#i keep falling into this cycle of feeling uncomfortable/fake on here → not opening my notifications → not talking to anyone | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

samuel-de-champagne-problems · 3 years

Text

Band-Aids Don’t Fix Bullet Holes, But Your Kisses Do

summary: in a standoff with an unsub, reader makes a choice: her life or spencer’s.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

category: angst/fluff at the end

warnings/includes: canon typical case violence, based off of episode “haunted” so spoilers, guns/gun violence, hospitals, kissing, mentions of hotch’s stabbing

word count: 3437

author’s note: i wrote this one a while ago and thought i’d share it. if anyone wants to be tagged, i’m going to figure it out and i’ll add you to a tag list!!

Band-Aids Don’t Fix Bullet Holes, But Your Kisses Do

The two agents that sat on swivel chairs facing each other fake arguing about an episode of Dr. Who. Spencer had his legs straight out, resting on Y/N’s lap comfortably. She leaned forward and placed her chin on her hand as she explained to Spencer her thoughts on the episode.

“Spencer, you cannot tell me that you don't think David Tennant is hot! I watched the episode with you and I can tell you are-"

“I’m not going to argue against that, Y/N. David Tennant is,” Spencer started as he fiddled with the lollipop that Garcia handed him when he and Y/N walked into the bullpen.

“Is what, Spence?” A teasing look graced her face as Spencer’s blush grew down his exposed neck and collarbone.

“He’s hot, okay Y/N is that what you want me to say!” Spencer’s voice rose a couple octaves from his admission over his not-so-subtle-crush on The Doctor.

“That’s exactly what I wanted you to say, Spencer. Least I know we have the same type” She said with a wink.

“You got a type, Y/N?” Derek called from the doorway of the conference room.

“Yeah, hot doctors with brown hair” Emily said without missing a beat. She had walked in behind Derek, the pair of them discussing her annual Sin-to-Win Weekend in Atlantic City.

“But they, you know, have to be like Time Lords, or whatever” She said in efforts to cover up her growing discomfort.

She turned her attention back to Reid, who was in the process of trying to remove his leg from her warm lap. He did not want to give Derek anymore ammunition to make sly jokes at his not-so-subtle-crush on his best friend/co-worker. Secretly, he wanted to keep his leg there, against her soft thigh and maybe she’d drop her hands on his leg in a comforting gesture of….friendship.

Garcia placed a tin decorated with white and orange cats dressed in bonnets on the table just within reach of Hotch’s usual spot near the monitor. Reid reached forward to open the tin, which he deduced was filled with Penelope’s infamous snickerdoodle cookies. Unfortunately, before the genius profiler could reach the gaudy tin, Penelope swatted his hand away from grasping the cookies.

“Hey! Those are for Hotch” Penelope shouted as she grabbed the tin and moved them closer to Hotch’s chair.

“What? You know I love cookies, Garcia. Come on, Hotch hates attention”

“I just made some cookies, it’s not like I made him a cake.” Penelope argued as Derek and Emily both quietly eyed the cookies.

“Spence, we’ll make cookies tonight. It looks like it’s just a paperwork day” Y/N said with a slight smile, that, in turn, elicited a big grin from an unsuspecting Spencer.

“Anyway,” Derek started as he chose to ignore the interaction that unfolded before him “we all know he’s going to act like nothing happened” he remarked as he fingered through the dozen case files spread out before him on the table.

“Doesn’t mean we have to,” Penelope said sadly as she looked down at the cat cookie tin.

“Maybe we should,” Reid said quietly to his co-workers.

“But, I’m not built like that!” said Penelope.

“Hotch is though, Penny,” Y/N noted as she snuck a cookie while Penelope’s back was turned. She broke it in half and handed it to Spencer under the table. He winked at her as she shushed him.

“Yeah, Y/N,” Spencer said with a mouthful of cookie, “Hotch never blinks” he finished with a large swig of lukewarm, sugared coffee.

“Classic Alpha Male” Spencer said, looking towards Derek.

“Do you think he stared down Foyet...you know while it happened?” Emily questioned. She was usually the one who could stomach all these, but when it came to the team, she was as nervous as the lot of them.

“It’s probably what saved his life,” Derek said somberly.

“He can’t be okay,” Penelope said with a whisper.

“I wouldn’t be,” Spencer said with an air of uncertainty, “I’m a blinker”

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

There was an uncomfortable silence during the ride to Louisville. Hotch was more sullen than usual, but, thankfully, Garcia broke the tension with her reports via computer screen.

“Our point in Louisville is Lieutenant Kevin Mitchell, my contacts don’t report any more attacks related to this unsub” JJ relayed. She sat next to Derek, who was across from Hotch and Rossi. Emily sat criss cross on the table across from the foursome. On the small jet couch, Spencer and Y/N played a game of chess as they listened to the initial reports JJ received from the local PD.

“Call’s proving hard to track. He never had a driver’s license, so he’s probably still on foot,” Spencer mumbled without removing his eyes from the chessboard.

“Or public transportation,” Y/N added as she cringed when Spencer announced “check”.

“Well, he’s not going to get anywhere too far with his face all over the news,” Emily continued.

“So, what do we think the stressor is,” Rossi nodded.

“He just lost his job. Worked in a factory since 1990. He made appliances forever. Not a single promotion” Garcia’s voice came across a little staticky.

“That’s a long time to be bitter,” Derek posed.

“Or he just doesn’t care,” Reid countered.

“According, to what you sent over Garcia, he kind of seems like a hermit. Far as I can tell he’s got no one. No wife, no children, no parents.” Y/N added with a sad tone in her voice.

With a sharp tone, Hotch added “then why didn’t he kill himself?”

“He’s not finished killing yet,” Reid continued the thought, “check mate!”

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

It was at times like these that it seemed like the case drags on forever. Call had kidnapped a little boy, who, Spencer had figured out was Call’s biological son. The local PD was getting them nowhere. Those overly macho cops seemed to be having a difficult time taking orders from JJ. Y/N watched as she marched over to Mitchell and demanded that he give a press conference.

Y/N chuckled quietly to herself as she watched the interaction. JJ was a force to be reckoned with, especially when the life of an innocent child was at stake. That cop had no idea who he was challenging.

“Hey, Y/N,” Spencer called from his spot in front of the whiteboard. It was decorated with a combination of their messy, rushed handwriting. Spencer grasped his blue marker and looked at Y/N with a painful expression.

“I’m not getting anywhere with this geographical profile,” Spencer’s somber tone flooded Y/N’s emotions with an overwhelming sense to comfort him.

“Spencer, put the marker down and look at me, please, for a second.” He obliged as he turned to face her.

Y/N reached up on her tiptoes to gently rub her hands along the base of Spencer’s neck. He could feel the tension melt away. Spencer was not one for physical affection, but he realized that he, in fact, craved the soft touches of people he trusted. Whether it was a brotherly pat on the back from Morgan, a playful high five from Garcia, a proud fist bump from Hotch, Spencer had grown to seek out affection.

“Y/N,” he said. His voice but a whisper in the loud, hectic bullpen.

“Shh,” She could sooth his worries just with a graze of her hands across his neck. It was magic to a scientist. Her magical presence set him on fire.

“Hey, we can do this, Spence, all of us, but we need you,” Y/N voice mirrored his own. A hushed whisper that fueled the flames of his love.

Instead of kissing her forehead or even hugging her, all Spencer could make out was a small thank you, before, like the wind, she was gone to see if Garica had any updates on the missing boy.

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

In a frantic hour, Garcia had discovered a possible location of Tommy and his father, Darrin. Like most the unsubs, they were children of tragedy. Children of abusive homes and of deep rooted violence. It was up to the team, as they raced down the street in their crowded SUVs, to stop the cycle of violence for claiming another innocent child.

“Hotch, you are on speaker,” Emily called from the passenger seat of the car as Derek sped down the warehouse where they suspected Tommy to be held.

“Do not go in there without SWAT, do you all here me?” Hotch said sternly.

“That means you, Derek, don’t go in there till backup gets there,” JJ added from the phone that Emily held.

“You got it, boss man,” Derek made a sharp turn that led Y/N to nearly fall into Spencer, who sat next to her.

“Spencer! Where is your vest!?” Y/N asked him impatiently, with a tinge of nervousness and fear laced in her tone.

“Y/N, Call doesn’t have a gun, he’s been using weapons of opportunity. The profile points to him not even being armed right now. If anything-”

“Screw the profile, Spencer!” Y/N’s voice was hysterical now. “You need to where a damn vest, you are an FBI agent, if you get-”

Y/N’s rant to Spencer was stopped short by the disturbing sight before her. From the SUV the four of them could see an even more distraught Call standing out in the middle of the warehouse parking lot. He held Tommy by the neck, with a gun pointed at his temple. Derek stopped the car and jumped out, his gun wielded as he began to try to talk the man down.

“Call, drop the weapon and release Tommy, right now!” Derek’s voice loomed large and powerful as Emily, Reid, and Y/N each got out of the vehicle and turned their spots with Morgan.

“You don’t want to hurt Tommy,” Spencer started. “we know who he is to you, we know that he’s your son, and that you weren’t there for him.” He put his gun away in an attempt to show Call that he was not a threat. Y/N could read the desperation in Spencer’s voice from a mile away. Call, like Spencer’s mom lives with schizophrenia. Spencer and Hotch nearly had it out in the middle of the bullpen after Spencer insinuated that Hotch was implying that Call was only going on this murder spree because of his condition.

“Just let the boy go, Call.” Y/N continued the track that Derek and Spencer started. “Just let your son go. We will make sure that you can get medicine, that’s why you went to the pharmacy, right? You need meds to help yourself and then,-”

Out of the corner of her eye, Y/N could see Spencer inching closer and closer to Tommy. As if it was a chain reaction, Call drew his weapon and fired towards Spencer. Before she even could realize the consequences of her actions, Y/N tackled Spencer to the ground. The bullet lodged itself into the Kevlar vest she wore. Her side burned as she came to understand what had transpired in the last couple of seconds.

Spencer scrambled onto his knees and clutched Y/N’s cold hands in his.

“Spence, I’m okay,” Y/N said as she struggled to sit up straight with Spencer practically laying on top of her.

“No, Y/N! Don’t do that,” Spencer started with tears flooding the corners of his eyes. The little droplets made his sometimes brown and sometimes green eyes sparkle with sadness.

Spencer moved his hands from the place where the bullet lodged itself in her Kevlar to grasp her face tenderly. But his movement caused her cheek to be painted with a deep red handprint in the shape of the crying man crouching before her hand.

“Spencer,” she let out a small whimper when she saw the look of horror on his face. Before he could even ask her why she did what she did, Y/N passed out, her limp, cold hand finding its home in the comfort of soft, warm ones.

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

The rest of the case passed in a numbing hum for Spencer. Once Y/N got shot by Call he let go of Tommy and Derek shot him the leg. Spencer did not even stay for when Emily and Derek apprehended the unsub. It was like his legs acted of their own accord when the EMT showed up for Y/N and he walked with them never letting go of her hand.

The ride to the hospital in the back of the ambulance was hectic. The EMTs had to monitor her heart rate, her blood pressure, and her oxygen. Even the temptation of numbers could not capture Spencer’s attention as he mulled over the possible conclusions to why Y/N would take a bullet for him. There was no logical reason for it. Not one. Spencer let the steady rocking of the ambulance to soothe him as he gently rubbed his thumb over Y/N’s hand. Even though he longed to hold her against himself, this would have to do, for now at least. Till then, Spencer forced his mind to focus on the pattern that her beating heart created.

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

Hospitals terrified Spencer. The smell, the sick people, the people who were unsavable. Part of him wonders what his life would be like if he became a medical doctor. As a kid, he had a future where he could do anything he could dream of. Cure schizophrenia on Monday, operate on an inoperable tumor on Tuesday- that’s what his life could have been like.

But sitting there, in the sterile hospital with the white walls and constant beeping, Spencer’s mind was only thinking of another life he could be out living. In the minutes that he sat with Y/N as she lay in pain in his arm, false memories of a life together painted in his mind. Laughing children, family picnics, couple’s Halloween costumes. He stroked her hair and saw a life so familiar that he could almost taste it. He tasted cookies that they baked together as they danced without a care in the world. He tasted Halloween and Forth of July and all the holidays in between. He tasted butterfly kisses with his children that had her hair and her eyes and her smile.

He was stripped away from those memories that he didn’t even own. Now all he could taste was the bitterness of regret, the sourness of what if, and the tartness of the nightmares masquerading as reality.

“Family of Y/L/N,” a surgeon dressed in light blue scrubs walked into the waiting area with an unreadable expression on her face.

JJ and Derek stood up immediately as the doctor went to continue to deliver the news.

“She’s awake and doing okay,” the doctor said with a relieved expression.

“Oh that goodness,” JJ said as she hugged Emily in a moment of happiness.

“She’s a fighter,” Derek quipped, “I’m going to call Garcia, she’s probably a nervous wreck”

“She’ll make a full recovery, but should avoid air travel because her internal bleeding,” the doctor reported, “also, which one of you is Spencer? Even since she’d been lucid, she’s been asking for you,” she said looking around at the remaining group, with her eyes landing on the man in question.

“She is?” Spencer questioned carefully. He was worried that maybe she regretted jumping in front of him.

“Yes, why don’t you come with me. It may make her more comfortable having someone she wants with her”

Y/N wants him.

Him.

Spencer was not sure how he even walked himself down the corridor to where Y/N’s room was located. But sure enough, he was met with her ashen face beaming up at his.

“Y/N! Oh my goodness, are you okay, I mean, obviously you’re injured so you’re not okay. I don’t mean to invalidate your pain, I just...why, Y/N, why on Earth would you do that?” Spencer finished. His voice was more tender towards the end. He looked down at his friend before him and tried to read the expression that graced her face.

“Spencer, I did what I had to do. You….you would have died,” Spencer noticed the tears that puddled in her eyes and had to suppress the sudden urge to kiss them away.

“I’d rather die than live my life in a world without you, Spencer.”

Spencer closed his eyes and sat down on the bed with her.

“Why?” he asked in a voice that was hardly audible. It can’t be, he thought. Maybe this is just something that a teammate does for another teammate. Comrades in arms or something like that, he thought. Trying to make sense of senselessness.

“Why do you value my life more than yours? Why-how can you do that” there was not stopping tears in his eyes now. She reached out and held his face, like he held her as she bled out in the warehouse only a couple of hours ago.

“Spence, my life would be dull and gray without you in it. You’re my best-” She stared as he tensed up at what he knew was coming. She only jumped in front of him because it’s what a teammate does.

“Please, I can't bear to hear that. I-maybe you only can think of me as a teammate or worse a brother, but part of me. A hopeful and romantic part of me that I can't let go of the thought of you thinking about in a different way,” he was so embarrassed, so raw in the moment that he could not bear to even look her in the eyes.

“Spencer?” he could only watch the way that their fingers laced together. He focused on the patterns between the itchy hospital blanket.

“Y/N,” he started and took a deep breath. Spencer had never intended to tell her this. Maybe in moments of drunken bravery he thought about it, but he’d always sober up before his dreams could come to fruition.

“I’m a logical man, I solve problems for a living but sometimes. Sometimes, I can’t use logic to solve some problems, and there’s no logical reason for you to jump in front of a bullet for me. Unless you love me? And I hope with every fiber of being that you do, because I am so desperately in love with you”

Spencer allowed himself, for the first in his life, to have once of hope and faith.

Y/N’s eyes met Spencer’s in an uncharacteristically shy moment.

“I do, Spence. Of course I love you”

Spencer let out a nervous laugh as he, once again, gently placed his hands on her jaw. He placed a kiss on her forehead. The small, tender affection elicited a whimper from Y/N. Spencer jumped back in horror.

“Oh, honey did I hurt you? You gotta tell me where it hurts” he murmured in a comforting voice.

“Hmm, no I’ve just been waiting five years for you to kiss me and you settle on my forehead?” Y/N beamed up at him expectantly.

“Nowhere do you want me to kiss you, my dear?” Spencer questioned playfully.

“How about in between everywhere and anywhere you want, Doctor Reid,” Y/N, despite the pain, managed a smile for the man that held her hand so lovingly.

“How about here?” Spencer leaned forward and kissed the left corner of her mouth.

“Or here?” The right corner.

“What about here, I’ve dreamed of kissing you here.” He moved his mouth to meet the place on her neck that met her collarbone. Y/N looked up at Spencer dreamily. One day she might chalk it up to the painkillers flooding through her system, but the pure adoration that melted from Spencer’s lips to her skin was something that never knew she’d crave.

“And here”

His lips parted slightly as he moved in to meet hers. The feeling was more divine and earth shattering than when Prometheus gave humans fire. Together, intertwined in bedsheets, IVs, and fingers laced with hair, they lit a fire of their own. Kissing Spencer stopped time.

It was Y/N who broke first.

“Spencer,” she said with a new reverence that would only be reserved for him.

“Yes, sweet girl?”

“You gotta promise me something,” she said as she raked her hands across his arms, feeling him shudder under her touch.

“Anything and everything for you” he said, mirroring her earlier words to him.

“Wear a vest next time”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x reader angst #spencer reid x reader happy endings #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #dr spencer reid imagine #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff

1K notes · View notes

hawksugarbaby · 3 years

Text

Shigiraki x reader- Are they among us?

Fluff

Dabi scowled at you and shigaraki curled up on the couch, your public affection made him uncomfortable and it didn't help he didn't trust you one bit. No way would he trust you so quickly.

"We need to have a meeting" shigaraki called into the front of the bar in his scratchy voice and dabi looked him up and down "with her here?" he pointed a skinny finger to you, blissfully running your hands through shigiraki's powder blue locks ignoring Dabi's typical attitude towards you. Shigaraki clenched his jaw and tapped his fingers together to keep his patience "why wouldn't she be there. She's one of us now" the croaky villain patted your thigh and you glanced between the 2 males deciding to keep your focus on your boyfriend. "Oh yeah you trust her because she's like your little puppy dog or some shit" the patchwork villain rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Explain why I shouldn't trust her?" shigaraki scoffed. His meeting was now going to run late wasn't it, ugh that meant working for longer when all he wanted was a nap or to have his head resting on your chest while he slept keeping you trapped on his uncomfortable mattress. You brought him the missing comfort. "She "secretly" dropped her alliance with all might for us. Seems shady to me" dabi squinted his eyes at you scrutinizingly and you chewed the inside of your cheek. "What if she's some sort of double agent" dabi theorised and shigaraki laughed at the ridiculous conspiracy. "She's already a double agent for us. (y/n) "works" for all might for us remember" shigaraki mocked and dabi rolled his eyes "whatever. What if she isn't even working for us, why would she just abandon all might for the league of VILLAINS?" he rolled a flame over his knuckles and shrugged as a sign of not caring despite how he really cared.

"Because I saved her from that nomu attack" shigaraki answered simply, and simple was never enough for the black haired villain. "And she just fell for you then and there?" he questioned sarcastically and you glanced at him from the side and smiled brightly "yes! He saved me quicker than I've ever seen all might move and shigi was so handsome coming to save me" you gushed, emphasising your sickly sweetness to get dabi off your back. It was annoying having him question your relationship constantly. "Sure you did. Whatever, start the meeting" dabi stopped his argument and shigaraki stood up making you fall backwards onto the couch and stretched his arms to the sky. "I need to organise my stuff first. I'll be 5 minutes" he grunted stomping up the stairs like a child being grounded.

You stretched and wandered behind the bar pouring yourself a pomegranate champagne spritzer in a fancy crystal glass bevelled at the sides. Dabi watched you in suspicion and bounced his leg "(y/n). Bring me a beer would ya" he grunted. You looked up from pouring your drink and raised your eyebrows "I thought you didn't trust me?" you answered back grabbing a beer for him regardless and pulled the cap off with the bottle opener. "Don't, doesn't mean I don't want a beer though" he said holding his hot hands out for the glass, the condensation turning to steam instantly. He grabbed your arm with his other seering hand and pulled you so you were sitting on his knees.

He kept his grip strong against your arm and leaned next to your ear whispering "I don't trust you for a second. So I'm going to give you a reason to leave, or more, a reason for shigaraki to kick you out." toga on the other couch panicked waving her hands out in front of her frantically. "Dabi what are you doing! You're gonna get fired or something" she shouted at the competitive man and you cycled your legs under his to try and propel you out his lap but to no avail.

Shigiraki's sloppy footsteps echoed louder as he neared the bottom of the stairs and dabi continued to whisper in your ear, lurching forward every time you moved too far and pulled you back keeping you trapped on his knee. You huffed and stuck your bottom lip out swirling the ice cubes in your cocktail that clinked against the side of the glass being washed over by alcohol. "I never did anything to you. I don't get why you hate me so much" you rolled your eyes and the stairs eagerly for your boyfriends shoes to step into the light. "I don't like it when someone threatens my family. And you feel like a threat" he explained, taking a swig of his beer and pressing the cold bottle against the small of your back making you jump and arch your back.

Shigiraki made it to the bottom of the stairs with scraps of paper and a pencil tucked behind his ear. He took note of your scowling expression on dabi's lap and his smirking face and growled angrily pulling you harshly off of dabi and kicking the man in the shins. "Get your hands off of her" he snarled pushing the paper he brought against your chest and tapped his foot impatiently waiting for a comeback but dabi wasn't willing to use his voice for shigaraki (KINKY- No pebble!). "Get up. I think i need to have a word with you outside" shigaraki smiled fakely scrunching up his nose and screwing his eyes shut while forcing dabi to the other side of the door.

You and toga looked at each other while listening to the argument outside and made light conversation. "Oh wait, here try some of my drink!" you exclaimed jumping up and squatting down beside her letting her take a sip from the side of your glass leaving a pink smudge on the side of the glass. She nodded approvingly after a sip and clapped her hands "you're so good at making yummy drinks (y/n)!" she complimented sucking on an ice cube she captured while sipping. "Thank you! It's a good distraction when there's 2 boys constantly arguing over my existence" you pouted gesturing flamboyantly to the door where the boys were still arguing. "Hm i'm sorry (n/n) (Nickname). If you get bored you could always go out with me!" she cheered and you laughed honestly weighing your options for a second. But no. shigaraki was your one and only "I'll keep that in mind!"

Dabi stormed out the base leaving the door wide open and you watched silently as shigaraki came through sighing. "No point in holding the fucking meeting now" he scoffed and pointed at you curling his finger for you to follow him. "Guess i gotta go. I'll talk to you later toga!" you cheered following shigaraki to your shared room. "I want a nap" he muttered and you nodded jumping into the room before him and hopping on the bed holding your arms out for him to rest between them. "Tired" he sighed, falling into you and you wrapped your arms around him. "Thank you for saving me shigi" you whispered and he nodded slowly.

Alternative ending

You silently slipped out of bed squeezing through the window and bounced from rooftop to rooftop to meet the red white and blue hero patiently waiting for you under the pier at the beach to trade information. "They don't get along easily but it seems that dabi guy thinks he's found some sort of family. Toga just seems like a lost kid who doesn't belong there, cast out of society and shigaraki, a whiny brat who can't take being talked down too or argued with" you told all might who wrote everything down on a pad of paper to be given to the police. "I've yet to see bubaigawara or that compress figure today. Most of the league trust me but Dabi has his doubts" you explain.

All might nodded and handed you a salted caramel "thank you (y/n), I appreciate this, you'll be greatly rewarded after this" he says crouching under the pier and saying his goodbyes leaping into the other direction.

Bonus!

Dabi watched from on top of the ferris wheel set up for the carnival and smirked. "I fucking knew it you bitch"

#bnha #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #bnha fanfiction #boku no hero academia #wattpad #mha #boku no hero fanfic #tomura shigiraki x reader #shigiraki x reader #tomura shiragaki #shigiraki tomura #tomura x reader

114 notes · View notes

severetimetravelnerd · 3 years

Text

Let’s Switch Things Up(ft. MINO) (4)

Part 4

Mino helps you learn something new.

A/N: Heyy! So this is my new series, that I’ll be updating every Thursday. All images I’ve used in this moodboard that I’ve made are just representative of the emotions, not the way the reader looks :)) Please show this lots of love!

Comment if you’d like to be added to the taglist.

Taglist: @herewecomeitsjekki ; @kwonnansi ; @happiestgirlontheeastcoast ; @unabashedturkeytreeslime; @to-all-the-stories-i-love

I only write on this blog on tumblr, so if you see my work on any other platform, please let me know!

Word Count: 1784

Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of cheating (honestly mostly fluff)

——————————————————————————————————-

You woke up again two hours later. Minho was still asleep and was holding you against his chest. You smiled as you pushed back some hair from his face. And then you froze. Why were you acting so familiar with him? You stared at him. Yeah, you definitely liked him. As someone who always had problems falling asleep, if sharing a bed with him didn’t make you uncomfortable, then there was definitely something there. But it was all for you. He was just a very friendly, very nice guy who most definitely did not see you the same way. You were so lost in thought that you didn’t even notice that he had opened his eyes. He watched you zone out for a while before grabbing your hand that was on his face and kissing it.

“What’re you thinking about?”

Your breath hitched and your heart started beating really hard. That sleepy smile coupled with the kiss to your wrist was too much for you.

“Ummm…”

That’s when reality came back to Minho. He felt so comfortable around you. He wanted to be closer to you. he wanted waking up with you to be a reality. When he woke up, he was so lost that he just acted on his impulses. That was not a very Minho thing to do. He always overthought things. Suddenly he jumped back and you tumbled out of bed.

“Uh, I’ll go wash up and take a shower Minho. We can go get some breakfast after? Or you can go ahead if you want.”

Blushing furiously, he shook his head.

“It’s okay, I’ll wait.”

---

Half an hour later, you were waiting for him to finish getting ready. When he walked out in an oversized white shirt and navy-blue shorts with his hair sticking out adorably, it took you actual effort to not aw out loud. You were in an oversized white t shirt and tiny blue shorts. You matched with each other, although neither of you realised it. Not able to meet his gaze, you smiled at the general area.

“Let’s go?”

“Yeah.”

---

You were waiting at your table. Minho had gone somewhere to take a call. You stared down at the menu. You were conflicted. You knew exactly what you wanted, but you weren’t sure whether you should order Minho something. You knew his order of waffles and coffee, but you didn’t want to mess it up. Sighing, you finally decided to order it for him anyway. You were both ravenous anyways.

Ten minutes later, when Minho returned with a shy smile on his face, he was surprised to see a cup of steaming hot coffee and waffles waiting for him.

“How did you know what to order for me?”

“You told me when you were worried about the turbulence.”

He felt warmth from the inside.

“You remembered?”

You just looked at him nonchalantly and shrugged.

“Of course I did. I pay attention to you.”

Without even meaning to, you said,

“It’s you.”

You didn’t realise what you said, but Minho turned red and his palms turned sweaty. He couldn’t believe what he heard. He looked at you again. You looked so absolutely adorable sipping on your tea, softly blowing on it to try and cool it. He opened his mouth to tell you about his plan but he was interrupted by Andy lightly slapping your back. You jumped and the burning hot tea fell on your thigh and you winced. Even as Minho passed you a tissue dipped in water, he was glaring at Andy, who hadn’t even bothered to apologise. This was off to a good start.

“Ah Y/N. How was last night’s party?”

One look at his gloating face and Minho, not a very violent person, wanted to punch him.

“Ah. The party. It was…very you.”

He broke into a grin.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it sweetheart.”

The way he physically cringed when he said it was it for Minho.

“Don’t call her that. And apologise for startling her so much that she hurt herself.”

Andy looked surprised and moved back a little before smiling again.

“Oh sorry. I think I called her that out of force of habit.”

Minho just stared at Andy with complete and utter disbelief but you had enough. How dare he?!

“You mean your habit of cheating? Yeah, I know. But call me that one more time, and you’re going to be getting married with a broken nose.”

Andy’s jaw dropped.

“You’ve changed Y/N.”

“And you haven’t Andy. What can I say? We’ve all got to suck it up and deal with stuff we don’t like sometimes.”

Minho actually burst out laughing at that. You were always so nice and sweet that seeing you like this was a change for him. He never realised that you might have been extra nice to him.

Andy’s embarrassment at being insulted turned into an ugly smile.

“Well, looks like it’s your turn for that today.”

Both you and Minho looked at him like he was speaking another language.

“What are you talking about?”

“Minho’s taking you on a surprise date after breakfast and it’s a cycling date.”

Minho’s heart sank when he heard that. Did you not like cycling? Fuck.

“Wait. Andy, you knew it was supposed to be a surprise and you still told me? Wow.”

His smile faltered.

“I thought you would want to know considering how you don’t like cycling.”

Minho dug his nails into his palm. Damn it.

“Andy, I never said I don’t like it. I just said I don’t know how to cycle. Which is why Minho promised to teach me.”

“Oh I”-

You interrupted him.

“Well, it was nice talking to you Andy. See you later today.”

And he had no choice but to walk off, continuing to look back at you in shock.

After glaring at him, you finally turned your attention back to a very embarrassed Minho. He refused to look up from his plate and had a slightest pout on his face. Your heart melted.

“Minho?”

His head fell even more.

“I’m sorry. I should have asked you about it. I just wanted to surprise you. I thought you might like a picnic.”

You reached out and grabbed his face.

“I would love a picnic Minho.”

His eyes widened.

“But what about the cycling?”

“That’s okay. I need to learn someday. Besides, I trust you to teach me.”

---

“Y/N, you can do this!”

“No, I can’t! Don’t you dare let go.”

“Y/N, I promise you’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, still not reassured.”

“Look, I promise you’ll be fine. I’ll be right behind you. I run pretty fast.”

“Even then Minho. WHAT. MINHO. NO. Don’t you dare let go. Nooooo.”

“See, you’re doing it!”

“I’m doing it.”

“Yes! You’re doing it!”

“Oh my god I’m doing it.”

You rode the cycle for a while before stopping and jumping off.

“Why? What happened?” His eyes looked you over. “Are you hurt?”

You threw yourself into his arms and wrapped your arms around his neck. You buried your head into his chest.

“Thank you, Minho. Thank you so much. I…I’ve been scared to do this after a bad fall as a child. Thank you for helping me learns something I’ve always wanted to.”

Minho’s body relaxed and he wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you in silence for a minute. He pulled away and ruffled your hair.

“You’re welcome, but you’re not done yet. We’ve to eat lunch and keep practicing.”

---

“Minhoooooooo.”

He turned and grinned at you as you pouted at him.

“What is it?”

“My legs hurt.”

“Yes, that can happen if you spend four hours cycling after not working out for a month.”

You glared at him.

“Don’t get snarky with me!”

His grin grew wider. He threw an arm over your shoulder.

“No Minhooooo. I’m too tired to carry my own weight, let alone yours.”

He shook his head at you before crouching down in front of you.

“Here, get on my back. I can carry you back, no problem.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, it’s not too far from here.”

He turned around to see you hesitating. You didn’t want to trouble him. He sighed and grabbed your head.

“Please?”

Even though you were tired as hell, you felt your cheeks heating up. You quickly nodded and climbed onto his back.

“Minho?”

“Yes Y/N?”

“Can we skip today’s party?”

Minho couldn’t keep the laughter out of his voice.

“You don’t want to attend Andy’s brilliant high school themed party?”

“Oh no, don’t get me wrong. I would absolutely love to go and see all those assholes get shitfaced and say a bunch of horrible stuff. Andy’s even planning on singing Whitney Houston’s “And I will always looooveeee you.” But I’m way too tired to fake smile my way through another evening.”

He snorted.

“Yeah, my cheeks still hurt from yesterday. It didn’t help Natasha was drunk and decided to take a fascination to my cheeks.”

You burst out laughing.

“I’m sorry…”

“You don’t sound sorry.”

“I’m not. I’m her usual victim.”

Both of you grinned at each other.

“We’re calling in sick, right, Y/N?”

“Yup.”

---

Mirae was in the hotel garden, taking a walk when she ran into Andy and his friends. She hated them, but she forced a polite smile on her face. Andy was harping on about something ‘great’ he did when suddenly, the proud smile on his face disappeared. Mirae’s eyebrows shot up and she turned around to see what made Andy that way.

He was watching you and Minho, your laugh echoing as Minho carried you back to the room.

“Looks like they’re serious, huh.”

Mirae’s tone turned icy.

“What did you think?”

Andy turned red.

“No, it’s just that when I met them, I thought he was just her friend who she brought along. I mean, he clearly likes her, but I thought she didn’t feel the same.”

“Why does that matter to you?”

Andy turned red again and had the decency to stay silent this time around.

---

Minho opened the door to the room, sighing out of relief.

“Y/N, we’re back.”

Silence.

“Y/N?”

He craned his neck only to see your fast asleep against his back, cheeks squished and snoring lightly. Immediately, his face softened. He switched off the lights he literally just switched on and put you down on the bed. He then slipped off your shoes for you and removed your make up. He tucked you in, held you in his arms and gave you a kiss on the forehead. Feeling the most at peace he had in a long time, he smiled.

“Goodnight Y/N. Thank you.”

---

Any unlawful and unauthorized sharing of these works will result in legal action.

(Reblogs are good :) )

#mino angst #mino fluff #mino x reader #mino series #mino crack #winner x reader #winner angst #winner fluff #winner series #winner crack

24 notes · View notes

vampirepiggyhunterdefensesquad · 4 years

Text

dreams

It had been a fun evening, but Gaz could feel herself pleasantly getting sleepy. Her head lolled slightly, brushing against Zim's shoulder. She suppressed a smile at feeling him twitch slightly at the contact.

"Why are you. . ." His voice trailed off as Gaz let herself snuggle closer, wrapping an arm around his lower waist and pressing her cheek into his neck, feeling him swallow. "Why are you. . . slowing down?"

Gaz allowed her eyes to drift shut. "I'm falling asleep, Zim," she mumbled.

His hand snaked around her shoulders and disappeared into her hair. She could feel him playing with-- studying it under his strange fingers, feeling it. Occasionally they brushed against her neck, and she shivered.

"Ah, yes," Zim announced, "the human propensity to going into hibernation for several hours of each sun cycle."

"Don't go all alien, 's weird." Gaz turned her face into his body and smiled against his neck. "Everybody sleeps."

"Irkens don't need sleep!" Zim barked, jolting her slightly and sending her careening back to consciousness.

Gaz fought back the urge to hit him for waking her up. "Well, have you ever tried?" she snapped, pulling away and leaning on the sofa's armrest on her other side.

Zim folded his hands in his lap uncomfortably. "Why would I try?" he managed. "Sleeping is something inferior species do to pass time and rejuvenate energy they barely spent in the first place. IRKENS have evolved past the NEED for sleep!!"

His eyes kept flitting around the room, but his longing gaze kept snapping back to Gaz, who took no notice.

"I like sleeping." she merely said, settling down in her position and lying down sideways on the couch, careful not to brush Zim with her legs. Zim made an incredulous noise.

"What?"

"Come ON. You, a strong-willed and powerful human with the propensity for violence, loves to be in a state of physical vulnerability while you remain dependent on the needs of your HIDEOUS flesh to SURVIVE?? I'm sure it's a real blast." he finished snidely.

"Well, you can't dream when you're awake." Gaz forced herself to sit up, making eye contact again. She wasn't so tired she couldn't argue, and the idea that Zim resented sleep and looked down on those who "indulged' in it left a bad taste in her mouth. "Plus, it's comfortable."

"Dream?" Zim blinked. "I thought that was a myth."

"You thought DREAMING was a myth??"

"IT SOUNDS FAKE!!!"

"I like sleeping," Gaz repeated, more forcefully. "Just because your dumb leaders decided you shouldn't be allowed to enjoy it anymore doesn't mean it's not good. And dreaming can be some of the most pleasant experiences of your life."

Zim turned in his seat, fully facing Gaz. She'd come to recognize this as his "I-am-giving-you-my-full-attention" pose, and repressed a sigh.

"I would like to know more about these dreams.” he said, staring at her carefully. “Inform me of the sorts of dreams you have."

"Well, sometimes I dream about flying or something. That's always fun. Sometimes I dream I'm spending time with people or characters I like. Sometimes it's just weird, like I have something to do, somewhere to be, and I spend the whole dream trying to figure out how to get there. . . sometimes it's just a jumble of stuff I saw throughout my week. Sometimes, days when I played a lot of vampire piggy hunter, I dream I'm actually in the game and taking down vampire piggies myself."

"This sounds. . . . less than unpleasant," Zim admitted. "You have no control over what your brain decides to show you?"

"Kind of, not really though. I don't lucid dream all that often. That's when you can control what happens and you're aware it's a dream."

"Hm. And you can control everything that occurs?"

"Yeah?" Zim sat bolt upright, grabbing her hands in his. Gaz had no time to react before he scooted forward, pressing his forehead into hers. "TEACH ME. NOW."

She was wide awake now. Instinctively, Gaz's leg shot up and she kicked Zim in the stomach, pushing him forcefully away from her and landing with a thud on the floor below.

"I can't teach you how to lucid dream," Gaz spat, a bit more venomously than was probably necessary. "You have to just go to sleep yourself and figure it out."

"I don't want to sleep!" Zim whined, legs and arms tangled up. He didn't seem perturbed by Gaz's lashing out, instead extricating himself from the uncomfortable position he'd landed in. "I just want to dream."

"You can't dream without sleeping, stupid."

"YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!" he shouted back. "WITNESS my AWAKE-DREAMING!!!" With that, Zim jumped back onto the sofa (landing a bit closer to her than strictly necessary, but who was paying attention?) closing his eyes and going limp on the cushions. Gaz hoped he could sense the disapproval radiating from her glare despite not being able to see it.

"What are you doing?"

"Having a DREAM!!! obviously. Ohhhh, the dream I am. . . having. YES!!! Amazing things are happening in my amazing brain!!!"

"You're not dreaming, you're imagining. There's a difference." Gaz rolled her eyes. The eyes popped open and Zim's face fell into a childish pout. Gaz bit her lip to keep from smiling. It wasn't cute.

"C'mere. I'm gonna go to sleep now. I don't know if you even can, but. . . I wouldn't be mad if you tried. Right now."

"Now? Here?" His eyes bored into hers. "With you?"

"Don't. . . make it weird." Gaz coughed into her elbow, an excuse to look away. "But yeah. It's whatever."

Zim's mouth had closed, and he seemed to be cowed, for the most part. As a reward for his shutting up finally, Gaz returned to her spot on his shoulder, curling up and leaning against him. Zim's arms gratefully went right back around her, and his slight purring returned as she closed her eyes and let the comfort of her position and thoughts carry her away. Maybe Zim would sleep and dream and maybe he wouldn't, but either way, he wasn't going anywhere.

When the morning sun came peeking through the window, Gaz's eyes fluttered open again. A sour feeling somewhere in her chest threatened to rise up (she was always so easily woken, even by the sun, and kept the blinds in her room shut tight every night as a result) but hearing Zim's soft snore from under her cut the unpleasant feeling out from under her entirely. Gaz closed her eyes again and smiled. Judging by the mumbling from Zim's sleeping figure, Irkens could get to sleep, but they were kind of noisy. Maybe their paks kept at least a part of their brain awake during the process, in case of emergency. . .? Or maybe it was just a unique Zim thing.

Either way, she leaned back into Zim's slumbering body, strewn out across the sofa, uncaring of how it might look to anyone who could walk in. They had shifted in their sleep apparently, as Gaz was curled up on top of Zim's stretched out body. One of his arms was still up and over her back, and occasionally a finger would twitch along with a sigh or murmur from his perpetually moving mouth.

She probably could have stayed there forever if he hadn't started sounding a little more lucid.

As soon as Gaz's body returned to where it had been against his chest, a self-satisfied purr rose up in his chest, and his other arm went up to her hair.

",, az."

It was like her stomach had bottomed out and released everything in her body, organs included. She inhaled.

"What did you say?" she asked, in as soft a voice as she could.

"You," he chuckled slightly.

"What about me?"

Zim didn't respond verbally to this question. He merely grunted and tightened his grip around her body, pressing his face into her neck.

It was a wonder he hadn't woken up from the heat radiating from her face and body. Gaz wanted to disentangle herself from him, but she also didn't want to move a muscle for fear she'd wake him up.

She was wide awake now.

"What are you doing?" she asked, softly as she could without outright whispering.

He giggled. He GIGGLED at that. Gaz felt her breath catch, then cursed herself for having that reaction.

The giggle was slightly menacing, which made sense in retrospect as Zim's claws tightened on her back.

"Mine," he purred into her ear as they subtly slid downwards.

Gaz panicked. She jumped to her feet, out of Zim's ever-tightening grip, and stumbled backwards a few steps, trying to regain her balance and composure. He had no right to make her stomach do flip-flops like that. He had no right to be even the least amount of smooth or competent, asleep or not. Gaz clapped a hand over her mouth to steady her breathing, then frantically began rubbing her arms up and down and told herself she did NOT miss the contact as the chill of the room hit her.

Apparently, Zim did, as his eyes slowly flickered open and leisurely made their way over to hers.

A lazy, half-lidded, goofy smile broke out on his still sleepy face.

"Gaz. . . human." The suffix was an afterthought, savored in his mouth.

"Did. . ." Gaz swallowed. "So did you dream?"

"Dream?" Zim looked slightly confused. "Did I . . . dream?"

"Yeah, you definitely did," she answered. "I heard you sleep talking."

Zim's face went from self-satisfied to shell-shocked in heartbeat. His hands snapped together and he stared at her.

"What did-- what did I say?"

"Nothing!!" Gaz answered, waving her arms frantically. "It was just nonsense words, just babbling. You didn't say anything out of the ordinary, nothing weird or strange or cute or terrible, I'm gonna head home now, this was weird, bye!!"

"You're leaving??" Zim looked completely forlorn. "Already?"

Gaz flushed. "Get a grip," she said, as much to herself as to him. "It was just a dream."

He sat up slowly. "That was. . . unpleasant."

"It seemed pretty pleasant," she mumbled before she could stop herself. Zim's eyes swiveled to her again.

"But it wasn't REAL! What's the POINT????"

"The point? There's no point. It's just your brain entertaining you while you're asleep or whatever. . ."

Zim folded his arms and scowled. "I didn't like it."

"Of course not." Gaz was feeling tired again. It was barely sunrise and he was already yelling. "I'm gonna go home and go back to bed. See you later."

"There is no need!! It would be acceptable for you to, eh, continue staying in my living room."

"Thanks, but I want to go home," Gaz insisted.

He hopped to his feet and bounded over to her, sticking his arms out. "I COMMAND YOU TO STAY. We have not yet finished the levels we intended and you can't go home until we do!!! SLEEP HERE. dream HERE."

Hitting him with an elbow and rushing out the front door was satisfying vengeance for the topsy-turvy stomach feelings she was getting bombarded with, but it didn't stop her mind from racing all the way home. And it certainly didn't help her mutinous body stop wanting his warmth when she crawled gratefully into bed at home and closed her eyes. And it didn't keep her treacherous brain from coming up with all sorts of soft, cuddly scenarios to push on her in her weakened state.

Zim was right. Dreaming was dumb.

#zagr #zim #gaz #invader zim #my stuff #i livewrote this today and didnt edit it enjoy #i created this thing

33 notes · View notes

thisbluewind · 3 years

Text

fall between the cracks

Pairing: Azula & Katara, background Zutara

Wordcount: 1998

Summary: Azula has a nightmare, and calls Katara. Modern AU

Other notes: so, I wrote this for a gift exchange for a server i’m in, but my giftee asked not to be tagged if i posted it outside the server, so here it is!

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28480725

Azula shot upright, eyes wide and gasping for air. It was just a dream; you don’t need to get so upset over it, she berated herself, trying to steady her racing pulse. She could still see it in her mind, her father standing in front of her, the hateful lies he’d insisted were true echoing in her head.

You should have been better. You failed. You didn’t do your duty. And the worst of them all: You're just as bad as Zuko. For all her life, ‘Zuko’ had been Ozai’s synonym for disappointment, worthless, weak, and everything else she wasn’t supposed to be. She knew that her brother was none of those things, but the opinions she’d had drilled into her head for her entire childhood wouldn’t let go. You weren’t good enough. It hadn’t been her fault. If you had been better, this wouldn’t have happened. It wasn’t her fault. You could have stopped this. It couldn’t have been her fault-

She dove for her phone, and dialed the first number that came to mind.

“Azula?” Katara’s tired voice filled her ears. “It’s three in the morning.”

“I apologize for waking you. I wasn’t thinking.” Her voice sounded small and empty. Exactly the way she felt. “I will call back in the morning.” She moved to hang up, but Katara spoke first.

“Wait. What’s wrong?” the other girl asked.

“I… I had a nightmare.” It sounded foolish once she said it out loud, and Azula opened her mouth to take the words back, to lie and convince Katara it was nothing. But once again, her friend answered before she could.

“About your father?”

“Yes,” Azula admitted. “I understand it’s ridiculous to still be thinking about something that happened in college now, but-”

“I’ll be right over,” Katara promised, and the line went dead in Azula’s hand. She stared at it uncomprehendingly. Katara cares about you, she reminded herself. She cares.

In what seemed like forever and no time at all, a quiet knock sounded at her apartment door. Azula swung her legs over the edge of her bed, and stood up quickly- too quickly, it seemed, as the motion set her head spinning. She waited for the dizziness to pass, and walked to the front door. When she opened it, Katara gave her a quick hug. Azula stepped back awkwardly, wordlessly inviting her friend to come in.

Seeing her uncertainty, Katara took her arm, and led her to the kitchen. Once they were there, Azula moved with stiff and practiced efficiency, selecting ingredients and placing them on the countertop. In barely two minutes, there were two warm cups of tea on the table. Jasmine, Uncle and Zuko’s favorite.

Once they were both settled, and sipping at their tea, Katara looked at Azula expectantly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, obviously concerned.

“High school,” Azula said, bitterly. “Was a series of unrealistic and harmful expectations piled on top of me, one after another, with consequences when those impossibilities were not met. College was the result of those three years of buildup exploding in my father’s face, and by extension, mine.”

Katara nodded, clearly struggling to keep any signs of pity off her face.

“I was the envy of the entire school. Popular, intelligent, powerful. And then Iroh helped Zuko come forward about what had happened and when the news broke-” Azula snapped her fingers “-nobody wanted anything to do with the true failure, me. Just like that. Even Ty Lee and Mai abandoned me. I went from the most liked to most hated, in a matter of hours.” She grimaced. “I didn’t come to school for two weeks, but I heard the rumors. She was in on it, he hired someone to fake her success, and all the rest. I never stopped hearing it, not for the rest of my life. Every interview, I’m asked what my role was in what happened to Zuko. If I attempt to befriend someone, they inevitably demand to know what really happened. And if I don’t give the answer they want...” She stared at her feet. “I keep wondering if it’s worth trying again.”

“I didn’t know that it still affected your career.” Katara looked down at her feet. “If you want, I can pull some strings, get you a comfortable position in my company-”

“Thank you, but no.” Azula stopped her. “If I succeed, I have to do it on my own. Otherwise, I’ll just be proving what they all said about me. That my successes will always come from other people’s generosity. Not to mention what it would do to your reputation.”

“Alright,” Katara nodded, knowing exactly what Azula meant. After all, she had gone through the same thing rising to the top of her company, despite Pakku and the others on the Board of Executives doing their best to stop her. “But you need to know that having help doesn’t diminish your accomplishments. There is nothing wrong with needing help sometimes.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re talking about more than jobs?”

Katara shifted in her seat. “I know you didn’t want to when Zuko first brought it up, but I was wondering if you were still so against going to therapy.” Azula flinched from the word, bringing her hands together to rest in her lap. She straightened her posture, feeling like she had to hide all signs of the emotional turmoil inside her.

“My answer remains the same as it did then.” Azula spoke slowly, her words measured and careful.

“Are you sure? I know it helped your brother,” Katara pressed. “Or if you’re uncomfortable with that, maybe you could try talking to Zuko instead-”

“What happened to Zuko and what happened to me are completely different things,” Azula snapped. “We may have both been hurt by our fathe- Ozai, but our experiences were fundamentally different on every other level. He was the hero, Katara. I was just something for my father to brag about. Zuko faded into slightly positive-tinged obscurity after he exposed Phoenix Industries, and I have been vilified by mainstream news reports and my past defines everything I do. He had help and support from Iroh, and I was left to fall through the cracks. Do not insinuate that we went through the same thing in the end.” Katara seemed surprised by the ruthlessness and efficiency with which Azula delivered her argument. And why shouldn’t she be? I’m sure Zuko doesn’t dwell on this as much as I do. But still, Katara had clearly been hurt by her harsh words. “I-I’m sorry.”

“I get it. You’re not thinking straight right now.”

“You’re right, I’m not.” Azula stared down at her hands, screaming at herself internally for testing Katara’s patience at- she checked her watch- three-thirty in the morning. She was a fool for bringing Katara into this, a fool for telling her everything, and a fool for never being strong enough to handle anything on her own. Pathetic. Weak. Worthless.

Blinking back tears, she avoided Katara’s gaze. “I apologize for inconveniencing you. I will most likely be fine in the morning.” Most likely, you’ll be calling in sick to work and sobbing in bed for two hours in the morning. Bad enough that you’re lying again, you don’t even sound convincing.

“Azula, look me in the eyes and tell me that again.”

She forced herself to maintain eye contact, and forced her voice to remain steady as she spoke. “I will be fine in the morning.” Liar. Liar. Liar. That’s all you do, isn’t it? All you can even do anymore.

“Do you even hear yourself right now?” Katara slammed her cup down on the table with surprising force. “Do you have any idea how unconvincing you sound?”

“I’m fin-”

“No! Don’t say you’re fine. You’re not fine, and anyone with a single brain cell can see that!” Katara waved her hands as if hitting the air would make Azula listen to her. “I’m completely sick of watching you run yourself into the ground again and again! You take extra shifts at both your jobs and stay up late trying to find a job where you can use what you learned at that fancy law school, and then you burn yourself out trying to be everything you’re supposed to be, while still holding fast to your nothing-to-do-with-Ozai policy! You take a day off to recover, and start the whole cycle again the next day! I hate watching you do this to yourself!” Katara continued her diatribe, but it blurred together in Azula’s ears. Burned out. That sounded about right. But what was the other part? Could it be that Katara couldn’t stand Azula’s method of being a functioning adult? Or perhaps that Katara felt responsible for her, as Azula’s closest (and only) friend? It didn’t seem that way, from the passionate tirade alone.

“Why are you doing this?”

Katara blinked, interrupted mid-rant. “You mean why am I trying to make you take care of yourself?”

“Yes. Why are you trying to make me take care of myself, and offering me assistance in life? The system I currently have is working fine, and doesn’t affect you in any way. I can’t make sense of it. The only possible explanation that I can think of is that Zuko or Ursa put you up to it.”

“Didn’t you say your mother wanted nothing to do with you?”

“You’re avoiding the question. Why?” Azula barely managed to disguise her wince at the mention of her mother. It was her own fault, she supposed, for bringing Ursa into it.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Katara blinked. “You’re my friend, and I want what’s best for you. What, did you think I hated you?”

“Well, at first, yes,” Azula confessed, shocked. “I assumed you were spending time around me for Zuko’s sake, and mistook your… forceful personality for hatred of me.”

Katara shook her head and started to laugh. “I’ve gotta say, between dating Zuko and having Sokka for a brother, I’ve heard a lot of things like that, but what you just said takes the cake.”

“Hmph.” Azula tried to frown, but wound up smiling instead

“It’s true,” Katara teased lightheartedly. “I don’t know how you got it into your head that my way of showing complete and utter contempt was showing up at your door with cupcakes on your birthday, or inviting you over for dinner, or coming to your house at three in the morning because you had a nightmare.” She grinned. “Of course, they could have been poisoned cupcakes.”

Azula laughed. “Oh yes, they were definitely poisoned, that’s why they probably had more sugar in them then most desserts.”

“Toph gave me the recipe, you know she has a sweet tooth.”

“Have Mai and Ty Lee finally realized that their pining isn’t one-sided yet?”

“Surprisingly, yes,” Katara gave a half-smile. “It seemed like they never would, but it finally happened.”

“I’m happy for them.” Azula smiled. “It’s unlikely that either of them will ever want to speak to me again, but I wish them the best.”

They both lapsed into comfortable silence, sipping their tea and relaxing in each others’ company. After a while, Katara had to leave, as she had work the next day.

“Be brave, okay?” She hugged Azula.

“I’ll try.” Azula hugged back.

The next morning, when her alarm went off, Azula rolled out of bed and stared at the next law firm in her notebook. She pulled up the website on her phone, and was immediately drawn to the sentence in the description that they specialized in dealing with corrupt employers and large megacorporations. In a perfect world, where she wasn’t Ozai’s daughter, it would have been an excellent fit for her. Azula typed the number into her phone, and hovered her finger over the call button. Would they turn her away upon finding out who she was? Be brave, Azula. Katara’s voice echoed in her head.

Azula made the call.

#platonic azutara #zutara #azula #katara #avatar the last airbender fic #avatar the last airbender #atla #atla fic #misty writes

18 notes · View notes

kidney9-9 · 4 years

Text

Baby Chapter 4

I hope y’all enjoy this next part of Baby! I enjoyed writing it! More drama in this chapter, with Reader interacting with Peter and Steve :) Taglist is open, send in an ask to join. Tags in reblog. Thank you for reading :) Repost because it didn’t show on tags.

Baby Masterlist

Paring: Steve Rogers x Reader, Peter Parker x Reader Warnings: Drinking and swearing Word Count: 3.7k

By the time Peter got here, you were bouncing your leg in nervousness. You’d already searched up and down in this place, and you wondered if she went somewhere else. You knew she had too much to drink as well, but so did you.

“Natasha!” You yelled out into the crowd, when you saw some people staring at you oddly, and others ignoring you, you called her name again, pushing through the crowd. No one was responding. You frowned and turned to leave, seeing Peter was standing outside awkwardly.

“Peter, what are you doing out here?” You huffed out, zipping up your jacket from the cold air pushing onto you now. He was wearing his matching bunnies pajama set, and slippers and you lifted your eyebrows in surprise when you saw he was wearing a beanie as well.

“Didn’t bring my ID with me, and uh… they think I’m underage.” He explained, cheeks blushing from the cold wind and in embarrassment. You bit your lip to stop your smile from peeking through before you remembered that you two needed to go look for her. You glanced over to the bouncer, seeing the rude stare that he was giving Peter, and flipped him off, scoffing as he shook his head.

“Y/n… about today, I’m sorry. I get that you’re freaking out now with Natasha, but maybe we can talk after we find her?” Peter spoke up, after wrapping his arm around your back, pulling you away from the bouncer before you could start an argument or a fight. You sighed, stepping closer into him as you pointed out the bar, across the street.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t listen to me if I say anything stupid now, it doesn’t count.” You rambled back, still feeling a bit drunk. You probably wouldn’t have called him if you weren’t drunk, but you just needed help fast, and you knew you could count on him.

Peter giggled, shaking his head back to you, gazing as you stuck your tongue out back. “I remember when you shouted about pasta that one time, outside of Aunt May’s apartment.” He mumbled to you, glancing away as you furrowed your eyebrows.

“I remember that, and you promised we’d never bring it up again!” You countered back, eyes widening back to the memory as it flashed through your head. Peter patted your back teasingly as you continued to bicker about promises and pasta, while also mentioning Natasha and where you thought she’d be.

Peter wasn’t as worried as you were since he wasn’t close to her. He didn’t know that much about Natasha, like you did, except for the fact that she is a scary assassin, who get’s crazy when drunk. He pouted at that part of evidence, yeah, he should be more worried.

“I like this. Us pretending now.” You whispered after a moment or so. Peter stopped walking, still holding onto you. His breath hitched as he gawked to you nervously, wondering what you were going to say.

He knew he was trying to fall out of love with you, but every time he’s with you, the love just rises in him. He can’t help feeling this way, even though he knows you don’t love him like he loves you. It was a terrible cycle, trying to get you out of his head but can’t get enough of being around you.

You smiled back up to him, wanting to forget the last few weeks or so, just for a bit. “Pretending we’re best friends again. I know it’s not… What I did to you is wrong. But I miss you, and I’m angry at you, and,” You cut yourself off with a loud laugh, looking away as you felt a bit dizzy.

“You just make me happy and I want you to be happy.” You finished up, stumbling over your words as you tried to focus down the street at a group of people. You were still trying to look for Natasha.

Peter coughed in surprise, squeezing his eyes shut as he thought about how could put up with feeling so in love with you, and you speaking to him in such a way. It made him falsely hope for a future with you, and he knew it wasn’t going to happen. That he should just move on now, but you were drumming at his heart strings now.

To try and lighten to situation slightly, Peter faked a laugh, “And I can’t call you baby?” It hurt so much when he opened his eyes to see you standing in front of him, so close, gazing up to him, and he still couldn’t reach out to you.

“Mm, I guess it could slide for now, I don’t know. You’re a bit cute in your jammies, so why not.” You answered, mumbling back and you reached up to snatch his beanie. He gasped and took a dramatic step back as you pulled it onto your head with a victory laugh.

“I’ll let you steal that for now too. You called me cute.” He retorted, before locking hands with you, tugging you down to the bar you were pointing at. You nodded along with him, unaware of the deep blush rushing onto his face and ears from your compliment.

“Ooh, you take initiative, I like that.” You commented, giggling as he tugged on your hand even more causing you to trip over your feet a few times. Peter grumbled under his breath, telling himself to stay chill and help you find Natasha and go back to the Compound.

“Remember that in bed too.” You mentioned, laughing even more as you felt his grip tighten. His blushing increased from your flirting and he had to remind himself that you were just like this when you were drunk. You rarely spoke about the time you were with him, but it always made his head go wobbly.

You shrugged his hand off as you spotted Natasha’s shiny shirt. “Nat! It’s me!” You shouted, laughing loudly in excitement and relief that you found her. Peter sighed to himself quietly, sticking back on the side of the street as you ran to her. He didn’t understand why you called him then, if she was only down the street. He shrugged though, trying to focus on something else other than your flirty advancements on him.

Natasha swirled around, “Hey! Where were you? Some asshole managed to take my bag when I was ordering something.” Her explanation made you scrunch your nose up, still muddled about how you two lost each other. She snickered, seeing your facial expression.

“Saw him run here and I chased after him, taught him a lesson and got a drink here. Thought you saw me and came as well.” She continued, nodding back to you as you “Oohed” back, understanding.

You walked closer to her, slightly glancing behind you to see Peter still standing a bit away. “Um, I called Peter here.” You whispered to her, and she tilted her head back to you before letting out a breath. You frowned, feeling a lecture coming.

“Y/n, are you crazy? You just told me how upset and angry you were earlier and now you brought him here? Do you have feelings for him? I swear – Y/n, we need to sit down and talk about this, but when we’re sober.” She blathered to you, clenching her fists up as she looked at him from behind your back. You nodded back to her dully.

By the time you got home, you felt awkward. Peter and Natasha chatted, for just a bit. They legit only said “Hi, how are you?” To each other and stopped after that. And when you spoke up, trying to get them into a conversation, it would fail and leave you groaning quietly. You fell back on your bed, the one in your own room, instead of Steve’s. You didn’t know what you’d say to him about taking his card either, but you just wanted to rest now.

You didn’t care to change or even take your shoes off when you fell onto the bed. You just felt a bit too exhausted, and you just needed to sleep off what you drank. The room was already dark, and you didn’t bother to get the blankets to cover yourself. Instead, you just fell asleep instantly.

You didn’t know that outside your room, Natasha pulled Peter aside to speak to him. Her arms were crossed, as she gazed back to him almost disappointed. The atmosphere was awkward, making Peter twitch uncomfortably, and play with his fingers, looking away. He knew that she was going to speak about what happened, but he didn’t really want to. It would just be weird.

“Why’d you answer the call if you weren’t speaking to her?” Natasha started off, eyes narrowing when Peter gulped in nervousness. He sat back down on one of the chairs outside of the elevator and brought his legs up on the chair to adjust comfortably.

He groaned silently before speaking up, “She’s my friend, just wanted to know she was okay.” Natasha’s eyebrows raised in a bored manner, knowing it was sort of a lie. It was much more than what he said, and he sighed, head tilting back on the chair cushion, as Natasha sat across from him.

She kept her gaze on him as she responded gently, “And how are you doing? You’re so obviously in love with her.” Peter pressed his lips into a thin line, not wanting to be here now, to be criticized and reminded of how he shouldn’t be in love with you anymore.

“I’m fine.” He replied, keeping it short with her, but professional. He knew he shouldn’t piss her off, especially now.

“Okay sure.” She paused, rolling her eyes in annoyance. “I don’t want to see you hurting her again. She’s had enough shit thrown at her, and she doesn’t need anymore.” Her words made Peter almost curl into himself, hearing her sharp tone.

She left afterwards and Peter slowly walked to his room, sighing to himself as he thought about everything again. He pushed his door open and sat onto his bed, glancing over to his nightstand, seeing the picture of you and him. It was a sweet photo from the time you two had gone on your first mission alone together.

He laughed quietly, recalling how you thought one of the pens was as laser beam, and pointed it at one of the targets that was trying to attack you. Everyone had paused when they saw you hold that pen up, so powerfully, that they glanced to each other while Peter walked closer to you, in confusion. It was one of those moments he’d always remember, and he used that mistake of yours and turned it into a technique during a few of his private missions.

In the morning, you barely rolled over in bed, feeling a headache pound. “Fuck…” You groaned out, clutching your head as you sat up. You glanced to the window, sniffling a bit groggily and narrowing your eyes at it. It was too bright out; you didn’t even know what time it was. You slowly dragged yourself out of bed, stumbling over the blinds and shutting them.

You were thankful that Tony let you and the rest of the team customize your own rooms. This one was your personal one, and it had lots of your photos hanging up across the walls, cluttered near your desk. Above your bed was a painting you started and never finished, but you plan onto soon. You just needed time to do it.

When you glanced to the clock besides the bed, your eyebrows shot up in surprise. It was past 12, and you usually got up a few hours before then. You had so much to do today… fuck. You rushed to the bathroom, stripping off the disgusting clothes from last night and turned the hot water on in the shower, sighing as you glanced into the mirror.

You didn’t wear much makeup last night, expect you could see the itty bits of eye makeup crawled under your eyes, and spread on random spots of your face. You picked up your face wash and makeup remover from your cabinet, before scrubbing your face with the products, trying to get it off as the water in the shower heated up. You were in a big rush this morning.

Once you got most of the makeup off, you brushed your teeth fast, springing into the shower at the same time. You gasped at the heat of the water, quickly turning it down as you finished brushing your teeth, and you placed your toothbrush on the side of the tub. You grabbed your conditioner, skipping your shampoo step to save time and combed it into your hair with your hands. You picked up the soap afterwards and quickly scrubbed down, groaning as you could feel the conditioner slide into your eyes.

After you got out of the shower, you wrapped the towel around you, sighing to yourself when you walked out of the bathroom, water dripping everywhere as you glanced back to the clock. 12:15 now, that was sort of good. But you should have been up hours before.

As you walked towards your desk, picking up your planner, your eyes met one of the photo’s hung up. It was you and Peter at the beach. That was one of the most fun beach days you’ve ever had, it was a long sweet day. You bit your lip at the thought of Peter, rethinking about what you told him last night. You knew you shouldn’t have, but it slipped out. You always did that type of shit, confessing things that shouldn’t be said, and acting so flirty. You scrunched your face up in annoyance at yourself.

Fuck, what about you taking Steve’s card?

He’s going to freak out. You don’t even know how much you charged it, but you were sure he got an alert on his phone at least. It was strange that his card wasn’t denied at all those places, as well. You thought the company would have at least out it on hold, while they called Steve to make sure he was using it. You didn’t really know.

You dressed quickly, shrugging on an extra jacket because it was cold today. You picked up your phone, turning it on to see if you got any messages. Nothing from Steve, you frowned in confusion. You hoped to talk to him after what you did, maybe get answers. You got one from Natasha, reading, “How are you feeling? Leaving in 10 minutes for Paris mission. Talk to you soon.” Your eyes widened when you saw it was hours ago. How was she able to get up that early after last night?

You saw one from Bucky and you frowned, knowing you messed up even more now. “Where are you? We have a meeting with the agent from the FBI. She’s supposed to give us the information today as long as you bring the flash drive with the evidence in the John Doe case.” You blew out a breath of air, seeing that was an hour ago.

You quickly texted him back, “Is she still here? On my way now.” It was so unprofessional to do, as you stuffed your feet in your slippers by the door and rushed down the hall, not caring your door was wide open.

Water dripped down you still as you ran past a few doors, going into the more public area. You could see the weird glances by coworkers you’ve never spoken to and the scoffs by others. You held onto the flash drive, that was next to your planner on the desk, tightly.

You heard your phone ding and you paused, getting onto the elevator, going down. It was from Bucky, reading, “You’re lucky I got her number. Taking her out for dinner tonight as an apology.” You sighed in relief, but still felt bad. But you also grinned a bit, seeing that Bucky had a date. He rarely went out for dates, but when he did, he wasn’t as closed off as he usually was.

You texted him back as the elevator dinged, “Good for you. Is she your type? I’ll give you the flash drive before you leave for the date.” You smiled even more as it sent, automatically seeing him type back, probably to deny it or something.

You were right, he sent back, “Shut up, it’s not a date. It’s a meeting.” You laughed a bit before going back to Natasha’s text to respond. You quickly texted her what was happening and asked when she’d be back. You weren’t that close to Bucky, but Natasha was, and she always loved teasing him about this kind of stuff.

You shoved your phone in your pocket as you heard someone clear their throat next to you. You glanced up, seeing it was Steve. Your eyes popped open and you instantly opened your mouth, but nothing came out. You didn’t know what to say to him. He was wearing his work out clothes, coming from the gym, the second time today.

“Y/n,” Steve paused, gazing down at you with an unreadable expression. You slowly nodded back to him, taking notice of his greeting.

“Uh, hey.” Your response was a bit meek, since you didn’t know what else to do. You awkwardly stood in the corner of the elevator as it went lower again. You couldn’t meet his eye contact, instead, your eyes were casting towards the buttons.

“How was the food last night?” His question made you inwardly cringe, and you coughed in surprise. You barely remembered what you even ate last night. You remembered everything else, but the food was something you had to think about. You probably shared with Natasha.

You blew out some air before responding, “Yeah, pretty good.” You needed to apologize. But how? When? You had no idea, and you were quick to glance up to Steve as you heard him chuckle. You frowned, seeing him act so happy, knowing that you used his credit card.

Steve stopped laughing and he sighed, “It’s just pretty good? You blew $800 last night.” He didn’t believe it either when he saw all the notifications on his phone, until he tried looking for his card, seeing it wasn’t there. When he looked up all the purchases and checked to see if you were here or not, he knew it was you spending it.

“Steve, oh my god!” You gasped aloud. That much money… you couldn’t believe it. You immediately felt guilt surge up in you as he nodded quietly back to you. You quickly continued after your exclamation, “I’m so fucking sorry,” You paused again, hearing the elevator beep.

The door opened and a few people poured in and Steve tilted his head back against the wall, closing his eyes and waited. You bit your lip, watching as the elevator now went back up, a few people getting on and off for a few minutes. You didn’t want to say anything in front of them, knowing it would be wrong to bring something like that up in front of people.

When you cleared your throat, Steve opened his eyes again. No one was in the elevator now, and you glanced up to the clock on the elevator, noticing most people had already left for lunch now. You turned to face him now, and stepped forward, face burning in guilt and regret.

“What happened last night, I’ll pay you back. That was immature of me, I’m sorry.” You apologized again, stumbling over your words but expressing them with deep remorse. Sure, it probably wasn’t that much to him, compared to how much he has in his bank account, but it still wasn’t great to do. It was a lot of money in your opinion.

Steve’s gaze on you was steady, wanting to give you a hug, but he was angry. He wanted to understand what your reasoning was to do that, but at the same time, he couldn’t help but want to just demand it out of you. He knew he wouldn’t though, that was too harsh. And seeing you, with clothes that were beginning to dampen even more with the water hanging off you, fuck.

He was horny. Angry and horny wasn’t a good combination for Steve. The last time he was angry and horny, he ended up shouting into his pillow, punching it, and masturbating to a picture of you. It was a bit pathetic to Steve, but the feeling faded once you glanced up to make eye contact with him.

“Stevie?” You whispered, seeing him step forward. His facial expression showed his rage, but there was more that you couldn’t recognize. He took another step closer to you, and you could almost feel his breath on your skin, as he gazed down at you, hand cupping your cheek causing you to gasp.

“I want to kiss you.” He confessed, murmuring down to you. “Can I kiss you?” He questioned softly, but with a firm tone. Your mouth dropped open in disbelief before you answered him by leaning up and meeting his lips slowly.

You pulled away after a moment, glancing at his eyes before he pushed closer to you, leaning in to kiss you harder and faster. You grunted a bit, feeling his teeth bite down onto your lip and you closed your eyes, hands wrapping around his torso. “Fuck,” Steve mumbled against your lips before kissing you again, tongue swirling up into your mouth.

You shoved him away when you heard the elevator beep open again. The two of you stared at each other, breathing heavily as a random worker walked in, quickly pressing onto the button for his floor. Steve cleared his throat, breath still heavy, “Meet me in my room with my card in five minutes.” You quickly agreed, nodding back to him, not caring another person was here.

Steve walked out the elevator the next moment, and you leaned against the wall, groaning quietly to yourself and pressed your hands up to your face. Fuck, that was one of the best kisses you’ve ever had with him. You wanted more, even though the two of you still needed to talk about things.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #peter parker #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #avengers #avengers fanfiction #thank you for reading #love y'all

19 notes · View notes

superthiccthighssavelives · 4 years

Text

Untitled Sad 💧 Emoji Prompt

For @jolovesfandoms who requested a sad 💧 prompt ...

I’m sorry if the beginning drones on, I wanted to paint the right picture of fear, anxiety and nerves. Forgive my possible overexplanation before we get to the point of the damn prompt lol.

Also, I listened to a lot of indie, acoustic, etheral music while writing this, you should probably bust out your sad playlist as you follow along. I’m overly critical of my writing, and yeah...I hope this is decent. Ok, onward!

@alyss--in--wonderland @primaba11erina, @linseykalynn

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

My hands were shaking, skin glistening with tiny beads of nervousness, my mouth dry. I kept trying to swallow, for relief, but my throat was a desert. I began to fidget, my fingers intertwining awkwardly, squeezing them together too hard, trying to force out some semblance of calm.

The view from the back seat of this slow moving car window was dizzying, my eyes couldn’t focus, things were blurred and making me feel uneasy.

My breath was stuttered, nothing I repeated in my head was helping. “I’m OK.” “This is fine.” “Why are you so worried?” “You’re making a bigger deal out of this than it needs to be.” and endless other thoughts thrashing around in my brain. I’ve never been the kind that seeked attention, or even welcomed it. I’m definitely a more behind the scenes person. Maybe it was how I grew up, or maybe I’m just crazy. Maybe it was all the bad relationships I’ve suffered in the past. Maybe everything all at once. All I knew in this moment was that I was scared to death.

Taron and I had been dating about a year, recently becoming more serious. Tonight was the first time we’d be together in the public eye, some event. A pre-awards party banquet whatever type thing. I knew what it was, but my brain was failing me right now, only plotting made up scenarios and ridiculous possibilities of what could happen.

I was trying not to let my insecurities get the better of me, but I was playing a losing game. I know how critical people can be, especially in “Hollywood.”

“Hey, are you alright?” I felt his warm breath in my ear, leaning over, sounding concerned.

I forced a fake smile, and nodded. “Yeah, just excited.” I don’t know why I was lying, but I figured it was for the greater good. I didn’t want to ruin this night. He gave me a quick kiss on my temple and gave my knee a gentle squeeze, continuing on his conversation with his publicist. It seemed like years before we reached the auditorium. I wanted to get it over with, but yet, never reach the destination, my anxiety made me feel heavy and hot. I reached for a water with trembling hands, attempting to remove the cap. Anxiety is so overwhelming, besides the usual shaking and nausea, you get agitated easily, and right now I wanted to throw this bottle right out the window.

I closed my eyes, taking in a deep, deep breath, again repeating the previous mantras over and over. Without missing a beat, Taron grabbed the bottle, opened it, and returned it back to me, all while keeping his conversation flowing in front of him. He knows me too well, and it’s almost impossible to hide anything from him. But, tonight, I was going to have to try harder. This is his night, I was going to play the part, I had to. It comes with the territory.

The car came to a stop, while my heart sped up. “Ready?” His smile was easy, relaxed. He enveloped his hand in mine, leading me out into the humid night air. My dress was already tight, and now I felt like it was permanently glued to me. If my perspiration from earlier didn’t seal the deal, this suffocating atmosphere would. Damn, I didn’t even look in the mirror before I stepped out, a million more worries flashed in my head. “Is my mascara running?” “Is my lipstick crooked?” “Did my hair fall flat?” “Do I even have the body to wear this dress?” I wanted to turn right back around and get in that car and go back to my apartment.

His hand rested on my lower back, guiding me toward the crowds of people, crews, and cameras.

Cameras, another worry. Why did I think I could even do this?

We were stopped almost immediately by someone wanting a quick interview. I stepped as far aside as I could, trying to avoid any sort of acknowledgment. My eyes darted too fast, from one point to another, trying to focus on one thing, to breathe at an even pace, to not look like a crazy person standing there awkwardly. It felt like a never ending cycle as we glided down the pathway. The flashes were incessant, blinding at first then just annoying as it went on, especially the photographer calling out names to look their way. Jesus, I don’t know how anyone can stand being a celebrity.

Taron grabbed me for a few, and I have never in my life been so graceless. My mouth was stuck, making crooked half smiles, looking at the wrong camera, posing in strange positions. His hand rubbed small circles on my back, trying to soothe me, I’m sure my nerves were just rolling off in tsunami sized waves. He would lean over, kiss my cheek, or temple, and whisper that everything was ok, that it was almost over, and that I was doing so good. I know he was just trying to placate me, and I loved him for that, but nothing seemed to mellow me.

After what seemed after hours, we got to our table, I felt a tiny bit of that jitter fall off me. We were sat with some other couples, directors, actors, no one I cared to recognize at the moment. I needed a drink, a real drink. Taron was such a conversationalist, getting along with everyone, being exactly who he was supposed to be.

I felt so out of place, I didn’t belong here whatsoever. The more I thought about it, the more panic set in. Everyone could probably read it all over my face, I was so uncomfortable, I couldn’t speak (thankfully no one attempted to), and I couldn’t concentrate.

Every so often, someone would come to our table, to shake his hand, congratulate him on something, etc etc. As much as I tried not to notice, a handful of them were very surreal, very beautiful women. My insecurity was screaming, I was frozen, watching, trying not to have some insane breakdown. It’s ruined so many things in the past, and I was desperate for that to never happen again. Maybe I should leave, so he can have a good night. My self control was for shit, and no matter how much I tell myself to stop, there’s something inside that takes over, and causes chaos.

I stood up abruptly, without even thinking, wanting to just bolt. Taron’s eyes flew up, and then the rest of him, joining me. “Everything alright?” His eyes were worried, searching mine. I bit my lip, my eyes unable to meet his. He took both of my hands in his, whispering my name softly. “What’s wrong?” I felt like a brick wall was immediately put between us, I didn’t want to tell him the truth, and I didn’t want to cause a scene.

“Sorry, too much caffeine earlier, where’s the restroom?”

Again, I forced a false smile, a bit more convincingly than I had earlier.

He still looked alarmed, he didn’t buy it, of course.

My name rolled off his lips again, except it sounded more like a query. A knowing query, almost matter of factly, definitely skeptic.

I hate this, I hate that he knows me almost better than I know myself. My face felt flushed, and tears were threatening my eyes. I had to remove myself from this area right now before ...all my damn fears turned into a self-fulfilling prophecy.

“Let’s go get some air alright?”

I agreed, letting him lead me to a side door. The air had cooled and I felt like I could breathe again.

“Taron, I think I should go.”

His body turned towards me, his eyes widening.

“What, why? Babe, tell me what’s going on. Please?”

I ran my hands through my hair, and down my face, trying to rub out all my anxiety. “I don’t belong here, at all. I’m not like everyone else.”

“What...what are you on about?” His voice imploring, almost begging for me to reconsider.

“It’s fine, I swear, you can stay, have a good time, please. I just...I can’t, I’m sorry.”

It was quiet for a moment, except the sounds drifting out from the venue.

I was letting him down, I knew it was just a matter of time before it happened. Why couldn’t I just be normal? My insecurities tear me apart, some days more than others, but today was an all time high.

My stomach was in knots, scared of what he was going to say or do next. We stood side by side, our backs against a stone wall.

His head turned, just looking at me, his eyes, his gorgeous eyes, searching for an answer.

My head felt too heavy to hold up, I let it hang, peering at the ground below.

My body was pressed into the wall further, as he came closer to me, tilting my head up to meet his eyes. His thumb swept away the tears that had escaped, he looked so worried, so sad. I didn’t want to make him feel like this, I was supposed to make him happy, I hated myself so much right now. His forehead rested against mine, eyes closed, a hand in my hair, breathing beautiful words so soft and warm against my lips, and assuring me that everything is perfect.

His voice was low, quiet, almost pleading for me to return with him.

“I don't want to do this without you love, please, come back in, or we can leave, I don’t care, I just don’t want you to feel like this“

“You shouldn’t have to, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, god, I’m so ridiculous” More tears streamed down my face, most assuredly ruining my makeup.

His lips reached mine, placing the tiniest, gentle, timid sticky kiss. His breath trailed over my mouth, his hand still caressing my hair, whispering how much he wanted me beside him, how he needed me. It spread a bubble of serenity over me, my hands gripping, grasping at his sides. Our lips met again, his intense, but composed passion pouring into me. It felt amazing, like being sprinkled with fairy dust from a magic wand.

He looked at me once more, searching, silently requesting my answer. The rest of my tears dabbed away from his gentle fingertips.

“Let’s go home, ok? Back to mine.”

I felt terrible, I didn’t want him to go. I could stay, a bit longer, I have to, for him.

We moved back to the table, his hands never left me. They trailed my back, my thighs, he would squeeze my hand every so often, caress the back of my neck, sweep a piece of hair behind my ear, give me a gentle kiss on the cheek, and whisper how gorgeous I looked, and how happy he was that I was there.

I still felt off, but he tried his hardest to make it better.

Music was playing in the background, I barely noticed, I was so in my head.

He stood up, reaching for my hand, giving me the sweetest, most persuasive look.

My eyebrows raised in surprise, my stomach felt like hundreds of bees were buzzing around, instead of nervous or impatient butterflies. I haven’t slow danced since high school.

“Please?”

An exasperated sigh sprang from me, trying not to set myself up for anything embarrassing. We moved slowly, swaying to whatever ethereal music was playing. My nerves were playing me again, so worried about someone judging me, or watching me. My head veered back, his finger under my chin, bringing me to face him. “Just look at me, ok?” He pulled me closer, feeling my body tremble. His hands secured themselves around my waist, gently rubbing circles on my lower back.

I placed my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, letting it soothe me. I relaxed even farther, closing my eyes while he began to sing in my ear. His voice was so calming, tranquil, beautiful. He was so amazing, all that he has done for me, especially tonight. One of his hands ascended up, stroking my hair. I loved to listen to him sing, but the way his words flowed off his tongue, sent an arrow straight to my heart. He was sincere, whispering the lyrics but seemingly sounding more meaningful than they should have. I was so lucky, and I didn’t feel I deserved him right now.

I pulled back, gazing at him, incredulously. I have never felt this way before, no one has ever gone to such great lengths to make me feel secure. I think this was the moment I fell in love with him, and vowed to do everything in my power to return that feeling.

My lips found his, placing a feathery kiss against his warm lips. “Thank you.”

He smiled, with such adoration I felt like I could melt. He returned back, humming a lullaby against my skin. I never wanted to be anywhere else but here right now.

#prompts #prompt #writing prompt #sad writing prompt #taron egerton fic #taron x you #taron egerton imagine #taron egerton x reader #taron egerton #creative writing #is this even good #ugh doubts

32 notes · View notes

mdzsgildedfate · 3 years

Text

Gilded Fate - Chapter 11

Reincarnation AU [Chapter 11/?] Characters: Xue Yang, Xiao Xingchen, Song Lan, Lan Sizhui, Lan Jingyi, Jin Ling, Original Characters. Pairings: Xue Yang/Xiao Xingchen, Song Lan/Xiao Xingchen, Lan Sizhui/Lan Jingyi, Xue Yang/OC

A deafening silence fell over the temple as the last of the students disappeared out of sight. The sun was beginning to sink in the sky and a small chill was settling in, serving as a reminder of the impending season change. Jin Ling stared on down the path long after everyone had gone, mulling over the situation still at hand. Clenching his jaw, he spun around and disappeared back inside the temple.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he quickly made his way through the winding hallways. Even though one of the potential dangers had been somewhat resolved, Jin Ling didn’t feel any less on edge. During Xinyi’s awakening, something stuck out to him- a seemingly insignificant detail that had unsettled him. Perhaps it was nothing. Very likely, it was completely unrelated to the other disturbing occurrences in the temple, but he wasn’t about to leave any stone unturned.

Hunting down Xiao Xingchen hadn’t been difficult. Jin Ling quickly found him drifting about the halls, looking nearly indistinguishable from the other ghosts that lingered around the premises. Even with the noise he made in approaching, Xingchen didn’t acknowledge the other cultivator until he was standing directly in front of him.

“Xiao Xingchen.” Jin Ling addressed him, blocking his path. “What happened back there with Song Lan?”

Xingchen gave his usual noncommittal shrug and tried to move past Jin Ling.

“Cut the crap. I know you’re faking.” Jin Ling squared his shoulders, refusing to let the man leave. “I heard you say Xinyi’s name. I know you can talk.”

The priest paused, looking at Jin Ling with an annoyed expression. “Why do you think I have some hidden information? You saw the same thing I did. Song Lan lost control of his Yin energy for a moment.”

“Do you really expect me to believe that?”

Xingchen drew back with a bemused expression. “What are you implying?”

“Song Lan has had over eight thousand years to learn energy control. I don’t believe for one minute that a sword fight with Xinyi was enough to break that.”

“Believe it or not, it’s none of my business.” Xingchen pushed past Jin Ling. “If you’re so worried, why don’t you go ask him?”

Grabbing Xingchen’s shoulder, he pulled him back to face him. “I will when I find him. I don’t suppose you know where he is?”

“No. I don’t. I don’t make a habit of keeping track of his location every second of every day.” He replied, looming over Jin Ling. “I don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish with your stories of caves and demonic cultivators, but I’m tired of entertaining this game.”

Jin Ling’s jaw dropped in surprise, shocked by Xingchen’s disposition. He knew Song Lan was reluctant to believe what he’d said, but at least aired on the side of caution. Xingchen’s total lack of concern and blatant disregard of the potential danger was startling.

“Fine!” He snapped after a long pause. “It’s no wonder Song Lan is the way he is, walking through hell for someone who won’t even talk to him.”

Xingchen stopped dead in his tracks, fists clenched. Stepping even closer to Jin Ling, black veins creeping up his neck, Xingchen grabbed the front of the man’s robe. With their faces so close together, Jin Ling could see the faint remnants of tear stains on the priest’s face.

“How dare you make such wild presumptions about us?” He hissed, “Why should I be grateful to someone who condemned me to an endless life as a fierce corpse? Why should I be grateful to someone who keeps me locked away here?”

Suddenly dropping Jin Ling’s lapel, Xingchen stepped back, squeezing his eyes against the tears threatening to spill out again. Jin Ling watched speechlessly, cycling between shock and guilt.

“Song Lan didn’t walk through hell for me.” The veins receded and his fists unclenched, his demeanour relaxing into a state of defeat. “He brought me back so he could feel better about what happened. Everything he did was with complete disregard to my feelings. My refusal to speak is the only mercy I can show him.”

“Do you really hate him so much that Xue Yang’s company was preferable?” Jin Ling asked, muscles tensed.

Xingchen turned his gaze to the Jin Cultivator, falling quiet for a long time before speaking again. “When I died, I was blind. When I woke up, I suddenly wasn’t. That was just one of many secrets Song Lan has kept from me the past three thousand years. Xue Yang’s presence here was likely my last chance to find answers. It was hardly a matter of whose company was preferable.”

With that, the priest walked away, leaving Jin Ling behind to process the information. Seeing Xingchen’s raw emotions, he could understand why he’d chosen to feign being mute to Song Lan. Jin Ling himself had separated from the two Lans for a similar need to avoid difficult conversations, he could only imagine what it’d be like if he had to live isolated with them like Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen.

Shaking the thoughts from his head, Jin Ling returned his focus to the trouble at hand. Song Lan’s outburst still held suspicion for him, regardless of Xingchen’s opinion on it. Returning to his sweep of the temple, he searched every nook and cranny of the building in search of the other priest. Without the students occupying them, the spare rooms echoed eerily, feeling entirely too empty.

Coming to the last room, a fresh anxiety swelled within Jin Ling. If Song Lan wasn’t inside, it meant he had disappeared from the temple again. After his initial encounter with Xiao Xingchen, Jin Ling hadn’t run into a single other person. Something definitely didn’t feel right. Steadying his breathing, and trying to quell his growing unease, Jin Ling reached out and slid the door open. And let out a sigh of relief.

“There you are.”

With his back to Jin Ling, Song Lan stood ridgid in the middle of the otherwise empty room.

“Song Lan?”

The man jolted slightly, coming to life and rotating to face the other cultivator. Ice ran through Jin Ling’s veins immediately. Before he had a chance to react at all, his body suddenly froze, refusing to move no matter how hard he strained his muscles. His heart pounded in his chest as he heard movement behind him- the light footsteps of someone walking just out of view. His vision blurred and everything went black.

~X~

Most of the ride back to Beijing was passed dozing off and on. The adrenaline from his injured hand had worn off, leaving Xinyi feeling exhausted. His head rested on Chen’s shoulder, with one of the man’s arms wrapped around him, occasionally shifting in his seat whenever the ride’s turbulence rattled him awake. In between those moments, his dreams came forward in vague clips- memories from his life before.

As they pulled into the university parking lot, Chen gently shook him awake so they could begin gathering their things. Everyone filed off quietly, having still not quite recovered from the shock at the temple. Most of the students headed back to the dorms, leaving only a spare few stragglers to trudge through the parking lot in search of their own cars. Exchanging a few words amongst themselves, QianHua waved goodbye and left Chen to drive Xinyi home.

Before they made it far, Sizhui and Jingyi stopped them. Urging Chen to keep walking, Xinyi turned to face the two men.

“Xinyi. I won’t keep you long, I know you’re tired and in pain.” Sizhui said, choosing his words carefully. “But we’re obviously apprehensive about what happened-”

“Apprehensive?” Xinyi asked, looking at the two blankly. “You haven’t stopped staring at me since we left the temple. Are you afraid I’ll kill someone if you blink?”

“This isn’t my first time witnessing someone remember their past life.” Sizhui continued, shifting uncomfortably. “I’m not ruling out the possibility.”

“Considering what kind of person you used to be.” Jingyi added.

“Right. Because you knew me so well?” Xinyi narrowed his eyes at him. “Don’t you know me better now?”

“It’s true, we’ve known you longer as Xinyi than as Xue Yang.” Sizhui said, cutting off whatever thought Jingyi was forming. “But the awakening process can have… side effects. Especially for people who died with regrets, or grudges-”

“I don’t care about anything that happened back then.” Xinyi interjected quickly. “I was a poor orphan that resorted to violence to survive, who glorified someone for showing me bare minimum kindness. None of that applies to my life now.”

Sizhui scanned his eyes over him, not looking entirely convinced. “You didn’t seem terribly indifferent when Xingchen tried to talk to you.”

Xinyi frowned at the name, breaking his eye contact with Sizhui. “I guess I have higher standards for how people treat me now. I’m thankful to you and Jingyi for helping me, but you’re not much different. You’re not looking out for me, you don’t even care that I’m a different person.”

Holding up his injured hand, he looked between Sizhui and Jingyi a few times before continuing. “You still remember I’m your student right? Wasn’t it your job to keep me safe? Everyone’s so worried that I might hurt other people, but no one batted an eye at the danger I was in around Song Lan.”

“I-... I’m sorry… You’re right.” Sizhui tilted his head down, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Jiaoshou. I’m going home. I’ll see you in class.”

Sizhui and Jingyi watched as Xinyi left, at a loss for what to say even to each other. The whole week had been spent worrying about Xue Yang’s return, just as Xinyi said, never once considering the possibility of Song Lan deviating. The two walked back to Sizhui’s car, not breaking the silence until the doors shut them inside. All at once, Sizhui’s emotions broke and he bent over the steering wheel in tears.

“A-Yuan, this isn’t your fault-”

“How is it not?” Sizhui asked, lifting his face. “I keep failing, time and time again! Every time I try to help, I just make things worse!”

“That’s not true.” Jingyi put a hand on Sizhui’s shoulder.

“Yes it is! You know it is, you know I was lying about Wen Chao. He didn’t try to redeem himself! I induced his awakening and he killed himself!” His whole body shook with sobs. “Because of my negligence, Wen Qing slaughtered an entire village. We haven’t seen Zizhen in thousands of years because of what I let happen! And now-!”

Jingyi grabbed the back of Sizhui’s shirt and pulled him into a hug, wrapping his arms tight around the sobbing man. Stroking his hand over Sizhui’s hair, he let him cry into his shoulder until the sobs subsided into soft hiccups. He pulled back, wiped the tears from Sizhui’s face, and kissed him.

“Did you do those things alone?” Jingyi asked, looking into Sizhui’s eyes. “I was there with you. You did the best you could, but those were imperfect situations with imperfect outcomes. They likely would have happened whether we were there or not. It’s true, we didn’t handle Xinyi well, but we did the best we could under the circumstances.”

Sizhui let out a stuttered breath, stifling another wave of tears.

“A-Yuan. Xinyi’s upset, and rightfully so, but this is far from the worst scenario. No one died.”

“That’s a pretty shitty minimum standard.”

“Ok, well, just for that, you’re copying the Lan principles when we get home.” Jingyi said curtly, sitting back in his seat. “Using such vulgar language, I’m disappointed in you.”

Sizhui broke into laughter, putting his forehead to Jingyi’s shoulder for a moment before straightening up. Jingyi was right; they had all been prepared for the worst and, at the very least, no one died.

~X~

All the way back to Xinyi’s house, he could see the tension on Chen’s face while he drove. It wasn’t surprising to think he had some questions, or a million, about what happened, but Xinyi appreciated the silence for as long as he could. He was sure anything Chen wanted to ask didn’t have an easy answer. It gave Xinyi a small insight into Xiao Xingchen’s vow of silence with Song Lan, making it seem a little less crazy in retrospect.

The Wang residence was a good forty minute drive from the university, giving them both plenty of time to process their thoughts. Once they pulled off the highway, Chen turned the volume on the radio down, still silent for a while before actually speaking.

“Have you thought of what you’re going to say to your family when they see your hand?”

Xinyi looked down at it, resisting the urge to take off the bandages to survey the damage. “Not really. I’ve got some time though. My parents are never home this time of year and A-Zhou won’t notice.”

Chen let out a small laugh. “Right. Unless she grabs your hand.”

Xinyi winced at the thought. “I’ll just have to be careful.”

“What about your uncle?”

“I’ll just have to pray.”

The roads gave way to a pleasant suburban neighborhood, free of traffic as the hour grew later. The streetlights were just beginning to turn on, giving the area a dreamlike appearance.

“A-Xin…”

Xinyi turned his attention from the window to look at Chen.

“Should I even bother asking about what happened?” He asked, his grip on the steering wheel tightening.

“You saw just as much as I did, what-”

“You know what I mean. After QianHua and I were pushed out of the room. What actually happened.”

Xinyi looked down, clearing his throat anxiously. “Why do you think something weird happened…”

Chen’s jaw clenched. “I know you’re still recovering, but if we’re… whatever this is we’re doing… I need to know.”

“It’s really not important.” He replied, his gaze drifting to the sword at his feet. “I want to forget about it.”

The car pulled up in front of the Wang house, rolling to a stop on the side of the street. After a few silent beats, Chen reached his hand over to rest on Xinyi’s thigh. Looking up at the house, Xinyi felt a strange aversion to going inside.

“A-Xin… did something bad happen?”

Xinyi couldn’t help but laugh and hold his hand up. “No, of course not.”

Chen glowered at him, retracting his hand. “Please don’t do that.”

He put his hand down.

“What did you and Xingchen talk about?”

“Ah…” He looked at Chen, trying to find an answer to the question. “I mean. I basically just told him I didn’t want to see him again.”

“Basically?”

“Chen…” Xinyi sighed, putting a hand on JiangZai’s hilt. “I’m not trying to hide anything from you, but if I tell you the truth, you’ll think I’m crazy.”

“Is that any different from usual?” Chen asked, moving his hand back to Xinyi’s leg. “You’ve always been weird. Your whole family is weird. Don’t you think I knew that when I started liking you?”

Xinyi turned his gaze to the man, looking at him for a long time, weighing the options. “...Fine. But it’s a long story.”

A small smile cracked across Chen’s face and they set to work collecting their belongings to go inside. The house was dark inside, giving no indication as to who was home. Testing the waters, Xinyi flipped a few lights on as they silently made their way through the rooms. Before long, the sound of footsteps came from upstairs. Xinyi held his breath, watching the stairs in anticipation of who would appear.

Slowly coming into view was a young girl, around sixteen, with short, spiky hair, and white eyes. Halfway down the stairs, she paused, listening with a suspicious expression on her face. Xinyi approached the stairs, keeping his movements as soundless as possible. Despite his efforts, her face immediately turned to where he stood.

“DaGe? Why are you home?” She demanded immediately.

Letting out his breath, Xinyi fell into a lighthearted laugh. “How has your hearing gotten so good?”

“You’re just loud!” She retorted, descending the stairs to hug him.

Xinyi wrapped his arms around her, lifting her off the stairs and spinning around to set her back down. They stayed in a tight embrace for a few seconds before breaking apart, Xinyi moving carefully to avoid letting her touch the injured hand.

“Someone else is with you, right? Who’s here?” Zhou turned to Chen, reaching a hand out and feeling her way to his face. “Hey, you’re supposed to be on that field trip too!”

Chen pulled away, whipping his glasses off to clean her fingerprints from the lenses. “We got rained out, everyone came home early.”

“ZhouZhou, where’s Uncle? Is he home?”

“Yeah, downstairs.” Zhou replied, turning to face him again.

“We’re going up to my room, don’t tell him we’re here.”

Zhou nodded and the two climbed the stairs to Xinyi’s bedroom, closing the door behind them. Xinyi dumped his stuff onto the desk, letting the sword clatter onto the surface haphazardly, and threw himself onto the bed. Chen dropped his belongings onto the floor and climbed onto the bed beside Xinyi, patiently waiting for him to continue the conversation from the car. Slowly, Xinyi pulled his face from the blankets and looked at Chen.

“It’s been a long day, can’t we just go to bed-?”

“A-Xin.”

Xinyi frowned, pulling himself into a sitting position. “Let the record show, you bullied me into this.”

“Acknowledged. Now spill.”

Where to even begin? How much information did he actually have to give Chen? His actions as Xue Yang weren’t things to be proud of, but could he explain his relationship with Xingchen without it? He looked at Chen nervously, trying to collect his thoughts to put into words.

“Remember the lecture Song Lan gave about Cultivators?” Xinyi asked tentatively, studying Chen’s face.

“Yeah… It’s like the stories about your family’s antiques.”

“Exactly. Everyone thinks we made the stories up to gain attention for our collection. You did too, right?”

Chen opened his mouth with an incredulous expression, prepared to defend himself.

“Don’t look offended, I thought they were kinda bullshit too. The antiques are cool, but the stories sound fake.”

“Are you trying to get us off-topic?”

“No.” Xinyi paused, trying to think of what to say. “Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan aren’t just Taoist priests living in a temple for no reason. They’re Cultivators.”

“...Okay.”

“And they’re about eight thousand years old.”

“........Okay.”

Pausing again, Xinyi looked at Chen questioningly, waiting for the man to accuse him of joking around or lying or just plain sounding crazy.

“So are Sizhui and Jingyi Jiaoshou.”

Chen’s face scrunched slightly. “Are you being serious or are you just fucking with me?”

“I’m being serious. This is why I said you’d think I was crazy.”

“Alright… let’s say I do believe you…What does this have to do with what happened?”

“The reason you guys were told to leave was because…” He bit his lip, hesitating with his words. “They had to do something to make me remember my past life.”

The other man stared up at him blankly, the faintest hint of annoyance behind his eyes.

“Chen, really, I know this sounds stupid. Can we please just forget about it?”

“So…” Chen furrowed his brow, fussing with a stray string hanging from the blanket. “Sizhui and Jingyi Jiaoshou… and the two priests… are 8,000 year old ‘Cultivators’, who you knew in your past life? And they ‘did something’ to make you remember that… right after one of them attacked you…”

Xinyi’s heart was pounding in his chest, painfully skipping at Chen’s expression. Everything he’d just told the man sounded beyond ridiculous, there was no way in hell Chen could believe him. Any second, he’d storm out and never talk to Xinyi again.

“Pretty much…”

“What’d you do to piss off Song Lan that bad?”

“I uh… killed him. Xingchen too, technically…” He replied, surprised that Chen was even entertaining his bullshit anymore.

“I thought you said they were thousands of years old.”

“They’re reanimated corpses.”

Chen drew in a sharp breath, clenching his jaw again. Bringing his eyes up slowly, he looked past Xinyi to the sword resting on the desk behind him. Xinyi could practically see the gears turning in his head.

“Chen…” Tentatively reaching a hand out, Xinyi touched his fingers to Chen’s knee. “I swear I’m not lying. You can call me crazy, you don’t have to believe anything I just said, but I swear I’m not lying-”

“I believe you.”

Xinyi’s mouth snapped shut, his eyes widening into a shocked stare.

“There were so many weird things about this trip, I don’t think I would’ve believed any normal explanation.” Chen finally met Xinyi’s eyes, still looking a little reserved. “It’s a lot to take in though.”

Whether from relief or sheer shock, Xinyi burst into laughter, falling onto his side. After a moment, Chen joined in, filling the room with their combined voices. When they both finally came to their senses and caught their breath, Xinyi shifted closer to Chen, wrapping his limbs around him into a tight embrace. Something about the other man actually believing him made the whole situation less ridiculous, relieving some of the insanity Xinyi had been feeling.

~X~

After more than a year of running on only a few hours of sleep a night, Xinyi’s body naturally woke sometime in the early morning. The room was still dark, the only sounds coming from the soft breathing of the man beside him. Careful not to wake Chen, Xinyi slipped out of the bed and felt his way to the door, pausing as his hand grazed over the sword on his desk. Taking several seconds to process what he was touching, he wrapped his fingers around it and carried it out of the room with him.

Promptly deciding he didn’t want JiangZai hanging around his room as a constant reminder, Xinyi descended into the basement to store the thing in the family vault. He punched in the code quickly and pulled the heavy door open, switching on the lights and pausing to let his eyes adjust. A small shiver ran down his spine, looking around the room with new eyes. The items within were no longer mysterious artifacts, but ancient Cultivating tools, some of which he recognized personally.

Walking slowly through the room, processing each item as he passed, Xinyi made his way to an empty set of shelves towards the back. Unsheathing the sword, he let his eyes scan over the blade, dwelling on the dissonance it brought, before sheathing and discarding it onto one of the shelves. Turning to leave, Xinyi was surprised to see a familiar face waiting behind him. Standing at the door was the unmistakable figure of his dear friend, Smiling Ghost.

“What are you still doing here?” He asked nonchalantly, taking his time in crossing the vault to where she was waiting.

She gave no reaction, patiently watching him as though they were old friends. Coming closer, Xinyi was able to make out more and more details of her face. She no longer wore the knowing smile that had unnerved him much before, looking at him instead with a soft, pleasant expression. A new familiarity settled in his mind as he looked at her, searching his memories for a name to place to the face.

“I know you…” He said quietly, mostly to himself.

Her lips twitched up into a smile, waiting for him to solve the riddle.

“Oh! I know you!” His voice rang out in a quiet triumph, but his features quickly changed to confusion. “But why are you…”

The memories of his last encounter returned to his mind, recalling the words she’d silently mouthed to him that day in the woods. Dawning realization quickly transformed into fearful urgency as her prior actions finally made sense.

“Oh no. Oh fuck.” Xinyi’s eyes widened, garnering a broad smile from his dear friend.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he retraced his steps to retrieve JiangZai before flying past Smiling Ghost, quickly climbing the stairs back up to his room. He flipped the lights on with no care for the man still sleeping in his bed and tossed open the closet door. Pulling on the first pair of pants and long-sleeved shirt he found, Xinyi re-emerged from the closet.

“A-Xin? What are you doing?” Chen asked, watching him with bleary eyes.

“I have to go.” He replied, slipping into a jacket and pressing a kiss to Chen’s cheek. “I’ll explain when I get back, I don’t have time right now.”

Before Chen could even form a thought to argue, Xinyi disappeared from the room again. Waiting by the front door, Smiling Ghost followed Xinyi out of the house and around to the garage. The first snowflakes of the season were starting to fall, making him hesitate for only a moment as he considered the consequences of the weather. One quick glance at Smiling Ghost was enough to chase away his concerns. Without another thought, Xinyi pulled on a helmet and mounted his bike, speeding down the road back to Leng Shuang WeiFeng Temple.

#mdzs #mdzs fic #the untamed #the untamed fic #xue yang #xiao xingchen #xuexiao #song lan #junior disciples #jin ling #lan sizhui #lan jingyi

7 notes · View notes

i-am-a-bad-influence-writes · 3 years

Text

Hayloft - Intro

Series Masterlist - Bucky Masterlist - Full Masterlist

Summary: A young girl finds a soldier hiding in the hayloft on her father’s farm. Intrigued, she visits him more and more until her father finds out and puts him to work. As they grow closer, something else grows too.

Pairing: James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes x OC Jenny Richelle “Ricky” Hill

Warning: Strong language, inaccurate war description

Author’s note: Based on the song Hayloft by Mother Mother and the lovestory of my grandparents. I am Dutch and the war was a bit different here, so I will be basing this on the stories I’ve heard about my grandparents.

Word count: 1624

Early in the morning, just afte sunrise, a girl steps on her bike to cycle to work. She works in the post office because she is expected to work as the oldest sibling despite her amazing academics. The eldest has a role to fulfill and she’s accepted that by now, but she can’t help but wonder what could have been had she gone to college. Oh well, it’s all past now. She cycles through the street trying to tune out wailing mothers, partners, sisters, and others. Recruitment had hit the town hard. Most young men were already taken. She couldn’t be happier that her brothers are not of age yet and her sister isn’t allowed to serve. And she? Well, she would’ve loved to rise above her station. Make her parents proud by joining the army but women aren’t allowed to do so. And so she puts her bike on its lock in front of the post office and heads inside.

Early in the morning, just before sunrise, a man cautiously tiptoes through the fields of a farmer just out of town. Just far enough to get cover, just close enough to be able to run if needed. Just days ago he watched everyone he loved get recruited. Either by free will or by force. They didn’t care. You have to fight for this nation to keep it free. He’s seen too many people die already. He’s done his part but they don’t think so. He watches as the farmer’s family gets ready inside the farmhouse. He watches, who he considers to be, the eldest daughter put breakfast on the table for everyone and gather her things to leave. He watches as she steps outside and onto her bike. She didn’t see him. He looks around for a place to hide. The hayloft. Of course. While the family is still inside, he climbs into the hayloft and hides in hopes no one will find him.

‘Morning Jenny, how are you doing,‘ an older woman asks Jenny with a smile on her face. Her name is Michelle and her husband was drafted, but everyone knew there was something off between them. Michelle would often have odd explanations for random bruises and scratches. Jenny put one and two together very quickly after she started working at the post office. But now that her husband’s gone, Michelle has been thriving. Things couldn’t be better for her right now. ‘You know, same old, same old,‘ Jenny answers, shrugging off her coat, ‘just happy the remainder of my family wasn’t taken away.‘ ‘That’s fair,‘ she hums, ‘oh, I saw a young man flee the soldiers this morning. There’s been a lot of that in the news these days. I’d watch the farm a little closer if I were you.‘ Jenny chuckles, ‘lots of nooks and crannies to hide. And with two girls on the farm-‘ ‘Don’t worry about that. My father has a shotgun loaded and ready if they dare,‘ she chuckles, ‘wouldn’t want to be put against the wall for hiding someone.‘ ‘By the way,‘ Michelle says as she puts a hand in front of her mouth in shock, ‘did you hear misses Wednesday was hiding her cousin? He’s shipped off and she’s been put on the wall.‘ ‘Dear lord, how the world has changed. That is cruel I must say,‘ Jenny murmurs as she sits down at her post. The girls look up as the door opens. In walk three soldiers looking nothing less than annoyed. Well, the two younger soldiers look annoyed. The older one, who seems to be higher ranking, does seem to enjoy himself. ‘Good morning ladies,‘ the higher ranking one says while he takes his hat off. ‘Good morning,‘ Michelle says with a smile, ‘how may we help you?‘ ‘I am sergeant Winter, this is private Jonas and private Greenland. We got orders to post the pictures of stowaways at the post office,‘ the man tells them, ‘may we?‘ A question out of friendliness, to give the women fake freedom to decide but they know it’s just for protocol. ‘Of course, Jenny, help them clear the board,‘ Michelle gestures at Jenny to hurry. She hurries from behind the desk to clear the cork board that holds folders for some events that couldn’t be anymore and small neighborhood announcements. Jenny clears away the things that passed or aren’t happening anymore and pins all their own announcements to the right so that the pictures can be hung on the left. All the while being stared at up and down. It makes her a bit uncomfortable, but she knows others have it worse. One of her friends got felt up and down by a soldier each time she had to pass one of their stations. Frisking they called it. Grabbing a girl’s boobs and butt each and every time she passes your station isn’t frisking, that’s groping. At least these soldiers hadn’t tried to touch her yet. ‘Could I get you gentlemen a cup of coffee,‘ Jenny asks to be friendly. ‘That would be wonderful,‘ sergeant Winter smiles. The other two seem to have a bit of a grin on their faces while they keep working. Jenny doubts they get much time to drink coffee. It’s the least she can do. ‘Michelle, you do want coffee?‘ Michelle nods and so Jenny disappears into the back and reappears with a tray with coffee cups, milk, sugar, and some biscuits. The soldiers thank her and finish their work and coffee. Jenny insists they take another biscuit for the road, even if they don’t want to, and then it’s just Michelle and Jenny again. ‘Friendly gentlemen,‘ Michelle murmurs. Jenny gathers the coffee cups and takes a look at the cork board. ‘Any interesting faces?‘ ‘Johnny Meadow,‘ Jenny reads, ‘used to go to school with that lad. Real smart kid, left town to study law and came back because mom and pop weren’t doing so swell.‘ Michelle gets up and walks over to Jenny. She studies the faces of the men on the board. ‘Seems like most these kids skipped town,‘ she guesses, ‘I haven’t seen any of these faces around.‘ Jenny looks a little closer. ‘You’re right. Most of them say where they’re from. There are a few from a town over, but this one,‘ she points at a fine looking gentleman who seems to have served at one point judging from his picture, ‘is from another state.‘ ‘You gotta admit it’s impressive,‘ Michelle shrugs, ‘I couldn’t do it.‘ ‘I think I could,‘ Jenny grins, ‘avoided my dad with secret boyfriends often enough.‘ Michelle looks at Jenny with an impressed look. Jenny shrugs and chuckles. ‘Oh you rascal,‘ Michelle laughs as she pushes Jenny a little, ‘let’s get back to work. I got a few letters for you to deliver.‘

The man watches from under the hayloft as he sees the girl on the bike come back home. She looks tired and her hair’s a mess, but there’s something about her. He watches her fix her hair a little bit, put on a pretend smile, and wait. Two younger men run outside to greet her and take her bag off her shoulders. She messes with their hair and puts her arms around their shoulders with a big smile on her face. A true family. How wonderful. He wishes he could see his mother again. Or his best friend. He wonders how he is doing now that he’s gone. They used to rely on each other a lot. He wonders when he might be able to go home, if ever. He sighs and tries to get comfortable on the hay but he has a hard time going to sleep on an empty stomach and the hay pricking his skin isn’t really helping though it is more comfortable than sleeping on the ground. He tosses and turns, trying to avoid making the wood creak. A soft meowing almost makes his heart stop out of shock, but luckily his head quickly registers the sound. A cat? He pushes himself up on his elbows to look over the haystack. Coming towards him is a small, probably juvenile, white cat with beautiful long fur and deep blue eyes. It almost looks like a ghost cat. He smiles as he tries to get the creature to come closer. ‘Hi there, who are you,‘ he coos quietly, holding his hand out so the cat can sniff it. She doesn’t take long to curl up next to him. It makes him feel comfortable for the first time in weeks. Something about a pet curling up next to you just clams the nerves. He freezes at the sound of the front door of the farmhouse opening. ‘Alpine,‘ a woman’s voice calls and he watches the ears of the little white creature peek up, but she doesn’t really make an effort to move. After all, cats are on their own schedule. ‘Alpine, where are you?‘ He hears the voice come closer and then he hears the ladder creak. That isn’t good. ‘Alpine?‘ He throws the cat towards the front of the hayloft where the ladder is, but the cat isn’t having any of it. He tries to bury himself under the hay while the cat tries to get back to him. He sees a woman’s face peek over from the ladder. She hasn’t seen him yet. ‘Alpine, what are you playing at,‘ the woman laughs as she sees the cat trying to bury itself with him, ‘come on, I got some scraps left for you.‘ The cat doesn’t list to her. The girl sighs and climbs onto the hayloft, letting herself fall onto the hay just inches from where he’s laying. He feels his heart beating faster and faster.

#bucky #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #james barnes #james barnes fanfic #james barnes fanfiction #james barnes fic #bucky fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction

5 notes · View notes

sunnykeysmash · 4 years

Text

A look at: AP BIO S3EP6, “That That That”

So this post is going to be sort of an... in-depth analysis for this episode. I hope people enjoy reading this! It’s a long one, so I apologize in advance. I hope it doesn’t feel rambly.

So the episode opens up with the janitor talking with some rats.

We are treated to a shot from their point of view, as the man talks about the rats’ plead about how they’re “going to change”, and how they say they’re not “going anywhere”. Through this simple quick scene, the episode sets up the entire premise, both on a literal level, with the use of rat poison later on, and on a thematical level, introducing us to what’s going to become, by the end of the episode, Jack’s own point of view. Putting it like this, it’s like already the show is drawing a parallel, making us further empathize with Jack as he slowly starts feeling like a rat stuck in a maze himself.

As we’re introduced to Jack, he talks about preparing a recorded lecture for the University of Wisconsin on trascendentalism.

Jack feels sure that what he wants is to get away from the school he’s in, that he won’t miss anything. He thinks this job is what he wants.

Now, trascendentalism is a philosophical movement that values the importance of subjective intuition, not reached through logic but through imagination. It preaches that people deep down already know what’s right for them, that the individual’s potential is limitless, and that the ego is not your true self. All themes that are slowly woven into the episode as Jack works through his subconscious while high off rat poison to come to the conclusion that he already knew deep down was right, and that he started feeling right at the start when people started questioning him.

As this process begins, he goes to talk to Lynette, his girlfriend. He brings up said lecture that he’s recording, it almost feels like he’s seeking her reassurance.

After that, we see him in the teacher lounge, kind of minding his business.

The scene starts out with the three teachers talking. In the frame, catching my eye immediately, is that fourth empty chair. It underlines that someone’s missing, someone that could be a part of what’s happening.

Eventually we cut back to Jack being in frame, except not really, because he starts out of focus, in the backgroung, listening in to the three teachers, framed like an outsider. This is to show us how he feels in the environment.

Then, as he enters the conversation, he gets into focus.

And we then cut back to the three of them.

There is a purposeful distance felt between the two parties, and it’s one that Jack is establishing by keeping himself to the side. This calls back to the themes of the episode right before this, Mr. Pistachio. They’re inviting him in, there is a place for him, but he feels like he doesn’t belong, he stays distant.

As the girls start talking to each other again, Jack is once again kept out of focus, but still clearly in the middle of the shot, which tells us we should still be paying attention to him.

And pay attention to the visual hierarchy, as well. With Jack pushed to the background, he appears small in comparison to the other figures who are big and overpowering. The full body shot, as he resists getting closer to them, almost feels revealing. Emotionally, what this communicates to us, to me personally, is a deep sense of vulnerability that Jack is feeling.

As he subconsciously starts to doubt where he truly wants to be, he feels exposed and out of place.

After this scene, Jack goes to talk to Durbin, and this is where we’re introduced to yet another small subplot that serves to reinforce the themes of the main one at hand.

Durbin is presented with an issue. He wants to tell his brother that he loves him, he has struggled with it in the past, and this is the week he is gaining the courage to do it. This plot will ultimately end up reflecting Jack’s own epiphany, but we’ll get there.

So finally, it’s late evening, school’s empty, and Jack has prepared the set up to record the lecture.

Visually we’re introduced to this duality of Jack on the screen of the ipad versus the real Jack trying to give a lecture. The perfect competent appearance that actually masks his doubts and hesitation.

Screens being often used in media to show something perfect, fake and unachievable, and this is no exception.

Jack starts its lecture:

“To achieve its perfect form, a caterpillar must withdraw and complete itself alone, in its cocoon. Likewise, for us to achieve spiritual perfection, in the view of trascendentalists like Henry David Thoreau, it is necessary to retreat from the mindless and negative influences of society.”

This ends up being exactly what Jack does, as the rat poison induced trip lasts him an entire week, stuck alone in school, with nothing but his delusional and hallucinatory thoughts, he is forced to confront himself in complete solitude to come to the conclusion that was inside him.

He then commits a mistake, right at the end, calling Henry David Thoreau “Justin Thoreau”, the same way Mary, the teacher, did before. In a way, the school and the people in it are rubbing off on him, their presence in his mind manifests through this lapsus, effectively keeping him from completing the lecture correctly. Keeping him here.

He starts stumbling. He starts doubting himself.

“Is that right?”

He asks, the question resonating bigger than just about his current speech, feeling more like about his path in life and his actions.

A shot quickly zooms in on the camera lens, the frantic pace communicating anxiousness, but this shot in particular serves to fully immerse us in Jack’s shoes.

Feeling watched, feeling judged, scrutinized. Having to directly face his shortcomings, unable to blame anyone but himself, and having to ask himself why. The camera almost literally backing us - therefore, Jack - into a corner by coming this uncomfortably close to us.

He attempts to hype himself up and tries again. The whole thing accompanied by a background music that’s basically nothing if not ticking (like a clock) and percussion. It feels quiet and tense.

We then get another shot that’s a clean transition from the screen to the real Jack. In the screen, he appears confident, but as soon as the camera focuses on the real Jack, he loses tracks of what he was saying and once again struggles. Quietly, he turns to look at the background.

He slowly, tentatively reorganizes a single book, then positions himself back, only to turn again towards the bookshelf, still dissatisfied.

Without a single line of dialogue, this shows us precisely what he’s feeling and lets us understand his slow descent into madness. He feels that there’s something wrong, out of place, something that must not be right, but he’s not yet looking at himself to fix this problem, instead he’s looking at his surroundings, trying to gather back the control that he feels he’s rapidly losing by attempting to control what’s around him.

And so he deeply cleans the entire office, reorganizes and color codes the books behind him.

Being introduced to his struggle before the rat poison even starts to affect him lets the transition between reality and hallucination feel seamless, so much so that during a first viewing we start to doubt what’s real and what’s fake, and when.

The overall eerie tone of the episode makes it feel like a take on psychological horror, as the slow loss of control is accentuated by increasingly bizarre events that go completely unquestioned.

Attempt after attempt, we feel as though we are entering a loop with no chance of escaping. Which is exactly what Jack feels.

We then get this.

Jack is fixating on his issue, without much success in resolving it. He’s facing and confronting it over and over. Visually, it’s made bigger than himself by its oppressive presence in the frame.

The only soundtrack accompanying this is a kind of vibration, a deep and hard to hear sound that just looms in the background. This episode in general is very quiet, which helps the atmosphere feel lonely and tense.

He screams, but there’s no one who can hear him. It’s just himself.

He sees this mouse pad and once again the picture visually reinforces this sense of looping, of feeling stuck and trapped in a repeating endless cycle.

He tries to rip it in half. But he can’t.

Just as he can’t overcome what he’s struggling with, his own cycle that he’s stuck in. He wants to break free, but he’s not sure from what. Is his prison this school he says he hates so much, or is his prison his own ego, trapping him into feeling like an outcast, into isolation, into never opening up or being vulnerable.

This is actually a theme in the entire season, Jack slowly learning to open up and be vulnerable. But this episode in particular feels like a turning point for his character, a moment of realization, of personal intuition. Trascendence. Beyond his limits, beyond his own walls. Through a trascendent experience, the hallucinations.

He falls asleep on the floor, visually representing his rock bottom.

He’s then woken up, there’s faint wind chimes sounds, and he’s surrounded by darkness in a way that feels ethereal. As he exits the room to check the source of the smell that’s almost calling to him, we see nothing but him entering light.

He’s barely visible, surrounded by fog, he can’t see where he’s going very well.

He sees a figure, and asks this:

“Are you in a caterpillar costume?”

When the figure turns to face him, Jack is frightened and runs away.

This immediate association between the very subject he was talking about, and him fleeing in terror, serves to illustrate his true feelings towards what he’s doing by recording this lecture. He’s scared of it, and he’s running away from it.

He wakes up again in the same room as he was before, only this time the light is almost blinding.

Here, Helen appears. This dialogue follows:

Jack: “Jesus, Helen, what are you doing here?” Helen: “Oh, you know I can’t stay away from Whitlock long.”

We quickly find out that this is a dream sequence that Jack is having. Thanks to this knowledge, we know that all the dialogue Jack entertains with the rest of the school workers, all his friends, is nothing more than his internal dialogue manifesting to him through them.

He’s asking himself why he’s at this highschool. The other voice, Helen, replies that it’s because they can’t stay away. They like being here.

But this realization comes with horror and shock to Jack, and so it quickly turns into a graphic, horrid description.

He once again escapes it, going immediately to try recording his lecture again, but Helen bursts into the room kicking the door. All these terrifying thoughts are tormenting him.

He runs away, camera in his hands. Gets interrupted once again.

In this attempt, we are completely unable to see him through the screen because of how out of focus he is to us in there. His attempt at a perfect facade is proving completely infructuous, all we can see is the real Jack, deeply struggling.

He gets interrupted by the three teachers again, and this dialogue happens.

Michelle: “Jack, you’re here! We thought that that video would be done by now.” Jack: “Uh, yeah, unfortunately... it’s not.”

Once again doubt seeps in as he worries about what’s taking him so long, it’s also interesting to notice how the girls use “that that” with no problem whatsoever.

They invite him to join them in playing a game, and he finds himself going along with them at first, before stopping himself, panicked.

Jack: “I don’t have time for your dumb, fun games! I gotta do this video!”

This dialogue sets an intense contrast with the scene with them at the start, in reality.

In that scene, he calls their games “terrible”, then looks at them with fondness.

Here, instead, he’s stressing that he doesn’t have time for it. He wants to participate, as is shown, but he can’t because of his own self imposed obligation.

In other words, this is exposing to him, though still through an horror lense, his realization that he’s gonna miss all these chances to hang out with his friends if he goes through with it.

He keeps running away, and ends up in his class.

His reflection in the screen appears now deeply warped.

The writing on the whiteboard is upside down, something is deeply wrong.

He’s alone, then all of a sudden he’s not, as the camera twists to the side and gets closer.

We are treated to some dutch angles.

He tries again, but the words aren’t even his. He asks if he sounds like Marcus, and the students all nod while creaking sounds can be heard as they do.

Day 2. He’s still eating the same spaghetti as before, and he accidentally gets sauce on his shirt. A stain that just won’t go away. A visible imperfection. He snaps, he covers himself in them, then puts on some makeup powder, helplessly trying to cover it all up. Of course, that does nothing. He’s trying to bury a problem that has become impossible to conceal.

Getting in front of the camera again, he says this:

Jack: “I want this job. I’m so overqualified.”

It’s like he’s trying to convince himself, since he’s not really talking to anyone but a camera lens. Then there’s the part about being overqualified. The thing is, he’s right, and he know he’s right. On a qualification and competence standpoint, he should be able to ace this, no problem. So why is he struggling? Does he want this job?

In comes Durbin.

Durbin: “Jack! ...you’re still here. Working on your video.” Jack: “Yeah uh- but everybody keeps stopping me...” Durbin: “Let’s get you back on the right track. What’s the problem?” Jack: “I got sketty on my shirt...” Durbin: “I’ve got what you need right here. Everything you need is always right in front of you, Jack. Always check the lost and found.”

Lots to unpack here. Everytime Jack encounters someone again, they always comment on how he’s still at school, he hasn’t left. He keeps getting stopped, his subconscious keeps stopping him, since we know this is all a hallucination. He’s going down the wrong path, and Durbin in this situation represents what’s right for Jack, the truth in his subconscious. “Everything you need is in front of you”.

Additionally, the way he explains the problem, speaking like a sad child, makes you feel just how lost he is, just how small he feels. Him feeling small, lost, vulnerable and scared is a huge theme in the entire episode, as you can see.

So he tries again, and this is where we first experience the transition. As Jack is enthusiastic to put on the suit Durbin gives him, we then see that his appearance in the screen is quite different. He looks ridiculous. But in his reality, as his real self, he looks spotless, happy. This is him starting to accept the concept that what he needed was always in front of him. Because whereas the screen just shows us what he wants to present himself as, his facade, the real him shows us his true feelings, how he feels towards this highschool and all his friends and the life he lives here.

By accepting his life as it is, his job at Whitlock, he knows he might end up looking ridiculous and his image may suffer, but inside he feels better, he feels good, happy, realized.

The expression he makes as he sees this suit, is the expression of a man that has found what he was looking for. This is why it emerging from a “lost ad found” box is very significant symbolically.

It’s not just himself that changes inbetween “reality” and “screen”, however, it’s the entire location. His background, everything.

He finally finishes his speech, successfully this time. But Helen comes to take the camera and tripod away.

Jack accuses her of “sabotaging him”, but we as the audience will soon come to realize that he’s sabotaging himself.

He runs after her, and as he does, the lights around him start malfunctioning once again.

He opens a door and sees his mother with a young Durbin. He’s understandably unsettled. His mom having always been something close to his heart, we can even see her as a representation of his most intense emotions and of love. He’s struggling to fully come to terms with admitting that he loves being at this school.

He gets away, only to come closer once again once he hears more noises. He opens the door.

He gets in, softly asks for his ipad, and as he walks closer we get an overview of what’s happening. Jack, on his desk, being dissected by his students, completely torn open.

Once again, this visual serves to show Jack’s sense of uncomfortableness with being open and totally vulnerable.

He’s being scrutinized and studied and analyzed all the way to his deepest insides. It’s scary, it’s uncomfortable and it hurts. “I think I found the heart.” “Girl, that’s his bladder.”, he’s being judged mercilessly. That’s how he feels.

“How would we know? We never learned biology.

There’s a sense of guilt for never doing what he should’ve from the very beginning. He regrets not being there for his students, teaching, he’s scared that he’ll never get the chance now that he knows he wants to. This is manifesting though Sarika.

Jack: “I have to go... why are you keeping me from leaving?” Marcus: “We’re not keeping you from anything, Mr Griffin. You’re doing all of this. Your mind has created an entire world of distractions to keep you from doing that video.” Dan: “You know, it’s almost like you don’t want to leave.” Jack: “Yes I do? ...I think I do...”

In this moment, his most open one, he’s finally confronted with his desire to stay.

And this is when he wakes up.

Now back in reality, his appearance in fact resembles the way he looked like in the screen in his mind. So to reiterate, the real him in his mind was simply how he felt, while the screen was the way people see Jack in real life. At this point in the episode, subconsciously, he has come to fully accept it.

He does try to fix up the room, but it’s too much of a mess by now.

We cut to all of his friends discussing together. In comes Helen, with her nose bandage, and she says this.

Helen: “Oh, I’m so glad to see you guys!” Mary: “Helen, what happened?” Helen: “Well, I’m starting to think that the relationship I have with that animal is not what I thought it was.”

This dialogue is meant to reflect Jack’s situation, as do all the subplots in the episode.

The dialogue continues when Helen asks Durbin how it went with his brother.

Helen: “Did you tell your brother that you loved him?” Durbin: “Oh, well, I... kinda sorta chocked on saying that exact phrase, so...” Michelle: “That’s okay Ralph, it’s hard to be vulnerable.” Stef: “Yeah, and you have to respect the fact that he may not be there yet.” Durbin: “Yeah, I just feel kinda bad because a bunch of times he said “I love you” and I said “Yeah, good good good good good”...” Helen: “Well I’m sure he knows how you feel.” Durbin: “Well, at one point he said “Do you love me? Because I can’t tell.” and I said “I don’t know” and I got into a lift and went to the airport, just full choke.”

This all reflects Jack’s own feelings. He’s not quite at a point where he can openly admit to loving his friends and Whitlock, but at the same time this dialogue shows us that they are understanding of it, they know that being vulnerable and open can be very hard, and they’re patient. They do know that Jack loves them.

Enter Dave, in a wheelchair, injured from head to toe.

Dave: “You know who else choked? Maybe the hardest of all?” Everyone: “JACK!!!”

Enters Jack. Everyone cheers his arrival.

Of course, the dialogue just quoted is a joking way to point out how Jack failed in making that recorded lecture.

He shares a cute moment with his girlfriend, and softly says:

Jack: “You were thinking about me...”

It’s like it comes as a surprise to him, that he’s loved, that other people genuinely like him and want him to stay.

He continues.

Jack: “Um, hey, I should talk to you about something. Uh, in fact, I actually have to tell all of you about something important that I realized while you were gone. I realized that-”

He’s interrupted but the janitor which he had previously punched. The guy who was doing the rat disinfestation.

In other words, he chokes, as well.

Mary: “So Jack, what did you learn?” Jack: “Uh... well, I, uh... I invented a new game.”

Instead he chooses to bring that game he hallucinated into reality, making time for it. Being enthusiastic for it.

He enters his classroom.

Jack: “Alright, everybody, shut your precious beautiful mouths. You know after spending an entire week alone in this empty school... I realized that I can’t survive without community. And I came to appreciate... all of you.”

This reflects the trascendalistic philosophical approach of Thoreau, who retreated alone in nature to find true purpose in life.

He goes to write on the whiteboard.

All his previous writing wiped but still visible. He did do all of that, but it’s gone now, it’s no longer present. It’s solved.

Jack: “And I decided that I wanted each of you to finish this year knowing more biology than any student ever has...” Sarika: “Mr Griffin? I know we’ve had our differences in the past...” Jack: “Uh, yeah, hold that thought, Sarika, because the biggest thing that I learned is that prolonged exposure to rodent killing gas causes hallucinations and irrational ideation. And all these things that I thought I learned? Well... chemically induced illusions... caused by a dying brain”

He draws an X on top of the words “community”, “you” and “biology”.

Jack: But! Now... I got my thinker back in the pink. Everything’s back to normal...”

He takes out a bunch of spaghetti and a box of rat poison, sprinkles them heavily with it, and takes a bite like it’s the most normal thing.

So what does it mean, is he rejecting all that he learned? No. He’s keeping up his facade, as being vulnerable is hard, but inside he’s embracing what he learned. This is communicated to us through him ingesting the poisoned spaghetti, going back into his mind, accepting the embarassment and weirdness and going back to that scary feeling of vulnerability for more. He might say that it’s all back to normal, but we clearly see it’s not, and we clearly know that he’s glad to be back and stay back, we see it through his actions.

Ultimately this is a sort of turning point for Jack Griffin, while he might not yet be able to express his feelings, while still going back to a place of denial using the rat poison as the excuse for everything that happened in his brain, this is his first step towards accepting what his subconscious has known all along, his first step to “trascend from a caterpillar into a butterfly”.

This is... trascendentalism, as construed by AP Bio.

#ap bio #glenn howerton #jack griffin #analysis #that that that #ap bio season 3 #ap bio season 3 episode 6 #yall i cannot believe i just wrote 16 pages of analysis in a single sitting from 3am to 8am #i am literally insane i think #but i hope whoever reads this takes something out of it #glenn howerton if you are reading this i love you buddy youre very talented but please make macdennis canon or i will have to unstan #just kidding im not going anywhere but please bud #does this count as a review #or is this just the ramblings of a crazy person.............#I think I'm right personally #at least somewhat #jack griffin bisexual legend #ok im done i think #when u follow a sunny account for sunny content and then BOOM 16 pages of ap bio analysis #that relatable moment when..........#dont yell at me i know im a mad person but i HAD TO OK

19 notes · View notes

perksofbeingaharrie · 4 years

Text

PICTURE THIS - part: 4

FRIENDS TO LOVERS FIC

Lesson learnt for life - ‘Shri, never post a fic unless you’ve completed written ALL of it’

Welp, I am really not the best at being punctual. My writer’s block can be absolute brutal IM SO SO SORRY YOU GUYS.

So idk if people remember this story now so here's little recap:

RECAP: Y/N is Harry’s tour photographer and through this they become close and develop a strong friendship. But when you are spending every second of your day with someone, feelings are bound to occur. As the American leg of his tour comes to an end, a little tussle here and there leads to Harry admitting his feelings for her and them getting a little tipsy and ending up spending a night together.

Now the morning after is not the most pleasant and expectant for them. Find out in Part - 4!

Genre: angst

PICTURE THIS - part:4

---

The morning after is never the easiest. And they knew and had fathomed so the moment Harry’s alarm blared out loud at 8 in the morning.

Harry was careful to have turned it off the second it made a sound and he turns around on his bed, hoping to sleep beside her a little longer. A little longer before both of them would dread and regret it – but mostly her.

But to his much dismay, when he turns over, she has sat up and thrown her feet down the bed on her side, giving him her back as the first view of the morning since yesterday night.

“Y/N.” He calls out, not realizing it, and later feels that his calling happened to have alarmed her even more.

She hurriedly snatches the top of the sheets and dashes for the bathroom, grabbing her clothes on the way. Harry falls back on the bed, defeated and closes his eyes shut to process everything from the night before.

What a disaster it was to bring to their friendship.

With the same lingering thought in her head, she changed into her clothes and came out of the bathroom.

Harry is already outside waiting for her, clad in only his boxers and he immediately jumps to his feet on seeing her.

“Y/N…”

“Last night…” She begins.

“I meant it.” He says before she gets to finish her sentence. She looks up at him from the ground, flushed. “I meant everything, I swear.”

Her mouth parts but the loss of words makes her retract back. She feels weak in the knees as she throws the sheet she had carried with her on the ground and takes a deep breath.

“How did we even end up doing that?”

He cringes at her choice of words. “I don’t know.” He shakes his head. “I really don’t. But it means a lot to me-“

“Oh, for god’s sake please stop saying that!” She raises her voice. “It is not making me feel any better, Harry.”

He gulps, looking away. “I am sorry.”

She takes a deep breath, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well, what do we do now?”

“I don’t know.” He says, looking at her again. “I think you take some time to think this over. To go through whatever you felt last night – just think about them again.”

“I-“

“I really thought it would be easy to just be your friend. Just let you go on some occasions, to let you not give me time but – but, I don’t think I can do that.” He breathes. “I don’t want to be just your friend, Y/N. I don’t want to be just a part of your time; I don’t want you to choose anybody else but me; and I don’t want to have to lose you to somebody else.”

Her heart shakes frantically inside her.

“Y/N, I want to be something more to you than just your – your friend.” He finishes, shakily breathing himself. “And I won’t put you through any pressure. You can think over this, I swear. As much time as you want, as many days as you’d like – all my time is yours now. I promise.”

She looks away from him, not ready to absorb all that he has said. Why is there a hesitation now? Why can she not speak up at all? Where is her resolved mind on this?

“We have a flight to catch.” She finally says. “I’ll see you there.”

She left the room right after.

Harry shed some meaningless tears thereafter, not sure what was it that was making him cry so much as he stood under the shower, reliving the night. He packed his luggage then and he also packed her purse she had left behind in the check-in luggage, clearly with no resolve to return it to her soon.

He cannot believe he said everything to her. He places his hand on his heart now and then, feeling it beating for real and comes to it that it really was no dream.

He really meant everything he said, everything he did. He has never experienced this panic and anxiety in a long time as he had when he saw her be so cold and not feel comfortable with him. Why was this discomfort? Was it because of the line they had drawn on their relationship? Of just being friends?

He thought of their life if they weren’t just friends but something more. Though the thought of always having her around and them being together always felt a little obsessive in a way but he did not ever want her compromising and being with someone else.

When they were seated in the airplane after a lot of running around and checking in, their eyes met when she was walking past his seat to the hers.

They locked eyes but she spoke nothing with them either. She appeared shaky and confused and she rushed past, and in that moment, another thought occurred to him.

What if she did not feel the same way as him? What if the amount of happiness and love she has shown and given him, he hasn’t been able to give her the same? He thought of the other people she could be with and if they would give her happiness she truly deserves and he undermines his ability to give her the same.

The sullen thoughts keep him up the entire flight. He does not turn around to look out for her; he does not get up even once thinking he might crash into her and shake her resolve – which could also be to not be with him.

And he accepted how things were until she would herself want to come around.

She extends her legs up to where her seats allow, breathing out loud as if she has been tired for so long. She hasn’t let her mind think over too much – all she did was pack her stuff in, rush over to the airport with the others and check in as soon as she could and be home.

But now in the dim lights of her the airplane, she feels her mind kick back in all that happened to her. And not just memories of last night and this morning but all and everything that her life has been this past few months.

Meeting Harry, spending that one night together just getting to know each other, becoming friends without the spell of that uncomfortable confrontation, The entire tour, private photoshoots, cooking for each other, drinking, laughing and finally yesterday.

If only he could have straight away asked her what she felt and not guilt tripped her this way. Why was she even taking time? She has loved him for all this while and now when he is admitting it to her, what in the bloody hell is holding her back?

She bites her lip in the sudden spur of excitement. God, everything he does to her can never not make her feel like electricity sparking through her. Even right now.

In the aftermath of it all, she decides to tell him everything when they off of this flight. They will start afresh and they will start all bright.

“Gahh, I’m done.” Sameera, one of the management faculty and a close friend, sighs beside her as she shuts her laptop down. She had been working on and on since they had departed, going about writing mails and what not and up till now, Y/N had not thought to ask what it was.

“Finally…” Y/N drawls in the same tone as her. Sameera chuckles and puts away her laptop and stretches her legs.

“It’s gonna be hectic once again when we get to London. I can’t really sit straight, can I?” She grunts.

“Why?”

“Ah, just management stuff, man. There is never just one thing I am dealing with – it all just comes plummeting down.”

Y/N gives a pat to her shoulder. “You’ll be fine, babe. And let me know if I can help with anything. I would, I swear I would.”

Sameera gladly smiles and places her head on her shoulder. Then she opens her laptop and begins to work again. Y/N reads over certain words looking over her head and her curiosity perks up.

“Can I ask you what the assignment is on?”

Mindlessly, Sameera answers back, too indulged in her work. “We’re hooking Harry up with a name. You know, pretend to be involved and stuff. It helps keep the tour in the news and of course, Harry’s name too.”

“Hooking him up?”

“Yeah, like fake dating. But Harry does meet them up and many a times he’s liked them and been with them too for a while.”

Y/N’s silence makes Sameera explain a bit more.

“It’s just PR stunting. It’s been a part of the cycle for some time now. Harry’s okay with it too now I think. He meets them, likes them so hangs out with them or dislikes them and we try to shake off the rumour within a month or two. It’s just how it is.”

There is no more information shared. Sameera is on her work for some time and then she naps away the rest of the flight.

Y/N stays up, too shaken by the reality thrashing her in the face. She was taking chances by betting to be with a star – someone always in the limelight, always living for the limelight. She doubts if she will be able to hold up amidst all this glamour; and hurting one another is the last thing she would want to happen.

She closes her eyes and waits for this time to pass too.

It was close to almost a week since they had returned. The concerts scheduled thereafter were in two days from today and things were very hectic.

She was called in throughout rehearsals and back stage shooting. She would do her work and leave.

He would come over and do his part. He, however, would leave with a longing heart.

It wasn’t easy at all to ignore him. They would end up speaking a few words here and there but the silence that filled right after was impossible to be shaken. The walls that she had begun to build around herself to protect both him and her were starting to bother Harry more than he could imagine.

She saw him shrink more and more into himself and she only hoped he would understand her without having to say anything.

But, he finally loses patience and calls her up today.

When she reaches his place after the call, she is only carrying her camera bag and nothing more, and she rings the bell.

“Come in.” He tells her at the door, walking into his house and leaving her outside.

She closes the door on our way and follows behind him, entering the balcony.

“Let’s get started.” He purses his lips, clasping his hands together.

She nods, placing her camera on the nearby table to her. Sighing, she looks up at him.

“Why are we doing this again?”

He chuckles, humourless. “We always did this – informal photoshoots. Just you, me and you camera.” He throws him arms exaggeratedly towards her camera.

She hesitates, breathing shakily. “No, I meant…why now?” Beginning to unpack her stuff, she continues. “You have your show in like 2 days, why get into this hassle now?”

She watches as he turns his back on her and stretches, all out of restlessness. She gulps and decided to shut up.

“Okay, I am ready-“

His chuckle again makes her stop. “Funny how things we previously did for fun now seem like a hassle, do they now?”

He stands by the railing of the balcony, leaning on it with his arms spread to his sides and gives her a sad look. She cannot say a word to him and only looks him in the eyes with the same look as his.

He takes his eyes off immediately and breaks the tension.

“Let’s get started.”

The shoot is simple. He is in a soft cotton shirt with a few unbuttoned buttons on the top and bottom, and the light wind in the balcony flows around the light material, matching the lost, dewy look of the shoot.

She keeps on going clicking pictures. He almost would always tell her when to stop but today he doesn’t. He lets her keep doing her job as much as she can, telling him to pose, to look somewhere else and everything. She has no clue to how ask him if he is done.

The sun sets in the background. The natural light that they had depended on now turns to dark and this makes the perfect excuse for her to step back.

“Guess we are done.” She says, pulling her camera to herself to preview.

“No.” Harry ascertains, making her look up once again at his somber tone. “Try with the flash this time.”

She gulps, letting out a dry chuckle, tired with the brutal behavior of his.

“Harry, please.” Her voice is low and tired. “Let’s stop.”

His fists ball at his sides. He feels all the pent-up emotion, the remorse, the pain come back to him and he takes two long steps towards her to now stand right with just an inch of a distance between their noses.

“Stop what?” He grits through his teeth. “Stop even being friends? Even talking and being as we were? Why?”

She steps back one, shaky with the proximity. Her mouth opens to speak but he cuts her to it.

“Scratch that. I want my answer. I want to know what do you want from this and what it meant for you to be in my arms that night, kissing me, touching-“

“Harry!” She cries. Her face softens as their eyes meet – his rage and angst all making her heart pound.

She turns on her heel and scurries back inside the house, picking her camera bag from the floor.

He is trailing right behind her. “Y/N –“

“I just don’t want to hurt any one of us.” She turns around to face him again, putting a little distance between the two of them.

“And what about this? Is this not testing enough?!” He cries back at her.

“Harry-“

“Okay, no, no, wait.” He walks over to her. “You told me you love me that day. You told me you love me – didn’t you?”

She closes her eyes, nodding. “I do, I love you so, so much.”

He cracks a half grin. “Then what is it? I love you too, so much. More than you can imagine.”

“You don’t get it.” Shaking her head, she continues. “We are so much less involved in each other’s life when we are friends. You realize being together would complicate it all so, so much.”

“What is the complication for? It is all in your head.”

“Harry!” She puts him down with one raise of her voice. “Please. Understand this; you live in this bubble around all the glam and you have things to do that you are bound to – there is no way you can avoid them.” She pauses. “I am a simple girl. All I seek is small things, sought out things – simple things.”

He shuts up then. His voice holds no longer the desperate tone. He is confused, severely at that, and now all he wants is answers.

“What is it about my life? You’ve been with me for the entire tour, Y/N. I don’t think I did anything for you to feel that my life could be any complicated -“

“Harry, I was with you but always from a distance. You have your commitments, your duties as an artist that you’ve got to fill –“

“You’re going round in circles, saying the same thing over and over again, Y/N.” He cries out.

She takes a deep breath and squares up to spill the truth. “I do not understand this whole thing about going from dating one person to another.”

His eyes squint in surprise. “What-“

“Yes, you’ll have to be with multiple people at times, all through the year and you’ve done that in the past too-“

“Have you ever tried to understand this whole thing or are you just making assumptions –“

“It is the truth, Harry, and that is what gets to me every time I think –“

“Will you let me explain what this whole thing is and how it goes or –“

“No, Harry!” She shouts this time. “This is how you guys are. You go around jumping from one person to date to another – what would you do with being with a commoner? What good would she do to you? Will you get the same kind of promotions, be in the same way in the news, will remain as popular as ever?”

He opens and closes his mouth, her words hitting like spikes to his heart.

“Okay, okay.” She takes a breath out, calming. “Just give it a thought, you know – think a bit logically and realistically. You will need to think about your career at the end of the day. I get it, I get it, there is feelings and all but if we do get together, neither of us would be happy because – because our professional lives and image would keep clashing and –“

Both of them know she is blabbering like a mess now.

He takes a step back from her, rubbing his hands over his face. “Yeah, yeah –“

“You understand me, right? You get it too.” She tries to look him in the eyes.

“Yeah!” He says to loudly and quickly. “I get it. Absolutely. Perfectly.”

They both takes long breaths and look at one another. Their eyes blood shot red, and their faces show the tiredness and hopelessness. They both know this is in no way sought out.

Finally, with the same expressions on his face, he tells her, “Now, get out.”

She feels an invisible force push her steps back to the door. She accepts the defeat and the end and she nods.

“Trust me, this is for the best, Harry.”

---

Hope everyone’s keeping well and being safe. My wishes and love to you all.

Look forward to part:5 coming soon and show some love to this write up too!

Thank you for the love and support!

Big looove

- Shri <3

MASTERLIST O PART1 O PART2 O PART3

#harry styles #harry #styles #harry styles fic #friends to lovers fic #fic writing #harry styles writing #angst #harry styles angst #harry styles imagines #imagines #friends to lovers writing

65 notes · View notes

vikingpoteto · 4 years

Text

we don’t have to dance (to the beat of their songs)

Chapter 4 on AO3

______________________

Relationships: (Gen) Tim Drake & Jason Todd

Tags: Battle for the Cowl, Alternate Canon, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Mental Health Issues, Past Child Neglect, Domestic Fluff, Canon is not valid I am, and I want them to be friends goddamnit

Summary: In the middle of their battle, Jason asks Tim to leave the nest and be his Robin. Tim decides it's not a bad idea, after all.

________________________

When Tim walks out of the crappy motel room, the sun is already up. He curses inwardly, guessing it must be past eight in the morning at least. He hadn’t meant to stay up all night, but that’s what happens more often than not. He remembers reading somewhere online that ADHD people have a different sleeping cycle, something about working better when sleeping from 2am to 10am or something. He didn’t read the full article because it didn’t seem that relevant at the time.

Alas. Since he’s up, he might as well get himself some breakfast. He walks to the vending machine he was planning on visiting anyway. He blinks his blurry eyes trying to see the options in front of him. He considers buying just an energy drink and calling it a day, but he doesn’t think his empty stomach will appreciate that course of action.

“The fuck? You’re still here?”

Tim turns around. Jason is in front of his own room, only half wearing his leather jacket.

“I’m a paying customer?” Tim says. He hadn’t meant to make it sound like a question. God, he’s sleepy.

“I thought you’d be back in Gotham by now,” Jason says.

Tim frowns at him. “Where would I go?”

Jason considers that for a while. Usually, Tim would be bothered by being scanned like that, but he can’t find in himself to care or to try and figure what Jason might be thinking right now. Finally, the older boy sighs.

“You got breakfast yet?”

Tim gestures vaguely at the vending machine full of snacks.

Jason stares, his expression empty. Then he rolls his eyes, grabs Tim by the collar and starts dragging him as though he’s a sack of potatoes. It’s a testament to how tired Tim really is that he stumbles and barely manages a noise of protest.

“Jason,” he whines, the tone in his voice catching even himself by surprise.

A couple gives them a judgemental glance as they cross the street. Tim wonders what they look like to strangers. Tim’s clothes, while a lot more expensive than Jason’s, are battered and faded from his misadventures. His painfully pale skin doesn’t match Jason’s dark tan at all, even with all the freckles he got from having fun with assassins in the desert. Still, to a passerby, Tim’s juvenile tone and pathetic attempts to slap Jason’s hand away should make them look like bickering friends. In spite of Jason’s size, his young face still betrays his real age. They could pass as…

Tim straightens himself in a swift movement. Whether he’s finally successful in his attempt to free himself or Jason notices his tension and lets him go, is up for debate. He shakes his head and pretends that no stupid thought almost crossed his mind.

“What are you doing?” Tim complains.

Jason points at the building in front of them — an old diner — and walks in, expecting Tim to follow. He does.

A tired looking waitress squints at them as though she’s expecting trouble for whatever reason. Tim doesn’t know why, he’s sure they look perfectly innocent as they find themselves a place to sit. They make a beeline towards a table in a discreet corner, partially hidden behind a nook of the wall. The spot allows them to see almost all the other patrons without being too visible. Tim notes, but doesn’t comment on the fact that both of them chose that spot seemingly at the same time.

When they sit across one another, however, Tim has a weird feeling in his gut. Maybe it’s the sleepless night, but he has a hard time not thinking about the last time he sat across Jason like this: the older boy had been in jail and Tim’s stupid plan to get him out resulted in… well.

Babs used to say Tim talked a lot or didn’t talk at all, and she had been the first person to realize that the former meant Tim wasn’t thinking and the latter meant he was thinking too much. Tim does what he does best when he’s nervous or uncomfortable: he starts talking. A terrible mistake in retrospect, really.

“Are you buying me breakfast?” he asks.

Jason glares at him. “You’re richer than I am. Buy your own food.”

“Not really. Plus you dragged me here.”

“You said you were a paying customer.”

“Yeah, at the hotel. Credit cards are hackable and Babs taught me a thing or two in case I ever found myself in a tight spot, which I definitely am right now.” Tim points at the ‘cash only’ sign behind the counter. “The pocket change I have is cool for a vending machine, but a diner is fancier than what I’m ready for.”

Jason groans and rolls his eyes. Tim thinks that the closest thing he’ll get from a yes, so he takes it.

Without talking about it and even though they’re not talking about anything too secretive, they go silent when the waitress walks towards their table. Rather than greeting them, she shows her little notepad and arches an eyebrow at them. Tim is loving the service already, it’s doing great things to his nerves.

“Coffee. Black,” he says.

She turns to Jason, but he’s still looking at Tim as though waiting for him to say something else. When Tim simply gives him a quizzical look, Jason appears annoyed.

“What do you mean black coffee?” Jason says. “You’re making me pay for your food and you’re not even ordering actual food?”

“Uh… I’m fine? I don’t eat much this early, it makes me nauseous.”

“Jesus Christ, kid. We gonna have your largest order of pancakes for this stupid child.”

Tim kicks him under the table.

“Little shit,” Jason hisses.

And Tim almost falls over when he pushes his chair to avoid being kicked back.

“Cut it out, Jason!”

While their feet battle under the table, the waitress rolls her eyes and walks away. Tim really wishes he could give this place a five star review.

When Jason’s sole finally connects to Tim’s chair and he has to hold onto the table to avoid toppling over, he groans:

“Truce.”

“Nah. You lost.”

Tim stares.

“Admit you lost and I stop.”

“Fine, you oversized baby, I lost!”

Jason smiles. It’s stupid to get so worked up at such a small thing, not to mention how extremely out of place it feels after his little vacation with the League. Still, Tim can’t help but think this is the first time he’s seen Jason look so satisfied. Annoyingly smug, sure, but satisfied.

Silence stretches. Jason grabs a napkin from the table and starts methodically tearing it apart for no apparent reason. Tim wishes he thought of doing something like that, because his hands are itching to do something. It’d look dumb if he started doing the same thing as Jason, wouldn’t it?

“I thought you were rich,” Jason says, startling Tim.

He shakes his head, reprimanding himself for spacing out. “What?”

“I get not using your own credit card so you can’t be tracked,” Jason says, “but you’re so obsessed with planning everything. I kinda expected you to have a secret stash of money somewhere.”

Tim frowns. “What, you think I just stole Bruce’s money before leaving?”

Now that Jason mentions it, that would’ve been smarter. It’s not like Dick would miss it, and money would’ve left less of a trail than the fake credit cards he’d been using. Maybe Ra’s wouldn’t have found him if… He’s spacing out again. Jason is speaking. Crap.

“... your other father?”

He needs a few blinks to realize what Jason means. “My dad lost everything before he died. You didn’t know?”

“Wait, so what are you going to do when you go back to Gotham? Go back to the manor?”

Tim frowns. “I don’t think that’d be a good idea.”

“He’d take you back.”

At that, Tim gives him a pointed look. Jason realizes his misstep.

“Don’t,” he grits out. “Don’t you dare say it. We’re not the same by any means.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Tim says simply.

He never does. Ever since he reached that weird truce with Jason, Tim only said it once. He said that Jason should go back; Jason told him to fuck off. Tim said that Bruce wanted him back and Dick missed him; Jason told him to be quiet. Tim told him that Alfred wanted to see him; Jason stormed off.

Since then, in the very few times they’ve met and talked like semi-civilized people, Tim never brought up Jason going home again. Jason seems to firmly believe that he’ll never be forgiven. Tim knows that he’s the last person Jason wants to talk about family, and it’s not like he has any arguments that could change his mind, so Tim keeps quiet. It works, unless one of them (usually Jason) is trying to kill the other (Tim). Even now, after the whole clusterfucker before Tim’s trip - had it really happened a few weeks ago? - there is no doubt in his mind that Dick and Alfred would take Jason back with open arms, more than willing to work on their issues. Perhaps Dick would still be a bit upset about Jason shooting Damian, but hey, the kid barely stayed down for a day.

As it is now, neither of them are planning to go back. Once more, the question looms over them. Why would Tim make the same mistake again? What was that fancy quote about insanity? Something about doing the same thing and expecting a miracle or whatever. Tim hopes Jason won’t ask.

But then again, if Jason asks Tim why he wants to stay, he’ll have to explain why he’s accepting it, and Tim doesn’t think he’s too keen on that.

The waitress comes back with their food. Tim twists his nose at the pile of pancakes in front of him. Jason threateningly points a fork at him until he sighs and starts eating.

“We’re taking off after I’m done eating, so get to chewing, Replacement.”

Tim feels a smile stretching his lips. “We?”

“Don’t be a smartass. If I regret this, I’ll dump your ass in the middle of the road.”

“Can’t do, boss. It’s part of Robin’s job to call you out on your shit.”

“But you’re not Robin anymore, are you?”

That wipes Tim’s smile off pretty fast. He has to keep reminding himself that Jason can be as much of an asshole as Tim can, if not worse. He resumes eating in silence, pretending he’s too mature to be bothered by Jason’s stupid smug face.

Never mind that he has to grit his teeth to hold back at least three different smart retorts. He doesn’t want to risk Jason giving up on him out of spite and the son of a bitch knows it.

Tim takes his sweet time poking at his pancakes and sipping his coffee, hoping that Jason will be done first and they’ll leave. When Jason realizes what he’s doing, he starts barking out threats and insults until Tim is kicking him again.

They don’t stop fighting until Tim’s plate is empty and his stomach is filled to the brim.

The waitress looks unreasonably relieved when Jason throws a couple of crumpled bills at the counter and they turn to leave. Tim didn’t think they made a fuss big enough to warrant that reaction. But, then again, maybe they just look like trouble makers.

“We’re going back to Gotham?” Tim asks.

“What do you think, genius?” Jason rolls his eyes. “God, my territory must be a mess by now.”

“No one told you to fall from that height, dude, I’m surprised you’re not out of commission for longer,” Tim says.

“Replacement, I swear to God…”

“Just sayin’,” and his mocking smile is back. “We’re going to one of your infamous safehouses?”

“Hm.”

“The one in Burnley? Or the one behind Crime Alley? Or…”

Jason stops walking. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “No one likes a smartass, Tim.”

“Jokes on you, no one likes me anyway.” Tim grins. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty sure Dick doesn’t know about the Burnley one.”

“Guess that’s where we’re going then,” Jason huffs. “Can’t have them breathin’ on my neck while I get my stuff together. Can’t believe I have a fucking kid now.”

“You’re only two years older than me, Jason. Less, if we consider you were dead for a couple months.”

Jason ignores that. “You better not go running to them, Replacement. You’re on your trial run. You fuck this up, you not gonna like the consequences.”

Tim rolls his eyes, but says nothing. Jason will find out soon enough how good he is at keeping secrets.

They grab their things at the hotel, not that Tim has a lot of luggage. Jason grabs a motorcycle that definitely isn’t his. Tim doesn’t comment on it, because the one he’s currently riding was paid with money that wasn’t his either.

They hit the road, and the sleepless night and the breakfast still threatening to come back don’t bother Tim as much, because he feels like he’s finally moving again. Finally has a sense of purpose again.

Tim didn’t expect to live with Jason. He thought he’d look around his place, help him set up a functional computer system - how Jason survived alone for so long with the tech he had was beyond Tim - and then he’d leave to figure out what to do. His credit card fraud system wouldn’t work as well in Gotham, at least not if Barbara was in town, but he was willing to figure it out.

The fact that he came this far without a plan told him that his month with the assassins had thrown him off his game. He’d grown used to winging it because the last weeks had been so unfairly unpredictable, but he has to go back to his old modus operandi as soon as possible.

Or at least that’s what he thought, until he emerged from the secret Red Hood bunker downstairs and Jason casually told him to take the vacant room upstairs.

That solved a lot of logistic issues, so Tim forces his mouth shut and heads upstairs.

If you forget about the heavy arsenal in the secret basement (a secret that Tim will spend the whole weekend tinkering because holy shit, his childhood bedroom was more secure) the house is almost… normal. Like an abandoned middle class house. There are boards on the windows and signs that it should’ve been demolished at some point. Other than that, Jason had made the place a functional home. It’s a bit sparse in the furniture department and not unlike the hotel room Tim found Jason in: mismatched pieces, old wood and dust everywhere. There are marks on the wallpaper where pictures had presumably hung once, but that was probably before Jason took over the place.

It occurs to Tim that he’s probably going to be on cleaning duty, which is a bit worrisome. As much as he’s okay with less than hospitable places, he’s never had to clean. Ever. He hopes there’s a YouTube tutorial on it.

His new room clearly belonged to a very feminine person at some point, and all they left behind was an old bed with no sheets, a beaten dresser and marks on the pink walls where posters had probably been. Tears in the wallpaper hint they were carelessly ripped off. Tim carefully removes the mirror from the dresser and puts it out of sight before dumping his duffel bag near the bed. Home, sweet home.

Someone clears his throat by the door.

Leaning against the frame as though he doesn’t know what to do with himself, Jason crosses and uncrosses his arms.

“I’m going on patrol in a bit. Gotta assess the situation.”

Tim nods and waits. This would usually be the time Bruce gave them instructions for the night. Jason shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Whether he’s deliberately trying to be less like Bruce - which is futile, since Bruce is the only reference he has - or he simply doesn’t know how to handle a sidekick… Tim takes pity on him and says:

“I’ll be ready to join you in five.”

Jason aqcuiesces stiffly. Then heads down the hallway. Tim swears he hears Jason mumbling to himself as he leaves, which would be amusing if he wasn’t feeling just as awkward.

He grabs the light chainmail armor from his bag and puts it on. The black, sleek outfit that follows still feels uncomfortable and foreign, but Tim supposes it will have to do. He hesitates before pulling on the black hood and even more before reaching for the Spoiler-like mask that will only cover the lower half of his face. Finally, he discards the piece of fabric to a corner. Associating the thing with Steph does the opposite of making him feel better about it. He’ll have to ask Jason if he has a spare domino mask he can borrow.

He heads downstairs just as Jason is emerging from the kitchen in almost full Red Hood gear, his helmet under his arm. He tries to ignore the tug at his stomach when he sees it. Judging by Jason’s expression, he was thinking something similar.

“What the fuck are you wearing, Replacement?”

“Discreet clothes for an undercover mission. What are you wearing?” Tim tries to play it off as nothing, but, judging by Jason’s expression, he’s failing. “Look, I didn’t have Robin anymore, okay? I had to wear something and this is what Ra’s gave me.”

“Yeah, I’m not going out with a mini-League of Assassins recrutee.”

Tim wishes he had a logical argument against that. He thinks there is one, but the sleepless night is finally getting to him and he can’t think straight. “Well, damn, Jason, what do you expect me to do? Go out in civies? Not all of us can pull off the leather jacket.”

The older boy considers him for a moment, and an irrational part of Tim’s brain keeps him frozen on the spot. This is it. This is when he realizes this has been a mistake, and me thinking he’s like me was a gross miscalculation. He’s going to send me away. He’s going to tell me to go away.

“Stay here,” Jason says. “Now that I think about it, if I go alone there’s less of a chance of them finding out I’m back.”

Tim is panicking, but not hard enough that he misses the opportunity to quip: “I’m not the one with a bright red helmet.”

“Shut it. Do digital detective work while I’m gone. Can you find out what happened in my territory for the past month without bringing Oracle down my ass?”

“Of course I can. What do you think I am?”

“Inferior to Barbara.”

“Bitch…!” Tim pauses. Takes a deep breath. “Okay, fair, I am. But she isn’t actively looking for me and I know her M.O.”

Jason nods. “Then do your thing. I’ll be back in the morning.”

Tim watches him head to the door. So he isn’t fired again, which is good.

“Jason?” He calls, because apparently he can’t take a win and keep his damn mouth shut. “I’m not going to stay indoors. I’m not the computer guy. I’m in this to fight crime and I didn’t look for you to stay back because you don’t like my fashion choices.”

Jason looks absolutely disgusted at that. “The problem with smart people like you is that you keep thinking everyone else is a fucking idiot. I’m not. And you know that, since you chose to come after me.”

Tim could tell him Jason offered first. That would lead to a childish back-and-forth until accusing the other of starting wouldn’t be enough and they would have a fist fight on top of the ratty couch. Considering the thing looks like it’s about to collapse under the mildest gust of wind, Tim wisely stays quiet for once in his life.

He turns around and heads to the kitchen, to the secret entrance that leads to the secret basement. He hears when Jason leaves. He’s still pouting when he boots the stupid computer in serious need of an update.

He’s going to hate this.

Tim hates that he enjoys himself.

It’s been quite a long time since he worked in such a simple case. He’d forgotten how enjoyable it is to work on a puzzle and watch the pieces fall together with ease. Like skating for fun after spending months practicing complicated maneuvers. He doesn’t see time going by as he takes notes and prints info, compiling a thorough report on everything Jason missed, up to some cold trails from when he was in Blackgate.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep.

At least not until he wakes up and immediately lets out an unholy screech because his bed vanishes under him. Except he isn’t on his bed, he’s spinning around on the computer chair and he scrambles to stay on the seat before the chair finally hits the wall and stops.

After the shock is gone, he looks up and finds a rather smug Red Hood smirking at him from across the room.

“What the… Did you seriously kick my chair?” Tim gasps.

“My chair,” Jason corrects. “That I let you borrow in exchange for work. Slacking on the service on the first day?”

Tim shoots up. “I was not! Fuck you!”

Jason blinks, his eyes widening. “Easy there. And I’m the one with anger issues.”

“I gathered everything that there is to find from the past month,” he protests, frantic and irritated all at the same time. “Sure, I didn’t finish the time you were locked up, but that’s because your internet is fucking slow. Give me until morning and I-”

Strong hands grab his wrists and Tim looks up. Jason’s expression is so oddly telling that Tim thinks he’s trying to manipulate him somehow. His brows are knitted together and his warm brown eyes are still mildly wide. Enough that Tim can see the specks of green in the dark iris, a reminder of Jason’s dip in the Lazarus Pit. He tries to come up with an explanation, because Jason has no reason to make Tim think he’s worried about him.

“The fuck is wrong with you? I didn’t expect you to be done before I got home. And I didn’t expect you to get info about the time I was in jail either.”

Tim is confused. He misinterpreted his mess up? “You didn’t want me to know what was going on before? That’s counterproductive. Plus a lot of this isn’t new information, I was monitoring…”

“Tim,” Jason cuts him off again.

It’s weird that he says Tim and not Robin. It’s correct, because Tim isn’t Robin anymore, but this is Robin time regardless. Tim feels as though he’s back at the cave and he’s 13 years old. This time he doesn’t have Dick’s hesitant encouragement or Alfred’s worried glances, but it feels too similar to being around a grief-stricken man, broken almost beyond repair. That man is his boss and, in order to earn his stay, Tim has to succeed.

Except next time Jason speaks, he doesn’t sound like Bruce. Not like Bruce after he started healing. Definitely not like Bruce sounded when he first met Tim. He sounds - and that’s extremely weird - like Cassie when she found Tim pulling an all-nighter reviewing the case files. It was right after they got their team approved and could take over Titans Tower. Tim had to make sure everything was running smoothly, but Cassie thought not sleeping after sparring all-day was a bad call. She had been absolutely bewildered by the concept, for some reason.

It’s ridiculous that Red Hood reminds him of Wonder Girl.

“I don’t fucking care that you checked old news,” Jason says. “I’m just surprised you’re done already.”

Tim’s brow furrows and he reviews the night, again trying to assess his mistake. “You said I was supposed to do digital work while you were on patrol,” he repeats slowly, almost to himself.

“Yeah,” Jason agrees, letting go of his wrists. “I thought you were gonna collect some info and go to bed. Continue tomorrow.”

Tim gives in and straight up asks: “And you’re angry because…?”

“I’m not?” Jason is the one looking confused now. “You think me kicking your chair was me being angry? I was just being a jerk. I didn’t think you were that sensitive.”

Oh. Tim feels his cheeks warming. “I-I’m not! That is, I don’t care that you kicked the chair and sent me careening across the room while I was asleep.” There’s a beat. “Wait, no, I do care about that, what the hell, Jason?”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Come on, I’m gonna make it up to you. Don’t get used to it, though. Just come here and take a look.”

Tim notices a bundle of what looks like fabric on the computer desk. It definitely wasn’t there before he dozed off. His confusion peaks when he notices it isn’t simply fabric… it’s leather and kevlar and a freaking cowl connected to a cape and…

“You stole Dr. Mid-Nite’s suit?” Tim asks.

“Wha- No, dumbass! It’s my suit! My old suit, anyway.”

Tim takes it and holds it in front of him. It’s a bit heavier than his old Robin suit, but it looks more resistant, if not as much malleable.

“From the time you went to a different dimension,” Tim gasps.

“How the fuck do you know that?” Jason asks, bewildered again.

Tim turns to him. “Why do you have this?”

Jason shrugs. “I grew out of it. Figured you could have it. You’re a bit taller than I was then, and skinnier too, but nothing you can’t work around. Beats making a whole new suit from scratch.”

Words fail him and he simply stares at the suit, unresponsive.

“If you don’t like it, deal with it,” Jason says, suddenly less blase. It’s almost as though he’s nervous. “Or make a new suit, I don’t care. Just don’t go out in that stupid ninja suit.”

“R.R.” Tim mutters, his voice hollow. “What does R.R. stands for?”

It’s Jason’s turn to hesitate. Silent stretches for a little before he blurts: “Red Robin.”

“Huh.” Tim says, eloquent as ever. “What’s with all the red? I thought your favorite color was green.”

“How do you-” Jason sighs. “Whatever. Grab your shit and get the hell out of here.”

Tim whips around, alarmed again. “Why?”

“Because I wanna fucking change,” he gestures at his clothes, “and it’s weird to do it with your scrawny ass down here. This ain’t the Batcave, I only got one room.”

Oh. That sort of “leaving”. That makes more sense. “Right. I’m gonna go… uh... “ Where, again?

“To bed,” Jason snaps. “You’re gonna sleep on an actual bed instead of drooling all over my keyboard. Scram.”

Nodding jerkily, Tim obeys. The suit he holds tightly against his chest feels heavy and not because of all the body armor hidden within layers of leather.

#jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #batfam #poteto writing #red bros

6 notes · View notes

august-anon · 4 years

Text

Touch

Hey hey! Very nervous about this because, unlike Sanders Sides, I have not written for TAZ for over 2 years, and I also have not listened to Balance for over a year so I wasn’t sure I nailed their voices. The wonderful, talented, kind, amazing @cefsticklestoo looked this over for me, though, and she said it was good, so here I go lol.

Fandom: The Adventure Zone: Balance

Ship(s): Taakitz

Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Taako/Ler!Kravitz

Word Count: 2335 words

Summary: Touch and Taako have always had an interesting relationship, but it was time he started figuring it out with this new world, since they seemed to be sticking around.

[ao3 link]

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

Touch was an interesting thing for Taako.

For so long, it had just been him and Lup. The Taaco twins against the world. And most days, it truly had felt like the world was against them. They didn’t have an easy childhood or adolescence, but Taako liked to think that’s why he’d survived so long through all the bullshit he’d been through.

Even with the Starblaster crew, the people who became their family, people as close to his heart as Lup (and that wasn’t easy to do), touch had not come easily.

They had held their aloof personas, darting out of hugs and away from fond touches with their usual bravado, making a joke of it as they went. Even as Lup and Taako had practically attached themselves to each other at the hip, molding into each other when the other was near, they did not let the rest of the crew touch.

It took quite a few cycles before anyone besides each other was able to lay a hand on them. Of course it was Magnus, the stupid man (more of a child back then, to the two of them with their lifespans and his startling youth) was practically a golden retriever in a human’s body. He was excitable and affectionate and he grew on you like a fungus, getting under your skin and making you fond of him without you even realizing.

Then it was Barry. Then Merle. Lucretia and Davenport were the last to be invited into the physical contact gang, though not for lack of love. They were simply more reserved people, which the twins (and everyone else on the Starblaster) had come to respect, and even endear.

But they were family. It made sense for them all to hang off each other like jungle gyms, touching whenever touch was allowed. It was just the way of the Taaco’s when someone became close to them, became family.

Which was why Taako was so torn with the new people in their lives.

Angus was a whole new can of worms that Taako wasn’t necessarily ready to open, though he really should work on that before it was too late, now that all the world saving was done. The rest of their new friends weren’t as pressing in that matter (except maybe Carey and Killian, possibly Avi, but they seemed fine to give him time to figure himself out for the time being), but he really needed to figure out what he was going to do with that kid, who they were to each other.

But Kravitz. That was his focus right now.

Kravitz, his beautiful Bone Daddy. Kravitz, his whirlwind romance. Kravitz, the one he kissed at the end of the world. Kravitz, the one he was certain he was beginning to fall in love with.

And wasn’t that a terrifying thought? Taako had never been in love before, it really wasn’t fair of Kravitz to spring all these feelings on him now.

But Kravitz. The man sitting on his couch at that exact moment, waiting for Taako to bring out the hot cocoa he’d made for them since neither of them had been sleeping well since the almost-end-of-the-world, and were both somewhat stressed with the rapidly approaching wedding of Carey and Killian. (Taako was not ready. Weddings were too mushy. Magnus was going to cry, and if Magnus cried, Taako would cry and have to pretend he wasn’t crying).

Taako took a deep breath and grabbed the mugs, walking out into the sitting area of their room in the BoB (which, it was a little uncomfortable staying there now, he had a lot of things to work out before it became okay again, if it ever would, but he didn’t really have many other places to live at the moment. At least Merle and Magnus were out, currently), setting them both on the coffee table.

Taako moved to sit down near Kravitz. Kravitz lifted his arm in invitation. Taako paused.

There was a standstill for a moment that Taako hoped Kravitz didn’t notice before he made a bold decision and sat down, pressed up against Kravitz from his thigh to his shoulder, and pulled his feet up onto the couch next to him. Kravitz seemed to relax at Taako’s decision and wrapped his arm around him so that his fingers rested against Taako’s side.

And it was nice. Taako didn’t feel like fleeing, he wasn’t scared or nervous (okay, he was a little nervous, but he would never in his life admit that to anyone). The touch didn’t feel wrong. In fact, it felt so incredibly right.

So Taako curled further into Kravitz, snatching the mugs off the coffee table to hand one to Kravitz so they could both drink. Thankfully, the hot chocolate had cooled off enough in Taako’s dawdling to drink, a comfortable warmth instead of a burning heat.

Taako thought he was in the clear, that he had managed to hide his hesitance well enough from Kravitz that he didn’t notice, but that proved to be false as they reached the mid-point of emptying their mugs.

Kravitz interrupted the companionable silence. “Are you not big on cuddling? Or touching? It’s okay if you aren’t, I won’t mind.”

Curse his wonderful undead boyfriend for being so sweet and considerate and actually making Taako want to discuss the issue instead of brushing it all off with a joke as usual.

Taako sighed and set his mug down on the coffee table again, Kravitz leaning forward to follow suit. His hand shifted nervously against Taako’s side, as if he felt like he was overstepping, but he didn’t remove it yet. Taako stared forward at the doorway to Magnus’s room, not looking Kravitz in the eye.

“If you asked Lup,” Taako started, speaking startlingly quietly, “she’d say I was the most cuddly bastard in the world.”

Taako paused, searching for words in a way that felt very not-him. Kravitz remained silent, giving him time to work it out.

“Not sure if the rest of the crew would share that sentiment, but physical affection is definitely not uncommon. It’s just weird. Hard to decide when I trust someone enough to let it happen.”

Taako finally turned to look at Kravitz, something twisting and stirring in his heart at the painfully soft look he was sending him. Taako wanted to look away, put up his haughty facade again as he cuddled up to Kravitz and drank his cocoa and pretended he wasn’t soft on the inside, but something in Kravitz’s eyes kept his gaze there.

“So you trust this, trust me, enough to let it happen?” Kravitz asked softly.

Except his words were accompanied by a squeeze to Taako’s side. It was probably meant as comfort or encouragement or affection, but it hit certain pressure points far too well, leaving Taako to do his best to cover up a gasp and a jump so high that he practically ended up in Kravitz’s lap.

Wait. He could use that.

Taako quickly readjusted himself to sit in Kravitz’s lap completely, trying to make it look like it was part of the same movement as before. He gave Kravitz one of his flirtatious smiles and turned on the charm, wrapping his arms around Kravitz’s neck.

“I’m in your lap,” Taako teased, “what do you think?”

Kravitz let out a startled laugh, wrapping both hands around Taako’s waist to intertwine at the base of his spine. “I guess that proves it, doesn’t it?” He chuckled.

Taako let out a pleased hum and relaxed, preparing to reach for his mug again. Kravitz was warm (which was strange and new, but certainly not a bad thing) and so was the hot cocoa, and while Taako didn’t necessarily think he could sleep yet, some more time spent just like that and he might be able to.

“But,” Kravitz said cheekily, “I am very interested to know why you vaulted onto my lap so quickly.”

Taako froze, trying to bury down a look that was some mix between panicked and excited. Panicited.

Kravitz’s hand inched along his back to grip his side once more. “Did it have something to do with this?” He asked, and squeezed once more, this time with purpose.

This time, Taako’s cover-up was not as graceful. He yanked his arms down from around Kravitz’s neck, sticking his elbows tightly to his sides. He used one hand to cover his mouth and the other to start pushing at the hand Kravitz had on his waist as he squirming in Death’s lap.

Kravitz laughed. “Oh, this will be fun, I think.”

And suddenly both hands were squeezing up and down Taako’s sides. Not-quite-contained squeaks were muffled by the hand over his mouth, but Taako was determined not to embarrass himself by giggling. Kravitz hummed thoughtfully, quickly pinching his hips and the edges of his stomach before returning to squeezing his sides.

And here’s the thing.

Taako didn’t necessarily mind tickling. In fact, at times he could quite enjoy it, both giving and receiving. Pan knows the Starblaster crew had plenty of such “bonding moments,” not to mention he and Lup themselves. But only Lup knew about Taako’s true feelings surrounding the silly, affectionate action. He had an image to keep, after all. If people knew how much he liked it, they’d think he’d gone soft (or, worse, realize he had secretly been soft the whole time).

And another thing: when was the last time Taako had laughed? A real, true laugh. Not a laugh concocted perfectly for the situation at hand, carefully faked to sound as natural as possible. Not a barely-there chuckle at Magnus and Merle’s goofs, even still disguised to hide the true sound of it. Not a laugh to mock or be cruel or tease. A real laugh.

Truthfully, it was probably back sometime in that century he just regained.

And Taako was nothing if not competitive. He had a record going now, after all. If he hadn’t truly laughed in that long, he should really see how much longer he could keep it up.

But then Kravitz’s hands weaseled under his elbows and started skittering up and down his rib cage and Taako lost it. He forgot how bad that spot was. Lup knew, get Taako’s ribs or thighs and he would agree to just about anything you wanted.

“K-Krav” Taako cried through his laughter, hand flying down from his mouth to try and push the offending hands away.

Kravitz’s hands faltered for a moment, giving Taako a brief moment of respite. He glanced up to see Kravitz staring at him in wonder.

“What?” He snapped.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard any music ever so beautiful before,” Kravitz whispered in awe, still staring into Taako’s flushed face.

Taako huffed. “Well, don’t get used to it. It’s not going to happen ofte--!”

Taako’s laughter turned to shrieks and cut off his own sentence as Kravitz’s hands started spidering back up his ribs in the middle of his sentence. His fingers had traveled up and slightly back to that awful spot, just above the middle of his rib cage, slightly on his back.

Taako couldn’t remember the last time he laughed that hard. Once Kravitz found that little spot that made him cackle and almost scream, his fingers abused it in the terrible (wonderful) ways they possibly could. They dug in with fingertips, they fluttered with a barely-there touch, they skittered around playfully, they traced with fingernails. Every new technique made the sensations wash over him anew, leaving him in desperate stitches with barely any room to speak.

And Taako realized that he missed this. Sure, he’d always had an affinity for it, loved playing around with the people he called family, would occasionally get a craving, but he never thought it was a big part of his life. Evidently, his body (and mind, not that he was admitting that) missed the playful torture more than he thought. Despite the fact that he was desperately running out of air, he wanted Kravitz to continue forever.

But Kravitz did stop soon after that as Taako’s laughter went silent, rubbing comfortingly up and down his torso. Taako faceplanted into Kravitz’s chest as his own heaved for breath, letting out residual giggles with every exhale.

“Ne—Never do that again,” Taako breathed out the lie through his residual giggles, trying to save face.

Kravitz chuckled above him. “Sorry, love.” (And didn’t that just made Taako’s heart flutter in the most embarrassing of ways) “But I don’t necessarily think you mean that.”

Taako sat up with a scowl, “And just what makes you think that, huh?”

Kravitz smiles softly at him. “Well you see, Taako is a man who knows what he wants, and what he doesn’t. You wouldn’t have let that go on for as long as you did if you actually meant that.” Kravitz’s smile turned cheeky. “Plus, you hardly struggled and never once said ‘no’ or ‘stop.’”

Taako sputtered hopelessly, feeling himself blush to the tips of his ears.

“It’s cute,” Kravitz teased, pulling him closer again. “Relax, your little secret is safe with me.”

“It better be,” Taako grumbled, but fell into Kravitz’s embrace without any struggle.

Kravitz held him tightly and hummed, the sound rumbling through Taako where he laid on Kravitz’s chest. He glanced up at Kravitz just as he glanced down at Taako. They both smiled.

“Hey,” Kravitz said.

“Hey,” Taako replied.

“Can I kiss you?”

“I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

Kravitz laughed and leaned in. The kiss was short, but sweet. They hadn’t kissed since that terrible day, the world collapsing around them. At the time, Taako wasn’t sure if he would ever get to do it again.

He was so glad he got to do it again.

When they pulled away, Taako cuddled into Kravitz’s chest, curling up in his lap like a cat and just letting Kravitz hold him, running a hand through his hair and across his back. Within minutes, he was falling asleep.

It was the best sleep he’d had in years.

#My writing #taz tickling #taz:b tickling #lee!taako #ler!kravitz #ticklish!taako #taz #taz:b #taako taaco #taz kravitz #taakitz

58 notes · View notes

poppys-writing · 4 years

Text

Box Babe - Break (Part 3)

Break: Part 1 | Part 2 // Box Babe Masterlist A/N: this is a long one!! breaking it into two different parts didn’t feel right, so buckle up and enjoy the ride - it’s a wild one!

The guard stopped once they reached a series of metal doors. He abruptly grabbed Katie’s wrist, scanning her chip in an instant. “461837,” the man repeated, looking to her. She nodded in confirmation, instantly scolding herself for choosing to answer to her ID number. The man continued on through the hall, stopping once he reached a door with her number displaying on the graphic above it.

Her wrist was grabbed again and shoved under the scanner. The door unlocked and slid open, and Katie was pushed inside. The box was blinding white, just big enough for her to stand perfectly still with her arms to her side, legs together. Katie heard a couple beeps, then the door slid shut behind her again.

Alone...for once, Katie was alone. In this box. She could scream, cry, holler, pray, curse, laugh, sing. She could express herself and her thoughts one last time...but she didn’t. Fear caught in her throat every attempt to speak, anticipating a convulsive shock or some form of instant death. Katie found it funny that she feared death, since it’s not like this form of life is worth living anyways. if she was given the choice of death or this, she would still choose her current situation...how puzzling.

She couldn’t tell how long she remained in the box, but eventually it began to shake. It rattled for a few moments, then a stinging pain dulled her brain, blinding her fear and causing a whimper to escape her throat. Immediately following, a shock rattled down her spine, but this time Katie bit down on her lip to save herself. “Deliberately disobeying the baseline code of conduct will result in immediate termination of the product,” a mechanic voice informed her from behind. There’s the death threat - Katie knew it was coming. What if she did it? What if she let herself be killed?

Before Katie could make up her mind, the box began to move. She felt her stomach drop as the box rose in elevation, coming to an abrupt stop. The box then moved to the right, then forward, then rotated and settled into place uncomfortably.

A new voice emitted from behind her, this time the voice of the dark stranger that had spoken in the auditorium. “Now, I gladly present the prize of this auction...the stunning, natural beauty herself...461837!” The wall in front of Katie’s face slid away, revealing glass casing and a massive audience before her. She was elevated for all to see, but she could see them all too. They gawked and pointed, scrawled notes on notepads, whispered hurriedly to others around them.

It was difficult to think during this. She felt like an animal, since she was being treated like an animal. She couldn't hear anything. The box was silent, but the world that presented itself in front of Katie was bustling and distorted. She could only assume that other Box Babes were on display beside her, since the crowds would shift in either direction, pointing at her and then another figure on either side.

Katie anticipated that the crowd would be primarily older men, but it turned out to be a fair mix of all ages and genders. She recognized actors, singers, writers, politicians, public heroes. Did they make it known to their fans and people that they bought other people? Maybe, within weeks, the world had changed, and human trafficking became the norm? Or perhaps it was already the norm, and Kali just didn’t know it. The latter seemed more probable.

The next hours passed rather monotonously. She stood and stood and stood, knees aching, eyes growing heavy, back growing weary. The crowds grew less interested in her as time went on, moving in waves to greater things. Katie didn’t mind this at all. If nobody wanted her, then maybe they’d just kill her. Or, maybe they’d just send her back with the other girls from the warehouse - if they’re still alive. Every option seemed better than this one.

A group approached her. An older man, probably mid 50s; a woman significantly younger than him, a man with thick brown hair that didn’t look real and was of an undistinguishable age, and finally a stout woman in the lead. Katie’s eyes locked with hers, and the stout woman shot her a sly wink before spinning around to face her clients.

The speakers in the box activated again, nearly making Katie jump out of her skin at the sudden noise. “So, this here is 461837! This model is special because she has excellent stamina due to her athletic build,” the woman boasted. Special?

The older man spoke up first, raising a stubby finger and then speaking before permission was granted. “This is humane, right? I know that there have been some questions about the...legality...of these uh, Box-”

“Box Babes,” the stout woman eagerly finished for him.

“Right, Box Babes. I - well, we - just don’t want our family soiling the pristine reputation that we have worked so hard to create,” he explained. He spoke with a thick, posh British accent, so every word sounded like he had marbles in his mouth.

Katie watched the stout woman hesitate for a moment. Maybe she’s new to this whole selling people thing, or maybe she knew that it wasn’t legal and needed to muster the strength to lie. “Yes, Mr. Dixon, I can assure you that all of our assets have legally consented. Truthfully, serving their Masters is the perfect opportunity for them to start over fresh in life. And, with the spectacular training that we provide, all of our assets are conditioned just to your liking.”

So it was the lie then. If these idiots took the time to unpack what the saleswoman was saying in the context of the situation, they’d be able to see through the fluffiness of it all. The man nodded along with the stout woman’s words, and for a moment Katie believed that he’d have follow up questions. He didn’t. “That’s good to hear, thank you! Now, another question please. When will we have custody of her?”

Now the man with the fake hair stepped forward, putting a firm hand on the older man’s shoulders. “Don’t you worry about that, Mr. Dixon. 461837 will be in my care as I take it through the training procedure, specially tailoring her to your outlined needs,” the man’s eyes wander over to Katie’s, locking without hesitation. It was as though he was staring into her soul, looking at her past life, analyzing everything about her. There must not have been very many things to discover, since he spun back around to the clients shortly. “I estimate between 4 to 6 months of training, followed by up to an 8 week delivery period. You’ll have her by Christmas, Mr. Dixon.”

“Thank you, Fabio!” Mr. Dixon grabbed Fabio’s thin and boney hand, shaking it in his meaty hand excessively. “You’ve never failed our family, you know. Our first Box Boy - god bless its soul - was spectacular, and I’ve heard nothing but good things from my brothers and sisters and the in-laws. How do you do it?”

“You flatter me, Mr. Dixon,” Fabio laughed heartily, although he tore his hand away from the thick grasp and shoved it into his pocket once more. He fiddled around for a moment, then turned back to face Katie. He held up a clicker, then jabbed one of the buttons. A needle suddenly shot into Katie’s neck, requiring all the strength left in her to bite back the shocking yelp. “But you know what they say - practice makes perfect.”

Heavy. Everything suddenly felt very heavy. The sound in the box shut off, but the people outside were still talking. Slow. Everything was very slow too. Her breathing, her thinking - it was like somebody put her life in slow motion reverse, distorting everything around her. Her eyes fluttered closed, only the uncomfortably open against her will, continuing on in a weird cycle. Loose. Katie felt loose, even though she was standing upright in a box. If the box wasn’t there, then she would fall forward, unable to control her muscles. What was in that shot?

Eventually, Katie heard the glass door slide down. She slumped forward, nearly pitching out of the box - but boney hands caught her, holding her upright. She lazily tried to pick her head up, but the boney hand shoved her face against a shoulder, holding her tight against the random body. She tried to pull away, but her muscles wouldn’t respond. What was in that shot?

“And you’re sure this is safe?” The stout woman began, her fuzzy voice barely registering in Katie’s head.

“Yes, I’m sure,” the boney man, Fabio responded. So that’s who’s holding her. Fabio. She doesn’t want to be held by Fabio. Fabio is an asshole name. Katie groaned, trying to pull away from him again, but instead his free arm scooped up her legs and cradled her to his chest. For a man with boney figures, he was quite strong and had quite a broad chest. Or, maybe he was just squishing her. “She’s uncomfortable, yes, but she’s completely docile. She couldn’t hurt any of us even if she wanted to.”

“Trust me, I want to,” Katie tried to snap back at him, but all that left her mouth was babbles and mumbles. The small crowd around her cooed and awed, and Fabio squished her face tighter to his shoulder.

Some more talking ensued, and Katie decided to opt out of listening. It would be better to try and dissociate from the situation than being aware of everything that was going on. Did every Box Babe have to go through this? This sucks. What was in that shot?

Katie zoned back in when Mr. Dixon’s voice broke through: “Let me see her, Fabio,” he demanded. Fabio released her, putting her down on her feet but still holding her firm by the shoulders to keep her upright. Just as her chin began to tuck and droop down, firm fingers grabbed it and tore it up again. She was now face to face with Mr. Dixon. It looked as though he was only a few years older than her father - wonder where dad is now? Hopefully dead.

“You’re right, Fabio, she really is docile!” Mr. Dixon affirmed, his pink cheeks becoming pinker with a hearty smile and laugh. He tilted her chin up, then down, then side to side. Though Katie couldn’t get her eyes to focus, she could still feel the look of him examining her, estimating her value, deciding if she was a worthy investment. “Yes, I believe we’ll take her.” Finally, she was released, and Fabio picked her up again - instead of a cradle, it was over the shoulder this time (more efficient). She was deposited back in the box, but different this time. Restraints were there that weren’t there before. Her wrists and ankles were secured into place by cuffs attached to the wall, really restricting her movement this time. Finally, Fabio shoved her head to one side, exposing her neck. Cold metal hit her skin, followed by a loud snapping noise, then the feeling of inescapable pressure. A collar. Fabio turned away without another word.

The glass door slid up again, and the cohort of clients waved at Katie. The white wall followed next, sliding up violently as her box suddenly descended, plummeting further than it had ascended.

#box boy #box babe #box boy multiverse #pet whump #tight spaces #human trafficking #she is literally in a box this time #my oc #box babe katie

13 notes · View notes

lswritingdesk · 4 years

Text

4. Dreamscape

LOL so much for posting on a regular basis...oops.

Here you go!

About a month after she entered the Fragment, Kyrie was falling asleep when she slipped into her Dreamscape. She hadn’t made the conscious decision to enter it, so she figured that it was the Fragment making contact for her. She felt soft grass beneath her bare feet and noticed that she was in her sleep clothes. That wouldn’t do. Elder Rhea had warned her that Community Rules still applied even in her Dreamscape. If Daniel was here, she couldn’t meet him like this. She closed her eyes and concentrated. When she opened them again, she was wearing the soft-soled shoes, leggings, and tunic of her Tethyos home. She ran a hand over her head, and her braids were pinned up, and a veil band was secured to her head.

Kyrie emerged from the falls of vines that covered her side of the garden and ran her hand along the ornamental shrubs that formed the outer barrier. Across the garden, she could see Daniel on his usual bench, back to her. Unlike the times before, there was sound. She could hear running water and birds and the usual sounds of a garden.

She approached Daniel cautiously, not wanting to startle him. “Hello,” she said quietly, when she came up to his side. He jumped slightly anyway.

“You,” he said, rising to his feet. He was about a head taller than her when standing. He looked at her like she wasn’t real. If she were in his shoes, she probably wouldn’t think she was real, either.

“I’m real,” she said, just as quietly as before. “I didn’t get to tell you my name before. It’s Kyrie. You’re in my Dreamscape.”

Daniel stared at her, his mouth slightly open, before speaking. “A few days after you…appeared...an old family friend showed up in my office and told me all of my theories were correct. And then the US Air Force put me on a plane to Colorado and took me to a secret installation. There was this thing called a Stargate, and it…”

“It took you to another world,” Kyrie said, her face glowing, though he couldn’t see it through her veil. She tried to put as much of her joy in her voice as she could.

“How did you know? That someone would come? That the Stargate took me to a different...world.”

“I told you that the right people would come for you. And my planet has a Stargate, too. I’ve never been through it, but I was taught what it does. What was the other world like?”

“I’m…still there. I didn’t go back to Earth. I couldn’t, not after everything that happened. I live in a desert with a tribe on a planet called Abydos.” Kyrie committed the name to memory, intending to research it when she woke up. “We liberated the people here from the rule of these awful fake gods who called themselves the Goa’uld. Apparently they’re all over the galaxy. We drove them off of Earth centuries ago in a revolt, but they’re still everywhere else. There’s so much to learn. That’s why I stayed here. My life was over on Earth, but here I can do so much more.”

Kyrie smiled sadly beneath her veil. She wanted to tell this man that his life on Earth was certainly not over, but that would go against revealing too much of a person’s Timeline to them before they were ready. There were less invasive ways to study someone’s Timeline besides going into the Fragment, and she had dedicated some time to Daniel after learning his name. She now knew a whole lot more about him, but it was nice to hear him talk about his life instead of reading it from a cold holoscreen.

“What about you? Is your job over now that you got me to Abydos?”

Kyrie gave a long, low chuckle. “Not in the slightest. Abydos is not your ending, Daniel. It is just your beginning.”

“And I suppose that’s all you can tell me, otherwise you’re meddling in my Timeline?”

“You catch on fast, but yes. I’ve known pieces of your story since I was a little girl on the cusp of adulthood. I waited ten Cycles to finally meet you. Imagine how drawn out this is for me.”

“Is a Cycle like a year?”

“Yes, though it lasts longer than one of your Tau’ri years. It’s roughly equivalent to ten of them.”

“Tau’ri. Is that what you call us?”

“That is your name in my language. I did not know your language when I first had visions of you. All I had to identify you was your home symbol from the Stargate.”

“What is your name in my language? You said your planet was called Illyria.”

“I cannot tell you the name of my people at this time. It would put you at too much risk. I should not have even told you the name of my planet, but it is too late now. One day I will be able to tell you what I am, but for now, you must promise me that you will keep the knowledge of my planet to yourself.”

“I promise, but I still don’t understand.”

“My people withdrew from the galaxy as a protective measure, both for ourselves and for others. The time is not yet right for us to reintroduce ourselves.”

“Alright. I will respect your wishes. Not that I really have anyone to tell. Why do you clothe yourself the way you do? Is it because of your belief system? The...Eternal Alchemy?”

“Partly. During your Thirteenth Cycle, you enter the Fragment and see your sacred geometry, which is basically just you seeing your future. When you exit, you receive your veil, which signifies you taking on the responsibilities of becoming an adult. It’s largely symbolic now that we are a closed off society, but occasionally we all veil. Only Seers, like me, and Elders wear the veil all the time. And Seers cover all of their skin because, well, you wouldn’t like it if my skin touched yours. I would be able to see and feel everything in your mind because of my abilities.” Daniel winced at the thought of this. “Yes, it is as uncomfortable as you would think. We only exercise the ability when absolutely necessary.”

“So what do you do when you’re not inside my head or being my temporal guardian angel?”

“I’m a Scholar. I’m on a Krewe studying one of our oldest Cities. I spent years learning ancient dialects of our language to be able to translate manuscripts, artefacts, and other things we find. I’m a lot like you, actually. Maybe one day they’ll assign me to a Krewe that goes through the Stargate to study our ancient settlements. I sometimes go to my old City Cube for vacation. I grew up by the ocean. My House is made up of Wavewalkers- people who control the sea. I was an anomaly, to be a Seer in a House of Wavewalkers. They had to send me to school in another House’s City Cube after my Thirteenth Cycle to learn how to be a Seer.”

“Your community structure seems somewhat complicated. You come from a House that generally produces people with the same abilities, and each house controls a City Cube…”

“It’s not complicated. If you manifest a different ability after your Thirteenth Cycle, you just go to school in a different City Cube. The manifesting House takes care of your education. House Jezerinac taught me how to be a Seer. Then in my Eighteenth Cycle, I exited the primary schools and went to College. There are three- Statics, Dynamics, and Synergetics. I attended Statics. In my Twentieth Cycle, I was assigned to a Krewe. I have been with it for three Cycles now. It’s just like you have primary school and university and then you get a job. Our primary schools are just tied to abilities for a certain number of years.”

“Your society sounds quite interesting. I would be interested in studying it.”

“Perhaps someday you will have the opportunity.”

“Is that a thinly veiled way of saying that one day I will be able to study your society?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny.”

“Of course you can’t. So you just...created this place? And it’s ours to meet in?”

“I made it while in the Fragment for the first time. It exists as part of my mind and part of the Fragment. I can consciously pull it up, but in this case, the Fragment summoned me here, and I suspect you as well. I’ve never tried to summon you here myself.”

“I see. It’s a little unnerving that you can just pull me out of my dreams and into this place.”

“I assure you it’s only ever out of a specific need that you are summoned here. Tonight, I guess it was so you could tell me that you were found and that you went through the Stargate.”

“Can you summon other people here? Could you tell Catherine that I was okay, for example?”

“No, that’s not how it works. I’m not bonded to her like I am to you.”

“Oh, I would have liked for her to know that I was well. She would like this place, too.”

“I’m sure that she knows you’re fine.”

“The rest of the team was instructed to say that I died here.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t have much going for me on Earth, so really the only person who will miss me is Catherine.”

“I wish that I could contact her for you, but…”

“I know you have rules. I wouldn’t ask you to break them for me.”

Kyrie felt a lightening sensation in her head. “I think our time here is drawing to a close for now. I can feel it in my head. If you concentrate hard enough before going to sleep, you might be able to summon this place up. I don’t know. I’ll have to ask if anyone has ever shared a Dreamscape with a Tau’ri before. But I’ll be able to manifest this place whenever I want, so...I guess I’ll see you when I see you. I hope that Abydos is kinder to you than Earth was.”

“Thank you, Kyrie. I will see you...later, then.”

@heathenterkin @luckyninetales @logicheartsoul @sky-of-starflowers @kirazalea @star-fish23

#stargate #stargate sg-1 #stargate sg1 #stargate fanfic #stargate imagine #stargate headcanon #furling #furlings #kyrie #kyrie house tethyos #kyrie tethyos #daniel jackson #daniel jackson x oc #daniel jackson x furling

2 notes · View notes