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yandere-sins · 3 years

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"Stop fucking looking at me like that!"

Referencing this post I made, I thought why not :’D

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Rummaging through the big chest, Enderman supplied it with the new items he gathered. Meat, vegetables, a potion for the worst case. Buckets of water and milk, everything you needed to have as a human. It should be enough to last at least for the upcoming weak, but you had been complaining about it rotting and molding since you couldn’t eat it fast enough or preserve it. You were also craving fruits. Biting his lip, he thought hard about how to accommodate your wishes better when he suddenly heard the growling of a zombie nearby, making him come to an immediate stop.

If he was quiet enough, the zombie shouldn’t be able to make you out inside this little, sparely filled room he created. No one said it would be easy to accumulate enough obsidian to build this hut. Still, it was the only way to keep you safe, even if it took him forever. All these monsters and treacherous villagers outside were after you, and even if he was able to keep them at bay for a long time, what if one day he couldn’t be around to keep you from harm? Perhaps it wasn’t a very pretty domicile, but it was safe. The only light source was one window, but he built it high enough so no zombie, skeleton, or creeper would be able to look through it. He collected a bed for you, chests, and books from the village, but that was all there was to keep you busy.

Enderman listened intently, waiting for the footsteps and grunts to disappear before he could let out a sigh of relief. Even with all the precautions he made, one could never be too safe. Even if he wasn’t worried about himself, if it was for you, he’d do everything to keep you far away from the dangerous mobs roaming the world. Continuing to pack your chest with edibles, he didn’t notice you slowly waking up, rising behind him. Enderman made a point out of coming at night rather than day to avoid the one thing that made him uncomfortable. While he would have loved interacting with you, the human custom of keeping eye contact was something he could never bear to endure. Not even for you.

Even now, your eyes drilling into his back, he began to shake anxiously, hoping you’d recognize him and go back to sleep.

But you didn’t.

You never did.

“It’s late,” he chuckled nervously, slowly closing the lid of the chest before standing up. He had to raise the ceiling quite a bit after realizing he couldn’t fit the space after he built it. Even if he could teleport in and out at his leisure, with his size, it would have been hard to stay with you in an emergency had he kept it at his first draft. But he learned that humans quite liked high ceilings, and secretly he hoped that meant you liked him too, considering his size.

“You should be sleeping. I brought new food, so you can rest assured.”

Was he just talking to overcome the awkwardness? You’ve been nearly killing him with this silent treating of yours, only ever looking at the back of his head. It was unfathomable why you’d treat him with such disrespect. He had voiced his discomfort more than once, but you insisted that you hated his treatment of you, and as such, he’d have to endure the same. But how could you? All of this was only ever in your best interest. Out there, you’d have done the same to keep safe - build a home and gathered food - so why did you hate it when he did it? Wasn’t he good to you? Didn’t he try his best to fulfill all your wishes? Was it too much to ask for that you were safe under his care?

“Please stop,” he whispered with clenched teeth, the shaking of his body getting stronger. “What more do I need to do to make you stop looking at me like that?”

“Let me go,” you finally spoke up, the sound of your voice almost as beautiful as he remembered it--no, even better! A quiet gasp escaped him after finally receiving a word from you, and he turned around for the first time in forever to face you.

A big mistake.

Your eyes met as Enderman suddenly felt overcome with a wave of emotions. He wished it had been only positive ones, but there was no way he could escape his instincts. Doubling over in pain, he grunted, trying to keep himself under control, but to no avail. Even in his state, he could clearly perceive the shuffling of blankets as you got up, noticing the state he was in. Though he wanted to believe you cared for him, it was clear you were merely concerned about what to do if something happened to him. But that would be enough. Even if you just liked him for his use, it would be enough to satisfy him. As long as he could keep you safe, you could use him as much as he wanted.

The obsidian made no sound as he gripped you by the wrists, slamming you into the wall. Your body, on the other hand, made an absolutely horrifying crack, so much so, Enderman feared the worst already. But one look at your eyes showed them clear as day, still very much able to perceive him. Perhaps adrenaline soothed your pain momentarily.

“Stop fucking looking at me like that! I told you so many times to fucking stop! When will you listen?!”

His yell filled the whole space around you two. If he hadn’t been seething with anger, he’d have instantly regretted raising his voice. No less because it could have attracted unwanted visitors. Enderman had never lashed out at you before, never done anything that would put you into the opposite of what he wanted - danger. But here he was, eyes falling to your mouth as your breath hitched, unable to form a word. All you did - finally! - was looking down and away from him before pinching your eyelids close tightly.

Immediately, he felt much calmer, now that you weren’t drilling holes into him anymore. Regaining his senses, he let go of you, letting you plummet back onto the bed he held you above. Whether or not you were in pain wasn’t something either of you seemed to notice. Instead, you were quick to hug yourself, fearful tears rolling from the closed corners of your eyes despite no sobs escaping you. You had no weapons to defend yourself, and a punch didn’t do as much as one of his did to you. It must have been a big shock for you to see the other side of Enderman, one you had a hard time comprehending.

Placing his hand on your shoulder, you flinched noticeably before finally breaking down into crying, collapsing forward onto the mattress. Enderman stood there lost for words or actions to console you, wanting to say something, apologize even! It didn’t matter who’s fault it was, he never wanted to see you hurt or crying! That’s why he did all of this after all!

Instead, he remembered the peculiar thing he found in one of the villages. It was a banner, something he thought you might enjoy hanging up in your tiny home, but when he reached for it now, he had a different idea of what to do with it. Ripping off the bottom wasn’t easy even for him, especially since he allowed no tools or scissors in this safe space. But once he had it, he returned to your side, kneeling next to your bed and lifting your head gently. You tried to turn your face away, but he had a tight grip on you, nudging you to face him. Good as you were, you kept your eyes closed still.

Even if he couldn’t be sure how to do it, he loosely tied the cloth around your head, covering your eyes with it. “W-What…?” you stuttered meekly, feeling the fabric on your skin, and Enderman hushed you gently. “This will do. You won’t be able to look at me this way. You’ll never need to be afraid anymore; this will keep you safe, I promise.”

Whether his assurance went through to you, he couldn’t decide, unable to read your expression as you bit your lip. Your body began to shake again, and it felt almost like his whenever you made him uncomfortable and anxious. Enderman knew this feeling all too well, but you wouldn’t need to bear it alone. He could if he had to, but he wouldn’t let you go through these complicated feelings alone.

Easily, with inhuman strength, he picked you up, sitting down where you had been just seconds ago, and lifted you into his lap. Finally, his big body and long arms were good for something, even if he hadn’t expected it would be comforting you. If it was for him, you two could have continued the relationship you had. Enderman would have simply stayed by your side while you slept, brushing the hair out of your face and pulling up the blanket over you to make sure you had a good rest. You didn’t need to recognize his efforts, and you could even scream at him if you’d prefer that, but it wouldn’t have mattered. He knew you were safe and well-taken care of, and he’d never forget you needed him. That was enough.

But now that he held you in his arms, he wasn’t sure if it was enough for him anymore.

Now that this awful habit of looking at him had been prevented, nothing was stopping him from being close to you. Now he could touch you, hold you, comfort you tenderly! All without fearing what might happen. “It’s going to be alright now,” he hushed you sweetly. “I’m so sorry I lashed out, I will do everything to make it up to you! I’ll bring new books and flowers to decorate with soon, everything will be okay. You can always rely on me; I’ll keep you company from now on, trust me!”

He meant it. Even if he didn’t understand most of the complicated feelings you had, you must have felt relieved as you started to cry even more. And so was he. He was relieved too. Who knew being with you so close, holding you, and swaying back and forth with you felt so wonderful. The only other time he held you, felt your warmth and heartbeat, had been when he teleported you inside of this room. Enderman had always believed that to be the height of all emotions, but he now realized there was so much more! So many more opportunities and feelings to explore. But you had time, right? He wouldn’t be greedy; he’d take his time to explore them all with you and enjoy them thoroughly.

After all, you were safest with him.

And he was the happiest with you.

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juminsmysticmc · 3 years

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Pregnancy Series - Part 2

Finding out

Hope you like the second part of my pregnancy series!

Click here to read Part 1!

Jumin

You dried your tears after you dried your hands with the towel next to you, observing the pregnancy test you just took in front of you.

You hated that one stick so much that whenever your period was late, your heart was beating in fear and not happiness.

One and a half years passed ever since you and Jumin began to try for a baby and there was still no baby.

You couldn’t bear seeing your husband’s sad face anymore whenever you gave him the news that you weren’t pregnant and that this was just a false alarm.

You were sure that this time too, the result wouldn’t be the one you hoped for.

A last glance on the clock made you look at the pregnancy test for the last time before you would toss it into the trash can since you had to get the breakfast ready for Jumin, but somehow this time, something was different.

Your heart was beating crazily in your chest as your cheeks grew warm.

You slowly placed your hand on your belly as you watched the results on the stick you hated so much.

,,Pregnant’’ it said.

You slowly sat back on the toilet, the pink stick between your hands as you read it again. ,,Pregnant,’’ you gasped, trying to gulp the tears away.

,,J-’’ you were about to call your husband when your brain decided to think about this logically.

What if the test is false and he gets excited?

And so, you instead decided to not say anything and instead put the test in your pocket to hide in a bag so that he wouldn’t see anything.

The first thing you would do, however, was go to the doctor after breakfast.

,,My love, I forgot that I have to meet a friend after breakfast. I know I shouldn’t come late as your second secretary, but-’’

Jumin kissed you as he took his bowl of rice.

,,You are my wife and are allowed to do anything. Do you need Driver Kim perhaps?’’ of course you declined and even though you knew, you just lied. You knew that this was going to protect him…

,,Six weeks pregnant, Mrs Han. Your pregnancy test wasn’t wrong,’’ the doctor told you after a checkup, making you tear up.

She then made you follow her to a room where she made an ultrasound and eventually gave you your first picture of your baby.

The doctor explained the next steps, telling you that she wanted to see you regularly.

,,I’m so happy that you finally are here on your way and you did well. It's daddy’s birthday this weekend and you are already a perfect baby,’’ you sobbed as you looked around for some ideas for Jumin’s surprise...

Zen

,,I don’t think I can come today,’’ you groaned as you laid back as you just came back from throwing up into the toilet.

An acidic taste was left in your mouth, making you feel disgusting.

As if an upset stomach wasn’t enough, you even had a slight fever.

Your body felt weak and all you wanted to do was sleep, well, not that you could do anything else in this condition.

Your boyfriend looked concerned for you. The possibility of you being pregnant wasn’t even on his mind since the both of you finally gave up, wanting to wait again after so many failed attempts.

Well, Zen wanted to try more. It was more so you who couldn’t bear it mentally and so he stopped buying pregnancy tests.

,,It’s the time of the flu in February… well, I’ll stay with you,’’ Zen whispered and kissed your nose, feeling sad to see you so sick.

,,No,’’ you tried to stop him.

,,You need to go to work. It’s okay, I’ll sleep a bit and later when you are back, I will be better and I will be able to go to the doctor,’’ you told him, closing your eyes because right now everything was spinning in your head. You just wished for it to get better.

Zen hesitated, but agreed afterwards, giving you a last kiss. ,,I will come earlier, I mean, I took a holiday leave for tomorrow so I shouldn’t have much to do today,’’ he told you and quickly left as he was late for work.

You decided to close your eyes for a few seconds again before a big feeling of nausea hit you again, making you run to the toilet.

,,Ugh, I hate throwing up,’’ you silently cried to yourself as you tried to hold your own hair back.

It didn’t take you long until you decided to dial your doctor's number on your phone and ask for an appointment this afternoon.

,,Thank you, I will be there,’’ you said as the nurse asked you to come right away, making you groan in annoyance and get changed.

The weather was cold as you stepped out, closing the door behind you and walking towards the medical facility, rubbing your hands together as you were freezing.

,,Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day,’’ you remembered as you walked past a shop selling chocolate, remembering that you didn’t buy anything for your boyfriend yet.

,,Pretty lady! We even sell chocolate done with a picture chosen by you! Want to give it a try!? I bet you have a boyfriend!’’ a woman smiled at you, showing you pictures of white chocolate with edible photos printed on it.

You thanked her, telling her that you had to go somewhere and had no time.

A few streets away you arrived, putting your mask on and entering the building, telling the nurses that you had an appointment.

,,When I heard that you had a slight fever and felt nauseous, I knew immediately that you were pregnant!’’ the doctor smiled at you after she checked you up and took your blood sample, making you look in shock at her.

,,R-really? I am...expecting a baby?’’ you asked her, tears slowly coming up and rolling down your cheeks as she nodded.

You immediately called your gynecologist to make a second check and also see if you could already have a sonogram since suddenly you had a very good idea.

,,Ajumma,’’ you said with a teary face to the woman who wanted to sell you chocolate earlier.

The woman looked concerned at first, but quickly began to tear up herself as you held up a picture.

,,I just got this good news. Will you help me surprise this baby’s father?’’ you asked her.

Yoosung

Soon, you and Yoosung would celebrate your eighth wedding anniversary.

You were currently sitting in front of the window, thinking about everything the both of you achieved until now.

A lot.

Yoosung had a stable job, you worked with the RFA, both of you had your own big house with a beautiful garden. Your relationship and marriage was the best, there wasn’t anything else you could wish for.

Everything seemed perfect, if just that one little detail wasn’t missing.

A child.

Something you both could take care of and shower with love and affection as it grew up.

But some things weren’t meant to be. It was just too much for you to handle.

The disappointment you regularly had to face, the pain in your heart.

,,We should give up,“ you whispered as you kept looking outside of the window, tears in your eyes as you said these harsh words.

Giving up was something you would normally never do.

Yoosung hugged you from behind, knowing how much this situation was hurting you and how much this made you depressed.

,,I will be back for dinner,“ he whispered after a few seconds before he rubbed your arms and put on his jacket to step out on his way to work.

As soon as he was outside, you could finally let out that loud sob you held onto yourself to not make Yoosung pity you and cried alone in your room.

,,Ah, I need to go to the doctor today,’’ you groaned as you dried your tears with your palm, sighting and looking at your display as you calculated how much time you still had until you had to go there.

As soon as you arrived, you rolled your eyes in annoyance as you sat down in the waiting room, three pregnant women with their husbands on their side, smiling widely, feeling probably blessed. Today was a bad day.

You were truly happy for every pregnant woman in the waiting room, but seeing them made you angry and made you feel and think things you shouldn’t.

You were jealous, jealous that they achieved something you couldn’t achieve in all these eight years.

,,Mrs. Kim?“ the doctor called you, making you stop thinking about the women around you and instead look up at her.

Your doctor was smiling at you as she asked you to follow her, leading the way to her room where she asked you to sit down to talk to you.

,,How are you?“ she began, ready to listen as you told her that you wanted to give up on getting pregnant.

,,But before that I would like to check one last thing. Is that okay?“ she asked you, nodding as she typed something on her keyboard to note everything you guys talked about.

A bit annoyed, you watched her minutes later as she checked you, finally looking into your eyes, smiling at you.

,,Mrs. Kim, it seems that you are already pregnant. Five weeks,“ she smiled.

In disbelief you observed her, you could feel your eyes get teary. ,,But the last test-”

,,Sometimes they’re false, but you are pregnant,“ she cut you off.

While she talked about a few things you should keep an eye on, all you could think about was that tomorrow you and Yoosung had your anniversary and that this news was the best present you could give him, just like she just gave to you.

Jaehee

,,I just hope you are alright and that they can find out whether it is or isn’t Covid-19,“ Jaehee whispered as she looked out the window.

You weren’t with her together at home, something that already was difficult for her, but knowing that you weren’t feeling well somewhere apart from her made her feel even worse.

The both of you decided to have a little bit of time on your own, making you go to your parents home for the week. Neither of you ever thought that you would stay away longer.

The reason why you both decided to get a distance from your place was that both of you just agreed on giving up on getting pregnant.

It was getting too hard for you and her, knowing that your body couldn’t give you what you wanted - a child.

You and Jaehee already spent about 9.000 won to get you fertilized artificially three times and you both failed three times.

Six weeks ago, when the doctor told you once again that you guys failed, you decided to give up.

As if it was yesterday, Jaehee remembered your crying face in your dark, shared bedroom.

Your loud sobs and your trembling body on the floor.

You were devastated.

She couldn’t bear to see you falling apart anymore and she couldn’t bear to act like the strong one for both of you because she, too, was in too much pain.

As soon as your parents found out, they persuaded you to come back home for a bit to rest.

However, as soon as you arrived, the symptoms of the virus hit you.

You were feeling weak, had a slight fever, and you felt like your limbs hurt a bit.

,,I hope so too. The test was negative. Well, all my tests are negative,’’ you mumbled, making Jaehee feel bad without noticing.

,,Tomorrow they will take a blood sample, but I’m happy that you are feeling good, Jaehee,’’ you said as she told you that her COVID test was also negative.

,,Okay, I will go and sleep a bit. Call me tomorrow as soon as you know something new,’’ she whispered before she cut the call, her thoughts by your side.

The morning afterwards, your legs were shaking in the isolated waiting room as you waited for your results to come.

Well, if it wasn’t Covid it would be something less worrying, right?

Indeed, the news the doctor had was less worrying since you were told that you were positive - positive for a pregnancy.

,,Huh? But, the doctor said…. we waited so long!’’ you told her, crying out of happiness but not believing her.

,,Yes, sometimes the test can be false or he made a mistake, but I am for sure that you are pregnant,’’ she nodded.

And so, happy that you could go home again, you decided to not tell Jaehee anything and instead surprise her with good and happy news…

Saeyoung

Your husband looked at you with a sad face as you once again felt sick and decided to stay in bed the whole day.

But he knew that you weren’t sick, but more depressed and sad.

He gulped as he looked over to the calendar.

It’s been almost two years since the both of you agreed on trying to become pregnant, even though he was sure that it would work out in less than a year.

But you both failed.

And the one that was hurting her body was none other than yourself, but he could just observe you and stand by your side.

Saeyoung’s eyes wandered over to your desk where countless pills and bottles were standing.

The both of you were currently injecting hormones into you to overstimulate your production of eggs.

He was nibbling on his lips. ,,Mc?’’ he asked you.

,,Mhh?’’ you hummed in response, turning your body to his side.

He hated to see you in pain, feeling unwell, and of course the stress of becoming pregnant was something that bugged you too.

,,Maybe… well no, to be honest, I think that we should stop with the injections wait one, maybe two years for the baby. What do you think? I mean, I don’t want to stress out your body,’’ he whispered to you, nervous for your answer.

You just sadly smiled at him and nodded as you slowly closed your eyes.

,,It’s a good idea. I think I’ll sleep for a while. I actually have a headache,’’ you lied.

Well, the truth was that you stopped taking the injections for four days already, something Saeyoung didn’t know.

He also didn’t know that you were already six weeks pregnant.

But you also just found out at your last appointment when the doctor told you that you were five weeks along, making you feel the most happiest wife on earth.

The reason for your lies was that soon Saeyoung would have his birthday and you wanted to make this day a special day for him, but also for his brother, who would be an uncle soon.

And so you decided to lie to your husband who was clearly worried as hell and told him that you were having side effects of the hormones.

Well, that was something you also thought at first.

The doctor told you from the very first injection that the side effects may be hot flashes, mood swings, nausea, and swelling, so when you first had them, you didn’t actually think that you were pregnant.

But you still wanted to talk with her about it to make sure that everything was fine.

To your surprise, it was more than fine and you were pregnant.

,,We just need to keep the secret,’’ you whispered, rubbing your still flat belly.

Saeran

You patted your boyfriend’s back as he once again sobbed at the negative pregnancy test.

,,I… I’m a loser,’’ he whined and looked at you, his eyes red and swollen from all the tears.

,,Maybe my mother is telling me that I shouldn’t become a father, that I don’t deserve it, that I am bound to become a monster like her and… ahh… so much is going through my head!’’ he whined and threw the test into the next corner, sobbing into his hands.

You slowly began to sob too, feeling guilty.

,,I’m sorry, Saeran… I wish I could do better,’’ you cried as you looked at him. He seemed so fragile.

Your boyfriend suddenly looked up. ,,Why are you apologizing?’’ he asked you. He couldn’t believe what you were saying.

,,I can’t give you what you want. I’m a bad girlfriend,’’ you whined.

,,No!’’ he sobbed again. ,,I’m a bad boyfriend and brother! I can’t find Saeyoung so I’m getting punished and you’ve been with me even though you didn’t do anything!’’ he told you, now hugging you and rubbing your back. ,,I’m so selfish, crying to myself even though you’re in pain too!’’ he sobbed harder.

And so this day, just like other ones, ended with the both of you lying in bed, sobbing into each other's arms as you thought about the future without children.

But it was still empty.

Days passed by and you and Saeran decided to give it up. For the time being, you didn’t want to get stressed, you wanted to enjoy life/ Saeran wanted to find his brother for real now and you just wanted to have a clear head.

But it didn’t work as you felt a sudden pain in your abdomen.

Sick and lightheaded, you laid back in pain, feeling a slight temperature that morning.

Some infection, you thought. Being pregnant wasn’t on your mind back then.

But after you didn’t seem to get healthy again, Saeran decided that it was best to bring you to a hospital.

,,Are you perhaps pregnant?’’ the doctor asked you and seemed to understand the case pretty quickly.

But you wanted a whole diagnosis. ,,No, I can’t get pregnant,’’ you told him, hearing these words from your own mouth hurt even more and so you once again felt your hot cheek as your eyes began to shed tears again.

,,Make a pregnancy test to make sure before doing anything else,’’ he told the nurse and went off to the next patient.

Indeed, the nurse turned back with a big smile, asking you again. ,,Are you sure that you can’t get pregnant?’’ she asked you, rubbing your arm.

,,The last test was negative,’’ you whispered.

,,Well, we will bring you to the maternity ward because it seems that you are pregnant,’’ she chuckled and pushed the wheelchair to the other ward.

,,Uhm, can you please not tell my boyfriend? I… I want to prepare a surprise for him,’’ you told her as you began to smile in happiness.

Finally good news arrived. Was it a sign?

Jihyun

Almost two years passed ever since you and your husband decided to adopt a new child to make Lucy into a big sister.

However, back then the adoption wasn’t possible, making you go for pregnancy.

But to you it just seemed as if God wanted to punish you for something.

,,It’s not working,’’ you sobbed as you found out that this time, too, you weren’t pregnant.

Your husband pressed his lips together and thought of something else.

Injecting hormones into you was something he wanted to avoid.

,,Maybe,’’ he began, looking at you and stroking your hair. ,,Now, we should stop for a bit.

You are stressed out and I’m nervous.

We are doing our best and I’m sure that one day the right time will come and we will be able to have a child on our own,’’ he told you.

He let go of your hand and kissed your head and then walked off to pack his bag.

Jihyun also had to go on a business trip for six weeks so he had to prepare a few things.

As consolation, the both of you lastly had a lovely and also sexy time together. This time you two didn’t think of having a baby, you just wanted to feel each other, feel closer and happier as you both wouldn’t be able to stay next to each other for a bit.

The next morning, Jihyun already left. The house felt empty and you were down, but for Lucy, you kept staying the happy mother she knew, waking her up, preparing her, as well as bringing her to school and then doing your house chores.

But it didn’t take you three weeks until it all backfired. You got a bad virus and weren’t able to get off the bed.

,,I’m so sorry that I can’t help you,’’ Jihyun gasped from where he was currently, feeling guilty.

,,It’s okay. Hyun and Yoosung are helping me and Jaehee keeps an eye on Lucy's tuition while Jumin helps with the hospital and medicine,’’ you groaned as you felt like vomiting again. It was eight in the morning after all.

,,I am such a bad husband. Three more people have to look out for you,’’ he chuckled, happy that you had support at home.

,,Well, you are providing for our family so don’t feel bad. Besides, it’s five. Saeyoung and Saeran are doing their best making Lucy happy and helping me too,’’ you laughed.

A few moments later, you cut the call as a red haired man, none other than Saeyoung entered your room. ,,Hurry up, I am taking you to the doctor’s. I read countless diagnoses with your symptoms and none of them is anything I would like you to have,’’ he said worriedly, helping you get ready after you vomited again.

But the diagnosis you had was much better than you all thought and with happy tears in your eyes, you entered your friend’s car again, actually shocking him. ,,I never thought that you could be so wrong with your diagnosis, Saeyoung. Actually, Jihyun and I are finally going to become parents!’’

Vanderwood

The both of you stopped counting the time at some point.

It just felt like a never ending story. It felt as if it was impossible for the both of you to archive what you wanted to.

Becoming a family.

Having a child between the both of you at night, caring for someone…

The more time passed and the more negative tests you held between your trembling fingers, the more you thought that this was an impossible dream for you.

You kept biting your upper lip as you looked into your calendar again.

You were once again bleeding. It was your period.

A sigh left your mouth as you looked over to Vanderwood.

Ever since he stopped smoking and was actually trying for a child, his mood had gotten weirder and harder to bear.

You weren’t happy anymore.

,,Yo, Vanderwood!’’ you called him, trying to smile as he turned your head over to you. ,,I… can we actually stop trying? You can smoke again and I can… maybe focus on my job for a bit… like, nothing has happened yet. Can we go slowly?’’ you asked him.

This was so out of the blue, he was actually so shocked, maybe a bit pissed off. You fell over him with this topic as if it was the most causal thing to say.

But he still said yes. He still nodded at you and he still agreed with you.

And so he really began to smoke a day later. Of course, smoking wasn’t that good anymore. He actually hated it.

But, he was sulking? He was hurt by you, a bit disappointed even though he could understand what you were trying to tell him.

A few days later, your period didn’t come as strong as it was supposed to be, so you decided to visit a doctor, maybe also to get a prescription for your birth control again.

But the news you got there was something you never expected.

,,You’re pregnant and you’re three weeks along!’’ she said, looking at you happily. She never had a woman who couldn’t get pregnant since she was still not a very well known doctor.

But you, one of her hardest cases, finally did it.

,,Since it was a hard fight, I want you to take these,’’ she said and wrote something down. ,,You need to take them to support your body with the change, make sure to come regularly. I think you already know what to do, but do not lift anything heavy, rest a lot, sleep, drink, whenever something feels off do not hesitate to visit me, okay? I will now schedule the first ultrasound of your baby and then you will have the assignment to search for a midwife to support you, okay?’’ she asked her.

Suddenly you felt so happy and scared at the same time that you didn’t know what to do.

But you already knew that there was someone at home that would be clearly happy to find out and you knew that for sure.

Part 3 of my pregnancy series here

MASTERLIST 1

MASTERLIST 2

MASTERLIST 3

🤰🏻ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ sᴇʀɪᴇs🤰🏻Masterlist here

12.05.2021// 23:55 MEST

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drewstarkeys · 3 years

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"Paper" Rings : Toni Shalifoe

Summary: Very loosely based around Paper Rings from Miss Taylor Swift! In which the reader and Toni have feelings for each other but are too afraid and too oblivious to truly admit them to each other. It gets pretty fluffy at the end!!

Word Count: 2.2K

Request(s): “Hi! Can I request Toni (the wilds) crushing on a dense reader when they are stuck on the island? 👉🏼👈🏼” and “Can I request some the wilds/toni fluff? Im fine with anything as long as it ends somewhat happily,.....”

Warnings: mentions of edibles, drunk reader/girls/Toni.

A/N: I finally got out of writer’s block so I am back! I also tried to combine two requests as I thought they went together nicely! Hope you all enjoy :)

The moon is high.

Like your friends were the night that we first met

You didn’t know it yet but that day on the island when you and the rest of the girls got high off of edibles, Toni realized just how much she liked you. Maybe it was the way your smile only seemed to grow bigger as the day went on, or maybe it was the way you couldn’t help but say the worst possible pick up lines to Toni, but something you were doing that day had her whipped. She hated it and loved it at the same time because she was so scared of how you would react to her strong feelings towards you.

The two of you were a “thing” but the term was loosely used in replacement of girlfriends. It was hard to decide exactly what you two should be when survival wasn’t even promised. On the other hand, if it was promised, what would happen when you went back to your ordinary lives? Would you forget each other and slowly go back to your old regular lives or would you try and make the distance work. Those questions had been left unanswered, which tormented the both of you.

Some of the other girls on the island had tried to trap you into confessing just how much Toni meant to you or vice versa, but you and Toni knew better, you were on an island and admitting your strong feelings would only complicate whatever was going on between the two of you. The nights spent alone in different corners of the island and empty promises shared between the two of you were nice, but it was more wishful thinking than anything realistic for the time being. That didn’t stop the two of you allowing yourselves to get close and let down your walls, even sharing your deepest secrets and fears with each other- something that almost seemed easier if you two never saw each other again.

You knew the way she felt like she was too hard to love and that she thought that her anger scared everyone away, but you didn’t agree with her. Maybe it was your own temper, which wasn’t nearly as bad as hers, but you weren’t worried by it. You had told her that you didn’t care that she got out of control, citing your reasons as being that control was difficult for everyone and you would be a hypocrite to judge her control issues when you knew how hard control was.

She knew about how you worried about running from your feelings again and completely shutting everyone out. You had done it more than once and in the back of your mind, you were convinced you would do it again. It was your defense mechanism to keep yourself from getting hurt- but it negatively affected those around you- which you couldn’t bear to hate yourself for. She told you that she wouldn’t let you leave her, that she was too stubborn to let you leave her, especially if the two of you were stuck on the island for however long. It provided you comfort for the time being, but just like her fears, yours weren’t fully dissipated either.

The wine is cold

Like the shoulder that I gave you in the street

Cat and mouse for a month or two or three

Now I wake up in the night and watch you breathe

That’s just how the two of you worked- you would have deep conversations in the woods of the island and hold onto each other when the woods got cold as the sun went down, but that was the most of it. Neither of you could deny that something was going on between you two, but you couldn’t quite bring yourselves to admit your real feelings for the other one. It was embarrassing almost, the high school type cat and mouse game in which you both chased the other one but would never fully give in- it felt like every shitty romcom ever- well maybe without the happy ending.

That cat and mouse game continued for the following weeks of you all being on the island, which frustrated the others to no end. They could see the way you two looked at the other one when they weren’t looking and they could see the kisses in the woods that you thought you were being secretive about. Fortunately for them, and the two of you, the girls had devised a plan to further the relationship between you and Toni. A plan that only needed one thing, copious amounts of alcohol.

Thankfully for them, you were already pouring alcohol into your mouth by the time the sun set. All it took for your actions was a simple suggestion from Martha, she had asked you to get drunk with her and a few of the other girls and you had eagerly agreed, excited to finally have a reason to let loose on the island. The liquid stung the back of your throat as you shared the bottle with Martha and Fatin, but you could care less- you didn’t need chasers in school so why would you need them now?

Despite your lack of need for a chaser, your tolerance was embarrassingly low- or perhaps you just always drank too much. Unfortunately for you, that led to you sitting next to Toni and offering her a drink from the bottle in your hand, insisting that she wasn’t nearly as drunk as you were, in Toni’s defense, no one was as drunk as you were. However, your puppy eyes were too good for Toni to say no to, so of course, she was drinking to get caught up to your level, hoping it would help her relax just as much as you were.

The night carried on quickly with different dance battles, a little bit of night swimming- to which Dot had freaked over the idea of you or Shelby getting eaten by a shark, and even sand castle competitions. All of these ideas came from you who happened to be letting every single idea slip past your lips with a lack of any filter at all.

You suddenly jumped up off of the sand you had been resting on and looked around the group, a big smile covering your face, “I need to pee!” You announced, earning a few giggles from the girls that had ended up nearly as drunk as you were. You then looked down to Toni, pulling at her hand to get her to stand up with you, “and you’re going to come with me!” You added, not noticing the way Toni gulped nervously or the way the other girls seemed to be watching the two of you as if you were their favorite movie. Instead of responding, Toni just nodded, an uneasy smile on her face as you dragged her towards a darker corner of the island.

You walked a few feet in front of Toni, painfully oblivious to the way she seemed to be deep in thought. Toni was busy trying to keep her lips sealed tight despite the alcohol in her body begging them to part and let out her feelings for you. Her speech she had practiced a few days ago was dangerously close to falling out past her lips and thus, she would reveal how she felt. The one problem was that she didn't want to say it drunk, especially when she didn’t know how you felt. Despite your relationship between the two of you, Toni couldn’t help but think about how you called yourself a player, telling Toni how you wished you weren’t one- but you just couldn’t quite seem to keep feelings for anyone.

Toni was so deep in thought that she hadn’t realized when you stopped moving to stare at her. “I don’t have to pee,” you suddenly mumbled, catching Toni’s attention with your words. Her eyes crinkled in confusion but you just smiled in response, “I just wanted to spend time with you alone. “ You admitted, something you wouldn’t have said so easily if you had been sober.

I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings

You could almost see the slight blush on Toni’s face in the dark, a mix of alcohol and you creating that reaction on her face. “You did?” She asked, her voice coming out a lot weaker than she intended for. She hated how weak you made her, like she could be ruined by the wrong set of words coming from your mouth.

You nodded your head quickly and pulled her down onto a rock, “sit here. I wanted to show you something.” You mumbled, holding onto her shoulders as you spoke to her, your glassy eyes meeting her own. While your nerves were completely gone, Toni’s heart was still racing, something you had yet to notice.

You walked, or skipped, off towards a bush, not caring about anything except for your current plan for what you were going to do. It was honestly quite bold but you couldn’t stop thinking about it and if you didn’t do it, you would be upset with yourself. So, without a second thought, you plucked a long piece of grass from the ground and brought it back to her, nearly letting out a laugh at how confused she looked.

Before she could question what you were doing, you spoke up, “wait, don’t say anything just yet. I need to say something.” You said, watching her for her agreement before you carried on. “You know that Taylor Swift song that is like ‘I like shiny things but I’d marry you with paper rings’? Well I was thinking about that song and you make me feel like that. Like not marriage obviously, I’m not even eighteen yet, but like we’re here. On an island. And despite all the scary things and bad ideas- you’re the only thing that matters. Like I could care less about if we never get off this island, I’m just happy I met you.” You rambled, nerves and alcohol leading to the slurred and messy speech you had just told to her. “I like you, Toni, a lot.” You paused, looking down at the piece of grass in your hands, “I guess this is like, I don’t know, a promise almost? That I actually like you and that I’m not gonna run away from my feelings anymore.”

You paused, your heart rate finally becoming noticeable to yourself and you suddenly felt insanely sober from your actions. You felt as if you had just let her break down all of your walls and you were quite frankly terrified of how she would react. “Can I stand up now?” She asked, a smile on her face, which drove you crazy.

“That’s it? I say all that and you ask if you can stand up?” You asked, not even knowing how to feel, you hadn’t even noticed your arms were flailing as you questioned her until she grabbed both of your wrists and pulled them down, using them to pull you a little bit closer to her.

She still hadn’t said anything yet but the two of you were inches apart and you wanted to throw up. Or maybe it was just a feeling of panic settling in your chest, what if you had gone too far with what you said? You had been known to jump into feelings too quickly but you felt as if she could be there too.

Before you could speak up again and question her once more, she let go of one of your wrists and planted her hand softly on the side of your face, her eyes scanning your own before she leaned in and gently pressed her lips to yours. The two of you had kissed before but this was different, you were finally allowed to feel everything you were feeling, you could finally show her how much you liked her. Your free wrist dropped to her waist as you pulled her closer, not letting her pull away just yet. The two of you stayed like that for a second, just taking each other in and enjoying the moment of peace.

She pulled away with a soft smile on her face and a mysterious glint in her eyes as she backed off and went over to the spot where you had once been. You could see her pick up her own piece of grass and walk back over to you and smiled again, “then I promise to actually stop worrying and just let myself like you. Because I do like you,” she paused, “like I like you a lot.” And with that, she took the piece of grass and tied it around your ring finger, “so instead of getting married with paper rings, we’re uh- dating? With grassy rings.” She said, finishing the knot around your finger and looked up to you expectantly, “well if you want.”

You grabbed her other hand and worked on tying the grass around her finger, looking back at her and nodding, “yeah, I’d like that.” You answered, feeling heat rush to your cheeks at how intimate the moment had become.

#toni #toni imagine #toni shalifoe imagine #toni x reader #Toni the wilds #toni shalifoe #toni shalifoe x reader #the wilds #the wilds on amazon prime #the wilds imagine #the wilds imagines #wlw imagine #fluff #toni fluff

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strabbyshortcake · 3 years

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the truth about snaktooth

Gramble finally tells his partners what befell him and everybody else on the island.

“Whatcha doin’, Gram?”

The screen door clatters as it shuts behind Boots. It’s a nice summer night, one of the rare ones they got with little humidity, so Gramble had left the main door open, the sound of katydids and crickets drifting through from the outdoors. He looks up from the hand towel in his paws, shoulders hunched guiltily.

There’s a large cardboard box sitting on the floor, full of bits of kitchen décor. Ceramic plates with fruit stenciled on them, prints of vintage ads for bread and desserts, towels with produce embroidered on them. All the kitschy things Boots knew he liked decorating his spaces with, and Gramble spent more time in the kitchen than either her or Piesha, with how much he enjoyed cooking.

“Oh, evenin’ Boots,” he greets her, expression softening into a smile. “You remember we talked about Lizbert and Egg visitin?”

“Yeah…?” She pads over, frowning a little at the bare spots on the walls and shelves. Boots was acquainted with the two from attending expedition reunions with Gramble, and while she made it no mystery that she disliked Lizbert’s invasive style of exploration, it was all in the past. Liz had retired from that life after the whole Snaktooth stunt to become a museum curator. “What’s the matter, they allergic to tackiness?”

Gramble laughs at her affectionate teasing. “No, well… Actually, funny you should say that. Egg’s fine, but Liz has got… I guess you could say she’s got kind of a hang-up over food imagery. And while she’s doin’ well these days, might just make her a lil’ more comfortable to not feel so surrounded, y’know?”

“Yeah, yeah, I get you.” Boots nods, reaching up to take the clock off the wall. It’s a piece of painted wood in the shape of a strawberry. Nollie had made it in an art class. “Place is a little dusty, anyway.”

Together he and Boots work to mostly strip the place of any food-related decoration, leaving only a couple little accents up so the place didn’t seem too bare. Gramble sighs at the empty walls, leaning into Boots’ touch as she places a paw on his shoulder.

She and Pie had always been so understanding when he told them he couldn’t talk about what had happened on the island, but he hated to keep his loved ones in the dark. Not simply for the fact that there might still be danger lurking out there, but that he knew he could trust them, and yet, just telling them what had happened was almost as terrifying as the thought of being back there. The idea that just speaking of it would somehow make it manifest, bring it back into his life when he’d worked so hard to escape it, haunted him, but so did keeping it bottled up inside.

“…I need to tell you both what really happened,” he says quietly. “It’s been long enough. Just, after Liz and Egg are gone. Then we’ll talk about it.”

Boots blinks down at him in surprise. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

The visit went well. This was the first time Lizbert and Eggabell had seen the new house and the refurbished barn, the first they’d met Cardi and Dember, and Nollie had only been a year old when they’d last come around. They’d caught up, shared stories, enjoyed Gramble’s cooking and chatted about where their lives were going and where they’d been.

After they’d waved goodbye, gotten in Eggabell’s car and driven off to see Wambus and Triffany, after the dishes had been cleared and cleaned and the kids were all in bed, Gramble sat Boots and Piesha down on the porch swing in the back while he took the rocking chair.

“I need to tell you,” he says, fidgeting with his paws where they rested on his chest. “about what happened on Snaktooth.”

“Alright.” Pie nods slowly, leaning into Boots’ cushy side. Boots gives him an encouraging smile, rocking the swing back and forth slightly with her heel.

Gramble swallows, licking his lips. “So… Not all of what I told you was a cover-up. We did run outta food and I did almost starve to death. But… Geez, I dunno where to even start.”

“Why’d you go in the first place?” Boots asks.

“Oh, that I didn’t lie about either. My mama really did up and leave while I was at college. I went cuz… Cuz I guess I felt like I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I saw Liz on TV say she was gatherin’ people up for her team and I just… I wanted somewhere to go that wasn’t home.”

She nods solemnly, gesturing for him to go on.

“Well, Snaktooth… Liz said she found somethin’ there. These creatures she was documenting. D’you… Have either of you ever heard of bugsnax?” Gramble nearly whispers the last word, even though it’s just the three of them out here, just the three of them and the crickets and fireflies, the kids sound asleep.

Piesha tilts her head, thoughtful. “Mm… Maybe a long time ago,” Pie says. “One of those things they got lots of fairy tales about. Critters made of food, right?”

“Right.” Gramble nods. “But they’re real. And please- I know how it sounds,” he stammers, even though neither of them looked skeptical. “But I swear. I saw them, I picked them up and held them, I had a whole barn full of them that Liz and Buddy caught for me. I had names for them, and… and everybody said they were the most delicious things they’d ever eaten. B-but there’s a reason for that. Sorry, lemme go back a bit and explain.

“When we got there, we thought we’d be able to farm. That was Wambus’s thing, but no matter what he tried, the crops would wither, or the bugsnax would get in and destroy them. The only thing he could grow was the sauce that grew on the island, and that wasn’t anywhere near enough to live on. Pretty soon we ran outta food, but that wasn’t a problem for most folks. They’d just eat the bugsnax.”

“And I’m guessin’ you didn’t?” Boots asks.

He shakes his head. “No, I didn’t want to. I already didn’t eat meat, and the snax were always so cute and friendly and I couldn’t bear the thought of hurtin’ them. So I just… didn’t. I tried to live off the sauce, and I ate dandelions and weeds, I ate damn near anything that was edible, but it was never enough.”

“That’s awful, Gram.” Boots says, her brows knitted. “Why didn’t you leave?”

“Well, I… I thought about it,” Gramble wraps his arms around himself. “Even though I didn’t have nowhere to return to, I figured it might be better than starving. But it wasn’t too long after that Lizbert up and disappeared. Her and Egg, there was an earthquake and after that they never came back to town. Some folks thought they died, others thought they ran off, but without her nobody was bringin’ in bugsnax to eat and they started to eat mine, so I ran off with the rest of ‘em and that made everybody mad and I really did start to think there was nobody who cared about me but the snax and Wiggle, and… and even she was eatin’ them too, but I let her cuz I didn’t have nobody else... I was so afraid she’d leave me too that I put up with it.”

He pauses, taking a deep breath. “So, um… I guess a couple weeks after that, Buddy finally showed up. We’d been on the island almost a year at that point. They wanted to interview Liz, figure out what happened, and they managed to get all of us back into town within a week or two. I was really doin’ poorly though.” His claws absently scratch at his belly over the scar that the rake had left, concealed beneath his fur but never fully faded. “Didn’t care much whether I lived or died. Nothin’ I tried worked, and one of the big snax I asked Buddy for nearly killed me. And then…”

Boots holds Pie’s paw between both of hers, stroking it, both of them patiently waiting for him to gather his racing thoughts. It had been so long since he’d even thought about all this, and much of the events were a haze of hunger and pain, he was amazed he could keep the basic timeline coherent.

“Then, one night… When we were all back in town, Filbo decided he wanted to throw a party. That was when everything… That’s when it all fell apart. There was an active volcano on the island, and it erupted. Eggabell suddenly showed up back in town and told us she knew where Liz was, and she and Buddy and Filbo ran off to get her while the rest of us tried to get to safety. B-but… You remember what I said before, about the bugsnax?” He lifts his gaze to the two of them.

Pie nods at him. “Yeah. They taste good, right?”

“They also…” Gramble holds his paws out, curling his fingers into fists. “They change you. Whenever you eat one, your body parts become it. I know it sounds silly, but everybody was walkin’ around with arms and legs made of strawberries and corn and cinnamon rolls and you kinda just… got used to it. I only ever ate one when I was sleepwalkin’, and I don’t even remember what it was like, but everybody else except Shelda ate ‘em all the time. You get used to it and then you start believin’ that they’re the only thing that can make you feel good anymore. Sorta like drugs, but sorta like… Wiggle used to say they inspired her, and Chandlo thought he could get stronger with them, it was whatever you wanted. I guess even I was fallin’ for it, thinkin’ they could replace my family, and I never even had to eat ‘em.

“But that’s the trick. You get dependent, but you don’t realize that… That they’re parasites. And I’m kinda fuzzy on the details, but according to Buddy, Liz was somehow stuck down in the main… meat of the hive,” Gramble brings his paws together, looking down at his intertwined fingers. “And that’s where she’d been all along, down in the darkness with all those food bugs crawlin’ all over her and into her mouth and… that’s why she’s got such a thing about food.”

“Ah…” He can’t blame Boots for looking a little numb, covering her mouth with her paw as Pie stares blankly at him. It was a lot to take in. “Yeah, I guess that’d do it.”

Gramble goes on. “They attacked us not long after Buddy and the others left, tryin’ to force themselves into our mouths, or kill us, either or. I guess they knew the jig was up, then and there. No comin’ back from that. But we all got away, in the end… And that’s what happened.”

He falls silent. The porch swing creaks slightly as Boots lets it come to a stop, letting the singing of the insects fill the air between them for a long moment.

“S’this place still out there…?” Piesha speaks up softly, glancing out into the darkness as if the snax might be watching from the trees.

“Far as I know,” Gramble says, slipping off the chair to walk over and take one of their paws in each of his. “But you gotta promise me you will never, ever go there.” His expression is grim as he peers up at them. “And you’ll never breathe a word to any of the kids about it, or to anybody else. Nobody should ever step foot on that awful place again.”

“Gram,” Boots squeezes his paw in return, then leans over to scoop him up and pull him into her lap, the swing groaning in complaint as yet another grumpus is piled upon it. “…there’s gotta be somethin’ we can do-”

“No.” Gramble shakes his head, desperation creeping into his voice. “I- I don’t know. Maybe there is somethin’ that someone out there can do, but it can’t be any of us. I don’t want nothin’ to do with it ever again and if word gets out, it’s just gonna be more people goin’ there and that’s exactly what it wants. Please,” he tilts his head up at her, the porch light glimmering in his eyes. “Just leave it alone. It can’t get us here and I want it to stay that way. Promise me.”

When she hesitates, he repeats himself, teeth glinting as his lips peel back. “Promise me, please-”

“I promise.” Boots leans down to kiss him on the nose, wrapping her arm around him as the other draws Pie in closer. “I won’t tell nobody if that’s what you want.”

“That’s all that I want,” he murmurs into her fluffy chest, suddenly very tired despite the mental weight that had lifted. He’d spoken Snaktooth’s name aloud, finally uncorked what he’d kept bottled up for nearly two decades now. He should feel better-prepared, now that they were all on the same page, so why did he still feel like he was only summoning the beast? Perhaps he just needed to sleep, let this new information digest, and they’d face whatever came tomorrow together.

Hundreds of miles away, the island remembers them too.

#bugsnax #gramble gigglefunny #boots timberheart #piesha honeyclaw #fics #i wrote this a while ago and completely forgot to post it

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heyheydidjaknow · 3 years

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Chapter 11

Guess who's back? Back again. Back three hours late, but back nonetheless. I'd feel more sorry if I was more sorry. This is officially the longest chapter as of now, so, yay. Someone challenged me to not swear for a chapter, and I believe I fulfilled that requirement. I'm just gonna go sleep.

Update: APPARENTLY, TUMBLR DOES THE TRANSFER FORMATTING THING ON LAPTOPS AND I HATE EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE RIGHT NOW SO MUCH. I usually do all my editing on my phone, so I knew no such luxury. I have never been more pissed. That is a lie, but my anger is still very genuine.

Chapter 11

“Where were you?”

The younger brother looks up at his senior. “Huh?”

“You were gone all night.” Leonardo leans against the door, crossing his arms. “Don’t look so surprised; I started getting up early to meditate.”

He shrugs in feigned nonchalance, already dreading the ensuing conversation. “Out.”

“And where’s ‘Out’?”

Donnie slides out of his chair, deciding his straining eyes need a break. “Just went to check on Y/N is all.” He rubs them with his arm, quietly noting the sounds of fighting in the dojo were starting to cease as he sits on the couch. His rounds of sparring with Leonardo were finished a little over an hour ago; a part of him is grateful it took him this long to corner him.

This got a raised brow. “You were checking on her for hours?”

He does not look him in the eye. “It’s not impossible.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“It wasn’t that late,” he argues.

“Donnie,” he presses, “you didn’t get home until five in the morning. Where were you?”

He feels his face heat up. “I said.”

Leo leans down to look his brother in the eye. “Final answer?”

He swallows a yawn. “Look, I know it was stupid—”

“I didn’t say it was stupid.”

“No,” he snips, mildly irritable from a lack of sleep. “You implied it.”

The doors to the dojo slide open, the disgruntled look on Raphael’s face all the evidence the other two need to know who won.

Mikey dives onto the couch, sprawling out next to his slightly older brother. “Did you ask yet?”

“I did.” He glances at the disgruntled boy. “Donnie was, apparently, at Y/N’s all night.”

The reaction is immediate.

“Details!” The small victor sits up, leaning forward on his knees in usual attentiveness. “Was she good?”

“What did you—shut up, Mikey.” Raph’s attention snaps back to his tallest brother. “What did you do to her? Did you—”

“Wait, hold on!” Donnie’s face feels uncomfortably hot. “N-Nothing happened!”

“Yeah, sure.” The second eldest rolls his eyes. “You think we fell off the truck yesterday? Who stays with a girl all night in her room without something happening? Nobody,” he cuts him off before he can defend himself.

The youngest’s voice rises over his brother’s before he can continue. “Dude, big picture!” He gestures to his brown-eyed brother. “He got with a girl first! He has valid info or whatever he says and stuff!”

“What are you two even talking about?” He wrings his hands. “Look, nothing happened!”

“Then what were you doing at her house,” Raphael eggs. “You weren’t just sitting there, right?”

“… no.”

“Then what were you doing there?”

He pauses, the two excitable boys waiting on bated breath. “She wanted me to spend the night,” he explains carefully, “because she was having bad nightmares and didn’t want to sleep alone.” He leans back, tossing his hands in the air. “That’s all.”

Silence falls.

“So,” clarifies Raphael, “you spent however many hours in her room, in her bed, and you didn’t make a move?”

“I—look!” The conversation is taking a shift for the worse. “I was trying to be nice! The last thing she needed was me doing whatever you’re insinuating!”

“He has a point,” Michelangelo nods knowingly. “Brownie points are key.”

“When did I say I was doing this for brownie points?”

“Look,” the eldest interjects. “Regardless of whether or not he was doing the ‘smart’ thing—” air quotes, “my bigger concern is that you didn’t bother calling to let us know where you were. You could’ve—Raph, do you have something to say?”

He rolls his eyes. “Are you really gonna act like you wouldn’t do the exact same thing if it were you?”

The leader pauses. “Would you like to take this somewhere more private?”

“Sure.” A venomous smile curls Raph’s lips. “Dojo?”

“Bring it.”

As the two leave, Donnie looks back over at Mikey. “Okay,” he sighs, “did I miss something?”

A shrug. “Man," he grins brazenly, "bold of you to assume I follow half of the things you guys say.”

He pulls his T-Phone from his utility belt. “Do you think I did the right thing? Honestly?”

Another shrug. “I dunno.” He looks over his older brother’s shoulder, reading the text on the screen curiously. “Can’t have gone too bad, though, if you two’ve been textin’ all day.

He pushes his head away with his free hand. “It hasn’t been all day,” he corrects. “She just filled me in on this week’s episode and we just kept talking after that.” He smiles faintly. “Although, she did check to see if I got home alright.”

“Hey, that’s totally progress!” He grins encouragingly. “I mean, the bed thing was bigger progress, but this is also progress.”

You push through the turnstile with a bit of difficulty, hopping on your good leg as you pull the walker over the divider using your free hand with an embarrassing clatter. “Sorry,” you wince, feeling your face heat up as you slide down the railing. “I’m still getting used to—”

“Holy—are you alright?” The distress is apparent in the youngest’s voice as he sees you for the first time in a month. “You look like you—”

“I’m aware,” you cut him off dryly, holding a paper bag as you stumble over to the couch. “Whatever you’re about to say, I’m aware.” You put it down in Donnie’s lap. “Here.”

He blinks, picking it up as you regain your bearings. “What is it?”

“Not poison or snakes. Open it.”

“Yo,” Mikey interrupts, pointing at your banged-up leg, “can I draw on your white thing?”

It takes you a second to figure out what he is referring to. “Oh, you mean—yeah.” You lean your head back against the back of the couch. “Just know that I’ll take white-out to anything that could get me kicked out of school.”

“Deal!” He runs off to your room as his brother pulls the bag open, pulling the pastry from its confinement.

“What is it,” he repeats, icing already on his fingers.

“Cupcake.”

He fingers the wrapper, his brick stare seeming almost to dissect it. “What is it for?”

“Besides being messy?” You smile gently as you watch him try to figure it out, feeling your heart swell. “It’s food.”

“How much of it is edible?”

“Everything except the paper bit.”

He peels the liner back. “And how do you eat it, exactly?”

You lean forward on your arms. “The goal is to eat the frosting and the cake part at the same time, so however you accomplish that.”

He smiles sheepishly, eyes softening as he looks back at you. “Is it possible to eat it without the frosting getting on your face?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

He tentatively holds eye contact with you as he takes a bite, unsurprisingly getting icing sticking to the space around his upper lip. You wait tentatively as he licks the excess off, blinking in delighted surprise. “What’s in this, exactly?”

You feel yourself beam at his tone. “It’s nothing too special,” you shrug nonchalantly, bubbling with excitement. “It’s a personal favorite; red velvet with cream cheese frosting.”

He takes another bite. “Do you have more? Follow-up question,” you note his speech quickening, “can you make more?”

“Totally,” you nod in agreement. “I wanted to make you something as thanks for—”

“Back!”

Donnie shoves the rest of it in his mouth as soon as you two hear him.

“Sorry for the wait; I couldn’t find my stuff.” He plops down with a cardboard box filled with various discarded art supplies. “I’d use spray paint, but he—” he nods to his brother, currently trying to choke the rest of the cupcake down—“said I’m not allowed because of fumes or somethin’, so.”

“Fair.” You allow him to drape your calf over his legs, digging into the cardboard box he was carrying and pulling out a pencil. “Got any plans?”

“You’ll see,” he grins, starting to sketch shapes out.

The taller of the two wipes the excess frosting off his fingers. “Oh,” he snaps his fingers, “when you two are done with that, Y/N, I still gotta do that physical.”

“Physical?”

He clears his throat in preparation for a very redundant explanation. “A physical,” he explains calmly to his over-excited brother, “as in a physical examination, not whatever you’re thinking of.”

He blinks. “Like a doctor’s visit?”

“Donnie was asking about my recovery time,” you add helpfully. “Apparently, it’s weirdly long, but I don’t have any weird medical problems, so he wanted to see what the deal was.”

“That, and your comment about how ‘insanely high’ we jump, apparently.”

“Do not air quote that!” You lean your head back to look at him, hair falling onto his lap. “Not when you guys put high jumping to shame.”

He adamantly avoids eye contact, face warming. “It’s not that high,” he mumbles. “Especially if we’re bringing a sport like high jumping into this.”

“I respectfully disagree.” You lay your head down properly, looking up at him from his thighs. “Considering your falling form, it is a miracle you still have working hips.”

“What’s wrong with my form?”

“It doesn’t include a parachute.”

“Okay,” Mikey interjects, “it may not last unless you cover it with something. Just, FYI.”

You lean your head up to look at him. “Noted,” you nod. “I’ll pick up varnish or something on my way home.”

He nods. “Oh,” he asks innocently, “mind turning over? I have to get the other side and I don’t want to hurt you.”

For some inexplicable reason, the boy you are currently laying on looks as though someone has put a gun to his head.

You do as asked with a bit of difficulty, bringing your knee closer to your chest as it is now closest to the back of the couch. “Like that?”

“Perfect. Thanks.”

You look up at Donnie. “Let me know if you need me to move,” you smile. “If your thighs go numb or anything.”

His voice is oddly tight. “You’re good.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Sure? You sound very uncomfortable.”

“Never better.”

“He’s alright,” Mikey reassures you, shooting a thumbs up at his brother behind your back.

“...Alright.” Your eyes focus absentmindedly on what you thought was a couch cushion; upon further inspection, it appears to be a repurposed training mat. You bring the arm not currently pinned to your side under your head, humming an earworm softly.

The boy currently under you is silently panicking as your fingers squeeze gently around his knee, making a conscious effort to stare at the television and only at the television with his hands hovering awkwardly over you. Surprisingly enough, out of the corner of his eye, he does not catch his younger brother trying to stare at you weirdly, sincerely focused on drawing.

You feel him, eventually, resting his hands down, one resting in between your shoulder blades, the other in your hair, twisting a lock of it around his fingers gently. “Still alright,” you ask.

His voice is almost airy, now. “Mhm.”

‘This is nice.’ You trace little designs into the mat as your mind begins to wander, the boys starting to talk about something you struggle to pay attention to. This is not the closest you have been to him physically, but it is nice not to be crying this time around. "Domestic, almost, even if he doesn't think so.’

‘I should learn how to braid.’ Braiding is not something he has necessarily needed to know how to do in the past, but as he wraps the fibers around themselves, curious about the texture, he wishes that he knew; using your hair as a material of sorts would certainly be interesting, and he knows he has the dexterity for it. Admittedly, the conversation is less of a conversation and more of a speech on his brother’s part, but he tries to pay attention.

“So,” Mikey continues, digging into the box and pulling out a pencil sharpener, “he’s watching this guy all stealth-like, right? The guy’s out here, giving out his plans like they’re candy or whatever, and he’s just kinda recording it on one of those little tape recorders you used for that one thing a couple weeks ago-- you know the ones, and-- you don’t mind spoilers-- long story short, the guy gets caught, and when the crew got there, he was totally messed up.”

“Sounds like Batman,” you mumble sleepily-- ‘He really is warm.’

“Huh?”

“Your story.” You hoist yourself up, looking over your shoulder back at him. “Sounds like this Batman cartoon.”

“Batman?”

“Universe…” you stifle a yawn. “My universe has this thing called Batman, and there's a crossover thing in a different iteration of this universe. I guess you wouldn’t know about that, would you?”

“Different iteration?” Donatello looks down at your head in his lap, desperately in need of a cold shower.

You feel Michelangelo bend your leg forward. You nod in confirmation, trying to will yourself awake. “Didn’t I… did I?” You lay your head back down properly. “You guys are, like… mega-famous down-- back-- there.”

“I’m not sure if you did.”

“Well,” you giggle sleepily, “you are.” You try to count on your fingers. “You’ve got the original comic, the old cartoon, the two-thousand three animated show, the CGI movie, this one, the two live-action movies, the twenty-eighteen animated one-- gorgeous animation by the by that I have to show you later, Mikey-- that crossover movie with Batman, the live-action show, the other, older live-action movie, the IDW comic series, that weird one with the hats-- there’s a ton.”

“Dude, that is sick!” The resident artist grins. “I bet they were awesome.”

You consider telling him about the IDW comic. You quickly decide against it.

“How long have we-- as a property-- existed, exactly?”

“I dunno.” You shrug. “The first animated show was the eighties, I think.”

“...huh.”

You notice him fiddling with your hair, finally. You don’t mind.

“It’s been too long.”

You freeze, suddenly very awake and painfully aware of your current position.

One of the few good things about having your own apartment: you seem to have forgotten the fear of being walked in on.

“Please, relax.” You hear his smile. It does not help matters. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

The other two, astonishingly, do not seem nearly as anxious as you are.

You look up at him from your spot on his son’s lap. “You look as healthy as ever.” ‘I miss my grandpa. Is Grandma okay?’ You were unable to find your relatives on your father’s side through social media-- they could be dead for all you know.

“No thanks to my diet,” he chuckles. Yoshi walks out of your field of view. “Don’t mind me; how long have they been in the dojo?”

“Half an hour?” You hear the jostling of the box and the snap of an uncapped pen.

You hear him sigh. “Let’s just hope nobody’s died,” he mutters, walking into the dojo.

The three of you strain your ears to-- unsuccessfully-- hear what is going on. The door snaps open as the two brothers leave together in heated silence.

Mikey shakes what you can now identify as a paint pen. “Who won?”

“Nobody.” Leo’s voice, snippy. “Is she out?”

“She is not.” You turn your arm awkwardly to wave back at him.

“Then,” he shrugs, “nice to see you.”

“Likewise.”

“So,” Raph interjects, apparently very interested in the current situation, “can someone please explain what, exactly, is going on here?”

“I’m painting her white thing.”

“Of course. Donnie?”

The mortification would be apparent if you were looking at him.

“Nothin? Okay then.” You shut your eyes as he sits down on the other side of you. “You look terrible. Nice scar.”

“I am too close to very sensitive areas for you to give me a hard time, Raphael,” you warn.

“Whatever.”

“I’m heading out.” Leo nonchalantly bounds the steps, hopping over a divider.

“Tell her I say hi,” you call back. “Remember, consent is key, yellow roses lead to friendzoning, and to always use a condom.”

“... No comment.” He runs off.

“I have so many questions.”

“Ask me later.”

It takes him about twenty more minutes to finish covering the entirety of your cast in brightly colored characters and objects; if you have to describe it, you will say that the style is contemporary pop illustration with composition reminiscent of the renaissance period if the single art class you have taken is serving you right.

“This,” you smile, a little misty-eyed for some reason, “is absolutely gorgeous. Thanks, Mikey.”

He beams. “You’re totally welcome! If you ever get more white things, I’ll draw on those too, if you want.”

“Dude, for sure.” You nod in agreement, looking back at Donnie. “Isn’t it cool?”

Donatello has been quietly jabbed at for the past twenty minutes and is mostly desensitized to the quality of his brother’s art; frankly, it is not his area, and he cannot judge it one way or the other. Despite this, he gives his brother a thumbs up. “Very.”

“Don’t stroke his ego so much,” teases their older brother. “Donnie’ll get jealous.”

“Hate to steal her from you all,” he interrupts, “but I still have a physical to do, so if you would be so kind as to shut up, that would be great.”

‘Green with envy. Is that racist? No clue. Pretty colors.’ Donnie is talking to you. “Huh?”

“I asked if you were still on board.”

You nod. “Mind grabbing my walker?”

He shoots his snickering brother a glare. “Want me to just carry you to the lab?”

Panic. Immediate panic. “You sure you can carry me?”

He shrugs, smiling. “It’s only a few feet. Besides,” he points out, “aren’t you the one always going on about how strong we are by normal standards?”

You do not have a rational way to explain why the idea of being off of solid ground, held up by someone who can potentially drop you, is distressing. You also do not want to insult him in any shape, way, or form. “Promise you won’t drop me?” Your stomach turns.

“Swear it.”

“Can I paint your walker while you guys are doing that?”

“Of all the things you could've chosen--”

“Lay off.” He offers his arms. “You can trust me, I promise.”

You pause. The statement is entirely true, but your gut is screaming at you not to do that. The same gut told you that slamming your body into the person driving the car you were tied up in was a good idea.

You latch your arms around his neck, burying your eyes in the crook of his neck as to not see when and in what direction he is moving you. “Please,” you mumble, trying not to blatantly beg, “do not drop me.”

He does not exactly understand why you are clinging to him so tightly, but he is hardly one to complain. He slides an arm under your knees, picking you up.

Raphael is heckling you. You are more concerned with your body inaccurately telling you that you are going to die from this. Tears prick your eyes as you try to breathe.

He looks down at you, mind wandering as he walks away from his brothers. You look so sweet to him, shaking like a leaf in his arms. Cute. He had thought the same thing when you had started clinging to him during that movie forever ago, when you held his hand last night and pulled him back onto the bed with you. You are not normally openly vulnerable and, although he is hardly one to talk about vulnerability, it is always a sight to behold.

“Please don’t drop me.” He is not exactly sure if you are aware of your own, almost silent begging as you repeat the phrase over and over. ‘You trust me.’ His heart melts.

It takes no time to get you to his lab. He sets you down on a chair, but you do not seem to understand that as you still cling tightly to his neck.

He chuckles nervously. “I need my body to perform the physical, Y/N.”

You were not aware he had put you down. Your eyes snap open as you let your shaking, iron grip relax. “Sorry,” you mumble, face going a gorgeous shade of pink.

“No prob.” ‘Prob?’ His face changes color to match yours.

“So.” He claps his hands together just a bit too hard, slamming the door closed when he hears his brothers’ snickering. “Let’s get started.”

You sit on your couch, applying another coat of varnish to your cast as you listen to a cooking show because something something exposure therapy. Also, listening to people scream at one another about food textures is soothing.

Your results were not surprising to you; by the standards of humans in this universe, you are a walking talking coma patient. It was a bit funny, watching him freak out about a blood pressure that you knew-- through the help of google-- was completely normal. You are fine for the most part, if he was using the tools given correctly, and so, you are currently preoccupied with making sure the gorgeous painting on your fiberglass prison is going to stay gorgeous. The only thing he had insisted on, really, was that you not cook, after seeing your crudely applied bandages on your fingers.

You lean back into an actual couch, pulling out your phone and scrolling through pictures of gloves again. You are determined to find a good pair; the deep scars on your hands are not fading any time soon.

You can hear the window slide open. “If you’re planning on killing me--” you stop when you look up to see the look on Donnie’s face. “Something up?”

He says absolutely nothing, leaning his staff against the wall, closing the window in a daze and he stands next to the sofa. “Are you busy?”

“No.”

“Good.” His eyes glance at the space next to you. “Can I stay here for a bit?”

“As long as you like.”

He lays his head on your lap as he sits down, staring blankly at the television screen. He immediately understands why you like this-- your thighs are incredibly soft.

You immediately understand why he was awkward. You have no idea where to put your hands, but you eventually settle on his head as you turn the volume down. “What’s up?”

He takes a deep breath, licking his teeth as he sighs. “I,” he explains, “just realized what my reality is right now and I-- okay, I know this sounds stupid--”

“Not at all.”

“It does,” he insists. “I know it sounds stupid because I realized it did when I was working it out, but I just-- hear me out, okay?” His voice oozes exhaustion.

“I’m hearing you.” You listen to him, laying your phone face down on the coffee table. “Hit me.”

He takes another breath. “I just fought a giant… thing.” He rolls over, looking up at you. “Mikey called it Jacob or something, and it was about twenty feet tall and it looked like something out of a monster movie and it destroyed us in a fight.” You hear his voice rising, and you just nod along, letting him talk. “It wiped the floor with us. And the only reason it existed was that Leo, apparently, got a girlfriend named Karai-- you know her?”

“Hot alt chick with the wicked eyeshadow and eyeliner that could kill?” You nod. “Yeah, I’m familiar.”

“Her-- wait, should I…?” He trails off, shakes his head. “Another time.” He covers the side of his face with his hand, gesturing animatedly with his other. “Anyways, apparently he met this girl because she wanted to do a heist with him-- this girl, working for the Foot, of all people-- sixteen or whatever-- she goes and just touches a button to mix the DNAs of all the creatures an alien race could find on Earth, and then bails.” He realizes he is shouting, lowers his voice. “The alien creatures, in case you forgot, that look like brains and waddle around on tentacles which, by the way, makes no evolutionary sense whatsoever, decided to create a button that mixes the entirety of their samples of DNA together in a smorgasbord of wrong, okay?”

“Uhuh.” You nod along. You know what he means, even if the word he used was technically not correct.

“This thing,” he continues, officially ranting, “destroyed a building! It set the whole thing on fire, which was probably only Kraang, but also maybe had normal people in it, which is concerning.” He rubs his eyes aggressively. “So, to recap, an alienish creature named Jason or whatever got created by Leo’s crush and destroyed a building and that was just what happened today!” He raises his hands in the air, almost accidentally hitting you in the face. “I didn’t bat an eye at this!”

“Man, I feel you.”

“And I understand,” he continues, “the irony of telling you this, considering I am a giant, talking turtle created by the very same mutagen that created Justin or whatever its stupid name was, was taught ninjutsu by my ninja master father who is also a rat, and that you have already previously died--”

“All very bizarre things,” you agree.

“-- but this is just…” he sighs. “My life is getting so… weird? It was already weird, I know, but more so than I thought it reasonably should be.”

You wipe a bit of oil you notice on his cheek off with your thumb. “This world is a weird one,” you admit.

His voice is lower now as he follows your hand with his eyes. “I…” He takes breath. “I just wish we were more normal, you know? That our lives were more normal, that our existences made more sense, you know?”

You cup his face in your hand gently, remembering how your mother used to do the same for you. “I do.”

You feel him leaning into your touch. “I wish,” he mumbles, almost to himself, “that I was a normal, human teenager who went to school and didn’t know how to use a bo staff and had three, normal brothers who could try to get girlfriends without worrying about whether or not they wanted to kill them.”

You sigh, running your thumbs along the edge of his eye socket, feeling the soft skin shift under you. “You’re very well adjusted for a teenager trained in the art of assassination,” you joke softly.

He chuckles dryly, closing his eyes. “My mother is an empty canister in a locked cabinet in the kitchen.” He exhales slowly. “My stepmom was murdered by a man now actively trying to murder me and my entire family because of a decades long feud. Well adjusted is probably the highest compliment you could give me.”

“I’ve given you higher.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I.” You glance up at the television screen, then back at him. “You’re holding up better than I am, and you’ve been fearing for your life since you were real little.”

“Apples and oranges.” He rests his hand on yours.

“Look,” you shrug, “the way I see it, life is a series of events that all string together to the present.”

“Butterfly effect.”

“Exactly.” You smile down at him. “And if things didn’t happen exactly as they did, we never would’ve met, the world would be totally screwed, and we would be missing out on one of the greatest minds on the planet.”

He looks to see if you are being serious.

You are.

“You also wouldn’t have a broken leg and messed up hands,” he points out ruefully.

“Meeting you was worth it.”

He reaches up, running his fingers along the scar on your face. “I disagree.”

“It’s my body, and my physical detriment. It doesn’t matter if you’re stupid enough to think it wasn’t worth it.”

You feel his body relax

You two shut up for a bit, watching the show absentmindedly.

After a while, he pipes up. “It’s alright if you say no,” he starts tentatively, “but is it alright if I stay here again tonight?”

“Will your brothers mind?”

“They don’t care so long as I’m home before sunrise,” he shrugs. “I just like it here. Smells better.”

You smile brightly. “Sure,” you agree easily. “I sleep better with you here, anyways; I don’t worry about people sneaking in through the window.” You check the varnish. “I just have to wait for this to dry the rest of the way, first. You’re free to go to bed without me, though.”

In all honesty, you’re just happy not to be alone.

He nods, standing up and drawing the curtains. He sits down on the bed, untying the mask behind his head. ‘I could get used to this.’ He smiles slightly, slipping a hand into his utility belt and texting his brothers where he was to avoid his brother’s scolding in the morning. He slips that off too, dropping both onto the side of the bed and starting on the wraps on his feet and hands; he had learned his lesson when he had gotten up morning before, having gotten a few hours sleep at home, to large, noticeable indentations in his flesh where the foreign objects had been.

You glance over. “Do those go in the wash?”

He looks back. “Not usually, no.”

“Do you want me to wash them?”

‘You are too considerate.’ He shakes his head. “It’s alright.”

You shrug, putting your hands up. “Suit yourself.” You cross your hands across your stomach, staring absentmindedly back at the screen. “You can use the shower in the morning, but please do not use all of the hot water. Fridge is open if you need breakfast.”

“Nah,” he sighs, slipping the clothes into his utility belt. “I’ll eat at home.”

You nod in acknowledgement.

It occurs to him as he sets his knee and elbow pads with the rest of his things that, technically, he is stripping in front of you, and you are not batting an eye. As soon as that clocks, it also dawns on him that you are showing the most skin he has ever seen-- an A-shirt and gym shorts-- which had not even registered until he was laying in your bed. You are relaxed and in your warm apartment, watching a television program with him in your bed. You are awake and absolutely gorgeous and you feel safer with him of all people.

His heart swells as he slides under the blankets, the sound of the television white noise at this point.

You glance back at him, the phrase “Snug as a bug in a rug," coming to mind as you look over at him, struggling to keep his eyes open. “You gonna fall asleep?”

His face warms. He nods. "It's been a really long day," he admits.

“Then goodnight,” you smile. “Sweet dreams.”

He smiles sleepily. “Goodnight, Y/N,” he shuts his eyes.

You swallow.

You forgot how much you missed this.

Table of Contents

Chapter 10

Chapter 12

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narcissasdaffodil · 3 years

Text

WIP Wednesday

Thanks for the tag @daisybarks

I’m tagging @kiki-the-creator @hopeshoodie @juggalohenrik @eskiix and @rennell

This is a little snippet from enough for you, which is my most recent WIP. This is the cheating fic, which I’ve likely referenced. This might not make sense out of context.

The other three piled into the back, Aislinn in the middle and the other two having window seats. Bobby handed the others their food and sat back with his arms folded. “Aw, come on! I wanted shotgun! And why is this car such a mess?” Bobby grumbled, his heart not fully in it.

“It was worse than this. We actually cleared it slightly to make room for everyone. And Marisol did say that one of us could take shotgun, and I let Lucas have it because he’s taller.” Hope pointed out once she chewed her mouthful.

“It smells weird in here too. Is there an air freshener?”

“It’s broken. Olivia forgot to replenish it. I haven’t noticed the smell if I’m honest, I’m used to it.” Marisol finished her breakfast, grabbing the empty bags and got out of the car, binning them and made her way back to the car, putting on her seatbelt. As she started the car, the sat nav came on and she left it there. She was going to try and rely on her memory, which might not be the best idea.

Once everyone plugged in their seatbelts, they set off. Marisol followed signs for the motorway until she got stuck in a queue getting onto the M4. It was crawling, and she opened the windows to let some fresh air in. The air conditioning only blew hot air and was next to useless.

As the car stopped, Bobby started rooting around at his feet until he discovered a bag full of ketchup bottles and another bag of chocolate, crisps, nuts and sweets. In addition to the two bags, there was a lot of sweet stuff sitting on the floor.

“Who needs an entire bagful of ketchup bottles? Eight bottles in one bag!” He studied the bag, slightly perplexed.

“Wait, what? So that’s where all the ketchup went! I kept buying bottles, and Olivia clearly kept swiping them. Eight bottles, really?” Marisol’s eyes widened at the mention of the ketchup. Bobby handed Lucas the bagful of ketchup, who studied it himself.

“Most of these are open, and half full. What’s the point of starting a new one when the old one is already half full? I was checking that side of the car as well, how did I miss this?” Lucas checked the bottles in the bag. “Some of these are expired too, quite the stash! One or two years out of date.”

“Eww. See what you can salvage, and we’ll bin the rest when we get to the beach. What a waste of good ketchup, I even bought Heinz! I can’t believe she was stealing it.” Marisol stared at the bag, slightly miffed. “That being said…I did use it for a lot of meals, I did have a little ketchup problem. It would vanish every single time we had an argument. Which means she was taking it then to be petty, likely. It’s a major pet peeve, she sees it as such a waste.”

“More of a waste is definitely her stealing it, as of course you’d buy more! Does the money she’s wasting ever come into it?” Aislinn asked.

“Nope, no way. She’s the type who broke her phone last month and had her parents buy her the newest iPhone in replacement. It wasn’t even cracked or damaged, so she let me have it. I changed everything over, her parents aren’t paying for my phone as well. It was going to go to waste completely otherwise, she would’ve just binned it.” Marisol laughed slightly at the idea of Olivia even thinking about money. The same person who regularly spent £400 on clothes per week and went on regular shopping sprees definitely wasn’t the type to care about the money she’s wasting.

She looked back at the road just as the queue moved and moved forward again. “Found anything else that is edible? There’s bound to be food hanging about.”

“Gummy worms, gummy bears, strawberry laces, Strawbs, this bag is all sweets. There’s a soft container of Pringles too, I wouldn’t touch those. There’s also unopened bags of fruit and nuts so I’ll take those out. Most of the chocolate is fine too, and the unopened crisp bags. This is quite the stash! Half of it is empty packets. Did she just use the car for a dustbin?” Bobby handed Lucas the dodgy snacks, who just bagged them with the dodgy ketchup.

“She pretty much used the car as a bin, yup. And she kept stealing the sweet stuff from the flat, so I had to keep hiding my biscuits and chocolate. Eventually we agreed that she would buy her own sweet stuff and quit taking mine. Guess I didn’t clarify that sweet stuff meant ketchup too, and she couldn’t just steal stuff in petty revenge.” Marisol explained. To her relief, the queue started moving quickly and she took advantage, getting onto the motorway without too much fuss. She wasn’t a fan of driving on motorways.

“The window’s not working again, could you please open it from your side?” Lucas asked.

Marisol opened both windows, the car was starting to get absolutely roasting. The feet smell was starting to get to her slightly.

“The windows in the back don’t work, by the way. Hopefully you guys are fine with just these ones open.” Marisol called in the direction of the back, the others nodded in response.

“Can we get rid of some of the mess at the beach? There’s sandwich containers, coffee cups and something squishy back here.” Bobby prodded the something squishy and took his hand away fast. “That’s definitely gum. Why has she stuck that on the back of the seat?” He pulled it off with a tissue, wiping away the residue.

“We can get rid of the leftovers, coffee cups and sandwich containers at least. Or anything that’s gone off. The rest of it, I don’t know what she wants done with it. She might’ve left, but it’ll seem a bit too final to clear out nearly all of it…” Marisol’s voice faded slightly and she bit her lip. “Look, I’m not overly pleased with the state of it myself. But I’ve got bigger fish to fry currently. I’ve had too many arguments with Olivia over it, and she made it worse to mess with me. I gave up mentioning it eventually. You’ve been complaining so much, it’s getting on my nerves.”

Marisol focused on the road ahead, chewing on her lip.

“Yeah, you’ve made your point. Maybe me and Lucas are just more used to it, but it’s been far worse than this before.” Hope broke in before Bobby decided to reply.

“Why didn’t we just split into two cars anyway? I wouldn’t have minded driving, and it’s a little cramped in the back. Driving’s not ideal, I prefer shotgun, but Lucas nabbed that. We could’ve split into me and Lucas in one car, and you three in this one.” Bobby grumbled.

Lucas stared at Marisol in panic, his eyes widened at Bobby’s statement. “That wouldn’t work. You barely paused for breath when we got lost yesterday, and during the first film of the Harry Potter marathon. I couldn’t handle it then, being trapped in a car with just you wouldn’t work.”

Marisol’s mouth twitched, and she struggled to not burst into laughter, putting on the radio instead. Classical music burst out of the speakers, and she jumped. Aislinn quickly synced up her phone to the radio, attaching it via a charging wire. She instructed Lucas in the front, who followed her instructions and in no time at all, a playlist replaced the classical music.

“Phew. I forgot Olivia always listens to Classic FM, on loud. She’s even had noise complaints, from classical music of all things. And, Bobby, if you want to drive on the way back, be my guest! It made completely no sense to split into two cars just because you couldn’t handle the mess.” The hot car was making Marisol slightly grumpy, and she snapped at him.

The car fell silent as they became absorbed in the music. Marisol and Aislinn had done far too much drunk karaoke, and she recognised the playlist from that. Hold the Line started playing and Marisol started singing along to it, forgetting the others were in the car. The energy carried through the car and lasted until the end of the song. She stopped, slightly breathless and blinked, wide eyed.

“Wow. I forgot how good you were at this. My favourite karaoke partner ever. Maybe we should try it again, but sober?” Aislinn said.

Her words stunned Marisol slightly, and she blushed. “R...Really? You think I’m that good? I doubt that, I freeze up on stage. Drunk karaoke is slightly different.” Yeah, no. That’s not happening. Not after that time in secondary school, when you auditioned for the school talent show and got so nervous that you were sick backstage, and your throat closed up while on stage. You couldn’t sing anything and tripped coming off stage on a loose shoelace and wiped out. To make matters worse, it was recorded and passed around the school until you were known for that. Your sister hated being associated with you as a result and it was so embarrassing.

Marisol fell silent, chewing on her lip and listening to the music. She signalled and moved into the left lane, ready to come off the motorway.

She focused entirely on driving and only relaxed when she got to the car park. She parked and let out a sigh of relief. “No sat nav needed at all, and not a foot wrong. That proves it, I’ve got a better sense of direction than Olivia.”

“I’m pretty sure everyone does.” Bobby pointed out. “Along with being better at being on time. I had to tell her a fake time for my birthday two months ago and she was still late.”

#litg #love island the game #litg marisol #fic snippet #litg bobby #litg hope #litg lucas #enough for you

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coza-main · 3 years

Text

The Turning Point

Words: 2,578

Warnings: Slight angst, other than that none

Summary: The princess and Link get lost in a white-out blizzard, only to find shelter in a cave. Can Link use this time to prove that he is not her enemy, or will he only push her further away?

---

Link should’ve spoken up when he had the chance. He had known their party wouldn’t make it back to Rito Village before the storm hit, even with the shortcut. They had been out in the wilderness conducting research for days and everyone was eager to get back to the village, so they chose to ignore the warning signs. He wanted to speak up, tell the others that they should make camp and wait until the snow stopped falling, but he hadn’t been able to find his voice at the time. And now they were all paying for his weakness.

He was alone with the princess, silently working on starting a fire while she sat close by. Link didn’t need to look at her to know how bleak their situation was. She was practically folded in on herself, shivering from the cold. They had been lost in the white-out blizzard for at least an hour before finding the cave they were in now. His hands couldn’t seem to strike the flint correctly to start the spark. If he couldn't start a fire soon, they would definitely be dead by morning. Hypothermia would set in and they would both freeze to death before anyone could come find th-

“Could I try?”. The princess’s hoarse voice startled Link out of his thoughts. She hadn’t spoken to him since they had gotten inside the cave, though that wasn’t unusual. She only spoke directly to him when she absolutely had to, and never in a very friendly manner. He silently handed over the flint, which she took with a bleak smile. After 3 strikes, there were soft embers glowing in at the bottom of their small wood pile.

Link quickly got close to fan the embers, and soon the flames sprung up, casting shadows along the icy cave walls. Both of them moved closer to the fire, relishing in the heat they hadn’t had for so long. The silence between them was deafening, only broken up by the soft crackles of the wood being burned away.

---

By the time he was warm enough to move, the princess had fallen asleep. Link pulled out a small pot and began to walk towards the entrance of the cave. The princess may have dozed off, but they were going to need food soon. He collected snow and set the pot over the fire, continuing to add more snow as it continued to melt over the flames until the pot was full.

Once he finished, Link grabbed his sword and ventured outside once again. The visibility was still nonexistent, but he needed to find more wood or they wouldn't outlive the blizzard. He ran his gloved hand along the outside wall of the cave and stuck his sword arm out in the other direction. Walking blindly, he relied solely on his other senses, counting each step he took away from the cave entrance. If he was lucky, there would be a tree close to the cave and he wouldn’t have to venture far.

Link only had to walk a few meters before he felt something hit his sword. Hylia seemed to be smiling upon him, even after all she had put him through today. It was almost as if the goddess herself was calling his name in the wind gusts, giving him the strength he thought had been depleted. He wasn’t entirely sure how well a sword would hold up in place of an ax, but he managed to get a decent amount of firewood before heading back into the safety of the cave.

---

As Link regained his sight back in the cave, he noticed two things: the princess was awake, and she seemed to be crying. He instinctively dropped the wood he collected to rush to her side, startling her in the process. As she caught sight of him, grief quickly changed into relief, and then to anger, which managed to stop him dead in his tracks. Her emotions were always so easy to read, it was one of his favorite things about her. Hylia, he wished that he could wear his emotions as clearly as she wore hers.

“Where have you been?!?” She shouted, wiping angrily at her tear-filled eyes. Her voice rang through the icy cave. “I woke up and you were gone! What kind of knight leaves the person they’re supposed to be guarding without any sort of notice? What was so important that you couldn’t wait until I woke up?”

Dumbfounded by her outburst, Link simply looked down at the firewood he had collected. He wanted to apologize for scaring her, for leaving her alone, but apparently she wasn’t done.

“Firewood? You left me alone for firewood?” She had risen from her spot and was now marching towards him. “What if there had been a bear or something in here? I was vulnerable sleeping! You could have at least woken me up and told me where you were going!” Now that she was closer, Link saw that the princesses’ face wasn’t contorted in anger. She was scared. Her voice was quieter the next time she spoke. “I was calling for you. I thought you left me.”

Link’s heart ached. He knew the trials and adversity the princess had overcome. He wanted to reach out, to comfort her. But he didn’t know how to. The words wouldn’t come to him. The princess stared at him for a few seconds, and then bent down to gather up the rest of the firewood.

---

They didn’t have much. The carrots, Hyrule herbs, a few chillshrooms, and some bits of dried meat from Link’s pack were all thrown into the pot to boil into a soup. Link silently poured out the soup into two bowls, and handed one to Zelda. It wasn’t much, but it was edible, and left them both feeling rather warm inside. The cold air seemed to be a little less frigid once they were finished.

“I would never leave you.” Link said softly as he packed up the equipment. He knew he wasn’t the best with words, but he was feeling extra courageous. They had survived the day. She needed to know he was someone she could count on. But still, his cheeks were burning, and the princesses’ silence wasn’t helping. Once everything was packed up, he finally had summoned the courage to look at her again.

Wide, green eyes were focused on him, her mouth slightly agape. Was she in shock? Had he really said something so out of place that it warranted that reaction? What more did she want, an apology? It was better to be safe than sorry. “Your Highness, I’m-”

“That’s the first time you’ve spoken to me.” She blurted out over him. Link could feel his cheeks warming again, and was thankful for the cold to blame. “That’s the first time ever.”

Link shook his head. There was no way that she was right in that statement. He didn’t speak often, but he still had a voice that he used when it was warranted. “I’ve definitely spoken around you before, princess.”

Zelda laughed dryly. “You’ve spoken around me before-rarely, I might add-but you’ve never spoken to me. Not directly, at least.”

Link found himself dumbfounded once again. He had always assumed the princess didn’t want to talk to him, so he never made an effort. She was intimidating, and was one of the few people he didn’t want to be on the bad side of. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. Was he supposed to apologize? Ask for forgiveness? Was it even a big deal that he had never spoken to her before? Knights don't speak to princesses unless they were explicitly told to. The fact that he was the chosen hero and her personal guard didn’t change his status as a knight, did it?

“Do you have a torch? I want to look around.” She was scanning the walls covered in ice. The cavern looked like it had been untouched for centuries, there was no trace of animals or Hylians inside. He could tell she was anticipating him to shoot her down. “We won’t go far, I just want to see a little further back.”

Link located the torch he had in his pack and lit it from the flames, before doing it again with another torch and handing it off. They walked in silence, with Link listening for any sign of life, the princess looking for anything interesting.

---

Link was the first to break the silence, more out of curiosity than awkwardness. “Your Highness, what exactly are you looking for?”

“It’s a long shot, but I read some research a few months ago about these rumored skeletons. They’re supposed to be as big as houses, Link! The research itself was from years ago, but I was hoping to find the skeletons. One is supposed to be in the Hebra mountains, far from civilization. They called it a leviathan in their research, but I wonder what the actual name was?” The princess continued to ramble on about the possibilities and ramifications of a creature of that caliber existing. Link listened to her endearingly, smiling to himself. She always got off on some kind of tangent whenever scientific theories were involved. Her voice bounced off the walls, creating its own symphony with her as the star. Link was so distracted by the music it took him a few seconds to realize the princess had stopped talking.

His eyes found her quickly. “You probably think I’m a disgrace. I have yet to awaken my sealing power and I’m in the Hebra Mountains looking for a skeleton for fun. I-”

“I don’t think you’re a disgrace,” Link interrupted. The princess whipped around and stared at him as he quickly continued. “You’ve tried your hardest up until this point, and there’s not much more we can do until you turn 17 and we can go to the Spring of Wisdom. It’s not that the sealing power isn’t manifesting because you aren’t trying hard enough. Also, you’re allowed to enjoy things in life, princess, even if it is searching for a skeleton that might not exist.”

The princess looked like she wanted to say something, but Link rushed on. “Besides, I know you’ve been praying to Hylia every morning and night that we’ve been on this expedition. Even when you’re supposed to be taking a break, you don’t. I admire your determination and willpower more than you know.”

Now that he was done talking, Link felt as if he had overstepped his boundaries. He couldn’t stop himself from blurting all of that out. All of his feelings and emotions were bubbling to the surface now that they were alone and being vulnerable with each other. He needed her to know that her effort wasn’t going unnoticed or unappreciated. He needed her to know that she was important to somebody.

The princess was unusually quiet for a while after that. Link wanted to say more, but he also wanted to give her space. He had overstepped once, it wasn’t wise to do it a second time in such a short time span. He followed behind her silently, searching the cavern for anything interesting that might catch the attention of the princess while listening for any movement beyond the two of them.

“Link-” the princess gasped, and Link drew his sword as he turned back towards her. She was frozen, holding her torch up as far as she could. He could see a faint outline of bone illuminated by the torch light. “It’s here. It’s actually here!”

Seeing that she was in no danger, Link sheathed his sword and walked towards the skeleton himself. Without a word, he stood near her to allow her visibility range to widen as much as possible. With both of their torches, they could just see the top of the skeleton. She hadn’t been lying, the leviathan was easily twice as big as his family home in Hateno.

“I can’t believe we found it. We found it, Link!” The princesses’ eyes shone and her smile widened. It has been a long time since that smile, her genuine smile, came to light. Link had forgotten how contagious it was, and found a smile dancing across his lips as he watched her.

It was like watching a child on the playground. She ran from bone to bone, using her arms to measure the width of each one. For the ones she couldn’t wrap her arms around completely, she had Link assist her. She measured each one, accompanied with pictures of every angle with the Sheikah Slate. She finally got to the back of the beast, and stared up at it. It was clear she wanted to try to climb to the top, but had no way of knowing where to start.

“Do you want to try to climb it, princess?” Link asked, Believing he already knew the answer. He started scaling the bones before the princess even answered his question.

“Link!” She cried desperately. “Be careful! They might break.”

He hadn’t thought of that. He quickly climbed back down. “Sorry, Your Highness,” he mumbled, fully embarrassed. “I didn’t think about that.”

The laugh that escaped her lips was light and teasing. “You never think,” she said in between breaths. She was wiping at her eyes again, tears of joy instead of sorrow. “That’s why we’re down here exploring this creepy cave and not sitting by the fire. That’s why we found the leviathan.”

The princess waited a while before speaking again.

“We probably should go back now,” she admitted.

“Probably.”

---

Back at the fire, their adrenaline wearing off, the princess and her knight seemed to realize how tired they both had become.

“You need sleep, princess.” It wasn’t a request. Link wanted her to rest after the long day they had.

“You need sleep too, sir knight.” Her tone mocked him, and he wondered if he had done something to offend her. “You can call me Zelda, you know.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Zelda.” Her name felt good on his lips. It sounded sweet to her ears.

“We should both sleep,” Zelda said. “Nothing is going to bother us in this cave. I’m sure Hylia will protect her chosen ones if there is.” She sounded sarcastic and bitter, but Link wasn’t sure if he was misinterpreting her tone.

They both laid down next to the fire, their heads near one another. Link stared at the flames, entrancing him dangerously close to sleep.

“You know, if you can find a mythical leviathan that isn’t supposed to exist, I think you’ll be able to conquer your sealing power as well.”

“That’s easy for you to say.” She didn’t need to say anything further, they both knew what she was thinking.

“You deserve to have someone on your side, Zelda.” And he was on her side, wholeheartedly. With that, they both fell asleep quickly, unsure of what the next day would bring.

By the next day, the winds had shifted. The sun was out, and they could continue their journey to Rito Village. As they walked out of the mouth of the cave, Zelda turned back to it. “Goodbye, cave.” Link noticed that she almost sounded disappointed to leave it behind. With a sigh, she turned back to him and they set out to Rito Village once again.

One hundred years later, the cave felt so much colder without her next to him.

#legend of zelda #breath of the wild #zelda #link #zelink #i guess?? not really theyre just bonding #matchamago original

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “Survival.”

I had a lot of fun writing this one. Honestly being inside his head is so much fun, and I hope you all like it :). Hope it makes you laugh today.

So, I survived….

Surprise!

Not sure how that is going to turn out for me, and as I wake up lying back down in the sand and my right hand chilled from the cool inland ocean, I begin to realize that the awful ordeal I had gone through wasn’t just a dream. At first it felt like it, warm sand below my back and cool water on my fingertips. Somewhere birds are chirping, and I lay there for a while simply soaking in heaven, that is until I hear the secondary explosion as one the aux engines which jolts me upright sitting there covered in sand, my clothes singed, my arms aching from minor burns…. Completely alone.

Looking around I realize that this is not in fact earth, those are not, in fact birds, and I am not, in fact dead and being shown to heaven, but in fact much of the opposite. This is not earth, those look like tiny dinosaurs, and this is honestly, probably hell.

I take a minute to get my bearings before slowly crawling my way to my feet stumbling upright. The prosthetic takes most of the weight as I limp up the beach and back towards the wreckage of the command deck. I don’t expect to get much out of it considering that the entire thing is on fucking fire, but give me a bit of a break, less than a day ago I had been plunging towards a blakhole (or what I thought was a black hole that clearly turned out to not be) sure that I was going to die. In a way I was just a little pissed off. Don’t get me wrong, its not because I WANTED to die, I am actually one of the few humans on the face of the galaxy who enjoys living, but simply because I had accepted the fact that I was going to die. I had made peace with it, I had expected it, but instead I had been thrown into one of the worst warp experiences of my life, rattled around inside the command deck and then crash landed spectacularly onto an unknown planet.

I mean, it didn’t look like any place I Had ever seen before. Sure the sand and the ocean were almost natural, but tall, skinny, thousand foot trees certainly weren't, and neither were the large shelled crustaceans shambling up the beach .

I sighed and sat down in the sand with a soft plop watching as fire continued to smolder at the wreckage of my ship. It was only now that I realized my shoes were gone, and I could feel the sand between my toes.

Then the slight hissing hits me, and I turn to look down at my arm where a glint of bright silver catches my attention.

The iron eye suit.

I hadn’t had time to take it off.

I flexed my fingers watching the mid morning light run up and down the metal.

Ok, that was interesting.

Of course my dumbass had managed to take off the jetpack at some point….. shit.

I flopped back in the sand staring up at the sky. It was all coming back to me now, the entire ordeal from start to finish. The fight with the Kree, the space battle --that was arguably pretty fucking awesome…. Eat your heart out kirk-- and finally my destruction of the ship and my journey to the sort of blackish but not really, hole.

It occured to me: Everyone thought I was dead.

That stopped my musings for a second. What would happen? They wouldn’t look for me…. Would they? Then again UNSC policy held that no man was considered KIA until there was a body. I would be pronounced missing in action though assumed dead.

Someone else would be given command, my ship would have to be repaired, and meanwhile the crew would be disbanded or sent on leave.

Katie, maverick, Ramirez, Krill, Conn, Narobi, Cannon…. They all thought I was dead.

Waffles?

Fuck… thinking about her made me want to cry. Like I am going to be honest here guys, when a dog dies in a movie or when a dog is sad in a movie because their human dies, I don’t give a shit about the human, but I will cry. I will cry like a weenie because the dog is sad.

Like when all three of your brothers are sitting on your right hand side, and you have this magic ability to be water falling out of one eye while the other is dry to save face with your manhood kind of cry, no? Is that just me

Then my family, my father, my mother, my brothers. What would this do to them? They'd be devastated sure… Imagining my mother hearing about my untimely death was heartbreaking, and I was worried more than ever about Thoams. His quiet struggle with heroin addiction, and his recent one year sobriety was a big step for him…. Would my death mean setting him back? Was I that important to him that something might happen? He never dealt with stress well, so what was going to happen.

And… Sunny?

I had saved her life, yes but what had I done to her in the process? I had made her watch me die, unable to do anything. I had made her helpless, a victim of circumstance: something I knew she would never forgive herself for. I may have saved her life but…. I possibly ruined her in the process.

…

It's a good thing my brothers weren’t here because I wasn’t going to be able to do the one eye waterfall trick. This time it was going to be both eyes…. Still mad that that screwdriver hadn’t ruined my tear ducts too, I could have benefited from that.

I’d say I took about five six minutes to myself to be a pathetic bitch lying there in the sand feeling sorry for myself, and then I wiped my eyes manned up and got to my feet.

Alright.

I looked around at the open planet and the smouldering wreckage of my once beautiful ship. There was only one option here. I had to find a way out, or at least a way to survive, so maybe one day someone might find me somehow…. Yeah yeah yeah I get it is unfounded optimism and it is totally not going to happen, but let a man dream a little.

I was going to have to channel the spirit of one of my childhood idols.

Mark Watney

You know from that book about the guy who gets stuck on mars by himself for a year, the one that was made into a pretty good movie with Matt Damon.

I liked both the book and the movie though they diverge a little towards the end:you know, because hollywood.

There are a couple of problems with this plan of course…. Number one being that I am not a super smart engineer botanist. I am in fact, a fighter pilot, and a raging idiot.

I mean granted I did go to that pilot training school where they drop you out into the forest for a month and tell you good luck, that sucked shit, so it's not like I am completely helpless but still.

However, luckily for me, unlike Mark, I don’t have to worry about air, or water. Granted I have to worry about food, but in a different way. I don’t know what here would be edible to humans, so I am going to have to read carefully. THere is also the issue of clean water which Mark never had to worry about, I do.

YEah, I get it, our circumstances are very different, but I think what I want to channel most about him is his attitude, nihilistically optimistic.

I am going to survive this.

I look up at the sky watching as the planet’s rings glow dimly overhead through the blue atmospheric haze.

First thing was first, water, food and a weapon.

Fun fact about my model of ship:It is already ready for a scenario like this and has emergency packs stored under every seat of the bridge. Of course the problem there being the bridge is now on fire.

I walk over to the ocean and cut strips of my uniform to tie around my hands. I know it won’t give me much, ut it is better than nothing. Then I dunk myself in the water. It’s cold and causes me to shiver, but the air around me is warm, so I am not so worried.

I turn and head back towards the ship keeping a distance from the larger fires and heading towards the more smouldering ones. I don’t strike much luck to begin with, but eventually I manage to haul out one emergency pack from under one of the crew chairs. MY hands get a bit singed in the process, and the hot metal causes me to yowl like an angry cat and drop the case to the ground, but at least I have something.

I wait or it to cool off for a few minutes before dragging it back up the beach and sitting down to open.

Jackpot!

I have a canteen (with purifier) one of those filtration straws, to make the inland ocean my cup, and a handy little device that analyses organic material and tells you if it's edible or not.

I love living in the future

I also had emergency blankets, fire starting material, a knife, a flair gun, a radio. This was also along with a couple of other odds and ends like a compass, paracord, first aid kit, inflatable life raft, a multi-tool , monocular, and a box of nails.

The first aid kit included, bandages, antibiotic ointment, antibiotics of the general: for whatever stabs or infects you variety, painkillers, a turnakit, sewing needle and thread, staple gun: sort of, gauze anti-inflammatories, and fuck yes, a razon a toothbrush and some toothpaste.

If i ever got off this planet and back home I was to kiss whoever made this case, man woman does not mater, they are getting a kiss, cheek if they happen to be married of course, but if they really insist I um up for full mouth contact on the person who saved my life.

All jesting aside, this was good, and I first went to go get a drink of water.

HYdrations is important kiddos.

Next I had to tend to my injuries, minor burns and scrapes, bruises that I could do nothing about. Then it was time for a little shelter, which i erected with great ease between a couple of the strange tall trees, using torn up ferns to provide bedding on the inside and a canopy overhead.

I was feeling pretty badass right now, survivor style, though lets be honest, I was kind of lame since I had so much help from the magic box of wonderful mysticalities.

You know between this gox of medicine and the arc of the covenant, I would definitely pick this box first, for sure.

Took me a good day or two to get settled, and I’ll admit it wasn’t easy.

Gathering food was fine, I found some berries and fruits off of nearby plants, a couple of roots that were ok to eat, and even some of the crustaceans were palatable once I cooked them, using my fire pit and laying them out over a slab of discarded ship metal.

But there were a couple things I failed to think about.

A couple of things being

1# there is no fucking TP on this planet, also I had to dig a hole for fear of accidentally giving myself cholera or some nasty thing on accident by contaminating a water supply.

2# bed uncomfortable

3# no sunscreen

4# After a couple days your really start to smell like ass, now hold on for a minute there, I am completely in the habit of washing my ass,I promise, but I am telling you unwashed human just smells like ass, no way around it, greasy nasty sweaty stank.

The clothes don’t help obviously, and I found a way to wash the clothes by rubbing them in the sand and using some sweet smelling leaves.

OF course you know the problem with all that, right?

Naked.

While on laundry day I am completely nude out in the sun on a tropical planet. If someone were to go flying overhead, they would see more than they bargained for, and way more than they wanted as my pasty white ass flapped around in the breeze as they drove by.

A change of clothes was in order, so I spent the day, while my clothes were being washed, sitting on the sidelines using plant material, scraps and thread to pull together a rudimentary grass skirt/ loincloth of sorts

Now don’t think it didn’t cross my mind everyone.

I half expected god to descend from the sky and ask me what I was doing.

This whole covering your junk with leaves thing seems to be a theme for people named Adam

And yes that was a biblical reference, I am in fact named after the first man, so this is a fitting bonding moment for me and my namesake.

The biggest issue of course is when everything slows down, late at night as I am trying to fall asleep, and I realize that…. I may be stuck here forever.

I will grow old and die alone on this island.

And no one will ever know.

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notimefics · 4 years

Text

Meeting the Parents - H.C.

Word Count: 2.1K

Requested? Still no, I’m still waiting

Warnings: I didn’t proof read it because exam season is here and I should actually be studying instead of doing this - so it’ll probably be messy! Apart from that, not much!

A/N: Super sorry it took me this long to write this but I’m having exams so time is not on my side! Today’s piece is v fluffy! I hope you like it and if you do don’t forget to show it with a like, a comment or a reblog! Because I didn’t proof read it I might read it tomorrow and edit some stuff out!

Henry’s POV “I can’t believe we are bringing 3 cakes,” I say laughing as we get out of the car in front of my parents house and start walking towards their door.

“We’re not bringing 3 different cakes!” She complains. “We’re brining muffins, a banana bread and a chocolate cake. So it’s only one cake. Plus I’m staying there for the weekend, so if we count today we’re really only bringing one thing per day,”

“Plus the flowers,” I say with a chuckle.

“The flowers obviously don’t count!” She says, but at least now that we’re joking she doesn’t look as nervous as she did in the car.

“Obviously,” I say with a laugh. “Why would they? They’re not even edible,”

“Well... they’re pansies so technically you can eat them. They make salads look beautiful and I used them once and it was quite good!”

“And did people survive that culinary experience?” I ask with a laughter.

“Well, I’m here and alive ain’t I?”

“How long was this? Because you are looking a bit pale,” I joke as we get to their porch and I ring the door bell.

“What?!” She asks me concerned. “Are you serious? I knew should’ve... put some bronzer on or something,”

“I was joking! You look wonderful as always,” I tell her and lean in to kiss her cheek. “They’ll love you,”

“Once you explain that you’re not dating a ghost,” she says with a smirk as I pull away.

I’m still laughing when my mum opens the door.

“Henry! Love! Aw, I missed you so much, sweetheart!” She says and gives me a tight hug. “Oh, and this must be Y/N, I’m so glad you could come this weekend,”

“Oh! Thank you so much for inviting me,” Y/N says with a big smile. I knew mum and dad would love her, the only problem would be my brothers. It’s not that they wouldn’t love me, it’s just that they would tease me about her the whole weekend and tease her because of me too. But Y/N was tough, she’d get along with them.

“We come bearing gifts,” I tell my mum holding the basket higher so she could see it.

“You shouldn’t have!” My mum reprimands us quickly.

“Oh, it’s nothing! They’re not really gifts. I just had some free time on my hands” woke up at 6 this morning “and thought I’d get my hands on some recipes I’ve been dying to try,”

“Thank you so much,” My mum tells her and steps aside from the door. “Come on in, come on in! Your dad is somewhere around the corner, but go ahead and put your things in your bedroom while I put these lovely cakes in the kitchen and look for your father. Don’t forget to show Y/N around!” She says and takes the basket from my hands before walking towards the kitchen.

“Come on, you’ve heard my mum, I’ve got to show you around,” I say and hold her hand showing her the way, first to our bedroom and then around the house.

“I guess it’s a good thing she didn’t ask why you were dating a ghost,” Y/N says as we go up the stairs and I chuckle and shake my head. “She was probably just being polite though,”

“Or maybe she was afraid she’d get the species wrong. Like maybe you were a vampire or a ghoul or something along those lines,” I try and she laughs.

“Well, when she saw me I was standing in the sun so if she thinks I’m a vampire she’s a little misinformed. And aren’t ghost and ghouls kind of the same thing?”

“Well, I think ghouls are evil spirits or something,”

“Oh, do you think that from our 5 second exchange she could see how evil I truly am?”

“Yeah, the flower pot present gave it away,” I tell her and she laughs again. That laugh... It was how I knew I had to bring her here. I just figured I would never get tired of it and, more than that, I would like to be the reason of that laughter for as long as I can.

“Ok, so 1 parent down. 1 to go,” She says as we put our bags in the bedroom.

“It doesn’t help that you’re talking about them like you’re a sniper and they’re targets, just saying,”

“Come one, pick a lane mate, am I a sniper or a ghoul?” She asks and then takes a seat on the bed and looks around. “Your bedroom is nice,”

“Yeah, it was renovated a few years ago,” I tell her as I sit next to her.

“Oh noooo, I wanted to see child or teenage-Henry’s bedroom!” She whines, letting her back fall on the bed. How easy she could make me laugh also made me sure that I wanted to bring her here.

“You really don’t,” I tell her with a laughter thinking about all the posters and crap I had in my bedroom back then.

“I beg to disagree, let’s just hope your parents have some terrible pictures of you as a kid to make up for it,”

“Well, they do, but you won’t come anywhere near them if I have anything to do with them,” I tell her and lay down next to her, our legs dangling on the edge of the bed.

“What? Why do you think I came here this weekend? It was for the ammunition against you!” She says looking at me sideways, with a big goofy smile.

“And the nerves about meeting my parents?” I ask, my cheek laying on the bed to look at her. “If this is only for you to see embarrassing pictures of me as a kid, why were you nervous?”

“Isn’t it obvious? If they didn’t like me they might not want to show me the pictures! It has nothing to do with the fact that I want to impress them so that they don’t hate me when they see me in the future,”

“When they see you in the future, eh?” I ask her.

“Exactly, it has nothing to do with that,” She says and then quickly stands up. “Come on! I want to meet the rest of your family!”

I shake my head but stand up and gladly take her to meet the rest of my family.

*The next day*

I am standing in the kitchen table looking outside where Y/N passed back and forth talking on the phone. There had been an emergency at work and she had to take this call and solve problems only she could solve. She apologized about a thousand times even though it was so early no one but me would even know probably.

“So,” I hear behind me startling me. “No need to jump!” My brother says with a laugh, he had clearly done it on purpose.

“You’re up already?”

“The kids woke me up,” he explains. “But I put them in front of the tv, like the responsible dad I am, and came here to ask you why you were up already,”

“Y/N had a work call and I woke up as well,”

“Look at you being a supportive husband,” He jokes.

“I’m no one’s husband,” I tell him, shaking my head.

“Yet, eh?” He says raising his eyebrows.

“Stop it,” I chuckle.

“So is it a work call or was she so freaked out by us that she had to get some emotional support from her friends or therapist this morning?”

“Surprisingly enough it’s actually work. Though knowing you guys I should probably have a therapist on speed dial,” I laugh.

“Nonsense.” He says dismissing it. “If she has a sense of humour she’ll be alright! And she looked ok last night,”

“You barely talked to her last night, but thanks,” I tell him.

“That’s true,” He admits, “But I did see you drooling over her when she was playing with my kids,” He makes fun of me.

“I’m pretty sure you should be watching your kids not me, but again, thanks,” before he can say anything else Y/N is heading inside again.

“Hey! Good morning! I hope I didn’t wake you up,” She says to my brother.

“No, no! The kids beat you to it,” He tells her with a smile.

“They seem to beat me at everything, first it was last night winning at hide and seek, now this?” She says and my brother chuckles. I knew he’d love her.

“Did you manage to solve it?” I ask her, talking about the phone call.

“Yeah, thanks,” she says leaning on me, and because I am sitting and she is standing, her hip is against my side and at the perfect place for me to wrap my arm around her. “It was a bit messy and, but 5 phone calls later, it’s handled! Do you want to help me make breakfast because I don’t know where anything is?” She asks me.

“Well, I’m gonna go see some idiotic cartoon with my kids so I don’t have to help with breakfast too!” My brother says before leaving the kitchen. I take the opportunity of being alone with her to quickly stand up and kiss her.

“Come on,” she says pulling away with a smile. “your parents could come in any moment. You’re very tempting but...”

“They already love you can’t we just enjoy that and be comfortable?”

“No,” she says with a laugh. “I am not so sure that they like me and, if they do, I want to keep it that way!”

“You’re not sure if they like you? My mum was sharing recipes with you and you were talking with my dad for god knows how long about business! They love you! Even if they accidentally bore you to death,” That gains mea laughter.

“Don’t be daft, they were not boring me. They were super interesting actually!”

“Super interesting?” I ask her skeptically.

“Yes! Your mom’s salted caramel recipes is wild!” I tell him. “Now come on, I’m starving!” She says and takes a step back.

A few minutes later, while she is cutting some bread to toast and I am scrambling some eggs my brother gets back in the kitchen.

“Hey, H, could you do me a favour and keep and eye on the kids every now and then so I could go back to sleep for a few more minutes?”

“Of course,” I nod and my brother smiles and happily goes back to bed.

“I guess you should add a few eggs for your nephews,” She tells me and I nod.

“You know I could get used to this,” I tell her nonchalantly. “You and me making breakfast, kids in the next room,”

“Oh,” she says slightly surprised. I’m trying to act cool and not at all nervous that we’re not on the same page. “I guess it wouldn’t be the worse thing in th world,” she says cooly as well, a big smile and a blush on her cheeks giving her away. Oh, I hope I never lose the ability to make her blush.

I can’t help it, I put the bowl and the fork down, turn to her, wrap my arms around her waist and kiss her.

“Come on,” She tells me with a smile. “I want kids too, but now might not be the right moment to try to have one,” she says with a wiggle of her eyebrows. I am still laughing when my mum comes in the kitchen a few moments later.

“Good morning to you two,” She says merrily. “You’re in a good mood,” She tells me with a smile.

“I got some good news,” I tell her and, from the corner of my eyes I see Y/N blushing some more.

“Oh, if you’re making breakfast you wouldn’t mind if I spent some time with the children, would you?” She asks us barely even registering what I told her.

“Of course not!” Y/N tells her.

“Thank you, you’re a sweetheart,” My mum says before walking away. I immediately turn my attention back to Y/N, one arm around her again.

“Your mom is in the next room!” She whispers to me.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll stop with the PDA in front of my family, but it’s very hard when you tell me things like you just said,”

“Me? You said it to me!” She argues, but she’s smiling.

“Yeah, but... ok, we’ll talk about it when we’re back home yeah?” I ask and she nods. She quickly gets on her tiptoes and kisses me before getting away and back to the counter.

“You’re right, it’s very hard not to kiss you when we’re talking about this,”

#henry cavill fluff #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill one shot #henry cavill x reader

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 3 years

Text

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 211

211

Feeling Lance getting out of bed, Keith felt for his lover, Lance’s hand finding his after he’d half slapped him on the lower back

“Babe?”

“Getting a drink”

“Dun’ be too long”

“I won’t”

Coran was a bad loser. Pidge had annihilated him in Mario. Keith and Lance coming downstairs just as Coran started accusing Pidge of cheating. Five rematches later and Matt had taken the controller off Coran who started on a tangent about everything wrong with the game. To soothe the piece, Hunk suggested they do the cake now that Lance was awake to enjoy it.

Hunk had outdone himself with the cake. Keith had no words for how nicely decorated it was, nor did he have words for how big it was. As they were choosing not to know the sex of their twins, Hunk had used soft pastels to bring colour to the cake with fancy twirly things and edging that he didn’t know the name for. Comprised of three tiers, the top tier had two foot pints made from edible chocolate, coloured purple, circled by “Kogane-McClain Twins”. The second layer read congratulations. The third being just cute pastel icing. Had he not been embarrassed over his lack of baking knowledge, he probably would have asked Lance what all the decorations were properly called. The inside of the cake matched the outside. Pink, purple, blue, green, and yellow, comprising the layers with buttercream frosting between them.

Apparently their Sunshine Hunk couldn’t help himself, Lance crying on Hunk’s shoulder as he thanked him. Hunk crying on Lance’s shoulder as he assured him he knew he was grateful. Taking the top tier for themselves, they shared a plate, knowing there was no way there would be anything left once Matt and Rieva started. Having never eaten a “foot” before, Keith was impressed Hunk had managed to mould white chocolate so well. The man had skills. If he were to open a bakery, Keith’s bank balance wouldn’t be staying in the black very long.

After the cake came the presents. Their twins had to have a set a record for the most blankets and onesies. Lance kept saying they didn’t need anything else, everything making him cry... except for Shiro who would forever be the lamest big brother in history. Someone out there made custom onesies. Keith would like to meet them and strangle them. Four bloody onesies. Four bloody supernatural themed onesies that had passed Curtis’s tick of approval. Two vampire print and two werewolf print. Why did everything Shiro touched always have to come back to that? Curtis earned some point back with him by gifting them a box set of documentaries that he and Lance had watched half of when Curtis lived there.

Coran, now over his loss and perked up with sugar, gifted them herbal teas with a long lecture on which teas were best for which moods. Being tea, it all went through one ear and out the other. Allura’s gift of coffee made it clear she knew what a werewolf needed in his life, especially with the sleepless nights to come.

Krolia... Krolia’s gift was a set of tiny little blades for their twins. Keith confiscating them before his mother could get any ideas about training the twins to be hunters. That wasn’t the life they wanted for their kids. They wanted to watch them grow and explore the world, finding their own passions to chase. Lance politely thanked Krolia, but the look on his face said those blades were to disappear somewhere where their twins would never find them.

Shay had found “emo” baby blankets. Lance found them funny, as they reminded him of Keith. Keith couldn’t deny that they weren’t his favourite gift because they were kind of nifty with their black and white skull patterns and the green one had a really cool dragon pattern on it.

From Matt and Rieva, almost entirely most definitely Rieva’s idea, they were gifted a set of second hand Berenstain Bears books. She’d started secretly collecting when she’d found out Lance was pregnant. Mami gave a little help with the gift choice. Matt’s gift to them was taking Pidge home and spending a couple of days in Platt so they could have more alone time before the birth. Keith had a new favourite present.

Pidge drunkenly praising her skills over “suping up” the pram she’d gifted them. The thing now sporting wheels that “would make Lance’s dumb bronco cry in jealous”. Lance wasn’t sure about it all, but Pidge wouldn’t be dissuaded that the pram wasn’t now at its absolute best. Though no one argued with her directly about it, she was mid-rant when she threw up rather violently onto the rug. Krolia taking her to the bathroom, while Lance excused himself to throw up in the kitchen sink. Now there was two vomiting people, it was a mutual decision to start winding things up. Matt and Rieva in charge of getting a drunk Pidge home. Shay and Hunk also deciding maybe it was best to head off before Pidge came out the bathroom again. Their gremlin very loving and loud about it between throwing up and being soothed by Krolia. Coran and Allura were catching a ride back to Platt with Krolia, and with how green Shiro was looking, Keith sending them home.

Keith didn’t realise until everyone had left, that they’d been left with the mammoth task of cleaning everything up. Still, for all it’s ups and downs, it’d been a good party, though the pair of them did breathe a sigh of relief when silence descended over their home. Chores were done. Dishes washed. The rug scrubbed. Everything else outside could wait for another day as they climbed into bed together, both too sleepy for the night of promised passion. Lance still had moisturiser on his nose as kissed Keith goodnight. Keith smearing it out for him, thinking how lucky he was to have Lance... and how their friends had spent way too much money on them. He didn’t think he’d ever be used to such thoughtful gifts without waiting for a catch.

Dozing off, Lance’s spot was still empty when he woke up again. There were some nights was more out of their bed than in, but Keith couldn’t hear him in the bathroom. Trying not to panic, the werewolf climbed out from the mound of blankets on their bed. Most nights he’d find he’d kicked them off, too hot and too sweaty to sleep peacefully, like Lance did. Jogging over to the bathroom, he found it empty. Vaguely he remembered Lance saying he was his thirsty. If his fiancé’s insomnia had kicked in, then Lance was most probably sitting in the living room watching the TV on mute so Keith could get some sleep.

Sleepy and stumbly, Keith missed the bottom step of the stairs, hand flying out and denting the wall as he felt himself fall. Had the overwhelming scent of blood not been in the air, he might have paused to examine the damage he’d just done to the same spot Lance had repaired at least a dozen times since moving into his house

“Lance?! Babe?!”

Getting no answer from his fiancé, Keith’s heart started to race as his mind went to the worst possible situation. Lance could have slipped. He could be bleeding out. There was so much blood in the air, the werewolf’s stomach felt queasy.

Checking the rooms along the way, Kosmo had made himself at home in Matt’s and Rieva’s room, an interesting fact, though useless because Lance was on his mind. Reaching Lance’s office, the door was slightly open, the space illuminated by his computer screen. Flicking the light on, Lance hissed at him. Keith’s eyes widened in shock at the sight in front of him. Lance covered in blood. His fiancé hadn’t been kidding about being thirsty. Blood ran down his chin, and from his hands down his arms, not caring about how much of a mess he’d made feeding on blood bags he’d torn apart rather popping the cap on them. A quick count came to 8 bags scattered around Lance’s feet.

Watching Lance throw down the blood bag he’d just finished, the vampire tore into the next one, literally. His hands trying to push as much blood from the ripped bag down his throat as he could

“Babe? Babe, you feeling okay?”

Raising his head, Lance’s eyes were blank. That warm spark that always seemed to sparkly that just little bit bright for him was dull

“Babe?”

This couldn’t be good. Lance said he was thirsty. Not that he hadn’t fed in a year and was now making up for it. Keith felt revolted, and guilty for being revolted. His ego shocked into shutting up as they stared

“Baby, I think you’ve had enough blood. Here, let’s go back to bed? How does that sound?”

Lance didn’t reply. Keith forcing himself to slowly edge towards Lance. This was his Lance. His Lance wouldn’t savage him as he’d done with the blood bags. Nope. No. He was totally safe. Yep. Just a normal day in a vampire pregnancy. Nothing to see here

“Babe, come on, you’ve had enough for now”

Lance threw away the bag he’d drained, Keith using his speed to grab the bag he’d been going for out of reach. Watching the bag, Lance bared his bloodied fangs

“Baby, please. I know you’re in there. It’s me. It’s Keith. Come on, babe. Don’t let your ego push you aside”

Oh... oh. He was crying now. Keith didn’t know when that started. Had Lance not eating this much contributed to him feeling so ill? Was this how much blood a pregnant vampire needed in their final weeks of pregnancy? Placing the bag on the desk, Keith shifted the bags on the floor away with his foot, making it to crouching in front of Lance safely.

With shaking hands the werewolf reached out. His left hand going to Lance’s forehead as his right hand cupped his fiancé’s face. Blinking at him, Keith’s touch seemed to “wake” his lover. Warmth and confusion filling Lance’s eyes

“K-Keith?”

Looking down at his bloodied front, Lance’s gaze flicked back up, eyes welling with tears

“Wha... what happened?”

“You got a bit thirsty”

“But... h-how? The... party...?”

“The party ended hours ago, baby. You’re okay. You didn’t hurt anyone”

“I... I don’t remember”

The pain in Lance’s eyes was crushing

“Pidge started throwing up. Matt and Rieva took her home. Are you okay? You don’t feel warm”

“I don’t feel very good...”

“Okay. That’s okay. Do you think you can stand up?”

Lance went to look down his chest again, Keith holding his head up so he forced to look him in the eye

“You’re okay. It’s a just a bit of blood”

“I don’t remember”

“That’s okay. We were both exhausted when we went to bed. Just focus on me, baby. You can do that right?”

“I always focus on you”

Moving a stray lock of hair back, Keith gave Lance the best smile he could manage around his internal freak out

“Yeah, you do. You’re so good to me, babe. Let’s get you cleaned up and back into bed”

Lance nuzzled into his palm

“I’m sleepy”

Normally that much blood would turn Lance into an ego driven wanker

“I bet you are. You had a huge day and our friends are idiots. Let’s wash up, then we’ll snuggle”

Lance closed his eyes, sniffing sadly

“I’m sorry... I’m sorry I don’t remember coming down here...”

“That’s okay, baby. That’s okay. You’re okay”

Putting Lance to bed, Keith couldn’t sleep. Lance passed right out, but Keith was worried. Once the scent of blood had finally been cleaned away, a strange scent cling to Lance that left him feeling on edge. He didn’t like. The scent had him all muddled up inside, almost as if it’d given him a dose of adrenaline and he simply couldn’t sit still. Leaving his fiancé sleeping, Keith first headed to the bathroom to fetch Lance’s bloodied shirt and underwear, before heading downstairs. The one night he could have done with someone else there to tell him what to do, their house stood uselessly empty. Cleaning. That was about all he could do.

Crying as he scrubbed at the blood split in Lance’s office, he wondered how the heck he was supposed to deal with this. Lance had climbed into bed without prompting, even skipping getting in one last apology before zonking out. His fiancé needed his sleep, but should he have been waking him and taking him to Coran? Was he overreacting? It wasn’t like Lance had had a bleed, he’d checked when he’d towelled him down. Now that he was back to being himself, he’d been affectionate... but he couldn’t get the image of all that blood out of his head.

The torn bags thrown in the trash with Lance’s clothes, and the clothes from cleaning, the bin then dragged out to the road at Lance’s gateway for collection. Coming back to the house, Keith could hear Lance snoring, yet found himself unable to head upstairs with so much in his head. He needed coffee... and he really needed a fucking hug... Coffee at least was home and never failed at settling him, if he didn’t think about the times it had.

Settling himself on the edge of the sofa, Keith didn’t remember grabbing his phone when he’d left Lance sleeping. Kosmo coming quietly padding into the room, dropping himself to sit beside Keith’s legs with a soft whine

“I know. I’m worried about him too. Should I call Coran? Or am I thinking about this too much?”

He was so damn good at that. At his mind jumping to the worst case scenario. He’d always hate that about himself. He needed Shiro. They’d talked a little over lunch, but right now, Shiro was the only one he felt would understand his stupid fears. He loved Garrison, but the house felt so isolated that he felt truly alone. If the world outside had been destroyed, he’d be the last to know. God. He wanted his brother.

Resting his elbows on his knees, his right palm dug into his right eye as he held his phone with his left. The ringing continuing so long that he thought it’d ring out. It must have been the last ring when the call finally connected, Shiro’s voice groggy

“Keith?”

A fresh wave of tears hit. He’d woken his brother up...

“I’m sorry...”

In the background was the rustling of sheets, he picked up on the sound of the switch on Shiro’s lamp flicking on

“Hey, kiddo. What’s going on?”

What wasn’t going on...

“Keith? Hey... What happened? Is it Lance?”

“Shiro... I don’t know what to do”

Kosmo whined softly at his distress. Keith’s right hand moving to hug his best boy close

“I’m sure it’ll be okay. What happened?”

“I... I walked on him feeding... and there was so much blood. He was covered in blood. He wasn’t even... even aware of it. He didn’t remember coming down. I don’t know if he even remembers the party... I put him back to bed, but I don’t know what to do...”

In the background Curtis asked it was Keith, Shiro covering the bottom of his phone as he replied it was. Now he’d gone and disturbed Curtis too

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called...”

“Hey, no. No. You’re my little brother. I want you to rely on me. When you say you walked in on Lance, was he acting differently?”

“It was like he wasn’t even there. No. It was like I wasn’t there... He was so hungry...”

“Did he hurt you?”

“No. The moment he realised I was there he started panicking because he was covered in blood”

“How much blood are we talking about?”

“I threw out 10 bags... well, the remains of 10 bags. He tore into them as if he hadn’t eaten for ages”

In the background he heard Curtis asking for him to put Keith on speaker phone. He wanted to talk to his brother, not so much Curtis

“Hey, Keith. Does Lance have any other symptoms? Any bleeding? Changes in temperature?”

“No. No, I checked...”

“Okay. That’s a really good sign. Let him sleep for now. If his temperature drops or if he develops a fever, then call Coran”

Right. Curtis had originally been Lance’s babysitter. He didn’t doubt Curtis was lying to soothe him, but the curse would have handy right now

“Okay”

“Good. I know you’re worried about him, but he’s honestly better when you’re with him. I’ll let you get back to talking to Shiro, you don’t need me eavesdropping”

Keith instantly felt bad all over again. Shiro the one to the leave the bedroom, instead of Curtis as he told him to go back to sleep. A few moments passed before Keith heard the sounds of Shiro sitting on the sofa

“Sorry, kiddo. You know how much he likes Lance”

“I’m the one who’s sorry... I woke you up”

“Keith, you’re my brother. I’m glad I can here for you. What are you thinking?”

“That I could really use a hug right now”

“Oh, kiddo. This is Lance, he’ll be okay”

“But what if he’s not? He hasn’t been feeling well”

“I’m sure if it was serious he would have gone to Coran...”

“This him, he doesn’t want a fuss...”

Lance was so stupidly pigheaded about his desires not to be fussed over. He’d been so strong... now he was weakened

“Stop letting your head get the better of you”

“I didn’t say anything”

“I know you, kiddo. If he’s not better by the morning, bring him to Garrison. I know you’re going to worry yourself sick, but being there is the best thing you can do for him and your twins”

“Is... am I enough?”

“Keith, you’ll always be enough. He adores you. I might not have approved to begin with, but Lance has proven time and time again that he loves you. I know it’s tough, kiddo, but soon you’ll be father to your twins. You and Lance are going to get through this”

“God, I hope so...”

“You will. Now, get some rest. Lance is going to worry about you if look shitty in the morning”

“Lance always worries”

“Maybe we should get him a trophy for that?”

Keith gave a wet snort. If they were to do that, they’d constantly be trading the damn thing back and forth..

“Let’s not. Shiro... I’m worried for him”

“I know, kiddo. But this is Lance. He’s stronger than he looks. If he’s not better by morning, follow your gut instincts”

“I don’t know what my instincts are saying”

“They’re saying you’ll make the right call. Try to get some sleep”

“Yeah. I will... thanks, Shiro”

“Anytime, kiddo. Let me know it goes?”

“Yeah. I will”

Ending his call with Shiro, Keith tossed his phone to the other end of the sofa. Kosmo patiently sitting, still hugged close

“What do you think I should do?”

Trying to lick at his face, Kosmo wanted pats, not to be giving out life advice

“Yeah. I guess I’ll try get some sleep. The last two days have been a lot”

Training with Lotor. His talk with his mother. Seeing his father again. His talk with Lance. The party. Lance covered in blood. Yeah. He really should go to bed. If anything happened, he’d be there for Lance... hopefully making the right call in waiting until the morning.

#once bitten twice stupid #oncebittentwicestupid #ashratherose

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therealjammy · 3 years

Text

The End of the Line

AN: I’m just adding to the pain train. Don’t mind me. This is also an excuse to work out the hellish week I’ve had. Also, please forgive the mistakes, I stayed up way too late trying to finish this and edited all 4,100-something words in half an hour.

Heavy angst ahead. I’m so sorry

1. Excerpt from Nazim Hikmet’s poem “Before time runs out, my rose...”

Read it on Ao3, too: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27555409

------------

There comes a point in time when one realizes their own weight. It hits suddenly, like an unexpected wave when one is swimming in the middle of the ocean, and they realize the series of events leading to the wave are all in a perfect line. But how to stay afloat, wonders the swimmer, when your life preserver might go down with you? When you’re tired of fighting against the waves?

You’ve been floating for ages, the seas calm, but lately the waves have become choppy, and what were once clear skies are now cloud-filled. And the fog… That fog is thick and it’ll just keep getting thicker, until you can’t even see what’s in front of you. And if there is a lighthouse—which you’re certain there is, on some days—the light comes in and out of focus, a candle getting brighter and then dimmer in a breeze. The light, of course, being Jamie. Always Jamie. Your lighthouse. Your anchor. Your poor, burdened anchor, who looks as tired as you feel.

The guilt hits you when she comes home, opening the door with a long sigh, tossing her purse onto the couch. You notice the dark half-moons underneath her eyes, the result of staying up with you in the middle of the night when you’d woken from a night terror. If you close your eyes, you can still see the monochrome of it, some beautiful, long-haired woman hovering over you, face screwed up in effort, a strong, damp hand clamped over your mouth and nose.

“How’s it goin’, Poppins?” Jamie asks.

Papers are spread on the round kitchen table, accompanied by accounting books and expenses receipts. You remember, suddenly, you’d said you’d have the work done by the time Jamie got home. There’s more than half still to do, and a long pencil line disrupts the muted colors in the accounting book. You shake your head to clear the fog. “It’s uh… I’m sorry. It’s not done. I…”

“‘S all right. Shit takes time, doesn’t it?”

“Not this much.”

“There’s always tomorrow.” Her hand settles on your shoulder, warm from the early autumn sun she’d walked in. “Take a break. Help me decide what to do for dinner. My head’s empty.”

You hum. Lean your head against her forearm. Her skin is warm underneath your cheek. She smells like lilies and soil and berry hand soap. “Okay,” you murmur.

There’s a drawer in the kitchen, just below the knife holder, that bears an abysmal amount of takeout menus. Some are from tiny hole-in-the-wall restaurants that are no longer open that neither of you felt like tossing out. Others are from restaurants you frequent. Appetite being what it is, nothing calls loud enough for you to hear, so you pull one at random and hand it over.

“Right,” says Jamie, giving it a glance. “Chinese it is.”

You eat dinner on the parlor floor, small boxes of fried rice and noodles and various flavors of chicken spread between you, chopsticks clicking to each other. Jamie is a pro with them now. You’d had to teach her how to use them. It was at a sushi restaurant in San Francisco, a name you can’t remember, but you recall the distinctly Asian décor and Jamie’s sighs of frustration.

“I’m too fuckin’ white for this, Poppins,” she said. “Better off with a fork.”

“You’re holding it wrong,” you said, smiling. You took the top stick from her hand and set it aside, allowing her to focus only on the bottom one. “Hold this one like a pencil. Mm-hmm.” You picked up the other one. “Keep it like that. Now, let this one rest on top of those two fingers, and use your index finger to pinch it to the other one.” She did. “Just like that.” You helped her snag a salmon roll between them, but she did the work of bringing it to her mouth.

You can’t remember when it’d finally clicked for her. Only that it had.

Jamie cracks open the fortune cookies. Passes one to you.

“If it’s a bad one,” she says, “I’m burnin’ it.” She takes a bite of the cookie first. You’d told her, once again in California, that it would bring bad luck if she didn’t. Jamie reads, “Let your heart give away its biggest secret today.” She sighs. “Well shit.”

Yours says, “A very bright future is ahead of you.” You laugh. Not with amusement. Just at the irony. You flick the small piece of paper away into the shadows. It lands with a soft click. You ask softly, “Is yours wrong, too?”

“No,” Jamie says. “It’s bang on.” A mask of nervousness descends upon her face, but you notice the nuances of excitement, too. “I was thinkin’… We could get the paperwork this week. Fill it out, have someone witness the signing… I mean, it’ll take a bit for the official certificate to come in, but…” She trails off, both giddiness and nervousness dancing on her features and in her gestures.

“We’ll celebrate,” she continues, hands clasping yours. “Splurge on a fancy bottle of wine. Somethin’ vintage.”

You like her dreams. They’re big and grand, a painting waiting to be seen in a gallery.

“And we’ll call Owen. He’ll shout on the other end of the line, I’m sure.”

The image pulls a smile from your lips. “It’s wonderful.” You lean to kiss her. The Lady, blissfully, is silent, tucked into some corner or other, claws retracted, dozing. You feel Jamie’s touch on your face. The soft press of her mouth against yours. Had this been earlier, much earlier, when you were more wholly yourself, you would’ve pulled her into you until you were both sprawled on the rug and made love there, boxes be damned, until, with much effort, you rose on unsteady legs to clean up and stumble to the bedroom, where it might continue. But you are fading like ink in water, and there is no pull of desire.

“Oi,” Jamie whispers, holding your face between gentle hands, “what’s the face?”

You shake your head. “I… can’t give you what you want.”

“You think it matters?”

“It should.”

“I’ll tell you a secret, Poppins,” she says. “Sex is like dessert. Somethin’ you want and can have. Or choose not to have. There’s a reason it’s had last.” A tear falls warmly onto your cheek. She catches it with the pad of her thumb, wiping it smoothly away. “It’s the main course that’s most important.” She kisses your forehead. “Sweets come in other forms.”

Like gestures. Like little kisses she gives you in passing, or a touch that lingers.

Sleep comes easier that night, with her reminder. With her soft warmth and flannel shirt that’s gone soft from the many washes it’s had. The only dream is a string of bubbles rising to a freshly disturbed surface, obscuring two figures standing on a shore you can’t see. Like they’re floating.

—

You go into work less and less. You do what you can from home: filling out orders in the book, writing in the specific details, filing paperwork and doing accounting. It is an altogether different weight, sometimes overwhelming. And the less you go into work, the more you find yourself getting lost in your own head, thinking of water and pale hands and feeling a simmering impatience. The drifting happens in the oddest of moments—in the middle of discussing an arrangement, or going over the different types of flowers that would suit the mood for an engagement party, or in the middle of the most mundane things. Cleaning the house. Preparing an edible dinner. Plucking the drain in the bath.

No, you think, but the thought dissolves. You feel her stirring. Waking again to find herself still trapped. You barely hear the front door open, the thunk of Jamie’s purse as it lands on the loveseat, the clop, clop of her boots, the closing of your bedroom door so she can change into house clothes.

The Lady’s reflection appears in the faucet.

You stare at each other.

Sounds from the bedroom float to your ear. The squeaking of the bedframe as Jamie’s weight settles on it. A few seconds of silence followed by a sigh, and another, heavier one.

Once, moons ago now, on a day you had felt the Lady’s weight more prominently than you had since leaving Bly, Jamie came home while you worked on the books, diligently adding up the expenses by hand with paper and pencil. Your mind drifted until there was a strange, silent bubble surrounding you. You were barely aware of the bedroom door closing, of the sounds that happened shortly afterwards. At least until telling sighs reached your ears and told you she was not, in fact, changing out of her work clothes.

The bubble gone, you sat and listened, everything sharp, a familiar knot tying itself in the pit of your stomach. It was quiet, what she was doing, but not quiet enough; you stood just as you heard her breathing pause.

You opened the bedroom door. She was a silhouette in the late evening light, trembling on the heels of a first, intense orgasm, gasping from both it and surprise. It took you three strides to stand over her.

“Dani,” Jamie breathed, “I’m sorry—”

You cut her off with a kiss. The interruption was a pleasant surprise, and the mood that filled you was one you were glad for. You felt like yourself, in moments like these; you could just be Dani and Jamie, not Dani with the Lady crawling under your skin and pulling you back into the fog.

She wrapped you in her arms, even as you worked her already unbuttoned jeans from her hips, even when you slid down to follow your hands with your mouth, keeping the pace slow so as not to overwhelm her. Still, she didn’t last long, already taut from the wake of the first, your name tumbling from her mouth in an ecstasy-filled whisper, the sounds thereafter muted inside her hand. You cursed the thin walls of the apartment and people’s irritating nosiness.

“Christ,” Jamie sighed when you came back up to kiss her.

“Hmm,” you said, smiling a little now. “Thank you for the interruption.”

“Workin’ out some frustrations?”

“You could say that.” You brushed a few strands of hair away from her eyes. “Our business isn’t cheap.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.” She kissed you softly, cupped your face tenderly between her hands. “Want anything?” she murmured.

“Just you,” you said, helping her fumble with the button on your jeans so she could slip her hand between its sides.

You do not go to her.

You hear her come, a string of stilted curses and harsh, stuttering breaths, but it is far away, on some shore you cannot reach. There is only the empty tub and the silver faucet, in whose face is the Lady. All stringy, wet hair and pristine white dress. Faceless.

Jamie will wash her hands at the kitchen sink. Pat her damp face and neck dry with the dish towel from the stove. Attempt to make dinner, thinking you’re still freshening up, only coming in when she realizes you’re taking an awfully long time, or when she needs your rescue.

However much you want to, you find you cannot move. Even though you’re cold. You stay as if glued to the spot, knees pulled against your chest, chin resting on them, staring at the woman who is not you.

If I reach out, you wonder, tilting your head to the side, will I feel you? Will you feel like metal or will you feel like mud…?

“Dani?”

You gasp. Your hand falls back to your knee.

“Hey.” She wraps a fresh towel around your shoulders. “Been here a while, huh?”

The Lady isn’t in the silver face. You see you, damp hair falling around your shoulders, expression that of someone washing up on shore and surprised to find they haven’t drowned. “A little while,” you say. “Is dinner…?”

“I’ve got it started, at least. Haven’t had pasta primavera in a bit.”

“Last time you made it, it was a wreck.”

Jamie smiles. “It was, wasn’t it?” She adjusts the towel, dabs at a few lingering water spots on your cheek. “Let’s get you outta here, cold girl.”

Warm dinner smells fill the apartment. Bell peppers and squash and zucchini, all tossed in a skillet with bowtie pasta. Wine accompanies the dish, a red you’d gotten from Owen when you’d gone to Paris to announce your engagement. Jamie lights a plain white candle and sets it in the middle of the table.

“Thank you,” you tell her. “It’s good.”

“Didn’t set off the smoke alarm this time,” Jamie says. “It’s an improvement.”

Despite how good it is, you can only stand a few bites and a few sips of wine. You pass your plate to Jamie, who clears it, bringing back a memory of the warm kitchen at Bly, Hannah and Owen at the sink, Jamie picking over what Flora and Miles left on their plates.

“Our human Hoover strikes again,” Hannah said. “Less work for us.”

“Not just good at gardenin’,” Jamie said. “I’m always happy to make less work for you.”

Later, you dry the dishes, keeping your back to the sink, averting your eyes from the plates’ shiny faces.

“I uh…” Jamie begins after a minute. “I could use your help with somethin’ tomorrow, if you’re up for it.”

“Hmm?”

“Just an arrangement. I need your expert eyes.”

The phrase brings a faint smile to your lips. Your eyes haven’t felt expert for a while. And what joy there was in assisting with arrangements feels almost forced. The emotion itself is muted, along with everything else. Yet you ask, “What flowers?”

“Roses. Simple enough.”

Jamie brings home Starbucks in the morning. Blonde roasts, with cream and sugar. Old habits, she says, as she hands your cup over. You think of the greenhouse after your first kiss. The warmth of the autumn sunlight filtering through the windows.

“You ready?” Jamie says.

“Yeah.”

The walk to The Leafling is only a few blocks. There’s a light breeze. It rustles the leaves on the oak trees, whispering through the branches. The sunlight is warm. The weather is a perfect mix of summer and autumn, but you think it isn’t you who is wholly absorbing it. The tempest of the Lady seems soothed by it, and when you walk by the market displaying the morning’s freshly picked apples, you see a field of green and a girl in a white dress sauntering after a man in clothes long out of fashion. The image disappears as soon as it had come, as brief as the scent of apples.

The shop opens at nine. There’s a little over an hour until then. Jamie uses it to go over the arrangement, wondering which flowers should be used to compliment the roses, whose color is as crimson as blood. She says the woman whom it’s for doesn’t want a stereotypical banquet of roses—stereotypical, in this case, meaning roses paired with baby’s breath, despite the combination being a classic—and Jamie rolls her eyes as she says it. “But in America, the customer’s always right,” she continues, “as much of a pain in my arse as it is.”

“Well…” You think for a moment. Baby’s breath is white. White and crimson are aesthetically pleasing when paired together. “What kind of tone does she want to set?”

“Somethin’ original. I know,” Jamie says, throwing up her hands at your puzzled look, “not very helpful. Please don’t shoot the messenger.”

You think for a minute. “We could try something smaller and… white. Daisies, maybe.”

Jamie nods. “All right.”

You hold the roses in a plastic sheet, telling Jamie where to place the daises so it’ll look the best. Two between the roses in front, and two between the three roses in the back. She’s careful not to touch either flower’s petals. She steps back to admire it from afar. This close to you, the roses are overly sweet, the smell cloying, reminding you of clothes stashed away, of how the petals were once used to mask the scent of death. Jamie’s mouth moves in the shape of Y’know, I think that is the least stereotypical thing we’ve made. Her smile is small, but proud and bright. You see it. All you can think of is a deathbed.

“You all right?” Jamie says. “Does it look wrong?”

You shake your head no.

Gently, she takes the banquet from you, setting the bunch carefully in an empty glass vase. “What’re you thinkin’, Dani?” she asks.

The words are soft when they leave you. “They smell like death.”

The mask of worry becomes darker on Jamie’s features, and you wonder, after you’ve told her, if she’ll think every flower in the shop reminds you of death. You hate the feeling coursing through your chest—worry that she won’t want you here, in the place you’d dreamed and built together, that she’ll want to hide the flowers for the sake of keeping you comfortable.

“That’s a new one,” she says quietly, and you nod in agreement. She sighs, gives the arrangement a quick once-over. “We can go with the daisies, then. It looks pretty. Romance and new beginnings.”

The banquet that had been the two of you once gets picked up later that morning by a man in his mid-thirties planning on proposing to his girlfriend. He’d looked happy, you think, sinking into darker thoughts, love making him punch-drunk. Their future stretched like a highway before them, time not a question on their minds but something infinite.

—

On a Sunday, when The Leafling is closed, you accompany Jamie to pick up the paperwork. Nervousness travels between you like electrodes. You feel it on the walk to the county clerk’s office (?), and inside it. You’re joined by other couples, all with the same goal in mind. It all feels odd. Not in a bad way, but in a surreal way. Time, it seems, has been as kind as it can, letting you get this far. But the cruelty lies in the unknown, in that dark space that asks, How much longer?

Your handwriting is not what it used to be. Neat cursive has turned into half-legible chicken scratch; next to Jamie’s curling print, it embarrasses you. Such a silly thing turns your cheeks into burning coals.

“Oi,” Jamie whispers, sensing as she always does, taking your hand in hers. “Least it’s not Russian cursive, yeah? Completely illegible.”

It gets a laugh. A soft one, but a laugh nonetheless.

“There we are,” Jamie says.

You get home and Jamie pulls a bottle of white wine from the liquor cabinet. A Gewürztraminer. The bottle is green, the label white.

“Where’d you get that one?” you ask.

Jamie pauses in pouring the first glass. “Napa Valley.”

“When…?”

“Three years ago.” She turns to the fridge and plucks a postcard down. Classic lettering, with NAPA VALLEY spread across the bottom. The picture is of acres of grapevines, with a large white building in the background.

“Livin’ here wouldn’t be so bad, would it?” Jamie said. A pale arm hung out the rented Land Rover’s window, whose view was of the rolling hills and the sharp bunches of grapevines. “We could get pricey wine whenever we wanted.”

“And wine drunk every night,” you said, leaning to kiss her cheek.

“Sure, Poppins, if you want a hellish hangover the next day.”

“God,” you say, this time covering your face with both your hands. “Ninety-seven. I…” The water’s coming in fast. Too fast.

Hands find your shoulders. “Dani,” Jamie says, her tone serious but soft, “it’s all right. It’s okay to forget things. Memory’s fallible.”

Fallible. It is. And everything else, too, if one wanted to get philosophical about it.

“Come on,” she says, leading you to the couch. “Let’s give the religious nuts a reason to complain further about us disturbin’ the Sabbath with our agenda.”

Jamie fetches a book from the small shelf in the room and carries her wineglass over. She propels you down until your head is lying in her lap, one hand tracing lines over the soft hair just above your ear. Exhaustion pulls at you. Your eyes drift closed as she flips through pages. Darkness fills them when she reads from a page.

Before time runs out, my rose,

before Paris is burned and destroyed,

before time runs out, my rose,

and my heart is still on its branch,

in this night of May on the quay we must sit

on the red barrels in front of the warehouses.

The canal across fades into darkness.

A barge is passing,

my rose, let’s say hello,

let’s say hello to the barge with the yellow cabin.

Is she on her way to Belgium or to Holland?

In the cabin door a woman with a white apron

is smiling sweetly.

Before time runs out, my rose,

before Paris is burned down and destroyed,

before the time runs out, my rose…

People of Paris, people of Paris,

You mustn’t let Paris be burned and destroyed…1

—

The call comes on a Tuesday. Jamie, detaching herself from the last of the dishes that need drying, turns business-like, posture stiffer, voice more professional.

“Clayton residence,” she says.

“Flora residence,” Flora said, attempting to sound adult but failing. “Hello?”

A pause.

“Speaking.”

Another.

“Oh.” Her tone is lighter. “Thank you. Thank you very much.”

“What was it?” you say once she’s hung up.

There’s a large smile on Jamie’s face. “It’s the certificate.”

You smile, too, as much as you can. She captures it between her hands, pressing her forehead to yours. She says, “I’ll go. You stay. Find us something to celebrate with.”

“Oh…” You trail off. There’s plenty of wine in the liquor cabinet. And candles on a little iron shelf in the bathroom. An idea forms. “Sure you can trust me with that?” you ask.

“Definitely.”

She changes into something more appropriate while you light the candles. Pauses next to you to tell you she’ll be back. Kisses your hair. Says, “Keep those burnin’, yeah? And make room for two.”

Time slows while she’s gone. And despite the better day, the fog rolls in, filling your head while the tub fills with water, until you’re leaning, and the Lady is your shadow. You are dead to the world until Jamie, home again, shakes you away. The tub has overflown. Water pools on the tile, travelling over it and to the wood of the hallway. You didn’t realize, you say apologetically, to which she says water’s easy to clean up.

You ask if she sees her.

She says, “I only see you.”

You nearly collapse into the steadying arm she holds against your back. “I’m so tired, Jamie,” you tell her. And you are. You’ve been treading water too long. There is no anchor, except the one you cannot cling to anymore. No lighthouse. No life preserver. Jamie declines your words, firmly, fighting back tears. Shaking her head as if the very action will change the course of everything.

“No one’s going anywhere.”

But I’m sinking, you want to say. I’ve been sinking since I invited her in. I’ve been clinging to everything I could, and it still isn’t enough. You shake your head, too. “What if I’m here,” you whisper, “sitting next to you… but I’m just really her?”

“One day at a time,” Jamie answers. The age-old mantra.

—

There comes a point when one realizes their own weight. It isn’t so sudden anymore. You’ve become used to it. One day at a time. Treading water, still. Looking for the lighthouse. For the life preserver, finding her living, too, in shadows she won’t talk about. And still you go to her. You wrap your arms around her and rest your chin on her shoulder. Her familiar smell fills your nose. You want to confess everything into the soft skin of her neck, adding more to what you’d told her the night she’d come home announcing your union was civil, but it would be too much, right now. Too much weight for your Atlas to bear. You hold her as tightly as you dare, and you whisper, “I love you.”

She squeezes your hand. I know, it says. I always have.

You fall asleep with her beside you, your arm thrown over her, lightly gripping her favorite flannel shirt.

The Lady, awake again, brings you claws and teeth.

A dream of water. Jamie standing over it. An arm, clearly yours, breaking the surface and grabbing her, pulling her to the depths.

You wake with your hand reaching out for her neck.

You relax it. Knowing, now, it was high time to let the life preserver go.

#the haunting of bly manor #dani x jamie #now i'm gonna really go to bed but i just wanted to post this here for the tumblr crowd #it's on my ao3 too

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the-awkward-outlaw · 4 years

Note

Hey there! Can you write Arthur teaching reader how to hunt, shoot a gun like he taught Charlotte? ( I ship them too btw.) First encounter, they obvious meet. Second encounter, reader's excitement takes the best of her after shooting a bottle that she and Arthur accidentally kiss and she quickly apologizes and feels embarrassed that she runs back inside. The third encounter, they both fall in love, can't stop thinking about each other and he asks her to be gf when paying her a visit again.

Ah, I adore Charlotte! I also love writing a scenario very similar to that in which a happy ending is suggested since TB ain’t a thing here!

Read all my works on AO3 here!

Hungry. So hungry. Of course, this has become the standard for you. For the past few days, you’ve been nothing but hungry. You’re at the cabin near Cattail Pond, one of the few cabins your brother could find that was just far enough from a town he couldn’t be found and that wasn’t already occupied. He’s dead now though, leaving you in the mess he created.

You and your brother used to live in San Francisco and had a comfortable life as your parents left enough money for you both before they died. Your brother, the fool that he was, ended up spending almost all both your and his money gambling or on useless ventures. Then he borrowed money, built up an impressive debt, and had no way to pay it back. You had a job making clothes in a factory and he had one working as a fisherman, but they didn’t make enough money to pay off his debts. Eventually he grabbed you and the two of you fled, but the debts seemed to follow him no matter where he went. That was why he picked this cabin: it’s secluded enough from a town that he’d be harder to find.

Things were going okay for the first couple of weeks, but food was running low and neither of you knew the first thing about hunting. Picking herbs was easy enough as there was an abundance in the surrounding areas, but you both needed meat. Your brother tried using his one firearm, an old pistol, to hunt but he wasn’t good. You didn’t even know how to shoot a gun, so you weren’t any help either.

Things took another bad turn when your one horse, the one who brought you both here in a small wagon, got mauled by a grizzly bear. Life became even harder as now neither of you could travel to Valentine to buy goods as it was a solid day’s walk on foot. You didn’t have the money either to go to Valentine and buy another horse as your brother spent a good amount of the little you had on a poker game. You’d screamed and cried at him when you found out, furious that he was still doing the things that wrecked both your lives.

Then one day, your brother stopped being your burden, though you felt horrible for seeing him that way. He’d been trying to hunt a ram from the nearby pond, but he knew so little about guns that when he was fumbling with his pistol, he’d accidentally shot himself in the head. You found him a few hours later and buried him. It was a relief to no longer be tethered to him but his damage was too great to end at his death. His debts now settled on your shoulders, preventing you from returning to your home.

That’s why you’re still here at this tiny cabin with almost nothing to eat except a few herbs, wild vegetables and roots. You want to learn how to use your brother’s gun, but you’re scared you’ll make his mistake and shoot yourself. Still, the need for food is starting to push out and you’re becoming more tempted to at least try.

You’re sitting on the porch of your cabin as the sun’s getting lower in the sky. You’ve never felt so desperate and alone. Not only are you days from starving, you haven’t had contact with another person since your brother died. What you wouldn’t give to see someone else’s face, say something as simple as hello.

Your stomach rumbles again, reminding you of its need. Your storage of edible plants is getting low; you’ll need to go gathering again. This has its own challenges, as you aren’t entirely sure what’s around that’s safe to eat. You’ve only picked the food you recognize, like the wild carrots, oregano, mint and raspberries. You go up to the trail and head over to the pond, looking for what food you can find.

Your presence over the past few weeks has another set back: most of the wild plants you can pick haven’t been able to regrow quickly enough to sustain you and you’re too nervous to venture into new places to look. This is obviously bear territory and you can’t be sure if there’s other predators, such as wolves or cougars. The pond itself can be frightening enough since that’s where your horse was mauled.

As the pond comes into view, you curse your brother for the fourth time today. He was a fisherman in the city, but being the idiot he was, he neglected to grab his fishing gear when he’d grabbed you and fled. You knew how to fish, you could easily have gotten meat from this pond. You’ve seen the fish basking in the shallows, and some are a decent size. Yet you’ve no way to get them.

You bend down on the shore of the pond, pulling a tiny carrot from the ground. It’s the last one in this area, another blow. You see purple flowers around that seem to be attached to some kind of root, but you’ve no idea if they’re safe to eat or not. You go a little further away from the pond, looking for anything to eat.

You sit down on a rock after a short while, feeling desperate and hungry. Perhaps it’s time for you to take that day’s walk to Valentine, get a job there. You know the only jobs they offer women are saloon girls or hotel workers. Still, you’d be able to at least get a decent meal. The only thing stopping you is where you’ll shelter yourself when not working. It’ll take some time to afford a horse, but maybe sleeping on the street would be the best option until you could afford one. However, being in a town has its risks: the debt collectors could very well find you there. That was why your brother chose this cabin, after all.

Just as you’re contemplating the weight of your options, you hear footsteps. You turn and see a man, standing not too far away. He has a bow and arrow in his hand, the arrow pointed at the ground.

“Hello, ma’am,” he says.

You shoot up to your feet. You can’t tell if he’s real or not. Maybe you’re hallucinating him, your hunger making you go crazy, but you don’t care. You’re so relieved to see another person finally.

“Sir!” you say.

He tilts his head a bit. It’s then you realize you’re filthy, as you haven’t had the energy to heat enough water to bathe in during the last couple of days.

“You a’right?” he asks.

You smile, but it falters. “Well… since you ask, no not really.” You look away, feeling a sudden urge to cry. You’ve never felt so weak and pathetic and he’s a tall, broad man. Guessing from his stance, he has some experience hunting. You feel even more foolish in the realization that you’ve no business living in the wilderness like this when you don’t know the first thing about keeping yourself alive.

“You mind me askin’ what happened to ya?” he asks as a tear slides down your cheek.

You start wringing your hands and tell him a brief version of your story, about your damn brother who started your problems.

“We didn’t know the first thing about hunting when he decided to live here,” you say. “He tried using his gun to hunt and ended up shooting himself. I buried him about a week ago.”

“Ah, I’m real sorry, ma’am,” the man says.

You nod in thanks. You want nothing more than to ask him for his help but you’re not sure how to do it. You’ve already noticed how handsome he is and it was obvious when you first saw him he was tracking something. You’ve already delayed him enough, he’s probably lost the trail. You sit down on the rock again, not wanting to keep him further.

He takes a small step closer to you. “Ma’am, is there anywhere I could take you? A train maybe?”

“No, I… I can’t afford a ticket. Besides, my… my brother had a lot of debt and it’s fallen on me now to repay it. I’m afraid they’ll find me in town and he didn’t leave enough money for me to repay it. I can’t even afford a sick, old mule.”

You turn away from him again, feeling even more pathetic. You suddenly wish this man would just leave. You can just feel his judging eyes on your back.

“You, uh, you have anything to eat out here?” he asks, pulling you from your thoughts.

You look up at him. “Nothing. Neither of us knew the first thing about hunting, hell we barely knew enough about foraging to keep us going. In fact, not enough as it turns out. I hardly know what’s around me that’s safe to eat.”

He sighs and gets a bit closer. “Well you ain’t gonna last much longer out here like this. Come on.” You look up at him again, unaware of the pleading look in your eyes. “I’ll show ya how to hunt somethin’, give you a few days’s food anyways.”

You stand up, brushing your hands off on your jeans. “O-okay. Like I said though, I don’t know the first thing.”

“We’ll start with somethin’ small. Rabbit or a turkey. I’ll shoot, you skin, sound fair?”

“But I don’t even have a knife.”

“You won’t need one. I’ll help ya. Now let’s find somethin’.”

He looks around, but you’re sure he’s seeing a lot more than you are. He beckons you to follow him down a little ways from the pond and you do so, trying to keep your footing quiet.

“Ah, there’s one,” he whispers, stopping suddenly.

“There’s what? I don’t see anything.”

“Focus. You see there by that bush?” he points straight ahead.

You narrow your eyes a bit and then something small moves beside it. A rabbit’s nibbling on a long blade of grass. The man takes his bow and an arrow from his back. He notches it, pulls the string and then, after a few seconds, lets go. The rabbit lets out a small squeak, the arrow going through its body.

“Good shot!” you say, despite yourself. He smiles at you, making your heart skip a beat and then leads you over to it.

“A’right, go ahead and skin it.”

“But I… I mean, how do I do it?”

The man tells you how to hold the rabbit and to just pull the flesh from the body. You pick up the rabbit by the back legs and start to yank on the skin, but it holds firm.

“Pull hard,” the man says.

You readjust your grip and then yank again. Still the skin doesn’t move from the body. You can feel the man smiling, but you’re determined not to have him show you how to do this. You yank as hard as you can and finally the flesh tears and pulls away from the body.

“It worked!” you say.

The man chuckles. “Well there ya go. I’m, uh, guessin’ you know how to cook it?”

You smile and nod. “Yes, I do actually know how to do that. Thank you so much for catching this.”

You stuff the skin into your satchel and then start carrying the carcass to your cabin. You expect the man will just wish you luck and go back to tracking his original target. Instead he accompanies you to your cabin.

“Well, this should keep you fed a few days at least,” he says.

“Yes, definitely,” you say. “I just hope I can make it afterwards.”

“I’d recommend you learn how to use your brother’s gun.”

“Yes, I think that’s really my only option at this point. Whether or not I’ll end up being as stupid as my brother is yet to be seen.”

“I’m sure you’ll be just fine. Just don’t ever point the barrel at yourself and you’ll be okay.”

You chuckle, despite yourself. When you get to the porch, you turn to the man. “Thank you, sir. You know, you’re the first person who’s done anything good for me since I left the city. My brother wasn’t just an idiot, he was demeaning and… just not a nice man. You’ve already done more for me than he’s done in the past five years.”

The man smiles. “I’m just glad to be of service, ma’am. Here, why don’t ya take this? You probably need this more than I will.”

He hands you a book about North American plants. Flipping through it, you can see it’s highly illustrated and each description comes with a section on if the plant’s edible.

“Are you sure?” you ask, not daring to hope.

“Of course. I know most plants I come across already, I don’t need that. It’ll just be takin’ up space for me. You, though, can actually put it to good use.”

You smile. “Sir, I can’t repay your kindness.”

“Just get some rest and a good meal. You have a good evenin’, ma’am.” He tips his hat and heads back up the way you’d come down. You watch him, smiling. For the first time since you came to this place, you feel a bubble of hope in your chest.

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

Three days have gone by since the man undeniably saved your life. After you chopped up the rabbit he’d caught and cooked up some, you’d gone to sleep with a satisfied stomach for the first time in days. You’d spent the next two days looking through the book he’d given you and foraging some of the plants you’ve seen around the pond and just didn’t know was safe to eat. The purple flowers turn out to be Burdock root.

You came back last night with your satchel on the brink of overflowing with plants and ended up going to sleep last night with a full stomach. You haven’t tried shooting your brother’s pistol yet, still a bit nervous about it, but you’ll have to try today since the rabbit is nearly gone. You inspect the gun and study how it works. You arrange a variety of bottles near the pond on a few different boulders to shoot at.

You aim at the bottles and for the next hour try to shoot, with no success. The gun has a fierce kickback, which you just can’t get used to. You hold your breath every time you shoot too, believing it’ll help you aim better.

At the end of the hour, you shoot again but miss yet again. “Damn it!” you say.

“Glad to see you’re at least not pointing it at your face,” you hear a familiar voice. You turn and see the man.

“Yes, I’ve at least figured out that much,” you say, smiling. “Now figuring out how to actually hit something with it is a different matter.”

He chuckles and pulls out his revolver. “Here, I’ll show ya a few things.” He aims the gun and shoots it, striking a bottle. You try not to admire his form, the shape of his chest and sides. God, you need to see more people. The first man you see and you’re already getting a crush. You blush and smile when he smirks at you.

“How did you do that?”

“Take a stance like mine and I’ll help ya.” You copy his pose and he walks up behind you, putting his hands on your shoulders. You try to ignore how big and warm they are. “Okay, loosen your upper arm. You’re too tense. Take in a breath. Aim. Let out your breath and fire.”

You try ignoring how close he is and how good his hands feel on your shoulder, focus on what he’s saying. You do as he says and shoot. A part of the boulder beneath the bottle you’d been aiming for explodes in a small cloud of dust, leaving behind a sizable dent.

“That’s the closest I’ve gotten since I started!” you exclaim.

He chuckles and pats your shoulder. “Good work. My turn.”

He doesn’t take a step back and you get the feeling he likes the closeness just as much as much as you do. He aims his revolver again and you take the opportunity to look back at him and study his face. He’s goddamn handsome, his neck thick and gleaming from the slight amount of sweat. He pulls the hammer and then shoots, another bottle exploding.

“Showoff,” you say.

He chuckles. “Take your turn now. Focus on the exhale.”

You take your stance again and breathe out slowly. You shoot and the bottle explodes.

“I hit it!” you say excitedly. “I hit it!” You turn and grin at him. “Did you see that? I hit it!”

He laughs and pats your arm. “That ya did. You want to go some more or are ya done?”

Your wrist is starting to cramp up from the kickback. “Maybe I’ll just try and catch something, then I’ll be done. Could… I mean, would you have the time to help me if I need it?”

He nods. “Of course. You take the lead though.”

You grin and head off away from the pond, looking for any sign of movement. It doesn’t take long before you find a small group of wild turkeys picking through the grass. The man hunkers down right behind you; he’s so close you can almost feel his breath on the back of your neck. You ignore the goosebumps and aim your pistol. You focus on your breathing, relax your arm and then shoot. The bullet strikes the turkey’s neck and it falls without making a sound, already dead.

“I hit it!” you shoot up, making the man laugh again. “I hit the turkey!”

The man laughs and pats your shoulder. “Sure.”

You turn and smile at him. “This is all in thanks to you! I never would’ve gotten this far without your help.”

“Oh I’m sure you would’ve figured it out on your own.”

“No,” you say softly. “I wouldn’t have. Listen, I’d love to repay you in some way. Would you at least join me for a meal? I still have some of that rabbit.”

He smiles and takes your offer. You lead him to your cabin with the turkey carcass slung over your shoulder, aware that he’s not even three feet from you.

You show him into your cabin, which consists of nothing more than a large room with your bed in the corner. When your brother was alive, you were forced to sleep on the floor in a bedroll since your brother claimed he needed a soft bed to help alleviate the stress. When he died, you cleaned it and took over it yourself.

You tell the man to have a seat and he takes it as you dish out the last of the rabbit, having cooked it this morning. You also scoop out some boiled roots and raspberries.

“Help yourself,” you say. “You helped me create this meal anyways.”

You sit down across from him with your own plate. The man smiles and takes a bite. “Hmm, how’d you season this?”

“I found some thyme and oregano weeks ago, been drying it ever since. I may not be skilled in catching my own food, but my mother taught me how to make it taste good.”

The man grins. “Well, this is certainly some of the best I’ve had in awhile.”

You blush. “I’m so sorry, sir. I don’t even know your name. You’ve helped me so much, I’d love to put a name to your face.”

“Arthur. Arthur Morgan. And may I ask yours?”

You tell him. Over the meal, you start talking more and more about your lives, telling him more details about your brother. You talk about your life of luxury before your parents died and your brother squandered your inheritances.

“No offense, but that life sounds awful,” he says at the end of your story. “I could never handle livin’ in a city like that. Seems… meaningless.”

“Oh it was,” you say. “Truly meaningless and empty. In the city, you simply exist whereas out here, you have to earn your survival.”

Arthur grins at you across the table. He really is a handsome and sweet man. You blush a bit and return to your food. “So tell me, Mr. Morgan, about your life. You certainly look like a man who's been to many places.”

He chuckles a bit. “Well, that I have. But if you’re thinkin’ that I’m just a hunter or an adventurer, you’d be wrong. I’m…” he hesitates for a few seconds and you can tell he’s contemplating. You wait patiently. “I’m an outlaw.”

“An outlaw?” you repeat, your voice showing no sign of accusation nor do you feel any. He’s already proven to possess a kind heart and he likely just made some mistakes along the way. “Well that certainly sounds exciting. Much more so than my empty existence.”

“Awe, ma’am, I’ll think you’ll find you’re worth much more than you think.”

You blush again. Arthur clears his throat and looks at his empty plate, then he glances out the window to where the sky’s growing dark. “Well thank ya for the meal, ma’am, but I better head out. Got some things I need to take care of before the day’s done.”

“Of course, and please call me Y/N.”

He grins and stands up. You follow him out to the porch. He turns around to thank you and you respond by reaching up on your toes to kiss his cheek. Little did you know he bent down at the same time to kiss yours and your lips accidentally touch. He shoots away from you as though he’d been electrocuted.

“Oh my God, Mr. Morgan, I am so sorry! That was my fault!”

“No it was mine,” he says quickly, though he hides his eyes beneath his hat. It’s clear he’s trying to be kind when he must be disgusted.

“Well, thank you again. For everything. And sorry for… that. I certainly didn’t mean… I mean, you… you’re a good man for helping me… well, I guess you gotta go, so I’ll say good night. Good night!”

Your face burning, you dash back inside and close the door gently. You peak out the window and see him turning away and going down to his horse. You see his arm bend and it looks as though he’s rubbing his lips. You can’t say you blame him, he’s probably beyond just disappointed and disgusted. You don’t know that he’s brushing his lips, recalling the feeling of yours on them just as you’re doing the same.

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

It’s been almost a week since the accidental kiss and you’ve seen and heard nothing from Arthur. You’re not surprised, he’s obviously not wanting to see you again, probably afraid you might kiss him again. Not that you would, of course. Sure, he’s handsome and you find yourself thinking about him more often than not, especially how his lips felt against yours, but you certainly wouldn’t try to kiss him if he decided to visit.

You sit on your porch, stitching together two rabbit pelts. One was from the time Arthur shot the first one and the other is from yesterday when you’d caught a second one. You’ve been practicing with the pistol everyday just like Arthur showed you and you’ve improved significantly. You spend a solid three hours everyday on the porch just in case Arthur shows up again, though you’re doubtful. Honestly, if you were him, you wouldn’t come calling again either.

You’re just about to call it a day and grab your gear in order to go foraging again as the sun reaches the middle of the sky. You set down the pelts and stand up but then you hear something. You look over and see Arthur approaching, a slight pink tinge to his cheeks.

“Arthur!” you say. You smile and clasp your hands.

“Hello, Y/N. Just… thought I’d come see how you’re managing.”

You blush and look down. “Oh I’m getting by just fine, thanks to you. You know, you’re… you’re the closest thing I’ve had to a friend in a long time.”

He smiles and walks up the two steps to the porch. He’s much closer than you would’ve thought he’d be, considered what happened last time. You take a step back, not wanting to make him feel pressured.

“Well, Y/N, it’s been a real plessure knowin’ ya. I… I wanted to ask ya somethin’. Maybe we can call it a repayment.” He blushes again and looks down, hiding his eyes again.

“Yes, Mr. Morgan? What is it?”

He sighs and rubs his neck. “Perhaps could we… try that kiss again? Only properly this time. I won’t move this time.”

You smile and walk up to him. You reach up to press a kiss to his cheek, but he turns his head just before you do and your lips meet his again. You don’t pull away and neither does he. You open your mouth a little and he does too, then you feel his arms wrap around you, pulling you even closer. One of your arms goes behind him and settles on his back while you press the other hand to his neck, your thumb tracing his jaw. He deepens the kiss, his hot breath washing over your face. You can taste the subtle hint of coffee and tobacco with a minty end.

Arthur pulls away slightly, his face flushed. “Sorry, hope you don’t think I was takin’ advantage, he says in a deep, rough voice.

“Trust me, Mr. Morgan, that was the last thing I was thinking.”

He smiles. “Well in that case, may I ask a favor? Can you stop callin’ me Mr. Morgan and could I call ya… my girl maybe?”

“Arthur, are you asking to date me?” you grin.

He huffs a soft laugh. “Guess I am.”

You respond by kissing him again. He sighs into it and you can feel him smiling. Finally your life has taken an interesting turn. For so long, you’ve merely lived each day with feeling no excitement, no desire to satisfy your curiosities. Now a new door seems to be opening up and Arthur was the one who showed you it was even there. You wonder, as you stand there and kiss him, what other doors he’ll help you open.

#rdr2 fanfic #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #awkward asks

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hookedonapirate · 4 years

Text

As Luck Would Have It

Summary: What Emma wouldn’t give to make one of her many fantasies starring her favorite customer come to life (one that either takes place at work and involves a good, hard fuck on the break room table or against the stockroom shelves (hey, what can she say, she gets bored) or one that takes place in her bed). She wouldn't be too picky about the location, just as long as she had a chance to be with him.

It’s just too bad none of her fantasies will ever come true though. And it’s not because there’s zero chance he would ever be interested in her because, well, she works at Walgreens and he’s way too good for her.

No, it’s too bad because he’s totally and completely gay.

A/N: This is something short and fun that I wrote for @onceuponaprincessworld. I talked to you about writing this before, well I finally got around to writing the thing. I hope it at least puts a smile on your face. Happy Friday!

Thank you @resident-of-storybrooke for looking it over!

Rated: a very Mature Teen for salty language and mature topics

For someone who hasn’t had sex in faaaaaaar too long (much longer than she cares to admit) Emma knows way too damn much about condoms. Like more than any one human being should. There are flavored condoms, ribbed condoms, dual-action condoms, pleasure shaped, lubricated, colored, french ticklers and even edible condoms. Who the hell even comes up with this shit? There are twisted condoms, her pleasure sensations, intense, warming, and pleasure packs. There are latex and ultra-thin and bare skin and ultra-smooth. The list goes on and on.

Way too much.

Emma never even uses them, or at least she hasn't in years, but she works at Walgreens. She’s a Designated Hitter, so she does a little bit of everything there, and when she’s not working in the pharmacy or behind the checkout counter, she’s working in the feminine hygiene/baby/contraceptive aisle which means she orders the products, stocks them, prices them, hangs up sales tags and does it all over again the next week.

At first, she would get all squeamish whenever she was working with condoms. Every time a male customer passed by or stopped to take a gander at the condoms, she would move down the aisle, pretending to work on something else. Now, she sells them like she’s selling candy to a child. When the male customers are browsing through the selection, she asks what kind they’re looking for and happily suggests one, grabs it off the shelf and hands it to him.

Tonight she’s working behind the front counter on a Friday night, selling lots of alcohol and snacks and wishing she was on the other side of the counter, buying wine and chocolate so she can go home and veg out on the sofa of her lonely apartment watching her favorite rom coms. Instead, she’s here at work, forced to engage in monotonous small talk with strangers while doing her best to ignore the thieves who wander in and out of the store because she’s not allowed to say anything to them, even when she sees them taking packs of hand soaps or household items off the shelves and stuffing them into their bags so they can sell them on Facebook.

She has to put up with these antics until midnight before she closes the doors and prays she doesn’t find a drunk, homeless person on the restroom floor again while cleaning. Yep, that’s happened twice since she’s been here. And she’s only been working here for eight months! Which is one of the many reasons why she’s going to school to get a decent job. The pay isn’t too bad, and the insurance is great, but she sure as hell doesn’t see herself selling condoms and waking up hobos in the restroom when she’s eighty years old. Because if that’s what she has to look forward to when she’s eighty then, Lord, just end it now and get it over with.

The only thing she can look forward to while working at Walgreens, however, is Mr. sex on legs—a Greek god with a pair of the most alluring blue eyes she’s ever seen. She’s never had a particular thing for men in uniforms, men with dimples, men with accents or men in general, really, but Killian fuck-me Jones is hotter than a scolding cup of coffee in his uniform, has the most adorable dimples on his cheeks and has a sinfully decadent British accent that makes her panties melt.

What Emma wouldn’t give to make one of her many fantasies starring her favorite customer come to life (one that either takes place at work and involves a good, hard fuck on the break room table or against the stockroom shelves (hey, what can she say, she gets bored) or one that takes place in her bed). She wouldn't be too picky about the location, just as long as she had a chance to be with him.

No, it’s too bad because he’s totally and completely gay.

Of course he is. After getting her heart stomped on years ago by he who shall not be named, she hasn’t been with anyone, not even for a one-night stand. And the one time she actually has eyes for someone, the one time she meets someone she’s even remotely interested in, he’s gay! It's like the devil is mocking her.

It’s just her luck.

Officer Jones frequents this location with his partner on a daily basis. They work together and she’s pretty sure they’re not only partners on the streets but also partners in the sheets.

At first, she thought they were only joking around, like the one time when Killian was trying to pay for his purchases but was short on change, and David handed him a dollar bill and said, “Here’s a dollar, sweet cheeks. Keep the change.” He slipped a dollar bill into Killian’s pocket, kissed him on the cheek, winked at Emma and said, “I’m his Sugar Daddy,” He walked out the door, leaving Killian blushing adorably as he handed her the cash for his morning blueberry muffin and energy drink.

He rolled his eyes and his deep, rich laugh warmed her heart. That's right, even his laugh is fucking perfect.

“I can’t take him anywhere.”

“I see that.” Emma giggled with him as she took the cash from Killian’s strong-looking hands, which certainly did not play a vital role in her fantasies. Which also does not bear any sign of a wedding band, she had noticed at the time (and several times before that). She’d brushed off Killian’s interaction with the other cop at the time, thinking there was actually a real connection between them and not one between the two men. The signs were all there, she just read them all wrong.

But now they’re both standing at the front counter in their street clothes, buying two jumbo packs of condoms, claiming it’s because the Trojans are on sale if you buy two. But she has a feeling that’s not the only reason why they’re buying in bulk, because if she had a lover like Killian, then she too would be having sex with him all the freaking time. In fact, she wouldn’t let the man leave the damn house. So yeah, she can understand why David would want that fine piece of British ass all the fucking time. And no, she’s not insanely jealous of a dude. Definitely not!

~*~

“Buying condoms isn’t gonna get me laid, Dave.”

“Well no, but then you won’t have an excuse to back out when a gorgeous woman hits on you. And who knows, maybe you’ll finally gather the courage to ask the checkout girl out.”

“Don’t call her that,” Killian chides, scolding his friend briefly before returning his eyes to the road. “She has a name.”

David holds up his hands in defense. “Sorry, I didn’t mean any offense. I just meant you’ve been obsessing over Emma for six months and it’s time you make her more than your checkout girl, don’t you think?”

“What does that have to do with buying condoms? You think buying condoms will automatically get me into bed with her? Even if it did, Emma’s too good to be someone's onetime fling.”

“I’m just saying, buying condoms is the first step. The next step is to ask her out. What happens from there is up to the two of you.”

Killian chuckles as he pulls into the Walgreens parking lot. “Thank you for the inciteful advice on how to pick up women, but I’m not some horny sixteen-year-old boy, and this isn’t my first rodeo.”

“I know that, but you haven’t dated anyone in five years. You fell off the horse, and I’m afraid if I don’t give you a boost, you’re never gonna get on that horse again.”

Killian rolls his eyes and unbuckles his seatbelt once he parks the car. “I’m perfectly capable of getting back on the horse without your help.”

David cocks his head at Killian and shrugs, unconvinced. “Then prove it.”

“I will.” Killian accepts David’s challenge and hurries out of the car, determined to prove his partner wrong. He doesn’t need help getting Emma. He just has to be himself, right? If only it were that simple because as soon as he steps inside Walgreens and gets one look at the beautiful blonde behind the counter and those sparkling green eyes, his mind becomes an empty void of darkness and his brain turns to mush.

He quickly makes his way through one of the aisles to avoid her. Now he remembers why he hasn’t asked her out already. He’s never been this nervous around a woman, but Emma… she can turn him into a complete nervous mess just by casting a glance his way.

He can feel her stare burning into his back as he stops and turns in the middle of the aisle to make it look like he’s nonchalantly browsing the razors rather than coming here to ask her out but failing miserably to gather the courage to do so the second he saw her lovely, smiling face. She’s so fucking adorable, he can’t even turn his head to look at her without grinning like a fool.

God, he’s in love.

He remembers the first time he saw her. He came to the pharmacy to get pain medication after he broke his arm during a softball game with his colleagues. He stepped up to the counter and saw her long golden hair, dazzling emerald eyes and the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen in his life. Since then, he never starts his day without stopping in and getting his daily energy drink and muffin. Even if she’s not working at the front counter, just seeing her and saying hi is all he needs to get through the day.

Fuck, he’ll never be able to ask her out.

Killian lets out a frustrated sigh as he looks at the razors again.

David was right. Damn bastard.

Speaking of his partner, Killian hears David’s arrogant whistle; he’s obviously gloating as he enters the store and sees that Killian had hidden in one of the aisles instead of going up to Emma and asking her out. The aisle with the razors is in front of the checkout counter, giving Killian a clear view of Emma, so he can hear David when he approaches Emma and asks her in a loud and rather obnoxious voice, “Hey, Emma, where are your condoms?”

Bloody fucking hell.

Killian curses under his breath as Emma leaves the counter to show David where the desired merchandise is. He can smell Emma’s intoxicating perfume when she passes him. David follows behind her with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Hey, Killian, Emma is kind enough to show us where the condoms are.”

Fan-fucking-tastic.

Grumbling under his breath, Killian begrudgingly follows David. He’s going to kill his best friend.

The three of them reach the condoms, and Killian is contemplating murder when David asks, “What do you recommend?”

Okay, now David is just trying to mess with him. David doesn’t need help picking out condoms, and he certainly didn’t need to be directed here in the first place. He and his girlfriend are sexually active and they always use protection.

“Um… besides the obvious, what are you looking to achieve with condoms?” she asks, glancing between Killian and David. “Something to get the job done or to add to the sensation?”

Oh, God.

Killian buries his face in his hands to hide his burning cheeks; he could die from mortification right about now.

When he drags his hands from his face, David still has a stupid grin on his face.

“These are buy-one-get-one-free with your Balance Rewards card, so you might as well get two,” Emma suggests, handing David two boxes of the condoms she’s referring to, which are jumbo-sized. Of course they are. Because Killian doesn’t need anything to add on to the humiliation he already feels burning his cheeks. Certainly not. Then again, it’s not like things can get more embarrassing than they already are.

“Great, I think I will. Killian, you like ribbed too, right?” David asks casually as he tries to hand one to Killian.

Correction. It can get ten times more embarrassing.

Killian’s face is on fucking fire and he wants the floor to open up and consume him because it beats being humiliated by his best friend, who he’s doing his best not to punch in the face.

He snatches the box from David’s hand and storms away to avoid seeing the look on Emma’s face right now. She’s probably laughing at him with her eyes, either that or she’s glaring at him, thinking he’s a total douchebag or maybe she assumes he’s in a committed relationship. Or maybe she’s indifferent and couldn't care less. Neither thoughts are good ones as far as he’s concerned. He wants her to care enough to wonder why he’s getting them, but he’s too embarrassed and flustered to think that’s a feasible possibility.

Killian grabs a six-pack of beer as he thinks about how he will murder David. But if he did, he’d spend the rest of his life in a lonely prison cell and he’d never get to see Emma’s pretty face ever again. So he supposes he won’t kill his best friend. He doesn’t know what he’d do if he didn’t get to see Emma’s face every day during his morning commute. She’s a good enough reason to not want to go to prison.

He and David place the items on the counter as Emma returns to her spot behind the register and rings them up. Killian reaches for his back pocket to retrieve his wallet, but David puts out his hand to stop him.

“Don’t worry about it, I got it,” David offers. “I’m the sugar Daddy, remember?”

Killian forces out a strained chuckle and doesn’t argue as he slips his wallet back into his pocket. After the shit David just pulled, he owes Killian. Big time.

Emma calls out the total, and Killian finally gathers the courage to look at her face. She’s offering him a warm smile, a small amount of blush painting her cheeks.

She doesn’t hate him. That’s a good sign at least.

She starts to put the boxes of condoms in a bag, but David stops her.

“That’s okay. We don’t need a bag.” He grabs one of the boxes and hands it to Killian before picking up the other one for himself.

Killian manages a small smile at Emma and leaves the store without his dignity or his pride. He doesn’t kill his best friend, but he does make a promise to himself; he’s never taking David with him anywhere ever again. He may just have to find a different partner.

~*~

Emma yawns and slowly nurses her coffee. She hates closing and then opening the very next morning. She’s told her boss several times to stop scheduling her like this, but he never listens.

She hears the automatic doors slide open and has to force herself to remove her lips from her coffee lid so she can lift her head and greet the customer who’s just walked in.

She’s not prepared for sex on legs today or those smoldering blue eyes, or how ridiculously attractive he looks in just a t-shirt and snug-fitting jeans, but she’s not complaining when he walks up to the counter without even purchasing anything.

“I was hoping you’d be here…” he says with a timid smile as he scratches behind his ear and draws a shaky breath. “Although I’m a little surprised you’re back at work so soon.”

Emma shrugs. “I know. They should give me a cot in the back because it feels like I’m always here anyway, so why not sleep here too?”

Killian flashes a small smile, and she can’t help but notice that the air between them is more tense than usual. He seems nervous and she’s not sure why.

“So, how can I help you today?” She narrows her eyes at him. “You didn’t use all those condoms already, did you?”

He chuckles, his cheeks turning crimson. “God no, actually, I wanted to…” he pauses and scratches behind his ear again, taking in a long, wobbly breath. “I wanted to… will you have coffee with me tomorrow… or whenever you have a morning off?”

Emma hopes the shock she feels isn’t evident on her face, but she finds her mouth opening on its own accord. “Sure,” she blurts out, “but… well…” She stumbles for words. She’s not opposed to hanging out with Killian as a friend, but she’s not exactly sure how same-sex relationships work. Do gay men get jealous when their male partners hang out with female friends? “Would David be okay with that?”

Emma’s surprised when Killian laughs at her question. “Why wouldn’t he be okay with it? He’s the one who’s been trying to get me to ask you out for months. Not that he’s the reason why... ” He buries his face in his hands. “Bloody hell, I’m severely fucking this up,” he mumbles into his palms. Dragging his hands away, he reveals those stormy blue eyes again, and he looks completely wrecked and apologetic.

She’s utterly confused. “David suggested this?” Wait. Is Killian bisexual and David was trying to find his partner a woman to scratch an itch of Killian’s? Are they swingers or—what the fuck is going on?

“No, he just encouraged me because I’ve been too fucking nervous to ask you out. You’re...” He plants his hands on his hips and closes his eyes briefly, taking another long breath. “I like you, Emma. I’ve liked you for a while, and I would very much like to take you out on a date, that is, if I didn’t completely screw this up already.”

“Wait, I’m confused. So David’s okay with this?”

He furrows his brows in confusion. “Love, I don’t need his permission to ask you out,” he chuckles. “I’m a grown man.”

Emma frowns in frustration. It’s too damn early for mind games right now. “Yeah, you’re a grown man who’s in a relationship with another grown man,” she says louder than she had meant to. Her words draw the attention of other customers passing by and she receives some odd looks.

“Wait a bloody minute. You think David and I are…” Killian pauses to burst into laughter.

Emma wrinkles her brows. “Wait, you’re not?”

Killian shakes his head, laughter still booming from his chest. “No, I can assure you, I’m very much into women. David and I are best friends and partners when we’re on the job, but we’re not gay.”

“Oh.” Now Emma’s so thoroughly and utterly confused, her head is spinning. She hasn’t had nearly enough coffee to deal with something so confusing and her head’s starting to pound. “But what about the condoms?”

Killian presses his hands against the counter, drops his head, shaking it furiously, like he’s silently cursing. “I’m going to kill David.” He lifts his head, his expression etched with apology. “The condoms weren’t for us. David was buying them for himself and his girlfriend. He was only taking advantage of the sale and wanted me to have the other box because he thought if I carried condoms on me then I wouldn’t have an excuse to not ask you out.”

Oh. Now it makes sense. Kinda sorta. “Okay, so let me get this straight,” Emma sucks in a long breath, “you and David aren’t lovers, and you’re currently single and asking me out on an actual date?”

“Now we’re on the same page,” he says, his eyes lighting up as a smile curves his lips.

Emma sighs in relief. But now remains the other question weighing on her mind. “But why me?”

He furrows his brows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I work at Walgreens.”

“I fail to see the problem, love.”

“But you’re…” she waves her hands, gesturing at him and his glorious form, “you’re you, and I’m… well,” she shrugs, “I’m me.”

“I know.” He smirks, and it makes her heart do a little flip. “That’s why I’m asking you out. Because you’re you, not because of where you work at.”

Emma’s heart flutters at his statement and she smiles. They’re silent again, but this time it's a comfortable silence as they stare into each other’s eyes. She knows the moment is about to be ruined though because a customer approaches the counter, impatiently waiting to be rung up as Killian backs away from the counter. Emma really doesn’t want this conversation to end, but she knows it has to, at least for now.

“So, is that a yes or a no?” Killian asks, his lips slanted into a grin when Emma starts ringing up the customer without giving him an answer.

She looks up from her task of scanning the items and flashes him a frail smile. She knows what her answer is, but she doesn’t want him to leave yet. “Can you wait outside for a few minutes?”

Killian nods without hesitation. “Sure, love.”

Emma sighs in relief and finishes ringing up the customer. When she’s done, she quickly picks up the store phone to page another cashier so she can take her fifteen-minute break. Once Emma is relieved by her coworker, she hurries out of the store and searches for Killian, her heart slamming in her chest. She sees him, leaning against the building with his hands in his pockets. Emma marches up to him and takes his hand, leading him to the side of the building, where they'll be less visible.

"Where are we going, love?" he asks.

She doesn't answer, but she's pretty sure the determination in her step says it all. She presses him against the wall when they reach the side of the building, and without any sort of warning, she grabs a fistful of his shirt and crushes his lips with hers.

Killian responds with a groan as he cards his hands through her hair. His lips are even softer and more luscious than she’d imagined. And God he’s a good kisser; she’d nailed that part in her fantasies. They get caught up in a delicious, mind-numbing kiss that has her heart racing and her breathing shattered. She can't believe she's kissing Killian fuck-me Jones, sex on legs , the man who's been the star of her dreams for six months.

How did she ever think this guy was gay? Because judging by the way he kisses her and teases her bottom lip with his teeth, the way his tongue greedily explores her mouth to find her own tongue, the way he wraps some strands of hair around his fingers and grabs her hip with his other hand to tug her toward him, pressing her against him, judging by the hard bulge in his pants that causes the heat to spread to her core, he’s definitely not gay.

When they break for air, they’re both panting as he gently leans his forehead against hers. He caresses her cheek, his eyes flickering with hope as she licks her lips. “Should I take that as a yes?”

“No.”

His face clouds with disappointment, and his expression makes her heart hurt.

“You asked me to go out for coffee with you tomorrow, but I’m thinking; what if we went out for dinner tonight after I get out of work instead?”

A slow grin spreads across his lips. “I wouldn’t say no.”

Emma smiles vibrantly and blushes. “Good, then it’s a date.”

He pulls away, taking a shaky breath of relief. “And just so we’re still on the same page, I don’t want you to think I’m expecting anything more than dinner since David bought me those condoms last night. As I said, that was David’s twisted attempt at trying to get me to ask you out.”

Emma laughs. “I’m not worried. Either way, there’s no rush to use them up. Condoms have a shelf life of five years.” She flashes him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I know way too much about condoms.”

Killian chuckles and presses a kiss to her forehead. “It’s okay, love. I told you I don’t care about your occupation… or that you thought I was gay.”

Emma swats him playfully on the shoulder. “In my defense, David did call himself your sugar Daddy.”

Killian blushes.

God, he’s so fucking adorable when he blushes.

“You’re right, he did. He likes to joke around like that… and embarrass the hell out of me.”

Emma laughs. "I've noticed."

He takes out his phone to punch in her number and address and agrees to pick her up later tonight. Then they go back to making out until she has to get back to work. They bid each other farewell, and she practically floats through the automatic doors with a smile blooming across her face, her lips red and swollen.

She’s so glad Killian’s not gay.

They end up making use of the condoms David bought him, but it sure as hell didn’t take five years to use them all. More like two weeks. If that.

#cs ff #captain swan #with a side of captain charming #my fic #for onceuponaprincessworld

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judgmentofcorruption · 4 years

Text

Episode 6–The Sinking Story; Scene 2

Judgment of Corruption, pages 181-189

As the name suggested, the “Misty Mountains” that sat at the border between Asmodean and Lucifenia would, depending on the season, be shrouded in a deep mist. As a result it was not a place that people often went to, for fear of being stranded within.

Gallerian, Tony, and Shiro had made their way to the mountains via an automobile driven by Bruno, however given the fog and the steep road they had to abandon it midway and continue ahead by foot.

“Hey, Gallerian. Is this really the right road?”

At the head of the group, Tony turned around, but the only ones behind him were Bruno and Shiro.

Gallerian was walking so much farther behind as to be lost in the mist.

“Huff…You guys…walk too fast…don’t leave me behind…” he grumbled when he finally caught up to them, out of breath.

“You’re too slow. What’s the guy with the map doing walking all the way in the back? …Geez, no wonder you’re always doing desk work—”

As Tony was getting put out, Gallerian handed over the letter from Ma on which the map was drawn.

“Maybe you should…hold onto it until we get there…”

“I guess so—Hmph, so this does appear to be the correct road…Unfortunately it seems like the fog has gotten considerably thicker. It might be dangerous to keep pressing on recklessly like this.”

“…But…turning back now could also be…”

“This fog doesn’t look like it’ll clear up if we take a rest. So then what to do—Hm, what’s wrong, Shiro?”

Shiro had been quickly tugging on Tony’s sleeve, and now she pointed ahead.

"There is someone…on the other side of the fog."

“What? –Are they an enemy? Do they have any weapons?”

"I can't tell. …Sorry…"

“Right. Well then, Officer Netsuma. I’ll have you do reconnaissance--have you got your gun on you?”

"Y-yes…"

Shiro hurriedly drew the revolver that she had in her side holster.

The moment that she had her favored “Naga E895” in hand—Shiro’s eyes seemed to sharpen.

“—Roger that. Shiro Netsuma, beginning reconnaissance of this uncivilized region.”

She moved forward into the fog at a crouch, wary and yet at a rapid pace.

Gallerian looked on, dumbfounded.

“…Her attitude changed to something more confident so quickly…”

Bruno gave a smirk. "Didn't you know? Shiro's personality changes when she's holding a gun. –Or rather, this may actually be her true self. It’s just that her usual social anxiety is too severe.”

“…Well, I guess if that wasn’t the case she wouldn’t be in the military.”

“I always thought you knew, my lord. Since you made her the leader of PN—”

“Hel is the one who recommended her. At first I wanted to make her into the leader of PN. But she apparently hates being in positions of leadership or being at the top of anything. So I just went with it…”

"On the battlefield and in places of strife at least, there is no one more reliable than Shiro."

“It looks that way—Oh, she’s coming back.”

Reappearing from within the fog, Shiro nodded slightly to Gallerian and company.

“It is not an enemy. The identity of the target is ‘Postman’—an ally.”

Postman appeared shortly after her.

“So, it was you who brought us the letter after all—where is Ma?”

“…”

In response to Gallerian’s question Postman said nothing as usual, but instead they turned around and slowly started to walk in the other direction.

“I guess we’re supposed to come along?”

“Let’s follow. If they get too far away we’ll lose sight of them.”

Gallerian nodded, and pressed on with everyone else tagging along.

Eventually the troupe arrived at an old stone ruin.

It seemed as though at some point the fog that blanketed the area had thinned a bit.

In front of an altar that sat in the center of that ruin was Postman and--

Ma, who looked almost as though she hadn't changed from 14 years ago.

"Ma!"

When Gallerian called out to her, Ma smiled in response.

"You came. --It's been a long time, Gallerian."

“What are you doing so deep in the mountains—No, before that!” Gallerian abruptly flew into a rage. "Why did you suddenly leave me fourteen years ago?! You didn’t say a single world—"

"…I had become a little bit tired. Of associating with other people.” Ma said, giving a fleeting glance to Bruno behind Gallerian.

"Is that possibly…because of me?"

“No, that’s not it. It was nothing that you did. …It’s just. I was never all that comfortable being in front of people, and I’m a very fickle woman. So I figured that it might be nice to live in some remote place like a hermit.”

“Have you been living here all this time?”

“I mean, it’s not like I’ve been here for the entire fourteen years. I was in Elphegort’s forest, and a few other places besides. These ‘Misty Mountains’ are where I ultimately ended up. This is a good spot. People seldom come here, and surprisingly enough I don’t want for food either.”

Ma took out a basket filled with edible wild plants and showed it to Gallerian.

Bruno walked up to Ma.

“So then…why did you send a letter to Gallerian? If you stopped interacting with other people, why would you…!?”

“—Don’t make such a scary face, Bruno. Didn’t I just say? I am a very fickle woman…all of a sudden I just wanted to meet her.”

“Her?”

“Michelle. She must be—what, sixteen now? I imagine she’s grown up a bit. She was so cute when she was a baby. I’m sure she’s become a lovely young girl…All that just sort of came to mind, and so I just wanted to see what she looks like.”

“…Aren’t you a complete stranger to her? The young miss would have no memory of you.”

“That’s what’s great about it. That’s precisely why I was wanting to see her all harum-scarum like that. Such is the impetus for my return to associating with people.”

“I don’t understand.” Bruno sighed, shaking his head. “—If what you’re saying now is true, why go out of your way to call us here by letter? You could have just returned to Levianta yourself.”

“Actually, I had a little favor to ask of you,” Ma said, pointing off to the side a little ways away.

She was pointing to a carelessly piled stack of books.

“While I was wandering here and there, I found some rare books and wrote a few new screenplays and such—Before I knew it, I had a ton of luggage. Since you’re already here, I was thinking you could carry these in your car.”

“…Unfortunately, the car is at full capacity. There was already four people on the way over here—we can probably get at least one more person in, but when it comes to Postman and the textbooks—”

“You don’t need to worry about Postman. They said that they’d walk back alone.”

“By ‘said’ do you mean that you can talk with—”

“Ah, pardon. I phrased that a bit poorly. I mean that they wrote to me.”

Tony and Shiro had been standing in wait a behind Gallerian and the others, but they approached the altar now.

“If that’s the situation, then the two of us can get back home through other means. There’s a military garrison down the mountain, right by the Babul Desert. We’ll just borrow a military vehicle.”

Ma’s expression grew faintly suspicious. “Shiro and—who are you?”

“Ah, forgive me. I am Tony Ausdin, major general of the USE allied forces. I’m an old friend of Gallerian’s. I came here because there was something I needed to speak with you about, but…perhaps it best we save that for after we get back to Levianta.”

“Someone of the Ausdin family, huh? My my.”

“We have met once before, but…Well, I suppose you don’t remember. At the time I was just a simple part-time security guard, ha ha ha—Anyway, I’ll be seeing you.”

Tony and Shiro bowed.

Then Bruno turned and started speaking to Gallerian.

“Sir, you should go with the two of them and head back to where the automobile is waiting. I have to stay here to package and carry over these texts.”

“Will you be alright by yourself? I can help if you want.”

“Given your strength levels you’re likely to pass out partway through carrying all of this, hahaha. Don’t worry. I can handle this much. I’m quite used to carting around heavy things.”

Ma added on, “I’m going with Bruno as well. I wouldn’t be able to bear it if he were to damage my precious books, after all.”

“I see…Alright, I’ll wait ahead at the automobile,” Gallerian said, leaving the ruin with Tony and Shiro.

--Postman had disappeared at some point too.

That left only Bruno and Ma.

“Now then…Let’s start packaging these.”

Bruno took out some wrapping cloth that he had on hand and started to neatly pack up the piled books.

Ma spoke to him from behind. “—You don’t need to worry. I have no intention of doing anything with Gallerian at this stage.”

“…I suppose the way that you remained formal while speaking with him just now made your intentions on that clear…That’s how I’d prefer it though, yes.”

“It’s been fourteen years already. I can’t see Gallerian wanting to re-ignite any old flames either.”

“…I would think Gallerian didn’t notice because you were standing in fog, but…how do you plan to explain the fact that your appearance hasn’t changed at all?”

“As for that—Well, I’ll find some way to cover for it.”

“…That’s not reassuring. At any rate…just don’t be anything more to Gallerian than a friend. And…when you two are together, you are not by any means to get him to drink anything. That’s all I want to say to you.”

“—Roger.”

Ma and Bruno, carrying the wrapped up books, descended the mountain and met up with Gallerian who was waiting by the automobile. The three of them then returned to Levianta.

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