but her nature dictates that she can’t let her get away with it. “We…we live together.”

Tayce lets out a snort, bumps her forehead against A’whora’s as she despairs of herself. “Right. Well…we gonna go home, then?”

A’whora doesn’t need to be asked twice. She laces her fingers in Tayce’s, resolves to text the others to tell them they’ve left, and stumbles towards the exit with her heart thumping wildly in her chest.

When she blinks, she’s tired, she’s in bed, it’s bright, and she’s confused as all hell.

The headache hits her like a sledgehammer to the face and she blinks slowly and heavily, adjusting herself to her surroundings. She’s in her own room, she can tell that much from the photos of her and her friends from back home on the cupboard and the fairy lights on her desk that aren’t switched on. Her mouth feels like a badger’s shat in it and her eyes are all achey, and as she throws an arm up to rub at them she’s surprised when she doesn’t see any leftover eye makeup on the back of her hand.

“The kraken awakes.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” A’whora flinches, her head whipping over to the foot of her bed to find Tayce sitting cross-legged leaning against the wall, her phone in her hand. She’s wearing her old leggings with the bleach stains and the hole at the calf, and a purple tie-dye sweatshirt that’s a size too big for her. Her hair’s loose and framing her face and the only makeup she has on is the little scattering of eyeliner that’s hanging tight to her lash line and has managed to escape the makeup wipe.

She looks disarmed and shy. There’s something comforting about it, because A’whora feels confused and completely on the back foot and she has no idea what’s going on. But there’s a warm smile on her face and it meets her eyes, so despite her disorientation A’whora feels safe.

“How long’ve you been there? Were you just watching me sleep like some…creepy Twilight vampire?” A’whora groans, sitting up and leaning forward and taking a deep breath as if it’ll make her headache go away.

Tayce laughs in a way that makes A’whora think the question’s flustered her, but she’s not sure. “The others went to get breakfast. I said I’d stay with you. Didn’t want you to be on your own feeling like shit and maybe having the fear.”

“I am having the fear. I don’t even know how we got home.”

The way Tayce’s face drops in what looks like abject panic makes her wonder what did happen last night. “Wait. What do you actually remember?”

A’whora’s heart is racing as she scans her mind for memories. Pres, club, drinks, booth. Tayce talking to some girl. Dancefloor. Tayce. Talking to Tayce. Kissing Tayce-

Kissing Tayce.

“Oh, no,” A’whora blurts out involuntarily. Her eyes are wide as she looks at Tayce. “We…did we? We did?”

Tayce’s face seems to relax as she bursts out laughing, and it all comes flooding back to A’whora and hits her like a train. Everything that had seemed like such a good idea last night now seems like the most awkward situation in the world now that Tayce is here, on her bed, and they’re both sober.

“Tayce, no,” A’whora whines, putting her head in her hands as her friend keeps laughing. “No! That’s so awkward. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, it was a good kiss,” Tayce smiles back, somehow both coy and self-assured at once. It’s her reaction that causes a new wave of cold horror to crash against A’whora, a wave on a rock.

“Oh, Jesus. Did anything else happen?”

Tayce grows animated. “God, yeah, we had the best sex ever. Sixty-nines, scissoring, we got the vibrators involved. It was bloody lush.”

A’whora’s too hungover to realise that Tayce is winding her up until she screeches with laughter right in her horrified face. “Oh my God, Rory, your face! No I’m joking, ‘course I’m joking.”

“Thank fuck,” A’whora sighs a world-weary sigh of relief, throwing herself back down against her pillows and immediately regretting it for the way her brain ricochets against her skull and makes her headache ten times worse. “So what did happen?”

“Well, you wanted to walk back because you wanted to look at the stars, so when we got to the square we lay down and looked at the stars for a bit. And then I wanted to go get chips and cheese but you were dragging me back home because you were so horny,” Tayce looks at her pointedly, and A’whora groans with embarrassment, grabbing her pillow and shoving it over her face. “But then after we got up the stairs and in through the door you said you felt sick, so I then had to hold your hair back while you threw up last night’s pasta bake and what looked to be about fifty different kinds of alcohol into the toilet bowl. Then I had to put you to bed and stay up half the night making sure you didn’t choke on your own tongue while you were asleep. Best one night stand I’ve ever had.”

When A’whora takes the pillow away, Tayce winks at her. She feels like putting the pillow back.

“I’m honestly so sorry,” she pouts. She is sorry. Part of her wishes she could at least properly remember what it had felt like to kiss Tayce. All the memories of the moment are much too paper-thin and flimsy, butterfly wings that’re all too rapidly flying away. Tayce isn’t giving her any cause to be embarrassed, but A’whora is anyway.

So she’s not sure what Tayce is going to say when she leans forward, takes her hand and gives it a squeeze. “Go brush your teeth.”

A’whora thinks she might be the first person in history to have cause of death: cringe written on her birth certificate. “You’re really adding insult to injury, aren’t you? Telling me all the embarrassing shit I did while I was off my face and then basically telling me my breath smells like dog shite.”

Tayce laughs as she shakes her head. “Just go do it, idiot.”

She’s never been one to say no to Tayce so A’whora drags herself out from under her duvet towards the little sink tucked away in the corner of her room, the cold chill of the freezing air hitting her bare arms and her feet and rendering her even more miserable. It’s only when she’s halfway through scrubbing at her teeth when it registers that she’s even got pyjamas on.

“Did you have to put my pyjamas on for me?” A’whora asks around her toothbrush, realising all too late that trying to talk through a mouthful of toothpaste is probably as unattractive as vomiting into the toilet bowl.

(The toilet bowl is definitely worse, but she’s just thinking this to help herself feel better.)

Tayce looks up from her phone and raises an eyebrow. “Nah, you managed to do it yourself. You did make me watch you put your stick-on bra on your forehead, though. Apparently it was the funniest thing in the world.”

A’whora just groans as she turns back to the sink, spitting out the toothpaste and following it with mouthwash just to completely clean her mouth of the various alcoholic sins of the night before. She crawls back into bed with a wearied sigh, and she’s surprised when Tayce falls on her side and scoots up beside her, laying on her side and facing her so their noses are almost touching. A’whora feels her heart lift and her pulse speed up, and it’s not helped by the way Tayce reaches out and tucks a little piece of hair behind her ear.

Tayce trails her fingers across to cup A’whora’s cheek, and she’s almost whispering when she speaks. “Thank God. Just wanted to do this again.”

When she leans in A’whora shuts her eyes, meets her halfway, and feels every cell in her body electrify when their lips touch. If kissing Tayce in a club when they were both drunk was good, then kissing her hungover in bed is somehow even better, and A’whora’s mystified at the way her headache seems to completely disappear with every second she spends with her lips on Tayce’s, kissing her gently and softly as if they’ve got all the time in the world. Tayce smells of everything comforting- Tresemme shampoo, snow fairy shower gel, the fabric softener she uses that’s way too expensive for a student budget. Fresh and clean and somehow new. It’s the simplest heaven A’whora has ever experienced.

Tayce pulls away and they both giggle, embarrassment and awkwardness gone now that the elephant in the room’s been addressed. A’whora only realises Tayce has taken her hand when she lets it go, pushes herself off the mattress and crosses the room towards the door.

“We should do that again some time,” she smiles wickedly by way of a goodbye, and A’whora can only nod bashfully in reply and agreement. Tayce has given her hope to hold on to, and she knows she’s going to cling to it ridiculously until whatever this is happens again.

She can’t wait.

Just as Tayce opens her door and A’whora resigns herself to her leaving, she lifts her head off the pillow when she hears her flatmate’s voice again as she disappears into the hallway.

“And go have a shower. You smell like tequila.”

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #ortega #me and you together #taywhora #uk2 #lesbian au #university au #british au #college au #freshers au #roommate au #friends with benefits to lovers #tayce #a'whora #lawrence chaney #ellie diamond #bimini bon boulash #tia kofi

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imnotwolverine · 3 years

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Happy New Year, and hello 1000 followers!!

Hello dear readers! Welcome in my writing nook, and welcome in 2021 - FINALLY!!

2020′s been a long year. A sad year. A year that felt like March for 9 months straight. A year that left a little dent in my corner of the couch as I was huddled away, writing in the most awkward positions because my cats tried to get on my lap alongside my laptop (it doesn’t fit - trust me, kitties).

But, it was also a fun year; I could spend long hours reading and writing to my heart’s content. Meeting new people, and discovering kinks and fantasies I never knew were even a thing. To that; thank you my fellow horny bitches, you gave me the perseverance to work on getting proper orgasms, buying a sex toy and making my boyfriend very confused about what-the-hell was going on with me. (thankfully the shock is now gone and he’s enjoying this new horny me far too much 😂)

In more fun news; I just noticed my once small reader tribe has crossed the 1000 follower-mark (WHAT?! HOW?! YOU GUYS AND GALS ARE AMAZING -- *bounces off the walls*)

I don’t really know how to thank you all for your love and support in reaching this unique milestone. But to those who are just crazy about reading, let me share with you something from my vault of short stories - a little side project next to this blog, to practise my writing ❤️

The Keeper

This new world order was hardly orderly.

It was dusty chaos, filtering in through the sole newspaper-covered window above the door that had just veered at the return of the Old Man, his persistent coughs making that same dust curl and swirl through the air.

Feeling my old bones crack, I took a moment, stretching out on my paper throne of Descartes’ body of work, before I jumped aside so he could add his new-found treasures to this grand collection of paper-bound napping nooks.

It was a good new stack. Six thick covers, the pages yellowed and musky in smell. Perfection, really. Old, gold, glorious perfection. But the Old Man didn’t seem to share my sentiment; his leathery face was wrinkled with concern, heavy brows furrowing like a thick hairy caterpillar above his gentle eyes.

Finding a new spot I swished my long tail, more dust swirling up in the single streak of light that caressed the silhouette of the Old Man.

I hadn’t seen him this worried since we met all those long years ago, his warm hands taking me to this dusty good place that I called my home. Our home. A home that oozed old world magic; thousands of books all lined up in ceiling-high cabinets, their vastness somewhat resembling the sky-high buildings outside; that is however where the comparison stopped. This place was warm, kind, soothing. It smelled nice, felt nice, housed mice - my favourite.

Outside, the world was cold, white, wicked. It smelled of chemicals and disdain, the presence of nature and animals one not wished for in its green, disorganised beauty. But the Old Man had been different. Had been. Right now he moved with the same hasty manner the men outside did, his heavy feet moving daintily past the hastily stacked collections, the structure in them long gone.

The same had happened to the ever structured and unchanging man I once knew; The Old Man was looking older each day, which was strange for a being I thought immaculate and immortal. In my long years of life I had never truly ever seen any differences in this man, his wrinkles ever wrinkly and his eyes ever curious. But, these past few weeks I started having my doubts. I never liked change, but change was suddenly here in abundance. I could hear it on the nervous streets outside. I could feel it in my aching bones and the knits in my pelt. I could feel it in the lack of scratches I received, the Old Man suddenly more occupied with the world outside than in.

This new world order was a terrible thing indeed.

Stretching up my aching back, I curled my tail around my paws, watching as the man passed yet again, his eye catching mine for just a second, his feet slowing down so he could give me a long overdue sign of affection.

“Hello Minnie.” He said gently, his warm voice making my muscles tremble in delight, “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait yet a moment longer. Duty calls!” And with that he disappeared once more, the door hastily closed behind him as he moved back out into the streets that no longer had names.

Everything was changing and I didn’t like it one bit.

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away - or actually a few streets from here - I lived a perilous life of hunting, fighting, mating and waiting. You see: I was not made for the streets I lived in, the large neon lit signs up above too bright for my eyes and the food too sparse to feed the real hunger inside of me. The hunger that goes beyond the growling of the stomach; it was the hunger that gnawed at my brain and my heart as I watched dark figures pass by beneath their umbrellas, their eyes not directed at me, but at my much shinier counterparts on those sky-licking white screens.

e-Cat, e-Book, e-Love..e-Life. The words sparked with promise on beaming backgrounds, luring in the attention of the drifting souls down on the streets. Luring them in to look up, up and away from the truth that could be found right at their feet. A truth that once, an age or so ago, was so very normal.

It must have been a good time then. With ear-scratches and hugs and real talking; I had once even seen humans talk so close to another that their lips touched. And they seemed to find it very agreeable indeed, their lips curling in what the Old Man had explained to be smiles.

Smile (verb)

Form one's features into a pleased, kind, or amused expression, typically with the corners of the mouth turned up and the front teeth exposed.

Humans are peculiar beings.

Then, one day, someone looked down, not up. A man, a dreamer probably, his step shortly disrupted from his travels as our eyes met and, just like that, I was invited into his life, his shovel-sized hands picking me up and stuffing my scrawny bones beneath his warm jacket.

The Old Man.

“Why..I thought you had gotten rid of this?” A new voice entered the small haven of books, the door swiftly closed again. Their hushed voices made me blink open my eyes, a flickering light turned on to brush artificial light over the Old Man and the new person. A Young Woman.

She was pretty I think. Her hair cut just beneath her ears and her body wrapped in a large, fresh smelling jacket. I liked her smell. She smelled of my creatures, two males I think. And so with a little more curiosity I yawned and stretched, welcoming the two back in my domain.

“Hi there Minnie.” The Old Man wistfully scratched me behind the ear.

His voice sounded fragile as crystal, his eyes looking equally translucent as they shimmered in the low light of the single light bulb.

“OH..what am I to do, Dee? It’s just..” He turned back towards the woman, her eyes still looking in honest amazement at the huge collection of books stacked up high to the ceiling.

“Well..this is more than a ..little problem, Badger.” She looked back at him, teeth biting down onto her lip in thought. Humans sure had a weird way of expressing distress. Why didn’t she just hiss or growl? Furl up that pretty mane of her? - At least she got the eyes right.

With a quick flick of her large pupils she looked at me, then the books again.

“Alright. I’ll..I’ll see what we can do.” And with that she disappeared back out of the door, back into the mayhem of white light and clicking feet on cold pavement.

“Hahaha. Oh, aren’t you a happy little purr-machine?” His large hand stroked comfortably over my back, my legs stretching out a little further to give him extra length to touch and soothe.

“How about I read you something, hmm? Ever seen one of these?” He picked an object from one of the shelves, the thing foreign, but smelling of forests and sweat. I liked that smell.

“It’s a book. A very old, nearly extinct..book.” He shuffled a little in his seat, his hand scratching over my chin as he sensed my shock-surprise at being moved. And then he opened this so-called ‘book’, his deep voice sending warm vibrations through my body, my eyes closing slightly as I let him take me away to another world. A world with a thousand trees. And nymphs. And gods - which I think from his descriptions, are like humans but then ever older.

Every few minutes or so he would turn a page, a new whiff of smells entering my satisfied nostrils. I was warm, safe and quite content, my muscles vibrating along with the man’s words as he relieved the ache deep in my soul. I had never heard or smelled such words as his, but I liked them very much.

A loud crack burst open the door, that fierce white light burning my eyes as I quickly skedaddled, getting out of the line of sight of whatever horrific beasts were here to break into my sanctuary. Humans, their smells not to my liking. Too much rubber, plastic and other synthetic whiffs.

“Take him.” One spoke, the others following his curt instructions, the Old Man being mercilessly dragged from the corner where he trembled like a child, his large body not small enough to hide behind the books like I could.

It all happened so quickly that I wasn’t sure whether it had happened at all, the small room quiet and the dust settled before I dared to look again. I waited and waited. The night came and went, but the Old Man didn’t return. My hunger did though. The gnawing, aching emptiness made my bones clatter in their furry furbishments and I tried my best to understand the words the Angry Men had spoken.

“Incinerate elsewhere. Risk of attention. Incinerate elsewhere. Risk of attention.” The words had near eaten me alive when the dark door opened finally, the satisfying scent of two tomcats alerting me it was her. She was not happy though, my heart already aching for her before she could switch on the light, her tears muffled behind a pale hand.

“Oh gods.” She squirmed when the light bulb flickered on, her eyes roaming over a new trail that led over the floor, the smell reminding me of food..though I hadn’t found any, anywhere.

“Oh gods..Badger.” Her eyes started to rain, her lip trembling in pain as she cried out.

That is the moment when I crawled out of my hiding, my careful paws walking towards her until she noticed me, her lips curling up in what I learned was that good emotion. A smile. Though on her it looked a little weird - were there more types of smiles?

“Minnie.” She whispered, picking me up to cuddle until our short interaction was roughly disturbed by a sound outside. “Shit..Fuck..Okay we need to go.”

And, again, I found myself in the insides of a jacket. This time hers.

From the insides of the nice smelling jacket I heard a million voices spinning around us. Some human. Some metallic. Some whispering, some loud. My ears were folded flat against my skull by the time the world quieted again, the two of us landing on a mattress in a mal-furnished room; there were simply too few comfortable places to lay on, the mattress the only surface that was to my liking.

The Young Woman got up, her nose sniffling with the threat of more tears as she conjured up some food and water. Strange food and water. The type that was the standard these days. Tasteless. Shapeless. Soulless food. And disgustingly sterile water. Blergh.

But thankfully this new place brought me something good: the woman was more than eager to hug and cuddle, her body sinking down onto the mattress again so I could crawl up to her, her eye-water sinking into my fur as she held me close.

I wanted to speak to her then, and I did. I talked and talked and talked. But I’m not sure if she understood me. Why was all this water coming from her eyes? Was she the goddess of rain? I leaned in heavier into her warm chest and felt my muscles buzz with eagerness.

And then she found it. My greatest secret. The thing that the new world order was supposed to hate according to the Old Man.

Scratching my chin, I easily surrendered it to her, her fingers removing the small tube from my collar, unscrewing and finding two things: a miniscule piece of paper, reminding me of the smell of home, and some type of metal pill-tube-thing.

Silently she read the words, her lip trembling again with emotion, before they turned into a watery smile - happiness, love, good!

“Oh, I will..I will.” She mumbled.

Curiosity sparked in me and I spoke to her again, begging for her attention: “Please tell me what it reads!” -- And of course she couldn’t understand my words, but the sentiment was clear I think, for she now finally read it aloud:

“Code Minerva. Keeper of Wisdom. 112049 - Erase after uploading. Ps. she loves ear scratches.”

It was the day the new world order fell into true chaos.

I liked it very much.

General Tagsquad: @harrysthiccthighss @tumblnewby @magdelen69 @thereisa8ella @mary-ann84 @darkbooksarwin @summersong69 @madbaddic7ed @luclittlepond @maroonmolly @just-a-normal-fangirl18 @hell1129-blog @agniavateira @tillthelandslide @elinesama @aletheladyinred

#1000 followers #happy new year #and a different bit of fiction #no idea if anybody would want to read this #but here you go!#celebration time #yaay

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austinsirkin · 4 years

Text

A Lesson in Applied Mathematics

Hello, Christopher Sawyer.

Chris sat bolt upright in bed, fumbling at his side table for his glasses, and then casting his panicked gaze frantically around the room. His night light shone a warm, yellow glow on the dirty clothes scattered across the hardwood floor and the inoffensively gray walls covered in posters of Billie Eilish and MGMT. But he was all alone. He’d been on the verge of sleep, so maybe he just…

Excuse me, Christopher, I apologize for bothering you. Is this a bad time?

Chris jumped up onto his feet this time and looked under his bed: nothing. He tiptoed to his closet next, cursing the wood squeaking beneath his little feet, and pulled open the door: again, nothing.

“H… Hello?” he finally asked aloud, his enormous whisper ringing out in the quiet room.

Yes, I’m here. Are you able to do me a small favor?

Now that his wits were more about him, the voice sounded like it was coming from everywhere, but also nowhere. Maybe it wasn’t even sound at all.

“W-who are you?” he asked, tentatively. “Where are you?”

My name is Emily, and I’m… Well, I’m far away from you. I was hoping you might help me.

“Are you a ghost?” he asked. He licked his suddenly dry lips. “Or a... monster?”

There was a short pause before the voice returned.

No, no, don’t worry. I’m alive, and I don’t mean you any harm.

Chris narrowed his eyes. “You know this is sus one hundred, right? Are you going to kidnap me or something?”

Definitely not, I promise. You don’t even have to leave your house. One quick favor, and then I promise you’ll never hear from me again.

“That’s exactly what a kidnapper would say!” Chris declared.

Have you ever met a kidnapper? “Ummm… no.” Then how do you know what they would say? “Everyone knows. They’re all over the internet.”

Of course. The internet knows everything.

“I’m 11, but I’m not an idiot,” Chris declared. “I can tell that you’re making fun of me, you know.” My sincere apologies. I do have to admit that a kidnapper would be unlikely to admit their intentions. They would probably say something like, “I’ll give you a ride home”, or “I have candy in my van”.

“How do you know? Have you ever met a kidnapper?” Chris asked, mimicking Emily’s aloof tone.

...Not in person, no. “Hah!” he declared, triumphantly.

Okay, you got me. Neither of us know any kidnappers. But that means that because I know myself, and I must not be a kidnapper.

Chris pursed his lips and folded his arms across his chest. After a moment, he blew exasperated air out of his nose. ”Fine. I guess… I guess you’re right.”

Excellent. Now, Christopher, I was wondering if you might do me a small favor.

“Chris,” he said.

I’m sorry?

“My name is Chris. People only call me Christopher when I’m in trouble. If I help you, I won’t get in trouble, right?”

Of course, my apologies again, Chris. No, you’re not in trouble, and I promise that if you help me, you won’t get in any trouble. I just need you to read a book downstairs for me.

“You want me to read a book? Ugh.”

You don’t like reading books?

“No way. They’re too long. I get bored.”

I used to love reading books. Perhaps you’ll like them when you’re older.

“How old are you? I bet you’re super old.”

I’m 34 years old.

“Yikes, I was right, you’re old as dirt. What are you doing talking to a kid in the middle of the night?”

Is 11 pm too late? I don’t have any children, so I’m not really sure what time kids go to bed.

“Yeah it’s late! I was almost asleep and you legit scared me out of bed.”

That wasn’t my intention. I just needed some information from a book that’s downstairs in your house. There are no other copies, and your parents are currently asleep, so I couldn’t ask them.

“Normal people just wait for the next day.”

Do I seem like a normal person to you? “I... guess not,” Chris said, grudgingly. “Fine, where’s this book?”

It’s in your mom’s office.

Chris sighed loudly and exaggeratedly. “Alright. Hold on.”

He slipped his feet into his Adidas sandals, stuffed his phone into his pocket, and opened the door to his bedroom. The hallway was dark, but he knew his house like the back of his hand; he’d lived here since he was born. Navigating downward by feel as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he put out his hands to touch familiar landmarks: his door frame, the banister for the stairs, followed by the cool stone entryway at the bottom of the stairs. His parents’ bedroom was upstairs, so once he got downstairs he flipped the lights on without fear of waking them.

Blinking a few times as his eyes adjusted, he sighed and turned the corner to his mother’s office. The room was full of books, framed certificates, and small engraved things that bore her name that were probably awards; old people liked to get things with their name on them. Chris closed the door behind him as he entered.

“Hey, I’m here,” he said, unintentionally whispering.

Chris waited a few long seconds, but there was no reply. A few more seconds went by, and Chris tapped the toe of his right sandal on the ground, settling his foot deeper into the shoe.

“Emil-?”

I’m here, Chris. My apologies, I’m doing… many things at once.

“Weird flex, but go off,” he said.

The sound of a dry chuckle moved through his head. Okay, I suppose I deserved that. Now, the book I need is in the form of a stack of papers on your mother’s desk.

Chris climbed up into his mother’s chair, sitting on his feet, and surveyed his mother’s desk. It was officially the most boring desk ever. Her laptop was there, but the desk was also absolutely covered in books and papers. On the left was a stack of loose, unbound papers nearly three inches thick. The top page was full of small rows of text, the margins of which were thoroughly covered in handwritten notes.

“I can’t read this,” Chris complained. “I’ve never heard of half these words before, and even the sentences have sentences!”

Don’t worry, Chris, I’ll help you get through it. You’re really only looking for a specific formula, so we can just skim until we find it.

“A formula? Like a recipe?” he asked.

Of a sort, except this recipe is for math.

“Math is okay. I’m learning how to multiply fractions now, and I don’t like it.”

I understand. Math can feel very cumbersome, but it’s also very beautiful and elegant once you get beyond rote memorization and you begin to understand not just what the formulas are, but why the formulas are.

“Why the formulas are what?”

Why they exist. Why the letters are where they are, and what it all means.

“You mean like algebra, where you solve for x? Why do I have to do that? What does it mean?”

Another dry laugh. I wish I could answer that question for you, Chris, I really do. But picture math as a ladder. In order to see what’s at the top, you have to climb all the rungs first. Right now, even if it doesn’t feel like it, you’re still near the bottom of the ladder, and it will take time and effort to climb higher.

“Like in college? Is that when I’ll get to the top of the ladder?”

Maybe, but in this case, the ladder doesn’t really have a top, so you can keep climbing forever. The higher you are, the more you can see. You can even build extra rungs onto the top as you go so that you can see farther than any person ever has. That’s what your mom has done, and why I need you to read this book.

Chris furrowed his brow. “My mom… can see farther than anyone?”

When it comes to her specialty, she really can. She’s kind of amazing.

Chris furrowed his brow even deeper and he wrinkled his nose, too. “That’s weird.”

Why is that weird?

“It just is,” Chris said, shaking his head. “Look, do you want this formula thing or not?”

Alright, let’s look for it. Take a peek at the book and see if there are chapter titles. If so, read them to me. It doesn’t matter if you understand what the words mean or not, just do your best.

“If you say so,” Chris said, shrugging. He picked up the first page and looked at it. It had a chapter heading that said ‘Introduction’.

Perfect, the introduction. Now you can skip through the pages and only read the other chapter titles.

“How do you know it says ‘introduction’? I didn’t even read it yet,” Chris protested.

I’m communicating with you telepathically, so there’s no need for you to read it out loud. As soon as you look at it, I can see it, too. You don’t have to talk to me out loud, either, if you don’t want, though most people find it more comfortable. Directing your thoughts without speaking them aloud takes some practice, trust me; otherwise it’s just a jumbled stream of consciousness.

“You’re even weirder than my mom,” Chris complained.

You have no idea. Your mom isn’t weird at all. She’s exceptional. But yes, I’m very weird.

“I knew it,” he said, with a hint of smugness. “Okay, here goes. I’m going to read these chapters for you. You better be ready, because I won’t do it twice.”

Chris picked up the next page and flipped it over. Then the next. And the next. That was when he began to realize just how many pages there were in a three-inch stack of paper, so he picked up the whole stack and began flipping through them with his thumb. It was big and awkward in his hands, but he did his best.The chapter titles, bolded at the tops of the pages, were full of words that he’d never seen before and didn’t understand like “vectors” and “metaphysical implications”, but he sounded them out in his head as he went and Emily didn’t correct him. About three-quarters of the way through the stack of papers, Emily finally spoke up.

This is it, Chris! This is the chapter I need. Now, if you could go through each page and look for any math, that would be great. You don’t have to read the words at all.

“I’ve never heard of anyone ever in the history of the world who needed to learn math this badly.”

You’d be surprised. Mathematicians take their work very seriously, and I doubt I’m the first one to make a late-night call over a formula.

“Are you a mathematician, too?”

Not exactly. You can think of me more like an engineer. Your mom is a mathematician, so she does mostly theoretical work. What I’m doing is using applied mathematics for practical work.

“Hmmm,” Chris said, chewing his bottom lip. “I… think I get it. My mom makes the math, and you use the math.”

Exactly! You’re very clever, Chris.

“....Thanks,” Chris said after a moment, his cheeks tinted with red. “Anyway, let’s find this thing you need so bad.”

Moving his finger across the pages, he looked for things that might be math instead of words, and he found them in abundance. There were equations everywhere, not just in the printed text, but also handwritten in the margins. Some parts were crossed out and overwritten, too. Chris shook his head.

“How does anyone make any sense of this?”

It’s not easy, that’s for sure.

“It’s hard for you, too?”

Of course. Your mom is way smarter than I am.

“Ugh, stop saying things like that! It’s too weird. Mom is just…. Mom.”

Maybe someday you’ll feel differently. It can be tough to think of your parents as real people, but it’ll happen eventually.

“If you say so,” Chris said, shaking his head. He went back to skimming the pages, again using his finger as a guide so he didn’t lose his place. A few pages later, Emily stopped him again.

Yes! This is it! My god, your mother is a total genius.

“I said-” Chris began, irritably.

I know, I know, I’m sorry. Hold on just a moment, I need to make some adjustments based on this formula.

“Alright. Does that mean I can go back upstairs now?” he asked.

There was no response. Chris sighed, took out his phone, and began watching videos on Tiktok. There was no sense going back upstairs if Emily was going to make him come back down again, so he sat and watched videos of people doing the cell phone challenge.

After a few minutes, he switched from Tiktok to Twitter and was surprised to discover that there were tons of tweets trending about an #earthquake in California. And Nevada, and Arizona. He read a few tweets about it, and then saw that there were a bunch of new tags starting to trend: people were using #blackout, #darkness, and #whereisthesun. It was right around sunset over there, and people in cities all over the southwest were reporting that the sky had gone dark. No stars, no sun, just... dark.

Then came the pictures.

From Oregon and Mexico, people began posting pictures of an enormous thing on top of most of California. The first few pictures were denounced as photoshops, but more and more kept getting posted. Videos, too.

The thing was so huge that it was nearly impossible to take in all at once due to the curvature of the earth and the sheer height of the thing; it dwarfed the highest mountains like the highest mountains dwarf humans. Plus, it was sunset so the sunlight was getting filtered through the atmosphere, making it hard to see clearly. To Chris’s eyes, it looked like a mottled brown and gray, but some people were arguing on the internet that it was red and white.

The online world was on fire with speculation, with suggestions of everything from aliens to rock eruptions to some sort of weapon.

Ten minutes had passed since the thing first appeared and, engrossed in his phone, it never even occurred to Chris to wake up his parents. That was when Emily startled him again.

I seem to have caused a bit of a stir. Emily’s words held the barest suggestion of a sigh. That was my mistake; I seem to have misread your mother’s handwriting and thought a G was a C. Anyone could have made that mistake, really; C would make way more sense, given the context.

“Hey! You scared me. And I have no idea what you’re saying,” Chris said, distractedly. “Have you seen the thing in California? What’s up with that?”

Ah. Well, there’s no real delicate way to say this, so. Um. I am the “thing” currently above California, and parts of Nevada and Arizona. I didn’t intend to make quite a… scene. But with the mistake I made in the formula, I ended up in the wrong place. This is actually something of a best-case scenario, all things considered.

“Now I really have no idea what you’re saying.”

A sigh caressed Chris’s brain. The thing that you’re seeing pictures of? That’s me.

“That doesn’t make any sense. You’re a 34-year-old girl named Emily and a weirdo, not some big mountain thing. I hate when adults try to talk to me like I’m stupid. You’re the stupid one,” Chris said retorted, more venomously than he intended..

You asked me earlier if I was a monster, and I said no. But that wasn’t strictly… true. It’s hard to explain. But I understand if you’re angry. The thing everyone is looking at -- me -- isn’t an alien, and it’s not a weapon. It’s a woman named Emily, who is 34 years old, and who is also probably the biggest crab in the universe. And I don’t mean that metaphorically, like I can be crabby sometimes. I mean that I am literally a megacrab. Six legs. Claws. Armored exoskeleton. Size of Texas.

Chris blinked a few times, then asked, “So.... What’s that like?”

You know what? It’s okay. I miss things about having a normal human body, like being able to… Well, nevermind. Maybe when you’re older. Overall, though, I’m pretty happy.

“You mean you can’t have sex?”

Christopher!

“What? It’s not like I don’t know about it.”

I’m going to leave that conversation to your parents. Meanwhile, I came back to say thank you, and goodbye. I did promise you that you wouldn’t hear from me again after this, after all.

“Wait, forever forever?” Chris asked, taken aback. “But what if I don’t want you to go... forever?”

I’m afraid there’s no choice. If I stayed here, I would disrupt the course of human history. The various world governments would fight over me. It wouldn’t be a good look, trust me. So I’m going away. That’s why I needed your mom’s book. Maybe I’ll come back some day, but not for a long time.

“Oh. If I didn’t read the book for you, would you have stayed?”

Oh, Chris, you’re a sweet boy. It would only have delayed me by a day or two, so don’t beat yourself up. I suggest that you keep our little talk tonight between us, too. If it gets out that we talked like this, I can’t promise that you’d be safe. Powerful people would try to target you in order to get to me. So this’ll be our secret, okay?

“Emily, you’re… You’re scaring me,” Chris said, his voice cracking a little.

I know, but it’s very important that you follow these directions. If you do, you’ll be okay, and everything will be fine. I’ll try to check up on you from time to time, too, okay?

Chris fought the lump in his throat and looked at the floor. “Okay. I’ll… I’ll miss you.”

Thank you, Chris. That means more to me than you know. It’s rare that a… creature… such as myself gets treated like a friend.

“You’re welcome, Emily. Have a… have a safe trip.”

One last dry laugh floated through his mind. Don’t worry about me, Chris. You just make sure you stay alive until I come back, okay?

“I promise,” he said, wiping his nose on his arm as he blinked away his tears.

Several long seconds passed.

“Emily?” he asked, with a note of helplessness.

There was no answer.

After a moment, he checked his phone again. Twitter was overrun with the news that the “thing” had disappeared entirely. It was night, so no one saw exactly where it went, or how. People were already posting about the whole thing being a hoax.

Chris put down his phone and sighed. He sat at his mom’s desk in silence for several minutes, and a few tears left lines down his face. Then, slowly and deliberately, he pulled out some blank pages from the desk and grabbed a pen. Methodically, he began copying down everything he could remember about his exchange with Emily.

About an hour later he put his pen down and looked up at the ceiling, his work done.

“If she won’t be back for a while…” he said to himself, “I guess I’d better learn some more math.”

After a pensive pause, he mused, “I wonder if Mom will teach me.”

He leaned back in the too-big chair and watched the ceiling fan spin, his thoughts whirling around inside his head at the speed of light.

Art by Zhen Fu Li https://www.deviantart.com/zhenfuli

#fiction #speculative fiction #math #mathematics #science fiction #crab

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hanhan156 · 4 years

Text

Hanhan’s short stories: Rammstein Halloween pt.#16

Well, October went already but weird short stories suit the dark season in general, despite the month. 8-)

Happy Halloween everyone!

The prompt: After the death of a friend or family member, the character (and possibly one or a few others) finds a hidden trap door in their home while cleaning out their belongings. Inside, they uncover secrets the deceased was hiding.

#16: Welcome to the Catland

Furball’s sudden death had been hard to admit for Flake. Even after months, he was still deeply in his sorrow and couldn’t have cleaned up all the cat-related stuff around the house. Everything was still like when Furball had been there - the only difference was that the food bowl was empty. Flake knew it wasn’t healthy trying desperately to hold on from the old things - those just kept reminding how lonely he was now when his pet had left this world. Till had been supportive all the way and had gently suggested that maybe it was time to get rid of the things - time to move on with tiny steps forward.

Flake laid on a sofa which had become too familiar in the last months - the kingdom of his grief, with plushie toys and a worn-out blanket that still had cat fur on it.

He blinked his watery eyes when the sweet memories of his beloved pet came back again. It can’t go on forever like this, verdammt…an adult man, weeping for a cat, how embarrassing. Till is always right, I should listen to him.

He stood up and with a sigh, decided that this was the day: he had to start cleaning the cat stuff away, even though how painful it felt. All the broken mouse toys, yarn, and catmint spread around the house - everything should go now.

Okay, this is then. He put melancholic classical music on and started his work.

After way too many hours the cleaning was finally done - Flake had broken the promise just a tiny bit and saved some of Furball’s favorite toys, including a rustling Grumpy Cat -plushie, as memories.

But, his eyes caught something unusual in the darkest corner of a wardrobe where he had hidden the cardboard box full of cat things which were meant to go to the trash. “Wait a minute, I never installed a cat door,” he muttered, “and why on earth would I even need a door here in the first place?” Or maybe this has something to do with that night when we tested Paul’s homemade moonshine and got the worst diarrhea ever and almost got blind…

But even more bizarre than just the door was a small bottle on the floor next to it.

Gott im Himmel, what is going on? Does somebody want to poison me or did Furball have a secret tavern here?

Flake took the tiny bottle in his hand and tried to read the gibberish written on it: “Ämät ouj.”

“Ämät ouj…” he kept repeating. Is this even any real language?

He left the door and the bottle there and tried to think about something else but as the evening went on, it was impossible to get the weird things in his wardrobe out of the head. Flake shut the tv down and took his laptop. Just for fun, he tried to type the text on a translator, but like he assumed, with no results.

Then, out of nowhere, he remembered how in detective novels the letters had to be arranged in a different order to solve a riddle. He tried the classic: putting the text backward.

“Heureka!” Flake yelled accidentally out loud - even though how impossible, it had worked.

It was a command. “In Finnish: Juo tämä - in English: drink this.”

No way, this must be some kind of stupid prank…maybe it’s just Reesh’s hidden flask from our last party.

Flake hesitated for a while and thought what could be the worst that could happen. He could go blind or even worse, suffer a slow and painful death. But still, curiosity was too strong - he had to give it a try.

He went back to the wardrobe and just in case, typed the emergency number ready to his phone.

“Okay, here goes for nothing…”

He gulped the whole bottle and expected to have a bitter and burning taste in his mouth but surprisingly, the drink was neutral, with a hint of sweetness in it.

At first, nothing seemed to happen and Flake was assured it had to be just a prank. He decided to go to sleep - how stupid he had been to think this might lead to something interesting. What was he expecting?

But when he started walking it ended up being difficult - he was shrinking.

The whole wardrobe looked enormous from a different angle.

“No fucking way!” Flake exclaimed in disbelief as he noticed he had suddenly paws instead of hands.

And in front of the cat door, he saw a tiny text he was unable to see before.

ENTER

~**~

Two cats were sleeping in a basket: another one was completely black, with a red ribbon in his neck and the other one, tinier, was red and striped. They were curled tightly together in a ball when the black one opened his eye - he was sure he had heard steps. That was unusual.

“Somebody’s coming here.”

“Who could it be?” the red one mumbled and didn’t even bother to open his eyes when he had been just dreaming of a sweet mouse hunting trip with his companion.

“I have no idea, but I should have a look.”

The black cat left his comfortable place, swearing himself for the pleasant moment been interrupted ruthlessly. He licked his friend’s ear. “I’ll be back soon, Paulchen.”

“Be careful, Liebling.”

The intruder got more and more visible as he approached. It seemed to be a slender and completely naked cat.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” the black cat hissed.

The newcomer stopped. “You have no idea how much I’d like to have answers to those questions as well. But who are you?”

“My name is Richard,” the other cat answered proudly.

The naked cat’s pupils widened in his new yellow eyes. “No fucking way…”

“What?”

He took a step forward and scrutinized the other cat. “Holy shit, it is really you, Reesh. This is unbelievable!”

Richard started to get uneasy. “H-how do you know that name?”

“Because we are in the same band, silly.”

Okay, is this naked guy high on catmint or what is this shit he’s talking about? “What is…a band?”

The newcomer sighed - so it seemed like he had entered a world without even music. How great. “We play music together, in umm…humanforms.”

Richard now looked like he was going to throw up. “…human?” The thought of being a relative for smelling monkeys made him nauseous. It was almost like an insult to be even mentioned in the same sentence with those creatures. “Don’t say things like that or I assure you I’m gonna scratch your eyes out!”

“Yes, we both were humans in my…universe or whatever it was, believe it or not.”

Universe? What is he talking about? “But why in the hell are you here?” Richard asked and didn’t want to believe anything he had just heard.

“That’s another story.” The naked cat stared at the ground, embarrassed, and tried to change the subject. “But do you happen to know a cat named Furball? White one, with grey stripes.”

Richard licked his lips and answered vaguely: “I might know him. Why?”

“Can you lead me to him, please. I need answers for this whole mess.”

“Perhaps, perhaps…but first, it would be nice to know with whom I’ve been talking to.”

“My name is Flake,” the naked cat finally revealed and offered his paw for Richard. When the other feline kept staring at it in confusion, Flake immediately withdrew it. He could have blushed if it would have been possible.

“Sorry, I’m not just used to…your species’ culture yet.”

“It seems like we have a lot of things to teach you then,” Richard said slyly and stretched, ready to leave. “C’mon, let’s go. We have to find your Furball and also meet Till and Schneider if they could help you in…whatever it is you need.”

#rammstein #flake lorenz #richard kruspe #paul landers #31horrificdays #halloween fic #cats #weird short story #fanfiction #my fics #october challenge failed #but oh well

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wtfdavidsvlogs · 5 years

Text

Show me What I’m Looking For... (D.D)

Warnings: Smut implied HEAVILY (its smut), swearing, fluff

Requested anon:💡: Where you're friends with David and there's definitely sexaul tension. You're hanging out with him while he's editing when he says he's almost done. You go to call an uber, he suggests it's really late and you should stay the night. You ask if he has any pants (Merch) as it would be no uncomfortable to sleep in jeans. He hands them to you and unexpectedly you start changing infront of him.

Gif by: @vlogsquadfanatic

David was weird in the way where on posting days he needed someone to keep him company or else he would his focus. I’d think the opposite but I mean I’m glad I was his first choice of accompaniment. He was on the big bean bag chair where I was snuggled into the corner of the L couch just 15 feet away. I’ve been in this position for hours but whenever I suggest leaving he immediately stops me.

“daaaaavvvviiidd, when are gonna be done I’m bored and I wanna go home.” You said with a whining laugh. He looks up at you.

“I know I know I’m so fucking close just this last part and I’ll be done for the night I promise. He said that 2 hours ago. I groan and extend my legs. I open up my uber app and get ready to request.

“I’m getting an uber home, I need to sleep it’s like 1:30.” I say and he throws his laptop to the side.

“No no no you’re the only one left please don’t go this will never get done!” He says pouncing on top of me. He pins me arms down and sis on my stomach. I laugh and throw my head back. When I look back at him I see his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. The tension got super sexual super quick.

“Oh my god fine but hurry I’m tired.” I said with a laugh while pushing him off. He goes to get his laptop so that he can sit next to me on the couch.

“Why don’t you just sleep here tonight? I mean it’s pretty late and I’d feel horrible if something happened to you.” He said looking everywhere but your eyes. I throw my head back.

“Fine. But do you have something more comfortable to change into I’m not exactly in the mood to sleep in skin tight jeans for the night.” I said he got up quick and came running back with a pair of black clickbait booty shorts. He sits back down and looks at me. This is when I decided to innocently tease this kid to death. I stood up and stretched my back. I slowly pull my shirt over my head exposing my white lace bralette. While looking at him directly in the eyes. I unbutton my jeans and slide them down my legs I turn around and bend over to pick up the shorts he had lent to me, being sure to give him a full show. I turn to the side and look at him flipping all of my hair to one side as I pulled them up to expose my ass a little bit. I sat back down but not on the couch but on his lap. Trust me when I say this is the most beat red face I’ve ever seen on a guy before. I straddled him knees on either side keeping me propped up. I lean really close to his face. While running my hands through his tousled hair. His breathes in were nervous. We both sensed the extreme sexual tension between us but we simply never addressed it. Until now.

“I’m going to sleep now. In your bed but if you aren’t coming with me.” I said as I stand up slowly off of him while walking towards the hallway. I sway my hips with every step ever so slightly. I turn around last second. “I guess I’ll just sleep with my vibrator.” I said giggling. I could tell it was taking everything in his will power to not start feeling out like a little school boy. But his eyes, were all over me. Studying every last inch. That’s exactly what I wanted, and that’s exactly what I had. His attention.

Davids Pov

Oh my lord look at her. Jesus Christ she knows what she’s doing to me. She knows that I have to finish editing this and post it at a reasonable time and she just changed in front of me and told me she was going to sleep in my bed. With a vibrator. I was nearly tearing my pants off with how tight they were getting. She rounded the corner towards my room. I throw my head back and hit it on the couch in of the couch. I bite my lip and groan at the thought of her. She quite literally had me wrapped around her finger. There has always been a sexual attraction that neither of us did anything about and now this is it. She was killing me and I was playing into it all. She wanted my attention and she got it. I have literally never edited anything so quickly in my life. I was blue balling in the name of my career because of Y/N right now. It took 15 minutes after she left the room to finally get it posted. The moment I saw it go up I sprinted to my room. To see her and my god did I see her.

Your Pov

I knew he was being eaten up inside at the fact that he couldn’t just take me right then and there. I got myself situated to drive him absolutely crazy the second he walked in. Oh you know just in my comfortable sexy ass red lingerie I had been hiding here in case of an ‘emergency’. I bought it with Corrina about a month ago and she suggested the idea of me hiding it there. I laid on the bed and changed the lights to a a calming yellow tint. Like fairly lights to highlight the curve of my body that were being hugged closely by my top. I fixed my hair and waited another five minutes to see him barging in. All he did was look at me and I could tell he was weak at the knees. He threw his head back and shit the door quietly behind me. I sat up and sat on my knees to crawl towards him. I grab him by the collar and he pulls his shirt off.

Davids Pov

I lay her down gently on her back as I trace parts of the lace that were on the sensitive parts of her stomach. I look her up and down as if she was a meal. Where’d she even get this? I’m not even gonna question it, I’m just glad she has it.

“Baby. You have been teasing me for months now. With the way you dress, the way to talk, the way you touch me. Now I’m gonna end my suffering. And yours.” She was mine for the taking. I’ll show her exactly what she got herself into.

Your pov

He quickly put his lips to mine while rubbing my outer thighs. I wrapped my legs around him as he was completely pressed against my core. I grab the back of his head and deepening the kiss more. He moved slowly to my jaw and then my neck. It was like he knew the soft spots of my body without even having touched me in the first place. Which is so fucking sexy. He sucked on the spot on my neck that he knew he’d get a reaction from. I bit my lip in order to muffle the moan being released. Which turned to a whimper. Oddly enough it fueled him to go even harder. He reaches my legs to take off my red lacey underwear. He pulls them down slowly and carefully placed them to the side.

“I don’t want to rip those off of you, you look to fucking good in them to be ruined.” He said through his teeth. Almost a growl. I took the bra off and placed it to the side as well. I was now fully exposed to him. No barriers. No holding back. I was all his. He then proceeded to get on the same level by discarding his now skin tight black jeans and his boxers. He looked at me and kissed my lips gently again.

“You have no clue how long I’ve been waiting for this to happen, Y/N. The worst part is half the time you didn’t even know you were teasing the fuck out of me.” He said to me looking at me again. Like he was studying. I blushed and hid behind my hands. Normally I’m very comfortable with the idea of putting myself out there, but when he looked at me like that I get flustered. He pulls my hands away from my face and he just stares at me and smiles. He grinds against me and kissed me to calm me down.

“You’re absolutely breathtaking.” He whispers to me. He was at the right position, all he needed was the motivation to move.

“Show me what I’m looking for, Dobrik. Just take me.” I whisper back. He quickly thrusts into me. I let out a yelp as he then raised his hand to my mouth.

“Sh sh sh. We don’t want the neighbors to know, do we?” He whispered and laughed. Under his hand I shook my head no. He was still inside of me when he pulled back and forth. He felt heavenly inside of me. He had completely exceeded all of my expectations of what he was like in bed. I assumed he’d be shy and reserved but when he is going for what he wants, he will let nothing stand in his way of getting it. I whimper again. I’m not usually so submissive as to whimper instead of moaning but he had this effect on me which made me weak I guess. He thrusts into me harder and faster. I’ve never been ready to release so quickly. David was showing me all new angles of himself that I would have never expected. He is taking in sharp breaths through his teeth. He closes his eyes at the feeling of me wrapped around him.

Davids Pov

My god this is so much better than in my head. She is coming undone right before my eyes. I mean hell I was making her whimper. It only motivated me to hear it more. The heavenly noses that were coming from her was all I needed to get through. I wasn’t going to last much longer and neither was she. She had her head thrown back so I decided to take the opportunity to kiss her neck again. She only moaned louder the more I touched her. She was clutching the bed sheets.

“Are you ready, babygirl?” I asked her she nodded and inverted he lips and closed her eyes. One last hard thrust and she was done. He body shook under me as swears and moans came pouring from her lips. I assumed that she’d take a dominant role in this situation but she was the exact opposite. She was willing to do whatever I wanted her to. Her breath was heavy and quick. I finished inside of a condom and went to go throw it out. I threw some joggers on and walked back out. I came back to her naked body still in the same position. I lay down next to her and just stare.

“What do you want, Dobrik?” She whispered to me while turning onto her stomach and resting her head in her hand. The smile painted across her beautiful face was so stunning.

“I want you to be mine. If that’s what you want, too.” I said to her while sitting up against the headboard of my bed. She followed me by throwing on one of my sweatshirts that had been lying on the other side of the bed. The heather grey one was my favorite on her. She straddled my lap once again and she just smiled at me.

“Do you think I would have gone through all of that torture for all this months if I didn’t want you to be my man?” She whispered while playing with my messed up hair. I laid my hands to rest on her smooth thighs.

“So is that a yes?” I looked from her legs up to her eyes. She laughed and ran her fingers threw her hair backwards. She bit her lip and gave me a nod. I let out a sigh of relief and grabbed her face. I kissed her gently once again and it all felt so right. She was finally mine. Finally.

Jeez I went really over board but I thought it was so cute I hope you liked it to the anon who requested

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 5 years

Text

Kira (8)

CHAPTER 8: Discoveries

Loki x fem!Reader (Kira)

Series: Will contain fluff, smut, bloodshed, violence, anxiety, tears and the cries of my wilted soul.

Chapter content: like the title says...

Warnings: old repressed memories

Word count: Finally! This is only up because of Tari so you all have her to thank for this.

I miss my old colleagues. Taught me so much. This new part of the company is...weird. But I have been taking my rage out in the gym so there’s that.

MASTERLIST & Taglist in bio, my love

The morning breeze saturated with the cold and smell of dewy grass and flowers tip-toes inside your room with the grace of a professional ballerina. Your bare back, with the loss of the duvet's hug, can feel the sweet kisses she leaves all over your susceptible skin. A turn over the bed and you can feel the shift in the warmth of the duvet surrounding your naked form. Your arms sense the disparate temperature over the other side of the bed, forcing you to open your eyes and find it empty.

Where did you go?

As if to answer your thoughts, the sound of the shower running in your bathroom comes as soothing waves, bringing with it the tiny fishes that tickle you while they eat away the muck on your feet you never thought you had.

It is a task to get up from this cocoon of warmth but the thought of what may be on the other side of the wall makes it easier to be up on your legs and strut towards the door.

The door clicks open and you can already feel the heat inside the bathroom the moment you step in. The shower is turned to cold but the vapours leaving the surface of the body that stands under it are visible from where you stand. The glass door to the shower temple is opened and you step in, too entranced by the muscles peaking from beneath the scars that mar the otherwise flawless perfection. The rivulets on that pale skin make it glow in its entirety save for the parts where the scars rest. The strong pressure of the water perfectly disguises the head with its white foam, letting you focus more on the liquid snakes slithering down that naked back.

And just like that, your fingers are tracing them; both the snakes and the scars- too enchanted for your own good. Your touch makes the muscles flinch and the body turn, bringing his face out of the white foam to watch you with his ocean eyes while his hands wrap themselves instinctively around yours and take them behind your back as he softly bares his teeth at you when he brings you close to him. The push from his chest is enough to drive you into the wet wall behind, the cold tiles rubbing against your surfaces, letting you know the depth of pressure and- somewhere deep down inside you- the height of pleasure.

The blue glows lustfully green in the soft yellow lights above and around the two of you. Your breaths are ragged while his chest rises and falls with graceful movements of a calm ocean wave gently rocking a pirate ship.

"Say it."

The words are soft but the ripple that they carry holds the strength to tear you to shreds on the inside. The vibrations from your soul's core are visible on your skin to the onlooker as he tries to test them for himself when he brings his face closer to yours.

"Say it," his lips move in a whisper right in front of yours and you have to focus all your strength in keeping yourself balanced on your two legs as they begin to shudder.

"Loki."

His name is a whisper of a prayer to call unto him from your lips while the stray drops from his hair, head and chest fall over your breasts.

His arms that now rest on either side of you seem to be holding him in place as he restrains himself from doing something he should not.

But oh! Even the Gods do not have the strength to keep away from the temptations that they secretly want to worship themselves.

His lips gently collide with yours, pushing you back into the wall as his hands let go of yours to grab your heated hips and pull them closer to his already primed length.

Your hands find their place around his neck and once the chains inside your mind let go, the force with which you pull him close is unknown even to you.

He loves it.

He craves it.

And so, his fingers tease your skin when they move down to grab your perfect thighs in their firm grasp and lift you up, your legs locking him in place while his body does the same with you by keeping you against the cold tiles.

Neither of you wants to let go of the lips when the tongues dance in harmony and moans are gulped down with pure contentment.

He stops.

You growl.

But he continues to look at you as you feel his hands snaking down your wet caverns, the dark greens nearly hitting the edge as they watch you gasp at his mere touch.

"Yes."

You cannot stop yourself. Your eyes are already closing, your walls threatening to give up, your fingers digging into his skin as he strokes your walls right where they are bound to light up and gyrate.

And he lets go.

Only to come back with his length pushing inside you this time.

The jolt that your body goes through when your eyes pop open hits hard when you find yourself lying in your bed. It reverberates harder when you sit up and feel the morning pleasantness chilling every little bead of sweat over your surface.

The bed is empty. The doors are closed. The birds are chirping. The sun is up.

Everything is as it's supposed to be.

Everything except your senses that are still trying to get used to the idea of you having woken up from a way too realistic sex dream with your boss.

"Good morning, Kira!"

Ygritte's voice from the living room makes you jump.

Holy shit!

"Morning, um... Ygritte."

The sounds of her picking up the remnants of last night while dusting off your space are both welcoming and a bit intrusive.

"What would you like to have for breakfast, Kira?"

"...I'm good with sandwiches."

You can hear her pick up your laptop from the floor to place it on the desk.

Picking up the bottle of water on your nightstand, your lips run for a quick gulp to moisten that dried up throat.

"Something refreshing and green or meaty and juicy?"

And all the water goes down the wrong way because of the scandalous imagery your brain comes up with. Again.

Fenrir lounges on the refreshing grass, judging you without shame as you eat a vegetable kebab sandwich with greens that are too crispy for someone who has survived on two-days worth of groceries for an entire week.

"I feel I might hurt my teeth eating this lettuce," you mutter to yourself while Fenrir tilts his head with a scoff and a whining growl before trying to push your feet away so he can do a full stretch.

"Shut up, you whiney wolf," you hiss softly at him- which he completely ignores - biting into the deliciously minty kebabs and tomatoes while trying to keep the lettuce in place with your teeth.

"Don't forget we have to leave tonight."

Now it is completely normal for you to find yourself in situations where you lock eyes with a complete stranger at a restaurant while trying to fit a burger in your mouth and failing to do so. What makes this situation worse is to watch your boss and his pet wolf look at you with sheer amusement in their glittery eyes as the lettuce hangs from your mouth before you try to find a seemingly graceful way to fit the entire thing in your mouth with your fingers.

"I've made the arrangements," you finally speak after the green chunk of cool crisp finally goes down your throat.

"Did you get Gustav to ready my suits in time?"

"All three of them are ready to fly off with the rest of your luggage."

"What about the arrangements for the stay?"

"I talked to Friday and she's assured us of our stay at the expo for the week. She's Mr Stark's assistant."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

You turn to face Loki for the first time during the day, catching the man dressed in the deepest hue of the blue t-shirt over his chest while the black trousers compliment his legs. And other parts.

"What about your dress up for the expo dinners, darling?"

Darling.

The shimmers of this unexplained pain carefully intertwined with a latent string of pleasure pulling through your subconscious do not go unnoticed by your existence when you feel your legs shudder.

"I uh...I don't..."

Your words do not come out as the sleeves are rolled up and the tie goes away to let the collar be unbuttoned.

"Call Gustav," Loki picks up an unmarked sack kept by the end of the porch and puts it over his back, "he'll fix something up for you."

Without another word, he walks off on a trail somewhere in the estate you do not want your mind to wander in this heated condition.

"Gustav."

Forcing yourself out of your own punishing trance, you call the man of every hour to help you out.

"You all right?" Robert asks you the moment you step out into the living room, dressed for the afternoon you'd planned.

"Yeah, why?"

"You said you'd be out in twenty minutes. Ygritte was worried about you."

"Oh," you breathe out, tucking a side of your hair behind your ears, "I had an issue...with my bathroom."

"..."

"Couldn't find myself to walk inside," you whisper to yourself, chugging down a glass of water without touching it with your lips.

"Something broke?" Robert's brows furrow in concern.

"Yeah," you mutter as you walk out towards the front door, "me. I'm broke."

“What?”

"I have to say it is good to see you in not-formals!"

Sam's chirpiness is a drizzle of fresh waves as he makes you chuckle.

"Wait. Really?"

"Yeah," he nods, his eyes stealing a quick look at Robert walking five steps behind you, "I've only ever seen you leave your house to go to work."

"Huh," you pretend to wonder out loud, "so you've tried to see me every time I leave my place?"

The heat evidently reaches his ears as he fumbles through the words, making it harder for you to suppress your chuckles.

"Welcome to the Violet Springs, Madame, Sir."

The greeting by the hostess helps break out of the rush of embarrassment pooling up through Sam's skin that you can conveniently compliment in his summer blue shirt and sand trousers, playing well with your sky blue sundress.

"Yes, um," Sam tries to clear his throat, "we have a reservation under Sam Diaz."

The hostess barely takes a minute to look up the name before taking you and him to the seats by the edge of the restaurant with the view of the city below you.

Sam takes a moment to bask in the glory of the concrete world around him while you look for Robert and find him standing on the other edge with a wide view of the entire hall.

I still don't get why he has assigned himself to me. The only reason I'll be requiring his expertise is when I step on my own foot.

And like a note struck from the instrument of epiphany, you sit straight and take out your phone to send a quick text before giving all your attention to your neighbour.

If this little date goes bad, you're responsible for getting me out of here.

"Before we begin," you start, catching every bit of Sam's senses, "I’m letting you to know we are splitting the bill and that is final."

Words on your phone light up against the otherwise asleep screen- That *is* my job, Miss

"We haven't even started talking yet! Or had anything to drink!" Sam brings out of this shared internal joke from the man you can't see smiling from across the room.

"That's exactly why," you chuckle.

You can see his brown eyes take your features in. You can sense it even when you look away, appearing to smudge something off the wine glass kept in front of you.

Wait. This place has wine glasses. Oh, it's expensive, isn't it? For expensive people.

"You look amazing today, by the way."

Robert watches as you go blank and blink at Sam in return for something the boy said to you. He has seen that look on your face- like you are lost somewhere for a second, trying to find the weight of whatever you witness with your senses. You've done this before, in his boss' presence more times than he can count. Only this time, you don't try to busy your hands and tear away your gaze as if you're not supposed to be in the presence of the person in front of you.

The grub hoe hits the cooler layer of the soil hard before Loki finally gets up and drops the tool away from him.

Sweat beads are teased by the afternoon breeze which is comparatively cooler than what the city is witnessing at this moment, thanks to the generous amount of trees surrounding him.

Picking up his shirt lying on the chunk of stone two feet away from the shallow plot he has dug, he allows the cotton fabric to soak up the sweat from everywhere he is exposed.

"Lemonade, Master Loki," Ygritte's call comes right on time as she sets down the tray on the table made of stone under an old sacred fig. Fenrir is not far behind.

"Nice weather for a Saturday," she hums as she uses tongs to pick up the spherical ice cubes from the bucket and masterfully drop them in the tall glass before pouring the jug of lemonade blessed with mint leaves.

Fenrir walks over to the freshly dug up plot to smell the wet earth before putting his paw over the cool dirt.

"Get away from there, Fenrir," Loki commands without looking at the wolf, who growls in protest before coming to the table to demand his share of the treats.

Before he can bring his nose up the surface to sniff the contents of the jug, Loki shoves his face away.

"Only the wolves who work hard get to have a feast," he announces to the enormous body of fur staring at him with nothing but animosity right now.

"Go play with Kira."

Fenrir slumps down and lets the grass rub his wiggling back, making Loki's eyes reflect disgust as he downs his glass.

"Miss Kira isn't home, Master Loki," Ygritte responds as she pours him a refill.

She does not get a response back from Loki but can see his fingers twitch before he goes for the glass and empties it again.

"Thank you, Ygritte," he greets flatly before dragging the sack towards the pit and scattering its contents- which look like sesame seed-sized violet pellets- all over the freshly dug ground.

"Make sure everything is ready before nine tonight," he throws into the air for the woman to catch as she walks back while Fenrir lays in the grass and shade to watch his master work.

"I..."

"You don't like wine?"

The look Sam and the waiter give you is that of pure betrayal before one of them composes themselves.

"That's okay we can order something else," Sam chimes.

"I've tried to get used to the taste but..." The sentence hangs mid-air as you give a light shrug as a loose apology. "I'm good with Long Island, though."

Their brows quirk as Sam nods in approval while the waiter's lips stretch just a little at one corner.

"I'll have a Caipiroska," Sam declares as he closes the menu.

"You can order wine, if you want," you try to persuade him as his liquid honey eyes seem to get struck by something new whenever he looks at you- something you do not seem to get used to.

He is about to say something when a heavy voice filled with aged sophistication fills the air around you.

"Good afternoon, young lads. How are you liking the place?"

You reluctantly look up from the food menu to watch a middle-aged man with a well- groomed beard looking and soft honey eyes with flecks of deeper darker brown scattered in them. From the looks of his effortless blue suit that went with the theme of the restaurant, he seems like the manager here.

This is an expensive place.

"It's nice," you feel generous for the lack of experience in settings like this.

"It's brilliant," Sam beams.

The smile stretches from within the manager's beard as he clasps his hands together. For some reason, it even feels like a smile you'd seen somewhere before.

"Wonderful then," he continues, "if I may be so bold to suggest, try our Asian cuisine today and while your server gets back to you with your drinks, take a look at the new art installed in our Galleria for the New Foundations charity."

You turn towards Sam with a glimmer in your eye and a childlike smirk on your face. "This sounds fun."

All clothes are dumped on the observatory floor as the dirt-laden feet take the stairs towards a lone room and come back with a towel in one hand and swimming trunks cajoling the perfect shape of the rear that walk out of the place and towards the glass building that houses nothing but a pool and its required necessities.

Leaving the towel on the lounging seats, he dives into the cold water with the grace of a dolphin and intention of tiger, letting his body ride like a free wave till he has to come to the surface to breathe before going down again.

At first it's a blur. The shape. But the more time Loki spends inside the water, the more he can see a figure adroitly floating in the pool with enchanted shimmers all around it.

The hair takes the shape of whatever it wants to, going graciously wild as it lifts the veil from the face.

Your face.

Your glittering eyes that look through his soul.

He stops just to float towards you, stands in the deep waters to look at the wound he helped take care of while internally appreciating the view of watching you untethered.

Of imagining you untethered.

Just as his mind realises this- a second too sooner- he pushes to the surface to breathe. Hard.

He stills in the water around him, questioning himself, his sanity, wondering where you came from; out of the blue, curious as to why you, bewildered at the thoughts slowly scratching a surface he knows is not there.

Curse you, Kira.

And with that contemplation left in the air, he goes free on his back, back into the water.

"If it's alright with you, Mr-"

"Harrison."

"Mr Harrison," you continue, "I'd like to talk to my boss about this charitable event so that the company can do its bit to help out in any way."

The manager, Harrison, smiles with his teeth out.

Why is that smile so familiar?

"Brilliant idea!" Harrison laughs.

"Hold on, let me get your contact details." Opening your phone, you jot down his number from his visiting card that marks the hotel's sigil and his designation.

"May I get your full name?" You ask him, trying to open the save option quickly and get over with this to get back to your date, who seems to be shaking with restlessness now.

"Yes. It's Harrison Wardwell."

With one strike of a peaceful clink echoing inside your head, you have travelled back to a dimly lit room. The curtains are drawn over the windows because the sun is too bright. The edge of the desk is lined up right with the window, with books and notebooks scattered over the wooden structure. Plushies crowd the bed as someone lies under the sheet on the side of the bed that is nearer to the window.

There are no birds chirping outside. Why would there be? It's a hot afternoon. There is no creak of the door opening because it is never shut. The footsteps are quieter than a cat's. The fingers are rubbing against the sweaty palm before they touch the edge of the bed. The movement is slow but that does not stop the hand from disappearing under the sheets.

The phone drops from your hand over the tiled floor.

"Oh, sorry," escapes your trembling lips as you bend down to pick it up, using the bare seconds to compose yourself before getting up.

"It's Wardwell with a 'W'."

The voice pierces through your throbbing skull.

"Yeah," you nod without bringing your eyes to look back at him, "I got it. I'll go back now."

He wishes you a great time but your body and mind do not register anything.

You do not even realise when you've come back sat down on the table till Sam is fighting for your attention to ask you about your choice of entrées. The stickiness on your palm and the heat radiating from behind your eyes are warning you for what is about to come. And so, you do what you do best.

"I'm sorry, Sam," you blurt out as you get up, catching Sam's face fall, "I'm not feeling well. I'll have to go back. I'm really sorry."

Robert is already on his heels, walking towards you, sensing trouble from the way you stand.

"Yeah, no," Sam stammers, "it's okay. Is everything okay? Anything I can do? Want to get some air?"

"No, no. I'd rather go home," you mention, already picking up your purse and walking away, "thank you for understanding."

You're nearly at the door, your breaths shallow, your back marred with sweat, almost ready to collapse when Robert takes hold of you before getting into the elevator.

The doors close for the ground floor but Robert does not let you go.

"Water?" He simply puts.

You shake your head, your breathing growing rougher while your nails are beginning to dig into his jacket.

"Do you have medication?" He doesn't stop.

You nod your head furiously.

"It's back home."

The tears stinging your eyes are just sitting over the edge, waiting for one light push.

"Would you like to lie down somewhere?" The softness in his voice is soothing but the idea brings back the face of the man.

"I want to go home," you breathe out with all your strength.

Robert's concern takes another shape over his features. The shape of resolve. Carefully wrapping his arms over your back to help you stand straight he walked you to the entrance.

"Then let's get you home."

The crisp black shirt tries it's hardest to flutter on Loki's back but the buttons in front stop the wind from taking advantage of the breathing fabric and the body it has been wrapped around.

The walk back to the house is a languid one with Fenrir by his side- something both seem to be enjoying this suddenly breezy noon with a grey cloud approaching from the city side.

The French doors are still slid open when he reaches the back to watch the hazy sun reflect streaks of wetness from your eyes to your chin as you rush towards your part of the house in clothing he has never seen you in.

Loki's gait is composed, though the grip on the bag of his sweat-soaked clothes grows tight.

"Robert," he calls out to the man in charge of your security, who is refraining himself from following you to make sure you're okay, "a word."

The rumble of thunder outside is not welcomed by Fenrir, who howls at the black clouds and lightning streaks to drive them away.

The cold breeze travels inside to whirl around the lounge, swinging around every little furniture piece.

Loki turns off the light to his study and walks out, feeling the playful current over his neck even from here.

"Ygritte," he shouts, but never condescendingly, walking down the hallway, "you know Fenrir will soil his paws in the dirt outside and then you will have to cl-"

He turns the corner to have every authoritative atom in his voice die down when his eyes lock to your figure asleep in the living room just where the winds are blowing in.

With your laptop still on, your diary untraditionally left open, your phone continuously buzzing with messages, he figures you dozed off while working.

'She had a panic attack, sir. One moment she was talking to the manager and next when she came back at the table, she was pale.'

Peace.

'No, sir. That boy had nothing to do with it. He is a gentleman. I ran a background check on him just to be safe.'

You are at peace.

'I have never seen her go through something like this before either, sir. Something must have triggered it. She was fine five minutes earlier.'

Sleeping without any worries. Floating in some dream, he thinks. A beautiful one, he prays.

Your hair, usually tied up, strays loose, partially covering your cheeks while moving to the tunes of the pleasant air. Your lips are slightly apart, one sure sign of how deep the sleep is. Your glasses hang awkwardly over your nose, almost making the man smile at the unintentionally delicate, purely appealing picture you've painted.

The gust of wind coming from the open doors forces you to bring your body close to yourself to ward off the cold and without any forewarning, Loki's body is already moving to slide the glass close, giving one snap of his finger and pointing to the floor near his feet to bring Fenrir inside without so much as a squeak.

The lightning outside the glass lights up his face, illuminating this deep ocean of green in his eyes as he blinks with a tender thought before slowly making a one-eighty to stand right at the back of the sofa where you lay.

One step and he can see your arm and shoulders move with your gentle breathing. One more and he watches this side of your face already sinking in some dream.

Know your lines, Loki.

His fingers twitch at the thought. He looks around for a sign of help but gets none. So, one lungful of air later, his hands lightly brush away your hair from your face, making sure they never touch your skin.

The thumb and index place themselves securely around the edges of the frame of your glasses before they are pulled away with commendable patience. Even the lungs are allowed to breathe only when he has snapped the temples in.

It is hard for his eyes to break away from your face but he does so unwillingly to bend over the sofa from here he stands to place the glasses on the coffee table in front of you, his fingers accidentally brushing your exposed waist.

The second it takes his nerves to realise what kind of contact was made, you wake up with a gasp and a withered moan.

Loki cannot understand what he is watching for a moment there.

Red eyes looking around in unadulterated horror, lips trembling with the intensity of a cracking winter, fingers digging into the fabric of the sofa you lie on, breaths shallower than the pit he dug this morning.

But the worst of the thump in his heartbeat comes when you turn to look at him with the look of a victim of dreadful deception. A quick breath is taken in by the parted lips of Loki, the man of the multi-million empire who bows to no one, to bring himself to explain himself to you.

"Is he here?"

The words on the edge of his tongue stare at you with a tingling shock.

"...what?"

A single tear falls from your eye over the cheeks heated for all the wrong reasons.

"That man," your words come out broken and wounded, similar to the look in your eyes, "is he-is he here?"

Something inside his chest rips apart and comes off and he has no idea what it is or how to put it back up.

"I... it's just me," he finally speaks, the confusion along with this unknown searing pain piled up between his brows, almost regretting saying it the moment those words leave his mouth.

"Oh, thank God," you wheeze through the shiver in your throat, striking the man again with your words, "thank God."

He can see you struggling with your breathing while your eyes still go out to make out the shadows you don't trust.

"Kira," he finally speaks, bringing your attention to him with this soothing composure in his voice, "look at me."

So you do.

"Whoever he is, isn't here. He will never be."

Lightning lights up the green in his eyes, showing him in a brilliant light.

Like a natural reflex, you nod in response to the assurance.

"Go get some sleep," he speaks softly, "we have to leave in seven hours."

Your head turns towards the golden base clock before getting up and walking to the East wing.

Loki doesn't move from where he stands till he sees you walk down the corridor, turn on your lights for a few minutes and then turn them off.

Fenrir is shifting his weight between his paws before Loki finally tells him to go and he dashes to where you went.

The cellphone is already out and the phone is ringing on the other side.

"Yes, Sir?" The familiar Scottish accent drips through the earpiece.

"You said she talked to the manager. Who is he?"

A two-second pause. "A Harrison Wardwell, sir. Do you want me to-"

"I need everything on that man."

Thunder rumbles violently, rattling the strongest doors and windows of the house.

"Every. Single. Thing."

42 notes · View notes

ghostie-stories · 5 years

Text

Chocobro Scenario: How You Meet

(A/N) Sorry if this looks super weird! I’m laying in bed writing this on my phone instead of laptop so it’s all in mobile format. If it bugs me enough in the morning I’ll edit it and make it better lol! I also decided I wanted to make outfits you could wear for each character! If you don’t like them or don’t want to use them just forget about them! Either way I love these boys and I’m super sad to say goodbye to Final Fantasy XV. It’s been one of my favorite games and it’s really made me get back into final fantasy again ever since I put it down a while ago! Anyways I hope you all like it!!!

Warnings: Slight swearing and suggestiveness (Gladio ofc)

Pairings: Noctis x Fem!Reader, Ignis x Fem!reader, Gladio x Fem!Reader, Prompto x Fem!reader

——————

Noctis Lucis Caelum

You were out for a run in Insomnia on a brisk fall day. The wind was whistling through the tall buildings and people were huddling in their light jackets with coffees and hot cocoas. As you cross a busy intersection, buses and cars beeping and signaling to each other, you feel something nipping at your shoelaces. You mentally freak out as you slow down to a stop and look down. A small grey dog with beautiful orange eyes and a stripe across its nose stared up at you, tongue lolling from its mouth. The dog sat and continued to stare at you, its eyes almost putting you in a trance and tail swaying from side to side.

“Umbra? Umbra!!” You heard a mans voice call from behind you. You break the eye contact to spin around, dog still sitting at your feet. Your met with a raven haired man, from what you know the prince of Lucis himself, Noctis Caelum. You freeze on the spot, looking at him a tad bit confused and nervous. He gives you a bashful smile and looks down at the dog.

“Sorry about Umbra. I was taking him for a quick walk before I send him back to Luna, and he broke his leash. It was weird, he saw you and just charged after you,” Noctis explained “Anyways, I’m Noctis, and that’s Umbra.” He waved his hand at the dog before stuffing it in his pocket.

“It’s alright! He’s such a sweet dog I really don’t mind!” You smile at him nervously and he blushes. His hand shoots up to rest behind his neck as he half smiles at you. There’s an awkward smile as he looks at you expectantly. “OH!! I’m y/n! Sorry!” You giggle, mentally facepalming for being so anxious in front of the prince. He chuckles and goes to grab Umbra’s collar.

“Well I’ll let you get back to your run I guess, sorry for bothering you,” he turns and begins to walk away before stopping and turning to face you “It’s getting cold, how about some cocoa? There’s a nice cafe down the street if you wanna meet me or something.” He bashfully looks down at the sidewalk as you sit there quietly for a moment, blushing. Did the prince just ask me out??

“Uh... Sure! I’ll be waiting there! See you in a few?” You reply, patting yourself on the back for not stumbling over your words. Noctis nods at you, a small smile rising onto his face as he turns and walks away. You turn and walk in the direction of the cafe, a little extra pep in your step.

Ignis Scientia

You had recently picked up a new job at your towns library, stoking bookshelves and helping customers find the right books. It was getting late, so you shooed off your co-workers for the night, knowing it couldn’t get much busier than it was at the moment. After the last of your co-workers left, you grabbed a can of ebony coffee, wandering to the back of the library near the fireplace where a few students sat on computers surrounded by books. You smile at each of them, grabbing some books left around and putting them back where they belong. Hearing the bell on the door of the library ring, signaling a customer entering, you start towards the front of the store. As you find your way to the front, you spot a tall and lean man facing away from you at the front counter. You slip in behind the counter as the man looks down at you with a gentle and friendly smile as you set the coffee down. He looks at the coffee dreamily before looking back at you.

“Good evening, sir! My name is y/n, how may I help you?” You say, smiling at him. He holds eye contact for another moment before his eyes wander around the store, as if he’s in thought. He looks back into your eyes.

“Good evening, I’m searching for a new cookbook, maybe one I haven’t used before, do you know where you can find one?” You can see the excitement in his eyes as he talks, obviously showing his love for cooking. You smile widely and nod, waving him over.

“Of course! I’ll bring you to them, just follow me!” You happily state, grabbing your coffee and shimmying your way back onto the main floor. He walks with immense purpose behind you, not failing to get more than 3 feet away from you. “So you like to cook, huh?” You state to break the silence.

“Oh I love to cook. It’s always thrilling coming up with a new recipeh,” (I had to I’m sorry) he says proudly as you admire him. “I cook for my close friends when we go on trips, which is what we’ve been doing as of the past few weeks. You like Ebony coffee? I do as well ” Your eyes move to the now empty can in your hand and light up. You nod vigorously.

“I LOVE Ebony! It’s not very healthy but it’s so addictive I can’t stop,” he nods and smiles as you speak. “The cookbooks are right up here, if you don’t mind me asking, what are you on a trip for?” You say, stopping at a bookshelf lined with about two dozen cookbooks.

“A friend of mine is getting married. Instead of flying, we decided to drive to the venue in Altissia. That’s how we found ourselves in your quaint little town for the night.” He looks down at you for a moment before scanning the cookbooks before him, grabbing one. You give him a gentle smile and escort him back to the counter. He reaches into his pocket to fish out some money when you stop him.

“No need for that,” You smile, “You’re probably the nicest person I’ve had to help, and I can tell you’re excited. Just bring the book back before you leave!” You shake his hand gently and he smiles at you with appreciation.

“Thank you miss y/n, I’ll be back tomorrow. I’ll see you soon.” He waves at you before beginning to step out the door.

“Hey!-“ you start.

“Ignis Scientia. My name’s Ignis.” He finishes and you blush. You reach underneath the counter and pull out two Ebony coffee cans, tossing one to Ignis. You raise yours in a ‘cheers’ fashion before cracking it open. He smiles and blushes, excited to see you again.

“See you soon!!!” You yell out of the closing door, excitement building at the chance of seeing this man again.

Gladiolus Amicitia

Hopping out of your friends car, you make your way to the beach. A warm summer breeze complimented the setting sun over the horizon, a few sailboats scattered about. You smile at your friends before running on the sand to a small spot with a premade campfire. As you run to the campsite, you pass four guys sitting in lawn chairs chatting around the fire. One of the guys maintains eye contact with you, smirking at you as you pass. You get to the campsite, a little place between the water and a volleyball net, and set up camp. Your friends join you, all grabbing sodas and unfolding the chairs around the lit fire. The sun finishes setting as the full moon rises, basking the sand in an almost dreamlike glow. All of the sailboats have left the water and you decide you want to go for a swim. You tell your friends and set off to the water, dipping your feet in the shallows. You grab a few seashells, washing them off and putting them in your bag before wading up to your stomach in the warm water. After a while of wading around, watching the fish, you go back to the shallows and are shocked to find someone already there. It’s the man from earlier, his pants are rolled up to his knees and he’s looking at you.

“Uh... hi?” You state, confused. You notice the scar across his face, and his amber eyes glow under the moonlight. He smiles at you with closed eyes, his rough looking exterior looking more cute and soft. His feather-like tattoos shine over his muscles as he uncrosses his arms.

“Hey! Nice night huh?” He says happily, his smile growing as he looks into your eyes. “We’re not from around here, from Insomnia actually. I’m Gladio. What can I call the pretty lady?” He looks at you expectantly as you sit shocked.

“Oh... geez it’s y/n.” You reply, a little bit embarrassed and still blushing. He takes your hand and smiles before kissing the back of it. You hear some cheers in the distance, supposedly from his friends.

“Don’t mind them, we’re on a road trip.” He says as you giggle. He drops your hand as you continue the small talk for a while. He constantly steals glances at you and your body. (Classic Gladio lmao)

“Y/N!!!!” Your friends call towards you. You look in their direction, as they step out of the tent into the light of the fire. You wave and look back to Gladio with an apologetic look.

“I gotta get going, it was nice meeting you Gladio!” You smile at him and wave as you jog away, back to the campsite. He stood there in a dreamlike state before making his way back to his friends.

“Damn,” he tells them “hopefully I’ll see her again. In my tent maybe” (wink wonk)

Prompto Argentum

(HES SO CUTE LOOK)

Wandering around the pens at Wiz’s Chocobo post, you were feeding each of the little yellow chicks, teaching them to be more responsive to humans. You had taken a summer job working at the post for your old friend Wiz, and it was an absolute dream. You loved working with all of the birds and being able to groom and ride them whenever you wanted. That was, until the Behemoth reared it’s ugly head around the post. All of the birds were so frightened they wouldn’t leave their barn, not even to visit customers and newcomers. Wiz was forced to let go a ton of employees because the Chocobos were unable to work, but he decided to keep you around to make sure everything was clean. A few weeks had passed and you were sad that none of the chocobos were excited to see you like they normally were. All you wanted was for them to feel comfortable in their pens again. Since there was no sign of them getting any better, Wiz decided it would be your final day at the post, as he would be closing down.

“C’mon guys!!! I wanna see the Chocobos!!!!!!!” You heard a male voice in the distance. You turned to see a bouncy blonde male in royal guard attire bounding down the hill to the post, three other black-clad men following close behind. You almost didn’t have the heart to tell the guy that the Chocobos weren’t available.

“Sorry guys,” you started “but the Chocobos are out of service.” The blonde gives you a sad look and his shoulders slumped, you swear you could see tears forming in his eyes. “You see, a few weeks ago, a beast showed up around these parts. It frightened the birds so much they won’t leave the stables! Sadly, today is Wiz’s last day as the post owner, we’re shutting down after dawn.” You explained sadly. One of the other men approached you.

“What if we do something about this beast? Out Prompto here was dying to see the Chocobos.” He states as you glance at the blonde boy. He nods with his bottom lip jutting out. You look back up at the tattooed brunette, with starry eyes.

“You’d do that?! We would be so grateful! You boys look awfully capable of getting rid of the behemoth for us!” You scan the group in admiration. “We’ll give you free chocobo rides if you’d like!” The group nods, starting to walk down the hill, in the direction of the Behemoth.

Night had fallen and you were nervous the boys got hurt. No word had come from them and the Chocobos were still nervous. You felt hopeless watching Wiz pack up his things until you hear a rumbling and a loud roar, before silence. The Chocobos around you perked up, and began to stand one by one. They began to rile up, and you grab their leads, running them outside to their pens. Wiz looks at you amazed and you hear footsteps coming from the woods. The four boys from earlier emerge, filthy and sweaty, but with huge smiles across their faces as they see the Chocobos. The blonde rushes to one of them, and begins petting them as the others go to Wiz. You wander up to the blonde, smiling at the faces he’s making at the chocobo.

“Hey! Prompto, right?” He looks at you and nods before blushing. “I just want to personally thank you for saving my birds. They mean a lot to me and I can tell you love them as much as I do.” You say, reaching to the Chocobo in front of Prompto.

“Yeah, I mean, of course! I really like these guys, they’re soooo cute! We came a long way to see them!” He pointed down to his outfit and smiled at you. In the distance, you failed to notice the rest of his group watching the two of you. Prompto stopped petting the Chocobo and you exchange glances. You both chuckle awkwardly before you speak.

“So uh, wanna go for a little ride with me?” You ask nervously, but not breaking eye contact. He shuffles nervously before nodding.

“Yeah... I’d really like that!” He says happily, grabbing the reigns of the bird. You both jump onto your Chocobos and start off into the woods, exchanging happy small talk and glances.

———

This took a LOT longer than I was expecting lmao. I love how it turned out though and it was super fun to make! I hope you all like it! Sorry if there’s any mistakes, I’ll fix them later if I see them.

~Ghostie

#final fantasy #ffxv #final fantasy xv #prompto argentum #gladiolus amicitia #ignis scientia #noctis lucis caelum #final fantasy scenario #final fantasy hc #the chocobros #chocobros #ffxv reaction #ffxv headcanons #ffxv scenario #ffxv drabbles

55 notes · View notes

runningwolf62 · 5 years

Text

SURPRISE IT’S UPDATE TIME! It’s so bizarre being writing this at the same time Larry is because there’s like this weird overlap, we’re like ships passing in the night he’s finally caught up to my time and now is about to pass me.

Anyway, there’s some lovely art in here and a reference to a blog that actually exists, @ask-potoo-firestar. Art belongs to @lavendersongs, thank you for your amazing contribution to the Warrior Cats fandom and for giving me permission to include references to it in this fanfic.

Beep.

Larry curls up deeper under his blankets.

Beep.

He covers his head with his pillow.

Beep.

Fine, he’ll crawl out of his nest and see what had happened, maybe Nick was in trouble again, that Godot guy seemed to have a grudge against him for something.

u ok?

Only Nick texts like that.

haven’t seen u in few days

u alive?

Larry almost fires something back before thinking better of it, Nick had far too many people around him die to joke about that.

Yeah I’m fine, and you usually don’t see me for awhile.

yeah but u had a rough time

Larry hesitates before deciding to just call Nick. The phone rings a few times before Nick answers.

“Hey Larry,” he greets him, Larry can hear voices in the background, he thinks one is Maya, the other is young and high so probably Pearl.

“Hey Nick,” Larry runs a hand over his jaw, aw gross he’d ended up with that scraggly beard, he never looked good with that, he needed to go shave, “you in a crisis?”

“No?” Nick has the gall to sound offended, “I do not only call you during crisises!”

“Mmm might wanna check you phone bill there Nicky Boy,” Larry teases him, his voice is rough, he should haul himself out of bed and start putting himself back together.

“You want to talk about having a crisis you sound like you’ve been on a bender,” Nick fires back, Larry frowned and groused at him.

“Don’t be an ass Nick, I’ve been taking a week off, chilling and relaxing before I remake myself! You called while I’m still in the cocoon man!”

“That metaphor started strong but you took it somewhere very weird,” Nick replies, Larry laughs roughly.

“Alright, alright, you’re the one who texted me,” Larry points out, wrapping his blanket around him like a cloak to hide his shame from the world and stay warm from the chillier October day. He crossed to his laptop to open his resume, he’d need to update it and he might as well do that while chatting with Nick rather than sit around feeling shitty about it.

He chats with Nick, and Maya and Pearl when they demand a chance to chat with him. He interrogate Nick, or tries, but he doesn’t know what’s up with Godot either, other than he’s got one hell of a caffeine addiction, came out of nowhere and claims to be from hell.

Given half the stories Larry’s heard about Nick’s cases he’s tempted to believe it.

“Maybe you ought to have an exorcism performed,” he teases, he’s on speaker phone now and he’s sure they can hear him typing away as he adds his latest job to the long master list of jobs he’s held, “Maya, Pearl, can you do that?”

“I’d have to exorcise the entire Prosocution’s office!” Maya bemoans, Larry grins as she outlines everything she’d need to do to Nick.

“Maybe you should, it sounds like it has a few too many demons over there even before this guy,” Larry muses, saving his resume and opening Fanfiction.net. His stomach drops and his jokes trail off. There’s several messages from XxWolfDragonxX. Shit, he’d just dropped off the map after talking to the guy daily.

He immediately types a response, assuring the guy some stuff just came up, he got fired from work, etc. but he’s doing alright. He misses a question Nick asked him until he repeats his name.

“Larry.”

“Sorry, what?” He tosses the message to WolfDragon off, his friend is probably off work it’s well after six for him.

“I asked what were you typing?”

Larry glances at his messages and then at his minimized programs. “My resume.”

He refreshed FF.net and got a message from WolfDragon.

Man it’s fine, life happens! It’s just good to hear from you again. I’m sorry for all the shit that keeps happening to you.

Again I’m so sorry, and yeah, it’s just been that kind of year.

Do you have a discord? I have something to show you but I don’t think ff.net will send it.

Oh? Uh yeah actually, one second let me find my ID number.

It takes him longer than he should be tosses the information to Wolfdragon. After a moment he gets a friend request on Discord, from a XxWolfDrgonxX surprising absolutely no one. The avatar is a gray anime wolf with yellow eyes snarling, which also doesn’t surprise Larry though he wonders where it’s from.

However he’s still on the phone with Nick, so he accepts it and turns away from the computer, “so what are you all up to asides from calling me?” He hears Pearl giggle and Maya’s voice in the background, they’re moving away, “how are they Nick?”

“They’re good,” Nick sounds happy and Larry can’t help but hurt even as he’s happy for him.

“We’re probably going to do a few things today before they have to head back,” Nick’s chair creaks audibly, “do you have plans for Halloween?”

“Uh, not really?”

“Do you want to come over to the office and hand out candy with me?”

“People come to your office for candy?”

“Surprisingly yes,” Nick sounds equally baffled by this fact, “so, are you in?”

“Do you want me to bring anything?” Larry asks, glancing at his Discord occasionally, where he can see WolfDragon typing. “Beer, Soda, popcorn and terrible horror movies?”

“Popcorn and let’s go with lighthearted movies,” Nick suggests, and Larry wonders if Pearl will be there. He’ll bring soda then, just in case. That or Nick’s gotten to be more of a scaredy-cat since their last Halloween movie festival.

“Have you seen that one cartoon thing that everyone raves about?” Larry’s seen so much art for it for Inktober so he needs to actually sit down and watch the show obviously is what that means.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Okay, I’ll find it, it’s some kids show but everyone who’s seen it loved it,” Larry sends a quick message to WolfDragon while Nick talks.

You sure are dedicated to your brand.

It’s who I am

Furry.

WHAT IN GOD’S NAME IS THAT?!?

That’s Potoo Firestar you fool

I want to hate it but I’m laughing too hard, it’s amazing.

“Larry are you okay?” Nick asks, and Larry can’t answer, he’s wheezing at the damn Potoo Firestar, he cannot believe WolfDragon got his discord just to send him this, and that it’s somehow made him feel so much better.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” he wheezes, and clicks the link that WolfDragon sends him to this person’s blog, “just saw something funny.”

He hops off the phone with Nick promising to see him on Halloween and bring candy and popcorn and the cartoon he’s seen everyone drawing if he could just remember the name.

He spends the next hour teasing WolfDragon on Discord for his avatar and username, all the while scrolling through this blog, which WolfDragon has dubbed “the only pure Warrior Cats blog”.

It doesn’t take long for him to agree though he does have a few questions.

So I miss all the discourse but I also miss blogs like this?

Listen man, some people are still stuck in the can cats be gay discourse?

Seriously?

Yeah, like sure the Erins just made a mistake making some tortoiseshell cats toms. OR they made several trans icons.

I can’t believe Tigerstar was transphobic.

Firestar made the first call out post

“OP is literally a Transphobe and murderer but go off I guess.”

Scourge: *goes the fuck off *

Listen, he wear dog teeth on his collar he can do what he likes, I’m not gonna be the guy to try and stop him.

Oh you do know they made Scourge and Firestar half-brothers right?

THEY WHAT

Yeah they have the same Dad

Oh shit I’d heard that theory but I thought it was just a fan theory

Nah they confirmed it. Also Tallstar was super gay for him

Like canonly gay or the fandom has shipping goggles glued on

Like so canonly gay that the publisher calls them good friends

What?

One of the authors says Tallstar’s heart always belonged to his Jake, but the publishers say they’re just good friends

What’s better than this, guys being dudes.

You’d probably like Tallstar’s Revenge actually, there’s a lot of your fic in it

Seriously?

Yeah man, like leaving the Clans to discover yourself the themes of forgiveness and parents and family there’s a lot of good stuff in there

I guess I’ll have to read it then.

Yeah, that blog I linked you even did fanart of Jake and Tallstar

Oh my god.

Did you find it?

Not yet, but I’m looking.

FOUND IT!

THAT’S IT

Okay that is gay.

Much like my fic.

Now I gotta man.

He did just lose his job but Larry’s got some money saved from his last paycheck and the commissions. What the hell. He makes a note to buy Tallstar’s Revenge next time he’s at the book store, and gets up.

Thanks for this.

Of course!

Is this the best way to contact you, or should I howl out the window?

Haha

FF.net or Discord works I’ll probably review your fics on FF.net still but we can chat here

Larry grins and tells him he hopes he has a good evening. He needs to clean himself up and try and rejoin society.

He showers, shaves, and pulls himself together. He also draws Wolf as a Potoo and sends that back to WolfDragon which is obviously loved, if the fact he turns his avatar into it was any indication.

Larry spends Halloween crashing on Nick’s couch, Maya and Nick fighting over candy while he snags some and occasionally slips a piece or two to Pearl. The kid’s clever and smiles shyly at him every time he does so.

They do settle down to watch the cartoon though Maya grumbles at points about how she wanted to watch the Steel Samurai Halloween Special.

They enjoy Over the Garden Wall though, even if it sends the girls diving to hide behind Nick at one point from the Beast. He lets Nick comfort, while he cleans up some of the trash into the popcorn bowl which he sets to the side, making sure it will not be grabbed by mistake by someone hurrying to give candy to trick-or-treaters.

He’s honestly astonished at the number that turn up at the office, until Nick says he thinks Mia used to hand the candy out, which makes sense. It’s tradition now. And Nick must’ve gotten paid because he’s got the good candy and he’s letting kids take handfuls.

He doesn’t touch that stuff only the bag Nick bought for them to share and the stuff he traded Pearl for because she didn’t like nuts in her candy. Said they got stuck in her teeth which Larry felt was a valid reason to not like them.

He tells himself that means they have protein as he pops a handful in his mouth. While Nick’s busy with some teens at the door and Maya’s tucking Pearl in on the couch he sends a message to WolfDragon.

Happy Halloween.

Technically it’s November, and I didn’t grow up in America

Spoilsport.

WHY ARE YOU AWAKE?

Work

Work can suck my dick, it’s what- oh

It’s six in the morning

You’re going to work

Yup

Listen, I don’t need your sass

It’s not sass I just woke up Writer boy

Don’t you sass Wolfman

Tell me you at least watched terrible werewolf movies in my honor

I did not.

Watched kids cartoons instead.

Warrior Cats Authors

There was an actual child in the room!

Ah what’s being introduced to fear at a young age?

Trauma I believe, and the kid’s had enough of that

You’re a good guy you know that, don’t let people tell you otherwise

“Texting a girlfriend?” Maya’s teasing voice made him jump, she wasn’t peering over his shoulder yet but she might’ve been. She might’ve seen the teasing and… no, she was looking at his face.

“Nah, just a friend,” he shoves his phone back into his pocket, she and Nick are both staring at him intensely now, he’s not sure why but they are.

He swears he sees Nick counting to three but he’s not sure why that happens either. He and Maya share a look, and Larry feels himself tense more.

He looks to Nick, whose eyes pierce him as he looks at Larry, “I thought you said you were taking a break from dating.”

“I am!” Larry insists, careful to keep his voice low, glancing to Pearl because however much they want to interrogate him he knows they’ll kill him if he wakes her.

Nick and Maya look confused again but it’s not his fault they can’t accept that he’s just friends with some people. He’s not even into guys anyway!

He shakes his head and grins at them, “glad to hear you think I have that much game though Nick.”

Maya smothers a laugh, while the edge flows out of Nick’s eyes and a smile takes its place, “you keep getting girls to date you somehow.”

“It’s that I have an artist’s soul,” Larry pulls himself up and rests his hand over his chest, grinning at the two of them.

“I went to art school too you know,” Nick points out, relaxing and smiling.

“And who taught you all those tricks for backgrounds?” Larry fires back, he’s always been the better artist for backgrounds and forms, Nick just had more practice with human anatomy. Nick huffs and shakes his head.

“I showed you how to draw men’s jawlines, ‘cause you only paid attention when the model was female-”

“Nick I’ve accepted my heterosexuality and horndog ways will be my downfall,” he fires back which obviously takes his friend by surprise, Maya too, “hey, I can have some self-awareness you know.” He glances over at Maya, “Nick, Edgey and I are allowed the common sense of one person but we have to share and Edgey came back and took it all from Nick.”

“Excuse me?” Nick looks so genuinely offended and Larry laughs, shoulders shaking.

“You took some back, TSA wouldn’t let him take it all with him.”

Maya’s grinning and apparently not taking sides as he and Nick begin to playfully jab at each other about who has more common sense, and it’s nice to be able to talk about Edgey again without Nick’s anger, to have him laugh as he talks and recounts stories from elementary school to Maya is worth the few bits of his dirty laundry that Nick airs.

They end up on the other couch, Maya curled up on Nick’s one side, Larry on the other; with jackets draped over themselves as make shift blankets.

“Larry?”

“Yeah Nick?”

“Who were you texting earlier,” Nick’s not judgmental now but he is obviously curious, maybe hoping that in his exhaustion Larry will let something slip.

And he does.

“He’s a guy I met online, we talk about like books and stuff. You wouldn’t understand, you nerdy lawyer.”

Nick laughs softly as Larry slumps against him, “that so?”

“It is,” Larry lays his head back against Nick’s shoulder, “very so.”

They wake up in various states of aching and trying to hide it, all of them trying to deny they’re getting old while Pearl buzzes around the office. Larry wonders briefly if she’s gotten into the Halloween candy for breakfast.

He checks his phone and there’s a few messages from WolfDragon.

You still there?

Don’t eat too much candy, aren’t you doing NaNoWriMo this year?

Larry only barely manages not to curse in front of Pearl as he realizes that he’s going to have to write his first 1667 words with one hell of a crick in his neck.

#Ace Attorney #Potoo Firestar is a gift and you can quote me on that #Larry Writes Warrior Cats

10 notes · View notes

blooblooded · 3 years

Text

Marty goes through Lee's files

Ajax Guttierez’s face was shiny with sweat when he called Marty back. “Man, that was close,” he said. He straightened the collar of his shirt. “I don’t think he suspected anything though. But, what he said in there, at the end...he looked like he wanted to hit me. His eyes went all dead and shit, what a fucking freak.”

“That guy couldn’t punch through wet tissue paper,” replied Marty, as he sat in his chair with his legs drawn up. He had been so stressed out during the period of radio silence where AJ had presumably made copies of every file on Lee Harlan’s laptop that he had snapped every pencil he owned. Not that he had been worried about AJ’s safety. No, he just desperately wanted to figure out whatever it was that Lee was hiding. “You got it right? You got all of it?”

“I got it.”

“Tres bien,” Upon hearing him speak his native language, AJ furrowed his eyebrows. Marty ignored that. “Send it to the email address I gave you. I have a feeling it’s going to take me all night to go through everything.”

“Right.” AJ paused. He passed a hand over his face. “You think there’s something on there that will pin him, get the cops on his ass? Because if there isn’t, if he goes near my kids one more time, I think I’m going to kill him. I’m really going to kill him.”

Would it really be so bad if AJ killed Lee? Marty allowed himself to imagine it, brass knuckles breaking his glasses and smashing his nose. It was the least he deserved, after all the things he knew he had done. Giving underage teenagers alcohol. Messing with Kip’s mind, convincing him to stop taking his medicine. Scaring Esther’s dad, hitting Eddie Bellamy. Making Rome roll up his sleeves to show him the bruises on his body. Probably worse things too. Someone who was capable of doing what he knew Lee had already done, was also capable of doing worse things.

Marty wished he had another pencil to break.

“Yeah,” he said, with finality. “I’ll find something on him. I know that.”

###

It turned out that AJ had copied 500gb of data from Lee’s computer. The process of going through it was taking hours, agonizingly slow work. Determined to work through the night, Marty went into the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee. He made it quietly so that he didn’t attract Jules, or worse, Dog. Talking to them would only delay his discovery of whatever fucked up shit he knew that Lee must be hiding. Even a small delay would get in the way of the pleasure he would feel when he anonymously sent evidence of Lee’s formerly unknown crimes-- whatever they were-- to every detective in Eden.

Before he returned to his bedroom, he had already drunk half a mug of coffee.

A lot of it was writing. Which tracked, since Lee was always going on and on about being a writer. Or journalist, or whatever he was. There were no journalists in the Northern Territories, so Marty didn’t fully understand all that. To him, it seemed like an unimportant profession. He read a lot of Lee’s work anyway. Maybe it was good-- he had no way of knowing the quality of the writing, since English was not his first language.

Soon, Marty grew bored of reading about Lee’s idiotic political beliefs. Compared to the fiery diatribes he had heard from Florence Gauthier as he had grown up, Lee’s words seemed tepid. He did not know what he was talking about, how could he-- he had not lived what he was talking about. He went to the folder that contained his pictures and clicked through them. The majority were selfies; Lee in various outfits that were increasingly fussy, always tight pants and stupid looking scarves, color coordinated sweaters. What kind of man cared that much about fashion and the way he looked? The vanity. It was basically like being a woman, it was embarrassing and effete.

He continued to click through pictures, and a greater understanding of Lee’s life formed inside his mind. This was a person who cared a lot about appearances, but rarely seemed to have the same friend in more than one picture. He took a lot of pictures of his food, of different coffee drinks. Pictures at various rallies and protests. It all seemed very empty, almost performative.

At one point, he came to a picture of Lee as a child, hugging a woman that was probably his mother. Lee was maybe 10, and lacked the fussy pretension he had developed as an adult-- no, as a child he appeared dweeby and scruffy. His glasses were cracked and there were patches in his jeans. Still, he looked truly happy, smiling a full smile that showed his crooked front teeth, so unlike the sly, closed mouthed smiles of his adulthood. His mother looked a lot like him, same mousy brown hair and eyes. She wore a jean jacket with lots of pins on it, her fist was raised up into the air, Lee’s small fist was raised in mimicry. So this was the mother who had hung herself in prison. It was hard not to feel something for the child who had lost his mother that day.

So Lee had had a mother who had loved him. Marty didn’t know what that was like. Their similarities ended with the shared experience of having mothers who were dead.

As he clicked through hundreds of pictures, he discovered that Lee liked to take pictures of himself and of other guys who were naked. Sex stuff. Marty had heard about people taking pictures with their partners, it wasn’t particularly abnormal, but still gave him a shock the first time he opened a picture to see Lee had taken a nude. Marty stared for a second and felt his ears get hot and embarrassed. Lee looked a lot different without any clothes on, all pink and skinny, but with a little bit of a belly that was otherwise hidden. He had seen naked men before, but was suddenly uncomfortable seeing his enemy in a vulnerable state.

There were a lot of nudes. Of course there were, considering how vain he was. Lee had had a lot of boyfriends, and as with the pictures of his friends, none of them seemed to hang around for very long. Marty suddenly felt uncomfortable. He was looking at pictures that were not meant for him, intimate moments shared between Lee and various strangers. It was voyeuristic, but wasn’t this what he was supposed to be looking at? Surely there was something here, some indication of great perversion? The selfie pictures of Lee, taken while embracing various guys in his bed, didn't resemble him at all. He looked happy.

This was, of course, jealousy. Marty knew that he would never be able to have it, but he desired love and intimacy with another boy someday. This was not a possibility in his Colony. Seeing someone he hated have something unattainable was hurting him.

He drank the rest of his coffee, telling himself to pull it together. There was no reason for him to feel jealous.

There was no reason for him to feel the other shameful thing either: a strange, hateful attraction towards Lee. Marty pushed that down, chalking it up to being 13 years old and sexually frustrated due to puberty.

There was a picture of AJ in there too. Marty wished he hadn’t seen that.

Of course, there were also videos. Marty knew the content of these from glancing at the first frozen frame. He did not believe he had the mental fortitude to watch them yet. This was also not completely abnormal. Being 13 years old and completely wracked by puberty, he had watched a lot of pornography, but it was different when it was someone he knew. Eventually he would have to watch them, he just hoped that his brain wouldn’t be into it.

This was all normal. If Lee was just a normal guy, just a weird guy who had never done anything wrong, then this was all for nothing. He had convinced AJ to steal the data for nothing.

But it couldn’t be nothing. Lee was hiding something. Marty kept clicking through files. The night grew longer. He made more coffee, careful so that he would not wake Jules.

By 2am, he discovered something bad enough to make him grit his teeth, but not bad enough to send to the police. Or was it? He didn’t know. It appeared that when Lee had cornered Rome Prospas, claiming to be concerned about him, he had taken several pictures of him. Maybe this had been out of concern, or as evidence to send to social services, but it didn’t sit right with Marty. It didn’t seem normal. And Rome looked scared.

He had known that it had happened when Rome had been by himself in Kip’s bathroom. He knew that Lee had seemed worried and had asked Rome to roll up his sleeves to show him the bruises that had formed on his arms after his dad had grabbed him. But seeing pictures of his friend looking all scared like that made Marty feel angry. There were three pictures. In the first, Rome’s big yellow eyes were watery, looking directly at the camera, or directly into Lee’s face, with his arms held out in front of him. The other two were close ups on the purple bruising, and one of Lee’s white thumbs was visible, as if for scale. So Lee had put his hands on him. Marty felt himself bristling, knowing that Rome was more scared of Lee than he was of his dad. At least he knew what to expect when it came to his dad.

It was bad, it was, that Lee had been alone with a kid and made him roll up his sleeves, then took pictures of him. But it wasn’t bad enough. It wasn’t like he had told him to take off his shirt or had done anything that could not be filed away under the category of ‘concerned, responsible adult’. Marty kept gritting his teeth. He thought about calling Rome and checking in on him, but didn’t want to give the wrong impression, calling in the middle of the night. Rome liked Marty a little too much.

Still, it was something. Marty grabbed a piece of paper and wrote down the file names, just in case.

Another hour passed before Marty found anything of note. What he did find made him feel even more upset.

It was a video, like the others. And like the others, Marty would have clicked past it, if Kip had not been so clearly in the first frame.

For a second, Marty saw red and he clenched one hand into a fist. All this time, he had known that Kip was obsessed with Lee, that he would do anything to make him like him more. It was evident in the way that he looked at him, in the way that he was always talking about him like he was some kind of genius. In his heart, Marty knew that Kip wanted to sleep with Lee, but up until now, he had believed that Kip was too scared and inexperienced to follow through. If they had done anything, if they had messed around, surely Kip would have bragged about it to at least one of his friends. He was not a person who was capable of keeping secrets. Why the silence? Was he ashamed?

Marty’s finger hesitated over the mouse. If he watched a video of Kip having sex with Lee, he would never be able to look at his friend the same way. And of course, deep down in his most private thoughts, Marty often found himself wishing that he lived in Eden, because maybe, one day, Kip would see him as more than just a friend. If he lived in Eden, maybe one day Kip might touch him or kiss him, maybe more. It wasn’t like the constant low-level horniness that every teenage boy experienced. Marty liked Kip. He really liked him, and it was his first time really liking anyone. He didn’t want to see him being intimate with anyone.

But he also wanted to screw over Lee in any way he could. If there was anything weird on this video, anything at all and even though Kip was 18 years old, he could send it to Kip’s mom. Kip would hate him forever, but at least Lee would be out of the picture.

He pressed play and steeled himself to watch something that he knew would upset and horrify him.

Lee held the camera and pointed it down at Kip, who knelt on the floor in front of him. Kip still had all of his clothes on. In the dim light of Lee’s apartment, his face was shadowed and the dark circles under his eyes were exaggerated, making him look sick. He was smiling nervously.

“You still want to do this?” asked Lee. Hearing his voice, so smug and self-satisfied, made Marty’s heart pound. Hate. He hated him. It would be easy to stop watching this, he knew he needed to stop watching this, but could not bring himself to turn it off.

Kip nodded. “Uh-huh. I want to. It’s just-- I don’t know how--”

“It’s OK.” At the bottom of the screen, Marty could see Lee unzip his trousers and pull his dick out, jerking himself off to get hard. Marty could hear his own blood pounding in his head as he watched this and was aware of how hard he was clenching his teeth. He shouldn’t be watching this, it was like a train wreck he couldn’t look away from. “Put your hand here.”

His friend’s face was eager, but unsure, and Marty watched Kip’s eyes glaze over as he clumsily fondled Lee. He had seen this before. One minute, Kip would be there, the next, he had a thousand-yard stare and was blank, like he was somewhere far away. The only times that Kip got like that were when he was scared or upset. Marty would have strangled Lee for not noticing that, for being too stupid and wrapped up in himself to notice that. How could you not notice that?

If he sent this to Kip’s mom, it would be all over.

“OK, good,” Lee was saying, and he was putting his hand on the back of Kip’s head to pull his face towards his crotch. “Good. Now, please don’t bite me.” He laughed, like he was laughing at Kip or making fun of him, making fun of his teeth. Marty’s mind was filled with hate.

Light suddenly gleamed back into Kip’s eyes, which widened in alarm. He jerked away from Lee with great strength, scooted back on the floor, then stood up, shaking, his arms held defensively in front of him. He shook his head several times. “What the fuck are you doing?” he asked in alarm. “Don’t touch me! Stay away from me!” He wiped his hand on his pants, watching Lee like a wild animal.

“Kip?” Lee asked. “What’s wrong?”

Kip hit his own head. He looked at Lee savagely. “Were you gonna try to fuck me?” he asked. “Huh? You fucking freak. Are you kidding me? I’m your friend! I’m your friend! Who does that? Huh?”

“If you don’t want to do this, it’s OK, I don’t want you to feel upset, I just--”

Kip’s face contorted when he looked at the communication device that was still trained on him. “Don’t fucking film me!” The camera was suddenly obscured by opaque blue, and the video ended.

For several moments, Marty sat there without moving. “What the fuck,” he said, confused by his friend’s sudden mood swing, but glad that he had seemed to come to his senses before he got in over his head and lost his virginity to a loser like Lee Harlan. “What the fuck.”

It was disturbing. He leaned back in his chair. 4:30 am. In the kitchen, he could hear Jules rustling around, she always woke up so early, she always had so much to do. The smart thing would be to try and get some sleep so that he could look through Lee’s files with fresh eyes. When he did not get enough sleep, he was more prone to seizures. But he also had so much to do.

Marty rubbed his face. He did not want to make himself sick and exhausted, but still did not want to go to sleep. A sense of dogged determination had overtaken him at this point. A singular desire to destroy a man who lived hundreds of miles away was his only thought. If he could get something on Lee, he could ensure that his friends were no longer bothered by him. They were unable to see him for what he truly was. They were unable to do anything about his presence in their lives; by some method of psychic charisma, Lee had pulled a blind over all of their eyes. But not Marty’s.

This was not his responsibility. He was just a kid.

Sleep was not an option. Marty clicked out of the pictures and went back to Lee’s writing.

Meaningless words and treatises on economics bored him to tears but he kept reading, reading and reading. Finished articles, works in process. Grocery lists. Journal entries. The private life of a man whose true face was kept carefully hidden. By now, Marty knew him about as well as he knew himself.

He had been right about him. For the most part. He had been right about how he was shallow and angry, someone who wanted to lash out at systems that he perceived as unfair, but was mostly helpless to do so. This was not so much different than the types of people Marty had grown up around during the civil war, except Lee lacked the power of will that they all had to make considerable changes.

To make true change, a person had to act in ways that were drastic. Lee did not have it in him.

That’s what Marty believed, anyway, until he found a receipt for the purchase of 200 pounds of nitrate fertilizer.

As Marty looked at this receipt, the only thing that struck him as odd was the knowledge that Eden was completely underground, and had no space for large scale agriculture. Most of the food that they ate there was grown from cells in laboratories, unless someone had enough money to buy the rare real stuff. And Lee was a writer with no interest in things that could grow. Why would he even need fertilizer?

Something inside of him became scared and he didn’t know why. What could someone do with that much fertilizer? Marty leaned back in his chair.

Something bad, that’s what. He thought back to the nonsensical vision he had had a few weeks ago of buildings in Eden crumbling onto streets below. It hadn’t made sense then. Now, the vague memories of listening to Florence’s Partisans talk about the improvised explosive devices they had set beneath roads the Royalist armies marched down came flooding back to him. A few years ago, they had blown up a school with a home-made explosive. Bombs. You could blow stuff up with fertilizer. You couldn’t do it well, but you could do it.

That was crazy. Lee didn’t have it in him to actually hurt people. He was a creep, and he had crazy political beliefs, but he was not a killer. Marty had grown up around killers. He could see it in their dead eyes. Men like Field Marshal Anatole Surkhov had killed dozens. Reed Kimble was a killer. Even Beatrice Kosarin had killed, and she was only a woman. Lee lacked what they had. He was just some dorky, creepy journalist with ideas that were too big for him.

But what would he be doing with that much fertilizer?

Anxiety grew inside of him. This was crazy. He had started the night looking for proof that Lee was some kind of sex criminal, found nothing, and now had made himself so paranoid that he was starting to think he was some kind of terrorist. This was what lack of sleep and stress were doing to him. Marty got up and left his bedroom so that he could reset his brain.

In the kitchen, Jules was busy cooking breakfast. She still wore her shapeless undershift that she slept in, and her limp black hair was unbraided. She clattered around at an alarming speed, stirring a pot of oatmeal and frying eggs as the coffee pot squealed. When she saw Marty, she glared at him.

“You stayed up all night again on that computer,” she said accusingly, and crossed her skinny arms in front of her like a bat. They spoke French at home, and Marty’s mind subconsciously made the change away from English. “Really? I don’t understand why you do that to yourself, Mari, I don’t understand why you don’t take care of yourself. Sit down, what do you want to eat?”

Marty sat down at the table numbly, images of explosions replaying in his head. Jules tried to smooth down his fluffy hair and he flinched away from her. He hated people touching his head. It was 5 am.

“I worry about you,” said the gristle-sharp woman who had raised him. “What happens if you have another big seizure and I’m not there, huh? The Prime Minister has me working at the hospital in Ill de Matane too much, I’ll see if she’ll let me stay here with you more.”

“I’m not sick. You don’t have to do that.”

“I’ll do it if I want to.”

Explosions. There was no way that Lee would do that. He was a bad person but he wasn’t that bad. Marty suddenly felt like laughing.

Jules poured steaming coffee into 3 unmatching, chipped mugs. She watched him. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.”

“You look upset.”

Marty took a cup of coffee from her and didn’t answer. His brain felt like it wasn’t working anymore, the way it got when he was overstimulated. In an hour or so, Ayda would wake up for school and he could talk to her about this. She would be able to talk some sense into him. Ayda was good at that. He drank the coffee and felt it warm him from the inside.

Dog, the big quiet man who lived with them in the quarters that Florence Gauthier had so… generously given to them on her vast estate, came into the kitchen, sensing that breakfast was almost ready. His weak chin and round eyes made him appear nervously rabbit-like, despite being almost seven feet tall and broad shouldered. He sat down next to Marty and Jules handed him a cup of coffee without a word.

There was something going on between Dog-- Ivan Kosarin-- and Jules, and Marty didn’t like it. Sometimes Jules would say things to make Dog blush, or sometimes he would put one big hand on her lower back. Marty accepted that she had a life outside of being a sort of elder sister figure in his life, but he still worried. When he watched Jules rattle around the kitchen, cooking breakfast for more than just the two of them, it made him worried that she would get hurt. Yes, Dog was a gentle person and had never given Marty any reason to distrust him. Except--

“You fought with Florence’s Partisans,” Marty said, directly to Dog. Although he had known him since he was 6, they rarely spoke to one another. “When the fighting was bad.”

Dog seemed taken aback by Marty’s blunt question. Both his hands grasped his mug of coffee. “I followed the Blue Army.”

“Right. Surkhov fought alongside the Partisans.”

“Mari,” scolded Jules. Her mouth twisted in distaste.

“So you know all about Partisan tactics.”

Dog’s watery eyes moved from his mug of coffee and up to Jules, then back. His mouth tightened. The war was not something often discussed in this household, although it had raged for nearly a decade. Even now, the dead king’s Loyalists still gathered in the Hinterland forests.

Jules shook her head. “This isn’t something to talk about at breakfast. Florence Gauthier’s men were- are-- animals, she had no control over them. Why are you even thinking about this, Mari? You spend too much time looking at that computer. Eat.”

But Marty could not eat. “Ivan,” he said, using Dog’s given name, the name that he despised, his voice accelerating with emotion. “Three years ago, when that school was bombed in Ille de Matane--“

The mere mention of the act made Dog’s face turn white. Marty had only been 10 at the time, but he could remember hearing about how Anatole Surkhov and his men had dug through the rubble for two days, looking for survivors. The Partisans had been disbanded immediately after that, and Florence had hung many of her own people. At 10 years old, his imagination had held onto the images of little kids getting blown to bits. Now, he could only think of the same thing happening in Eden.

Lee Harlan was no Partisan, no desperate soldier. Or was he?

He continued: “They used bombs they built themselves, right? They used fertilizer because the embargo made gunpowder so scarce.”

The coffee was scalding hot but Dog drank it anyway. There were lines under his eyes. “People will use whatever they can get their hands on when they are desperate and angry,” he said carefully. Behind him, Jules fiddled with a crystal she wore around her neck, movements tense. “That’s-- it’s over now. That was a horrible time, it should have never happened. The Prime Minister should have never let that happen. I don’t know why you’re thinking about it. It’s over.”

“I just want to know how it works.”

“Ammonium nitrate can be manufactured from fertilizer.” Jules was growing angry, maybe even protective over her friend. She shook her head and made the sign against evil, her thumb pressed to her blackened middle and ring fingers. “It’s easy to make, even for an idiot. That’s why it’s so dangerous. Gauthier’s men annihilated that school with only 30 kilograms of ANFO, they stole it from a farm and were able to build a bomb that killed 24 children the next week. Is that what you wanted to know, Mari? You should feel blessed for the privilege of not knowing these things. The war is ending, we don’t have to think about this anymore. Eat your breakfast.”

Easy to make, even for an idiot.

Marty felt very sick. He stood up and realized that his knees were shaking. Suddenly, all he could think about was the people he cared about in Eden. Ayda. Kip. Rome. All he could think about was how far he was from them, how helpless he was to do anything if something went wrong.

Easy to make, even for an idiot…

This was wrong, of course it was. He was being paranoid, crazy. He had no reason to think that Lee would do something like that, or be involved with something like that. This paranoia was the byproduct of his obsessive thoughts, of his constant fixation on Lee Harlan. In trying to sniff out something that he had done wrong, he had created problems in his mind. Problems that didn’t exist.

But Marty had been right about things before. He had seen things before, things that ended up happening. He thought about the vision he had had, the vision where huge buildings crumbled into chunks.

He got up from the table and did not realize that he had knocked over his mug of coffee. Both Dog and Jules jumped, looked at him like he was crazy.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jules demanded. “Mari, you have to eat.”

Suddenly delirious, suddenly sick, he shook his head, pushing his way back to his bedroom and his devices. “No,” he said. “No, I have to call someone. I have to call Kip.”

#writing

0 notes

kairoth · 6 years

Note

Could you do all of the questions?

heyhey! yea! done on my laptop :>

1: when you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal or more cereal than milk?♥ usually more milk but then i try to fix the ratio and it ends up being more cereal asfh

2: do you like the feeling of cold air on your cheeks on a wintery day?♥ eehhh sometimes

3: what random objects do you use to bookmark your books?♥ mostly just pieces of paper lol

4: how do you take your coffee/tea?♥ with LOTS of sugar

5: are you self-conscious of your smile?♥ yes. it's gross

6: do you keep plants?♥ yea!

7: do you name your plants?♥ ofc i do

8: what artistic medium do you use to express your feelings?♥ music mainly. like you'll know my mood by knowing what song i listen to

9: do you like singing/humming to yourself?♥ ye ~

10: do you sleep on your back, side, or stomach?♥ my side usually but i move a lot in my sleep

11: what’s an inner joke you have with your friends?♥ bongwater,,

12: what’s your favorite planet?♥ saturn! and pluto,,, and jupiter ahh

13: what’s something that made you smile today?♥ thinking about puppies !!!!!!

14: if you were to live with your best friend in an old flat in a big city, what would it look like?♥ idk? messy

15: go google a weird space fact and tell us what it is!♥ apparently you get taller in space

16: what’s your favorite pasta dish?♥ this is boring of me but i like plain ol' pasta with butter and salt the most

17: what color do you really want to dye your hair?♥ white with purple ombre !

18: tell us about something dumb/funny you did that has since gone down in history between you and your friends and is always brought up.♥ HHH when i was 6 months old i ate a spider and anyone who knows about it never lets me live it down

19: do you keep a journal? what do you write/draw/ in it?♥ i try to keep em and write in em but i often forget

20: what’s your favorite eye color?♥ mmm i can't choose, they're all great !

21: talk about your favorite bag, the one that’s been to hell and back with you and that you love to pieces.♥ oof my batman backpack that i gave to my dad. that thing went through A LOT. my new one is really good too tho. it's just red and black but it's served me well.

22: are you a morning person?♥ depends on if i've gotten a good night's sleep and if i'm particularly excited for the day!

23: what’s your favorite thing to do on lazy days where you have 0 obligations?♥ sleep, listen to music, read

24: is there someone out there you would trust with every single one of your secrets?♥ yea. we don't talk anymore tho. i miss him

25: what’s the weirdest place you’ve ever broken into?♥ nowhere? i've never broken in before

26: what are the shoes you’ve had for forever and wear with every single outfit?♥ i always wear my vans til they fall apart. my current pair are space themed bc ofc

27: what’s your favorite bubblegum flavor?♥ juicyfruit ig?

28: sunrise or sunset?♥ sunset

29: what’s something really cute that one of your friends does and is totally endearing?♥ ASFH UHM idk?? them just being themselves is enough for me to smile over them

30: think of it: have you ever been truly scared?♥ yes

31: what is your opinion of socks? do you like wearing weird socks? do you sleep with socks? do you confine yourself to white sock hell? really, just talk about socks.♥ i wear mismatched socks all the time but like they do match each other somewhat. like. i have a bunch of stitch socks and i don't wear their match but i'll wear another stitch sock with it.

32: tell us a story of something that happened to you after 3AM when you were with friends.♥ uhh me and two friends played never have i ever over kik once and long story short we learned a lot abt each other. some things we never wanted to know

33: what’s your fave pastry?♥ idk! i like danish pastries pretty well tho

34: tell us about the stuffed animal you kept as a kid. what is it called? what does it look like? do you still keep it?♥ teddy!! i got him when i was 5 from my cousin for like a nickel. he's just a standard lil brown teddy bear. and ofc i still have him asdgh can't sleep without him. i even bring him to sleepovers

35: do you like stationary and pretty pens and so on? do you use them often?♥ yea! i use them when i can

36: which band’s sound would fit your mood right now?♥ EDEN. and crywank generally fits me too

37: do you like keeping your room messy or clean?♥ i like it to be clean but often it just gets cluttered and i don't have the motivation to clean it

38: tell us about your pet peeves!♥ uhhh i hate rude, arrogant, judgemental people, disloyalty, uhm, the sound that weird plastic makes, uhhh idk

39: what color do you wear the most?♥ mostly black and white

40: think of a piece of jewelry you own: what’s it’s story? does it have any meaning to you?♥ my solar system bracelet! i saw the post for it on tumblr and sent it to my mum, and she ended up getting it for me for christmas!

41: what’s the last book you remember really, really loving?♥ we were liars by e. lockhart. if i had to choose a fave it'd be that one. i sobbed for days after reading it. i think it kinda did smthn to my soul

42: do you have a favorite coffee shop? describe it!♥ i do not sadly :

43: who was the last person you gazed at the stars with?♥ my mum, i think ?

44: when was the last time you remember feeling completely serene and at peace with everything?♥ oof, when harley was still here. it was a nice day, the sun was shining through my window, birds singing, EDEN playing softly, and harley was all cuddled up on my chest with his head tucked under my chin, purring away.

45: do you trust your instincts a lot?♥ depends. i try to evenly listen to my instincts and to logic

46: tell us the worst pun you can think of.♥ my friend used to make a lot of bone puns bc of undertale and sans and one of my faves is "wasn't that HUMERUS"

47: what food do you think should be banned from the universe?♥ SEAFOOD it's grrrrrrrrrrroooooooosssss

48: what was your biggest fear as a kid? is it the same today?♥ death. and yes.

49: do you like buying CDs and records? what was the last one you bought?♥ haven't bought many of those, i mostly listen to spotify :0 i did get the vinyl of black parade that mcr was giving out for the anniversary !

50: what’s an odd thing you collect?♥ crystals ig? pokemon cards, pens, books. uhh. i have a lot of paper and notebooks lmao

51: think of a person. what song do you associate with them?♥ mm. good times by all time low.

52: what are your favorite memes of the year so far?♥ uhh idk i like all of em

53: have you ever watched the rocky horror picture show? heathers? beetlejuice? pulp fiction? what do you think of them?♥ heathers is epic and i love christian slater but also his voice is hilarious, beetlejuice was good and amazingly weird, and i've no seen the other two yet.

54: who’s the last person you saw with a true look of sadness on their face?♥ HHH. the other day my mum's friend was talking abt how she's having problems with renters and she looked like she was gonna cry but it was more frustration than anything so idk?

55: what’s the most dramatic thing you’ve ever done to prove a point?♥ man idk it's prob somethin big but i don't remember

56: what are some things you find endearing in people?♥ ? idk. it depends ig?? like for my one friend i love that he loves animals, for my other i love that she loves music. for one i love her kindness and outward innocence and i find it hilarious when she actually shows her angry or sassy side.

57: go listen to bohemian rhapsody. how did it make you feel? did you dramatically reenact the lyrics?♥ god i love bohemian rhapsody. so good. so catchy. the best. me and my former bff used to sing it all the time

58: who’s the wine mom and who’s the vodka aunt in your group of friends? why?♥ mmmm idk :0

59: what’s your favorite myth?♥ i love myths abt creatures! my faves are about the fae folk.

60: do you like poetry? what are some of your faves?♥ idk :0

61: what’s the stupidest gift you’ve ever given? the stupidest one you’ve ever received?♥ uhh just a basic gift card ig. and uhm idk?

62: do you drink juice in the morning? which kind?♥ mm if i have juice i'll drink it!

63: are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organized or kinda leave them be?♥ i try to keep them organized

64: what color is the sky where you are right now?♥ it's getting late and it's kinda cloudy and grey

65: is there anyone you haven’t seen in a long time who you’d love to hang out with?♥ yeaa.

66: what would your ideal flower crown look like?♥ mmm idk! maybe lots of purple and light blues? :0

67: how do gloomy days where the sky is dark and the world is misty make you feel?♥ bad. i've always been nervous with storms and whatnot and those kinda days just make me jittery.

68: what’s winter like where you live?♥ well for a while it actually is winter and gets cold. but it's florida so ofc it goes back to being hot af.

69: what are your favorite board games?♥ i've always been fond of sorry sliders and candy land

70: have you ever used a ouija board?♥ NO AND I NEVER WILL. my mum and aunts did once and HHHHHHHH they ended up with a possessed barney doll

71: what’s your favorite kind of tea?♥ earl grey ! i really wanna try lavender tea tho

72: are you a person who needs to note everything down or else you’ll forget it?♥ yea but i don't often actually do it

73: what are some of your worst habits?♥ i sleep and procrastinate too much but i'm trying, i pick at threads a lot hhh,

74: describe a good friend of yours without using their name or gendered pronouns.♥ ok uhh. they remind me of a canary bird. i associate them with yellow and pink. they're super sweet. always helpful. sad and i wish i could help them more. all in all a v good friend and v good person.

75: tell us about your pets!♥ OOF OK GET READY. syd: sydney, my man. the big orange floof. meathead. he likes to stand up and hold onto your shirt or pants and it's cute but also CLAWS. v smart, knows that if he annoys me enough i'll open my door for him. maggie: pretty pretty princess. also the grossest princess. beaut white, brown capped fur and green gold eyes and cutest lil meows. bean: has two thumbs, one is teensy tiny. meows are like inaudible. usually grumpy and will run if you pet her. only accepts affection when she's sleepy. sebastian: the real grumpy cat. russian blue boy. has a hard time jumping correctly now cos he's old. always talking and complaining. likes pets. will fight you. ash: scaredy boi. dark as night. murrs instead of meows bc he wasn't raised by other cats. rarely purrs but you know he loves you. likes head bumps. will scratch you if you're not paying attention to him. can be a bully. arrow: FAT. has scabs bc he keeps scratching himself,, why boi why (we think he's allergic to smthn). meows LOUDLY. eats everyone's food. likes to go outside. once got stuck in the same tree twice. shelby: old girl. jack russel. super hyper but also LAZY. only sleeps under blankets. gets jealous. will force her way onto your lap. the smelliest dog in existence i swear. emmy: chihuahua. grumpyyyy old lady. always telling people to shut up (mostly shelby). cute tho. has seizures sometimes. will purposefully use the bathroom on the floor where you'll step or on something of yours if you upset her. moriarty: my snek! good boy. likes to be under his paper towels. smol. has a cute face. percy: GRUMPY leopard gecko. she's a blizzard morph and she looks purple. so grumpy aaaaaaaaah. red: my betta girl. the other girls with her (blue and esme) died. she comes up to the glass to say hi to you. oscar the grouch: hedgehog. SO GRUMP. he literally turned his entire house around so you can't see him. rude. lillith, yuki, and star: ferrets. inseperable. good little catsnakes who i love. yuki has a thing for feet and shoes. star messes with the dogs/cats by nipping them. lillith is good but bites a bit hard. the chickens: we named them after the avengers. cap can die. literally she hates me and my mum she tries to fight us. RUDE.

76: is there anything you should be doing right now but aren’t?♥ yes. schoolwork

77: pink or yellow lemonade?♥ i like both !

78: are you in the minion hateclub or fanclub?♥ uhh hate club ig? idrk?????

79: what’s one of the cutest things someone has ever done for you?♥ mmmMM my former bff used to be very supportive of my clinginess and she would be talking and i could just like hold my hands out to her or hug her and she'd be totally ok with it and not even pause talking. the best thing ever tbh

80: what color are your bedroom walls? did you choose that color? if so, why?♥ two walls are light grey and the other two are a slightly darker grey! i chose it :> i wanted a good neutral color besides beige or white.

81: describe one of your friend’s eyes using the most abstract imagery you can think of.♥ mmm. like the sun shining through the branches of the trees.

82: are/were you good in school?♥ i mean?? ig? i get ok grades (mostly Bs) but i always procrastinate assignments cos i'm lazy and unmotivated

83: what’s some of your favorite album art?♥ ooohh my fave is from life starts now by three days grace. i actually made it my theme once on chrome

84: are you planning on getting tattoos? which ones?♥ yea! i wanna get a lot of space related ones! and maybe the chip number of my boy harley

85: do you read comics? what are your faves?♥ mm. i read webcomics! a fave of mine is stutterhug by samantha davies on taptastic :>

86: do you like concept albums? which ones?♥ uhhhhhhh i don't know any off the top of my head and i looked it up and it says american idiot by green day is one and i love them so? yeah

87: what are some movies you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives?♥ THE CROW. and the last unicorn!! both so good

88: are there any artistic movements you particularly enjoy?♥ i've always been fond of symbolism

89: are you close to your parents?♥ i'm close to my mum! not so much my dad

90: talk about your one of you favorite cities.♥ woodsboro, maryland! that's where my aunts and cousins live. i love going up there!

91: where do you plan on traveling this year?♥ idk! my mum did bring up going somewhere this year tho

92: are you a person who drowns their pasta in cheese or a person who barely sprinkles a pinch?♥ barely even a pinch. unless it's spaghetti and that powdery parmesan cheese

93: what’s the hairstyle you wear the most?♥ wellll we shaved the sides and back so it's just long at the top and flipped sideways

94: who was the last person you know to have a birthday?♥ ? it was my mum's boss's birthday a few days ago :0 we all had lunch together and she asked me what name she should call me by. i love her tbh

95: what are your plans for this weekend?♥ hopefully i can go see the puppies !!!

96: do you install your computer updates really quickly or do you procrastinate on them a lot?♥ procrastinate

97: myer briggs type, zodiac sign, and hogwarts house?♥ infp, leo but i relate more to my scorpio chart, and hufflepuff!

98: when’s the last time you went hiking? did you enjoy it?♥ i've never actually been hiking!! and tbh i enjoy pretty much anything long as i'm with someone i like!

99: list some songs that resonate to your soul whenever you hear them.♥ jupiter by EDEN, leech boy by crywank, lost//found by EDEN, boats & birds by gregory and the hawk, and saturn by sleeping at last. a lot of others too ahh

100: if you were presented with two buttons, one that allows you to go 5 years into the past, the other 5 years into the future, which one would you press? why?♥ five years in the past. i could fix a lot of things that happened.

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burberrycanary · 6 years

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They sort of break up on February 17 and definitely get back together on March 15. They barely talk between “the Valentine's Day massacre and the ides of the March,” he jokes later, sitting next to her in a booth at Pop’s and hoping that she’ll slide closer to rest her head on his shoulder like she used to.

She doesn’t. But she takes his hand.

Betty strikes a bargain with him in the first week after they’re official again: they won’t celebrate his birthday as long as they start skipping Valentine's Day, too.

It was never about Valentine's Day, he wants to say. But then it was never really about his birthday either.

—

Last week’s snow lingers on the north edges of buildings and in dirty, packed-hard piles near the ends of driveways. Over the last few days the air has lost the worst of its damp, brutal edge. By the trailer park fence, small purple and white flowers spill down the side of rotted out wooden planters abandoned long ago.

He’s walking past the faded Sunnyside Trailer Park sign when his phone vibrates in his pocket. A hot-cold rush coils up tight in his chest when he sees Betty’s name.

Jughead swipes to pick up and says, “Hey.”

Read it on AO3 or below the cut.

I had so many season 2 bughead feels and nowhere to put them so I wrote this. Many thanks to my amazing, amazing betas, @soyforramen and @bewarethesmirk <3333

I Leave This at Your Ear

She doesn’t. But she takes his hand.

Betty strikes a bargain with him in the first week after they’re official again: they won’t celebrate his birthday as long as they start skipping Valentine's Day, too.

It was never about Valentine's Day, he wants to say. But then it was never really about his birthday either.

He’s walking past the faded Sunnyside Trailer Park sign when his phone vibrates in his pocket. A hot-cold rush coils up tight in his chest when he sees Betty’s name.

Jughead swipes to pick up and says, “Hey.”

“Jug.”

He thinks stupidly of repeating, hey, then thinks of asking if she needs something—except he gets a flicker of warning that the question would come out wrong, like she needs a reason to call.

The quiet fumbles along between them. Background noise filters over the line: a confusion of distant voices and a single muffled car horn.

“Practice just finished,” Betty offers. “V’s giving me a ride home. She’s calling a car.”

He's never bothered to work out the details of Veronica’s endless supply of mysterious black cars. They’re just part of the Veronica Lodge brand of magical realism: best simply accepted.

But the oddity catches at him, since Betty has never liked asking for favors and, though it’s cold out, the sky is a clear sweep of blue.

“Everything all right?”

“Yeah, of course.” He can hear Betty blow out a steadying breath. “I took a fall at practice. It's nothing, just a few bruises. I could walk home. I’m okay.”

But her voice is too flat as though, after everything in the last six months, she is no longer calibrated to register this scale of hurt.

“The more you say you're fine, Betts, the less I believe you.”

She gives a short, breathy laugh, the one that tends to land between a giggle and a scoff.

“Jug, I’m fine. The fall looked worse than it was. But if Veronica wants to drop me off at home, she can. She'll feel better.”

Jughead pictures her standing on the top of the steps leading out of Riverdale High in the cool cast of afternoon light, waiting for a car she doesn't want. But then he considers how observant Veronica can be when she isn't distracted and how far Betty will stretch the edges of I’m fine.

What kind of fall looks worse than it is, he wonders.

“You're really all right?”

“Yeah. I was just calling to say hi. Hang on.” Muffled voices overlap and then Betty's back on. “I should go.”

He nods to himself. “Okay. I’ll call you later.”

A silence spins out to fill the space where Betty would have once given an easy hum of agreement or, near the end, one of those mournful I love yous.

He's about to hang up when he hears her voice again.

“Hey, Jug.”

“Yeah?” Another pause stretches out, but this one doesn't feel so heavy. He knocks the side of his boot against the wooden post holding up the trailer park sign.

“This weekend.” She trails off. A choppy truck engine approaches and fades along the unseen road that runs south of the trailer park. “My parents will be gone some. They’re leaving Friday after work.”

Before, inviting her over would have been like nothing. Jughead arranges and listens to the words in his head twice before he can manage, “Want to come over?”

A handful of heartbeats lurch past before Betty gives a quiet, firm, “Yes.”

He calls her after school on Wednesday from the Red and Black’s office-slash-darkroom, tipping his chair back and staring at the silver coffeemaker she’d brought over that he’d kept on using most school days even when they weren’t talking. He hasn’t turned up any new leads. Nothing about the fundamentals of Southside High has changed and his classes are boring, so he tells her about the new, unexpectedly high brow graffiti that repeats down all the lockers in the main hallway: but is it art? but is it art? but is it art?

Betty doesn’t call on Thursday, but just after eleven she texts him good night with a moon. He watches the typing dots cycle and cycle and then disappear. Nothing else shows up.

Friday morning she texts: 9:30 ok?

For an insane moment he debates whether he should text back yes, sure or great.

He presses his forehead against the kitchen cabinet door, hard, and goes with a thumbs up emoji.

She knocks at about quarter to ten. Jughead takes a breath and, after a moment of deliberation, leaves his beanie on the arm of the couch.

When he opens the door, Betty is staring back down the battered steps. The yellow wash of the porch light turns her a little bit golden and her profile is sharply defined against the surrounding dark. He tries not to think too hard about the last time she was here, how that ended, just how many nights he’s wanted to open the door and see her like this.

“Hey, you.”

She looks up and smiles. “I got Pop’s.” She lifts the white takeout bag towards him.

He shoves down saying I love you, because the words would come out as a joke, and closes his fingers over hers instead of taking the bag. He tugs her a step closer. She tips her face up so he bends down and kisses her, thinking the words in a fast, dizzying loop.

She pulls back with one last brush against his mouth and, after a perfectly dragged out pause, says, “It’s just Pop’s.”

Jughead huffs out a laugh, kisses her forehead and takes the grease-spotted white bag.

“Come on in.”

They eat at the kitchen table off of the paper wrappers. She got him two cheeseburgers, two orders of fries and a strawberry milkshake.

Betty eats her burger fast but picks at her fries as she tells him about school, about the voicemail she got from Polly, about Kevin’s steady hook up and sorta-maybe boyfriend that he’ll talk about only using waspish cynicism or TMI designed to bait her into shutting the topic down.

Betty frowns at her fries like she wants to help Kevin with this problem of being a little fucked up by life and doesn’t know how.

Jughead presses his knee against the side of her leg because she’s already helping more than she knows, but Betty flinches away. “Sorry. Cheerleading.”

The fall.

“I didn’t know it was that bad.”

She shrugs. “I got off pretty easy.”

“‘It could’ve been worse’ wasn’t really the standard I had in mind.”

Betty regards him from across the table and finally says, “Okay.” Only, because she’s Betty Cooper, she has to add, “But I’m—”

“I get it.” He reaches out to steal one of her fries even though he’s not even done with his own yet. “You’re okay.”

She absently tilts her bag of fries towards him a little bit more.

He gathers up the paper wrappers and empty milkshake cups while Betty gets the small pink gym bag she left by the door.

That tethered draw, which can sometimes pull him in so tight, leads him down the hall after her and deposits him with a shoulder propped against the bathroom door that she’s left open as she unpacks a little transparent travel bag that holds a crinkly green packet of wipes she uses to clean her face, a few small bottles and a toothbrush.

Betty takes off her makeup with a white cloth that leaves her skin faintly pink. She tugs the elastic out of her ponytail and rubs her fingers against her scalp, shaking her hair out into waves that settle around her shoulders. He’d stand here and watch her brush her teeth if that didn’t cross the line between a little weird and full on creepy. So he retreats into the kitchen. He closes his laptop but leaves it charging on the kitchen counter, double-checks the deadbolt and then stalls out in the boxy area between the kitchen, the living room and the front door.

He still has some condoms left from before. He assumes she came over for sex, but—Jughead stares up at the ceiling and thinks, What the fuck do I know?

He trades places with her in the bathroom to brush his teeth, sliding past her.

When he’s done and opens the door, she’s leaning back against the wall of the narrow hallway, less than two steps away.

All he wants to do is take those couple steps forward, to get back to that lost place where he wouldn’t have thought twice about any of this.

Maybe if she wasn’t banged up, they’d crash into each other with the blurred out rush that comes so easy between them. But what he’s got right now is this: Betty nudging the flannel off his shoulders as he kisses down her neck, Betty tugging his t-shirt up and off as he straightens, Betty staring at his shoulders and chest.

He brings his arms up against the wall to box her in and slows down leaning into her, dragging the motion out so that when he kisses her again she’s smiling a little into the kiss.

Betty’s hands slide down his sides and she tucks her fingers in between his jeans and his hips.

They’re barely even touching and the crazy spun out slowness of what they’re doing twists up how much he wants her tighter and tighter. He thinks he might crawl out of his skin with this frustrated, banked down desire that’s amazing and terrible all at once.

Jughead drops a hand to touch her breast through her sweater and opens his mouth over hers. Her tongue flicks over his lower lip like she knows what he wants but is going to give it to him one piece at a time. And she does bit by bit until at last he’s got her tongue in his mouth and his hand under her shirt and he needs her to not be wearing so many clothes.

He pulls back, skims his hand down the hard curve of her ribs to the edge of her sweater and raises his eyebrows. At her nod he strips off both layers, sweater and cami, and gets his mouth on the soft, warm swell of her breast just above where her bras always cut in a little.

He hears, “Bed. Bed, Juggie, c’mon.” Her voice is pitched so low, rough with how turned on she is, and the sound is like getting kicked in the chest. He wants to scoop her up, his hands under her thighs, her breasts pressed up tight against him, but he remembers her flinch in the kitchen and grabs her hand instead, pulling her back towards his bedroom.

She backs him up against the open door, her lips and then teeth against his jaw, making him lift his chin up for her so she can suck a mark onto his neck. She works at his fly, fumbling because she won’t step away far enough to manage the button on the first go.

He wants her naked—bra, jeans, shoes, panties, all of it. He unclasps and drops her bra, cups both her breasts, pressing in on her nipples because that makes her shoulders draw back and her spine arch.

She uses one foot to push down the stuck leg of her jeans, turning slightly. He sucks in a breath between closed teeth. Dark patches of bruising run from the point of her hip all the way down her right thigh.

Betty kicks her jeans to the side. “It looks worse than it is.”

“You keep saying that,” he reminds her as his hand hovers over her right hip. He settles the pads of his fingers against her black-and-purple skin but she doesn’t tense or flinch. “Don’t let me hurt you.”

Her eyebrows pull together at that.

Betty slides her hands over his stomach and goes up on her toes to press a slow, careful kiss against his mouth.

When she steps back, she nods towards the floor lamp, wanting the lights off. She’s only let him try a few times with more light and each time she’s had trouble coming. He wants to turn on every light in the room, in the whole fucking trailer, to see her spread out naked for him. He can’t understand how she could look like this and find anything to feel self-conscious about. But he reaches over and kills the floor lamp before twisting on the tiny bedside reading light with the dimmer bulb on low.

Jughead sits next to her on the bed and traces his hand up her arm to her shoulder, letting his eyes adjust to the glow of the dialed-back lamp and the fainter light from outside that curls in yellow streaks around the edges of the curtains.

He pulls a condom out from the box tucked under the bed frame and he leaves it on the edge of the bedside table, mostly to reassure her before she has to ask. He kisses her as she sinks onto her elbows, following her down until he’s braced over her and she's lying back on his faded blue-gray sheets.

He takes her in: her pink nipples and pale skin, blonde wavy hair spread out around her face and that gorgeous mouth that he wants to kiss and fuck and have touching his body however she wants and—

She twists and reaches for the side table. The motion creates an amazing dip-flare-curve of her waist to her hip to her ass.

She tears open the packet and rolls the condom on him.

Betty’s hands settle on his hips. Her knees spread for him. And he’s got to kiss her as he leans his weight on one arm and gets between her thighs. He slides his other hand down over her stomach.

Betty shivers under him.

Jesus fucking Christ, he thinks.

He wants to last, to make this so, so good for her. He wants to feel her arch up as her body tightens and flutters around him. But it's been a long goddamn month and he misremembered how unreal getting inside her is, that hot tight slide, how soft and small and strong she feels under him.

Her legs shift up higher around his waist. Her hand cups the back of his neck and her mouth opens for a blur of messy kisses until she’s so far gone all she can do is press her mouth near his. That cut-off edge of a whine creeps into her breathing on the exhales. Her eyes keep fluttering close when he gets the angle just right only to blink back open to watch his face.

And that’s it. He just can't, can’t slow down or hold back. He gets so deep into her, forehead pressed against her cheek, and everything slams through him all at once. He feels, horribly, almost like crying as Betty presses a line of kisses along his temple while her palms smooth up and down his back.

He pulls himself together at least enough to stop shaking while he ties off and tosses the condom, then gets her off with his fingers curled up into her and his thumb on her clit and his tongue in her mouth. He drags one long kiss along her jaw and presses his mouth against the sensitive skin under her chin when she bows up off the bed for him, flushed and lovely and somehow still his.

He leaves his fingers curled inside her, kissing her mouth, her neck, her face, until she nudges him back with a hand on his chest and a funny little lick across his lips that he thinks she expected him to dart back from. But hell, whatever. She can lick him for all he cares.

They pull apart. He wipes his hand on the sheets he’ll have to wash anyway. When she gets up to use the bathroom, her bruised side is a livid smear of deeper color even in the dim room and the shape imprints on his slow, sex-dazed brain like the lingering afterimage of a camera flash in the dark.

Betty slips back under the covers and curls up against him, in his bed, wrapped up in his arms. He can’t bear to put words to the raw mess that opens up inside his chest as he falls asleep pressed close to her again.

His dreams are strange, but not unhappy.

When he blinks his eyes open, all he’s left with is a jumble of fragmented images that get lost in the morning half-light.

Betty’s palm is fitted against his arm just above his elbow. She’s sitting up with his other pillow between her back and the wall, reading a dog-eared Sam Shepard anthology—The Unseen Hand and Other Plays. He doesn’t know if it’s hers or a library copy.

Betty is wearing the same pale blue sweater as yesterday but has her legs tucked under the blankets for warmth. He watches as she props the spine of the book against her knee and painstakingly turns a page with her thumb.

Under the covers, he slides his hand over to touch the backs of his fingers to the smooth, warm skin of her hip where the line of her panties cuts high up, skimming over the darkest part of the mostly purple bruises.

She blinks and glances down at him, so fucking beautiful with her messy hair and bare face. In the hazy morning light, she looks as soft-edged and irrecoverable as a happy memory.

“Hey, sleepyhead.”

He yawns. “Morning.”

She bends down and kisses the corner of his mouth. “You can sleep some more, if you want.”

What he’d like is to make up for last night, maybe even go down on her if she’d let him, but he’s not picking up that vibe from her at all. She seems calm and content. So he shifts forward and presses his face into her side, feeling the warmth of her body through the thin material of her tight sweater, and drifts in and out for a while with her hand slowly moving through his hair.

They get up around ten, since that’s as late as Betty can stay in bed—a solid hour more than he was expecting.

He dumps grounds and water into the coffeemaker on autopilot.

Leaning her unbruised hip against the counter, Betty tugs the sleeves of her sweater further down over her palms and presses her fingers into the fabric rather than her skin. Her knuckles don’t turn white.

He divides his attention between the coffee brewing and Betty’s loosely closed fists.

Jughead puts one spoonful of sugar in Betty’s coffee and leans over to kiss her with all the aching, torn up softness he’s got left before passing her the mug.

“So.” He pulls back and turns to get his own cup of coffee. “I’ve got eggs or cereal. Without milk.”

He's eaten breakfast at the Coopers often enough, those huge plates of pancakes and bacon and breakfast potatoes served out on complicated matching sets of dishes, to brace himself against the flash of shame that heats the back of his neck. The kitchen around him feels abruptly so alien and he’s hit with the memory of that left-out food and rotting dishes smell from visits over the summer when his dad had hit rock bottom again.

He blinks and the memory vanishes. The kitchen is clean, has been for months now.

“I’ll do eggs, you do toast?” Betty offers.

In the light falling through the gauzy curtains, Betty’s hair glows with that cinematic Grace Kelly magic as she peers into the fridge. He wants to wrap his arms around her and press his face into the long curve of her neck.

“Sure,” he says and reaches for the loaf of Wonder bread.

It’s not really a very equitable division of labor as Jughead puts bread in the toaster but doesn’t push the lever down yet. He slumps back against the counter with his coffee to watch Betty stir the eggs, looking so just like herself in the old blue sweater, tight jeans and ponytail that her bare feet stand out with a vivid underscore.

Timing the toast just right flips into a kind of game as he lets his finger hover above the lever. He takes his best guess.

Betty scrapes the eggs onto two plates and sets the pan in the sink to soak. A moment later the toaster dings.

Close enough.

They eat at the table, his back to the door.

“My parents aren’t at a conference,” Betty says out of nowhere.

He looks up. Betty is frowning and running her thumb along the handle of her fork. The stamped metal silverware has sharply defined edges and she’s pressing hard enough to turn her skin white. He touches the back of her hand and laces their fingers together so that their joints form an interlocking row.

Jughead watches her face and waits.

At last, Betty laughs, a hard, unhappy sound. “There just aren’t that many journalistic retreats in Rockland County, Jug. I think it’s become a sort of dare to her, a game of chicken, how crazy of a retreat she can come up with.”

“You know where they really went?”

Betty shakes her head and squeezes his fingers before pulling her hand away. He goes back to eating while she pushes her eggs around on her plate.

Betty swaps their plates as soon as he’s finished and he eats most of her breakfast, too.

Waste not, want not as his mom used to say with that lost, angry look in her eyes.

He washes the plates and egg pan while Betty showers. He probably should, too, once she’s done.

He isn’t going to. He doesn’t even bother to call himself out on why. He pulls on a clean sweater and jeans with ripped out knees that make Betty’s eyes drift down with the occasional distracted glance as she bites her lower lip. He doesn't know if it’s just the look or if the torn fabric makes her think of what he’d get down on his knees to do for her.

The shower cuts off.

“Want to watch a movie?” Betty asks from the living room. She’s already got his laptop on the coffee table with the power cord plugged behind the couch.

She knows he’s going to say, “Yes.” What she may not know is that he’s going to spend a good ten minutes kissing her first with her settled warm and close in his lap.

He pulls away enough to stare up at her but leaves his hands spread out along her lower back under her shirt. Betty plays with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“So what’s the shortlist, Film Snob?”

You pick three, I choose. He can’t even remember when that became their movie thing.

He thinks of that dog-eared copy of Sam Shepard, of Betty turning the page with one hand. How her wrist pressed against the open page to pin the book in place. How he briefly lost all this.

“Okay. Blade Runner, Maltese Falcon or Chinatown?”

Betty tilts her head and her eyes go a little unfocused as she weighs the options.

With a shrug she says, “Chinatown,” and shifts off his lap to curl up against his side as he reaches for his computer.

Roman Polanski may be a piece of shit but Jughead can’t bring himself to stop loving this movie.

Halfway through, Betty takes his hand. As she skims the tips of her fingers along the side of his thumb, her gaze catches on the series of bad, mostly-healed cuts. But she presses her lips together in a tight line and looks back at Jack Nicolson driving through the claustrophobic Hitchcockian orange groves with that ugly white bandage on his nose.

“Betty. Ask me.”

Her eyebrows shoot up and she turns towards him, gazing up at him with those huge, sucker-punch eyes. She doesn't say anything for a beat, like she’s waiting to see if he’ll snatch the words back.

Her eyes drift over his face before she says, “How’d it happen?”

“I had to knock glass out of a broken window. Wrapping your hand in a shirt works a lot better in the movies.”

Her thumb slides just below the deepest cut. “Most things do.”

The wry twist to her voice makes his chest contract with a ripple of unexpected laughter.

“Why were you knocking glass out of a window, Juggie?”

He goes still.

You don’t get do-overs. Jughead knows this. But you can fuck the same thing up over and over and over again until there’s nothing left for you to love or fuck up or even walk away from.

“‘Cause that was the safest way out. Ghoulies were upstairs. We—” He forces himself past the pause. “Sweet Pea, Toni and I were snooping around somewhere. We didn’t want to get caught.”

Betty nods once. He braces himself for more questions—for his stubborn, ruthless Betty to pull the whole story out of him. But all she says is, “I’m glad you got out all right.”

After so long evading first her questions and then more and more often evading her, he shouldn’t feel this sour rush of disappointment when she lets the rest go that easily.

On the laptop screen, Jack Nicholson is knocked out and there’s no objective, god’s-eye view. He’s knocked out and takes the audience with him as the camera fades to black.

The movie lurches through its flurry of final revelations that go nowhere and hurt the wrong people as the powers that be churn indifferently forward.

The credits blur past.

“Want to watch another?” Betty asks, sitting up to stretch out her spine in a rolling curve.

He kisses the high point of her shoulder and thinks, Man up and take the chance. Moving slow enough to telegraph his intent, so she can stop him without forcing her to make a big deal out of it, he shifts forward and kneels in front of her. He tugs her to the edge of the couch with his hands cupped behind her knees, watching her face to see if she’ll go for this or if she’ll turn him down.

A dark pink blush spreads over her cheeks and across her forehead. Her eyes go wide but she doesn’t look away or tense up or ask him to stop.

They have sex on the floor in front of the couch because he was feeling lucky enough to slip a condom into his back pocket.

The come down lingers. Sunlight slants in through the gaps where the curtains aren’t drawn together. His knees ache a little from the carpet and his forehead rests on Betty’s shoulder. Her hands can be so gentle sometimes that he short-circuits and all this hurts.

Betty draws his face up and kisses him like she wants him again even though he hasn’t even pulled out of her yet.

He deals with the condom and they stumble towards the bedroom, only to get hung up kissing in the kitchen because Betty sitting on the table puts their mouths at just the same level.

Back in his room, she shoves him down on the bed and they fuck again. He falls asleep with his face pressed against Betty’s neck as she traces meandering lines along the arm he’s wrapped tight around her waist.

A little after four, Betty repacks her small pink gym bag, including the toothbrush, because the world is heartless and requires that she do things beyond have sex in this trailer.

Jughead leans his shoulder against the narrow span of wall next to the front door and stares at Betty's mouth, glancing up to catch the soft, bright look in her eyes, and waits for Betty to kiss him.

Her fingertips land against his cheek. He leans forward into her touch.

#bughead #betty x jughead #bughead smut #bughead fanfiction #jughead jones #betty cooper #riverdale fanfiction #mine #my fic #by burberrycanary #riverdale

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fix-it-feesh · 7 years

Text

- - -

A/N: I felt that Q-bert the orange tabby cat (who Felix adopted as a kitten) needed more love. It’s always fun throwing in some subtle vidya game references as well! (in this case, that’s Q*bert ;D). Set once again in the early stages of Felix and Tamora’s friendship~

Also! The “notes” look best when viewed on a laptop/computer rather than mobile. Sorry about that! >_<;;

- - -

Tamora isn't sure why she even agreed to it in the first place, but then she remembers all the times Fix-It—um, Felix helped her with her apartment's temperamental appliances. And honestly, feeding his cat while he's helping a former neighbor move two hours away is the least she can do. It's not like Felix asked her to reorganize his sock drawer, or rearrange his entire bedroom. She literally has to pour food in a bowl and that's it.

The blonde woman absently glances at the set of keys that sit in her palm as she rides the elevator up to Felix's floor; there's a small golden hammer on the keyring, as well as a bunch of reward cards that Felix must have been too polite to decline signing up for (the pushover).

Tamora encloses the keys in her palm and steps out once the doors open in front of her. She passes Gene in the hallway, who gives her a suspicious look as he walks past, and she doesn't hesitate to audibly scoff at his retreating back. Yeah it isn't her floor, and if it's such a big, stupid deal that she's doing someone a favor then maybe Gene needs a fist straight in his mustache.

After letting herself into Felix's apartment, Tamora steps inside and shuts the door behind her. She's never actually been inside the place before; she's only seen it from the outside when she brought Felix some soup a month or so ago. It's not...anything special? It's actually pretty average, if Tamora is being realistic. There's couches and a TV in the living room, a coffee table, some books. Everything is clean and put together well, but Tamora imagines that someone who takes the time to tuck in their shirt every single day must keep a tidy apartment. It just makes sense.

She lays the keys on the kitchen table, and that's when she notices a handwritten sticky note set in the center. It reads:

It doesn't matter if the note is written plainly. Tamora can hear Felix's southern accent permeating through the words like he's speaking them directly in front of her. But okay, right. Feeding time. She seeks out the indicated cupboard and finds a large Tupperware of dry cat food stored there. Another note is attached to the container, so she peels it off and reads it.

"Just like every other pet in the world," Tamora mutters aloud in the empty apartment.

Nonetheless, she takes the container and shakes it, so that the small pieces of kibble rattle around and create a distinct 'come and get it' sound. She doesn't necessarily expect Q-bert to bolt into the kitchen like a horse, but she also doesn't expect him to take his sweet time (which he does). Another shake is given, and another, before the orange tabby finally makes his grand entrance. He saunters on up to Tamora and then bows the front of his body into a low stretch; his nails unsheathe from between his furry paws as he straightens out and kicks one of his back legs behind him for another stretch.

"About time," Tamora quips, opening the food. It suddenly occurs to her that she has no idea where Q-bert's bowl is, so she spends a second looking around the ground. Her wanderings eventually lead her over by the sink, where - surprise, surprise - a third note is waiting for her.

Tamora doesn't know what to be more amused about: the fact that Felix ignores his dishwasher and hand washes everything, or the fact that he has the patience to routinely clean Q-bert's bowl between feedings. Shaking her head, she looks by the dish rack and, sure enough, there's the bowl in question. She scoops out two portions, as instructed, and then sets it down for Q-bert to dig in.

The cat approaches his meal, sniffs it with an air of disinterest, and opts to rub himself across Tamora's ankles instead. He meows his weird meow, low and toneless, and headbutts her shins - all before plopping down by her feet and licking one of his paws.

"Ooookay," Tamora drones, confused at the behavior.

She's no cat expert (or animal person in general) but she finds it bizarre how Q-bert hasn't dove face first into his bowl. Maybe he wants one of his treats? She returns to the cupboard and secures the small yellow pouch of 'Temptations', and that's when she finds yet another sticky note.

Even if she was hungry Tamora doubts she would go into Felix's fridge looking for some chow.

She grabs the treats and walks back over to Q-bert, who's sprawled along the floor and looking like he owns the apartment. He meows at Tamora again, eyes slowly squinting, before she shakes out some treats onto her palm.

"Is this what you want? Because if you do, you need to eat. Those are direct orders and they’re not open for negotiation," she tells him firmly.

Q-bert yawns in response.

Tamora’s gaze narrows. "Do you really want to do this the hard way, cat? I've dealt with camel spiders bigger than you."

Maybe it's the authoritative tone she used, or just convenient timing, because Q-bert scoops himself up, approaches his bowl, and starts to pick at the crunchy bits.

"That's what I thought," Tamora says.

She waits until Q-bert is done eating to give him his treats, and then she washes the bowl (because apparently that's just what's done around there) and sets it back where she found it. Mission completed and food and treats returned to their respective places, she grabs the keys and heads into the living room to leave. She doesn't expect Q-bert to trot after her, but he does.

"Look, I already fed you," she states, folding her arms across her chest. "That's all I signed up for."

Q-bert clearly disagrees, because before she knows what's going on he's bringing over a coiled purple snake toy in his mouth. He drops it in front of Tamora expectantly and meows, tail swishing. She nudges it with the toe of her shoe, and it must do something to that cat brain of his, because his slitted pupils grow to the size of saucers; he crouches low, rear end wiggling, before he pounces on the snake and bites it.

Tamora blinks in surprise as Q-bert goes to town attacking the snake. "You know, for belonging to such a nice guy you're surprisingly merciless."

She watches on for a few more minutes, intrigued, before the 'bloodbath' settles and Q-bert goes back to rubbing against her ankles. This time, Tamora kneels down and extends her fingers at him; he sniffs the tips and then rubs them along the side of his mouth and over his whiskers, purring.

"You're not so bad, gingersnap. But your battle strategy needs work," she says. "Try coming at the enemy from behind next time." Standing up again, she walks to the door and discovers one final note attached by the door chain.

---

Later that night when Felix comes back after a long day of moving, he finds a note on the outside of his apartment door:

He might have felt bad about maybe going a teensy bit overboard with his little messages, but the guilt is strongly overridden by the butterflies that come from Miss Calhoun leaving him one back. He gently peels off the note from the door, smiles real big, and takes it inside with him.

---

In case the notes are difficult to read:

Note 1: Miss Calhoun, Thank you for feeding Q-bert for me! I really appreciate it. I keep his food in the lowest cupboard by the stove. He gets two scoops and some treats once he's finished. He won't say no to some scratches behind the ear either - if that's something you want to do! Thanks again ma'am. :) -Felix

Note 2: Q-bert is probably napping on my bed, so just give the food a shake and he'll know it's suppertime!

Note 3: I wash Q-bert's bowl when he finishes eating. You'll find it by the dish rack.

Note 4: These are for Q-bert, but help yourself to anything in the kitchen! :)

Note 5: Really can't thank you enough for helping me out with Q-bert. Let me know if I can do anything for you in return! Have a nice night Miss Calhoun. PS: Q-bert will probably bring you his snake! Should have mentioned that earlier.

Note 6: Cat is fed. Take it easy on the notes next time. -Calhoun

#Fix-It Felix #Sergeant Calhoun #Wreck-It Ralph #Hero's Cuties #Hero's Cuties AU #feesh fics #q-bert the orange tabby cat

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im-sexy-and-im-mystictrash · 7 years

Text

RFA+V+Unknown+Vanderwood Half human half Mystical MC

I love these type of mm headcanons and I’ve seen this a lot so i wanted to take a…Kraken at it…I’m so not sorry for that i had to make that pun, anyways you’re a mystical being, it’s going to be a large range of creatures. you’re human but like not completely so one of your parents are human and the other…not so much. you’re a modern good version of these creatures, on with the headcanon~

Yoosung

Gorgon

you didn’t really bring it up

you want to but when would be a good time?

and how the hell were you going to bring up you were half gorgon?

you weren’t even sure if he knew what that was

well

He was learning Greek mythology and he needed a topic for his assignment

“MC would you help me with something?”

He showed you his laptop with a long list of Greek creatures

“I can’t pick one…which one do you think will fit me?”

now is better then ever to tell him

You go into a fit of nervous giggles and you just

“how about me?”

“aww MC you’re cute, but unless you’re a creature…”

“But I am! half to be exact”

Confused Yoosung

“Oh MC you’re just so funny~”

you didn’t know how to tell him so you just show him

suddenly your hair turns to snakes

“hehe um…Wanna say hi? I named all of them”

Yoosung

S C R E A M S

“MC! MC! YOUR HAIR! I MIGHT NOT HAVE DATED BEFORE YOU,BUT I DON’T THINK GIRLS HAIR IS SUPPOSED TO DO THAT”

He goes numb

“You…you’re a…”

“half gorgon”

you two sat there in silence while he thinks

“You’re not scared of me right?”

you’re actually really scared he’ll leave

“W-well…I’m not a big fan of snakes…”

Snakes gone

You try to explain it

“So you’re medusa?”

Que frown

“Medusa is not a race she’s a person, Medusa is also gorgon”

…

“Oh…maybe I should pay attention to class”

you help him with his assignment and he aces it

it would take him forever to get used to it

“MC?…I can still look into your eyes right?

Zen (Nsfw???)

Succubus

Zen always has these moments with you that is just

Extremely Sensual

You have this look in your eyes

the way your body is

he just can’t think straight

you two have waited to have that special night because he loves you and wants to take it slow

but what you are is not helping his “Beast”

it was just one moment at night that you wanted to tell him

you 100% trust him with your secret

so it was time

“Zen honey?”

“Yes love?”

“You know how you say you have a beast?”

Zen blushes

“Y…Yes”

“Well I too have a beast”

the beast at 87%

you seriously didn’t mean for it to sound…sexy like he’s thinking

but you can’t help it, being a succubus everything is sexual

You kinda scoot closer

the beast at 93%

“Although your beast is crazy like you claim it to be, mine is much more”

the beast at 97%

“MC…you don’t wanna wake-”

“The beast? you don’t want to wake mine either~”

T H E B E A S T B R O K E

That night

sure was something amazing

his mind was blown

how you were that night was not something human

the day after he told you about this and you tell him

“A succubus? what’s that?”

you tell him to look it up

…

“OH MY GOD MC”

Zen’s just so unsure what to think

“Do you still love me?”

que offended gasp

“MC of course I love you!”

“I just don’t know how I feel about dating a…Sex demon…”

“Do you want me to show you~?”

BEAST UNLEASHED OVER 9000

You’re going to be the death of him

Jaehee

pixie

You were a lot like Jaehee

serious about work

has a level head and very smart

But

You just loved to have fun

Jaehee loves fun too

But your fun was pretty childish

tying Yoosung’s shoe laces together

Putting salt instead of sugar in Seven’s cup

“MC why do you do such childish things?”

That sort of hurt your feelings but you just tell her

“because it’s who I am”

She didn’t quite understand what that meant

But she did know there was an underline meaning to your words

So she kept a closer eye on you

as time went on she noticed some pretty weird things

“MC is that glitter on you?”

“No it’s just me”

MC did you grow shorter?”

“Nope that’s just me”

Okay you were confusing the hell out of her

and you were having so much fun messing with her

once it got to the point it was effecting her work

you had to fess up

“Jaehee the reason for all these things is because I’m a pixie”

…

wha?

“A Pixie?”

“MC no more jokes please”

“I’m not! I swear! Here I’ll prove it!”

With a little smirk you shrunk

and shrunk

and shrunk even more

you were about the size of her coffee cup

with cute little transparent wings

“Believe me now?”

You sounded like a squeaky toy

She blinks at you for a moment

and faints

oh boy

She wakes up in her bed

“That was a strange dream”

“Not a dream”

He looks to the side of her bed to see that you’re sitting there

you were normal sized

but you still have your wings out

“MC I think I should go to the doctor”

You just giggle at it all

“Jaehee it’s fine, here I’ll tell you”

And so you did

after telling her you kind of run off to let her think about it all

She looks up everything she can about the matter

“What to do when your girlfriend is a Pixie”

Jaehee stays with you because she loves you

and you knew that

which is why you didn’t mind telling her all this

She still hasn’t gotten used to it

so you toned down the pranks and fun

except when it comes to Yoosung

He’s just so fun to mess with!

you shrunk in front of Yoosung for funsies

He fainted

“MC! I told you to stop doing that! this is the third time he’s fainted because of you!”

Jumin

Fenrir

Elizabeth was terrified of you

You knew why

but Jumin didn’t

every time you would walk in the room with Elizabeth

she would go crazy and run out

“I don’t understand why Elizabeth would dislike you…”

“heh…heh…who knows?”

So for some time it was just Elizabeth hating you

Jumin was just so confused

you’re so sweet and cute

Elizabeth should like you like he does

so why doesn’t she?

But he found out eventually

one day you were very angry over something

and your eyes just changed to yellow?

“MC your eyes! what’s wrong?!”

You realize what’s going on and you calm yourself down

“trick of the light?”

“No my eyes are perfect I saw clearly what happened”

Shit

“I need to call a doctor at once”

You panic

“Wait!”

You tell him

that you’re basically a really big half wolf

“no MC this is impossible”

“I seriously don’t want to have to proof it to you, I’m not lying I swear”

“So if this is the truth…I’m dating a dog?”

Your eyes change to yellow again

“I am not a dog! I’m half Fenrir!”

“uh..erm…right I’m sorry”

again MC, calm down

“So this is why Elizabeth hates you?”

“Yup”

“Interesting”

He would lock himself up for a bit to think but then come out completely fine

“I still love you very much so I’ll have to get used to this”

It went pretty smoothly for awhile until he bought you dog treats

“Jumin I’m not a fucken dog!”

Seven

Boggart (I’m using this page and the harry potter boggart one as a reference)

Seven knew there was something up with you

You two got along so well because you loved to cause trouble and create mischief

But your trouble was on a new level

it was scary good

some nights you could scare him to the point it’s…

inhuman?

so as a hacker

he turned to the internet for information

but all that came up was

Boggart

“Pfft my girlfriend isn’t some mystical being…”

“right?”

hmmm

“Hey baby can I ask you something?”

You walk into the room

“what’s up?”

“have you heard of a Boggart?”

you freeze

shit

“Ummm…that’s from harry potter right? hehe…”

He smirks

you’re so skrewed

“MC~ is there something you wanna tell me?”

S H I T

You had no idea how to start

“You really wanna know?”

seven Sparkley eyes

“Y E S”

“Well you see Saeyoung…when a human and a Boggart love each other very much, they create…me…”

He sits for a moment

“I…I must have missed that lesson in sex ed…”

You explain about your origins

and honestly he just

“the pranks we could pull with your powers…”

He does this dark smile

”we need a victim…call Yoosung, we have work to do”

Valkyrie

Jihyun called you his angel all the time

and you giggled every time because of what you are

You’re not an angel but being a Valkyrie you might as well be

Now he never really noticed anything super strange

He did get a mystic air about you from time to time though

But one day you felt like telling him

it killed you that he didn’t know

He was just the sweetest and you didn’t want to lie to him anymore

“Jihyun?”

“Yes angel”

Cute MC giggles

“MC you’re so adorable

Yup you really have to tell him

“Um…do you know what a Valkyrie is?”

“A Valkyrie? I know a little bit about them, why?”

“Well…how would you feel if I was a Valkyrie…?”

He sits there with a confused smile for a moment but still replies

“Then…you would be my Valkyrie”

You just smile at it

“I’m going to show you something, okay?”

He’s still a little confused but nods his head

Then you show him your wings

He has wide eyes

“So…am I still your Valkyrie?”

He’s pretty speechless right now

“MC? So you’re really a Valkyrie? I’m not dreaming?”

You tell him about this and he listens to every word

he can sense that you’re worried

“MC I still love you very much, whatever you are won’t change that”

He adjusts pretty well

He’ll even ask to see your wings

wanting to take pictures of you an your final form

“My Valkyrie, Can I see them? I just can’t get enough of how beautiful you are”

Unknown

Banshee

Being a half Banshee, wasn’t as intense as your mother or happen as often

but there are times that you’ll just scream

inhuman screams

you haven’t had an episode in a long time

so Saeran had no idea

but one day at night you were acting very strange

you were spacey

and just all around out of it

“MC!”

“Hmm!? sorry what?”

Saeran was very annoyed

“listen to me when I’m talking to you! why are you acting so weird?”

You get ready to answer but you suddenly go numb

“It’s happening…”

“what? Whats happening?? MC?”

You open your mouth

and

scream

He’s freaking out

glass is shattering

he’s covering his ears

His ears are ringing

he passes out from that awful noise

good thing Saeyoung’s bunker didn’t have windows or else they would have shattered too

it only lasts a minute

after it’s over you’re out of breath

and you’re so tired

then you fainted

He woke up and saw you were collapsed on the floor

Saeran was too worried about you to care about what just happened

He sits there with you until you wake up

“Ughhh…that sucked”

“MC! are you okay?!”

You just look at him and then

oh no

he knows now

you start to tear up

“I’m sorry!”

He’s confused

“Why are you sorry you idiot?? I was worried sick!”

He lets you calm down

“So are you ready to tell me what’s wrong?”

You explain to him what just happened and what you are

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I don’t want you to be scared of me…”

He just thinks about it

“We should probably buy some sound cancelling ear phones”

“What?”

“I mean, I don’t want a headache or bleed from my ears every time that happens”

“Wait…you’re not leaving me?”

He flicks your forehead

“Why would I? Because you have some weird talent? who cares”

You are baffled but so happy

“So we should probably tell Saeyoung so he doesn’t go through that too”

He smirks

“By any chance can you make yourself do that?”

“Yeah… I can do it myself…why?”

He pulls out his phone

“Saeyoung I wanna show you something”

Vanderwood

spring heeled jack

He’s seen some pretty weird and crazy things as an agent

But not as crazy as what just happened

you two were camping

you both wanted to get away from people for a weekend

it was going good all day but when it hit night

you two had no idea that there were bears

so while you two were by the fire you didn’t expect a huge bear to crash the party

“MC get away from there!!”

now you didn’t want him to find out at all

but when you’re in danger it’s a defense mechanism that you cant control

Vanderwood was getting ready to protect you

but then he saw you had glowing blue eyes and long ass claws

He was more then surprised

You scratch up the bear a few times

and breath some fire at it to scare it off

now in this state you were always hazy and didn’t have complete control over it

So when you turned to Vanderwood with your glowing eyes and steam coming out of your mouth

he didn’t feel very safe

“MC?”

You just creep up to him without responding

“MC?!”

Still nothing

“For gods sake MC!”

He actually rushes up to you and punches the top of your head

“Snap out of it you idiot!”

poof

back to normal MC

“Now tell me what the hell just happened”

You told him what you are

“MC…are you seriously telling me you’re some sort of fire demon thing?

“Spring heeled Jack”

“Never heard of it”

You explain everything in detail

your origins

what you’re able to do

“MC as strange as this is, this is seriously badass”

You’re totally confused

you never thought Vanderwood could use the word badass

“So…we’re okay?”

“as long as you don’t torch me to death when you’re mad then it’s fine”

and if you ever did get like that he could always get you out of your trance

you two realize how cold it is and see that the fire is out

“MC be a dear and relight that”

I had a lot of fun typing this, it was more for me then anything. it’s not my most favorite I typed but I do really like this one, hope you liked it~

Master list of my headcanons

#my headcanons #headcanon #mystic messenger headcanon #mystic messager #707 #yoosung #zen #jumin han #vanderwood #unknown #jaehee kang

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jestbee · 7 years

Text

June 17: Come Back, Be Here (Chapter Six) (Final)

#my fics #phanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #phanfic #phanfic fluff #dan and phil #dnp #fedij #fic #fic every day in june #fic project #fic prompt #phan #phandom

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ecotone99 · 4 years

Text

[TH] Last Summer (First Post)

This is my first post on here so constructive criticism will be highly appreciated.

-----------------------------------

Last Summer

Down the narrow rural roads, to where RT and Jane have not been since last summer. Everyone in the yellow Volkswagen Beetle was practically on the edge of their seats, afraid that the history would repeat itself again. They arrive at the oak cabin that has belonged to the Norman family for generations, and hopefully, more generations to come. They unpack their belongings and soon after, night fell.

“Me and your dad will be home around midnight.” Their mom said.

“RT, you're in charge. Call if you need us, and behave.” Their dad told.

Without any response back, they drive out to the sunset, for the night has just begun.

All was quiet throughout the Norman Cabin. RT was watching his favorite childhood movie, Home Alone, while Jane was finishing up her leftover homework for summer school, or else she would fail, and failing wasn’t an option for her. Strangely, Jane starts hearing some leaves brusling next to the kitchen window. It’s weird because she knows for a fact that no animals live around their area, they made sure of that. Without making too much of a big deal, Jane closes her laptop and walks over to watch the movie with RT. Her below-waist brown hair is her security. She feels less anxious when her hair is surrounding her lanky frame.

“Want some?” RT asks.

“Sure.” She responds while grabbing some popcorn.

“So,” He starts. “When are you going to cut your hair? It’s shedding everywhere you go.”

Jane knew she was smarter than him, and so she knew how to feud back. “Well, when are you going to get a job? Move out? You know, school is still an option.”

“I’m not going back to school and I’m over talking about it.”

“Why was it so quiet when we were driving over here? You guys were less talkative than usual.”

“What do you mean? We’re never talkative?” He laughs.

“You couldn't feel it? The air, it felt heavy, like there was a secret everyone knew, but couldn’t talk about.”

“It was just- it was just that, Mom and Dad are…….”

Jane knew something was up, so she urged him to finish his sentence, and so he did.

“Mom and Dad said we’re moving. I heard them talking and I confronted them about it. We only came down here so we could have one last family outing in the cabin together. They didn’t want me to tell you, I’m sorry.”

This news shocked Jane. Not shocked like she couldn’t believe it, but shocked because she didn’t know what was going to happen next. Fear of her future after this news. She loved this town, she wasn't planning on leaving. She was going to go to college here, be a teacher to the kids of this town, and ultimately, start a family here. Raise her kids in the town where she grew up, the town where her family have been for generations.

“Why would they do this? Why would we leave?”

“I don’t know-”

Suddenly, the door is knocked upon. RT quietly tells Jane to look through the peephole. She sneakily walks over to the door. As soon as she looks through it, she silently walks back to RT. “There is a guy at the door. When I looked through that peephole, he looked directly at me.”

This sent chills down his spine. He tells her to get him his baseball bat from his dad’s office and then to hide upstairs in the bathroom. She passes him the metal baseball bat and runs upstairs, but she stays at the railings to watch over him.

RT walks up to the window and checks him out as visibly as possible from the dim porch light. He has a black beanie, black shirt and jeans, with black boots. The only thing that isn’t black is his gold stud earrings. As soon as RT moves back the curtain, the man speaks.

“Beware.” The man said in a raspy voice which scares the living daylights out of RT. “You better listen, or it will be too late.”

At this point, RT had already peed his pants, but this didn’t stop him from speaking up. “Who are you?” He asked in a trembling, but strict voice.

“Who am I, you ask? I am not the one you should fear for I am just the messenger.”

“What do you want?”

The man enters silence, which freaks out RT. He gets mad and bangs his bat against the door, which startles Jane in the process.

“I said, what do you want?” He repeats himself.

“What do I want? What I want to warn you of the darkness himself, cabin boy. You and your family have hurt him, so I must give word that he will soon be arriving.”

The man runs away, his footsteps disappearing as quickly as the wind. Jane soon after runs to RT with her eyes in shock.

“Who was that guy talking about?”

“Call 911.”

Jane quickly runs over to the kitchen phone. She tries calling over and over, but the phone line doesn’t go through. She tries to call her dad’s phone, but it won’t go through to him either.

“Shoot, the line won’t go through. What do we do?” Jane asks while walking back to RT.

“We hide. We can go into the attic. Grab some of the candy we have. While you do that, I will be on lookout in case he comes back.”

Over the course of twenty minutes, they stock up some food in preparation to bunker in the most unknown place in a family’s home, the attic. RT didn’t spot anything or anyone outside, including their parents. It was close to midnight and still no sign of them. Luckily, there was a small window in the attic so they could spot them when they came home.

“Okay RT, everything is in the box. I put water and some candy I had, but this won’t last us for long.”

“How long do you think we’re going to stay up there Jane? Three months? This is just in case Mom and Dad come home, say, tomorrow. You know how much they like to party. And it’s an excellent hiding place. He’ll never find us.”

“But if he does? Maybe he knows that we’re in the attic.”

“We can tie the stair leg to a hook or something up there. That way he can’t open the hatch from the outside.”

They manage to get their necessities up in the attic, and themselves too. When they enter their dusty hiding place, they notice old furniture. An old blanket and pillow, a broken lamp, some bricks, and an empty green tool box. RT used the blanket to cover up Jane. Seeing how he was a pretty chubby but muscular guy, he didn’t seem to need the blanket. They turn on their flashlights and try to relax.

“Go to sleep, I’ll keep watch.” RT said.

“Okay. If anything happens, wake me up.”

Jane rests her head and tries to drift to sleep. She gets colder with every breath she breathes of the dusty air and the cold draft of the window. She feels tickling in the back of her throat, so she keeps coughing. RT shakes her, trying to wake her up.

“Hey, Jane, are you okay? You keep coughing.” He concerningly asks.

“Yeah. It’s fine. It’s just too dus-” She stops as she sees behind RT the attic hatch slowly opening. So ever slowly but just enough to actually be visible.

“RT behind you. The hatch, it’s opening.”

“It’s fine Jane. It’s probably Mom.”

“What, Mom? She’s here?”

“Yeah, are you okay though? You don’t look so good.” RT says while getting some candy from the box.

“Yeah yeah, I’m fine. But how does Mom know we’re here?”

RT looks up at her with a confused face. “She doesn’t.”

Jane abruptly wakes up in a state of shock. She hadn't realized that it was around 2 am and was in the attic and tried to get up, but thumped her head in the process.

“Jane, are you okay?”

She quickly remembered where she was and she looked outside the window to see their yellow Volkswagen beetle moving up the driveway.

“I’m fine but look RT, It’s Mom and Dad!”

RT joins Jane and looks out of the small attic window. They see their parents walking out of the car. Before they walk up the porch stairs, they notice a man approaching their dad. He has dark red hair along with black glasses, a blue turtleneck with jeans, and muddy sneakers. He seems to be talking with their parents and pointing in the direction of the downward hill. While their dad is talking to the man, their mother looks through the front-door windows. She seems to be scanning for something, but then notices her son’s bat lying in front of their couch through the thin curtains. She slowly looks up the house and notices RT and Jane watching her from the attic. RT begins pointing at the man and making motionary throat cuts. Her face goes white.

She starts urging her husband to come inside the house and dismisses the strange man. Just as they turn around to go up the stairs, the man thrashes her husband with a rock he picked up from the ground. His wife shakes her head and starts silently screaming while the man takes a knife out of his pocket and stabs her in her thigh. She falls unconscious in his arms and drags her and her husband into the woods in front of their house.

RT and Jane could not believe what they had just witnessed. Their parents were attacked and killed. Jane falls on the floor and starts sobbing, covering her mouth and RT starts to breathe heavily. They believed all hope has been lost for them in these dark despairing times.

“What are we going to do RT?”

“I...don’t know.” RT says while walking towards the window again after a few minutes have passed. He looks down and realizes what was left of his dad.

“Jane. We have to go outside.”

“What, why?”

“Dad’s keys are laying on the porch. If we act fast enough we can get the keys and drive away.” RT says with a long awaited smile across his face.

“...Then we have to go and get the keys.” Jane declares.

After about twenty minutes the two of them get out of the attic and travel back downstairs, unaware of what lies ahead. They spot the bat in front of the couch on the floor with the tv still on. They know not what to do, so just getting the keys is their way out. While RT grabs the bat, Jane looks out the window, beyond the curtain, and sees the man coming out of the dark woods.

“He’s here.” Jane utters while moving back in fear.

RT holds the bat in position. “Let’s go.”

He opens the door with full force and faces the guy. “Hey! Where are my parents?” He runs up to the guy, ready to swing, but the guy ducks the swing and makes RT fall on the humid grass. The man slowly steps on his neck.

“Where did you take them?” Is all RT can croak out.

He picks RT up from his collar and moves him up to his face. This shocked Jane from the window since it seemed like a struggle to pick up a guy RT’s size, but he picked him up like it was nothing. “You killed my son when he was only five. He drowned to death in that river and you didn’t even try to save him. He was my only son.”

Jane and RT both realized that their past came back to haunt them from last summer, their most traumatizing summer, when the Norman family were taking a vacation down to the cabin for the first time without the directions of their grandfather. They entered a trailer campsite, but when a rabbit ran in their way, they swerved and hit a small boy in the nearby river. They saw what they have done, but since their dad was on probation for some legal problems, their parents were too scared to do anything. They decided to leave the campsite and not say a word to anyone. Unfortunately, the boy’s dad didn’t make it in time to save the boy. He drowned within minutes. His dad did everything in his power to find the people responsible and finally succeeded.

“I’m so sorry.” RT says.

“Sorry doesn’t bring back my son.” He says while slowly taking out a knife from his back pocket. Jane observed this and quickly grabbed a fireplace poker from the living room and threw it straight at his hand. While screaming in pain and blood dripping on the grass, Rt fell on his knees. Jane quickly ran over to him and snatched the keys he forgot to grab on the porch. She led him towards the passenger seat and buckled him in. She made her way over towards the driver’s seat, but felt the grasp of the man’s bloody hand on her hair.

“Get off of me!” She yelled and tried to pull her hair out from his grasp.

“You can’t run away. I will find you.” He pulls on her hair even harder.

She took the keys and cut her hair off which made the man fall back on the ground. She started up the car and drove down the hill of the cabin to the nearest police station she saw a couple miles back. This will be a story neither one of them will ever forget, and those last words will haunt them forever.

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